#my city has been on red alert for the heat for 4 days now

[wolfchans]

Girl what is thisssss how it's 34°C real feel temperature at almost 11pm 😭 I want to die

[mymothershumility]

neverflownwithme asked: “Are you alright?”

past transmissions || { always accepting }

{ Part 1 } & { Part 2 } & { Part 3 } & { Part 4 } & { Part 5 }

{ Part 6 } & { Part 7 } & { Part 8 } & { Part 9 } & { Part 10 }

{ Part 11 } & { Part 12 }

{ @neverflownwithme​ }

The air within her solar grows ominously warm.

From where she stands, Laira can hear only the crackling of the fire within the hearth and the sound of her own heart thudding loudly in her ears. Her fingers shift, first about her sword’s grip and then about the scabbard still clutched in her opposite hand. Ahead of her, a half dozen paces from where she stands, the Red Priestess shifts before the hearth.

And, then, high above the castle, Laira hears the cracking of wings and a thundering roar. The ire that she can sense in her dragonmount is as stifling as the heat now emanating through the small space about her.

“Peace, Queen Laira,” the woman speaks, her High Valyrian melodic. Slowly, she begins to shift, body turning until she faces the Queen. “I mean you no harm.”

For a brief moment, Laira’s hold strengthens all the more about Dark Sister’s grip. Recognition slowly descends upon her as she stares across the solar at the other woman, the other’s raven hair and emerald eyes a stark contrast to her pale skin. It has been a time since she has seen the woman. Over a year, in fact, if Laira is remembering correctly. Such an encounter had first occurred only days before Drogon had spirited Daenerys away from the sands of The Great Pit of Daznak in Meereen.

She had encountered the Red Priestess another time as well, though, mere hours before Laira had freed Viserion and Rhaegal from the pit beneath the Great Pyramid and abandoned Meereen on Viserion’s back to search for Daenerys.

“Kinvara,” she finally acknowledges, the name of the other rising quickly in her mind. Her fingers begin to slacken around Dark Sister’s handle. The sword still remains in hand. Familiarity does not mean an absence of threat, after all. Laira has learned such a lesson in the most horrific of ways in recent moons.

The priestess inclines her head, a brief smile tugging at the edges of her burgundy painted mouth. “Your Grace,” Kinvara returns, lapsing into the Common Tongue of Westeros. Her hands fold themselves at her middle, fingers steepling together as the sleeves of her robes slip to cover them. “I offer my sincerest apologies for startling you as I have.”

Such fright and such distrust is well deserved, Kinvara knows. Her Lord has shown her all that has awaited the Dragon Queens since they departed the Cities of the East and landed upon the shores of the Sunset Kingdoms. Deceit and betrayal has befallen each of them in some manner, expertly crafted and executed by the most devilish of mummers.

It is such treachery that has sent Kinvara across the Narrow Seas to these very shores.

“Had you presented yourself to my maids, such an occurrence would not have happened,” Laira points out. High above the castle, she hears another snap of wings and Viserion’s wrothful sounding roar. To hear such a sound from the dragoness is not uncommon about the island. Viserion does not circle so low about the castle often, though. Only to land within the gardens or when she is catching the wind to ascend over the Dragonmont.

Such behavior would alert her husband, and the rest of the castle staff, that there was something amiss.

And Hal, in his protective nature, would come seeking her.

“You are correct, Your Grace,” Kinvara relents. “I assure you my intentions were pure.” Her voice is solemn as she speaks, the corners of her mouth turning down at its corners. “I regret to say that the occupants of this castle and those upon the island hold little favor for the Lord of Light and his servants.”

The tale is not a new one. Laira has heard the whispers among the halls and down among the occupants of the village since she first landed upon the island. Stannis Baratheon had once kept a Red Priestess among his court. The woman had garnered a dark reputation in the time that she had spent upon the island, burning men alive to appease the Red God and to bring favor to the man she had thought to be the Realm’s rightful King.

None upon the island held any favor for her. Most, in fact, feared her and dared not even utter the Red Woman’s name.

“A raven would have sufficed to announce your arrival,” Laira returns. Dark Sister is raised as she speaks and slipped back into the safety of her scabbard. Still, Laira keeps the sword in hand. “I would have known to expect you, then, and would have properly prepared the members of my staff for your arrival.” Better ways were available to her than the one that Kinvara had chosen to use. There is little to be done about it now. The woman is within her walls. Laira cannot very well send her away for an unorthodox arrival.

She cannot say the same for her husband, though. He will not be pleased when he learns of Kinvara’s presence or the manner in which she obtained her audience with Laira. It will take a great deal of convincing to allow the other woman to linger if that is her desire.

“Ravens can be intercepted, Your Grace,” Kinvara reminds. “Given the betrayal that has tormented you and your sisters, I thought it best to keep my journeys well guarded. There are those who would sow seeds of distrust among the High Lords of Westeros if they knew you were holding audience with a Priestess of R’hllor.”

There is no rebuttal that Laira can offer to such an answer… not when the other’s words ring with such utter truth. Betrayal had met Daenerys and her at every turn when they resided within the walls of Meereen.

“As you say,” Laira murmurs. She begins to move, making to circle around the edge of her desk. Her amethyst eyes are ever watchful. Kinvara’s own emerald gaze is much the same, though her eyes seem to crinkle at their corners with some underlying amusement. “You stated that there was much in need of discussing,” Laira continues, referencing the cryptic greeting the other had given when Laira had appeared within the doorway of the solar.

She does not reference the moniker that Kinvara has only just referred to her by.

It is not the first time that Laira has heard the name Daughter of Death. It is the first time that another has referred to her as such, though. The name had been whispered to Daenerys while in the House of the Undying within the famed walls of Qarth. That was what her sister had told her. The name means nothing to her.

“Much and more, Your Grace,” Kinvara concedes, offering another dip of her head. “Would you care to wait for your lord husband?” the priestess asks.

“How do you know of my husband?” the Queen asks. The question is quick and more demand than inquiry. Unease suddenly begins to beat wildly within her heart, fanning out into her limbs and settling deep within her bones.

Upon Dragonstone, her marriage is well known. The staff among the castle down to the occupants of the village know who Hal is and how wholly he is linked to Laira and all that she is. She has never shied away from proclaiming the man for what he is. Her husband. Prince Consort of Dragonstone, much to his chagrin. Protector of the Realm. Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. The small nature of Dragonstone is different from the intricate politics of court among the walls of the Red Keep and beyond, though. And, it is in such delicate settings that both she and her husband have guarded the secret far more.

Not well enough, it seems, when viewed behind the treachery and betrayal they have endured.

All the same, there should have been no whispers of her marriage across the Narrow Sea. Not when she and Hal married amid Winterfell’s godswood with only a septon and young Sansa and Helen as witnesses. And, not when the Spider had seen his own end when Daenerys had ascended her rightful throne.

“The Lord of Light reveals all in his own time,” Kinvara says, turning to cast a look back into the flames dancing within the solar’s hearth. The fire momentarily sweeps upward, thin tendrils of flame reaching out to swirl at the hem of the priestess’s robes. “History has shown that the Wolf always finds his way back to you, Your Grace. The trials and the challenges that await you both always means little to him.”

Her Lord is always certain that his will is done, weaving threads of destiny into a tapestry that even Kinvara herself has yet to be able to decipher. Kinvara has ever served her Lord, though, faithful and devout through the destruction of empires and the darkness of the first Long Night.

And, yet, the meeting of Dragon and Wolf has been an ever constant thread, recurring time and time again in her Lord’s woven work.

Emerald eyes glance about the solar, settling for a moment on the Queen and the Valyrian blade still clasped in her palm. Her gaze moves just as easily, looking to the chests and trunks stacked along the solar’s walls. She has already looked through one of the journals upon the Queen’s desk. The Lyseni craftsmanship is as intricate and as lovely as she remembered it being a century before when it had been freshly crafted.

Even in her youth, the Star of the Sea had always possessed immaculate tastes.

Something in the priestess’s words strikes her as odd, lingers over her in a way that she cannot immediately place. There is a familiarity to them… as if she has heard them before.

“A peculiar thing to say,” Laira murmurs, her amethyst gaze following the priestess’s own about the room. Her eyes linger upon the portrait that had started all of this searching, the very one that still seems to Laira more mirror than painting. Though half hidden by a cotton sheet and cast in heavy shadow, Laira can still spy the likeness of Visenya Targaryen and little Saera looking back at her.

“To some,” Kinvara agrees. Now, she steps, moving around the far edges of the Queen’s desk. She leaves the other ample space, head bowed in quiet thought and hands clasped gently at her front. Her Lord has shown her all she needs to know of this Dragon Queen. She is a stark contrast to her Velaryon and Targaryen half sisters, with her height, her olive skin, and her Jaydian accent. Perhaps mannerisms separate her the most, however. Quiet and reserved where her sisters are not. As lethal on foot with Valyrian steel as she is high among the clouds mounted upon her dragoness.

She is dangerous in the most obvious --and subtle-- of ways. Kinvara knows it is wise to not forget such a thing.

“Perhaps it is presumptuous of me, Your Grace, yet you do not seem bothered by such a peculiar statement,” Kinvara comments, pausing before one of the armchairs that are set before the Queen’s desk.

Laira maintains her own position, eyes still observing the path that Kinvara chooses to take. “It is not the first time another has spoken in such a peculiar manner to me,” she says. There is still something that is lingering over her, something that is now tugging gently at the back of her mind. Some forgotten conversation, perhaps… or a memory. “The City of the Harpy was filled with riddlers and silver tongued wretches alike. They all flocked to my sister’s court, spinning tales to endear themselves to Daenerys and to condemn those that had been stricken from bondage.”

More had come to Daenerys long before then, when her sister had dwelt among the walls of Qarth and before even then among the walls of Illyrio Mopatis’ manse in Pentos. The Pentoshi Magister, Daenerys had once told her, had been the most dangerous of them all. Laira had never doubted her sister’s word regarding such a thing. After all, the Magister had been linked to the Usurper’s Spider, a willing collaborator to see Daenerys slain and some bastard born boy seated upon the Iron Throne in her place. That they had attempted such a ploy under the claim that the boy was Rhaegar’s son, Aegon, had been all the crueler. Nothing good had ever come from the poison and the chaos that Varys and his little birds had spun so deftly among the residents of the Red Keep. Nothing good had ever come from Illyrio’s honeyed words and false promises. Daenerys had been right to see them both ended for their treachery.

“Indeed,” Kinvara relents. “Yet, what need would I have for sweet words or riddles in your presence, Your Grace?” she questions.

“What better way to seek favor from me? What better way to gain something that you desire?” Laira is not fool enough to believe that Kinvara has traveled so long a way to seek nothing of her. Little is done in their world without the desire for compensation.

Someone always desires something in return.

Someone always seeks more.

“And yet, Your Grace, there is nothing that I desire.”

“Everyone desires something, Kinvara,” Laira reminds. “From a Queen, such a thing is all the more true.”

Not even servants to R’hllor are immune from the siren song of greed.

“Of some, such a thing is true.” Kinvara cannot deny such a bitter truth. Their world has been built upon the greed of others. Kinvara has long been a witness to it, an observer since even before the fall of the Great Empire of the Dawn and the first Long Night. The nature of men has only worsened over the centuries, will only worsen until such nature is put to heel by another. Such a chance shall not be granted until the Queens’ enemies are vanquished. It is that very reason that has brought Kinvara to this island of storm, smoke, and salt. “I swear this to you, Your Grace,” she continues, hands unfolding from their place across her middle, “there is nothing that I desire from you. I wish to only see my Lord’s will done, to pass the knowledge that he has gifted to me on to you.”

“And nothing more?”

“Nothing more,” Kinvara answers. “I am a humble servant. Yours to command as you see fit, Your Grace.”

“And these matters that you wish to discuss,” Laira begins, stepping nearer to her desk. Dark Sister is leaned against the wood, still well within reach should the blade be needed. “Do they pertain to Visenya Targaryen and Torrhen Stark?” she asks. “Or Rhaena of Pentos and Corwyn Corbray?” she continues. Beyond the walls of her solar, Laira catches the sudden shift of shadow as something passes before the hearth within her apartments. There comes additional movement out beyond her doors, the sound of booted feet rushing down the stone lined hallway. “Perhaps Shiera Seastar and Donnor Stark?”

As she speaks, she notes the shifting of Kinvara’s expression. Still one of amusement and, yet, one of practical relief as well. Laira has little time to dwell upon such a thing, has little time to dwell upon some sort of vague understanding that continues to take shape inside her own mind. Before Kinvara can offer her own answer to her inquiries, there comes a growl from the doorway of her solar.

Moone appears but a moment later, hackles on end and teeth bared in a rare show of aggression. Her mismatched eyes find Kinvara, her form stalking into the room. There is a gnash of teeth in the Red Priestess’ direction, the she-wolf moving until she is standing between Laira and the other woman. Moone’s head rises to brush at Laira’s middle, her fur damp from where she has been washed and rinsed out among the gardens. Laira can feel the dampness beginning to soak through the fabric of her dress, can smell the soft scent of lemon and lavender upon the air from the soap that has been used to bathe her.

“The Amethyst Empress and the Last Hero,” Kinvara continues, eyes never abandoning the she-wolf that has prowled her way into the solar or the woman that she now stands before as a living shield. It is a show of protectiveness that Kinvara has seen time and time again during the course of her long life. It will be one that she will no doubt continue to see so long as this thread within her Lord’s tapestry continues to repeat. She will welcome it whenever she is granted the opportunity to see it. “As I said, Your Grace. Much and more.”

The names that Kinvara utters mean little to her – more mythological and legendary in their utterance than historical. Or, rather, the Last Hero means little to her. Laira knows them both, knows them as well as she knows the ancient deities of Old Valyria and those of Jayd. Though the Last Hero means little to her in this fleeting moment, Laira cannot say the same in regards to the Amethyst Empress.

Fragments of the journals and tomes she has read as of late spring to the forefront of her mind with Kinvara’s words, pieces that were of little matter on their own now resonating with some new found understanding.

The Five Forts.

The Great Empire of the Dawn.

The Blood Betrayal.

The Long Night.

There comes a sudden moment of clarity, one that strikes Laira just as she hears the rushing of booted feet entering her apartments. She knows, now… Knows the identity of the individual who penned a number of the journals she had skimmed that very morning before she, her husband, and their charges had departed for the coast just below the cliffs of the castle.

The Amethyst Empress. The last true ruler of the Great Empire of the Dawn. She is the one responsible for the recounts of the Great Empire and those of the Dragonlords in Valyria.

Laira knows… though cannot determine how the fabled Empress plays a role in the chaos and the betrayal that has erupted all about her, her husband, and her sisters in recent moons. In all her nightmares and in all of her dreams, the Amethyst Empress has never once played a part within any of them. Neither has the Last Hero.

“Laira!”

Her hand rises just as one of the doors to her solar is slammed all the more open, the wood and metal of it knocking loudly against the polished stone of the wall behind it. Though there had been no panic within her husband’s voice when he called for her, Laira can see the remnants of it in the square of his shoulders and in the clench of his jaw. She can see it in the way his hand has already settled upon the grip of Vigilance. She watches the way his eyes dart from her, to Moone, and then over to Kinvara, still standing quietly before her desk, before coming back to her and her growling guard.

“Hal,” she softly utters, drawing his attention fully to her, his eyes darting up to meet her own as her arm falls back to her side.

Laira does not miss the way that Kinvara’s mouth quirks into a knowing smile at such a reaction… as if the exchange she is observing is one she has been witness to a hundred times over. Perhaps she has. Would such a thing be beyond the realm of possibility given all that has happened and all that remains unknown before them?

“I am unharmed,” she goes on. Though she can see some of the tension leave his face, the line of his shoulders does not lessen nor does his grip upon the sword at his side. “Kinvara served Daenerys and myself in Meereen. She is no threat to me.” A lie, if Laira is truthful with herself. Perhaps Kinvara is no threat to Laira or to her husband in that moment, yet she is dangerous all the same.

Whether a dangerous enemy or a dangerous ally remained to be seen.

Kinvara inclines her head to the Lord of Winterfell as he steps fully into the solar, emerald eyes watching him as carefully as she has the Queen and her direwolf protector. Though the Queen’s temper has always been a difficult thing to rouse in all its fury, the Wolf Lord has ever been quick to anger and even quicker to react. Putting his lady in the way of any perceived danger has always provoked him all the more.

“Your Grace,” the Priestess greets. “As I have already told Her Grace, I apologize for alarming you as I have with my presence.”

“Were we aware of her arrival?” Hal asks, the inquiry aimed to Laira. He knows the answer before she even begins to speak the question. Had Kinvara been an expected guest upon Dragonstone’s shores, his wife would have told him. Given Viserion’s reaction high above the castle, and Moone’s as well out among the gardens and there within his wife’s solar, he knows that Laira was as surprised to find the woman among the walls of their apartments as he is.

“She came unannounced.” Laira will not lie over such a thing. Had Kinvara sent a raven announcing her travels to the island, Laira would have been certain to inform Hal of her coming. There had been no such correspondence, though… a matter that Kinvara has already readily admitted to in her earlier conversation. “The residents of the island and the staff among the castle have a fear of the Priestesses of R’hllor. She thought it best to limit the knowledge of her arrival.”

Once more, the words are anything but a lie. And although Laira can understand Kinvara’s reasoning behind her actions, she still does not agree with them. She can tell by her husband’s expression that he shares her discontent as well.

“Yet stealing into the apartments of the Crown Princess of Dragonstone and her husband is believed to be the more honorable path,” Hal returns, moving so he is able to stand at his wife’s side. He watches her as he draws closer, looking for any obivous signs of harm as he goes. For now, his search comes up empty. And, he sees no immediate signs of distress upon her face. “Such actions can be considered treasonous upon these shores.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Kinvara agrees, her voice solemn as she offers another incline of her head. There is still the ghost of a smile crinkling the corners of her mouth, though, and the faintest hints of amusement reflected in her stare. “I have no defense beyond those Her Grace has already volunteered. Though it may not seem so, my actions were for the good of the occupants of this island and for Her Grace as well.” She turns her gaze to the Queen and then to the Lord of Winterfell. “I saw no need to add additional strife to that which you have both already weathered because of the Golden Roses taking root and overrunning King’s Landing.”

As quickly as the solar had grown warm, bitter cold seems to invade just as quickly. Laira reaches for her husband’s arm at Kinvara’s words, feels the way that his muscles have bunched beneath the fabric of his tunic. The tension in his face has returned, jaw clenched and brows pinching together as he stares down the Red Priestess across from the two of them.

Laira has seen such a look from him before, though only once and in the midst of war. Ramsay Bolton had made the dire mistake of threatening her while outside the walls of Winterfell. When given the opportunity, Hal had taken his head for the threat and for all the other horrors the man had inflicted upon the members of his family. Laira sees the very same look in him now, knows that if given the opportunity Kinvara could very well lose her head for daring to speak of the Tyrells and their plots within the capital.

When Kinvara had mentioned betrayal to her earlier in their exchange, Laira had thought her words were referencing Meereen… had thought she meant the Sons of the Harpy and the shadow games that had been played among the streets and high atop the pyramids of the Great Masters.

How wrong she had been, it seems.

“And what do you know of the Tyrells?” Laira questions, stepping into Hal’s side when he beckons her closer with a hand to her opposite hip. Perhaps the true question she should ask is how Kinvara knows of them.

Once more, there is the faintest hint of a smile upon Kinvara’s face when she begins speaking. “I believe such a question would be better answered among the course of our other discussion, Your Grace.” As she takes in the Dragon Queen and her Wolf Lord, she releases a soft hum. “Perhaps such a conversation would be better suited for the coming day,” she continues. “Your Graces will likely wish to speak with one another and to rest of your day among the shore.”

“Leave us then,” Hal orders, all the patience gone from his voice. There is more that he might say, more that he might order, yet he quiets when Laira murmurs softly up to him.

“I will have Mira prepare rooms for you,” Laira speaks, her thumb ghosting over the line of her husband’s forearm. She hopes that the action will help to soothe some of the anger that is raging just beneath his surface. “We can discuss these matters you have mentioned come morning.”

“I have no need for chambers, Your Grace,” Kinvara assures, offering one last incline of her head before making for the solar’s doors. “I will make myself at home within the library where I am less likely to be discovered by your staff. It has been a time since I have dwelt among its walls.”

When the Priestess is gone, there is only a beat of silence before Hal is turning to Laira. His hands go immediately to her face, palm settling against her cheeks as he looks over her for what feels like the hundredth time. Between them, Moone nudges her head against Laira’s stomach, growling softly.

“Are you alright?” he asks, thumb tracing along the line of her cheek. “Truly?”

Laira nods, smiling weakly up at him. “I am unharmed,” she promises, reaching to set her hand down across Moone’s muzzle. “Where are the girls?”

“Down in the kitchens with Mira and Ser Aeron.”

“Good,” she sighs, reaching to press her palms against her husband’s own. “Kinvara knows about what we have seen,” she says, eyes glancing to the journals and scrolls upon her desk. “She knows.”

“It could be a trick,” Hal reminds. “Some sort of treachery.”

Laira had thought similar things, had thought that the Priestess’ words were meant to gain some sort of favor or to deceive her in some manner. And yet… “I do not believe that it is.”

The remainder of their evening passes slowly, Kinvara’s arrival hanging over the two of them like a brewing winter storm. Laira searches through Shiera Seastar’s favored journal, searching for the desperately desired answers that she and Hal are in need of. Hal begins a task of his own, opening a number of the trunks that they had taken from the room that morning and searching through them. There are no true answers to be found with their searching, only more questions.

“We will try again in the morning,” Hal promises, passing a chalice of mulled wine across the back of the couch to his wife. He is more at ease now than he was hours earlier, much of the tension having faded from him.

“There is still much that we have not looked through,” Laira says, sipping her wine as she thumbs through a journal she can only believe once belonged to the Amethyst Empress. The fire within the sitting room of their apartments has been stoked, the flames dancing among the dark stones of the hearth. Mira had brought both she and Hal a tray from the kitchens a number of hours before, though their food remains largely untouched. Above them, the dark rumblings of thunder can be heard as lightning cuts across the sky and a storm begins to bear down upon the island.

“In time,” Hal murmurs, moving to sit with her on their couch. He leans and hooks his hand beneath her ankles where she’s stretched across the couch, lifting her legs to take the spot on the cushions next to her. “There is still the matter of the Priestess as well,” he mutters, settling her legs across his lap.

“I will send her away if you wish it.” Kinvara’s choice of arrival could be reason enough to see her sent back to Essos. She will not allow her to linger if it is going to make her husband more uneasy than he already is.

“Do you believe her intentions for being here are true?” he questions, leaning to steal the chalice from his wife’s hand. He ignores the scolding, yet amused, glare that Laira casts back at him for his theft.

“I believe that she knows far more than she divulged in our earlier conversation.”

“Do you trust her?” he asked, offering her chalice of wine back to her.

Laira is quick to answer such a question, leaning forward to take her wine back. “After all that has happened to us in recent moons, there are few that I trust any longer.”

There is more that she wishes to say, more that lingers upon her tongue. Yet, her words stall as a resounding crack echoes through their apartments and the entirety of Dragonstone seems to quake beneath them. The chalice in Laira’s hand is dropped, shattering where it strikes the floor. Then, there comes a pair of screams from only two doors away from their own, Helen and Sansa screaming out for both she and Hal. Their cries are soon drowned out by another resounding crack and the shuddering of stone.

She and Hal make for the doors of their apartments, tossing them open just as Sansa and Helen come running down the hall towards them. Beyond the walls of Dragonstone, Laira can see the arch of flaming projectiles as they are launched inland from the water. Through the darkness and the rain, she can barely make out the silhouettes of ships out among the waves.

When a sharp streak of lightning brightens the sky, she glimpses the sails of the ships that have descended upon the island under the cover of night.

The green fields.

The golden roses.

The sigil of House Tyrell is unmistakable.

{ @truetargaryen​ & @fullrangeofemotions​ & @thequeenmaker​ & @xcoatlicuex​ & @hisvipereyes​ & @viperparamour​ & @nolongerhispawn​ & @shewhoisironborn​ & @adornishviper​ & @anunfailingkindness​ & @ialwayswasthebest​ & @iveneverbeenagoodgirl​ & @aladyofwinterfell​ & @therosesofhighgarden​ & @arisiarrxb​ & @alionessroars​ & @zaldrizo​ & @fairytalesandstars​ & @queeniolande​ & @yrracynrxl​ & @scaleddoe​ & @scraniknatu​ }

[[ I meant to have this out way sooner than now, however I’ve been having some issues with severe anxiety as well as depression over the last several months. Every day is different and some are far better than others. The last few days have been rough, but I’m doing okay. And, I’m very excited for the next few parts of this series. They’re the ones that inspired this whole thing :) ]]

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Untitled Linzin fanfic

(Yet again?)

This came to me while staying at home one day (one day of many, mind you). Am I okay with starting another multi-chapter Linzin story? Maybe. Will I push through with it? Absolutely. Should this be taken seriously? No, please don’t. Am I abandoning my other work? Of course not.

Don’t take this plot seriously since it’s just something that I felt like I want to write down and share. But… let’s see. Consider this a crackfic /trope centric fic eh haha. Consider this my contribution to this teeny tiny space in the fandom.

Please leave a comment or a reply as to what you think about this. I’m gauging this to be like 3 to 4 chapters long only though.

I think this will keep as untitled for now – until I figure out the right title. And summary / overview.

---

Untitled

Overview

Legend of Korra fanfic – Linzin endgame AU

1 of 3 (or 4?) chapters (or more, if I decide to post them in chunks) – I really haven’t thought this out (shrugs and looks around shiftily)

Pre-canon AU (prior to Book 1)

--

The airbender gently slid the door closed, careful not to disturb any of its sleeping occupants. He knew he was late but as with everything – his children always came first.

He looked up at the moon, peeking from behind gray clouds. The rain did not let up at all during the day.

It was a pity. It was, after all, the first time that his children found themselves on an Ember Island vacation. It was to celebrate Jinora’s birthday – at least that was what the press release was.

He hurried across the courtyard, ignoring the squelching sounds that his sandals made on the mud and puddles.  Passing no one on his way, Tenzin finally reached the right hall.

He quickly dried himself before entering what everyone knew as the Fire Lord’s family hall, which was precisely why they selected it. He crept into the dimly lit hall, shadows were wavering across the pillars and the walls. Nonetheless, the pretense of a nightcap among the grownups was well executed with the spread on the long table.

He sat down immediately beside his mother, who inclined her head in acknowledgment.

Fire Lord Izumi cleared her throat and the soft buzzing of conversation silenced.

“Now that we’re complete – let’s get right to it.”

The airbender’s eyes wandered across the room, to everyone sitting at the long table of the Fire Lord.

Everyone who was anyone to his late father was present. Everyone alive, that is. The lack of guards or security personnel was nothing new in this situation though – in a room of bending masters, it was almost foolish to expect guards to be standing in attention, alert for any disturbance.

“As we know the Red Lotus is back at its game.” Lord Zuko now presided the meeting and went straight to the heart of the clandestine gathering. “There has been reliable intelligence that they are gaining traction on the ground and there are rumors of freeing their known members.”

To their credit, no one in the room gasped or expressed their incredulity of such a claim.

Bumi began to share all the pertinent information from the report (Tenzin idly thought that being a commander suited his brother’s temperament). It was alarming to hear of pockets of violent incidents across the nations and the United Republic that can be traced back to the Red Lotus.

Chief Tonraq took the action to inform his brother Unalaq to strengthen the guards at the North as one of the prisoners were being held there.

Katara said that the White Lotus has already been informed of the case and she had personally requested to have the number of Zaheer’s guards increased. Bumi spoke of fortifying the defenses in all the other security prisons.

“Well, if everything is secured, why even call for us?” The gruff voice of Toph Beifong finally joined the foray.

Suyin fidgeted from Toph’s side, clearly uncomfortable with the discourse.

Truth be told, he did wonder at Suyin’s presence.

When Lord Zuko issued the invitation to Ember Island, he was surprised at the arrival of the Zaofu Beifong family, knowing that they have been estranged from some time. He thought that maybe it was just in keeping up with the ruse of a family reunion. Nonetheless, here they are now and Su was found to be in their midst. She was the youngest child of their generation and had been, more often than not, shielded by her mother when it came to serious and bordering dangerous matters. It had always been the eldest Beifong daughter who shouldered the brunt of the situation.

But then again, no one called attention to the empty seat at the other side of Toph Beifong tonight. Tenzin was sure it was not allotted for Baatar (who had stayed behind to see to the bedtime of the children).

Despite her stature, Toph still managed to command the room. “The Avatar is currently far from Republic City and I don’t think her parents will be taking her on a trip to Zaofu anytime soon. I don’t see the need for us,” Her emphasis heavily implying her family. “To even be here.”

All of a sudden, Tenzin realized the former Fire Lord looked all of his age as he drew in a breath. “While that may be true, Toph, the Red Lotus is looking for a gateway to the spirit world. They think true power and equality will only be brought about by uniting our world with the spirit world. Or barring that, a way to force the Avatar’s hand.”

“But she’s a child!” The Avatar’s father choked out.

“We are well aware that never stopped them.” There was a slight pause in remembrance on what had happened the first time the Red Lotus attacked the Avatar’s family. There had been losses.

Kya spoke up, trying to figure out what that could mean. “If the prisons are heavily guarded and all the leaders of the nations have their own security detail, what else are they looking to? What is in Republic City? What are they targeting?”

“The airbenders.”

All heads turned to a figure who had been leaning in the shadows of one of the pillars. Tenzin wondered how he could have missed her.

Lin Beifong pushed herself off the pillar and grudgingly took a seat beside her mother. “Is it the airbenders then, Lord Zuko?”

All of a sudden, Tenzin realized Lord Zuko looked all of his age as he nodded solemnly. “They knew they need to lure the Avatar or in its place, use a master airbender to their bidding.”

Said master airbender’s eyes flashed. “I would never -!”

“They could use Jinora as leverage.” Understanding was visible on Bumi’s face. “Everyone knows Jinora can already airbend.”

“That’s sick.” Su managed to murmur, sinking further into her seat. “Using kids in their nefarious plans…”

“They’re not known for their mercy, sweetheart.” Bumi shrugged, years of being in the military hardening him some.

“We can add more protection for the children.” Katara threw a concerned glance at her youngest child.

Toph scowled. “So, what are you suggesting? Aside from the White Lotus, Republic City police would need to pull funds to provide bodyguards at Air Temple Island? Mind you – it would be hard to get this funding for a civilian.”

“I’m sure the White Lotus would be enough.” Fire Lord Izumi attempted to mediate what was rapidly about to become a heated discussion.

“Maybe not,” Tonraq disagreed, already shaking his head.  “If we pull in resources across the nations for the high security prisons and the sentries for Korra, I don’t think we would have any to spare for Air Temple Island at this period. Recruiting and training more could jeopardize the quality of the White Lotus.”

As the people around him continued to toss around arguments and recommendations, Tenzin could feel everything closing in.

When his wife passed a little over a year ago due to a stomach bug that had gone untreated for so long, Tenzin had stepped down from his role as part of the city council and instead turned to raising his two daughters and rebuilding the Air Nation (or what was left of it). The transition of public figure to private citizen was a welcome balm to him and his young family. His mother and sister had stayed on the island for a couple of weeks during Pema’s illness and subsequent passing, but they did have lives to go back to in the South Pole.

Tenzin thought he managed okay – training acolytes, tending to his daughters’ needs, documenting what was available of the Air Nomad culture… His visits to Republic City were now less frequent compared to his council days. He had developed a routine and he thought they were coping well.

But now, with the tenuous peace that he finally thought he attained was now at the risk of crumbling, he was at a loss on what to do. It had been a while since he felt like this – back when his father passed, and even then there was someone he had with him to support him.

“We need to send them away then.” Iroh’s voice drew Tenzin’s attention back to the discussion. “They’ll be sitting ducks at the island.”

Toph snorted and Izumi glared at the blind woman’s reaction to her son. “Yeah? Then what – they join the Fire Lady’s entourage? Or maybe head on to the tundra with the Avatar? The Red Lotus would probably be grateful that you placed all their targets in one area.”

Izumi countered. “That would solve the issue of spread out resources – if we concentrate them in a location, that may work.”

“On the other hand, what sort of excuse would you give for Master Airbender here to be away from his temples that long?” Lin asked with a tone so casual, you would have thought they were discussing the weather. “It would not do for the Red Lotus to know that we are unto them so soon when we have yet to strategize how to take them down.”

Tenzin found himself silently agreeing. Lin always was the pragmatic one.

Zuko stroked his beard in thought. “We could have them over – extended vacation maybe? Or we go around on vacation to the temples? That way we can use the Fire Nation’s security detail.”

“That would be a negative.” Iroh reddened as he realized he just spoke against his grandfather. At his encouraging nod, the younger firebender continued. “That would be a logistical nightmare. Too many variables to consider.”

Bumi suddenly perked up. “That’s it!” The shaggy-haired man stood up with a snap. “Variables – and what you all said.” He waved a hand across the table. “They can join the Fire Lady’s entourage -.”

“What!” The collective disbelief echoed in the hall.

He raised his hand in supplication. “Hear me out -what if he joins the Fire Nation Royal family as actual family? Surely questions won’t be raised.” Seeing that no one was getting his point, he decided to say it plainly. “I’m saying what if Tenzin marries Izumi?” There was a lot of disagreements to his pronouncement and so he raised his voice. “That way, it won’t be odd if he stayed there or if they become under protection of the Kyoshi Warriors.”

If Lin was the pragmatic one, Bumi always was the wild one.

And practically everyone had a say on that.

“That would never pass, Bumi.” Lin.

“You can’t pull the wool over the eyes of the public with that. What more the Red Lotus?” Kya.

“Sorry but I don’t think Master Tenzin here is my daughter’s type.” Zuko.

“Dad. Well, aside from that, the optics for that kind of union would not bode well for international peace.” Izumi.

“I don’t need a stepdad.” A beat. “Siblings would be welcome though.” Iroh.

“I agree with Izumi -this may come across as the Air Nation siding with the Fire Nation.” Tonraq.

“I doubt the Earth Queen will remain quiet too.” Su.

“Meh. I say just toss Junior here and his spawn to some remote resort (or here even) and just say he went on a vacation.” Toph.

A snort. “Now that won’t fly – Tenzin never goes on vacation.” Bumi.

“Bumi, it’s not nice to make fun of your brother’s troubles.” Katara.

Tenzin simply shook his head at his brother, who still did not look deterred at all even as the conversation around continued to dissect and put down his ludicrous suggestion.

The older man was frowning, walking around the table while partaking on the board of dried meat, fruits and cheese laid out for them.

From the other end of the table, Lin tossed grape into her mouth while Su said something that sounded like “manners!”.

At that moment, Tenzin made the mistake of catching his brother’s eye. He did not trust the gleam in Bumi's eyes.

“I got it!” Bumi once more got hold of everyone’s attention. “True, Izumi as a bride  might be to farfetched, but there are merits to the Tenzin gets married deal. No questions will be asked if he spends time with family, out of the public eye, you know – a regular honeymoon. As to the lovely bride, why not someone he has had history with – that would make the whirlwind romance and wedding more plausible, won’t it?”

Tenzin’s heart sank at who his brother was implying. 

Oh no. Surely he didn’t mean…

“Why not marry Lin Beifong?”

---

Note: Why not indeed? 🤔 where am I going with this? You shall find out real soon. Lemme know whatchuthink.

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

FatGum (Taishiro Toyomitsu) X Chubby! Confectioner/Baker! Reader: Sweets and Treats~

(Description: Woo, I’m so excited for my first story on this account! This inspiration came to me after thinking about our one and only, favorite chubby pro hero and me wanting to see some puppy love for you two. Also, the title says Confectioner/Baker, I want to clarify that Reader isn’t truly a baker but I feel like “Confectioner” wouldn’t reach as large of a crowd as “Baker” would, not a big deal but just FYI. I hope my first fic is enjoyed by those who choose to read, thank you for the support.)

~

Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(H/C) - Hair Color

(E/C) - Eye Color

(F/C) - Favorite Color

~

“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

~

Requester: No One!

Reader Gender: Female (She/Her)

Style of Story: Oneshot // Entirely fluff, a pinning love on both ends, and a happy end to boot! There is one little heartbreak moment, but it’s over in a second.

Word Count: 4.5K Words

WARNING(s): None, unless you see adorable, tooth-rotting fluff as a crime!

~

“Morning, Tammy! Lovely day, isn’t it?” you greeted your employee with a bright smile as she stumbled through the door into your bakery.

She huffed, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, “Sure, but I’ve hardly been up long enough to notice it. How are you always so peppy this early?” She pointed to the mechanical clock ticking from the left wall that read ‘4:04 AM’. You glanced outside and saw hardly anyone walking through the streets, except the occasional drunkard or lonely soul.

You bashfully shrugged your shoulders, “Well, after years of suffering waking up at three in the morning, you kinda get used to the torment! But, hey, so happy we got the shop far away from the center of the city, you can actually see the sunrise from here!” you tried to help her look on the bright side as you handed her one a cup of one of your homemade coffee brews. She took a sip of the drink and let out a content sigh through her nose, a small, but thankful smile on her face.

“You know, for being a confectioner, you make some pretty solid coffee. What is that?” her eyebrows furrowed as she asked, taking another swig to figure out the secret intense flavor.

You giggled, “That’s probably the nutmeg I added. Is it good?”

“More like fantastic, (Y/N). Trying out new recipes again?” she asked over her shoulder, hanging up her light jacket that protected her from the early morning breeze while grabbing her apron. Though, it being July in Japan, she probably wouldn’t need it again for a while.

“Yeah, I think this one will really please the early risers. It gives a special sort of kick to the taste, don’t you think?” you asked while gently sliding open the glass case that held all of the beautifully decorated pastries, grabbing a pair of tongs and a small floral ceramic plate, carefully placing a fresh Apple Strudel onto the plate, and setting it down on the counter.

“Totally. Hey, can I have a--,” Tammy stopped mid-sentence as she turned around to see the delectable treat already waiting for her.

“Your breakfast awaits, m’lady~,” you slurred out in a fake British accent with a cheesy smirk and a dramatic bow.

She scoffed, “You dork. Am I really that predictable?” she asked, scarfing down the pastry in a matter of seconds as she leaned on the counter.

“Yeah, you kinda are,” you joked as she playfully shoved your plush side.

“You know,” she continued, looking down at the gooey food, “It’s a shame you aren’t more popular with the people. You have a great location, an amazing personality and work staff, if I do say so myself, and don’t even get me started on the incredible stuff you make,” she praised.

“Oh, stop it, Tammy. You’re gonna make me blush,” you flushed from her sincere words, “Besides, I’ve only been open for two weeks, it’s going to be slow for awhile. It’ll ramp up eventually.”

“Yeah, I guess, but you can’t deny that your baked goods are better than most of the others in the country! One day, when people get their heads out of their asses, these little gifts of magic are going to make you RICH!” she threw her lanky airs up into the air and around your shoulders. She spun your smaller frame in a circle while the two of you laughed.

“Ha! Yeah yeah, I know! Now, stop your messing around and come help me fill the rest of these Cream Horns.” you concluded while you pat her taller shoulder. She groaned at the request but gave you a tiny nod. Tammy turned around while tying her short, brown hair into a messy bun, readying herself for the busy day ahead. You smiled while she retreated to the kitchen but before you went to follow her you decided to look out the window again.

Shuffling your legs over to the windows, you got a clear view of the rising sun and all its glory, the hints of yellow, orange, pink, red, and even blue from the night's previous dark veil still clung onto the brightening sky. Somehow you had this weird feeling that today something life changing was going to happen. You didn’t know if you should be excited or worried, but you decided to push those thoughts aside and continue on to the back of the shop where you could already hear the clutter and clang of falling pans, no doubt Tammy’s handy work.

Oh, if you only knew how right your hunch was…

~

~ Timeskip to a little later in the day and a P.O.V change to FatGum ~

~

“How much longer do I have for patrol?” I asked myself, pulling out my phone to check the time. The time read ‘9:12 AM’ and I huffed, still a couple more hours to go. Putting the device back in my pocket with a grimace but quickly faked a smile as I continued down the bustling street. The active community, excited civilians, and eager children usually never fails to put a smile on my face, but today everything just felt like a drag. I was sluggish, unfocused, and I couldn’t understand why. I shook my head, get your head in the game, Taishiro. You don’t have time to let your mind wander on duty.

After what seemed like hours, but was more than likely only 15 minutes, I felt my stomach let out a rumbling growl which made me groan. I stopped walking on the sidewalk and took a second to consider the situation, wandering the city for a couple of hours with nothing too exciting to do really works up an appetite, and I do need to keep up my strength. I’m a hero after all, and denying myself is like ignoring my civic duty to protecting the people! At this point, I’ll take any excuse to get out of this pointless shambling. But the REAL question is, what to get? I glanced around the street and noticed a few shops further down the block that looked to be food related. I smirked, perfect.

I wove through the few people occupying the area, past a few excited teenagers who asked for autographs, and eventually made it to the shops. Looking around I saw some insurance shops, an enticing Pad Thai sit down, and few others, but the one that caught my eye was a cutesy, (F/C)-painted bakery named, “Queen of Tarts”. Chuckling at the interesting name choice, I looked inside the establishment through the plexiglass windows.

The inside carried a light, fluffy atmosphere, pastel colored walls combining with the checkered tile floor caused a small smile out of me. A few small tables with delicate iron chairs here and there, but the real prize were the copious amounts of sweets that were displayed in the glass cases. Each were different colors, sizes, but they all looked delicious. Feeling my stomach grumble, I grabbed the door handle, flung it open, and walked into the scrumptious smelling shop. After walking in, the tiny jingle of bells alerting the workers of my presence, I finally saw the most stunning sweet of all.

“Hi, welcome to the Queen of Tarts, how may I help you today?” the gorgeous woman at the counter asked but it didn’t register in my brain because I was already lost in thought. Her adorable (H/C) hair framed her face to show her soft, chubby cheeks, her eyes glistened in the sunlight, and her smile, oh, it completely lit the room with its radiance. Curves in all the right places, I felt my cheeks heat up as I let out a nervous laugh, cursing my inner self for not holding it together. Seriously, I can face the nastiest of villains but throw one pretty lady in front of me and I fall apart? Fantastic. Realizing I wasn’t answering, I quickly stepped forward and cleared my throat.

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” ‘Wow, so smooth, Taishiro,’ I criticized in my head, “I...haven’t seen this store here before, you new?” I offered a smile, which she returned tenfold, making me even more flustered.

“Yes, actually! I set up shop here only a few weeks ago, finally settling in with the hustle and bustle of city life.” she finished, leaning in closer against the marble counter with her arms crossed.

“City life? You didn’t grow up here?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “Grew up on more of the countryside style of life. I love the city though, do you?”

“Yeah, you gotta get used to it when you spend all your time protecting it.” I let a hint of boasting attitude out, hoping she’d realize who I am.

“Ha, I hear ya! I do my own share of ‘protecting’ around here too. Well, if you count making goodies, that is.” she giggled, standing up and walking over to the glass containers. I deflated a little, guess that wasn’t going to work this time. I shuffled over to where she was standing and looked down at the treats they offered.

“So, kind stranger, what is it you’ll be having?” she asked after a minute of me inspecting the pastries. The problem with not being picky about what you eat, means there are tons of more options than that of others, and when all the items look equally as delectable, you get a little overwhelmed. Plus, the fact that a beautiful woman whom I would very much like to not embarrass myself in front of is waiting for my answer doesn’t help.

I gulped, “I don’t know, they all look amazing. What’s your favorite?” I asked, hoping to know a little more about her.

“Oh, gosh, let me think…” she pouted, resting her head on the palm of her hand while looking deep in thought at the treats. The adorable crease of her eyebrows scrunched together, the tip of her tongue poking out in concentration, her lovely, curvalicious body...that’s it, I’m so screwed.

“I think I’d go for the Chocolate Cream Puff,” her answer drawing both me and her out of our distracted states, “My dad taught me years ago this amazing chocolate ganache recipe and I drizzle that all over the tops of homemade pastry puffs and the whipped filling, ugh! It’s to die for, seriously!” she finished, a sparkle in her (E/C) eyes that fueled the fire in my gut. She spoke about food just as passionately as I did! She’s perfect.

Without thinking, I quickly said, “I’ll take ten.”

~

~ (Y/N) P.O.V ~

~

“Alright, there you go, 10 Chocolate Cream Puffs. Have a wonderful day, sir!” I said with a bright smile.

“Please, call me Taishiro. And you are..?” he asked.

I flushed, I’m such a klutz, “(Y/N), pleasure to meet you, Taishiro. I hope you enjoy them and come back to visit m...us! Come visit us again!” I hastily fixed my wording.

As he smiled and waved goodbye, I rolled the tension out of my shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief. It’s okay, he was nice...and cute...and...really handsome. Wow, I am I sweating?

“HOLY CRAP!” I jumped as I heard Tammy squeal out behind me, I spun around to look at her standing in the doorway to the back, watching the leaving guest with an awestruck face.

“What?! Where’s the fire?!” I shouted running up to her, grabbing the edge of my apron.

“(Y/N), look at me,” she grabbed my shoulders and forced me to stare into her hazel eyes, “Do you know who that was?”

I shrugged my shoulders as best as I could under her vice grip, “A customer, right?”

“A custom--ugh, curse you for not keeping up with the media,” she yelled while flinging her arms to the sky in exasperation before shoving them back on my shoulders, “(Y/N), that wasn’t just any old customer! That was the FatGum!”

I blinked, “Uh, who?”

“Aarrghh! The rank 58 Pro Hero in Japan! What did you say to him?!” I paled as her words sunk in. My legs felt like jelly and I wanted to lie on the floor and die of embarrassment as she raved on about my ignorance.

‘Oh, so I’ve fallen for a Pro Hero. Awesome.’

~

~ Timeskip to a few weeks later, same P.O.V ~

~

Who knew meeting a Pro Hero and potentially having a crush on him could be so amazing? After Taishiro, who is apparently a hero named FatGum, left the store, he personally posted on his main platform of media about the shop and how incredible the desserts were! Of course, to get a compliment from a hero who's Quirk is literally based around food, who’s eaten hundreds of thousands of different dishes, for him to specifically point out your’s brought the media swarming. Business went from nearly dead to tons of people coming in at all open hours! It was fantastic, and the handsome gentleman kept his promise of continually coming in and buying heaps of pastries.

You sighed, leaning against the marble counter after helping a few beautiful ladies buy some tarts, watching their desirable, attractive forms leave the shop and walk past the window. Looking around the busy lounge area, all of the customers were stunning, unique, and most of all thin. You glanced down at yourself, insecurities filling your mind about your appearance and unsurprisingly flickering back to the man plaguing your thoughts. You poked the chub, would he? No. He probably already has someone and even if he didn’t, why would he go for you? You’re a no one to him, someone who just sells him baked goods to fuel his Quirk, nothing more.

“Hey, boss man, what’s up?” Asher, a friend and employee of yours, asked while spinning you away from the counter to face him, drawing Tammy’s attention from her place on the stool behind the counter.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Asher. Just distracted is all, I’m fine!” you sighed and faked a smile.

Asher pulled a skeptical look and without looking at Tammy he said, “She’s thinking about him again, isn’t she?”

Tammy, like it was her sixth sense to pick up on gossip, flung herself to Asher’s side with the same skeptical look, “Yep, it’s so obvious.”

“I-It is?!” you yelped, pulling your hands up to your cheeks to hide your growing blush.

“What are we gonna do about them, Tam?” he asked, still not looking at her but instead grabbing your chin and tiling your head from side to side to inspect you.

 “I don’t know what else to do, Ash. He so likes her back but both are too scared to make the first move. Truly a dilemma.” she said, twirling a lock of your (H/C) hair.

“Wait, he does?! How do you know?” you pleaded but they weren’t paying any attention to you anymore, making you puff out your pudgy cheeks in frustration. Opting to ignore them, you listened to the aimless chatter of the seating area. The ambiance of the confectionery made you smile because it was exactly how you’d pictured it as a little girl, the sweet smells, the laughter, it finally felt like home after all these years in the making. All your hard work was paying off in the end. Suddenly, the ringing bells of the door opening drew your attention. Glancing back, you caught a glimpse of a familiar yellow and orange clad figure whose head almost touched the ceiling. You gasped and shoved your friends off of you and to the backroom, spun around, and greeted your favorite customer with a bashful smile.

“Taishiro! How lovely to see you again,” but you quickly noticed it wasn’t just him. Two teenage boys, one with striking red hair and a warm smile and the other trembling and hiding inside of his cloak’s hood, were by FatGum’s side, which made you ask, “And who is this with you?”

“(Y/N), this is Eijirou Kirishima and Tamaki Amajiki, they are training under me for hero internships. I wanted to bring them here so they could try your wicked sweets!” he finished, making you blush even harder.

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you, FatGum! It’s a pleasure to meet you, boys.” you finished, holding out your hand for them to shake.

The red-headed boy, Kirishima, shook your hand with a gentle, but strong grip, “Same here! I’ve heard all about this place because of the news, sorry I couldn’t come sooner!”

“Oh, that’s alright, and it’s wonderful to meet you, Tamaki.” you held out your hand, but all you got from him was a curt nod as he shrunk further into his suit.

“You’ll have to forgive, Amajiki, he’s sort of shy.” Taishiro chuckled, rubbing his hand behind his head.

You pulled your hand back with an understanding smile, “No problem, I totally get social anxiety. Happens to the best of us, I’m afraid.”

“No way,” you suddenly heard Tammy mumble behind you, no doubt to Asher, “He brought his kids to see her. Did not expect that. I respect the flex.”

“Isn’t that a little far for first base material?” Asher whispered back to her. You proceeded to shoot them a terrifying glare and subtly kick both of them in the shins, a symbol for them to scram. They gulped and hobbled off to the back to avoid your wrath while you huffed and whipped your hair out of your face with a smile.

“Anyways, since the three of you are here, what would you boys like? It’s on the house!” you confidently boasted.

Taishiro gasped, “(Y/N), no. I can’t do that to you, we’ll pay.”

“Ah, ah, ah, Taishiro. You are by far the most paying of customers and since you’re my favorite of all I want to give this to you. Call it, uh, thank you present for all the publicity you’ve given my store! I couldn’t have made it this far without you.” you grinned.

He sighed and, though it could have been your imagination, blushed a little, “At least let me pay for my portion. I get considerably more than them.”

“Nope, it’s already been decided! Kirishima, what would you like?” you changed the topic before Taishiro could argue with you again. He rolled his eyes, clear girl.

“Hmm,” Kirishima thought, “Do you have anything with strawberries?”

“I got just the thing for you. How about a Strawberry Turnover?” you directed him over to the case with the pastry. He took one glance and excitedly nodded his head and you smiled, grabbed the sweet with a clean pair of tongs, placed it on a napkin, and handed it over to the young man. He grinned and shoveled the pastry into his mouth without hesitation. 

“Thanks so much, Miss (Y/N)! It’s delicious!” he praised through a mouth full of food, making you giggle at his silliness. Walking back over to the registrar, you saw Tamaki looking at you. When he was caught, he gasped, quickly spun around, and hid himself away from you by pressing into FatGum’s body.

“What would you like, Tamaki?” you patiently asked. Taishiro looked at you with doubt and started saying something but you quickly shushed him and continued to wait for the teen’s answer.

Knowing that you weren’t going to give up, Tamaki quietly mumbled out, “D-D-Do you...have anything with...b-black raspberry? I-If you don’t that’s fine too, I-I didn’t mean to sound too rude or--”

“I believe I do,” you quickly interrupted so he didn’t go into a spiraling haze of self doubt, “Would a Black Raspberry Lychee Cake suffice, Tamaki?”

“Y-Yes, Miss (Y/N)...” he sighed in relief, glancing at you with tears in his eyes. You gave him a reassuring smile and grabbed the treat for him, handing it to FatGum so he could hold on to it for Tamaki.

“And now, what’ll you have, kind stranger?” you grinned as he chuckled.

“I’ll take my usual then, 10 Chocolate Cream Puffs, please.” he concluded while giving a sweet grin.

You snarked, “You always get the same thing every time, Taishiro. Don’t you wanna try anything else? I promise they’re poisoned.” you smirked.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, “Are you sure about that?” he joked.

“Taishiro! What kind of business would I be if I poisoned all my guests?” you laughed at him.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try something different, ma’am. Do you have anything with pineapple?” he asked with curiosity.

“You betcha. How does a Pineapple Poke Cake sound, sir?” you interrogated. You saw stars glisten in his eyes and you giggled at his excitement.

“How many?” you joked.

“I’ll take 12!” he concluded, blissfully staring off into space.

You packaged up his request in a cutesy (F/C) box with your confectionery’s logo and, biting your lip in apprehension, decided that if he wasn’t going to make his move then you would. You quickly wrote down your phone number on top of the box in Sharpie and signed off your name with a small black heart. As you finished the lettering you stared at the box and thought about your previous insecurities. There was still time, still time to take out the pastries, put them in a new box, and forget the whole number thing ever happened.

“Hey, don’t you dare take out those treats and put them in a new box, you hear me, girl?!” you heard a tiny male voice whisper above you. Startled, you looked up to see Tammy and Asher peeking through the window that let the customers see into the back of the bakery to watch the baking happen. You glared at the two, so they had been watching you try and confess your feelings to the fluffy hero in a discreet way.

“What am I supposed to do? What if he doesn’t like me and all the signs I’ve been getting from him are me making up a love story that is never going to happen between us?! What if by doing this I ruin our relationship and he makes sure the business tanks?! This is my life's work and I’m putting it on the line for a stupid chance at love!” you whisper yelled at them, the familiar feeling of fear and pain coursing through your system from previous failed love confessions.

“You really think a sweet man like that is going to make your life’s dream completely fall to pieces?” Tammy questioned and you exhaled, shaking your head ‘no’.

“Then go out there and get yo mans! You have to at least try and snatch that, I have to see my OTP become canon!” she sent a determined glare at you, grabbed the box, shoved it in your hands, spun you around, and pushed your forward. You stumbled and almost tripped onto the floor but caught yourself on the marble counter. Standing up tall, you took a deep breath in and urged your legs to move forward. Getting to the registrar, you smiled at Taishiro and the boys and handed over the box to FatGum after giving a subtle cough.

“Thank you for everything, Taishiro, you’ve helped me in ways you could never imagine. Now, I hope you boys come back sometime!” you spoke to the teens, Kirishima grinning at you with his shark-like teeth.

“Will do, Miss (Y/N)! I couldn’t stay away from this place even if I tried, your desserts are the BOMB!” he laughed, punching his fists together in excitement.

“...Thank you, Miss (Y/N).” Tamaki shyly whispered, giving you half a grin before cowering away once more.

“Don’t mention it, loves! Now, Taishiro, remember that I said this is on the--whoa! Are you okay?” you asked the man. His face was almost as red as his student’s hair, his eyes wide and unfocused as he stared at the top of the box, where your number neatly sat. You gulped, maybe it was the wrong decision after all.

Waving a nervous hand in front of Taishiro’s face, it seemed to break him from his spellbound state as he glanced at your eyes, “Are you...feeling okay, Taishiro?”

He looked at you with a shaken gaze as he laughed off his nerves while saying, “Y-Yeah! Just, um...yeah...you...let’s go, boys! Gotta get back to the patrol! Bye, (Y/N)!” he said while ushering the confused boys away from the counter and to the door. You felt your heart shatter into dozens of pieces as you turned your head down to conceal your sorrowed expression from the rest of the lounge area. You felt your eyes wet with tears but you used the sleeve of your white button down you dry them, you have to stay strong. At least you got it off your chest. Sniffling, you turned your head back up only to see FatGum’s face, only he was suddenly a lot more chiseled in the face and body and wow, did it just get hot in here?

“I forgot one thing.” he said with a flustered smile. You, less heartbroken then before just more confused, shrugged your shoulders in question. He then grasped your shoulders, tilted his head to the side, and planted a loving and firm kiss on your right cheek. You felt your face melt into a puddle of red as he held the kiss for a few seconds longer than anticipated but eventually released your cheek, staring back at you with the same expression as you.

“Did you really think I was going to leave without paying you back, cream puff?” he chuckled with a grin.

“I-I, um…” no longer sorrowed, your brain couldn’t catch up with the fact that he most definitely liked you back.

“Heh, you’re cute when you’re flustered for me. I’ll text you later, okay? Keep on the look out for me!” he said, backing up from the counter, only to grow immensely in size as he returned to the state you had met the hero in. He waved goodbye as he walked back to Kirishima who was practically bouncing off the walls in his excitement.

“Congratulations on the relationship, Miss (Y/N)!” the teen sang out as the three of them left the store to patrol the streets for their hero duties once again.

The entire restaurant was silent as they watched your chubby form turn into a puddle of emotions and ditzy giggles, the only thing that was heard was a loud, “YES! IT’S CANON, BABY!”

~

~

~ The End ~

[nightshifters]

JENSEN POSTED FOR THE 4X01 ANNIVERSARY???????????????? 

EXT. A COUNTRY ROAD – DAY

Through hazy heat, DEAN walks down an empty road and approaches an abandoned gas station. He pounds on the door.

DEAN (hoarse) Hello?

INT. GAS STATION – DAY

DEAN rolls up his outer shirt over his right hand, breaks the glass on the door. Inside, he grabs a water bottle from a fridge and gulps at it, gasping. He finds a newspaper and sees the date, which reads:

Thursday, September 18th

DEAN September.

INT – GAS STATION BATHROOM - DAY

DEAN washes his face in a dingy sink, then looks up and stares at his reflection. He wears a tight black t-shirt. Frowning, he stands, pulls the shirt up to expose his chest.

FLASHBACK DEAN's chest is ripped apart by the Hellhounds (3.16)

PRESENT DEAN stares at his unblemished, unscarred chest in the dingy gas station mirror. He turns his left shoulder to the mirror and pulls up the sleeve to reveal a large, raw HANDPRINT BRAND.

INT – GAS STATION MART – DAY

DEAN pulls snacks and energy bars from the shelves, along with several bottles of water, and stashes them in a plastic bag. Stopping in front of a magazine stand, he grins slowly. On the stand is an Adult Magazine - “Busty Asian Beauties”. He picks it up, smirks, flips through it, and stuffs it in the bag too.

He goes to the counter, sets down the bag, and hits a single button on the register, snapping his fingers in satisfaction when it pops open. As he's looting the cash, the TV to his left flicks on, showing only static. He shuts it off; only to have a radio to his right turn on to white noise. Not wasting a moment, he goes to another shelf and grabs a carton of salt, opens it, and begins to pour it along the windowsill.

A high-pitched single tone begins, and DEAN clutches his left ear in pain as he continues to pour salt with his right hand. As it continues, he drops the salt and crouches to the floor, groaning in agony. The window above his head shatters as the sound continues, and he drops to the floor. He leaps to his feet to try to escape, and more glass on the ceiling and walls shatters. He looks around cautiously.

EXT. PHONE BOOTH – DAY

DEAN dials a number, and hears only an alert tone.

RECORDED VOICE We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected.

DEAN hangs up the pay phone and inserts another coin, dials another number. It rings once, then is picked up.

BOBBY (V.O.) Yeah?

DEAN Bobby?

BOBBY (V.O.) Yeah?

DEAN It's me.

BOBBY (V.O.) Who's “me”?

DEAN Dean.

A dial tone sounds. DEAN hangs up the receiver and dials again.

BOBBY (V.O.) Who is this?

DEAN Bobby, listen to me.

BOBBY (V.O.) This ain't funny. Call again, I'll kill ya.

The dial tone again. DEAN hangs up the phone, turns. He sees an old, beat-up white car parked outside. His eyes light up; he hotwires the car and pulls away from the gas station.

INT. BOBBY'S HOUSE – DAY

To a pounding on the door, BOBBY'S hand appears to open it. On the doorstep is DEAN, looking winded and apprehensive. He smiles cautiously. BOBBY looks at him suspiciously.

DEAN Surprise.

BOBBY I, I don't...

DEAN Yeah, me neither. (He enters.) But here I am.

Behind his back, BOBBY takes a silver knife. As DEAN approaches, BOBBY lunges forward and slashes at him. DEAN grabs his arm and twists it around; BOBBY breaks the grip and backhands him in the face.

DEAN Bobby! It's me!

BOBBY My ass!

DEAN (shoves a chair between himself and BOBBY, holds his hands out) Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait! Your name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed, and... you're about the closest thing I have to a father. Bobby. It's me.

BOBBY lowers the knife, steps forward slowly. He places a hand gently on DEAN'S shoulder. Suddenly he slashes again, but DEAN quickly subdues and disarms him.

DEAN I am not a shapeshifter!

BOBBY Then you're a Revenant!

DEAN shoves BOBBY away, having taken the KNIFE. He holds it out in front of him.

DEAN Alright. If I was either, could I do this – with a silver knife?

DEAN rolls up his left sleeve, and, grimacing, slices his arm above the elbow with the knife. A line of blood appears.

BOBBY (starting to believe it) Dean?

DEAN That's what I've been trying to tell you.

BOBBY breaks, grabbing DEAN in for a tight hug. DEAN returns the hug with enthusiasm, relief on his face. They pull apart.

BOBBY It's... It's good to see you, boy.

DEAN Yeah, you too.

BOBBY But... how did you bust out?

DEAN I don't know. I just, uh, I just woke up in a pine box...

Suddenly, BOBBY splashes water in DEAN'S face. DEAN pauses, spits.

DEAN I'm not a demon either, you know.

BOBBY Sorry. Can't be too careful.

They go further into the house, DEAN wiping his face with a towel.

BOBBY But... that don't make a lick of sense.

DEAN Yeah. Yeah, you're preachin' to the choir.

BOBBY Dean. Your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop. And you've been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meat suit -

DEAN I know, I should look like a Thriller video reject.

BOBBY What do you remember?

DEAN Not much. I remember I was a Hellhound's chew toy, and then... lights out. Then I come to six feet under, that was it. (BOBBY sits.) Sam's number's not working. He's, uh... he's not...

BOBBY Oh, he's alive. As far as I know.

DEAN Good.... Wait, what do you mean, as far as you know?

BOBBY I haven't talked to him for months.

DEAN You're kidding, you just let him go off by himself?

BOBBY He was dead set on it.

DEAN Bobby, you should've been looking after him.

BOBBY I tried. These last months haven't been exactly easy, you know. For him or me. We had to bury you.

DEAN Why did you bury me, anyway?

BOBBY I wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill. But... Sam wouldn't have it.

DEAN Well, I'm glad he won that one.

BOBBY He said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow. That's about all he said.

DEAN (suspicious) What do you mean?

BOBBY He was quiet. Real quiet. And then he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found.

DEAN Oh, damnit, Sammy.

BOBBY What?

DEAN Oh, he got me home okay. But whatever he did, it is bad mojo.

BOBBY What makes you so sure?

DEAN You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off. And then there was this... this force, this presence, I don't know, but it, it blew past me at a fill-up joint. And then this. (He strips his jacket, pulls up his sleeve to reveal the brand.)

BOBBY (standing) What in the hell?

DEAN It was like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out.

BOBBY But why?

DEAN To hold up their end of the bargain.

BOBBY You think Sam made a deal.

DEAN It's what I would have done.

INT BOBBY'S HOUSE – DAY

DEAN (into the phone) Yeah, hi, I have a cell phone account with you guys, and uh, I lost my phone. I was wondering if you could turn the GPS on for me. (beat) Yeah. Name's Wedge Antilles. (beat) Social is 2-4-7-4. (beat) Thank you.

DEAN hangs up the phone and crosses to a laptop on the table.

BOBBY How'd you know he'd use that name?

DEAN You kiddin' me? What don't I know about that kid?

The laptop is open to a web browser; DEAN types in the address for ARC MOBILE.

DEAN (picking up one of the many empty liquor bottles scattered around) Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? What, are your parents out of town or something?

BOBBY Like I said. Last few months ain't been all that easy.

DEAN (holds his gaze for a moment) Right.

The laptop beeps; the display shows a city map with a blue arrow pointing to a star. The locator reads:

Phone Location: 263 Adams Road Pontiac, Illinois.

DEAN Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois.

BOBBY Right near where you were planted.

DEAN Right where I popped up. Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?

EXT. ASTORIA MOTEL – NIGHT

DEAN and BOBBY walk down a dingy hallway and knock on a door with the number 207 inside a red heart. The door is opened by a HOT YOUNG WOMAN with dark hair, wearing only a tank top and underwear. She looks at them expectantly.

HOT YOUNG WOMAN So where is it?

DEAN (looks at BOBBY, confused) Where's what?

HOT YOUNG WOMAN The pizza... that takes two guys to deliver?

DEAN I think we got the wrong room.

SAM steps into the light. He is grim and focused, and wears a grey t-shirt and jeans.

SAM Hey, is...

SAM stops dead when he sees DEAN. He swallows, shocked, his eyes flicking between DEAN and BOBBY.

DEAN (quietly, with much feeling) Heya, Sammy.

SAM is silent. DEAN steps into the room, ignoring the H.Y.W., who steps aside to let him in. As DEAN gets close, SAM pulls a knife and lunges at DEAN. H.Y.W. screams; DEAN blocks SAM'S attack and BOBBY pulls SAM off, gripping him around the shoulders. SAM struggles.

SAM (shouting) Who are you?!

DEAN Like you didn't do this?!

SAM Do what?!

BOBBY It's him. It's him. I've been through this already, it's really him.

SAM (stares at DEAN as the struggle slowly goes out of his body) What...

DEAN (advancing cautiously, staring at SAM) I know. I look fantastic, huh?

BOBBY lets go of SAM, who looks on the verge of tears as he steps forward and pulls DEAN into a desperate hug. They embrace for several seconds, heavy with emotion, as BOBBY looks on with tears in his eyes. SAM pushes DEAN back to arm's length. H.Y.W. is looking on, looking confused.

HOT YOUNG WOMAN So are you two like... together?

SAM (like he's just remembered that she's there) What? No. No. He's my brother.

HOT YOUNG WOMAN Uh... got it. I... I guess. Look, I should probably go.

SAM Yeah. Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Sorry.

EXT. MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

SAM, now wearing a white button-down, opens the door to let the H.Y.W., now dressed in an adorable blue plaid shirt, out.

HOT YOUNG WOMAN So, call me.

SAM Yeah. Yeah, sure thing, Kathy.

HOT YOUNG WOMAN:(disappointed) Kristy.

SAM Right.

She leaves, and SAM shuts the door.

INT. MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

SAM comes back into the room and sits down. DEAN is standing above him, arms crossed. He and BOBBY are both looking at SAM suspiciously.

DEAN So tell me, what'd it cost?

SAM (smiling) The girl? I don't pay, Dean.

DEAN That's not funny, Sam. To bring me back. What'd it cost? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?

SAM You think I made a deal?

BOBBY That's exactly what we think.

SAM Well, I didn't.

DEAN (intensely) Don't lie to me.

SAM I'm not lying.

DEAN (advancing) So what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy? I didn't want to be saved like this.

SAM (standing, angrily) Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, all right?

DEAN (grabs SAM by the front of his shirt) There's no other way that this could have gone down. Now tell the truth!

SAM (breaking DEAN'S grip) I tried everything. That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry.

DEAN (relenting) It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to apologize, I believe you.

BOBBY Don't get me wrong, I'm gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question.

DEAN If he didn't pull me out, then what did?

END ACT ONE

ACT TWO

INT. MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

DEAN and BOBBY are seated the couch. SAM enters and passes out bottles of beer, then sits across from DEAN.

DEAN So what were you doing around here if you weren't digging me out of my grave?

SAM Well, once I figured out I couldn't save you, I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback.

BOBBY (accusing) All by yourself. Who do you think you are, your old man?

DEAN sees something, frowns, and crosses towards it.

SAM Uh, yeah, I'm sorry, Bobby. I should have called. I was pretty messed up.

DEAN picks up what he'd seen a pink flowered bra. He holds it up.

DEAN Oh yeah. I really feel your pain.

SAM Anyways, uh, I was checking these demons out of Tennessee, and out of nowhere they took a hard left, booked up here.

DEAN When?

SAM Yesterday morning.

DEAN When I busted out.

BOBBY You think these demons are here 'cause of you?

SAM But why?

DEAN Well, I don't know – some badass demon drags me out and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow.

BOBBY How you feelin', anyway?

DEAN I'm a little hungry.

BOBBY No, I mean, do you feel like yourself? Anything strange, or different?

DEAN Or demonic? Bobby, how many times do I have to prove I'm me?

BOBBY Yeah. Well, listen. No demon's letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. They've gotta have something nasty planned.

DEAN Well, I feel fine.

SAM Okay, look, we don't know what they're planning. We got a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help.

BOBBY I know a psychic. A few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking.

DEAN Hell yeah, it's worth a shot.

BOBBY I'll be right back

BOBBY exits.

DEAN stands as if to leave.

SAM Hey, wait. (stands) You probably want this back.

SAM reaches into his collar and pulls out a cord. It is DEAN'S AMULET. He places it in DEAN'S hand. DEAN looks at it, touched.

DEAN Thanks.

SAM Yeah, don't mention it. (DEAN puts the AMULET on) Hey Dean, what was it like?

DEAN What, Hell? I don't know, I, I must have blacked it out. I don't remember a damn thing.

SAM (nodding) Well, thank God for that.

DEAN Yeah.

INT. MOTEL BATHROOM – NIGHT

DEAN flicks on the light and stares at himself in the mirror. He runs a hand over his chin and leans forward on the sink.

FLASHBACK Closeup of DEAN'S bloody, terrified face, with screams and eerie sounds.

PRESENT DEAN pulls back from the mirror, blinking in confusion.

EXT. MOTEL PARKING LOT – NIGHT

BOBBY leads the boys down a set of steps.

BOBBY She's about four hours down the Interstate. Try to keep up.

BOBBY gets in his car.

SAM I assume you'll want to drive.

SAM pulls the keys out of his right pocket and tosses them at DEAN, who catches them easily.

DEAN (chuckling) Oh, I almost forgot! (he approaches the IMPALA and runs a hand along it lovingly.) Hey, sweetheart, did you miss me?

DEAN gets in the driver's side, settles in. He sees an iPod plugged into the stereo, pauses, and gives it a dirty look. SAM gets into the passenger's seat, smiling. DEAN glares at him.

DEAN What the hell is that?

SAM That's an iPod jack.

DEAN You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up.

SAM Dean, I thought it was my car.

DEAN sneers, sighs, and turns the key in the ignition. "Vision" by Jason Manns begins to play. DEAN rolls his eyes and glares at SAM again, looking pained.

DEAN Really?

SAM shrugs innocently. DEAN rips the iPod out of the jack and tosses it in the back seat.

EXT. TWO-LANE BLACKTOP – NIGHT

DEAN and SAM are back in their familiar places, having a heart-to-heart in the IMPALA on a dark road.

DEAN There's still one thing that's bothering me.

SAM Yeah?

DEAN Yeah, the night that I bit it. Or... got bit. (he chuckles at his own wit) How'd you make it out? I thought Lilith was going to kill you.

SAM Well, she tried. She couldn't.

DEAN What do you mean, she couldn't?

SAM She fired this, like, burning light at me, and... didn't leave a scratch. Like I was immune or something.

DEAN Immune?

SAM Yeah. I don't know who was more surprised, her or me. She left pretty fast after that.

DEAN Huh. What about Ruby, where is she?

SAM Dead. For now.

DEAN (bites his lip, like he's not sure he wants to ask) So you've been using your, uh, freaky ESP stuff?

SAM No.

DEAN You sure about that? Well, I mean, now that you've got... immunity, whatever the hell that is... just wondering what other kind of weirdo crap you've got going on.

SAM Nothing, Dean. Look, you didn't want me to go down that road, so I didn't go down that road. It was practically your dying wish.

DEAN Yeah, well, let's keep it that way.

SAM broods.

EXT. PAMELA'S HOUSE – DAY

They knocks on the door, and PAMELA opens it. She is in her thirties, strong and beautiful with a ready smile.

PAMELA Bobby!

She grabs him into a hug, lifting him briefly off the ground. SAM and DEAN share a look.

BOBBY You're a sight for sore eyes.

PAMELA steps back and looks SAM and DEAN up and down appraisingly.

PAMELA So, these the boys?

BOBBY Sam, Dean. This is Pamela Barnes, best damn psychic in the state.

DEAN (flirting, of course) Hey.

SAM (a little awkwardly) Hi.

PAMELA Mmm-mmm-mmm. Dean Winchester. Out of the fire and back in the frying pan, huh? Makes you a rare individual.

DEAN If you say so.

PAMELA Come on in.

INT. PAMELA'S HOUSE – DAY

PAMELA ushers them in, first BOBBY, then DEAN, then SAM, and shuts the door behind them.

BOBBY So, you hear anything?

PAMELA Well, I Ouija'd my way through a dozen spirits. No one seems to know who broke your boy out, or why.

BOBBY So what's next?

PAMELA A séance, I think. See if we can see who did the deed.

BOBBY You're not gonna... summon the damn thing here.

PAMELA No. I just want to get a sneak peek at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystal.

DEAN I'm game.

INT. SEANCE ROOM – DAY

PAMELA spreads a black tablecloth covered in symbols over a small table. SAM and DEAN look at it warily; DEAN cocks his head as PAMELA squats in front of a cabinet, revealing a scrawled tattoo across her lower back that reads:

Jesse Forever

DEAN Who's Jesse?

PAMELA (laughs) Well, it wasn't forever.

DEAN His loss.

PAMELA stands with several pillar candles in her hands, stops in front of DEAN with a smirk.

PAMELA Might be your gain.

As she passes by, DEAN turns to SAM and lowers his voice.

DEAN Dude, I am so in.

SAM Yeah, she's gonna eat you alive.

DEAN Hey, I just got out of jail. Bring it.

PAMELA (passing by again, to SAM with a wink) You're invited too, grumpy.

DEAN You are NOT invited.

LATER PAMELA, BOBBY, SAM, and DEAN are seated around the small table, which now has six lighted candles in the center.

PAMELA Right. Take each other's hands. (they do) And I need to touch something our mystery monster touched.

PAMELA slides her hand along DEAN'S inner thigh. He jumps.

DEAN Whoa. Well, he didn't touch me there.

PAMELA My mistake.

DEAN looks around, nervous, then takes off his outer shirt, pulls up his left t-shirt sleeve to reveal the BRAND. SAM stares at it, shocked, looks at BOBBY. PAMELA lays her hand on the BRAND.

PAMELA Okay. (All four close their eyes as PAMELA begins to chant) I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. (a television flicks on to static; she continues) I invoke, conjure, and command... Castiel? No. Sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy.

DEAN Castiel?

PAMELA Its name. It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back. (white noise and static continues, and the table begins to shake) I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face.

BOBBY (as the white noise and rattling become more violent) Maybe we should stop.

PAMELA I almost got it. I command you, show me your face! Show me your face now!

Suddenly the candles flare up several feet in the air and PAMELA begins to scream. Her eyes fly open and are filled with a white-hot flame. She collapses; the rattling, white noise, and flames die out.

BOBBY (catching her and lowering her to the floor) Call 9-1-1!

SAM scrambles out of his chair and into the next room. DEAN crouches over PAMELA and BOBBY. She is conscious, but bleeding and burned. Her eyelids fly open to reveal black, empty sockets. She sobs.

PAMELA I can't see! I can't see! Oh god!

In the next room we can hear SAM calling for an ambulance.

END ACT TWO

ACT THREE

INT. JOHNNY MAC'S DINER – DAY

DEAN is sitting at a table giving his order to a WAITRESS.

WAITRESS Be up in a jiff.

As she leaves, SAM enters, talking on his cell phone.

SAM (into the phone) You bet. (he sits)

DEAN What'd Bobby say?

SAM Pam's stable. And out of I.C.U.

DEAN And blind, because of us.

SAM And we still have no clue who we're dealing with.

DEAN That's not entirely true.

SAM No?

DEAN We got a name. Castiel, or whatever. With the right mumbo-jumbo we could summon him, bring him right to us.

SAM You're crazy. Absolutely not.

DEAN We'll work him over. I mean, after what he did?

SAM Pam took a peek at him and her eyes burned out of her skull, and you want to have a face to face?

DEAN You got a better idea?

SAM Yeah, as a matter of fact I do. I followed some demons to town, right?

DEAN Okay.

SAM So, we go find them. Someone's gotta know something about something.

The WAITRESS reappears with two plates of pie. She sets them on the table.

SAM Thanks.

The WAITRESS then plops down in a chair at the end of the table. DEAN looks at her, smirking.

DEAN You angling for a tip?

WAITRESS I'm sorry. Thought you were looking for us.

Her eyes go demon-black for a moment; a UNIFORMED MAN by the counter and a COOK behind the counter also show the demon-black; the UNIFORMED MAN goes to the door, locks it, and stands in front of it.

DEMON WAITRESS (eyes going back to normal) Dean. To hell and back. Aren't you a lucky duck.

DEAN That's me.

DEMON WAITRESS So you get to just stroll out of the pit, huh? Tell me. What makes you so special?

DEAN I like to think it's because of my perky nipples. I don't know. Wasn't my doing, I don't know who pulled me out.

DEMON WAITRESS Right. You don't.

DEAN No. I don't.

DEMON WAITRESS Lying's a sin, you know.

DEAN I'm not lying. But I'd like to find out, so if you wouldn't mind enlightening me, Flo...

DEMON WAITRESS Mind your tone with me, boy. I'll drag you back to hell myself.

SAM, who has been staring daggers at her through this exchange, shifts as if to attack. DEAN holds a hand up and SAM stops, settles back into his seat.

DEAN No, you won't.

DEMON WAITRESS No?

DEAN No. Because if you were you would have done it already. Fact is, you don't know who cut me loose. And you're just as spooked as we are. And you're looking for answers. Well, maybe it was some turbo-charged spirit. Or, uh, Godzilla. Or some big bad boss demon. I'm guessing at your pay grade that they don't tell you squat. Because whoever it was, they want me out. And they're a lot stronger than you. So go ahead. Send me back. But don't come crawling to me when they show up on your front doorstep with some Vaseline and a fire hose.

DEMON WAITRESS I'm going to reach down your throat and rip out your lungs.

DEAN leans forward, a challenge in his eyes. He throws a right hook at her, which she takes. He throws another. She still does nothing but glare at them, looking more and more nervous.

DEAN That's what I thought. Let's go, Sam.

They stand, and the demon sits there, fuming. DEAN pulls a roll of cash out of his pocket and carefully peels off a ten dollar bill. He holds it up and drops it on the table like an insult.

DEAN For the pie.

EXT. JOHNNY MAC'S DINER – DAY

SAM and DEAN stalk out of the diner and across the street, tense and quick.

DEAN Holy crap, that was close.

SAM We're not just going to leave them in there, are we, Dean?

DEAN Well yeah, there's three of them, probably more, and we've only got one knife between us.

SAM I've been killing a lot more demons than that lately.

DEAN Not anymore – the smarter brother's back in town.

SAM Dean, we've got to take 'em. They are dangerous.

DEAN They're scared. Okay? Scared of whatever had the juice to yank me out. We're dealing with a bad mofo here. One job at a time.

INT. ASTORIA MOTEL – NIGHT

DEAN is dozing on the couch with a large book open in his lap. SAM sneaks out, checking to make sure DEAN doesn't wake.

EXT. ASTORIA MOTEL – NIGHT

SAM drives away in the IMPALA.

INT. ASTORIA MOTEL – NIGHT

As DEAN dozes, the television flicks on to the now-familiar static, and the radio starts whining as well. It wakes DEAN, who rubs the sleep out of his eyes and rolls quickly to grab a SHOTGUN lying by the bed. He looks around cautiously, glances at SAM'S bed and sees that it is empty. He grimaces. The painfully high-pitched noise begins again, and he grabs his right ear, keeping the weapon up in his left hand. A mirror on the ceiling shatters and rains broken glass down on him. He crumples to the ground, clutching both ears as all the glass in the room shatters explosively. He screams.

BOBBY bursts into the room as more glass shatters.

BOBBY Dean!

END ACT THREE

ACT FOUR

EXT. ROAD – NIGHT

BOBBY drives his car as DEAN, in the passenger's seat, wipes blood from his face.

BOBBY How you doin', kid?

DEAN Aside from the church bells ringing in my head, peachy.

DEAN pulls out his cell phone and dials a number.

EXT. JOHNNY MAC'S DINER – NIGHT

SAM is in the IMPALA, staking out the diner full of demons. His cell phone rings; he answers it.

SAM (PHONE) Hey.

DEAN (PHONE) What are you doing?

SAM Couldn't sleep, went to get a burger.

DEAN In my car?

SAM Force of habit, sorry. What are you doing up?

DEAN Well, uh, Bobby's back. We're going to grab a beer. (on BOBBY'S shocked look, DEAN holds up a finger.)

SAM All right, well, uh, spill some for me, huh?

DEAN Done. Catch you later. (They hang up.)

BOBBY Why the hell didn't you tell him?

DEAN Because he just tried to stop us.

BOBBY From what?

DEAN Summoning this thing. (BOBBY looks at him in shock. Again.) It's time we faced it head-on.

BOBBY You can't be serious!

DEAN As a heart attack. It's high noon, baby.

BOBBY Well, we don't know what it is. It could be a demon, it could be anything.

DEAN That's why we've got to be ready for anything. (he pulls out RUBY'S DEMON-KILLING KNIFE) We've got the big-time magic knife, you've got an arsenal in the trunk...

BOBBY This is a bad idea.

DEAN Yeah, I couldn't agree more, but what other choice do we have?

BOBBY We could choose life.

DEAN Bobby, whatever this is, whatever it wants, it's after me. That much we know, right? I've got no place to hide. I can either get caught with my pants down again, or we can make our stand.

BOBBY Dean, we could use Sam on this.

DEAN Nah, he's better off where he is.

INT. JOHNNY MAC'S DINER – NIGHT

SAM sneaks into the darkened diner and slips his lock-picking tools into his shirt pocket. A song is playing on the jukebox. SAM sneaks in quietly, sees the COOK from earlier face-down on the floor, his hands bloody. SAM crouches and turns the man over; he is dead, his eyes burned out and drying blood caked on his cheeks. SAM stands.

A figure tackles him from behind – it is the DEMON WAITRESS. They trade blows for a few moments until SAM shoves her away. She too has empty, burned out eye sockets and blood trickling down her face. She looks both terrifying and terrified.

SAM Your eyes.

DEMON WAITRESS I can still smell your soul a mile away.

SAM It was here. You saw it.

DEMON WAITRESS (sobbing) I saw it.

SAM What was it?

DEMON WAITRESS It's the end. We're dead. We're all dead.

SAM (insisting) What did you see?

DEMON WAITRESS Go to hell.

SAM Funny. I was going to say the same thing to you.

SAM steps back, plants his feet, and shuts his eyes in concentration. He extends his right hand towards the demon. She heaves and begins to vomit black smoke into her hand; in seconds, the WAITRESS has collapsed to the floor as the DEMON is sucked down into the Pit. SAM opens his eyes and crosses to the woman on the floor. He checks her pulse, sighs in disappointment.

SAM Damn it.

The kitchen door opens and a woman comes out. He looks up, apparently not surprised to see her. It is the HOT YOUNG WOMAN from ACT ONE.

HOT YOUNG WOMAN (henceforth called RUBY) Getting pretty slick there, Sam. Better all the time.

SAM stands and they share a smoldering look. He looks down at the corpse at his feet, his face falling.

SAM What the hell is going on around here, Ruby?

RUBY I wish I knew.

SAM We were thinking some high level demon pulled Dean out.

RUBY No way. Sam, human souls don't just walk out of Hell and back into their bodies easy. The sky bleeds, the ground quakes. It's cosmic. No demon can swing that. Not Lilith, not anybody.

SAM Then what can?

RUBY Nothing I've ever seen before.

INT. WAREHOUSE – NIGHT

BOBBY draws a symbol with white spray paint on the cement floor. As he stands, we see that the entire floor, walls, and ceiling of the empty rectangular warehouse are covered in similar images.

DEAN (at a table, setting up equipment) That's a hell of an art project you've got going there.

BOBBY Traps and talismans from every faith on the globe. How you doin?

DEAN Stakes, iron, silver, salt, knife. I mean, we're pretty much set to catch and kill anything I've ever heard of.

BOBBY This is still a bad idea.

DEAN Yeah, Bobby, I heard you the first ten times. What do you say we ring the dinner bell?

BOBBY nods reluctantly. He goes over to another desk, takes a pinch of some powder from a bowl, and sprinkles it into a larger bowl, which begins to smoke. He chants in Latin.

INT. JOHHNY MAC'S DINER – NIGHT

RUBY and SAM are seated across from each other at a small table.

RUBY So. Million dollar question, are you going to tell Dean about what we're doing?

SAM Yeah, I just gotta figure out the right way to say it. (RUBY gives him a look) Look, I just need time, okay? That's all.

RUBY Sam, he's going to find out, and if it's not from you he's going to be pissed.

SAM He's going to be pissed anyway. I mean, he's so hardheaded about this psychic stuff he'll just try and stop me.

RUBY Look. Maybe I'll just take a step back for a while.

SAM Ruby, you...

RUBY I mean, I'm not exactly in your brother's fanclub. But he is your brother, and I'm not going to come between you.

SAM I don't know if what I'm doing is right. Hell, I don't even know if I trust you.

RUBY Thanks.

SAM But what I do know is that I'm saving people. And stopping demons. And that feels good. I want to keep going.

INT. WAREHOUSE – NIGHT

DEAN and BOBBY are seated on tables, swinging their legs and looking bored.

DEAN You sure you did the ritual right? (BOBBY gives him a look) Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?

As if on cue, a loud rattling shakes the roof. DEAN and BOBBY arm themselves with shotguns and take positions at the far end of the warehouse.

DEAN Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind.

The door bursts open and a handsome man in a business suit and trenchcoat stalks in CASTIEL.

The light bulbs above his head shatter in a shower of sparks as he passes them. As he approaches, DEAN and BOBBY both open fire, but the shots do not even slow him down. Dean takes the MAGIC KNIFE as CASTIEL gets close.

DEAN Who are you?

CASTIEL I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.

DEAN Yeah. Thanks for that.

DEAN rears back and plunges the MAGIC KNIFE into CASTIEL'S chest and hits heart without any effects. CASTIEL looks down, unconcerned, and pulls it out, drops it to the floor. Behind him, BOBBY attacks; without looking, CASTIEL grabs BOBBY'S weapon and uses it to swing him around. CASTIEL touches BOBBY on the forehead with fingertips and BOBBY crumples to the ground.

CASTIEL We need to talk, Dean. Alone.

END ACT FOUR

ACT FIVE

DEAN crouches over BOBBY, checking his pulse. He glares at CASTIEL.

CASTIEL Your friend's alive.

DEAN Who are you?

CASTIEL Castiel.

DEAN Yeah, I figured that much, I mean what are you?

CASTIEL I'm an Angel of the Lord.

DEAN Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing.

CASTIEL This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.

Lightning flashes, and on CASTIEL'S back great shadowy wings appear, stretching off into the distance. The light goes out and the image disappears.

DEAN Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes.

CASTIEL I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that.

DEAN You mean the gas station and the motel. That was you talking? (CASTIEL nods.) Buddy, next time, lower the volume.

CASTIEL That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong.

DEAN And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?

CASTIEL This? This is... a vessel.

DEAN You're possessing some poor bastard?

CASTIEL He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this.

DEAN Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?

CASTIEL (frowning) I told you.

DEAN Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?

CASTIEL Good things do happen, Dean.

DEAN Not in my experience.

CASTIEL What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?

DEAN Why'd you do it?

CASTIEL Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.

[kylo-hen]

The Milk Man

A/N Hello I wrote this while I was in a Sackler mood yesterday at like 4 am and its the first actual smut I’ve written so bare with me! There is quite a bit of build up because for some reason I love establishing characters. It’s also vaguely  plus sized!reader but not strictly! Anyways, hope you enjoy & my inbox is always open for requests/feedback.

Adam Sackler x Reader

Summary: You run into an intense man in the dairy section in the dairy isle one Saturday Morning, and by Saturday Night he’s in your bed.

Warnings: SMUT! Spanking, name calling, Oral (F receiving), hair pulling, longer build up, and oat milk.

    Living in New York has its odd challenges here and there. There aren’t dishwashers in unit, rent is the price of one’s soul, people were colder, and grocery shopping was a drag. This Saturday morning was supposed to be relaxing, no work, no designs, no awkward booty calls from dudes I met in the club a moth ago looking for some action. It was all looking up until I looked in my fridge and remembered the Wednesday ritual was pushed back because of a meeting.

     With a groan I resigned myself to the reality that I would have to do some chores before I could allow myself the relaxing pamper day I deserved. Once I was out of my apartment, down a couple blocks, and at the grocery store I was relieved to know that on a Saturday morning it was pretty empty. Only a couple people that really just ignored each other as they passed in the cereal isle or the small produce section.

     It was an overall normal trip until I made it to the dairy section. There in front of the large selection of milk stood, what I could only describe as, a smoldering giant hunched over a comedically small phone.

    Usually in this kind of situation I would let them be, but he just happened to be in front of the only brand of Oat Milk I actually like, so it seemed like I would have to wait it out. This dude, however, was not one to mind social cues. After what felt like five minutes of awkwardly waiting off to the side for this dude to get the message and move on from the last bit of the store I needed before I could get on with my day, I decided he wouldn’t move without a nudge.

     “Ehm,” I cleared my throat softly, hoping that would alert him to my presence, “Excuse me.” The man barely grunted, acknowledging I was there but continuing to frustratedly channel into whatever he was doing on his phone. “Excuse me?” I said louder, hoping to get a civil response.

    “What the fuck do you want?” He finally snapped at me, actually turning to look at me. That was also the first time I was able to see him fully. The man was hot, I’ll give him that much. His tall frame matched by solid muscle, a tasteful amount of facial hair that suited the intense features, and now a scowl. A scowl that was presently pointed in my direction while I ogled at him. “What the fuck do you want?” he demanded again; this time much harsher. I took a step back, not really expecting this full-bodied giant to be yelling at me on a Saturday morning in the grocery.

    “Fuck,” I muttered to myself trying to dip into some of my confidence I gained in the years living here and finding it much harder to let his anger flow off my skin as it usually does. “I’m- fuck- I just need some of the oat milk and you-“ I rambled on but stopped at the sound of a deep sigh from the man in front of me. “I’m sorry, I’ll just-“ I abruptly turned, figuring the milk wasn’t even worth it anymore. The experience spoiled any hopes for a peaceful day, and the faster I made it back to my apartment the faster I could wallow in the new mood crashing over me.

     “Wait, shit!” I heard from behind me before I felt two large hands brace my shoulders. One thing the man didn’t expect was for my self defense lessons to kick in the second he grabbed me. I swung my elbow into his stomach, well because of his height it ended up being more of an elbow to the man’s balls. As I turned and backed away from him, I noticed in his hands he had the milk I was looking at earlier. Shit fuck fucking shit fuck! He was trying to give me the fucking milk!

    “Oh my god, I’m so sorry fuck, shit!” I moved to help him stand up, his face beet red a twisted up as he processed the pain, I unintentionally put him in.

    “Fuuuck,” he groaned out while he took some deep breathes, “I, fuck you’re a good shot… I just wanted to give you the fuckin’ milk.” He muttered out, still mostly bent over. Guilt washed over me in waves. I just attacked the poor guy trying to give me milk, even if he yelled at me earlier. Fuck, I can’t believe I just did that. My body heated up in shame, burning from the inside out, hoping that I could just melt within my own skin. The day only getting worse by the minute, I prayed that I would get to my apartment in peace so I wouldn’t cause any more damage.

    “I’m so fucking sorry,” I said again, not being able to emphasize it enough, as he began to recover more and more, and stand taller but not his full height, “Thank you for the milk.” I said still feeling the dark pungent shame in my chest. As he stood up more and more, he handed me the milk.

    “Don’t-“ he breathed sharply, still regaining his footing after being in pain, “Don’t apologize kid.” He muttered the name out at me and I wondered how old he was suddenly, or how young I looked trembling in the middle of the grocery store. “I was a dick.” He breathed and straightened fully, towering over me.

    “No, no, “ I denied his apology, shocked that he wasn’t pissed anymore, “I shouldn’t just go around attacking people, you didn’t deserve that.” I took the milk that I realized he was trying to give me still.

    “Nah, don’t sweat it kid,” again with the fucking nickname, oddly enough it lit a fire in me somewhere I hadn’t felt in years. “I should’ve known better than to just grab a lady.” He smiled at me, chuckling at his own joke and I smiled with him. His moods sending me for a bit of a loop, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle myself.

    “I still feel bad,” I admitted to him, he tilted his head curiously, “could I get you a cup of coffee or something?” I offered, hoping that he wouldn’t be too offended by the offer. Something about this man was drawing me in, his effect leaving me wanting more and more. What the hell is going on with me today?

   “Oh, I don’t drink coffee.” He stated, rejecting me bluntly and with that statement. The shame bubbled hire a fire burning in my cheeks whether he can see it or not I was embarrassed. Another time I put myself out there, thinking I read a situation one way, and it going very differently. My eyes suddenly very interested at the floor rather than the attractive man before me. “Shit,” he muttered to himself, “Not, I don’t drink coffee but maybe we could get lunch or some shit?” he offered with a cocky smile.

    My eyes snapped up to meet his, a warm feeling that for once wasn’t shame flooded my veins, I smiled at him in return, “Yeah we can get lunch and shit.” I replied easily, proud of myself for regaining some of that confidence I usually held. But then I remembered where we were, and that I had a cart full of groceries I needed to get home, it seemed he was coming down in the same way. “Actually…” I trailed off, not knowing his name.

    “Adam.” He answered and shook the milk carton playfully in lou of my hand, “Adam Sackler.” His crooked teeth poking out through his smile making my heart pound faster in my chest.

    “Adam,” I hummed, testing out the way his name felt on my lips. It felt like they were always meant to say his name. “Since you don’t drink coffee, which seems sac religious to me,” I allowed myself to flirt with him, testing the water, “And I’ve got a shit ton of groceries to put away, what about dinner tonight?” I asked.

     He laughed, unabashedly checking me out, my chest tightened hoping he liked what he saw, “Fuck yeah, dinner sounds great.” He replied confidently, boosting my confidence.

    “Alright Sackler, it’s a date.”

    After exchanging numbers, into his comically outdated flip phone, we decided to meet at the grocery store before dinner. I rushed home to clean my apartment, a girl can be hopeful, and get ready for any outcome of the date. It had been months since any person had given me any romantic indication, dating apps had long since run dry and I was tired of having to explain my size to people before they met me. Rarely after meeting someone, in real life, had they shown as much interest that Adam has shown me in the last hour. That meant I was hopeful and hope was a dangerous game for a girl like me.

    By the time it came to meet up with Adam I was a nervous wreck. My brain kept trying to convince me of the worst-case scenarios as I made the walk to meet up with him. All of those thoughts seemed to fade to black when I saw him. He was dressed casually, as I was as well, in a pair of dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt. He smiled when he saw me approaching, he perked up from where he was leaning and met me halfway.

    “Sorry if I’m late, there was a man trying to save the turtles outside my apartment and I’ve already out run him twice so he’s out for blood.” I joked when he was finally close enough to me. He laughed at my ice breaker, and I thanked all the powers at play that he had a sense of humor, he was shaping up to be quite a catch as long as his mood stayed up.

   “Don’t sweat it kid, I got here early anyways. Fuckin’ in my bones at this point with acting and shit.” He grumbled the last bit as he flailed his arms about. An actor? I’d never actually been on a date with an actor before, I mean with there being globs of them in the city for Broadway and whatnot. I always assumed they were stuck up about looks, and if anyone could be Adam was definitely a hot enough actor to be picky.

    “You’re an actor?” I asked coyly, hopefully digging deeper into the mysterious moody man.     “Yeah, also do some other shit.” He answered vaguely which only drew me in deeper to the mystery of this man. Who the fuck is he? And why the fuck is he so hot? “I know this diner just a couple blocks that way, does that sound good?” He asked considerately, and in that moment, I swear I could marry him.

    “Fuck yeah, I know exactly what you’re talking about, Lou’s is a fucking gem.” He responded with a grin, wide and unabashed, that made my heart flutter. But even when I made my way that direction, he kept his gaze on me, not in a creepy way but in a refreshing way. He acted like if he didn’t take all of me in now, that I would disappear forever, or that I would have been a figment of his mind. When I looked back at him a moment of sadness crossed his features, maybe it wasn’t sadness, maybe it was fear. He looked so young for just a split second, and I saw him, I really saw him.

    So instead of saying anything I simply reached out and offered my hand, and he grabbed it. With that we began walking back in the direction of my apartment on the way to the diner, and throughout the walk we talked about meaningless things like the mean lady that lives in his building to his morning run routine. I kept it light, trying to stay away from sticky topics before we sat down, but I also wanted to actually know who I was going out with.

    Once we were seated, the games began. Adam and I ordered before we got into a grittier subject matter but instead of just asking, Adam wanted to make it more fun. So, like middle school girls at a sleepover, Adam suggested we play truth or dare.

    “Truth.” I stated with no hesitation, what could he even dare me to do right now? It’s not like anything juicy could happen while we were in public.

    “Oh, come on, you scared of what I could dare you to do?” He taunted at me, still flashing his signature crooked grin.

     “I’m giving you an opportunity to ask me whatever you want Sackler, use it wisely.” I goaded him testing his waters, watching his reaction to see if he was game. His eyes trailed down to my shirt. Bingo, he’s interested.

    “Alright Kid, when was the last time you got laid?” He went straight out of the gate with a sexual question. The longer I spend with him the more apparent it becomes that Sackler might be a little sexually deviant, that thought only escalated the fire burning in my belly.

    “It’s been about six months since I got laid,” I started, “But about a year since I actually, let’s say, enjoyed getting laid.” I clarified, feeding into the building sexual tension.

    “Hmm, that’s a crime,” he responded, trailing his eyes over every part of me visible across the booth, “They should be punished for leaving a woman like you unsatisfied.” He murmured, leaning forward tracing a finger along one of my hands placed on the table. Every light touch, even if it looked innocent, felt dirty and drenched in the want I had for this man.

    “Truth or dare Sackler?” I angled my torso to him so he could see down my shirt, I could see his reaction, his eyes start to glaze over, his mouth open, ready. I had never been with a man so openly affected by me and at every move I took the opportunity to tease him.

     “Fuck, Truth.” He said, not really paying attention to what he responded with but more paying attention to the parts of myself I was revealing to him.

    “What do you think of me Adam?” I asked softly, some could even say sensually, as I retracted my hand and my body, ripping away the points of contact that he was latching to physically and visually. He suddenly retreated his stance as well, looking me in the eyes to see a knowing smile already dancing across my features.  He groaned playfully, knowing he played right into my hands.

      “Fuck, kid, what do I think of you?” He asked redundantly, “For starters I think you’re the biggest fucking tease and if we weren’t in public right now, I’d put you over my knee and punish you.” He began, speaking in a low threatening tone. Every word, every syllable, every fucking letter sent a shockwave to my core, shaking my resolve and tumbling every other instinct down. I let a soft delicate whimper, only loud enough for him to hear, pass my lips as I closed my eyes and leaned my head back to take in what else he was saying. “You’re a tease, but you’re also fuckin’ gorgeous.” I snapped my head open, not expecting a real genuine compliment from the sexual haze we were in.

    “What?” it slipped out of my lips before I could really do anything about it.

    “Kid,” he began, by putting his hand on top of mine and staring so far into my soul I felt like I was naked in front of him, “You’re so fucking beautiful, like I- I saw you this morning and fuck I think you might actually be perfect and fuck! Like even if you’re not, you’re better than that.” He said and I couldn’t remember the last time I had ever felt like this, maybe never. He was so different, and intense, but funny, and God I want to sleep with this man, but I also want to cook dinner with him and see how he likes his eggs, or what his favorite book is, and who hurt him. I want him, and he wants me.

    “Thank you,” I began, getting a bit shyer under the smoldering chestnut eyes, “I don’t think anyone has ever called me gorgeous before, or if they have, I can’t remember.” I explained, trying to brush it off as a joke, but he doubled down.

    “They must be blind kid, or stupid.” He chuckled to himself, “Probably fuckin’ both.” He smiled, and I smiled back, bursting at the seams, but before I could respond our waitress came with our food.

    The spell we were under before we got food was somewhat broken when we were eating, returning to the more casual atmosphere, talking about our jobs and whatnot. He was really interested in knowing more about my job which made me feel almost as special as before the food came, but I kept it to surface details for now. Adam had a lot of weird habits from what I could tell, he cursed like a sailor, and he got super intense then switched back to normal out of nowhere. Yet, despite all the odd facts this man drew me in every time he opened his mouth, he had me on the edge of my seat constantly. Throughout the meal I couldn’t help but wonder, what’s going to happen next?

    When we both finished our meals the tension from before began to seep back into the conversation in doses. By the time the waitress returned with the check it was pretty clear Adam was ready to get out of there, and I wasn’t much farther behind. While Adam went to fish for his wallet, I threw enough cash out on the table to cover both meals, not wanting to linger for change. Adam looked like he was going to protest, but I just offered my hand out to him.

    “I asked you out,” I explained, leading him out of the restaurant and back on the sidewalk. “Its only polite I pay since I invited you out.” I turned to him and realized he was much closer to me than expected. He took a step closer to me and his long shaggy hair began to cover his face.

    “I guess I’ll just get it next them then kid.” He offered with a smile and I looked away, feeling an excitement bubble through me for more. “We never did finish our game.” He said not teasing anymore, I looked at him and pondered for a moment before answering his unspoken question.

     “Dare.” I said confidently this time, leaving him to smirk down at me in pride. He puffed up his chest and moved even closer. He leaned in like he was going to kiss me but just before he allowed our lips to finally meet, he stopped.

    “I dare you to kiss me.” His gruff tone sending my nerves haywire, a chill running down my spin at the command. His eyes darker than I had seen them, only balanced by the smirk on his lips daring me, goading me to follow through. The final straw was the sensation of his hands settling heavily on my waist, keeping me steady and sure as I surged forward and planted my lips on his.

    From there he wasted no time gaining access to my mouth and invading each of my senses one by one.

    Touch; the feeling of his tongue languidly pushing against mine, fighting a war for dominance and winning without hesitation. His hands finding themselves roaming over every point of my body, and mine deeply nestled in his hair.

    Sight; the possibilities of what comes next floating by in my head in vivid detail. The sheer number of ways this encounter could finish, all unbelievably tempting.  

     Sound; the deep velvet groan from his dulcet tones when I tugged on his chestnut locks, the whimper that snuck out of my mouth when his hands made home on my backside.

    Smell; the dark woodsy pine notes of his cologne mixed the sweet vanilla of my perfume creating an intoxicating scent.

    Taste; nothing I’ve had in my life could compare to the taste of Adam on my tongue, the feeling of wholeness only grew. My wanting grew with it, wondering if Adam tastes good now, what other perverse acts would taste even better.

     Eventually the heated kiss broke, and the depths of Adam’s eyes told me everything I needed to know in that moment. “My apartment is just a block that way.” I spoke breathlessly, pointing behind us in the direction the night would take place. He threw his head back with a groan, a sight that sent shockwaves of anticipation through my body and to my center. He nodded his head furiously.

    “Fuck yeah kid, lets go.” He spoke, pulling me along with my hand to head in the direction of my apartment. By the time we made outside my apartment and pulled out my keys Adam sprung into action, pulling my back to meet his front allowing me to feel the full effect I’ve had on him throughout the night. His errection dug itself into the curve of my behind and suddenly I realized just what I would be dealing with for the night. Adam Sackler is fucking hung.

    His kisses trailed up my neck, his hips grinding into my body and the noises he was making were borderline pornographic. The task of opening my door was lost as I allowed myself to lean back into the pleasure, he was giving me. His hand trailed down my arm slowly as he sucked on a particular spot behind my ear that made my knee buckle in bliss. His hand wrapped around mine, that was still holding the keys, and raised it to the door.

    “If you don’t unlock that door now, I’ll fuck you in the hallway.” He threatened, no doubt in my mind he would follow through with the threat. I quickly refocused on getting my key in the door and getting this man inside.

     As soon as the door was shut, he had me pressed against it, mouth pushing against my own once again, but now his hand travelled under my shirt kneading my breasts in his large sturdy hands. I reached, clawing at his shirt to come off as he unclasped my bra from the back, which only succeeded in turning me on. Once his shirt was removed, he made quick work of mine, stopping only to marvel at the sight of my topless body. He stared for just a moment too long, doubt flooded my veins and my throat tightened at another failed encounter where someone didn’t like what they saw.

     Just as I resigned myself to my own fate, reaching down for my shirt, Adam took both of my wrists and pinned them above my head. Once again pushing me against the door and pinning me from any other means of movement.

    “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded with a dark grit in his voice I had not heard before, his fire like anger only lighting the fire of hope in my belly once more.

    “I thought,” I started and as soon as I began to speak, he ground his erection into my core, effectively beginning my decent into madness. “Fuck, Adam that feels good!” I cried out rather than explain myself.

    “Come on little girl,” He teased breathlessly into my ear, obviously enjoying the act as much as I did, “Explain yourself to me.” He spit out all that came out of my mouth in return was a needy whimper and shuttered breath. It set my body on fire, turned my bones to jelly as he shifted to hold my weight for me.

    “I- fuck- I thought you didn’t like it.” I said softly, simply as the pleasure built with every thrust of his hips against mine. My back arched as he slowed to a stop, my eyes shooting open to see him looking down at me with furrowed brows.

    “You thought I didn’t like your pretty little tits huh?” he looked down at me, and I nodded softly, shyly up at him and his eyes softened slightly. He made the move to prop me up against the wall and move his body down. He kissed his way from my jaw down to my chest, finally settling with both his hands caressing my breasts. “You have,” He punctuated it with a small suck on my chest leaving a hickey a few centimeters above the nipple, “The most,” He took his sweet time worshiping every square inch of my chest, “Glorious tits I’ve ever fucking seen.” Finishing it off with an intense attachment to my nipple that sent earthshattering shockwaves throughout my body from the first real contacted pleasure Adam had given me all night.

    “Please, baby girl,” he murmured against my tits as he moved further down my body, “Let me eat your sweet little pussy.” He spoke, the dirty message matched only by the lewd and carnal tone he spoke with. Before he could anywhere with my pants, I took his hands and began leading them to my bedroom, which wasn’t too far away.

    He followed like a lost puppy trailing its owner, looking at me with wide and hungry eyes, taking in every movement my body made. As soon as I laid back in the bed, he made quick work of my pants, pulling them off with my underwear in one swoop. I let him handle me however he wanted and he moved with swift expertise that had my core drenched by the time he was done.

     With his hands stabilizing my hips, keeping them pinned to the bed, he sat between my legs admiring the sight laid out before him. He smirked at my disheveled appearance, trying desperately to hold on to my sanity and he hasn’t even laid his hands on me. Suddenly his tongue was on me, taking one long stride of my core before focusing on my clit.

    “Fuck yes!” I shuttered out when he brushed his tongue in a zig-zag on my clit before detaching with a sadistic chuckle. He explored every part of me, places no man had ever considered now have me careening towards the pit of bliss at lightning speeds. He took his time prodding at my hole while swiping his nose at my clit and in that moment, I swore no one was better at this than Adam fucking Sackler. My hands twirled themselves into his hair tugging harshly, making him pause for his own pleasure. Only then did I notice his gyrations on the mattress himself, which sent my mind into an overdrive of pride and arousal.

     “Your pussy tastes so sweet for me baby girl.” He hummed smugly into my pussy, the vibrations bringing me that much closer to the edge. He looked up at me, watching me fall apart as he brought his hand to my entrance working in a finger, beginning to stretch me out for him. “Your pussy’s tight, that for me?” He spoke, knowing I was way too close to orgasm for me to respond with anything but whimpers of his name mixed with any expletive that comes to mind.

    “Adam,” I called out, tightening my hands in his hair, trying to signal him for more. “Please!” I cried out, his pace slowing to a teasing momentum before he added another finger without warning. My head tilted back, losing all sense but the sense he was feeding me through his ministrations. I was teetering a dangerous ledge and with every thrust of his fingers he brought me to the edge. He took one last thrust of his fingers hitting the deepest part of me, paired with his tongue swiping my clit and the damn burst within me.

    Euphoria was flooding my system; I was floating in orgasmic bliss surrounded by nothing by the feeling of Adam bringing me through my haze and the smell of sex mixed with his cologne. After what felt like a lifetime of bliss, I felt him begin to kiss his way back up my body, taking special care of my stomach, sucking hickeys along the way.

    “You’re so good at that.” I murmured, still coming down from my high. He chuckled into my neck before coming up to my face and planting a big kiss on my lips. I immediately responded, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and bringing him flush to my own body. I could taste myself on his lips, his facial hair still coated in a layer of my cum, which only added to the kiss. “Adam, I need you to fuck me.” I said as I broke the kiss. His eyes lighting up again like in the living room, he moved away from me to finally take off his pants.

    “Condom?” He asked as he stood in his boxers, outlining his prominent erection pulsating in need. I only shook my head, moving to the edge of the bed where he stood to palm him over his boxers.

    “I’m on the pill.” I whispered seductively in his ear, he nearly doubled over in pleasure once the statement registered in his brain. He wasted no time taking my hips and twisting me around so I was on all fours before him. A deep feeling of butterflies reverberated in my stomach as I arched back into the hands he planted on my ass. He let himself groan at the sight of me before him once again, this time he had his hand moving over his thick cock.

    He rubbed the head of his dick over my pussy before catching it at my hole and pushing forward. The sting of him stretching me was not lost on him as he braced himself around me, caging me into his dick. He hissed as I clenched around him, trying to accommodate the difference. “Fuck your pussy’s so fucking tight you’re gonna squeeze me out.” He gritted out through clenched teeth, waiting for my signal to go ahead. His dirty comment only helped relax me, sending me spiraling in euphoria.

    “Adam, I need you to move.” I whined out, desperate for the friction he was made to bring me. He pushed farther and farther in until he was buried at the hilt. Both of us shuddered out, he filled me to the brim, his body made for mine in ways I had never felt before. Suddenly he pulled back and slammed back in with a deliberate force, landing perfectly on my G-spot. I cried out his name, the only thing I could remember at this point.

    “Yeah, yeah that’s it,” He praised my squeals of pleasure, “Say my name you fucking whore.” He spit out making my pussy clench around him in absolute pleasure. The way his hips slammed against mine, the way his hands groped at the cheeks of my ass, mixed with the things coming out of his mouth sent me into another dimension. “You like that you little slut? You like when I call you dirty little names?” He prompted me, adding a harsh slap to my ass to punctuate his thrusts.

    “Yes!” I cried out, burying my head into the sheets, letting Adam have his way with me exactly how he wanted. “Yes, I love being your little slut! Fuck!” He landed another spank, jolting me forwards on his cock. He retaliated by taking charge with my hips once more, grunting out insults mixed with praise.

    “Are you gonna cum? You gonna cum on my fucking cock you whore?” He stopped his thrusts, teasing me and my climax fading. “If you want to cum on my cock, fuck yourself on it.” He demanded, his hands kneading and soothing the damage he caused my backside already. I began rocking back on his dick, creating a similar rhythm to before. The harsh slaps echoed around the room and the lewd situation escalated my frenzy. “That’s its little slut, you’re fucking yourself so well.” He lost himself in the pleasure of it all, meeting my thrusts halfway.

    “Adam,” I moaned out, feeling the same euphoric anticipation building in my gut, I escalated the force trying to push myself to the place of bliss. “Adam, I’m going to cum!” I announced feeling the cliffs edge building and building. His hands trailing up my back and grabbing a fist full of my hair and pulling me flush against his chest, changing the angle so he was pushing deeper inside me.

    “Cum for me little slut.” He commanded, another hand wrapping around me to rub my clit in time with his thrusts. The bubble built higher and higher until I felt myself release for the second time that night. His thrusts continued, faltering as my body spasmed in absolute satisfaction, his grunts of pleasure travelling into my ear as he chases his own high.

    As his hips begin to falter their rhythm, he pushed into me for one last time before he let go and painted my insides with the ropes of his cum, marking me from the inside out. He wrapped his arms around me, collapsing us both on the bed, his cock still inside me, beginning to soften as he spoons me from behind. Our highs collectively lower and he is left trailing small kisses on the back of my neck and shoulder.

     “Where have you been all my life?” I joked once the atmosphere was returning to normal. He chuckled out, squeezing me into his chest even if I didn’t necessarily fit, and shifted his hips away from mine for the first time slipping out of me.

     He moved to look at me properly before saying, “Brooklyn.”

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought, my inbox is always open!

[nightglider124]

RobStar Week 2020: Day 1

Tis RobStar Week, guysss! Ugh. Yas. That means content for the week of my two disgustingly adorable children. We love to see it. 

I do believe it runs from 5th July - 11th July so check the robstarweek tag each day for some robstar joy :3

So, I haven’t written anything really for a while. Especially not based in the TTA universe. But, I’m mildly happy with this one. In theory, it doesn’t actually have much of the kids but it has Robin talking bout his crush with Wally. 

Confession... I don’t love the prompt of destiny/fate/star-aligned... all of that. Idk why cos like in essence I believe it. My babies are destined for each other. Buuut, as a prompt, I just never am a fan. So, I tried my best, I swear! XD

This oneshot is set after ‘Titans Together’ but before the movie, ‘Trouble In Tokyo’.

Uh, I know Robin talks about when Starfire kissed him and I know that he doesn’t discover that she learns languages through lip contact until the movie but like... c’mon. Robin is a smart guy and would have thought about it in the time since they first met. I don’t think he would bring it up cos he awks but I think he would put two and two together. So, when it’s mentioned, he is just kinda speculating and then it’s confirmed in the movie. That’s how I’m viewing it anyway. XD

Hope you like it. Happy RobStar week! ^.^

________________________

Star-Aligned/Destiny

The upbeat music drifted and pounded around the whole tower, with the epicentre of the noise coming from the main room, which was fairly packed with Titans from all across the globe, enjoying their Friday night. 

It had been about a week since they’d taken down the Brotherhood of Evil and put all the criminals that had been affiliated back in their rightful places within penitentiaries across the world. The ordeal had been difficult on each and every one of the Titans and it had taken a lot of time and energy to ensure that the threat was dealt with and the Brotherhood were dismantled for good. 

So, when Beast Boy and Cyborg had approached him about having a party to relax and say thanks to the whole Titans Network for their help in defeating the long standing villains, Robin had been reluctant to say no. He felt that a little fun was well deserved and decided it wasn’t often that they all let loose and just got to act like normal young adults, even if it was only for one night.

He felt good as he sat at the counter, dressed in civvies for the first time in a long time, with a glass of cold soda tantalizing his lips. He knew that some of the boys had snuck in a bit of alcohol and since all of the Titans were technically 18 and over, they were legally allowed to drink in private locations, according to Jump City law. So, he was letting it slide, but that didn’t mean he was about to consume it himself. Robin was all for unwinding but… he still had his wits about him, just in case any alerts came through.

Of course, in the morning, there were a few individuals who he wanted a word with regarding how they purchased the alcohol but he resigned himself to waiting until tomorrow, rather than putting his leader head on right now.

Robin cocked a small smile as he scanned the room from behind the safety net of his mask. He may well have been in casual clothing but the mask always stayed put; an unkickable habit of his, he mused.

Cyborg was over by the sound system, setting up playlists upon playlists with Bumblebee at his side, helping to sort through the music. He could see from where he was perched, every time she saw a song that she clearly didn’t like, she would delete it from the playlist when Cyborg wasn’t looking. It’d provided Robin a good few laughs throughout the night to see his cybernetic friend become confused, scratching his head and wondering if he had had too much to drink, despite only really having about one beer.

Beast Boy was lounging on the sofa, game station controller in hand; his gleeful chuckle echoing every now and then as he challenged those around him to a racing game that he’d practically lived on for the better part of the past year. Herald, Hot Spot and Killowat were huddled around him, each trying to gain the upper hand on the changeling who had won the 4 games prior to the current round. 

Robin turned his head, noticing Red Star was talking with Aqualad, Pantha and Argent over near the windows with all of them holding a beverage each and laughing, getting to know one another better since they were all teammates and they’d never really had a chance to interact with one another until now. Robin saw tonight as a good opportunity for the Titans Network to get a little more acquainted with one another so that they had a good roster of friends and colleagues for future events and missions, if necessary.

Directly ahead of him, Gnarrk and Wildebeest were sat at the table, conducting an arm wrestle to see who had the superior strength with smirks so smug that Robin could feel the bravado permeating the air around them. Kole was standing by her best friend’s side, offering quiet encouragement; believing in his abilities wholeheartedly. She smiled as Jericho turned to her, seemingly signing to her, his faith in Gnarrk to win as well; a gesture that made Kole turn a rosy pink and Robin couldn’t help but wonder if there was a bit of a connection brewing between the two.

Behind Wildebeest, Thunder and Lightning were cheering loudly, waving their hands and hooting in favour of the humanoid chimera who simply grunted in acknowledgement of their vocal support. 

Robin chuckled quietly to himself and took a sip of his drink, minutely shaking his head as he inwardly wagered on who he thought was more likely to come out on top of said arm wrestle. 

In the right hand corner of the room, Robin could see Jinx who looked less than thrilled as she was effectively sandwiched between Kid Flash and Mas Y Menos who were, by the looks of it, having a lengthy debate about who had the faster abilities. 

Scrunching his face up, Robin took a moment to consider how that conversation was going considering he knew for a fact Wally didn’t know much Spanish, if any at all. 

He shook his head and his eyes travelled over Speedy and Bushido who seemed to be talking and sharing fighting tips, with Speedy making gestures with his hands to explain the types of arrows he used when he battled.

Robin sighed in content, happy for the warm atmosphere surrounding them all. When he’d first started recruiting the people in the room to be a part of their hero network, he hadn’t even considered what it would mean for them to gel together but every single Titan in the tower had proved that they could work effectively with one another, without really even knowing much about those around them.

He was proud of his teammates and friends and he felt confident that if more threats on a larger scale were to ever crop up in the near future, then they would be prepared and ready with a strong force in place. 

Tapping his fingertips against the side of his glass, a lingering silver laugh caused him to pause; a tingle descending down his spine with a simultaneous heat prickling his skin. He lifted his head and his gaze inadvertently fell upon Starfire who was sitting on the back of the sofa, her long legs dangling down with her ankles crossed over one another. 

Her hands were clasped and in her lap as she talked animatedly with Raven, who in turn, was responding in her usual way of nods and small smiles, only speaking here and there. 

Robin gripped his glass a little tighter as he watched the alien Princess shrug her gorgeous mane of ruby hair over her shoulder, pooling down the length of her back. 

It had been futile to try and ignore how she looked tonight with Robin deciding how well Earth clothing suited her. She wore a lilac playsuit with a white floral pattern printed all over the fabric. The spaghetti straps of the garment fell perfectly on her shoulders with the rest of it hugging her body comfortably without being too tight or loose enough not to flatter her.

Although, Robin rebuffed that thought immediately. She could wear a trash bag and she’d still make it look amazing.

It was a short faux dress outfit but it was far from distasteful considering it was longer than her day to day uniform. The light frills at the hem were a nice touch, giving the illusion of it being a dress when in fact it wasn’t.

All in all, Robin had a tough time keeping his eyes off of her and it had been that way since the party started earlier in the evening.

He exhaled quietly to himself as he lost in himself in a momentary trance, with Starfire being the pinnacle of it all. Every single thing she did was endearing and he finally understood what people meant whenever they would compare a person to that of sunlight.

Starfire was the epitome of a ray of sunshine; constantly smiling and being her bubbly self, no matter who she was around. She could be around the grouchiest person in the universe and she’d still be able to coax a grin from them, without so much as even trying to. 

She was just so naturally inviting; like moths to a flame, Starfire was a friend to all and he could honestly admit that he had never met someone as kind and carefree as her which in his eyes was what made her so unique within their world of heroes. 

Robin stared after her, watching the way her jade eyes would shimmer whenever Raven said something remotely funny or something that Starfire could relate to. Her orange skin seemed to glow with every thousand watt smile that found its way onto her cupid bow lips. 

Just beneath his rib cage, Robin felt his heart rate start to increase; a quiet thumping of his chest, the longer he stared after her. 

Swallowing heavily, Robin averted his eyes, instead choosing to stare down at his bubbling soda. Despite this, his mind remained rooted on the one thing in the room he took the most interest in. He couldn’t help but inwardly dwell on his feelings for the Tamaranean girl, no matter how hard he had tried over the years to refuse and deny what his heart had been singing all along, since she first crash landed on the planet they called home.

It was a constant struggle for him; trying to figure out if it would be worth the risk or if he should remain stoic and unfeeling like another vigilante he was familiar with.

A sudden gust of wind enveloped him, causing his hair to rapidly fly out of place. Staying still, Robin merely sighed and blinked in annoyance, already aware of who was now leaning against the counter beside him.

“Wally…” Robin muttered, reaching a hand up to sort his hair out, casting a scowl in the speedster’s direction.

Kid Flash chuckled and pulled up a seat beside him and nudged his shoulder, “Hey Dick.” 

“Do you have to do that every single time?” 

“Duh. Think of it as… a privilege of being best friends.” 

“Pretty lousy privilege.”

He made a ‘psh’ sound and gave him another shove, “You get what ya get.” 

“Uh huh.” Robin replied, leaning forward to take a swig of his drink, feeling the cold liquid slither down his throat. Despite his best efforts to stay inconspicuous, he was unable to stop himself from stealing another glance at Starfire who had moved from her spot on the back of the couch with Raven.

She was giggling with Bumblebee and Argent, swaying her hips and dancing to the music that was swirling in the air; a catchy beat that seemed to be luring quite a few Titans into dancing now.

He could feel his face heating up as he registered that Wally was staring at him with a teasing smirk laced upon his lips. He cut him a scathing look and attempted his best batglare, making Wally snort.

“C’mon. When has that look ever worked to make me stop?” He laughed, taking a gulp of the beer he was holding,

Robin took a deep breath, awaiting the onslaught of jabs. He’d known Wally for most of his life, ever since he’d gotten adopted by Bruce on account of his links with the league.

It’d taken just one encounter with the redhead on a visit to the watchtower and they’d been inseparable. 

Of course, that changed somewhat after he left Gotham; the communication dropping with Robin being more so to blame, after effectively shutting those around him out. 

It picked up again though, once he had become more established with the Titans, going as far to offer him a spot on the team. Wally had declined at first, unsure how he felt about being with a team but after a while, he came around. 

It helped that he happened to run into Jinx whilst he was still mulling over the decision.

Robin sighed and half turned his body towards him, “What are you doing over here?” 

“Just wanting to catch up with my bud… obviously.” Wally replied, trying to appear aloof but failing miserably,

Leaning back, Robin spied Jinx still standing where Wally had been beforehand, staring at the twins in bewilderment as they babbled to her in Spanish.

“You know, you’ve basically abandoned Jinx.” Robin muttered,

There was a mischievous glint in his lime eyes as he waved a dismissive hand, “Bah, she’s fine. She needs to socialise with good guys more anyway. Needs to build on her newfound hero ways.” 

Robin shrugged and tilted his chin downwards, eyes on the counter top to avoid any more fleeting glances at anyone in particular. 

“So…” Wally drawled, in that tone.

Sighing heavily, Robin looked up at him, “What?”

“Star’s looking hot tonight.” He taunted and it took everything Robin had not to react in the way Wally clearly wanted him to,

“Mhm. She looks great.” Robin mumbled, not really in the mood for this kind of conversation. He had been feeling pretty mellow but he could sense that slipping away and being sent spiralling into the mess of emotions he experienced from time to time where Starfire was concerned.

“Dick… c’mon.” Wally persisted, levelling with him, “Your crush on her isn’t exactly subtle.”

“Well… she doesn’t know so it seems to be working so far.” 

Wally snorted, “To practically everyone else, it’s obvious that something is going on.” 

Dick took a deep inhale and gripped his glass with both hands, preparing himself for more of Wally’s insistence, “Well, there’s not. Sorry to disappoint.” 

“Dude.” He paused and leaned into him, his tone shifting into a more sincere one, “Maybe there would be something if… y’know… you made a move on the ol’ Princess?” 

Whilst it was in his nature to deflect anything to do with feelings; especially romantic ones, at all costs, there was something gnawing at him; encouraging him to open up a bit. It was Wally, after all.

“I can’t.” Dick sighed, loosening the grip of his fingers around the glass,

“Sure you can. Just get up, go over there and ask her to dance or… I don’t know, smooth talk her.” Wally suggested,

“No… I mean… I can’t. I’m the leader of the Titans… Bruce always taught me not to get involved that way with a teammate. It causes rifts in team dynamics and-”

Wally cut him off with a scoff, “Who cares? If you feel that way about her, which you obviously do, you deal with those kinds of things and work it out as you go along.” 

Dick sighed for what felt like the hundredth time in the past 10 minutes, “It doesn’t matter.”

Sensing that he was retreating into himself again, Wally tried an alternate route, “You know… with all the doe eyes you make at her, you never told me how you actually met.” 

Without really even being aware of it, a soft smile graced Dick’s lips, “Uh… I’d just got to Jump and was dealing with this thief and saw this… streak of green across the sky. I went to check it out and turns out, she’d quite literally crash landed to Earth.” 

“That must’ve been so cool, man.” Wally laughed,

Dick inclined his head a little, “It was… different to anything I’d had in Gotham.”

“Yeah, but Starfire is… sweetness and joy.”

The ebony haired hero chuckled to himself, “Uh… not at first. She…” He paused and glanced at her, gauging just how much he should leave out about where she came from on that day, “She was… being held prisoner by these aliens… Gordanians are what they were called. Long running warfare between them and Tamaran and… a few other planets.”

“Prisoner?” Wally queried, clearly vying for more information,

“Let’s just say… she was forced from her world and it… wasn’t because of any crimes.” 

Wally stared at him for a long moment before something softened in his expression and he nodded, “So… what was she like?” 

“As you can imagine… she didn’t trust any of us. Hissing and seething and blowing shit up.” 

“Badass.” Wally grinned,

Dick chuckled, “Yeah… she didn’t know English either so… couldn’t exactly explain to her that we just wanted her to stop.”

“How’d she get so fluent in the language then?” 

His cheeks turned red almost instantly and he cleared his throat, willing the blush to dim until it vanished, “Her people can learn languages instantaneously through uh… lip contact. I think.”

“You think?”

“Well… after she… did it… um… she spoke English… so I just assume…”

Wally blinked in surprise, “Wow. That’s a useful trait-” He cut himself short as he recognized the discomfort on his best friend’s face, “Oh my god. She learned it from you, didn’t she? You got a kiss from her on the first day you met her!” 

Dick snapped his head in Wally’s direction, “Can you shut up, please? We’ve… never talked about it. Kissing isn’t a thing on her world… and I never brought it up.”

“She knows what ‘lip contact’ means on Earth though, right?”

“She knows now… I mean she must know, considering how many romance movies we’ve sat through on movie nights.” Dick shook his head, “Like I said… we’ve never talked about it so… I don’t know what she thinks on that front.”

Wally chuckled, “No wonder you’ve been smitten with her since day one. I would be too if a hot space girl kissed me in the middle of telling her to stop ripping a city apart.” 

Dick was about to protest, but relaxed and smirked, “Yeah… well… she made an impression, to say the least.”

“Sounds like… Mm… I don’t know.”

“What?” Dick prompted,

“You’ll just wave it off but… I mean… maybe it was meant to be.”

“What are you talking about?”

“People who are meant to be in your life don’t just fall out of the sky on a day to day basis, Dick.” Wally droned, looking at him like he was an idiot,

The Boy Wonder chewed on the inside of his cheek; his mind a bubble of thought, “It’s… not the craziest thing.” He paused and looked at her again, still dancing around without a care in the world, “She brought us together… we know for a fact… she’s the glue that keeps us together; the heart of our team… without her… we wouldn’t last.”

“See? That, my friend, is fate.” Wally surmised,

“I don’t know about that, Wally. It… just so happened we were all in the area at the same time.” Dick rebuffed,

“Listen… whether you want to admit it or not… don’t you think it seems a little too coincidental that you all met Starfire on this one day and it basically set out your futures for the next few years at the least?” Wally asked, raising an eyebrow at him,

“Okay, fine. Let’s say that it is… fate or whatever… are you saying that the same applies to how I feel about her?” He challenged,

Wally scoffed and flailed his hands around slightly, “Duh! I’m telling you, there is no way that you ‘just so happened’ to meet Starfire and your team, start a network of teenage heroes that extends across the world and end up falling for the one who caused this… cataclysm… just by chance. It just doesn’t happen.”

Remaining silent, Dick felt the urge to mock him ebbing away, the more he tried to reason with him.

He was probably the furthest thing from a believer when it came to things such as fate and destiny, having turned cynical shortly after his parents were murdered.

By Wally’s logic, everything in life happened for a reason, with the goal of eventually fulfilling the path set out in stone for you when you’re first brought into existence.

“Wally…”

“The universe didn’t exactly have you meet her to just be ‘best friends’ for your whole life. You wouldn’t stare at her or think about her or want her the way you do, if it wasn’t supposed to happen dude.” 

Dick blinked, “This is the most philosophical way of telling me to make a move that you have ever used.”

Bursting into laughter, Wally lifted his shoulders and smiled, “Yeah, you’re probably right. But you know what I’m saying, at least on some level, makes sense.”

The Titans leader evaded admitting something like that, “Mm… what I know is that you’re only spewing destiny related stuff because of one beer too many.”

Wally looked scandalised for a long moment before he shrugged, “Okay, I might be a tad tipsy but it’s still relevant, Dick.” He sighed and threw an arm haphazardly around his best friend’s shoulders, “I’m trying to push you… for you. Whether you wanna believe me when I say it’s some kinda fate or not, the fact is… you can’t expect her to wait forever.”

Tugging himself away, Dick pulled a sour expression and turned to him, “And what if I do and it blows up in my face, huh? What if I go over there and ask her out and she says no?” He deflated and looked down at the counter top, “I doubt she sees me that way anyway so what’s the point?” 

Chuckling almost instantly, Wally rolled his eyes and looked at Dick with a raised brow, “Seriously? Dude, I’m not even on your immediate team and I can see that she likes you just as much as you like her.”

Dick cleared his throat, his cheeks turning pink on their own accord, “You don’t know that for sure.”

“Okay well, it comes across pretty clearly except to you, apparently.” Wally paused, “Besides, aren’t you basically our biggest risk taker? You love that whole thrill of not knowing.” 

Dick grunted, “Not on this kind of thing.” 

“Right, right because it makes you all vulnerable and junk.” Wally drawled, earning another glare from the masked hero but choosing to ignore it, “Dick… I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to. I don’t think anyone can since you’re stubborn as hell. But… just remember… Starfire is beautiful and super sweet. You’re not the only guy in this hero network that thinks so… and if you don’t move your ass and at least make it known to her you’re interested… you might lose your chance altogether.” 

Opening his mouth to protest, Dick was cut short from doing so as Wally lightly nudged his shoulder and stared pointedly across the room, waiting for Dick to follow his line of sight as well.

Over near the large glass window panels, Starfire was standing, looking happily flushed from all the activity buzzing around her; something she constantly thrived on whenever parties were in full swing. Her smile was soft and patient as she bobbed her head, laughing at what was being said to her. 

Dick felt his stomach lurch and his heart started pounding painfully  within his chest as he noticed who was standing alongside her. Speedy was grinning at her, talking and making jokes about god knows what. He watched as the archer took a step towards her and gently touched her arm. 

Starfire appeared unbothered by the gestures but it greatly unnerved Dick, considering he could tell from Speedy’s posture that he was attempting to ‘woo’ her.

He bolted up from the stool he’d been sitting on at the counter, his fingertips pressing against the surface of it so hard, they were turning white. He could feel his chest constricting as his breathing turned harsh, an odd type of panic overtaking him.

“Hm… strange reaction for someone who doesn’t have feelings for her…” Wally murmured sarcastically before taking a long sip of his beer,

Narrowing his eyes, Dick turned to scowl at him, “How long has he been talking to her?” 

“Only about 2 minutes. Though… he sure looks like he’s getting comfy with your girl there…” 

Taking a deep breath, Dick let his hand slide off of the counter and he cleared his throat. He felt nervous but there was a knee jerk reaction in him that was yelling to get over there and interrupt Speedy’s attempts at romancing his best friend.

His gaze fell on Starfire who seemed oblivious to the obvious signals Speedy was sending towards her. Dick cocked a half smile, glad that she wasn’t playing into it. It gave him a rise of hope that maybe she wasn’t responding like a typical girl because she already had feelings for another guy that was possibly him. Maybe.

“What… what should I do when I get over there?” Dick queried, suddenly feeling the confidence drain from him,

“I don’t know. Ask her to dance?” Wally smiled sympathetically at him, “Dick… it’s Starfire. Isn’t she like… the one who makes you feel the most at ease?”

Dick swiveled his head back towards the auburn haired beauty, “She is.”

“Then it’ll be fine once you get over there.” Wally encouraged, tipping his beer bottle in his direction,

Nodding, Dick offered him a slight smile, “Thanks… Wally.”

“You know me, man. I’m a man of loveee.” 

Dick sighed, “And there’s the idiot.”

With that, he picked up his soda and made his way through the strings of Titans as casually as he could, without appearing as though he was desperately wanting to get between that tiny space that was still between Speedy and Starfire.

Watching through bright eyes, Wally smiled to himself as Dick reached the two. Speedy looked to be quite put out about his appearance but the speedster wasn’t paying much attention to him.

Rather, all he could see was the way Starfire lit up at Robin’s emergence. Her smile stretched from ear to ear, her emerald eyes shining with joy as she clasped her hands around his upper arm in an exuberant greeting. 

In return, Dick grinned back at her, talking with ease and a relaxed aura about him. Speedy looked effectively closed off and shut down, which if it were any other girl, Wally would feel pretty bad for him.

But, he knew how long Dick had had a thing for the alien Princess. He just hoped he would actually get it together and do something about it before it was too late.

“Well done, Grayson.” Wally chuckled to himself, before taking another sip of his drink and scanning the room for a certain pink haired sorceress.

[pernatius]

Lost in Space Part 7: Ch 4

Previous 

Summary: After finding Syco, the duo finds an unsettling, new reality.

Lost in Space on Tumblr

Lost in Space on ao3

I don’t do anything. I look into their eyes, watching them morph into someone I once knew. I- No. She looks at me with wonder in her eyes. She’s who I was before everything led to this. She’s wearing the same outfit with white and thick, black lines, but hers is a lot newer than mine. Hers isn’t faded. Hers hasn’t seen what I’ve had to go through. It’s innocent, naive, something I wish I still had. It’s as the saying goes ignorance is bliss. 

The two of us have talked about this. It felt good doing so, but it wasn’t enough. I still need to accept it. I still need to let these emotions go. 

I hadn’t noticed I was crying until I felt a warm hand rest itself on my cheek. Their thumb wiped away my tears. Raising my head, I see my younger self fading. Through my blurry vision, I see everyone I’ve come in contact with throughout this journey, everyone that I’ve lost. Ashely’s sitting upright, taking the place of my previous self. When she leans in, connecting our foreheads, I hiccup and can feel my face heat up. “I’m-”

“Okay. It’s okay,” Saamuki told me. 

A big, blue star beat down on the three of us as we headed towards the cathedral, the tallest, winding building poking up from the city resting on the other side of this massive brick wall. Its shadow would’ve covered Syco’s entire growing army easily. A handful of guards watched us from above as Syco conversed with the two standing in front of the entrance that was encased by a small, green forcefield. As he was showing them his screen, I took note of the wall. It’s stained with gunk, which attracted a swarm of flies. One of which departed from the others and buzzed towards the forcefield. Upon touching it, it was vaporized. I make a sound, which gets the attention of one of the guards above. Well, my brain tells me it does. I know it’s just a coincidence, but I’m still worried. Through his helmet, I imagine his eyes. I imagine him glaring down at me, looking past this disguise. I am a Talten now. I got my crown to do so twelve minutes ago, but my brain rationalized that he could see I was human and he was reaching for his blaster rather than his companion to tell a joke. I imagined him aiming it at me. He shoots. I flinch. 

We’re inside. I breathe out. The cobble roads surround hundreds of medieval-style homes. A few citizens walk past us. Three held candles. One of which whips his groaning horse, to pull his carriage full of whatever could’ve been in those barrels faster. A thick, grey cloud puffed out of them with each bumpy step. The unwilling creature isn’t what horses look like on Earth. It has two stubby legs and a fat, round body. It’s as big as a horse, though. So, I just label it as one. 

In this small, tight square the homes are withering. Some of the roofs and doors are molding. A few have cracked windows. One of which has completely shattered. If I had a nose right now it would’ve withered away too, vaporized like that poor fly. This area is completely unsanitary. Between two houses, in the corner of my eye, are flies circling what I hope is just a sleeping, single toothed old man with a mouth full of murky water and a single, torn, and stained page of a newspaper covering his crotch. Without it he’s naked. 

Syco seemingly ignores the scenery around us, walking with confidence, and especially without concern. The two of us follow without question, but I can’t ignore the contrast between our previous and new settings. Underneath one of the many bridges connecting the impoverished to the affluent portions of the city, is a clear, blue river. Riding through it from within a bright, red Gondola is a man proudly singing, letting the universe know of his lovely voice, as he steers his boat. Before I’m able to fall behind from the others I turn around, making sure what I saw previously was real. There it is. A line separated these two completely different worlds, one side somber and the other is the cleaner, brighter, and happier one I am suddenly engulfed by. It made my heart drop, but I didn't get to settle on the feeling for long before I needed to catch up to the others. 

Walking past a bridge that stretched above us, we entered another square. In this square, paper lanterns pointed down on us. Lined above them are flags, which had a white circle and a black dot in their centers. Two children, laughing, ran past us with a belt in their hands. Running towards them not too far behind is a guard trying to hold up his pants and shouting for the two little, young thieves to slow down. Once both parties turn a corner the ruckus dies and the onlookers besides us return to whatever they were doing. Although, the moment is forever written into everyone's mornings. Two women chuckle at each other about it. An elderly man sweeping his shop’s doorway now smiles. Another man, but this one is leaning against one of the nearby buildings, shakes his head from side to side in amusement as he plays with the golden coin between his gloved hand. 

Looking at Saamuki, I see she too is jovial, She smiles. I imagine her feeling nostalgic. Now looking at Syco, his face remains stiff, but for some reason, I feel like he’s just as nostalgic as her. 

Cold as ever, he continues towards the cathedral. Sunlight shoots through the stained glass in the center of its highest steeple, causing a familiar depiction to reflect onto us. A white, geometric figure, floating above a burning city looks down at the people below. They bow to the figure with tears in their eyes. They’re being forced to submit, and after everything that I’ve learned, I have a strong guess on who the white figure could be. 

Syco swings open its doors. The sound when they close lets out a deafening echo. Rows upon rows of pews are empty but one. The one at the very end has a hunched figure whispering to himself, praying I presume. The cathedral somehow managed to be even bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. It’s dark. Candles are clasped between the statues of elderly women dressed in long, hooded robes. They are evenly spaced across either side of the cathedral. The flickering glow from their small torches makes it look as if their lips are moving. With each flicker, their frowns deepen. If they hadn’t been sculpted with hoods their eyes would’ve looked judgingly at us, right into our souls. At the front, the very end of this red rug we’re awkwardly standing on, are four statues bowing in front of a genderless, youthful, and cloaked figure with the same symbol as the flags outside etched into the center of their chest. 

The leader of this mission strides forward solemnly towards the only other person here. We continued to follow him without question, but it’s here that I realize he never told us why we’re here. One of the few men he had on his ship came into our room, in the middle of our mourning, to alert us we landed on this planet and that Syco wanted the two of us to tag along. The two of us didn’t even look at each other. We just accepted it. 

Although, maybe it's because the two of us shared distrust for Syco, so we wanted to remain on his good side. He was our enemy for so long. He was my enemy for so long. I was angry at him for so long, yet just barely two hours ago he wants to befriend rather than be a foe. No, more like coworkers, but is it right for me to feel this way about him? There’s a reason why Mikrovos acted the way he did when Syco and my paths crossed for the first time. Now he and everyone else is in his control, being enslaved by him. Everyone says he’s mad. At one point there wasn’t any way for me to argue, no reason as well, but a mad person doesn’t cry like that. He’s troubled just like- I shake off that thought, stopping myself before I start agreeing that we’re equals. 

We’re heading towards the hunched figure, the reason why we came all the way here. Before we’re in front of them they have already started speaking, “Finally we get to meet.” When we’re in front of him, he continues, “I’ve heard a lot of things about you, but it’s only now I see your face.”

At this distance, I can see the figure is wearing the same armor as the guards outside, but it’s worn. Parts of the metal are scraped, the same insignia I’ve seen all around this place has just about faded from his torn shirt. The figure is a fungus-like alien species. His eyes are two yellow, rhombuses that look as if they’re glowing because of his dull, brown, and warty skin. 

“Same to you, Shiitakee.” 

This gets a smirk out of Shiitakee, but unlike the late Cala’s smirk, this one is friendly rather than depreciating. He leans forward and places his arms on the back of the chair in front of his pew. “Congratulations on your promotion.”

“A little late for that, but  you’ve already congratulated me the day after it happened.” 

“Yes, I did.” He rummages into his shirt and pulls out a cigarette. Shiitakee slides it between his cracked lips and slides a finger across the chair. A flame swallows the edge of the finger. This new character brings the finger to his cigarette and lights it. Blowing out the finger and blowing smoke into Syco’s face, causes Syco to step back, cough, and try to blow the smell away. “Always the straight man, Syco,” Shiitakee continued with a snicker and a cough. 

“And that’s what you get.” He coughs again, but Shiitakee continues to smoke. Syco continues to act unconcerned, but he’s clearly amused. Until a few moments ago they were strangers, but now they’re acting like they are childhood friends. Shiitakee blows a few more times, which gets a few more reactions out of Syco. Their back and forth, which turns into laughter, has Saamuki and I turn to look at each other. I shrug at her. 

Eventually, they stopped. I knew right then and there it became serious again. Shiitakee moves his head back to look at the dome that is the ceiling. “It’s been years since this place has heard voices other than my prayers. The last mass was about the time I got into contact with you, Sy.”

“I was wondering why you wanted us to meet here, the center of your city.”

“Ironically, it’s the safest place to meet.”

“I could see that now, so what was so important that we had to meet in person?”

Shiitakee lowers his head. His focus is back on Syco. “Until recently I would’ve scheduled this meeting to be like the others, but I knew this deserved for you to see in person.” Again, he goes into his shirt, but when he pulls out his hand this time he motions for Syco to move his hands towards him. Syco raises his eyebrow, but Shiitakee’s expression remains serious. So, Syco compiles without any more hesitation. Shiitakee then hands him something. Carefully, unwrapping his hands, he sees Shiitakee handed him a compass. Of course, it’s unlike any compass found on Earth. Alien symbols circle its edges and instead of a needle, there’s a purple crystal at its center. As I try to look over Syco’s shoulder, wanting to inspect it more, I can also see underneath the crystal is the same motif I’ve seen over and over again. 

There couldn’t have been anyone in here besides us, but Syco questions in a hushed voice, “Is this?”

His friend nods. 

“How did you get it?”

“I,” he coughs, but this time blood comes out, “A Watcher.”

The two of us standing behind him were hit with a shock. Saamuki’s eyes are wide and if I had mine they would be too. 

“Are you insane, Shiitakee?” Syco’s voice is still quieter than usual, but he’s clearly mad. Maybe a bit disappointed too. 

“Hah. Just like you I am.” The figure that was moments ago teasing Syco, which just winked at him, is one I finally realize is dying.  

With a grunt, and after putting the compass into his pocket, steps over the chair to get to Shiitakee who I’m also now noticing has his feet stepping on a huge pile of long-dead cigarette buds. Shiitakee tries fighting Syco’s attempt at grabbing and slinging him onto his shoulder. 

“What do you think you’re doing,” Shiitakee asked as his cigarette rested in one of the corners of his lips. 

After bringing his dying companion to his shoulder, Syco takes a moment to reply with, “I’m not going to let you die like this, Shii.” 

“Are you insane?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

Syco continues towards the doors and ignores Shiitakee’s continued thrashing. The two of us, who have been third-wheeling together, follow right behind them. Right, when Syco is about to push open the doors and Shiitakee has stopped fighting, all of the candles go out in unison. I get a bad feeling. We’re not in the dark because of my crown’s fire and Saamuki’s recently lit hands. The latter of which should be brighter than the now blown out candles, but the room is much darker now. It’s as if we were suddenly transported in the middle of a black hole. 

“You have something that belongs to me,” a voice with a mix of other, varying voices growled from where we just walked away from. 

[sea-salted-wolverine]

Okay so last week was a shitkicker and was literally so bad I spent the better part of the week trying to delude myself into thinking it was a good day. Like, we're talking, "the sun is shining and I'm here to see it so today is a good day" and "I'm having a bad day- fuck me I am not haveing a bad day- I'm having a good day- I'm not having a bad day". Denial is a powerful tool for mental health, apply judiciously. I get that everyone on earth is kinda having a shitty year but it feels like things just kinda escalated in my little corner

The 7th had a huge snow storm that brought traffic to a stand still. No one could leave the house and university class was online anyway. Batshit customer demanded to pick up her gear anyway. I drove in because I was the only person with keys to the shop that could get to the building. It took me a solid 2 hours going 15mph on the highway. The snow in the parking lot was up past the fenders of my truck. Crazy lady gets 10 out of 18 of her survival suits back but the other 8 still have holes in them because our only repair tech is also the only one who answers the phone or runs the computer or handles customers or cleans or disinfects anything or stores gear. I'll give you one guess who that person is.

Did you guess me? Good for you. Fun fact this was not the case in October.

Crazy lady swans off through the snowed in parking lot and because she cant find the exit, blasts straight through the ditch and onto the road.

I say fuck it and leave. I've been at work for 2 hours. I have made 24 dollars for my trouble. It takes me another hour to get home.

The 8th is Saturday and I'm supposed to be at work. No one can drive. There was another 10 8nches of snow last night. I say fuck work and go to dig out the plow truck. The canopy over the plow truck collapses as I walk out to clear the snow of it.

I do not scream.

My partner and I get the truck running and go plow people out of their driveways and then go do the shop.

We come back home and the heater doesn't work. We just spent most of last week frantically trying to limp the thing along because no heat at -20°F is in a word fucking unpleasant. At least now its 40 degrees warmer because if the snowstorm. We take it apart again. The house smells like diesel. The house smells like exhaust. The house is not cold because the wood stove can keep up at 20 above zero but it won't keep us through the winter.

There is no saving the oil heater. We need a new one.

Its 730 and neither of us have eaten. I start rice in the pressure cooker so I can throw a tasty bite on top and call it dinner and that dies too. Explosively.

Dinner is half cooked rice and microwaved curry.

Sunday is spent finding a way to stretch our increasingly thin budget to buy a new heater. Between us we actually have 2275$ and we will still cover the mortgage. Somehow. All our Christmas gifts will be hand made this year. The next thing that breaks will stay broken.

Monday, power outages due to snow storm. No wifi, no zoom meetings. Another 8 inches of snow. This is now more snow than my city gets for the full year.

My boss calls sobbing. The dog died. Joey, an 11 year old, 130lb mastiff with a tumor the size of a football on his liver has been her constant companion for at least 8 years. The pandemic has confused the bejesus out of him because while he loves the lock down and going out to play every hour or so he doesnt really like the concept of strangers in masks. Hes a guard dog and doesnt understand that men in masks coming into the shop are not here to kill mom they're wearing masks so they don't kill mom.

Mondays the shop is closed anyway and I spend it installing the new heater. It doesn't quite fit in the space the old heater came out of but its warm.

Tuesday, I go to work, everyone cancels class, I once again gently explain to a regular that eugenics is bad. I would like to curse him out. I cant. He drops a grand on scuba gear and leaves, talking about how great his trip to Mexico will be.

I do not scream.

A friend calls to ask how I'm doing. Not great. Yea, her niether. She asks if I want to go out to the backcountry with her over the weekend. I explain that my leg physically does not move and I'm downing copious amounts of advil to remain upright. The doctor sent me in for an MRI but has not yet called back. Plus I'm supposed to go to Valdez for the weekend and actually go diving. That I can do with limited use of my leg.

She says yikes, take it easy, take care of yourself, I love you.

I say, yikes, I'm tired of taking it easy, I wanna play, I love you too.

Hit me up if your plans open up and we can do something gentle on your leg. She says.

God yes. The cold woods away from people sounds like paradise. I dont even care that it will cause me rending physical pain to get there. I need a break.

Its Wednesday. I go to school. I get pulled over. Miraculously I dont get a ticket. I'm white female and conventionaly attractive, maybe not so miraculous. I rolled through a stop sign but I'm pretty sure I couldn't afford a ticket.

I get a text in class. One of the instructors who works with the dive shop has tested positive for covid. I haven't seen the man in 2 months. I needed a spare instructor but he was nowhere to be found. But hey, evidently that's a good thing.

I go to work. I vacillate between doing the job a 4 people and having nothing to do.

I go to the grocery store because I misjudged my last monthly grocery run and even though I'm increasing my exposure I'm out of cheese and tea damnit.

The store is packed. Pandemic who?

My partner and I haven't had a date nite in a while and this week has been shitty. I want a nice dinner. I pick up a couple boxes of the carton sushi which isnt terrible and is about as nice as I can justify on the new budget. I grab a gallon of milk and a few other things. I forgot my wallet in the truck and the cashier is chill and sets my stuff aside while I grab it.

I pay and take my stuff home and realize I left one of my bags at the store. No cheese or tea for me.

Thursday. 10am my phone goes off with an emergency alert. The govoner has grown a spine in light of recent elections and is instituting a voluntary lock down. My state has 500 new cases a day. That might not sound like a lot but theres only 300,000 people in Alaska and we've got poor medical infrastructure.

Unfortunately Alaska is full of Alaskans and nobody can tell us what to do. Nothing changes. 7pm rolls around and I'm teaching scuba classes in the pool.

I load a few hundred pounds of scuba gear into the back of my truck. In a wet wetsuit. In the snow. In a fabric facemask. 6 feet apart. In the pool.

I dont get paid for pool time.

Over the summer we had 6 dive masters including me, all big burly dudes, much better suited to picking things up. Its November and I'm the only one.

The kids I'm teaching are going to Hawaii. They're 10 and 13 and so wildly excited about breathing underwater its beautiful to watch. And they're traveling to an island. In a pandemic.

Friday.

Unload scuba gear so it doesnt get stolen out of the back of my truck while I'm at class. Were doing a make up lab today. Hey of the five student in my class only one of us has covid so theres that.

My boss calls an let's me know that shes left for Valdez without me. If I'd like to make an 8 hour drive by myself in a snowstorm I'm welcome to follow.

I'm in class till an hour before shop closing. I'm not driving across town so I can run on the open sign for half an hour.

The shop stays closed on Friday.

Saturday.

I explained to everyone we had business with that the shop would be closed over the weekend and Friday. I planned on being in Valdez. Hell I canceled plans to be in Valdez.

I open the shop and immediately field calls about why we werent open. I start to explain about the Valdez trip and logistical difficulties and then I realize that shes not mad about that. The woman was here before I opened early this morning. We have never been open that early. The hours are on the door.

A regular comes in. Hes also confused as to why I'm here.

Sunday finds me curled up in bed, reluctant to leave. Getting out of bed has not played out well for me recently.

A friend comes over to chat with my partner about specialist rifle parts. This isnt that wierd, he works at a gun shop and they've been discussing upgrading my partners current rifle set up.

He is wearing a full Scottish kilt. Red tartan. Looks very lovely.

I make zucchini bread and my proportions are a little off because I have too much zucchini so it's a little over moist but it's good. I'm recovering from an asskicker of a week and next week will be better.

Monday morning:

Baby brother has covid

Dads getting the results of his rapid test tonight.

Mom isnt getting tested because she says she doesnt have symptoms but that's not the fucking point mom.

So, I'm not going home for thanksgiving. I'm not diving in Valdez. I'm not skiing backcountry.

I'm not sick. I'm not flat broke yet. I dont have a ticket. I have a job. I have people who care about me. Im managing my physical and mental health as best I can. Im just fucking exhausted.

[thevelvetseries]

The Halstead’s (Part 1)

Overall Summary : This story will follow Will Halstead, Jay Halstead and Y/N Halstead. We all know Will as being a Third-Year Attending Physician in Emergency Medicine at Gaffney Chicago, and Jay Halstead as a detective at the 21st district. Y/N Halstead is a 17 year old girl about to start her senior year of high school. She is a grade A student and always does the right thing. One night her friend hosts a party and Y/N loosens up and get a little drunk. What consequences will follow?

Pairing : Jay Halstead x Sister Reader / Will Halstead x Sister Reader

Warnings : Fluff, Angst, Implied Smut, Pregnancy, Brotherly Love, Natalie Bonding, Passing Out

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Chicago. The Windy City. The home of the bears, and where I have lived my whole life with my two older brothers Jay and Will Halstead. I’m there little sister Leah Halstead. I’m currently in my last coming weeks of junior year before summer vacation and I head face first into my senior year of high school. At this moment in time I’m living with my older brother Will in his house, and spend weekends round Jays apartment, since I have a room at each place. I stay with Will during the week since it’s closer to school, longer time to sleep.

 It’s an early Friday morning. I can hear a loud ringing by my head. I know its my alarm clock, its time to get up. With my eyes still close I blindly. After a few minutes my eyes start to open. The glare of sunshine starts to burst through the window and blinds me, I shut my eyes and rub them. Once my body has adjusted I remove my duvet from my body and slip on my slippers that sit by my bed, and starts to walk downstairs to the kitchen. The smell of waffles feel my nose. Will was making his famous blueberry waffles which I’ll admit everyone loved.

 “Morning Will” I say while thinking about the science test I have to take today during 3rd period. Will turns around with a plate full of food and places it down in front of me and does the same for himself. 

 “Morning kiddo, you ready for today” he asked while eating his own breakfast. I nod. 

 “Yeah, I’ve studied. I think I’m going to do ok.” 

 10 minutes pass and I’m now done with my breakfast and headed upstairs to get ready for the day. While I was doing my hair my phone goes off and it’s a text from Veronica. ‘Hey, we are all going to get ready at Shay’s tonight for her party. Meet me after school at the gate, bring everything you’ll need’

 I finished getting ready and get out the outfit I had already got together for the party. It was a simple red maxi dress and some black heels. I placed them in my bag and added my makeup bag as well for retouches. Jay and Will already said I could go, when Shay came up with the idea, we never normally would host the party’s but this time we were. Since I was driving myself to school today, I’d just leave everything in the boot of the car to keep everything safe.

 Once I was ready I collected everything I need for tonight and that I needed for school and made my way downstairs. Where I found Will in the front room getting his shoes on, getting ready to leave for work himself.

 “Hey Will, instead of come home after school and getting ready here, we’re just gonna go straight to Shay’s from school to save time. Oh, and don’t forget I’m staying over after so I’ll be home sometime tomorrow morning, early afternoon.” I tell Will  

 He got up from the couch and out his coat on. “Yeah ok, just text me or Jay so we know you are safe and sound please.” I smile and nod and say goodbye before heading out and going to school.

 On the way to school I stop by and pick up Veronica and Shay like normal, Shay was going on about how she was really excited about tonight since it was her first time throwing a party and she couldn’t wait. While Veronica was reading over her science notes so she could ace this test. Once we finally arrived at school we all head to our home room. I go inside and sit at the back of the classroom like normal. I’m scrolling through Instagram while the bell rings and Mrs Boden walk through the doors. She take all our attendance gave out important messages for the day before we all headed off for our first lesson of the day.

 Once the school day was over, we all gather up our things and head towards the school gates, I turn left towards the parking lot and wait for Shay and Veronica in my car since it was cold. Suddenly a loud bang came from the passenger side window, I jumped 10 ft in the air and looked and saw Shay and Veronica laughing there heads off, and getting inside.

 “OMG! Guys you’ve got to stop scaring my like that. I’m going to die from it one day.” I say while starting the car up and headed out the school parking lot.

 When we got to shays we all gather around in the kitchen eating the left over pizza Shay had from last night and talking about random things. When it got to around 5pm we all thought that we should start to get ready for the party tonight before setting up everything. We each took shower and redid our hair and makeup before getting dressed. Around 7pm Jeff, Dean, Spencer and Chloe arrive with the keg and some extra snacks. The boys tap the keg and place it in the backyard while the rest of us finish getting ready. I started putting chips into different bowls and ordered some different pizza’s for everyone to enjoy.

 The party was now in full swing, people dancing, drinking, talking just having fun. Relaxing. I’m currently sitting outside by the pool talking to Jeff and was on my 4th drink of the night. I’m starting to feel a little buzz from the alcohol that I’ve consumed in the past few hours, but was still alert to know what was going on around me. I was feeling happy. The cool breeze hits my body and goosebumps arose on my skin. I’m wearing a maxi dress in Chicago, of course it’s cold but I didn’t care, the alcohol was definitely taking affect. 

 Me and Jeff kept talking, laughing and just having fun like we always do. After about 30 minutes me and Jeff start to kiss, it wasn’t the first time either. Me and Jeff have had a sexual relationship for a year now but we aren’t dating. When things start to get a little heated we headed upstairs and found a vacant bedroom and locked the door behind us. Next things next we are both naked on the bed, what I didn’t know was that this decision would cause a huge bump in my life later down the road.

 I was awoken by daylight coming through the window. I was in Shay’s bedroom laying next to Veronica on the floor surrounded by pillows. While Shay and Chloe and Spencer where in the bed. I look up and see Spencer on he phone and Chloe watching TV on mute. I sit up and put on my hoodie to warm myself up a little, since the window had been left opened all night long. “Morning Y/N/N” Spencer said while getting up to use the bathroom.

 “Morning Spenc” I yawn as I head over to Shay’s vanity and brush all the knots out of my hair. Bit by bit all of us girls wake up and head downstairs to Shay’s kitchen to find something that we wanted for breakfast. Shay and Veronica decided to get McDonald’s for breakfast so why the rest of us where waiting for them to come back with breakfast we starting watching a movie in the front room and talking about the party last night.

 After breakfast we all got cleaned up, and watched a few more movies before all heading home. I dropped Veronica back at her house and continued until I reached mine. One I turned down my street and got closer to the house I notice that Jay’s car is parked out, he’s probably came over to have breakfast with Will before work. When I finally I entered the house it was 10am and I came home to the sound of the TV, and found Jay and Will eating waffles and watching the news. 

 “Hey guys” I say while taking my shoes off and hanging up my coat on the hook by the door.

 “Hey” they both say in unison. “How was the party? Hope you had fun.” Jay said while taking another bit of his waffle.

 “Yeah, I had fun. It was nice to just relax for once.” I say while taking a seat between will and Jay and taking part of Will’s waffle. He gave me a little looked, like he was annoyed but he couldn’t hold it and smiled.

 An hour later Jay left for work and me and Will stayed relaxing on the sofa watching the horror movie channel. At some point in the movie I feel asleep and woke up with a blanket covering me and no Will in sight and hearing the front door close.

 “Will?” I voiced loudly to see if her was still home. I heated footsteps coming closer Jay and Will both came in into the front room.

 “How long was I asleep?” I say while sitting up.

 “4 hours, you must have been really tired from last night? How much. Did you drink?” Will asked. I rubbed my eye and started to sit up. 

 “Errrmmm. I didn’t have a lot. 4 drinks altogether.” I say even though I know I had about 6 by the end of the night. I know it may not seem like a lot, but for me someone who doesn’t drink that often it was. He looked at me suspiciously and nodded.

 I placed my head on Jays lap and continued to watch the TV. After about an hour and Jay tells me it’s time to leave. Since it was Saturday I stay with him. I get up and pack some things I need and put on my coat and shoes, say goodbye to Will and head down to Jays car. 

 “Jay can we get Chinese for dinner?” I ask while trying to look as innocent as possible to try and get my way. He looked at me with raised eyebrows. 

 “Fine, only because I want an egg roll.” I giggled at his response.

 We got to Jays around 6pm with dinner in our hands. We go inside and eat and relax in the front room watching Netflix. I’m sitting on the other end of the couch to Jay, I can see him thinking things in his head. Everything since I was little Jay has always been the brother I go to when I want to talk about my feelings or when something was bothering me ever since I was little and Will was more the one who would help me out with my problems, so I could always tell when something was bothering Jay like he could with me. 

 “Jay, what you thinking about?” I said while looking at him.

 “It’s nothing sweetie, it’s just a case I’m working on. Nothing for you to worry about” he says. I move up the couch and cuddle into him. He stokes my hair and I start to get tired and end up falling asleep in his lap.

The Halstead’s Tag-List

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[smolbeandrabbles]

Diamonds or Twine pt.1 - Robin van der Hook x Reader (The Place Beyond The Pines)

Author’s Note: Possibly more a ‘mini series’ than a Full Fic Mendo. I’m pretty sure I know how this all goes and I really don’t need to drag it out, I just love him so much I want to give him his own series 💜💙 He is my 🌞 Disclaimer: So, obviously, TPBTP characters/setting/etc are not mine. We’re gonna start Pre-Luke, just gimmie a tick... Premise: Whilst on the way home from a job in up state New York you figure you could use a mechanic to make it through the last 200 miles... Apparently, Schenectady has just the guy... Words: 3858 Warnings: N/A

______   She was lost and lookin' for the interstate Needin' directions, and I was the man for the job I told her way up yonder past the caution light There's a little country store with an old Coke sign... Then a left will take you to the interstate But a right will bring you right back here to me I was sittin' there thinkin' 'bout her pretty face Kickin' myself for not catchin' her name ...'you fool, that coulda been love. I knew my old Ford couldn't run her down She probably didn't like me anyhow So I watched her disappear in a cloud of dust

Is this heat playin' tricks on me Or am I really seein' what I think I see? The woman of my dreams comin' back to me She went way up yonder past the caution light Don't know why, but somethin' felt right... Thank God for good directions... 

---

You were 250 miles from home when the noise started. And you elected to ignore it, you could get back just fine. What, it was 4 hours to New York City? That was nothing. It’d fly. Your truck was reliable… it’d get you there. It was probably just a nick, or a stone or something, nothing to worry about, it’d pass… 200 miles from New York and the noise hadn’t stopped. But luckily hadn’t got any worse. You’d passed through so many towns where you could have had it checked, but you were still determined that you could get home. Your F-150 was almost brand new, nothing bad was going to happen. Except the voice in your head, which was running through every plausible scenario; from a breakdown, to blowing up, to full on kidnap… “Shut up! Y/N! You’re being ridiculous!” You just turned the radio up a little more, then you could barely hear it… much better!

 165 miles from home and even the radio didn’t help. And you decided the next town would be your last hope. The voice in your head had finally worn you down. “Schenectady…” Sounded like a small town in the middle of nowhere that wouldn’t have much of anything; As long as it has ONE decent mechanic! You slowed your truck down to cruise through the town; it looked pretty empty. You had a hard time finding anyone, yet alone a mechanic. And your truck really didn’t sound great at a lower speed like this. What the hell was wrong with it!? Eventually you managed to flag down what appeared to be the only man in town; “Excuse me!!!” Luckily he was a kind older gent, and he came over right away; “Gosh, I’m sorry I… I really need a mechanic… Do you happen to know of a good place I can go?” Instead of answering your question he tipped his head; “Where you from?” “Uh, New York City sir, I was working up state… I’m driving home – but something’s up with my truck…” “You going back by the interstate?” “…Will be.” Although you weren’t sure what that had to do with anything “Well, you just passed a really good mechanic on your right up there. Shorter distance…. But, if you want to be pointing at the interstate, then you want to keep going in the direction you’re headed – there’s a nice little shop called Van Der Hook Autobods – it’s down Washout Road. One track, right at the end, you won’t miss it – and coming back it’ll just be one track again – trust me, it’ll be impossible for a city girl to get lost.” You chuckled politely “But, you’re in a F-150, so, I’m sure you’ll have no problem with the track. Even if there’s something wrong with it.” “Van Der Hook Autobods on Washout Road. Got it.” “He’s a good guy, there isn’t a thing he doesn’t know. If he can’t fix your truck, likely no one can.” “…I think that’s supposed to be a confident statement. And I’ll take it!” You flashed a grin “Thank you so much Sir!” “No problem! I hope you had a safe journey home.” “If he can fix this first… I guess!” “Well… There’s that-!” * Eventually you met a little bumpy dirt track at a seemingly dead-end road, and continued to roll your F-150 down it. “Van Der Hook Autobods… Huh? That’s the place…” You drove on through the gates and parked up. Even the engine cutting out sounded horrible. “…Oh God… I’ve really done it…” You opened the door and hopped down; staring around. Right now there wasn’t a soul in sight, and the worn out wooden buildings looked like they needed a little work. Added to the off-white Toyota parked up at the side, your gleaming race red Ford F-150 looked completely out of place. You walked towards what you presumed to be a workshop, by the tools strewn around and the cars parked up. But you didn’t get far enough to find the man himself as you were set upon by a dog. “Oh! Woah…!” The barking was friendly, as it jumped around you, tail wagging, paws up – you crouched down; “Hey---! Hey---!” you showered it with both love and kisses. “…Oh my goodness…! Okay…!” In return you got enough kisses to last a lifetime, and it had you giggling “Alright! Alright! I get it!” You didn’t realise that he’d appeared until he spoke. Of course, he’d heard the engine, and he’d certainly heard better ones. And the slam of the car door – and his dog’s barking. But he was finishing something up, and when he hadn’t been called out by a voice he knew, he wondered what might have happened to the driver. But, he didn’t even recognise you. And eyes flicking to the District of Colombia licence plate might explain why. He watched you for a moment, deeply curious – Tula was usually a shy dog, especially around strangers… But apparently this didn’t apply to you. “Tula! Leave her alone!” You looked up, met by the inquisitive blue eyes of, you presumed, the star mechanic. “Oh, no it’s okay…” you stood, “I’m Y/N… Sorry to kinda come unannounced, I was told you were the guy to come to…” You pointed behind you to the truck “…I have no real idea about cars, so I can’t tell you what’s wrong but… something isn’t right. And I kinda felt I needed to get it looked at. The person I asked recommended you…” He processed all your information very slowly, looking between you and the truck about 15 times; “Good thing too, if that was your engine…” He held his hand out, still black from engine oil; “Robin.” You felt like you were going to meet the worlds biggest stereotype, and shook his hand; “Well Robin, if you’re as good as he said you were. I’m gonna be in a lot of debt to you!” He didn’t quite smile; shy? Or calculating?... both?, “Aw, I’m sure it’s not all that bad. I could have you on your way in no time!” At least he sounded as confident in himself as your saviour in town did. Your next comment was almost absent minded as you took a minute to really take in your surroundings, looking out across the land in front of you, how it slopped down a hill and continued on for miles until the horizon line. “This looks like a great place to run...” “Haha. I wouldn’t know...” You stepped forward “And you get to see sunrise and sunset from here... it’s stunning...” He walked out to stand beside you; and you got a good look at him in the light - scruffy dark hair with wisps of silver. Looking like he hadn’t shaved in a while; rather by choice or simply because he never had time. His white vest top was edging grey and the array of stains from working with heavy machinery all day were innumerable. His blue jeans to match... But his eyes; as he looked out across that horizon line and the sun hit them; a clear watery blue flecked green. Maybe he looked like he hasn’t slept in weeks, but he was certainly alert and alive. And his energy was electric, if nervous; “I mean I guess...” Robin waved his hands around frantically indicating to things - “it stretches back a good couple of miles, I have a trailer down there, lots of dirt track roads that kinda thing... in summer you don’t really see the sun come up, but you can see it set pretty good; best place to view either would be up there though...” He pointed back to the roof of the ramshackle garage building. “If you climbed to the roof you’d be able to see both pretty good I’d say!” “Sounds romantic.” His laugh was as nervous as his energy “Not that I’d know anything about that... now, this car of yours...” “Oh, yeah...” “What happened?” You led him to it - “That’s what I figured you’d be able to tell me; suddenly it started making this weird sound.” He nodded; “I heard.” “Well I thought I’d make it home... but it got worse and, I don’t wanna be stuck on the side of the road so...” “Home-!? To DC?! With that racket? Girl, you are brave...” You tipped your head “DC...? Where do you get that from?” He indicated to the plates “DC plates, DC car.” “Well, I live in New York.” He shot you a look; “with DC plates?” “What’s wrong with that?” Robin shook his head “No, no, no... how long have you had this?” “... A couple of months... I guess...” He made a sharp intake of breath, “Is that bad-!?” “Why does it have DC plates?” “It was my brothers...” “And he didn’t tell you?!” Robin looked at least a little shocked at that, “Tell me... what?” “You live in New York, where?” “City.” He blinked at you a couple of times; a city girl with an F-150? “...Right... this is illegal. So as soon as you get home do me one favour. Apply for New York plates - this isn’t gonna fly, and you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble.” “...Why didn’t he tell me?!?!” Your voice pitched in disbelief; that was just like him though. JUST like him “I’m gonna kill him.” Robin popped the hood with a chuckle; “No, well, that’s also illegal...” he scanned the engine, “hmm...” You looked from it to him and back; you knew barely anything about cars so... that ‘hmm’ could mean anything. “Was that good or bad.” “Undecided... you’re gonna have to give me a minute; but I know exactly what it sounded like... How long do you reckon you’ve been driving like this?” You grimaced, unwilling to confess “C’mon, you were got try to do another 160 on it so you might as well say...” “... Probably 100...” He laughed “Oh God! And you made it??! Well-made car and well run I’ll give it that...” he walked back to his workshop, and proceeded to poke around with a screwdriver “Ah, yeah... I thought so.” “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?!” You folded your arms, hoping for some kind of verbal answer, not whatever he was keeping in his head. “... Okay so...” what came next was a bunch of car jargon you’d make neither heads nor tails of, and when Robin had finished all he’d succeeded in doing was confusing you. “What?” He sighed “I tried to warn you it’d be hard to understand...” but he gave you a sweet smile, “it’s a one in a million wearing accident, but it’s the kind of thing that happens and everything gets recalled? Y’know, one of those... I mean all you need to know is I can fix it.” “Today?” He gave a frown, but didn’t like that it made you look disappointed; “I don’t promise miracles... but yeah, probably...” “Well. What do I do if you can’t fix it today?!” Robin jerked his thumb back to the expanse of land he seemingly owned “There’s a trailer you can stay in... don’t worry I won’t charge you.” “Isn’t that your trailer?” He scoffed “I don’t live in a trailer.” “Well... who does?!” He tipped his head to your question, wondering why you’d be interested in the first place; “No one... currently. I mean yeah, people from time to time hit its empty... I’ll stay up here. You’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You weren’t that worried, he didn’t look that intimidating. You reckoned you could take him in a fair fight.  “I mean I’d rather not if I can help it.” “Why, city girl, important meetings?” You folded your arms defiantly; “I might.” He laughed; “What are you doing all the way up here?!” “We have an upstate office... I went to project manage up there, cuz that’s what I do, and no one ever likes going to the upstate office.” “And you volunteered because...?” You indicated to the truck “I like driving.” “Of course.” “I do!” Robin didn’t sound disbelieving but he’d put you on the defensive. “But you know nothing about cars?” “Fixing cars!” “Get a better brother!” You opened your mouth to protest but realised that Robin was probably right about that and instead made a face like you thought he was being fair. Which he wasn’t sure he liked, “...oh... I’m sorry...” “No. It’s okay... I don’t think we ever got over the teenage fighting phase.” “Older?” “By 5 years, yeah.” “Ah...” he spoke as if that made sense, which prompted your next question; “Do you have siblings?” He shook his head; “No... sometimes I wish I did....” You looked around you again; “Do you get lonely up here...?” “Sometimes... I got my dogs. Ain’t that right Tula!” She barked in agreement; “See?” You smiled and couched again; encouraging Tula over to you; “I think I’d like it...” “What?” He shut the hood and held his hand out for your keys, “Oh sorry -“ You handed them over, “The quiet... you get to think, and take time, and...” “New York City too fast paced, city girl?” You narrowed your eyes, clearly he was about to fixate on that nick-name for you; “No... but I like being able to leave...” He rolled your truck up into his garage - with your help, you didn’t want to seem like you were going to push him to fix it and expect him to do all the heavy lifting. Robin told you he didn’t want to risk starting the ignition again, in case the F-150 decided to give up completely or the damage became worse. “Light packing?” “I was there a week. I don’t need too much...” You watched as he searched his tool box to set up with exactly what he’d need, “Do you want some help? Can I help?” He shook his head “No... that’s cool... don’t worry about it! But you can keep me company. Unless you’re about to tell me you need a Starbucks and WiFi in order to effectively communicate?” You folded your arms; “Cuz I’m a city girl?” He laughed, liking that you were taking his jab in your stride; “You got it!” “No...” You hoisted yourself up onto a clutter free ledge (surprisingly few of these seemed to exist in here) with a smile, “I think I’ll be pretty good at keeping you company.”

 So for the next few hours you got to know one another. Skipping around mundane surface conversation and small talk, he wanted to know more about you. And every interesting question he asked only led you to counter with one of your own. Yes, you can know that... but only if I know this... Robin liked that; you had an openness about you without being too quick to give yourself away. And a curiosity of your own; not only that, but you were actually interested in his answers. You didn’t ask anything for the sake of asking. You would follow up on his answer with “Where’s that?... What do you do there?… Hang on you what-!?... That’s incredible!” He enjoyed that, the wish to know more. He wasn’t sure he knew all that many people who wanted to know him that well that quickly. A lot of people dropped their car off and came back when he told them to collect it. You didn’t have much choice, but you didn’t have to stay here.

 Eventually he put his spanner down and stood back. He ran his eyes over the engine once. Then leant forward and talked himself through it all again. You couldn’t hear him from where you were sitting, but it was a curious thing to watch. Then he smiled, confidently, stepped back and shut the hood, turning to you; “You’re good to go!” Your face instantly brightened; “Really?!” “Yeah... There’s little bits I can see would need doing eventually, but to get you back home, which is the most important thing, you’ll be fine. But just make sure to take it to a servicer and please, those plates! File that paperwork! If I had time I’d take you through it but…” He turned to you with a sympathetic smile; “You don’t look like you need a fine - or to get in trouble with law enforcement!” “Oh my god! Thank you!!! I... I mean I don’t even know how to thank you enough!” “Hey, good conversation is thank you enough, believe me...” There was a gentle smile on his face and you knew your observation of his loneliness wasn’t wrong. “...I guess this paperwork will be thank you enough too!” “Oh yeah! Do that and you’ve done your one job!” Robin laughed, as you opened your car door to get your purse; “How much do I owe you?” “Oh no!” He was bashful, with a shake of his head “don’t worry about it.” “No, come on...! You can’t do that..!” “Don’t worry about it!” “Robin! I could be stuck in the middle of nowhere with a broken truck right now! You halted progress on everything else for me, let me pay you!”

He gave a sigh; “You’re gonna stand there and be a pain until I cave, aren’t ya.” “Pretty much!” You grinned, knowing he’d got a good measure of you. “That’s how they do it in the city... huh?” “No I think that’s just me, but it is a useful tactic!” “Alright...” he mumbled a number, but you weren’t about to let him get away with that. “What?” “100.” You narrowed your eyes at him, betting it was nowhere near that original price and handed notes over “No change, no take backs.” He fanned out what at a quick count was at least $300.  “Oh...” he said it softly “That’s a hell of a tip...” “I think you deserve it.” You opened your car door again to straighten everything up, “You put up with me for two hours straight...” He opened his mouth, but promptly shut it with a sigh. He wasn’t sure he could tell you how much of a pleasure that was, without it coming out sounding as sad as it was meant to. Robin had done that once too often before…

**

 You kicked around for a little while longer, until you could tell the sun really was on its way down, and you ought to head off to find the interstate before it completely set on you. Driving in the dark was never particularly fun when you knew where you were. You said goodbye to Tula first. And again we’re smothered in love; “Okay! Okay!” You giggled “I love you too!” You turned back to him “Thank you, again!” His smile was shy; “You’re welcome... do you know where you’re going from here?” “Straight?” He laughed, once again shy as his pretty eyes flicked away from yours ���Right... up to the end, yeah and then...?” You shook your head slowly “Not a clue!” “Okay...” He held his hands up to act out the directions; “Left to the next junction, should be a stop sign, and then a little one for the interstate. I promise you can’t miss it. Turn right there, and you’ll be on your entry ramp. Then I guess you can take it from there home?” “Uh huh! You got it! Thank you! Man, Robin, I owe ya a lot! I just... I mean it I can’t thank you enough.” He gave a grateful smile, he knew you were – you’d only expressed your gratitude to him every other sentence since he’d fixed it up. “That’s sweet… Unfortunately I’m not on tripadvisor or whatever rating site the kids are all using these days.” You laughed a little louder “Dang it! I’ll keep it in mind!” “If you’re ever back up here though, city girl, and you need a fix! I got you covered!” “I’ll remember that!” You gave a wave and walked back to your vehicle, “Until such a time, Robin!”

You opened your truck door and were about to climb up when something compelled him to call you back; “Hey! Y/N!” “Uh huh!?” You paused, looking back to him and he smiled; “I mean, if you turn right into town for any reason... or you want those other little niggles fixing before you head back, you know... to make sure it’s 100%. You can always take a U turn and it’ll bring you right back here.” You bit your lips together as you smiled, and this time you looked a little shy yourself “Thank you Robin! I’ll remember that too!”

 You turned the ignition, almost half hoping it wouldn’t start, but it did... and it sounded smoother than it had even when you’d got it. Wow... he’s done an amazing job, I’ll give him that! Robin waved you off as you started your still near enough 200 mile journey home. You didn’t want to push your truck too hard until you had to. Until you hit the interstate and could let it fly, and give that fixed up engine some exercise. Whilst you were still in reach of a mechanic you just wanted to ease her into it. You indicated left and took the road as far as you could. He was right. There was a stop sign just a little way out of town at a crossroads, with an interstate sign in the bright green you were used to. Only his voice kept resounding in your head. So before you knew it you’d been staring at that stop sign for 5 minutes. If anyone had pulled up behind you it would have compelled you to move – you’d have had to make a decision and shift somewhere. And you’d probably happily be speeding off down the highway by now. But no one did. And you might call that Devine Intervention. You took a deep breath, indicated and turned...

 Robin was clearing up when he heard the hum of a decent engine coming back down the tracks. And this time he wandered outside to watch the car arrive. Race red, of course. You hopped down, slamming the door. Something had called you back to him, like there was something here. You weren’t supposed to go anywhere just yet. Like even in those short hours, you’d left something with him… “Is something wrong with my fix?? You come to complain?! Seen as you can’t do it on the internet?!” He folded his arms jokingly, but you pointed back to your truck with a smile. “You know... I was thinking... if there are further niggles... I... I don’t think I wanna risk anything, y’know, 200 miles is… quite the way!” He took another sharp breath; “Well, you’re right, it is nearly 200 miles... I can understand the concern...” “Well, can you take another look?” He nodded, his smile widening by the second; “Of course I can... but uh...” He looked to the horizon, “Ya aren’t getting out of here before dark...” Robin looked back to you curiously, and the way you simply shrugged; “Guess I’m gonna have to stay...”

--- @dennismitchell @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad. Well. I’ve only had this in my head since I watched TPBTP for the first time. And that was the first movie I watched for my ‘Reviews’ segment... Before I started taking these requests... SO that was a LONG time ago! Anyway, Robin, didn’t I promise when Sway was over? And here we are Boi 💜💙

[mr-mellow-dj]

Wonderful Tonight

A/N: I have this song on my iPhone and every time I hear it I can hear Rick singing it to Kate. This is the classic by Eric Clapton “Wonderful Tonight” which he wrote celebrating his then wife. I also apologize to anyone else who may have written another fanfiction based on this song.

Cross posted from Fanfiction.net

 There are many versions of this song on YouTube, here is one of them:

watch?v=nfgg7DjMtwE

 This didn’t really fit in my Coltrane song book fanfiction so I present this as a one-shot. I hope you enjoy it.

 Disclaimer: The characters are the property of Andrew W. Marlowe and ABC television. The lyrics are the property of their respective owners. No infringement is intended.

Transcriptions from dustjackets dot wikifoundry dot com slash page slash Transcripts.

_________________________________________

It's late in the evening

She's wondering what clothes to wear

She puts on her make up

And brushes her long blonde [brown] hair

And then she asks me, "Do I look alright?"

And I say, "Yes, you look wonderful tonight"

_________________________________________ 

 A/N: Sometime after 3x14 Lucky Stiff

Richard Castle surveyed the Ballroom at the Hilton he had rented for the evening. This was the first (and hopefully annual) Johanna Beckett Memorial Scholarship fundraiser that he convinced, okay maybe cajoled, Kate Beckett into allowing him to host.

Around the room he saw the mayor, a couple of state assemblymen, members of the city council, along with other dignitaries (especially the mayor’s campaign contributors) and of course their spouses or significant others. He was one of the few that came ‘stag’. After the fiasco with his publisher, Gina Cowell, he was in no mood to be seen with any starlet, model or wannabe.

Of course he brought his mother, Martha Rodgers. As he took a sip from his the flute of Champagne, he saw Martha also scanning the crowd, her ‘graydar’, as she called it, on high alert. She seemed to recover better from Chet Paliburn’s death than Rick from the demise of his relationship with Gina.

He continued to scan the room for his muse. Then he saw her at the entrance and he was entranced. She was wearing a halter floor length dress of sky blue tulle. The bodice was lace with a high collar. Her hair was in a French twist. She was adorned with long silver earrings that enhanced the effect of her long, lovely neck.

She spotted him and seemed to float over to him (at least that’s what he thought). As she walked over to him, the dress would teasingly split showing one of her lovely legs. All of this was overwhelming to Rick’s senses.

“Castle.”

He didn’t respond. His mouth open slightly.

“Castle!”

“Sorry,” Rick finally responded.

“Cat go your tongue?” Beckett chuckled.

“I’m sorry.”

“What? Is there something wrong with my dress?” she asked as she looked around on her dress for something.

“No. You look wonderful.”

“What?” Beckett asked. “What are you sorry for? This fundraiser is so very sweet. You really didn’t have to get a ballroom to have it.”

“My pleasure, Beckett,” he answered. “But I am sorry.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What are you sorry for?”

“I work with you every day. You are strong, badass Beckett. You are a warrior princess, like Xena. The best detective NYPD has.”

“Thank you, Castle.”

“It’s the truth. But that’s not what I’m sorry for. I’m sorry that I’m around the warrior you so much I keep forgetting how stunningly beautiful you are. And Josh should be very proud to call you his girlfriend.”

“Thank you, Castle.” Beckett blushed.

“And that’s the truth, too,” Castle added. “Speaking of which, where’s doctor motorcycle boy?”

“I wish you’d stop calling him that.”

“Okay, where is the good doctor?”

“He got called in.”

“We scheduled this to accommodate his schedule. What happened?”

“The cardiologist on duty had a conflict. His brother-in-law was brought in for an emergency bypass. Hospital rules.”

“I imagine it would be devastating if you’re operating on a loved one and they die on the table,” Castle acknowledged.

“Yeah,” Beckett agreed. “That’s why he called Josh. He and Josh have worked in surgery together several times. Also, Josh was the next on the call list.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I. We really haven’t had a lot of time together lately and I was looking forward to tonight.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to be your substitute escort, Beckett. For this evening, of course.”

Taking his arm, she said, “Of course, Castle. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

_________________________________________ 

We go to a party

And everyone turns to see

This beautiful lady

That's walking around with me

And then she asks me, "Do you feel alright?"

And I say, "Yes, I feel wonderful tonight"

_________________________________________ 

A/N: Sometime in season 4 before 4x19 47 Seconds

After surveying the room before the second annual Johanna Beckett Memorial Scholarship fundraiser, Jim Beckett came up to his daughter and asked, “Did Rick pay for this ballroom? My god, Katie, this is pretty extravagant even by NYC standards.”

“Yes, dad, he did,” Kate somewhat sheepishly answered. “He gets things into his head and refuses to listen. I asked him to tone it down a little but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said ‘that’s how I can get my rich friends to come.’”

“Katie,” her father said. “You know the man loves you. I see how he looks at you. He looks at you the same way I looked at your mother.”

“I know, dad,” Kate sheepishly responded. “I’m just not ready yet. I’m still getting over the shooting and my PTSD. But, I’ll tell him soon.”

“Tell him what?”

“That I love him, too.”

“Please don’t wait too long,” Jim Beckett said to his daughter touching her shoulder. “I almost waited too long to ask your mother out. When I first asked her, she said something to the effect of ‘it’s about time’. Please learn from your father’s mistake.”

“Thanks dad.” Kate smiled. “I’m almost there.”

Just then Rick Castle walked up.

“Hello, Jim,” Castle said as he held his hand out to shake. “It’s great to see you here. Thank you for coming.”

“Thanks, son,” Jim responded not too subtly shaking Rick’s hand. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And thank you for putting this on. You really didn’t have to do this.”

“Thanks, Jim. It’s my pleasure. I’d like to believe Johanna would be happy with this.”

“I’m sure she would, son.”

Castle continued smiling and then turning and looking Beckett in the eye, “I’m doubly sure that she would be very proud of your daughter, as I am sure you are, too.”

“Yes, I am.”

“If you don’t mind, Jim,” Rick said as he held out his elbow to Beckett. “I’d like to borrow your daughter. There are some people I’d like her to meet. And maybe open their checkbooks.”

“Oh, by all means,” Jim chuckled.

“Detective Beckett,” Castle said.

“Lead on, Castle,” she answered.

As the couple walked away, Jim could only marvel at the duo. He hoped very soon his ‘son’ comments would become true.

A woman looked at Jim and then the departing pair.

“They make a lovely couple,” the woman said to Jim. “They look like a long time married couple. Did they marry young?”

“No, they’re not married” Jim said. “But as the daughter’s father, I hope they change that soon.”

_________________________________________ 

I feel wonderful

Because I see the love light in your eyes

And the wonder of it all

Is that you just don't realize how much I love you

_________________________________________ 

A/N: After 5x23 Watershed

While she was just starting to get used to being at Nikki Heat book launch parties, and the associated paparazzi calls to her (‘Nikki’, ‘Nikki Heat’, ‘over here Nikki’) for pictures, she still didn’t like to be in the limelight. From her time in vice, she didn’t like to be the focus. Then being the focus could get her hurt or killed. Now being in the limelight sometimes interfered with her murder investigations. Plus, her new employer, the Justice Department, may not look kindly on her exploiting the fame associated with the books.

Furthermore, while Captain Gates knew about them as a couple, the aftermath of her standing on a bomb answered that question, Beckett still didn’t want to advertise the fact to the whole world. People would make assumptions. At first, she didn’t want to give confirmation, but now, with the huge ring on her finger, it was going to be hard to hide that the muse had become the fiancé. That’s why she came in solo and not on his arm. She also felt that that honor should go to Alexis and Martha. For the longest time they have been his ‘red-headed pillars of unconditional love’ as he called them. She also believed that this would not be Castle’s last book launch party so in the future she would come in on his arm as his wife.

She had talked with Castle about the ring and how she would wear it. Of course, when she was working, she would wear it on the necklace that held her mother’s ring. But only when they were out alone, would she wear it openly on her left hand. Tonight, since it was a public venue, she would wear it turned in her left hand. An acknowledgement for him, not a flaming red flag for everyone else.

She still was not comfortable with the dichotomy of a rich, best-selling, acclaimed author and a NYPD homicide detective.

Their worlds are so different. He had the mayor on speed dial. Almost effortlessly he could get many wealthy people in a room for a fundraiser.

She worked in the trenches, so to speak. She worked with and saw the underbelly of the city. The people in her circle of friends were just ‘average Joes’, not the affluent.

Sometimes she worried that his friends would look at her as some ‘gold-digger’, only after his money. While the money he has is nice and she wouldn’t complain too much about his spending habits, they’d fall on deaf ears anyway, she didn’t fall in love with him because of his money. Once she got through the playboy façade, she found a great father and a loving son, a gentle man who’d do anything for the women in his life, which now included her, without question or recompense. He’d shown that for the past 4 years.

Her discomfort went down, however, every time she looked at the ring now adorning her finger. It essentially said to her, Castle doesn’t care that they’re from different worlds now, all he wants is her.

There were times that he had to remind her. “Beckett, for the longest time, it was just mother and me, living hand-to-mouth. We weren’t rich by any stretch. So don’t think that just because I have money now, I always had money or I’m some egotistical high-maintenance author because of it. I’m just a man who happens to have a gift that is well rewarded. Looking back at our childhoods, you’d be the rich one in a different world. The daughter of two well educated, high profile Manhattan attorneys compared to the illegitimate son of a mid-tier struggling actress? Puleeze.”

After admiring the ring on her finger, she looked up, took a deep breath, and entered the ballroom for the book launch party.

As she did the first time she went to Castle’s ‘Nikki Heat’ book launch party, she went to the display of the books. She always anticipated the surprise of the dedication. Rick would never let her see it before it was published, even now that they were a couple. And he told her only Gina and the printer would know it prior to publication. Even Alexis didn’t know what he wrote. It was like it was Top Secret security launch codes or something.

So she picked up the closest copy of ‘Deadly Heat’ off of the table and opened it to the dedication. She looked over and saw him as she opened the book. He was gazing across the room at her with an intensity that almost set her ablaze with his love light. She lovingly smiled at him and then turned to the book.

There, (as if she needed another demonstration of his love for her) for all the world to see, was another declaration of his love for her.

To KB:

May the dance never end and the music never stop.

_________________________________________ 

It's time to go home now

And I've got an aching head

So I give her the car keys

She helps me to bed

And then I tell her as I turn out the light

I say, "My darling, you are wonderful tonight

Oh my darling, you are wonderful tonight"

_________________________________________ 

A/N: Several Years after 8x22 Crossfire

“I don’t know why I let you convince me to come to this gala,” a very pregnant Kate Beckett said to her husband, Rick Castle.

“You could have stayed home, you know,” Castle answered. “You didn’t have to come. I would have made very valid excuses.”

The pair walked in to the ballroom. Well, Rick walked in. Kate waddled in.

“Being 8 months pregnant with twins is no fun,” Kate hissed. “You did this to me.”

“I seem to remember you being a very willing, if not enthusiastic, participant,” Rick chuckled.

“You’re right,” Kate said as she kissed him. “But that doesn’t make me feel any better about being a beached whale.”

“Kate,” Rick said as he turned to look in his wife’s eyes. “You look amazing. You’re carrying our two boys. I can’t think of anything more amazing and awe inspiring than that.”

“Well, I need to find the ladies room.” Teasingly stabbing him in the chest with her index finger she continues, “Your two sons seem to be playing soccer with my bladder.”

“I love you, Kate,” Rick said as he kissed her.

“I love you, too.”

Beckett waddled over to the ladies room. It was early in the festivities so there wasn’t a long line at the door. She managed to make it to a stall.

Shortly after she was in the stall, she heard two women come in.

“I saw Rick Castle over by the bar,” said one.

“I could just eat him up,” said the second.

“He’s married now,” said the first. “I understand to some NYPD Detective.”

“NYPD Captain.” Kate thought.

“Maybe he’s up for a little on the side,” said the second.

“Be careful,” said the first. “I imagine the wife carries handcuffs and a gun.”

“Ooh,” said the second. “Kinky.”

“You’re such a nasty girl.”

“Yeah,” the second agreed. “That doesn’t change the fact that he’s a cutie.”

“Yeah,” agreed the first woman. “Rich and handsome. No wonder the girls call him the ‘white whale.’”

Kate heard small noises as if the women were fixing their lip gloss.

The first then piped up, “Sadly, I heard he’s devoted to this one.”

“Rick Castle? Devoted? He was such a hound not too long ago.”

The first continued, “That detective must have tamed him.”

“Damn straight,” Kate thought.

“Let’s see if there are any bachelors or stag husbands out there,” continued the first.

“Or maybe there are some couples looking for a third,” said the second.

The first chuckled, “Nasty, girl.”

“Yep. That’s me.”

Kate heard the click of their heels on the tile floor and then the door open and close. She felt it was safe to come out and finish her bathroom trip.

Finally she walked out of the ladies room and looked for her husband.

“Are you okay,” Castle asked. “You were in there a long time.”

“I’m fine, Castle.”

“I’m worried about you,” Castle continued. “You’re carrying precious cargo. I probably should have left you home.”

“No,” Beckett pointedly said as she kissed her husband. “I won’t leave you to the sharks.”

“Sharks?”

“Single women on the prowl. I overheard a couple of them in the ladies room talking about big game and especially a ‘white whale.’”

Castle chuckled. “And you’re marking your territory, huh?”

“Damn straight I’m marking my territory. I’ve got the ‘white whale’, I plan on keeping him … and I love him to pieces.”

“I love you, too, Kate.”

“Now, we need to mingle for a while to keep up appearances,” Beckett said as she kissed her husband.

Then after kissing him again, she said in a sultry tone as if to emphasize the kiss, “In about an hour, I want you to take me home and recreate the crime of getting me pregnant.”

Returning her kiss, Castle said, “I’d love to take you home, Beckett. Maybe we should get out your cuffs. I did commit the crime, didn’t I?”

_________________________________________ 

A/N: Thanks for reading!

[destiel-love-forever]

Death vs. Destiel

Prompt from @longkissgoodnightbatmanandtwofac : Death falls in love with a boy named Dean the day he comes to collect his mother. Once Dean comes up age Death comes and professes his love. Naturally Dean rejects him before falling in love with Cas and starting a family with him. But Death refuses to accept Dean's rejection starts seducing Dean's family members and works to sabotage Dean's marriage. He makes it very clear that he will stop if Dean accepts his affections.

** Oh boy. I enjoyed writing Death in this FAR TOO MUCH. Don't worry, though. End-game Destiel.

Read below or on AO3: HERE

Death vs. Destiel 

November 2nd, 1983 was colder than usual in Lawrence, Kansas. From the moment Death got out of his red and black 1967 Stingray, the icy air snapping across his face, he knew the spirit he was there to retrieve was killed by something supernatural. Death hoped it wasn't still around. He rarely collects soul anymore - that's what his reapers are for - but this soul is a part of something much bigger, so Death chose to handle it himself. He'll be unimpressed if some lowly being gets in his way just because it wants to stick around to watch all the fun.

As Death approached the burning house, an abandoned soul pinging from inside, he was caught off guard by a tiny human standing on the sidewalk, barefoot and holding a bundle of something in his arms. The boy couldn't have been more than 4 or 5 years of age. He had these wide, innocent green eyes that reflected the flames as he watched his home burn. Death watched as that vulnerable innocence slowly turned to ash, the weight of the world settling on the boy's frail shoulders.

"'S okay, Sammy," the boy whispered, completely unaware that Death was standing in front of them. "I gots you. I keep you safe."

It was endearing, this notion that a small child truly believed he could protect his brother from the sadistic world they lived in. The boy had a strong soul, the thing practically singing out to Death, and that's all it took. He was hooked.

Death rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder, the light touch making the child shiver. The boy's soul whispered to him. Dean. His name is Dean.

And his mama says angels watch over him.

A smirk pulls at Death's lips. He supposes it's true. From this point on, the angel of death plans on keeping a very close eye on this Dean Winchester.

Death closed his eyes and marked Dean for eternity. Now no one would doubt who he belonged to. The boy had gasped, most likely feeling something strange as his soul was claimed, but then he went back to watching the house in a trance.

"I will see you soon, little one," Death whispered. His eyes flicked to the bundle in his boy's arms - an infant - and frowned. The infant was tainted. Something about it off and dangerous. Death would allow it to live, for Dean's sake, but he'll have to keep a close eye on it. The second the marred soul becomes too dangerous for his Dean, Death will eradicate it.

Death lit a cigarette, letting it rest between his lips as he shrugged out of his heavy leather jacket. It's not like temperature bothered him, and these children were freezing. Obviously, Dean wouldn’t be able to see the jacket, that would just confuse the poor boy, but Dean could feel it.  He settled it over Dean's body, the thing nearly reaching the boy’s ankles, and watched as Dean's entire body relaxed beneath it. A small sigh of relief fell from the boy’s lips as a stray tear fell down his cheek. Death wiped it away, then stroked the boy's freckled cheek a few more times to send him comfort.

Once Dean's soul was soothed - as much as it could be, considering the night he had - Death took a puff of his cigarette, flicked some ash onto the ground, and headed inside. He had work to do.

----

Death visited Dean Winchester often. He let the boy be - only stepping in when he felt it was necessary, like when Dean was sick with pneumonia that John fucking Winchester didn't get treated soon enough, compromising seven-year-old Dean’s little lungs, or for the car accident Dean got into when he was 16, wrecking his father’s impala so badly that it caught fire. For the first incident, Death healed Dean with a kiss to his forehead and made John Winchester miserable for months on end by fucking with his luck. For the second incident, Death fixed the car to protect Dean from his father’s wrath - and because it’s a gorgeous fucking car - and brought Dean to the motel bed he was currently using as his own. He sat with Dean all night, stroking his hair as he gave him a dream so similar to the accident that when Dean woke up without a scratch, he thought it had all been his imagination.

That’s why Death is so damn excited when Dean Winchester finally turns 18. He wants to interact with Dean. To take him out on dates to faraway places that are nothing like Kansas. To travel the world together. Hell, to travel the universe if Dean’s interested. Death will give Dean Winchester the world. He’ll move mountains and create new oceans. He’ll tell Dean stories of all of the great wars - something he knows Dean is very interested in, considering he’s always watching war movies and documentaries. If Dean wants, he can visit Mary in heaven - God’s been MIA, but Death and Michael get along well so he knows they’d be allowed to enter the kingdom.

Out of all of these plans - fourteen years of plans - Death never considered one thing.

Dean saying no.

----

Dean spends his eighteenth birthday with a fake ID and his best friend Ash. They hit a club in the city nearest to them, a place that just recently opened and gears toward the LGBTQ+ community. They start the night out with a shot of tequila before ordering drinks and hitting the dance floor. Between the booze, the music, and all the sweaty bodies, the night begins to blur. Everything feels light and easy. Dean, for the first time in a long time, feels like he can breathe.

That’s why he’s laughing to himself as he stumbles outside for a cigarette. Ash is still inside, getting awfully friendly with a guy twice his damn size, so Dean is alone. After taking a cigarette out and sticking it between his lips, Dean searches for his lighter. He pats his pockets a few times before realizing Ash took it after their last smoke break.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, even though he’s unable to truly be upset about it. The booze overrides any disappointment in the moment.

A warm, rough voice that sounds like gravel and sex asks, “Need a light?”

Dean turns to find a tall, handsome man with eyes so dark brown he’d think they were black. He’s wearing black jeans, a denim colored casual button-up, and a black leather jacket. The man smirks when Dean fails to speak, digging in the pocket of his open jacket. When he offers the lighter, Dean just stares at it.

“You want me to light it for ya?” the man asks with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh! N - no,” Dean stutters, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I can do it. Thanks.”

Dean takes the lighter, shivering when his fingers brush against the man’s. The touch is achingly familiar.

He laughs softly when he looks down at the thing. It’s black, with white letters etched into it. “The devil made me do it?” Dean asks in amusement.

“Don’t worry. If anything, I’m the one making the devil misbehave.”

Looking up at the stranger as he lights the cigarette, Dean gets a gut feeling that the man isn’t lying. He has danger written all over him. John Winchester would tell him to run away immediately, always trying to get Dean to trust his instincts. Then again, John would be telling him to run because this is a man, not a woman, in front of Dean. That thought is all it takes for Dean to ignore the warning bells in his mind.

John Winchester can screw himself.

The man watching Dean smirks. Dean takes the cigarette out, exhaling smoke. “What?”

“What?” the man repeats.

“What’s the smile for?”

The man’s eyes rake over Dean’s body before settling back on his face. “Just you.”

“Me?” Dean practically squeaks.

He takes another drag to hide how embarrassing that just was. Thankfully, the man doesn’t tease him about it. He just gives Dean a surprisingly warm smile and says quietly, “Yes. You. You’re something very special, Dean.”

In a split-second, Dean goes from blushing and hopeful, to guarded and alert. His training kicks in, helping him stay calm. Still, though, his fingers slightly tremble where they cradle his cigarette.

“Funny,” Dean says in a confident voice that makes him proud. “Don’t remember telling you my name.”

The man’s smile wavers before setting itself firmly back in place. “You got me there. Listen, Dean, before you pull your gun on me, or that silver pocket-knife in your back pocket, or the flask of holy water inside your coat, let me explain myself.”

Dean takes a step back. He put that gun, knife, and flask where they are back at his house. By himself. Alone in his room. So, either this man can see the items on Dean somehow, or he was spying on Dean.

“Dean-”

“You better get the fuck out of here before I gank your ass.” Dean points a finger down the street. “I’m serious. Get out of this town. Out of this fucking state. Never come near me again.”

The man smiles - fucking smiles. “Dean, honey, take a breath.”

He startles. “Honey?”

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

The man steps forward, reaching a hand out to cup Dean’s cheek. Dean slaps it away and stumbles back. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“You’ve never been bothered by my touch before.”

“I - you’ve,” Dean shakes his head. “What?”

The man tries to reach for Dean again. When Dean hits the hand coming at him, the man chuckles softly, as if he finds Dean’s reaction adorable.

“I touched you the night of the fire. You were so cold, so afraid. Holding Sammy tight, forcing yourself not to cry, telling him repeatedly that you’d always take care of him.” The man takes a step closer to Dean. Dean forgets to step back. “I touched you when you got pneumonia that winter. Found you laying in the hospital, so sick and frail and scared. I laid with you in that hospital bed all night, stroking your hair and singing softly to you. I touched you again when you were nine. It was the first Christmas that your dad missed, too busy working a job. You went around town doing chores for the elderly to earn some money, toting a quiet Sammy along. That was back when he was obsessed with that stuffed moose. Remember that? And you wanted so badly to buy Sam a Christmas present. There was this lego house set. It had the parts to build a red two-story, with a green roof, and included those little guys that could live inside it. Sam wanted it so bad. He kept telling you it would be like your home. A house that could come with the two of you wherever you went. But it was Christmas Eve, and you were four dollars short. Do you remember what happened that night, Dean?”

Head spinning, Dean leans his back against the building and takes a deep breath. “I put Sammy to bed, and went out looking for a way to make money.”

“You went to a bar looking for money, Dean. A bar.”

There’s a hint of anger in the man’s voice, like he’s upset that Dean had done something so dangerous. It makes Dean flinch. “My dad always came home from the bars with money. I was nine. How the fuck was I supposed to know he was doing it in ways I couldn’t?”

“I know, Dean,” the man says, his voice so much softer now. When Dean chances a look at him, he finds the man with kind, warm eyes, and a sad smile. “That’s why I made sure you never made it.”

“You didn’t stop me,” Dean growls defensively. “I didn’t need to go anymore! That church was giving out presents.”

The man lifts one corner of his mouth in a smirk. “Yes, Dean. That church was giving out presents. Magically. Right there. And you just so happened to get the lego set for Sammy, the exact same one he had been dying to buy. And not only that, but you got yourself a toy too, because the lady asked if you had any siblings, and since you had Sammy, you got to pick two presents.”

Dean blinks once. Twice. “I got the Mattel Electronic Football game.”

“You did.” The man smiles. “Your dad hated that thing.”

On accident, Dean laughs. “He did! It made that annoying beeping noise, and he-” Dean remembers what’s going on here, how fucked up this is. He clamps his mouth shut and pushes off the wall, adding some distance between them again. Surprisingly, the man doesn’t pursue him. He just takes a drag of his cigarette and watches Dean with those dark eyes.

“What are you?”

The man takes a deep breath, nods once like he’s agreeing to something, then answers. “I’m Death.”

Dean stares at him for a moment. “Like, you’re a reaper?”

“No, Dean. They work for me.” The man shrugs a shoulder. “I’m Death.”

“The Death.”

“The Death,” he confirms.  

“What, then, are you here to kill me?”

The man frowns. “Of course not. I’ve been with you since you were four, Dean. Why would I kill you now?”

Dean turns his back to the man, even though that’s the opposite of what his dad would tell him to do. The guy has a point, though. If he’s really been around that long then it wouldn’t make sense for him to hurt Dean right now. If he’s even who he says he is. For all Dean knows, this is just some demon fucking with him.

Or - or - “Dean, if you come with me, I can prove it.”

“How?”

“A man down the street is due for a heart attack in two minutes, seventeen seconds. One of my reapers is on it, but I will handle it if you want to see. If you want me to prove it.”

“You’re crazy if you really think I’m going to leave this place with you.”

The man flicks his eyes up at the club, then back down at Dean. A second later, the building is lit up like a damn Christmas tree, and the music is cut off. There’s a series of groans and boos before people begin to stream out of the place. The man smiles at him again. “Might as well come now. There’s nothing better for you to do.”

For some reason, Dean gives in to that. He nods and begins to walk, allowing the man to lead the way. They travel down the street in silence before stopping in front of another bar. A man is in the alley behind it, hands braced on the brick building in front of him, head hanging low. He’s making little noises that are clearly pained.

“We have to help him!” Dean gasps, starting to run toward him.

The man wraps a strong arm around Dean’s bicep and holds him back. At least he has the decency to look guilty about it as he tells Dean, “There’s nothing we can do. It’s his time.”

Before Dean can argue, a girl with bright pink hair that’s wearing a Star Wars shirt under jean overalls walks past them. She stops short, one foot still out in the direction of the dying man, another turning toward them.

“Sir?” she asks, fear evident in her voice.

“You can go, Kate. I’ll be handling this tonight.”

The girl looks at Dean, and understanding blooms on her face. Her defenses fall and she smiles. “Of course. Have a good night, Sir.”

And then she vanishes. Into thin air. No black smoke. Dean spins around, trying to find her, but she’s truly gone. When he looks at the man for an explanation, he realizes the man is no longer next to him. He’s standing just behind the guy having the heart attack. With one last glance at Dean, he rests a hand on the dying man’s shoulder and blinks. Heart attack guy drops like a ton of bricks.

“Oh my god.” Dean squeezes his hands into fists. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Dean-”

“Get the fuck away from me.”

“Dean, I love you. Can’t you see that? I love you.” Dean gets an overwhelming urge to throw up. He puts a hand to his mouth and tries to breathe through his nose. His silence invites Death to speak again. “I’ll give you the world. No more hunting. No more living in motels. No more stealing identities and working dirty jobs for cash.”

Shaking his head, Dean drops his hand and says through gritted teeth, “No.”

“We can travel. Go anywhere you want. Everywhere. Dean, I could show you so much!”

“I don’t want to see anything you have to show me!”

“What about your mom?” Death asks, raising an eyebrow and smiling. “You wanna see her?”

“You - I - oh my fucking god!” Dean stumbles back, tears burning his eyes. “You killed my mom, didn't you? You - you killed her. You’ve been following me since I was four. Since she died. You killed her!”

Death face crumples. “Oh, Dean, no. No, I just reaped her.”

“Same thing!”

“It’s not, Dean. I promise you, it’s not.”

“Could you have saved her?”

“Dean-”

“If you really wanted to, did you have the power to save her?”

All the answer Dean needs is the slight hesitation before Death whispers, “Dean.”

Shaking his head, Dean pulls his gun out and points it at Death. Before the man - the thing - can react, Dean’s unloading his clip into his chest. Each bullet knocks Death back an inch or two. When his gun is empty, the two stare at each other for a moment. It feels like the air gets thick around them.

Dean waits for Death to lash out. To hurt him. Kill him.

Instead, Death nods slowly. “Take your time, Dean. I’m not going anywhere.”

----

Unfortunately, Death wasn’t lying. Dean starts to see him every few months. He has a feeling he’s around even more than that, but Death can obviously control whether or not he’s visible to Dean, so who knows. Dean’s terrified to do anything. Going to sleep is nearly impossible. Making friends is out of the question. And dating? Even sleeping around? Dean doesn’t even look at anyone attractive anymore. Not when he has a psychotic god-like being that’s in love with him following him around. Who knows what Death would do to anyone he thought Dean was attracted to.

It wouldn’t be good.

That’s why, when Dean meets Castiel Novak, a badass angel with a wry sense of humor and the most beautiful blue eyes ever created, Dean’s relieved. He can look at the angel. Laugh with the angel. Touch the angel.

Because Castiel knows about Death. He knew the first day they met, when he touched a hand to Dean’s face and frowned. “You are marked,” he had told Dean. “Claimed.”

Dean had shaken his head. “I don’t want to be. Not by him.”

And, surprising the hell out of Dean, Castiel had simply smiled and said, “Then we’ll ignore it.”

The first few months, they’re just friends. Dean catches Death watching them on three different occasions, always lurking in the background, but Death never interferes.

Things get a little more awkward after Dean and Castiel’s first kiss. It happens unexpectedly. One second Dean's cleaning shifter blood off of a silver blade, the next second he has lips pressed against his. The kiss goes from hesitant and chaste to frantic and impassioned within seconds. Dean drops the knife to tangle his fingers in Castiel's hair, and Castiel grabs Dean by the waist, hoisting him up and across the small gap between their chairs so Dean is straddling him.

When Dean blinks his eyes open, preparing to ask Castiel if he wants to move the party to the bed - it had been 3 years, 4 months, and 27 days since Dean had sex…. But who's counting… - Dean is distracted. Death is standing just a foot or two away from the back of Castiel's chair, one hand in the pocket of his dark gray suit pants, the other holding an angel blade. Dean gripped Castiel tight and looked up at Death with pleading eyes.

Death left.

Two days later, when Dean is alone in a bar bathroom, Death comes for him. He wraps a strong hand around Dean's throat and shoves him into the wall, holding the hunter in place as he glares at him.

"End it," Death growls.

"No." Dean tries getting away, even though he knows it's pointless. When he sags against the wall in exhaustion, Death's hand still on his throat, Dean asks in a defeated voice, "Can't you just move on? There are billions of people on this planet."

"But they are all insignificant. I want you."

"Well, I don't want you!" Dean's voice cracks, 3 years of exhaustion and pain slamming into him. He cries openly now. "I'm never going to want you."

Death just watches him silently, the thumb of his hand stroking Dean's soft skin. He lets Dean cry himself out. Even holds him when his knees give out on a particularly harsh sob. Cradling Dean's head to his chest, Death whispers, "I'm right here, Dean. Shhh. You're okay. I'm right here."

Dean can't help but think that the words sound much more like a threat than a comfort.

----

Castiel is who comes up with the plan. There are certain deaths important enough to the universe, to God’s plan, that Death has to be the one to reap the soul. These are the only times they can be certain Death isn’t watching them. The only time they can talk. It’s only once or twice a month, unfortunately, but it’s something at least. Between that, and texting under fake names, they get back together.

Whenever Dean catches a glimpse of Death, he ignores him. The monster shows up at bars, gas stations, grocery stores, hunts - he even shows up once to a barbeque Dean goes to with Ash. Every single time this happens, an extra weight is added around Dean’s neck. It never stops.

One night, when Death is gone reaping someone important, Castiel asks Dean to tell him his location. He doesn’t want to, says it’s too dangerous, but Castiel insists. A few seconds later, Castiel is in Dean’s motel room in Lansing, Michigan. It had been so damn long since they saw each other. Touched each other. Dean can’t get to him fast enough.

They’re a clash of hands, lips, tongues, teeth. Dean carefully slides Castiel’s trench coat down his arms, knowing how much the angel loves it. Huffing in impatience, Castiel grabs his own dress shirt and rips it off, buttons flying. He doesn’t even bother to take his tie off. Dean’s hands tremble as they work at Castiel’s pants. When they’re halfway down Castiel’s thighs, Castiel swats Dean’s hands away so he can yank Dean’s henley over his head. He gets Dean naked before Dean wins the power struggle again, shoving Castiel’s jeans and underwear the rest of the way down to his ankles.

Things slow down, then. Their kisses turn soft. Loving. Castiel preps Dean as he whispers things like, “You’re beautiful, Dean,” and “I love you so damn much.”

By the time Castiel is carefully sinking inside of Dean, the human’s eyes are watering from all of the praise and validation. Their lips lock into a kiss as Castiel bottoms out.

Then things go straight from zero to sixty. Fingers tangle in hair, teeth bite at throats and lips, tongues dart out for tastes, lips explore. Castiel pounds into Dean like he’s never experienced before. He feels like Castiel sends him straight to heaven as they climax together.

After, they lay tangled up in the sheets, Dean’s cheek pressed against Castiel’s sweaty chest. Castiel is softly trailing his fingers up and down Dean’s spine.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean asks sleepily.

“I’m about to do something really unromantic, but I want you to know that I mean it. From the bottom of my grace, I mean it, Dean.”

Dean props himself up on an elbow, feeling nervous. “Okay?”

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” As Castiel says this, he pulls away from Dean enough to reach down and dig in his trench coat pocket. He presents Dean with a black box. Dean takes it with shaking hands, his breath hitching as he opens it. “Will you marry me, Dean Winchester?”

“I - this - Cas.” Dean looks up into blue eyes. Then he laughs. “How is this unromantic.”

“Well,” Castiel winces. “If you marry me, heaven will protect you. It won’t just be me. It’ll be my garrison. I might even be able to put a request in to Michael for archangel protection of some sort. Or for him to at least talk to Death and get him to back off.”

“Oh.” Dean takes the ring out of the box, fiddling with it. Then he grins. “Well, I really don’t care if that’s the reason. Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. I’ll marry you.” Dean practically lunges at Castiel, yanking him close.

After another round of heated kisses, the two of them settle on the mattress, tangled together. Dean rests his forehead against Castiel's and sucks in a shaky breath. "I don't think I'd ever survive us not being together. I can't lose you," he confesses.

"That will never happen, Dean Winchester. You are my forever and always."

Dean closes his eyes, letting the promise soothe him as he whispers back, "Forever and always."

They get seventeen more minutes together before Castiel senses Death’s return. He leaves Dean with a final kiss, a ring on his finger, and a promise to return soon.

----

Death hates seeing his boy hurting. Before, it was easier. Dean was hurt because of Yellow Eyes, or his father, or a monster he was hunting. It was never because of Death. But now, the agony in Dean's eyes every time Death checks in on him is Death's fault. He knows it is. And he hates himself for it.

Not as much as he hates Castiel, though.

A fucking angel.

Out of all of the things Dean could have chosen to fall in love with, out of all of the possible competition Death would need to fight to win Dean Winchester's heart, he never thought it'd be an angel. The one thing in the universe that can survive killing him. Sure, Castiel would have to find Death's scythe first, but then he could use it. Any human like Dean or his family would die along with Death, but an angel? An angel could gank Death, turn around, and marry the love of Death’s fucking existence.

And that’s the plan. Death knew it the second he saw that ring on Dean’s finger. His boy was passed out in his motel bed, naked, covered in hickies, smelling of sex and angel grace, wearing a fucking ring on his finger.

They’re planning to get married.

It’s not going to happen.

Not on his watch.

Dean will be sad for a while, yes, but he’ll get over it. Death will never reap Dean. The boy will live forever. That gives him plenty of time to recover.

Still, Death doesn’t want to start a war with the angels, so he’ll have to be tactful. He’ll have to convince Dean to leave Castiel on his own. He’ll have to convince Dean to become his. Exploit Dean’s weaknesses until the boy breaks.

And everyone knows Dean Winchester’s number one weakness.

Sammy.

----

Dean goes a month without seeing Death, not that he believes the monster isn’t around. He and Castiel only manage to see each other in person once, along with a few stray texts and one short phone call. Dean’s life turns into a lonely routine. Hunt. Drink. Miss Castiel. Go to sleep. Wake up. Repeat.

Pretty soon, it’s Sam’s high school graduation. Dean’s so proud he could burst. He purchases a nice suit and a brand-new laptop as a gift for Sam before heading to California. The plan is to go out to eat the night before graduation as a family - Sam, Dean, Bobby, and John. Dean’s thrilled when Sam calls an hour before they meet at the restaurant, all giddy and nervous about this new girlfriend he really wants to introduce to them. Dean says he should bring her to the dinner, and a fifth is added.

Dean’s grinning ear to ear, practically walking on air as he thinks of how happy Sammy is when he enters the restaurant. He’s in such a good place, Dean’s even going to tell his family about his impending marriage. His father will probably have a few choice things to say, but he thinks Bobby and Sam will be happy for him.

Traffic wasn’t the best, so Dean’s the last to arrive. He strolls up to the table where his family is sitting, stumbling mid-step when he sees the person sitting between Sam and an empty chair.

“Dean!” Sam yells, standing up from the table and hurrying over to hug him. Wrapping his arms around his brother, Dean keeps his eyes glued to the person at the table. When the person winks and smiles at him, his gut twists.

Sam pulls away and tugs at Dean to pull him forward. “Come meet Jessica! Oh, you’re gonna love her, Dean. She’s awesome! And she’s going to Stanford too!”

“Oh yeah?” Dean croaks, eyes glued on the person Sam’s pointing at. The person who is most definitely not Jessica. Not even a she. Not even a person, technically.

“I’ve heard so much about you, Dean,” Death says in that low, raspy voice of his as he stands up and extends a hand. “It’s great to meet you.”

Dean stares at the end, then glances at everyone watching them. All smiles and easy postures. They all see a girl. They all see Jessica. Dean’s the only one seeing Death’s true identity. Or, most likely, the identity he uses for Dean. The hot guy with the leather jacket, and slicked back hair, and a grin that could make your damn underwear melt if you didn’t know he killed people as a living.

“Dean,” Sam growls, clearly offended.

Snapping out of it, Dean forces a tense smile and quickly shakes Death’s hand. “Great to meet you, too.”

“Here, Dean, take a seat,” Death says with a smile. He gestures to the empty seat between him and Bobby at the round table. The only available seat. Everyone continues to stare at Dean as he tries to force his feet to move. It takes longer than it should, but he eventually manages to shuffle over to the chair and sink into it. When the waitress comes by to take their orders, Dean orders a double whiskey - no soda, no ice, no food.

When a hand rests on Dean’s knee beneath the table, he swallows a mouthful of bile. The second that whiskey is in front of him, he’s downing half the glass.

“Dean,” John says softly from across the table, his eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah. Yup. Yes. Fine.”

“Are you sure?” Bobby asks.

“Definitely. Perfectly great, yup. Good.”

Death moves his hand on Dean’s knee, gently stroking the area like he’s trying to soothe him. Does this dude not understand that he’s what’s making Dean so upset?

There’s a familiar pull that Dean feels in his chest. A constant order to be calm, to breathe, to trust. He’s felt it more than once in his life, but it wasn’t until he felt it that night in the bathroom, as Death held him while he broke down, that Dean realized what it was. This is Death pulling at his soul. Soothing him.

Because of that, Dean fights it. He fights it like hell.

----

The second Dean manages to get Death alone, he has him shoved up against the wall. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, ya know, since you picked the wrong guy, I figured I’d settle for the other Winchester.”

“I - what?” Dean’s heart starts pounding in his chest. “I didn’t pick anyone."

“You might have taken that ring off your finger, Dean, but I saw it. The night he proposed, I saw it. And word travels fast. An angel marrying a human?” Death releases a low whistle, shaking his head. “That’s the kind of gossip no amount of sneaking around can hide.”

Dean deflates, letting go of Death so he can stumble back. Tears burn his eyes as reality comes crashing down. He never fooled Death. The monster was just letting him and Castiel play pretend, all the while planning his revenge with Sam.

God, Sam. Dean has to protect Sam. “Please, just - just leave him alone. Leave him out of this.”

“I plan on spending my life with one of the Winchester brothers, Dean.” Death shrugs a shoulder, clearly fighting a smirk. “Not my fault you’re making me choose him.”

----

Castiel has never felt so powerless. He has waged wars. Flattened cities. Conducted miracles. He is one of Michael's chosen. There has never been something he couldn't overcome.

Death will not be the one to take him down. Castiel refuses. He will wreck the son of a bitch, even if he wrecks himself.

"It's not him, Cas. It's me. He came one night when I was upset and comforted me. And - and we, we uh, we got together. And I love him. I wanna - I'm going to be with him, Castiel. I'm sorry."

The words - choked and trembling - play on a loop in Castiel's mind as he rips through the night club Gabriel runs. He passes angels, demons, reapers, and who knows what else. All of them turn as they watch sparks of grace fly off of him. Most move out of his way fast enough. The ones who don't get thrown.

Death is waiting for him when he plows through the door to the VIP section, one hand casually in the pocket of his dress pants, the other cradling a glass of expensive whiskey. All it takes is that initial look at him, and Castiel's rage plumes into a nuclear explosion, just begging to be let loose.

To detonate.

His eyes flick around the room, scanning for Dean. The young man is nearby, sitting in an oversized chair that screams power and luxury, looking as if he'd kill to be anywhere else. Fear flashes in his beautiful green eyes when Castiel locks their gazes. For just a second, everything falls away. They're back in the hotel room, sweaty and naked after just making love. The sheets are tangled in their legs. Dean's still peppering lazy kisses on his chest. Castiel is trying to count Dean's freckles, bitching at the young man go stop squirming around so much. That overwhelming realization that Castiel had finally found it. That thing everyone always tried to explain to him.

Love.

Dean?

Yeah, Cas?

Will you marry me?

"You're not welcome here," Death says in a cocky tone.

Keeping his eyes on Dean, Castiel ignores the being trying to speak to him. Death is nothing right now. Non-existent. Castiel didn't come here for a fight. He came here for Dean. Death will be dealt with later, once he knows the love of his life is safe.

Castiel takes two steps toward Dean, stopping when Death grabs him by the wrist. "He's mine. Get over it."

Still ignoring Death, Castiel gives Dean a reassuring smile. "Are you okay, baby? Are you hurt?"

"I would never hurt him!" Death growls, and that does it. Castiel explodes.

Whipping around, Castiel shoves Death back and screams, "All you've ever done is hurt him!"

“I’ve done what’s best for him!”

“What’s best for him? What’s best for him!? You reaped his mother! You haunted him all his life. You won’t let him be happy! You’re a selfish prick!”

“Stop,” Dean cries, standing up from his seat and trying to walk toward them. “Stop, please!”

Both Death and Castiel ignore him. Before he can get closer, an arm is wrapped around his waist and Dean is being lifted in the air. He panics, kicking out a leg, eyes locked on the two men who supposedly love him more than anything in the world, neither of them aware he’s about to be fucking kidnapped.

Just as Dean’s about to scream, hoping it can be heard over the music and the fighting, a soft voice in his ear says, “It’s Gabriel. You’re safe.”

Dean sags in relief as Castiel’s brother continues to drag him out of the VIP section and into a back hallway. When he’s put back on his own feet, Dean gets the urge to run. To just sprint until his lungs give out. Almost like Gabriel can read his mind, he says, “You can’t outrun him, Dean. Either of ‘em.”

“I just want it to be over.” Dean notices he’s crying, but he can’t get himself to care. It’s the first time he’s been able to confide in someone since Death made him break things off with Castiel. He’s been so lonely. So lost. Just going wherever Death tells him to go, doing whatever Death wants to do. “I need it to be over.”

“It will be. Soon.” Gabriel takes Dean’s hand and gives it a small squeeze. “Do you trust me?”

It takes less than a second for Dean to know the answer to that. Castiel always said Gabe was trustworthy. One of the only people Castiel can confide in. Sure, he messes around a lot, and he owns a pretty controversial club, but Gabriel would lay his life down for Castiel, and Castiel claims not a lot of angels would do the same.

“Yes. I trust you.”

“Okay.” Gabriel brings his free hand to Dean’s forehead and winks. “Bend your knees.”

And then the world drops out from under them, and Dean’s flying.

----

It’s just after Death has gotten a good slice of Castiel’s arm with an angel blade that he senses it. Dean’s gone. At some point, during the yelling, the shoving, and the blades coming out, Dean left. Or was he taken?

Castiel lunges for him and he deflects it. His heart feels like it’s in his throat, which is funny, because he doesn’t have a heart. “Castiel, stop!”

“No! You’ve bee-”

“Dean’s gone!” That gets Castiel to stop. He straightens his posture, lowering his blade just enough where it’s less offensive but still able to protect him if necessary. “Someone took him.”

Castiel arches an eyebrow. “What, you don’t think he’d run on his own?”

“Not with Sammy’s life on the line.”

Rage flashes in Castiel’s blue eyes as they narrow on Death. “I knew it. I knew you were using Sam to get to him.”

“Now is not the time, someone took Dean!”

“Yeah. I know.” Castiel winks at Death, then lunges again. The angel blade pierces straight through Death’s chest. His ears fill with a high-pitched ringing that seems to be coming from the inside. It won’t kill him, only his scythe can kill him, but he’s still an angel in a sense, and the blade is doing some real fucking damage. In fact, it even brings him to his knees.

As Death looks up at Castiel, a drop of blood coming out of his mouth and trailing down his chin, Castiel kneels on one knee and smirks. “I took him.”

----

It’s a shotgun wedding if Dean’s ever seen one. Gabriel officiates it, which is entertaining, to say the least. He even threw in some Elvis impersonator action halfway through the vows, which made even Castiel laugh, the anxiety in his eyes finally disappearing. Unlike a wedding between humans, there’s no marriage license, no legal witness needed. All there needs to be is Michael. He stands ten feet away from the ceremony, hands in the pockets of his pants, watching the whole thing carefully.

It’s the first time in history a human will be marrying an angel. Michael hopes that, wherever his useless father is, he loathes the knowledge that this is happening in his supposedly pure kingdom. That’s half the reason Michael is doing this. To stick it to the ass that left abandoned them.

Then there’s a quarter of the remaining reason dedicated to Castiel. A damn good brother, and an even better soldier.

And that last quarter. That’s a selfish one.

Michael wants to find love someday. He wants to feel what Castiel feels. Wants his grace to sing like Castiel’s does. He wants to shed the straight-laced soldier persona and slip into someone softer. Someone that smiles and laughs. Someone that enjoys the little things. Someone that makes him want to get up in the morning, instead of just needing to in order to fulfill his duties.

The ceremony ends. The few angels in Castiel’s close circle that were allowed to come begin to clap and holler. Castiel cradles Dean’s face, kissing him softly. Slowly. Thoroughly. They pull away and Dean rubs the tip of his nose against Castiel’s, making the angel laugh quietly to himself.

It’s so pure, Michael actually smiles. He doesn’t fight it, either. He lets it remain on his face as he steps forward and takes one hand from each of the two men. The three of them create a circle, and Castiel’s grace flows into Dean at the same time that Michael’s flows into the both of them. Michael doesn’t feel anything but a slight drain in energy, but he can see on Dean’s face that the once human can feel every ounce of grace transforming his cells.

When the ritual is finished, Dean stumbles back with a gasp. He looks up at Castiel, then Michael, with wide green eyes. “What was that?”

“You’re an angel now. Weak. Not pure. But an angel. Enough for immortality. Enough for you to wield Death’s scythe without dying yourself,” Michael explains.

“To - to wield - what - no! I can’t kill him! You guys have to!”

“Dean, you’re the only one who can get him to let his guard down. You’re the only one who has a chance,” Castiel says. “It has to be you.”

“I don’t know where his scythe is! And how will I convince him to believe me?”

Castiel puts a hand to Dean’s cheek, trying to calm him. “We know where the scythe is, Dean. We can get it. And you’ll convince him because you’re going to go running back to him. Terrified. Begging. Telling him you didn’t want to go, that you weren’t in on this plan. Pleading with him not to hurt Sammy. You’ve only been gone an hour or so. He’ll believe you.”

Dean huffs. “No, he won’t. And even if he does, that dude can sense the hell out of everything I feel and think. You honestly believe that he won���t sense I’m a fucking angel now?"

"That's not an issue. You'll tell him Castiel brought you straight to me and begged me to give you this protection. I've given this protection before - only to a very select few humans over my lifetime - but the marriage isn't required for it. He will believe I gave you the protection. Then tell him you panicked and came back to him."

"He won't buy it."

"You'll make him buy it, Dean. He's in love with you. Obsessively so. In his mind, there's no ending other than the one he wants," Michael explains. "You're going to be giving him that ending. He won't want to question it. He's too arrogant. He'll gloat and say something about how he always knew you'd come back."

"I can't. Cas," Dean turns to his now husband, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I can't- don't make me go back to that monster. Please. Don't make me."

"Do it for Sam," Castiel whispers, a tear of his own escaping. "Do it for me. He won't hurt you. Even if he figures you out, he would never hurt you."

"How long until you get the scythe?" Dean asks.

Michael answers this question, giving Dean an encouraging smile. "Just a few hours. You'll only have to be with Death for a few hours."

"How will I get it?"

"Let us handle that. When you see it, grab it. You have to cut his head off. A clean slice."

Dean stares at Michael with his mouth open. He realizes he's trembling when Castiel pulls him in close for a hug.

"You're a hunter, babe," Castiel whispers. "Just pretend you're on a hunt."

"Okay. Yes. A hunt." Dean nods, clinging to Castiel. "I can do that."

"You can, Dean. I know you can. And then, after, we can finally be together. Forever and always."

Dean latches onto the promise Castiel made that night that feels like an entire lifetime ago. He kisses Castiel like it's their last, whispering against his lips, "Forever and always."

---

Death has Dean stripped down to his boxers, hands tangled in Dean's hair as he guides the boy back to the bed. Dean had come back to him an hour ago, sobbing and hysterical. He had clung to Death like a life raft. "I didn't say he could do it! I wasn't in on the plan. I promise! I swear! Please, don't hurt Sammy. Please! I promise. I'm yours. I promise you I'm yours."

And Death wanted to believe him so damn bad, but he needed Dean to prove it. When he told Dean what he'd have to do, part of him expected the boy to run screaming. Instead, Dean had looked thankful. Almost happy even. He was glad to be given the chance to prove himself, and Death has to say, the gorgeous boy has already done an excellent job.

"Hands and knees," Death orders, pushing Dean so he falls back on the bed. The boy scrambles into position, one hand slipping a little. He gets purchase on the sheets beneath the pillow and holds himself up as Death comes up behind him.

Just as he feels Death’s skin touching his, Dean closes his hand around the metal handle of the miniature scythe and swings around. There’s a whirring sound as the thing extends in size, making it the correct size at just the right moment. Dean flinches when the warm blood sprays across his face, but he forces to keep his eyes wide open after, knuckles white where he grips the weapon. He stares at Death’s headless body, panting as he waits for the creature to hop back up. To laugh at Dean, then kill Dean himself.

Instead, there’s the telltale sounds of wings, and Dean looks up a second later to find Castiel and Michael. Dean has no idea he is violently shaking, not until Castiel walks up to him.

“Dean?”

Dean stares straight past him, eyes locked on Death again. His teeth clack together from how hard his body jerks.

“Dean, baby, it’s over now.”

Dean feels Castiel tug at the weapon, trying to take it from him, but he fights the man. He can’t let go. Not yet. Dean knows Death will come back. He just… he knows.

“Dean.” Castiel cups the side of his cheek, hand slipping a bit from the blood there. “Dean, can you look at me?”

Blinking slowly, Dean manages to lift his chin enough to meet Castiel’s eyes. The blue is like a breath of fresh air.

“It’s over, Dean.”

Relief knocks Dean to his knees. Castiel goes down with him, pulling Dean into his arms and cradling him to his chest. “It’s over, Dean,” Castiel says again. “It’s over.”

[celestinaruns]

The river valley exacted its revenge--and it was definitely angry

At 4 am on Sunday morning, the sun was already rising in Edmonton. I had kept my curtains open, partly not expecting the light to be streaming in so soon, partly hoping for it because I thought I would sleep in. Silly, really, because I was tossing and turning all night.

I had packed everything I needed the night before. Correction: everything I thought I would need to take on the 50 km course at the Canadian River Valley Revenge, Summer Edition. I had done some research, fully expecting a 50 km trail race to be a whole other monster in comparison to the road marathons I was used to. This wouldn’t be some marked course I could breeze through, after all, and that extra 7.8 km was going to hit me hard.

Of course, even with my own nerves, I hardly knew what I was in for.

The race debrief at RVR was friendly and realistic. It actually calmed me down to hear the race directors tell us that, honestly, this course was no joke. It would be tough--but we would be fine. My favourite part of the debrief was when they discussed how much they wanted their race to be as sustainable and environmentally friendly as possible. No plastic markers on the course--just ground spray and sparing use of ribbon markers in the trees. No cups at aid stations. No single-use material. After spending the last month thinking on how to make my hobby of running less impactful on the environment, it almost felt like I was right where I was supposed to be. But that’s a topic for another blog post. (Spoiler alert?)

Just standing at the start line, I could tell that this was a race unlike any other I had run before. Fellow runners were friendly and conversational, despite the fact that it was 6 am and this was a race. It was very clear to me before we even started running that there was a sense of humility you can’t quite find at big city road races.

And then we were off.

The course started out fine. It was hilly and narrow and very technical, but I was feeling good. And even when I hit my first massive hill and found myself breathless, I reached the top and just stopped for a moment. The sun was still rising and there was a fog settling on the water. After that, with every view I got to see and every step I took, I started to care less and less about my time and my pace. I was having fun, despite the burning in every muscle in my body.

The fog, of course, came to bite me in the ass later in the day. The moisture turned a very narrow cliffside trail into something like a slanted wall of mud that I had to scale, stretching for 2 miles. That alone took me 50 minutes. By the time I got to the end, though, I stopped again, looked out onto the water and down at myself, covered in mud from my thighs down, with a realization finally setting in.

Today wouldn’t be about speed and pace records and other road race jargon. It was about surviving the adventurous trails of the river valley and enjoying my surroundings.

The course didn’t suddenly get easy just because I had decided to run for myself and not for anyone else, of course, but it did become a lot more enjoyable. For those that have never experienced the Edmonton river valley, it’s something else. Almost entirely undeveloped, the terrain is anything but kind. The trails have been shaped by adventurous mountain bikers, trail runners, and cross-country skiers that came before, and a lot of them have their own little quirks. I found myself smiling as I was ducking and leaping over logs, and I didn’t hesitate to use my hands whenever I reached a hill that was so steep it may as well have been vertical.

I paid big time, physically speaking. Aside from the muddy wetness in my shoes and socks, I also had splinters all over my palms and cuts on my legs and arms. I ran out of water a couple of miles before the first aid station, underestimating the heat and the exhaustion my body was enduring. But I made it there, I chugged back some cola like I had never tasted it before in my life, and I took a breather.

I hadn’t opted to drop off a box of extra things at the aid station the day before because... well, I had underestimated the course, despite all of my planning. “Just 50 km, why would I need a change of anything?” had been my thought process. As I stood under that tent, though, my wet socks squelching under my weight, I resolved that I wouldn’t be making that mistake at my next ultra.

Just over halfway through, and there it was! Already, the words “my next ultra” were passing through my mind. I must’ve been going crazy.

As I left the aid station, I realized that I felt... really good. In pain, yes, but I wasn’t nauseous or anything--and that was a big deal. Nausea while running intensely has been a huge issue for me in the past, but something about that race sat well with me. Maybe it was the solid food, or maybe it was the perfect combination of sugar, caffeine, and carbonation from the cola that settled my stomach. Either way, I was bouncing happily along Old Tramp on my way to get a poker chip to prove that I had been to the mysterious trampoline in the middle of Edmonton’s river valley. 

I loved that, too. Not the trampoline, specifically, but the hidden gems of Edmonton trail running, which includes the trampoline-- as well as Golfball Alley, with its audience of golf balls spectating your run, and Six Shooter, with its hidden plastic revolver that I have yet to find (one day). All trash, in anyone else’s eyes, but quirks and traditions that remain untouched and unmoved by everyone that makes their way through the treacherous terrain.

It was when I doubled back on Old Tramp that I missed a marker that cost me an extra 4 km. Not something I gave much thought, though. In a road race, I would have been frustrated at myself for the time loss. I remember being delayed a couple of minutes at Red Deer and muttering angrily to myself for the next few kilometres. Now, though, I simply shrugged it off. “Just part of the adventure, we live, we learn,” I told myself easily.

The race hit a lot of exposed areas after that, just as the hot sun started shining its brightest. I had just gotten my second poker chip on the other side of the river when I found that my water was already starting to run quite low, and it would be a while until the next aid station. Next time, I would get the 2 L hydration bladder, I had resolved. Next time!

In a miraculous turn of events, an unmanned water station had been set up along the route passing EPCOR, by some of its employees. It had been at the perfect time, just when my water was completely out, and that was enough to get me to the next and final manned aid station.

In a moment of inspiration, I filled one of my bottles with half cola half water, and the other entirely with water. For whatever the reason, the cola had sat well with me once before, so I thought it would help me get through the rest of the day. Only another 12 km, after all. Hardly anything in comparison to what I had just run.

Once I had my fill of some fruit and got some of my more painful splinters out, I was off once more. Again, there was an unmanned aid station along the trail where I filled up on my cola and water. It was set up by a man and a woman living in the area, both of them ultra runners, both content with spending the day helping us out. The only other time I had seen something like that had been at Boston, but this was different. I felt like I had the time to stop, take a breather, and actually chat with them. The atmosphere wasn’t filled with the same frenzy and madness one finds at packed road races. I could hear the crickets in the tall grass and had a beautiful view of the river. 

That was easily one of my favourite stops, not only because of how kind the people had been, but also because my stomach and I discovered that rice, apparently, sits very well with me in the middle of a race.

After that, the route wasn’t quite as bad. It wasn’t until I finished the race that I found out I ran another extra 4 km by taking a loop that had been intended only for the 50 and 100 mile racers. It was a mistake that many of the 50 km runners had made, though, and in the moment of racing it hadn’t clicked in my mind at all--I just couldn’t understand why the last 12 km was definitely not 12 km.

The route was fine, though, and almost too easy--which should have been the dead giveaway. The last 2 miles of the course brought me into the deep woods once more, traversing creeks and roots and fallen logs with an ironic combination of carefulness and hurriedness. Every once in a while the trail would get closer to the city and I could hear the cheers from the finish line, and then it would dive back down into stubborn and aggressive ravine. My quads were starting to give out and my feet dragging. At this point, my knees were doing most of the work and I’m convinced it was that last kilometre that gave me most of my scratches.

A brutal last kilometre, one we had been warned about that morning. The fastest finish time for it had been 15 minutes. I had taken about 21 minutes, and that alone had actually made me very proud of myself. As soon as I realized that I was near the top, I was scrambling up and running as fast as I could to cross the finish line.

And then it was over, just like that. I received my medal and my free beer. I walked around aimlessly for a bit, too scared of sitting down in case I wouldn’t be able to stand up again. Honestly, I don’t even remember if I got my burger before or after I changed into dry clothes, but I did get it at one point. I also remember defending salt & vinegar chips as the best chip flavour to a skeptic across the table from me. The rest is a bit hazy.

Even at the end, the words at my next ultra were still running through my head. Yeah, I was destroyed. Still am. My legs and arms are covered in scratches. My ankles are bruised. My fingers are still sore from the splinters that were stuck in there for hours. I have a tan line that I’m 99% sure could be turned into a meme, and so much chafing that I had to resort to wiping my body with wet wipes instead of having a full shower. But it was fun.

In the end, my wrong turns cost me an extra 8.2 km. I finished my 58.2 km in 9:21:23 on a course that was intended to be 50 km with a 10 hour time limit. I was far from speedy and definitely nowhere near the top, but I hadn’t trained on most of that terrain. I hadn’t even thought that it could get that intense, so I had mostly, and naively, kept to well-groomed trails. Once during my training, I reached a somewhat scary trail and simply turned around, thinking that it couldn’t be that bad. That trail ended up being one of the easiest singletracks on the whole course. I hadn’t known what to expect in terms of my nutrition and hydration needs. I hadn’t thought to leave changes of clothes and shoes at the aid stations. There was simply so much I wouldn’t have considered until actually running the race.

Despite the fact that I was far from my usual speedy, confident self that people see in a road race, and despite everything I hadn’t thought to do, I still just felt so happy to be there and to have been able to accomplish this amazing, insane feat. My body had done that. And yeah, my time needs work--but then I thought about how slow I had been when I first started running cross country in high school. Really slow. I didn’t quit, though, and simply just kept running whenever I could. Each step made me a little better, and the same thing applies to ultra trail races.

I feel like I’m on the cusp of a new chapter of my life, but not quite ready to leave the last one. I still want to make it to Boston in 2021 and I still have that need for speed that only road races can really satisfy. At the same time, though, I have found something I never knew I needed or wanted in ultra marathons and trail races--or adventure races, as the brutal terrain is affectionately dubbed. I think, for now, the one thing I truly want is to find a healthy, sustainable way to keep both of these in my life.

Most of all, though, I need a damn massage.

[boarix]

Wraith in the Ruins: A Fallout 4 Story Part XV

Nefarious They

Trigger warnings: Canon violence/language/gun use. Mature content *throws lemons* so look out

Game spoilers

Please enjoy!

 “It was deliberate. A direct attack on Sanctuary.”

Hancock idly flipped his tricorn, “Hmm. I’d say more like it was a attack on you, sunshine.”

“What do you mean? I wasn’t even here.” Wraith, who had been examining gouges in some of the trees that bordered Sanctuary’s fence, now turned to the ghoul, confusion on her face, “I thought that they waited until they were sure I wasn’t.”

“I don’t doubt it; you’re too terrifying to mess with directly! But you’re hurt if your loved ones are hurt, you feel me?” His smile was pitying, “If someone wants to punish you, make you suffer, than the best way is to kill your people.”

Confusion turned to anger and then swiftly to fear, “To hurt me…”

“Trouble is your people are very strong. MacCready and Danse alone could take out a score of… whatever they got.”

“They… who are ‘they’?”

After returning Valentine to his wife and appointing a new Quartermaster to Diamond City, Wraith had made good on her promise to Edward Deegan; offering her support and condolences as they delivering the remains of Emogene and Virgil to the Cabot house. Afterward she had continued on with her interrupted schedule by travelling to The Castle to check in with Preston. A few weeks had passed since the incident and Wraith would have had nothing to go on but hearsay had Danse not taken pictures.

As soon as he had known Panther would recover, he had taken the settlements camera to the breach. The photos documented the unmistakable Mecanum wheel tracks left by a sentry bot leading to and from the massive hole in Sanctuary’s defense as well as boot tracks from the aforementioned ‘They’.

“I suppose the robot dragged the caged deathclaw here too.” Wraith was running her hand back and forth over her freshly clipped hair, “Why didn’t anyone hear it? Or see it? I supposed they could have rigged it up with a stealth-boy and waited until Mac’s class started… Rust Devils? They certainly would have the knowledge…”

“They ain’t particularly stealthy though. They like it when their victims know whose victimizing ‘em.” Hancock took her fidgeting hand in his and squeezed it gently, “And if they knew to wait for MacCready’s class to mask the noise then that means there’s been a spy skulking round for a bit. Seen any new faces lately?”

“I haven’t been here… I should check in at the gate and the Rocket; talk to Tina, she was a Devil.”

“I don’t get how they could have dragged a caged deathclaw cross the Wealth without attracting some attention. I realize the population ain’t exactly dense…” Hancock paused, smiling to himself on his phrasing, “Somebody had to have seen somethin’.”

“You up for playing detective with me?”

“I’m always down for some roll-play.”

 Tina shook her head emphatically, “No ma’am. The Devils would want you to know it was them. It’s possible this was staged to look like them to make you crush them.” She offered Wraith a somewhat abashed smile, “It’s not like there are many of them left for you to punish.”

“The Hounds have been doing a commendable job in keeping Minutemen settlements safe. You should be proud, Tina.”

Lifting her chin, the former raider gave Wraith a sharp salute, “I am very proud, general! Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

Stepping out of the Red Rocket, Wraith winced as the wave of light and heat washed over her, “Ugh… so…”

“Who’s left?”

“This seemed more organized than your average raider group. L&L?”

Hancock was quick to dismiss them, “Not likely.” He removed his hat and held it aloft, blocking the sun from Wraith’s face as they walked, “I’ll have my network look into things. We’ll figure out who’s fuckin’ with ya and serve them up some bad days. No worries, sunshine.”

“In the meantime, I guess I’ll have the Minutemen make sure to check new visitors. I’ll reinitialize long patrols on all settlements… I hate to do that but we are going to be on high alert.”

Bear stopped them after they passed through the gate, “C’mere a sec, Wolf. I want to measure your feet.”

“My feet? Oooo, are you going to make me some new gofasters?”

“New gowhatnow?”

Bear chuckled, “It’s slang for ‘sneakers’, Johnny Boy. And no, I’m making you some serious shit-kicker boots! That deathclaw hide made some fantastic leather and I’m itchin’ to start creating.”

Wraith had worked with the ghoul to re-build the home just to the right of the bridge. Now with a full workshop and storefront, Bear’s business was booming. So much so that he had begun an apprentice program, just so he could have assistance with the near-overwhelming volume of orders.

“I noticed you seem to make a big deal about everyone else’s birthday, while doin’ your best to pretend yours don’t exist. Well, I’ve literally known you for centuries, so I’m making you something special and I want it done for the BIG one.” He passed her a vest as she sat down, “Try this on too.”

Wraith groaned, “Two-hundred forty years…”

“You’re only as old as the woman you feel.”

“It’s not the years, it’s the mileage.”

“Thanks, boys. That’s great. Super helpful.”

Bear clapped his large hands together, “Oh yeah, I finished the new armored jackets for the Hounds.” Turning, he grabbed an enormous coat off of a rack and held it up for them to see, “I even made one for my buddy Strong!”

The garment’s main body was fashioned from dark green leather and on the back the Hounds’ symbol, the Triskelion was done in golden inlay.

Hancock whistled appreciatively, “That is some mighty fine craftsmanship there. You’re a true master!”

“Incredible! Cait is going to spaz!”

“You think so?” Bear ducked his head, suddenly embarrassed, “You think she’ll be happy?”

Hancock’s eyes crinkled in a warm smile, “Yeah, brother. She’ll love ‘em.”

Leaving the shop, both were quiet as they entertained happy romantic thoughts. Arm in arm despite the heat, they slowly made their way up the street. Sudden bombastic laughter made them both jump slightly and as they turned a corner they could see Duncan, mouth open wide, laughing and pointing at Shaun. Wraith’s grandson was singing and dancing in a goofy manner along to the radio.

“Pretty good set of pipes on that kid… Nate sing?”

“Not as well as you. Honestly. I’m not just saying that to blow up your ego, or get in your pants.”

“I like it when you do those things too though…”

“Anchor! Anchor!” The song had ended and Duncan was clapping and shouting, “More! Anchor!”

Breathless, Shaun bowed with mock solemnity, “Jus a min, Dunk. I wanna talk to Grandma Wraith...”

Wraith clapped as well, “Anchor? What’s Anchor?”

“Oh, he just means ‘encore’. Dr. Curie said it earlier… So, speaking of that; Cap’n Danse left the clinic a little bit ago and he looked, I dunno… like, scared.”

“Brother Shaun! I asking politely, please!”

“Give me a second please.” Shaun smiled and shook his head, “He’s really needy today… So, yeah… um maybe you should poke your head in and see if Dr. Curie and…”

“I ASKING POLITELY!”

“Not at that volume.” Even with a quiet and even tone Shaun’s admonishment cracked like a whip.

“You have this under control?” Wraith popped her chin at the now apparently sullen Duncan.

“He needs to know I’ll stop playing with him if he gets too bossy, right?” Shaun flashed her an impish grin, “It’s just as important for a child to be told ‘no’ for reasonable reasons, as it is to receive positive reinforcement.”

“Ha! Well alright then.”

“That one from you?” Hancock tucked his chin, his question quiet.

“Yeah, but hearing it said back to me… ugh, it sounds really…”

“Robotic?”

“Yeah…”

Once inside the clinic, Wraith knocked politely on Curie’s exam room. Both jumped back when the door flew open and Fahrenheit, face scarlet in fury, yelled at them.

“I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE!” As soon as she realized who she was roaring at, the red in her cheeks deepened, “What do you two want?”

“I’m sorry Fahr; I thought your exam would have been over…”

Curie’s voice carried an uncharacteristic tone of irritation, “Mademoiselle’s exam has not yet started.”

“This is all just a waste of time! I will not be a party to this farce!” The redhead swept out her hand, seeming to indicate all of Sanctuary, “I will not stay here for the remainder of my pregnancy to be poked and prodded!” She stabbed a finger in Curie’s face, “Perhaps you’ll do better to convince Mrs. Valentine to be your lab rat. I will not!”

“Who said anything about you staying here? I thought you just came to get an ultrasound? Maybe hear th’ lil one’s heartbeat…” Hancock’s face clouded in confusion.

“I simply asked.” Curie pushed herself to her feet and frowned at Wraith, “This… woman… yelled at Danse after I asked him to help me move equipment.” Her struggle to maintain a professional tone was becoming increasingly apparent, “He would have naturally left before the examination commenced! Her… bellowing was unnecessary!”

“YOU’RE UNNECESSARY!”

“Okay whoa!” Hancock stood between them with his hands up, “Let’s all just breathe…”

Wraith’s laughter cut through the room like a saber, “Ha ha… you’re… hahaha.”

“I fail to see what is so damn funny.”

“Fahrenheit this is so unlike you! No one is going to make you do anything! As if we even could.” Wraith wiped a tear from her eye, “I’m sorry for laughing but this has gotten really out of hand, right? You came all this way… so let’s regroup. Do you want me to stay? Do you want your dad here? You tell us how you want this to go.”

“Monsieur Hancock is… oh my.”

“He raised me but he didn’t help make me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

She rolled her eyes, “Semantics… you were pivotal in my development as an individual. Satisfied?”

“Quite.”

Fahrenheit’s shoulders sagged, “Very well. I might have overreacted. But I am firm in that Amari will deliver my child.”

“But surely my procedural knowledge far outweighs even Dr. Amari’s.”

“How many babies have you delivered?”

“Well… none.”

“She has delivered several to drifters; in poor health, no less.” She gestured to Hancock, “He himself has helped with at least four in my memory. Their practical experience far outweighs your procedural knowledge, Dr. Curie.” She offered the synth a slight smile, “If we can time it out and you would like to come and observe, I suppose I would have no objections.”

“You’ve delivered babies, Hancock?”

“Helped. I helped. Mostly just made sure there was clean water and a hand to hold.”

“I’ve been made to understand that even these simple things can be pivotal, oui?” Curie sighed, “I would be remiss if I did not defer to the mother.” She turned and pulled a book from the shelf behind her desk. Smiling, she offered it to the ghoul, “In that case, please accept this, Monsieur Hancock. I know you will have no difficulty in committing it to memory and I am certain Dr. Amari will find it useful as well.”

“Tiny, Tiny Babies: All You Need to Know About Pediatric Medicine.” Flipping through the first few pages, his smile was tender, “I might get choked up here…”

“In that case, please leave! I’ve had my fill of hormonally-induced, excessive emotion today. Thank you.”

“Fine by me.” Smiling wickedly, he kissed the top of her head as he passed her on his way to the door, “Love you, Fahr.”

“I said no more.” Her smile betrayed her tone.

 That evening, Wraith used her guests as an excuse to throw a settlement-wide cookout. The outdoor communal dining area was filled with the sounds of people happily eating and visiting. Wraith sat at a picnic table with the MacCreadys, Shaun, Hancock, Fahrenheit, Curie and Danse. Sighing with contentment she watched their faces, committing their expressions and happy tones to memory; fighting dark thoughts about how she might have lost them to the deathclaw.

Fahrenheit’s exam had gone well and she agreed to go back after dinner so that Hancock could hear the heartbeat of his grandchild.

“You and Mikey come up with some names yet?”

“No, MacCready; Michael and I will decide when we actually meet the child.”

“You see my eyes rolling, right? Jeez.”

“Mon ours, would you pass me the carrots? Merci beaucoup.”

“What’s ‘ours’, Docker Curie?”

“It means ‘bear’, sweet boy.”

His cherubic face screwed up in confusion, Duncan pointed at another table, “Unkie Bear is right there.”

“It is a nickname that I have given to Danse. It demonstrates the deep affection I have for him.”

“It’s like how Wraith calls you ‘Dunk’ and me ‘Mac’, because she loves us.”

“Oh, you call Mr. Cap’n ‘Tin Can’ cause you love him too, right daddy?”

MacCready choked on his Nuka Cola.

“Is that true MacCready? Do you love me?”

Danse’s tone was so perfectly deadpan, Wraith couldn’t trust herself to look up. Afraid she might ruin the moment, she feigned fascination over the carrots on her plate.

Looking down at the hopeful and sweet smiling face of his son, MacCready visibly swallowed, “What… ahhh… what’s not… to… to love?”

“You alright MacCready? Looking painful o’er there.” Hancock’s voice shook slightly with suppressed mirth.

“… just overcome with love, man. Overcome…”

 Later, Shaun was helping Wraith wash dishes and she could tell he was working himself up to ask her something big. Alone in her kitchen, with the radio softly playing, he would normally hum along. Quiet and stiff limbed, the youth practically shouted anxiety at her.

“Mr. MacCready says that I’m a really good shot.”

“Mmm hmm. He brags about you almost as much as he brags about himself.”

I have a feeling I know where this is going…

“I was able to disarm Nat almost every drill and my throws have gotten better too…”

“You certainly have improved but don’t forget; it’s almost impossible to defend against a knife without getting cut. If you can run away…”

I’m not going to make this too easy on you, kid.

“Yeah, I remember. So, I heard that you were going to start long patrols back up…”

“Yup.”

“If… if Mr. MacCready goes out, may I go too?” He stood perfectly straight with his arms down to either side and his chin high. “I won’t get in the way and I think that if we bring Dogmeat or… or another adult…”

“I’m not sure Mac will want to leave Duncan.” Wraith reached out and tapped her grandson’s elbow, hoping the contact would help him relax, “He isn’t, technically speaking, a member of the Minutemen. He has gone on long patrol before, that’s true, but mostly it was because he was frustrated and bored.”

Shaun’s face fell, “Oh…”

“I tell you what; it’s up to him. If he agrees and you take both a Minutemen solider and Dogmeat, then you have my permission.” She held up a finger in the face of his jubilant bouncing, “Maybe not a loooong patrol, okay? Maybe a longish patrol.”

“Really! Oh cool!” Suddenly serious he schooled his features back into attention, “I won’t let you down, General!”

 “Why are you laughing at me, Mac?!”

The sun had set and Sanctuary was quiet. Sitting on the bench next to the mill, Wraith and MacCready waited for Hancock and Fahrenheit to finish at the clinic. Snuggled up under his arm, she had told him about Shaun’s proposal.

“I’m just surprised ‘s all. You barely let the kid go to the bathroom by himself…”

“Oh, please! I’m not that bad…”

“Uh huh. Yeah. Sure.”

She dug a knuckle into his ribs, hitting a particularly ticklish spot, “Robert Joseph, you take that back!”

When he attempted to twist away, she hooked her arm around his waist pulling him fully beneath her. Popping herself up, she straddled him and held his arms; pinning him in less than a blink.

Breathless and aroused he tried to lean toward her, “Or you’ll what? Tell me what you’ll do to me.”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” Smiling evilly, she shifted her pelvis, grinding against him, “See how close I can get you? Hmm? Make you shudder and shake…”

“Please, yes…”

“That’s it, ask me nicely.” Reaching down between them, she palmed him through his jeans.

“Plea… uhhhh.”

She stopped stroking and gave him a squeeze, “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Don’t stop. Please don’t… God yes. Just like that. Please, Wraith. Please touch me.”

“Why, I’m surprised at you!” Arching over him, she bent to set her teeth on his neck, nipping gently even as she slipped her hand beneath his waistband, “Asking for such things on a public bench.”

“You’re so… I’m… puh… ye… plea…”  Close to climax, he bucked involuntarily into her hand.

“Tell me, baby. Tell me how good it is.”

“Shit! Wraith, it’s so fucking good… I’m gonna… HUH UHHhhhhhh!”

After a few seconds of heavy breathing, MacCready suddenly sat up and pulled Wraith to his chest, kissing her hard, “Your turn…”

“Oh yeah? I don’t know; I’m not an exhibitionist…”

“There’s no one to see…”

“I can see you two got started without me.” Hancock smiled down at them, “And I hear that foul mouth of yours, Robert. What’s the matter, house too full?”

“Nothing quite like screwing on a hard bench outdoors…”

“Mills open, ain’t it?” Hancock opened the barn door and bowing, bade them enter.

MacCready picked Wraith up princess style and carried her across the threshold, “Good, you can help me with something.”

“From what I could see, you got it well in hand.”

 Bossy and the Goodneighbor provisoner caravan arrived a few days later. Despite his protests, Fahrenheit had insisted that Hancock stay with Wraith.

“You’ll drive me crazy. I’ll not have you under-foot and following me around.” Her tone softened briefly when a flash of hurt crossed the ghoul’s face, “Stay for a month and return home on Bossy’s next run. I’ll be sure to contact you, either through Radio Freedom or a courier, with any new information on the deathclaw incident.” Then to everyone’s amazement, she embraced Wraith, “I want to thank you Queenie, for everything you’ve done. Oh, and one more thing; the mattress in your guest room is terrible. I’ve slept on cobblestone streets that were less… lumpy. I’m almost positive, judging from what I know of you, that is most likely the best bed in the house. I’ll have Daisy find you better ones.”

“Oh… Okay Fahr… thank… thank you?”

“A larger one for your room as well since you are oft sharing a bed with two others. Especially since MacCready sleeps like he’s making snow angels.”

“Oh, I do not!”

“You kinda do…”

“Be well.” Turning briskly, Fahrenheit led the caravan through the gate an across the bridge.

“What the heck is a snow angel anyway?”

“Like this, daddy.” Duncan flopped onto his back and made angels in the dirt.

“Smart kid.” Hancock scooped the small boy into his arms and tousled the sand from his hair, “Your aunties teach you that?”

Sighing, he laid his head on the ghoul’s shoulder, “Yup. I miss ‘em.”

“Good thing it’s bath night...” MacCready sighed as well, “So, are you going to start on the new greenhouse or are you two going to go talk to the Abernathy settlers?”

Hancock passed Duncan to his father, “I still think it’s a dead end; they would have sent someone if they saw something.”

“I’m not going to leave it to chance. Any small detail could prove invaluable.” Wraith smiled at the MacCreadys as they hugged each other, “What about you, Mac? You figure out a ‘patrol for beginners’?”

“Yeah, Tenpines. I’ve got a couple more days of lessons then we’ll head out.”

“You takin’ Lloyd?”

“Naw, man; I’m going to let Shaun pick.”

Hancock gave him a mischievous grin, “You know he’ll pick Danse, right?”

“That’s fine,” He rubbed noses with his son, his voice going up an octave, “cause we all loooove Mr. Cap’n, don’t we?”

 Hancock was right. The trip to and from the Abernathy farm was both uneventful and fruitless. Frustration drove Wraith to sleeplessness and she slipped away from her lovers to go for a late-night walk. Her intention was to do a complete circuit of Sanctuary but instead found herself at Nate’s grave. To her surprise, Curie was standing near the make-shift headstone. Not wanting to shock or scare her, Wraith froze in indecision.

“What ez it, Panther?”

The large feline walked through the synth’s legs and padded to Wraith, whiskers extended.  Crouching slightly with arms out, she picked them up; holding them to her chest like a child.

“Oh, Madame, it is you.” Curie’s voice was strangely thick, “May I assist you?”

“Me?! Curie, what’s wrong?!”

“Oh! I do not want to burden you…”

Setting the cat gently on the ground Wraith went to embrace her, “You’ll never, ever be a burden!”

Seeming to melt in her arms, Curie cried bitterly for several minutes. Wraith thought her heart might break and her own eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, crying this much is so very taxing.” Sniffling and hiccupping she motioned to the grass, “May we sit?”

“I’m crying myself, and I don’t even know what about!”

“I… Even if we decided to… I wanted to… But, we cannot!”

A sudden revelation came to Wraith, “You two can’t have kids.”

“Mon ours would have been the greatest father…” Crying anew she bent forward, placing her face in her hands.

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry.”

“There is more… I’m sorry but… Danse isn’t aging… but I… I AM!” Raising her head, she turned to Wraith, eyes filled with deep sadness, “How will I ever tell him? He will have to watch me grow old and die. I will be gone and he will be alone… again alone.”

The realization that Curie was upset, not at her own mortality, but at the thought of Danse’s grief, set a pain in Wraith’s chest. “He’ll have time with you, right?” Reaching out she patted Curie’s back, “You are still young! There are years of memories for the two of you to make. And when you are no longer with us,” Fighting her own emotions, she swallowed hard, “he’ll…”

“Oh! That’s right!” Her face suddenly brightening, Curie clasped Wraith’s face in her hands, “You and Hancock will be with him! He would no doubt take comfort in your love and friendship.” Pulling Wraith’s face to her own, she clunked her forehead affectionately.

“You ladies alright?” Hancock had woken up when Wraith got out of the bed. Worried when she didn’t return, instinct drove him to check Nate’s grave, “Somethin’ happen?”

“Et is well, Monsieur Hancock.” Curie cocked her head to the side, considering the ghoul’s silhouette with the moon as a backdrop, “Have I done a metabolism study with you?”

“That a pick-up line?”

 Wraith did her best to keep occupied while Shaun, MacCready, Dogmeat and Danse were gone on patrol. From Tenpines, the group would head to Starlight Drive-in then on to Abernathy Farm and finally return to Sanctuary. Knowing that her grandson would be beyond her protective reach for several days was bothering her. However, she did take comfort in the strength of the adults (she counted Dogmeat as one such adult) he was with. Joining Sturges’s greenhouse work crew certainly helped as well; working hands helped to still a working mind.

“General, we’ve got a white flag bearer on the road.” Lloyd’s voice crackled from the walkie on Wraith’s hip, “Children of Atom, from the looks of it.”

“It’s not Marie, is it?”

“No ma’am, from the posture and gait, I’d say it’s a middle-aged woman.”

“Good job. Have Gabby meet her at the Rocket. I’m on my way.” Motioning for Hancock to join her, she set a brisk pace to the bridge, “I think it might be Isolde. I’ve been expecting to hear from her, but not in person!” Accepting her coat from a helpful soldier, she stopped to work the various clasps, “I’m thinking she’ll be a more reasonable conversationalists then her daughter...” Catching sight of her face in a window, she stopped again to work on a spot of grease.

“Having to talk to any of these… folks, doesn’t exactly razz my berries…”

It was indeed Isolde. Sitting on a barstool, she stared at the air conditioner with a mixture of fascination and keen distrust.

“Mother Isolde, welcome to Sanctuary. This is an unexpected honor.”

“Forgive me child, for surprising you this way. I was concerned that any attempts to contact or indeed warn you, in any way, would have been thwarted by Marie.”

“Is there a… difficulty concerning your daughter? Some aid I might provide?”

Looking down at the glass of water that Gabby had given her she seemed on the verge of tears, “My daughter’s obsession with you has not waned. She has convinced herself that if she kills you she will have destroyed a false profit.”

Hancock growled deep in his chest, “That’s bullshit! Wraith has never claimed to be this… whatchamacallit, ‘Fog Walkn’ Favored One’. From what I heard that was all that Tektus asshole’s nonsense.”

“I’ll have to respectfully disagree Mayor Hancock. Wraith is indeed the Mother’s Favored One. Although she chooses not to embrace it, your wife is a Blessed Child of Atom and that holds immense religious significance to my people.”

“My… wife...”

Doing her best to ignore Hancock’s confused and sappy smile, Wraith pushed the conversation to the point, “All that aside; we recently came afoul of a chameleon deathclaw. Was that Marie? What else can I expect from her?”

“I truly know very little.” Looking up at Wraith there was a great deal of fear and regret in her eyes, “She began stirring up some of the younger, more fanatical Children and pushing for open war; against you and your Minutemen.” Her gaze returned to her cup and her voice softened, “My Marie, my daughter…”

“Isolde, what has happened?”

“I feared for my people. I knew that you would never want to destroy us but… you would. Utterly.” Standing, she set her cup aside and squared her shoulders, “I have denounced her. I cast her out.”

“I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard…”

Islode held up her hand, “I fear I have made the situation worse. After I exiled her she and her followers traveled to Megaton. It is my belief that they intended to recruit Infamy.”

Hancock sucked air over his teeth and groaned, “Goddam…”

“Who or what is Infamy?” Hancock’s reaction genuinely spooked Wraith.

“Nyx has had some… difficulty with ‘em. They’re Children but they are closer to feral than even I am.”

“They act like a collective; all of them ghouls. Having discarded their names, they are all Infamy. They defer to a glowing one who believes he’s Atom’s personal assassin.”

“You can hire ‘em if you can convince ‘em, that your goal is beneficial to Atom.” The ghoul rolled his eyes, “MacCready has bitched about ‘em too.”

“They are Atom’s ‘Divine Blade’. Very cunning. Very deadly.”

“Not so deadly when it comes to my people.”

Islode shook her head, “Marie somehow blames you for not receiving visions of her own. She blames you for her exile… for the loss of everything she holds dear. She wants you to lose everything the same way she has; then watch as you die in anguish.”

Revelation struck Wraith like a hammer, “If there was a spy… then they knew I’d set long patrols… Shaun, Mac, Danse and Dogmeat…” She practically turned herself inside out to sprint to the Radio Freedom tower…

 “I’m not sure when I noticed… Maybe that one time with the deathclaw… when she broke her ribs, remember?”

“I missed that one. I must have still been at the police station.” Danse’s brow furrowed, “What about her breaking her ribs would have made her alluring?”

“Not cause she got hurt. Just… I don’t know… the fact that she would get hurt for other people’s sake.”

“That I can understand; her selflessness and devotion to others does make her compelling.”

“And her legs and her eyes and…”  

“Mr. MacCready… can we please change the subject…”

Navigating the rocky terrain south of Tenpines, the group had fallen into an easy banter.

“Shaun, buddy, I’ve told you to drop the ‘mister’. Call me ‘Mac’; like Wraith does.”

The youth’s mouth twisted, “No that’s weird…”

“Well kid I have plenty of names… how about ‘MacCready’ like Hancock does?”

Danse chuckled, “I think that might be weird for similar reasons.”

“Okay… what about ‘RJ’?”

Happy to have moved on from the ‘Wraith is a Knockout’ discussion, Shaun readily agreed.

The sniper’s bullet hit Danse and he fell from the ridge.

Dogmeat instantly turned and made a beeline for the assailant.

MacCready’s first thought was for Shaun and he screamed his name, even as he was overrun by a herd of feral ghouls.

A slight movement out of the corner of his eye was all the warning Shaun got before a hooded attacker, wielding an evil looking dagger, hacked at his face. Grabbing his opponent’s right elbow, Shaun pulled forward and raised his own right arm up; tight to theirs. Pivoting to the left and using his back and hip as a fulcrum, he thrust his arm toward the earth, rolling them both to the ground. Keeping his momentum, he put some small distance between them, and then vaulted to his feet while unsheathing his bayonet.

Infamy was impressed.

Shocked to see his foe was a glowing one, Shaun backed away even as eyes kept flicking to the cliff where Danse fell. And to his rifle that lay midway between them.

Infamy noticed.

“That your friend, there? Too bad little boy.” Their voice had an odd, echoing quality that sent shivers down the spine. “That your precious mentor, getting gnawed at by my children? So tragic! What will you do, little boy?” They chuckled low and evil, “I got you, you know? You’re cut. Your blood is flowing, ha ha. Flowing away.”

Ignoring the baiting, Shaun's mind was filled with only one thought:

Danse didn’t cry out when he fell…

Thank you so much for reading! Like what you read? Looking for more? Please check my Wraith in the Ruins tag for the full link tree. As always, if you have any questions/comments/concerns, my ask is open (anon too). I would love to hear from you! =^..^=

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Neither the Wolf Nor the Mountain, Chapter 4

Happy belated birthday @sabraeal who requested a continuation of this.

Her mouth opens. Then shuts. Then opens again, and- and her wolf- her not-wolf- he just blinks at her, slow and steady. He even yawns, a great thing that uses the whole of his mouth, pink tongue rolling inside a cage of white and decidedly human teeth, without a care to the fact that he’s naked and lying on top of her.

He groans, burrowing his face into the soft of her stomach and she winces.

The knock comes again. “Shirayuki?”

Shirayuki straightens, scrambling backwards and attempts to pry her not-wolf off of her. It is a task considering he is much heavier than her and has hands now; hands that are currently fisted in the skirt of her nightgown. He nuzzles his nose against her belly and she just- she really, really needs to pee.

“Just a minute!” she calls back, and then hisses, “Let me go.”

He whines, the sound eerily similar to the ones he made when she kept him away from the a pot boiling atop the stove or when she pried her pilfered leggings from between his teeth, but loosens his hold enough that she can slip free. 

Clambering to her feet, Shirayuki backs several paces away and he flops belligerently onto the hard ground, back heaving in an irritated huff.

Shirayuki stares, blinking, and briefly considers pinching herself to make sure she is awake. But she is, she knows she is, and he’s different as a human, but there’s no mistaking that the man lying on her floor is her wolf. Instead of black fur, he has a head of thick black hair that looks like it’s never once been brushed. The bones and sinew she felt poking out beneath the pelt that now lays below his naked body translates to a man just on this side of too thin, compact and wiry with not nearly enough fat on him to hide the articulation of the muscle of his thighs, the ridges of ribs just underneath taunt skin, and the arch of his back. 

Her stomach clenches, guilty. She should have fed him more.

Zen’s muffled voice bleeds through the door. “Shirayuki? Are you alright?”

Her not-wolf groans, turning over onto his back and-

Shirayuki’s eyes go wide.

That was. Um. He was very- Regardless of the fact that he was underweight, he certainly seemed healthy enough!

Face hot, she tears her eyes further north and he’s- he’s smiling, golden eyes glittering at her from beneath a fringe of dark lashes. He yawns again, arms stretching above his head and back arching, drawing her gaze back down to-

Shirayuki snaps her hand to her face, shielding her eyes and fumbling for the blanket laying across the arm of her couch. “Cover yourself up!” she squeaks, tossing it in his general direction, and turns sharply on her heel. “Yes, I’m coming!”

Her hands scramble against the wall, falling on the lock to unlatch it and then the handle, wedging enough space so she can peak out into the pale blue light of dawn.

Zen face fills her vision, the concern worrying his brow melting into a dazzling charm. “Shirayuki,” he breathes, relieved. “I was starting to get worried.”

“Zen,” she stammers, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

He grins, leaning in. “My brother sent me to the next village over to check on something. I finished faster than expected.”

“Oh.” She bites her lower lip, flustered. It was sweet of him to come. It had been weeks since the last time he’d been able to get away, but.. her eyes drift back into her still dark home.

His smile droops. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She snaps back to him. “No, no!” she waves her hand, taking it off the door and it opens a little wider. “It’s fine. I have some patients coming to visit this morning, but I am sure we can-”

Her voice fades out. He’s not listening. Instead, Zen sweet expression has left him, face pale and eyes wide, pupils mere pin pricks as he stares beyond her.

Shirayuki’s smile falls too, slowly craning her head around and-

Her not-wolf just stands just a few paces behind her, blanket pooled on the floor behind him, and his.. condition is still pronounced, pressing into his belly. She slaps her hand over her eyes again.

“You-” The hair at the nape of her neck stands on end. She’s never heard Zen sound so-

Before she can finish her thought, there’s the sound of metal drawn against a scabbard, Zen’s pushing her aside as he charges past her wards, the magic scattering so quickly that it stabs sharply behind her eye sockets. “What have you done to her?!”

Shirayuki grits her teeth, staggering against the wall, and peels her eyes open just in time to see Zen raising his sword, her not-wolf’s teeth sharp and white in the dark.

Her body moves without her permission. “Wait! Wait!” Her hands wrap around thick brocade and bare skin at the same time. “Zen, he’s a patient!”

Zen’s freezes, eyes so wide you could drink from them but her not-wolf is all motion, yanking on her arm and pulling her behind him. He is- he is definitely growling.

Shirayuki winces.

Zen doesn’t lower his sword, nor does his stance change, but he stays his hand and she can see him appraising her not-wolf from top to bottom, eyes lingering on the reddened gash on his chest. “A patient?”

Shirayuki nods, laying her hand gently on her not-wolf’s arm and ushering him aside. He whimpers a question, but she can’t- she can’t risk Izana and the neighboring lords hearing about this.

“Yes. A patient,” she says. When Zen relaxes by half, cheeks tinging a pale pink and turning his gaze away from her, she glances down at herself. “Let me get changed and I’ll explain.”

~ ~ ~

Zen stares, disbelieving, at his teacup. “And after they found him, you brought him here?”

“Yes.” Shirayuki sinks down onto the couch next to her not-wolf. He’s… somewhat clothed now, if that is what you can call the wrap of blankets around his hips and torso, sitting up straight and alert and not even looking at the tea she placed in front of him.

“How did you get hurt?” Zen asks, frowning.

He doesn’t reply, only offering Zen his steady gaze.

“He hasn’t spoken.” She rings her hands. “Not… yet.”

Zen doesn’t break his gaze. “I think he’s wild, Shirayuki. You shouldn’t be keeping a man like this in your house.”

She wants to tell him that she hadn’t been. She wants to tell him that she had been keeping a wolf. And she hates keeping secrets from him, but she doesn’t know- not since she tried to explain why she couldn’t leave this land and his face had gone red in outrage that tradition would keep her chained to this place- she doesn’t know if the truth would cause even more strife.

“It’s okay,” she says softly. “He’s been here for several weeks and has done nothing but help me when he can. He won’t hurt me.”

Zen looks dubious. “You don’t even know his name, do you?”

She pauses, heart flipping when she turns to find those wild eyes watching her, pupils narrowed to a slit. “I don’t know what to call him, no, but-”

“Obi.”

Shirayuki’s eyes pulse wide.

“Why didn’t you answer before?” Zen demands.

Shirayuki doesn’t look away, but he tilts his head, so curious. “I belong to my Mistress. Not you.”

Shirayuki face goes hot, fingers clutching into her skirt. “I’m not- I’m not anyone’s mistress!”

Obi blinks at her. “I am. You know that I am.”

“Then I release you!” she sputters.

He smiles then, a doggish thing. “Miss,” his teeth are bright and look sharper now that the shutters are all open, letting in the light of day. “You of all people know it’s not that simple.”

Shirayuki swallows, shaking her head. “Yes, but-” 

She knew the depth of payment that a blood debt required. A year for each day death was defied, a lifetime for each stilled heart was coaxed into bleeding once more.

“What are you two talking about?”

Shirayuki smiles, tight. “It looks like Obi will be staying with me for a while.”

~ ~ ~

“You didn’t tell him.”

Shirayuki pauses, reaching inside her cupboard. She needed to prepare for the day, to forget the strange look in Zen’s eyes as he left and the fact that a faolofh now is in her debt. But Obi’s words land flat between them, barely any inflection save stating the fact. 

Shirayuki cannot help but feel that they are an accusation.

“Zen is from the city,” she murmurs, ducking her head to avoid his eyes. “And educated in the new ways. He doesn’t understand.”

Obi stands so close behind her that her skin prickles with heat. “But he is your mate.”

Shirayuki nearly drops the jar of roka weed, but Obi’s there, steadying her elbow. “N- no!” she sputters. “I wouldn’t go as far as that.”

He hums, hand sliding up her arm until his fingers wrap around her wrist, guiding her hand until the bottom of the jar clicks softly against wood. “He wants to claim you, then?”

Her shoulders reach for her ears, heart stuttering in her chest when his other hand alights on the swell of her hip. “No one is claiming anyone else!”

“I see.” Obi makes a soft sound, stepping in closer to her space. His hand squeezes once at her hip, testing, and she inhales sharply. “We could make very beautiful puppies.”

“What?” Her head snaps to the side, staring up at him over her shoulder. “You- Who said- Why?”

“Your... not-mate does not claim you. And you are alone.” His head tilts, face turning downward in confusion. “Is that not why you asked if I could become a man?”

Her jaw drops. “No!” she protests, turning in his arms to face him. “I don’t- Obi, I don’t even know you!”

He frowns, palms balanced on the cabinetry on either side of her. “Do you need to?”

Her face burns. “Yes!”

Obi tilts his head. “But I can smell-”

Her face goes hotter. “Forget what you smell!” she presses against his chest and he steps back easily. “I’m not doing that with you or someone else. Especially someone else I don’t know!”

She flinches at the sound of her own raised voice, body tense and hunched in. His silence only amplifies her nerves and she glances up from underneath the shade of her lashes. But instead of the anger she expects, he just looks... confused, hands limp at his side.

“Have you not lain with me these last two weeks in my nest?” he asks quietly.

Shirayuki gapes. Oh. Oh.

“Yes,” she admits slowly. “But I did that becomes you kept getting up in the night and crying. I thought you were scared being alone in a strange place.”

That pulls his lips towards the strangest smile she has ever seen. “Ah,” he nods. “Thank you so much for protecting me, my fierce Mistress.”

She exhales in relief, smile shaky, but then he turns away from her, leaving her front cold and her head spinning. “Where are you going?” she calls, chasing after him.

He looks over his shoulder, his pelt fisted in his hand and opening her front door to bright morning light. “I will show you who I am, Miss,” he smiles, so bright. “And you will see that our puppies will be very healthy.”

Her mouth gapes open and before she can put two thoughts together, he wraps himself in black fur and night. No longer does the man stand before her but the wolf she cared for, his fur black and sleek and looking every bit the wild beast that he is. He yips once at her, tongue waggling out of his mouth, and then turns into the forest.

She yells after him, “Who said I wanted puppies?!”