#and it's rebecca who puts them both in their place like you tell 'em girlfriend because goddamn lol

[shiftycatstudios]

Ships n' Sidekick Sketches / Resident Evil Edition #2! This is like...mostly a Leon edition...I ship him with pretty much everyone heh [Part 1 Here]

⭐ Insta / Ko-Fi ~ @theshiftycat ⭐ Everything Else ~ @shiftycatstudios ⭐ Link Tree

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Eight, “Almost There”

Clickable Links: 

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and Character Surveys

- Inspo tag

- Playlist

- *NEW* Hecky Blurb from The Sex Bucketlist Fic Challenge (currently an extra chapter)

- Becky Character Survey #2 

- Harry Character Survey 

Word Count: 7.4k words

Warnings: None

                                  SNEAKKKKKKKK PEEEEEK

“At moments throughout the day, I could’ve cared less that I was being paid for all of this, because being in Harry’s presence for almost every second was rewarding enough. I got to remember the dark little freckles smattered across his face, the tan ones peppering his nose you can see if you’re close enough, and how utterly happy I feel being around him. He quickly felt like the sun and I was the orbiting planet, constantly around him and hanging onto his every word.”

Music Inspo: Sweet Tooth by Cavetown (click to listen)

P.S. - Talk about the most perfect gif up top of happy lawyer Harry c:

                         “I have a million things to talk to you about. A million things we have to talk about. All I want in this world is you. I want to see you and talk. I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning.” - Haruki Murakami

“So, Hare, ya think she’ll like it?”

“I bloody hope so afta all tha cleanin’ and buyin’ new stuff,” I respond with a tired sigh, crossing my arms over my chest, sure there’s still dust clinging to me in places.

“We didn’t do any cleaning, you goon, the cleaning company we employ did,” Myles chuckles, bringing warmth to my cheeks. “I think we did good, though- I reckon you did good, seeing as you did most of the work, mate.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, taking a good look at the office that’s sat unused since the remodel.

“When’s her orientation with you, did you say?”

“This Friday,” I answer him, my hand wandering to my mouth where I bite at my fingernail, inspecting the clean office. Even after all of the work that’s been put into it ever since she was hired, I still doubt myself if Becks will like it. Will she like the desk that I chose, or the Merlot colored sofa against the wall, or the chair that I splurged on? She’s going to be the one spending time in here, not me, and I really want her to like it.

“Have you asked her out on that date yet?” Myles questions, stepping forward to adjust the black modern desk lamp, even though I’m sure she’ll move things around once she steps foot in here. I want her to change it to how she likes, just how she likes. Wait, what did he say?

“My’, what tha fook are ya goin’ on ‘bout?” I chuckle, holding out my hand in question to help me talk.

“What, mate? You’re wasting precious time here, you’ll be thirty in a few weeks. I thought we’d have kids and they’d be best mates by now.”

“Oh, shuddup, thirty isn’t that old, and no, I haven’t asked her out yet.”

“And why’s that? You said you ran into her at the supermarket last weekend, and you met her for dinner and drinks the Friday before. It sounds like you had plenty of opportunities, and once again, you didn’t take them,” he almost groans, opening a box of black pens that he pours into a tall black mug with ‘Styles & Lawson’ written on both the mug and the pens. It was his touch, not mine. I know Becks will hate it, she’ll find it gaudy. “Y’know I don’t care if you lot date, just keep it behind closed doors, is all I ask. Keep it professional.”

“‘s too soon, My. I know ‘s already a lot fer her t’ be startin’ a new job, ‘specially her first official lawyer job. I want her t’ get settled in first befo’ I do anythin’, and overwhelm her mo’. And I know, I wanna do all o’ it right.”

“That’s fair, Hare, but you better hurry up. I was telling Rory about her starting, and when he asked to see a photo, he couldn’t stop talking about how pretty she is,” he comments, breaking the box apart before tossing it in the empty bin, giggling.

“My’, don’t bloody encourage him. Rore’s a prick, tho’, even he knows it. She’d neva go fer him, anyways.”

“Are you gonna tell him how you feel about her then, y’know, so he doesn’t try anything?” Myles continues, walking behind Becks’ ‘Autumn Cherry Mahogany’ desk, pushing in the chair as he does a once over.

“I reckon I should, if tha idiot keeps quiet ‘bout it, which’d be a bloody wonder in itself. Watch him try t’ gimme relationship advice, as if he’s had a girlfriend lately fer longa than two weeks.”

Myles chuckles at that, tapping a pen against the desk barren besides the lamp, pens, a desk calendar, and the phone. I laugh along with him, turning around to glance at the wooden shelves that look rather pathetic with the few law books claiming them, but that’s the last thing on my to do list. I reckon she’ll want to add some of her own, anyways.

“You’re really going to leave the walls empty besides that bloody shelf and clock? It looks sad in here.”

“I told ya ‘m gonna let her pick out some prints, and tha firm will pay fer ‘em. There’s no use in buyin’ sumthin’ that she’ll end up not likin’, My. Oh, and tha rug ‘s s’posed t’ come in t’morrow, as is tha new iMac that one o’ Asher’s blokes will set up,” I repeat with a roll of my eyes, forgetting the books and finding him straightening the violet-colored clock on the wall.

“The firm is paying for it, is that right? Jeepers, Harry, she’s making you all soft again. I can’t complain though, because it means you’re far nicer to me for a change.”

“Shuddup,” I giggle, plucking a new pen from her desk to launch at him. “Ya I dunno, she has tho’ and I don’t really mind it. I guess ‘m used t’ it, but it was hard in tha beginnin’.”

“It’s a good thing, really, I mean it. Oh, by the way, did you let her know she needs to frame her degree to hang up in here? Preferably behind her desk,” he questions, turning to point to the eggshell-colored walls that were painted months ago, the exact shade of all of our offices.

“Thanks fer tha reminda. ‘ll hafta text her ‘bout it, I forgot.”

“Yeah, you can thank me for a good excuse to text her,” he grins, his hands falling from the clock until his attention is captured by something else. “Also, why’d you buy a bloody plant? Does she even like them, or know how to take care of them?”

“I dunno, she mentioned once she likes succulents, and there’s a huge ass window right there t’ give it sun, so ya jus’ need t’ water it,” I snicker, pointing to the floor to ceiling window taking up the wall across from her door, like all of the offices. “‘s some kinda succulent, I can’t rememba. I figured she’d like it, but thanks fer yer bloody vote o’ confidence, Mr. Lawson.”

“You’ll get my ‘bloody vote of confidence’ when you fucking finally ask her out, Hare. ‘s been two years, mate,” he insists, flicking the light off as I step out into the hallway.

“I know, My, ya think I don’t bloody know that?”

“I don’t know, Harry, but y’know how I feel about second chances. They don’t come around again, and you got one, so use it wisely and quickly,” he tells me, wagging a finger at me as he closes the door before walking off.

“I know, but I don’t wanna screw it up,” I whisper in defeat to none other than myself, messing with the silver rose ring on my left hand, just as my eyes pan over to the frosted glass door. At the sight of her full name etched into the door, my heart does a jump, from nerves and excitement. “See ya soon, Becks,” I finish softly, patting her name carved into the glass, a bubbly warmth filling my insides with anticipation.

I dunno how much longer I can wait for her.

+

“Alrighty, then let’s start with’a tour. Follow me right this way, Ms. Holte,” Harry says, leading me out of his office and can I say, giving me a perfect view of his gorgeous bum. Now, that’s one thing that hasn’t changed a bit, I decide silently as I take a quick glance around his office.

“Please stop with the Ms. Holte thing, it’s weird,” I giggle, watching him close his door behind him, and he winks at me.

“What, how come? Yer a lawyer now, Becks, ya gotta be all formal.”

“See, that name sounds much better, doesn’t it?” I tease him, and he shakes his head with a grin.

“I admit it does, but y’know yer gonna hafta decide what ya want people t’ call you. Rebecca, Becky, Ms. Holte, etcetera. But fer formal proceedings, like during cases you’ll be Ms. Holte, so ya betta get used t’ it.”

“Yeah, Ms. Holte isn’t happening if I can help it, it makes me feel old. I’m not a bloody teacher or something,” I remark and he nods his head, his fingers getting lost in his curls as he stops.

“Very true. Well t’ begin our tour, yer familiar with this hallway as it’s tha main one. My office is behind us at tha very end, Myles is down and on tha right as y’know, then Rose’s ‘s on tha left,” he explains by pointing a long finger in different directions, the pink nail polish from last weekend almost entirely gone. I guess Harper needs to give him a touch up, or I could. God, I wish. “Rory’s office ‘s down that way t’ tha right o’ mine, as ‘s Jennings as y’know. Mick’s ‘s down tha way afta his, then Gwen’s, Tate’s, Holly’s, Connor’s- Y’know what, let’s jus’ go and say hi t’ ‘em, I reckon that’ll be easier fer you t’ make sense o’ it all. I was plannin’ t’ introduce ya t’ e’rybody anyways, so we’ll see who’s here t’day and not stuck inn’a case.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” I hum, unsure of how good of a job I’m doing masking my anxiousness, it’s hard to tell.

Evidently, I’m not doing that great of a job, because when Harry looks to his left at me, it’s fair game. “‘s okay, Becks, don’t worry. They’ll all love you too,” he smiles, patting my arm, calming me down and exciting me at the same time with his words and touch.

“God, I’m an open book, aren’t I?”

“Eh, I dunno really. I guess ‘m jus’ good at readin’ ya by now,” he responds with a short wink before stopping in front of another frosted glass door. After a short knock, the door opens and like every other time, I’m amazed by her fiery red hair. “Hey, Rose, ‘m not interruptin’, am I?”

“No, Harry, you’re not,” Rose answers, hanging onto her door, and I watch her eyes pan over to me. “Hi, Becky! I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you, love?”

“I’m good, thanks. How have you been, Rose?”

“Eh, I’ve been better, it’s not easy working for this guy. You should get out while you still can,” she answers teasingly, nodding her head over to Harry.

“Hey, don’t say that! ‘m givin’ her tha tour right now, ya don’t wanna scare her away already, Rose!” he scoffs jokingly, and quickly we’ve left him behind with our laughing that he doesn’t partake in.

“Quiet down, Harry, she’s come back for seconds so she must know how to deal with you by now,” she quips, looking over to me with a blushing smile. Oh, I’m liking it better and better the longer I’m here.

“God, I hope so,” I joke, spending a nervous laugh at the end of my words and so does everybody else, although in a self-deprecating way.

“I’m glad you’re back though, Becky. It’s so great to have you a part of the lawyer team now.”

“Thank you, Rose. I’m really happy to be a part of it too,” I answer shyly, and when I look over to Harry he’s wearing that sunshine smile again that I’d gladly look into, even if it blinded me.

“Thanks fer yer time, Rose, we’ll be movin’ along t’ meet e’rybody else now. There’ll be a formal meetin’ her first day t’ properly introduce e’rybody tho’,” Harry says, patting her on the shoulder before we move on.

We make our way down the hallway, and then soon reunite with Jennings, which wasn’t the best reunion per say after how he treated me at times.

“Don’t worry, I told him he has t’ be on his best behavior ‘round you,” Harry comments with a warm smile, doing a good job at smoothing over any bumps I feel in the road, like he so often does.

A few of the lawyers were gone for the day, including Gwen and Mickey who I’ve yet to hear anything about or meet. I got to meet Holly, Connor, Tate, and Brien who were all very kind. It was nerve wracking, but they were easy to talk to, and it was neat to see their difference in ages, their characters, and their offices. As for those we missed, Harry said I’d meet them the next time when I have my first official day.

“And this ‘s Rory, which requires a bit o’ prep fer meetin’ him, he can be a lot t’ handle sumtimes,” Harry prefaces, stopping in front of the ajar door, but his face falls when he peeks in, saying it’s empty. “‘m not bloody surprised, I can neva find tha idiot when I need him.”

“Looking for me, Harold?” a voice calls, pulling our attention down the hall and towards the lobby. I can almost see where my desk used to be from here, almost.

“Oh, so he can call you Harold, but I can’t?”

“No, neitha can he, he jus’ thinks he’s funny. He’s prolly tryna show off fer you,” he comments, cocking his head to the side as he looks at this Rory fellow questioningly. “Y’know I don’t like bein’ called that, Rore.”

“And what do I care?” Rory replies, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he approaches us, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Ooooo, who is this lovely lass?”

“Rory, this ‘s Ms.- I mean, Becky Holte, ‘ve told you ‘bout our new associate,” Harry explains, pointing his elbow to me as his hands sit in his pockets. Slowly with each new introduction, I’ve noticed Harry resume his professionalism, but it feels stronger whenever he says my name. It’s a little hard to get used to after all of the moments we’ve shared over the last two years, but I know that I’ll have to get used to working with him again, and all that it entails.

“Ah, so this is Becky,” Rory smiles, stepping forward to put out his hand as his eyes flit to Harry. With a confused look on my face, I take it and he shakes my hand with his other covering mine. My eyes race to Harry next with a question, but his are stuck to Rory’s with an annoyed expression. “I’ve heard loads about you, love. Welcome to the firm, we’re all happy to have you here working with us. I know Harry is especially.”

“Um, thank you, Rory. I’m excited to be here.”

He nods before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his gray slacks and sauntering off, loud music soon coming from his office.

“He’s uh, different,” I comment slowly, looking over my shoulder as we walk away.

“Ya, he’s a prat ‘s what he ‘s,” Harry comments quickly, rubbing a knuckle along his hairy chin.

“So, you told your colleagues that you’re happy I’m back?”

“Perhaps,” he shrugs, saying it like he’s not sure of his answer either, but I take it and I run with it. “Perhaps very much so,” he finishes just as his steps cease in front of another closed door. I don’t get the chance to read the name on it, because quickly he’s opening it, and it’s already hard to tear my eyes away from him after he said that. Who do you think you are just saying that kind of stuff and not expecting me to freak out? It gets even worse when he finally meets my eyes with the cheekiest grin sitting there, waiting for me.

“Wow, this is a really nice office. It even smells good, like palo santo or something,” I comment, taking a step into the immaculate looking space. The room is lit up when Harry flips the light switch, bathing the shining desk in light, as well as the wine-colored sofa against the wall to my right. “Look at that view! Dang, whoever’s office this is sure is lucky. They even have a cute little plant on their desk, awe. Whose office is this, anyways? I don’t want to intrude, or anything,” I say, fawning over the cozy room and even how there’s two little tasseled pillows sitting on the sofa. When I bring my eyes back to Harry, he’s leaning against the door frame, arms and legs crossed amongst his tall body. In his eyes sits a tale that I can see he’s itching to tell, a sparkle in his eye.

“Consider yerself lucky, Becks, this ‘s yer new office,” he grins, his cheeks disappearing when the smile almost reaches his ears.

“Shut up!” I exclaim, my hands flying to my mouth as I look at the room in a new light, per say. “I get my own office? I didn’t even think I’d need one, since I’ll always be in yours. Harry, you shouldn’t have!” I sigh happily, hands falling as my eyes start to water.

“‘Course you’ll have yer own office, Becks. I mean ya, you’ll be with me in mine loads, but sumtimes we’re bound t’ get sick o’ each otha,” he says, lifting his crossed arms in a shrug as if they hold words as well. My head falls to the side as I look at him, telling him silently he’s stupid for saying that, and he giggles because he’s just too good at reading me. It’s going to be a long time before I get sick of him again. A very long time. “It’ll happen, I promise ya that. But sumtimes ‘ll be in partner meetings or sumthin’, and ya can do yer research and prep fer tha cases in here. Also, I wanted ya t’ have yer own space since ‘s no fun bein’ stuck in me office starin’ at tha same four walls all day long. And I know ya didn’t really have yer own space befo’ at yer old desk, and ya should’ve,” he completes eloquently, always knowing what to say and how to say it. I hope he can teach me how to do that, because I’m really going to need it. For more than one occasion, and both inside and outside of this firm.

I want to hug him so badly I can’t stand it, because the gratitude and happiness bubbling to the surface yell at me to, and he just looks so cute standing over there so proud of himself. The whole rule about being professional that stuck to me again the second I got off the lift comes back to me, and holds me back from surprising him with a bear hug. Boy, is it hard, and it gets even harder when I don’t see him trying to give me one, either.

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” I almost blurt out, wishing for that eloquent speech trait once again.

“Thanks, bug, I try. ‘m really glad ya like it, really. I have a few sites ya can look at when ya have tha time t’ pick out some prints fer yer walls. Oh, and yer welcome t’ bring in any books ya’d like t’ place on yer shelf and anythin’ else fer that matta, ‘s all yers. All of it,” and with the sunshine smile leaking through in those words, the first tear falls onto my cheek and I couldn’t even care. “Hey, don’t cry, bug. C’mere, come gimme a hug.”

“But I have to be professional, and employees don’t hug their boss.”

“Hush, li’l one. ‘m not yer boss anymo’, ‘m yer colleague,” he contends shrugging, removing an arm from where it’s crossed over his chest to wave me over to him.

“A mentee shouldn’t hug their mentor,” I continue, the next tear falling as indecisiveness buzzes inside of me.

“Rebecca Ann Holte,” Harry insists firmly, and this one triumphs all others. It hurts more than any other, brings back the most memories, and makes the happy tears come even faster. And shit, does it get me going. “Come ova here and hug me, now,” he giggles with a finger pointing to the floor, and I swear it’s the best song I’ve ever heard in this whole entire world, next to the very words he just spoke.

But I can’t get my feet to wake up and in a blink he’s moving over to me with that sunshine smeared all over his face. I feel it cover my body when his long arms come around me, pulling my face against his chest.

“I don’t like my full name,” I confess into his button down, hoping I’m not smearing my blubbering makeup all over it.

“I do, ‘s pretty . . but I like ‘Becks’ betta. Yer my Becks,” he hums from above me, running miles up and down my back with his large hands. His hugs that can fix everything and anything.

“I’m sorry I always cry.”

“‘s okay, bug, ya don’t gotta apologize. I know it means yer really happy,” he muses, eliciting a quick nod from me that sings a happy giggle from above. “‘m so happy ya like it, I worked so hard onnit coz I wanted ya t’ love it.”

“You did all of this?!”

“Well, with a li’l help from me friends, ‘course,” he titters, the sound heard under my ears and overhead. His name leaves my lips in an amazed sigh and he only laughs harder. “Think that means ya like it, hmm, Becks?”

“Yes, I love it, Harry. All of this,” I answer, finding handfuls of his silky blazer in my hands, and his peppery vanilla scent. Too afraid of ruining his shirt, I back up and let go of him, wiping under my eyes embarrassingly.

“Alright?” he hums softly, brushing the hair away from my face and behind my ear. Even just his finger brushing my ear gets me going. Good God, Harry. “Here, lemme look.”

I oblige after doing most of the work and meeting his eyes that I swear I could melt looking into, and I should know because I have so many times. The happiness pours into me at the thought of getting to do it day after day, for as long as I like. Kind of.

“Doesn’t look too bad. Ya still look like me pretty Becks, but don’t wantcha cryin’, haven’t even been here an hour, love.”

“Oh, you knew I was going to cry when I saw the office,” I laugh and his quickly falls behind, tickling my ears.

“Ya, I admit I knew,” he titters and I playfully push at his chest, suddenly kicking myself for ending that hug so soon, unsure of the next time I’ll get one. “Well, shall we keep goin’ with this tour, or ya need anotha minute, bug?”

“I’m okay,” I answer and he nods.

“If ya say so, Boops,” he chirps, brushing the tip of his finger against my nose cheekily. “C’mon, ya have plenty o’ time t’ check this place out. I wanna show ya tha new law library, ‘s a real treat.” I follow his lead, even with tear streaks down my cheeks, because I know that if I’m by his side I’ll always be okay.

Well, so much for that whole ‘being a professional thing’, huh, Mr. Styles? He sure threw that out the door just now, as well as a few more doubts I had about the way he feels about me. Goodness gracious, I’m in real trouble.

I can’t wait.

At moments throughout the day, I could’ve cared less that I was being paid for all of this, because being in Harry’s presence for almost every second was rewarding enough. I got to remember the dark little freckles smattered across his face, the tan ones peppering his nose you can see if you’re close enough, and how utterly happy I feel being around him. He quickly felt like the sun and I was the orbiting planet, constantly around him and hanging onto his every word. Luckily, I was able to do a lot of staring, since I’m familiar with the firm and could tune out at times. He still gave me the grand tour which was a little different at times due to the remodel. I realized there was a post room that I had totally forgotten about, although I’m not sure how.

Harry made it fun, like he always does, but I noticed that he was ‘Boss Harry’ today. At times, he kept the personal talk to a minimum when there was stuff to get done, especially after the scene that unfolded in my office. God, I can’t believe any of what happened in there, and I try not to think about it, because I know I won’t be able to handle it. I called him ‘Mr. Styles’ on a few occasions and I think he liked the sound of it too. Fortunately, for my sake, he only remembered my last name aloud a few more times, because I think we’re both uncomfortable with anything besides ‘Becks.’ But I wouldn’t want it any other way, and I quickly realized that, when that’s how he introduced me to his- well my new colleagues before correcting himself. He really is just the cutest.  

“I didn’t dump too much on ya t’day, did I?” Harry asks with a sunny smile, falling down onto the sofa across from me.

“It’s debatable,” I shrug softly with an added laugh, my hand diving into the cloth bag sat between us.

“Hey, I did me best,” he pouts, pulling up his pastel slacks to get comfy, crossing his legs in front of me. Goodness, I really wish he wouldn’t, because it is the best and worst view I’ve ever seen. He looks too damn fine in those pants that hug him in all of the right places, fuck. Fuck me.

I’m sure you want him to, Becky.

Go away, demon, I’ve got this handled.

Pfffft, yeah right.

“I hope ya didn’t cheat while I was in tha loo,” he remarks, pulling his lips inwards to make a popping sound with his mouth, just like that part in Shrek 2 where Donkey does it in the carriage.

“I would not! I can’t believe you don’t trust me.”

“Oh, I trust ya, Becks, jus’ not when it comes t’ Scrabble,” he quips, dropping several tiles onto the thick cardstock board. I hold back a comeback comment as I watch him build off my word, forming one of his one.

H O T D O G

A devilish laugh leaves his cherry lips as I pluck my pre-chosen tiles from my rack. Meanwhile, he adds up his new points aloud and tallies them up.

“What kinda prints are ya gonna buy fer yer office, y’think?” he mumbles, the pen scratching against the yellow legal pad in his lap, doing one good thing, which is covering it from my prying gaze.

“I’m not sure yet, do you have any good suggestions?” I reply, turning over a D that had gotten flipped over, lining up my tiles from his G.

G O O D B Y E

“Nice long one, bug, and I dunno. ‘ve accumulated mine ova tha years, and they’re mostly prints o’ artists I love.”

“Yeah, I see that,” I respond, lifting my eyes to his spacious office that still surprises me with how different it does and doesn’t look from before.

As he said, more framed prints cover his walls. Before, he only had a Rolling Stones black and white picture above the sofa we sit on. Now, he has one of The Beatles from their Sgt Pepper launch party, a print of Mick Fleetwood and Stevie Nicks on the cover of Rumors, a smiling portrait of Cat Stevens playing guitar, and a moody photo of Simon and Garfunkel. The shelf above us is also brimming with new books, including biographies of previously mentioned musicians, and even Uncle-ing for Dummies.

“I like them. Maybe I’ll frame some favorite sheet music of mine, I have no idea,” I joke with uncertainty, finding his smiling eyes across from me, lifting from the pad of paper.

“There’s no rush, Becks, ya got loads o’ time t’ decorate. I jus’ wantcha t’ be at home in yer new office. I mean, ‘m still decoratin’ and ‘s been ova five years,” he comments, setting the pad to the side. “Don’t forget t’ pull new tiles, love.”

“Oh yeah, thanks for the reminder. It’s just weird, but in a good way, because I’ve never had my own office,” I say, reaching my hand into the bag and feeling the cool tiles once again.

“‘Course it’d be weird, ‘s sumthin’ new, but you’ll get used t’ it. ‘m sure you’ll figure out how t’ make it yer own, ya deserve it,” he exhales, his hands folded together against his mouth as he stares at the board intently.

“Thank you, you’re right . . The tiles aren’t going to arrange themselves if you stare that hard. You do know that, right?”

“Yes, Ms. Holte, ‘m well aware, thank you. Bloody hell, already feelin’ like we’re a hotshot coz we’re a lawyer now, are we?” he tuts teasingly, dropping his hands to his rack as he flits his eyes to me with a toothy grin.

“I am not, and watch the name, or no brownies for you!”

“Fine,” he sighs, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as he contemplates his move, but his focus is lost when his phone dings.

I try not to intrude, but the look on his face feeds my curiosity, and when his expression does a three-sixty and then another, I can’t look away. He doesn’t share anything though, just types back a brief reply to whoever and returns his attention to the game board. I try to do the same, planning my next attack on the board, but it’s futile because the worry I feel for him creeps up again like it so often does.

“Got any big plans fer t’night?” he muses aloud, laying down the ceramic tiles he’s chosen to form a short word off of my E.

B A K E

“Nah, just finally finishing New Girl after procrastinating it for the last few years. It’s always sad when a show ends.”

“Ah, guess yer busy then, nevamind,” Harry comments, adding up my points aloud before jotting them down. Wait, sir, you can’t just tease that at me. Well, whatever that is.

“Mr. Styles, what ever do you mean?” I ask calmly, placing heavy emphasis on his formal name, one that started as a joke but now I’m liking it more than I’d care to admit.

He doesn’t say anything right away, because of course. He just busies himself by picking out new letters and organizing his rack of tiles. I forgot about my new word long ago, because if I’m honest at least to myself, as soon as the short-hand had reached the three on the clock, I was already feeling melancholy. Now, no fewer than fifteen minutes of my orientation day remains, and the aching in my chest has only kept reminding me that I have to leave him soon. Talk about distracting.

“I mean t’ say, my sista had t’ cancel dinna coz Harper’s sick. So, how d’ya feel about dinna and drinks round two?” he suggests, finally meeting my eyes with his that have a little bit more sparkle to them.

“I’d love to, Harry. Maybe I could get that motorcycle ride already,” I comment, flitting my eyes over to the metallic gold helmet sitting on the edge of his organized desk.

“Maybe ya could, Becks,” he chirps after seeing where I’m looking. That sticky smile winds its way up his face, and finds the hole in the armor around my heart.

Am I in trouble with this man, or what? Fuck yes I am, and I can’t wait to dive right in.

The January day could be warmer, but it could also be colder, and yet with Harry by my side I don’t even notice. We both ditch our bags in my car for the time being, and suddenly I question a few things, mostly the intelligence of this idea seeing as what I’m wearing.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I say, voicing my concerns aloud and I regret it immediately when Harry looks over to me quickly, the disappointment building on his face.

“Oh, that’s alright, we don’t hafta, love.”

“No, I’m talking about the motorcycle ride. I want to, but I’m wearing heels,” I shrug giggling and he nods softly, biting his lip as a thought buds in his eyes. “Oh wait, I think I have trainers in my car somewhere from that one yoga class I went to years ago.”

I hear his delightful laugh in the corners of my mind as I pop open the boot of my car, grateful to my past self for cleaning it once, whenever the last time that was.

“Y’know, ‘m I eva gonna be able t’ get ya t’ go t’ a yoga class with me one o’ these days?”

“Most likely not, if you want my honest answer,” I tell him and he chuckles, but I hear the sadness in it. It goes both ways, being able to read each other like an open book. We may not open ourselves to other people that way, but I think we had let the other person in long before we can remember.

“Here they are!” I exclaim once I locate the old black shoes, soon taking a seat on the edge of my silver car. Harry chirps a ‘good’ as he unbuckles the black leather box on the far back of the motorcycle seat, pulling out a matte black helmet.

I’m reminded of the bitter cold through the thin fabric of my black dress pants that I tuck into my long socks, although it looks dorky.

“Nice socks,” he jokes, lips sputtering with a laugh as I approach him.

“Shush,” I retort playfully, fastening the last few buttons of my long violet peacoat.

“Lookin’ good, Becks.”

“Oh, I know, very motorcycle chic,” I agree jokingly, taking the helmet from him that he holds out to me.

I slide it over my wavy dark curls, and lift my chin to the ceiling of the parking ramp to try and fasten the clasp. After several seconds of trying, I still can’t get it. I grow anxious when I hear the thrum of the engine come to life.

“Okay, I’ve ridden with Robbie on his bike so many times, and I can still never get these stupid helmets buckled. Can you help me, please?” I ask, my hands falling with a sigh to find him zipping up his bulky North Face, a gray hood from his sweatshirt falling over his back.

“‘Course, love,” he snickers, and I know he’s just enjoying watching me struggle. “Didn’t know ya were familiar with bikes, kinda disappointed ‘m not givin’ ya yer first ride.”

“If it’s any consolation it’s my first ride in years, and anything will be better than riding with Robbie. He’s scary on that thing.”

“Don’t worry, ‘m a good driver with anythin’ that’s not a shopping cart. Here, lemme help,” he says softly, his brown leather Chelsea boots echoing on the cement ground as he nears me. The closer he gets, the more my heart starts to race in anticipation for the next moment, and it feels like it stops altogether when I feel the guitar calloused pads of his fingers on my chin. “Lift yer head, please.”

“Yeah, I guess you were a good driver the few times I’ve ridden with you in your Rover.”

“‘Course I was, and ‘m jus’ gonna ignore how yer bein’ a sarcastic li’l ass ‘bout it,” he quips, pulling a laugh from my lips. No longer can I stare at the ceiling or the top of the helmet, and so I finally look to him through the partition although nervously. “Here, I think I almost got it,” he announces, a tune soon flowing from his lips that he hums. Again, it’s that same song that I can never figure out and it’s driving me nuts, but just hearing him hum it makes my heart slow down and relax. I don’t even know why, I guess because I’ve heard it so many times now, and he can relax me without hardly trying. When it comes to touching him, it seems to excite me in a nervous way right from the get go.

Somehow, I had forgotten how dark and long his eyelashes are as they flutter against his skin while he focuses on fastening the strap under my chin. His tongue dots across his lips at times until his bottom lip becomes trapped between his teeth, his thick brows falling in concentration. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen anything cuter, but then the brisk wind catches his curls, again I’m uncertain.

“Don’t focus too hard now,” I tease him as the strap tightens under my chin. His features relax with a grin that doesn’t return a comment.

“There ya go, love,” he says, his warm vanilla touch falling away from me and he smiles as he pats the top of my helmet. “Oh here, almost forgot these.”

“What?” I answer, following him over to the bike as I lock my car, shoving my keys into the pocket of my coat. With his back to me, he plucks something from the leather bag of sorts and turns around, placing a pair of suede black gloves in my hands.

“Sorry, they’re prolly a bit large on ya, but ‘s betta than nuthin’,” he explains, and I only answer with a nod, watching him pull on a similar pair. “Ya still wanna do this?”

“By all means,” I agree aloud enthusiastically, stopping at the side of the gleaming black Harley. For some reason, it impresses me even more how the bike reminds me of how good he takes care of his things.

Now, I know I’m really falling.

“Hop on behind me then,” Harry instructs, swinging a long leg over the Harley to take a seat. My, was that a sight. I do as he says and settle onto the cushiony seat behind him, trying to ignore the bitter cold seeping in through my pants, but I’m sure he’s dealing with the same thing. “Ya warm enough, love?” he asks, raising his voice so I can hear him over the engine.

“Yeah, besides my bum, but what can you do?”

He chuckles with an agreeing nod, “Can ya find tha little footpegs with yer feet? Yer feet need t’ go on there and stay there, don’t wan’ ‘em touchin’ any otha parts o’ tha bike that’re hot.”

“Yeah, let me see,” I mumble, looking down and soon finding the little silver footrests. “Found them.”

“Good, now how does gnocchi soup ova on ninth sound?”

“Sounds great. I can’t remember the last time I was there,” I answer with a smile, wishing he could see it, and that I could see his. But I find that I can’t complain when I feel him grab my hands in each one of his, pulling them forward and around his middle to rest on his stomach.

“Neither can I, now that I think o’ it.”

“How come?” I wonder aloud. 

“Dunno, jus’ wasn’t tha same without ya there, Becks . . . Gotta hold onto me, ‘kay? ‘s notta very long ride, but that way we won’t get too cold goin’ jus’ ova there. Ya can fold her hands togetha too, if ya like,” Harry instructs, and I’m uncertain how many of his words I just heard after the very thing he just did. Shit, can’t I get a warning when you’re going to touch me? I need to prepare myself for something like that.

“O-Okay.”

“Alright?” he asks softly, projecting his voice over the loud rumble of the engine.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” I answer, my eyes dipping to the space in between us on the seat that I can’t get myself to close, no matter how much I’d like to.

“‘Kay, we’re gonna leave inna sec then. But if ya need anythin’ just, I dunno, pat my chest or sumthin’ since it’ll be loud. I won’t go very fast tho’. Hopefully I don’t have t’ do too much t’ be a betta driver than Robbie.”

“No, you definitely don’t,” I comment and we both laugh before I hear the click of the kickstand lifting, and then the weight of the bike resting on its two wheels.

“Ready, bug?” he asks, sitting forward a little to settle his hands on the handlebars.

“Yeah!” I call out to him, grabbing onto the front of his coat and feeling him under my touch, but the shyness keeps me from feeling more of him. It always manages to keep me from getting closer to him, all throughout the last few years.

He nods in front of me and within seconds he backs out of the parking spot slowly, then pulls down the aisle with a rumble of the engine. Luckily, we meet few cars in the parking ramp and soon we’re joining traffic. Harry was right, he is a good driver and already a better one than Robbie on his motorcycle. I can’t keep count of how many times over the years he’s made me feel safe so effortlessly, and once again he’s done it, and it only makes me fall harder.

Harry’s long legs come to sit on the tarmac when we approach a red light, but it quickly switches to green and he turns, the engine purring beneath us. The wind whips past us, but the helmet helps with some of it and so do his borrowed gloves that do indeed swallow my hands. They’re warm and cozy inside, likened to the feeling consuming my chest in this moment.

I’m not sure if I’d admit it to him, but this is the most fun I’ve had on a motorcycle ride before, although again it’s not that hard to beat the past rides I’ve taken part in. Somehow albeit unsurprisingly, this makes me find him all the more sexy as he drives us safely through town and expertly. The only thing that could make it better is getting to rest my head on his back, or in the crook of his neck. Despite knowing he wouldn’t mind, I refrain. Louder in my mind is the desire to scooch forward and have my chest against his back, but that too seems too intimate and it kills me to stay away.

“How ya doin’, bug?” Harry calls over the noisy traffic and engine when we come to another red light.

“Good, thanks!”

“Glad t’ hear. Are ya warm enough?” he continues, the bike stilling when he places his feet on the road.

“Yeah,” I answer, never sure if I’m speaking not loud enough or too loud.

“‘Kay. Ya don’t hafta be so far away y’know. I don’t bite, Becks,” Harry comments lightheartedly. “Scooch closer t’ me, you’ll be warmer that way.”

I nod, again feeling stupid because he wouldn’t know the difference if I nodded or shook my head. I oblige and close the distance between us like I’ve been itching to do, soon feeling the warmth from his body against my front.

“There ya go, ‘s that betta?” he says, patting my knee, once again scaring me in a good way. I respond with a short affirmation and a comment about how warm he is, and his head moves up and down. “Good, you’ll help me stay warm too, y’know. Ya’ve always been like a li’l heater.”

I’m not sure if he hears my laugh, but I’m okay if he doesn’t, because this is all more than enough. It’s just enough to be with him, and now behind him on his bike resting against his back with my arms around his middle, I don’t know how I could ever have anything to complain about. But then I remember all of the things I want with him, and how they’re just an arm’s reach away and not again for nine days. I smile sadly against the inside cushioning of the helmet, assuring myself that I’m getting closer to that with every day that passes, and that not even a month ago I never would’ve believed where I’d be today.

“Almost there, Becks,” Harry tells me over his shoulder as he returns his feet in front of mine while the traffic moves ahead.

“Yeah, we’re almost there, Harry, after all of this time. Almost,” I mumble aloud, the words dancing across his back and taken away by the wind.

Maybe he heard me, and if he did I don’t care, because we’re so close. I can’t help but wonder if he thinks it too.

[marisaaa]

The story of us

Robron week day 7 - History (not the fic theme i cheated)

AO3 link here

Seb struggles with a relationship and Aaron gives him advice through his own experiences. 

Seb was out on a date with his girlfriend. Emily, she was called. They’d met at school and had been dating for a few months now – it was their three-month anniversary. Seb had an idea to take her to the cricket pavilion, he made a picnic and they were going there for lunch.

Aaron and Robert were sat at the table in the kitchen, Robert was going over some haulage contracts and Aaron was scrolling through his phone when the door slammed.

They both turned towards the noise, glancing at each other briefly.

“Seb?” Aaron called, standing up from his chair and walking towards the door.

A red eyed and puffy Seb walked through the door, sniffing and wiping at his eyes. He was looking down at the floor, averting his eyes from his dad’s as he made his way over to the stairs.

“Hey, Seb.” Aaron rushed to grab his arm, “What happened?”

Seb pulled his arm free and sighed, still not making eye contact, “We broke up, that’s all.”

Robert put down the piece of paper he was holding, looking at Aaron who glanced back at him with sad eyes. “Oh, mate. I’m sorry.” He said gently.

Seb bit his lip and nodded his eyes, “It’s fine. It’s my fault anyway.”

“What do you mean its your fault?” Aaron asked, resting his hand onto Seb’s shoulder, “If you said anything, I’m sure she knows you didn’t mean it-”

“I told her I loved her.” Seb blurted out, finally looking between his dads.

Both Aaron and Robert’s mouths opened in shock, completely clueless on what to say.

Seb nodded and wiped at his eyes again, “I told her I loved her, and she couldn’t say it back.” He sucked in a harsh breath as he looked up the stairs. “I’m just- I’m going up to my room.”

He smiled sadly at the floor as he slowly made his way upstairs, quickening his pace as he got to the top and quickly closing his bedroom door.

Aaron let out a sigh and slowly wandered over to the table to sit opposite Robert. “Wow.” He breathed out, watching Robert nod and look upstairs.

“I can’t believe it.” He said quietly, “I didn’t think they were that serious.”

“Me neither,” Aaron admitted, “Do you think- what he said is the whole story?”

“What do you mean?” Robert quizzed, looking back at him, leaning his elbows on the table.

Aaron let out a breath and chewed on his lip, “I mean, do you think maybe she just- she stuttered or hesitated and he was- I don’t know, he was nervous and took it as denial.”

Robert looked like he was contemplating it before sighing and looking down at the contracts again, “I don’t know, but don’t push him. If he thinks we don’t believe him, we’ll never get anything out of him.”

“Gets that from you.” Aaron teased, laughing slightly when Robert pulled a face. “No, I think I know what to do.”

Seb was lying on his bed, his earbuds plugged in and a random song that he found on the family downloads playing. The blinds were shut, and his light was off. He tried to close his eyes and go to sleep, try to pretend that today hadn’t happened.

He tried not to look at the notifications popping up on his phone but the temptation was still there. He sneaked a look and saw the 5 missed calls and messages

Em: Seb please call me back, we need to talk.

Em: I need to explain myself, just please pick up.

He turned his phone over and shoved his head into the pillow. He was only sixteen. He knew his first love wasn’t going to be his last, he’d found that out from his dads and their own stories but actually living through it was a lot harder than he had expected.

A knock on his door kicked him out of his thoughts and he grunted into his pillow, wishing whoever it was could leave him to wallow. They knocked again though, and his room was suddenly filtered with light from the landing. He turned to face the open door to see Aaron stood there, a bowl in his hand.

“Your dad made- well burned popcorn if you want it.” He said gently, leaning against the doorframe.

Seb just shook his head and turned back around to face away from him. He didn’t leave, instead he just closed the door, turned a lamp on and sat down on the side of the bed.

“I don’t want to talk.” He murmured, bringing the duvet over his head.

He heard Aaron shuffle around and then something heavy was placed on his leg. “I don’t want you to talk, I want you to read.”

“What?” Seb asked, confused as he turned around in his duvet to sit up against the headboard. Aaron gestured towards the book that was now laying next to him on the bed. He picked it up. It was dark leather and had an elastic tie around the front to hold it closed. “What is this?”

Aaron took a deep breath in and unhooked the elastic band, opening the book. “It’s my diary.”

Seb scoffed, “You have a diary?”

“No. Not anymore.” Aaron quickly defended himself, “When I was younger. It helped, a lot. Before I had a counsellor, I would write all my messed up thoughts in that diary.”

Seb opened the front cover. He recognised the scrawl of his dad’s handwriting on the first page.

 “December 4th 2014”

 “Dad, I- why are you showing me this?” He stammered, closing the book and pushing it back over to Aaron.

“I thought you might like to see it from another point of view.” Aaron explained.

“What do you mean?”

“Read it.” Aaron told him as he pushed the diary back onto his lap and stood up, “You’ll understand what I mean.”

Aaron walked out the room slowly and quietly closed the door behind him, leaving Seb holding the diary on his lap.

-

It was weird. Seb felt weird, reading his dad’s diary. He knew that even though he was told to read it, he almost felt like he was doing something wrong.

His phone pinged again,

Em: I’m sorry, I really am. Please just text me or call me so we can talk. Whenever you’re ready.

He turned the phone off, pushing it off his bed so it landed with a thump on the carpet. He took a deep breath in and opened the book.

December 4th, 2014

I don’t know what’s going on. I want to scream it, I want to tell my mum, paddy, vic, anyone. I’m confused, I’m angry, I’m jealous. Why am I jealous? Because he’s with Chrissie?

Robert Sugden kissed me. He kissed me and then he came back for more. He’s hiding, though. He’s scared to admit what he really is.

Maybe I should just stay away from him.

Seb had heard this story a million times. How his dads were so in love with each other that they couldn’t keep away. How his dad didn’t regret the breaking up of his first marriage, as long as it meant he could be himself, with Aaron.

He skipped ahead a few pages, skim reading a few words every now and then. His writing was rather large on the page so he could get the gist of what each entry involved. Almost every page started with the word Robert.

March 26th 2015

Robert told me loved me. I know I’ve said it before, I know how I feel. It’s not just because I want him suffer. Ok, maybe I do, considering what he put me through. But I do love him. No matter how hard I try to tell myself I don’t, that he’s bad for me. I do. And I can’t get over the fact.

 Seb groaned at the soppyness and skipped a bunch of pages. One page had scribbles and doodles around the outside, angry ones.

 July 19th 2016

So, Robert’s moving in. I am happy, I’m excited. It’s a new beginning for the both of us and it makes our relationship seem more real.

It also means I don’t think I will have much time to write in here anymore. I guess that’s good. Finally, I have something in my life that’s steady, that’s constant. I love him, I really do. Sometimes I look at him and I can feel my heart multiply in size with the love that I feel.

I don’t tell him though. He does tell me and I know he means it but there’s this feeling in my stomach. The feeling that when I tell him, it’ll all be real. I’ll be transported out of this happy wonderland life that we’re living and get dumped in the real world.

Why am I scared?

 Seb’s heart sunk. He knew that they loved eachother and he’d heard them tell eachother that loads of times. He couldn’t imagine it being that hard, especially not for them.

He turned the next page but it was blank. He turned another page and another until he found one with slightly neater handwriting this time, it seemed less – angry.

 July 11th 2017

I guess we’re starting this up again, then? I’m surprised I even found it to be honest. I assumed it would have gotten lost in the move.

It’s crazy how time flies. Last time I wrote in here, we were moving into the pub. Now Robert’s having a baby.

He’s with Rebecca now. At a scan. My counsellor told me to write in here whenever I’m feeling down about it. I’m not upset anymore, she’s a constant reminder of what they did and it’s weighing me down, every time we see her, it’s right in my face.

I want him to understand that I’m okay with him having this baby. Sort of. I want to help him through this so we can face parenthood together. I love him, so I’ll love whatever is his.

 Seb felt tears start to form in his eyes. He knew about their time apart before he was born. He knew what happened between his mum and his dad, what happened to Lawrence and Chrissie.

Seeing written evidence from that time made it real, made him realise how much his parents loved eachother, even when they didn’t communicate it properly.

As he turned over a few more pages, a printed photo fell out of the book.

It was the photo of them at Liv’s university graduation day. Her with the hat and the scroll, Aaron and Robert with their arms around her shoulders, and then himself. He was stood in a small suit, at seven years old, a big smile plastered on his face as he stood with his family.

He turned the photo around to see writing on the back.

Talk to her. We wouldn’t have gotten this far if we hadn’t.

Dad x

-

He waited on the bench outside the front door of the mill. He had the diary in his hands, resting on top of his bouncing knee.

He’d called Emily, he told her that they needed to talk and that they should meet here. He had also read some more of the diary. Parts where Aaron would write down all these feelings, but he never said them out loud, leading him to bottle things up and just make everything worse.

The crunch of gravel made him turn his head, his knee stopped bouncing.

“Hey.” Emily said gently, holding her hands together in front of her.

“Hey.” Seb returned quietly, pointing down to the space on the bench next to him.

-

Robert was making lasagne, banning Aaron from getting in the way of him in the kitchen, so Aaron was sat on the sofa. His knee was also bouncing nervously, knowing what Seb was doing outside – hoping that it would all work out.

“I can hear your heartbeat from here, Aaron.” Robert said, facing towards the countertop where he was placing the lasagne sheets into the dish.

“What if it goes wrong?” Aaron admitted, turning to face the kitchen, “What if he ends up getting his heart broken again?”

Robert turned to face him, “Then we’ll help him through it. Be here for him when he needs it. That’s all we can do.”

Aaron smiled and nodded but still felt anxious as he nervously bit at his nails.

The door opened as they were about to sit down to eat. Robert shot a glance at Aaron who looked back him nervously, dropping his fork.

“Hey, Seb.” He called as the boy walked in, “Yours is still in the dish if you want it.”

He had a massive smile on his face, sending relief through them both.

“Yeah I just need to go to the loo.” Seb answered him, but quickly swiped a piece of garlic bread off the table in front of them. He pulled the photo out from behind him, keeping the diary hidden. He slid it across the table towards Aaron.

“Thanks, Dad.” He said quietly and Aaron nodded, reaching out to take the photo. He slid it off the table and stood up, connecting it to the fridge using a magnet. “We talked, and she told me she loved me too. I surprised her when i said it earlier, then I ran off so…” he laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

Aaron smiled and looked at Robert knowingly, who narrowed his eyes. “Well I’m glad you made up.” He told him with a smile.

“Me too.” Seb answered as he walked backwards to the stairs, holding the diary behind him. As he slowly walked up the stairs, he turned around and made eye contact with Aaron who smiled and winked, before turning his attention back to his dinner.

[elizabethsaige]

Bemily Week Day 1: Fake Dating

“You want me to what?”

“Look, it’s not a big deal. I kind of told my mom that you were my girlfriend, so now she wants to meet you. She and my stepdad are having their five year wedding anniversary this Friday, and I just need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for the night.”

You’re probably wondering how Beca and Emily got into this situation…Lets back it up to about three weeks before this.

“Why don’t you go to the dinner with Tanner Franklin? He’s a very nice young man; I think he’d be perfect for you.”

It was Monday evening, and Beca was at her mother’s house, catching up. She hadn’t cared to see her mom for a long time, and now, she was reminded why. See, her mom hadn’t always been the most accepting of Beca and her life decisions. So when Beca came out to her as gay when she was 15, her conservative mother was less than thrilled.

Diane Mitchell didn’t allow her daughter to date any girls while Beca was living with her. On Beca’s 16th birthday, the girl decided to go and live with her dad and step-monster Sheila, in hopes that her father would be more accepting of who Beca is. To this day, Diane still has trouble taking her daughter for who she is and often tries to convince her daughter to go out with a boy. “Maybe you’ll change your mind,” Diane often says. But everyone knows, that’s not how it works.

“You know why, mom. I’m not having this discussion with you again,” Beca responded with a hint of frustration in her voice. Any more of this conversation and Beca would go insane.

“Come on honey, you never know. It’s possible you’re just confused.”

Seriously? Confused?

“What? I-ughhhh, I’m not having this conversation anymore. Plus, I have a girlfriend.” Beca didn’t have a girlfriend, but the girl knew the only way this conversation would end was to say she did. Convince her mother that she didn’t need a date.

Unsatisfied, Diane wrinkled her nose, “A girlfriend? Really? What’s her name.”

Her name? Um…

“Emily.”

Why she said Emily’s name, the world may never know. Beca doesn’t even know why. She panicked. That’s what she does, she panics. She says things sometimes all the time, not even stopping to think about it first.

Something you should probably know is, well, not only did Beca tell her mom that Emily was her girlfriend, but she was almost 100% sure she was in love with her. Scratch that, she knew she loved Emily, with her entire being and that’s not something that Beca can say has ever happened.

But what she didn’t know, no one knew, is that the freshman was harboring the same feelings for Beca.

“You did what?!” Now, it was Emily’s turn to panic. Fake dating someone you have real feelings for never turns out good. But man, when Beca Mitchell asks you for something, it’s hard to say no. Especially when she’s looking at you with her big stormy eyes and those lips, man those lips…

Focus, Emily.

Beca took a seat next to the tall girl, who was staring at Beca in confusion. “Listen, I know I should have asked you first, but you don’t know my mom. She kept insisting that I go with this guy and no matter how many times I tell her no, she won’t stop.” Emily frowned, not liking what she heard.

“I’ll do it.”

//

“It’s not too late to go home if you want,” Beca said as she and Emily walked up the stairs to Diane’s house. The whole week leading up to the event, Emily has been a nervous wreck. She was about to meet the mom of the girl she loved. No pressure or anything, right?

She had to remind herself that this whole thing was fake to keep herself from backing out at the last minute. Beca needed her help, and Emily wasn’t about to let her down.

“No,” Emily shook her head,“ It’ll be fine. As long as your mom buys it, it’ll all be fine.” Beca sighed, apparently not convinced.

Emily noticed how nervous the small girl was, so she gently took Beca’s hand in hers and gave it a light squeeze.

Beca took a deep breath and opened the door to the house. Immediately, tons of heads turned to look at the girls, some flashing welcoming smiles.

“Beca, my darling!” An older looking woman came striding over to Beca and Emily, enveloping the smaller of the two in a tight grasp. Beca awkwardly patted the woman on the back, not letting go of Emily’s hand. The sight was quite funny to Emily, the girl knowing how much Beca didn’t like hugs…or touching, in general.

“Hi mom,” Beca said, coming out of the hug. The older woman smiled at her daughter and turned her focus to Emily.

“Mom, this is Emily…my girlfriend.” Emily smiled and stuck out her hand. Mrs. Mitchell took the young girl’s hand and gave it a firm shake before letting go.

“Nice to meet you, Emily. Come, let’s go to the kitchen, have a chat.” Diane started down the hall, waving to people as she passed. Beca and Emily followed her closely.

Eventually, the three made it to the kitchen and sat down at the big island in the middle of the room.

“So, Emily. Tell me a little bit about yourself,” Diane said, once everyone settled. Emily looked at Beca before turning back to Diane.

“Well, I am a freshman in college. I’m planning to get my degree in psychology,” Emily spoke. Beca grabbed the girl’s hand to stop her from fidgeting due to nervousness. Emily grinned slightly at Beca before continuing. “I also love being a Bella. Music and singing have been my passions since I can remember.”

Diane nodded, signaling that she was listening. Her face was scrunched up, looking like she was either focusing hard or judging her. Emily guessed that she was judging.

“Em and I met when she auditioned for the Bellas,” Beca started, stifling a laugh,“ Actually, I first met her at a small party after she auditioned. She was very…enthusiastic about meeting me.” Emily joined in laughing with Beca, remembering how excited she had been to meet Beca. She knew ever since that day that Beca would be a vital part of her life. The girl’s little moment was short-lived, seeing as Mrs. Mitchell wasn’t laughing.

Emily cleared her throat and pushed her hair back behind her ear.

“I see.” Diane paused, “Emily, what are your intentions with my daughter?”

“Here we go again,” thought Beca.

“Mom.” The older girl flashed her mom a warning look. Emily put her hand on Beca’s arm, reeling her back in.

“It’s alright Becs.” Emily nodded as the older girl glanced at her and back at her mom. “Well, I don’t plan on breaking her heart, if that’s what you’re asking. I love her, with everything I have. She makes me happy, and I only hope to do the same for her, whatever that means for us.”

Beca couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Tears started in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away, not wanting her mother to see her so emotional. A wide grin was plastered on her face, realizing how much she loved this girl. How deeply she cared for her, and how badly she wanted this relationship to be real.

Beca had no idea if what Emily was saying was real or if it was just all coming out of her ass, just for the sake of her mom being in their presence, but everything she was saying was perfect. It only made Beca’s love for her grow stronger, if at all possible. Emily needed to know how Beca felt for her.

Beca turned to look at Emily, who was smiling ever so slightly.

“Well, Emily, that’s quite an exposition. You seem like a lovely girl. I just hope you truly mean all of what you said” Diane said.

Emily nodded, looking at Beca. She did mean it, even if Beca didn’t realize it.

Diane turned to Beca, taking her daughters hands into hers. “Rebecca, I don’t know why I ever doubted you. I owe you an apology. I am deeply sorry. Never have I believed that you could pick someone who loves you as much as your father and I do, but it’s clear that you have. Keep this girl close, it’s obvious she loves you.” Diane shot a wink at Emily, who grinned widely.

Beca was never really good at expressing emotions, something that she learned from her mother very early on in her life. But this moment was an exception. The girl felt her eyes starting to water. But this time, she didn’t blink them away. Tears escaped, running down her cheeks as she smiled lovingly at Emily.

The tall girl brushed away her tears with her thumb, keeping her hand resting on Beca’s cheek. Emily’s touch caused butterflies to occupy Beca’s stomach, her breath catching in her throat. Beca brought her tiny hand to Emily’s, and slowly placed a kiss on the palm of Emily’s hand.

“Alright, alright, just because I’m okay with you two dating doesn’t mean I need front row seats to see it all happen.” Beca and Emily giggled, both getting up out of their seats. “Go, have fun. This dinner party is going to be really boring for the two of you.”

“Thanks for having us, mom. I’ll uh, call you later?” Beca asked, turning to face her mother. Diane nodded, watching the girls walk back down the hallway to the front door.

Beca slowly opened the door, letting Emily walk out first, before shutting it.

Immediately, Beca wrapped the tall girl in an embrace, holding her tightly. Confused as to the sudden affection that Beca was showing, Emily hesitantly wrapped her arms around the small girl, resting her chin atop of her head.

“Beca?” Emily frowned, holding onto Beca’s arms.

“I’m in love with you,” Beca blurted out, coming out of the embrace. She looked Emily in her eyes, her beautiful brown eyes. Ones that could steal anyone’s heart, just by looking into them. The same eyes that Beca continues to fall deeper into every day.

Emily tilted her head, her expression softening after hearing those words. A smile crept onto her face.

“Sorry, I- I don’t mean to scare you off, and I understand if you don’t feel the same wa-.” Emily cut Beca off by pressing her lips to the petite girl’s. The two moved in such synchronization like they do this on a regular basis. Beca’s lips were soft on Emily’s as the girl pulled away, Beca chasing Emily’s lips, wanting more. A lot more.

Emily smiled, wrapping her arms around Beca’s waist, “Y'know, I meant everything I said to your mom. I want to make you happy, as happy as you make me.” Beca grinned, her cheeks burning. She glanced at Emily’s lips before placing a gentle kiss on them.

“You already do.”

[monkey-network]

Good Stuff - THE TROOF ABOUT STEVEN UNIVERSE - Part 3

WARNING: I have a part 2 and a part 2 1/2 and I’m not afraid to use them, goshdarnit. Thank you, take care out there, and enjoy.

Steven Universe is a charming, popular show with a quad-polar fandom, and I’m only here to point out what I say is legitimately wrong with this cartoon. Simple enough? Fair enough. Previously, I talked about how their handling of villains has disrupted their focal story. And now, point number 3:

BEACH CITY:

Okay, before I provide attention to our main gem heroes, I thought I’d give their home of Beach City a vocal point to express the diversity they offer and what makes them an essential drive for Steven and the Crystal Gems to protect the Earth by any means. I mean, they offer such valid representation for the show’s world building and can offer plenty of stories to tell to give us that slice of life vibe the show really needed. But I believe, after seeing Beach City time and time again over the course of 4 years, that I can summate its presence in the show with a single- Nay. With two simple yet comprehensible words.

Who cares? 

Whooo CARES?

Thank you, respectable actor Elaine Stritch. Rest in Peace

To continue, don’t get me wrong. Worldbuilding is more than essential for a story like Steven Universe, Berserk, Friendship is Magic, Legend of Zelda, and so on. Whether big or small, expanding a setting is important to giving characters a versatile way to look at their world in a differing light than before. But suffice to say, what world has Steven Universe built for itself?

*A populated province in the East Coast?

*A barn?

*Ancient ruins?

*Distant Gem Territory?

Aye, this troof is gonna be hard to explain. We just have locations, people. That’s it. They’re no special than the mini Galaxies from Super Mario Galaxy 2, only on Wii, Rated E for Everyone. A place can look cool and a population there can bring life to it, but they should have something for the characters to interact with and visibly wonder about what they might get into as they adapt and progress in some way. And by some way, I don’t mean insert plot devices that help make the characters do significant looking things, and I’ll get to that a bit later. But to sum it up, Steven Universe present locations, but those locations lack identity and coordination.

Stick around, Link, I might need your example

I got a short story to tell. True story. And this story provides my reason, above all else, for why Beach City doesn’t hold much water anymore when talking about world building, specifically after the show’s first season (or Full Disclosure).

There’s a comic book TV show called Preacher, premieres Mondays @ 9, only on AMC. Essentially it’s about a criminal turned Priest, possessed with a supernatural power, going on a cross country road trip to find the physical form of God with his his mate who’s also a vampire and his ex-girlfriend. Pretty vivid premise, but see for yourself. The first season however sets up the road trip where the priest, his ex, and vampire friend stay in a small town in Texas to not only introduce them, the power that the priest gets, and the type of humor throughout, but flesh out a few citizens they encounter pretty well in a thematically connected turnabout for ten episodes straight. All seems good.

Up until the entire town loses their minds, after losing all faith in belief, which eventually leads to a methane nuclear sized explosion that wipes out everybody except the three main characters who exited a few scenes before.

The End.

Now, let’s talk relevance. If I ran Steven Universe, and I don’t think I can, and I pulled 👆👆 that on Beach City at season 1′s end. Erase everything you’ve seen, every citizen will be forced to disappear except the major plot oriented characters, basically resetting the structure. If I did that, how much would it change? What would we really lose? The diverse Beach citizens that don’t and can’t do shit against the enemies we’ve see unless they’re forced to get involved in some way which rarely happens? 

You can put as many people of color and as many personalities in your world all you want, but effort should also be put into not just making them NPC levels of value to the point where a reset button wouldn’t put much a dent to the “world building”. The worst part is that it’s not like Batman’s Gotham City or Spider-Man’s New York; places where the villains are plotting while they’re within city walls. Steven Universe’s enemies have to either be brought out somewhere (gem monsters, Lapis) or brought to (Jasper, that red Eye, Aqua and Topaz) Beach City for the place to provide any significant or value. So...

Just saying.

Now if the whole series was like season one with the non “To Be Continued” slice of life episodes, then it would’ve work. Phineas and Ferb, Foster’s Home, and Friendship is Magic has done this well with keeping their main location (The Foster House, Danville, Ponyville, etc.) as their central hubworld for casual stories with a venture outside of them from time to time. I would’ve been okay with Beach City being the spot for Steven and his limitless squad to grow together like Rebecca intended at first. Then I’m reminded that there’s an world expanding story in this, with bigger consequences and threaded arcs, and I’m stuck between investing in the many things they give me, complaining towards full episodes that add up to nothing and went nowhere special, and whining about the lack of reruns it gets on TV compared to Teen Titans GO.

Bottom line, you had/have your comic series to commit to your slice of life genre instead of trying to keep it in the show.

Now, I’m at a disadvantage here. If I want to talk about the actual “SCIENCE FANTASY WORLD BUILDING”, then I’ll have to talk about the Crystal Gems’ involvement in them and I wanted to save that for another day. Luckily, I don’t have to, for SU has unintentionally played itself: when it comes to the Gem oriented locations outside Beach City, they tell but never really show. And turns out I don’t need Link’s example, but Samus Aran’s. Namely, her universe in the Metroid Prime series.

A key element to world building is the control and fun in exploration where you find and somewhat interact with aspects of an environment’s purpose and history while you’re on the go, giving the place more of an identity. Metroid Prime does this well where you journey through different parts of the Galaxy and with your scan visor, you can catalog and figure out the intricacies of the settings, the enemies within them, and info that seem trivial at first, but can offer much in progressing ahead in the game. Note the example before you...

And don’t stare deep into Samus’s blue eyes

Sure it’s an optional part of the game, and you can still trek on with or without having to continuously research the world’s lore, but it offers that versatility where you’re well in control in how to experience the game. Then again, this is a video game, where your skill in figuring things out is the only way to progress anything. What cartoon has this similar level of versatility? I mean, what else?

What else?

Gravity Falls may have stayed in one place, but it gives the characters and audience so much to explore and theorize on. They don’t tackle “everything” the world might have offered (bigfoot), but still give you so much to look out for without ever holding your hand or giving a cliffnotes version on a mystery of theirs. Hell, the fandom was hollering on Tumblr over predicting one of the show’s biggest mysteries being confirmed long before it aired. Hirsh didn’t just give those theory nuts what they wanted, his crew eased us in on how the narrative is taking a turn to someplace different and new without really forcing it on everybody. There was still that enjoyable sense of control that resonated in both the show’s direction and the audience’s experience.

I mean come on, this just oozes the moment of truth

Don’t get me wrong. The crewniverse offer very interesting locations and things that resonate with Gem stuff. My final problem with this is that when I think they might utilize these different places and things, they hold back to sharing but a glimpse of anything the show has plenty of utilizing potential for. Like...

Could this control room present more information about Homeworld’s plans for the gems than just the Cluster? “Probably not, it fulfilled its purpose. Let’s move on.”

What about these drills? Could we personally see how one works, like accidentally reactivate it to see how it functions? “Nah, they’re all dead. Let’s move on.”

Or what about the holes? Could we have some kind of flashback depicting how a gem leaps out the ground? “Nope.” Not even the off col- “NOPE.”

What’s that supposed to be? Is it something important to Homeworld? “We’ll get to that later. Let’s move on.”

Ooh, are there more ships like this the CGs could use for space travel? Maybe spruce ‘em up with Pearl and Peridot’s technical abilities? “Nah, this is all we got and Centipeedle lives there now so... Sorry.”

Man, this place looks cool. Connie might consider this since she handles weapons and might want something new, like armor or throwing weapons. “Look man, this tour is scheduled. You’ve seen it, we’ll get back to it later. Moving right along.” This tour sucks. “You paid for it, my friend.”

Egoraptor said it best: I’m not witnessing an adventure, I’m a guest at their theme park. This is Kingdom Hearts levels of dragging it along, and I know... “But Monkey Network, they might come back to all that stuff soon. It’s called foreshadowing, you whiner.” To that, I say HA! There’s a huge difference between foreshadowing and giving us cameos. And that is in...

PRESENTATION!!!

Long story short, if it’s subtle and holds a threatening or vague presence, THAT’s foreshadowing. If it’s already out in the open and is not given a lot of screentime or detail, that’s cameo-ing and waiting for more. The last thing a show should do is hold back and have its audience wait like shoving a secret box in our face, and that’s all Steven Universe has been doing. That’s why so many rant about what’s filler or not. That’s why so many theorize on the most reaching of details. That’s why people proudly growl at what could be the crew’s simple decisions. Because when everything must come back to Beach City, post “Full Disclosure”, exploration can be limited, detail can be limited, and it’ll be up to the audience to speculate/construct the world-building for themselves, making the control and experience for the show feel one sided, therefore UNFAIR. To summarize, I can present the fandom’s frustration...through song.

Like I said, the things I’ve seen offer so much to think about, but Rebecca Sugar sack could’ve done better with presenting them in a better light than a dim mode. The fate of Steven Universe’s future is a mystery to me, and I don’t know what they’re gonna cram in season 5 this fall. All I know is MJ (or Mystery Girl) is fine as fuck and we’re all gonna get something good eventually. My man Ian Jones-Quartey said good world building takes time, and they sure are taking their time.

And we will be waiting, that’s for sure

[winchesters-imagine]

Supernatural S1 Ep 6 - Skin

A/N: Any feedback would be v much appreciated:)

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Word Count: 9,760 (it’s long but worth it) Warnings: angsty shifter?

tags: @sojustturnyourface @skeletoresinthebasement@msdooos@edward-lover18@castielgirl21 @typicalweirdbookworm @the-lightning-bolt-8 

You duck from the incoming jacket that Sam throws your way with a small laugh. He turns and picks up his phone shortly afterwards, as you pull his jacket into your lap. 

“Alright, I figure we’d hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight,” Dean says, pulling over into a gas station and turning off the engine. 

“Yes, sir,” You joke, pretending to salute him. He smiles before looking over at Sam, who doesn’t respond.

“Sam wears women’s underwear,” Dean attempts to grab Sam’s attention.

I’ve been listenin’, I’m just busy,” He says quickly in a quiet voice. “Busy doin’ what?” You ask. “Reading e-mails,” He replies, as Dean gets out of the car, but then stops and leans into the open window. 

“E-mails from who?” Dean asks, walking around the car to start filling it with gas. “From my friends at Stanford,” Sam replies, opening another email.

You lean forwards and lean on the back of Dean’s seat.

“Why not?” Sam asks with a shrug.  “Well, what exactly do you tell them? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?” You ask curiously.

“I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother and sister. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess,” He explains. Dean puts the gas hose in and leans against the side of the car, slipping his hands into his pockets as he glances into the window.

“Oh, so you lie to ‘em,” He figures. “No. I just don’t tell ‘em….everything,” Sam defends.

“Yeah, that’s called lying,” You reply. “But I mean, hey, man, I get it, tellin’ the truth is far worse.”

“So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life?” He asks. Dean shrugs. “You’re serious?” Sam asks in shock. He turns to you. 

“What do you think, Y/N?”

“Oh, well-I, personally-” You stumble over your words as you have trouble telling Sam that all the people you knew drifted away, after you would leave for days at a time to go on hunts, and you weren’t able to talk to them.

“Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period,” Dean interrupts. “You’re kind of anti-social, you know that?” Sam shoots.  “Yeah, whatever,” Dean replies as Sam continues to read his messages. You spot Sam’s expression contort into one of confusion and concern as he reads another email, and you lean forwards. He lets you read it over his shoulder, and you furrow your eyebrows.

“God….” You comment. “What?” Dean asks, leaning into the window again, resting his hand on top of the roof. “In this e-mail from this girl, Rebecca Warren, one of those friends of mine,” Sam starts.

“Is she hot?” Dean asks. Sam ignores him, but you send him a ‘Really?” look. 

“I went to school with her, and her brother, Zack. She says Zack’s been charged with murder. He’s been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn’t do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case,” Sam explains.

“Dude, what kind of people are you hangin’ out with?” Dean asks, reading the screen.

“No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer,” Sam insists. “Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.” You watch your brothers argue, not wanting to be caught up in the middle of it, but knowing that there’s something fishy about the situation.

“They’re in St. Louis. We’re goin’,” Sam states. Dean chuckles as you pull yourself further forwards.

“Look, sorry ‘bout your buddy, okay? But this does not sound like our kind of problem.”

“It is our problem. They’re his friends,” You add. “I think there’s something off about this - we should go, Dean,” You try to convince him.

“St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us, Y/N.” You and Sam glance at each other quickly before turning to Dean and giving him the best puppy eyes you can. Dean looks at both of you before audibly groaning. 

“I hate it when you two do that,” He grumbles, before paying for the gas. 

You high five Sam and fall into the back seat as Dean pulls out of the gas station, turning the car around.

“You sure this is the one?” You ask Sam as Dean pulls up to a house that Sam had given directions to.

“I’m sure,” He  says, before climbing out of the car. You and Dean exchange a look before following him, jogging to keep up as Sam knocks on the door.

 “Oh my God, Sam!” An attractive blonde girl opens the door, her face brightening when she sees your younger brother.

“Well, if it isn’t little Becky,” Sam teases.

“You know what you can do with that little Becky crap,” She retorts, making Sam smile. The both hug before Sam pulls back.

“I got your e-mail,” He says. “I didn’t think that you would come here.”

You and Dean step forward at the same time to introduce yourselves, and start battling for the first spot, shuffling your feet in front of each other. 

You let Dean win, not wanting to make a scene. He extends his hand for her to shake.

“Dean. Older brother,” He introduces, before they shake hands. “Hi,” She smiles. “Hi.”

You nudge Dean not-so-subtly out of the way before extending your hand.

“Y/N. Older sister. We’re here to help, whatever we can do,” You smile/

“Come in,” She lets you all into her house, and Dean pushes the door shut behind him. You look around the house as you pass through various rooms. It was a large house, and looks comfortable. Overall, it gave the ‘rich person’ vibe.

“Nice place,” You comment. “It’s my parents’. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I’m gonna stay until Zack’s free,” Rebecca explains.

“Where are your folks?” Sam asks. “They live in Paris for half the year, so they’re on their way home now for the trial,” She replies. You all arrive in the kitchen. “Do you guys want a beer or something?”

Dean grins, and points a finger to what you thought was the fridge. “Hey—” He drags the ‘eey’ before you cut him off. “No, thanks.” Dean retracts his hand.

“So, tell us what happened,” Sam says, leaning on the other side of the breakfast bar, which Rebecca was also leaning on. You copy his actions.

“Well, um, Zack came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn’t breathing,” Rebecca’s voice cracks as her eyes start to shimmer.

“So, he called 911, and the police—they showed up, and they arrested him. But, the thing is, the only way that Zack could’ve killed Emily is if he was in two places at the same time. The police—they have a video. It’s from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at 10:30. Now, Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight,” She continues. Your heart sinks, knowing that something was wrong here. 

“You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house,” Sam suggests. “We could,” You agree. “Why? I mean, what could you do?” Rebecca asks.

“Well, me, not much,” Sam chuckles. “And Y/N just got out of school,” He continues, taking advantage of how young you look. “But Dean’s a cop,” Sam looks over at Dean. You don’t miss Dean’s ‘What-the-hell-are-you-doing?’ micro-expression before he laughs nervously. 

You always pick up on Dean’s expressions that don’t last for longer than a second. It’s a talent of yours. 

“Detective, actually,” Dean clarifies. “Really?” Rebecca asks, earning a nod from Dean. “Where?”

“Bisbee, Arizona. But I’m off-duty now,” He uses the location you were on your way to, and you’re impressed at how smoothly he’s lying.

“You guys, it’s so nice to offer, but I just—I don’t know,” Rebecca says.

“Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent,” Sam persuades.

“Okay. I’m gonna go get the keys,” She turns and walks away down the hall.

Dean whistles sarcastically when she’s gone, walking in front of Sam. “Oh, yeah, man, you’re a real straight shooter with your friends,” He says sarcastically.

“Look, Zack and Becky need our help,” Sam insists. “I just don’t think this is our kind of problem,” Dean continues, his natural smile working its way onto his face. You raise an eyebrow.

“Dude, two places at once? We’ve looked into less,” You say teasingly. Dean looks at you, raising his eyebrows and pressing his lips into a thin line, but says nothing, defeated. You smirk to yourself for your achievement.

Dean parks the car next to Zack’s house, where Rebecca had pointed you all to.

“You’re sure this is okay?” Rebecca asks Dean as you approach the door. “Yeah. I am an officer of the law,” He confirms, unlocking the door and entering the house. You duck under the police tap behind Dean, grimacing when you see that the furniture and walls of the house are smeared with blood. 

There are papers and fruit on one of the tables with playing cards and magazines.  You notice that Rebecca stays on the porch steps

“Bec, you wanna wait outside?” Sam asks as you stick with Dean, investigating the surroundings.

“No. I wanna help,” She says, ducking under the tape and following you and your brothers.

“Tell us what else the police said,” Sam says.

“Well, there’s no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in. The lawyers—they’re already talking about plea bargain,” You can hear the pain in her voice and how close she is to crying. “Oh, God…” She sobs.

“Look, Bec, if Zack didn’t do this, it means someone else did. Any idea who?” Sam asks in his soft voice. You look around at the yellow cards with black numbers on them, indicating the order in which the scene happened. It was a grizzly scene, and you followed the numbers as Rebecca continues talking.

“Um, there was something, about a week before. Somebody broke in here and stole some clothes—Zack’s clothes. The police—they don’t think it’s anything. I mean, we’re not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed.”

You hear a dog barking after replaying the scene in your head. If Zack was the kind guys who Sam was describing, there’s no way he could have murdered his girlfriend so brutally.

You walk with Dean to find Sam in the hallway. You follow Sam’s gaze to see a picture of himself, Zack and Rebecca.

“So, the neighbor’s dog went psycho right around the time Zack’s girlfriend was killed,” Dean tells you both.

“Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal,” You reply.

“Yeah, maybe Fido saw somethin’,” Dean agrees. “So, you think maybe this is our kind of problem?” Sam asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

“No. Probably not,” Dean says. You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off. “But we should look at the security tape, you know, just to make sure.”

You all agree as Rebecca walks over to you.

“So, the tape. The security footage—you think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it, ‘cause I just don’t have that kind of jurisdiction,” Dean starts.

“I’ve already got it. I didn’t wanna say something in front of the cop,” Rebecca says. Dean laughs. “I stole it off the lawyer’s desk. I just had to see it for myself.”

“All right,” Dean says smugly, before you all leave.

Rebecca loads the security tape into the television, hitting play as you and Dean sit on the arm of the couch with Rebecca as Sam stands in front of the screen holding the remote for it, holding it to his chin.

You watch the black and white tape as it shows a man walking into Zack’s house.

“Here he comes,” Rebecca commentates. 

“22:04, that’s just after ten,” You read, noticing the timestamp at the bottom of the screen. “You said time of death was about 10:30,” Dean finishes your observation.

“Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tape’s authentic. It wasn’t tampered with,” Rebecca explains. You look up just in time to see Sam’s eyes squint at the screen, as he lowers the remote. He takes a breath before turning in your direction, meeting your eyes briefly.

“Hey, Bec, can we take those beers now?” He asks.

“Oh, sure,” She says, getting up to go to the kitchen. You and Dean watch her leave before Sam adds to his comment.

“Hey, uh,” He starts, making her turn around. “Maybe some sandwiches, too?” He asks with a playful smirk. You know what he’s doing by now. He’s noticed something and he needs Rebecca out of the room to tell you.

“What do you think this is, Hooters?” She laughs lightly, before leaving the room.

“I wish,” Dean mutters almost dreamily, before following you as you make your way over to Sam. “What is it?” You ask.

“Check this out,” Sam starts, holding the remote towards the screen before rewinding and replaying the tape. One of the four frames depicts Zack looking directly at the camera. His eyes are an unnatural silver. Sam pauses the tape.

“Well, maybe it’s just a camera flare,” Dean shrugs. “I don’t think so, De. That’s not like any camera flare I’ve ever seen,” You state, leaning forwards to look closer at the hazy screen.

“You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul,” Sam starts.

“Right,” Dean urges him to continue.

“Remember that dog that was freakin’ out?” Sam asks. 

“Maybe he saw this thing. Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zack’s, something that looks like him but isn’t him,” You suggest.

“Like a Doppelganger,” Dean adds. “Yeah. It’d sure explain how he was two places at once,” Sam replies.

“I didn’t see Zack coming out,” You say. “So how would he re enter?” You ask yourself, loud enough so that your brothers can hear, but quiet enough for them to know they didn’t need to reply.

You then rub your eyes, which start to sting from fatigue. “Does this mean late night research?” You groan.  “Maybe - but hey, you can sleep when Dean drives after,” Sam shrugs. You nod and laugh as Dean shoots Sam an ‘I-gotta-sleep-too!’, look.

You and your brothers return to your motel room after saying goodbye to Rebecca. As usual, there were two beds, leaving you to decide which one of your brothers you would bunk with. 

“Y/N? You going with me?” Dean asks, pulling his shirt off as you toss your jacket into a nearby chair. 

“Yeah, sure. Gimme a sec,” You reply, grabbing a loose shirt and some shorts before walking to change in the bathroom, locking the door behind you. 

After changing, you stuff your previous clothes into your duffel and slide in next to Dean, who was waiting for you. Sam had fallen asleep in the other bed while you were changing, and you can see the covers on top of him rising and falling slowly.

Dean wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, and you let your eyes close before falling asleep.

You wake up to cold water being splashed on your face, halting your breathing for a second. Your only reaction is letting out a small scream and bolting up before getting over the temporary shock to see Sam holding a glass in his hands, expression amused.

Just after this, Dean sits up quickly and sticks an arm out in front of you, probably to knock away any danger that was there. 

You wipe your face and sigh after Dean realises that it was just his brother, and falls back onto the bed. 

“Y/N, shush! You’ll wake everyone up!” Sam teases in a voice just above a whisper. 

“Wake everyone up? What time is it…?” You trail off, picking up your phone and checking the time. “Five? You gotta be kidding, bud,” You groan. 

Sam shrugs. “We’re leaving in ten - Zack’s house. I’ll see you in the car,” He picks up his bag and throws it over his shoulder, before leaving the room.

“How..?” You gesture towards Sam’s high energy level. Dean sits up properly and swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Beats me. Literally. We’d better get ready,” He mumbles, standing up. 

The shock of the cold water has gone away, and you can’t really be bothered walking all the way to the bathroom to get changed, so instead, you just change by your bag, glad that you kept your underwear on least night. 

“Uh, Y/N?” Dean questions awkwardly after you pull your shirt off. “You’re my brother, you’re not supposed to care,” You shoot. You feel Dean shrug behind you. “Works for me,” He says. 

After you both finish getting changed, you tuck a pistol into your waistband and follow Dean out to the Impala, where Sam was comfortably sitting in shotgun, resting his head against the window with his eyes shut. 

You smirk at Dean, watching as he carefully opens the driver’s door, before turning the keys in the car, smiling proudly to himself as the engine calmly roars to life. He then proceeds to lean into the car and ‘accidentally’ on the steering wheel. 

The horn even makes you jump, but you can’t resist laughing as Sam jerks awake, eyes wide. “Son of a-” You see his lips move. Stifling your laugh, you slide into the back.

“How you doin’, Sammy?” You tease. Sam throws a smirk at you while Dean climbs into the driver seat and starts the engine. 

Dean parks the car behind Zack’s house and stops the engine before you all get out. The cold air makes you shiver at first, but you get used to it after a few minutes. 

“Alright, so what are we doin’ here at 5:30 in the morning?” Dean breaks the silence that had fallen over you by asking the question you and him are both wondering.

“I realized something. The videotape shows the killer goin’ in, but not comin’ out,” Sam starts, stopping next to you on the same side of the car, Dean holding the coffee he had picked up along the way standing opposite you.

“So, he came out the back door?” You ask, watching as Sam crosses the street as Dean leans on the hood of Baby, sipping his coffee.

“Right. So, there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue,” Sam walks over to a dumpster and peers inside before turning around and glancing at the floor, finding nothing.

“‘Cause they think the killer never left. And they caught your friend Zack inside. I still don’t know what we’re doin’ here at 5:30 in the morning,” Dean states as you cross the road over to Sam, noticing a stain on a nearby telephone pole. “Sam,” You start, squinting and leaning closer towards it. Dark red.  

“Blood. Somebody came this way,” You say when Sam comes over, but loud enough for Dean to hear. 

“Yeah, but the trail ends. I don’t see anything over here,” Dean says casually, looking around lazily. 

You glance up the pole, your head snapping back down when you hear an ambulance driving past sirens blaring, making your eardrums ache. You and your brothers follow it as it drives past, heading turning simultaneously. You and Sam glance at Dean. exchanging a look of concern.

You all start briskly walking in the same direction the ambulance went in, following it and ending up at what looks like a crime scene. 

A man is taping police tape around trees and you see an Asian man in a suit is handcuffed and is being pushed into a police car.

You and your brothers enter the crowd, as Dean approaches a nearby woman. 

“What happened?” Dean asks. “He tried to kill his wife. Tied her up and beat her.” “Really?” You ask in disbelief. 

“I used to see him going to work in the morning. He’d wave, say hello. He seemed like such a nice guy.” 

The car starts and the man is taken away.

You all move to the side of the house, investigating. You look around with Sam, finding two garbage cans. Deciding you’d better be safe than sorry, you open them and look inside, of course, finding nothing but the dank stench of rotting food.

You jump when you feel someone’s breath on the back of your neck. 

“Hey,” Dean says. You spin around, and see the Sam is already standing behind him. “Remember when I said this wasn’t our kind of problem?” Dean asks.

“Yeah,” You reply. “Definitely our kind of problem,” Dean says confidently. “What’d you find out?” Sam asks.

“Well, I just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene, heard this guy, Alex’s story. Apparently the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked,” Dean explains, throwing his thumb behind him and letting it drop.

“So, he was two places at once,” You figure. “Exactly. Then he sees himself in the house, police think he’s a nutjob,” Dean continues. “Two dark doubles attacking loved ones in exactly the same way,” Sam says. “Could be the same thing doin’ it, too,” You suggest, watching as your brothers think for a second.

“Shapeshifter?” Sam asks. Dean shrugs as you realise that Sam’s suggestion makes sense. “Something that can make itself look like anyone?” Sam clarifies for Dean.

“Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore. You know, legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men,” You say.

“Right, skinwalkers, werewolves,” Sam agrees. You both turn to Dean after your exchange.

“We’ve got two attacks within blocks of each other. I’m guessin’ we’ve got a shapeshifter prowlin’ the neighborhood,” He concludes.

“Let me ask you this—in all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?” Sam asks you, starting to walk a few steps before turning around. You assume he’s referring to his investigations.

“Not that I know of,” You shrug.

“I picked up a trail here. Someone ran out the back of this building and headed off this way.”

“Just like your friend’s house,” Dean states. “Yeah. And, just like at Zack’s house, the trail suddenly ends. I mean, whatever it is just disappeared,” Sam stresses.

“Well, there’s another way to go…” You pause for a moment before continuing. “Down.”

You all glance down, noticing a manhole a little to the left of Sam. 

“She’s right,” Sam shrugs, kneeling down and prying the manhole cover off. You lead the way, grabbing hold of the cold-not to mention damp- rungs of the metal ladder, dropping down and waiting for at least one of your brothers to also drop before taking a few steps down a passage to have a look around.

“I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too. The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around,” Sam says when he gets down, his voice echoing slightly.

“I think you’re right. Look at this,” Dean beckons you over and invites you to bend down to examine a pile of blood and skin, which dean pokes at with his pocket blade, merged together into a goopy pile. You lift a hand to your nose to at least block out a little of the smell.

You smirk at your brothers’ faces. Sam is grimacing, and Dean looks like he’s about to puke. 

“Is this from his victims?” Sam asks as Dean holds up some of the skin with his knife. You look at it in disgust, before an idea clicks in your brain.

“You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape—maybe it sheds,” You suggest.

“That is sick” Dean agrees, dropping the goop back into the pile.

Part 2:

You all stand up and climb out of the sewer, jogging the short distance to Baby. You glance over at Sam who was keeping pace with you, Dean a little further behind. 

“Remember when we used to race each other at times like this?” You breathe. Sam looks over and smiles at you.  “Yeah, I do.” “Remember we used to keep p-points?” “Yeah…” “We never got to s-settle the one-all out of three,” You pant. 

Sam smirks, and you know exactly what he’s about to do. He takes off sprinting, arms moving back and forth at an incredible pace. 

You quickly adapt to match his speed, speeding up until your legs went numb and your lungs are screaming for air. 

You’re soon running alongside him, but unfortunately as he’s taller, every step he takes equals to three of yours.

Still, you’re able to move your legs faster and soon stumble into the hood of Baby, panting heavily as Sam slows down about four seconds behind you. You lean against Baby for support, regaining your breath. 

“Damn, sweet. You got fast,” Sam comments with a smile, leaning on a nearby streetlight. Thankfully it’s still daytime, so you can see that Dean is around twenty metres behind you, still jogging at a leisurely pace. 

“Hunting kept me in shape. I can still run, little brother,” You tease, standing up when you hear Dean call your name. 

“Y/N! Go long!” He calls. You stand up and start getting ready to catch the keys he had in his right hand, ready to throw. 

“Ready!” You call, jogging backwards gently as he picks up the pace to shorten the distance between you two. He launches the keys in your direction and you watch them as they fly through the air. 

You takes a few steps back and catch the sharp keys neatly in your hands, laughing lightly as you go to the trunk of Baby, inserting the key into the lock and turning it, lifting the the trunk lid up.

Dean joins you and Sam, immediately propping the lid of the arsenal open and rummaging for weapons.

“Well, one thing I learned from Dad, is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there’s one sure way to kill it,” Dean states after catching his breath and loading silver bullets into magazines.

“Silver bullet to the heart,” You say.

“That’s right,” Dean smirks, just before Sam’s cell phone starts to ring.

“This is Sam,” He takes a few steps away from Baby. You can only hear a few snippets of the conversation from Sam’s side as you help Dean with the guns.

“We’re near Zack’s, we’re just checkin’ some things out.”

Pause.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Sam asks in shock, before scoffing a few moments later. “Why would you do that?”

You look over at Dean, who shares a confused glance with you. 

“Bec—” Sam’s cut off by the person on the other end, who you now know is Rebecca.

“We’re tryin’ to help,” Sam pleads. You swallow nervously.  “She found out?” You mouth to Dean. He shrugs as Sam speaks again.

“Bec, I’m sorry, but—” Sam stops talking and drops his arm by his side as he leans on one of Baby’s doors. You and Dean both walk up to him, and you see the disappointment etched onto Sam’s face.

“I hate to say it, but that’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about. You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they’d be freaked. It’s just—it’d be easier if—” Dean starts.

“If I was like you,” Sam cuts him off. Your eyes widen, and you hope that this isn’t going to turn into an argument.

“Hey, bud, like it or not, we are not like other people,” You chime in. “But I’ll tell you one thing. This whole gig—it ain’t without perks,” You pull Sam’s gun from your waistband witch a smirk. He gives you a small smile and takes it, tucking it into the back of his jeans as you all walk back to the sewers.

This time around, you have flashlights and guns as you navigate the sewers, Dean in front, you in the middle, and Sam bringing up the rear.

You take multiple turns, the sewer smell getting stronger and stronger as you travel further into the sewers. You don’t want to know what was squelching lightly underneath your feet as you walk.

You shine your flashlight around as you walk, trying to find any sign of a shapeshifter.

You reach the main passage in the sewers, with the wide and deep stream of sewage flowing in a straight line past you. 

You all take one long step over it at the same time, Sam gently tugging on your arm after acknowledging your shorter legs and slight struggle in getting across.

Sam takes the lead, Dean behind, and you at the back, gun aimed in front of him, after you see that the next passage is closer to him. You look around and silently gag at the gory sight on the large pipes to your right.

“I think we’re close to its lair,” You state, keeping your flashlight on the pile, causing Sam to stop moving and face you.

“Why do you say that?” He asks. “Because there’s another puke-inducing pile next to your face,” You motion towards the pile. 

Sam turns and recoils, turning his head away with a truly disgusted look on his face.

“Oh, God!” You stifle a giggle before looking around and seeing a pile of clothes in the corner along with another mixture of skin and blood. 

“Looks like it’s lived here for a while,” Dean states, leaning against the wall and facing Sam.

“Who knows how many murders he’s gotten away with?” Sam asks, turning to face you. His eyes immediately widen. “Y/N!” He yells in warning.

You turn around to see the Asian man with white eyes. As soon as you turn, you feel a sharp pain on the side of your face, knocking you backwards into Dean, only after hitting your arm on a pipe on your way down though. Dean holds you up as Sam takes a few shots with his gun as the shifter sprints away, but misses. 

You groan as you stand up and your brothers attempt to come to your aid. 

“Get the son of a bitch!” You instruct, shaking your arm out after your brothers take off. You sprint to stay on their heels as the shifter navigates its way out of the sewers. 

You follow it up the ladder, Sam, Dean, and then you. Dean helps haul you out just in case you had something more than a bruise on your arm. You look around, but see nothing around you in the park you end up in, the daylight long gone.

“All right, let’s split up,” You propose, holding your gun tight. “All right, we’ll all meet around the other side,” Dean agrees. “All right,” Sam nods. 

You feel Dean pat your shoulder as he runs in an opposite direction to you, Sam running the other way entirely.

“Where would a monster go?” You say to yourself. “A dark place probably.”

You start running down an almost empty street and pause. “Alleyways. Of course,” You breathe sarcastically, making your way down it with your hand hovering over your pocket in your jacket.

The alley is empty apart from a few people, and you end up finding nothing. You make your way to the street corner and wait for your brothers nervously, secretly hoping that neither of them had run into the shifter.

Dean’s voice grabs your attention. “Hey.” You turn around to see him walking up behind you. “Anything?” He asks, arms open.

“No. He’s gone,” You sigh.

“All right, let’s get back to the car.”

You sigh, but cross the street anyway, walking into Sam halfway up.  “You find anything?” You ask. He shakes his head. “You?” You also shake your head as you make your way back to Baby.

“You think he found another way underground?” Sam asks as you approach.

“Yeah, probably. You got the keys?” Dean asks. You check your pockets just in case you kept them earlier, but your pockets are empty. Sam takes a moment to respond. 

“Hey, didn’t Dad once face a shapeshifter in San Antonio?” Sam asks, pulling the keys from his pocket. “Oh, that was Austin. It turned out not to be a shapeshifter, it was a thought form. A psychic projection, remember?” Dean replies. You furrow your eyebrows, remembering that hunt. Sam had the right details.

“Oh, right,” You can see the cogs turning in Sam’s brain. “Here ya go,” Sam throws the keys to Dean, which he catched with one hand. You follow Sam as he walks away and Dean opens the trunk.

“Y/N,” Sam grabs your uninjured shoulder and pulls your towards him. 

“That isn’t Dean,” He says firmly in your ear, pulling out his gun. “What? How do you know?” You shoot back. “Just follow my lead.”

You also take out your gun and follow Sam as he points the gun at Dean, who was looking inside the trunk with an unreadable smirk on his face. One that you’ve never seen on the real Dean before. Was Sam right?

“Don’t move!” Sam shouts at Dean firmly, holding the gun. Dean immediately stands up to face you and Sam, both pointing guns at him. “What have you done with him?” Sam demands.

“Dude, chill. It’s me, all right?” Dean says calmly, his hands raised in a surrender position. 

“No, I don’t think so. Where’s my brother?” Sam’s quick to respond and demand an answer.

“You’re about to shoot him! Sam, calm down. Y/N, tell him,” Dean insists.  “Sorry, Dean,” Your gut is telling you to go with Sam on this one, especially as he looks like he’s just about to justify himself.

“You caught those keys with your left. Your shoulder was hurt after Y/N fell into you,” Sam states. You bite your lip, making a mental note to apologise to Dean later.

“Yeah, it’s better. What do you want me to do, cry?” Dean asks sarcastically. “You’re not my brother,” Something clicks in your brain that points out everything that isn’t like Dean.

“Why don’t you pull the trigger, then? Hm? ‘Cause you’re not sure. Guys, you know me,” Dean pleads.

“Don’t,” Sam says sharply. There’s a short pause before Dean hits Sam twice with a crowbar from the trunk, knocking him out, making you jump and drop next to him. 

“Sam! Wake up!” You shake his shoulder desperately.

“Your turn, sweetheart,” is all you hear before feeling a sharp pain around your head.

You wake up in a dingy, dusty room. You know you’re tied up, as your movement is restricted. You gasp for breath, realising that your neck is tied with your wrists tightly around a wooden pole. Your chest is also restricted, in addition to rope tied around your hips.

You hear footsteps and force your head to turn to see Dean-no, the shifter walking with a candle lamp and a  large roll of rope in each of his arms. 

He sees that you’re awake and stalks over to you, making your heart beat faster with every footstep. The suspense is agonising, until he backhands you hard, knocking your head back into the pole. 

You groan loudly, your head pounding.

“Where are they? Where are my brothers?” You manage to croak out once you regain your composure. The shifter has walked just outside of your peripheral vision, probably to empty the contents of his arms.

“I wouldn’t worry about them. I’d worry about you,” The shifter replies maliciously, returning with a large duffel bag full of objects you can’t make out. 

This still makes you even more nervous.

“Where are they?” You demand. The shifter turns again.

“You don’t really wanna know,” He chuckles. Not a loud, resonanting chuckle. A light, evil chuckle from his nose.  “I swear, the more I learn about you and your family—I thought I came from a bad background.” He continues.

“What do you mean, learn?” You ask as the shifter picks up a large blade. He looks at you for a second before grimacing and stopping. He grabs his head in pain and squeezes his eyes shut. The sight sends mixed emotions to you.

You have to keep reminding yourself that it isn’t Dean who is having a painful headache. That’s almost what it looks like, anyway.

The shifter then relaxes after a few moments of him holding a fist to his lips, and looks at you again.

“He’s sure got issues with you,” He says almost painfully, advancing towards you. “The woman of the family, Dad’s little girl. He would’ve let you do anything besides hunting,” He drops something you can’t quite make out by your feet.

 “You could have been out. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you when you wanted to ‘hunt alone’?”

“Where is my brother?” You insist, this time referring to Dean so that you know he isn’t dead. The shifter leans in close before straddling your waist.

“I am your brother.” He pulls out a small pocket knife.

“See, deep down, I’m just jealous,” He explains, brushing the cold metal against the sides of your face almost too gently.  “You make easily make friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me,” The shifter stands up and backs away a little. 

“What are you talkin’ about?” You ask.

“You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothin’, just poof. Left me with you and little Sammy’s sorry asses,” He says, picking up a big piece of fabric from the side and walking with it in front of you. You have the worst ideas from it. What is he going to do? 

“But, still, this life? It’s not without its perks,” He laughs, throwing his arms out for a second. “I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky,” Your jaw clenches. “You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let’s see what happens,” He smiles at you before throwing the sheet over your body. You sigh in relief that he didn’t do anything to you on one hand, but where are your brothers?

Part 3:

You manage to throw the sheet off of your face, and try to move your fingers to find anything to cut your ropes, but to no avail. 

“Damn it,” You curse, freezing when you hear movement in another area of the room, along with someone coughing./p>

“That better be you, Y/N, and not that freak of nature,” Dean voice echoes and you laugh in relief. 

“Yeah, it’s me. Sam?” You call out. There’s no answer. “Sammy?!” Dean calls louder, before you hear a gasp of breath and more coughing from somewhere in Dean’s direction. 

“Oh, thank god,” You sigh in relief. You hear Dean struggling as he starts to undo his ropes. “He went to Rebecca’s, lookin’ like you De,” You say.

“Well, he’s not stupid. He picked the handsome one,” Dean retorts. You snort, and you know that Sam is giving him a confused look as Dean continues to undo his ropes.

You can hear every strand of rope snapping as Dean pulls his arms up and down.

“Here’s the thing. He didn’t just look like you, he was you. Or he was becoming you,” You explain before hearing the rope fully snap.

“What do you mean?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know, it was like he was downloading your thoughts and memories,” You say. hearing Sam’s rope snap this time.

“You mean, like the Vulcan mind meld?” Dean asks as you pull on your ropes, resisting the one on your neck threatening to cut off your air supply. “Yeah, somethin’ like that,” You agree. “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t just kill us,” Sam suggests. You hear Dean stand up and his footsteps make his way over to you.

“Maybe he needs to keep us alive. Psychic connection,” Dean suddenly appears to your right, and you can feel his hands untying the rope binding your wrists together. 

“Yeah. Come on, we gotta go. He’s probably at Rebecca’s already,” You say. Sam catches up a few minutes later, working on the rope around your chest as you take your hips. Dean gently unties the rope around your neck and helps you up.

You all run, and find a vent with cool air seeping out of it. “Guys,” You say. 

You climb through first and punch the vent off at the other side, probably bruising your knuckles as you practically fall out onto the ground.

“Come on. We gotta find a phone, call the police,” Sam says urgently, coming out second.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re gonna put an APB out on me,” Dean protests. Sam shrugs. “Sorry.”

Dean rolls his eyes as you point down the street. “This way,” You know where you are as you start running down the street again with your brothers. This time you aren’t racing against Sam, or Dean. You’re racing against time. The shifter. What is he going to do to Becky?

You keep running until you’re distracted by a news report in a store window. You grab both of your brothers’ jackets, forcing them to stop.

“An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home,” The reporter says, as a fairly accurate sketch of Dean appears on the screen.

“Man! That’s not even a good picture,” Dean exclaims. You and Sam both look around to make sure nobody heard him.

“It’s good enough,” Sam says, walking away.

“Man!” Dean curses under his breath. You both follow Sam down the street until you all turn into an alley, and Dean steps into a puddle, jumping and swinging his legs to the side to avoid it.

“Come on!” Dean groans. 

“They said attempted murder. At least we know—” “ I didn’t kill her,” Dean interrupts Sam.

“We’ll check with Rebecca in the morning, see if she’s all right,” You say. “All right, but first I wanna find that handsome devil and kick the holy crap out of him,” Dean agrees. You stop walking suddenly, feeling your pockets. Your brothers copy your actions. 

“We have no weapons. No silver bullets,” You state.

“Y/N, the guy’s walkin’ around with my face, okay, it’s a little personal, I wanna find him,” He states. “Okay. Where do we look?” Sam asks.

“Well, we could start with the sewers.”  “We have no weapons. He stole our guns, we need more,” You say. You all stop and think. “The car?” Sam asks. “I’m bettin’ he drove over to Rebecca’s,” Dean comments.

“The news said he fled on foot. I bet it’s still parked there,” You add. Dean raises an open hand as if he was about to give you a really good point, but instead, he clenched it and growled.

“The thought of him drivin’ my car,” He says, clearly upset.

“All right, come on,” Sam gets you all to start walking again. (They start walking.)

“It’s killin’ me,” Dean says painfully. “Let it go,” You say in an attempt to calm him down.

You all run around to the side of Rebecca’s house to see the Impala parked on the side.

“Oh, there she is! Finally, something went right tonight!” Dean exclaims, relieved. You all take a step towards it but freeze when a police car drives around the corner and parks next to it. 

“Oh, crap,” Dean curses, instinctively grabbing your arm to pull you away from them, turning around. However, another police car is parked a few yards away. “This way, this way,” Dean calls out, moving towards a fence.

“You two go. I’ll hold ‘em off,” Sam instructs. “What are you talking about?”  “They’ll catch you.” You and Dean both protested at the same time.

“Look, they can’t hold me. Just go. Dean, keep out of sight. Meet me at Rebecca’s,” Sam says desperately. You and Dean both run and jump up the fence and pull yourselves up onto the top of it.  “Guys!” Sam calls. You both turn your heads. “Stay out of the sewers alone,” He warns. Dean says nothing and turns and swivels off of the fence. You hop off and follow him, hearing Sam in the distance, “I mean it!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Dean calls to him as you run alongside each other.

“Go meet Sam at Rebecca’s! I need to get stuff out of the trunk!” Dean breaks off from you and starts running away. You roll your eyes, knowing that Dean is lying, but he also knows what he’s doing.

You see Sam walking up the front yard to Rebecca’s. 

“Sam!” You call. He turns around. “Y/N! Where’s Dean?” Sam asks.  “He told me to stay to the main street to get here sooner while he takes the alleyways. He could be a while,” You lie as Sam knocks on the door.

Sam decides to explain the real situation to Rebecca, and you both sit in her kitchen talking it out.

“So, say this shapeshifter is real. By the way, you know you’re both crazy? But, um, say it is real. How do you stop it?” Rebecca asks, replacing Sam’s empty beer bottle with a new one and simply taking your empty one.

 “Thanks,” He sighs as you wait for him to say the punchline of what everyone thought was a joke. “Silver bullet to the heart,” He states. Rebecca chuckles. 

“You are crazy,” is all you hear before you feel a sharp pain at the back of your head, and you’re knocked unconscious at the same time as Sam with the empty beer bottles.

You wake up seeing Dean- it’s the shifter, Y/N!- tying up your ankles. He looks up and notices you’ve just woken up. Without missing a beat, he attempts to grab your arms. 

“Sam!” You shout, wriggling to try and get away from the shifter, however he had other ideas. He straddled your waist again, still trying to grab you.

“Give me your hands!” He growls, just as he got them both at the same time. He holds them tightly together before swiftly reaching for a rope and tying them together. The ropes dig into your skin and you groan in annoyance as he drops your hands into your lap and begins to walk around the kitchen. There’s a pile of clothes and goop a few metres away, signalling that the shifter just turned into Dean.

You see Sam unconscious against the opposite wall, tied in the same way as you, yet he was only just stirring a little.

There’s sweat settling on your skin as you lean against what seems like a chair behind you.

“What are you gonna do to me?” You stall, panting slightly. “Oh, I’m not gonna do anything. Dean will, though,” You see his smirk out of the corner of your eye. Before he opens a drawer, looks in it, and slams it shut again.

“They’ll never catch him,” Sam breathe. The shifter directs his attention to Sam. “Oh, doesn’t matter. Murder in the first of his own sister? He’ll be hunted the rest of his life,” The shifter responds after looking in another drawer. He makes his way over to the knife rack, examining a sharp knife he picks up. Your heart beats quickly, and you look over at Sam helplessly.

“And to get his brother to watch? The cops won’t take that lightly,” He smirks. He puts the knife in his duffel and throws it over his shoulder before making his way over to you. 

“Change of location,” He smirks, wrapping one arm around your torso and pulling you into his chest with a hand over your mouth to muffle your screams. 

“Don’t touch her! Leave her alone!” Sam’s pained yells echo through the hall. “I’ll be back for you, Sammy!” Was the only response Sam gets.

The shifter drops you next to a pool table in what you think is the living room, dumping the duffel on the table.

He leaves the room again but comes back with Sam no more than two minutes later, dropping him a meter from you on the floor. He then walks out of your field of vision.

“I must say, I will be sorry to lose this skin. Your brother’s got a lot of good qualities. You should appreciate him more than you do,” As he speaks, he pours himself a drink.

“Cheers,” He says as he walks in between yours and Sam’s bodies, taking a sip and placing it on the table. You hear the knife lightly scrape against the rope in his bag, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you take a deep breath. You open your eyes and flinch when he sticks it into the edge of the pool table.

You watch the shifter’s amused expression briefly, before turning back to Sam, who is looking around him, letting his eyes linger on the knife lastly.

As the shifter looks through his duffel, Sam rocks backwards and kicks the shifter to the ground. You roll under the table to get out of the way as Sam scurries to the knife, rubbing his hands up and down the blade. He takes the knife after he’s free, and you try to twist your hands free from the rope, but it’s too tight.

You hear Sam struggling with the shifter, and flinch when Sam falls and rolls onto the ground back to his feet.

“Oh, you son of a bitch,” The shifter curses as he and Sam begin to fight. The knife drops to the floor and you take your opportunity to cut the ropes. The relief of the pain is sweet, and you roll out from under the table with new found motivation.

 You stand up when the shifter knocks Sam off guard before throwing a sharp punch to his stomach, causing him to double over for a second. You throw in another punch, but he catches your arm and twists it behind your back before grabbing your other arm and pulling that behind you too. There’s a searing pain which almost renders you unable to move. Almost.

You shout in pain before sharply pulling an arm away and twisting in his grip, pushing him down, making him bend forwards. He chuckles.

“Not bad, little sister,” He comments, this time twisting in your grip and backhanding you sharply again. You fall to the side, and Sam steps in.

 “You’re not him,” Sam growls as you crawl out of the way. Sam throws the shifter into the pool table, and the shifter audibly groans in annoyance. He comes back strong, which his hands flying straight to Sam’s neck, batting away his attempts to knock away his grip. 

The shifter knees Sam in the stomach, and he doubles over, and you took this as your cue, as Sam is thrown into a bookshelf, breaking it. All of the books and shelves fall on top of him. Sam tries to crawl away, and you land two punches to the shifter’s abdomen before he kicks you sharply in the diaphragm.

“Even when we were kids, I always kicked your asses,” He says, grabbing a pool cue and swinging it at Sam, but he misses as Sam dodges and rolls over the pool table, and he hits a light fixture instead.

You then realise you’re standing right next to him and start to make a beeline for Sam, but the shifter grabs you around your waist and pulls you into him with the knife at your neck. 

“How about this, huh? I’ll let you catch your breath,” The shifter traces a thin line across your neck. You pant heavily, sweat pulling your clothes to your skin. 

Sam stands again, in a ready stance. You wink subtly at him before pinching the shifter tightly on the tricep closest to you, causing him to let go for a second. 

A second long enough for you to dodge out of his grip and stand ready next to Sam, who throws a punch only for his arm to be caught and him to be kicked, yelling in pain. He then dodges at least four more punches, darting to the side, slightly dizzy from the looks of it.  

You stand ready as the shifter approaches you, and you block a number of his blows, except for the one which went straight for your head, making you fly backwards whilst hitting your head on something hard.

Everything is blurry in your vision, and your head is pounding. The next thing you hear is Dean’s voice, shouting, “Hey!” and then two gunshots.

Your heart beats fast. Dean or shifter?

You hear Rebecca rushing to Sam, and hear heavy footsteps walk past your trembling, semi-conscious body, before coming back a few moments later. Someone crouches in front of you, ever so gently lifting you into their arms, as if you would break with too sharp of a movement.

“Stay with me, sweetheart.” He taps your cheek as your eyes flutter open and shut.

It’s Dean. 

Is it? 

Your body tenses and your heart beats faster, which only makes you slip into sleep quicker. 

“P-please don’t hurt…” You trail off, and Dean pulls you further into his chest, heartbroken. 

 Do you think he’s still the shifter? He stands up and begins to take you over to Sam and Rebecca, before stopping in front of the dead shifter, making sure that it’s truly dead. You fight to keep your eyes open, seeing the figure of the shifter blurry in your vision. 

“Dean,” You say weakly, tapping his chest to tell him to let you down. He slowly drops your legs to the floor, keeping your arm around his shoulders to aid your walking. 

You rub your temples after seeing Sam’s head in Rebecca’s lap. 

“I can’t remember the last hunt like that,” You breathe with a smile.Rebecca pulls Sam to his feet before facing you and Dean. 

Rebecca shows you all to the door. “Thanks, Bec. We’ll stop here before leaving tomorrow,” Sam waves a little before Rebecca also says goodbye, and you all make your way back to the motel.

You wake up in Dean’s arms, facing away from him. Your head’s aching, but it isn’t anything some aspirin won’t fix. 

After you and your brothers arrive at Rebecca’s, you pull a map out of the car and walk with Dean to spread it onto the hood, looking for your dad’s coordinates as Sam talks to Rebecca inside her house. 

“Are you okay?” Dean asks you quietly. You think for a moment.  “Yeah. I will be. Give it a few days,” You pat his hand twice upon hearing Rebecca’s front door open, grabbing your attention. 

You and Dean turn around to see Sam and Rebecca walking out, still talking.

“So, this is what you do? You, your sister, and your brother—you hunt down these kinds of things?” She asks when Dean picks up the map again, stealing glances to their conversation. They continue to talk as you use your finger to follow the lines on the map.

“Yeah, pretty much.” “I can’t believe it. I mean, I saw it with my own eyes. And, I mean, does everybody at school—nobody knows that you do this?” “No.” “Did Jessica know?”

There’s a short pause in the conversation.  “No, she didn’t,” Sam says eventually. “Must be lonely.”

“Oh, no. No, it’s not so bad,” Sam denies quickly. You look up to see him looking at you, offering a small smile. “Anyway, what can I do? It’s my family.”

Rebecca laughs a little. “Well, you know, Zack and me, and everybody at school—we really miss you,” Rebecca hugs Sam tightly, and you don’t catch what he says next as you look back down before Dean folds the map and places it in his jacket. 

“Well, will you call sometime?” Rebecca asks. “It might not be for a little while,” Sam responds. Rebecca nods and turns to wave at you and Dean. You both wave back before she goes back inside the house.

Sam walks over to you and Dean.

“So, what about your friend, Zack?” You ask, making your way to your car door.

“Cops are blamin’ this Dean Winchester guy for Emily’s murder. They found the murder weapon in the guy’s lair, Zack’s clothes stained with her blood. Now they’re thinking maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with. Yeah, Becca says Zack will be released soon,” You smile as Dean rolls his eyes and getting into the car.

You climb in behind Sam. “Next time, I’m calling shotgun,” You smirk. Sam smiles and shakes his head as Dean drives away.

“Sorry, man,” Dean says, breaking the silence of the car ride. “About what?” “I really wish things could be different, you know? I wish you could just be….Joe College,” Dean says sincerely. “No, that’s okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in,” Sam replies. 

“Well, that’s ‘cause you’re a freak,” Dean says. “Yeah, thanks.” “Well, I’m a freak, too, and so is Y/N,” Dean comforts.

“We’re right there with ya, all the way,” You wink. Sam laughs lightly. “Yeah, I know you are.”

“You know, I gotta say—I’m sorry I’m gonna miss it,” Dean changes the subject slightly. “Miss what?” You ask.

“How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?”

You and Sam smile at each other, before you turn to stare back out of the window.

[kariachi]

Well damnit somebody had to write one of those “soulmark” stories for this fandom. Note that this has my own spin on things, so know that this is less a love story so much as it is a finding family story.

Not really complete because I couldn’t think of an ending.

Kevin is born with his first soulmark.

It’s not that strange, a lot of people have soulmates who are older than them by enough to have a signature when they’re born, but the fact that nobody can read it is. The writing is legible, though small, but the letters are strange. His grandparents spend their free time in the first three months of his life trying to figure out what language it is, where this first soulmate is from.

Then he and Eric’s powers come in.

Then they get sick.

Eric dies.

Nobody bothers anymore.

~~

Kevin isn’t bothered by not knowing, he’s young and innocent and all he cares about is that the letters are there, printed neatly under his collarbone. That someone out there has a part of his soul.

He can’t wait to meet them.

~~

The next mark appears when he’s two and he too young to even think of reading it. His cousins assure him that the letters hardly even count as such and refuse to read it for him.

~~

By the next year he’s figuring out reading himself and this soulmate’s writing has improved. Kevin is more than happy to walk around daycare telling everyone he has a soulmate named Peter.

~~

That same year another one appears across his right palm. It’s another one where he doesn’t know the letters, and like the first he can’t find them no matter what languages he looks up.

He starts trying to learn new languages anyway, just in case.

~~

At four years old, Kevin spends more time than the daycare workers would like perfecting his signature. Everybody can write their first name, but he does the entire thing, repeating it over and over so it can be neater and cleaner.

Sometimes he wonders if some of his relatives know his name and he’s going to make certain his soulmates do.

~~

That same year four more marks appear, two on his right arm and two joining Peter’s on his legs.

One changes constantly, refining and growing over the next week until he can understand it as ‘Gwendolyn’.

~~

Jennifer.

~~

Helen.

~~

Emanuel.

~~

He has Peter’s full name now.

‘Peter Rosario Wheels’.

It’s awesome.

~~

Kevin starts keeping a list, writing each name over and over until he can do it with his eyes closed. He’s five now, almost six, with no friends and a family that avoids him if they can.

The names mean he’s not alone.

~~

A bunch of looping circles on his other palm slowly turns into ‘Cooper’.

~~

Mark eight is on his legs again, underneath Helen’s. After a few weeks of practice it’s clearly ‘Alan’.

~~

When he’s six his final childhood mark appears. It’s more strange letters- though it’s hard to tell at first- set on his waist, in the back where he needs a mirror to see it.

That means he has nine soulmates, which is more than anyone else he knows.

Kevin feels blessed.

~~

Gwendolyn Marie Tennyson and Jennifer Rose Tennyson.

He wonders if maybe they’re sisters.

~~

Helen Rebecca Wheels.

~~

Emanuel Nathan Armstrong.

~~

He’s sitting in class one day during third grade, bored out of his mind- he’s missed three weeks of school already, how is he still this far ahead of his class?- when he notices Jenny’s name shifting again. It’s a welcome distraction, they’re all always welcome distractions, and he immediately gives her his full attention.

The gentle smile on his face turns to a confused frown as the letters change completely. Slowly, tentatively, and with a proud flourish at the end.

‘Benjamin Kirby Tennyson.’

Kevin tilts his head, blinking at the soulmark, then smiles again.

That’s a cute name.

~~

Cooper Alexander Daniels.

~~

Alan Joseph Albright.

~~

When he’s ten Kevin and his parents are in an accident. He walks away from the wreck covered in blood and bruises, wandering away in a shocked daze.

His parents don’t walk away at all.

He never sees his family again.

~~

Ben and Gwen come into his life when he’s eleven and has found himself living in New York City. She’s a bit of a dweeb, but Ben is amazing and he loves them both instantly.

Things don’t go well.

~~

It’s not until after that summer, when he’s sitting in a prison in a different dimension, that he starts figuring out about his more mysterious soulmarks. He’s been moping, a ‘depressive episode’ Kwarrel calls them, when the older prisoner sits down beside him with a fond smile.

“So, did you ever figure out what this says?” He gently pokes the spot where Kevin’s oldest soulmark is. Kevin shies away from the contact, his mood is foul and really he’d rather just wallow in his own pain and self-hatred.

“No.” Wordlessly, Kwarrel lifts part of his shirt. For a moment Kevin hesitates, out of the corner of his eyes he can tell one of Kwarrel’s soulmarks is shown and while he’s never hidden his it’s still not polite to try to look at someone else’s. But then, he is deliberately showing it…

‘Kevin Ethan Levin’.

It takes a minute for the words to sink in, for the pieces of the puzzle to click in his head, but once they do he grins, mood lifting, and collapses against Kwarrel’s side.

“You improved very quickly,” he says, patting Kevin on the head affectionately.

“I spent so much time practicing, you wouldn’t believe.” Kwarrel chuckles and Kevin grins wider.

If there’s anyone he wants tied to his soul, it’s his first real parent.

~~

Once he’s safe long enough to process what’s happened, Kevin breaks down. Screaming, yelling, pacing in the dirt. He absorbs a stone and tears at his soulmarks, Ben’s name, Gwen’s, Kwarrel’s-

He can’t even guess how long he spends crying.

~~

Joining the Rooters isn’t the best thing he’s done, the experiments hurt and he can’t stand the pitying looks Servantis gives the names on his arm, but it gives him a place to stay, food, a purpose, and some control. Their base is also where he meets Peter (“Pierce, please”), Helen, and Manny (“Call me ‘Em’ again and I will hit you”).

He doesn’t think he can feel enough to love them anymore, but he likes them well enough and they seem to like him too.

~~

Alan comes later and Kevin wants to scream when he realizes who he is. They’ve already been through so much and he just can’t take the idea of putting another of his soulmates through it.

Kevin hides his feelings behind another empty smile.

~~

Meeting Cooper is, nice actually. He’s found himself kept for materials for not the first or last time and Ben, Gwen, and a new little entourage find him. Kevin isn’t quite feeling, and he still remembers the last time he saw the Tennysons- when he tried to kill everybody and he’s such a fuck-up- but he smiles and chats and presents the palm with Cooper’s name when the boy comes close to help him break free and he can read his own name along his jaw.

He’s fun to tease and really smart and Kevin can tell they’re going to be good friends.

~~

Kevin has known Argit for a little over a year when they figure it out. The smaller teen’s left ear has been shredded by a young vulpimancer and Kevin is trying to piece it back together when he sees the lettering, normally hidden under the fur of his inner ear.

‘Ke  n  t  n L vi ‘

For a second his heart stops, but he shakes the feeling off and continues working. He knows what’s supposed to be spelled out there, can recognize his handwriting, but making sure his bestfriend keeps his ear is more important right now.

When he’s done he shows Argit the soulmark on his waist, explaining what he found while he watches him grin.

“Of course you’re my soulmate,” Argit says, tugging affectionately at his hair, “who else would be?”

~~

He’s sixteen and everything from between last May and November is blurry, but he’s standing in a crater with Ben and Gwen Tennyson and putting his hand in with theirs just feels right.

~~

They’ve just saved the day on Galvan Prime and Rook has pulled him aside to make sure he’s okay after the whole ‘shoved out a jet by his girlfriend’ thing. He has a loose grip on Kevin’s wrist, looking him over with a critical eye even as Kevin assures him that he only has some bruises, when his gaze stops at his hand.

“I am glad to see I am not alone here,” he says with a smile and Kevin has a moment of confusion while he undoes his armor, peeling it away and brushing up the fur to show Kevin’s name on his upper arm. Kevin laughs and pulls him into a brief hug.

“Well, I guess that explains you worrying about me.”