#but they called her and she came in early

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 8 (part two)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 6.2k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

A blood curdling shriek rang through the house, jolting Carter from her restless dreams.

She sat straight up in bed, heart racing as she looked around the dark room, head so heavy she could barely remember where she was or how she got there.

In her hungover mental fog, she pieced it together slowly. She was at the beach house, in her room, it was early, she drank so much last night and Topper said -

“OH MY GOD!” 

Another sharp scream came from downstairs, and her heart rate spiked all over again. She pulled the fluffy comforter around her shoulders and hurried out of the room, quiet on the stairs as she nervously approached the source of all the commotion.

When she saw what was inducing Sabrina’s shock, she doubled back, hiding around the corner so they couldn’t see her. Her stomach churned with bitter loathing, and something else even more nauseating…

She dropped the blanket and rushed to the half-bath off the house’s entryway, doubled over the toilet bowl as last night’s poor choices continued to haunt her.

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Rafe drove faster than he had before your interrupted rendezvous, seeming not to want to drag this adventure out anymore. You eyed him nervously from the passenger seat, searching for words that weren’t coming to you. 

Tongue tied and exhausted was not how you wanted to begin this…whatever this was between you. Rafe had given you words, so many of them, back on the beach and all he asked in return was a simple yes or no.

Are you my girl?

No four words had ever felt so heavy. The shitty part was, you wanted to say yes. At the sound of his breathless question every cell in your body was screaming yes! I’m your girl! I’ve always been your girl! 

But then there was that pesky piece of self preservation that cemented itself in your heart all those years ago and didn’t plan to give up any time soon. 

He looked so disappointed when you couldn’t give him a quick and easy answer, his chest now deflated and shoulders sunken as he drove the rest of the route home. Despite your lingering hesitation, you felt like you needed to give him something, needed to lift the frown that was settled on the lips you had tasted so many times this morning.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“For what?” He asked.

“I’m…slow,” you began, “it takes me a while, y’know? To find the words. I’m not like you, I don’t know how you came up with that speech in less than a minute.”

Rafe laughed, confusing you.

“What?”

“You think I came up with that speech in a minute?” He chuckled, “I’ve been practicing it every day since senior year of high school.”

Your heart clenched at the endearing thought of him in front of the mirror, driving to class, taking a shower all while rehearsing what he’d say if you ever gave him the chance.

“Oh,” you tucked your hair behind your ear.

It was infuriating, your complete inability to get a grip on your own thoughts and feelings around him. It had always been this way. You were well-spoken and sound-minded, until this one person was in your atmosphere, his presence your own personal kryptonite.

To be fair to yourself, it wasn’t just your own weakness for him that had caused you to build such high walls. When you were kids, he sometimes made you feel this way on purpose. He used to have fun watching you get flustered, just the right amount of flirting to send you into a tizzy, only to leave you spinning like a top with no one to stop you.

You truly tried to leave the past behind, burying it somewhere back in the sand on the beach. You reminded yourself that the Rafe of your memories was not the one sitting next to you right now. But that might just be the problem, because at least you knew that Rafe, you knew exactly what he would do next.

If he grabbed your hand, you knew he was about to drop it. If he said something sweet, you knew he was about to say something passive aggressive. If he acted like he loved you, you knew he was about to act like he’d never met you a day in his life.

But this Rafe, this new one, was completely unpredictable. Wild and dangerous in his apparent affection for you. How were you supposed to know what he did next wasn’t going to hurt? He was right about what he said on the jet ski - you won’t know until you give him the chance. Easier said than done.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he offered after you’d been quiet for a long time.

“This week has just been…” trying to come up with one word to describe it felt like a futile task.

“Overwhelming?” Rafe tried to help.

“Surprising,” you countered. “I’ve never been good with surprises.”

“You like to know what’s coming next,” he nodded, once again displaying a deep knowledge of you that you never knew he possessed.

Like he could read your mind, his arm stretched across the small divide and his palm, warm and soft, settled on your thigh, a single soothing stroke to let you know he’s still here, he’s still yours. The feeling of his skin touching yours was like aloe vera directly on the burn.

With a grateful smile, you leaned back in the seat and took a deep breath as he steered you home.

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Carter padded down the hall, stopping three separate times, trying to decide if she should just go back to her own room. But the sight of her frantic texts to you still saying “delivered” and not “read” was too concerning to ignore.

She opened Topper’s door without knocking.

He was sitting up against his headboard, typing feverishly on his phone. At the sight of her, he clutched his duvet cover, pulling it up higher over his nearly naked body.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” 

“Please, like I haven’t seen it all before. Like I didn’t see it yesterday,” she rolled her eyes.

“Oh okay, so you do remember. Based on the way you were acting last night I thought maybe you’d forgotten we’d ever been together,” he snipped at her.

“I don’t want to talk about last night,” she waved him off, dismissing his complaints flippantly, “are you aware of what’s happening downstairs right now? Of who is happening downstairs right now?”

“Yes, I saw her pull up,” he returned his attention to his phone and his frenzied typing.

Outside his cracked open door, Carter heard Kelce, Tom, and a few others come barreling up the stairs, chatting about the recent arrival.

“Be so fucking for real, did you invite her?” Carter said, attempting to lower her voice.

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but you do this thing where you think you’re whispering and you’re actually not,” Topper informed her.

“Topper…”

“No, I didn’t invite her.,” he answered. “Actually I was about to ask if you did.”

“Why the fuck would I do that? I hate her.”

“Wow alright, hate's a strong word, Carter, maybe calm down a little.”

Ever since their knock-down-drag-out at the club last night, the arguing that was usually playful and lighthearted had an edge of actual bitterness to it.

“First of all, if you ever tell me to ‘calm down’ again, I’m going full Lorena Bobbitt on your ass. Second of all, you need to go down there and tell her to leave,” she flicked her hair behind her shoulder and held her chin up as she bossed him around. He hated that despite how mad at her he was, he fucking loved it.

“How does that job possibly fall on me?” He scoffed.

“Aren’t you Mr. Team Rafe-and-my-sister? Don’t you want to get rid of the reason they stopped talking in the first place?” She reasoned.

“I’m not gonna tell her she can’t be here,” he shut her down. “It’s not my house, and it’s really none of my business. Or yours.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, “oh yeah? Then who are you texting so much over there?”

“I’m just giving him a head’s up,” he shrugged. “She should probably know too.”

“And you’re just assuming they’re together?” She snarled.

“Puh-lease,” he rolled his eyes, “did you see them at the club last night? There’s no way they didn’t hook up.”

She wouldn’t accept it, couldn’t, even though she knew somewhere deep in her gut that he was probably right. 

When Rafe still didn’t answer any of his texts, Topper sighed heavily, “fuck it, I don’t care if I’m cockblocking, I’m calling him.”

Before he could dial, the house shook with the slam of the front door. Carter and Topper hurried out to the hall and hesitated at the top of the steps. Your lone voice carried up to them, talking to no one in particular as you muttered, “un-fucking-belivable.”

Carter actually did whisper this time, “I think it might be too late for that…”

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The feeling of Rafe’s hand, warm and steady on your thigh, as he drove the rest of the route home was so nice and comforting, you let yourself slip into the possibility that this could actually be it. Maybe you really could just leave the past behind you, maybe you really had finally found each other and it could just be simple like this.

But your fantasy didn’t last long.

Rafe parked in the spot across the street that you had taken Carter’s car from a few hours ago. Even when he turned the key and cut the engine, he didn’t remove his hand from your leg. 

“You ready?” He sighed.

“For what?” You questioned, eyeing him curiously, his face serious as he looked down at the site of his hand on your skin.

He shook his head like he didn’t know the answer himself, “reality, I guess.”

You placed your hand over his, smirking at the sight of your fingers encompassing each other’s, wanting so much more from these hands and truly believing you’d have all the time in the world to enjoy them. 

“Bring it on,” you gave him a small smile.

“He leaned across the center console and dropped a deep kiss to your lips, causing you to sigh into his mouth. All the times you imagined kissing him, you never thought such a rough-around-the-edges guy would have such soft lips. You felt like you might be able to spend forever with them on your skin.

When he finally pulled away, you reached for the handle of your door, beginning to open it, but Rafe reached across your body and pulled it shut again.

“What are you doing?” You asked in surprise.

He smiled that perfect, dimpled grin of his, “extra credit.”

You giggled as he hurried to climb out of the driver’s side, hurrying around to your door and opening it with a chivalrous flair.

“Wow,” you beamed, accepting his hand as he helped you down from the tall vehicle. “You weren’t kidding about trying to be a gentleman.”

“For you, I’ll be anything,” he flirted.

Despite your best efforts not to, you blushed, the red hue on your cheeks deepening when Rafe kept your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours as you walked back to the house. It was the first time he’d held your hand out in the open like this, where anyone could look out from the windows of the beach house and see the two of you together. It was foreign to you, his public display of affection, and yet it felt so right. You couldn’t help but wish it hadn’t taken this long.

“Can I ask you something?” You said quietly.

“Anything,” he squeezed your hand assuringly. 

“Why didn’t we do this a long time ago?” 

Rafe’s face fell slightly, watching his feet as they made less and less forward progress on the sidewalk, until he came to a full stop. The question was mostly meant to be lighthearted, a tease really, but his solemn reaction made your stomach twist with concern.

“I…” he started, voice unsteady, not meeting your eyeline, “I don’t know if I should tell you this but -”

You never knew what he wasn’t supposed to tell you, because before he could, a sickeningly familiar voice called out from the front porch.

“Hey guys!”

Head snapping toward the sound, you looked up, and there she was, as stunning as ever in that same signature everything-you’re-not-ness. 

Cassie Bryant.

Her face was adorned with a glistening smile, yours was noticeably not. Everything in you sunk, including the corners of your lips, completely unable to hide the way your heart dropped six feet under the ground at the sight of her.

She was somehow even more golden and glowing now than she was back then. Glossy blonde hair flowing down her back like a waterfall of silk. Her perfect, blemish free skin glowed in the early morning light. Her big, round Disney Princess eyes quickly found Rafe and flicked over your joined hands, clocking the way they were folded together in unmistakable intimacy.

It happened so quickly, and yet it felt like years worth of hurt and heartache compacted into one small moment. 

At the sight of Cassie on the porch, Rafe dropped your hand.

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Surely, any minute now, a camera crew would pop out from the bushes and announce that you were being Punk’d.

Or maybe it’d be the Mythbusters:

The myth? That you can actually heal from your childhood trauma with just four years of painstaking hard work. Well, we’re about to prove that all of that can be unraveled in the span of 72 hours! Also, we will be using your heart as our crash test dummy. Myth busted!

You didn’t look over at Rafe, couldn’t bear to watch the way he pulled his body away from yours, ever-so-slightly, almost imperceptibly. But you could feel it all the same, and you were sure she could too. 

Before Cassie could say anything else, the front door opened behind her, Sabrina stepping out of the house and taking in the unfolding scene on the lawn.

“Oh shit,” she laughed, “this is awkward!”

It’s like her main goal in life was to find new and creative ways to make your bad moments worse.

“Is it?” Cassie asked, seemingly unaware of the cause of Sabrina’s laughter. “We were just saying hi.”

She caught your eye as she said it, a polite but knowing smile on her lips. You realized with shock that she absolutely knew what was happening and was trying to make you feel better about it. You should just be grateful for the unexpected kindness, but something in you was suspicious. The Cassie you knew would’ve jumped at the chance to embarrass you, and she would’ve loved the way Rafe was treating you like you had the plague.

Plus, her taking pity on you, acknowledging the way Rafe had just hurt you, was somehow worse than her just being mean to you. You’d rather she go back to that.

“Y’all having a good trip?” She asked you and Rafe when the silence had lasted just a little too long.

You looked to Rafe, waiting for him to answer, begging him silently to say something that indicated that you were in fact having a good trip…together.

But he just said, “it’s been cool. Weather’s shit, though.”

“Yeah that’s what Sab told me, but I got a few days off my internship so I thought I’d come hang with y’all,” she said, eyes on you as she spoke, like she owed you an explanation.

“Well, welcome, then,” you smiled a polite smile that didn’t meet your eyes.

“You ready?” Sabrina asked, linking arms with Cassie, thick as thieves. 

“We’re going into town for some brunch if you guys want to join,” Cassie offered.

“That’s okay, I need to check on Carter,” you declined, all eyes turning to Rafe for his response.

“Uh yeah, I’m good here, th-thanks,” he stuttered, so awkward and shaky, a completely different person from the guy who was delivering monologues and sweeping you off your feet just a few hours ago.

Cassie just smiled politely once more as Sabrina pulled her into the car. As they drove off, you stood wordlessly with Rafe on the front walk, your chest completely hollow. You mustered some nerve and finally looked at him, head tilted, a completely unamused smile tugging your lips.

“Weather’s shit?” You repeated his words back to him.

“Look…” he began but didn’t finish the thought.

You just laughed humorlessly, shaking your head at him as you stormed off toward the house. Rafe stood frozen for a moment, kicking himself mentally and begging his brain to catch up with the moment, finally rushing off after you, but not able to before you slammed the door in his face.

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Carter and Topper exchanged nervous glances at the sound of you stomping into the house. 

They slowly and quietly settled on the top step, sitting forward to listen in as the front door opened and closed again, Rafe’s voice echoing through the house.

“Wait…” he said, following after you as you marched further into the house toward the kitchen.

You didn’t stop, “No, go ahead, you should go to brunch with her. Don’t let me keep you from a good time.”

“Wait, let’s just talk,” he pleaded.

“I’m too tired, Rafe,” you rejected him. “I can’t do this right now.”

“So you’re not even gonna let me explain?”

At the top of the steps, Carter and Topper simultaneously held their breath as they listened, both jumping as Kelce’s voice startled them, “what are we listening to?”

“Shhh,” Carter waved her hand at him, motioning for him to shut up.

Kelce plopped himself between them on the top step, shuffling a bit so they’d make room for him. He listened in, picking up your and Rafe’s raised voices quickly.

“Oh shit,” he barely whispered, “trouble in paradise already?”

“Dude shut up,” Topper cut him off.

Soon, Maddie, Tom and Jack joined the little huddle on the top step, each cluing in on the source of the entertainment in their own disruptive way before being shushed by the group and eventually sitting. You continued your argument with Rafe, completely unaware you were performing in front of a live studio audience.

“You don’t need to explain,” you told him, trudging down the front hall toward the kitchen. “I know exactly what just happened because it’s happened a thousand times before. What I don’t know is why I’m even surprised.”

“Come on,” he caught up to you, stopping you in your tracks as his large frame rounded you. “It is not the same as it used to be.”

“It’s exactly the same,” you side-stepped him, walking into the kitchen and dropping Carter’s keys on the counter. “I mean jesus Rafe, it’s the same fucking person! I can’t believe I’m here again, it’s like I’m having a nightmare where I’m back in high school. Next thing you know I’m gonna walk into homeroom and I realize I’m completely naked.”

“Sounds more like a dream to me,” he smirked, trying to flirt.

You just blinked back at him, your sharp eyes cutting straight through his head.

“Do you think this is funny?”

His smirk dropped, snatched right off his lips by your ice cold tone. Good. You’d been waiting years to wipe that shit eating grin off his face. 

Something new was rising in your chest, knocking out the embarrassment and sadness with a closed fist, a fury long buried coming back with a vengeance.

“I thought all that shit was behind us, over and done.” Rafe reached out towards you but you stopped him with your own rough grip, lowering his hand away from you and dropping it like he’d dropped yours.

“Oh, it’s fucking done alright, so fucking done,” you spat.

 “You’re really gonna let ten stupid seconds ruin everything that’s happened between us? You’re not even gonna give me the benefit of the doubt. You really think that little of me?”

“It’s literally only been two hours, and you’ve already lied to me once and pushed me away the second someone saw us. And you wonder why I'm having a hard time saying yes to being with you? It’s because I fucking can’t trust you, Rafe!”

“I don’t know what else I can do to show you I’m different,” he threw his hands up in exasperation. “This is so fucking unfair.”

“Are you being fucking serious right now?” You stepped towards him as you snapped at him. “You’re actually pissed at me?”

“Yeah, I am!” 

“Why?”

“Because I lost my best friend!”

Everyone on the top of the stairs winced, air sucked from the room when Rafe raised his voice at you. For all his flaws and mistreatment, he had never raised his voice at you before.

“Oh shit,” Kelce whispered.

“Shhh!” Carter and Maddie hushed him in unison, everyone leaning in a little closer to hear how you’d react. But you said nothing. They couldn’t see the widening of your eyes, jaw locked tight as you gave him space to follow up on his outburst.

“Do you really think it didn’t hurt me when you just up and stopped talking to me back then?” He took the space you gave him and slowly unpacked the hurt feelings he’d buried for years. “I know I was a dick, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of how you felt about me, I shouldn’t have strung you along. But when that shit went down senior year and you just ghosted me, I wanted to talk to you and make it right. I tried, but you blocked me out, you went from talking to me every day to radio silence without giving me a single explanation. That fucking hurt. And you’re doing the exact same thing now, not even giving me a chance to explain things. So yeah, I am a little pissed. I’m pissed that you’re just gonna throw it all away again over nothing.”

He waited for your response with baited breath, prepared for you to yell, or cry, or do something. But you gave him nothing, mouth closed in a tight line as you turned on your heel and walked further into the kitchen, lifting the coffee pot from its home and filling it in the sink.

He watched your back as you scooped the grounds into the filter and turned on the machine. Minutes passed and you remained silent, hands on the counter, looking out the big window towards the ocean while the coffee brewed one drop at a time.

Finally, after eight cups had dripped into the pot, you spoke.

“How was prom, by the way?” You turned to face him, the edge of the marble countertop digging into your waist as you leaned back against it, hands crossed in hostility over your chest. “I never asked.”

Rafe’s gaze fell from you almost instantly. He didn’t have to ask why you were bringing this up, the ‘hell hath no fury’ look on your face dragging the memory forth from its carefully hidden spot in the back of his brain. Nothing made him feel like a jackass quite like that memory, and based on the mocking curve at the corner of your lips, you knew it.

The memory used to keep you up at night. 

For a full year after it happened, it was like a fire poker bent into the shape of regret and shame was branding your heart over and over. 

Now, the burn was healed over, still calloused and red at the edges, but you’d done your best to cover the scar tissue in the healing balms of self-love and lots and lots of therapy. Still, it was the moment in your life you were the least proud of.

You’d thought it was gonna be you. Really, earnestly, completely delusionally, you believed when he asked for your help with his grand prom-posal that it was all a playful ruse to ask you to be his date. You stayed up all night, decorating three different poster boards with glitter glue so he could pick the one he liked best. You bought out all the battery-powered candles at Michael’s - he said he’d pay you back, he never did. You waited with him in the park until the sun set, giddy with the hope that he’d drop the ruse and pop the question any minute.

“What will you do if ‘she’ says no?” You attempted to flirt.

“I guess I’d just have to take you.”

Every muscle in his body flinched at the memory and the white hot regret he felt every time it replayed in his head.

The kid who said those words was such an asshole. Standing here in the kitchen, looking down at you, the love of his goddamn life, and facing the possibility that he might lose you for good, he wanted to ring the idiot’s neck.

Because he hadn’t asked you. He made you watch while he asked her. And he didn’t even give you a ride home from the park.

Fuck, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he was you, either.

Rafe felt about two feet tall, looking back at you with absolutely nothing to say. He was relieved for a second when you opened your mouth to speak first, until he heard the words.

“You don’t understand. The voice in the back of my head, the one I’ve spent years trying to silence, the one that tells me I’m not enough, that I’ll never be enough…it’s your voice, Rafe.”

He grasped desperately for a reply, but there were no words in the English language that made that statement any less devastating.

“Maybe that’s not fair,” you continued before he could come up with anything, “but I don’t think I have control over that. I don’t know how to undo it, if it can be undone. So those ten seconds that just happened out there? They’re  not nothing to me. When you dropped my hand at the sight of her, I felt like I was that stupid teenage girl again, giving my whole heart to the one person who knows how to break it. Blind and foolish and desperate for you to notice her. I don’t like that girl.”

You made it through the whole speech with a steady voice, up until the last sentence. Your voice cracked on those words, your heart doing the same as you pictured your younger self. The one who would sit on her bed for hours, rereading the texts she sent him and praying he’d reply.

Thinking about that version of yourself, you weren’t sure if you wanted to hug her or slap her. Surely, she’d hit you right back if she saw what you were doing now, potentially pushing away the boy she loved more than anything, finally having him within your grasp and letting him slip right through.

At the top of the stairs, unbeknownst to you, Carter was picturing that girl, too. She would roll her eyes at you back then, using sarcastic comments like “are you sure Rafe even knows how to read?” to mask her truer concern; that he could but he wouldn’t, and the heart you wore on your sleeve would end up crushed again. Even now, she couldn’t protect it, couldn’t save it from reaching out to this boy who did nothing but break it.

Frustration welled inside her, the absolute powerlessness to put an end to this cycle that hurts you feeling like a dark cloud over her head. The anger manifested into hot, watery tears gathering on her lash line. Without permission, one slipped through, rolling down her cheek slowly.

Topper caught the whole thing, and despite their fight and his resolve to freeze her out until she apologized, he couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out and stroking her cheek softly, wiping the tear away with a gentle swipe of his thumb.

They shared a look so full of unspoken words and tender emotions that they almost forgot about the conversation in the kitchen, until Rafe’s voice cut through the moment and pulled them from their silent reconciliation.

“Are you okay?” He asked you after you’d been silent for nearly a minute, trying desperately to compose yourself.

“Yes, that's all just a lot. I’m processing,” you sniffled.

“Take your time,” he said, pulling out one of the high back stools from the counter and motioning for you to sit in it.

Your body was so exhausted, even your stubborn anger at him couldn’t stop you from accepting the offer. You slumped on the plush stool, folding your arms on the counter and resting your chin on them.

“How do you like your eggs?” Rafe asked.

“Is that a pick-up line?” 

“Nope, just a question,” he said as he opened the high cupboard and pulled out a frying pan.

You tried to remind yourself you should reject his offer to feed you, you should storm out, you should tell him where he can put his frying pan…but you were hungry. And so tired.

“Sunny side up,” you answered.

He nodded and got to work cooking you breakfast, eggs and bacon sizzling on the stove, Rafe close by with a spatula in hand, silent as he stirred and flipped. You rested your head on your folded arms, eyes half-closed and brain sleepy, watching him. 

If you blocked out the last twenty minutes, you could pretend this morning was your real life, could let yourself imagine it really was all this simple and pleasant and sweet; he’d cook you breakfast, you’d make him coffee, and you’d kiss until the sun rose.

At the top of the stairs, Kelce stood and started descending, before Carter reached up and grabbed his arm.

“What are you doing?” She whispered.

“I’m hungry!” He whined.

“You can’t go down there,” Maddie scolded him, “give them some space.”

“Are we just gonna stay up here all day?” Tom complained as he and Jack stood to join Kelce’s crusade into the kitchen.

“Everybody sit down!” Topper whisper-yelled. “Give them five fucking minutes, you’ll all survive. You can fuck off back to your rooms if you want but no one’s going down there.”

Carter couldn’t help the heart eyes she made at him, surprised and delighted by his show of aggression in your defense.

Kelce groaned as he backed back down, Tom rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up as he trudged down the hall back to his room, Jack following with a huff.

“Kelce, I have a granola bar in my purse, c’mon,” Maddie offered, leading him towards her own door.

Alone again, Topper and Carter looked at each other for a long, quiet moment.

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

“I know,” he mouthed back.

She scooted towards him, nuzzling into his side as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple.

Downstairs, Rafe was done with your meal, scooping it onto a plate and sliding it to you across the counter.

“Thank you,” you sat up and began nibbling at a slice of bacon.

Rafe took the stool next to you with his own plate of food. You sat in silence for a while, only the sound of forks scraping against porcelain and the occasional “can you pass the salt?” between you.

Between bites, you rested your head on your arm again, nearly falling asleep.

“I’m so tired,” you mumbled sleepily.

“It’s been a long twenty-four hours,” Rafe agreed, taking a sip of his coffee.

“That’s an understatement,” you snorted, sitting up again and finishing the last bite of your eggs.

“What about…the next twenty-four hours?” He asked quietly.

You took a deep breath, the smile falling from your face as you considered the question underneath his question. You didn’t answer him right away, hopping down from the stool and collecting your plate and his, carrying them to the sink. Rafe was quick behind you, arm reaching around and pulling the dishes from your hands to lay them in the sink. His hand rested on your waist, turning you to face him, pulling you in. Reluctantly, and without returned tenderness, you let him.

“Rafe, I can’t…” you said sadly.

“Please just talk to me,” he pleaded, hands running up your arms and resting on your shoulders. You shook your head, blinking away fresh tears as you pulled away from him.

“It hurts too much, Rafe,” your voice cracked. “As great as the last few days have been, you can’t see that being close to you hurts me. I worked so hard to get over you. So this isn’t me throwing it all away, this is me protecting myself. Protecting what I’ve spent years rebuilding.”

“So what, that's it then? You’re just gonna go back to school and pretend this never happened?” The pain in his voice was palpable, and you cursed the part of you that wanted to reach out and make him feel better.

“I don’t know, Rafe,” a small tear slipped through, gliding slowly down your cheek.

“You’re just gonna stop talking to me, stop thinking about me?” He continued desperately.

You looked up at him finally, searching his face, nodding sadly.

“I’ve done it before.”

Hurt flashed in his crystal blue eyes, flinching like your words had burned him. “You didn’t…you don’t…think about me?”

“No,” you told him honestly, another tear joining the one before it. “Never. Because if I let myself think about you, I would’ve fallen apart. I’m not strong enough, I would’ve run to you, and every time I did that before, you’d let me down.”

“What about yesterday? What about this morning? Just think about the beach, everything was so good, it can be that way now…”

He reached out and cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing over the tears as he pulled you in toward him, kissing you out of sheer desperation. Like maybe if you tasted his lips, it’d transport you both back in time, back to the beach, back when he’d done and said everything right. 

You allowed him to take you there for just a second, before the incident on the front walk flashed in your mind again, the pain of rejection like a knife to your gut. You pulled away from him quickly, side stepping him and moving to the other side of the kitchen, creating as much distance between you as possible.

“No, no, you can’t just kiss me and act like what just happened with Cassie didn’t happen,” you shook your head rapidly, wiping your tear stained streaks with the backs of your hands. “I can’t do this right now, I need some time to think.”

It required fighting every impulse he had, but he didn’t push, didn’t close the space between you, didn’t try to regain the control he was so used to having. He just sighed deeply and nodded, eyes low.

“Okay, well let me know when you’re done…thinking.”

With one last longing look at you, he stepped away to the basement steps, stopping at the top and turning halfway toward you.

“Oh and that girl? The one who gave me her heart? For what it’s worth, I like her. Always have.”

With that, he was gone, the door clicking softly behind him.

Carter and Topper could hear you approach the bottom of the steps. Carter stood first, fully ready to greet you and grill you on everything that had happened since you last spoke. Topper could see all her questions and comments written on her face. He grabbed her hand and squeezed gently, stopping her before she marched down the stairs towards you. She looked at him in surprise but understood quickly as he gave her a slight shake of his head, whispering, “give her some space.”

Reluctantly, she nodded, allowing him to lead her quietly down the hall and into his room.

Your footsteps were heavy on the stairs, body aching. Your brain was so fried you couldn’t even pick one thing from the morning to focus on, like the part of your brain that processes events was temporarily out of order. So you stopped trying to think and just let your feet carry you to your bed, crawling under the covers in your clothes, falling quickly into a restless slumber.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

In your dreams, you were back in the kitchen with him, shoulder to shoulder in comfortable silence as you did the dishes together. Rafe washed and you dried. 

Only, it wasn’t the beach house kitchen, it was one you’d never been in before. And in that dream-state way of knowing something you don’t actually know, you were sure it was a kitchen the two of you shared, sometime in the distant, unwritten future.

(to be continued)

a/n: I'm so sorry, I had to do it.......also the prom thing may or may not be based on a true story and I may or may not have cried writing it....

also I’m sick and tired so I didn’t edit much sorry for typos!

please note: the taglist for this series is closed. For updates when I post, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs <3

friendly reminder that writers live off of reblogs, don’t forget to feed your faves! 💘

[mazamba]

(So in the original Star Wars timeline (Legends, not Disney Canon), it's hinted that Earth humans are descended from humans that were exiled from Coruscant. Since we're setting this in the future instead of the past, I had to flip it)

"Please give them my condolences for your fallen soldiers," sighed Optimus, "as for Earth... well, this galaxy and ours have been linked for a long time."

As they prepped Omega for the trip, the Autobots gave them the full story. How humans came from a planet called Earth, and Megatron had been trapped there for fifty years.

They told them how the Decepticons had taken their revenge on Earth for imprisoning their leader, eventually razing it to a cinder, and how they barely managed to send the survivors to a distant location they'd then purged from their systems and memories to make sure the Decepticons could never find them.

"Except they did," sighed Ratchet, showing her a display, "see these? That's the DNA of humans from Earth, and those are the samples Sari gave us. No doubt about it. You're an Earthling."

"I've been living on Coruscant for three hundred thousand years, way before humans arrived," Sari offered, "back then there were two other sentient species there, the Taung and the Zhell, but they went to war around two hundred thousand years ago. No idea how that turned out because I left Coruscant on an early FTL ship, but by the time I came back some twenty-thousand years later, humans had colonized the ruins. I just figured the Taung had been wiped out and that the Zhell had evolved into a human-like species. There are a lot of humanoid species, so it made sense at the time."

An idea suddenly hit her and she started giggling.

"And, this just occurred to me, they had a myth. The humans I met used to say they came from another world that was destroyed by an ancient enemy. They called their home-world Urthha!"

Closed RP w/@mazamba

Ahsoka Tano is seen down in the lower levels, looking for work to continue paying for her place. She was no longer a Jedi, so she needed to find work. In order to pay for her place she was staying, while also getting food to fill her belly. Ahsoka sighed knowing she wasn't going to be able to find a proper job without getting her hands dirty.

"They want me to steal from a known crime lord or to steal from the Jedi Temple to retrieve a lightsaber from one of the fallen Jedi," Ahsoka knew both of these would either get her killed or arrested. She knew the Jedi Temple needed to be warned about this, but didn't understand why this person wanted the lightsaber.

"Well, I'll need to find work somewhere in order to pay for my next rent," said Ahsoka as she stops in her track when she sensed something. "What was that?"

@mazamba

[syndrossi]

Regnal AU, Chapter 2 (Pt 1)

I wouldn't call 2.8K a full chapter, but it's the first two scenes of chapter two anyway! For those who need a refresher, Regnal AU is where Daemon and Rhea conceive the twins on their consummation night, aka teen-dad!Daemon + overly-involved!Baelon + dealing-with-it!Rhea. The first chapter can be found in Resonant Side Stories and Ficlets.

x~x~x

The three days of travel to and then back from King’s Landing were a singular torment. Ordinarily, riding Vhagar was one of the few pleasures Baelon still found in the world, everything else mired in grey and duty. But this flight had been fraught with nerves, the first mission he had undertaken in a long time that had kept his heart racing throughout: fetching dragon eggs for the twins’ cradle.

He had barely greeted his father and mother, pausing on his return from the Dragonpit only to accept the blanket that Gael had shyly offered, one she had embroidered herself for the new babe. He made his apologies to Viserys, who had wandered over to the yard to bid him welcome and ask after Daemon’s twins, hastening to secure the dragon egg cradles he had brought from the Pit in Vhagar’s saddlebags.

A servant ran to him, braving his dragon’s half-lidded gaze, to deliver a basket of bread and cured meats for his return journey, and then Baelon was off, not one hour after arriving.

They were healthy enough when I left, he reminded himself for perhaps the hundredth time. Aemon’s wails were powerful enough to wake the castle, and Jon—it felt too strange to call his grandson by his own name—was constantly wriggling, trying to take in the world around him. But they were yet so fragile. For all his assurances to Daemon, he knew that babes born small and early faced far crueller odds than those born closer to their time.

A pair of dragon eggs will protect them. It was no mere superstition. Accounts as far back as Aenar himself detailed the benefits of an early bond with a dragon, or even just proximity to a dragon egg. For both hatchling and infant, in fact. It had not saved little Aegon, but he had been sicklier after the difficult birth.

Alyssa, my love. Baelon gripped his saddle, steadying himself against the lurch of his heart that could still upend him when he thought of her. In his dreams, she held Jon in her arms, laughing with abandon at his surly expression and comparing it to Daemon’s as a babe. And Aemon was beside her, conversing quietly with his namesake, the intensity of his focus undiminished, even when turned upon an infant.

Baelon’s grip tightened, and he was grateful for the unrelenting roar of wind in his face that carried off tears as fast as they could fall. Such dreams were hard to wake from. And when he did, it was even harder to rise to greet another day without them.

The farms and orchards of the Crownlands beneath them gave way to the mist-shrouded hills that formed Crackclaw Point. He had pushed Vhagar to exhaustion over the past two days, covering ground that ordinarily would have been done in three, so he set her down as they approached Rook’s Rest, where Lord Staunton readily gathered the plumpest sheep from his farmers to sate Vhagar’s hunger.

Baelon kept the rest short, allowing them both six hours of sleep before setting out before dawn. They had another twelve hard hours ahead of them—or so he thought. Vhagar, aware of his urgency, shaved several hours from that. It was just nearing noon when Runestone came into view at the edge of the horizon, and when they had landed at last, he laid both hands on Vhagar’s snout, her heavy breaths stirring his hair.

“Thank you,” he said, staring into her bright green eyes. “I do not yet have enough hatchlings born of my hatchlings to spare.”

The enclosure that had been built for Caraxes was too small for Vhagar, but its keeper assured him that a hearty meal of sheep would be secured for his dragon. That was enough reassurance for him to grab the dragon egg cradle from her saddlebags and take off up the hill toward the castle. The fear he had barely held at bay for the ride wormed its way into his heart at last.

What if the babes had sickened since he had gone? Little Jon—or Baelon, as his father had negotiated in exchange for the dragon eggs—was the larger of the twins, his lungs hale. Aemon was smaller and quieter, save for the occasional wail in Daemon’s arms.

The gods cannot be so cruel to take him from me twice. But he had thought the same after losing Alyssa and their babe, that the gods would not visit such sorrow on him again.

Daemon came to greet him in the yard, and Baelon’s tension eased at his untroubled expression. “I did not think Vhagar had such speed in her,” his son said, sounding impressed. He shook his head then. “Did you not sleep at all?”

“I can sleep easily once the eggs are in their cradle,” Baelon said, surrendering the heavy chest to him with relief. It was difficult to say which had borne the greater strain throughout the three days’ ride: his thighs or his arms. “Where are they?”

“They are in the nursery now. Come.”

x~x~x

Baelon all but collapsed into the chair that Daemon had dragged beside the twins’ cradle, feet giving out midway through seating himself. Lady Rhea had joined the small convoy to the nursery, and promptly ordered a meal be brought for him from the kitchens, but his dizziness steadied as he gazed upon his sleeping grandsons. Jon’s hand was curled around the cloth of his brother’s sleeve, his frown intense even in sleep, while Aemon was the very image of serenity.

In his relief, everything else that he had battled back surged to the surface, and he found himself doubled over in his chair, a half choked sob giving way to a trembling laugh while Daemon looked on with widened eyes.

“I am fine,” he said after a moment, once he had ridden out the wave of emotion. He brushed at his cheeks, then held his hands out. “The eggs.”

Daemon undid the latches on the dragon cradle, flipping the lid open to reveal the two eggs nestled within its cushioned interior. One was a deep burgundy with bands of black and gold streaking across it, and the other was charcoal black with large swathes of smoky grey and silver. Baleon had chosen them himself: one from an old clutch of Vhagar’s, and one from Silverwing’s.

“They are beautiful,” Daemon said, holding each up in the light in wonder.

His good-daughter, ordinarily stoic and composed, looked no less awed, and Baelon beckoned her closer. She reached out hesitantly, feeling the surface of each egg. “Whose is whose?”

“That is for the hatchlings to decide,” Baelon said.

Daemon handed him the burgundy first, and then Baelon was faced with the dilemma of finding space in a cradle built for a single babe but tasked with holding two. He ended up gently shifting the infants higher up so that the eggs could be placed at their feet, and both woke at his touch, foreheads furrowing as they squinted at him.

He gave their faces a stroke, one and then the other. They were so small that even the knuckle of his forefinger seemed to dwarf their soft cheeks. “I have brought a gift for you from your great-grandsire.” Alertness seemed to enter their eyes after a few blinks, and he smiled. “Dragon eggs, to keep you safe.”

Baelon took the second egg from Daemon and parted the twins enough so that it could be placed between them. Their pudgy hands patted at its scaled surface, with happy little grunts emerging from Aemon’s side of the dragon egg. Jon’s flailing study was quieter, his intense brow furrow back as his lilac-grey eyes stared at the egg, before his head turned back toward Baelon, almost in question.

Baelon leaned in close, kissing his forehead and cheeks, and resigning himself to a single cheek kiss for Aemon, who was still entranced by the egg.

“How are they?” he asked.

There was good color in their cheeks. Jon’s breathing sounded slightly congested, but that was not entirely unusual for newborn babes. Daemon’s nostrils had whistled fiercely for a period of four weeks, which Alyssa had found hilarious, calling him her little tea kettle.

“They remain healthy,” Rhea said. “Maester Therbold examined them just this morning. They have gained nearly half a pound over the week.”

They looked just as tiny to Baelon as when he had first held them, fresh from the womb, weighing barely five pounds each. He picked Jon up, cradling him in his arms as he tried to gauge whether he was truly larger. Once they have reached ten pounds, Baelon decided, then the worst of the threat is past.

Weight gain was far more important than weight itself, he knew. He had seen his little brothers succumb within their first year, as had his Aegon. Healthy lungs and healthy suckling were the mark of a babe who would live to see his first name day.

“You must drink heartily of your nurse’s breast,” he murmured to Jon, whose gaze turned cross-eyed as it tried to focus on the finger Baelon brought to trace the line of his tiny nose. “And see that your brother does the same.”

Aemon was more reluctant to be parted from the dragon eggs, expressing his affront with wailing that he usually reserved for Daemon first thing in the morning, but Baelon rocked him until it subsided, promising he would not be parted from their eggs for long.

“It is my father’s command that the eggs be under guard at all hours,” he said, glancing up at Rhea. “He requested that only your most trusted knights be tasked with the duty.”

She frowned. “There are none more honorable than knights of the Vale, my lord.”

“It is not their honor that the king would question,” Baelon said, well-accustomed to creatively interpreting his father’s sentiments. “Only their seasoning. Some will be more experienced than others, and those are who he seeks.”

“Very well,” Rhea said, her ruffled feathers soothed, “I know who I would appoint to the task.”

They are both of them so prideful, Baelon thought, not for the first time. It was partly why they had clashed early on, he suspected, though Daemon’s simmering resentment of the match had not helped matters. He glanced at his son, who still looked a bit lost on how to occupy himself in the nursery.

Daemon’s youth did not help matters either. He had grown up on tales of Aegon’s Conquest, of his grandfather’s heroic struggles against Maegor, of their family’s bloody quarrels with the Faith. He saw Baelon as a hero, as he had Aemon, and longed for the glory they had achieved on dragonback against the foes of the Crown. As proud as he was, he desired more to be worthy of such pride.

He is too young to understand that often such opportunities arise all on their own, and can bring sorrow as easily as accolades.

Baelon focused his gaze back on the twins, until the clench in his jaw had relaxed. They were watching him intently, Aemon with that concern so like his brother’s. He had always known when Baelon was upset, often before he did. They are such bright little flames, my son’s babes.

He let himself sink deeper into his chair, lulled by its comfort and their warmth, fatigue settling in until the door opened, at which point he straightened to alertness, but it was merely a servant bearing hot bread and cold cuts of meat, alongside a vegetable-laden soup. Baelon reluctantly surrendered the twins to their parents, one apiece, and took his meal.

“They are sweet babes,” Rhea said, smiling down at Aemon who smiled back at her.

“That must be your doing,” Baelon said, casting an amused look at his son. “Daemon was the loudest babe the Red Keep has heard. ‘Riotously upset with the world,’ is how my father described him.”

“I cannot imagine,” Rhea murmured, with a sly glance of her own toward Daemon.

Rather than bristle at the slight, Daemon merely shook his head at Jon. “Rest assured, I shall never tell such unkind tales of your infancy.”

Such was a great relief to Jon, judging by the smell that rose afterward, and Daemon quickly raised him up out of his lap, holding him up by the armpits to stern admonitions from both Baelon and Rhea until he adjusted his grip to support his head.

The nurse was summoned to change his linens, and then Aemon’s shortly after, and Baelon shared what little conversation he had managed in his short time at the Red Keep. Rhea seemed less than pleased at the king’s interference with Jon’s name, mollified only slightly by Baelon’s suggestion that they call him by “Jon” to reduce confusion, whatever his recorded name might be.

“I shall call him both,” Daemon said stubbornly. “Baelon is his name.”

Rhea’s expression turned to alarm upon learning that he had invited his mother and sister to visit as they liked, since the babes were too young themselves to travel. “I shall need notice of their arrival,” she insisted. “So that Runestone may extend a proper welcome to our queen.”

Her feelings on the king considering a tourney for their first name day, should their health continue to prove hearty, seemed mixed. Baelon did not blame her. He doubted she had realized how extensive the Crown’s interference would be once she bore sons. After Aemon’s death without a male heir, their father was eager to demonstrate the stability of Baelon’s succession to the realm: two sons, and two grandsons.

His father would be content to let the twins spend their first year in Runestone. But as for the second—he doubtless would insist that they be brought to King’s Landing along with the dragon eggs, if they had not yet hatched. For a proud lady of a proud house, to have control wrested away of her own heirs would likely rankle.

That is a matter for my mother to address, as this match was her own doing. Even the outcome was the intended one: a scion of House Targaryen eventually in control of a powerful holding in the Vale.

But that was a trouble for another day, and far less of an issue if Viserys and Aemma had a son of their own. Baelon rubbed at his heavy eyes. If that is even possible. His father’s pressure for more heirs had meant that Aemma had been made a mother too young. The Grand Maester himself had admitted that such could complicate future births, even setting aside the miscarriages since.

Childbirth has not been kind to our house.

“You look awful,” Daemon informed him, ever the diplomat. “You should take some rest.”

Baelon nodded, too tired to argue. “I shall sleep here, in the nursery.”

His son and good-daughter exchanged a look, but did not protest. Rhea merely sent for the blankets to be replaced, and his pillow brought from his guest chamber. By then, his grandsons had been cleaned and changed and given yet another meal that had left them just as sleepy.

“They were as hungry as ever, my prince,” the wetnurse assured him when he asked about the feeding.

A troubling thought occurred to him. “Is there enough milk for two? Is another nurse needed?”

“There is plenty of milk to nurse them until full, my prince.”

The twins seemed content enough, Jon letting out a soft burp before being transferred back to his cradle. The egg between them was moved to the bottom of the cradle, beside the other, and the babes nestled against one another as their faces went soft with sleep.

The dragon eggs will protect them. Baelon gave them each another kiss, then grabbed his grown son to kiss his own cheek. “Go, take a ride on Caraxes.”

His son’s expression turned furtive. “I did not—”

“I know you have not ridden him since my departure.” His son’s dragon had fixed him with the baleful look he had worn whenever Aemon had neglected him for a few days. “Go. Vhagar and I are here to protect them in your absence.” He nodded toward Rhea. “As are your wife and her knights.”

Daemon brightened, the serious expression he had worn too often since the twins’ birth lifting. “I shall see you after your nap with the babes, then.” It was Baelon’s turn for a kiss to the cheek, and then, after a moment of hesitation, Rhea’s.

Baelon settled gratefully into the softness of the bed, satisfied with the quality of the feather mattress. Their nurse should be in comfort, after all, to provide them the best care. Hopefully she did not begrudge him a few hours’ use of her bed.

He closed his eyes, and let Jon’s snuffling snores carry him away to oblivion.

[gummysharklover]

OBVIOUSLY !

summary: ᯓ˚࿔ you've been dating schlatt for two years; his daughter eliza calls you mommy for the first time

notes: ᯓ˚࿔ single dad!schlatt ᯓ˚࿔ fem!reader ᯓ˚࿔ fluff :3 ᯓ˚࿔ this is actually so cute i am going to pass out ᯓ˚࿔ thank you guys for being so patient with me while i get my life back together <3 ᯓ˚࿔ not proofread!

wc: ᯓ˚࿔ 878

It's past midnight when Schlatt feels a gentle tug on his shirt, pulling him from the depths of sleep. With heavy eyelids, he groggily blinks his eyes open to find his five-year-old daughter, Eliza, standing beside his bed. Her small figure shakes slightly as she softly cries, clutching her well-worn stuffed rabbit.

Her lower lip quivers, "Daddy, I had a bad dream," She whispers, her voice trembling.

Schlatt yawns, sitting up and rubbing his face, "Alright, kid," He softly croons, "Whaddya wanna do?"

As she stands on her tippy toes, Eliza's eyes dart to the other side of the bed where you lie, "Can I sleep with you and Mommy tonight?" She sniffs, harshly wiping at her tears.

"Of course," Schlatt reaches down to pick her up and places her snugly between you and him.

Eliza snuggles between you and Schlatt, whispering, "Goodnight, Daddy. Goodnight, Mommy," Before quickly drifting back to sleep.

Eliza was three when you first met her. At the time, she was a wide-eyed toddler, full of curiosity and innocence, who clung to Schlatt like her life depended on it. She would shyly hide behind him whenever you came over, little fingers grasping at his shirt, seeking refuge. She would peek out cautiously, big eyes filled with uncertainty as she contemplated whether it was safe to let you into her world. And during those early encounters where Schlatt would momentarily step away, Eliza would watch you closely with wide eyes. Her expression was always a mix of wariness and curiosity.

You, on the other hand, felt an instant connection to her. Your heart would swell with affection each time she slowly came out of her shell. And the first time she threw her tiny arms around you in a hug, you knew she was far more than your boyfriend's daughter—she was your daughter as well. And with more bedtime stories, more kissing her scrapes better, and more quiet moments where she would curl up next to you on the couch, her trust in you slowly solidified.

However, you always took great care with how you approached the situation, particularly when it came to labels. You understand the significance a title can hold, and you’re deeply aware of the emotional weight they carry. Your priority was to take care of her—to love her unconditionally, and you never wanted her to feel pressured to see you in a certain light if she wasn’t comfortable with it. You were on a unique journey together, and she would need time to find her feelings towards you.

The next morning, the sun pours in through the window, casting a warm glow across the dining room table. Schlatt sips in a coffee watching in delight as you sit at the dining room table next to Eliza as she hunches over her paper. She sticks her tongue out in concentration as she scribbles with her crayons.

"What're you drawing, sweetheart?" You ask, trying to catch a glimpse of the drawing. But as you lean over, she covers the paper.

"No peeking, yet," She whispers.

You sit patiently with a smile as you wait for her to finish her artistic endeavor, and you're elated when she turns to you with a smile and holds up her creation with pride. It's a drawing of three stick figures: a tall figure with Schlatt's unmistakable chops, a smaller figure with messy brown hair, and a thirds figure with features strikingly similar to yours. Each figure is labelled. The tall one says "Daddy," the shorter one says "Me," and the last one says "Mommy."

Your breath catches in your throat as you read the innocent word Mommy.

"Eliza, sweetheart?" You ask, heart racing.

She looks worried that you're not smiling, providing a coy, "Yes?"

"Who's Mommy?" You manage to ask.

Her expression turns into one of confusion, "You, obviously."

Tears well in your eyes as understanding dawns on you, "Oh, Eliza," You whisper, beckoning her over.

Carefully placing her drawing down, she hops off her chair and walks over to yours. You scoop her up, placing her on your lap, and hug her so tight she whispers, "Mommy, I can't breathe."

You let out a wet laugh as your heart squeezes at her new declaration.

Schlatt walks into the room, footsteps quiet against the wooden floor, and glances between you two, "What's goin' on here?"

You shakily hold up the drawing with a smile breaking through your tears. He squints at it, corners of his mouth twitching upward as his gaze softens, Looks like we have a little artist on our hands," He says, ruffling Eliza's hair, causing her to errupt into giggles.

Eliza beams with pride, her laughter ringing like music in the air, "I made it for you and Mommy."

Schlatt's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world around you fades away. His eyes sparkle with a depth of emotion unspoken yet undeniable as he walks over to you and envelops his two girls in a tight hug. You lean into him with Eliza nestles between you, and in this perfect moment, you realize you're more than just a figure in Eliza and Schlatt's life—you're woven in the tapestry of love and belonging, a truth you hadn't fully grasped until now.

You're home.

thank you so much for reading. reblogs are hashtag appreciated so very much <333

[raayllum]

It gets buried along the way because there's more going on—ensuring that Runaan won't be executed tonight rather than tomorrow morning at the top of the list—and because the Callum she came back to is definitely better at hiding his hurt than the boy she left, but he can't fool her. Not when she saw the hurt happen.

I know you're upset, but Ezran, he was my father too—

Was he? You never even called him Dad!

The way Callum's expression had cracked, crumbled, for just a moment, the glassy quality to his bright green eyes. He'd stormed off in a huff with the last word—You are not executing him, not till morning, if you care about Rayla at all—and when Ezran hadn't been able to look at her, Rayla had followed.

She finds him on the bridge outside, the sun beginning to set and bathing everything in a warm yellow.

"Hey." He's resting his elbows on the side of the bridge as she approaches, his shoulders haunched. She places a hand between his shoulder blades. "Are you..." Obviously not okay. None of them are.

And how could he be, when Ezran had thrown that in his face? They both know how much Callum regretted not calling Harrow was he was; they both know how much he sat in years of uncomfortable security over how much Harrow loved him, and Harrow loved him deeply.

"I'm fine," Callum says shortly. "Ezran is just... we'll have to break Runaan out tonight, somehow, and leave before sunrise."

"Callum—"

"You can use your lockpick skills to get his cuffs undone or to cut whatever rope is binding him, and—"

"Callum." She takes him by the shoulders and forces him to face her. Immediately his head droops, his eyes glassy all over again. "Ezran shouldn't have said that. Harrow knew you loved him. Knew that he was your dad. I promise."

This time Callum crumbles into her, arms tight around her waist while he lets out a few sobs against her shoulder. Rayla holds him steady and runs her fingers through his hair.

She can't imagine how unmoored he feels—his home gone, Ezran acting like the opposite of himself, his own grief about Harrow ripped open all over again. His anchor, his little brother, acting like they aren't brothers at all. Aren't family. Just a king and a high mage who's overstepped his bounds, as Ezran had so cruelly reminded him.

Afterwards, Callum takes her hand when she tries to dissuade him from helping her—you've done enough—both his palms warm in the early autumn chill as her own eyes sting, because she just got Runaan back and without Callum's help her chances of losing him all over again is much higher—I would do anything for you—and she lets him, because that's what you do for family, and she could never hate him for his choices. Not when they're so clearly done out of love, always.

Ezran will see that someday. Ezran will forgive them, and before that, Runaan will continue to live.

[slippinmickeys]

CHAPTER ONE (1/16):

Not far above the pavement of US-220, the forest dripped. The rain was gentle but steady, the highway as black and slick as a surfacing seal. Ahead, they could just make out the panning red and blue lights of a tangle of squad cars. The trees that edged the roadway pushed in and down, oppressive as low-hanging clouds. Beside her, Mulder sighed. 

They’d been awoken early by a call from a Sheriff three counties down and four over, who’d heard of Mulder by reputation. They had a body and a bit of a situation and would he and his partner come take a look? It was the first time that Scully had stayed over, and she’d felt embarrassed that she was there when the call came in though it wasn’t as though either of them had trumpeted her presence. She’d rolled out of bed and refused to meet his eye as he hung up on the Sheriff and dialed Skinner. 

Later, when he walked into his kitchen, dressed and shaven, he’d said, “Listen, Scully, if you regret what we’ve been—” 

“I don’t,” she interrupted him, handing him a steaming mug of coffee and finally bringing her eyes to his. “I don’t.” 

“Mea cuppa,” he’d said quietly, raising the brew to his lips. She’d been forced to smile at the pun.

It hadn’t been fair of her to seduce him, though it had been a glacial, intellectual courtship, inevitable, really, in every sense of the word. Mulder was tender-hearted and obsessive and after their second time together, she should have known that no amount of her stoicism or sense of workplace propriety would keep them from wanting to be together all the time. Last night, she’d had a foot out the door and was pushing him away with one hand and pulling him back with the other, his fingers tangled in her hair in rapacious bliss. 

They still weren’t sure how to be with each other, and that morning they’d walked down to Mulder’s car in a loaded, restless silence. 

Mulder eased up on the gas as they approached the cluster of khaki police cruisers and cut the windshield wipers. There were deputies leaning against hoods, wearing those ridiculous plastic rain beanies over their service caps and trying to appear important. Mulder pulled over, parking haphazardly on the berm, and looked out his window where a small inland lake spread out to the east and west, the body they’d come to investigate prostrate under a blue tarp on top of a thin strip of dark, mealy sand. 

They got out of the car and the Sheriff, holding a large black golf umbrella, pushed his way through his men, stepping up to Mulder and holding out a hand. 

“Thanks for coming,” the man said by way of greeting, and Mulder nodded toward him and introduced him to Scully.

“Call came in this morning,” the Sheriff said after trading introductions. “Dog walker found him.” He turned to one of the deputies, a younger man with blond eyebrows and a pixie-ish nose, freckles smattered over the bridge of it. “Avery, you got the file?”

Deputy Avery stepped forward. “Right here, sir,” the younger man said, handing over a beat up file folder—a brown, vintage-looking thing with a faux-wood finish. He gave the two agents a friendly smile and stepped back. 

Scully nodded at the folder now gripped in the Sheriff’s hand. “You got an ID?”

The Sheriff sort of shook his head and nodded at the same time. “That’s why we called you out,” he said, handing over the file. “No apparent cause of death,” he added as an afterthought. “Forensic unit out of Richmond are on their way.”

Mulder flipped the file open and read for a moment before looking back up. “Daly Carmichael. Missing persons?” The older man nodded, looking uncomfortable. “Must feel good to close such a cold case,” Mulder went on before looking back down at the paperwork. Scully leaned over to get a look at it. The victim was male, was in his early twenties when he’d gone missing in 1974, last seen wearing white sneakers and jeans and a yellow striped top.

“You’re confident of the identification?” she asked dubiously, ‘74 being a quarter of a century past.

The Sheriff swallowed. “There was no ID on the body, but…we’re pretty confident.”

Mulder flipped the file closed. “Let’s take a look,” he said. 

“Andy!” The Sheriff called out, and a deputy who had been standing near the tarp-covered body waved back. “Andy was first on scene,” he said to the two agents. 

Mulder noticed that when he and Scully began to pick their way down the embankment towards the small beach, none of the members of the sheriff’s department joined them.

As they approached, Mulder got a better look at Andy the deputy, who barely looked old enough to drive. It was likely he’d pulled corpse-sitting duties in an act of hazing. His arms were crossed over his chest while the walkie clipped to his shoulder gave a steady susurration of dispatch chatter. He gave off an air of indifference, but he was plowing through a stick of gum, working his tongue at it elaborately, snapping it nervously through his teeth. 

“What time did the call come in?” Scully asked, crouching down next to the body, her knees softly popping. 

“About six am,” he answered, then added, “ma’am.”

“Someone walking their dog, the sheriff said?” She lifted up a corner of the tarp to get a look at the victim’s face. Mulder watched as her eyebrows furrowed into a chevron of confusion.

The deputy nodded, continuing to gnaw on his gum, and hooked his thumbs through his shiny utility belt. 

Mulder noted pawprints and the shoe prints of the dog walker who’d found the body. The sand underneath them was damp, but firm, and showed only a few other prints, all of them looking to be standard police-issue. 

A couple of bright green leaves cartwheeled across the marks, propelled by a gust of wind, one of them briefly catching on the deputy’s shoe before going on its merry way.

“Did you examine the body?” Mulder asked him, finally looking up.

“There was no pulse, no ID on him,” the deputy replied. 

“How did you—”

“Hey Mulder?” There was a sharpness to her tone that made Mulder stop talking. “Can you take a look here?”

Scully peeled back the corner of the tarp, revealing a young-looking man with dark hair. He was dressed in jeans, white tennis shoes and a yellow striped tee shirt. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. Mulder glanced down at his hand, which was still holding the archaic looking missing persons file. “Huh,” he said. Scully reached up and touched his wrist, finding his pulse suddenly beating rabbit-quick. 

“If you don’t mind,” the deputy said, clearing his throat. “I’m going to…” He hooked a thumb up toward the rest of his compatriots and beat a hasty retreat.

“Those clothes don’t look twenty years old,” Mulder said. 

“Twenty-six,” Scully corrected, still hunched close to the ground. “Can I see the file?” Mulder handed it over without a word, and Scully flipped through it quickly, her eyes scanning the contents. 

“This can’t be right,” she said.  

Mulder shrugged. “Let’s ignore that particular elephant in the room, and see what else we find,” he suggested, and gave Scully a moment to collect her thoughts. “What can you tell me about the body?”

Scully turned back to the victim in front of them.

“Lividity isn’t fixed. Temperature is more difficult with the weather and exposure. I’ll have a better idea on the time of death after the autopsy.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, the victim appears to be male. Cursory examination, I’d say he’s early twenties, if that.” With this, she shot him a look. “No obvious cause of death, though I suspect drowning. He’s on the shore. His clothes are wet.”

“It has been raining,” Mulder said, snapping on a pair of latex gloves that he’d produced from his pocket. He leaned down and started unlacing the man’s shoes. 

“Mulder, we should wait until the forensics unit can come in and process the scene.” 

“I just want to check something, before the rain gets any worse,” he said, and carefully removed the victim’s shoe. He pointed to the top of the man’s foot. “Look,” he said, and Scully had to bend down to look at what he was trying to show her. The sock on top of the man’s foot was dry. He hadn’t been submerged in the lake. 

Mulder carefully put the shoe back on, and moved to reach inside the man’s pockets. 

“The deputy said there was no ID on him,” Scully reminded him. 

“I want to know what else is in here,” Mulder said, and pulled his hand back, producing several gold coins and a small dark rock.

He flipped them all over in his rubber-covered palm. “Odd markings,” he observed, looking at the coins. 

Scully leaned in to look. There were faces on the coins, but not the profiles of presidents or queens or even Caesars. They were clearly old, the etchings worn down, but she could still make out faces; some laughing, some looking angry, one wearing a crown of leaves and looking ghoulish. “I don’t see a country of origin,” she said. “They could be archaic. Maybe he was a collector.”

Mulder gave her a sideways glance but didn’t reply. The rain had turned to more of a mist and was curling the hair around her face, lending her beauty a neoclassical verve. He had to stop himself from reaching out to touch it.

“What’s the rock?” Scully asked, reaching forward to graze it lightly with her finger. 

“I think,” Mulder said, squinting at it. “I think it’s an ingot of iron.”

Mulder looked up and out around the lake and trees that surrounded it. There were no waves to speak of, but above the water was a line of algae in an undulating, unending rope, lying along the sand where the water had pushed it when the wind was stronger. The shore was dotted with round, smooth stones and the sharp carapaces of invasive zebra mussels. Twenty yards beyond the body, Mulder could see a child’s abandoned plastic bucket with no handle, and closer to the corpse, a beer bottle with a faded orange label. The hem of the forest looked impenetrable, the edge a solid mass of thick cedar and bracken with one small opening due east of where they stood, as dark and forbidding as the mouth of a cave. Mulder gave an involuntary shudder and turned back to his partner. 

“Okay,” he said, turning to her. “Let’s talk about the elephant.”

“Our victim appears not to have aged since 1974,” Scully sighed. 

“My kind of case,” Mulder smiled.

“Our kind,” she corrected, which widened his grin considerably. 

“What do you know about the fae, Scully?”

Good Christ, he had a theory already, Scully thought. 

“Probably a whole lot less than I will five minutes from now,” she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and settling in. After a moment, she realized he was waiting for her to actually answer, but she was having none of it; she knew the precise trajectory of his thoughts. “You think this man was taken by fairies, Mulder? That’s a stretch, even for you.”

“It’s been suggested that fairies live in dimensions parallel to our own. String theory posits that there are up to ten or eleven dimensions that exist in the universe, not just the four we humans experience. We can move within those four dimensions. Who’s to say other beings can’t move among more? Or move us with them?”

“So this man hasn’t aged because he went to live with the fairies? Mulder, string theory smooths out the mathematical inconsistencies that currently exist between quantum mechanics and the theory of relativity. Yes, there may be other dimensions we can’t see, but time—one of those dimensions that we can measure—only moves one way: forward.”

“Doesn’t the theory of relativity posit that time slows when you’re moving faster than the speed of light?” Scully heaved a sigh. Only Mulder would pick a physics fight with her. “Eminent theosophist E. L. Gardner likened fairies to butterflies, whose function was to provide an essential link between the energy of the sun and the plants of Earth. They would travel between. He claimed that growth of a plant which we regard as the customary and inevitable result of associating the three factors of sun, seed, and soil would never take place if, and I quote ‘the fairy builders were absent.’”

“Please don’t tell me that you’re about to suggest that fairies are actually aliens. And that they’ve found a way to travel faster than the speed of light.”

“You said it, not me.” 

“Mulder!”

“What?” 

“Little gray men are a far cry from ethereal sprites who use protective charms and mischievously lead travelers astray. You can’t have it both ways.”

“I’m not trying to have it any way, I’m merely suggesting avenues of inquiry lining up with the facts of the case as we have them. Anyway, Gardner described fairies as having no clean-cut shape but rather ‘small, hazy, and somewhat luminous clouds of color with a brighter sparkish nucleus.’”

“You’re describing a proton.”

“So was he,” Mulder shrugged. “But taking away the strange coins and the ingot of iron—historically believed to repel fairies, I might add—how do you account for the fact that this man hasn’t aged in over twenty years?”

“Good genes?”

“The only person I know with genes that good is you. And don’t you have Celtic forebears?”

Scully blushed. It wasn’t fair, flirting. Their relationship was new, and their romance improbable.

Mulder threw a look up to the local law enforcement leaning against their vehicles and watching them work. He reached out and squeezed Scully’s hand once. She looked at him with the same kind of embarrassed moue as when a stranger's dog sticks its nose in your crotch.

“I know this is hard for you,” he said, his voice low. 

“It’s fine,” she said, an old safeword. 

He remembered her sitting in her bed in the oncology ward, small and slight, as withered as a new chick emerging from a shell. Her eyes had been sunken and her small shoulders stuck out from beneath the hospital gown like wire coat hangers. I feel fine , she’d said. 

Mulder felt her skin’s warmth before releasing her hand and he walked over to the bottle of beer, picking it up and turning it so that he could read the label. “Huh,” he said, holding it up so that Scully could see it. “Oberon.”

“What?”

“The kind of beer. Bell’s Brewery. It’s called ‘Oberon.’”

“The king of the fairies?” Scully said dubiously. 

Mulder shrugged once again, and she sighed. “Leave it where it is,” she said, casting another glance at the local boys in brown. “Let the forensics unit bag it.”

A big blue van had just pulled up behind their fleet sedan. The team from Richmond had arrived.

Mulder set the bottle carefully back down where he found it. When he straightened, he looked towards the forest and could have sworn that the hole through the bracken of the woods looked bigger than it had a few minutes before. He took a few steps toward it.

“Mulder?” called out his partner. 

“I just want to check something out,” he called over his shoulder without looking back. 

The forest was restless, the tops of the trees agitated and shivering. 

A thought occurred to him and he turned around. “You want to come with me?” 

The look she gave him communicated quite clearly that she did not, but she turned to follow him nonetheless, another sigh passing between her lips in a steamy vapor. 

“Look,” she said, pointing forward toward the trees when she reached his side. “There are footprints coming out.”

Mulder peered down. Sure enough, there was one set of human footprints leading from the dark opening, the edges of the prints crumbly and ill defined from the rain. 

They traded a glance and went in.

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

The List (8)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Not Beta’d.

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 8

Luxurious silk sheets glided through Y/N's fingers like butter as she reached for her husband. There was a gentle rustling beneath her fingertips amidst the cool sheets. Opening her eyes, a soft smile spread across her face as she discovered a note waiting for her.

Back soon. - Bucky x

Instead of waiting for Bucky to return, Y/N slipped her phone into the pocket of her maroon silk robe, then searched for Bucky in the only place he could be this early in the morning, his office. She had been walking on clouds the last 72 hours. If it weren't for the glint of the ring on her finger and the tousled bed sheets, she might have wondered if it had all been a figment of her imagination.

Bucky had always been a busy man; the active hit list only expedited his desire to capture Loki. Apparently, three days was all Bucky was willing to spare, even on house arrest. Y/N knew the expiration date for the honeymoon phase would arrive earlier the second time around. She couldn’t fault him for trying to protect his family. Their family.

Quietly slipping into the office, Y/N was met with the back of Bucky’s high-backed lavish chair. The sunlight pouring in from the window glinted off of his polished dress shoes that were protruding from the side of the chair. Her eyes homed in on the ankle monitor peeking out beneath the hem of his slacks where his crossed ankles rested on the bookshelf.

He was too relaxed to be working. Was he sleeping? Why would he sleep in the office instead of their bedroom? Y/N ran circles around her mind scouring for anything she might have done to drive him away. Coming up empty-handed, she pushed forward.

“Bucky,” Y/N cooed. Her hand glided along the top of the leather chair as she rounded it.

His feet came crashing down with a start, nearly knocking a few statues off the bookshelf.

Stumbling backward, Y/N’s eyes widened.

“Peter?! What are you doing here? Where’s Bucky?”

Peter scratched the back of his neck, his face flush as he spoke, “Uh, Mr. Barnes is working. He asked me to cover for him.”

“He asked you?” Y/N frowned, crossing her arms. “Where is he now?”

Lifting his pant leg, Peter grumbled, “More like told me.” His chocolate eyes jerked open. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Y/N’s frown deepened. “Where is he?”

Peter shrugged. “He left this morning with Mr. Odinson.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, he told me to tell you something.” He spun in the chair and began ransacking Bucky’s desk.

Perched on the edge of the desk, Y/N combed the top for anything noteworthy that might stand out.

“So, Bucky left you in charge?” Y/N hummed, attempting to understand what was going on.

Peter's fingers fumbled with the pockets of his slack as he shook his head. “He just told me to be him for the day. You know, do what he normally does so no one gets suspicious about the ankle monitor. Follow his routine.” He checked his watch briefly. “The last three days he's been locked away in his room, but he told me that was off limits, so I went to his office. That’s where he usually was at this time before you came back,” he blabbed.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Clearing his throat, Peter tidied his suit jacket and sat upright.

“Come in,” he called in a mock deep voice.

Y/N stifled a laugh, clearing her throat to mask her amusement at the boy's unsuccessful attempt to imitate Bucky.

One of Bucky’s men lingered in the doorway. His eyes glossed over Peter, a frown of disapproval etched on his face. Then his eyes landed on Y/N. 

She raised her chin, ignoring her lack of dress.

The man however, allowed his eyes to roam over the expanse of her exposed skin as he spoke, “Bucky’s lawyer is here.”

Y/N eyes trailed down to Peter as he snapped his fingers. With his pointer finger turned to the sky, a look of relief crossed his face. “That’s what I was supposed to tell you.”

With pursed lips, Y/N turned back to the man ogling her in the doorway. “Get rid of the lawyer. Tell him Bucky isn’t feeling well and will call to reschedule when he is-”

Click. Click. Click.

The man in the doorway hissed, bending at the waist to rub his calf. 

“My apologies,” a man in a gray suit with red tinted glasses spoke as his white cane struck the door frame.

The male in the doorway scoffed as the blind man successfully shut the door behind him.

“How did-” Peter wondered out loud. Y/N shot him a glare, silencing the boy.

“Sorry about him,” Y/N rounded the desk gently tapping the man’s forearm, “May I?”

The man tilted his head down in the direction of her voice and gave a subtle nod.

“Matt Murdock, at your service.” He introduced as Y/N guided him into a chair across from Bucky’s desk.

Y/N patted Mr. Murdock’s arm as he settled into the chair. His hand rested on top of hers, preventing her from running away. Matt’s head turned in her direction, “And you are?”

“Y/N Barnes,” she whispered.

Something about the way he stared at her made Y/N feel like he could see through her. As if he was able to read her just as well as her husband was able to. Unlike Bucky, Matt was a stranger. He couldn’t possibly be able to read her that well.

“Thank you, Y/N.” As soon as Matt lifted his hand, Y/N backed away. “It’s nice to finally meet the wife of my client.” His head cocked in Peter’s direction. “And who might you be?”

Peter spared Y/N a nervous glance before he introduced himself as Bucky in the same poor impression.

Y/N hid her face behind her hands.

Matt tilted his head. “Are you aware that it is a criminal offense to impersonate someone else?”

Peter’s eyes widened as he pulled at his dress shirt’s collar. “Did I say Bucky? I don't know why I said that. I’m Peter. Definitely Peter,” he rushed.

Y/N stepped forward, noticing the way Matt’s head turned slightly at her movement. “Bucky is unable to meet with you today.”

Without missing a beat, Matt pressed forward, “I guess that gives us enough time to discuss your side of the story. I don’t recommend putting a client or their significant other on the stand, but your husband isn’t exactly the most likable man in New York. I’ll need your help to humanize Mr. Barnes to the jury.”

Y/N’s mouth gaped open as she dropped on the edge of the desk. “You’re going to put me on the stand?”

The corner of Matt’s lips turned upward. “Even if you could guarantee your husband’s innocence, the other lawyer would try to pull secrets out of you to incriminate Mr. Barnes. None of which would help this case or your marriage.”

Y/N sighed in relief.

“Besides, Mr. Barnes had declined your involvement during the trial and requested to keep his marriage out of it.”

“So, what do you need from me?”

“A photographer caught you and Mr. Barnes kissing at the event. I’ll need your statement of what happened to keep you off the stand. According to your husband, no one loves Mr. Barnes more than his wife. Surely you can enlighten me on some of his better qualities for the jury.”

Heat pricked beneath the surface of Y/N’s skin. Her heart swelled at the thought of Bucky leaving his character in her hands. Bucky may walk around with the confidence of a lion in a jungle, but behind closed doors, he curses his life. Not only did Y/N love Bucky, she also knew him better than anyone. If the case relied solely on her image of Bucky, he’d walk out of the courthouse a freeman.

Still, it didn’t feel right to speak about Bucky without him present. It was his trial and image. Not only would the public be watching, his enemies would be as well. Y/N’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the wood of the desk. “I should really wait for-”

A vibration from her robe pocket stunned her. Loki’s name flashed across her cellphone.

Steve. He told her to find him the next time Loki reached out. She needed to find Steve. He could trace the call.

“Is Steve here?”

Matt perked up at the urgency in her voice.

“No,” Peter responded.

Y/N cursed under her breath.

“Do you need to take that?” Matt asked.

Y/N shook her head. She shouldn’t. Bucky and Steve weren’t here. The less contact with Loki the better. “It’s just an ex.” Her finger hovered over the decline button.

“Loki?” Matt took her silence as confirmation. “Mr. Barnes told me about the hit list.” Matt drummed his fingertips along the arm of the chair. “You should answer it. On speaker.”

Y/N hesitated. Fuck Steve for not being here when Loki called. Her finger shifted, answering the call instead.

“Hello?”

Matt and Peter leaned forward.

“Pet,” Loki breathed, “you answered.”

“What do you want?” Y/N grumbled.

“I wanted to thank you.” Loki hummed. “Bucky Barnes is cunning and deceitful. That makes a man hard to catch.” Y/N stomach twisted as Loki beamed on the other end. She could hear the smile on his face which could only mean things were going his way. “Then you showed up with more wounds than a stray. A ring and a list later and you were leading me right to him.”

“Is this a game to you? People are dying,” Y/N snarled.

“You should be thanking me for fixing that pathetic excuse of a marriage you had,” he spat. “Thank you for returning the ring. I would have been offended if you weren’t so predictable.”

Y/N bit her tongue. “You’re hurt. You don’t mean any of that.”

“I could’ve loved you. I didn’t want to, but I did in the beginning.” He paused. “It was you who never loved me.” Y/N opened her mouth ready to protest, but Loki beat her to it. “I gave you the world and it still wasn't enough. All because I wasn’t him. I could never compete with him.”

“Loki,” Y/N breathed. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t true. She wanted to tell him she had loved him. She did. She just loved Bucky more.

“I loathed Barnes before I met you. Now, I loathe you too,” he hissed, his voice laced with venom.

“You’re killing people.”

“You think Barnes has never gotten his hands dirty? If you believe people are loyal to him because they adore him, then you’d be mistaken. I’m killing the Barnes empire and everything that comes with it.” He paused. “You always looked divine in red,” Loki trailed off.

Y/N only had enough time to peek down at the maroon robe she wore.

“Get down!” Matt shouted, tackling Y/N off the desk. Her back hit the wooden floor knocking the wind out of her.

SMASH.

Y/N’s body tensed beneath the lawyer. Her forearms shielding her face from the shards of glass that fell around them.

With his back against the wall, Peter peeked out of the broken window with his gun raised high.

Y/N’s body grew rigid with tension as she awaited the next move. Her muscles involuntarily contracted as gunshots reverberated through the air.

It wasn’t until Peter was standing above her with his hand outstretched in her direction that her muscles began to relax. Accepting Peter’s hand, she stood spotting the lawyer standing by the window dusting off his pants.

“How did you-” Y/N began, but she didn’t know which of the million questions swirling her brain to ask.

The corner of Matt’s lips jerked upward as he rested both hands on the top of his cane in front of him.

“I’m a really good lawyer.”

Concern etched onto Peter’s face as he surveyed the wrecked office.

“Do you want me to clean this up before Mr. Barnes sees it?”

Y/N shook her head, tiptoeing around the broken glass searching for her discarded phone.

Matt cleared his throat, holding up Y/N’s phone in his left hand. A spider crack stretched across the face of the phone. Y/N frowned, plucking the useless phone from his fingers. At least Loki was gone.

“We should talk.” Matt gestured to the window. “Perhaps somewhere away from windows.”

Y/N eyed the man and his cane suspiciously.

“Follow me.”

Peter kept his eyes trained on the lawyer the entire way to the boardroom. He racked his brain for an explanation to Matt Murdock’s fast reflexes and he was sure Y/N was doing the same.

Once the doors closed behind them, Matt faced the two. His hands resting on the cane before him.

“In the interest of my client’s unique situation, I did some research. If I may advise you, off the record, on the Loki situation.”

Hope filled Y/N’s chest at the prospect of the hit list coming to an end.

With Y/N’s consent, Matt stated the obvious, “Loki isn’t going anywhere, and neither is the hit list.” He cocked his head. “What do you know about the dead pool?"

Next Chapter

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[woso-story]

Early Mornings

Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon

It was a rare day off for Ingrid and Mapi, a slice of calm amidst the chaos of their busy football schedules. The soft rays of the morning sun filtered through the curtains of their shared apartment in Barcelona. The air was warm and inviting, perfect for a late breakfast on the balcony. But there was one problem—Mapi had no intention of leaving the bed.

Ingrid, always the early riser, had already been up for an hour. She’d gone for a quick jog, made a cup of coffee, and prepared a plate of fresh fruit and toast. She was now standing at the door to their bedroom, hands on her hips, looking at the heap of blankets that barely hinted at Mapi's existence.

"Maria," Ingrid called softly, her Norwegian accent making the name sound even sweeter. "It's a beautiful day. Come on, we can have breakfast outside."

A muffled groan came from under the covers. "Nooo... it's too early."

Ingrid chuckled and stepped closer. "It’s almost ten. That's not early, cariño."

The mound of blankets shifted slightly, revealing a tuft of messy blonde hair and one barely-open eye. "Still too early."

Shaking her head, Ingrid set her coffee down and perched on the edge of the bed. "You promised me we'd go to the park today. Remember?"

"I remember you promising," Mapi mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "I never agreed to anything."

With a playful sigh, Ingrid leaned down and started to gently tug the blankets away. Mapi grabbed them back, her strength surprising despite her sleepy state. "Don't you dare," she warned.

"Okay, you leave me no choice." Ingrid's tone turned mock-serious, and in one swift move, she tickled Mapi's sides.

Mapi yelped, flailing under the attack. "No! Ingrid! Stop!" she gasped between laughs, finally sitting up to escape the onslaught. Her hair was a wild mess, and her eyes were still half-closed.

"There we go," Ingrid said triumphantly, sitting back with a grin.

"You're evil," Mapi muttered, rubbing her face and trying to wake up fully. But when Ingrid handed her a steaming cup of coffee, her grumpiness melted a little.

"See? It's not so bad," Ingrid said, brushing a stray hair out of Mapi's face. "Now, get dressed. The world is waiting for us."

Mapi sighed dramatically but took a sip of the coffee. "Fine, but only because you're cute."

Ingrid laughed, kissing Mapi’s cheek. "And because I’m relentless."

The two eventually made their way to the balcony, where breakfast awaited. The rest of the day unfolded lazily, with laughter, shared stories, and a walk through the park as promised. But for Ingrid, the real victory had been getting Mapi out of bed—a task that, while challenging, was always worth the effort.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?

A "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" Thanksgiving One-Shot Coming On 11/27/2024!

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Just A Little Something 😉

Soldier Boy POV

It was Thanksgiving, Ben's first since he came back from Russia and despite his numerous insistences that "it wasn't a big deal" you weren't listening to him.

Honestly, what was new? Ben thought to himself with a sigh.

Holidays for him were always bittersweet. When he was a child and in his teen years he spent the holidays at the elegant parties your parents threw in your family home sneaking eggnog and sips of whiskey from the flask in his coat while the two of you avoided his plastered father, and while he was with you he had a good time, but it was the quiet that came when he went home to the cold shell of his father's house that left a chill behind.

Truthfully, Ben would have just stayed at the boarding schools during the holidays if he hadn't been so eager to get back to you. He liked going to your family's parties, liked standing next to you and taking the brunt of your mother's disapproving glances. When he wasn't there he knew that she turned those looks on you and knew that she was less likely to make a comment about how you looked when he was a worthy target, and he was more than happy to take it, if it meant that he would get to see you smile and enjoy yourself.

Ben didn't care much for holidays, hadn't since his mother died, but he knew how much you loved them and he knew that you had sacrificed that love for them when you came with him to become a supe.

Your mother had banned you from your home the minute you told her that you weren't going to marry Howard and that you were going with Ben, and despite your father's insistences, your mother refused to let you return for Thanksgiving and for Christmas. Which meant that you were left with nowhere to celebrate and nowhere to go for the holidays you loved so much.

Ben did everything he could to make sure that the two of you celebrated in your own way. The early Thanksgivings were spent eating turkey sandwiches in Central Park, while Ben tried his upmost to make you smile, but the later ones were spent at the lavish parties that Legend threw. And no matter how many women tried to pull Ben away from you, he stayed beside you making sure that you were having a good time, but even at those parties you never seemed as happy as you had when you were back home in Philadelphia or when it was just the two of you.

It always made a sick feeling settle in the pit of his stomach, because it made him believe that you regretted coming with him.

But today would be different.

It would be the first Thanksgiving that Ben had spent with you since he left. You told him that Rosemary, Lou, and you always spent the holidays in the house in Maine and Ben didn’t complain. He liked the house and he liked how happy you seemed there, how you seemed to leave any anxiety you had back in the city.

And despite all the other Thanksgivings the two of you had spent at Legend's blowouts soaked with booze, Ben saw that you were genuinely excited and happy this year to celebrate, and it made him feel like he'd done something right for once.

A/N: It is a little more than just a little something, but I am so excited about this one-shot! I had this unhinged idea as soon as I started writing this series and I can't wait for y'all to see what it is.

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Taglist:

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[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Omg at the start of episode 4 it was when oti Danny and dean woke up the camp with a musical could u do a chapter with Harry joining them and yn throwing somthing at them or something like that 😂 love this series tho I’m actualy obsessed

Early Morning Musicals.

word count - 800.

“Danny, if I was on the voice, would you turn around for me?” Oti asked after she took a sip from her green camping cup.

Harry had gotten up around fourty-five minutes ago, he had showered, brushed his teeth and used the dunny all whilst you still slept peacefully in his bed after sneaking in with him last night.

“H?” You whispered, crouching down next to his bed, you had initially thought sleeping in seperate beds would be the best choice but you had only slept in a separate bed once before and that was the night before your wedding.

He was a light sleeper so hearing the familiar nickname getting called out had him fluttering his green eyes open.

The second he saw you, he opened up his sleeping bag and you quickly shuffled inside of it, laying your head against his chest and the familiar beat of his heart lulling you into a slumber.

The last thing you remember was him pressing a gently kiss to your head and whispering how much he loved you.

And you whispered right back.

“Oh yeah,” Danny nodded. “— because I know I can help you!”

Harry snickered under his breath and Oti threw her head back in a howl.

Dean leaned his head forward. “— out of Mcfly and One Direction who was the biggest group.”

Harry frowned at Dean’s words.

He hated the fact that Dean was comparing the two groups, they both had equally good songs and Mcfly had been going a lot longer then One Direction so they had a longer legacy.

“I think we’re just as big as each other,” Harry began and smiled softly at Danny’s “— Mcfly had some amazing songs.”

Harry then brought his hand up into a fist as a fake microphone and sang into it.

“Do do do do do…do do do do do…do do do do do.”

Danny patted him on the back. “That your favourite song?”

“It’s m’wife’s,”Harry began. “— and my sister had posters of you on her wall growing up.”

Harry licked his lips. “And ‘it’s all about you’ was our wedding song.”

Danny’s eyes widened. “Oh shit yeah, me and the boys were there and I remember Dougie holding me back from grabbing the microphone and singing.”

“You would have made her day.” Harry laughed softly as he tipped his head to look at his sleeping beauty.

Deans mouth fell open. “You went to his wedding?”

Danny nodded. “And he came to mine.”

“Good morning DEAN!” Oti sang out, closing her eyes as he felt herself get into the music.

Danny smirked. “Welcome to Team Danny.”

“Thank you,” Oit bowed. “— thank you very much.”

A mischievous smile crept its way onto Deans face. “Shall we have a little sing song?”

Harry nodded his head. “M’down, got any song suggestions?”

Danny cleared his throat and they all turned there attention to him.

“I feel it in my fingers,”he closed his eyes as he sang.

Harry continued. “— I feel it in my bones.”

And then they all sang.

“I feel it in my toes.”

Dean harmonised with them. “I feel it in my toes…”

“Love is all around me,” Harry sang pushing some hair out of his face.

“The amount of times over the years of our ten year relationship I have been woken up by Harry singing is absurd,” you looked down at the camera.

“He usually wakes me up with a rendition of ‘it’s all about you’ but today it was ‘love is all around’ but it wasn’t just him.”

You looked at the camera with a serious expression on your face. “— come into the jungle they said…it will be fun they said.”

The four of them threw there hands up into the air when Oti instructed.

“You can depend…” Harry mimicked playing the guitar.

Danny wrapped an arm around his shoulder and laughed. “— hey, the guitars my thing!”

Harry threw his head back in laughter.

Harry groaned when he felt something hit him on the back of the head and turned around to see what it was.

You chucked your hat at his head.

He smirked at you. “— what was that for?”

“It’s too early for musicals.” You pouted and pulled the sleeping bag up higher.

Harry came over to you and shuffled into the bed next to you. “— but you love when I wake you up in the morning singing.”

“But that’s different,” you hummed. “— it’s just us.”

taglist: @luvr4miya @thurhomish @shanice @lomlolivia @harryshouseo1 @gem1712 @ashleighsss

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

The Narrative's Spin Towards Adam And Lucifer's As Fathers

Seriously, the leaks show us that Adam at least has Abel but again due to wanting to make him one dimensional as ever they make him hate is own second born for some reason. This contrast how Lucifer the devil is treated as a misunderstood sad boy who really does love his daughter, but in earlier plans was supposed to be a bad dad. However, he's a fan favorite of Vivziepop so he gets the Stolas misunderstood sad boy treatment despite damning humanity and being homewrecker. Seriously, Vivziepop is allergic to real nuance by making Adam hate his son, Abel, because of the fact that Abel was killed and that could have been a way to maybe explain why he became what he is today but nope he just hates him because "hur be durp" he has to be this flat caricature of a frat boy. And also because this series undervalues platonic and familial relationships unless you are not the designated fan favorite of Viv. Then again even if you are a fan favorite she has a hard time understanding non-romantic relationships.

Seriously, why give Adam a moment of sympathy with his right hand, but not for his son. Again it feels she wants some level humanity for Adam, but isn't willing to go the extra mile or maybe she's afraid he will be even more sympathetic than her so-called dreamboat Lucifer who really is a pos and maybe an even bigger one than Adam when you think about the culmination of his actions. And again Adam's character contradicts what is depicted in the Bible and even if you invoke poetic license bs why is he so apathetic towards his progeny even his own child. It's a missed opportunity for character inspection and again give Adam some redeeming factors that could actually endear him to Lute instead of wondering what the heck does she see in him. Seriously, it would make more sense if he was a good dad as a show of positive elements to them that Lute could be attracted to. Instead of her just being so oblivious to his flaws despite saying Angels are supposed to be perfect when Adam contradicts that.

Also it also pissed me that her issues with her dad was easily solved and that they didn't actually give real issues with him and just made it into a case of misunderstanding. Again it's obvious if you read the early drafts Lucifer was supposed to be a less supportive dad and it would actually give Charlie more of a challenge than if he came easily to her side. Or at least developed it slowly where he grows to gradually side with her instead of rushing one season. And going back to Adam, I don't actually think they will develop anything further with Adam and Abel and just leave it at one note joke to hammer in how much of an asshole Adam is because these people have no originality or complexity to these figures.

[kathlare]

burning midnight

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando Norris celebrates his podium finish at the 2024 Chinese Grand Prix with a late-night FaceTime call to Amelie, who is enjoying the afterparty back in Mexico. Despite the physical distance, their flirty and teasing conversation highlights their growing connection, even though they continue to keep their relationship private.

Wordcount: 0.9 k

Warnings: just fluff

April 21st, 2024 - Shanghai, China

Lando Norris sat in the cockpit of his McLaren, heart racing, but it wasn’t because of the adrenaline from the race. It was the kind of nervous excitement that came from seeing a certain someone’s name flash across his screen. The Chinese Grand Prix had been a grueling challenge, but he managed to take second place after starting from P4. Max Verstappen had taken the win, as usual, and Checo, had come in third, giving Lando a rare podium finish in a season that had been anything but predictable.

The race had finished late, and as he pulled into the cool-down room, the noise of the team’s celebration was like a distant hum. He pulled his phone from the side pocket of his seat, immediately checking for messages. There were a few congratulatory notifications from friends, fans, and family, but his eyes were fixed on the one name he was really waiting for.

Amelie.

He’d already sent her a message before the race had even started, knowing the time difference would have her at the party by now. She’d texted back a few words of encouragement earlier, but it was still early morning for her in Mexico, and he knew she’d probably be knee-deep in tequila and music by now. He hit the FaceTime icon, his thumb hovering for a second before pressing the call button.

The ringing tone echoed in his ear.

After three rings, her face appeared on the screen, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the hotel lights. She looked gorgeous, as always, but tonight… tonight she was stunning. He couldn’t help but let out a low whistle. She was wearing a red dress, tight-fitting and showing off her curves in all the right places. The strapless design left her shoulders bare, the waves in her hair cascading down in soft curls.

—Fuck, darling…— Lando mumbled under his breath, momentarily distracted by her beauty.

—Hey, Lando!— she greeted, a bright smile lighting up her face. —Congrats on the podium! I just saw the highlights, you were amazing out there.—

He grinned, his eyes still locked on her. —Thanks, babe. I’m pretty happy with P2. But I’m more focused on the view right now.—

Amelie rolled her eyes playfully, crossing her arms. —You’re such a flirt, Lando. You’re already thinking about something else, aren’t you?—

He chuckled. —Can’t help it. You look… wow.— He bit his lip, his voice lowering a bit. —That dress? Definitely made for me.—

Amelie laughed, but there was an underlying tension in her voice, like she could feel the same pull between them. —You’re bad for my self-control, you know that?—

—Same could be said about you,— he teased. —You look fucking incredible. I’m trying not to imagine what else you’re wearing right now.—

Amelie raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly, the subtle shift in her posture making his pulse spike. —You’re lucky I’m in a good mood after your race, or I’d make you regret that comment.—

Lando’s grin widened, the flirtation coming easy between them after months of teasing each other, getting closer and closer despite the distance. It was a dangerous game they played, especially since the public still saw them as just good friends, even though they both knew the truth. They had been dating in secret for nearly five months, ever since November, but neither one of them wanted to risk the publicity. It was easier this way—flirty, but never quite crossing the line in front of the cameras. Still, their connection was undeniable, even to the fans.

He leaned back in his seat, the memory of Coachella from just a week ago creeping into his mind. Amelie had been absolutely mesmerizing on stage, her performance setting the crowd on fire. He’d stayed for most of it, only leaving when he had to for an early flight the next morning. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since.

—So, what’s going on there? You’re already at the afterparty?— Lando asked, trying to distract himself from thoughts of her in that damn dress.

—Yep,— she replied, swirling a glass of something in her hand. —It’s a bit crazy, but I had to sneak away for this call. Wouldn’t want people getting the wrong idea about us.— She winked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

—Who says that’s a bad idea?— Lando raised an eyebrow, his voice smooth as he teased, —People already think we’re a thing anyway.—

—Not in the way you’d like,— she teased back, biting her lip.

He could practically hear the challenge in her voice. —Try me.—

She laughed, a sound that always made his chest tighten, the kind of laugh that was equal parts teasing and sultry. He was still thinking about her in that dress, imagining what else was hidden beneath. The temptation to make her laugh with one of his dirty jokes was strong, but he controlled himself, for now.

—You really think you can handle me, Lando?— she asked, her eyes glimmering with mischief.

He smirked. —Babe, I’ve been handling you since 2020. You’ve just been playing hard to get.—

Amelie leaned in even closer, the camera angle shifting slightly as she set down her drink, clearly teasing him. —You have no idea what you’re in for.—

He swallowed hard, her words hitting him in all the right ways. —God, you’re dangerous. I’m so fucking tempted to drop everything and just go to you right now. But... duty calls.—

Amelie raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a wicked grin. —Duty, huh? Well, I’m sure I can find something to keep you busy.—

Lando grinned, already imagining what that might entail. —I’d love to see you try.—

But before things could go further, there was a loud noise in the background, and Amelie quickly glanced over her shoulder. —I’ve got to go, Lando. Some people are starting to look for me. Don’t want to give away too much yet.—

He nodded, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. —Yeah, yeah. Don’t let them ruin the fun. I’ll be here when you’re done with the afterparty. Don’t stay out too late. I have a feeling you’ll need all your energy for… other things.—

Amelie laughed softly, her gaze lingering a bit longer than usual. —I’ll keep you in mind. Congratulations again, Lando. I’m proud of you.—

His chest swelled with warmth at her words. —Thanks, babe. I’ll talk to you soon. Enjoy the rest of the night… just don’t get into too much trouble.—

She winked one last time before ending the call, leaving him alone with the image of her glowing in that damn red dress. His thoughts wandered to their last meeting, just a week ago at Coachella, and the way she had looked under the desert stars. He couldn’t wait until the next time he’d get to see her, to touch her. But for now, he'd just have to make do with these late-night conversations and the fire she sparked in him.

Lando took a deep breath, trying to settle his racing thoughts as he prepared for the podium celebration. But deep down, he knew: no matter how many trophies he collected, the one he wanted the most had always been just a call away.

[hymnserendipity]

Rindou as a dad

Fluff

That afternoon Rindou returned early from his meeting with his brother, as soon as he entered the house he was greeted by his wife and while the two kissed his little three-year-old daughter, Yumi, came running and stumbling to him.

“Dadaaaa.” He picked up his three years old daughter and gently caressed her cheeks with a smile, he was a doting father. He then looked at his wife, walking closer, he wrap a hand around their waist and pulled them closer to him, he lean down to capture their lips into a kiss.

"Noooooo me kiss?!!!"

"Don't be jealous" He told her with an amused lilt to his voice.

"Kiss meeee dada kiss meee"

"You're so needy." He teased her, yet he pull her closer and press soft tender kisses all over her face. The little girl starts to giggles and point her mama.

"My dada." He laughed at how adorable his daughter was being, she was so cute. He turn to face his wife with a small smile, his expression turn a bit more serious.

"She keeps getting clingier as the days go by."

"Mama and me made pinkin candy!" Rindou knew it was her way to say "Halloween pumpkin cravings" but she still can't say it.

"Is that so?" He smiled and looked down at his daughter, patting her head, he then looked back up at her mama and raised an eyebrow.

"Did you help her make the pinkin candy?"

"Yes yes seeee!" She tries to get on the floor. "Hey now, don't fall." He warned her, watching her every move to make sure she didn't fall.

"Me down dada"

"You're gonna get hurt." He protested but still put her down on the ground, making sure she was standing firmly before taking a step back.

"See dada!!! Pinkincandyy" He looked at the little girl, an amused snort escaped his lips.

"She is such a little mess, she was so proud when she made those pinkin candy." Her mama said. He chuckled, reaching over and ruffling his daughter's hair again, his expression softening at how cute she is.

"Dadaaaaa"

"Yes yes, I see the pinkin candy."

He said, amused by how she kept calling out to him like that, he bend down slightly to her level, picking her up and placing her up on his hip. She pick up on his earring and he let her, chuckling. But he made sure not to let her pull too hard as it might hurt his ears.

"Mama you meet me first or dada first?" The woman was taken back in surprise by the sudden question but she chuckled at her daughter's curiosity. She sat down on the sofa and pat the spot next to hers, signaling for Dada and the girl to come sit down too.

"Why do you ask?"

"Curiousss" The woman smiled, ruffling her daughter's hair, she found it adorable that the little girl was curious about this.

"Well...hmmm..." Rindou sat down next to her and moved so their daughter was on his lap. He raised an eyebrow at her, curious about what the answer would be too. The woman hummed in thought, the answer was obvious but would their daughter understand? However she decided to tell her anyway as it wasn't a bad question so there's no harm.

"Well...I met Dada first, I liked him and became his girlfriend, and after a couple years we had you."

"Where was I?" The woman smiled softly at her question, finding it adorable how much she wants to understand.

"You weren't born yet silly, you were still inside Mama's belly." She laughed and let the little girl touch her belly, letting her feel for herself.

"Yes, you were in Mama's belly little one."

"Did you ate me?" Both Rindou and her were a bit surprised at their daughter's odd question, she never anticipated her to ask something like that. She took a few seconds to process it before letting out another laugh, shaking her head.

"No, darling, Mama didn't eat you."

"I know how." Rindou smiled, patting her daughter on the head as he answered her question.

"Well, after months and months of being in Mama's belly, you were born. And that's when Dada and Mama became a family."

"Oh okay." Rindou chuckled, amused by how cute his daughter can be. He reaches over to pinch her cheeks, and then he looks at her mama.

"She is so full of questions today."

"Dooown" Rindou chuckled at her response, and decided to indulge her, gently putting her down on the floor.

"Here you go, there you go."

"Up again!!" He looked at her and raised an eyebrow in amusement, a smirk forming on his lips.

"Up? Can you say please?"

"No." She giggles. Rindou huffed in fake offense, pretending to be a bit hurt by her refusal but he couldn't keep up the act for long as he ended up laughing. He picked her up and put her up on his lap again.

"You're a cheeky little one, aren't you?"

"Cheesy?" He let out another laugh, he forgot that the cute little girl on his lap was too young to know what cheeky means. He shook his head and ruffled her hair, still chuckling.

[justwhisperingfantasies]

The One That Got Away

Part 2

Characters: Reader, (Y/N), and nicknames babe(s). Jensen Ackles. Jared Padalecki. Misha Collins. Ruthie Connell. Rob Benedict. Osric Chau. Alexander Calvert. Briana Buckmaster. Eric Kripke. Lily (o.c) Abby (o.c) Brett (o.c)

Warnings: Drinking. Language. Angst. A smidgen of smut(not too graphic) Talk of blackmail, Talk of pregnancy loss, Cheating. Talks of past cheating.

Summary: You get pulled back into the magic of supernatural conventions and realize the love you once had is still there.

Word count: 6,275

A/N: Sorry it took so long. Hope y'all enjoy it. 💗

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Please don't copy my work

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 💗

Part 1

Jensen’s P.o.V

Jensen watched you walk away in Ruthie’s arms. He turned to Jared and sighed. “Exactly how much of that did you hear?”

“Well, I came in around blackmail. What the fuck is going on Ackles?”  Jensen explained everything to him. Jared stood there in shock. “That’s pretty much the same look (y/n) had on her face too.”

“So, when you two told me you ended it because you were better as friends...”

“Yes Jared. We lied to you. Hell, we lied to everyone. I didn’t want to be painted fuckboy Ackles, and she didn’t want everyone feeling sorry for her. So, we lied.” He said again. “I’m sorry Jared.”

Jared took a second to process everything. “We tell each other everything. Why did you feel like you couldn’t tell me this?”

“I. I don’t know man. I think I was just too ashamed. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Where and when did this happen?”

“You remember that party we went to right before the hiatus between season 7 and 8?”

“Yeah… That was 2012, right?” Jared asked, trying to remember.

 Jensen nodded.  “(y/n) had to leave early because the wreck, remember?”

“That’s right. But to be honest I was really drunk, and it was a long time ago.” Jared shook his head. “What I don’t get Jay. You were going to ask her to marry you the next day. I went with you to buy the ring. I don’t see you throwing away everything you guys had drunk or not.”

“Jared, I don’t remember anything from that night. I remember dropping off at the airport. Next thing I know is I’m waking up in a stranger’s bed naked.

“You don’t remember it at all?”

“Nope.” Jensen gestured for them to go inside. “I tried Jared. I tried to find her during hiatus. She wouldn’t return my phone calls. No one would tell me where she was. Then Kelsey called me telling me she was pregnant and started with the blackmail.

“Dude again why didn’t you tell me?”

Jensen sighed. “I didn’t want her to have any more power than she already had. If she knew that you knew she could use me to get you to do whatever she wanted.”

“How did she do it? Like what did she threaten you with?” Jared asked as they made their way to the elevator

“Media mainly. Before she lost the baby, she threatened to go to everyone and anyone that would listen about how I knocked her up and left her and the baby. Then after, I’d be the asshole that left the mother after just losing the baby. I was young and just starting out. I believed everything she said. You know how one dumb rumor can ruin someone’s life or career. I just wish I would of went to my dad sooner.”

“I wish you would have told me, but I understand why you felt like you couldn’t. I’m sorry I should have known something was wrong.” He hit the call button

“J.P Don’t do that; you have nothing to be sorry for. You wouldn’t of had a reason to doubt anything, from what I hear I’m a pretty good actor.” He smiled. Jared let out a soft chuckle “besides we can’t change the past. We can only learn from it, move on, and try to repair the damage.”

“Yea... At least she knows the truth now. Maybe you guys could get back”

“I’m not.”

“Jensen. I was going to say get back to being friends.

“I don’t know Jared she’s pretty hurt and didn’t say much even after I told her.”

“Give her time to process everything. You might be surprised.” The doors opened and they walked through, hitting the button with their floor number.

“I’m not getting my hopes up.” Just then Jensen’s phone went off. It was a text from a number he didn’t recognize. He raised his eyebrows as he read.

“What?!” Jared asked.

“Jensen don’t call Eric. Just think about it.”

“Well told ya you might be surprised.”

Reader’s P.o.V

You woke to a knock on your hotel door. “Go away!” you yelled.

“I have coffee.”  You heard someone yell back.

“Ok hold on.” You rubbed your temples trying to get the slight headache to stop as you sat up.  You got up and looked in the mirror. You quickly ran a brush through your hair and splashed some cold water on your puffy eyes.

There was another knock. “Come on, it’s getting cold.”

“Keep your panties on.” you yelled as you walked to the door. “Lily? What are you doing here? How’s your dad?” you opened the door wider and stepped out of the way.

“My dad is fine. Just a broken wrist.” She handed you a cup of coffee stepping through the doorway. You closed the door behind her. “The truck not so much, but it could have been way worse.”

“Well, that’s good. But what are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you.” she said sitting down on the sofa.

“For real?”

“Yep, you’re off the hook babes. You can go home.” She looked up from her coffee. “What’s that look?”

“What look?”

“That look. He got to you.”

“Lily. It’s not like that.”

“Ugh I knew you coming here was a bad idea. I swear I’m to kick.”

“Lil. I have to tell you something.” You sat beside her and told her everything. 

“Oh my god.”

“I know”

“Oh my god!”

“Can you say anything else?”

 “So, he didn’t love her.”

“Apparently not.”

“I thought something felt off, but I just thought it was the energy from whatever happened between you two.”

“Lily you’re not psychic”

“But I am psychic adjacent.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not a thing.”

“Wait. Not trying to be a Debbie downer here, but how do you know he wasn’t lying?”

“He wasn’t lying.” you assured her.

“How do.”

“Because I know Lil.” She looked at you. “Trust me I know.”

“Oh my god. So does this mean y’all are gonna get back together?”

You sighed. “Lily, I can’t.” she gave you a puzzled look. “don’t look at me like that you know why.”

“Right.” She took a drink of her coffee

“You still love him...”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Jensen’s P.o.V

As he waited to go through the curtain for the morning gold panel, he couldn’t help but wonder if she would be sitting in her seat. He smiled at the thought.

“You ready man?” Jared asked. He nodded. “Let’s go.”

They walked out on-stage waving and blowing kisses at the crowd. His eyes glanced down hoping to see her face. Nope damnit. The women sitting her sitting in (y/n)’s seat waved. He furrowed his brows but waved back. What the hell was Lily doing here. Did (y/n) leave?

“Jensen you ready for questions?”

“Yes, sorry. Need more coffee.” He said the cup in his hand with a smile, the audience laughed. “Alright, your blue hoodie.”

. She left and the only relationship you would have at this point would be professional. Come on Jensen head in the panel he thought

“Jensen? You ok man? “Jared asked nudging his arm

“Yep. What was the question?”

Jared repeated it to him, and he did his best to answer it. As the minutes ticked by and the questions kept coming, he tried his best to stay focused. He managed it for most of the panel except when Jared got a question and his mind started to wander, but Jared knew what was going on, so he tried to keep Jensen engaged in conversation with his answers.

“Alright. Thank you, guys. We love you all. Take care.” They walked to the opening of the curtain. “Ok how bad was it?”

“The beginning was rocky, after you got out of your head it was bad at all.” Jared promised him. “You gonna be, ok?”

“Gonna have to be.” 

Jared sighed. “Is there anything I can do?”

Jensen smiled. “Unless you got a Jennie, not really”

“So, you boys have some time before your meet and greet. Y’all hungry?”

His whole body froze. She didn’t leave.

Reader’s P.o.V

Jared spun around, “(y/n) we thought you left.”

You took a step back and raised your hands. “Do not pick me up Padalecki!”

He laughed. Jensen finally turned around.

Jared could feel the tension between the two of you. “let’s go get some grub.” He turned around and started walking. You and Jensen followed.

You and Jensen followed in awkward silence.

“So have you thought about the part?” you asked Jensen

“Yea. I think it would be fun. He is a complete dickhead though.”

“Oh, a total scumbag, but.”

“You’re really going to defend him?”

“I agreed with you.”

“With a but.”

“Ben is the character you love to hate. You know he’s fucked up and yet you find your self hoping he will do the right thing. Who knows maybe this whole asshole thing is just a front.” Jensen raised his eyebrows at you. “The guy has ptsd, been tortured by the Russians for years, screwed over and used by Vought, screwed over by his own team and the woman that supposed loved him. I think if we got the right guy to play him, he could be a real fan favorite” You nudged into him.

“Why do you have such a hard on for this character?” he asked as he opened the green room door for you.

You took a step, then turned to him “I guess I just have a thing for assholes.”  You teased.

Jensen’s jaw dropped. “Wow! That was a cheap shot.”

You walked to the fridge and pulled out 2 bottles of water, tossing one at Jensen. He caught it and took a drink.

“Plus, you’d look good super suit, Ackles.” You said laughing as you sat on the couch.

He chuckled and sat beside you laying his arm across the back of the couch behind you.

You heard the door open and looked up when you heard your nickname. “Babes! You’re still here?!” Misha sat down on the other side of you. “And still wearing that Cowboys hat I see.” He flicked the bill of your baseball cap.

“Be careful Collins. If you hurt this hat I will hurt, you.” You pulled the bill back down and stroked it. “And yes, every game day.”

“Is that the one you stole?” Jensen chimed it.

“I did not steal it.”

“Yes, you did. You came to grab me for a scene.” He winked at you  “You asked to borrow it because you didn’t have a scrunchy.” 

“I’m still borrowing it.”

“10 years later?” Jensen raised his eyebrows.

“Yep.”

He smiled and shook his head.

Before you could stop it, the memory was already replaying in your head.

Year 2008:

“We gotta get back babe, Sgriccia said 25 minutes.”

“I don’t want to.” You protested.

“Trust me. I’d rather lay here with you like this.” He lifted the sheet for a peek “Come on just a couple of scenes and we will be right back here. Exactly like this.” He waggled his eyebrows making you smile.

“Promise?”

He smiled. “I promise.” He kissed you.  He got up and picked your clothes up and laid them on the bed.

 You got dressed and looked in the mirror. Your hair was a wreck. “Can I borrow a hat?”

“A hat?”

“Yes, someone made my hair all messy.” You pointed at him and mouthed the word you, making him laugh. “I don’t have a brush or scrunchy to fix it and I know your ass has a million hats around here.” He handed you his new Dallas cowboy’s hat. “Thank ya love.” He nodded with a smile.

“You ready?” he asked holding out your coat for you.

“Yep.” You put your arms in and turned to face him. He gave you one more kiss. “I love you, Ross.”

“I love you too baby.”

Jensen cleared his throat bringing you back. You looked at him, his eyes told you he was reminiscing as well. You shot up off the couch and awkwardly walked over to the fridge. You opened it and pretended to look for something.

“Look who I found.” Abby said walking through the door with Lily following her. “Did we plan a reunion this weekend?”

You smiled. “Don’t even try to pretend like you don’t love seeing our faces, Abigail.” She narrowed her eyes as you said her full name. you blew her a kiss with a dramatic mwah sound.

“Hey, are you guys going to Rob’s thing tonight?” Jared asked you walk

“What thing?”

“I guess Louden Swain is having a pop-up at the bar across the street tonight.”

“I don’t know.” You looked over to Lily who was attempting puppy dog eyes with her bottom lip pouted. You sighed. “You guys and you’re damn puppy eyes.”

Lily’s face perked up. “Is that a, yes?”;

“Yes.” You said walking toward the door “Come on boys. Meet and greet time. Jensen and Jared followed you. “You too Lily?” you held your elbow out to her. She linked her arm in yours and you walked out the door.

You watch Jensen and Jared interact with their fans with a smile on your face. You felt someone nudge your arm. “Hey there.” Osric said.

You smiled at him “What’s up Oz?”

“Nothin. Hanging out.

“Sounds fun.”

You look back at Jensen. He was watching you. His face was hard, and his brows scrunched together. You raised your hands and eyebrows in a what gesture.

“He’s jealous.” Osric said.

“Oh, shut up. He is not.”

“You want me to prove it?” you rolled your eyes and Osric put his arm around you. You watched Jensen’s jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

 “Don’t piss him off. You shook off Osric’s arm. “But why would he be jealous of you?”

“He knows I had a thing for you back in the day.”

“Speaking of things from back in the day.” You nodded your head towards Lily who was walking up carrying 2 carriers full of coffee cups. Osric smiled.

She sat down the 2 cup carriers she had in her arms and pulled out your coffee. “Here you go.” She said holding it out to you.

“Lily you could ask for help ya know.”

“Eh I’m used to it, Oh, hey Osric. How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you?”

“Good, good.” The awkward tension made you cringe. He said, “Here, let me help you” he picked up one of the carriers.

“See ya around Babes.” He winked at you, and you nodded as they walked away.

Jensen’s face relaxed and you shook your head at him. His attention went back to his face, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched. He was so good to his fans. He smiled at you and your heart fluttered. Man, why did he have to go and fuck everything up? You stood there pondering how much different you life would be with him.

“So, can I ask how the whole babe/babes thing started?” An unfamiliar voice made you jump. You looked over to find Alexander standing next to you.

“Really?! Nobody’s told you the story?”

“No. Everyone just says that’s what we’ve always called her.”

“Hmm. Ok. So back in season 3 Jensen and I started dating, everyone kind of new, but nobody really pressed us about it. We wanted to stay professional on set and around our co-workers. One day Jensen let babe slip out on set. Padalecki and Beaver started calling me babe to mock him and it just kind of stuck. Next thing you know everyone was doing it.”

“How long did you guys’ date?”

“Almost 4 years.”

“So, what happened?”

“We were just better off as friends. I guess,”

“I call bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“It seriously took you almost 4 years to realize you were better off as friends?”

“Babes.” Abby walked over to you “Can you take the boys out to lunch for me? I got something I have to take care of.” Abby grabbed you, you waved and Alex nodded as she drug you away.

“Am I gonna get paid for today?”

“Put it on my tab.” She smiled at you.

You made your way over to the table as the event ended.  “Y’all hungry?”

“Starving.” Jensen said and Jared nodded.

“Well come on. We are going out for lunch.”

“Who’s we?” Jensen asked.

“You, Jared, Lily, and me?”

“Ok I’ll go.”

“I mean if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t wanna be the third wheel to you and Osric.”

“Really Jensen?”

“Well, you looked pretty cozy a minute ago.”

You rolled your eyes. You motioned Lily and started walking toward the elevators. She met you on your way. “You, ok?”

“Jensen being Jensen.” you looked over your shoulder, the boys were a way back but following.

“So, Lily, You’re a cast p.a now?” Jared said trying to relieve the awkward tension in the air that lingered around the table.

“Yeah, It’s a lot of fun. So much better than a grip assistant.”

“You gonna follow in (y/n)’s footsteps and become a writer?”

You smiled at her. “No. I could never. I really don’t know how she does it. It’s amazing. I wish you could read her work right now. What she did with Soldier Boy was awesome.”

Jensen’s eyes snapped up to you and your smile faded. “You wrote Soldier Boy?” he asked.

“I helped develop him for television.” His green eyes leered at you. “I did not create him myself.”

“Helped?” Lily continued “Eric loved everything you suggested for him. She made him so good. He’s a dick, but you got to love him.”

You sighed and went back to your plate. “Hey Eric.” Your eyebrows raised when you heard Jensen say Eric’s name. “I’m good bud. How are you?”  He laughed. You looked back up at him. Shit he was probably going to say no. You didn’t think Eric would fire you over it, but it wasn’t out of the question. “Well, you know I had to get woo-ed first.” He laughed again. “Yeah, she is good at getting what she wants huh.” More laughter. “Yes sir. Write me up a contract. Me and Frank will meet up with y’all” He listened. “Alright man I’ll talk to you later… bye” he hung up and put his phone back in his pocket. Your phone buzzed. You looked it and read the message.

Eric: Thank you!

You smiled as you turned the screen off and put your phone back on the table. The waitress came back over “Can I get you guys anything else?” she batted her eyes at Jensen, he flashed a smile at her. “No darlin’ just the check.” You rolled your eyes as he winked at you.

You stepped up to the elevator’s call button and pressed it. Jared and Jensen walked up as you waited. Jensen stood beside so close your arms were touching. The doors open and you start to walk but Jensen stopped you. “We’ll meet y’all up there. I have to talk to (y/n).” Lily looked at you and you nodded. The doors shut.

“What?” You asked but he stayed silent and then pressed the call button once Jared and Lily started going up. “’Jensen. What do you want?”

The second set of doors opened, and He gestured you to go first. You got in and leaned against the back wall.

“Ya know babes, You’re pretty cute when you’re jealous.” He pushed the button for your floor and turned around.

“What?”

“The waitress at lunch. I noticed your eye rolls and dirty looks.”

You sighed. “Have you ever heard the story about the kettle and pot?”

He gave you a flirty smile.  “So, what if I was?” He closed the space between you and slid his hands on your face, bringing his lips just inches away from yours. His eyes searching yours for a refusal, but you didn’t give one. His lips captured yours in a passionate kiss. Electricity coursed through your veins. Before you could stop them, your arms wrapped around his neck deepen the kiss further. His arms found their way around your waist pulling you into him. The elevator dinged and reality set back in ending the kiss.  He rested his forehead on yours.

“Jensen.” you whimpered between pants.

“Please don’t ruin this.”

“I’m sorry I can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t.”

“Just tell me why and it will never come up again.

“I’m getting married.

 “Bullshit. Padalecki would have told me.” He tilted his head to kiss you again

You pulled back. “Jared doesn’t know.” His eyes shot open.

“When?”  

“5 weeks.”

“You’re getting married in 5 weeks and you didn’t invite Jared?” He asked, bringing his forehead back down to yours.

“Family only. You know I never wanted a big wedding.”

His face scrunched in pain. “Do you still love me?”

“Jensen...” you blinked back tears.

Your breath hitched as his hands smacked his palms against the wall. “Just answer the question!” He demanded.

You couldn’t stop the tears any longer. You nudged him. He didn’t move. “Jensen Please.”

He stepped out of the way, and you walked off the elevator. Your phone started to ring on the way back to your room. Your phone started to ring. Fucking fantastic you thought as you saw the name.

“Hey,” your voice cracked as you answered your phone.

“What’s wrong?” Brett asked.

“Nothing.”

“Eric just told me the news.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Congrats. I didn’t think you’d be able to actually pull it off babe.”

You hmphed. “Well thanks.”

“Don’t take it like that. Hey gotta go Angela needs me.”

“Oh of course.” The tears started again.

“Don’t be like that. She’s, my boss.”

“And she totally has a thing for you.”

“You’re Being crazy.”

“Yep. I’m the problem.”

“Seriously? I gotta go. Can we finish this later?”

“Yep.” You hung up

“Hey, what happened?” Lily asked as you opened the door.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You threw his hat on your bed and headed for the bathroom.

Jensen’s P.o.V.

“The answer was always going to be yes, J.p” he said as they walked off the elevator. “I just wanted more time with her.” “And did it help?” “Kind of yea.” Jared rolled his eyes. “I guess in a fucked-up way. At least the truth is out now. Maybe y’all can work on being friends now.” “I don’t think it will ever be the way it was. He said as they started across the street. “Well maybe you should try to find a new way to be friends with her.” They walked through the doors and the bar was packed. “I gotta pee. I’ll be right back.” Jensen pointed at the bar and Jared nodded. Jensen’s eyes scanned the room for her, but she was nowhere to be found. “She’s not here yet.” He sat down on the barstool next to Ruthie. “But she told me she was coming and she’s not one to break her word.” She took a drink. “You guys ok now?” “Honestly Ruthie. I have no idea. I did something stupid.” “Well, that doesn’t surprise me.” she teased. “Oh, gee thanks.” He smiled. “I was being malicious dear, just trying to say you do dumb shit when you’re in love.” “Do you know?” Ruthie’s eyebrows creased, “In 5 weeks.” “Yes, I know.” She sighed. “He’s an arsehole. I wish she would see it.” “Really?” “I shouldn’t be telling you this.” She took another drink. “We’ll blame it on the whiskey.” She winked at him. “I know you would treat her a million times better. Hell, she probably knows it. She’s just letting the past scare her.” He opened his mouth, but she put her hand up. “I know Jensen. But you will have o prove it to her.” He nodded. Jared walked back up and their phones went off at the same time “The cowboys won!!” Jared yelled, turning around. And leaning his back on the bar. “Finally stopped that losing streak.” Jensen said as they bumped fists. “You want a beer?” Jared nodded. Jensen go the bartender’s attention “3 Coronas Please.” Jared gave him a puzzled look. “She’ll be here.” The bartender sat down the beers and Jensen handed him his card. “Start a tab.” The bartender nodded. “Thank you.” “Dude.” “You can send me your half later.” “There she is.” Jared yelled and Jensen turned around on the stool. Damn she looked good. Tight jeans, white tee, He smiled when he saw she still had his hat on, but even with the makeup he could tell she’d been crying. “How bout dem boys? Huh?” She smiled. “What are we drinking?” “Whatever you want princess.” Jared teased. “Tequila.” She turned around. “Bri. Come do a shot with me.” “Hell yea.” “Ruthie. You want one?” “Not tonight boys. We have an early flight tomorrow.” She told them. “I’ll take Ruthie’s�� (y/n) said. “I’ll do a second one with her.” Bri said Jensen raised his eyebrows. “You’re gettin drink tonight huh?” “I’m having fun tonight.” She smiled again “Alright.” Jared counted. “6 shots of tequila please.” The bartender brought over the shots with lime slices and a saltshaker. Jared picked up the saltshaker “Hands.” Jared said and licked his own hand. The three of them licked between their thumb and index finger, then held them up to Jared. He poured salt where they licked. “Limes” he said as he handed them each a lime. “Shots.” He handed each of them a glass and brought his into the center of them. They clinked their shot glasses together as they licked the salt and then took the shot. “Ready for another one?” Bri asked you “Yes ma’am.” Jared held out the saltshaker and the girls repeated the process. Jensen couldn’t help but smile at the face she made when she took the lime out of her mouth. “Still not a fan of limes I see.” “No not really.” She confirmed. “I gotta pee.” Bri grabbed (y/n)’s hand and drug her to the bathroom. Jared turned to Jensen. “She’s been crying.” “I know Jared.” Jensen cleared his throat. “My fault.” “Maybe we should just lock you two in a room and let you scream it out.” Jensen chuckled. “Keep buying Tequila shots and it will probably happen.” “I don’t know Ackles. She’s the happiest drunk I’ve ever seen. Might make the situation better.” Jared smiled deviously. “Well judging by that smile, I guess we will find out.”

Reader’s P.o.V

“Ok spill.” Bri said as the bathroom door shut.

“What?”

She tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “the way you guys are looking at each other, ya know like you used to.”

“Bri. I’m supposed to be getting married in 5 weeks.”

“What?! You and Jensen. Oh my god final.”

“No not Jensen. His name is Brett. He works with me on the boys.”

“Oh. Why the supposed to be.”

“I don't know.” You told her about the conversation you had earlier today and the big fight you had before you came out. “When I told him I was going out with my supernatural friends, he lost his shit.”

“If he doesn’t make you happy. You need to call it off.”

“But everything has already been paid for and its not bad all the time.”

“Do you really want to get married because everything has been paid for?”

“You have a point.”

“Look just have fun with us tonight. Really let your hair down. You deserve fun. Tomorrow go home and hash it out with him. If you guys can’t come to an understanding, I’d say kick him to the curb. Deal?”

“Deal. Now go pee so we can go back to drinking.” She chuckled with you.

“Another round of shots?” Jared asked as you walked up to them.

“Maybe we should slow down a bit J.p.” Jensen suggested.

“Aw what’s wrong cowboy? Can’t handle your liquor anymore.”

He raised his eyebrow and gestured for another round. “Add another one.” Jensen told Jared as Lily walked up.

“Lily!!” You and Bri yelled together.

She smiled. “Really boys? I leave her alone with you for 5 minutes and she’s taking tequila shots?”

“I am a grown up. and I’ve only had 2.

“Bout to be 3.” Jared said turning around with the saltshaker. “Hands.”

“Can we get a lemon slice please?” Jensen asked the bartender. He sat the shots down and got in the fridge.

“Thank you.” You smiled.

The 5 of you repeated the took the shots and slammed the glasses on the bar.

“Bri!” you heard someone yell.

“I’ll be back.” Bri said and walked away.

You sat the deflated lemon slice on the counter. Leaning on the bar closer to him than you probably should have. “Is this for me?” You asked, pointing to the extra beer sitting by Jensen’s.

“Yep.” He said and picked his up.

“Well thank you.”

“No problem princess.” He teased and you squinted at him.

“How much time before they come on?” Lily asked.

Jared looked at his watch. “About 45 minutes.”

“(y/n), let’s go play a song” Lily said pointing at the fancy jukebox. You grabbed your beer and followed her.

“Really babe, Tequila shots?” she questioned you.

“Yes, Tequila shots. Lily, I have had a rough week. I want to have a fun night with my friends. So quit being a buzzkill and have fun with me, please.”

“Alright.” She walked up to the bar. You started scrolling through the songs. Lily came back over holding 2 shots. Your jaw dropped. “Let’s have fun then.” You clicked the glasses and took the shot. You turned back to the jukebox as she took your glass and returned it back to the bar.

“Yes!” you slid your card and tapped the song you wanted. You looked over at Jensen who smiled as soon as the music started. “His eyes are cold and rest” You sang “And his wounds have almost healed.” His smile got bigger.

“And she’d give half of Texas, just to change the way he feels.” Jared belted out making you laugh.

“She knows his loves in Tulsa.” You yelled back at him. Making your way back over to the boys.

“And she knows he’s gonna go.”  Jared said turning to you

“But it ain’t no women flesh and blood, it’s that damned old rodeo.” You and Jared sang loudly. Everybody laughed.

You turned to Jensen who was shaking his head. “What’s wrong Ackles, did you forget the words?” you teased him.

“No, just not 4 shots deep yet, darlin.”

“4?”

“Her and Lily snuck one without us.”

Jared shook his head at you.

You smiled. “Better catch up Padalecki.”

He looked over to Jensen. “2 more Jay.?”

“Come on Ross. Live a little.”  You gave him a cheeky grin.

He chuckled “Alright let’s go.”  He got the bartender’s attention and held up 4 fingers.

“Hello?” lily answered her phone. “Yes, Brett she’s right here hold on.” You rolled your eyes as she held her phone out to you.

You took it and put it to your ear. “Hey. Hold on.” You turned and walked toward the door.

Jensen’s P.o.V

“Who’s Brett?” Jared asked as he and Jensen sat their empty glasses down. Thank you for asking Jared. Jensen thought to himself.

“Another writer on the show.” Lily said as she stepped up to the bar and ordered a drink.

“Why is he calling your phone looking for (y/n)?” Jared asked clinking glasses with Jensen before they took the second shot.

“He asked if she was ok. She wasn’t answering her phone. She probably forgot it and didn’t want to go back up.”

“My tab.” Jensen told the bartender as he took Lily’s drink and held it out to her.

“Thanks Jay.” She said as she took it from him.

“No problem.” He grabbed his beer.

“Come on Ackles. Let’s go play some music.”

Jensen nodded and followed Jared over to the jukebox.

“Did she mention this Brett guy to you?” he asked Jared as he slid his card in the card reader. He picked a song “You’re up.”

“No. Why would she?”  Jared asked searching for the song he wanted. “Now You.” They switched spots.

“I don’t know. It just seems odd.” He searched for her favorite. Jared rolled his eyes.

“You’re over thinking it. you need to get out of that jealous ex-boyfriend headspace bro.”

“I know its just hard with her.” He makes the final choice. “Done.”

“Jared!!” Mark yelled from one of the tables.

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be at the bar.”

Jensen started back to his seat to find (y/n) sitting in it. “I think you’re in my seat little lady.”

She spun around to face him. “Well, ya know what they say about moving your feet.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re lucky.” He stood beside her leaning on the bar.

She smiled. “Or you’re just yellow bellied.”

He laughed. “I’d watch that mouth.”

“Oh, or what?”

“You really don’t wanna go there.”

She giggled. “So tough.” He smirked and shook his head.

He leaned against the bar and took a drink of his beer. “So, is everything alright? Lily said that Brett guy was worried about you.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Just that he’s another write for The Boys, you weren’t answering your phone, so he got worried and called Lily’s phone. Where is Lily anyway?”

“Bathroom.” She took a drink. “Everything is fine.”

“You know I know when you’re lying right?” Jensen asked and took a drink of his beer.

“I’m not lying we got into an argument, but everything is fine now.”

“An argument about what?” She stayed silent. “Ohh that’s him. huh. The guy you are supposed to marry?”

“Yea.” She sighed. “Can we not talk about it?”

“Thought we were trying this whole friend thing out?”

“So be my friend and drink with me. I wanna have fun. Make me forget my problems.”

“They’ll still be there in the morning.”

“Then I’ll deal with them then.” She took the last drink of her beer. “Or I can just got get Bri.” She got the bartender’s attention and pointed at her beer.

“Another for you sir?” the bartender asked as he sat down (y/n)’s beer.

“Yes, please and 2 more shots.” She smiled.

 “Oh of course you’d play this song.”

He smiled. “Mama told me, When I was young.” Her face lit up when he started singing, making his heart do a little flutter. "Come sit beside me, my only son, and listen closely to what I say, and if you do this it'll help you Some sunny day"

“Still got that pretty voice huh?”

“Guess so.”

The bartender sat the shots on the bar. “Uh what’s this?” Lily asked as she walked back up to you and Jensen. Jared was right behind her.

“Thought y’all were going do one without us?”

She looked at him and giggled.

“Add 2 more"

Reader’s P.o.V.

“Come on I wanna get a good spot.” Lily yelled.

Jensen grabbed your hand “follow me.” you grabbed Lily’s hand, and she grabbed Jared’s arm. Jensen led you guys almost to the front. You stood next to him looking down at his hand still holding yours. “Sorry.” He let it go.

You didn’t know if it was your feelings or the 6 shots of tequila you had, but you felt kind of disappointed. You shook it off. The band came out and the crowd went crazy. You couldn’t help but smile at Jensen as he cheered. Just as Rob started to sing some big muscle bond guy stepped in front of you. Blocking your view.

Then you felt his hands on your shoulders, pulling you in front of him so you could see. He dropped his hands, but you could feel him behind you. Lily came over wiggling her hips and singing along with the band. You downed the rest of your beer and started to do the same.

“Lily!!” you heard someone yell. You look over and Lily is dancing her way to Osric. You leaned back and found Jensen’s neck pulling his ear down to you. “Is your jealousy cured now?” you pointed over to them, they were dancing together now.

He brought his lips to your ear. “Almost.”

“What does that mean?”

"Still got one more to get rid of." He licked his lips keeping his bottom lip in his teeth.

Shit maybe the tequila was a bad idea. You couldn’t stop yourself. You had to fill his lips again. You pulled him down, smashing your lips together in needy desire. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Pulling you to him, you parted your lips and shivers ran up your spine when he slides his tongue on yours making you roll your hips. He let out a small growl and thrusted his hips. letting you feel his hardening shaft on your ass. Making you moan softly. He pulled back and spun you around. His hands found your ass and pulled you close again. And his lips were back on yours. Your arms slid around his neck. Pulling him into you just as hard as he was pulling you into him. He double tapped your right thigh, and you brought your knee up to his hip. Flames shot from your core as he hooked his hand under your ass and pushed his hardness into you. You trailed kisses up to her ear.

“You wanna get out of here Cowboy?

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I've assembled some lesser-known quotes about Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, I hope there's at least one in here that most of you have never seen before, though the super-fans among you have likely seen them all ;)

Lee fancies himself playing Aragorn, the archetypal heroic figure of the piece - he would probably be cast as Sauron, the Satanic figure in Tolkien's Middle Earth - but he feels that only a Walt Disney feature cartoon could possibly do justice to the work.

-"Cinemafantastique" Vol 3 No 1 (Fall 1973)

I knew that Lee wanted to play Gandalf when he jumped on board the LOTR movie trilogy, but I didn't know he apparently originally wanted to play Aragorn! My guess is that once he got older, he figured he would be better as Gandalf, though of course he didn't get it. But Lee as Aragorn... if he played the part in the late 50's, 60's or early 70's, I could see him pulling it off, what with his swordfighting abilities. Did he ever comment on the Ralph Bakshi adaptation?

After the liberation of Germany, he [Lee] visited a number of the concentration camps, including Dachau, a deeply disturbing experience which, he says, provided him with such a close-up view of the charnel house side of real life that he is unaffected by anything he sees or does on the screen.

-The Dracula Scrapbook, Peter Haining

I have decided now to tell a tale a bit "out of school" regarding the relationship between Peter and Helen Cushing, especially since this is a lady who remains a bit of a mystery to most Cushing fans - like a figure out of an Edgar Allan Poe tale, considering the way Peter lionized her as if she was indeed his "lost Lenore." During the latter part of 1977, I saw quite a bit of Christopher Lee as he and his family were living in Los Angeles where he played golf (and made the occasional film or television movie of the week.) One afternoon, we were at lunch, and the subject of Peter and his wife came up in conversation; Christopher leaned over to me and said, "You know David, Helen Cushing was a bit of a psychic vampire in life; she kept Peter very close. It was as if she could read his very thoughts before they had them. They really were soulmates of the first order; make no mistake about that! I don't think Helen ever really trusted me where Peter was concerned - even after he and I had made several films together. In fact, Helen used to say to me, "I know you think you are now bigger than my husband don't you?" Well, I just looked at her, smiled and said, "Well Helen, I am taller than Peter you know." Christopher felt that Peter had such guilt - imagined or not - about anything he might have done when they were married; if for example he ever found himself attracted to any of the Hammer glamour girls; whom he worked opposite, it all was now too much to bear. On the other hand, Vincent Price responded to Peter's intense mourning with his usual brand of humor. During the filming of Madhouse, he observed Peter discussing ways of communication from beyond the grave by perhaps installing a phone in the crypt; Vincent listened to all this and then replied with that unmistakably deadpan voice, "Well Peter, what if she's out?"

-David Del Valle, "Diabolique" #16

A few of you may recall seeing a quote posted here from Lee calling Helen a psychic vampire. I tried to find the source for that, but I couldn't. Instead I found this other version, possibly by the same person, which seems to give more insight about what Lee actually thought of Helen, and it comes off as much less harsh on his part than the other one.

A while back, I looked up interviews about the making of The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires, and I swore I saw a magazine or something where Roy Ward Baker, the co-director of the movie along with the Shaw Brothers, said something about Cushing during the making of it to the effect of: “He was absolutely miserable, poor bugger.” But I forgot to take a screenshot of it then and for the life of me I couldn’t remember where it came from, I tried to look through my search history but couldn’t find it. I swear that I saw it, though!

Oh well. Next up is a quote about Lee and Cushing watching Looney Tunes together for the last time, get your tissues out...

In the early 90s I worked for Hammer Films and was asked to organise a voiceover recording for a Hammer Films documentary. Both Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee had agreed to work together one last time. Christopher Lee had asked me to organise one thing: a television and a VHS player in a private room and to have some alone time with Peter. After the recording, I cleared the studio and left Peter and Christopher alone with the TV. They hadn’t noticed that I was still at the mixing desk so I waited to see what they were going to be watching. I saw Count Dooku and Grand Moff Tarkin sit watching Looney Tunes cartoons – each doing perfect impersonations of Sylvester the Cat and Tweety Pie – all line perfect! I can’t remember exactly – but I think Christopher Lee was Tweety Pie and Peter Cushing was Sylvester.

-"Popbitch" 2015 Annual, the quote is just credited to a "JH", but IMDB lists a Jane Hughes as having worked as an assistant director in the Canterbury studio where Lee and Cushing recorded their voiceover, so this is most likely her. I personally would like to believe that Lee was playing Sylvester and Cushing was Tweety because Lee said he was always Sylvester to Cushing, and come on, Cushing MUST have been Tweety, that character would fit him like a glove!

For this final quote, I'm gonna do something different and copy-paste a whole interview done with Lee by a guy named John Exshaw about Cushing a year before the latter died for the magazine Cinema Retro, the interview being put up on their website. The formatting on the interview is all messed up, so I fixed the apostrophes and em-dashes and will put the whole thing here for your enjoyment.

I find this interview fascinating not so much for what Lee says about Cushing, but for how it implied he saw himself compared to Peter:

I didn’t meet him until we did the first Hammer movie. I’d seen him. Of course the thing which I’d seen which impressed me most, understandably, was 1984, which was remarkable. He was wonderful in that… Live TV! [shudders]

Total dedication; and this is the answer to why Peter Cushing is an actor. Total dedication. Total! The most professional actor I have ever worked with. And I’m not going to say underrated, because he isn’t underrated. He’s highly regarded all over the world as a brilliant actor, and deservedly so. The record shows that… Also, one thing that we do share, I think, more than anything, which is more important than anything else - I think we share the same dedication, I think we share professionalism, I think we share the same feelings about doing the best we can - one thing we certainly share is the same sense of humor, which of course the general public is totally unaware of. If they knew what we got up to on the set in every film we’ve made… the imitations that I used to do… Oh, we used to dance together in the rushes, yes; me made up as the Frankenstein creature, a sort of, a sort of, what do you call it - buck-and-wing dance, you know. And in years and years and years he and I have shared this idolatrous love of the Warner Brothers cartoons, you see, and Sylvester, and Tweetie Pie, and Yosemite Sam. And I’ve always imitated them, you see, and he’s done the same. And we used to do that on a set; people used to think we’d gone out of our minds, and we’d make each other laugh. Sometimes it’s so important - in a way, it’s absolutely essential - but we’re both of us ice-cold when it comes to doing it, even if we’ve been been laughing a few moments before. And that’s a thing we also share, total concentration.

And what can I say about Peter Cushing that I haven’t said before? I mean, consummate actor, brilliant technician, and a marvellous human being. I’ve always said, you know - I’m sure you’re aware of this - that he should have been a priest… Because there is a great love for his fellow man. There’s an almost superhuman loving kindness in Peter, and it’s always been in there. I’ve never heard him say anything harsh about anyone. He’s also a deeply religious man. Those are the two things we don’t have in common. I’m afraid I do say what I think. I’m not tactless but I am a more direct person than he is. I don’t have his tolerance. I don’t have his gentleness. I don’t have his faith; I wish I did…

He is not an easy person to get to know, believe you me. There’s a lot about Peter that I don’t know… But of course, as you know, Helen died in the 1970’s and that is his only desire left in life. And it’s genuine. He has stayed alive because he’s a man who would never take his own life because that would be a great sin, and he has stayed alive through some pretty terrible experiences, you know. He’s had cancer, and problems with his legs, his hips, breathing, and all sorts of medical problems, but the spirit is unquenchable and the speed of thinking and the mind haven’t changed at all. I mean, it’s another cliche - the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. The same thing with Vincent [Price]; mind like a rapier, both of them. Only the physical disabilities of getting old…

But he’s certainly one of a kind, and of course this business of staying alive, simply existing, which is how he looks at his life - existence. He’s only waiting for that moment; only waiting for it. And he’s been waiting now for twenty-three years. It must be terrible to be so admired and so loved and so respected but to impose, I feel, on yourself, deliberately, a sort of monastic seclusion which he seems to prefer. He seems to; I mean, you wouldn’t think of it if you saw him with a group of people but I think he prefers to be alone. I don’t think the house is full of people. I don’t think there’s many very, very close, intimate friends - but nor have I, and nor have many people.

Acquaintances, yes; admirers, yes - scores of thousands all over the world, people who feel they know him, people who feel that he’s a friend - all that. That’s on a professional basis; I think on a personal basis, I get the impression that he’s a person who keeps his life and his relationship with his wife very much to himself. It’s locked up in a cupboard of which he has the key. He doesn’t open that cupboard and release anything unless he chooses to. But I don’t either.

[papercranepoets]

Though she was loathe to admit it, Hermione learned almost nothing from her AM study session. An interesting spell she had never heard of came to light, however. Nuntius invisibilis could send a letter to a recipient via levitation. The message remained invisible to all who were not the recipient. Hermione could make some use of this.

The morning and afternoon went by in a blur. Everything had been recently, and Hermione wondered if her mental health was suffering.

She entered the great hall, suddenly remembering Malfoy had important information to share with her tonight. She groaned as she thought about wanting to cozy herself with a book and fall asleep early.

Hermione didn’t dare look over to the Slytherin table. Ever. She hadn’t since she had started meeting with Malfoy.

“Hermione! There you are!” Harry waved her over. His brows were furrowed and eyes sharp. A look of determination was etched on his features. This set Hermione’s nerves ablaze. She did not want to deal with talking him down from some insane paranoid scheme.

Ron behind him shrugged his shoulders, patting the space in between them.

“Hi Harry,” she said cautiously, sliding next to Ron. “I can only imagine you have something exciting to talk through.”

“Exciting? Sure you could call it exciting…” Harry looked around the table, seemingly ensuring no one was listening, “Actually, it’s Dumbledore. He’s shown me something…”

Hermione caught her eye roll. Harry was expecting Ron and Hermione to lean closer and play the part. Honestly, she adored Harry, but with everything going to shit she’d rather he just out with it. Instead of voicing this, she gently nodded, “yes and?”

“It was a memory from Slughorn. I’ll wait to go into detail, but let’s speak later tonight after everyone has gone to bed.”

Shit… Malfoy will just have to wait. Maybe Hermione could try that new spell to let him know she would be late.

“Sure, mate,” Ron reached over Hermione to slap Harry on the back. “We’ll just stay in the common room all evening and wait until everyone has left.”

Ron moved his hand to rest on Hermione’s back and leaned into her ear, “Maybe we can catch up after, yeah?”

She tensed up, already knowing he had a stupid grin on his face. Hermione risked looking up and immediately saw Malfoy. He was staring at her. Gods, could he be any more obvious. His expression was neutral, though, and he panned his eyes across the entire table, trying to play it off.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Hermione said softly. She thought back to Draco’s proposition and shivered. Hermione wanted to kick herself. Ron probably thought that reaction was for him. She shrugged his hand off of her back and reached for the green beans in front of her, not that she was particularly hungry with the guilt she was feeling.

“Love that you two finally figured out that you want to be together, but could we keep the public displays to a minimum?” Harry scolded.

Hermione shot him an apologetic look.

“More importantly, why is Malfoy so bloody interested in our table?” Harry was growing more agitated. Not again. “Taking the dark mark and sizing us all now. It’s a matter of time before he attacks one of us.”

Now Hermione did roll her eyes, “Honestly, Harry, not this again. We’ve talked this through about a dozen times now.” Harry looked at her almost appalled that she was still not on his side. She thought to throw him a bone and whispered, “Let’s say he did take the mark… why would he go after us at school? I’m sure he’s under close watch here, and I’m sure Voldemort doesn’t want to be shown up by a student.”

Harry grumbled, taking a scoop of mashed potatoes and digging into his food. Ron quickly followed suit. Hermione pushed her green beans around and chanced another look across the hall.

Parkinson was leaning over him playing with the hood on his robes, but he was staring directly at Hermione a smirk on his face. When her cheeks flushed and eyes widened, Malfoy’s smirk deepened. She quickly looked back to her green beans.

“I’m not hungry,” Hermione spurted. “See you both in the common room!”

Hurriedly she grabbed her bag and rushed out of the Great Hall. She was more interested in Malfoy’s other proposition tonight than finding out what Dumbledore tasked Harry with.

Hermione paced the library after hours needing time to clear her head after a row with Ron.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”

Hermione’s eyes snapped towards the uppity, sharp sounding voice.

“Shut up, Malfoy. Let’s not pretend you don’t know why I’m here.”

Malfoy smirked, looking her up and down slowly. Then he was crowding her space, grabbing her arms and pushing her against the table.

“Weasel couldn’t get you there??” He sneered grabbing her chin.

“I’m not here to talk.” Hermione stared into his icy eyes trying not to think about his other hand digging into her hip.

“Not here to talk. Is that right, Granger?” He hoisted her onto the table and stepped between her. Leaning into her neck, Granger fluttered her eyes closed. Now it was time for some relief.

Malfoy chuckled breathing onto her neck and swiping her mane away. No kiss came. “What if I wanted to talk?” He breathed into her.

Grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer, Hermione tried to shut him up. For gods sake, why was he not just kissing her already!?

He nuzzled his nose into her neck and chuckled again before pushing away.

“What the hell!?” Hermione was enraged. From Ron to Malfoy and his snooty, rich, asshole, strikingly handsome self, men were really pissing her off tonight.

She met his eyes, red painting her cheeks in embarrassment. Malfoy was already staring at her, eyes dark and predatory.

“First you want to talk and now you’re barely even breathing. Gods, you’re so fucking moody and weird sometimes?”

His nostrils flared as he looked at Hermione sprawled on the table. He looked like he could avara her on the spot. Her eyes widened as she straightened up.

“Stop using me every time you have a little fight with your boyfriend.” His jaw ticked. Was he actually pissed off? “Better, yet. Stop talking to me altogether until you’ve fixed that situation.”

Hermione’s brows stitched together, “fixed the situation? What…”

“Oh, please, don’t play fucking dumb. You’re much brighter than this.” Malfoy scoffed, “maybe we can resume this and move our little library rendezvous to something more comfortable. Dump your little weasel and we’ll talk.”

“I…” Hermione was completely bewildered.

“No.” He breathed sharply, “Send me a note when you decide what to do.”

And with that he was half way down the aisle.

Hermione didn’t realize she was holding her breath… so much for clearing her mind.