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myfairkatiecat · 6 months ago

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NOT TRYING TO BE RUDE, BUT i HATE KEEFE SO SO MUCH AND IM WONDERING (GENUINELY) WHAT YOU LIKE ABOUT HIM BECAUSE I CAN'T SEE THE APPEAL

ALSO YOU DON'T HAVE TO ANSWER THIS IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE OR BUGS YOU SORRY IF IT DOES EITHER/BOTH

Hey anon! Those are some strong feelings you've got there!

This is a tricky question to answer since a lot of the things that make me like Keefe's character make some people dislike his character, so you might be about to get a list of all the things you despise about him by asking me what I like about him. I like him because I think he's a good character, and way better written than people give him (or Shannon) credit for. I don't always love Wattpad Fanon Keefe (perfect boyfriend, super sweet, always says the right thing) because it erases so much of his character. I like canon Keefe. He's a raw character with a lot going on and a whole slew of well-developed character traits.

Before I jump into this post, however, I want to say one thing: I think a lot of people who dislike Keefe are mostly frustrated with Shannon's portrayal of his character flaws, and I don't think they give Shannon enough credit for the way she's intentionally written Sophie as an unreliable narrator. It's rather clear during different parts of the series that Sophie isn't the most reliable narrator, and Shannon also explicitly writes in the margins of her annotated KOTLC book that she used a certain scene as an example of when Keefe takes his jokes too far. Sophie forgives him without even an outright apology in that scene, but Shannon makes it clear in her annotations that she, the author, isn't writing it off. I don't own the annotated so I can't remember the exact quote, but it's my biggest case for why I think Shannon has intentionally written Keefe with these character flaws, as character flaws, and yes, Shannon sees them as character flaws and has said so, so for the purposes of this ask response here, let's assume Shannon Messenger is aware she's writing a flawed character, because I do think it's rather unfair to her how often the people of the fandom accuse her of brushing by Keefe's actions when in reality she's just writing Sophie Foster as true to her character as she can.

With that, let's jump into this little essay about Why Keefe Is An Awesome Character And I Love Him that I've writtten for you!

My AP English teacher always used to say, "characters are more human than humans." I believe the purpose of this quote was that well-written characters exemplify what makes us human—our love, our experiences, our regret, our strengths and flaws—in ways that connect strongly to the audience. Part of the reason so many people like Keefe's character, I believe, is because they are able to connect strongly to him. This is because he is written as "more human than humans," as my AP English teacher would say—even though technically, he's not a human, but an elf.

One major strong point of Keefe Sencen's character is that his strengths and weaknesses are often wrapped up in the same character traits. This is something that is true for many people. For example, my politeness in real life social situations makes me a lot of friends, but too often can turn to people-pleasing. A good character, in my opinion, should have both strengths and flaws stemming from all of their major character traits. Here are a few of Keefe's:

His humor

One major aspect of Keefe's character is his humor. Whether you personally find it funny or not (I think I found it a little funnier when I was eleven... I'm sorta growing out of some of it, though his wittier comments in the latest books are more my style, which might be a sign of both me and the character maturing) it's an enormous part of his character. As a major character trait, it presents both strengths and flaws.

Often, he brings levity to heavy situations that the other characters appreciate. One instance I remember is in Flashback. They were preparing for a confrontation, and I don't remember what it was that Keefe said, but Sophie narrates that she appreciated the moment of comedic relief, because it eased some of her anxiety. Keefe is able to take intense moments and settle them with quick-witted (or hilariously not funny) comments. This is likely a skill he adopted in order to handle the crushing pressure of being in his own home as a kid. (Fitz, contrastingly, adapted the skill of just holding lots and lots of weight, bending and bending and bending until he finally breaks. Not to make my Keefe essay about Fitz, of course, but I know someone is going to point out that Fitz also dealt with a lot of pressure at home, and wanted to point out that he developed somewhat unhealthy coping mechanisms as well, they're just different from Keefe's.)

However, sometimes his jokes are unwanted or go too far. Shannon comments on this specifically at the end of the first book, where Keefe makes a joke about how he helped save her when she almost died, and then sorta trailed of when he realized he was talking about her almost-death. Shannon commented in the margins that this was a moment of Keefe experiencing awareness that his joking has gone a little too far. She hasn't released annotated editions of any later books, but I'm confident that at least a few other scenes are examples of this as well. Sometimes I run across them during a read through and I'm like "huh, it's interesting to have a good idea as to what Shannon was thinking writing this." Sometimes, his constant making light of serious situations really isn't funny to anyone, and it keeps him from accepting the gravity of what they're doing, likely contributing to his reckless behavior.

2. His intuitive communication

Something to notice about Keefe is that even though he's often socially unaware, either in ways that indicate his childhood trauma or just his emotionally immaturity as a teenager, he's very good at knowing exactly what to say for his intended goal. That intended goal isn't always necessarily something he should want, mind you—we just talked about how his need to lighten the mood sometimes causes problems, and he knows enough about some of his friends (cough Fitz cough) to know exactly what words will hurt them the most in an argument as well.

This can be a strength for him, especially when he's comforting Sophie. Since he can feel her emotions instinctively, he often knows exactly what she needs to hear. He's actually incredibly sweet at times, especially in Legacy (I mean... there are other issues there, which I'll get into another time). For example, when he's telling her the reasons Bronte isn't the worst possible father for her to have. There's nothing inherently great about the specific way he comforted her, but it did ease some of Sophie's queasiness, because he knew what she needed to hear. Also, there are the scenes in Legacy where he's telling her that Sophie Foster is all she needs to be, or the scene in Everblaze where he reminds her that no matter who her parents are, she's still going to be exactly the same person she is, and they can't change her. Keefe is really good at knowing the right thing to say. (This might have stemmed from walking on eggshells his entire life aroud his parents!)

However, this also makes it really easy for Keefe to be manipulative, or lie, or say the completely wrong thing on purpose. The best example of the first two was when he somehow convinced everyone in just a few sentences that he totally wasn't going to go to Loamnore with them. Somehow, the guy famous for not doing what he's told convinced everyone he was going to do what he was told, and the thing is, it wasn't even unrealistic. He gave really good reasons that it made sense for him to stay back, and even made jokes about it, about how he and the others not going were "too cool for Loamnore." He had everyone convinced he really wasn't going to be reckless this time, when he totally knew his plan the whole time. The famous Unlocked healing center scene is a great example of the last one, because Keefe got upset with Fitz and knew exactly what to say to make him the most upset and embarassed in that situation. He only even took back the words when Sophie became upset as well. He and Fitz are in... not an awesome place in the latest books, and his POV reflects that.

3. His courage

Let's be honest. Is Keefe a runner? Yes. But when he runs, is he running from a fight? Nope. Never. One of the major instances of this guy running away actually put himself in a ton of danger. He doesn't run for cover, or safety. He runs usually out of fear of himself, his relationships, or that he isn't able to help in any other way. If we really look at his character, Keefe is incredibly brave. All of the KOTLC main cast is. They've got guts. But a lot of the others have a more guarded sort of courage, while Keefe's is... well. Not guarded.

Keefe doesn't think things through, and sometimes, there isn't time for that. Sometimes, immediate action is necessary, and Keefe is great with that. Quick, in-the-moment plans are his specialty. He's not afraid to stand up to people who want to hurt him (*cough* Dimitar scene *cough*).

But he's also extremely reckless (*cough* Dimitar scene *cough*). Because his courage is less guarded than his friends (such as Sophie's or Biana's) he may be more inclined to carry out his plans quickly, but he's also more likely to not think things through fully and end up putting his own life at risk, and sometimes even his friends' lives, even when he's trying to help.

4. His caution and fight or flight instinct

To everyone who ever said Keefe's character is flat and his strengths and flaws never develop or change, what version of KOTLC are you even reading?! Like I mentioned above, Keefe's recklessness is a huge part of his character since book one, but now I'm here about to talk about his caution/obsessive worrying/the famous running away, specifically the second time. This is a relatively new character trait for him. It develops slightly after Lodestar/the first half of Nightfall. Keefe truly did learn a lot from leaving for the Neverseen and lying to Sophie before going to Ravagog. We're given an extremely limited window into this process, since Sophie had other things going on and Keefe's short story focused a lot on his crush on her, but Keefe noticeably steps back and stops trying to turn things into a "Keefe show" (as Sophie puts it in Nightfall) and attempts to work more as a team, which is definitely character development again. However, where he really learned his lesson was Loamnore. He showed up, again going behind Sophie's back and coming up with a plan of his own, and it ended with Sophie tied up on the ground and him being forced to undergo a transformation that gave him powers he's terrified of. While his recklessness didn't entirely vanish after this (his response in the end was to run away to the literal Forbidden Cities) but is definitely flavored with siginificantly more caution and an attempt to be genuinely responsible.

In Unlocked, Keefe noticeably asks for people to be kept away from him, including Sophie, so that he can keep from accidentally controlling anybody. He also stops using his voice entirely. These are actually incredibly selfless things for him to do. He loves to be with his friends (particularly Sophie for reasons) and he loves to talk! And neither of those things are bad! But he isn't willing to put them in danger. In fact, he actually sort of overdoes it in Unlocked, even asking for Dex to make him an ability restrictor. (While he's well-intentioned here, I think Keefe brushes past the idea that making one of those again might be something of a traumatic experience for Dex.) In the end, he's so worried about it that he runs away, but he does it with considerably more of a plan than he did when he joined the Neverseen. He knew he'd know the languages, he arranged a way to get his hands on human currency, and while Unraveled isn't out yet, the state in which they found Keefe along with some of the things Keefe described about his experience make it clear that Keefe purposefully learned a lot about human cultures and successfully blended in and made his life work.

His newfound carefulness paired with his classic instinct to run really encapsulate a lot of his character strengths and flaws. In the later books, it's actually a sign that he's developing as a character and moving away from some of his past character flaws, but like all well-written major character traits, it comes with its own drawbacks.

Another important aspect of Keefe's character is the way he is noticeably shaped by his own experiences. I mentioned the whole "being more human than human" thing earlier, and while yes, he's still not human, I think this is part of what makes so many people connect to his character. He's realistic. He has even more strengths and flaws than the ones I've mentioned above, and all of them obviously come from somewhere specific in his past.

Why is he so chronically unserious? Because he couldn't be serious enough for his family. Before he met Fitz and started spending time with the Vackers, he didn't even really have friends. He had a suffocated home and impossible expectations, and when he tried to live up to them, he just wasn't good enough. So he adapted to break the tension. He adapted to just... not try ("those who don't try never look foolish" -Fiyero in "Dancing Through Life," from Wicked. I think Fiyero is... very Keefe coded) and started skipping classes, breaking the rules, playing pranks and doing anything to cut through the tension. He dealt with pressure by tossing it off his shoulders and just deciding to not deal with it. Obviously, deciding to Just Not Deal With Things eventually began to hurt him, and he slowly and painfully begins to learn to have difficult conversations (but hey, at least he's getting there? I think Neverseen is where his development in that particular area becomes apparent, with the way he opens up more and even admits where he's really beginning to feel guilty).

Why is he such a master of knowing what to say? Because he grew up walking on eggshells around his parents. And when he decided to stop caring about his parents, he weaseled his way out of trouble whenever possible, and learned to use other people's emotions to learn things from them and get his way. "But Katie," you say, "reading other people's emotions without permission and using them to get his way is a very not good thing to do!" You're very correct! And it's an enormous indication of how skewed his view of normal is. What's the one Empath he grew up observing? His father. Look, he knows his parents suck, but because his parents suck, he has no way of knowing what is and isn't normal. Is his father doing this particular thing because he's a horrible person or because that's a normal thing to do? How on Earth is Keefe supposed to know?! Well, there are rules about telepathy, and there aren't any rules about empathy, so the external indications seem to tell him that this particular thing is normal. This is yet another example of Keefe's life experiences having a huge impact on his character.

Why is he so reckless? Because he doesn't care. Even his his most noble moments of bravery stem from the same place of not caring what happens to his life. It's the same reason his deep care for his friends' lives turns to quickly into self-sacrificial tendencies (which show themselves in canon on numerous occasions and usually don't even help). He has this "better me than any of them" mindset that's deeply rooted in his childhood trauma. Even though he's fought tooth and nail against everything his parents have ever said about him, he still has this ingrained sense of worthlessness. The way he says he "doesn't care about permanent damage" and tells Sophie that he's going to make sure he's always the one who ends up wrapped up in bandages and also has that moment in Unlocked where he wants to retreat into the darkness and never wake up? Look, we all know he needs therapy, but maybe reread that last sentence. ...Keep reading it until you get it.

And finally, what makes him finally learn to be cautious? Because he sees firsthand how his reckless plans are impacting the lives of other people around him, and if there's any negative trait that Keefe is NOT, it's selfish. Keefe may be occasionally selfish—you know, case by case basis, like most people—but it isn't a character trait of his by any means. He struggles significantly more with not caring about himself than he struggles with not caring about others. So when he realizes it isn't only his own life he's putting on the line, and sees the way it's hurting his friends, he takes an enormous step back, and even runs away for a time. Now, it would be great if he would start caring about himself too, because this poor guy needs therapy and his level of self-deprecation at this point is way out of control. But it is the case that he cares about his friends a lot (if someone quotes this part and brings up Fitz, I'm going to point out that their friendship has fallen way out due to actions and reactions on both sides of that relationship) and ultimately it ends up adjusting the balance in his character traits and their related strengths and flaws.

In short, Keefe is a lot of things. He's good things, he's bad things, he's consistent things. He reads like a real person—someone who frequently makes the same style of mistakes but does learn and grow over the course of his life. Every character trait of him stems from some aspect of his past. Shannon didn't write him with a slew of random personality traits—each and every one of them ties down to who he is and how he's shaped by his experiences. He can be a truly amazing friend. He can be a really horrible friend. He can be sweet and amazing and say the perfect thing. He can say the wrong-est possible thing with the intention of cutting the other person deep. He's a slow learner, but he learns nonetheless. His character development isn't a smooth arc in which he has trait A, event B happens and at the end he has trait C. That's common in storytelling, but not real life. Keefe learns, grows, then makes the same mistake again, then learns stronger. His character development sees both growth and setbacks, and the changes are subtle. He's still the same person even when he changes.

He's good things, he's bad things, he's consistent things, and I think it is out of an awareness of our own humanity that so many people relate to him and therefore enjoy his character.

I hope you enjoyed this essay, anon. Believe it or not, I actually have plenty more to say about any of these topics, and some other topics that I didn't even bring up, so if you want to see even more, just direct me towards what you want to hear and I assure you I'll have thoughts. Have a wonderful day!

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #keefe sencen

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newtonsheffield · 1 year ago

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Could we maybe… possibly get a snippet of Kate using the card for the first time and everyone calling her Mrs Bridgerton when she in fact is very much not Mrs Bridgerton… yet anyway

The thing is, growing up the Sharma’s were fairly wealthy. Mary’s a huge musician and even that pales in comparison to the way the Bridgertons are living their life.

But I think the first time Kate uses the card she feels kind of nervous, awkward about spending someone else’s money, and she probably only does it because she’s out to lunch with Daphne, Edwina and Sophie and she batted away everyone’s hands when they went to pay and in the hustle of it all she gave them the wrong card. It’s probably only when the server returns the card, the balance already paid that she realises she’s used the wrong card.

“Shit.” Kate sighed, putting the card back with her others.

“Everything alright?” Daphne’s brow furrowed, “I’m happy to split the-”

“It’s fine I just… gave them Anthony’s card. Well, my card, that’s part of Anthony’s… account.” Kate shrugged, “It’s fine, I’ll pay him back.”

“Anthony gave you a credit card?”

Sophie rolled her eyes at Edwina, “Are we surprised? He goes big, you know what he’s got her for her birthday.” She glanced at Daphne, “No offence, obviously.”

Kate’s heart stuttered, remembering the way he’d minimised what looked suspiciously like the Aston Martin website the other day when she’d walked into the living room and his tone on the phone had changed, “What’s he got me for my birthday?”

Daphne ignored Kate shrugging, “No offence taken.” She turned to Kate, “Anthony won’t even notice the charge and you basically live together. It’s not that surprising. Plus, he loves collecting the rewards points for some reason. I think it feels like a game for him from what I can tell.”

Kate shrugged, “It just… feels weird. I’ll pay him back.”

“Good luck with that.” Daphne shrugged, collecting her bag, “Now, we need to brainstorm what the hell I’m going to get Simon for his birthday. I can’t get him another watch because I can’t fucking stand the clicking from all of his stupid… automatic watch winders. Thirty is too many. No one needs to be that aware of the time.”

Kate felt guilty when she got back to Anthony’s as well, Edwina behind her, hiding the bag behind her a little awkwardly. She’d meant to use the card that time, with every intention of paying him back for the frivolous pair of boots in the bag behind her. She found Anthony already home, his slippers on as he geared up to watch the Formula One practice, Newton on the sofa beside him, belly up.

He smiled at her when she bent to kiss the top of his head, “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, Daphne found Simon’s birthday present so a successful trip.”

He peered round her at the bag, “What did you get?”

Kate swallowed, “Okay, so I bought boots but I’ll pay you back and I’m not even sure I’ll keep them.”

Anthony blinked, “You don’t like them?”

“I love them.”

“Why would you take them back then?”

“Because they were a little expensive and… I don’t really need them? And I also bought lunch but that was an accident and like I said I’ll pay you back.”

Anthony shrugged, “Don’t worry about it.” He kissed her gently, “I’m glad you had fun. I was thinking about ordering takeaway do you want something?”

“Um… yeah?”

Anthony stood from the sofa, kissing her again, “I’ll get the menu.”

Kate stared after him as he disappeared into the kitchen, bewildered, “Don’t you even care how much money I spent?”

“Not really.”

Kate kept gaping after him and Edwina muttered, “You have a sugar daddy.”

Kate rolled her eyes, “He’s not my sugar daddy.”

“You spent… a lot of money today and he didn’t notice! He didn’t even care! And I know what he’s ordered for your birthday.”

Kate groaned, “Is it bad?”

“It’s… a wild gift for a birthday together.”

“Worse than Benedict taking Sophie to Switzerland?”

“Oh way worse.”

“Fuck.”

#lavender haze au #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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andreal831 · 3 months ago

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marcel rescuing hayley as a baby is just so sweet. i love marcel's code of not hurting kids and i wonder if he would've taken in hayley like he did davina if she was just a bit older. also kieran arranged that adoption right? i wish he'd picked adoptive parents who were at least aware of the supernatural.

I love Marcel, but sometimes I think he gets more credit than he maybe he deserves in this instance.

Don't come for me yet, let me explain.

Marcel has his whole code of not hurting kids, but at the end of the day he is still a Mikaelson. He bends his code when necessary. When Sophie told Marcel about the Harvest, he got invovled to stop it. But I don't think we can say his intentions were completely pure. If the Harvest is stopped, the witches lose their power. We can't ignore how that would benefit Marcel. The reason I think this way is because of how little concern Marcel had for the werewolves. Most of the wolves we see turn as teenagers. Hayley turned at 13, Tyler was only about 17. Jackson and Aiden were about Hayley's age when we meet them, meaning they were teenagers when they turned. All of them are right around Davina's age. This means, as soon as they turned in the bayou, they would be cursed because of Marcel. And what about all of the children who lost their parents all but one night of the month due to the curse. We feel bad for Hope losing Hayley for six months. But these kids lost their entire childhood with their parents. These kids were likely hiding in the bayou, with one or two adults who didn't trigger their curse, waiting for the day that they too would lose their lives to this curse. So because of Marcel, kids were growing up without their parents and as they aged, they were losing their lives, forced to be werewolves all but one night a month. Marcel never shows any remorse for this and never lifts a finger to end this.

We also can't pretend that Marcel taking in Davina was purely for Davina. Davina was a kid who had all of the power of the witches. He locked her in an attic and used her to control the witches. And no, this wasn't to protect her. It's giving the same energy as Klaus daggering Rebekah for her "protection." Marcel didn't tell Davina when her enemies were dead and she was safe because he didn't want to lose that control. Davina was rightfully mad at him. I'm not saying he didn't love her and they very much had a father/daughter relationship. But we can't deny the underlying reason for Marcel taking Davina in.

It's why he didn't take Hayley in. Which was honestly short sighted of him. Hayley was the "princess that was promised" to the Crescent wolves. Y'all know I hate how they messed up werewolf lore just to make Hayley a "Queen" and push arranged marriages, but if you're going to do it, might as well go with the stolen princess trope. The wolves, were cursed, they couldn't come rescue Hayley. Marcel could have raised Hayley to support him and then use her to get the wolves under control. Essentially the same thing he did with Davina. Plot-wise, they just didnt do that because they didn't have forethought. But, we could also assume it's because Marcel never intended to break the curse on the wolves. Even for the children.

Marcel was nearly 200 years old at this point, it wasn't Hayley being a one year old that prevented him from taking her in. He was capable of taking care of her. Rather, she didn't serve a purpose for him.

Kieran arranging the adoption also makes nearly no sense. He would have been in his early or mid twenties at the time. Marcel could have put more effort into making sure Hayley was safe, rather than leaving her in the hands of someone who was barely out of school. I blame Marcel more than Kieran. Kieran had maybe known about the supernatural community for a couple of years, whereas Marcel had for nearly 200 years.

In Legacies, I believe there is mention of another magical school. Sending Hayley to a community or school where she would have been safe and accepted, as well as someone to teach her of her history would have been the best option. Marcel was old enough that he likely knew of other werewolf communities they could have sent Hayley so she could have been raised around people like her. But again, Marcel never anticipated her coming back. He didn't want Hayley to come back and find her family because he wanted to control the wolves. He very purposefully sent Hayley out of New Orleans so she would never challenge his control.

Again, I love Marcel, but he wasn't naïve in his decisions. I love at the end of Season 3, Vincent calls him out on this. He can be just as manipulative as the rest of the Mikaelsons. He is a mix of Klaus and Elijah and it makes him dangerous. I love his compassion and I think he really grows as a character. But his whole "we don't hurt children" is the same as Elijah telling Davina he wouldn't feed from a child. They have morals but the morals go out the window as soon as it benefits them.

I promise I do love Marcel and what he stands for, but I think we still need to acknowledge his faults.

Thanks for the ask!

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sideeve · 1 year ago

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synopsis ; after being pestered for weeks about going to ted’s party, you finally stepped out of your comfort zone. notes ; evil!ted , i only used pictures of keanu ooc bc i couldn’t find a good one , s*x , i tried making this have an 80’s feeling , that’s about it 🫠 , reader’s race . ethnicity . hair type or color is not specified

“you’re such a buzzkill. you’re wearing jean shorts and a spaghetti top to ted’s party.” sophie scoffs, applying her red bright lipstick that you advised her not to wear while holding her handheld mirror.

“you know i don’t like going out to parties. they always get ruined by the police.” you shrug.

your friends were not helping your anxiety in any way. they were picking fun at how you dressed, put on your makeup, the way you did your hair. it wasn’t your fault that you weren’t a quick-curl barbie.

“can we just get this over with? i wanna go home.” you stand up, crossing your arms. “yeah, daniel should be here in a minute.”

ah yes. daniel. the boy you’ve tried telling sophie that he wasn’t the one. he’s hit on you many times. sometimes even in front of her. groped you. the whole 9 yards. but she was to in love to see how much of a bad man he is.

you roll your eyes, waiting for this whole night to be over.

“there’s ted!” sophie squeals, pointing at the party host. he was talking to some jocks that go to your school. all with bad rep.

the house was full and trashed. you could barely make it to the couch without being pushed or sandwiched in between someone.

“someone having a bad time?” ted leans over the couch, whisper ling in your ear.

this wasn’t your first encounter with him. once, you and him and a project together. but of course, you did all the work and only got half credit.

you were real picky about your grades and now that ted logan came in and screwed it all up, you tried avoiding him.

“you just love bothering me, huh?” you cross your arms and your leg. “you didn’t get enough when you screwed up my grade?” he scoffs, “it was a C. get over it.” he jumps over the couch, sitting next to you.

“what are you doing here anyways? you don’t like going out from what i heard.” he rests his arm behind you, watching the party go on. “my friends basically forced me to get out.” you sigh.

“good,” he snickers. “your face was always stuffed in a book.” “oh shut up. you’re mad because you have a 4th grade reading level.” you tease.

the both of you turned your head to each other at the same time, laughing.

you don’t remember what happened in the in between. but now ted was naked and shedding off your clothes. “i knew you were hot under those clothes.” he chuckles, taking a nipple into his mouth and swiping the pad of his thumb on the other, making you shiver.

“fuck, ted.” your back arches. his teeth slightly nibble at your bud, “ted.” you smack his head, making him laugh. “i was having fun.” “not while chewing on my tit.”

he softly laughs, crawling on top of you. “we should’ve done this sooner.” he kisses your collarbone while sliding in you. “you better pull out, ted.” you wince, adjusting to size.

he hissed at how tightly you clenched around him. “fuck, baby. you might cut my dick off.” he laughs as his hips start thrusting in you. one hand was placed on your waist and the other was holding your hand beside your head.

for some reason, the thrusts felt…passionate. like he’s been needing this from you. “yes, yes.” you chant, coaxing him to go faster. “fuck yes.” your eyes were screwed shut.

he rested his head in the crook of your neck, suppressing his moans and grunts as the tip of his cock kissed your walls. “you feel like heaven.” he kisses behind your ear

your toes were curled. legs were shaking. you could barely talk. all signs of how close your orgasm was. “that’s right , baby. come.” he gave one more sharp thrust before the knot in your stomach broke.

he grunts before pulling out and flipping you on your stomach in one quick motion. “te-” his cock was pushed into you again but he was pounding into you.

his grip on your hips were sure to leave bruises tomorrow. the wind was knocked out of you. only pants and grunts slipped from ted’s mouth. “fuck yes.” he bit his lip. “fuck, baby.” his hip snapped before he pulled out, spilling his seed on your back.

“je-jesus.” he pants out, flopping beside you. “your nut is on my back.” you point out. “so?” he shrugs, not understanding why you seem upset. “how am i gonna get it off?!”

he chuckles at how concerned you are then kisses your cheek. “i’ll clean it up tomorrow.”

taglist ;; @iovesia

#☆ ��─ ˚₊‧꒰ა TEDDY ໒꒱ ‧₊#ted logan x reader #ted logan #bill and ted #bill and ted’s excellent adventure #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves

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violet-bruises · 7 months ago

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Baby Lay Your Head Down

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x OFC (SSA Sophie Carter)

Warnings: Established past relationship (kind of), mild suggestive language, mentions of grief, mentions of death and almost death, mentions of suppressing emotions, excessive longing, angst

Author's note: I've had ideas for Hotch swirling in my head for months years, and this is the first time I've managed to get anything down on paper. In my head, my OFC is a little more fleshed out, as is her relationship to Hotch, and their story is much larger. This is just a small blurb taken from a point in their story that was swirling in my mind recently. I hope it makes sense lol. ALSO! This is my very first time posting to tumblr, or publicly at all for that matter.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN AARON HOTCHNER AS A CHARACTER! ALL CREDIT TO THE CREATOR! (did i say it right?)

Word count: 2,474

Summary: Aaron is usually the first one in the office. Usually.

Once upon a time, Aaron loved mornings. In law school, he’d wake up while it was still dark, squeeze in an early run around campus, shower, and enjoy his coffee all before the sun ever began to show its soft colors. When he and Haley were newlyweds, he’d surprise her with breakfast in bed—which quickly grew cold as they entangled themselves in their straight from the registry sheets. And once Jack was born, Aaron would wake up just to hold him, rock him in the cushioned chair in his nursery before work. But soon, slowly and then all at once, his life grew darker. A thick shadow cast over his days, no matter how high the sun sat in the sky. He and Haley drifted apart. He’d wake many mornings to an empty apartment—no longer a home, much less a house. He spent his mornings in the confines of the BAU. And then Haley died, and Jack almost did; Aaron started sneaking into Jack’s room to watch him sleep just to reassure himself that his son was still here, alive and breathing.

But eventually, mornings became bearable, until they were even enjoyable again. The thick smog over his days lifted. He stopped going into the office early and started having small moments with Jack. Aaron got to enjoy his coffee again, squeeze in the occasional early run, and, for the first time ever, eat breakfast in bed, made for him. For the first time, Aaron’s small apartment felt like home; the soft colors of the sun were no match the vibrant warmth Sophie carted into his life. But clearly Aaron was cursed long ago to fulfill the same prophecy over and over again, because, just as he was finally happy again, truly and utterly, deeply and joyously, he managed to fuck that up, too.

So, once again, Aaron arrives early at the office now every morning. Some occasional mornings, he’s not the first one to wake the floor. On those mornings, he’s grateful—a pot of bitter hot coffee almost certain to be residing in the carafe, singing his name. Most mornings, however, Aaron arrives to a dark and empty bullpen, and he’ll trudge to the small kitchenette in the break room before doing anything else to start the coffee. While the coffee brews, Aaron will make his way to his office, setting down his briefcase and unloading the files on his desk. He’ll file away papers he’s finished with, creating a pile for JJ and Garcia to review. By this time, his coffee has dripped enough that he can pour himself a decent cup. Black. No cream or sugar when in the office, not that any amount could truly save the monstrosity. He’ll place the files on Garcia’s desk, then backtrack to JJ’s. Once he returns, he’ll sit at his desk, pouring over case files, old and new, as the sun rises outside and the city wakes and people begin to pour into the office, a trickle, then a flood.

The same routine for the past three months. Every morning. Everyday.

Except for today.

Today, when Aaron manages to pull himself to the seventh floor and into the BAU, he stops short. The usually quiet and dim office space is punctuated by a soft glow, right at its heart. As he approaches from the entrance, he expects someone to be occupying the lit desk, but its chair is empty. Scattered across the tabletop are case files. A file on the missing twin girls in Arizona from last week (paperwork the responsible unit chief in him is praying is finally done) is open on top, but more lie underneath. He can’t quite read the labels in the shadows that escape the desk lamp’s light. Aaron reaches his hand out to thumb through the papers.

“Oh!”

Aaron swivels to find Supervisory Special Agent Sophie Carter, sock-footed and grasping a massive cup of coffee, standing before him, clearly having just emerged from the break room. Aaron briefly, traitorously, wonders what the ratio of actual coffee to sugar to cream she’s decided on today.

“Good morning,” Aaron greets her, gruffly. He hasn’t spoken since waking up, really only just above a whisper when dropping Jack off at Jessica’s. His voice is rough with unuse. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “What are you doing here?”

“Good morning,” Sophie responds. She diverts eye contact and brushes just past Aaron to reach her desk chair. Aaron watches her. “And I work here.”

Aaron’s lips purse displeasingly. After a moment, Sophie glances up at him then sighs. “I, um, couldn’t really sleep. Figured I’d turn that into being a model employee and finally finish all of my paperwork.”

Aaron documents the subtle red tinge bloomed across her cheeks. Still avoiding his questioning and concerned gaze, she raises her coffee mug to her soft lips. I’m Down To Just 1 Cup A Day in big block letters written on the side. The mug is as big as his head.

“I wish you’d chosen that philosophy about ten years ago. Would’ve saved me a few headaches.”

Sophie finally meets his eyes again. Warm and dark, nearly midnight when cast away from the light on her desk. Aaron is reminded of the night skies that cover all of the small towns he’s seen; far enough from the city, awash with billions of tiny dots of light—stars that create impossibly beautiful and intricate patterns in the sky—the vastness could swallow him whole, and he’d welcome it with open arms.

“Ha ha,” she intones, but her eyes never lose their warmth. Aaron chuckles but doesn’t respond. Instead, he watches. Watches her shuffle through papers, write things down on a sticky note, tuck papers away in folders, pull more papers out. Finally, with tight shoulders, she turns to look up at him. “Can I help you?”

Aaron scans her face. “What are you doing here so early?”

She frowns. “I told you. I couldn’t sleep.”

Then, Sophie sighs, slumping back in her chair. Aaron knows she’s tired. But it’s not the discoloration under her eyes, or the heaviness of her lids that gives her away. It’s how quickly she caves to telling the truth. Too tired to be stubborn, Aaron muses. The fight and irritation drain from her in an instant. “I don’t know, Hotch. Genuinely, I really haven’t been sleeping well, promise. But. . . yeah, it’s been more than just a few sleepless nights.” She flops over, forehead resting on her folded arms. “I haven’t had insomnia like this since college.” Her words come out muffled and pitiful, wrought with exhaustion.

“How long has it been this bad?”

“Um, I guess. . . since the serial in Montana.”

“That was three months ago.”

She doesn’t answer; her head stays buried. Aaron frowns, though he pretty much has been since he realized it was her desk light on in the dark office. Since his discovery, the sun has risen a tiny bit beyond the brick of the building, the sky a cornflower blue. Aaron reckons it’s about 5:30—about an hour and a half before anyone starts arriving—two and a half before the bullpen is officially alive for the day (and three before Morgan manages his way in). Aaron’s noticed Sophie’s tiredness. Of course he has. He catches her blank stares and heavy lids easily. He would’ve said something by now, but her exhaustion had, remarkably, not yet affected her job. The minute duty calls, she springs into action, like she’s been a tightly coiled spring finally allowed to burst. But, it’s more than just that that holds Aaron back. Because that wasn’t part of their arrangement, was it? Because asking her if she’s been sleeping, or feeling well, or eating okay, or taking care of herself, or seeing anyone— those questions were off limits. Wasn’t that what they’d decided? The rules they’d laid down?

Aaron never really was good at following the rules.

“C’mon.”

Sophie lifted her head, eyes wide and round. “What?”

“C’mon,” Aaron repeated, holding his hand out for her to take. She looked between him and his outstretched palm, gaze wildly skeptical.

“Aaron. . . we talked—”

“You talked, I listened, and this—this isn’t about that. This is about ensuring all of my subordinates are in appropriate shape to adequately perform their duties.”

“Last time I checked, I perform my duties far better than adequately.”

“Sophie,” he pleads. It’s a mistake and he knows it, but she broke the rule first. She called him Aaron. Not Hotch, or Agent Hotchner. His resolve was weak enough as it was; her so easily tossing around his first name like that, when he hadn’t heard it from her in months, when he had grown so used to hearing it when she lay next to him, or, when she whispered it, breathlessly, under him. “Please just. . . humor me.”

Her icy look melted, trickling down her body as exhaustion quickly crept up on her. She didn’t take his hand, but she did stand, shuffling papers in folders and stacking them neatly on top of each other. Aaron waited patiently for her to finish tidying and wondered if he’d ever unlearn her. If he ever wanted to. Arranging papers and cleaning off the desk cleaner than he’d seen it since before it was hers—she was stalling to fully accept his offer, and he knows it’s a punishment, her not giving in. For whom, he’s not quite sure.

Finally, after ages, she turns to him. Her eyebrows raise.

Aaron simply turns on his heel, slightly tipping his head for her to follow. He leads them up the short staircase and as they cross the threshold into his office. Aaron places his briefcase down on his own desk before turning to the couch pressed against the opposite wall.

“Hotch—” So she did realize her mistake, “—really, I’m fine. This isn’t the first sleepless night and early morning I’ve had. I can manage on my own.”

Aaron doesn’t respond right away, busying himself with gathering blankets and pillows.

“Hotch.”

“I am very aware that you are perfectly capable of managing on your own. But, Soph,” Aaron can see the miniscule pinch in her brows. Small, but powerful in the painful way it tugs at him. He sighs. “Friends, right? Don’t friends. . . take care of each other?”

Aaron knows, knows all too well, that an argument boils on the tip of her tongue. But he also knows the heavy dangle of her limbs and the soft glaze of her eyes means she’s close to nearly collapsing. It’s not fair, what he’s doing. He knows that and yet. . .

He watches her study the makeshift bed he’s made for her. And then, “I suppose. . . Penelope would do the same for me, too.”

Aaron suppresses a smile. “She would.”

“She’d do more, actually. Penelope would have freshly baked cookies waiting for me, too.”

“That she would.”

“Penelope is a better friend than you are.”

Aaron hears the jest in her voice, but he doesn’t smile. “That she is,” he says, softly.

Finally, Sophie drags her feet to the couch. Without meeting his gaze, she climbs under the covers and settles in. She inhales deeply as her eyes flutter shut.

It should be studied, Aaron thinks, the mercurial rush of affection that overcomes him. He wishes he could control it. Tamper it down and bury it under the crushing weight of all the other emotions he has buried and ignored. He’s usually quite good at it, actually, with years of careful experience under his belt. Though maybe that’s the problem; he’s attempting to add to something already overflowing, and the erosion of it all has chipped his self-control down to nearly nothing.

Aaron’s surety is bone deep: he’s destined to love her until the day he dies. Even if she doesn’t want him to, even if she doesn’t love him. He’d use his dying breath to confess his overwhelming and all-consuming truth. His throat grows tight.

He’s about to turn on his heel, afraid of what he’ll do if he lingers any longer, when Sophie softly calls out to him.

“Thank you,” she tells him, her eyes opening to finally meet his again. Like an electric shock, the urge to touch her races through him. To caress her warm cheek in his palm, to cradle her face and pull it closer to his own, to press his lips to hers. Aaron feels his fingers twitch under his thinning restraint.

He allows his lips to curve in a faint smile. “Of course,” he whispers.

Aaron finally retreats. With his back to her, he swears he can feel Sophie watching him, but when he turns back as he reaches his desk, Sophie has flipped onto her side, her back facing him. It’s for the best, Aaron reminds himself. If he’d caught her eye again, the ghost of his resolve would haunt his office forever.

As the hours ticked on, the BAU bullpen slowly comes back to life. Just as eight o’clock slips by and the trickling morning light catches the ends of Sophie’s hair ablaze, a knock sounds on his door. Before Aaron gets a chance to stand and answer, the door opens and Garcia swiftly steps in.

“Good morning, sir! I sent over the background profiles you requested from the Jefferson City case—”

“Thank you, Garcia. I—”

“Also, I got that police chief in Wichita to finally send over the files on that cold case Rossi needed—”

“Garcia—”

“You wouldn’t believe the sweet talking I had to do, I mean, Morgan level—”

“Garcia!” Aaron couldn’t resist glancing at Sophie, still fast asleep.

Unfortunately, Garcia caught his slip, and she followed his gaze.

“Oh!”

Garcia looked between Aaron and Sophie, once. Then twice.

“Oh, sir,” she started, much softer than when she’d entered. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize!” Garcia began to back out of his office. “See! I saw her desk light on but I hadn’t seen her since I got in. I thought maybe she just forgot to turn it off, ya know, but then she didn’t respond to my text! Which I get now why, you know, given that she’s, you know—”

“Garcia.” She stopped at the entry way. “Let’s just— please don’t—”

She nodded rapidly and mimicked zipping her lips shut, locking them, and throwing away the key. “Of course, sir.”

Just before she closed the door, Garcia poked her head back in.

“Oh! Also, I brought leftover cookies I baked for the counseling center. They’re in the kitchen!” And the door clicked shut behind her.

“See,” Sophie mumbled, voice muffled by the pillows. “Told you.”

Aaron laughs. Maybe these new early mornings weren’t so bad after all.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x ofc #aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds #Spotify

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mepuppy · 5 months ago

Text

Let It Ride - Supernatural rewrite

A.N.: I do not own the characters, nor the storylines. I'm simply adding a twist to the episodes. Please feel free to help me out with constructive criticism on the story or the writing. Sorry for the mistakes, not proofread and english is not my first language. Here's the secon episode, I hope you like it.

1x01 1x02

Word Count: 8k

1x03 - Dead in the Water

The Impala is parked in front of a building with a sign that says THE Lynnwood INN, with the Harley next to it. Inside the restaurant Dean is sitting with a basically empty plate in front of him while he circles obituaries in a newspaper.

“Hey, look at this one” he turns the paper and shows Y/n the one circled saying: CARLTON, SOPHIE - The Carlton family is sad to announce the death of their beloved daughter in a tragic swimming accident. Sophie Carlton, 18, was having her [...] Lake Manitoc WI, an [...] suddenly [...]

The girl tries to think where she heard about Lake Manitoc before, because the name sounds familiar. “Where did I hear this name befo…” She starts but a waitress approaches.

“Can I get you anything else?” she asks, looking only at Dean who looks up and grins around the pen he's chewing on. But before anyone can say anything Sam comes over and sits down.

“Just the check, please.” He says and the waitress nods and walks away, once she’s out of earshot Dean drops his head, then looks at Sam.

“You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun once in a while.” As Dean points to Wendy walking away; she's wearing short shorts, y/n gets up and grabs her crossbody bag. “That's fun.”

Sam looks at him then at y/n, who hands him the newspaper rolling her eyes. “Dean found something.” She turns around and heads outside. Dean follows her with his eyes before turning to Sam.

“Here, take a look at this,” he says with the situation passing right over his head “I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.” he explains handing the waitress the credit card when she approaches.

“A funeral?” Sam asks when she leaves again.

“Yeah, it's weird, they buried an empty coffin. For, uh, closure or whatever.” Dean makes a face and looks through the window seeing y/n getting on her bike with the helmet still in her hands.

“Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean.” he looks up to his brother

“Other people just stop looking for them.” he raises one eyebrow.

“Something you want to say to me?” he asks when the waitress brings the receipt back and they head outside to meet with y/n.

“The trail for Dad. It's getting colder every day.” Sam looks at Dean like he doesn’t understand english.

“Exactly. So what are we supposed to do?” the older brother asks, looking at the Impala next to the Harley.

“I don't know. Something. Anything.” he throws his hands in the air as they approach the girl waiting for them.

“You know what? I'm sick of this attitude. You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?” he turns to the youngest and his brows come together.

“Yeah, I know you do, it's just… ” he starts but Dean continues.

“I'm the one that's been with him every single day for the past two years, while you've been off to college going to pep rallies…”

“We will find John, okay? But until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there. Right?” Y/n cuts Dean off and looks at the two men with her helmet in the air, halfway to putting it on. “C’mon. Wisconsin, right?” she asks and puts the helmet on. Sam rolls his eyes. “How far?” she turns to them as they get in.

The Impala drives past a sign that reads ‘Welcome to Lake Manitoc, WI’. Dean puts his arm out the window and points at the sign, and the girl holds a thumbs up.

They drive until reaching the Carlton house. The engines stop and they get out of their vehicles. Dean knocks on the door and a young man opens it.

“Will Carlton?” Dean asks

“Yeah, that's right.” Will answers nodding his head.

“I'm Agent Ford. This is Agent Hamill and Agent Clover. We're with the US Wildlife Service.” Dean holds up an ID. “Can we ask you some questions?”

“Uhm, sure.” Will says and closes the door behind him heading to the lake. Bill Carlton, the father, is sitting on a bench on the dock. Will brings the trio around to see him. “So I guess you want to hear the story, right?” he looks at Sam who nods. “She was about a hundred yards out. That's where she got dragged down.”

“And you're sure she didn't just drown?” y/n asked.

“Yeah. She was a varsity swimmer.” Will says with a sad chuckle “She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as in her own bathtub.”

“So no splashing? No signs of distress?” Sam asked him and he looked over at the tallest man.

“No, that's what I'm telling you.”

“Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?” y/n stepped around Sam to look at Will.

“No. Again, she was really far out there.”

“‘You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?” Dean tries.

“No, never. Why? Why, what do you think's out there?” he whips his head to Dean and asks worried.

“We'll let you know as soon as we do.” y/n tells him and turns around. She and Dean started head back to the car.

“What about your father?” Sam asks, pointing with his head at the older man. The other two stop and turn back. “Can we talk to him?”

Will turns to look at Bill, then turns back. “Look, if you don't mind, I mean...he didn't see anything and he's kind of been through a lot.”

“We understand.” Sam nods and turns around heading to the car.

“So, now what? Police station?” Dean asks.

“I think is our best option right now.” y/s says, mounting her bike again.

Inside the police station the Sheriff is talking to them. “Now, I'm sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?” he sounds confused.

“You sure it's accidental? Will Carlton saw something grab his sister.” Sam explains to the sheriff what was told to them.

“Like what?” They walk into the Sheriff's office, he motions to chairs in front of his desk “Here, sit, please. There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake.” They all seat “There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person, unless it was the Loch Ness Monster.”

Dean looks at his brother and best friend, but then scoffs to the sheriff “Yeah.” He laughs. “Right.” the two glance at Dean

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still…” Sheriff Jake sits down. “We dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there.”

“That's weird, though,” y/n starts “I mean, that's, that's the third missing body this year.” she says, tilting her head.

“I know. These are people from my town. These are people I care about.” he tells looking at her and she nods. “Anyway…” Jake sighs and leans back “All this...it won't be a problem much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, getting confused.

“Well, the dam, of course.” the sheriff looks at Dean. Sam nods.

“Of course, the dam. It's, uh, it sprung a leak.” Dean tries to save looking at y/n and back at the sheriff.

“It's falling apart,” Dean nods “and the feds won't give us the grant to repair it, so they've opened the spillway. In another six months, there won't be much of a lake. There won't be much of a town, either. But as Federal Wildlife, you already knew that.” he looks between the three hunters.

“Exactly.” Sam nods.

There’s a tap on the door and a young woman enters. “Sorry, am I interrupting?” The trio stand up.”I can come back later.”

“Gentlemen, Madam, this is my daughter.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Dean.” Dean shakes Andrea’s hand.

“Andrea Barr. Hi.”

“Hi.” y/n says waving at her with a tight smile. Ans Sam raises his hand to give her a little wave too.

“They're from the Wildlife Service. About the lake.” Jake tells his daughter and she nods with an understanding in her face. A boy walks in, around Andrea.

“Oh, hey there. What's your name?” Dean crouches to be at the little boy’s height. He walks away without speaking and Andrea follows.

“His name is Lucas.” the sheriff says looking at Lucas and Andrea as she gives him some crayons out of a box e he starts drawing.

“Is he okay?” y/n asks the officer looking at them too.

“My grandson's been through a lot. We all have.” he stands and goes to the office door. “Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know.” They all leave the office

“Thanks. You know, now that you mentioned it, could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?” Dean asks looking more at Andrea than the sheriff as he asks

“Lakefront Motel. Go around the corner. It's about two blocks south.” she says smiling and pointing in the direction.

“Two—would you mind showing us?” he asks, pretending to be confused, Andrea laughs.

“You want me to walk you two blocks?” she retorts, resting one hand on her hip.

“Not if it's any trouble.” he tries one last time, smiling charmingly. Sam looks at y/n from the corner of his eye and sees her rolling her eyes softly.

“I'm headed that way anyway.” Dean’s smile spread even wider. She turns to Lucas placing a kiss on the top of his head, looking at her father and saying “I'll be back to pick up Lucas at three.” then looking at the boy again “We'll go to the park, okay, sweetie?”

“Thanks again.” Sam says following Dean and Andrea. Y/n smile and go after them.

Andrea is leading them through the street, with Dean by her side and the other two following behind. The car and bike left around the station. “So, cute kid.” Dean says smiling at her.

“Thanks.” she answers as they cross a street.

“Kids are the best, huh?” he throws back at her. Sam and y/n look at each other. Andrea glances at him and ignores him. They keep walking, until stopping in front of a building that says LAKEFRONT MOTEL.

“There it is. Like I said, two blocks.” she motions to the building.

“Thanks.” Sam says and she looks form Dean to Sam smiling, then looking back.

“Must be hard, with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.” she leaves, calling back over her shoulder “Enjoy your stay!”

“'Kids are the best'?” y/n asks looking at the older man with a mockingly smile on her face.

“You don't even like kids.” Sam continues.

“I love kids.” Dean retorts back

“Name three children that you even know.” Sam teases

Dean thinks and comes up empty. Sam waves a hand and walks into the motel with a laughing y/n following him. Dean scratches his head. “I'm thinking!” he follows the other two.

Inside the motel room, y/n gets out of the bathroom drying her hair in a towel, wearing a tanktop and some jeans, while Dean goes through his clothing. Sam works on his laptop. “So there's the three drowning victims this year.” he says changing tabs.

“Any before that?” Dean asks, grabbing a shirt and smelling it.

“Uh, yeah.” he skims through the article he has opened “Six more spread out over the past thirty-five years. Those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there, it's picking up its pace.”

Dean tosses a pair of pants onto a bed together with the shirt he separated before. Y/n goes behind Sam to look at the screen. “So, what, we got a lake monster on a binge?”

“This whole lake monster theory, it, it just bugs me.” Sam shakes his head as he says it. Dean comes over to read over Sam's shoulder standing next y/n.

“Why?” she asks looking at the back of Sam’s head.

“Loch Ness, uh, Lake Champlain, there are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts, but here, almost nothing.” Sam looks at the Tribune homepage “Whatever it is out there, no one's living to talk about it.” he scrolls to the comments section of an article.

Dean points at something. “Wait, Barr, Christopher Barr. Where have I heard that name before?”

Sam reads from the page. “Christopher Barr, the victim in May.” he clicks a link, opening a new page.

The trio read the article: LOCAL MAN IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT. The picture loads: it shows a police officer with Lucas.

“Oh. Christopher Barr was Andrea's husband, Lucas's father.” y/n says leaning over Sam’s shoulder to look at the man on the screen, her bare shoulder pressed against Dean’s, that looked in her direction and encountered the low neckline of her tank top.

“Apparently he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned. Two hours before the kid got rescued.” Sam skims through and clicks the picture for a better look, then scratches his head. “Maybe we have an eyewitness after all.”

“No wonder that kid was so freaked out. Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over.” y/n say looking back at Dean, who hurries to meet her eyes, swallowing.

“Okay, let me just hit the shower and we can go to the park and meet them, what do you say?” he asks her and Sam who nods.

Kids are laughing and playing. Andrea sits on a bench and watches Lucas, who is at another bench coloring and playing with toy soldiers. “Can we join you?” Sam asks, looking at her.

She looks up at the trio. “I'm here with my son.” she answers.

Dean looks over at Lucas. “Oh. Mind if I say hi?” he doesn't wait for an answer and goes over to Lucas.

“Tell your friend this whole Jerry Maguire thing is not gonna work on me.” Sam sits next to Andrea, while y/n walks a bit and stops looking at the other kids, closer to Dean than to Sam.

“How's it going?” Dean kneels down next to the bench where Lucas is coloring; when the boy doesn't even look up, Dean picks up one of the toy soldiers. “Oh, I used to love these things.” He imitates guns and explosions, then tosses the toy soldier down when the boy still doesn’t look at him. “So crayons is more your thing? That's cool. Chicks dig artists.” y/n smiles and shakes her head looking down.

Lucas has a pile of drawings on the bench. Dean takes a look. The top one is of a big black swirl; the second one is of a red bicycle. Dean holds the bicycle one up “Hey, these are pretty good. You mind if I sit and draw with you for a while?” he picks up a crayon “I'm not so bad myself.”

Dean sits on the bench, picks up a pad of paper, and starts drawing. “You know, I'm thinking you can hear me, you just don't want to talk.” he glances quickly at the boy “I don't know exactly what happened to your dad, but I know it was something real bad. I think I know how you feel. When I was your age, I saw something.” he pauses “Anyway. Well, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or, uh...or believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don't even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture about what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake.” he stops drawing and looks at Lucas “Okay, no problem. This is for you.”

Dean holds out to Lucas the picture of stick figures he drew. “This is my family. That's my dad. That's my mom.” Dean chokes a little when showing the woman in the drawing which makes y/n look at them “That's my geek brother. That’s my weird best friend, and that's me.” he says pointing at each figure as he speaks. after a pause he continues “All right, so I'm a sucky artist. I'll see you around, Lucas.”

Dean heads back to y/n. “You okay?” she asks putting one hand on his arm and he nods, motioning for her so they can go back to Sam and Andrea.

As they approach Andrea and Sam they hear Andrea speaking “Lucas hasn't said a word, not even to me. Not since his dad's accident.”

“Yeah, we heard. Sorry.” Sam answers her and she nods.

“What are the doctors saying?” y/n asks curiously.

“That it's a kind of post-traumatic stress.” as the woman answers y/n sees Lucas looking at the picture Dean drew for him.

“That can't be easy. For either of you.” Sam looks at her.

“We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It's just...when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw…” She trails off

“Kids are strong. You'd be surprised what they can deal with.” Dean says, trying to comfort her, and his eyes meet y/n’s for a second. She turns her head and sees Lucas leaving the bench and heading for the group.

“You know, he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish…” she stops short when Lucas walks up, carrying a picture. “Hey sweetie.” But Lucas doesn’t look at her, instead he hands Dean a picture.

“Thanks” Dean looks over and y/n and Sam, then back to Lucas. “Thanks, Lucas.” It's a picture of a house, and the boy heads back to the bench.

Inside the motel room again, y/n is crossed leg sitting on a bed cleaning up guns and Dean on the edge of the same bed putting the clean parts together again when Sam opens the door and comes in, making the other two look at him. “So, I think it's safe to say we can rule out Nessie.”

“What do you mean?” the girl asks him. He sits next to them.

“I just drove past the Carlton house. There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead.”

“He drowned?” Dean frowns

“Yep. In the sink.” Sam explains making y/n widen her eyes.

“What the hell?” she asks shifting in the bed “So you're right, this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else.” she shakes her head looking at the youngest.

“Yeah, but what?” he turns his body to her who gets up and starts pacing in front of the bed.

“I don’t know. Water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water…” Dean tries to elaborate. After a short pause realization hits Sam and y/n at the same time Dean continues “Water that comes from the same source.”

“The lake.” “Yeah.” the girl and Sam say at the same time. “Which would explain why it's upping the body count. The lake is draining. It'll be dry in a few months.” Sam finishes his trail of thought

“Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time.” y/n looks at both the men sitting in front of her. “And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere.”

Dean stands up. “This is gonna happen again” he goes to the chair close to the door and sits down to put his shoes on. “soon.” Y/n gets closer to him and he hands her one of her boots between putting his on.

“And we do know one other thing for sure. We know this has got something to do with Bill Carlton.” Sam says, looking at them.

“Yeah, it took both his kids.” Dean hands y/n her other boot and goes back to the bed to grab the gun they were cleaning.

“And I've been asking around. Lucas's dad, Chris—Bill Carlton's godson.” he follows his older brother with his eyes.

“Alright. Let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit.” y/n grabs the door handle and looks back at them. They head to the Impala and get on.

Arriving at the lake they head to the dock, where Bill is sitting with his back to them. “Mr. Carlton?” y/n says softly. The older man looks up.

“We'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind.” Sam asks tilting his head

“We're from the, the Department—” Dean starts but Bill cuts him off.

“I don't care who you're with. I've answered enough questions today.” he looks back at the lake, looking tired.

“Your son said he saw something in that lake. What about you? You ever see anything out there?” y/n tries looking at the man with a worried expression, Dean looks over at her.

“Mr. Carlton, Sophie's drowning and Will's death… we think there might be a connection to you or your family.” Sam continues

“My children are gone. It's...it's worse than dying. Go away. Please.” Bill says, choking on the words.

The trio respect the man and head back to the car, knowing they won’t be able to get much from him.

“What do you think?” Sam looks back at the other two.

“Aw, I think the poor guy's been through hell.” She says looking in the distance to the man sitting on the lake “I also think he's not telling us something.” she turns back to them

“So now what?” He leans on the Impala.

Dean passes his hands through his hair turning around and goes still facing the Carlton house.

“What is it?” the girl asks him.

“Huh.” he tilts his head and pulls something from his back pocket. “Maybe Bill's not the only one who knows something.” He unfolds a piece of paper and shows her the picture Lucas brought him at the park. The Carlton house is drawn. Dean looks at her when she turns to examine the house and Sam comes over to see the drawing.

“Okay then. To Andrea’s house.” she looks back at him and meets his eyes. After a couple of seconds she turns and heads to the car. The two men follow her to their respective seats.

On the way to Andrea’s house, the boys dropped y/n back at the motel. She went into their room and sat at the small table on the corner opening up the laptop to do some research. She typed and while the page loaded she grabbed one of her packages of chocolate chip cookies to snack on. She struggled a little to focus on the articles about post-traumatic stress on children that popped up, skimming through the abstracts that were showing and opening some every now and then.

“What is happening to you?” she asks out loud thinking about Lucas, what he's been through, and what he was, still, experiencing with his drawings. She thought about what she went through when she lost her parents for that nest of vampires when John saved her. She though about how she could always talk to Dean and Sam about everything, including when the grief and sadness were suffocating, and how, Dean especially, understood a little what she was feeling.

The older man was always her rock, and she tried to be the same for him. She could always see how John left all the responsibility of Sam safety on his shoulders, and when she arrived in the small family he instantly took her safety in his own hands too, so she would do everything in her power to help him with Samand their chores. They both had to grow up so fast and not too long after he started trusting that she would everything to protect Sam from harm's way and from the truth.

When her phone rang and Sam’s name flashed on the screen, pulling her out of her thoughts about the man that was the main character in her thoughts for so long and the family she found after losing her own.

“Shoot, Sammy.” she says after answering the call.

“I already told you two. Sammy is 12. It’s Sam now.” he retorts and girl can picture the younger man rolling his eyes.

“Dream on, Sammy.” She smiles “Did you already leave Andrea’s?”

Sam sighs “Yeah, so Lucas gave Dean another drawing.”

“The kid draw another house.” y/n heard the other brother’s voice in the distance. “Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died.”

“I was doing some research.” she gets up and goes to her boots to put them on “There are cases… going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions,” she puts the phone between her shoulder and her ear, putting her right boot on “psychic tendencies.”

“Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns.” Dean’s voice sounds anxious.

“All right, we got another house to find.” Sam says into the phone and describes the drawing to her “He drew a yellow house with a red bike in the front. With a white tall church by the side.”

“The only problem is there's about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone.” Dean replies quickly

“Yeah, but see this church? I bet there's less than a thousand of those around here.”

“Okay, yellow house, red bike and tall white church, right?” y/n jumps into the conversation again but doesn’t wait for an answer “I’m leaving the motel going north, whoever finds it first calls the other. Bye.” and she hangs up, not wasting any more time.

After some 30 minutes driving her Harley, looking for the house Sam described her phone rings with a message.

Found it, come find us.

And another one with an address followed. She asked the woman that had just passed her the directions and headed the way the latter pointed.

She spotted Sam and Dean approaching a white church while Dean held up a drawing and looked at it. Dismounting the bike, she whistled making the two brothers turn to look at her. After catching up to them she holds her hand to Dean grabbing the picture he hands her. And the church is exactly the same.

“Nice job!” She smiles at him, looking at Sam before heading to the house with the two following her. Sam knocks at the door and a elderly woman opens up.

“We're sorry to bother you, ma'am, but we’re with the newspaper, writing a story about local kids. Does a little boy live here, by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle.” Dean asks the oddly specific question.

“No, sir. Not for a very long time. Peter's been gone for thirty-five years now.” the lady knits her eyebrows at the trio, and after a pause goes back inside leaving the door open and they follow her. There’s a picture of a little boy on the table by the entrance. “The police never… I never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared.” She stops at the living room and turns back to them.

Y/n takes a look at the room and nudes Dean showing the toy soldiers on the coffee table. “Losing him—you know, it's...it's worse than dying.”

They all glance at each other remembering Bill’s words from earlier.

“Did he disappear from here? I mean, from this house?” Sam asks the older lady.

“He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up.” she answers

Dean walks over to a wall and picks a picture off the mirror. There are two boys in the picture, one with a bicycle. He shows the back of the picture, that reads: Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, nineteen seventy.

They thank the woman and head straight to Bill Carlton’s house. Inside the Impala y/n reassess the basic points. “Okay, this little boy Peter Sweeney vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow.”

“Yeah, Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something, huh?” Dean says sternly.

“And Bill, the people he loves, they're all getting punished.” Sam half ignores his brother

“So what if Bill did something to Peter?” Y/n looks through the rear view mirror to Sam

“What if Bill killed him?” He answers her question with another question

“Peter's spirit would be furious. It'd want revenge. It's possible.” Dean states making a turn.

Arriving at the Carlton house, Dean pulls up. The trio go to the house but stop short hearing an engine on the back. Turning around they see Bill Carlton going out on the lake in his boat. They start running to the end of the dock, yelling at the same time.

“Mr. Carlton! You need to come back!” “Come out of the water! Turn the boat around!” “Mr. Carlton!” But Bill ignores them and keeps going. The water rises up and flips the boat over. And both the man and the boat vanish, making the three stop.

They head straight to the police station, needing to talk to the sheriff. Inside Lucas is sitting in a chair, rocking back and forth. Andre is sitting next to him, holding a paper bag and a plastic container in one hand and letting the other hand rest on her son’s back. When the two brothers and the girl entered the stations she looks over

“Sam, Dean, y/n.” she stands up leaving the container and bag on her chair “I didn't expect to see you here.”

“So now you're on a first-name basis. What are you doing here?” the sheriff comes from his office.

“I brought you dinner.” Andrea turns and grabs the container handing it to her father.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart, I don't really have the time.” he says taking the container anyway.

“I heard about Bill Carlton. Is it true? Is something going on with the lake?” she says, lowering her voice.

“Right now we don't know what the truth is. But I think it might be better if you and Lucas went on home.” he looks from his daughter to his grandson with worry in his eyes.

Lucas looks up and whines, looking stricken; he jumps up and grabs Dean's arm. “Lucas, hey, what is it?” he tries to hold the boy’s hands “Lucas.” his mother goes and tries to pull him from Dean but his hold is tight “Lucas, it's okay. It's okay. Hey, Lucas, it's okay. It's okay.”

Andrea manages to pull Lucas away from Dean and leads him outside. The boy doesn't look away from Dean. Jake throws down his jacket and goes into his office. The three hunters follow. “Okay, just so I'm clear, you see...something attack Bill's boat, sending Bill—who is a very good swimmer, by the way—into the drink, and you never see him again?”

Dean glances between Sam and y/n. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“And I'm supposed to believe this, even though I've already sonar-swept that entire lake? And what you're describing is impossible? And you're not really Wildlife Service?” y/n opens her mouth surprised but doesn’t say anything. “That's right, I checked. Department's never heard of you two.”

“See, now, we can explain that.” Dean starts but Jake raises one hand.

“Enough. Please. The only reason you're breathing free air is one of Bill's neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So, we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton's disappearance. Or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get into your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't ever darken my doorstep again.”

“Door number two sounds good.” Sam says while y/n narrows her eyes

“That's the one I'd pick.” Jake answers and turns around. The trio leave.

They leave the station and head for the Impala. Dean begins driving, and y/n sees him trapped in his own thoughts. They go straight to the motel and start gathering their stuff. “I need a ride to go get the Harley.” Y/n gets out of the bathroom with a case that holds her toiletry things and looks at Dean.

“Sure, let’s go. We’ll be right back.” he says looking over his shoulder at Sam.

Once in the impala she turns her head to look at him. “You know, what Sam said yesterday yesterday. About you not liking kids. You have to know I can see right through that bullshit, right?” she smiles playfully at him.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” he replies but she can see the tiny smile trying to break his features.

“Yeah, right.” she turns back to the street and after a pause continues “I don’t like how this case ended. I don’t know…”

“I know. Me too.” he steals a glance at her “It just still feels weird.” he stops the car right by her bike and she gets off.

“Thanks” she mounts her bike and he follows her back to the motel. After loading everything on the vehicles the moon was already high on the sky and they took off. Getting to an intersection, Dean stops by a traffic light and y/n comes up to the drivers side and stops there. There’s a sign that says I-43 North to Milwaukee is to the left. When the light turns green after a few moments, and the car doesn’t move the biker honks at him “Green.” Y/n looks at Dean.

“What?” The man blinks and frowns at her.

“Light's green.” She repeats and points to the traffic light.

Dean starts driving and turns right. Y/n chuckles a little and follows him.

“Uh, the interstate is the other way.” Sam says looking at his brother.

“I know.” He replies

“Dean, this job, I think it's over.” Sam’s eyebrows pull together trying to understand his brother.

“I'm not so sure.” He tells the youngest

“If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest.”

“All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt?” Dean looks over at Sam quickly.

“But why would you think that?” Sam frowns confused.

“Because Lucas was really scared.” He tilts his head a little “Look, I just don't want to leave this town until I know the kid's okay.” He tells his brother, and steals a glance from the bike behind them.

“Who are you? And what have you done with my brother?” Sam asks, a playful tone in his voice.

Dean looks at Sam through his mirror again and rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

When they arrive at the house Sam asks one more time as they walk to the door. “Are you sure about this?”

“It is pretty late, cherry pie.” Y/n looks him in the eye. He rings the doorbell. A heartbeat later, Lucas opens the door, desperately afraid.

“Lucas? Lucas!” He tries but the kid runs back inside with the three hunters following him.

Water is pouring out from under the bathroom door and down the stairs. Lucas starts pounding on the bathroom door. Dean pushes him over to y/n and kicks in the door. The boy grabs Dean, so Sam runs into the bathroom and sticks his arms in the tub, trying to pull Andrea, who’s submerged completely in a dark water, out. She is pulled back under, but y/n helps Sam pull until Andrea is all the way out. She starts coughing up water.

Y/n grabs a towel and covers the woman when she starts panting. Sam and Dean take Lucas to the living room and y/n helps Andrea up, holding her by her arms to steady her. They go to her room and the hunter looks at the woman one more time “You okay?” When she nods y/n turns and steps through the door, stopping in the hallway “I’m right here, alright?”

After a couple of minutes, Andre meets her in the hallway and they go to the living room, where the others are. “Honey!” Andrea goes and hugs Lucas, who was standing by Dean’s side. Y/n gets closer to the other two hunters looking between them.

“What now?” she whispers, frowning. The two brothers look at her “We can’t leave them here. This thing is clearly still after something.” she continues.

Andrea takes Lucas to another room to put him to bed. The hunters try to speculate on theories but can’t come up with much and after a while the mother comes back and sits down at the table sighing. Sam goes to sit by her side. Y/n and Dean look at each other and she asks the mother. “Do you mind if we take a look around?” she asks getting closer to the table and looking at Andrea.

“No, go ahead.” she looks up at the girl and answers. Dawn is breaking outside.

“Can you tell me?” Sam looks at her when his brother and best friend start looking around the things on

“No.” she shakes her head looking at her hands. The other two start looking through notebooks on bookshelves “It doesn't make any sense.” the woman started crying “I'm going crazy.” She puts her face in her hands.

“No, you're not. Tell me what happened. Everything.” Sam reassures her

“I heard...I thought I heard...there was this voice.” she starts unsure.

“What did it say?” he asks, curiously. Y/n taps Dean and shows him some scrapbooks on the side.

“It said...it said 'come play with me'.” she sobs “What's happening?”

Dean pulls out a scrapbook that says "Jake – 12 years old" and opens it, flipping pages while she looks at it with him. When he turns the page she spots a lot of kids and points at it. He closes it again and they go to Sam and Andrea; he puts the book down in front of the woman, open to the picture of the boys.

“Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?” he asks her.

“What? Um, um, no.” she looks quickly through the page “I mean, except that's my dad right there. He must have been about twelve in these pictures.” she shows one of the kids in the corner. Moving her finger over to another picture of Jake as a child, one where; he is standing next to Peter. Dean looks at the other hunters.

“Chris Barr's drowning. The connection wasn't to Bill Carlton. It must have been to the sheriff.” he states.

“Bill and the sheriff… they were both involved with Peter.” y/n points out.

“What about Chris? My dad… what are you talking about?” the woman looks concerned.

Dean looks sideways and spots Lucas in his pajamas looking out the window. “Lucas?” he turns around to look at the boy and so does the rest. “Lucas, what is it?” the boy opens the door and walks outside. Everyone follows.

“Lucas, honey?” Andrea tries to get his attention but the boy only stops after a couple of seconds. He then stops and looks at the ground, then at Dean.

“You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there, okay?” Andrea pulls Lucas back to the house. Sam goes back to the impala and fetches some shovels from the Impala, before they start digging. Y/n's shovel clanks against something. They dig with their hands.

“Peter's bike.” the girl says when Dean pulls out a red bicycle form the ground.

“Who are you?” they hear a voice and turn around to find Jake, pointing a gun a them.

“Put the gun down, Jake.” Sam says carefully. Dea drops the bicycle.

“How did you know that was there?” he asks eyeing the bike on the floor.

“What happened? You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake and then buried the bike?” Dean starts narrowing his eyes.

“You can't bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried.” Y/n tells him when Andrea starts coming in their direction.

“I don't know what the hell you're talking about.” he looks between the two and shifts the gun in her direction. Dean takes a tiny step in her direction.

“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney thirty-five years ago.” Dean accuses the sheriff “That's what the hell I'm talking about.” he says when Andrea gets to them.

“Dad!” she exclaims.

“And now you got one seriously pissed-off spirit.” Dean finishes his train of thought.

“It's gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love. It's gonna drown them.” y/n tries to explain to the man. “And it's gonna drag their bodies God knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter's mom felt. And then, after that, it's gonna take you, and it's not gonna stop until it does.”

“Yeah, and how do you know that?” he narrows his eyes and tilts his head.

“Because that's exactly what it did to Bill Carlton.” Sam tells him and he looks back at the youngest.

“Listen to yourselves. All of you. You're insane.” he looks exasperated.

“I don't really give a rat's ass what you think of us.” Dean starts and and y/n hear the annoyance in his voice.

“And if we're gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust.” she explains trying to give Dean time to calm down.

But Dean didn’t chill and started again “Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn't just let him go in the lake.”

“Dad, is any of this true?” Andrea looks at her dad worried.

“No. Don't listen to them. They're liars and they're dangerous.” he doesn’t take his eyes off of the hunters.

“Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me.” she comes closer to the older man and Jake finally looks at her “Tell me you… you didn't kill anyone.” Jake looks away and doesn't answer “Oh my God.” she turns around.

“Billy and I were at the lake. Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time, it got rough. We were holding his head under the water. We didn't mean to. But we held him under too long and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank.” he explains looking between the hunters and his daughter. “Oh, Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake. But, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris, because of some ghost? It's not rational.”

“All right, listen to me, all of you. We need to get you away from this lake, as far as we can, right now.” Dean starts and y/n looks at the lake, spotting Lucas going down to the lake. She gasps and starts running.

“Lucas!” she yells. They all run up to the dock. Lucas is leaning over the side, reaching for a toy soldier in the water.

“Come play with me.” a voice of a little boy echoes through the lake.

“Lucas!” Dean exclaims when he comes closer to y/n.

“Lucas! Baby, stay where you are!” Andrea tries yelling. Then Lucas gets pulled into the water. Y/n reaches the edge of the lake and jumps in the water. Jake stops when he sees Peter’s head visible above the water. Dean and Sam keep running to the end of the dock and dive in after y/n. “Oh my God!” She takes off her jacket to jump in.

“Andrea, stay there!” Sam tells her when he sees her preparing to dive. Y/n comes up again to catch some air and goes under again. Andrea prepares to argue but Sam continues “We'll get him! Just stay on the dock!” Sam dives under again. Dean comes up. A minute later, so do the other two.

“Sam?” the woman asks and he shakes his head. “Dean?” he does too looking around the water.

“Lucas, where are you?” Andrea asks desperate while Jake takes off his jacket as the other three dive back down. Jake wades in and Andrea looks over.

“Peter, if you can hear me...please, Peter, I'm sorry. I'm so… I'm so sorry.” He starts looking at the water as he goes in.

“Daddy, no!” Andrea screams at him.

“Peter. Lucas… he's, he's just a little boy. Please, it's not his fault, it's mine. Please take me.” the older man cries. Y/n, Dean and Sam come up for air again.

“Jake, no!” Dean yells at the man entering the water. Peter surfaces.

“Just let it be over!” he begs the little boy and Jake is dragged down.

“Daddy! Daddy! No!” Andrea yells and the trio dive down again. “No!” Sam comes up shaking his head and Andrea mouths another 'no!'

Dean comes up, holding Lucas, who isn't moving. Y/n comes up after a minute and looks at Lucas in Dean’s arms.

The three hunters leave the motel room that they went back to take a shower. Dean opens the car door and Sam tosses a duffel in.

“Look, we're not gonna save everybody.” Sam tells them when he sees both their expressions

“I know.” “Yeah.” they answer.

“Sam, Dean, y/n.” They turn around and spot Andrea walking up with Lucas.

“Hey.” the trio says to them.

“We're glad we caught you. We just, um, we made you lunch for the road.” She tells them and Lucas is carrying a tray of sandwiches and hands them it. “Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself.”

“Can I give it to them now?” Lucas asks his mother and the hunters widen their eyes.

“Of course.” Andrea smiles and kisses the boy’s head.

“Come on, Lucas, let's load this into the car.” he says taking the boy back to the impala.

“How you holding up?” y/n ask Andrea, still looking at the two.

“It's just gonna take a long time to sort through everything, you know?” she answers looking at the girl’s profile.

Y/n nods, looks at her and gives a tight smile resting a hand on her elbow before turning and heading to the Harley to put her bag on the back seat. Sam sighs. “Andrea, I'm sorry.” he tells them and she shakes her head.

“You saved my son. I can't ask for more than that. Dad loved me. He loved Lucas. No matter what he did, I just have to hold on to that.” she says going to the car with Sam.

They hear Dean talking to Lucas when they get close “All right, if you're gonna be talking now, this is a very important phrase, so I want you to repeat it one more time.”

“Zeppelin rules!” the boy say, and his mom smiles.

“That's right. Up high.” Dean holds his hand up for a high-five and the boy obliges, grinning. “You take care of your mom, okay?”

“All right.” the boy says looking at his mom and y/n turns and leans against her bike.

Andrea goes closer and kisses Dean. Y/n’s stomach drops, but she holds her stance. “Thank you.”

Dean’s expression is stunned, he thinks a minute, then scratches his head and goes around the car stealing a glance at y/n’s direction, who’s already mounted on her bike looking at the display. He can see her sighing.

“Sam, move your ass. We're gonna run out of daylight before we hit the road.” he tells his little brother and gets in the car, followed by Sam. They start the engine and follow the Harley that’s already leaving honking when she passes the mom and son. Sam and Dean smile at Andrea and Lucas waving goodbye. They all drive away.

Taglist: let me know if you want to be added or removed.

@stillhere197 @lmhf1 @un-expectedly

#dean winchester #dean x reader #fanfic #imagine #john winchester #let it ride #sam winchester #season 1 #supernatural #1x03 #dead in the water

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asgoodeasgold · 23 days ago

Text

It's Department Q's Christmas drinks

Carl is wearing his best suit because Rachel promised she would come along. And she did, so he is all smiles!

Akram has made some mint tea but Carl is more interested in the Hospice de Beaune 2006 Corton Grand Cru (IYKYK - a virtual prize to those who can say where the reference is from - answer below 😁). It's a bit posh for an office do but Carl is trying to impress Rachel.

The gloomy basement office has been spruced up with Christmas decorations at Rose's insistence (she is taking the photo). Carl complained all day about it but she just ignored him. He refused point blank to wear a Christmas hat though.

Note 1: I have used the forthcoming Netflix Department Q series' characters names rather than those in the books. Mona Ibsen is Rachel Irving and Assad is Akram Salim.

Note 2: The wine I refer to was chosen by Deborah Harkness to represent Matthew de Clermont in her Adow/Wine show mash up podcast.

When Matthew is good, he is very, very good. And when he is bad, he is terrible."

Just like a Burgundy wine. I thought that quote was very appropriate for Carl too 😆

📷 Credits - My edit from:

Matthew Goode: Yaffa Meskell, Freud's Last Session film screening in London, 28 Feb 2024

Kelly MacDonald: Andrew Woffinden/The Observer

Alexej Manvelov - Swedish Press Agency

Office pic: Tom Gambo

Syrian tea tray: Sophie James

#matthew goode #matthewgoode #kelly macdonald #alexej manvelev #department q #afdeling q #carl mørck #carl morck #jussi adler olsen #deborah harkness #a discovery of witches #freud's last session #scott frank #netflix #the wine show #fan art

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holybatgirlz · 1 year ago

Text

@bridgertonbabe had me cackling over her bridgerton spouse support groupchat that I couldn't stop thinking about what the bridgerton sibling chat looked like in the aftermath of game night.

(All credit to Bridgertonbabe for this chaotic mess)

----

🐝 The Children Group Chat 🐝

Violet: Alright.

Violet: Who started it?

Anthony: Started what?

Hyacinth: What exactly is it u r referencing mother?

Violet: Oh you all know exactly what it is I am talking about.

Violet: Who started the fight this time?

Benedict: I did. It started.

Violet: No.

Violet: I know you probably fueled it once it began, but you didn’t start it. So once again I must ask.

Violet: Who started the fight?

Eloise: Who told you we fought?

Violet: Sophie did. After I learned from Agatha that an ambulance was called for your husband.

Eloise: He's fine Mum. He had a panic attack because Anthony wouldn’t get off his ass about the rules.

Anthony: The rules clearly say when you land on someone's properties you have to pay them. Not my fault he couldn’t.

Eloise: He couldn’t pay u because u r a deranged asshole who puts interest on his properties like some money hungry slumlord.

Eloise: Who puts interest rates in Monopoly?

Francesca: It was my fault Mum. I started it.

Violet: NO

Violet: You and Benedict both hate confrontations. I know neither one of you started it.

Violet: Who

Violet: Started

Violet: The fight

Violet: At Daphne’s game night?

Daphne: I would like to point out that Hyacinth is being abnormally quiet right now.

Hyacinth: Excuse me?!

Eloise: You were exceptionally vitriol with the rest of us that night. More so than usual.

Hyacinth: Mother. I feel like this would be a good time to inform you that Eloise broke a £5000 vase that night.

Eloise: OMFG

Eloise: Et tu Brutus?

Hyacinth:

Hyacinth: throw me under the bus again I dare u

Colin: You did throw it across a room.

Colin: At my head I should add.

Eloise: I purposefully aimed away from your head dummy. That’s why it hit the wall.

Colin:

Colin: Did you?

Eloise: WELL HYACINTH BROUGHT A SWITCHBLADE.

Hyacinth: Liar!!!!

Hyacinth: it’s a penknife. Not a switchblade. Get it right.

Gregory: Yh Anthony still has her switchblade from when we all played Cluedo

Colin: talk about Miss Hyacinth in the parlor with the knife. U nearly killed Benedict. And Gregory. And Simon!

Benedict: I still have the scar

Anthony: Not to mention the fire damage.

Gregory: Well the fire was Daphne’s fault.

Violet: Please do not remind me about the Cluedo incident. It gives me a migraine every time I think about the damage you all did to my house that night.

Francesca: Isn’t even the most concerning part. Hyacinth. How did you get another knife?

Hyacinth: It’s for protection

Francesca: That did not even remotely answer the question I asked you

Hyacinth: Gareth got it for me

Anthony: Gareth isn’t stupid enough to give you a weapon.

Hyacinth: He is after getting mugged

Violet: 🫢 Gareth was mugged?

Hyacinth: He’s fine. He was a little shaken up but they didn’t get anything off of him. They just roughed him up a little and scared him.

Colin: Why do I have a sneaking suspicion you had some involvement in this mugging?

Hyacinth: Why would I mug my husband???

Benedict: Ulterior motives. As unreasonable as a theory that may sound. This is also you we are talking about.

Colin: How do we know you didn’t mug him so that he would get your hands on another knife?

Hyacinth: I plead the fifth

Anthony: Hyacinth!

Hyacinth: Again

Hyacinth: A £5000 vase was destroyed that night.

Hyacinth: And not by me.

Eloise: if anyone is at fault it’s Daphne. It was her idea.

Daphne: Why am I at fault for trying to have a nice family get together?

Francesca: Because u should have known this is exactly what would have happened

Violet: Must I remind you all that you nearly gave Phillip a heart attack. The poor man had to spend the night there for observation.

Benedict: And you all made Sophie cry

Eloise: Jesus Christ. She’s pregnant Benedict. Ofc she’s going to cry. She literally cried last week telling me about the tiny baby shoes she crocheted.

Daphne: In her defense. They were adorable.

Benedict: 😤😤😤 They are the cutest little baby shoes. I’m so excited to see my daughter wearing them.

Benedict: But that’s not the point. You yelled at her Eloise.

Eloise: Because she wasn’t doing anything except sitting on the couch while Phillip was hyperventilating.

Benedict: Maybe because she’s SEVEN MONTHS PREGNANT AND CAN’T MOVE!

Eloise: omg Benedict get over it

Benedict: my wife was in tears over what happened and then you and Kate both felt the need to gang up on her because she wouldn’t hand her remaining cash to you.

Eloise: She was leaving.

Benedict: BECAUSE she was the one who went with Phillip to A&E because YOU were too busy arguing with Daphne about the income tax rule.

Eloise: It was unreasonable and unnecessary for me to have to pay it because I had more money than the rest of you

Daphne: Says known socialist Eloise Bridgerton

Eloise removed Daphne from the chat

Anthony added Daphne to the chat

Daphne: Bitch

Violet: Daphne do not call your sister a bitch

Eloise: Bitch Bitch

Violet: ELOISE!

Gregory: I think it's safe to say that Anthony’s unreasonable rules are what led to the conflict starting. We all know he’s the most competitive.

Colin: Agreed

Eloise: Agreed

Daphne: Yeah that’s true

Hyacinth: Agreed

Anthony: Because Gregory isn’t the reason we have to have them in the first place. You cheat. All the time.

Gregory: Well I learned it from you didn’t I?

Anthony: You hid all the tokens so that Lucy could pick one first.

Anthony: Then you pressured her into teaming up with you after she claimed all the good spots. Then you started extorting and threatening the rest of us. Not to mention I am genuinely concerned you do not know how interest rates work given the numbers you were giving us were completely off. And I will not even discuss your blatant disrespect for the get out jail free card.

Anthony: What do you have to say for yourself?

Gregory: That my wife didn’t key a car

Colin: oh snap

Daphne: WHAT?!?!?

Daphne: SHE DID WHAT?!!

Colin: 🤣🤣🤣 it was Kate who did it!?

Gregory: Yh apparently Amelia caught her in 4K HD keying Simon’s car while Phillip was being loaded into the ambulance.

Daphne: KATE WAS THE ONE WHO KEYED SIMON’S CAR?!?

Gregory sent a video.

Violet: Good lord.

Violet: Why are you all like this?

Anthony: I would like to make it clear I will neither condemn nor condone my wife’s actions. She is her own woman and will do what she wishes without my input or opinion.

Anthony: However it wasn’t as though it was without reason.

Francesca: Omfg Anthony

Hyacinth: Gregory how the hell do you know this??

Colin: How did you get the video?

Gregory: because MY WIFE loves me and sent me the video when she told me about it

Violet: how the hell did all eight of you inherit your father’s competitive streak??

Violet: EIGHT. We had eight children and you all got it. It’s not normal.

Francesca: Mother. If I may.

Francesca: We’ve all seen how you get watching baking shows.

Violet: That is not the same and you know it!

Francesca: Mother. Again.

Francesca: I say this with nothing but love and respect.

Francesca: Anthony had to restrict the Food Channel on the cable box for three years after you broke the TV. You literally are not allowed to be left alone when The Great British Bake Off is on.

Francesca: I’m quite certain the reason we are all like this is because dad’s competitiveness got mixed in with your insane stubbornness.

Violet removed Francesca from the chat.

Hyacinth: Omg Mum did you banish Francesca to the shadow realm!?!

Gregory: I had no idea she even knew how to do that

Violet removed Gregory from the chat.

Hyacinth: GREGORY NOOoooo

#not giving it a title cause it’s essential unfinished #bridgerton #little ficlet #my fics.

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trekscribbles · 2 months ago

Text

The Bushwhack Job: Chapter Ten

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine

(Disclaimer: This is a relatively rough draft and subject to change when I post to AO3. I'm just overly excited and want to share what I have.)

Nate looked the part when he walked into Lancaster’s downtown office. He’d changed into a black western shirt with a matching hat, courtesy of Sophie’s lifting of one of Lancaster’s company credit cards, and his new boots gave him an extra couple inches to play with as an intimidation factor. He wanted every piece of ammunition he could use for this job.

After all, it would probably be his last.

He gave his name to the receptionist and waited while she called up to Lancaster’s office, then tipped his hat to her when she directed him to the top floor. The elevator blared a terrible blend of bluegrass and pop, and Nate tried not to picture the disgusted expression it would have elicited on Eliot’s face. It was almost over. He could hold on for this last little bit, just long enough for the others to do their jobs. He could give them that much.

The doors slid open, and Nate strode down the hall and into Lancaster’s office without knocking.

“Mr. Riley,” Lancaster said, rising from his desk and offering his hand to Nate. “My girls downstairs say you have a proposition for me.”

Nate shook his hand and sat at the offered chair across from Lancaster. “Mr. Lancaster. I hear you’re in the business of historical acquisitions.”

“I’ve been known to take an interest in various historical items,” Lancaster said, smiling. “What have you got in mind?”

Nate grinned back. “How does the lost cache of the Jesse James gang sound?”

Lancaster went still. His smile was frozen on his face, but his eyes flashed with anger. “If you can find it. Nobody in the last 200 years has managed it.”

“Well, that’s because they’ve been looking in the wrong place.” Nate took off his hat, setting it top-down on Lancaster’s desk, taking up more space than he’d been allotted.

The smile disappeared. “And you think you know where to look?”

“I did,” Nate said, leaning back in his chair. “That’s how I found it.”

Lancaster’s eyes narrowed. He studied Nate for a moment, frowning, and then shook his head. “You didn’t find it.”

Nate paused, letting the silence stretch a beat longer than necessary. “I’m not sure you want to be calling a potential new business partner a liar,” he said softly. “Not given your own background. What’s that saying about casting stones in glass houses?”

“You’re calling me a liar?” Lancaster growled.

“Well,” Nate said. “For one, you’re making a reputation on this whole country boy thing, but your accent’s a little forced. Too much of an emphasis on the drawl, not enough on the consonants.” Sophie had pointed that one out—something about T-glottalization—Nate decided not to get into the specifics. “Based on your slip-ups, I’d say east coast. Back in the old days, I think they’d call you a tenderfoot.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Lancaster said, glowering.

“Oh, I do.” Nate’s voice was soft, barely audible. “It’s a very distinctive accent.”

Lancaster opened his mouth, but the phone on his desk gave a shrill ring, and he cut himself off. With one final glare at Nate, he ground out, “Excuse me,” and answered without speaking. His expression brightened as he listened, and a premonition of unease worked its way down Nate’s spine.

“Well,” Lancaster said, hanging up with a smile. “I suppose the ruse is up. You play a good hand, Mr. Ford, but the deck was stacked against you.”

Nate’s stomach dropped. He didn’t try to deny it—there was no point—but he couldn’t help the quick glance over his shoulder. Hardison would be in the server room by now, and Parker—

“That was my head of security,” Lancaster said. “My plan, at least, has gone exactly the way it was supposed to. The server room has locked behind your hacker, my man Janish is with your grifter—clever to set her up as a receptionist, by the way, I never even noticed—and my security team is tracking down your thief. That just leaves you, Mr. Ford.” He took in Nate’s clenched jaw and laughed. “Don’t feel bad. You couldn’t have known what you were walking into. If I do say so myself, I set a mighty fine trap.”

“To what end?” Nate asked.

“Ending you,” Lancaster said. “My sources seem to think you’re dangerous, but I have to admit I’m disappointed. You really didn’t put up much of a fight. I suppose without your guard dog—”

Nate was lunging across the desk before he could tell himself not to fall for the taunt. He didn’t care. He would take the fall if he had to, but not like this, not without beating the smirk off Lancaster’s face. He wanted to see the man bleed, see him cry and cower and beg for mercy, he wanted him to—

A hand caught his. One minute there was nothing but Lancaster’s satisfied grin, and then another man stood in the way, his fingers closing over Nate’s fist, his eyes guarded. Nate stopped short, the desk between him and Lancaster, a spike of horrible, agonized hope rooting him to the spot.

“I told you to stay out of sight,” Lancaster snapped.

Eliot kept his gaze on Nate. “You’d rather I let him beat you up?” he murmured, tightening his grip on Nate’s knuckles.

Nate opened his mouth, but couldn’t form the words tumbling uselessly in his brain.

“Get back where you belong,” Lancaster said. “I can take care of him.”

Eliot stayed where he was, watching Nate with a blank expression. “You’re Nathan Ford?”

“You’re alive?” Nate whispered.

Eliot let go of his hand. “No thanks to you.”

Nate flinched; Eliot had always known how to land a good hit.

Except… if there was anything Eliot was better at than landing punches, it was pulling them. Better than any of them, Eliot knew what guilt did to a person, and he wouldn’t use it as a weapon—not against Nate. There was more going on here.

But it was hard to figure out what that might be when the only thing Nate could think was you’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive.

“Now isn’t the time,” Lancaster said. “Get back downstairs. I’ll call you when—”

“Eliot.” Nate’s voice broke over the name, so he cleared his throat and said it again. “Eliot… What happened?”

Lancaster placed his hands on the desk. “He turned on you. He works for me now, and nothing you—”

“Shut up,” Nate said. He looked at Eliot’s bruised face, at the apprehension in his eyes, and tried to read a message in them. He had to be playing some kind of angle, and if Nate could figure it out, he could play along. But he couldn’t think—it was too much, too much, and he couldn’t think.

“Is that my name?” Eliot asked. “I thought it was Spencer.”

Oh, God. Another rush of grief washed over him, draining him of everything except cold realization. “You don’t remember?”

“Head wound,” Eliot said, shrugging. “The memory loss is temporary. Probably. Jury’s still out on whether I want it back or not. But I’ve heard Lancaster’s version of things, and now I’d like to know yours. I’ll make my mind up from there.”

Lancaster reached for his phone. “Enough. If you’re not going to listen—”

Without breaking eye contact with Nate, Eliot reached out his right hand—bruised and bandaged—and yanked the phone from its cord. He tossed it across the room and spoke as if there had been no interruption. “How do you know me?”

Nate held his gaze. “I’m your friend.”

“And the others?” Eliot asked. “The hacker? The grifter? The thief? They’re my friends too?”

“Yes,” he said, scrambling for a better explanation. Our friend, our teammate, our family.

Eliot scoffed. “Then I am a criminal.”

“Eliot—”

“The blonde woman,” he said. “Who was she?”

Nate frowned. “You mean Parker? Lancaster sent you a message saying he had her, but he didn’t. It was a trap. He lured you into the LanCast building and blew it up. We thought—we thought you were—” He broke off, unable to voice it now, afraid it would somehow undo whatever miracle had brought Eliot back.

Eliot sucked in a breath. “She’s not dead?”

“He’s lying,” Lancaster said. “He’s trying to confuse you.”

“Why?” Eliot asked.

“He tried to kill you before you could come after him,” Lancaster pressed. “He knows what you’ll do to him if you figure that out.”

“That’s not true.” Nate kept his eyes on Eliot’s, his voice firm. “You may not remember me, but I know you. I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.” A hint of desperation worked its way into Eliot’s voice, contrasting with the emotionless mask he was still fighting to keep over his face. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. The things I know how to do. I don’t remember my friends, but I remember that. What kind of a person does that make me?”

“Don’t let him confuse you,” Lancaster needled. He stood and reached for Eliot’s shoulder, but he flinched away.

Nate stayed where he was. “You’re the only one who can answer that,” he said softly. “Whatever you might have done in the past… that’s not who you are now.”

“I’ve hurt people,” Eliot said, scowling. “Stolen. Killed. You’re really going to stand there and say I’m not evil?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Nate said. “Yeah, you have a past, and if you want to know what it was, I’ll tell you. But it doesn’t matter. Lancaster wants to convince you that you’re a bad guy so he can use you, but you’re the one in control here. You decide who you want to be. But I’ll tell you, Eliot—” Nate took a breath, clutching at the remains of his composure. “Whatever you’ve done, bad guy or not, you’re a good man. One of the best I’ve ever known.”

Hurt and hope flared up in Eliot’s eyes—that old, familiar battle between who he’d been and who he wanted to be. Lancaster had tried to capitalize on that struggle, after everything, after everything he’d put them through.

They had to go. Now, before Nate did something Eliot would regret.

“Come on, Eliot,” Nate said, his voice rough. “Let’s go home.”

Eliot hesitated, frowned, and then turned to Lancaster and gestured to the chair. “Take off your belt.”

“My—what?” Lancaster sputtered. “Spencer, listen to me. He’s lying, and I can prove it.”

“I got all the proof I need.” Eliot folded his arms and dipped his head toward Nate’s hat, still resting on the desk beside the broken phone. “He knows to put that crown-down.”

Lancaster blinked at him. “What?”

“Maybe I was working for you,” Eliot went on. “But I don’t have to stay with you. Now take off your belt before I decide to break your wrists instead of binding them.”

Shaking in either fear or anger—Nate couldn’t be sure which—Lancaster undid his belt and dropped it onto the desk. Eliot nudged him onto his chair, pulled his hands behind his back, and secured them with the belt, and then loosened the tie at Lancaster’s neck and gagged him with it. When he was satisfied with that, he pulled the chair against the wall and tied Lancaster’s ankles with the phone cord.

Then he straightened and gestured toward the door. “Follow me. I’ll take you to the others.”

“The others?” Nate echoed.

“Yeah. The rest of your team.”

Nate trailed him out of the office, pausing only to close the door behind them. “You know where they are?”

“I…” Eliot turned away, avoiding eye contact. “I thought you’d killed her—Parker—and I needed to find you, so I made a plan for Lancaster. He described the people you were working with, their reputations, their strengths, enough for me to set a trap. I had him put out a press release to say he’d found something valuable, and that he was holding it here in his office. I figured you’d break in to get it, and I could make my move then. Lancaster sent Janish after the grifter—”

“Sophie.”

“Sophie,” Eliot echoed. “I didn’t know who she was, but I went back over the surveillance footage from the last few days and noticed her lifting a credit card, so I figured she was involved.”

“I’ve never been so glad to have you on our side,” Nate said, surprising himself with a chuckle.

“You’re not mad?”

Nate looked at him. Tiny cuts along the right side of his face were just starting to heal, and his hair covered some of the bruising on his cheek and ear—superficial injuries hiding something so much worse. As bad as it had been for Nate and the rest of the team, at least they’d had each other. What must it have been like to wake up with no memory, wounded and alone, and have to grieve someone he couldn’t even remember?

“No, Eliot, I’m not mad.” Nate’s voice was soft, if a little uneven. “But… When Lancaster told you I was the one who set off the explosion, you didn’t believe him. Or at least, you were willing to give me a chance to explain my side of things. Why?”

Eliot kept his eyes on the ground as they jogged down the hall. “I, um... I had a dream. About you. You and—and Parker, and another woman, and a man. I can’t remember their faces, but when I saw you in Lancaster’s office, it felt...” He shrugged, faint color flushing across his face. “I dunno. Familiar.”

Nate had never seen Eliot blush before. He’d never been this vulnerable before—forced to trust someone he didn’t know, forced to admit a weakness. But he’d chosen to anyway. Part of had him remembered, had reached out and found them against all odds. When Nate had been ready to give up, Eliot had kept fighting.

Of course he had. Memories or no, this was Eliot.

God… he had to tell the others.

He reached for his phone, but Eliot put out his hand to stop him from dialing. “That won’t work—I had Lancaster set up a dampener so you wouldn’t be able to communicate with your crew. Landlines only.”

Nate couldn’t help the grin that broke across his face. He threw his arm around Eliot’s shoulders as they reached the elevator, his chest constricting at Eliot’s uncertain expression even as he leaned into Nate’s touch.

“It’s good to have you back, Eliot,” Nate said.

Slowly, Eliot smiled.

#leverage #eliot spencer #nathan ford #fanfiction #leverage fanfic #my fic #the bushwhack job #it's allllllll coming together

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