#cue both of them letting the ducks cross the street

[kiynania]

I can imagine Zane or Lloyd going in front of the street and stopping cars to help a few ducks cross the road

[missyandwade]

From Across the Hallway - Chapter 7

A few days passed, with Emily's cough gradually subsiding.

Missy, had had to take a few days off work, which of course, hadn't particularly gone down well with the other staff members in her office. She barely had anyone who spoke to her as it was….but the whispers only seemed to worsen.

"You think I can get extra time off if I have a kid?" – Missy had heard one woman utter in a carrying whisper as she passed the copier one day.

Missy had instantly dropped her head and hurried back to her desk, hiding her red face from everyone.

Things were not really getting any easier for Emily either. The cough had only made her hearing worse…causing the little girl to jump in fright, at the loud noises the other kids in day-care made.

So both of them were obviously excited when Saturday finally came, and they could spend the entire day together.

Just the two of them, with nothing to care about in the world.

It was a cold, crisp morning in December, and Missy was just getting Emily into her little red boots ready for a trip to the park to see the newly decorated Christmas trees.

Emily was sitting there quiet and happy, watching her mother crouched down before her. Emily always did this. Always watched Missy so carefully, mirroring and copying everything that Missy did. One of the little girl's favourite things was to try and style her own hair as Missy did hers in the mornings.

"So are you excited to see the ducks today, baby?" Missy asked Emily gently, pushing her foot into her little bootie.

Emily nodded. "Duks?" she enquired, her eyes wide.

Missy merely smiled. "Yeah, we can feed them if you want?" she said, getting to her feet. "But let's get your coat on. It's freeeezing out there."

But as Missy stood, her phone suddenly buzzed loudly across her nightstand.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help but let out a small smile.

She knew exactly who that was…

Since getting her number, Wade had been texting her relentlessly. He had promised to bombard her with boundless emoji-filled texts and boy had he delivered!

Every morning as if on cue, he would send her a text, most of them filled with nothing more than a little egg emoji and the word [Breakfast?].

And Missy every day replied with the same thing…

{Busy, sorry. Gotta work. M}

But today, as Missy picked up her phone she grinned as she saw his message.

[*egg emoji* Breakfast? And DON'T say you have to work, Ms Oh-So-Perfect…because it's a Saturday. *streamers emoji*]

Missy bit her lip, staring down at her phone for the longest of moments, before typing a hasty reply.

{We're going to the park to feed the ducks….but if you happen to be around, I guess we might catch you at the little coffee stand on the corner of ninth. M}

Missy smiled to herself as she pressed send.

She had actually been hoping to run into him…just to say thank you of course, for him coming over and minding Emily for her last weekend.

Apart from the daily texts, she had barely heard a peep out of her neighbour. The only time she even noticed him was the slamming of his door late at night, after he had gotten home from whatever bar, she presumed, he frequented.

Not that she missed him or anything…

Giving a slight inward sigh, Missy turned back to Emily, giving the little girl a soft smile.

Regardless of whether or not Wade turned up, Missy was still going to make this the loveliest day.

In five minutes, the pair had pulled on their warm winter coats and were now headed towards the park, hand-in-hand, a bag of stale bread crusts shoved into Missy's pocket.

The street was fairly quiet but even so, Emily didn't speak.

Missy knew that the little girl found it hard to concentrate on someone talking from her side. And so Missy always kept all conversation until they had come to a stop.

But crossing the street, Emily's little eyes suddenly widened as she pointed at something in the distance.

The little girl mumbled something Missy didn't quite catch.

As they reached the sidewalk, Missy crouched down in front of her daughter, adjusting her tiny red bobble hat.

"What's wrong sweetie?" she asked her, Missy's face full of concern.

"Tha Waydee," said Emily, her tiny mittened paw suddenly waving up at a figure, strolling towards them.

Missy glanced up, her eyes instantly meeting with his.

There was Wade, as casual as ever, sheepskin jacket thrown haphazardly over a white vest, barely even acknowledging that it was freezing out, strolling towards them, a wide grin plastered over his features.

He waved back cheerily.

"Well isn't this a surprise…" he said, his tone thick with sarcasm. "Running into your two gorgeous Princesses like this."

Missy couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Aren't you freezing?" she merely asked him, shooting him a playful look.

"Aren't you smokin' hot?" he retorted almost instantly, his eyes travelling down her wrapped up form.

Missy scoffed, but before she could even say another word, much to her surprise, Emily had detached her little hand from Missy's, and run toward Wade, waddling over on her chubby little legs.

"I goin see duks," she said in her croaky little voice, holding her arms up towards him and making grabbing motions with her hands.

It was obvious what she wanted.

Missy smiled to herself, as Wade lifted Emily into his arms. She was never normally like this with people. Never normally got attached so quickly.

"Ducks?" he said in amazement, as Emily pawed at his chest with her red-mittens. "Well it's lucky I'm here isn't it? Because I know all the best places to see those noisy little quackers."

Emily giggled shyly at his words, as Wade turned to Missy, who was stood there staring at the two of them, her eyes narrowed slightly, but a smile lingering over her pursed lips.

"Oooh, but I think by the look on your Mommy's face, she needs a very strong coffee first," said Wade goadingly, before turning back and jiggling the little girl in his arms. "What do you think Chicken-Little?"

Emily, who was busy chewing on her mitten and staring at Wade's long face in awe, gave a slow nod.

Missy let out a snort, raising an eyebrow.

"Why?" she asked, folding her arms across her pale blue coat. "You buying?"

But Wade merely grinned back.

"Of course," he said matter-of-factly ,strutting over to her, Emily still his arms. "But you realise that if you'd accepted my offer of breakfast sooner, you'd have had breakfast paid for all this week, by yours truly."

Something passed between the pair of them, as Wade came to stand close to her.

Missy felt her heart begin to pound inside her chest and a warmth spread through her.

As Missy smirked, her green eyes meeting Wade's chocolate ones, Emily turned to look at her mom.

"Mommy kissh Waydee," she said looking back and forth between the pair, and lifting her drool covered mitten to Missy's face.

But Missy ducked gently away from the toddlers grasp, her face almost immediately flushing red.

"Uh….I did not make her say that…" murmured Wade, giving a grin, as Emily turned back to him and proceed to grab at his ear with her wet paw. "Although….maybe we should do as she says…"

Missy shook her head, laughing, as Wade flashed her an award-winning smile.

"Come on," she said gesturing over towards the coffee stand, tucked just to the right of the entrance to the park. "Mine's a latte."

Wade stared after her ,as Missy walked on ahead of them in her sky-scraper high-heels.

He turned to Emily and gave a nod, raising his eyebrows.

"I think your Mommy likes me…" he uttered in a soft voice, before the pair of them followed after her obediently.

[hargreef]

Hello I was the one who asked if you took writing prompts. I have one about tua if you're I terested. So my prompt is that show!allison and five are out in town in the 60s like in the second season. And so they decide to go to a cafe for lunch but after five goes in the door the owner won't let allison in because it's whites only. Five gees ballistic threatening to burn the while please down if they don't let her in. Sorry if it's long ❤

hi anon !! thank you for the prompt :) 

i hope you enjoy!!! (im sorry if its not completely accurate, i sort of ran away with the idea and it did its own thing)

“This is where you work,” Five states bluntly, craning his neck to read the ‘ladies beauty parlor’ sign displayed above the entrance to the salon. He stuffs his hands in his pockets once he’s finished observing, choosing to squint through the windows instead. “Huh. Nice place.”

Allison purses her lips to hide a smile as she watches him, arms folded across her chest. “It is. It’s a good place to work. Good people to be with.”

“At least you weren’t alone,” Five replies, humming in satisfaction. He says it more as a statement rather than an empathetic musing, tightly content with that knowledge as if it were a certified fact rather than a sweet concern. “Best to surround yourself with people when you’re stuck in time.” He clenches his jaw, grinding his teeth together in that way he always does when he’s trying to say something sensitive. “I’m glad you found good company to be with.”

Allison ducks her head, somehow resisting the strong urge to wrap him in a hug. As tender as the moment is, she refuses to ruin it by initiating physical contact and result in that stand-offish, closed off demeanour he exerts when anyone attempts to be touchy with him.

Instead she knocks his shoulder with her elbow, arms still crossed with a smile on her face. “Thanks, Five. I am too.”

He nods curtly, straightening out his blazer awkwardly. He stays looking through the window to focus his gaze somewhere, avoiding her eyes as he peers at the salon workers doing their jobs. It seems to fascinate him, and it strikes Allison all of a sudden how foreign the concept must be to someone who has spent their entire life surrounded with ash.

“I’ve never been in a hair . . . store,” he says, clearly away with his own thoughts as he takes in the sight in front of him. “A salon, I mean.”

“Well, this is for women’s hair,” Allison tells him, with a wink. “I’m sure we can find barbers for you somewhere if you want a cut.” She studies him for a moment. “I don’t really think you need one, though.”

“I can cut my own hair,” Five says, sounding almost insulted at the suggestion he would allow someone else to do that task for him. “I always cut my own hair.”

“I know,” Allison threads carefully. “But, y’know. You don’t have to anymore.”

“I want to,” Five says defiantly, and Allison quickly realises she’s not going to get anywhere with this conversation. Five can be a brick wall, at times, and perhaps it’s so often due to his instilled habits from a lifetime of being so alone, but she knows this is something to bring up another time, when both of them have the patience for it.

“Why don’t we go grab some lunch?” She suggests, instead. “You must be hungry.”

He looks as if he’s going to refuse her offer, but as if on cue his stomach rumbles loudly, completely disputing whatever lie had been about to make its way out of his mouth.

She smirks. “Coulda’ fooled me.”

“Shut up,” he says with a scowl, but there’s no bite in his voice. He follows her along as she steps past him to continue their tour down the street, the hot sixties sun a reverent glare in their sight as they do so. It’s warm with a cool breeze, gentle sways of the city trees backgrounding their stroll.

They make their way in silence, Five deep in his thoughts as he bobs along quietly beside her like a very short, very stiff shadow. Each passer-by offers a strange look or double-take, the striking difference between the two of them painfully pigmented in correlation to their current debut in this timeline.

Five doesn’t appear to notice, and if he does he says nothing about it, striding casually by her side as if they were back at home and sauntering downtown. Allison isn’t sure if that’s due to his general lack of social awareness, or lack of racial knowledge, or lack of giving a fuck, in which realistically it could be all three, but she doesn’t question it as they go.

Her brother is a strange man. A strange child in so many ways, but Allison has learnt its best not to question him in some things.

Five stops abruptly outside a small café with a soft blue exterior and a bell above the entrance. A white bike with flowers in the basket is on display beside the window. It’s very sweet and simple.

“This seems like a you place,” he says, with a small nod. It’s surprisingly considerate of him to select somewhere he imagines would cater to her tastes rather than his own, but then again Five probably never sits and has food in a café other than Griddy’s, so she supposes he’s not exactly picky.

“It’s nice,” she tells him, smiling in appreciation. He looks sort of proud for a moment for having chosen correctly, which she absolutely cannot deny is awfully adorable. The way he tries to hide his pleased smile is very endearing, and so very Five. Her heart thumps with warmth and love for her smallest brother, suddenly, in a bare moment of gratitude that doesn’t come often when she engages with his prickly self.

He pulls at the door handle, eyes shooting up at the jingling bell momentarily before he swings it open and steps aside for her. “Shall we?”

“Let’s,” she says, waving him off with the gentleman act. She doesn’t even think to check before stepping in, purse in hand and smile on her face, which is quickly transitioned into gut-churning frustration when every head sitting down turns to stare at her.

Five doesn’t notice the automatic tension at her presence, following her with breezy ease and still fiddling with his blazer. “Where to?” He says, glancing around for an empty booth as if this is an everyday task for him. Nevermind the blatant glares from every single person here, this entire setting is relatively rare for Five, the concept of sitting down casually for a meal a faraway occasion Allison can imagine he indulges in once in a blue moon, so of course the last thing he’s going to notice is the gaunt stares of every diner sat at every seat.

Nonetheless, she hesitantly backs away, eyes darting to the sign just above the countertop. WHITES ONLY.

“Fuck,” she hisses, turning around. She nudges at her brother standing behind her, now totally confused at her change in demeanour, and gently tries to usher him back out the door. “Come on, we’ll find somewhere else.”

Naïve, and slightly ignorant, Five frowns and refuses her guidance. “What? Why? Just go sit down. There’s loads of tables. “

“Five, I can’t,” she says, quietly, conscious of the attention drawn to her and her every move. “I can’t be here. We need to go.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Five says, surprisingly forward as he tugs at her wrist and pulls her along to an empty booth. He must have noticed the stares by now, but simply ignores them as he hauls her along and practically shoves her into a seat. He settles in comfortably opposite her, straightening up as he does so.

“See?” He says, as if it isn’t excruciatingly prominent how everybody is looking at them.

Uncomfortable and anxious in her seat, Allison takes a deep breath. “Five, I’m serious. This is dangerous for me, okay?”

“I’m sitting right here,” Five says with a raised brow. “Nothing is dangerous with me here.”

“And I believe that,” Allison says quickly, noticing the uniformed waiter approaching them with a scowl on his face. “But this isn’t that simple, okay? We’ll just find somewhere else.”

Before Five can respond, the waiter arrives within reach to the table and points to the door, a cruel snarl on his face. “You,” he gestures at Allison, tone dark and grated. “Out. Now.”

“What the hell?” Five says, aghast. “We literally just got here.”

“You can stay,” the waiter says, coldly, before he nods towards Allison and points once again to the door. “You get out. We don’t serve black folk here.”

This grabs Five’s attention. “You don’t what?”      

“Five, it's fine.” Allison clutches her purse like a lifeline and makes a move to step out of the booth. Five’s foot stretches out from under the table and halts her in her step, blocking her from exiting as he continues to stare at the waiter with a murderous frown.

“It’s not ‘fine’ Allison,” he snarls, interlocking his fingers on the table in an act of displaying his means of staying for a while. It’s clear he has no intentions of leaving any time soon, and the waiter locks his jaw, impatient.

“Get out, or I’m calling the police,” he snaps, in a very no-nonsense tone that indicates he won’t argue this further. “I’m damn serious, girl. Get up, and get out. Go find food with your own kind.”

Mortified, Allison once again attempts to depart from the booth. Five’s leg doesn’t stop her this time but his entire body does, blinking rapidly into place right in front of her to keep her in her seat.

The waiter jumps back, completely startled at this fucking barbaric party trick. “The hell?”

“Speak to her like that again,” Five snarls, squaring his shoulders and turning his nose up. “Do it.”

“Five—” Allison tries again.

“No, Allison,” Five spits, evidently furious at this point. The waiter is still somewhat in shock at what he’s just witnessed, and most likely the rest of the café too considering they’re watching this unfold like it’s a TV show, and he stumbles backwards for a minute in a weak attempt to process it.

“You talk to her like that again and I will skin you inside out,” Five hisses, eyes flashing in rage as he stands protectively in front of her. “Christ, you people are assholes.”

The waiter, over his moment of shock, leans down to sneer in Five’s face. “If you don’t get your filthy acquaintance out of this diner in the next two minutes, I’ll drag her out myself.”

“You lay a hand on my sister and I will burn this place down,” Five threatens lowly, voice dropping about eight octaves in tone with the darkness of its intentions, the veins in his neck protruding from where he’s tensing with aggravation. Flustery crawls in red blotches up his neck, fingers trembling from where he stands seething with fury.

“Let’s go, Five,” Allison places her hands on his shoulders from where he’s blocking her, attempting desperately to get past him and out of this stupid café. “It’s not worth it.”

“You think I’m kiddin’ around?” The waiter challenges, standing up to his full height and addressing Allison once again with his eyes, disgust clear as day on his face as he looks her up and down.

“I think you better have half a goddamn brain to think twice about pulling any bullshit while I’m standing right here,” Five sneers, and Allison nearly swears she can see sweat sheening on his forehead.

“In that case,” the waiter smiles cruelly, cracking a knuckle before he reaches behind Five and yanks at Allison’s arm, hauling her so roughly out of the booth that she trips in her step, stumbling along as he pinches her skin with the forceful grip.  

And Five sees red.

“Let go of her you fucking imbecile!” He roars, reaching blindly behind him on instinct to snatch a butter knife from the cutlery holder in the middle of the table. He blinks into place onto the waiters back, locking an arm around his neck and jerking him backwards until he crumples to the floor, choking spastically in his grip. His clutch on Allison is quickly released as he attempts to unwind from Five’s serious hold, twisting this way and that as he tries to free himself.

“Five!” Allison shouts, heart racing manically. She can almost feel the reaction behind her, understanding all too well who could be on their way right now. Her suspicion of interference is justified as she takes a glance behind her, stomach churning at the other uniformed waiters making their way over.

“Five, get off of him, we need to go!” She yells, although it proves to be of no use considering Five clearly plays by his own rules and has no means of listening to her.

“Rumour these assholes!” He yells back, flat on his own back as he continues to choke the waiters red, puffing face. “Stop being a goddamn saint and use your power!”

“No, Five!” Allison backs away from the approaching waiters, unable to resist grabbing a knife herself although it’s not as if she’s intending on using it. Not by any means like Five has, having already stabbed the damn thing in the waiters ribs, flourishing as the man howls in pain.

Outnumbered and cornered, Allison kicks gently enough at Five’s shoulder from his sprawl on the floor, alerting him into shoving said waiter off his front and coming to a rumpled stance himself, positively all over the place. His hair doesn’t beat the wild in his eyes, but he looks borderline animalistic as he once again throws himself in front of Allison, butter knife dripping blood from his hands.

“You assholes touch her and this entire building is coming down,” he spits at all of them, who have halted at the sight of the knife and their colleague jerking on the floor. “I swear to every goddamn Deity in the sky I will blow this place up.”

It’s then that one of the waiters pulls out a fucking shotgun.

“Five,” Allison says, panicked. She jostles him from where he’s backing up closer to her. “Five, we need to go!”

“Fuck, alright,” he hisses, snatching up her wrist. He pauses briefly to flip off everyone in the café like the cheeky bastard he is before he blinks them out of there, reinstating them at the telephone box right across the street. Feeling as if she’s going to hurl, Allison leans over with a gag, stomach weak from either that entire ordeal or the jump, she isn’t sure.

“Fuck, Five,” she hisses, after managing barely a spit on the ground. She straightens up, covering her face with her hands as she processes everything that just happened. “What the fuck was that?”

Five pants aggressively on the spot, still glaring at the café despite being all the way across the street from it. “Assholes,” he spits. “Fucking pricks.”

“Yes, Five, welcome to racism,” Allison scoffs, sarcasm dripping from her voice like the gushing blood from that goddamn butter knife. “Yeah, it’s shitty, but unfortunately that’s the world we live in!”

“I don’t understand it,” Five snarls. “And I don’t want to understand. I refuse to understand. I’m—how dare they—”

“I know you’re angry,” Allison grasps his shoulders. “I know, I’m angry too. But we need to get somewhere safe, okay? Can you blink us home? Back to my house?”

“I’m sorry,” Five mutters, without moving an inch. His eyes are blank when he redirects his gaze to her face. “I’m sorry, Allison.”

She’s not sure what exactly he’s apologising for; attempting fucking murder at that stupid café, getting them stuck in the fucking sixties, or just for the fact the world is a cruel, nasty place that involves the sick, twisted concept of racism. In hindsight, Five has apologised for a lot of things, which she’s coming to the slow and wobbly understanding that aren’t entirely his fault.

She knows her brother would die to protect her. She knows he would die to protect all of them. Hell, he would die two times over, gut himself bone-deep and tear apart his own insides if it meant that his family would be okay. Five is a goddamn war machine, and not even the end of the world could stop him from saving the ones he loves.

It’s remarkable how she often fails to recognise that. Five has and will continue to do everything in his power to protect his family, and if that includes beating up a racist waiter in the 1960’s, then so be it.

“It’s fine,” she murmurs. It is fine. It’s not enough, and she needs to say more, he needs to hear more—but she will tell him later. They will rest, and she will make him something sweet and she will tell him how grateful she is to have him in her life. He will scoff and pretend like he doesn’t have feelings, but there will be a twinkle in his eye and a twitch in his lips and she will hug him and tell him she loves him so.

She will do all of those things later. For now, she squeezes his shoulders. “Get us home, okay?”

He clasps at her wrists at his shoulders, squeezing her back. His eyes tell more than his mouth ever has.

He nods. “Yeah. I’ll get us home.”

[xxtoothachexx]

hi i’d like to request a matchup please!

i’m 5’0 with shoulder length semi curly brown hair, with blue eyes and lots of freckles. i’m bi so i’m good with girls and guys :)

I have an INFP personality type and my zodiac is a sagittarius. I have slight social anxiety and can be very anxious and shy when first meeting someone, but after being around someone for a long period of time i begin to feel comfortable and talk more around them. I’m pretty sarcastic and crack a lot of jokes, and I over share a lot without realizing. I’m pretty insecure about myself and feel anxious that I annoy people a lot. I’m very non judgemental and pretty oblivious to a lot of social cues as well. I tend to talk a lot or go on a rant about something if Im interested in it, worried about it or enjoy it. I have a horrible memory and often forget things. Im terrified of bugs too. I have an extremely hard time being vulnerable around someone and I also have some trust issues. I’m also a picky eater though I will try something before deciding if I like it or not. I also really love cats! I really love listening to music, occasionally drawing although I’m not that great at it and I love nature, animals and sunsets as well. I hate math with a passion. My love language is quality time, so just spending time with a person I care about is more than enough for me! That’s about it, sorry if this was too long. Thank you and I hope you have a great day <3

hello, thank you for calling in and participating in the event!! I match you with Kyojuro Rengoku

Rengoku was so bright and bold when you first met him it was kind of intimidating but he has such a welcoming and protective aura to him that drew you in. He’s patient with you getting used to him

He loves loves your humor, even the dumbest jokes will get him to laugh. He especially loves when your own jokes gets you to laugh, it’s so cute

He’s very clear with his love and how much you mean to him, so there’s no room for you to feel insecure in the relationship. He always has so much love in his expression whenever you just talk to him

When you’re just rambling about something you have his full attention, even if he had no idea what you’re talking about, Rengoku just loves the sound of your voice and how excited you are about what you’re talking about

Sometimes he can be pretty oblivious to social cues so the two of you are just two peas in a pod, it’s kinda funny but at least you’re not alone!

And he’s a perfect person when it comes to having trouble opening up. He’ll never force you, he’s patient and constantly reassuring you to make sure you’re okay and comfortable. He just wants the best for his love

Rengoku threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh at the little joke you’d made. You couldn’t help the loving smile creeping across your own lips at how sweet he was. He bumped into you playfully and smiled down at you. “I love you.”

“Yeah yeah, not as much as I love you.” You reached up to ruffle at his hair and he ducked down, your hand just barely missing his headful of blonde and fire red curls. You jokingly gasped in offense and he laughed again.

You sidled up closer to him, pouting and he leaned down to look at you. His wild eyes were filled with such a pure and sweet love for you and you couldn’t keep pouting, deciding to lean forward and peck him on the forehead.

He opened his mouth to say something but cut himself off rather quickly. “Look!” He pointed further down the street and you followed where he was pointing, catching a glimpse of a bright orange tabby cat lounging in the sun.

The both of you sit by the cat, petting it while it happily purrs at the attention. It’s adorable to you and it’s fur is as soft as velvet, the tags on its collar jingling as Rengoku scratches behind its ear. A random thought crosses your mind and you can’t help but laugh.

“Would you still love me if I was a cat?”

“Of course dear, I’d buy you the best cat house to live in.”

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 17

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 17

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2203

Summary: Milwaukee’s finest African dream root gets put to the test.

Warnings: FLUFF, swearing; it’s so nice to finally take angst out of these warnings

           You’re walking up the stairs from the bar basement with a six pack in your hand—it’s a raspberry beer from a microbrewery you’ve only had once in Pennsylvania, years ago. There’s no way you’d be able to stock it in northern Wisconsin, and ironically that makes you realize you’re in a dream faster than hearing Sam and Dean talking at the bar top.

           “Look who decided to show up!” Dean smiles, ready affection spreading over his face like warm butter. He’s sitting on a stool like a patron, a few fingers of scotch in a glass in front of him where Sam stands behind the bar. You can feel yourself beaming as you cross over to them, setting the cold six pack out between you. It feels natural to slip into the space under Sam’s arm like you do so often here serving customers together but you stop short of it, instead grabbing one of the bottles and pivoting so it looks like you were trying to grab the bottle opener out of his back pocket all along. He raises his elbow to give you better access, letting you slip it back into the denim without touching him.

           When you look up, Dean still has those gooey caramel eyes trained on you. “You look good, kid. What’re you drinking?”

           “What’re you drinking, that’s all you have to ask?” you giggle, hopping up to sit on the bar. “No ‘how are you both here, what’s going on?’ none of that?” For your part you’re practically exploding with gratitude that Sam’s long shot worked.

           “We’ve been waiting on you for a minute, Jolly Green Giant over here gave me the scoop. So what’re you drinking?”

           You hand the bottle you’ve opened to Sam and grab another. “It’s a raspberry lambic from Pennsylvania. From what I remember, it might’ve been my favorite beer ever.”

           Dean raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Well, come toast me with that Juicy Juice.” You and Sam both touch the lips of your bottles to his glass, and the smile on Sam’s face is as smooth and effortless as chiffon floating off a tropical cabana. “I got my brother, my girl, my car, and a few fingers of single-malt, this is perfect. To Sammy’s big ole brain and the beauty of dream root.” Something about that rings a bell in an even deeper part of your mind and you don’t take a sip right away until a vision of Dean flashes, holding two plastic trays piled high with burgers and fries. Dean winks as he finishes his glass. “Did you two get any better at pool since I’ve been gone?”

           Playing pool with Sam and Dean in a bar—in your bar, with the dent in the paneling behind Dean where the table is a little too close to the wall—is as comfortable as if you’d never stopped, that there isn’t this giant hole not being acknowledged. Sam ribs Dean when he makes a shot his big brother missed and blocks fast when Dean tries to jab him in the ribs with a pool cue in retaliation, smiling through the horse play. You wipe a stealthy tear out of the corner of your eye and take another sip of lambic; you can’t think of anything more beautiful than watching the Winchesters goof off like this, are already starting to miss it as it happens in front of you, and then you feel stupid and wasteful for being so prematurely nostalgic that you can’t enjoy it. When you look back up having collected yourself, Sam floats a delicate hand to your back. “You okay?”

           “Yeah, sorry, just all kind of got to me for a second.”

           His eyebrows twist in concern and he looks over to Dean, exchanging a look you can’t quite read and even that you’ve missed so much you have to hold your breath for a moment to keep it together. “Let’s, uh, let’s get out of here,” Sam suggests, laying his cue down on the felted table.

           Dean nods almost imperceptibly before grinning wide. “Yeah, why don’t you knuckleheads show me the rest of this town?”

           Sitting in the backseat of the Impala is just right for the mile or two it takes to get ‘downtown’—as far as those 7 businesses on a main street rural enough not to have curbs can be called a downtown—and when Dean opens the back door it’s with an outstretched hand for you to get out into the parking lot of the hardware store. “It’s not really going to be the same without all the people,” you offer, taking his callused fingers in yours and standing up.

           “Babe, you have people in your dreams all the time.”

           “Yeah, but not like real people, not like you or Sam.”

           “You haven’t explained all this stuff to her yet?” Sam asks, incredulous over the top of the Impala as he walks around to you and Dean.

           “We’ve been, uh, busy,” Dean says lasciviously, waggling his eyebrows and not reacting when you shove him in the chest.

           “Dude, gross.” Sam’s little brother reflexes show themselves to be intact once again.

           “That’s not what your girlfriend said last night.” It almost makes you panic with surprise, that blatant acknowledgement of the situation, but neither Dean nor Sam seem to pay it too much mind, already moving on to the next thought. You get the sense—as you always did—that they’re still able to communicate without speaking, but who knows? Their time together, Sam’s dreams, even the time that it took you to find them in this dream, is theirs. If they’re comfortable joking then maybe you should be also; you’re the one who gets to have your cake and eat it too. It conflicts with your current strategy of ignoring the deeper element to both your relationships, pretending like the present predicament is no different than before you started dating Dean, platonic and jocular all around. In any case you’ll be damned if you ruin the unbelievable joy of this moment by harping on awkwardness.

           Sam rolls his eyes at Dean and turns to you. “It’s about how well you know people. Someone you know really well, your mind will be able to project what they would or wouldn’t do in a given situation or context. If you only know them sort of tangentially it’ll be harder for your mind to guess, so you might start to get like, repeat phrases or whatever. Think animatronics.” You probably look as confused as you feel and you can see the cogs of Sam’s mind turning rapidly to try to find another way to explain. “Okay, so take Diane, right? You know her enough that she might show up in a dream, but you probably don’t really know her motivations or mannerisms really well, personal history outside of those pictures of her grandkids she’s always showing? In a dream she’d probably only be there for a while, to get you from one thought to another, so if we go in right now and talk to her for hours and hours, she’ll probably start repeating stuff: sentences, facts, whatever.”

           “Sounds a little Island of Misfit Toys to me,” you grimace, beginning to feel a little queasy.

           “More like Westworld,” Sam suggests, opening the door. “This is, uh, the hardware store? Not really sure what you’re wanting to see, Dean.”

           Dean is strolling down the center of the small shop, head ducking into each aisle like he’s looking for something specific but doesn’t know where it is. He picks up a package of Red Vines, opens it, and tears into one like a lion with a chunk of sinew before continuing his walk. There’s a degree of wonder in his eyes that you wouldn’t have expected; the hardware store is just like any other you’ve ever been in except smaller and with more of the bits and bobs that shops in little towns tend to have.

           “Sweetie, would you like me to ring those up for you?” The voice comes from up ahead, behind the cash register where Diane has appeared. It sounds entirely kind and helpful but you know she’s gently chastising Dean for opening the package without paying. Sam can hear it too and smiles conspiratorially at you before walking to catch up with his brother, grabbing the candy out of his hands and tossing it on the counter to get out his wallet.

           “I can get them.”

           “Oh, Sam, I didn’t see you there! Look at you, Johnny on the spot. How’ve you been, honey?” She’s ostensibly ringing him up but her eyes are roaming all over Sam’s body hungrily, enough to make him blush.

           “Uh, fine. Just hanging around, you know.”

           Dean sidles up next to Sam and shoots out a hand to Diane. “I’m Dean, Sam’s brother.”

           “Pleasure to meet you, Dean. Diane,” she answers, her handshake as warm and no-nonsense as she is, but she only takes her eyes off Sam for half a second to address him. It should be your first hint that something’s up when Dean seems smug at the almost-diss rather than annoyed. Sam finishes the transaction and presses the licorice flat into Dean’s chest as he turns back toward the two of you and the exit. You have to hustle a little to keep up with his long strides.

           “Dude, come on, that’s hardly fair,” he says, low and trying for serious but there’s some playfulness in his tone.

           “I just wanted to see what she was thinking,” he chuckles around a bite of licorice, following Sam down the road to one of the burger joints. “Lucky you.”

           “Diane? Why do you care about the cashier at the hardware store?” you ask.

           “Kid, I want to know everything about your lives. Hardware stores included.”

           Sam rolls his eyes at his brother again and smiles, annoyed and maybe a touch shy. “You, uh, you don’t know Diane well enough to recreate her in your mind, but you know that she, uh, she knows me, right? So the way she acts toward me in your dream is the way you think people must act toward me in real life.”

           You’re getting tired of feeling confused and out of the loop. Dean interjects, “If your projection of Gramma Goodwrench has the hots for Sammy, then you must think chicks are falling all over him.”

           The heat rising in your cheeks makes you sheepish for a second before you realize the futility of it. Yet again, if Sam and Dean are willing to treat this like something to be joked about you can let them lead the way. “Whatever, you guys are a pain in my ass. Are we eating or what?”

           You end up walking through town for a while, going into all the tiny nooks and crannies of the places you spend any amount of time in, decidedly trying to keep the boys from talking to anyone for too long. Dean takes it in like it’s fascinating, a 6 year old at Disney World for the first time, asking all kinds of questions and doing goofy things like trying out different stools, looking into every bathroom stall to really understand the full scope of it all. After a while he gets hungry but wants to go back to the cabin, so you grab groceries that would normally be impossible to find in the local grocery store—there’s a perk—and head home. Sam gives Dean directions to your house, which feels odd, like some kind of reverse deja vu.

           You have an idea. Tapping Sam’s shoulder and leaning forward to put your head between the boys’, you think maybe it’s not something you want to do, that you don’t want to share Sam and Dean together again. But if Dean wants to see your life, they’re the closest relationships you have. “Do you, um, do you think I know the Kaisers well enough that you’re not going to be able to Vulcan mind control me or whatever?”

           Sam looks over his shoulder back at you, curious and sweet as a gentle smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, I bet you do. What’re you thinking?”

           “Maybe we could go to theirs for dinner? If it’s a—”

           He reads your mind. “They’ll have something, you’re right. Dean, what do you think?”

           “Guess who’s coming to dinner! It’s just past you guys?”

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 18

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[deanswaywardgirl]

The End

A/N: Hey, okay, so this is my attempt at a re-write of one of my top five favorite episodes, including my OC. I don’t have very many of these, because re-writes are difficult and very time consuming. I do not claim Supernatural or Sam and Dean. Just my OC.  

Faith sighed as she considered calling Gabriel, pacing in her motel room. Any minute, Dean would be headed to 2014 and meeting up with his future self. Being half angel, she didn't have the power to send herself.

"You rang?" his sultry voice penetrated the silence, earning Faith's attention. "I need your help to get to 2014, Gabriel." His brow arched as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Why?" he asked her, his eyes narrowing. "Because I know Dean's going, thanks to your douchebag brother, Zachariah. Look, he managed to let slip that I play some part in this pissing contest between Michael and Lucifer." Gabriel sighed and rolled his eyes.

"So, what? You want spoilers to see who wins?" he asked, pulling a sucker from his jacket. Faith squared her shoulders. "You owe me for that Wednesday Mystery Spot stunt you pulled," she reminded him, arching a brow. Gabriel smirked and shrugged. "Okay, okay, I hear you. Deal," he said and the humor faded from his features as he took her hands. "Be careful, Faith. My brother will not hesitate to take you off the board. Dean, he can't, but you're different."

"I'll be careful, Gabe, thank you." Gabriel snapped his fingers and in the blink of an eye, Faith could tell she was no longer in 2009. "Awesome," she breathed and headed out of the run down motel she was in, out onto the street. "Focus on finding Dean, Faith. Nothing else." As if on cue, she could hear heavy artillery being fired. "Dean," she said with a smile, and ran towards the noise. She ducked into a back alley and ran around the back of the building, able to see Dean. "Dean, come on! This way!" she called to him and smiled when he didn't question her.

"What are you doing here? Are you living here?" he asked. Faith shook her head. "Nope, I'm from 2009 just like you. And before you ask, I had help getting here, from a much nicer angel than Zach." she said, both of them relieved they were, for the moment, out of danger. "Who?" he asked. "Gabriel. The archangel," she told him with a shrug, not wanting to lie to him. 

Think of him as my own personal Castiel." She smiled and nodded down the road. "Come on, we need to get to Bobby's house." "You knew about this? All of it?" he asked, the pair reaching an abandoned car. Soon, they were on the road. "I'm sorry, Dean, but I've told you, I can't tell you what happens down the road. I want to, believe me. But the angels will know, and as punishment, they'll make the outcome pretty damn bad." Dean sighed and licked his lips.

"What can you tell me?" he asked, gently. "Not much. Just vague details here and there, point you in the right direction. I'm sorry, Dean, I really am." Dean sighed and glanced over at her in the passenger seat. Licking her lips, Faith shrugged. "I can share irrelevant details. Who knows, maybe they'll help." Dean couldn't help but smile at her addition. "Faith, I know you're trying to help. Out of everybody, I've always been able to trust you. You've been there to help me these last few long weeks. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that." Faith smiled softly and touched his arm, and gently squeezed.

"You can always trust me, Dean, no matter what. I guess I can tell you this. You won't find Bobby at his house, but you still need to head in that direction." "Where's Bobby?" Dean asked, slightly confused. "I don't know. He might be dead, they never clarified. There was just a bloody bullet hole in his overturned wheelchair, which was just an implication. But you will find John's journal, which is important. For now, that's all I can tell you." Dean nodded before jumping at the sound of wings fluttering.

"You wanna explain why this abomination is here?" Zachariah scowled. Faith smirked. "Tour guiding. Dean, on the left, you'll see old rusty street signs, maybe abandoned buildings. And up ahead, we have Croatoan zombies because angels are too busy watching holy porn to do anything helpful." Dean smirked proudly at the girl beside him. "I knew I smelled your stink on this Back to the Future crap."

"President Palin defends bombing of Houston," Zachariah read, obviously ignoring Dean's jabs. "Certainly a buyer's market in real estate. Let's see what's happening in sports. Right, no more sports, Congress revoked the right to group assembly. What's left of Congress, that is. Hardly a quorum if you ask me," Zach rambled on to himself. Faith shook her head in the front seat at the angel behind them.

"How'd you find me?" Dean interrupted. "Had to tap some unorthodox resources. Human informants. We've been making inspirational visits to the fringier Christian groups. They've been given your image, told to keep an eye out." Dean's eyes slightly widened in realization. "The bible freak outside the motel. He, what, dropped the dime on me?"

"Onward Christian soldiers." "Good. You've had your jollies, now send me back, you son of a bitch." "Oh, you'll get back, all in good time. We want you to marinate a bit," Zachariah told him, ignoring the insult. "Marinate?" Faith and Dean asked in unison. "Three days, Dean. Three days to see where this course of action takes you." Faith rolled her eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, irritated. "That your choices have consequences. This is what happens to the world if you continue to say no to Michael." Faith glanced back at the paper he was holding up.

"Palin defends bombing of Houston?" she asked, then turned to Dean. "Dean, I say we hunt Sarah Palin down and exile her back to Alaska where she belongs. It'd be doing Houston a great service," she said, sarcastically, earning a chuckle from the eldest Winchester. Zachariah smirked and shrugged, clearly knowing something the two didn't. "Have a little look-see." With that, the angel was gone. Faith glanced over at Dean and smiled at his smirk. "I've always hated him. He's worse than Uriel, believe me." Soon, they were pulling up to Bobby's house, and slipped out of the car. "Bobby?" There was no answer. "Dean. No Bobby, remember?" Faith whispered. "Right," Dean replied and entered the house. Sure enough, Dean found Bobby's wheelchair with the bullethole. "I think you're right, Faith. I think he is dead. Where is everybody, Bobby?" he asked, quietly. "Hey, come here," Faith called to him, and held out John's journal. Dean took it and pulled out a picture, and glanced down at it, Bobby in the front of a group of men. "Camp Chitaqua." ************************ Dean and Faith snuck up on the encampment and noticed a rather familiar outline of Dean's beloved impala. "Oh, Baby." He took Faith's hand and led her to the broken down shell of a car. "No. Oh, no, Baby, what did they do to you?" All Faith could see was Dean go down before she was hit as well, everything going black around her.

************************* A ringing in her ears caused Faith to stir and look around before she saw Dean in front of her, and beside her. She tried to stand, but hissed as the cuffs chaffed her skin. Looking back at Dean, she licked her lips. "If I remember correctly, you should know who I am," he said, watching her as she nodded. "You're the 2014 Dean." He scoffed. "And what are you, exactly?" he asked, aiming the gun at her.

"You haven't tested me? I know you tested your past self over here," she nodded at the stirring Dean beside her, who looked up at his future self, then to Faith, and back after noting that she was okay. "What the hell?"

"I should be asking that question, don't you think? In fact, why don't you give me one good reason why I shouldn't gank you here and now?"

"Because you'd only be hurting yourself," Dean replied with a huff of laughter.

"Very funny." Future Dean moved back to his table of weapons.

"Look, man, I'm no Shapeshifter, or demon, or anything, okay?"

"Yea, I know. I did the drill on both of you while you were out. Silver, salt, holy water. Nothing. But you know what was funny, is that you had every lockpick, box cutter and switchblade that I carry. You wanna explain that? Oh, and the resemblance while you're at it."

"Zachariah," Dean said, simply. Future Dean's brow furrowed.

"You remember him, don't you?" Faith asked. "You should, Dean, since it was you sitting where this Dean is because of that dick angel," Faith told him, swallowing hard, earning his attention.

"That still doesn't explain how...." Future Dean's eyes widened slightly before they fell to the floor. Faith could tell he was thinking about something or someone. When his eyes met hers, again, all she could see was a heartbreaking sadness.

"You're not a monster, either, are you? You're the Faith from the past." Faith nodded, then glanced over at Past Dean and back. "I'm not sure I like that look." The future version broke eye contact, his hazel eyes blinking. He sighed, and rubbed his forehead.

"Can you...will you come with me?" he asked and moved towards her, unlocking her cuffs.

"Whoa, hey, you're just gonna leave me?" Past Dean asked as the two moved to the door. "Yes. I have a camp full of twitchy trauma survivors with an apocalypse hanging over their heads. Last thing they need to see is a version of the Parent Trap."

"You can at least uncuff me, man."

"No, absolutely not."

"Oh, come on. You don't trust yourself?"

"Absolutely not." Future Dean gently tugged on Faith's hand and led her out of his cabin and down a barely hidden pathway. "So, are you gonna tell me what this is about?" Faith asked. Dean turned to face her and without a word, pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Faith slowly melted into it and pushed her fingers through his hair. She then wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled back, breathing heavily. "Okay, I'm not sure I understand." 

Dean swallowed hard and led her further down the private path.  What got her attention was the name on the headstone. Her name. "Oh god," she whispered, unable to speak any louder. "Listen, I gotta go out on a mission right now. Stay here, and we'll talk when I get back."

******************* Faith had sat at what seemed to be her own grave for hours, unable to take her eyes off of it. Silent tears fell down her cheeks, unable to think about anything but how it might've happened. Either Croatoan or Lucifer? Every now and then, she would wonder about Dean. That kiss had seemed desperate, like he'd been dying to do it for awhile. Did they ever get together? If they did, how long before she died? Letting out a shaky breath, she let more tears fall. It wasn't much longer before she felt Dean standing behind her, and swallowed hard.

"When?" she asked, her voice cracking. "A year ago. In Chicago, I brought you here, gave you a hunter's funeral, and gave you a headstone. It was my way of seeing you when I needed to. Your ashes are in my cabin." Faith's eyes burned with unshed tears.

"How?" When he didn't answer her, she stood and turned to face him. "Dean, tell me." Dean let out a deep breath, his eyes falling.

"The Croatoan virus had spread all over, started in the Windy City. You and I headed there and got separated. Eventually, we reunited, both with a few people that had tagged along. Those people are here now, most of 'em anyway. We locked down an abandoned hotel and regrouped into two groups, and made a plan to go out and look for more survivors. After that, we moved out." He licked his lips, his brow furrowing. "When you and your group didn't show up at the rendezvous point, we went looking." He stopped and swallowed hard, biting his lip. "When-- when I found you, you were barely alive, and calling out for me. I picked you up and held you in my lap. You told me you loved me and that you'd always be with me." 

Tears fell down his cheeks before he wiped his hand over his face, clearing his face of the tears, and sighed. "And I told you that I loved you, and it was over." Faith placed both of her hands over her mouth and let out a shaky breath, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I never should've let you go off on your own, Faith, I am so sorry. It was my fault." Faith shook her head and moved towards him, hugging him tightly.

"No, I'm sorry, Dean. Knowing me, I probably insisted." She felt him bury his face in her neck and gently squeeze her. "That's why you've barely been able to look at me. I remind you of the Faith you lost." He nodded, then opened his mouth to talk when Chuck appeared at the end of the trail. "Sorry, Dean, its time." Dean glanced at Faith and sighed, then smiled sadly as he took her hand and led her out, back to the cabin.

"Don't tell my version what you told me. I don't want him to worry about me. That'll just get him killed."

"I'm not worth that," Faith and Dean said in unison. "I knew you'd say that," he told her, glancing at her. He smiled for the first time since she'd arrived. "Is that a smile? I wasn't sure if you remembered how to do that." Dean then chuckled, and glanced at her. "I've missed you, sweetheart. All I think about anymore is what you would do, or say if you were here. And to God, I wish you were. I find myself talking to you sometimes, and I always wonder what you'd say." 

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze before releasing her. Faith glanced up when the past version walked up to them. "Hey," she said, gently dropping Dean's hand, winking at him, then turned back to her version. "We going now?" she asked, earning a pointed stare and a nod. "Where were the two of you?" he asked, his eyes shifting between the two of them.

"Dean was just showing me what the future holds," she told him, being as vague as she could possibly be. Dean's eyes betrayed him, showing his curiosity, but Faith shook her head. "Not gonna happen," she told him, slightly smirking. "Trust me, I won't let this happen to us. Any of this." Faith watched the future version of Dean closely, especially his expressions and emotions, which were rare. But she couldn't blame him. 

He'd lost everyone that had ever meant anything to him. The only people that made him happy. Swallowing hard, her eyes fell as she wasn't really paying attention to the conversations around her, and blinked when everybody but the two Deans filed out of the cabin.

******************** "We're loaded up and on the road by midnight," Future Dean ordered, followed by an "Alrighty," from Castiel. Faith let out a breath as she was overwhelmed by all the information she'd acquired. "Why are you taking me?" Past Dean asked, not seeing any reason for him to go. "Relax, you'll be fine. Zach's looking after you, right?" Dean asked, tossing firearms into a duffel bag.

"No, that's not what I mean," he said, earning his future self's attention. "I wanna know what's going on," he commanded. "Yea, okay." He rounded the table, his eyes flickering to Faith and back. "You're coming because I want you to see something. I want you to see our brother."

"Sam? I thought he was dead."

"Sam didn't die in Detroit, he said yes." Dean's face had hardened as he spoke, watching his other self put the puzzle together.

"Yes? Wait, you mean--"

"That's right, the big yes, to the devil. Lucifer's wearing him to prom." Faith could see the sting of a future betrayal in her Dean's eyes.

"Why would he do that?" he asked, swallowing thickly.

"Wish I knew. But now we don't have a choice. It's in him, and its not getting out. And we've gotta kill him, Dean."

"Could you really do that? He's in your brother, Dean," Faith intercepted, her eyes not holding anything but sadness and empathy.

"I know, and believe me, I don't want to," he said, and Faith could see just how heartbroken he truly was, before he turned his eyes back to Past!Dean. "And you need to see it, the whole damn thing, how bad it gets, so you can do it different."

"What do you mean?" Past!Dean asked.

"Zach was gonna bring you back, right? To '09?"

"Yea."

"When you get home, you say yes. You hear me? Say yes to Michael."

"That's crazy. If I let him in, then Michael fights the devil. Battle's gonna torch half the planet."

"Look around you, man! Half the planet's better than no planet, which is what we have now! If I could do it over, I'd say yes in a heartbeat."

"So why don't you?"

"I've tried. I've shouted yes til I was blue in the face. The angels aren't listening; they just left, gave up. Its too late for me, but for you..." Future Dean was pleading for his past self to go and save a world he couldn't.

"Oh no, there's gotta be another way."

"Yea, that's what I thought. I was cocky, never actually thought I'd lose. But I was wrong. Dean, I was wrong. I'm begging you. Say yes." The two stared at each other for a moment as Dean's future self regained his composure. "But you won't. Because I didn't. Because that's just not us, is it?" he asked, rhetorically. Faith swallowed hard as she watched the both of them, the tension in the room so thick, she could barely breathe.

****************** "Dean," Faith called and ran to catch up with the future Dean, gently taking his arm. "Hey, talk to me." Finally, gaining his attention, she took his hand. "Dean, let me tell you something. On the other side of the fence, where I'm from originally, you know what happens when one of these big fish rise up? You and Sam beat it, but you never do it as two douchebag angels. You take care of it as Sam and Dean Winchester. The two most badass amazing men I've ever known. Dean, you can't give up on Sam. Believe me, I wouldn't want that in any time period."

"Faith, its too late. I've tried talking to him through Lucifer. He's either too far gone, or he's refusing to listen to me," Dean said, defeated.  "Sam's gone, he's just gone." Faith sighed and gently hugged him, threading her fingers into his hair, inhaling his scent with a sympathetic frown. ********************** "There. Second floor window. We go in there," Future Dean directed, looking back at the small group behind him.

"You sure about this?" Risa asked, her brow arched.

"They'll never see us coming." Present Dean's brow furrowed as well as Faith's as they both watched him. "Trust me. Now, weapons check, we're on the move in five."

"Hey, Dean. Can we talk to you for a sec?" Faith asked, but knew he would  know she wasn't really asking. Both Deans and Faith split off and turned to face each other."

"Tell us what's going on." Past Dean demanded.

"What?"

"I know you. You're lying to these people, and to us."

"Is that so?" Future Dean asked, shifting his weight.

"Yea. See, I know your lying expressions, I've seen them in the mirror. There's something you're not telling us."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Faith watched him closely and looked up at her version of Dean.

"Really? I don't seem to be the only member of your posse with questions, so maybe I'll just take my doubts over to them," Dean threatened and took a step in that direction.

"Okay. Whoa, whoa, wait."

"What?" Dean asked, stopping and turning to face him.

"Take a look around you, man. This place should be white-hot with Crotes. Where are they?"

"They cleared a path for us, which means that this is--"

"A trap, exactly.

"Then we can't go through the front."

"Oh, we're not. They are." Dean and Faith's gazes hardened. "They're the decoys. You two and I are going in through the back."

"You mean you're gonna feed your friends into a meat grinder? Cas too?" Future Dean's eyes fell, and Faith could tell he hated his plan. "You wanna use their deaths as a diversion." Future Dean turned his head to the side and clenched his jaw. Past Dean turned his eyes to Faith before going back to himself. "Oh man, something is broken in you. You're making decisions I would never make. I wouldn't sacrifice my friends."

"Dean, stop." Faith turned to face him. "You wouldn't because you haven't lost every single person that's ever meant anything to you. You still have Sam, and me, and Bobby, and you're not the one about to kill his brother in order to save the world. Look at him. Can you honestly say, you wouldn't be as heartbroken and tired of caring as he is?" Both Deans stared at each other. "He's lost everyone, Dean. Everyone." Future Dean licked his lips as he moved his eyes to Faith and set his hand on her shoulder.

"These people count on you," he said, his voice gentle. "They trust you."

"They trust me to kill the devil and save the world, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do."

"No, not like this, you're not. I'm not gonna let you."

"Oh really?"

"Yea."

"Dean, stop." Faith hissed, but Dean was already unconscious on the ground. She turned to face Future Dean. "Would you please quit doing that?" she asked, her voice trailing off as the future version of Dean stepped closer to her and cupped her face in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"Stay here, sweetheart. I can't lose you twice, and he's gonna need you. Like I did. And thank you, in advance. You were always there, even when I thought I didn't want you there. Just remember, you mean more to him than you think. He just doesn't realize it yet. Because I didn't. By God, I wish I had." He then swallowed thickly and smiled crookedly down at her before pressing his lips to her forehead in a tender kiss. "I love you, Faith. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. For everything, okay?" he asked, slowly backing away, and heading for the back once he was sure she'd stay. 

Faith was in shock. She'd never expected Dean to say anything of an intimate nature to her. Taking a shaky breath, she forced her eyes down to the past version of the love of her life, even if he didn't know it yet. Slightly, she jumped at the sound of guns going off behind her. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she knelt down and caressed his cheek. "Forgive me, Dean. I love you," she whispered, then ran after the future version.

******************** When Dean came to, he expected Faith to be there beside him, but grew nervous when he found she was nowhere near him. Getting up, he rubbed his eyes and called out to her, only to receive no answer. Running around the back, he swallowed hard at the sight in front of him. Faith was horrifically still off to the side, while his future self struggled under the weight on his neck from a white shoe. He could then hear the sickening sound of bones breaking causing his future self to grow still and his eyes to close.

"Oh, hello Dean," Lucifer!Sam said, turning to face the other Dean, earning his attention as Dean turned his attention to Lucifer. "Aren't you a surprise? You've come a long way to see this, haven't you?" Lucifer asked, appearing behind him. Dean turned, the heartbreak evident in his eyes.

"Well, go ahead. Kill me."

"Kill you? Don't you think that'd be a little..redundant? I'm sorry. It must be painful speaking to me in this..shape. But it had to be your brother. It had to be," he said, going to place his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean stepped back out of reach. "You don't have to be afraid of me, Dean. What do you think I'm going to do?"

"I don't know, maybe deep-fry the planet?" Dean suggested, sarcastically.

"Why? Why would I want to destroy this stunning thing? Beautiful in a trillion different ways, the last perfect handiwork of God. Ever hear the story of how I fell from grace?"

"Good god, you're not gonna tell me a bedtime story, are you? My stomach is almost out of bile," Dean snarled, not wanting to listen to any more.

"You know why God cast me down? Because I loved him more than anything, and then God created you. The little hairless apes, and then he asked all of us to bow down before you, to love you more than him. And I said 'Father, I can't.' I said, 'These human beings are flawed, murderous'. And for that, God had Michael cast me into Hell. Now, tell me, does the punishment fit the crime? Especially when I was right. Look what six billion of you have done to this thing, and how many of you blame me for it?"

"You're not fooling me, you know that? This sympathy-for-the-devil crap? I know what you are," Dean whispered, angrily.

"What am I?"

"You're the same thing, only bigger. The same brand of cockroach I've been squashing my whole life. An ugly, evil, belly to the ground, supernatural piece of crap. The only difference between them and you, is the size of your ego." Lucifer smirked.

"I like you, Dean.  I get what the other angels see in you. Goodbye, we'll meet again soon." Dean took the opportunity and moved towards Faith, kneeling beside her and checking for a pulse before scooping her up into his arms and getting to his feet. "You better kill me now," Dean called after him. Lucifer stopped and turned, his brow furrowing.

"Pardon?"

"You better kill me now, or I swear I will find a way to kill you, and I won't stop."

"I know you won't. I know you won't say yes to Michael either, and I know you won't kill Sam. Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up, here. I win, so I win." Tears streamed down Dean's cheeks.

"You're wrong."

"See you in five years, Dean." Lightning flashed around Dean, and in Lucifer's departure arrived Zachariah, who placed two fingers upon Dean's head and set him back to his motel room. "Oh, well if it isn't the Ghost of Christmas Screw You," Dean commented and moved to lay Faith down on the bed. He covered her with his jacket and turned back to Zachariah.

"Enough, Dean, enough. You saw it, right? You saw what happens? You're the only one who can prove the devil wrong. Say yes."

"How do I know that this thing isn't one of your tricks, huh? Some angel hocus-pocus?" Dean growled.

"The time for tricks is over. Give yourself to Michael. Say yes and we can strike before Lucifer gets to Sam. Before billions die." Dean turned and his eyes moved to Faith. "Nah."

"'Nah'? You haven't learned your lesson?" Zachariah asked him.

"Oh I leaned a lesson, alright. Just not the one you wanted to teach."

"Well, I'll just have to teach it again, because I got you now, boy, and I'm never letting you--" Dean disappeared just then, and Faith smirked at Zachariah before she also disappeared. "Son of a..."

"Faith!" Dean called and helped the girl to stand. "You alright?" he asked, earning a nod.

"I will be. I just need to sleep and I'll be good to go." Dean nodded.

"We'll get a ride. Just gimme a minute, sweetheart. I'm just glad you're walkin and talkin." He smiled down at her before gently squeezing her shouder and turning to Castiel. "That's pretty nice timing, Cas."

"We had an appointment," the angel said, simply. "Don't ever change," Dean told him, his hand on the angel's shoulder. "How did Zachariah find you?" "Long story. Lets just stay away from Jehovah's Witnesses from now on, okay?" Dean asked, dialing Sam's number. "What are you doing?" "Something I should've done in the first place." ******************** "Hey, Dean. You okay?" Faith asked, sliding out of the back seat of the impala and coming to stand beside him, earning his attention and a warm smile. "Yea. How'd you sleep?" he asked. "Good, I feel better." Dean nodded and rubbed her back. "Good, you had me worried there for a minute."

"Nah, don't worry about me. I'll be okay. I'm with you, I'm safe." Dean smiled crookedly and leaned down and kissed her cheek softly. "I'm glad you're here, Faith, really. Thank you for staying close." Faith's cheeks tinted bright red as she cleared her throat. Dean turned at the sound of a car pulling up. 

"I'll wait here, Dean. Go ahead, fix things with your brother." Leaning up, she kissed his cheek tenderly and gave his hand a gently squeeze. He winked at her, then went to meet his brother.

"Sam." Dean pulled the demon knife out and held it out to Sam. "If you're serious, you want back in, you should hang onto this. I'm sure you're rusty." The two of them sighed and took a beat. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I don't know whatever I need to be, but I was wrong." Sam nodded, his brow furrowed.

"What made you change your mind?"

"Long story. The point is maybe we are each other's Achilles' heel. Maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other, I don't know. I just know we're all we got. More than that, we keep each other human."

"Thank you. Really, thank you. I won't let you down." "Oh I know it. I mean, you are the second best hunter on the planet." Faith laughed quietly, not far behind Dean.

"So, what do we do now?"

"We make our own future," Dean answered his brother.

"Guess we have no choice," Sam sighed, earning a nod before the two of them made their way back to the Impala. Faith stood and moved to Sam, hugging him tightly. "Hey, Faith," he said, smiling and hugging her back.

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior​

[fanficparker]

A GAME OF DIAMONDS AND HEARTS // H.O.

>> CHAPTER THREE

"The Gates of hell are open night and day, smooth the descent, and easy is the way..." - Aeneid, Virgil

(Frenemies to Lovers! Mob AU! ) Harrison Osterfield x Fem!OC

Word count: 2.17k words

Warning: Swearing, gun violence, car chase, full on action, cool dudes, anxiety and fluff in case you forget to blink ;)

Synopsis: After the sudden death of his uncle and the eccentric multi-millionaire mafia king Lufian Clarke, Harrison Osterfield’s almost decent life is mostly devastated especially when half of what should be rightfully his fortune is transferred to their immediate rival for reasons he doesn’t know. What���s remaining is him trying to figure out how to deal with this collaboration of two rival corporations that don’t belong together and work on the side of the woman he never knew would ever be referred to as his partner in crime while they are dragged into a mess bigger than what they were trained to handle.

A/N: The amount of time I waste on making these moodboards-- (I literally coloured the black and white pictures 💀 )

<< TWO [ MASTERLIST ] FOUR >>

A moment passed.

A shallow gust of wind tickled Harrison's left ear, making him squirm. He leaned back, pulling his rolled up sleeves down and buttoning them at his wrist followed by pressing the creases on his shirt—a habit of his, a ritual he can't seem to put away even when there was a sniper aimed at his head.

Worse. All this could be a trick.

Worst. It wasn't.

All in all, time wasn't the currency, Harrison had at his disposal. Yet, he found himself shoving a penny straight into the slot machine.

He cleared his throat in a failed attempt at clearing his foggy mind, "Don't you think, you shouldn't have let go of Tom?"

The more men, the better chances of survival. It worked this way, right?

Sandhya sighed, exasperated, the flicker of the candle animating a dance on her face was seemingly more lively than her at the moment.

"We suspect, at least one of your men were involved in Clarke's murder. Also," She paused, chuckling nervously, "I won't lie, I was expecting something like this to happen but not today, not right now." She referred to the rifle aimed at them.

"I am seriously...uh... ugh..." Harrison didn't know if there were proper words in the vernacular to reply to this. All he could do was grit his teeth.

How long will this day go, anyway? What was it? The solstice? Do solstice last this long?

In his prognosis, if he had one more revelation this day, especially if it had something or anything to do with the dead man, his brain would melt and leak out of his ears. On the non-fictitious scale: He would rip off his hair or empty a loaded .44 magnum into the head of the person closest to him.

But there were his men involved in Clarke's murder? His men?

And their respectable leader, Harrison Osterfield was trapped in a life and death situation, waiting for a can of smoke to allow him to escape? And on top of that, he was taking orders from one of their enemies?

What if it was her plan? What if she killed the old man? She had inherited his fortune— it was enough of evidence for Harrison to draw that conclusion even in its scant or flimsy state. He won't be surprised if she wanted him dead as much as he wanted her to be. Or that the sniper was one of her men. Or everything happening was a part of her bigger plan.

He had a pistol tucked away in his sock, maybe he could catch her at gunpoint?

The instant he glanced at the mirror of her flapjack, she had placed between them, he discarded the idea. No avail. The sniper could easily target him.

He was fucked up.

He could hear his life ticking away.

A click of tin hitting the floor ignited the dying flame in his heart. He felt Sandhya's hand slip over his, delicate fingers tapping against the back of his hand, gliding over his square signet ring that was sitting on his middle finger for ages now, moving further away to feel his rough, wounded knuckles, he never seemed to care about.

She appeared as afraid as him. Or maybe it was part of her plan. Harrison wasn't sure if it was the mutual fear they felt or the gesture, the little ministrations she drew over the back of his hand that had managed to ease his nerves, at least for the time being. His eyes swerved up, locking with hers again, her lips forming the words he was waiting to hear.

"Now!" She screamed on the top of her voice, retracting her hand as the smoke leaked out of the can, suspending itself into the air.

Harrison leapt on cue, ducking below the table. A single shot hits the wood of the chair, he was previously sitting on.

He tried to make the best use of the blindness that the grey smoke offered, pulling the table cloth in a swift motion. The wine and the lit candles fell over the fabric, igniting a fire. The flames and the smoke rose quickly, fanned by the stiff breeze, consuming the Pinterest worthy setting in a matter of seconds as he watched Sandhya's shadowy figure hopping off from the other side of the balcony, her red heels discarded by the decorated flower pots.

In a heartbeat, the fire alarm goes off followed by another shot. The people eating in the restaurant shrieked almost simultaneously as the second shot is wasted, their screams never subsiding as they run around, knocking over things, trying to get the hell out of the building.

Amidst the mist, Harrison grabbed the railing of the balcony, hopping off it, climbing down as promptly as he could, hearing more bullets fire on the place he just abandoned.

His planned smooth landing on the freshly mowed grass goes awry as he stumbles, falling over his knee in an attempt at dodging a shot that went over right his head, almost touching his hair.

There were more gunmen. His expressions were that of horror.

He quickly rose to his feet, pulling the pistol tucked in his sock out, looking around and over his shoulder before squeezing the trigger twice.

A man dressed in the waiter's attire fell from the first floor along with his rifle, hitting the ground, crumbling next to Harrison's feet, presumably dead.

Harrison didn't check. He was sure.

Aim. He was good at it. Way too good.

He paced his way with the pistol pointed downrange, pulling the slide back with his thumb and forefinger to the street full of chaos with people running in all directions, fire alarms blaring in the background. A maroon sedan stopped abruptly in front of him, a quarter of an inch away from hitting him and transporting him directly to hell.

He opened his mouth to swear but the driver was the first to flung the door open. He had red-brown shaggy hair, probably a result of the wind and was dressed in a grey trench coat with the belt undone. His eyes were hidden behind black wraparound mirror shades, hiding most of his face.

The only thing that sparked Harrison's interest was the shotgun poorly concealed inside his coat.

"Get in." Two words, another order. The driver was definitely way older than him, he could tell by his deep, rusty voice. The driver pushed the long barrelled gun in his direction.

Harrison groaned, shoving himself into the passenger seat, accepting the new weapon, discarding the smaller gun and shutting the door behind him.

"Where is she? Where is Sandhya?" Harrison demanded, looking over at the back seat, his frown deepening into a scowl but the driver popped the car into reverse and stormed the accelerator, hard, sending him flying backwards, his back hitting against the backrest.

"She'll meet us halfway." The driver replied, his eyes never leaving the road. Harrison settled himself on the polyester seat, taking a breath before the car took a sharp turn, almost knocking his head against the window.

"Watch out!" The driver warned and Harrison peeked at the rear view mirror.

A black Escalade SUV lunged towards them at a speed higher than theirs. At least four passengers were sitting in it, two of them pushed their heads out of the windows, hands holding shotguns, aiming a shot at the vehicle he was sitting in.

They ducked down, both Harrison and the driver evading the bullets fired at them. The rear windshield blew out with a boom and a crash, spraying glass over the unoccupied backseat.

Enough.

Harrison slid his window down, ducking again when more bullets were shot at them, before aiming straight to the front tire.

He fired one— two— three shots, one followed by the other. The third one successfully hits the wheel. He watched with a triumphant grin pasted over his face as the attacker's car tumbled, crashing against the telephone pole, now motionless.

But his grin didn't last long when they crossed the intersection. Two more cars emerged from the two sides, the same model as the one he had just shot down.

The panic was real this time. He could even hear police sirens.

What the actual fuck?

"We need to hurry!" Harrison instructed, restless in his seat, watching the black SUVs and the white police cruisers, red sirens blazing on their head, racing behind them.

It was a real chase.

They zoomed through the street, feeling alternately light and heavy as they shifted in their seats, leaning right and left as the roads forked as they sailed through the busy traffic, ignoring the honking cars, even honking themselves. The buildings, streets and the traffic began to blur as they raced down, veering frantically to avoid their pursuers.

A ray of hope: Another intersection. The signal was three seconds into turning red.

Perfect.

"You can do this..." Harrison whispered like a prayer, eyes glimmering with hope, focusing more on the road than the man operating the steering he knew nothing about, except for his remarkable prowess as a getaway driver.

You can do this!

The driver panted, breathing with his mouth as he puts the car into the sixth gear, pressing the accelerator as hard as he could, flooring the sedan through the blinking signal, it turning red the exact moment they tear through it.

The pedestrian cars came to a halt upon the red signal, breaking hard, forming a chain, successfully blocking the way of both the attackers and the cops.

The driver barked out a laugh, the type falling more into the category of a chortle than an actual laugh (not that Harrison cared), taking off his shades, shoving them inside his coat, a proud smile plastered on his face as he weaves from lane to lane, disappearing under a bridge, finally stepping on to the much calmer highway.

"Kevin." The driver muttered.

"Huh?" Harrison responded with a questioning look. The guy was at least fifty-five years old, Harrison could tell now. His natural grey hair stood in contrast with his dyed copper ones, adding to his overall charm. His adventurous demeanour has previously mistaken him for being any younger.

Stretching a left hand, "My name is Kevin," the driver clarified, his light brown eyes meeting momentarily with Harrison's blue ones.

Harrison nodded, putting away his gun, wiping the sweat on his palm over his pants, before taking his hand for a brief shake.

"Harrison," He offered his own name.

"I know," Kevin replied nonchalantly, shifting his focus back to the road.

The blond turned to the other side, head leading against the headrest, glancing out of the window, watching the scenery move backwards, carefree as a lark for once, until the driver slowed the vehicle down, parking at the side, near a divergence where a 91' Accord waited for them.

He leapt out of the car. Harrison followed suit.

Taking the back seat of the switch car, alongside a woman that wasn't Sandhya, Kevin slumped into the cushions, stretching his hands over his head, shutting his eyes, probably tired (of course), taking the much needed break. The woman, on the other hand, was busy typing away on her laptop, wired headphones tucked into her ears.

Another man emerged from the passenger seat, passing Harrison on the way, his face invisible in the dim highway lights, taking the maroon sedan. Harrison replaced him, getting into the switch car, sitting on the front, the only seat that was left unoccupied.

"Welcome back." The voice on the driver's seat greeted him.

Sandhya.

Harrison snorted, choosing not to turn his neck to meet her face and rather settling on passing a mere glance at her with a side eye.

She was back to wearing her coat, raven hair whipped by the wind, loose strands sticking over her face, her makeup no longer intact and slightly greasy, except for her bold red lipstick, sitting over her smiling mouth, complimenting her smooth dusky skin.

She pulled the gear, pressing on the pedal, putting the car in motion, its engine roaring for a full minute, her right hand on the wheel, left hand ceaselessly turning the dial of the radio back and forth, till Blinding Lights echoed from the speakers. She kept the volume low, possibly because of the other woman busy on her laptop, definitely because of the man dozing off, sitting behind them. But that didn't stop her from mouthing the lyrics or sway her body with the tunes.

Harrison looked away, outside the window, head slightly out, chin pressed against one of his hands he had kept over the window edge, feeling the cold air hit his face harder when she shifted the gear, speeding off the vehicle.

A ghost of a smile flickered over his lips, the upbeat music filling his ears.

He had different plans...

____________________

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…TO BE CONTINUED…

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Little Things in Life - 1

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); nothing for this chapter

This is dark!Steveand explicit. 18+ only.

Series Summary: Your suburban life begins to show cracks and your next door neighbour, Steve Rogers, seems intent on shattering what’s left.

Note: I’m still working on Syster and BJB and all my other WIPs. This was supposed to be a one shot but I got about 22 pages out and realised that we weren’t even close to an end. Anyways, hope you enjoy a subtle Steve. Slow burn. Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You liked to do your gardening early. Even on the weekends. You let your husband Logan sleep in; your daughter, Kayla too. You basked in the morning balm as you rooted around for stray roots and watered the leaves which looked a little too brittle in the dew. The birds sang as the neighbourhood still slept. It was a rare moment of your own.

Well, almost all yours. 

You turned at the steady beat of sneakers on the pavement. You stood and dusted off your gloves. Steve, your neighbour from just across the street, stopped as he reached the end of your walk. He smiled and wiped the sweat from his brow. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” You said. “You’ve got a newborn keeping you up all night and here you are, running the entire neighbourhood like it’s nothing.”

He laughed. “Never got much sleep to begin with,” He said. “You know, if you ever get bored of the dirt and grubs, you’re welcome to join me.”

“You know I couldn’t keep up with you, Cap,” You grinned. 

“Not anymore,” He said. “I hung that shield up.”

“Oh yes, Logan told me you let him toss it around.” 

“Well, he tried,” Steve said. “I… you know, I’m happy I ran into you. Me and Sharon, we’re having this thing next weekend. A party for all us restless parents. No kids.”

“Yeah, she was saying the other day.” You replied. “I’m sure I could get the sitter and Logan never says no to a beer or two.”

“Maybe we could hit the felt again. It’s been a while.” He ventured. “We had to move the table but I got the cues all ready.”

“Yeah, maybe,” You said. “So she let you keep it.”

“It’s in the garage now but it’s still in one piece,” He preened. “You should pop by some time. After dinner, I like to try a few trick shots.”

“I’ll try,” You said. “I’m usually the one cleaning up dinner and Kayla. But, maybe we could do doubles sometime. Nap time, maybe.”

“I might be able to convince Sharon,” He rubbed his neck and glanced over at his house. “Speaking of, I should go check in on her. Got a serious diaper run to go on this morning.”

“See ya,” You said. “Say hi to Sharon for me.”

“See ya,” He turned and jogged across the street. 

He stopped at his front door and turned back to look at you as you collected your watering can and basket of tools. He waved and you waved back. A coffee would be nice before you roused the little monster. Saturday was pancake day and she rarely forgot it.

🏠

That day you kept thinking about your neighbours. Steve and Sharon used to be your weekend buddies. You’d stop by after you put Kayla down for the night and have a few drinks. That was until Sharon had gotten pregnant and they’d both descended into full blown panic mode. Baby this, baby that! It was a peculiar type of excitement which had them both beaming and baffled.

You’d seen Sharon for lunch every now and then and at her shower. She was so swept up in it all that she wasn’t as social as before. You were glad to hear she was throwing one of her parties. She was finding her balance again.

As for Steve, you only really saw him in passing. Doing yard work or random chores around the house. He was always busy it seemed. Well, that was life.

You went about your usual Saturday routine; pancake breakfast, dishes, play time with Kayla, lunch, nap time, a walk to the park, dinner… The days only varied when you worked and most times, you did so from home. You were lucky enough to spend much of your time with your daughter, though you wished you could say the same of Logan.

He worked hard, you couldn’t fault him that. Most days, he stayed late. By the time he got home, he was so wrapped up in it that it was all he could talk about. But he was a good dad when he was there. He loved Kayla and he treated you well enough.

Sunday was lazy. The afternoon was disappointing as Logan spent much of it on the phone with his boss. You took Kayla out to the garden so she couldn’t disturb the call. She helped, or tried to help you transfer some flowers from your garden into a pot. Proud of your creation, you took her across the street and knocked on the door.

Steve answered it to your surprise. Sharon was usually quick to the punch. You greeted him with a smile. 

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to disturb, I just thought… well Sharon said she liked the flowers so we brought you some.” You held out the pot.

“You can put them in your garden,” Kayla said cheerily.

“I need to make a garden first,” He grinned at her and took the pot. “Thank you. I’m sure Sharon will find a place for them. She’s just sleeping with the baby right now.”

“I get it,” You said. “We were a bit restless and just wanted to say hi. She wanted to give them to Ethel but you know she has terrible allergies.”

“I appreciate the thought,” He leaned down to talk to Kayla, “You’re getting big, kiddo. How old are you now?”

“Four,” She chimed. “Mommy says I’m old enough to go to school.”

“I would think you are,” He replied as he stood straight. “I’ll let Sharon know you came by. Oh, and… the pool table is still open.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” You offered. “Logan’s taking Kayla to a Paw Patrol show.”

“Tomorrow,” He accepted. “I’m gonna hold you to it.”

“What happened to that friend of yours; James?” You wondered.

“Bucky. He’s around now and then.” Steve shrugged. “But not as much as I like. And he prefers poker.”

“Ah,” You took Kayla’s hand before she could wander away. “Well, I’ll see ya.”

“What time’s the show?” He asked before you could back away. 

“Six.” You answered.

“Then I’ll see you at six-thirty. How’s that?”

“Six-thirty it is,” You confirmed as you picked up Kayla and turned away. “Okay, you little brat, let’s go bug your father.”

🏠

You were glad Logan was getting some time with Kayla. You wished you could go with them but keeping to your new budget, two tickets were all that could be had. The upside was that you didn’t have to sit through the cartoony mascots dancing in an arena full of hyper children.

You gave Kayla a kiss on the cheek and barely sneaked a kiss on Logan’s lips before she tugged him away from you. He strapped her into her seat and gave a smile as he climbed in the front. You smiled as they left but when they were gone, you felt restless. There were only a few times you were without Kayla; at work and during your early morning gardening sessions.

You went inside and wandered around the kitchen for a few minutes. You poured yourself a glass of wine and looked at the clock. You were suddenly very grateful for Steve’s invitation. The game would keep your mind off your listlessness.

You finished your chardonnay and rinsed the glass. You stepped out the front door and found Steve’s garage door open as he ducked beneath it to wave you over. You looked down the street before you crossed and jogged up the drive. 

“Hey,” You entered the cool garage. The pool table took up much of the space not occupied by the aged motorcycle Steve had been working on for years. “What’s up?”

“Oh you know, getting some practice in,” He grabbed the cue leaning against the table and another from the rack on the wall. He handed you one. “Hope you’re not too rusty.”

“You know, I’ve been playing online but it’s not quite the same,” You kidded. “What’s Sharon up to?”

“I asked her if she wanted to come out and join us,” Steve shrugged. “But she’s been on the phone with her mother all day.”

“Maybe next time,” You watched as he set up the balls in the frame.

“You want a beer or something?” He asked as he stood.

“I shouldn’t. I just had some wine. I don’t like to mix drinks… or rather, my body doesn’t.” You chuckled.

“I’m sure I’ve got some wine,” He went to the mini fridge. “Aha, pinot… grigio.” He squinted at the label as he turned around. “Sharon hasn’t touched the stuff in ages. It hasn’t been opened though.”

“Really, I shouldn’t.” You waved him off.

“Come on.”

“Is this some sort of tactic?” You teased. “To get me off my game?”

“Maybe,” He twisted open the bottle and handed it to you. “It’s open. You gotta at least have a sip.”

You tilted your head at him.

“I don’t have any glasses out here,” He grinned.

“Just a sip,” You took the bottle and drank less than a mouthful. You placed it on the metal side table against the wall and fiddled with your cue. He returned to the fridge and grabbed a tall can of beer. “Thought that stuff didn’t get to you.”

“Doesn’t, but it’s comforting,” He approached the other side of the table. “When I was… serving, the men didn’t have much to do but drink on their time off.”

“Ah,” You leaned your cue on the top of your shoe. “It’s like how tequila makes me wanna run as far as I can in the other direction.”

“I guess,” He said. “Guest’s honour. You can break.”

“Alright,” You went to the head of the table and lined up the cue ball. “Wait.” You paused as you bent over the table. “What do I get when I win?”

“If you win,” He corrected. “And, I don’t know. Twenty bucks.”

“No fun. How about… I get to try on the helmet.”

“Helmet?” He blinked.

“That old war relic you have in your den.” You said. “You know I always wanted to try it on.”

“It’s an antique now,” He said. “Rusty.”

“Like you?” You taunted.

“Like me,” He rolled his eyes. “Fine. And what about if I win?”

“Name your price,” You narrowed your eyes at the table and set up your shot.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind a touch of that green thumb,” He said. “I… wanted to do something special for Sharon. Clean out the garden, replant everything that’s died.”

“That’s not really an even trade,” You mused as you hit the ball. “But it’s a bet.” You stood as the coloured balls shot in all directions. Three solids plopped into the corner pockets. “Oh, I also get a selfie in the helmet.”

🏠

You glared at the felt. Then the bottle of wine. You should have stopped at a sip but you had gotten carried away in the game. You’d also missed your last shot and set up Steve to sink the last stripes before he set his eyes on the eight ball. He called the top left pocket and you hoped he missed. Crossed your fingers around the cue.

The clack of the balls echoed in the garage and the black ball made a slow path to the pocket. It tipped over the edge and you curse. You stomped your foot and spun the cue in your hand.

“No fair,” You pouted. “You’ve been practising.”

“And… I’m sure that online pool is quite the workout.”

“Only for my finger,” You held up your index. “So… the garden?”

“Can we start this week?” He asked.

“Sure,” You smiled. “You’ll have to grab seeds or whatever. Please, anything but rose bushes.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know where to begin but I’m sure I could ask someone at the greenhouse,” He mulled.

He went to the table and reached into the pockets. He pulled out a yellow ball and a red ball. He place them parallel at the other end.

“Or maybe… I don’t know, I know you’re busy but you could help me?”

“That wasn’t part of the bet,” You said. “But sure. I can do Wednesday afternoon. I hope you don’t mind if Kayla tags along.”

“Of course not,” He lined up the cue ball in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You stepped away from the table as he grabbed his cue.

“A trick I’ve been working on,” He said. “I saw it online and gave it a go. It’s fun.”

He bent over the felt and hit the ball. It hit the yellow ball which bounced off the red one and sent both of them into opposite pockets. He stood and smirked proudly.

“Your turn,” He rearranged the balls and you frowned.

“I can’t,” You argued. “I think I had too much of that wine.”

“Come on,” He said. “Just give it a try.”

You looked at your phone. It was already past eight.

“It’s not that late,” He urged.

“Fine,” You took your cue and approached the table. 

Your shot was less successful than his. The yellow ball hit the red in but came to a halt several inches from the pocket. You shrugged and stood straight.

“See.” You huffed.

“Practice,” He positioned them again. 

He came around the table as he placed the cue ball before you. He stood behind you as you relented and lined up your shot. You paused as he adjusted the end of your cue and neared. He leaned over you and helped you position the nose of the cue. He was almost flush against you, just for a moment before he backed away.

“You just gotta put some force behind it,” He said as he walked along the side of the table. 

He stepped back to see the table. You hit the white ball and shakily retreated from the felt. The yellow and red split off and the latter plopped into the pocket while the former bounced off the edge of the corner.

“Close,” He said and went to the table. He shoved his hand in the small pocket. “Night’s not over til you get it.”

[bush-viper-cutie]

sMuggled Art

Pairing: young muggle!snape x muggle!reader

Word Count: 5, 262

Rating: E for Everyone

Plot:  Severus is forced to take work in his father’s coworker’s wife’s store where he meets (Y/n). Severus’ view of the world seems dark, and you don’t really make things any better, but there is yet hope to change his mind! 

Warnings: None

A/N: Another request completed for anon! Since Severus doesn’t go to Hogwarts he has (my best attempt) at his North England accent. Hope you like it and the next on the list is the long awaited Crystal Ball part 4! :D

Posted: 8/31/20

Masterlist

---

(Y/n) = Your Name

 ~ * ~ * ~   = time skip

 ~ * ~ * ~

~ * ~ * ~ = POV switch

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~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

The front door slammed and shook the walls; Severus and his mother both jumped knowing what was soon to follow. His father was home and it didn’t sound like work had gone well again. His father walked into the kitchen where Severus was eating, his mother was wafting the cigarette smoke out the window before hastily dropping it into a water-filled pan in the sink and turned to her husband.

“They cut our pays. Again!” His father pulled on the fridge door so hard the entire thing moved forward several inches, scraping the tile.

That was Severus’ cue to escape to his room. He didn’t like being in the same room as either of his parents, though he could tolerate it when they were sober. All they ever did was order him around or ignore him on good days and yell at him on bad ones. Drunk, however, he knew what awaited him. He gathered his books and left his half-eaten cheese sandwich on his plate and turned to leave.

“You.”

His father’s gruff voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned, staring up at him as he took a long swig of beer and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“You need to start earnin’ for this ‘ousehold.” He stepped closer and stared down at him over his large, hooked nose. His black eyes looked hazy and dark circles made his face look much older than he was. Anyone could look at his face alone and guess an age ten years older than he was, except his large square shoulders and huge bulging muscles would make anyone second guess themselves. He slid his jacket off himself and let it drop to the floor, flexing his arms and leaned over the doorway, blocking Severus’ exit. “T’morrow. I’m takin’ you ‘round to Malv’s wife’s store. They’re lookin’ for an extra ‘and.”

“Doin’ what?” Severus squeezed his eyes, regretting having spoken.

His father smirked and bent down to Severus’ hunched height. “Doin’ wh’ever they ask s’long as it pays.” He shoved him out of the kitchen and slammed the door.

Severus straightened his shirt and cursed to himself, heading upstairs. He closed his bedroom door and sat on the edge of his bed. He had plans tomorrow to do the homework he’d been putting off for the week. He was already falling behind in school, which wasn’t a good enough excuse to get out of doing work. It wasn’t like his parents cared whether he stayed in his disgusting school. His father had, on more than one occasion, talked to him about quitting and starting work in the mill, but there was no bloody way he was throwing out his only chance of leaving this horrid town.

He kicked his nightstand in frustration and winced as the leg snapped with a crunch and the whole thing came toppling over. Pencils and loose paper fell out, along with his black leather-bound journal. It was the most expensive thing in the house, given to him for his eighth birthday by his grandfather before he died.

His father had wanted to sell it, but it wasn’t even worth the cost of gas it took to get to the pawn shop across town. His grandfather had paid good money for it, and in the end, it stayed in Severus’ possession, used to hold his rubbish drawings throughout the years.

He picked it up and started sketching out the broken furniture and shading it as best he could. He sighed and closed it, throwing it back on the pile of loose doodles.

~ * ~ * ~

The next morning he picked out anything that didn’t have obvious patches or holes to wear. He even combed through his hair, per his mother’s orders, and brushed his teeth, ready for work. He dumped out his school supplies from his bag and packed his journal and a few pencils. He hated having nothing to do and carried it with him everywhere. He liked drawing in public because normally no one talked to him when he did, and if they did, he could ignore them with ease and pretended to be too focused on his art.

“Severus! Get down! Now!” His father’s deep voice roared through the house.

He growled to himself and slammed his bedroom door shut, marching down the stairs to where his father stood waiting with his arms crossed.

“Don’t make me late for work,” his father growled.

He was always late for work.

Severus nodded and slipped on his shoes, tucking the laces inside and pulled the door open. His father pushed him aside and walked out first, heading to his old grey car with the paint coming off the sides. He looked around for his mother but she was in the kitchen, smoking again.

“There food I can take? …For breaks?” he called out.

She didn’t respond and he headed out. He walked around to the passenger side and did his best to unjam the car door, finally needing help from his father to get it open. He sat down, hugged his bag to his chest, and buckled in.

~ * ~ * ~

He stared at the rain droplets racing down the window as they drove a few minutes into town. The shops were just opening as the car pulled up to the curve of a street of small and old looking store fronts. The most immediate store had a metal sign with their store name stamped on and rusting on all the edges. It was still in better condition than the wooden sign from the store next to it with bloated letters from all the years of rain.

His father slammed the door closed and walked around the car, pulling the passenger door open with such ferocity the car wobbled in place.

“I’ll pick you up after work. ‘Round seven. ‘ere’s your papers.” His father handed him three folded pieces of paper and pulled him out of the car, slammed the door closed and walked back around. “Don’t mess this up, Severus. Or you’ll be dealin’ with me.”

Severus nodded, clutching his papers and watched his father’s car pull into the street and head back around towards the large looming factory in the distance. The smoke from the factory mixed with the grey clouds, hiding any hints of the sun outside.

He covered the papers from the rain and walked the few steps to the door and pulled but it wouldn’t budge. He pressed his forehead to the window and peered inside, watching as a silhouette of a short woman approached.

He backed away as the door unlocked and a pale, sunken-faced woman with big bushy brown brows stared up at him through golden glasses. She pulled on her string of waxy pearls around her neck and looked him up and down.

He stared back at her and extended his hand with his papers his father had given him. She unfolded and shuffled through them, humming affirmatively after each one.

“I can use you.” She stepped back and let him in out of the rain into the yellow glare of the ceiling lights. “Was ‘oping you’d be… more like your father.”

She squeezed his arms and he recoiled into a shelf, hitting his head against the sharp wood.

“But I s’ppose jus’ your height will do.” She led him through several tight spaces between shelves of porcelain figures and around the front counter into the back room.

The back room was brighter than the main store, using whiter light, and there were larger stacks of boxes piled in the corner behind a single round table where someone sat reading.

“This is (Y/N). Do what you’re told. I’ll be back ‘round noon to check up on things ‘ere. Or might be back sooner. Don’ know yet.” She eyed him up and down with squinted eyes and exited the back room.

After a few awkward seconds the front door creaked open and closed. Severus stood there doing his best to avoid looking at (Y/n), instead looking down hoping his hair would hide his burning face.

~ * ~ * ~

~ * ~ * ~

A tall boy with long inky hair stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking at his shoes, glancing up at you every few seconds, and clutching his beige tattered bag in his arms.

You set your book down and stood. “Sorry about my mum… She can be a bit…” you shrugged, not knowing exactly what word best described the creature that was your mother. “What’s your name?”

His eyes flashed to your face and back down to his shoes, a light blush spreading over his cheeks. “Severus.” He turned his head to look at the wall of advertisements for new porcelain figures and let his hair fall over his face.

“Welcome, Severus. It’s pretty easy what you’ll be doing. Just… restocking and opening boxes while I dust and sit at the counter.” You turn to face the boxes and brought one down on the table with a grunt. You pulled on the tape and opened it up, taking out the little porcelain figure wrapped in tissue and plastic. “You can just set them on that cart over there and wheel it out into the store.”

Severus looked over at the cart and nodded.

You stood there awkwardly, waiting for him to say anything or ask any questions but all he did was hang his bag on one of the hooks on the wall and avoid your eyes.

“The sheet there says what number box to open and how many figurines to take out every morning. Just… let me know if you have any questions or can’t find something… I’ll be in the front.” You closed the box and headed out, closing the door to the back room and went to flip the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open’.

~*~*~

You spent the hour dusting the figures all over the store before finally sitting down on the stool behind the counter – a little high for your liking – and opened up your book once more. Severus had begun restocking the figurines, preferring to wonder around the store like a lanky giant than ask for your help. You tried concentrating on the words beneath you but watching him struggle to find the shelf full of porcelain ducks while carrying a glossy yellow one with a blue umbrella was entertaining enough.

The first customer of the day came through and bought about six of the forest series figures. As they walked out you spotted Severus’ look of disgust and laughed, catching his attention.

“You should see them over the Holidays. The shelves need constant restocking.” You watched a tiny smile grow and felt the air around get significantly lighter.

“But what are they for?” He stepped closer but avoided your gaze.

You shrugged, “They collect them.”

“Waste of money,” he mumbled and continued finding where the last of the figurines went.

~ * ~ * ~

It was around noon now and like she had said, your mother was back. She pushed the door open with her pink faux-leather purse and sneered at Severus in the corner as he replaced some figures a customer had just bought moments ago.

“Got anythin’ nicer to wear? You’re drivin’ down the prices with those pants of yours. They’re too short.”

“Mum,” you cut in before she could embarrass him further. “No one’s even noticed him.”

She turned back to Severus. “Ever think to tuck in that shirt?”

“No,” Severus snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest, somehow looking smaller than before.

Your mother scoffed and headed to the counter, shooing you out. “Go eat your lunches.”

You jerked your head to the back room, inviting Severus to join you. He shuffled in ahead, going straight for his bag.

You unwrapped the brown bag in the corner and took out your sandwich, turning back to Severus. He was bent over the table scribbling in a journal. You pulled the other chair out and sat down, peering over and seeing it was the beginnings of a doodle.

You watched him for a few minutes until he looked up and closed it.

“What were you drawing?” You finished one of your sandwich halves and waited for his reply.

His eyes flickered to you and he licked his lips, getting ready to answer. “Its… Just nothin’.”

“Your tongue was sticking out… You looked pretty concentrated.”

“I wasn’t drawin’ nothin’,” he growled and put his stuff back in his bag. He laid his head down, letting his hair spread out on the table.

You stretched out your finger and snuck a feel, smiling to yourself. You wrapped your last sandwich half and pushed it up to him. “Want my sandwich? I haven’t bitten it.”

He dragged his face up and looked down at the sandwich half next to his elbow. He looked back up at you and raised his brow.

“Take it.” You nudged it closer.

He took the sandwich and began eating. “I don’t take bribes, just to inform you.”

You gave a giggle and enjoyed the slight blush that spread over his cheeks. “You think I’m giving you my sandwich so that u can show me your art?” You leaned forward and grinned. “I’m just being nice.”

“Nice?” He shook his head, “No one’s just nice.”

“What?” You laughed. “People are nice all the time!”

He turned to you, furrowing his thick brows and leaned in. “Everyone wants somethin’. Even if it’s just to feel good ‘bout themselves.”

Your grin shrunk and you looked deep into his eyes, seeing he was speaking his truth, even if you disagreed. You sat back and mulled over what he said, seeing a bit of where he was coming from. What you didn’t understand is how someone could actually think that.

He set down his sandwich and got up from the table, walking over to the bathroom and locked it. You looked at his bag and thought back to the doodle he had been working on. You looked back at the locked door and back at his bag. What sort of stuff did he draw with a mentality like that? He frowned when he restocked, snapped angrily at people, and believed the world to be selfish.

You reach in his bag and pulled out his black leather journal, opening it from the back forward and flipped through pages until you found the first doodle. It was a scribbled mess, but it had begun to take shape into one of the tiny lamb figurines, cowering from a large grey wolf with an open drooling mouth.

You flipped to the next page and saw a broken stand and a few shattered bottles. The next page was a broken mirror and the next a burning house. The page after caught your eye. It was a swing set in the foregrounds and a group of teens talking by the slides of the playground he’d drawn. All of the teens had smiling faces and ice cream cones or popsicles in their hands. Were these his friends? But why did they look so far away? Regardless, his skills were amazing. Everything looked so detailed and precise.

“Couldn’t resist?” A cold low voice spoke from above.

Severus’ hands came down above you and snatched up his book. You turned around and stood to face him, red in the face with embarrassment and shame.

“I-I’m sorry I… I just… It was only a few pages.”

He was fuming, lips turned down with bared teeth. His eyes glistened as he clutched onto the journal. “You can keep the rest of your ruddy sandwich.”

“No, please. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking… I was just curious and I let it get the better of me… I really am sorry. I swear I only looked at a few drawings. I’m sorry. Really.” You were a fool for not realizing how upset he’d be. You’d thought worst case scenario he’d be annoyed, and once the band aid of you looking at his art was torn off, he’d be more open to going through it with you. Best case you’d put the journal back before he came back and your curiosity would be settled.

He stepped forward, towering over you. “No. You’re not. You got what you wanted… So why would you be sorry?”

“Because I didn’t consider your feelings. I thought you wouldn’t care so much about your art. I didn’t think you’d really care.” You hugged your arms closer and watched his expression change.

His furious black eyes took in your figure and he looked down at his book. His frown turned softer. “I don’t care. It’s pointless to care.”

He turned away from you and walked into the bathroom. Within seconds he was back out with empty hands and left the back room to continue stocking the shelves in the store. You made your way to the bathroom and saw he had turned the faucet on the book, soaking it in the sink.

Tears coated your eyes as you blinked, turning the other pages of the journal and seeing nothing but smeared figures and smudged faces. You hadn’t expected such an extreme reaction… but it was still all your fault. You should have realized some people could be very sensitive about their art… even if you hadn’t seen anything that personal in it.

~ * ~ * ~

The next four hours was spent in silence as you helped in the front desk and occasionally restocked some figurines. Severus had refused to even look at you, keeping his eyelids half closed in boredom the rest of the time and responded to only your mother.

The last customer left, and the shop was ready to close. The next hour was spent dusting and counting money until finally your father’s car pulled up on the curb.

“Time to close,” your mother pushed you and Severus out as she locked the shop door and dropped the key in her pocket.

Severus’ bag was noticeably more empty than it had been when he walked into the shop. You clutched your bag closer and felt the journal you had slipped into your bag. You weren’t really sure what you were going to do with it… but you wanted to make things right with him.

You father honked and your mother and you got in his car, leaving Severus standing outside the shop in the rain. You watched him sit against the door and pull his legs in, resting his head on his knees. Your father pulled away from the curb and you sat back, wondering what to do.

~ * ~ * ~

The night air was cold but the rain had stopped shortly after dinner. You gripped onto the handlebars of your bike and squinted at the signs as you rode passed. The torch in your hand kept flickering and the rows and rows of identical houses made biking all the way to Severus’ house in the dead of night seem like the worst idea of the century.

You kept your feet still as the wheels turned on their own down the hill, taking you to the last neighborhood of Spinner’s End. You stopped a few houses away from the house you believed to be Severus’. You took out the note where you’d written his address and shined your torch at the letters written sloppily on his dented mailbox.

You ditched your bike in a bush across the street and headed to his house. You placed your hand on the gate and breathed out, pushing it open and walking down his cobblestone walkway and up the two steps to his front door.

You knocked a few times and heard a door close inside and then quick footsteps. The front door swung open and a tall woman looked down at you. Her eyes made her look cross, but her down turned mouth gave off a sullen air about her. She looked you up and down and crossed her arms.

“S-sorry,” you stammered. “Can I speak to Severus?”

The woman’s sad mouth turned up at the ends. “Severus? And what would you wan’ with him?”

Did she find it funny you wanted to speak to him? “I’d just like to.”

Her smile pulled up higher to show her yellow crooked teeth. “Run ‘long back to where you came from, brasser. Come back when we ‘ave the money to spend.” She slammed the door.

Your mouth fell open and you backed away, shaking with anger. If you could go back several second you’d’ve hit her long pale face square in the nose. She may not have realized who you were and the fact your mother was currently employing her son, but that still didn’t giver her the right to talk to you that way.

You headed out of their property and noticed a shadow on the pavement coming from the house. You turned just in time to see a dash of black hair as Severus pulled his head back inside his window. You looked at the windows at the front of the house and made sure no one was watching you from there before heading around the brick wall to the left side of the house. Severus was hiding under the windowsill, only the top of his head was visible from down where you stood.

You climbed the low wall and shined your torch on the dead dried grass, spotting a ladder. You jumped down and dragged the ladder, pulling it out as long as it’d go, and propped it up on the side of the house. His window wasn’t that high up and the ladder seemed sturdy enough so you climbed, clutching your bag under your arm as best you could.

You reached the top and looked down into Severus’ eyes as he sat under his windowsill still with a red face. You sighed and looked around his room. His door was closed and it looked safe enough, away from the eyes and ears of his horrible mother.

“Are you going to invite me in?”

Severus nodded and moved back awkwardly, still on the floor of his room.

You threw your bag in and ducked inside, doing your best to not fall on your face. You sat in front of him and pulled your bag close. “Severus, I wanted to talk to you and apologize.” You looked around his messy room. “Though I was hoping to do it at your front door but… I suppose this is still the least weird apology I’ve given in my life.” You smiled hoping to lighten the mood.

He shook his head and pulled down on his hair. “I heard… I-I mean…” He pressed his face down into his hands, hiding his red face. “I’m sorry my mam called you a… She… She ‘ates everyone. Please don’t…” He sighed.

You laughed, “Don’t worry. It’s not like you called me that.”

He looked up and watched you behind his hair as you pulled out his black journal.

“I… was a jerk earlier. I got curious and went behind your back… You don’t deserve that… So… Here.” You extended his notebook out to him.

He pushed his hair back and frowned. “It’s ruined. I soaked it.”

You nodded, “Well… The art is no longer in there. It was really smudged. But I cleaned it off as best I could and spent all evening drying it… The pages are dry and hold pencil led well enough again… See?” You flipped to the first page where you’d written:

‘I’m Sorry I’m Awful

Please Don’t Hate Me.’

He took it and flipped through it, feeling the paper with his long fingers and rubbing at the occasional left over smudge. He looked back up at you with still furrowed brows. “But why? We aren’t friends… What d’you expect to get from this?”

You raised your brow and pushed your hair aside. “Still so cynical. But you’re right. I do want something – Two things actually. One, for you to forgive me. And two, to be friends. You seem pretty alright and your art was really good, from what I could tell.”

His face softened and he looked back at his journal, closing it and placing it between you both. “Friends?”

You laughed. “Yeah. What? Have too many to squeeze me in?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s just…” He gripped his knees and bit his lip. “D’you know we go to the same school?”

You blinked, taken completely aback. “We what? Really? I’ve never seen you around.” How had you not noticed him ever at school. It wasn’t that big of a school, and most students knew each other through their parents who most all worked at the mill.

He nodded, bringing his head lower and letting his hair cover his face again. “You’re too popular t’even know I exist.”

You laughed at that word. “Popular? I’m not popular.” You couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“You’re always around all those people…”

You giggled, “They’re just my friends…” It suddenly struck you that he’d been watching you before. As you were cleaning up his journal you had noticed several groups of students he’d drawn. Besides the one at whatever park, some of the settings were school settings. But it hadn’t clicked that it was your school he had drawn. “Severus?”

He looked up, his face was no longer red, but a light pink blush remained on his pale cheeks.

“Did you want to be friends with me before? At school I mean?”

He shook his head.

You frowned, confused about what he was trying to say. If he didn’t want to be friends why was he watching you? Why did it seem he had an interest in you if he wanted nothing to do with you? “Then what? I don’t get it.”

He shook his head again. “Nothin’… I forgive you. You should go before my parents catch you in ‘ere. My mam will lose it… and you wouldn’t want to see that. Things get weird when she does.”

You nodded and stood, zipping up your bag and turned to the window. You wanted to stay longer, figure out what the hell was Severus’ secret. Why was he so secretive!

You swung a leg over and felt for the step, ducking through the window and finding the step again with your other foot. You looked down to make sure everything was okay and took a step down. You turned back and froze. Severus was back to kneeling next to the window and his face just inches from yours.

“S-sorry! I thought I should be close enough to catch you if the ladder started tiltin’…” His cheeks reddened even more and spread to his neck.

You nodded and looked into the deep wells of his eyes, seeing yourself reflected in their dark depths. He got closer, letting you stare at him longer.

Another explanation popped into your head, for why he’d been the one to know you existed despite never having met him. Why he’d observed you with your friends. Why he cared about your social differences….

“Do you have a crush on me, Severus?” you smiled.

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open slightly. The blush that had been spreading down his neck turned red again, and he looked away, giving you a curtain of inky hair. He turned back with more composed features. “Of course I don’t! Why would I? I-I just met you today and… and I was just sayin’ that stuff about school because I-I noticed you once. That’s all!” His voice was deep and harsh.

You rolled your eyes at his weak attempt at intimidation. “Just admit it! Why else would you be acting so weird about being friends and caring about how ‘popular’ I am even though I’m not?” You climbed back up the ladder and pushed him aside to climb back through the window.

He stood and squeezed his hands into fists, no longer cowering. “Just because I’ve seen you ‘round doesn’t mean I ‘ave a crush on you!”

You scoffed. “Do we have any classes together?”

“No.” He crossed his arms.

“Do we have the same lunch together?”

“No.” He started tugging on his sleeve.

You smiled again. “There are over a thousand students in our crummy school and hundreds during lunches and somehow you know I’m not part of those hundreds in your lunch?” You laughed again. “Explain that.”

His face got even redder. “Well.. I-I… I-it…” He shut his mouth and clenched his jaw. “Fine. I DID. ‘appy?”

Your smile dropped. “‘Did’? When… Why did you stop?” Why did you care?

He huffed. “I told you. It’s pointless to care… about you…”

You looked down at his greying socks. You weren’t sure why his words kind of stung.

“Why d’you look like that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know…” You bit your lip. “I think I… Liked? That you had a crush on me?”

He scoffed, “Why? S’you could feel good about yourself?”

You shrugged again, feeling tears grow in the corner of your eyes and wishing you could escape such an awkward turn of the argument.

There was a long pause.

“D-d’you like me?”

Your head shot up and your faced burned hot. His eyebrows were raised and his crossed arms were loosening the longer you took to respond. “I… might have taken an interest in… you.”

“You’re interested in me?” His face pulled up into a grin suddenly. “Is that what you’re sayin’?”

You scoffed, “I didn’t say that exactly!”

He laughed and stepped forward, still towering over you. “I felt you feel my hair! I was right! I knew it!”

Your jaw dropped and if your face wasn’t red before it was now the color of a tomato. You did remember doing that. “I… I don’t know why I did that!”

“That’s why you want me to admit I ‘ave a crush on you,” he shrugged and stepped back, looking as if he’d won.

“Aha!” You quickly put your finger up. “You DO have a crush on me!”

He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “I’ve already won. You ‘ave a crush on me – and you didn’t even realize it.”

What had this day turned into. Being suddenly told this morning you’d have to train someone knew at the store and now it was passed midnight and somehow you’d accidently confessed a crush you’d also gotten today? The day was as messy as the clean up for his journal that now lay forgotten on the floor.

You held your hands up in defeat. “Fine… So maybe I do… But you do too!”

He curled his finger and pressed it to his lips. “Alright… I do…”

You smiled down at your shoes and stood there awkwardly for a minute before decided to just go for it. You stepped forward and kissed his cheek, accidently touching the corner of his mouth and pulled away.

Your face burned. “Ok… Bye – !” You turned and headed out the window, quickly climbing down and let the ladder down on the ground gently.

You climbed the brick wall and looked back up at Severus.

He was touching his cheek as he smiled and waved. “S-see you t’morrow!”

You put your hand to your mouth and giggled. “See you.”

He looked smug suddenly and you rolled your eyes playfully.

You quickly jumped down and ran to your bike, hopping on and peddling back up the hill, trying to pull your giant smile back to normal.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Masterlist

Request: “may I request a muggle young sev x muggle reader please idk a story or headcanon really anything you want I just love the way you write young severus okie dokie thank you for reading 🥺❤” – Anon

---

Welcome to General Taglist!!:

@bionic-otp​

@severuslovebot​

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[moldisgoodforyou]

the one where jj is drunk

warnings: cursing, excessive drinking

wordcount: 1.6k

charlie spent her thursday night holed up in her room. it was like torture - she had three assignments to finish, but it was the perfect weather for the end of april and her senior house was so close to the bars that she could hear the music drifting in through her window. jj kept texting her throughout the night, keeping her updated on every little thing that happened. when he was with her, he tended to drink less in case she needed assistance, but all restrictions flew out the window when it was just him and the boys. shotgun contests, beer bongs, shots after shots - everything was on the table.

charlie glanced over as she got her seventh voice text of the night from jj, around 11pm. she grinned and put it on speaker to listen. “baby...charlie...you’re my bestest friend,” jj slurred in the message. she could hear his brothers yelling at him in the background. “ok, walker, i gotta, i gotta go, but I’m gonna talk to you later! I promise!” the message ended and she laughed, texting him a short reply.

go have fun with your friends, I don’t need constant updates

as if on cue, he snapchatted her instantly - a close-up of him and his friend’s faces, camera angled straight up their nostrils. it was eloquently captioned “send noods.” she rolled her eyes and pulled her shirt aside, sending him a picture of just her bare shoulder with her lacy bra strap on display. he called her right away.

“charlie gertrude walker!” he scolded. she laughed. “oh no, not the middle name, am I in trouble?”

“you weren’t supposed to actually send nudes! I’m in public!” he exclaimed. she could hear the bass pounding in the background from the bar. “it’s not even - go have fun, j, quit texting me!”

“no, I want you here. it’s stupid you have to study. just ask for an extension or something, I wanna hang out with my girl.” he insisted. she rolled her eyes. “I can’t, jj. have fun with the boys, we can go out tomorrow.”

“you promise?”

“I promise. call me if you need anything.”

“love you, charlie!” he told her before hanging up.

sure enough, he called a couple hours later. his words were extra slurred. “charlie!” he yelled into the speaker. she held it away from her ear, grimacing. “hi, j. do you need a ride?” he gasped. “how did you know?” she laughed. “stay there, I’ll be there in five.”

she hung up and pulled him up on find my friends, knowing he would wander if he was alone. she shoved her feet into slippers and got in her car to drive to the bar. she was only an 8 minute walk away, but given jj’s voice, she knew he would be too clingy and too heavy for her to deal with all the way home. once she pulled over by the bar, she honked the car horn upon seeing jj. his face lit up and he stumbled to the car, five of his frat brothers in tow.

“can you take all of us? the pledges aren’t picking up. I think they’re going on strike.” one of the boys asked. charlie laughed, shaking her head. “good for them. get in, try to put on a seatbelt if you can?” they all tumbled into the car, jj in the front seat. his hand went to his usual resting spot on her thigh right away and he leaned over, placing a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “hi charlie!” she laughed, nudging him away. “hi hon. don’t distract me, I gotta drive you and your hooligans back to beta.” he nodded seriously but kept his hand on her thigh. “charlie, I had the best drink ever tonight. ever ever ever.”

she smiled, amused. “yeah?” one of his brothers piped up in the back. “yo, we were discussing this thing at the bar, and-” jj whipped around, shaking his head. “bro night! bro code!” his brother waved his hand around. “yeah, yeah, whatever. anyways, we think charlie’s prob’ly the hottest beta girlfriend, but jj doesn’t want her to know we talk about that shit.” 

charlie turned around to glance at the backseat at a red light, raising her eyebrows. his eyes widened. “oh, shit, I thought frazier’s girlfriend was picking us up! sup, walker!” the other boys cracked up immediately and jj groaned, putting his head in his hands. “what the fuck, elliot?” he reached back and shoved him, and they started hitting at each other with how little they could reach.

charlie grabbed jj’s hand, pulling him back to the front. “hey, hey, knock it off! you’re gonna make me wreck.” jj turned back to the backseat. “you heard her, knock it off!” she rolled her eyes and turned the radio up as she drove, then pulled up to the beta house. “alright, everyone out!” there were some mumbled thank yous as all the boys piled out of the car.

charlie stayed put and jj ducked his head back into her window. “wait, you’re not coming in?” she shrugged. “I figured you just needed a ride. I’m wearing my slippers, for gods sake.” he reached in through the window, tugging at her shirt. “come on, I wanna sleep next to you.” she sighed. “okay, let me park on the street. give me a second.” jj pumped his fists in victory. “hell yeah!”

she parked and walked back up the drive. jj wrapped her in a hug, putting almost all of his weight on her. “mmph- j, I can’t -“ she mumbled against him, pushing back. he stepped away then looped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here, charlie. you’re so pretty. I love your hair like this.”

she laughed, reaching up to touch her scrunchie. “in a bun?” jj nodded. “but I also hate it, because I can’t comb my fingers through your hair.” he stuck his fingers in her bun to make his point. she laughed, removing his hand and pulled out her scrunchie. “okay, okay, better?” he grinned, tugging the end of her hair. “much better! let’s go get snacks, I want snacks. will you make me hot pockets?” she rolled her eyes, taking his hand and dragging him inside. “you’re like a toddler.”

“charlie. char, baby, listen to me.” he tugged at her hair to get her attention. “what, j?” she asked, amused. “you have...you have the prettiest ears I have ever seen.” she laughed. “that’s a new one.”

“no, I’m serious. when you have the double earrings, it’s so hot. I like the sparkly ones.” she nodded. “thank you.” he tugged at her ear and she swatted at his hand. “I’m gonna buy you more.” he declared. “no you’re not, I have enough. and stop with your hands, you’re so touchy.” she laughed. he shook his head as they stumbled into the kitchen. “no, no, I swear. I’m gonna buy you all the things you want in the world, your ring is gonna be so fuckin’ cool.” 

charlie paused as she reached for the hot pockets in the freezer, sticking them in the microwave. “my ring?” jj nodded, distracted as he started opening the kitchen cabinets and letting them slam shut. “yeah. I know we’re s’posed to look together, but I think I know you well enough. I have it all planned out.” charlie reached up and grabbed his hands, stilling them from making more noise. “what ring are you talking about?” she asked with a smile. 

“your engagement ring, don’t be silly.” he ruffled her hair and planted a kiss on her forehead. “don’t worry, I got it figured out.” she nodded. “I trust you. but let’s talk about this in a year, maybe.” she pulled out the plate of hot pockets and swatted at jj’s hand as he reached for one. “they’re hot, maybank, let’s go upstairs and get you ready for bed.” 

he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I wanna talk about it now. you’re staying, right?” she nodded. “yeah, I got you.” she had to drag him upstairs, continually pushing him off her shoulders, but they eventually made it. she shut the door behind them and set the warm plate on his nightstand. 

“why don’t you want to get married?” jj asked, crossing his arms. charlie laughed. “jj it’s not that - you’re hammered, can we maybe not talk about this now?” he shook his head, stubborn. “we’re the perfect couple, we would be great at marriage, and you would look fucking gorgeous in one of those pretty white dresses. it’s settled.” charlie nodded, tugging up on the hem of his shirt. “solid points, j.” he lifted his arms, letting her undress him. “so you’ll do it? you’ll marry me?” 

charlie hesitated. “at some point, I’ll get married.” she tossed his shirt in the laundry and jj leaned down, kissing her firmly. “to me. right?” she grinned, shying away from his lips as she tried to tug his shorts down. “eventually. probably.” he seemed to think it over for a moment, kicking off his shoes. “you promise?” 

charlie sighed softly, trying to figure out how drunk he really was - and if he’d remember the conversation in the morning. “jj, how much did you drink?” he counted on his fingers, then held up nine. “umm...seven? six? like hardly anything at all.” she laughed and kissed his cheek. “okay then, I promise. let’s go to bed.” he swept her up, making her squeal, then dropped her unceremoniously on top of the bed. they both climbed under the covers.

“night, char. I love you.” 

“love you too, j.” 

[indestinatus]

Yellow Brick Road

TIVATOBER 2020 // DAY 17

↳ prompt: Scarecrow - rated T (1,726 words)

summary: Alone in the hideout from Sahar, Ziva finds herself doing something she didn’t expect, which brings back memories from the past. 

A/N: also known as - if you chose to read one story of this whole series, please let this be the one.

read it on AO3 🌾

Heavy rain poured down on the gray tiles of the sidewalk. There was enough water on the street to reflect the blurry traffic lights and undefined skylines, at least until a car passed by and splashed it all over the closed stores. Umbrellas piled up in front of a popular restaurant and some moved across the street, but Ziva’s vision was out of focus enough to only distinguish them as blurs of color, disappearing quickly.

It had been hours since she had passed the point of tiredness, now breathing only out of instinct. Her eyelids burned but she kept them open, watching the skies fall. 

It was rare for her to need a break like this, though it was turning even more frequent these days. She could only track Sahar down for so long - with just a name, the mysterious woman quickly vanished only to reappear again in another city a few weeks later - and after so many failed attempts of getting to her, Ziva decided to wait until they came to her instead. 

That usually didn’t take long. 

A taxi stopped just in front of her and a man rushed to open the door, motioning for a woman just behind him to enter ahead. She did so hurriedly, holding what looked like the man’s suit over her head as she disappeared into the backseat of the car. 

A second later, the man did the same, hastily running a hand through his wet hair before disappearing. Ziva thought she saw him smile to himself, but the car sped up and she lost track of them before she could confirm. 

Two strangers she would never see again, nor hear the end of their story. 

She didn’t really process how or why, but suddenly she found her reflection staring back at her, heavy bags under her eyes and hair dripping wet. Ziva blinked, realizing she had crossed the street and now stood in front of the glass door she’d been watching from the opposite side all evening.

Before she could change her mind, Ziva’s hands moved on their own accord and pulled the door open. Blaming the tiredness for her poor choices, she stepped into the movie theater, searching for the ticket booth.

The air conditioning of the room made her soaked clothes feel cold. She picked a spot near the exit, blending into the shadows. In a second she had memorized all viable routes of escape, but it had been more out of habit than from a real necessity. 

Her heart was in her throat when the main title started to play. It was this loud melody with a classic tune to it, the high notes revealing the passage of time. As the title appeared, nostalgia burned in her chest. It had been too long since she’d last seen it, way too long.

“I thought this was a colored one.”

“Do you really want me to spoil it to you, woman?”

“I’ve read the book, you know.”

“Then how come you always manage to quote it wrong?”

“How do you know they’re the right lines? Perhaps they’re different in the book.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Yes. Exactly. You would not know.”

“Don’t brag now. You’re the one who hasn't seen a movie that’s seventy years old.”

“I had other things to do.”

“That’s older than Gibbs.”

“That’s older than you.”

“Miss David. You hurt me this way.”

“Shush. It’s about to start.”

“You… Wicked Witch of the West.”

“Hm… Doesn’t she die?”

“You’ll have to watch and see.”

It knocked the breath out of her. She already knew it was coming, but the sudden change from sepia to technicolor was still a marvelous thing to see. Bright colors invited the viewer to enter this brand new world, and Ziva let herself get lost in the songs and the details. 

The room was almost empty, some people scattered across the rows ahead. She wondered if they had seen this movie before. Probably, considering how old it was. Though she knew the story by heart, it was because she’d read the book a dozen times while growing up, it being a classic in her mother’s personal library. 

He had teased her the whole day when he discovered she’d never watched it. She remembered it clearly—quoting lines and singing lyrics, he’d succeeded in driving her crazy enough for her to give in, which led to them renting a DVD copy on a free Friday night. She brought the beers and he led the place, the one between them who had a television at home. 

Tony’s selective memory always surprised her, though his insistence in getting under her skin was a force on its own. He would bug her until he got what he wanted, and she was used to it—most times great at fighting back—but some days she just wanted to give in and see that typical smile of his, the one that stretched over his face until the corners of his eyes got wrinkled. 

She could picture it so clearly, the image still imprinted under her eyelids.

It was a memory she visited often, that day. It had been one of those moments no one could know it would become a memory until it did. Their laughter, the sureness of safety and the genuine feeling of happiness were things that still warmed her heart, whenever she thought of it. They were so young and worry-free, she always felt a sting of regret for not cherishing the moment more when it was happening. 

Dorothy reached a crossroad, unsure of which path to go next. When the Scarecrow changed the arm that pointed where to go, some people chuckled, and Ziva smiled weakly. He had always been her favorite one of the group. There was something really endearing about his clumsiness and care. He was smarter than he would ever know, and it was a charming quality she rarely saw in people.

“How can you talk if you haven’t got a brain?” quizzed Dorothy, tilting her head.  

“I don’t know,” replied the Scarecrow. “But some people without brains do an awful lot of talking, don't you think?”

“Yes!”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah… Right.”

“What? It’s true. Plus, he’s cute.”

“He’s a scarecrow.”

“So…?”

“Don’t tell me you’re turned on by a scarecrow.”

“I did not say I was ‘turned on’. You are wiggling my words.”

“Twisting.”

“I thought it had been a twister.”

“Just… Watch. See? Now your scarecrow is also part of the narrative.”

“I like him.”

“Sometimes I just can’t respect you.”

“He talks a lot.”

“You say that to me all the time!”

“Well, you do talk a lot.”

“Are you admitting to like me, David?”

“I will call Ducky right away. We finally solved it - your brain is there, only it is made out of straw.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“Hm.”

Ziva felt her heart clench when the thought of Tony showing it to Tali crossed her mind. Had he done the same? Was he excited over little details and quoted its famous lines just like he did with her? Or did it remind him of them? Did they ever get the chance to watch it together or he avoided it? She certainly stared at the movie theater marquise for hours before she gave in, the tiredness making her too vulnerable. 

She missed him so much her bones ached from it. 

Ziva wondered if she would ever feel the same again. That flickering in her chest whenever they spoke in riddles, both of them catching each other’s stolen glances more frequently than not. They had always been good in sharing non-verbal cues, and even if they bickered until one of them got tired, the silence was the one thing she missed the most. 

To be able to be understood like that by someone else, it was the closest she had ever been to love.

“Oh,” confided Dorothy to the Scarecrow, “I think I’ll miss you most of all.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, saying goodbye. Both of them were too emotional to say anything else, Dorothy wiping the tears with her hand and him giving her a sad smile. There was something incredibly bittersweet to have known it would have come to this all along. 

Ziva struggled to breathe. She didn’t recall when exactly she had started crying, but she couldn’t see a thing now. There were only blurs. 

She tried to remember the last time she did cry. Her chest ached from keeping it silent, the loud beating of her heart the only thing she could hear. She knew it would happen as soon as she bought that ticket, but there was something quite soothing about being in a dark room where no one else knew her. 

She could finally be free, even if for a brief moment.

Ziva stood up before the credits started rolling. Hastily wiping the tears from her face, she exited to the street, hoping for once that she was really invisible, and no one would approach her now. 

The rain had stopped. It was much darker now, though the street lights seemed brighter. The line of people outside of the restaurant had disappeared, probably already inside. Some taxis were available at the other side of the street, but she preferred walking. She couldn’t take any risks now, knowing she could quickly become the prey. 

Ziva looked up to the sky, clenching her jaw. Letting the cold air inundate her lungs, she tried to ease her breathing. Tony and Tali were somewhere safe, far away from there, but at least they were under the very same sky. She wondered if it was raining there. She wondered if they were okay. 

Closing her eyes, she pictured them again. Happy. She needed them happy, even if it meant they had found happiness without her. There was no other way to keep her going, other than to imagine them alive. Even if it looked like nothing more than a dream, she needed them there, safe, tucked away in her heart.

When Ziva opened her eyes again, the sadness had already been buried. 

With Dorothy’s words still ringing in her mind, she ducked her head, following the gray brick road into an adjacent alleyway. 

There is no place like home, she had said. 

And wishing for nothing more than a pair of ruby slippers, Ziva David disappeared into the shadows. 

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Magic Circle

A JSE Fanfic

Hey, who’s excited for my first non-AU piece in a long time? Who’s excited for my first one-shot in like forever? If you’re excited for either of those things, then this is the piece for you :D I took some inspiration from Marvin’s video on Halloween to come up with this. Here, Marvin meets a magic group for the first time. Let’s see what happens :)

It’s a bright summer day outside. The sun is still high in the sky, despite it being almost five o’clock. There are people walking around the city streets, either going somewhere or even just taking a walk. Birds are chirping on top of the power lines and in the trees planted along the sidewalk. And Marvin was locked inside his room trying not to break something in frustration.

“Oh my goooood.” He puts his head down on the desk surface with a bit more force than necessary. It hurts, but he doesn’t mind. “Fuuuuuck offffff.” The desk before him is lit up with a lamp, despite there being sufficient light coming from the window. The lamp shines down on a laptop, open to a Google Docs document, and a leatherbound book, open to blank pages. Marvin drops his pen down on the desk. “Fuck it.” And with that, he pushes his chair back and heads over to the room’s door, unlocking it and heading outside.

He goes down the hall to the stairs, then down to the first floor. For a moment, he stops and blinks. His eyes feel...weird. Well, it makes sense. He’s spent almost all day staring at a computer screen or a blank page. The only time he wasn’t was when he was going to the bathroom. That probably wasn’t good for his eyes.

According to the wall clock in the downstairs hallway, he’s been trying for nearly five hours. That explains why he’s so hungry. Marvin heads into the kitchen and starts looking through the cabinets for something quick but filling.

Someone knocks on the doorframe behind him. Marvin jumps, and spins around. JJ is standing there. He waves. Hello, Marvin. Did you finish?

Marvin snorts and rolls his eyes. “Oh, I wish. I’ve done like...three pages. God. Fuck.”

Oh dear...JJ frowns. What’s wrong?

“I dunno.” Marvin rubs his eyes. “I just keep getting distracted. Opening up YouTube and stuff. God, it’s just so boring. Why do I even need to write it all down in a book? All my spells and shit are saved online.”

Some people are sticklers for tradition, JJ points out. But anyway, maybe you should take a break. You haven’t eaten anything, have you?

“Uh...no. That’s why I’m here.” Marvin resumes rummaging through the cabinets. “Do we have any crisps? I’m thinking of making nachos.”

You’re not just going to eat nachos, you haven’t had anything since you woke up at ten. JJ walks over and slowly pushes the door to the cabinet closed. Here, go sit down in the dining room. I’ll make you something.

“C’mon, JJ, you don’t have to. You were probably doing something else, don’t stop that for me.”

I was going to make dinner anyway, JJ shrugs. I know you don’t eat until later, usually, but please make an exception. You can’t work on that grimoire if you collapse from hunger.

Marvin sighs. “Yeah. Thanks.” He bumps his shoulder against JJ’s—a sign of affection that could easily be mistaken for clumsiness—and heads into the dining room.

He wishes he’d never found out about the greater magical community. Ever since he had, all it meant were problems. He had to learn all about the structure of this community, about how this organization called the ABIM made laws, about how certain spells were supposed to be regulated, about how things like wands, crystal balls, and other magical aides were supposed to be made certain ways. Marvin had always done his own thing. He didn’t exactly think he was the only person in the world with magic—after all, if that was the case, who wrote down all the spells he found online? But it hadn’t exactly registered that they were probably organized somehow, and that he should probably go look for others. Thanks to his total lack of searching for other magicians, the ABIM hadn’t realized he existed until about two months ago.

But now they know. And Marvin has to learn and keep up with a bunch of rules and regulations. The one that’s giving him the most trouble is the existence of a “grimoire.” Apparently, magicians are required to write down all the spells they know, and keep them in one place. And no, the document where Marvin had copy-pasted all the spells he’d found online doesn’t count. So now he’s spent the last week or so struggling to transcribe the online document into the book he’d purchased. Progress is...slow. Marvin just can’t focus on something as unstimulating as copying words down. There’s not even any new information to process.

Luckily, eating dinner helped him get some energy back. But when it’s all said and done, and he pushes away his plate, he’s dreading going back upstairs to try and ultimately fail some more. “Thanks, JJ,” he says.

You already said so, and you’re still welcome, JJ says. Then he pauses. Is there anyone who could help you with this? Other magicians lately?

Marvin groans. “Yeah, I guess I know some, but...I don’t wanna.”

Yes, we know, you’re very stubborn, JJ signs patiently.

“I can figure this out,” Marvin insists. “I can do things on my own!”

Except for making dinner, apparently.

Marvin can’t help but laugh. “Ah, ya got me there.” He sighs, and stares absently out the window. “Look, all the magicians I’ve met so far are part of this government group. And I don’t like them.”

Well, if you ask them for help, perhaps your opinion on that would change, JJ suggests.

“Well I wouldn’t be doing this in the first place if it wasn’t for their stupid fucking law!” Marvin snaps. Then he winces. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m just...tired.”

JJ nods. Maybe you should stop for the night. It could be easier in the morning.

“Maybe.”

And also, if you keep getting distracted, have you tried putting on music? Or perhaps doing something with your spare hand while you write? That helps me.

“Maybe.” Marvin’s still uncertain.

JJ pushes his chair back and stands up. Also, can you please do the dishes?

“What?! But you cooked!”

Exactly, and we both ate it, so it’s only fair we both do something about it.

“Oh come on, I’m all tired, please?”

JJ merely folds his arms and stares at Marvin.

“Alright, fine,” Marvin relents. “I’ve been sitting all day, might as well do something a bit active.”

Oh thank you! JJ says, beaming.

“Heh, act like you didn’t twist my arm,” Marvin mutters, shaking his head affectionately.

———————

Later that night, Marvin finds he’s having trouble going to sleep. He keeps thinking about JJ’s suggestion, the one about asking other magicians for help. Sure, he isn’t exactly fond of the ABIM magicians he’s met so far. But maybe someone else...then again, perhaps the problem with transcribing his spells is just with him, and not with the actual subject matter.

Still, it can’t hurt to get a second opinion, right? But how to find the magicians?

An idea starts to form in his mind. Marvin gets out of bed and walks over to the desk. His laptop is still set up from that day. He powers it on. The time on the computer clock reads 11:20pm. Wow, he’d only been trying to get to sleep for an hour, he thought it was longer. Anyway, he goes back to the document of his spells, searching through them for one specific spell.

Yes, there it is. The title is “Magic Minds,” a tracking spell he’d recently picked up. It’s supposed to be able to guide a magician to other magicians. Marvin hasn’t used it yet, since he had no real reason to. He didn’t want to run into magicians before, but why not now?

Marvin grabs his phone from where it was charging, and quickly changes out of pajamas and into regular clothes. He pauses, then also grabs his cape from his closet. There’s no real reason to wear it, but it would make him feel a bit better. And with all this, he heads downstairs and outside.

The spell is easy enough to cast. He’s done tracking spells before, and they all require the same basic steps. An incantation or a few gestures, then you follow whatever visual cue the spell uses to find your target.

He turns his wand over in his hands, flicking it upward, downward, side to side. Green sparks left behind by the movements make a cross, +, hovering in the air. Technically he could have used his hands, but he likes the wand. And with the cross sign hovering there, Marvin whispers a word, and blows on the middle of the cross. A wisp of green light dances out from the breath, and hits the cross. From the spot of impact, the cross turns from green to white, and falls down to be horizontal, parallel to the ground. It spins, reorienting itself, then one leg of the cross turns red as the cross settles, pointing somewhere. Marvin heads in that direction.

The cross acts as a compass, pointing in one direction. He hopes it’s not too far away. People would think it’s weird, seeing one guy with a magic compass in a cape wandering around the city at night. But unfortunately, it turns out to be far enough that he regrets not taking the bus. Then he remembers that the buses don’t run this late at night, and regrets not doing this in the daytime. How is he simultaneously the most impulsive and least impulsive person he knows?

He makes his way to a section of the city full of identical, red-bricked terrace houses. The compass starts glowing brighter. That must mean he’s getting closer. Though, looking around and seeing nothing but residential buildings around, he’s not sure he wants to break in to someone’s house. This situation doesn’t exactly call for it. He’ll probably just write down the address.

The compass flickers, drawing him out of his train of thought. It locks onto one direction, flares brightly, and then dies. Marvin growls, frustrated. This isn’t the time for the spell to fail!

“You couldn’t have waited to put it on?”

Marvin jumps a bit at the voice, and ducks into the nearest alley way. He glances around, and sees a pair of people on the other side of the street, walking. Oddly enough, one of them is wearing a black cloak. No...it can’t be this easy...

“Oh, who’s out to see it?” a different voice says. “It’s late.”

“It’s a busy city, you’re just lucky no one’s out in this section,” the first voice snaps.

The pair walks up to one of the houses, standing on the doorstep. They continue to whisper to each other, too quiet for Marvin to hear on the other side of the street. After a while, the door opens, and the two of them disappear inside.

Strange...Marvin walks out of the alleyway, staring at the house on the other side of the street. What’s this all about? He glances around, making sure there are no cars or people coming, then runs across the street, stopping outside the house. He pauses, then glances into the window quickly. The inside doesn’t look any different from an average house, but he’s not sure since he ducks away quickly so nobody inside will notice him. Though strangely, there aren’t any people inside, even though there must have been at least three. He glances back in, just to make sure they aren’t anywhere.

It’s then that he notices something strange. The image through the window is...shimmering. Like a heat wave in the air. But the glass isn’t warped or anything that would cause that effect. On a whim, Marvin presses a finger to the window pane.

And surprisingly, the window appears to shiver. A wave of warm yellow light ripples out from the point of contact, just like water across the surface of a still pond. Slowly, the effect ends, and once it does, Marvin can see people gathered in the living room. And they’re all wearing black cloaks.

What was this? A magic gathering? Marvin’s curiosity grabs a hold of him. He has to get inside. But how?

He gets out his phone, looking through the spells he has gathered again. There should be an invisibility one here somewhere. He hadn’t used it since his days as a stage magician, but he must still have it. Though it takes a while of scrolling, he does eventually find it. It’s just an incantation, but it requires the magician to use absolute focus as long as they want to remain invisible. He always had trouble with that part, which is why he gave up on using it as soon as his career ended. Until now, he thought it was only good for escape tricks.

Scanning the incantation a couple times to make sure he knows it, Marvin takes a deep breath. He puts his phone back, then rings the doorbell and quickly whispers the incantation. A rush of cool flows over him, like suddenly walking out of a heated building into a cold outside, and when he next looks down, he can’t see his own body. He gasps in triumph, but then he sees his body flicker, and returns to concentrating on staying invisible.

The door opens, and a man in a cloak looks around. Marvin ducks past him, and luckily just barely avoids brushing against him. “Hello?” the man calls. A few moments pass, and the man shakes his head and closes the door.

Marvin finds himself standing in a living room, decorated in warm colors. At least ten people are gathered, all wearing black cloaks, though it appears they’re wearing regular street clothes under them. There’s a coffee table in the middle of the room, with a few various desserts lined up on it. A low buzz of chatter fills the air.

“What was it, Callisto?” a woman asks.

The man who opened the door shakes his head. “Nobody was there. Probably some kids’ prank.”

“In the middle of the night?” the woman asks doubtfully.

“You don’t know this neighborhood,” the man—Castillo—grumbles.

“You should have taken the cloak off before answering!” Someone else says.

“Shut up Basil, nobody would’ve cared,” Castillo snaps.

Marvin walks closer into the gathering, trying not to be distracted by the various conversations. It was difficult. Words kept sneaking into his awareness despite his best efforts. No, stay invisible. Stay invisible. Complete focus.

“Why does everyone keep bringing desserts to the meeting?” A woman nearby complains.

“Because it tastes fucking good, duh,” another woman next to her says.

“Can we get started already?” asks a man. “Hey Castillo! Everyone’s here, right? Can we get started?”

“Jeez, who lit the fire under your pants, Leo?” Someone mutters.

“Hey, I’m only pointing out that it’s almost midnight, Lily,” Leo says. “We’re running out of time!”

“Alright, Leo’s right, we’re getting close to the time,” Castillo sighs. “Alright, listen up everyone! We’re heading down to the basement to get started!”

A wave of chatter breaks out, and everyone files out of the room. Marvin rushes to the side in order to avoid anyone bumping into him. He watches silently as they all move into the hall and then down a set of stairs. What are they doing? He hesitates, then follows cautiously. A bunch of people in cloaks heading down to a basement for some sort of ritual? Every movie, book, and game ever says that’s a shady thing and should not be checked out. Yet he’s so curious. Is this what other magicians do?

The staircase isn’t too long, and it opens up into a large, wide room. Marvin was expecting a concrete floor and visible rafters, but it looks more like an entertainment room. The walls were painted a pale yellow, the floor was mostly carpeted, there were sofas and chairs and even one of those huge beanbags. It’s lit up by lightbulbs mounted directly into the ceiling, which makes it look just like any other household room. The only thing different is a square section of dark hardwood floor with a circle drawn on it in, well, what looks like salt. A few tall candles sit around the edges of the circle, in alternating purple and orange colors.

Marvin walks closer to the circle. There are some symbols drawn around its edge, also in salt. He’s surprised to realize he doesn’t recognize any of them. They’re not part of any runes he knows. But he does feel like he’s seen them before, somewhere else. Maybe it’s a different runic alphabet? But what does this mean?

“Hey, did you see that?” someone asks.

“See what?”

“I dunno, I thought...nevermind.”

“C’mon, Morgana.”

“Well, I just thought it looked like a person out of the corner of my eye.”

Marvin inhales sharply and goes back to concentrating on staying invisible. This is the last place he wants that to wear off.

“It’s five minutes to midnight!” Castillo calls. “Everyone in position!”

There’s a bit of awkward shuffling as the group moves to stand around the circle. A few people whisper about watching the edge of the salt to make sure it doesn’t get knocked out of place. “Someone get the lights,” Castillo says.

“Uh, shouldn’t we light the candles first so it’s not dark?” Basil points out.

“Oh, I have a lighter!” Morgana volunteers.

“Oh yeah.” Castillo nods. “Mor, you light the candles. Uh, James, you’re closest to the lights, knock them out, will you?”

“Everyone watch their hems,” Morgana says as she starts going around the edge of the circle and lighting the candles. Once they’re all lit, a man dashes over to the wall and hits the light switch, plunging the room into darkness except for the candlelight.

“Hands, everyone,” Castillo instructs. Everyone grabs their neighbors’ hands, forming a connected circle. “Two minutes to midnight. Time to start. Make sure you chime in at the right time.”

Silence falls. Marvin holds his breath, waiting for something to happen. And soon, the circle starts murmuring. No, it’s not just that, they’re actually chanting, all in a low, quiet voice. More voices join in, and they all get louder. Harmonies break off as different strings of words jump in, until the group is singing, their voices echoing off the walls.

Lines appear on the floor inside the circle. Lines of orange light, each one starting at the feet of one of the magicians, then ending at the feet of another. There were so many, connecting each magician to every other member of the group. The light coming from them grew brighter, and then—

SNAP!

Sparks flew into the air in the center of the circle. Quicker than what should be possible, they grow into a fire, hovering about three feet off the ground. The flames start orange, and then flicker between different colors—red, yellow, green, purple, blue, pink, white, and everything in between. It was as if a firework had gone off in the room, completely contained within a small part of the air. Marvin couldn’t help but gasp. And, as he stared closer into the fire, he realized there weren’t just colors...there were images as well. Shapes of people and objects forming scenes. They pass by too quickly for him to fully make out.

The chanting reaches a crescendo, and the fire breaks down into small balls of flame. Each one shoots toward one of the magicians, disappearing into their chests. For a moment, all the magicians glow with the colors of the fire. And then it fades. The lines on the floor disappear, and the magicians slowly stop their chants.

There’s a brief moment of quiet, like the heavy sort of silence one hears after having finished a good book and absorbing the story it contained. And then: “James, can you get the lights again?”

The man from before walks over to turn on the light switch. Everyone gasps and blinks in the suddenly bright room. Idle chatter starts up.

“Hey wait a minute, who’s that?!”

Marvin gasps as one of the magicians points at him. They all turn to look, and he realizes too late that he’d forgotten to concentrate on the invisibility spell.

“Who are you?!”

“What are you doing here?!”

“How’d you get in?!”

And Marvin panics. He turns and runs up the stairs, hearing the magicians shout behind him. Skipping the last step, he bursts out into the first floor hallway and starts to sprint for the front door.

Someone shouts something, and there’s a burst of red light. Then only blackness.

———————

Marvin only realizes he lost consciousness once he starts regaining it. He groans, feeling a headache spike in his temples, and opens his eyes.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” A man is sitting next to him, wearing a black cloak. It takes Marvin a moment to recognize him as the Castillo guy. But upon recognition, he bolts upright. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down!” Castillo holds his hands up, slightly pushing Marvin back down. “You’re not in any trouble. Persephone hit you with a blackout spell, but she’s sorry about that.” He glares to the side. “Riiight?”

Every other cloaked magician is standing nearby. They’re all back in the living room from before, with Marvin lying on one of the sofas. “Uh, yeah, really sorry,” a woman says. “I freaked out and acted on instinct.”

“How are you feeling?” Castillo asks, turning back to Marvin. “Some people have allergic reactions to blackout spells. Are you having any trouble breathing?”

Marvin doesn’t answer, looking wide-eyed at the people around him. Now that he’s actively facing the prospect of talking to other magicians, his throat has closed up. It’s probably made worse by the fact that he technically broke into their secret meeting.

“Uh, sir?” Castillo reaches out and makes to grab Marvin’s arm.

“Don’t!” Marvin flinches away. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“Oh, okay, sorry!” Castillo sharply withdraws. “Just wanted to be sure you were breathing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m fine, so don’t touch me,” Marvin grumbles. He shifts awkwardly, glancing around at the others. They’re starting to mutter among themselves. He can’t tell what they’re saying, and that makes him nervous. Are they mad at him? It would be understandable. But he’s terrible with tone of voice, so he can’t even tell, and the uncertainty makes him even more worried.

“I got it, no worries.” Castillo gives a friendly smile, no doubt meant to reassure Marvin. “But you are okay, right?”

“Yeah, fine,” Marvin mutters.

“That’s good,” Castillo nods. “Um...do you mind if I ask how you got here? This house is warded from any teleportations.”

“Yeah, if you guys tell me who you are first,” Marvin countered.

“We’re the Magic Circle, duh,” one of the other magicians says.

“Well I’ve never fucking heard of the Magic Circle, so excuse me for not knowing!” Marvin sits up on the sofa, scooting away from Castillo.

“Huh? Really?” Castillo looks puzzled. “Well, specifically, we’re the Mirygale chapter of the Magic Circle, it’s a nationwide organization.”

“Are you guys like a coven or something?” Marvin asks.

“We’re just a group, man,” another magician says. “We meet up, cast spells together, not that hard to grasp.”

“I’ve never heard of magic groups,” Marvin says warily.

Castillo blinks. “Seriously?”

“Well, I know the ABIM guys,” Marvin admits. “But that’s it.”

“ABIM is different,” Castillo says dismissively. “They’re like a government, and a loose one at that.” He pauses. “Are you...self-taught?”

“Yeah. Why the fuck does that matter?” Marvin demands.

It must have mattered significantly, because a chorus of “ohhhhhh” passed through the group. “Ah, that explains why you don’t know about magic groups,” Castillo says. “You’re a bit old for being self-taught, though. Most magicians from outside a magical family find—”

“—find out about the greater magic community when they’re in college, yeah, I know, I’ve heard that speech before,” Marvin says through clenched teeth. “So I’m a few years late, I was busy. Anyway, what are magic groups? Just like, magicians gathered together? Is that allowed? What do the ABIM think?”

Castillo laughs. “The Magic Circle is much older than the Association, they couldn’t get rid of us if they wanted to.” He shrugs. “Well, magic groups aren’t too hard to figure out. It’s just a bunch of magicians gathered together.” He sweeps his arm around the room. “Spells cast by a group are more powerful than just a single magician alone. We share spells with each other, come to each others’ aid in times of magical crisis, study magic together...they say two heads are better than one, you know? Stronger in numbers.”

Marvin nods slowly. “So...what were you doing in the basement?”

“That? That was a combination divination and prosperity spell,” Castillo explains. “Something like that you can only get in a group. It shows us significant events in the next year, then gives us good luck.”

“Never heard of a good luck spell...” Marvin mutters.

“Well, you’ve been practicing on your own, and doing luck spells on your own is a tricky business,” Castillo says. “So now it’s our turn. How’d you get inside?”

Marvin shifts uncomfortably, then reluctantly explains the whole thing with the Magic Minds spell and the invisibility.

“Ohhh, I know that spell!” One of the magicians says excitedly. “But you’re supposed to include your target’s full name in the incantation, otherwise it’ll just lead you to the nearest magician.”

“Why were you looking for magicians?” Another one asks.

Marvin looks down. Now that the time has come for it, he’s kind of embarrassed. “I dunno, I...sort of wanted help with this grimoire thing. But it’s stupid. Nevermind.”

“Huh? What kind of help?” Castillo asks. “You know the Magic Minds spell and an invisibility spell, you seem pretty knowledgeable.”

Marvin scowls. “Well, apparently, it needs to be in a book, not online at all. Which is fucking dumb. Why do I have to copy it all over?! It’s all already there!”

“Have you tried listening to a podcast while doing it?” One of the magicians suggests. “It gives you something to focus on.”

Castillo chuckles. “Well, if it’s a problem with focus, I don’t know if magicians specifically could help.”

“Shut up,” Marvin mutters. “Maybe there’s a spell to copy it all over for me—”

“If you found one, let me know, will you?” Castillo jokes.

Marvin glares at him, then stands up. “Well, I’m sorry for interrupting your Magic Circle shit, I’ll just go now, because clearly this was a stupid fucking idea—”

“Hey wait!” Castillo stands up as well. “What’s your name, bro?”

“Don’t call me bro!” Marvin growls. “But it’s Marvin. Marvin Moore.”

“Wait holy shit like Marvin the Magnificent?!” A magician says excitedly. Marvin recognizes him as the James one. “You had real magic the whole time?! No wonder people couldn’t figure out your tricks!”

Marvin can’t help but smile proudly at that. “Hell yeah, people loved it.”

“Well, Mr. Moore, you have some powerful magic in you,” Castillo says admirably. “You bypassed all the wards I set up here without even trying.” He walks over to a table with drawers, pulling one open and taking out a pen and notebook. After scribbling something down, he tears out the page, and walks back over to hand it to Marvin. “This is all our information, and my personal phone number. If you ever have a group you want to join, call us, okay?”

“Oh! Do it!” James encourages. “Then we’ll be thirteen, it’ll be the ideal number for most spells! And we’ll have a famous guy in our chapter!”

“Hey, let him make his own decision,” a nearby magician says.

Marvin scans the information from the paper. There could be benefits to joining a magic group...one of which being that he’ll finally have more than five people to talk to. And were these spells cast by groups really more powerful? A familiar feeling starts to grow inside him, a feeling of wanting to know, of wanting to be the best. That feeling led him astray in the past, got him mixed up in branches of magic he probably shouldn’t have been involved in. But if he’s with other people, it’ll be different, right? He hesitates for just one moment longer, then asks, “Hey, so uh, what if I’ve already made my decision?”

———————

The next day, Marvin finds himself sitting at his desk once more, with his laptop and his unfinished grimoire before him. But there were also a couple other things as well. A slim book, its cover decorated with the same sort of symbols he’d seen written in that circle of salt, and a sphere of black crystal. “Consider these your entrance-level gifts,” Castillo had said. “I don’t know how familiar you are with the types of magic the Circle likes to use, so this’ll be your beginner’s course.”

Marvin actually isn’t familiar with these branches of magic at all. And that makes this book all the more fascinating. It contains a guide to the symbols they use, the principles of the magic, and a few basic spells. Interestingly, it seems to be derived from alchemy. Or maybe it is alchemy, Marvin doesn’t know. He’d never had any reason to look up what alchemy was before this.

He sets the book down, taking a moment to pick up his new crystal ball and look it over. He can already think of several uses for this, but that might have to wait until later. For now, he really needs to at least make some progress on the grimoire.

And where better to start than with the new, interesting spells? It’s sure to keep his focus if he’s copying down information he’s never heard before. Marvin puts the crystal ball down and picks up his pen. But before he starts writing, he puts on his headphones. Listening to a podcast, huh? Maybe that will help.

He can feel that something new is in the air. Something is changing. Marvin had never worked with other magicians before. The prospect is both exciting and a little nerve-wracking. But however this ends, he knows now that things will be different from here on, in some way or another. And he’s certainly excited to find out.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Wedding (Part 2): The Bride of the Dragon Lord

Coughs. 

Enjoy. @rurifangirl by request

The lights dimmed over the entire venue and the music started to play the Pas de Deux of the White Swan. Soft white lights illuminate the stage and the image of a huge moon rising over Tokyo sweeps majestically over the bridge to the vigorous sound of a harp. There, standing on the bridge in this glorious celestial light, is a small, ordinary looking man with an umbrella. He seems to be waiting alone for someone.

Even though he doesn’t move or speak, there was something pathetically sad about his manner. His eyes are slightly downcast and his shoulders are lowered. The wind machines turn on and blow artificial cherry blossom petals and rustle his black ponytail. But he doesn’t move. He stands like a crane that has lost his mate.

This is the groom, Chime Gen.

From your vantage point, you can see his face more closely and your heart falls in dismay. His face is lighter than it should be and the way the stage light falls on it, he should sparkle with dew. But Chime doesn’t hold his head in the light. Instead, it is downcast, and the resulting shadow makes what should be a face vibrant with light, pale and hollow, like a corpse that has risen from the grave.

Chime has put on makeup, the make up he used when he was Ruri Kazama, perhaps in an attempt to imitate him. Despite your encouragement, he didn’t believe you felt anything for him. He was a smart man, and you just didn't know each other that well. He was also prideful in a way that was insecure. He couldn't bring himself to believe that you would love anything about him. You were here for the evil spirit, not the man whose body it inhabited.

This wasn’t right. If you couldn’t reach Chime, nothing would work. You whisper urgently. “Z… if you can hear me… please, send a message to Chu Zihang. When I reach the top of the bridge, set off the sprinkler.”

You straighten your back and raise up your head. As you walk out into the light, the crowd gasps. Your beauty is unparalleled as the light of the moon sparkles endlessly on your jewel-laden gown. Your face glows like the face of an angel. Your horns look more like a crown. 

Chime raises his eyes to you and stops, breathless and a little frightened that this is the woman he should swear his life to. You didn’t belong to him. He didn’t belong here!

You take slow careful steps toward him until you meet in the middle of the bridge and stop. You don’t say anything and the silence stretches on.

You glance to the side looking for Chu Zihang but you don’t see him. Gosh, Z, you have one simple request and you don’t even have the courtesy to…

A wave of heat blasts from above! You don’t see where Chu Zihang has hidden himself, but the sprinkler above your head lets loose a sudden shower that drenches you, your hair and your dress. The fabric clings to you and makes you feel weighted to the spot.

In the shower of the heavy downpour, Chime’s make up is washed away, revealing the clean pure face of an ordinary person.

Chime is shaking and trembling. He had wanted to wear this makeup to make himself look like the man you really loved. This sprinkler incident was an unparalleled disaster!

“I didn’t come here for him, Chime… I came here for you.” Your voice is projected to the entire crowd. This wasn’t scripted. This wasn’t the vows you were supposed to perform. You didn’t know much about love other than Caesar’s instructions. The Gen brother needed your support.

“Why…? I don’t understand.” The water was frigid and he shivered.

The audience stood in rapt attention. This was by far the strangest wedding ceremony they’d ever seen. A beautiful woman falling in love with an ordinary man was the stuff of dramas after all. The people in the audience were among those who saw the MC Love Contest where the hottest guys in the world sparred for the affection of one woman. And even though Ruri Kazama was declared the winner, he was not the one standing at the bridge.

Instead was this man who didn’t seem to understand why he was getting married to this woman. Was this really a real wedding? Were they supposed to be soaking wet? The water was starting to pool on the stage and run over, forming something like a river for the bridge to cross.

You remember how Chime spoke of Chisei in glowing terms despite his undeniable flaws. That’s why you were here. This whole setup was for this purpose. But Chime was so wrapped up in self-hatred and self-doubt that he’d forgotten the whole point! You close your eyes and sigh. “Because you value family more than anything else. You’ll give up everything. To you, all the power, all the riches, all the prestige, and every virtue are rubbish when compared to family. A relative is the closest person to you in this world! What is the world compared to the people closest to you? Isn’t that what a woman should look for in a man? Why shouldn’t I marry a man like that?”

Chime stood still, stunned speechless. He never thought that his love and devotion to his brother should be a good or attractive quality in himself. For this love, he’d fallen for the King General after all. People doubted he could ever reconcile with his brother. That cold eyed girl had told him it was a hopeless task. But you loved him for it?

You could see it rising in his eyes, the belief that maybe this wasn’t a dream, maybe it wasn’t all an illusion. The umbrella slipped from his hand and stumbled in a wild spinning arc to the floor. When the audience looked back up, you had embraced in a kiss. Someone whooped in surprised joy.

 His lips were soft and caressing. His whole body vibrated with fear. This was supposed to come later. The kiss was the cue to attack. But Chime could no longer wait and became bold out of desperation to seize something precious that could finally be called his. So he lingered, drawing the kiss out beyond propriety, enduring in it. When he broke the kiss, you both paused as though listening, but there was no woodblock. There was nothing for several seconds. You stare into each other’s eyes. Waiting. You mouth the words, “Trust me.”

No one in the audience moved or spoke as the solo violin and the harp carried you through it. And the stage lights went down.

The audience roar washed over you and the lights came back up. The sprinkler had shut off and the Takamagahara staff were cleaning up under the bridge. Both of you stand bewildered.  In that moment the spell was broken and you were back in the real world. The King was supposed to show up. He was supposed to sound the woodblock! Where was he?

How could he miss his cue?

You exchange brief glances. A man stood up in the audience and both of you recognized him. It’s Chisei! You follow his figure as he walks away from the wildly applauding audience and makes his way upstairs.

Chime turns and looks at you. “I have to go see my brother.” His smile is genuine, loving. He was like Ruri Kazama but different. Ruri was darkly romantic, attractive but in a dangerous way. Chime’s love was pure as wind-driven snow.

“Wait.” You catch his arm.

“I’m not going to wait. The King will be here at any time. I have to go now!”

Over the sound of the applause, the sound of sirens ripped through the night. A high decibel sound passed from station to station. Someone pulled the air-raid siren, and for ten seconds, the ear-splitting sirens echoed throughout the large city of Tokyo.  Air-raid sirens are the most serious of city alerts, and using them meant that it was too late to warn the public via television and radio, and that danger could strike in a heartbeat.

You both tense on the bridge looking around. Chime’s eyes were wide with terror. “It’s him. He’s here!”

The people partying on the dance floor were also startled by the sharp sound of the air defense sirens. Everyone's cell phones rang at the same moment, and the ringing converged into another terrifying siren call.

Chime was trembling, his chest rose and fell like a terrified animal. He whimpered and looked around. You catch his face and force him to look at you. “You’re safe. Stay with me.”

“No… No you can’t protect me!”

There was a loud sound coming from the east, booming as if it were thunder like no other. It was really the sound of the ocean. Shinjuku district is about ten kilometers away from the sea, how can you hear the sound of the ocean here?

People on the floor started screaming. “Tsunami! Tsunami!”

The ground was shaking as if a herd of thousands of elephants was running through the streets. The giant crystal chandelier on top of the dance floor was shaking violently like a pendulum. The women in their thin high heels were trembling and shaking together with the glass wine glasses on the table.

You and Chime cling to the dangerously swaying bridge. You couldn’t even stand up on it, much less walk! You reach out for Chime’s hand and you grab hold of him. 

The giant crystal chandelier fell in the middle of the dance floor. Broken crystal fragments splashed in all directions, cutting the skirt and body of the girl next to it.  The image of the great moon behind the bridge suddenly fractures as the wall behind you reveals a crack crawling up its height. Water smashes through like a sledgehammer and slams into the bridge knocking it from its supports. You scream and Chime howls as you suddenly plunge down to the lower stage and are swallowed in thousands of gallons of rushing water. 

Your dress is heavy and catches on the swirling debris. But the fabric and jewels provide some protection. All the power is out and you poke your head out of the water into a dark hall full of screaming. “Chime!” You call desperately looking left and right, but all you see are floating chairs and tables. “Chime!”

You duck your head under and feel around and a cold hand touches yours. You grab hold of it and yank upward with a mighty shout! Chime is barely conscious and spitting up water, but he was alive. You grab around his chest and support him under his arms. You try to get your bearings. Everywhere women and men are screaming and rushing to the exits. Where were Caesar and Chu Zihang and Lu Mingfei? It didn’t matter. You had to get Chime to Chisei right away.

The corridor where Chisei disappeared is all the way across the dance floor from you. You step carefully in waist deep water that’s rapidly rising, working your way backwards and dragging the unconscious Chime.

Debris is still moving around in the powerful current. A person’s body floats by you. You don’t hesitate to strip it of its pistols and tuck them into your gown. You close your eyes, sobbing and gasping. The pain is now hitting you. You didn't escape the fall unhurt. You didn’t know what happened to your lower back but every movement was now agony. Chime’s head rolled against your chest.  Your bare foot struck something and pain like lightning shoots up your leg! Your cries wake him and his eyes spring open.

He looks up at you. Your face is a mask of pain but also fierce determination. His face was pale and weak. As you pass under one of the single lights that was still functioning, you can see the rising cloud of blood coming from his body. As a hybrid, you could withstand terrible injuries, but Chime didn’t have access to his dragon blood. This amount of bleeding could kill him!

“Shit!” There was no doctor! And you couldn’t find one now that the streets were a disaster! “Chime! Please! Hold on!” You beg him. 

This wasn’t happening! You expected the clapper! How in the world did the King General bring a tsunami! Just how did the man have this much power and timing? You had underestimated him. There was no need to scheme to arrive on cue when you could just destroy the whole of Tokyo on cue!

Somewhere in the distance, you hear the rapid rhythm of gunfire. The Devil Clan had arrived. The King would be right on its heels if he wasn’t here already.

“Chime. Listen. This seems bad and I’m not kidding but… I mean… It’s always this bad. But we’re not going to give up okay? We’re going to meet your brother. You’re going to live okay? You have so much to tell him!”

Chime floats listlessly while you struggle. “No...it’s over. It’s… actually better if I die here. Before the King takes me.”

“Hey! What did we say? So long as we don’t give up there’s hope! We’re almost to the stairs. Just stay with me. I hear helicopters. I think that’s probably a rescue. They’ll have first aid. So stay conscious.” 

You wallow through rising water that’s now up to your chest. The door that Chisei walked through is now in view, but your vision is starting to fade. You can see the black veins pulse on your bare arms as your dragonblood is rising to meet your body’s urge to survive. Chime is not the only one losing blood at a rapid rate.  You are too. If you pass out, you’ll drown. He’ll drown. 

When you said you would spend your life in hell with him, you did mean it. But literally? Now? You hoped that you would kill King General first. No way that guy gets to live and you don’t! You’re the Main Character! If you die, what more is there to tell! What sort of terrible story is this?

“Chime… say something.”

“Brother… I… I want to see my brother…” 

“Haha. Yes, we’re almost there. We’re almost there. Don’t worry sweetheart… or should I call you husband?” You couldn’t hide the pain in your voice. Your stomach turns in nausea. Your arms are starting to give out, but Chime could not stand up. “Sweetie. I’m going to need your help. I need your help.” You spit water that was splashing against your lips. The water was now up to your chin. “Stand up, I can’t… I can’t hold you any more.”

Amazingly, the stereo was still playing Swan Lake. Evidently the DJ had forgotten to turn the music off and had just run away. So while you struggled to survive, the royal sound of a symphony orchestra provided happy ballet dance music. It felt like a scene from the movie Titanic.

The sound was suddenly muffled and now there was only the sound of rushing water and gunfire and shouting and screaming. You thought that the water had just shorted it out, like it had everything else.

But then the dull sound of a metronome enveloped the dance floor, as if thousands of people were surrounding you, banging on that special kind of wooden clappers! The sound was coming from every speaker and it wasn’t all in the same rhythm. It was a constant dissonant clatter.

“CHIME!” CHIME!” He was shaking like someone epileptic. This was it. The moment of truth. You put your mouth close to his ear. “Hey… I love you… I love you, remember? Don’t give in to it!” 

But his eyes had already rolled back in his head. The muscles in your arms spasmed and you let him go under. You clap your hands over his ears. You’re almost to the stairs. To the corridor. But it wouldn’t matter, as soon as his head came up out of the water, the sound would come back to assault him and he’d switch again. You let him pop back up and he gasped. 

“MC! Oh, God! MC I don’t want it! I don’t want it!” He wailed. That brief time underwater in silence had provided enough respite for him to snap out of the influence of the sound. But then he stiffened again and you plunged him back under. There had to be a way to figure out where that sound was coming from. The PA system? That’s right. Whale made announcements from a system like that. But the sound booth was across the room where you were!

You feel Chime’s body tighten under the water like a curved bow stretched to the limit. A tremendous power was born in his dying body, but that power was simply beyond his control. He resisted you to breathe and came back up, foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. His pupils changed between gold and black, as if two golden lights were flickering out in the darkness. 

“Chime… don’t go… Don’t!”

 A light faintly appeared in front of you to shine on the water. You turn.  It was the safety exit light flashing. You’d made it! You could go up the stairs! Chisei was right up there! You turn back to Chime who was still fighting. “Chime, I love you, don't go. Please keep fighting. Don’t give up!”

Meanwhile, the sound of the clapper just got louder.

The illuminated exit sign exploded into bright electric sparks and went out. A man was standing below the security exit, a tall man, close to two meters high.

In the man's hand, the curved metal blade pulsed with a hideous arc of light. It laughed, making a sound like a baby crying. Its entire mouth opened wide enough to swallow your head.

A deadpool! This dangerous predator saw clearly in the darkness and was waiting for you to deliver up your blood and flesh. As it turned out, Chime’s blood was no less delectable than Chisei’s. The monster’s yellow eyes lit up bright and it seemed to smile. It screamed as though it hit jackpot!

It wasn’t looking at you. It only wanted to devour Chime!

Cold pale hands reach around you and snatch the pistols from the bodice of your wedding gown. A powerful arm reaches around your waist. You’re suddenly lifted out of the water and soaring into the air! You stare up at Chime in wonder how this limp man near death gathered such strength. But then you realize in the next instant, that you’d lost.

Chime had leaped up from the water, pointed the pistol at the beast’s forehead and pulled the trigger. The force of the point blank shot knocked Deadpool back and knocked Chime back as well. The deadpool staggered into an electrical panel. Its back spikes pierced the metal panel and powerful electricity coursed through its body.  The hall was soon filled with the smell of fried fish and mercury.

Evidently, the person who had died and given you his pistol was a member of the Hydra Elites and had mercury rounds. Ruri lands back in the water, still carrying you in his arms and you cry out in pain. You could see the massive wound in Ruri’s hip that was causing the bleeding visibly close.

Chime’s eyes grew brighter and brighter. You had never seen such magnificent golden pupils, as if golden mandarins were blooming in the depths of those beautiful blacks.

He had reverted back to Kazama Ruri, the enchanting and seductive ghost who stood above all beings.

He turned his face down to you, his soaked and injured bride, and lifted you up and kissed you. His lips were burning hot and at the same time, his kiss was frigid, born more of possession than love. 

“Ruri… can you hear me?” You ask.

 "When I lose control, you won't be able to leave." He turned his head and stared unblinkingly at Deadpool's corpse.

Your voice is shaking. “Ha… didn’t I say to hell forever? I’m a woman of my word. But I’m afraid I’m going to sleep now…”

Ruri looked down at the blood flowing through his fingers, a mixture of red and black. He lifted you to his shoulder and you wrapped your arms around his neck.  There is a sudden cracking, like the snapping and popping of firewood. His bones were deforming inside his body! You can feel them moving like stones under your hand. Twin spines, like metal rods jut out from his chest and pierce you through to exit through your back! You scream in agony but you can’t escape.

HIs hand comes over your head to comfort you as you sob into his neck. “My blood will heal you and keep you stable for a while.” 

You can only cling to him helpless in pain. The heat from the bone spikes in your body was paralyzing. You can only gasp spasmodically.

“I actually wanted to go back to that town where I grew up.” He said. “But… When I got there, it was already a ruin. I have left my brother. And I will never return.”

The deadpool that was defeated suddenly got up again.  Jagged bone wings opened behind it, with purple electric light flowing from them. Water droplets passed through the pair of bone wings, carrying a large amount of static electricity, shining with a glittering shimmer.

 Before the Deadpool had time to attack, Ruri had already leaped up. The Deadpool lifted it’s metal scythe- like hand but Ruri Kazama was already kneeling on its shoulders. The weapon in his hand was a gun but every shot was a close-quarters attack, each one exposing himself completely to the enemy, and he was willing to take the biggest risk for the biggest kill. 

The first green flame flashed against the joints of the Deadpool's bone wings.  Mercury-containing shotgun shells corrode the bones at high speed. The second shot hits the deadpools shoulders, dark golden arm bones flying heavenward along with the metal blade. Ruri Kazama, you and Deadpool fell together. Ruri uses his knees to crush Deadpool's head into the water. He then leaned back to catch the falling metal blade in his free hand. The blade flashed and cut off the Deadpool's lumbar spine.

The remnants of the body are still struggling. Now Ruri used the gun against the deadpool's eyes, sending hundreds of small steel pellets soaked in mercury deep into the deadpool's skull. With a shake of the shotgun, a red cartridge dropped, greenish smoke rising from the shells.

Ruri Kazama stood there silently, watching as the water took the deadpool’s body away. He suddenly tilted his head to look up the stairs towards where Chisei was waiting. His pupils have no warmth left at all. You cough weakly but you’re not dying. Your wounds were healed. The bone spikes had created a closed system of blood exchange. Even though you were still technically going to turn into a deadpool on your own, Ruri’s blood was continually replacing yours. You can feel the pulse of his heart. You feel the strength in Ruri’s blood flooding your mind. Your muscles flex and your color returns.

Your black hair covers your face as you lean on his shoulder, completely bound. Blood is all over your white jeweled dress just as you imagined but this was far, far beyond your imagination.

Ruri strides confidently in through the hall, carrying you, his dragon bride.

[goindownshipping]

“You’re the only one I wanna wake up next to.” for whoever you'd like!

Hold me closer, please?

Pairing: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers (Stony)

Rating: Teen (T)

Notes: GAH! I loved this prompt, and my brain just ran with it. Thank you for being lovely and enabling me constantly, @ohwereusingourmadeupnames <3

Word count: ~4k

Summary: 

Tony can’t sleep and he hasn’t been able to for years. As much as he longs for the closeness of a relationship, he’s resigned himself to flings and one night stands, knowing they won’t want to put up with his screaming and tear-filled nights. That all changes when Steve Rogers enters the picture. Pure fluff ensues with these two softies.

Tony startled awake, finding his throat dry and eyes damp in the darkness of his room. Rolling to face his nightstand, his alarm clock notified him that it was still too early to be awake - 4am was certainly not a humane hour. Tilting his head to glance at the other side of his bed, he was grateful to find it empty, with little to no evidence of whoever he’d come home with just a few hours prior. For Tony, it was a relief to find his bed empty. After all these years, he still couldn’t sleep through the night and he dreaded the conversation that inevitably followed one of his terror stricken nights.

Tony’s anxiety-riddled mind often disturbed his sleep, making it nearly impossible for him to share a bed in any of his previous relationships. Pepper had stuck it out with him for as long as she could, but after too many nights waking up to Tony on the couch, they both decided they needed to move on from their relationship. His casual flings and one night stands made his inability to sleep with another human irrelevant; he could always count on them ducking out before the waking hours. His reputation was known in enough social circles that he didn’t have to worry about people sticking around or trying to get more from him than he was willing to give. 

Falling asleep and waking up together were intimate parts of a relationship that Tony had never been able to partake in. He yearned for that closeness, the soft, rumpled moments in those seconds you crossed over from sleeping into consciousness. He could imagine the warmth of another body next to him, holding him through his darkest moments. No matter how much he desired that closeness, his mind betrayed him too many times for him to believe it was possible. 

Accepting the fact that his mind was far too awake to let him get any more rest, Tony rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen, deciding he may as well get his day started. As the comforting scent of coffee began to fill his apartment, he felt the sleepy fog start to drift away. The quiet, emptiness of his apartment typically offered comfort after a sleepless night, but this morning it only emphasized the loneliness he tried to bury deep beneath layers of charm and overconfidence. Deciding he couldn’t stick around his home office today, Tony decided to make a rare appearance at his favorite coffee shop down the street. 

Just over an hour later, Tony was out the door and pulling out of the parking garage into the early morning traffic in the city. The sun was just coming up and Tony was happy to be among the other early risers. He wondered how many people were also escaping their own minds or sleepless nights. He enjoyed these peaceful moments, watching the sky soften as the sun rose, casting shadows around the skyscrapers that filled the city.

When Tony arrived at the coffee shop, he was happy to see that there weren’t many patrons inside yet. He entered with his work bag, prepared to settle in for a few hours. The staff smiled at him, recognizing him despite his infrequent visits. With a mug of hot coffee and a fresh muffin in hand, Tony settled into a booth in the back corner of the shop, spreading out his materials for the morning.

Time passed around him as he worked through the shop’s morning rush. By the time he finished his coffee and pastry, he had made considerable progress on the blueprints in front of him. He hit a snag in one of his calculations and took that as his cue to stretch his legs and acquire more caffeine; he knew he drank too much of the stuff but he couldn't be bothered to care. He grabbed his phone as he headed to the front of the shop, scrolling through his emails quickly.

The shop had quieted down since the morning rush, so Tony didn’t anticipate the person waiting to order at the counter. He stopped short, nearly colliding with the man directly in front of him. He was facing the register, his back to Tony. Tony couldn’t help but admire the man’s broad shoulders, highlighted nicely by the navy suit jacket he was wearing. Tony could stop his eyes from wandering further down, noticing the man’s narrow waist and how his slim cut pants fit nicely. 

Tony shook his head to clear it as the man stepped aside, clearing a path for Tony to order his refill. He was grateful for the fact that the woman behind the counter already knew his order, as he completely lost his train of thought at the sight of the man’s face. He was tall enough that Tony had to tilt his head up to catch a glimpse of the stranger’s face. His dark blond hair was long and slightly floppy, but styled enough to be kept off his face. Tony’s gaze couldn’t help but linger on the man’s face, which was covered in a thick beard, only highlighting his strong cheekbones.

Tony caught himself staring, but not before the stranger did, smirking in Tony’s direction. Tony barely had the decency to blush before grabbing his coffee and running back to his table, effectively hiding away from the handsome man. A moment later, he heard the bell on the door jingle and he looked over his shoulder, expecting to see the man leaving the small shop. Instead, he saw a new customer entering and the attractive man settled at a table not far from Tony’s makeshift workstation. The man smiled in Tony’s direction and Tony whipped his head back around rather than acknowledging the gesture.

Tony was acting as if he’d never seen an attractive man before, which was certainly not the case. Usually, he was smooth and well-spoken, charming the pants off anyone he wanted, literally and figuratively. Tony wasn’t sure what it was about this man that rendered Tony incapable of anything but gawking at him. Lost in thought, Tony didn’t hear the man moving behind him, and before he could do anything to stop it, he was sliding into the seat opposite Tony.

The stranger smiled and stuck his hand out in greeting. Tony just stared, yet again incapable of anything else.

“I’m Steve,” the man said curiously, keeping his hand extended toward Tony.

Tony’s brain rapidly sprung into action, remembering how to interact with another human. He reached out to shake the stranger- Steve’s hand. His hand was large and warm, nearly swallowing Tony’s smaller one in a firm grip.

“I’m Tony, and I swear I’m not usually like this,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Like what, throwing heart eyes at a random stranger in a coffee shop?” Steve teased.

“Well, there’s only so much I can do when the random stranger has your shoulders and a beard like that,” Tony flirted shamelessly.

The next couple hours passed in a similar fashion, both men apparently forgetting the work they planned to accomplish that day. They chatted, equal parts learning about each other flirting. Tony learned that Steve was a columnist at a smaller paper in the city and taught journalism classes on the side. When he wasn’t researching, writing, or teaching, Steve spent too much time with his dog, who was very cute according to the several photos he proudly showed to Tony. Steve learned that Tony was indeed Tony Stark of Stark Industries, an up and coming robotics firm in the city. The blueprints littering the table were a glimpse into his next big project and Tony rambled on about technology that Steve only pretended to understand.

A while later, Steve’s phone rang, snapping both of them out of their little bubble. Steve smiled apologetically while standing to answer the call. Taking advantage of his privacy, Tony shook his head and ran a hand down his face. He hadn’t enjoyed a stranger’s company like this in years. His mind told him to run; he knew his track record and it would be safer to end this before anything could happen. In that moment, Steve returned to the table looking like a bashful puppy and any thoughts Tony had about disappearing flew out the window.

“That was work,” Steve said, his voice dripping with regret. “I’ve gotta run to the office”.

Tony only nodded at that, not wanting to give away his desire to see Steve again. Luckily Steve saved him from embarrassment.

“I’d really like to see you again though. Maybe without all this work in the way,” Steve gestured to the blueprints between them.

Tony grinned and nodded. “I’d like that a lot”.

They exchanged numbers and Tony watched Steve head out the door and turn down the street. He was about to round the corner, but before he disappeared from view, Steve looked back, grinning when he saw Tony watching him. Tony smiled back before returning to his work.

About a month later, Tony and Steve had gone out to dinner several times, grabbed coffee in the afternoons, and taken Steve’s unfairly cute dog for a few strolls around Central Park. If Tony thought Steve was cuter than his dog, nobody had to know. Tony knew that what they were doing undoubtedly counted as dating, but Tony wasn’t willing to call it that yet. They held hands when they walked and Steve kissed him on the cheek in greeting and when they said goodbye every time they saw each other. 

Tony told Rhodey about Steve when his best friend pressed him on why he was so happy all of a sudden. It went unsaid that Tony hadn’t had any houseguests recently either.

“You like him, then?” Rhodey questioned.

“Yeah, honeybear, I like him. I can’t decide if I want to tear his clothes off or bundle him up on the couch”.

Rhodey threw his head back in a loud laugh. “Wow Tones, you’ve got it bad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this”.

Tony pouted at that. He knew Rhodey was right and he didn’t know what to do about it. It was always at this point in relationships when things started to go off the rails. Just last night he had another terror-filled sleep, resulting in sweat drenched sheets and tear soaked pillows.

Rhodey’s gaze softened, knowing exactly what was running through Tony’s head.

“Just talk to him Tony. Based on what you’ve told me, it sounds like he’s just as gone for you as you are for him”.

“You’re right”.

“I’m sorry, can I get that in writing? How about a recording?”

Tony laughed at that and shooed Rhodey out of his apartment. If he was going to have this conversation with Steve, it needed to happen soon.

Tony pulled his phone out to call Steve.

On the other side of the city, Steve sat at home working through the column he owed his editor the following week. He’d made some solid progress when his phone buzzed on his desk. Seeing Tony’s name (and silly face he managed to capture on a walk) made him smile.

“Hey Tones”.

Tony could hear the smile in Steve’s voice, causing him to melt just a bit.

“Hi Steve. I uh, I was wondering what you were doing for dinner tonight?”

“No plans pal, want to grab a bite somewhere?”

“Um actually, I was wondering if you might want to come over here for dinner?”

Tony had been to Steve’s apartment briefly on the days that they’d taken his dog for a walk, but otherwise, they hadn’t visited each other’s homes. Tony was especially protective of his space, and Steve knew this. The gravity of Tony’s invitation was not lost on him.

“That sounds really nice, Tony. What time should I be there?”

“How’s six?”

“Perfect, I’ll bring wine”.

“I’ll see you tonight, Steve”.

“See you soon, Tones”.

Steve ended the call and just stared at his phone for a moment. He knew Tony didn’t trust people easily. He and Tony had been seeing each other for a little over a month now and had yet to have a conversation about taking any next steps in their relationship. Tony had told Steve little bits about past relationships and hinted that he isn’t typically the relationship type. Steve didn’t know what to make of it at the time, but the more time he spent with Tony, the more he learned about him. Steve assumed it wasn’t that Tony didn’t want to be in a relationship, but that he'd been broken too many times to believe in them again. Steve hoped that tonight would open the door to something more, even if it was just a crack.

Determined to make more progress on his column, Steve directed his attention back to his computer as best he could. His mind was swirling with thoughts about Tony and all the things he wanted with him. Steve knew he was steadily falling for the man. Tony was brilliant, challenging, hilarious, and had a bigger heart than anyone gave him credit for. Steve only hoped that Tony could see himself that way, too.

A few hours later, Steve was grabbing a couple of bottles of wine and heading out the door to make it to Tony’s apartment by six. Tony had texted him his address and Steve was pleasantly surprised at their proximity to each other. When Steve arrived at Tony's building, he was surprised to see Tony himself waiting at the entrance.

Steve beamed at Tony; he was never one for subtlety. As he approached Tony, he could see the man practically vibrating with nervous energy. As soon as he was within arm’s reach, Steve reached for Tony and pulled him in for a hug. Tony’s arms wrapped around his waist and his face squeezed into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Steve could feel the harsh breath Tony let out as soon as he held him close.

“Hey you,” Steve whispered.

“Hi Stevie”.

“As much as I love holding you like this, do you think we should maybe head inside?” Steve asked softly, reluctant to let go of the man in his arms.

Tony pulled back with a blush, but Steve kept a hand on the small of Tony’s back, attempting to keep as much contact as he could. Tony nodded and turned toward the front door without a word.

They were silent as they moved through the lobby and came to a stop in front of the elevators. Once they were inside the car and Tony pressed the “PH” button, he finally spoke.

“I’m really happy you’re here,” he said in a rush, as if he had forced the words out of his mouth.

“I’m really happy I’m here too, Tony”.

Eventually, the elevator doors opened directly into an expansive foyer, with exposed beams and rustic chandeliers above them. Steve stepped out, taking in the vast apartment surrounding him. Tony started down the hallway and Steve followed, taking in the many paintings and photos lining the hallway. They entered a kitchen half the size of Steve’s entire apartment to find several dishes littered across the stove.

“I might not know how to make much, but what I can make is damn good,” Tony said as he checked a sauce of some sort on the stove.

Steve set the bottles of wine on the massive island in the center of the kitchen and followed Tony to the stove. Tony was surprised to feel Steve’s chest pressed against his back, his arms around his waist, and his nose pressed against the top of his head.

“This smells delicious Tony. Anything I can help with?”

Tony reluctantly pointed out the cabinets that held his dishes as well where his wine glasses were hanging. Steve gave him one last squeeze and a soft kiss to his hair before stepping away. Steve found his way around Tony’s kitchen easily, and Tony felt his heart squeeze at the comfortability of it all. 

Before long, they were serving themselves heaping plates of pasta and veggies and Steve poured them each a generous glass of red wine. Tony grabbed the food and led them through to the dining room, while Steve followed with their wine and what was left in the bottle.

Tony watched nervously as Steve took the first bite of food and smiled with relief when Steve groaned at the taste.

“Tony, you’ve been holding out on me. This is delicious,” Steve grinned across the table.

Tony only smiled shyly before digging in himself.

Dinner was a quiet affair, both men devouring their food and enjoying their wine. They exchanged quiet words about the projects they were working on and Steve rambled about some new toy he’d gotten for his dog.

When they’d both cleaned their plates and finished the bottle of wine, Steve paused. Tony seemed to sense his confidence wavering, which was uncommon for Steve. 

“I saw that second bottle of wine, don’t think I’m kicking you out without sharing it first,” Tony admitted.

“Ha, my plan worked,” Steve teased.

Tony only shook his head. “Come on, we can dump these in the sink and watch a movie”.

Steve nodded gratefully and headed back into the kitchen with Tony, happy to spend more time with the man that was quickly stealing his heart and occupying the majority of his thoughts. They set their plates and silverware in the sink before grabbing the second bottle of wine and heading into the living room. Both men stood in the entryway to the room, Steve waiting for Tony’s lead to see how the man wanted to proceed. Tony eventually stepped down onto the soft carpet and made his way to the large plush sofa in the center of the room. He situated himself near the center of the couch and patted the cushion next to him, making it clear where he expected Steve to settle.

Steve stepped into the room, wine in hand, and made his way toward Tony. As soon as he settled on the couch he opened the bottle of wine, refilling each of their glasses. He was grateful for the distraction, not trusting his hands so close to Tony. Once the glasses were full, he grabbed them both and settled back into the couch. He lifted one toward Tony who took it happily before settling into Steve’s side. Steve wrapped his arm firmly around Tony, reveling in the closeness and willing the other man to melt into his side the way he’d been desperate for for weeks. 

Tony was stiff for a brief moment, but as soon as Steve squeezed his shoulder, urging him to come in closer, Tony gave in. His head came to rest on Steve’s shoulder and his entire form curled around Steve’s firm body. Steve hummed with pleasure, finally having this man closer than ever before.

Reaching to the side, Steve set his glass down on the table next to the couch; he wanted both arms available to wrap Tony up. When Tony noticed, he glanced up at Steve, and the bearded man’s resolve broke in an instant. 

Both of Steve’s hands came to rest on Tony’s cheeks, angling his face further up so Steve could take in all of his features. His hair was soft and unstyled, natural curls falling on his forehead. His eyes were wide and curious taking in Steve’s every move. His lips were slightly parted, tongue sneaking out to wet them the moment Steve’s eyes dipped down to them. At that, Steve lunged forward, pressing his lips against Tony’s before either man could think long enough to question the action. 

Tony immediately reciprocated and reached forward to weave his free hand through the long strands of hair on top of Steve’s head. Steve moaned at that, and Tony took the opportunity to softly explore Steve’s mouth with his tongue. Steve tasted like wine and tomatoes, an admittedly odd combination, but Tony couldn’t stop. Their lips and tongues continued to explore each other until Steve had to pull back for a deep breath. He kept Tony close, pressing their foreheads together as they each panted against each other.

“Tones,” Steve groaned.

“I know Stevie. I’m sorry that took so long,” Tony apologized.

Steve leaned in to press a quick kiss to Tony’s lips. “Never apologize for that, babe”. Steve couldn’t help the endearment as it slipped from his lips, but Tony only seemed to preen in response.

“Let’s find something to watch,” Tony said softly. As much as he wanted to continue down the path they started, he knew he wasn’t ready for much more.

Steve resettled himself with his arm around Tony’s shoulders, keeping the smaller man as close as he could manage. Tony grabbed the remote and pulled up Netflix before deciding on the newest original movie they’d released. Before either man could settle any further, Steve detached himself from Tony and laid down along the couch, his back pressed against the back cushions. He left plenty of space in front of him and looked at Tony expectantly.

“Can I just hold you for a bit, please?” He asked shyly.

Tony blushed bright red, feeling the warmth spread from his cheeks down past the collar of his shirt. He nodded quickly and settled down with his back pressed to Steve’s front. Steve’s left arm came to rest over his waist while his right arm settled under Tony’s cheek as if it were a pillow. Tony had never enjoyed the feeling of being held as he did in that moment.

Steve loved the feeling of having Tony in his arms. His entire body was pressed into his own, not an inch of space left between them. He nuzzled into Tony’s neck, unable to get enough of the man’s scent. Tony shivered while he pressed play on the movie, hoping to distract them both for at least a few minutes.

Less than halfway through the movie, Steve could hear Tony snuffling softly into his arm, clearly fast asleep. In an attempt not to wake him, Steve reached for the remote and shut the television off. Tony shifted in his sleep, and awoke enough at the sudden silence in the room.

“Mm Stevie, what time is it”

“It’s late sugar. Let me get you to bed”.

Tony froze at that. Suddenly he was wide awake and terrified at the prospect of Steve entering his bedroom. Before he could think better of it, he was stammering out words that hardly made any sense.

“I, I can’t sleep with you. I can’t sleep with anyone,” Tony rushed out.

Steve paused, not wanting to startle the man in his arms.

“Okay Tony, we don’t have to do anything. Just let me help you to your room”.

Tony’s mind cleared momentarily. Steve was still here after all the truths he’d shared over the past several weeks. Steve knew some of his deepest insecurities and Tony was sure Steve could sense the amount of hurt he’d been through over the years. Despite his inability to communicate and commit, Steve was still here, willing to take care of him and care for him. 

“No,” Tony argued. “I want you here. I just can’t sleep with anyone here. Haven’t been able to for years”. Tony let out a deep breath, grateful that Steve hadn’t tried to interrupt. “I get these nightmares sometimes, I don’t wanna wake you”.

“Oh, honey. You think a nightmare could keep me away from you? Come on, let’s get comfy and we’ll take it one step at a time”.

To Steve’s surprise, Tony agreed, nodding and getting to his feet. Steve stood and followed Tony down the hall to the master bedroom. As Tony entered his room, he stripped down to his boxers without much thought and crawled straight into bed. Steve stood in the doorway, unsure of what Tony wanted him to do. As much as he wanted to crawl right in next to Tony, Steve knew this was a slippery slope for the two of them.

Cracking an eye open, Tony looked up at Steve.

“Why are you still standing there baby?”

Steve’s heart absolutely stopped at that. Tony’s soft sleepy voice combined with the sweet pet name absolutely ruined him. Without much thought, Steve followed Tony’s lead and stripped down to his boxers before slipping under the covers. 

Tony turned to face him and settled a hand on Steve’s cheek.

“I might wake up screaming. Or crying. Or both usually, if I’m being honest”.

“What do you want me to do if that happens?”

“Just hold me when I wake up. Please don’t leave if you wake up before I do. I hate waking up alone after a nightmare and you’re the only one I wanna wake up next to”.

“Oh sweetheart, I promise I’ll be right here”.

Tony pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s lips before whispering a soft goodnight. He rolled over, pressing the backline of his body to Steve’s front, revelling in the feeling of Steve’s arms holding him close.

When he inevitably woke up with a scratchy throat and tear stained face, he was grateful for the warm, steady arms around him. He rolled over in Steve’s embrace, pressing his face into Steve’s chest, attempting to burrow himself even closer. Steve mumbled soft words into his ear, easing him back to sleep. 

“I’m here baby, I’ve got you. You’ll always be safe with me, I promise, love. Go back to sleep sweet thing”. 

Tony hummed in reply. As he drifted back to sleep he realized that he’d never been incapable of this closeness with another human. Despite the fact that all his previous relationships convinced him otherwise, all he needed was the right person to hold him close and keep him safe.

Steve’s strong arms and soft words were enough to lull him back to sleep, but not before he whispered softly, “please never let go”.

Tony was fast asleep when Steve replied, “I’m never letting go baby”.

[felicia-parker]

Prompt: 01 - “No, come back!”  Fandom: dcau/dc comics  (the huntress/the question) Rating: T TW: none.

He often forgets how Gotham really smells when he returns. It smells like a mix of industrial pollution, brackish water from the harbors, and nothing at all like Hub City. He leaves the train with his head ducked down, hat on his head, no one notices him anyways in the flurry of snow falling in the city for the first time all year. People are already complaining of scraping driveways come morning, but he ignores them all as he passes. His mask is balled up in his pocket, bare face being kissed by flurries. It makes his cheeks match his hair. Vic shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling for his gloves and hastily shoving them on his quickly numbing fingers. 

“I should call…” He mutters to himself, “that’s what you do.” 

He tries to pull up the social cues she has so painstakingly drilled into him on the last six months, twenty-one days, fourteen hours, and thirty-five minutes. She reminds him to call since he refuses to text, there’s too many hands those messages could fall into, cell phones aren’t safe but the Government is slowly killing the payphones making his anonymity harder and harder. Helena gave him a phone, sleek and black, the screen already has a chip from him dropping it after a night of scrolling internet sleuthing led to him falling asleep in his favorite chair, the phone becoming victim to the floor. He only has one contact in it,  one photo, no messages, one voice mail saved-- she had pocket dialed him, her useless mutterings forever recorded on his digital answering machine.

He listens to it when the nights get a little too long and the trains stop running.

Vic pulls out the phone and double taps the little screen. It illuminates amongst the darkness of the city and he stops on the sidewalk to quickly type in a code too long for anyone to memorize, before turning it back off and stuffing it down in his pocket. He decides he doesn’t need to call. If he has anyone tailing him, they can’t know where he’s going. Vic glances over his shoulder.

The paranoia is getting a little worse, but Helena doesn’t seem to mention it anymore. She just sighs and reminds him of how many ‘bad guys’ she’s tossed into gutters. It doesn’t soothe him like she thinks it does, but he lets her brag until she’s content. He crosses the street right over the crosswalk which leads him into a burrow of the city. Tall buildings are illuminated with door lights and street lights that seem to stretch on for an eternity. All of the buildings look the same, except every other one has another color slapped onto the brick. They are all cookie-cutter, cheap apartments, ones that the working class usually fill.

He walks until his feet start to ache, the old dress shoes he’s wearing are worn down, dried blood is caked on the underside of the heels, excellent for remaining invisible, poor for snowy nights in a city that didn’t particularly belong to him.  Vic stops outside of a light gray building on the corner and begins to count the windows. On the sixth floor he sees the light on, the fire escape is decorated with a dying plant and nothing else, window closed and curtains open.  When a shadow passes by the glass, his heart skips a beat and he glances up to the sky overhead. The clouds are thick and dark, no moon, no infamous signal in the sky.

He breathes a sigh of relief and begins to climb. The old iron squeaks every few steps, he notes the rust on the third floor and makes a mental note to not put too much weight there on his way back down and climbs until his breath clouds the window of the sixth floor, corner apartment. The edges of her window are slick with moisture, she must have cooked tonight, filled her apartment with the heat of the kitchen as she worked. His gloved fingers trace over the sill and he moved to lift the glass.  It didn’t budge. She had locked it for once.

The sound of the television vibrates against the window and he peers in with hands cupped around his face to see her stretched out on the couch, papers everywhere, red pen between her lips as she holds a paper above her head. Her hair is spilling over the couch in wave of dark curls and he marvels in the simplicity of it all. She looks absolutely normal.

Helena is anything but normal. He knows this. He dares to even love such an idea, of this woman who is an unstoppable force with no concept of white and black, her world is shades of gray and personal vendettas.  Helena stretches once more on the couch, taking the red pen from her mouth to mark something on the paper with ease.  

He knocks, the pen goes wild over the page as she all but throws herself off of the couch and onto the floor. A momentary flash of fear crosses her face, followed by anger as she pulls her pen up like mini dagger, set to throw it with deadly precision at the window when she recognizes the outline of him. Her shoulders sag and she stomps over to the window. In one quick yank the glass comes up and he’s met with the lingering smell of homemade food, warm and tinged with garlic, but all of it is forgotten as she shouts at him with her voice sharper than any knife.

“You’re supposed to call! I gave you a phone Q!” Helena’s cheeks are flushed red, her teeth are clenched tightly together and he can see the muscle in her jaw is strained. Anger radiates from her form.

“I wanted to…”

“No!” She shouts the word and slams the window back down in his face. It’s a miracle the glass stays in place. She keeps her hand on the window, glaring at him when he takes the step back to leave. A minute ticks by and then a second, a third, and finally he backs up to go back down the escape, shoulders slumping. He should have called, he should have warned her, should have asked if she even wanted to see him after being apart for so long.

His foot touches down on the ladder when he hears the window open back up, “No, come back!”

Her voice isn’t as angry and this time her hand reaches into the cold for his. She manages to grab hold of his coat sleeve, pulling him impatiently over the threshold. Vic stumbles a bit, but once he’s inside she closes the window behind him, putting the lock in place before grabbing at his coat again. Helena is far from gentle. She pulls at his coat until he’s leaning over, close enough for her mouth to find his. She kisses him until he’s gasping for air, until he has to pull back to recover his bearings.

His eyes glance over her  living quarters,  there’s a half-decorated tree in the corner where her desk usually sits, the desk now stowed away for the holidays no doubt, leading to all the school papers being strewn across her coffee table and couch, markers and highlighters all around. The television drones on and on with the nightly news bleeding into a late night talk-show.

“Am I…” He clears his throat, “Not welcome?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” She waves a hand at him, reaching behind him to pull the blinds down, drawing the curtains for privacy. “I just wish you would use that phone.”

“Trackable.”

“Yeah, that’s why I got it for you. I’d like to know when you’re coming here. It’s not like we have…” It’s her turn to trail off and she walks to the kitchen as she does so, opening the fridge and pulling out the leftovers of her dinner to warm up for him. He doesn’t tell her no. Vic learned a long time ago to never reject food from her.  Helena mutters something else and slides the homemade plate of lasagna into the microwave.

“Are you listening?” She asks him.

“Yes. No set schedule.” He nods to her and stands still for a minute too long, feeling like an obscure piece of furniture in her little home. His own home is empty, soulless, untraceable.  Hers is full of art, plates, second-hand furniture, and little things here and there that just fit the woman in the kitchen.

The microwave dings as she’s pulling a glass out of the cabinet and setting him a place at her kitchen bar, “Come, eat.”

He eats like a starving man. A home cooked meal is such a rarity in his life, something he only gets when Helena is around. She refuses to eat an abundance of ready-to-eat frozen meals, instead spending hours in the grocery store to find fresh ingredients, an unnecessary thing in his world.  Helena pours herself another glass of wine, gives him one too but he only sips that, going back to scraping the fork over the plate until it’s all gone.

“Thank you,” He murmurs the soft appreciation, he no longer feels cold, but warmed from the inside out. She crosses behind him and pulls at his coat. Vic lets his arms go limp, lets her pull his coat away. She takes his hat too and hangs both by the door, coming back to pull him free from the bar stool, drawing him towards her couch for more comfort. He lets her lead him around. He can’t seem to stop his feet from following her. He would follow her to the edges of space, hell, and everything in between, but can’t seem to say the words to her. Instead he settles for the silence between them. She sets him on the couch, pulls the blanket from the back of it and tucks it over his shoulders, kisses the top of his hair before making it messy with a ruffle of her fingers.

“I always forget how bright red…” She snickers softly, teasing him for not wearing the mask, for giving himself over to her with no second skin to block the way.

Vic tilts his head up to her own, frowning slightly, “Would you prefer the mask?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” She repeats the words from earlier. Her brows knitting together in concern before she crosses in front of him and takes the place next to him on the couch, gathering up more papers to grade, “Don’t ask that question again.”

“Can I ask another?” He turns his head over, watching her pull her legs up, tucking them under her, pen cap already in her mouth as she begins going down the line of questions, looking for the incorrect answers.

“Mhm,” She hums softly, not glancing up at him. Instead she runs the pen over the top, making a perfect one-hundred in a little loop, following with a little star at the corner of the page. He watches her work with ease, moving onto the next page with her little red pen on the hunt of mistakes.

His mouth forms the words, “Can I stay?”

Her pen scratches an ‘x’ over an answer. He waits for her to put an ‘x’ on him as well, but she does no such thing.  

“I was expecting you to,” she doesn’t look up from the papers still, “I hope you’ll stay for a while.”

Helena shifts now, moving to lay her back against his side, “You hope or want?”

“Does it make a difference to you?”

“Yes.” He answers her matter-of-factly. He wants to hear her say the words. Vic wants her to say she wants him to stay, wants him to be with her even if it’s for such a short time. Christmas is four days away, three nights, he can make the train on the fourth, be back in Hub before she grows too used to his body in her bed.

“Then,” Helena shifts again, this time picking his arm up and sliding under it, she lays now half against him on the couch with her legs stretched to the other end, she smells of floral shampoo and ink, “I want you to stay, but you have to actually stay. You can’t skip breakfast.”

Vic takes a moment as she makes herself comfortable against him before he fully relaxes. He lets his arm slide over her stomach and pulls her into him until there’s no space left, she’s draped comfortably into the curve of him, papers to grade in her hand. His hand twitches for the remote, to turn away from the channel of mind-numbing late-night television, enjoying the warmth of her finally returning to him after months of being away.

“I think I want to stay.”

She marks another one-hundred across the top of the page, adds a little star to the corner before tilting her head back against his chest, the word leaves her with a soft sigh and a curve of her lips, “Stay.”

[itgetsdarksometimes35]

The Love You Leave Behind

Warnings: Sadness maybe? None really, just a bit of fluff

Word Count: 804

Pairings: Mace / Reader

Summary: Mace is about to board Icarus II, but he’s worried about the love he’s leaving behind. 

~ indicates a time change

A/N: This is my submission to @jtargaryen18​ 30 days of Chris Evans, hope you enjoy. I’ll be uploading once a week for a while because I’ve written a lot of stuff, but I’m in writing hibernation for the time being. 

Your daughter crossed her arms as Mace went to take her from your hold. “Come on, Luna, say bye bye to daddy.” You tried to coax her from her tantrum but she didn’t listen. One day she’d regret it. You sighed before looking at your husband, tears were in his eyes.

“She’s mad at me.” You smiled sadly at him.

“I’m sorry.” Mace shook his head.

“Don’t be, I understand,” he ducked down to Luna once again, “Goodbye, Luna, daddy has to go now. He just wants you to know he loves you and mommy so very much, and he’ll never forget either of you.” He rubs the toddler’s back and she whines at him and into the crook of your neck.

Mace looks at you again before hugging you tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And so does Luna.” Your husband reached into his pocket after letting you go to retrieve a necklace with a broken heart. He put it around Luna’s neck and he showed her the other half that hung around his.

“This is so we’ll always be together, Baby Girl. You and I will never be apart, as long as you keep this necklace on.” Mace’s voice broke as he started to hold back his cries.

It had taken you so long to convince him to go on this mission. It was a suicide job, but it’s one he was training for, long before Luna was born. The pregnancy was a mistake, and you thought about an abortion but Mace convinced you against it. He told you he wouldn’t go on the mission instead. You told him you’d keep the baby, but only if he agreed to go. He was pissed at you for weeks but finally came around. Now, here you all were, standing in your front yard saying goodbye.

The car on the street outside your house honks. Mace looks behind him before turning back to you and your daughter. “Well, that’s my cue.”

“We’ll see you later, Mace. Not now, but eventually.” Mace just nodded his head before he hugged you both close and kissed you both for the last time. He had to pull himself away from the family you built and to the car waiting for him. On your wedding day you promised each other forever. Who knew forever would only last this long?

~

“Mommy, it’s almost time!”

You run outside to your front yard after Luna as you carry your other 3 year old daughter, Steevie, on your hip. You hated the fact you had hid your second pregnancy from Mace, but you knew he wouldn’t think about going on the mission if he knew you were pregnant. As much as you wanted him here for your two girls, the entire world needed him on that ship. He was the best engineer the world had, and only he could accomplish the mission flawlessly.

Luna, who was now 5, looked up at the sky as she held your hand. She understands her dad will never come back home, but she also understand he’s a hero. She goes to school everyday bragging about it to her classmates, and you knew Mace would be happy to know he’s making his daughter proud. She had counted down the days that it would take them to get to the sun, and today was the day it was supposed to happen.

She clutched the necklace in her hand as you both saw a small explosion in the sky. Luna looked back at you with wide eyes. “Did they do it, mommy?”

Tears started to fall from your eyes as a smile crept on your face. “Yes, Baby, daddy did it.” Luna’s face broke into her own smile as she jumped up and down clapping her mitten covered hands. Steevie joined in on the clapping, not really understanding what was happening. “Good job, Mace, you’re a hero. You did it,” you said to the sky, pulled your daughters close, “and we couldn’t be more proud.”

“We love you, daddy!” Luna shouted into the night sky.

“Wuv you!” Steevie repeated.

“We love you, Mace.” More tears escaped your eyes. One day, you thought, one day you’d all be able to hear his reply. But not now.

You would forever show your girls the letters Mace left for you and Luna, and the video diaries he sent you both. You’d tell Steevie she is going to be the surprise that’s waiting for him in Heaven and that he will be so glad to meet her. You’ll tell them all about their wonderful father and show them pictures and share stories.

For now, though, you led them inside as you made them hot cocoa and prepared for the times of wearing bathing suits and relaxing by the beach could come back again.

XXX

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