#elizabeth rose hart

[bamby0304]

The Hart III: Secrets

Ch.28: Carver Edlund

Series Masterlist

Summary: Three months… Dean was gone for three months and now he’s back. He’s back and he truly has no idea how much things have changed. Life moved on while Dean was in Hell, and now things are complicated. With new faces and troubles right around the corner, will the trio find a way to come back together? Or has all hope been lost?

Bamby

DPOV

The moment the man in front of me pulled his fingers away from where they'd been pressed to my forehead, it was like everything around me changed. Like the lighting dimmed a little as everything settled back into place.

"What the hell?" I frowned, looking around, confused... as I looked down at myself, the confusion only grew. "Why am I wearing a tie?" As if on cue, my stomach growled, pulling my attention to the fact that it felt like I hadn't eaten in weeks. "My God, am I hungry."

The man in front of me- who dressed in a suit which I was pretty sure would be more expensive than the one I was wearing- chuckled lightly. "Welcome back."

Standing up I looked him up and down, getting ready to be on the defensive. "Wait. Did I- did I just get touched by... you're an angel, aren't you?"

"I'm Zachariah."

I groaned, "Oh, great. That's all I need is another one of you guys."

He smirked at my response, moving around to stand on my side of the desk in the office we stood in. "I'm hardly another one, Dean. I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest in popping down here into one of these smelly things." He gestured to the body he was wearing. "But after the unfortunate situation with Uriel, I felt it necessary to pay a visit. Get my ducks in a row."

"I am not one of your ducks."

"Starting with your attitude," he added without missing a beat.

"Oh, so, what? This was all some sort of a lesson?" I gestured to the room, but was talking about everything I was remembering... though I wasn't sure if it had all been real or not. "Is that what you're telling me? Wow. Very creative."

"You should see my decoupage."

"Gross. No thank you." I frowned, genuinely grossed out, before going on. "So, what? I'm just hallucinating all this? Is that it?"

"Not at all." He shook his head, moving back to the other side of the desk. "Real place, real haunting. Just plunked you in the middle without the benefit of your memories."

The last thing I remembered was being in the hospital. I mean, I remember the rest, but it's like it wasn't me. Three weeks ago, I woke up in an apartment I knew, with a life I fully believed was my own. I had a new job, a family, things felt pretty great. I was a happy guy.

But then people started dying at work. Most of them were suicides. Things started to get a little weird- especially after I met Sam a couple of days ago. We'd been working here for the same amount of time, but while I was some fancy office guy, he was a cubicle worker bee. We knew nothing of each other, but still managed to become friends pretty quickly.

We figured out what was happening to all the people who were dying. We figure out who the ghost was and why they were here. We learnt how to kill it- which we did. We saved the day just like we did in our normal lives, despite the fact that we were one hundred percent clueless as to who we really were.

I shook my head at Zachariah. "Just to shake things up? Hm? So you guys can have fun watching us run around like ass clowns in monkey suits?" I snapped.

"To prove to you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. You're a hunter. Not because your dad made you, not because God called you back from hell, but because it is what you are. And you love it. You'll find your way to it in the dark every single time and you're miserable without it. Dean, let's be real here. You're good at this. You'll be successful. You will stop it."

"Stop what? The apocalypse, huh?" I asked, getting worked up. I just wanted an answer already. "Lucifer? What? Be specific, man."

"You'll do everything you're destined to do. All of it," he answered, without telling me what I actually wanted to know. Without telling me anything. "But I know, I know. You're not strong enough. You're scared. You got daddy issues. You can't do it. Right?"

"Angel or not, I will stab you in your face," I told him simply.

Ignoring me, he continued to speak. "All I'm saying is it's how you look at it. Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things." As I turned away he went on. "Save people, maybe even the world. All the while you drive a classic car and fornicate with women. This isn't a curse. It's a gift. So for God's sakes, Dean, quit whining about it." I turned back to him. "Look around. There are plenty of fates worse than yours. So are you with me? You wanna go steam yourself another latte? Or are you ready to stand up and be who you really are?"

SPOV

I was still reeling from everything that had just happened. I'd quit working at Sandover, walked out the front doors, and was hit with the memories of my real life. Just like that, I knew who I was. Only problem was, I had no idea how I'd gotten where I was.

The first thing I did was turn back around and ran inside, heading for Dean's office, hoping he'd be there and that he remembered too. But as the doors of the elevator opened, I came face to face with him and knew he remembered everything as well.

We both left then, getting in the car he'd been using during the three weeks that we hadn't been ourselves. As he drove, he explained to me what had actually happened to us. How the angels had erased our memories to prove a point. Then they'd told Dean where we could find the Impala and all our stuff- which is where we were headed.

We found the car parked in the middle of a forest, a tarp thrown over her. Sure enough, everything of ours was inside. Nothing appeared to have been touched. Though our phones had been dead. Needing to make sure everyone was okay and that we hadn't missed anything, we headed for the nearest diner where we could grab some food and charge our phones.

"So, this Zachariah guy just dumped us in the middle of a murder ghost hot spot, hoping that we'd figure out how to save the day?" I asked.

Dean shrugged, spooning a mouthful of pie onto his fork. "I mean, you even said it. It's in our blood," he noted.

He had a point. Even with all our memories missing, I still felt like we were destined for more. After we ganked the ghost, it was like I just knew that's what we were made for...

I reached for my phone and turned it on. The moment the light flashed on, I was bombarded with dozens of missed calls and messages from Bobby. Frowning, I checked some of the voice mails, hearing the worry in his voice. With each one he seemed to get more and more panicked. Then I heard the last one...

"I don't know where you boys are, but I need you to get here now. Lizzie... there's something wrong with her. I don't know what to-" The line cut off.

Grabbing my charger, bag and wallet, I threw some money on the table as Dean watched me with a confused frown. He hadn't checked his phone yet and had no idea about the missed calls and messages I was sure he'd have as well.

"Where are you goin'? We just got here," he noted with a mouth full of food.

"We gotta go. It's Lizzie."

That's all I had to say. Hearing the urgency in my voice, and seeing the concerned look on my face. Dean knew this wasn't some joke. He could see how serious this was. If Lizzie was in danger, we had to go and help. She was family.

Leaving his pie, he grabbed a napkin and stood, wiping his face quickly before throwing the napkin back on the table as we both left the diner in a rush.

DPOV

I was a fast driver. Sometimes Sam would scold me for it. I knew there were times where I would be a little too reckless just for the sake of having some fun, and it annoyed him. But at that moment, as I pressed my foot down as hard as I could, he didn't say a word.

We both knew we needed to get to Bobby's as soon as possible. It was a bit of a drive, but I wasn't going to let that slow us down. If Liz needed us, then we'd be there.

It was at that point, as I sped down the many roads, making our way to Bobby's, that I really wanted to rip the angels a new one. If they hadn't taken our memories away for their own purposes then Sam and I might have been able to be there for Liz and Bobby sooner.

It's their fault. Son of a bitch.

I was getting more and more worked up, the more I thought about it. My grip on the wheel tightened as I pressed my foot down even more.

We couldn't get there soon enough.

...

I slammed on the brakes as soon as we were at Bobby's. Dust and dirt picked up around Baby like a cloud, but Sam and I just ignored it as we hurried out of the car and towards the front door. Our feet pounded on the wooden boards of the porch, each of us lifting a hand to knock on the door with panicked force.

A moment or two later, the door opened. Bobby stood there, genuinely surprised to see both of us. But at the same time, he was equally relieved and annoyed.

"Where the hell have you two been?" he asked as he stepped back so Sam and I could enter the house.

"Long story-"

I cut Sam off, wanting to skip the pleasantries and get to the point, "Where's Liz?"

Bobby looked to each of us, an unreadable expression on his face as he gave a short nod and started for the stairs to head to the second story. Sam and I were right behind, saying nothing as we followed.

As we walked down the hall, Bobby stopped at a door.

When I was younger, Bobby use to take care of Sammy and I. A lot of the times we'd stay here. At first the room had been empty. Just some boxes in a corner. But one day, when I went to go look inside, it was suddenly locked. Since then, the door had never been opened.

When I was younger I thought it was because there might be something dangerous in there. As I got older I lost interest. If Bobby didn't want us to see something then he must have a good reason. But now, as he raised his hand to the open the door, I was surprised to see it open without a creak. The movement so smooth and silent...

Stepping inside, I found myself looking around at the unfamiliar room. Forest green walls, wooden dresser and chest of drawers. Books lined the shelves on the walls. A mirror sat above a dresser, with some photos framing it. White lace curtains sat on either side of the window. A wooden double bed with dark grey sheets sat under the window, and tucked under those sheets and blankets was Liz, fast asleep.

Just like that, it clicked. Nothing dangerous had been hiding in the room. Nothing sinister or creepy or weird. It had been locked for her privacy. Even when she hadn't lived here, when she'd gone off to hunt on her own, Bobby had kept the room locked.

"Sam called to tell me you were in the hospital," Bobby started as the three of us watched Liz, "I was about to go see you when that angel friend of yours showed up in the middle of my living room, with Lizzie. Her clothes were covered in blood, but she didn't look hurt. I didn't have time to ask any questions. The angel was gone as quickly as he showed up. I was still going to see you, but wanted to make sure she was okay first." He shook his head. "Last I heard she was with her boyfriend."

My jaw tensed at the reminder of her boyfriend. The reminder of the fact that he'd been lying, that he wasn't a hunter. I hadn't told anyone, yet, but the moment I was sure Liz was okay, I'd find out who that asshole really is.

As I stood there, I wondered where he might be. Why had Castiel been with her? Where was Tristan? Had something happened? Had they been hunting and something went wrong? Had he done something to her? Were they still together? Was he even still alive? So many questions...

"Once I was sure she was okay, I ended up leaving. Lizzie wanted to stay and get cleaned up. I told her I wouldn't be too long. When I got to the hospital both of you were gone. I waited and looked around for a day or so, tried callin' both of you, but you were missing. So, I headed back home. When I got back things still seemed to be fine, but I wanted to make sure. Decided to keep an eye on her.

"Spent a week with her here. Things went back to fine. Eventually I got word of a case, had to leave for a couple of days. We talked on the phone while I was away, but I could tell things were getting worse again. I don't know what happened, but when I got home I found her on the bathroom floor, passed out. Managed to get her to bed, but she didn't wake up for hours."

"You know what's wrong?" I asked, my concern growing with each word he said.

"Got no idea." Bobby shook his head. "She has good days and bad days. Most of the time she's fine. But..."

When he didn't say anything, I pressed for him to go on, "But what, Bobby?"

"I'm really worried about her. I just... I don't know what to do, boys."

EPOV

As I opened my eyes, I flinched at the light streaming into my room. It was like looking directly at the sun, though I knew that was just my body reacting to the withdrawals. I knew everything that was happening was because of that. It had been three weeks since I had demon blood, which hadn't been much, not to keep the withdrawal symptoms at bay long enough.

"Here."

I hadn't even realised someone else was in the room.

Dean stood from the chair that had apparently been set by my bed while I was asleep. Reaching over, he pulled the curtains closed, giving me instant relief. As he sat back down, he watched me carefully.

We were silent for a moment, just looking at each other. I knew he wanted to ask me a million questions, and I wanted to answer all of them. But he wasn't sure where to start and I wasn't sure if I should tell him anything...

"Hey."

A small smile played on my lips. "Hi."

"How are you feeling? You need anything?"

"I'm fine. But I do need something..." Wincing and hissing in pain, I managed to sit myself up, ignoring every ache in my body and throb in my head. "I need to get out of here."

"Liz, I don't think-"

"It's not a good idea. I agree. But Dean, nothing is going to make me feel better. There's just bad, and worse. Staying here, having you, Bobby and Sam worrying about me, is just going to make things worse. Getting out there, finding a distraction, it's the best thing for me right now."

I wasn't sure if that was true, and if I'm being honest, the idea of moving from my bed was a horrible idea. But I did know that staying here was not going to help me find Tristan and kill the asshole.

Yes, you heard right. I wanted to go out there, hunt, and do whatever it takes to find the asshole who did this to me, and kill him. Slowly.

"We don't even have a case-"

As I reached over to the drawer in my bedside table, Dean fell silent. He watched while I pulled out some articles, passing them to him. "Possible haunting. Looks like an easy gank."

Without a word, he took the papers and looked over them. Sighing, he turned his gaze back to me. "What if I say no?"

I gave him a small and knowing smile. "You won't."

DPOV

It took some convincing to get Bobby to let Liz leave with Sam and me. While I'd been in her room, Sam had filed Bobby in on what had happened to us. I guess finding out that the angels could go the same thing at any moment... I mean I understood why he didn't want Liz to go with us. Also, her hunting in this condition was not a good idea, even I knew that.

Yet here we were, dressed in out FBI suits, headed for a comic book store to find out if they'd seen or heard anything related to ghosts.

"Look, I know you said you're feeling fine-"

"Which I am," Liz insisted as I went on.

"But just take it easy. Okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean. I swear," she sighed, clearly annoyed.

Hurrying ahead, she walked into the comic book store without Sam and me. My brother and I shared a look, shaking our heads as we walked into to join her, moving to stand by the counter to talk to the guy at the cashier.

He looked up at us, his eyes glued to Liz. Every pair of eyes were. It was like they'd never seen a chick in here before... which they probably hadn't.

"Uh... can I help you?" the guy behind the counter asked.

"Sure hope so," I started as Sam, Liz and I pulled out our badges. "Agents DeYoung, Shaw and Gowen. Just need to ask you a few questions."

"Notice anything strange in the building, last couple of days?" Sam asked.

The guy looked confused. "Like what?"

"Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights," I noted.

"Uh, I don't think so. Why?"

"Have you heard any noises?" Liz questioned. "Skittering in the walls? Kind of like rats?"

The guy's confusion grew into scepticism. "And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?"

Ignoring his snark, Sam went on. "What about cold spots? Feel any sudden drops in temperature?"

Slowly, as if realising something, the guy began to grin. "I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?"

It was my turn to frown, confused. "Excuse me?"

"You're fans."

"Fans of what?" Sam asked, equally confused.

"What is 'LARPing'?" I looked to Liz. "Do you know what 'LARPing' is?"

Before she could say anything, the guy behind the counter scoffed. "Like you don't know." But when we all continued to look at him with silent confusion, he explained what it was, "Live-Action Role-Play! And pretty hardcore, too."

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're asking questions like the building's haunted. Like those guys and that chick from the books. What are they called? Uh... Supernatural. Two guys and a girl, use fake IDs with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires. What are their names? Uh... Steve, Dirk and Lexi...? Uh, Sal, Dane and Lilly...?"

Sam glanced at Liz and I for a moment before suggesting, "Sam, Dean, and Lizzie?"

The guy nodded enthusiastically. "That's it!"

"You're saying this is a book?" This was weirding me out and not helping with the confusion...

"Books," the guy corrected. "It was a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following." Getting up, he moved around the counter and towards a table labelled 'Bargain Bin'. Sam, Liz and I followed, tense and unsure. "Let's see. Um... ah. Yeah." He grabbed a book and handed it over to me. "That's the first one, I think."

I looked at the cover of the book- which had an illustration of a topless guy holding a shot gun, and a guy carrying a bag of salt, standing by what looked like the Impala. "'Supernatural' by Carver Edlund." Turning it over, I read the blurb out loud. "'Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths'."

"Give me that." Sam snatched the book from my hands to take a look. After a quick scan, he looked up at the guy. "We're gonna need all the copies of 'Supernatural' you've got."

EPOV

I sat on the couch in the hotel room I was sharing with Sam and Dean. Sam was on the computer at the table, doing some research. Dean was on his bed while I was on the couch, the two of us reading the books we'd gotten from the comic bookstore. At first, I thought it was amusing, reading Sam and Dean's lives... But when I showed up in the books, things got less funny. I felt very violated.

"This is freakin' insane," Dean suddenly spoke up, clear annoyed. "How'd this guy know all this stuff?"

Sam shrugged. "You got me."

"Everything is in here," Dean noted, flicking through one of the books. "I mean everything. From the racist truck to… to me having sex. I'm full-frontal in here, dude."

"I am too," I added.

Dean sat up and turned to me. "You are?" He sounded both pissed and interested. As if he wanted to read to but he didn't like the idea of other's reading it.

"Yep," I sighed, tossing him the book I'd been reading, as I got up and moved to sit at the table with Sam. "Like you said, everything is in these books." Even things the guys didn't know about…

Dean- holding he book I'd tossed him- stood and moved over to join Sam and me. "How come we haven't heard of them before?"

"They're pretty obscure," Sam noted. "I mean, almost zero circulation. Uh… started in '05. The publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And, uh, the last one, No Rest for The Wicked," he turned the laptop towards Dean and me, showing us a list of the books, "ends with you going to hell," he told Dean.

"I reiterate. Freaking insane," Dean mumbled as he started to scroll through the page. "Check it out. There's actually fans. There's not many of them, but still. Did you read this?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded. He didn't seem as excited as Dean suddenly was.

"Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this. Simpatico says 'the demon story line is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic'," Dean read. "Yeah, well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived it."

"Yeah. Well, keep on reading." Sam gestured to the laptop. "It gets better."

"There are 'Sam girls' and 'Dean girls' and..." Dean's brows furrowed. "What's a 'slash fan'?"

"As in... Sam-slash-Dean," Sam answered, a look of discomfort and disgust on his face. "Together."

"Like, 'together', together?" Dean asked, equally grossed out.

"Wait, what?" Grabbing the laptop, I took a look, cringing at the words before me. "Okay, gross..."

"Yeah," Sam sighed.

"They do know we're brothers, right?" Dean asked, genuinely disturb.

"Doesn't seem to matter," Sam noted.

"Oh, come on. That... that's just sick." Dean shut the laptop in disgust.

"They even have 'Sambeth girls' and 'Dizzie girls'." when Dean and I looked at Sam confused, but also afraid of what that meant, he explained. "Sambeth is a mix of Sam and Elizabeth. Dizzie, Dean and Lizzie. And then there's... 'Dean, Lizzie and Sam girls'."

I looked to both brothers, eyes going wide. "You mean... together? All three of us?"

Dean shook his head. "We got to find this Carver Edlund."

Sam sighed again. "Yeah, that might not be so easy."

"Why not?" Dean and I asked at the same time.

"No tax records, no known address," Sam answered, shifting in his seat to lean forward a bit more. "Looks like 'Carver Edlund' is a pen name."

Dean shook his head. "Somebody's gotta know who he is."

Bamby

[derekklenadaily]

Jane Bruce's Instagram Story (August 27, 2024)

[hannahhook7744]

got any Bridget aka young Queen of Hearts hc before the movie this Friday ?

Sorry I didn't answer this before now but here:

Bridget's full name is Bridget Mary Elizabeth Iracebeth Heart of Wonderland.

Bridget would be horrified by her adult self and would probably cry at the lives her children had to face over a prank.

Bridget probably learned how to bake from the Royal Cook.

Her parents wanted a son and not a daughter.

Bridget has a younger sister named 'Mirana of Marmoreal'/aka the White Queen.

Bridget's middle name is Iracebeth.

Her future husband's name is Charlemagne, but she calls him Rummy. He comforted her after the prank that was mentioned in the original timeline.

She had her three kids names (Quinlynn, Hardy/Hart, and Red/Róisín) picked out for ages.

The wonderland genes very much show up, both in her family and her & Rummy's children (whose look varies vastly from one another).

Pink is her favorite color.

Roses are her favorite type of flower.

[aiza-luna]

Fanart List by a Shy Mermaid?

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SO, I have a small list to all the OCs I want to draw/ honor bc ever since I joined the Syndicate Fandom (for real), many artists and writters have inspired me to create and develop my own OC (Solange Cotoner) along with her ship with Jacob. It may sound silly, and even a bit stupid, since I don't know many of you guys, but I feel really grateful to follow your work and see your passion with that (sort of) circus that is Syndicate and our chaotic victorian twins 🥹.

.

So... The OCs mentioned and their respective creators:

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Amelia Silverstone by @corvus-the-trickster (Currently in W.I.P Stage)

Celine Rose Kenway by https://www.instagram.com/__we.are.assassins__?igsh=ODRwZzMzYWRmdDhm

Dorothea Marianne Starrick by @nemo-of-house-hamartia / @nemo-in-wonderland

Eden by @thefangirlthatwaited

Elizabeth "Lizzie" Boone by @onewhoturns

Elizabeth W. Hulbert by @lydiafrye

Gwendolyn Emily Mortimer by @mattness

Helena Cutler by https://www.deviantart.com/azulann/art/Assassins-Creed-Syndicate-Helena-585088486

Kora Hart by https://www.deviantart.com/misspr0npieartz/art/Kora-Hart-AS-S-OC-811944940

Madeline Shrike by @maddieautobot273

Magnolia Benson by @thatcrazycrowgirl (Still on W.I.P Stage)

Mattie by @mazikomo

Rebekah by @b3k1720

Victoria Reid by https://www.instagram.com/syntia_blackbird?igsh=a3BrMDVsdTlibnhp

Sarah Caellum by @its-sarah-bridget

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Again, I'm so sorry for tagging all of you on this, but I really wanted to do a gesture to the people that inspired me, even if they had no idea... And sorry for my over enthusiasm, I don't mean to scare you all or smth. 🥹🥲

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(PS: I'm waiting for @navis18 to introduce her girl so I can add her to the list of cool OCs I wanna draw🧜🏽‍♀️🫵🏽)

[wrxsslin-hours]

Hey, Lover (Chapter 2)

prev |

Shawn gives Bret some company, a welcoming warmth in an otherwise cold afternoon.

(Quintessential Delivery Boy x Househusband bretshawn au)

a/n: I greatly underestimated the number of chapters for this fic-let. Maybe it'll stretch to five chapters instead of the planned three lol. Hope you enjoy! <3

You need a pick me up? I'll be there in twenty five. I like to push my luck so take my hand, let's take a drive - "Let's Fall in Love for the Night", FINNEAS

Bret wasn’t one to talk too much on the job, which is why delivery came easy for him. There was nothing but him, the rev of his truck, and the occasional car horn. He didn’t do phone calls or entertain customers with their over-the-top bouquet ideas. He only took the bouquet and got it to where it needed to be, and he could do it while saying ten words or less. It was a mundane job for most of his family, but Bret enjoyed the silence that was graced upon him. Owen would argue that Bret just couldn’t hold a conversation to save his life, and that would earn him a smack on the back of his head by Bret’s folded sunglasses.

In hindsight, Bret wasn’t much of a talker in general. He took his job seriously, wanting to help his parents look over the store with more ease. He’d trim off the thorns of roses and peel back tulip petals with not even a small smile on his face. He left all the babbling to his sisters, who were more than happy to take over when it meant getting the latest gossip of whoever passed behind the front store display window. But, to Bret’s surprise, talking with Shawn came naturally. Maybe it was because Shawn did most of the talking, and Bret would happily let him do it. The rasp of the blonde’s voice tickled Bret’s spine the first time he heard it, and it still does now. And Bret was sure it would always stay that way.

“You never told me your name, y’know,” Shawn started, lips in that pout that Bret knew him for. “If we gotta work together, we might as well be on a first-name basis. You already know my name. Is only fair.” Shawn talked a mile a minute. An exasperated sigh escaped Bret’s lips, and that made Shawn pout even harder.

“It’s Bret,” the delivery boy finally said, tying a string of pink silk around the base of a bouquet. The blonde hummed, “Bret, Bret, Breeeet,” he repeated, acting as if Bret’s name was some juicy secret that he alone had the pleasure to know. Bret had to duck his head down, cheeks tinted. 

Shawn maneuvered his way beside Bret, pushing open the makeshift swinging door of the countertop with his hip. Bret could smell the other’s perfume. Shawn smelled like those scratch-and-sniff pages of Elizabeth’s makeup catalog magazines, expensive but subtle. He looked like the models on those pages too. His hair looked like silk, bouncing in all the right places at the right times and patted down by a cloth headband. A stubborn strand of hair dangled by Shawn’s forehead, and Bret had to push the idea of tucking it behind Shawn’s ear out of his head. If Bret squinted, he could hardly make out the faint shimmer of his lips.

Those lips stretched into a smile as Shawn reached over to grab a small bouquet of dahlias and cornflowers, the one that Bret just finished arranging. Blue eyes met brown ones, and Bret was suddenly awfully aware of how little the space between them was. The delivery boy took a step back and leaned on the counter. “Say, why don’t you tell ol’ Bradshaw that I want these flowers for the next bouquet this time?” Shawn asked, offering them to Bret.

The Hart grabbed the bouquet from Shawn’s grasp, “Why don’t you tell him yourself?” The blonde scoffed, waving his hand, which Bret realized was void of a wedding ring, “Hardly see him, let alone talk to him.” He picked at the rows of ribbons that hung from the wall, “Course, I wouldn’t mind getting ‘em from you instead.”

Bret ignored the man in favor of putting the bouquet back to where it was. “What flowers would your husband want for this party of his?” He asked, diverting the conversation elsewhere as he made his way to the ‘meeting room’, a storage room turned office for their far richer clients that didn’t want to stand around to discuss orders. It was a nice room, evident from the tiles that were way cleaner than those outside its door and the fact that it had the good air conditioning that didn’t rattle every few seconds. Bret could still remember the times his dad would shoo Owen away from the room for using the air conditioner during those summers that were hotter than usual.

With a pout, Shawn followed the delivery boy, stopping every few moments to glance at framed photos and flower arrangements. “It’s a soiree,” Shawn corrected, his voice imitating his husband’s strong Texan drawl, “not a party.” The blonde rolled his eyes and sat on the chair that Bret offered him with the grace of a sack of coal. “As long as it’s pretty, he wouldn’t care.”

Bret had the aching suspicion that Shawn wasn’t only talking about the flowers. The dark-haired man grabbed an assemblage of flowers, each bigger than the ones underneath them. “Peonies?” Bret asked, showing Shawn said flower. In his delight, Shawn took it and twirled the stem around between his fingers.

“Pretty, but too tiny.”

“Thought he wouldn’t care as long as it’s pretty?”

“Well, Peonies are like sippin' tea; husband dearest prefers a bold statement, like a good glass of whiskey." Bret snorted, “Sunflowers then?”

Shawn’s smile widened, “Those are my favorite. Daisies too.” The younger man leaned forward, his hair pooled to his shoulders and Bret could see the sliver of chest hair beyond Shawn’s shirt, “What other flowers have you got, Bret?”

Bret fought the urge to stare. He hoped the heat on his cheeks wasn’t too obvious. But from how Shawn’s smile quirked into a smirk, he doubted it. Bret averted his eyes to the window behind Shawn like his life depended on it. The sky was grey, and Bret already made the mental note to prepare the tin buckets for the leaks all over the shop. He unconsciously licked his lips, “Some asters, maybe baby’s breath too.”

“You seemed to have a good eye for this sort of stuff,” Shawn rested his chin on his open palm, “And you said you were just the delivery boy,” He teased. ‘Play it cool’ Bret thought to himself. He shrugged, “It’s just flowers.”

“You sell yourself short, Mr. delivery boy.” Shawn daintily placed his hand on Bret’s bicep, “I trust your business here can handle the floral decorations. It would mean a whole lot to me.” His voice dropped an octave, got slower, and Bret’s eyebrows jumped at the change. There’s that charge again, shot straight along his spine. Shawn knew how to play him like a fiddle, and Bret would let him if he didn’t know any better. His father’s instructions echoed in his mind, and it was enough for Bret to stand up abruptly.

Shawn chuckled at Bret’s expense. “I’m just joking around,” Shawn assured. Bret didn’t believe him. As they continued to discuss their arrangements, drops of rain drummed on the roof of the store. The room got colder, and Shawn shivered. Bret took notice, of course, he did, and the delivery boy wrapped up their discussion, much to Shawn’s disappointed pout. It was for the best, from the way Shawn would hide the clatter of his teeth and the fact that Bret didn’t see Shawn walk in with an umbrella. The older man watched the rain cascade down the display window, creating a mesmerizing tableau against the backdrop of a gradually darkening day. Shawn joined him.

“Mind if I borrow your telephone?” Shawn asked with a frown, gently bumping against Bret. He let him. As Shawn turned away, his back now facing Bret, he cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder. The room, hushed by the falling rain outside, seemed to amplify the low murmur of Shawn's conversation. The delivery boy, rooted by curiosity, found himself eavesdropping. Bret subtly turned his ear to where Shawn was hovering and listened. Bret could hear Shawn’s frustrated sigh. There was a murmur. A long silence followed.

Bret felt like he was twelve again, trying to listen in on his parents' whispers between themselves during the late hours of the night. With the rattle of the telephone and Shawn’s frustrated and hushed curses, Bret went to the farthest corner of the room and pretended not to notice his customer’s sudden sour temperament. The room grew colder, and Shawn’s silence didn’t help warm up the atmosphere at all. Bret found it odd to have Shawn around him, but instead of being met with his constant banter, there was nothing.

“What’s up?” Bret asked, a sorry attempt to lighten the mood. Shawn’s head shot in Bret’s direction; the fog that seemed to be entangled in Shawn’s mind cleared at the sound of the other’s voice. The blonde forced a smile and walked up to the other man, “Silly me forgot to bring an umbrella. You wouldn’t mind if I stay here ‘til the rain clears up, right?” That was an obvious lie, Bret was sure of it. But he saved Shawn the effort of explaining himself more by shaking his head, “Don’t mind at all.” Bret watched the other man hover around a stool before he sat on it. He pursed his lips as Shawn combed his fingers through his hair. Bret refrained from saying anything else, unsure of how to handle the situation. In true Bret fashion, he decided to keep his hands busy by burying himself in arranging flower bouquets behind the counter. He braced for a question from Shawn, a snide comment, a joke, anything. But it never came.

Bret stole a glance at the other man, and the warmth in Shawn’s skin seemed to fade with the blue sky. He was somber, eyes staring into a spot on the tiled floor that seemed only he can see. The awkwardness hung in the air like an unspoken question, and Bret couldn't stand seeing Shawn so visibly distressed. “You know,” Bret began, trying to fill the void, “I've got a delivery scheduled in the neighborhood. If you're up for it, you could join me. Might pass the time quicker," Bret hesitated for a second, "Plus, I could use the company."

Shawn glanced up, surprise flickering in his eyes, and then a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You sure? I don’t want to impose.”

Bret waved off the concern. “No imposition at all. Besides, it's better than waiting here. What do you say?”

Shawn considered for a brief period, the weight of the previous conversation lingering. “I'd like that.”

Bret nodded, pleased to see the light filter back into Shawn's eyes. “Great. Let me grab the flowers, and we can head out together. Maybe by the time we're done, the rain will have let up, and I can drive you home.”

As Bret gathered a vibrant assortment of flowers, Shawn stood up from the stool, a newfound pop in his step. Bret handed him a smaller bouquet, a mix of daisies and sunflowers, the colors popping against the grayness outside. Shawn buried his nose into the flowers before he turned to Bret, who grabbed his larger pile of bouquets to carry on one hand and his clipboard on the other, “Can I have these for myself?” The delivery boy struggled to open the store’s front door for Shawn, “Don’t even think about it.” Shawn lightly picked on the leaves of the flowers in his arms, straightening out its petals. “If ever Bradshaw comes back to bother you guys for another order, make sure I get flowers like these, alright?” Bret placed the clipboard on top of Shawn’s head, a makeshift umbrella, protecting him from the rain as they shuffled to the delivery truck, “I’ll see what I can do.”

They reached Bret's truck, raindrops dancing on its roof like a lively rhythm. Bret opened the passenger door for Shawn, who gingerly settled into the seat, careful not to crush the vibrant blooms in his arms. Bret, with practiced ease, placed the bouquets in the back, securing them for the journey. The engine roared to life, and the truck pulled away, tires slicing through the drenched streets. Inside the truck, the air was thick with the heady fragrance of flowers, a stark contrast to the cool, damp world outside. Shawn tapped on the little bobble head eternally glued to the dashboard. To Shawn’s surprise, the vehicle was well-kept. The only thing that littered its floors were leaves and the occasional pen that rolled into corners that were too far for Bret to reach. The blonde watched his reflection on the cracked rearview mirror.

“You ever get lonely doing this, Bret?” Shawn asked abruptly. Bret glanced at Shawn, a thoughtful expression on his face. The rhythm of the rain on the roof seemed to slow for a moment. “Yeah, sometimes. It's a quiet job, you know? But the flowers keep me company. And now, I've got you for some company too.” Shawn traced the delicate petals of the flowers in his hands. “Lucky flowers.” Bret chuckled, the sound blending with the hum of the engine. “They're not the only lucky ones today.” Bret missed the light blush on Shawn’s cheeks, eyes focused on the empty street before them. Shawn turned to Bret, a soft smile playing on his lips. The truck rumbled along, carrying the weight of the flowers and the shared warmth of the two men amidst the rain.

The rest of the trip went smoothly. For the first time in a long while, Bret found himself preferring the ramble of Shawn’s words over the silence he had grown accustomed to in his delivery truck. They started with Bret handling the deliveries while Shawn stayed in the shelter of the vehicle. However, after Shawn’s whiny pleas, reminiscent of a child begging their mother for an extra candy bar before bed, Bret relented and allowed the other man to accompany him to the front doors of the bouquets’ intended recipients.

Observing Shawn’s overly enthused smile and how he couldn’t seem to keep himself still for more than a few seconds, Bret deduced that Shawn didn’t go out much. Perhaps Shawn lacked companionship, or maybe he didn’t have anyone to go out with. Bret surmised as much, given how little his husband shared about Shawn’s favorite flowers – assuming he even knew them in the first place.

Bret heard a rustle beside him as Shawn shifted his weight and turned his body toward him, the seatbelt around him stretched by his hips. The blonde leaned his head on the pillow of the headrest and stared at Bret, “You got a girl?”

“Why do you ask?”

"I think you do. Giving her flowers every day, you must be making her the happiest girl in the world,” Shawn murmured, his eyes distant. There was a softness in his voice that made Bret’s shoulders relax, a hint of longing underneath his tone. Bret quietly laughed, “No girl.” He paused for a moment, “No man either.”

Shawn's gaze lingered, searching Bret's eyes for something, and then he nodded thoughtfully. The scene outside the truck windows slowly faded from apartment homes to the mansions and tree-lined streets of the affluent neighborhood Shawn had learned to tolerate. The blonde noticed the familiar moss-covered dog statue in the middle of a roundabout, and he knew home, if he could call it that, was getting closer. He sank further into his seat.

“You remember where I live?” Shawn asked, hoping the question would make Bret ease the pressure on the gas pedal

“Hard to forget when the last time I was here was the first time I ever was.”

Bret wished he had more deliveries to do, if it meant spending more time with the man beside him. He couldn't deny the warmth that had crept into the cab of the delivery truck. Yet, a nagging realization tugged at the edges of his consciousness – an awareness that it was foolish to wish for something more, especially knowing the other man was married. The truck slowed as they reached Shawn's lavish residence, a sprawling mansion with towering pillars and perfectly manicured gardens. It was the same as Bret first saw it. The truck halted in front of the mansion’s iron gates. Bret couldn't help but glance at Shawn, whose gaze seemed distant, lost in contemplation.

The silence between them stretched on, and neither of them wanted to interrupt it. But as the rain cleared up, Shawn spoke up. “Thanks for the ride, Bret.” Bret nodded, a smile on his lips that didn’t quite match the light of his eyes. “Thanks for helping.” Shawn lingered for a moment, his hand on the door handle, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. Bret wondered if there was more left unsaid, an unspoken connection lingering in the air. But before he could delve into those uncharted waters, Shawn opened the door and stepped out into the now-refreshed air.

The iron gates creaked open, granting access to the grandeur that lay beyond. Bret watched as Shawn's figure receded, gradually disappearing into the opulent embrace of the mansion. The contrast between their worlds became even more palpable, and a sense of distance settled in Bret's chest. In the quiet aftermath, Bret's eyes fell upon the passenger seat, where the blonde had been just seconds ago. A lone daisy, vibrant and defiant, caught his attention. It had escaped from the bouquet that Shawn had clutched during the ride.

A tender smile tugged at Bret's lips as he reached for the stray daisy, its petals seemingly untouched by the rain. The delivery boy tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, and he bit his bottom lip. He had to do something; he would regret it after he’s done it, but Bret couldn’t imagine what it would mean if he didn’t follow his gut. Feeling a surge of determination, Bret rolled down the window, the rain-kissed breeze slipping into the cab of the truck.

"Shawn!" Bret called out, the word carrying a gentle urgency. He spotted Shawn turning around, surprise flickering in his eyes as he approached the truck. Bret extended the stray daisy toward Shawn, a silent offering that transcended the boundaries of their worlds. "For you," Bret said, his voice carrying a warmth that pooled in Shawn’s heart and dripped to his stomach.

Shawn's eyes widened in realization, a genuine smile breaking across his face. He accepted the stray daisy, fingers brushing against Bret's as the small flower exchanged hands. The shower of rain had left a subtle sheen on Shawn's hair, and droplets clung to the edges of the daisy's petals.

"Thanks, Bret," Shawn said, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the lingering echoes of the rain.

[starwarmth]

Read in 2024

The Summer Book by Tove Jansson (1/4/24)

The Convenient Marriage by Georgette Heyer (1/14/24)

In The Forests of Serre by Patricia A. McKillip (2/17/24)

Crown Duel by Sherwood Smith (2/24/24)

Ben and Me by Robert Lawson (2/25/24)

A Time to Keep by Tasha Tudor (3/6/24)

Frost Light by Danielle Bullen (3/9/24)

L’Allegro by John Milton (3/26/24)

Galatea by Madeline Miller (3/26/24)

Dream Work by Mary Oliver (3/28/24)

Goliath of Gath by Phillis Wheatley (2/28/24)

A Few Figs from Thistles by Edna St. Vincent Millay (2/28/24)

A Constellation of Roses by Miranda Asebedo (5/4/24)

A Civil Contract by Georgette Heyer (6/2/24)

Spin the Dawn by Elizabeth Lim (6/19/24)

Unravel the Dusk by Elizabeth Lim (6/24/24)

The Naturals by Jennifer Lynn Barnes (7/18/24)

A Hidden Magic by Vivian Vande Velde (7/21/24)

Parker’s Back by Flannery O’Connor (7/25/24)

Killer Instinct by Jennifer Lynn Barnes (7/31/24)

Unfairly Caught: A Mansfield Park Variation by Bethany Delleman (8/1/24)

Gigi by Colette (8/4/24)

The Serpent Slayer and Other Stories of Strong Women by Katrin Tchana (8/5/24)

Heaven to Betsy by Maud Hart Lovelace (8/12/24)

Nancy Drew and The Password to Larkspur Lane by Carolyn Keene (8/18/24)

Tam Lin by Pamela Dean (10/28/24)

[desmorotu]

my redacted ocs! 🎀

some of them stem from the listeners and others are simply ones i made in-universe that have nothing to do with the canon characters:p

- Jamie (Jem) Marie Hart as Freelancer!

- Annaleise James (AJ) Barlowe as Lovely!

- Julian (Tank) Emrys as Darlin’!

- Rowena (Ro) Winchester as Angel!

- Katiana (Kati) Silvermane as Sweetheart!

- Irise Josephine Lancaster as BAAABE!

- Amaris Elizabeth (Liz) Katz as Starlight!

all other listener characters are pending 😔 sigh

- Vera de la Cruz; Mimic. has the ability to…yknow…mimic…another’s ability from a simple touch. Huxley’s coworker at Cafe Moreno, a local coffee place at the city’s heart.

- Marcus Eugene Wayland; vampire. associated with one of the rival packs of Dahlia.

- Ambrose (Vulpecula) Lightwood; inchoate demon. associated and branched out among the canon characters.

- Thomas (Alec) Alexander de la Cruz; Seer. associated in a complicated familial situation with his sister, Vera, and an even more complicated relationship with Ambrose.

- Ambrose (Rose, Ro, Rosie, Ambrocifer <— thanks huxley) Carstairs; Fire elemental! associated primarily with the DAMN crew, (this is my self insert 😔) they’re the aroace platonic friend character you didn’t know you needed !

[mermaidsirennikita]

What are your favorite saddest historical romances? The books that make you want to cry and not pretty cry like actually ugly sob

Oooh publishing because good question! I find it kinda hard to cry with books (and movies, TV) because of my weird compartmentalization thing, but! These made me cry, or at least made me *want* to. Not all of them are like, wholly sad, but they do have a good chunk of sadness at min.

The Scoundrel in Her Bed by Lorraine Heath. This has one of the only scenes that made me cry without having to sit and think about it; like, I didn't realize I was crying until I was crying, and it was a full, "breathe out and wipe at your eyes" situation. The situation in this book does hit home for me personally, but I also found it to be one of those horrible things where it's like... the only solution is to basically undo something that can't be undone. And it sucks because the thing wasn't done by the characters but to them--but it doesn't mean they can make it so that it didn't happen. OOF.

Waking Up with the Duke by Lorraine Heath. I always get really emotional when Ainsley and Jayne part as he brings her back to her husband, because it really has that like.... kind of cinematic, "the movie is ending and they're giving up" feeling. The way Lorraine wrote it feels so final, even though you know you have like 40% of the book left or something. It's rough.

A Rose at Midnight by Anne Stuart. This book is quite intense, and quite dark, and it really vividly describes the pain the heroine suffered in her past. I mean--just true horrors. It's that, and this really intimate catharsis she has with the hero, who she's hated for most of the book, at the end. This is a book about trauma and guilt and the parts of yourself you won't ever get back after something horrible happens, and what you do with what's left.

The Duke's Perfect Wife by Jennifer Ashley. The scene where Hart and Eleanor go to the tombs of his wife and baby son, oof. Like, the emotion over the baby really gets me. I also love a scene where the heroine like fully embraces the hero's love for people who came before her--romance can be kinda meh on that front sometimes, but this book does it very effectively. There's also a scene later in the book where Ian and Hart reunite and it's like--Ian never though they wouldn't find each other, and he's so upfront about it, and it's because their bond is so strong??? Truly I'm a sucker for a sibling bond.

In general, I really like that those core four Mackenzie brother books deal with some pretty heavy shit? Like they're funny, they're adventurous, they're super sexy. But you have Ian in his book struggling to communicate in a world that won't listen to him, and these gestures of love between the brothers that don't do what they need to, and Cameron's intense trauma from his marriage and him doing his best to be a good father while being imperfect; and Mac and Isabella dealing with the reality of being truly in love but not truly right for each other at the time. It's GREAT.

Thief of Shadows by Elizabeth Hoyt. Dude, everything to do with Isabel's infertility in this novel. Like, her trying to shake Winter off by dropping that bomb on him, and Winter being like "no it is a loss, I would've loved to have had babies with you, but I want you more than imaginary babies"--like, the acknowledgment that he loves her more than hypothetical kids, but IT DOES SUCK THAT THEY CAN'T HAVE BIOLOGICAL KIDS. Like, it's so real for him to acknowledge that they will be okay but this situation sucks and it's not okay. Her breaking down over her inability to have a baby, her bond with her husband's illegitimate child that is just so tenuous, the big scene at the end, the fact that there is no magic baby. It's a lot.

OH DUDE. And there's a scene where Winter has to make a really tough call for this kid who he has like, pseudo-adopted... and he's making the right decision for the kid, but it's very painful for Winter personally, ESPECIALLY when set against the backdrop of a plot that basically is about how Winter and Isabel won't be able to have a baby together. Lol so much of this book is hammering home how Winter and Isabel are such good parents, essentially, but they can't have a biological child. It is ROUGH. When Winter says goodbye to that kid, I CRY.

When the Duke Was Wicked by Lorraine Heath. Dude, when Lovingdon uncovered Grace's secret... And the way it makes him confront his trauma over losing his wife and child and his fear of loving someone and losing them??? GOD.

Lorraine Heath is also really good at writing a book that's like "life isn't guaranteed, you've gotta just love and live boldly despite that" which is a complete callout.

A Lady for a Duke by Alexis Hall. The moment when Gracewood recognizes Viola by her freckles. That is a fucking LOT, dude. Overall this is a lighter, romp of a book, which I think is important because it's basically meant to give us an old school adventurous historical with a trans heroine... But it luxuriates in a type of sorrow at points that isn't at all about Viola being trans, but about the time she lost with Gracewood, the survivor's guilt and physical and metaphorical pain he's suffered from since they last saw each other. It's a lot, dude.

The Dragon and The Pearl by Jeannie Lin. There's a despairing love confession following a very intimate scene, and everything feels like it's just not going to be resolved? (And they discussed this a lot in a recent episode of Fated Mates, but--to me, a lot of the best romance novels give you a "how is this going to end in an HEA???" moment.) And it's so quiet and intense and I love it.

Indigo by Beverly Jenkins. The grand gesture at the end of this book. It's so meaningful. It did have me crying a good bit. Don't wanna spoil, it's too good. I mean, this book is about a woman who was born into slavery working with the Underground Railroad.... it's sad. But it's also so optimistic and full of joy.

[tamtam-go92]

Ages after Round 1

After 3,5 days (1 year and 9 month) the current ages of Uberhood's inhabitants are:

If you didn't notice: there is now a Masterpost with all families (might contain mild spoilers): click!

You can also read the whole round 1 in chronological order if you click here!

89: Luis Aspir 86: Carlos Contender 64: Olive Specter, Patrizio Monty 60: Dora Ottomas 59: Mortimer Goth 58: Herb Oldie 57: Isabella Monty, Consort Capp 56: Coral Oldie, Betty Goldstein, PT9 Smith 55: Denise Jacquet, Herbert Goodie, Faith Goodie, Catherine Viejo 51: Jenny Smith 50: Daniel Pleasant 49: Mary-Sue Pleasant 46: Jason Cleveland 45: Marissa Cleveland 44: Edward Contrary, Albany Capp 43: Benjamin Baldwin, Stephen Tinker 42: Vivian Cho, Morty Roth 41: Isabel Baldwin, Wanda Tinker, Opal Contrary, Marcel Jocque, Sophia Jocque, Stella Roth 38: Darren Dreamer 37: Gilbert Jacquet, Buzz Grunt 36: Checo Ramirez, Leod McGreggor 35: Florence Delarosa 34: Antonio Monty 33: Loki Beaker, Pascal Curious 32: Timothy Riley, Lisa Ramirez, John Burb, Goneril Capp, Peter Ottomas, Lola Curious, Cornwall Capp 31: Armand DeBateau, Victor Aspir, Elizabeth Aspir, Issac Bell, Hannah Bell, Brandi Broke, Rose Greenman, Jason Greenman 30: Jessica Peterson, Circe Beaker, Ajay Loner, Erin Beaker, Samantha Ottomas 29: Sanjay Ramaswami, Vidcund Curious, Bianca Monty 28: Ramir Patel, Jennifer Burb, Alexandra O'Mackey, Priya Ramaswami 27: Ana Patel, Patricia Wan, Kristen Loste, Gabe O'Mackey 26: Gabriel Green, Matthew Picaso, Andrew Martin, Nervous Subject, Cassandra Goth, Regan Capp 25: Chastity Gere, Sharon Wirth, Jessica Picaso, Kent Capp, Oberon Summerdream 24: Samantha Cordial, Kimberly Cordial, Geoff Rutherford, Malcolm Landgraab IV, Chester Gieke, Jason Larson, Jodie Larson, John Mole, Trent Traveller, Julien Cooke, Nathan Gavigan, Mary Gavigan, Cyd Roseland, Robert Kim, Cynthia Kim, Tara Kat, Cleo Shikibu, Dina Caliente, Nina Caliente, Don Lothario, Lazlo Curious, Chloe Curious, Titania Summerdream 23: Connor Weir, Natasha Una, Trisha Traveller, 22: Gunnar Roque, Jane Stacks 21: Roxie Sharpe, Jonah Powers, Guy Wrightley, Mickey Dosser, Monica Bradfort, Ashley Pitts, Brittany Upsnott, Allyn Monty 20: Mitch Indie, Max Flexor, Delilah O'Feefe, Edwin Sharpe, Marla Biggs, Phineaus Furley, Ellen Frost, Chaz Whippler, Emily Lee, Tom Freshe, Matthew Hart, DJ Verse, Sarah Love, Jessie Pilferson, Jasmine Rai, Zoe Zimmerman, Frances J. Worthington III, Aldric Davis, Almeric Davis, William Williamson, Blossom Moonbeam, Klara Vonderstein, Stella Terrano, Martin Ruben, Allegra Gorey, Joshua Ruben, Kevin Beare, Castor Nova, Tiffany Sampson, Heather Huffington, Sam Thomas, Jared Starchild, Ty Bubbler, Jimmy Phoenix, Erik Swain 19: Johnny Smith, Hailey Goodie 18: Ophelia Nigmos, Swan Goodie 17: Tank Grunt, Andrzej Goodie 16: Mercutio Monty, Tybalt Capp 15: Ripp Grunt, Romeo Monty, David Ottomas 14: Justin Cleveland, Angela Pleasant, Lilith Pleasant, Puck Summerdream, Juliette Capp 13: Rick Contrary, Violat Jocque, Dustin Broke, Hermia Capp, Sandra Roth, Jacob Martin 12: Melody Tinker, Dirk Dreamer, Jules O'Mackey, Miranda Capp, 11: Tara DeBateau, Gavin Newson, Ginger Newson 09: Sofia Baldwin, Lucy Burb, Jill Smith, Bottom Summerdream, Alexander Goth, Buck Grunt, Hal Capp, Beatrice Monty, Benedick Monty, 08: Sally Riley, Daniel Bell, Desdemonda Capp, Sharla Ottomas 07: Tessa Ramirez, Tina Traveller, Isaiah Gavigan, Gabriella Newson, Gallagher Newson, Justin Kim, Xander Roth 05: Beau Broke 04: Markus Baldwin, Etsu Cho 03: Pauline Aspir, Garett Newson, Georgia Newson, Daisy Greenman 02: Ariel Capp, Tommy Ottomas 01: Willow Patel, Ian Broke, Winona Curious, Kevin Ottomas, Nadja Ottomas 00: Frank Tinker, Wendy Bell, Felicity Gavivan, Nicolas Greenman, Octavia Greenman, Victor Roth, Felix Smith, Isolde Capp, Otis Ramaswami

[redladydeath]

Six actors who's names share a common root

Hannah (12) Jana Larell Glover, Anna Uzele, Hana Stewart, Annamaria Baranyai, Anita Gado, Hannah Lowther, Annabel Marlow, Anna Peller, Gerianne Perez, Analise Rios, Hannah Taylor, Anna Terpiłowska

Elizabeth (9) Ellie Jane Grant, Izi Maxwell, Ella Burns, Bella Coppola, Izabela Pawletko, Analise Rios, Leesa Tulley, Elizabeth Walker, Ellie Wyman

Laurence (8) Laura Dawn Pyatt, Lauren Byrne, Lauren Irving, Lauren Mariasoosay, Laura Blair, Lauren Drew, Loren Hunter, Lori McLare

Margaret (7) Małgorzata Chrusciel, Meghan Corbett, Meghan Dawson, Meg Dixon-Brasil, Megan Gilbert, Maggie Lacasse, Megan Leung

Christos (7) Kirsty "Zara" MacIntosh, Keirsten Nicole Hodgens, Cristina D'Agostino, Kristina Leopold, Christina Modestou, Kristina Walz, Krisztina Magyar

Helen (6) Ellie Jane Grant, Elena Breschi, Ella Burns, Elena Gyasi, Aline Mayagoitia, Ellie Wyman

John (6) Jana Larell Glover, Gianna Grosso, Jaina Brock-Patel, Janique Charles, Janice Rijssel, Lori-Jane McLare

Nicholas (6) Nicole Louise Lewis, Nikki Bentley, Nikolett Gallusz, Collette Guitart, Nicole Kyoung-Mi Lambert, Nicole Lamb

Alexander (5) Alexia McIntosh, Sasha Renae Brown, Alexandra "Zan" Berube, Aleksandra Gotowicka, Ji-sun "Lexie" Kim

Gabriella (5) Gabbi Mack, Gabrielle Davina Smith, Gabriela Francesca Carillo, Gabriella Stylianou-Burns, Gabriella Boumford

Jasmine (5) Jasmine Shen, Jasmine Smith, Jasmine Forsberg, Jasmine Hackett, Jaz Robinson

Julius (5) Juli Horanyi, Giulia Marolda, Julia McLellan, Julia Pulo, Jillian Worthing

Adal (4) Alicia Corrales-Connor, Alyssa Giannetti, Alize Ke'Aloha Cruz, Aline Mayagoitia

Amy (4) Amy Bridges, Aimie Atkinson, Amy Di Bartolomeo, Kara-Ami McCreanor

Courtney (4) Courtney Monsma, Courtney Stapleton, Courtney Bowman, Courtney Mack

Emil (4) Amelia Walker, Emily Rose Lyons, Emily Harrigan, Emilia "Millie" O'Connell

Katherine (4) Caitlyn De Kuyper, Kathryn Kilger, Caitlin Tipping, Kate Zulauf

Kayla (4) Kala Gare, Khaila Wilcoxon, Kaylah Attard, Kayla McSorley

Monica (4) Monika Nika Veres, Monique Ashe-Palmer, Janique Charles, Mónika Horváth

Sophia (4) Sophie Golden, Sophie-Rose Middleton, Fia Houston-Hamilton, Sophie Isaacs

Abigail (3) Abigail Sparrow, Abbi Hodgson, Abby Mueller

Aenor (3) Ellie Jane Grant, Ella Burns, Ellie Wyman

Danielle (3) Danielle Steers, Danielle Mendoza, Danielle Rose

Eireann (3) Aryn Bohannon, Erin Palmer Ramirez, Erin Caldwell

Hayley (3) Haley Izurieta, Hailee Kaleem Wright, Hailey Lewis

Laura (3) Laura Dawn Pyatt, Laura Blair, Lori McLare

Lucius (3) Lucy Aiston, Lucia Valentino, Lucinda Wilson

Natalie (3) Natalie Pilkington, Natalie Paris, Natalia Kujawa

Oliver (3) Olivia "Liv" Alexander, Olivia Donalson, Oliver Wickham

Rhiannon (3) Rhiannon Bacchus, Rhiannon Doyle, Rhianne-Louise McCaulsky

Sarah (3) Kala Gare, Sadie Hurst, Sarah McFarlane

Theodore (3) Terica Marie, Didi Romero, Dóra Csonka

Agnes (2) Inez Budd, Agnieszka Rose

Aisha (2) Aiesha Naomi Pease, Aisha Kardffy

Alan (2) Lana Zoe Jensen, Alana M. Robinson

Amanda (2) Amanda Lee, Amanda Lindgren

Ashley (2) Ashlee Waldbauer, Ashleigh Weir

Brian (2) Brianna Brito Mooney, Brianna Javis

Cassandra (2) Cassandra Lee, Cassie Silva

Cathassach (2) Casey Esbin, Casey Al-Shaqsy

Ceallach (2) Kelly Sweeney, Kelly Denice Taylor

Cennetig (2) Kennedy Carstens, Kenedy Small

Charles (2) Carly Mercedes Dyer, Caroline Siegrist

Chelsea (2) Chelsea Lorraine Wargo, Chelsea Dawson

Chloe (2) Chloe Zuel, Chloe Hart

Eloise (2) Eloise "Ellie" Sharpe, Eloise Lord

Eric (2) Terica Marie, Erika Herceg

Grace (2) Grace Mouat, Grace Melville

Hadrian (2) Adrianna Glover, Adrianna Hicks

Henry (2) Harriet Watson, Harriet Caplan-Dean

Holly (2) Holli' Conway, Holly Musgrave

Jennifer (2) Jennifer Caldwell, Ji-woo "Jennifer" Kim

Jessica (2) Jessica Niles, Jessica "Jessie" Bodner

Ludwig (2) Lou Henry, Rhianne-Louise McCaulsky

Maia (2) Maiya Quansah-Breed, Maya Christian

Martha (2) Marta Burdynowicz, Marta Skrzypczynska

Mary (2) Annamaria Baranyai, Marilyn Caserta

Matilda (2) Maddison Bulleyment, Maddison Firth

Melissa (2) Melinda Porto, Melissa J. Ford

Rachel (2) Rachel Rawlinson, Rachel "Rae" Davenport

Renatus (2) Renee Lamb, Brene "Bre" Jackson

Shannon (2) Shannen Alyce Quan, Su-jeong "Shannon" Pae

Sidney (2) Cydney Clark, Sydney Parra

Taylor (2) Taylor Iman Jones, Taylor Pearlstein

Victor (2) Victoria "Vicki" Manser, Viki Singh

[bamby0304]

The Hart III: Secrets

Ch.29: Chuck Shurley

Series Masterlist

Summary: Three months… Dean was gone for three months and now he’s back. He’s back and he truly has no idea how much things have changed. Life moved on while Dean was in Hell, and now things are complicated. With new faces and troubles right around the corner, will the trio find a way to come back together? Or has all hope been lost?

A/N: It's my birthday

Bamby

DPOV

Sam, Liz and I stood in the house of Carver Edlund's publisher's house. I was surprised to find out that the publisher was a she, around the same age as us. But then again, I shouldn't have been. Not with the attention these books seem to get...

"So, you published the Supernatural books?" Sam asked.

The publisher nodded, moving to stand by the books that sat on a shelf. "Yep. Yeah. Gosh. These books... you know, they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap. You know, Doctor Sexy, M.D.?" She scoffed, "Please."

"Right." Sam offered a polite smile, getting back on track. "Well, we're hoping that our article can... shine a light on an underappreciated series."

"Yeah, yeah." The publisher took a few steps towards us, clearly excited about that idea. "Because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press then m-maybe we could start publishing again."

"No, no, no, no. God, no," I said a little too quickly. In an instant, the woman went from excited to offended. "I mean, why- why would you want to do that? You know, it's, uh, such a complete series, what with Dean going to hell and all."

Once again, the publisher's mood changed as she got a little emotional. "Oh, my god! That was one of my favourite ones, because Dean was so... strong... and sad and brave. And Sam... I mean, the best parts are when they'd cry. You know, like in- in Heart, when Sam had to kill Madison, the first woman since Jessica he really loved. And in Home, when Dean had to call John and ask him for help." She turned away, moving to her desk. "Gosh... if only real men were so open and in touch with their feelings."

Liz let out a soft chuckle as I looked to the woman, confused and a little offended- though I wasn't sure why... "Real men?"

The publisher turned to us again. "I mean, no offense. How often do you cry like that, hmm?"

"Well, right now, I'm crying on the inside," I muttered to myself.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Lady, this whole thing is funny."

Looking us up and down, moving to sit behind her desk, I could tell I'd messed up as the publisher started to shut down. "How do I know you three are legit, hmm?"

"Oh, trust me. We, uh..." I nodded, stepping a little closer to the desk, "we're legit."

"Well, I don't want any smart-ass article making fun of my boys."

"No! No, no, no. Never," Sam stammered.

"No, that's..."

Liz rolled her eyes. "These two don't like to admit it, seeing as they're emotionless real men. But we're all big fans," she told the publisher.

"Hmm." The publisher looked unconvinced. "You've read the books?"

"Cover to cover." I nodded, going along with Liz's story.

"What's the year and model of Dean's car?"

"It's a 1967 Chevy Impala," I answered with a proud smirk.

"What's May 2nd?"

"That's my- uh... that's Sam's birthday," Sam answered, correcting himself.

"January 24th is Dean's," I added.

"October 18th is Lizzie's." Liz finished.

"Lizzie's sister's name?"

"Gabriella," Liz answered. "Or Gabby for short." She shrugged.

"Sam's score on the LSAT?" the publisher asked.

"One..." Sam sounded a little unsure as he looked down at me for a moment, trying to remember. "Seventy-four?"

"Dean's favourite song?"

My smile returned. "It's a tie. Between Zep's Ramble on and Traveling Riverside Blues."

Slowly but surely, the publisher smile. "Okay." She nodded. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

"What's Carver Edlund's real name?" Sam asked, keeping it casual.

But the publisher shook her head. "Oh, no. I- no. Sorry, I can't do that."

"We just want to talk to him," Sam assured her. "You know, get the Supernatural story in his own words."

"He's very private. It's like Salinger."

Liz and I shared a look as Sam pressed a little more. "Please. Like I said- we are, um..." he unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his anti-demon-protection tattoo, "big... big fans."

When Sam gave Liz and I a pointed look, Liz turned around and lifted her ponytail to show her tattoo which sat on the back of her neck. I rolled my eyes and side, pulling my shirt over slightly to show the publisher the anti-demon-possession tattoo that sat on my chest.

The publisher licked her lips, looking at Sam's and my tattoos. "Awesome," she chuckled lightly. "You know what?" She stood and turned, hiking up her skirt to show us her own tattoo which was on one of her cheeks. "I got one, too."

"Whoa." I tilted my head slightly, grinning. "You are a fan."

Putting her skirt back in place, the publisher grabbed a pen and paper. "Okay." She scribbled something down. "His name's Chuck Shurley. And he's a genius, so don't piss him off."

...

Sam, Liz and I got out of Baby, before walking across the street to the rundown house. This is where the publisher had sent us, but it looked like the place might be empty. If it wasn't for the motorcycle at the front, I would have thought we were in the wrong place.

As we climbed the porch stairs, and came to a stop by the door, Sam and I shared a look as Liz lifted her hand to ring the doorbell.

There was a moment or two before the door opened, revealing a short guy dressed in a white tank, boxers and dressing gown. He hadn't shaven in a while, his stubble turning to bush. He looked tired as he slightly squinted at the sunlight.

"You Chuck Shurley?" I asked.

"The Chuck Shurley who wrote the Supernatural books?" Sam added.

The guy looked to each of us. "Maybe. Why?"

"I'm Dean. This is Sam. And that's Elizabeth. The Dean, Sam and Elizabeth you've been writing about."

Without a word, the guy closed the door in our faces. Sighing, Liz lifted her hand and rang the doorbell again. This time it opened almost instantly.

"Look, uh..." Chuck shook his head, seeming slightly agitated. "I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's, uh, it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life." He went to shut the door again.

I reached over Liz and grabbed the door, stopping it from closing. "See, here's the thing. We have a life. You've been using it to write your books." Shoving the door opened, I moved around Liz and made my way into the house, forcing Chuck to back up.

"Now, wait a minute. Now, this isn't funny."

With Sam and Liz behind me, I followed Chuck into the living room. "Damn straight, it's not funny."

"Look, we just want to know how you're doing it," Sam told him, not as pissed as I was.

"I'm not doing anything," Chuck insisted.

"Are you a hunter?" I asked.

"What? No. I'm a writer."

"Then how do you know so much about demons?" I advanced on him, ready to use violence to get answers. He backed away more, falling onto the couch as I went on, "And Tulpas, and changelings?"

"Is this some kind of Misery thing?" Looking to each of us then, Chuck groaned, "It is, isn't it? It's a Misery thing!"

I frowned at him, getting more a more agitated. "No, it's not a Misery thing. Believe me, we are not fans!"

"Well, then, what do you want?!"

"They're Sam and Dean. I'm Elizabeth," Liz tried to explain once more.

But Chuck just didn't seem to get it. "Sam, Dean and Elizabeth are fictional characters. I made them up! They're not real!"

EPOV

Dean opened the trunk to show Chuck all the weapons and things we used during hunts.

Chuck's jaw fell open before he looked to the brothers. "Are those real guns?"

"Yup." Dean gestured to some of the items. "This is real rock salt, these are real fake IDs."

"Well, I got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans." Clearly nervous, Chuck started to back up towards the house. "That's, that's awesome. So, I- I think I've got some posters in the house."

"Chuck, stop," Dean called.

Raising his hands up in defence, Chuck looked like he was about to crap himself. "Please. Wait. Please, don't hurt me."

Ignoring him, Sam got back to the questioning. "How much do you know? Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"

"Wait a minute." Every part of Chuck changed as he looked to each of us going from scared to confused. "How do you know about that?"

"The question is, how do you," Dean noted.

"Because I wrote it?"

I frowned. "You mean you're still writing?"

"Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out. Okay, wait a minute. This is some kind of joke, right? Did that... did Phil put you up to this?"

"Well, nice to meet you. I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam. And this is Elizabeth Hart."

It was Chuck's turn to frown, even more confused now. "The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down."

…

I sat on a chair by Chuck's dining table as Sam and Dean stood close by. The three of us were watching as Chuck poured himself a drink, before he turned and jumped at the sight of us and groaned.

"Oh! Oh, you're still there."

"Yup." Dean shoved his hands into his pocket.

"You're not a hallucination."

Dean shook his head. "Nope."

"Well," Chuck sighed, "there's only one explanation. Obviously, I'm a god."

"You're not a god," Sam assured him.

"How else do you explain it?" Chuck asked. "I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through. The physical beatings alone."

"Yeah, we're still in one piece," Dean muttered.

Chuck looked to him. "I killed your father. I burned your mother alive." He turned to Sam. "And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica. And you?" He turned to me. "Oh, God. I didn't even leave you with your sister."

"Chuck," Sam warned.

Chuck just shook his head, moving to face the sink as he folded his arms over his chest. "All for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for... entertainment."

"You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay?" Dean started, taking a step closer to the writer. "You didn't create us."

Chuck turned to Dean again. "Did you really have to live through the bugs?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded.

"What about the ghost ship?"

Dean sighed. "Yes, that too."

"I am so sorry." I was pretty sure Chuck meant it, too. "I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing... if I would have known it was real, I would have done another pass."

"Chuck, you're not a god!" Dean snapped.

"We think you're probably just psychic," Sam explained.

But Chuck didn't seem to agree as he frowned and shook his head. "No." He moved to sit at the table, across from me. "If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing? Writing is hard."

"It seems that somehow, you're just... focused on our lives," Sam noted.

"Yeah, like laser-focused," Dean added.

I took a deep breath, lifting a shaking hand to rub at my temple. "Are you working on anything right now, Chuck?"

There was a moment where Chuck thought about it before his eyes went wide. "Holy crap."

"What?" Dean asked.

Chuck picked up some papers from the table. "The, uh, latest book? It's, uh… it's kind of weird."

"'Weird' how?" Sam pressed.

"It's very Vonnegut."

Dean leaned forward, placing to hands on the table. "Slaughterhouse-Five Vonnegut or Cat's Cradle Vonnegut?"

Sam looked to his brother, surprised. "What?"

"What?" Dean shrugged defensively.

Getting back on track, Chuck answered, "It's, uh, Kilgore Trout Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it," he explained. "I wrote myself, at my house... confronted by my characters."

DPOV

I sat on the bench in the laundromat as I looked through the pages Chuck had given us. Sam was doing some laundry, while Liz sat next to me, doing nothing but watching and waiting.

"I'm sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself." I frowned, feeling a headache coming on. "My head hurts."

"There's got to be something this guy's not telling us." Sam turned to toss his dark clothes into one of the machines.

"'Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth'," I read.

Sam turned to me. "Stop it."

I just continued to read aloud. "'"Stop it," Sam said.".' Guess what you do next." He turned away again, right before I started to read once more. "Sam turned his back on Dean, his face brooding and pensive'." I shook my head. "I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your brooding and pensive shoulders." As Sam sighed I looked down at the manuscript again. "You just thought I was a dick."

Liz chuckled lightly.

Turning around to face us again, Sam looked impressed. "The guy's good."

EPOV

I sat on the arm of the armchair in Chuck's living room, while Dean stood next to me and Sam sat on the armchair a few feet away. Chuck walked in, still in the same dressing gown, white shirt and boxers he'd had on before. Moving to stand on the other side of the coffee table, he paced as he looked down at the pages in his hands.

"So..." Sam broke the silence. "You wrote another chapter?"

Chuck finally looked to each of us. "This was all so much easier before you were real."

"We can take it," Dean assured him. "Just spit it out."

Chuck turned to him them. "You especially are not gonna like this."

"I didn't like Hell," Dean noted.

Taking a deep breath, Chuck built up enough courage to tell us why he'd ask us to come here… "It's Lilith. She's coming for Sam."

I tensed. But not for the reasons you probably think… see, hearing Lilith's name like that… I was instantly reminded of what Tristan had said…

"You know, when I was first put on your case, when Lilith said she wanted me to keep an eye on you, to prep you..." That's what he'd said. "I was told to befriend you. Keep you safe. Help you grow. Get you ready for what's to come."

For the last few weeks I'd done everything I could possibly do to suppress the memory of what had happened in the cabin, despite the fact that I should probably face the truth. A demon had been sent to watch over and poison me. Why? I had no idea. But I knew Lilith had something to do with it.

The fact she was coming here, to find Sam, it scared the crap out of me. What if she knew I knew about Tristan? What if she knows Tristan isn't watching me anymore? What if she knows I've stopped taking demon blood? I was pretty sure she wanted me on it. So, would she force me into drinking more? Into drinking hers…?

"Excuse me." I stood and hurried out of the room and out of the house, needing air.

SPOV

We watched as Lizzie hurried out of the room and out of the house, but before I could go after her to make sure she was okay, Dean spoke up, stopping me.

"Is she coming to kill him?"

Looking away from my brother and back to the writer, I sighed. "When?"

"Tonight."

"She's just gonna show up? Here?" Dean asked.

Chuck took a deep breath as he sat down on the couch, slipped his glasses on and looked down at the manuscript. "Uh... let's see, uh… 'Lilith patted the bed seductively. Unable to deny his desire, Sam succumbed, and they sank into the throes of fiery demonic passion'," he finished, looking up at us again.

I let out a short laugh. "You're kidding me, right?"

Dean turned to me. "You think this is funny?"

"You don't? I mean, come on. 'Fiery demonic passion'?"

"It's just a first draft." Chuck looked offended.

Frowning, Dean shook his head, seeming confused about something. "Wait, wait, wait, wait. Lilith is a little girl."

"No, uh, this time she's a 'comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana'," Chuck explained.

"Great. Perfect," Dean sighed. "So, what happens after the... 'fiery demonic' whatever?"

"I don't know, it hasn't come to me yet," Chuck answered.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Dean actually thought this was all going to happen? Come on. "Dean, look, there's nothing to worry about. Lilith and me? In bed?"

Dean looked to me briefly before turning back to Chuck. "How does this whole psychic thing of yours work?"

"You mean my process?"

"Yes, your 'process'."

Chuck shrugged. "Well, it usually starts with a headache. A really bad headache. Aspirin is useless, so... I drink. Until I fall asleep. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a crazy dream."

"The first time you dreamt about us?" Dean asked.

"It flowed. It just, it kept flowing. It still does. I-I can't stop it, really," Chuck explained.

"You can't seriously believe-"

Dean cut me off, "Humour me." He took a step closer to the coffee table as he went to go on as Chuck held up the manuscript for him. "Look, why don't we, we just..." He took the manuscript and read from it… "'Take a look at these and see what's what.'" Still looking down at the pages, he spoke to Chuck. "You-"

"...knew you were gonna ask for that." Chuck nodded. "Yeah."

EPOV

The front door opened as Sam and Dean walked out and onto the porch. I stood at the bottom of the steps, leaning on the railing. Seeing the brothers, I quickly pushed off the railing and shoved my hands into my pockets, setting my gaze to the ground.

A hand rested on my arm as Dean came to stand in front of me. "You okay?"

I just nodded, not saying a word.

"Hey." He raised his hand to my chin, tilting it so I looked at him. "We're gonna be fine. We're gonna get out of here before Lilith comes, and we're gonna take you home. Okay?"

Once again, I nodded. I didn't want to say anything that might upset or worry either Dean or Sam. They might think I was worried about Lilith coming for Sam- which I was- but what they didn't know was that I was worried about myself as well.

"Come on." He moved to rest a hand on my back, leading me towards Baby.

I turned back to the house for a moment- don't ask me why, I just did. My eyes landed on Chuck as he stood in his doorway, hands tucked into the pockets of his dress gown, eyes full of pity and guilt. It was at that moment that I realised he knew everything…

DPOV

Driving down the road, I glanced at Liz through the rear-view mirror. She was sitting in the back, looking out the window, silent. Sam, on the other hand, was next to me, reading through the manuscript, talking out loud.

"Dean, come on." He shook his head. "'The minivan accident wasn't that bad, but Dean was still seeing stars. He scratched absently at the pink flower Band-Aids on his face'."

"So?" I shrugged.

"So, I've seen you gushing blood. You'd use duct tape and bar rags before you'd put on a pink flower Band-Aid."

"What's your point?"

"My point is this," he gestured to the pages in his hands, "all of this, is totally implausible. It's nuts."

"He's been right about everything so far," I noted. "You think he's just gonna ground out at first now?"

Scoffing, Sam read some more to try and prove his point. "Huh. 'Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow'."

"A tarp?" Okay, I had to admit, I found it hard to believe that.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. On the rear window. And you drive it like that."

But despite the fact that I couldn't get on board with that, I still wanted to play things safe. "Well, he might be wrong about the details, but doesn't mean he's wrong about the end result."

"So, we're just gonna run?" he asked.

"Dude, we are a long way from ready for a face-to-face death match with Lilith." I didn't understand why he wasn't getting that. We came to a roadblock then. I rolled to a stop as a deputy came to lean over and talk to us. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Bridge is out ahead," the deputy explained.

"We're just trying to get out of town."

He just shook his head. "Yeah, afraid not."

"Is there a detour?"

"Nope."

Oh, come on. "There's not a side road that takes us to the highway?"

"To get to the highway, you have to cross that river. To cross the river, you have to take that bridge."

"How deep's the river?"

Instead of answering, the deputy just got straight to the point. "Sorry. Afraid you're gonna have to spend the night in town."

Great.

SPOV

Sitting in a diner, I looked over the menu while Dean read the manuscript and Lizzie fiddled with the salt shaker. I glanced at her every once in a while, my concern growing. She hadn't spoken since we'd left Chuck's…

"Hey, this could be a good thing," Dean started. "I mean, if this is what puts us on the path to Lilith, then all we got to do is get off the path."

I looked up at him. "How do you mean?"

"It's a blueprint of what not to do. I mean, if the pages say that we go left-"

"Then we go right," I finished.

He nodded. "Exactly. We get off-book. We never make it to the end. It's opposite day. It says that we, uh, we get into a fight." He shrugged. "So, no fighting. No research for you..."

"No bacon cheeseburger for you," I added.

For a moment, he looked uncomfortable and disappointed, but he quickly played it off with another shrug. "Yeah, no problem. I'll just order something else," he told me right as the waitress came by. "Hi, uh, what's good?" he asked her.

The waitress smiled down at him. "Well, if you like burgers, Oprah's girlfriend said we have the best bacon cheeseburgers in the country," she noted, making me laugh lightly.

Dean ignored me, grabbing a menu for himself. "Really?"

Seeing that he was going to take a second, I ordered my own food. "I'll just have the cobb salad, please," I told the waitress.

Still looking at the menu, Dean ordered the first thing he saw. "I'll have the... veggie tofu burger. Thanks."

"And what about you sweetheart?" the waitress looked to Lizzie.

"I'm not hungry, thanks," Lizzie mumbled, handing her menu over.

Both Dean and I paused as we looked to Lizzie. She was basically a female version of Dean, which meant she liked food, a lot. Over the years of knowing her I'd never heard or seen her decline the opportunity to eat, unless she was really upset or not feeling well. Even then, it had to be very serious before she'd actually say no to food.

Shrugging, the waitress took the menus and left.

Once we were alone again, Dean leaned closer to Lizzie. "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered, her voice flat.

Dean and I shared a look, neither of us believing her. Sighing, I turned back to Lizzie. "You know you can talk to us, right?"

She didn't respond right away. She just sat there reaching over to play with the salt shaker again. I watched her hands, noticing the way they shook lightly. She looked a little pale as well… something was clearly wrong.

"I'm just not feeling too well," was all she mumbled before she looked up at Dean. "You think I could go lie down in the car?"

Nodding, he reached into his pocket, pulling out the keys. "Just… let us know if you need anything."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks." She lightly nodded as she reached for the keys.

We watched as she stood up and walked out, her hands shoved into her leather jacket's pockets. Her head down, hair falling around her, back hunched slightly… she looked nothing like the fun-loving Lizzie we were used to…

Shaking my head, I turned back to Dean, knowing there was nothing we could do to help Lizzie at that moment. We had more pressing things to deal with. "This whole thing's ridiculous."

Frowning, Dean turned his gaze to me. "What? Are you saying Liz is ridiculous? Or are you saying Lilith is ridiculous?"

"The idea of me hooking up with Lilith is," I answered.

He chuckled lightly, clearly not agreeing with me. "Right. 'Cause something like that can never happen."

I started to scowl but stopped myself, not wanting to fight with him. "Dean, for the first time, we have warning that Lilith is close."

"So?"

"So... we've got the jump on her. If we know when she's coming, we know where she is. This is an opportunity."

"Are you-" Before he could snap, Dean stopped himself and started again. "It frustrates me when you say such reckless things."

"Well, it frustrates me when you'd rather hide than fight."

The waitress came back then, with a smile and our food. "Cobb salad for you." She placed the plate in front of me before turning to Dean. "And the tofu veggie burger for you."

"Thank you." Dean nodded to her. Once she left he leaned forward, talking to me again. "It's not hiding. It's being smart. It's picking your battles. This is a battle that we are not ready to fight." he argued as he grabbed his burger. I watched him take a bite, waiting to see his response, only to be shocked as his eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, my god. This is delicious. Tofu is amazing!"

Hurrying back, the waitress looked down at Dean apologetically, clearly flustered. "I am so sorry. I gave you the bacon cheeseburger by mistake," she told him before she grabbed his plate and took it away.

So much for getting off the book…

Bamby

[emilythezeldafan]

⭐!

Muse Master List

regular text for your muses & italic text for my muses

Ana Hernandez / Spooky, Amanda The Adventurer

Quinn Hayes / Ashley Anderson, Olivia Gubberson, Bella The Ballerina, Nick Nack, Riley Ruckus

Catalina Torres / Scarlett Myth, Maddie Amherst

Elizabeth Lieberman / Melissa Myers, Erica Nygma

Shelly Gardner / Emily Winters, Violet Hope

Susanna Anderson / Evelyn Hart, Rose Aguillard

[digitalfaehaven]

MY TBR LIST !

A list of (almost) every book I want to read, i’ll update as I complete each book ! Suggestions welcome !

I will give each book a rating once they’re read !

Loved - 🫀

Liked - 🥀

Meh/just okay - 🐦‍⬛

Didn’t like - 🪰

Hated - 🪦

Escorted - Claire Kent 🫀

Breaking - Claire Kent 🐦‍⬛

Last Light - Claire Kent

Grave - Shantel Tessier

Cross - Shantel Tessier

Bones - Shantel Tessier

A Court of Thorns and Roses - Sarah J. Maas

Once You’re Mine - Morgan Bridges

That one Night - Emily Rath

Pucking Around - Emily Rath

Priest - Sierra Simone

Captured - Rosa Lee

Haunting Adeline - H. D. Carlton

Butcher & Blackbird - Brynne Weaver

The Mindfuck Series - S. T. Abby

Organized Chaos - Drethi Anis

Unfurl - Elodie Hart

Pretty Monster - Sheridan Anne

Twisted Love - Ana Huang

Vicious - L. J. Shen

Fatal Obsession - Drethi A.

Her Soul to Take - Harley Laroux

No Regrets - Claire Kent

Haven - Claire Kent

Better Run - Alina May

The Ritual - Shantel Tessier

Until I Get You - Claire Contreras

Hunt Me Darling - Maree Rose

No One Has To Know - Carin Hart

Fates and Furies - Lauren Groff

Release Me - J. Kenner

The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty - Anne Rice

Arse Over Irish Teacup - Jude McLean

Credence - Penelope Douglas

Den of Vipers - K. A. Knight

Scream for Us - Molly Doyle

Satans Affair - H. D. Carlton

The Never King - Nikki St. Crowe

Bonded By Thorns - Elizabeth Helen

Fourth Wing - Rebecca Yarros

Throne of Glass - Sarah J. Maas

The Pisces - Melissa Broder

Hitched - Lauren Biel

Across State Lines - Lauren Biel

Beneath the Stars - Emily Mcintire

Praise - Sarah Cate

Devil of Dublin - BB Easton

Shatter Me - Tahereh Mafi

Throne of Glass - Sarah J. Maas

Icebreaker - Hannah Grace

The Irish Lake House - Colleen Coleman

Forget Me Not - Karissa Kinword

Christmas in Coconut Creek - Karissa Kinword

Captured - Lauren Biel

Punk 57 - Penelope Douglas

The Pucking Wrong Number - C. R. Jane

[woodrowhq]

"Welcome back, dear. It’s been too long since we’ve had the pleasure of your company."

Congratulations, you've been accepted as one of Richard's wards!

The Ambitious — Sama Ali ( Aiysha Hart ) played by Bree

The Charmer — Jacob Butcher ( Corteon Moore ) played by Tia

The Guardian — Alison Torres ( Melissa Barrera ) played by Sam

The Introverted — Naomi Kojima ( Anna Sawai ) played by Auddie

The Lookalike — Estrella Soto ( Jenna Ortega ) played by Pea

The Melodramatic — River Billingham ( Justice Smith ) played by Reu

The Mischievous — Reece Starling ( Rachel Sennott ) played by Gray

The Misunderstood — Reuben Sharpe ( Mike Faist ) played by Heidi

The Nostalgic — Mickey Jacquemin ( Ruby Cruz ) played by AJ

The Nurturer — Darcy Beaumont ( Elizabeth Lail ) played by Sushi

The Observer — Sebastian Son ( Lee Soohyuk ) played by Mini

The Perfectionist — Natalia Chen ( Havana Rose Liu ) played by D

The Protector — Angus Byrne ( Callum Turner ) played by Nie

The Rebel — Still available for applications.

The Scholar — Dominic Lepoult Serveille ( Jacob Anderson ) played by Mimz

The Tormented — Carmen Alvarez ( Adria Arjona ) played by Gina

"Now, before you settle in, there are a few things we need to go over." 

While you await the announcement for interactions to begin, kindly complete the checklist below.

Send in your account within 36 hours.

Follow your fellow wards.

Follow the Hub for starters and more.

Post your introduction ( outline provided here ). #wrhq.intro

Complete your first task. #wrhq.task

"If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask. Now go on, settle in."

[bubbleteycosplay]

All actresses/actors we have already considered for the role of Sigyn in the Marvel films/series:

Jessica Alba

Meryl Streep

Lily James

Emilia Clarke

Angel Coulby

Holliday Grainger

Rebecca Ferguson

Imogen Poots

Katie McGrath

Zawe Ashton

Amy James Kelly

Jennifer Connelly

Olivia Cooke

Natalie Dormer

Evan Rachel Wood

Ellie Bamber

Alana Boden

Phillipa Soo

Anne Hathaway

Ritu Arya

Sandra James Young

Niamh Walsh

Emily Carey

Romola Garai

Perdita Weeks

Britt Lower

Georgie Henley

Sophia Lillis

Sofia Wylie

Naomi Ackie

Alia Shawkat

Karen Fukuhara

Gratiela Brancusi

Gina Stiebitz

Joanna Douglas

Moses Ingram

Dilraba Dilmurat

Zoe Boyle

Freida Pinto

Charlotte Riley

Penelope Wilton

Jing Tian

Annabelle Wallis

Sophie Rundle

Alicia Vikander

Gemma Arterton

David Lindstrom

Isla Fisher

Gabriella Wilde

Hannah Dodd

Deepika Padukone

Marion Cotillard

Ksenia Solo

Denée Benton

Mia Wasikowska

Julia Lester

Ginnifer Goodwin

Malina Weissman

Naomi Scott

Ashley Johnson

Àstrid Berges-Frisbey

Millie Bobby Brown

Tamla Kari

Dianne Doan

Aisling Loftus

Pedro Pascal

Jessie Buckley

Felicity Jones

Lucy Martin

Sadie Sink

Lana Parrilla

Katheryn Winnick

Golshifteh Farahani

Vanessa Kirby

Kaley Cuoco

Alicia von Rittberg

Rachel Shenton

Meryem Uzerli

Jeanne Goursaud

Sophie Skelton

Léa Seydoux

Claire Holt

Sophie Turner

Nicola Coughlan

Sophia Myles

Regé Jean Page

Sara Gadon

Kelly Marie Tran

Hugh Dancy

Lydia West

Amanda Seyfried

Oona Chaplin

Billie Piper

Charithra Chandran

Keira Knightley

Elizabeth Debicki

Bella Heathcote

Savannah Steyn

Jodie Comer

Eleanor Tomlinson

Clémence Poésy

Jodie Turner-Smith

Charlotte Hope

Madeleine Mantock

Simone Ashley

Georgia Tennant

Jessica Williams

Daisy Head

Ana de Armas

Jessica Brown Findlay

Mimî M Khayisa

Lolly Adefope

Amy Adams

Jessica Chastain

Bryce Dallas Howard

Kirby Howell-Baptiste

Susan Wokoma

Aiysha Hart

Sophie Okonedo

Imelda Staunton

Anna Shaffer

Emilie de Ravin

Elle Fanning

Ruth Wilson

Anna Popplewell

Nathalie Emmanuel

Freema Agyeman

Rose Leslie

Halle Bailey

America Ferrera

Jeanne Goursaud

Drew Barrymore

Sogol Faghani

[wrxsslin-hours]

Hey, Lover (Chapter 1)

next chap |

Bret was only supposed to deliver flowers to Shawn, not fall in love with him.

(Quintessential Delivery Boy x Househusband bretshawn au)

a/n: Hi hello, how y'all doing? Remember that one time I wrote this fic? A year ago, I think? Wild. Since Christmas break is coming along and I don't have classes until the 22nd, I was thinking I should finish this small fic-let. Thank you for readin'

I've rejected affection for years and years. Now I have it, and damn it, it's kind of weird. He tells me I'm pretty. Don't know how to respond. I tell him that he's pretty too. Can I say that? Don't have a clue - "Valentine", Laufey

The flower shop was the apotheosis of all flower shops—small but brimming with buckets and pots of flowers. A tender farrago of lilies, carnations, and hydrangeas filled the room. The floor was a mess of leaves and rogue petals; the shelves above, a nest of ribbons and silk. Wrapping papers crumpled, and the radio sang. Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains and bathed the room in warmth; dust and pollen danced in its rays. It was a peek into the world through pink-tinted glasses, a sea of reds and whites. And in the middle of it all, Bret arranged roses as if he were a man on a mission.

Like clockwork, Bret tied a bow around the neck of the bouquet and gently placed it beside the others he had made. He rubbed the underside of his nose to block the overpowering aroma of flowers. The corners of his lips tugged into a frown. Customers would say the scent was heavenly; Bret would beg to differ. Curly black tresses framed his face as the sound of hushed giggles drowned the staccato melodies of the radio. An annoyed huff sliced through the air. Bruce, Bret’s brother, let out an exasperated sigh, his nose buried between the pages of his newspaper.

“Would you two stop poking your noses where they don’t belong?”

Bruce’s reprimand fell on deaf ears. Bret turned his head to Owen and Elizabeth, the sides of their faces glued to the cracked door of their parents’ shared office. It wasn’t too long ago that a tall man came barreling down the shop doors, wallet in his hands like a rifle ready to shoot through every assortment of tulips and orchids. The stranger was a far cry from their regular customers. He didn’t have the caved shoulders of a shy teen or the worried lines of a husband who forgot his anniversary. He was confident and sharp, savvy like a businessman with a heartthrob smile. He wasn’t the average Joe. And after such a slow day of work, his intrusion caught everyone’s attention. It’s been ten minutes since their parents whisked the man away into their office, and Owen and Elizabeth sat fixated on the shadows that shifted underneath the gap in the door.

Owen waved his hand, and his sandy blonde hair swayed as he did so. He reeled his head back to face his brother’s furrowed brows with furrowed brows of his own. “Pipe down, Bruce. I can’t hear a thing over your yapping.”

The older Hart gritted his teeth, ready to crack from the tension of his jaw. Before he had the chance to stand, roll his newspaper, and whack Owen upside the head, Elizabeth squealed and stopped him dead in his tracks. Four pairs of eyes darted to her as she slid her back down the wall, her hands on her flushed cheeks.

“He ordered fifty roses.” She swooned, the skirt of her lilac dress pooling around her as she sat on the floor. Owen scrambled beside his sister, his head cemented onto the door once more. As the conversation beyond the door rambled on, Owen hung onto every faint word his ears could decipher.

“Fifty roses!” Owen gasped, disbelief in his eyes. The blonde turned his head to his brothers and wiggled his eyebrows, “Talk about a Casanova.”

Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet, leaves on her skirt. “Isn’t it romantic?” she mused starry-eyed. “I’d love to get a bouquet like that,” she sighed, her head tilted heavenward.

Jim rolled his eyes at her daydreaming, gaze as dark as the stem-covered marble counter he lay on. He pursed his lips and twirled a flower between his fingers, “Fifty roses are daylight robbery. Pretty sappy if you ask me.” He plucked a leaf from its stem. “This guy must be loaded to make an order like that.”

Bruce sat down on a stool, the soles of his shoes balanced on its footrest. He shrugged his shoulders as he opened his newspaper and went to the page he left off. “That just means there’s more money for us.” He leaned his head back and laughed.

The office door suddenly flew open and thwacked Owen square on the face. A groan escaped the blonde’s lips. But his pain was left muted by the gruff voice of the man that opened the door. “Watch it, twerp,” the man snapped, his face red and his suit white.

Cowboy hat on his head, chocolate-colored eyes pointed to the studded watch on his wrist. The man’s black loafers, shined to perfection, smacked against the checker-tiled floor. Like a tornado, he stormed out of the shop and knocked every pot that stood in his way. Bret stared as the stranger crossed the street, entered his eggshell-colored limousine, and drove off. Bruce grumbled as he, Jim, and Elizabeth picked up the pots the man pushed down. Owen shakily stood up beside Bret with his hands on his nose and redness on his forehead. “I’m not delivering for that jerk,” he sneered. He patted Bret on the shoulder, “He’s all yours.”

Before Bret could retort, their parents strode into the room, an argument along with them. “We can’t possibly have fifty roses ready for today,” Helen bickered as she unfolded the napkin their customer gave, her hair brown like the apron she wore. “We won’t have them restocked until Saturday.”

Stu huffed as his eyes darted around his shop before they stopped on the rose bouquets on Bret’s work table. He grabbed the flowers and began to unwrap them. He piled the roses into a hill and cast everything else aside. Bret sputtered, his shades sliding down the bridge of his nose as he did so, “Dad, those were an order for Miss Mae–”

“Miss Mae can wait, Bret.” Stu wrapped the roses with precision. Helen sighed beside him as she plucked a notecard and began to write down whatever their latest client scribbled on the coffee-stained napkin. “Mr. Layfield is paying big money to have his delivery done today,” Stu explained. “It’s the biggest order we got since we opened, so we should make him happy.”

It didn’t take long for Bret to have a behemoth of a bouquet in his arms and a clipboard tucked under his chin. Bret could feel the dull pinch of thorns on his biceps; the aroma of roses bombarded his nose as it completely buried his upper body. With one last tweak on the bouquet from his mother, Bret was out the door and into the delivery truck. Before he could drive off, his father’s voice rang in the breeze. Bret peeked over the roses to see Stu waving at him. “Take off your sunglasses!” he exclaimed, hands around his mouth to amplify his words. Bret fought to roll his eyes as he dragged his sunglasses to the top of his head and steered the truck into the busy streets.

Bret passed a flurry of saloons and office buildings. The world outside the truck was a blur of greens and grays. White picket fences turned into towering hedgerows, wooden street lights turned into metal lamp posts, and mismatched row houses turned into palatial mansions. Bret’s delivery truck stuck out like a sore thumb in the presence of luxury sedans. A low whistle escaped his lips as he slowed to a halt in front of the rose bouquet’s intended.

A mansion stood tall in the presence of neatly trimmed hedges and surrounded by an army of limousines and cars. Upon the home’s slate roof was an array of leaves connected to twining vines that hugged its brick walls, and behind those vines were large arched windows, like hair that covered soulful eyes. Bret could faintly make out the beige curtains behind the glass panes. He grabbed the bouquet and reveled in the manor’s beauty. It was the picture of pristine perfection, a scene straight from the home magazines his mother would regularly read. Bret would’ve been impressed if the mansion didn’t look like every other house in the cul-de-sac. He grabbed the rose bouquet and slipped his clipboard on top of it. The gravel path crinkled underneath his feet as he walked to the manor’s grand double doors. The sun bore onto his skin as Bret pushed the doorbell with his elbow. He rolled his eyes at the sound of cowbells that echoed in his ears. The doorbell tune was ostentatious as the roses in his hands.

Silence filtered the air. Bret clicked his tongue and pushed the doorbell again, the sound of the doorbell more annoying than the first. He juggled the flowers in his hands as he looked down at the address written on his clipboard. The idea of being in the wrong house filled his mind, but before Bret could turn his back from the door, it swung open. ‘Finally,’ Bret thought. With his eyes still on his clipboard, he tilted his head to the side. “Does Mr. Shawn Layfield live here?” he asked.

“Well, hello to you too, handsome,” a voice drawled, sweet like honey and slow like molasses.

Bret’s head shot up as a chill ran down his spine. His dark eyes landed on the man in front of him, his breath hitched. Bret balanced the bouquet in one hand as he tugged on the collar of his pink shirt with the other. He expected the thick velvet of a butler’s tuxedo, not the glossy sheen of a silk robe. He expected thinning silver hair, not damp blond curls that clung to tanned skin. Bret was ready to smell the musk of dust, not the aroma of cigarettes and Parisian perfume. He shook his head in a vain attempt to escape the other man’s allure. “I have flowers for him.”

Shawn’s smile widened, “Are they from you?”

“They’re from–” Bret read his clipboard – “Mr. John Bradshaw Layfield.”

The blond’s smile left as fast as it came. He pursed his lips like he was chewing on a lemon rind and leaned against the door frame. “A bit over-the-top, isn’t it?”

Bret gave a wry grin. “I wouldn’t know. I’m just the delivery boy.” Bret waited for the other to take the bouquet from his hands. But the door only opened wider. The delivery boy raised a brow; his head cocked to the side.

“What?” Shawn shrugged; his robe slid down his shoulder as he did so. “You don’t expect me to carry all of that, do you?”

Bret blinked owlishly. Shawn seemed perfectly capable of carrying the order. He gazed at the taut muscle underneath Shawn’s clothes for a moment. And at the drop of a hat, Bret’s eyes stayed pointedly on the blond’s bedroom eyes. “You’re a delivery boy,” Shawn continued. He stepped to the side, his brow in a sly arch, “Go on and deliver.”

Bret frowned and took a wary step. Shawn guided him into the living room, and Bret followed as if God watched him. Cautious and guarded, Bret took each step as if it was his last. The shuffle of carpet slowly replaced the sound of shoes against the wooden floor. And Bret caught himself in the company of lush couches and intricate cabinets as Shawn excused himself to get a vase. He tapped his toe against the white tiger rug underneath him as the chandelier shined above his head. To say Bret felt out of place was an understatement. The living space was lavish, just like everything else in the mansion. Bookshelves as tall as the ceiling covered half of the room, each shelf overflowing with novels and encyclopedias. In the corner was a grand piano, free from dust and fingerprints. Paintings upon paintings hung from the walls, bronze candelabras scattered along the corridors. Bret narrowed his eyes. There were no framed pictures or lightly stained patches on the floor. The house was opulent, but it didn’t seem as lived-in as it should be. His contemplation was interrupted by Shawn’s call.

“Tell me, delivery boy, what do these flowers mean?” He asked as he placed the water-filled vase on the coffee table and situated himself on one of the many chairs in the room. “Don’t they have meanings? The language of flowers and whatnot.”

Bret hesitantly unwrapped the bouquet and propped the roses inside the porcelain vase. He handed the notecard to the blond with a rehearsed smile, “That’s what cards are for.”

“You are so boring.” Shawn stretched on the chair; his legs dangled on its cushioned armrest. “Read the note for me.”

The delivery boy exhaled through his nose and closed his eyes. Bret would’ve left ages ago if his father wasn’t so insistent about pleasing their clients. Not wanting to waste any more time, he began to read the card. “Love of my life–”

“Is it too late to return the bouquet?”

Bret couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him. The corner of Shawn’s lip quirked up at the sound of his laughter. He twirled a strand of his golden hair between his fingers, “You should rest a bit before you go.” Shawn stood up and strolled towards Bret, “You must be tired.” He brushed his hand against Bret’s forearm and grinned at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“I should go, Mr. Layfield–”

“Call me Shawn.” He peeked up at Bret through his lashes, “You’ve got a name, delivery boy?”

“What I do have are other deliveries to do.” Bret felt his cheeks warm as he raised his clipboard and offered the other man a pen, “I need your signature, Mr. Layf– Shawn.”

Shawn pouted, his shoulders sagged as he took the pen and clipboard from Bret’s grasp; their fingers brushed against one another. Bret bit his top lip as Shawn signed the paper with a flourish and gave the clipboard back to him. The delivery boy could feel the tension leave his body; this whole fiasco was finally sealed to a close. “It’s been a pleasure, Shawn.”

The blond took an abrupt step towards Bret’s personal space; their chests flushed together. Shawn tucked the pen behind the other’s ear. “The pleasure’s all mine,” he purred.

The tension left Bret, and his soul might as well follow along with it.

A stormy haze engulfed Bret’s consciousness, and it didn’t clear up until he was seated in his truck. The events that transpired minutes ago replayed in his mind like a broken cassette tape. He combed his fingers through his hair, and the pen balanced behind the shell of his ear fell on the passenger seat beside him. His eyes darted to the clipboard on his lap; the name ‘Shawn Michaels’ written on the signature line mocked him. He glanced at the mansion’s reflection on the crooked rearview mirror, and with the thoughts of Shawn plaguing him, he drove off.

Shawn didn’t cross Bret’s mind again until a week later. He was sat on the counter redoing the messy ribbons Owen hurriedly tied beforehand when his dad lumbered into the shop with a box of lavender colored craft paper in his arms. Bret raised a questioning brow at Owen, and their father placed the box on the counter. “Big order coming up,” the older Hart mused.

Bret could already feel the sleepless hours they will undoubtedly spend making flower arrangements. Owen groaned at the very thought. Their father cleared the counter from leaves and petals, letting them drop to the floor. “Mr. Layfield has a soiree in a week and since he loved our flowers the last time, he wanted us to arrange flowers for it.”

Owen groaned even louder and slouched in his chair. “Hate that guy,” the blonde grumbled under his breath, a sour taste still in his mouth from the last time their rich client last visited them. “That guy is paying for our food on the table, son,” Stu tutted.

As both Harts bickered back and forth, Bret gulped. Bret usually didn’t think of the people he delivered flowers to; their faces stay blurred for the short time they linger in his thoughts. But Shawn, with his not-so-subtle interest and that damned silk robe of his, was the exception.

“I bet his husband didn’t even like the bouquet!” Owen complained. Their father scowled but couldn’t disagree. The younger Hart wrapped his arm around Bret, “Right, Bret? The guy didn’t like it, did he?”

Bret ignored his brother, instead feigning nonchalance with a cross of his arms. He turned to Stu, “Say, do you know anything about Layfield’s husband?” Stu hummed, rummaging through the box he carried in, “The boy got married to Layfield the moment he graduated college. Layfield paraded the young man around like a prized diamond to his even richer friends. That’s about everything people know around here.” Owen butted himself into the conversation, “He doesn’t have good taste, then.” Stu shooed his younger son away with a roll of ribbons.

Bret fiddled with the ends of a flower stem, distracting himself. Stu gave him a knowing look, and Bret shifted his eyes to the lone pair of scissors on the floor, far more interesting than the squinted look of his father at that moment. “His husband is coming here later to discuss decorations. I won’t be here—” Owen clapped his hands, already aware of where their father was hinting at. “Oh, would you look at the time, I should really help Lizzy with the groceries. Okay, bye!” Owen bolted out of the store in a breath, the front door bell jingled when he set foot outside and left his family staring at his retreating form.

Stu clicked his tongue before he fished out his notepad from his back pocket. He handed it to Bret, “Just make sure to keep the customer happy.”

It wasn’t that Bret was avoiding Shawn, far from it. But when presented with the chance to flirt back with a man married to someone who could buy all of Bret’s possessions that he’s had or will ever have, he’d rather steer clear of it. But there was something about Shawn that Bret could not stop thinking about. From the beauty mark underneath his lashes to the way he smirked at Bret’s flustered state, Shawn was beautiful, and he knew it all too well. He seemed to know just the right buttons to press to make Bret second-guess his words. And the Hart was trapped between a rock and a hard place when Shawn finally visited the flower shop, an hour late from schedule.

Looking at Shawn made Bret unconsciously smooth out the wrinkles of his shirt and fix his hair any chance he got. Under Shawn’s gaze, Bret felt awfully small. When Shawn entered the store, he brought in an air of sweetness, the type that makes Bret’s mouth water. It was a nice change from the aroma of flowers, and for once, Bret didn’t have the urge to hide his nose behind his hand. Shawn dressed simply, but with the way he carried himself, it proved otherwise. He was fond of silk, Bret noticed, as his eyes trailed from his silk shirt to the jeans that hugged his waist.

“Hi, delivery boy.”

Bret blinked; his eyes shot back to Shawn’s face. “Welcome, Mr. Layfield,” Bret managed to utter. Shawn pouted, “I told you not to call me that.”

The blonde locked his gaze on the array of flowers behind Bret, his pout melting into a grin. “Those are pretty. I wish I got those bouquets instead.”

Bret turned to where Shawn was staring and laughed, “50 roses not good enough for you?” Shawn smiled, “Not even good to begin with.”