#federal agent au

[hellsingmongrel]

Man, so I'm not normally the biggest fan of Modern AUs, nor am I overly fond of fiction focused on kids, but...last night, my sleeping brain decided to concoct this Trigun (Stampede-flavored) Modern AU that now is living rent free in my damn brain! I want to get it out of my head and into the ether. I don't know if I'm going to do anything long-form with it, and I'm having to translate dream weirdness into more coherent storytelling, but here we go.

So it's modern day Earth, like 2024 or some shit, right? And that's when this version of Earth had just begun fucking around with Plant cloning. It's early enough that the SEEDS project hasn't even left the planet, the scientists haven't yet figured out how to put Plants in bulbs and use them for fuel, none of that! But they've already had Tessla happen, and the boys have already been born. Since they're not in space, even though they had to have found out about their sister, Nai hasn't had a chance to literally nuke humanity from orbit, and I guess Rem has had a chance to try and curtail some of his trauma, so he's...more stable? Ish? Stable enough where he's not actively trying to murder everyone. And the boys are "older," like we see in the flashbacks for the time Vash encountered Nai during the Last Run, so probably around 6 years old but looking 16 or so.

Rem has managed to fudge their paperwork so they've started going to school with human kids, to try and give them a normal childhood. Nai isn't as eager to play ball with the whole "being human" thing as much as Vash is, but Vash has got so many friends, Meryl and Milly and Lina are there and they're like the cutest, most stupidly adorable group of friends, just a bunch of little goofballs, like kids that age are. And the school has a field trip to a theme park (it was Disneyworld in my dream because my school actually did this, but ours was a band trip) and Vash manages to convince Rem to let him go. Vash and Nai and Rem are still paranoid about humans figuring out who they are, so you know, he's told to be extra careful and take care of himself, and Nai gives him one of his blades or something for self defense, just in case something happens. Even though Vash would never, that boy has trauma around knives and trying to defend himself, if you've read Trimax, iykyk. But he takes it anyway, and somehow, he manages to sneak it into the park. Maybe the metal doesn't register on metal detectors or something, who knows.

But he's a kid, and kids are dumb. Especially when they're 16. Especially if those 16 year olds aren't actually 16 and don't have the actual lived experience to know better. So he starts playing with the knife in front of the girls, showing off and just being a silly little guy. And then the knife slips. Bad. We're talking "this is how he probably lost his arm in this AU" bad. Blood everywhere, the girls are panicking and take him to the school chaperones and it's like "HOLY SHIT WTF DUDE, We're taking you to the ER, someone call his mom!"

And he hears that, pictures the doctors finding out he's not human, remembers what happened to Tessla, and panics. Boy does a runner like only Vash can do, and he manages to get away from them, out of the park, and escapes from security. And when parents get involved in trying to find him, the authorities start looking into the incident, and someone in the government overseeing the Plant research is able to recognize the elemental make up of the blade he dropped, and they start having suspicions. So the feds get involved, and it just goes from bad to worse, right?

Meanwhile, loopy from blood loss and panicking and a little sobbing mess because he feels dumb about slipping up and he's afraid he'll never get to go home to his mom and his brother again and is spiraling the way kids do when they panic, he gets lost in the city and ends up stumbling over teenage Wolfwood, who lives on the streets and has a few street kids that he looks after on his own with Livio. They never got to live at the orphanage, but that also means that the Eye (in whatever form it takes in this AU) never got ahold of them, so yeah, shits fucked for them, but it's actually a whole lot better for them than it might have been. And it's Wolfwood without all of the EoM trauma, so you can just imagine what he does when this delirious, bloody, terrified, severely injured kid runs him over in the street, sobbing about being caught by the adults and taken away.

Big Brother Nico do what Big Brother Nico do.

At that point, I ended up waking up, but damn if my brain didn't give me enough details to come up with a dumb AU idea that I kind of love and want to do something with, but I don't know if I have the time or spoons to do so.

Ideas I'd had following this beginning to flesh itself out in my head; Luida and Brad are Plant researchers brought onto the project to help the feds figure out wtf is going on with this whole situation, and when Luida is told to talk to Rem, because she's not giving them anything they can use, the two of them reach a secret accord to bring Vash home safe and sound and cover everything back up nice and squeaky clean the way it should have stayed.

Vash's arm is bad enough that he can't really heal it very well on his own without medical care, Plant healing or no. He's doing better than most kids would, but it still begins to go septic, and it forces Nico and Livio to make the really hard decision to find adults they can trust to bring him to so he can get the care he needs. He still ends up losing his arm, though.

At the end of everything, Melanie ends up taking Nico and Livio and the other kids in, so they still get to have their momma figure, even if she comes in later. Maybe she's the one that they find to help them. Is she maybe someone they've known was mostly safe but was never able to get them to stick around long enough to take care of them? Either way, the boys get Vash to her, and it starts the process of getting him home and the kids finally staying at the orphanage.

Meryl, Milly, and Lina all end up sneaking away when they realize that Vash is in more trouble than the adults are letting on, trying to go find him, since they know him better than anyone other than Rem and Nai. Eventually, they meet up with Nico and Livio while everyone is trying to avoid federal agents.

Obviously it's lovey-dovey Vashwood and Insurance Girlfriends and Polygun-flavored, but in the "these kids are too oblivious to think about sexy things, yet" sort of way, because I really do headcanon that at least Vash is ace, Wolfwood is probably demi, and also I am not writing children getting intimate like that. >8/ But kids having little crushes on each other is adorable and I can't not have Vashwood and Insurance Girlfriends be the eventual outcome, once those idiots all grow up and get their heads screwed on straight.

Also, because Nai hasn't had a chance to murder everyone, Rem's managed to work with him enough that he's very slowly overcoming his trauma and regaining his ability to trust that he's not in permanent danger. He'll probably grow up to be a Plants Rights activist or something, lbh. Or a politician. But he's not going to murder people, so either way, it's a win/win!

Because Nico's been living on the streets with him, Razlo either hasn't had to manifest as strongly for Livio, or hasn't manifested at all. Livio is still the sweet, shy, crybaby teddy bear we see, and maybe Razlo only comes out when the feds start getting closer and almost managing to grab the kids, and because he's been able to bond with Nico and the other kids so well this time, Livio is close enough to them that the thought of them getting hurt or taken away is enough to make him want to protect their little group instead of just Livio.

Wolfwood absolutely grumbles about how alike Vash and Livio are. Both a couple'a crybabies, geez, what the Hell you two??? But he also is very much a teddy bear who gives the best hugs when one of his little band of gremlins is upset, so he probably spends more time in a cuddle pile than anything else, now that there's two of them to lose their shit at the drop of a hat.

Vash was totally the one very sweet boy in a clique of girls that everyone who'd known him realized, when they were adults looking back, that he was very much the sweet gay kid hanging out with the girls because it was safer to be himself around them than it was to be around the other boys. (This isn't meant as a stereotype of gay kids, this is based on actual kids I grew up with. My friend group honest to God adopted them because we were all a bunch of momma bears.)

Vash is also...not trans? Because he's a Plant and Plants don't work the same way humans do, but he's also not what humans would think of as a cis boy. He expresses a masc presentation, but probably the closest equivalent would be an intersexed kid. Nai, too, tbh, though he's probably more of the "I don't give a fuck" opinion when it comes to his own gender identity. He uses he/him because that's what humans think when they see him, but he doesn't care any deeper than that.

[ohello0]

I think my phone was listening to me explain the entirety of The Legend of Korra to my friend over the phone for a solid three hours bc I keep getting ATLA Universe stuff on my dash when I haven’t really interacted with it before,,,,,,

[vordenburg]

When years later in my large-scale Star Trek: Strange New Worlds AU Ambassador Spock and Praetor Sera unify Vulcan and Romulus after forging a new lasting alliance and peace with Admiral La’an of the rebuilt United Federation of Planets, I will know peace.

[waltenfiled]

i keep on trying to write this very specific moreid fic that i have in my brain but i cant because the idea is just so out there that my brain has no basis on what the plotline could ever be 😭

[inkandpaperqwerty]

Well, the first chapter of Rehearsing Tragedies was received very well, and it seems everyone is excited to see where it goes! I got some editing of the next chapter done this weekend, but it won’t be posted until 11/27/2024. I don’t like doing that to you, but I have to space things out in order to stay on top of both my fanfiction and my original works… and the stuff I’m working on that isn’t even close to being posted or published or even spoken of anywhere.

I’ve really been editing Collision Course, and I’ve got about 17k words that are essentially ready to publish. However, that’s simply because I’ve gone over the beginning so, so many times, and as I get further in the story, I’m going to start getting to chapters that need to be edited multiple times before we start moving to the next step. But it’s coming along, and I’m hoping to publish in mid-2025!

I also created a Pinterest account for posting my memes as well as pinning things that fit the themes of different works. There’s really not a lot there right now, but hopefully it won’t take too long to fill it up with content.

That’s really all I have for you this week! Thanks for reading!

[seratlantisite]

i need to stop making niche scifi au's wtf am i gonna do with warehouse 13 agents narumitsu

[reikiryn]

whats your defeat falls au about like..... is ford evil? is he lying to the family? what happpned after he fell into the portal instead of fiddlford?

ABOUT DEFEAT FALLS LORE

I will slowly explain the essence of my universe, because they often ask questions about what is the point!

The point is that Ford realized his capabilities due to the fact that he SAW what was hidden behind the portal. In this universe, he took fate into his own hands and outwitted Bill, defeating him in the realm of nightmares, slowly spreading his power. Due to the fact that Ford never called Stanley for help, Stan took up repairing the portal much later than in the original universe (gf series), besides Fiddleford remained healthy and joined Stanley in repairing the portal, but they repaired it thirty-three years later. Pines twins (Dipper and Mabel) had been visiting their uncle for three years in a row, but they also remained in the dark about their uncle’s twin brother until the incident with federal agents happened.

The conflict between Stanley and Stanford resolved itself, because Stanford had long ago let go of his childhood resentment for a spoiled project and was unspeakably glad to return home, for which he had big plans, dimensions would not capture themselves. Well, Bill, Bill does not want Ford to continue spreading the news about his shameful loss, and therefore he decides to stop Ford before it’s too late.

[prentissluvr]

forget-me-nots — sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : soulmate!au, fluff, very light angst ➖⟢ cw : light mentions of canon typical death, violence, and monsters, shirtless sam aaaaa, light descriptions of injuries and blood, reader believes in ghosts before knowing about the supernatural, drinking/alcohol mentions, silly criminal minds reference to my gf elle, kissing, poor editing ➖⟢ wc : 5.6K summary : in a world where flowers grow on your skin in the exact places your soulmate is injured, you’re constantly covered in forget-me-nots.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

heartache is one thing. heartache for someone you don’t know, someone whose face you’ve never seen or who you’ve never met, is another, stranger thing. it’s common for many to feel this heartache before they know their soulmate, but sometimes you feel as though you have to worry much more than most.

you try not to let thoughts of your mystery soulmate consume you, but you seem to have constant reminders of them litered on your skin in the form of tiny blue flowers. admittedly, you find it romantic that forget-me-nots are your soulmate flower, with their symbolism of true love, respect, and fidelity. the flowers themself feel like a good omen, a sweet promise of a steady love waiting for you. but, the frequency with which they appear on your skin feels far less lucky and always feeds you so much worry for this person you’ve yet to meet.

this morning, you wake with new blooms snaking along your left collarbone, peeking out from the seam of your sleep shirt. and when you change into new clothes, you find a few more growing on your bicep and the side of your ribs.

sighing, you stand at the mirror lightly brushing your fingers over the small flowers and wonder what sort of trouble your soulmate got into last night. as always, worry floods your chest, but you do your best to tamp it down considering the fact that you only bear a few new blooms. the more severe the injury, the more flowers appear on your skin. today, your soulmate must only be dealing with small surface cuts.

sometimes, you’re covered in so many forget-me-nots that you’re too worried to do much of anything at all. more than once, you’ve wondered how your soulmate could still be alive, and the continuous flowers on your skin serve as your only proof that they're still around. there were a few years where you barely had any blooms, just the usual flower on a fingertip to signify a papercut or the occasional few because of a small accident. but one night the flowers came in bunches and never stopped.

you imagine what you might say or do when you meet them. maybe you’ll want to check on whatever wounds they have, be sure it’s not too bad, or maybe you’ll scold them for making you worry so much. you’ll certainly ask what they do in their life that gets them so injured so often. maybe you’ll do it all.

but for now, you’ll have to move on and get ready for the day. the flowers always linger, though.

⟢⟢⟢

it’s been a rather strange week. the flowers from last thursday have completely faded, and you’ve gone a day or two without any new forget-me-nots appearing on your skin. the strange part has been at work. on monday night, one of your coworkers died in the building, but you still had to come in to work the next day. one of the rooms was taped off, but that was the only evidence of the misfortune. the same thing happened last night, thursday, and you’re ready to do everything you can to get at least the next several days off of work. you don't want to risk anything.

and now, it seems the goddamn fbi is interested in whatever has happened. you’re not a huge fan of the federal government, but you have to admit that the bureau has sent two of its most attractive agents. normally, you’d keep your head down, but you feel inexplicably drawn to one of them. he’s the taller of the two, which is impressive because the other is already tall, and he has pretty brown hair and dimples that you catch a glimpse of as he talks to one of your coworkers.

he looks away from her as he moves away, seemingly done with the interview. he catches your eye, and your breath gets caught in your throat for a moment. he’s a beautiful man; pretty and sweet looking at the same time as he’s traditionally handsome and slightly imposing. you’ve never loved a stranger’s eyes so much.

he approaches you and you can’t help but watch as he grows closer.

“hi,” he greets with a small smile, “i’m agent greenaway with the fbi. can i ask you a few questions about the deaths from this week?”

“i’m not sure i’ll be much help, but sure,” you nod, folding your arms over your stomach. agent greenaway doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but the topic at hand certainly does.

“that’s alright. sometimes the smallest things can really be helpful,” he reassures, keeping the kind look on his face. “have you noticed anything strange about either of the deceased or the building this past week or so?”

you shake your head. “not really. i mean i didn’t work closely with macy, and i never noticed anything off about lex.”

“and the building? any strange cold spots or flickering lights?”

you find the question sort of odd coming from an fbi agent, but you instintually feel like you should take it seriously. “um, yeah, actually. it was really cold by the bathrooms last night when i left. at first i thought the ac finally got fixed, but it was still sort of warm over here. in this area”

“okay. thank you for your help,” he smiles at you again and for a reason you can't quite place, you don’t want the unusual conversation to end. you have to hide a hint of delight from your expression when he hands you his card. “call me if you think of anything else.” you accept the card with a nod. he looks like he’s about to walk away, but he pauses. “and, uh– be careful. you should go home early tonight.”

“oh. okay, i will.” without knowing why, you trust him. you want to see him again.

⟢⟢⟢

saturday night is the second busiest night at the bar, but you’re glad it’s not as crowded fridays normally are. you walk straight to the bar to order your go-to drink. as you wait for the bartender to make it, you stare at yourself in the mirror behind the counter out of the corner of your eye. today, there’s two little forget-me-nots right on your left cheek. they look sort of cute there, and you guess you should be grateful that it’s such a small wound. there’s no other flowers on your body yet, which feels like a good run for your soulmate. that’s a little over a whole week in between different injuries, even small ones.

the bartender slides you your drink and you thank them. there’s a small red carnation on their thumb, and you wonder if they’ve met their own soulmate yet. you suppose that at the end of the day, you’re scared of what just about everyone else is. without trying, you worry about not meeting your soulmate until you're old and left without much time together. you want to meet them, and you think the sooner the better. the idea’s been particularly stuck in your mind since last night.

agent greenaway’s words echo in your head. “be careful. you should go home early tonight.” he seemed so sweet, so genuine and caring, and all you’ve been able to think about since then is meeting someone like him. finding someone kind with a little red mark on their cheek and a forget-me-not on their right pointer finger to match the papercut you got earlier this afternoon.

and simply, you’ve been feeling a little lonely these days. how nice would it be to have your literal soulmate by your side?

you sip slowly at your drink, and when the cup’s empty, you pay the tab. the bar isn’t quite serving as the distraction you hoped it would. as you head for the door, your gaze snags on a mop of brown hair that wouldn’t be considered familiar for the fact that you’ve only seen it once, but feels that way regardless. quickly, you scan the rest of the bar, and sure enough you catch sight of agent greenaway’s partner, across the way and very obviously flirting with a pretty brunette.

for a moment you pause, wondering if it would be weird or too out-of-the-blue to approach agent greenaway, but the pull you feel towards him overrides all else, taking your hand and guiding it to throw all caution to the wind.

he’s facing away from you, and with a friendly smile, you slide into the seat across from him.

“hi,” you greet over the noise of music and talking, “d’you mind if i sit here?” it takes him a moment to answer, like he’s lagging a little bit.

“uh– no, no i don’t mind,” he flashes a quick smile back at you, but his gaze and attention are clearly stuck somewhere on your face. for just a split-second, you’re confused by what he could be staring at, but it clicks not a moment later. you don’t know how you missed it: the red mark on his left cheek, so small that your eyes glossed over it when you sat down. eagerly, you drop your gaze to his hands, one casually wrapped around his beer bottle and the other resting on the table. and sure enough, so tiny and pretty against his big hand is a single forget-me-not on his right pointer finger, exactly where you have a bandaid wrapped around your own.

you suck in a sharp breath, eyes caught on the delicate flower and unable to drag themselves away to look back at his face. just like everyone else, you’ve thought about it a million times over, what it would feel like to meet your soulmate, what you would do, how you would act. in this moment, you feel frozen, but you feel right and you feel a million questions and urges rise up in your heart and mind. you desperately want to reach out to him, to touch his hand and the little flower and make sure that they’re both real.

but you absolutely cannot keep your gaze away from his face for long at all and when you meet his eyes, an irresistible smile stretches across your face. you look at him with nothing short of wonderment. he’s just stunning and you can’t believe that he’s supposed to be… well, yours. 

just staring at each other, you feel a little flustered and awkward, unsure what to say to him. then you realize he should probably know your name, and all you know is his last. so you stick your right hand out and tell him your name. he takes your hand with a smile and repeats it back, saying it carefully and savoring the sound and feel of it on his tongue.

when you touch him for the first time, your breath gets caught in your throat and it feels so right that you never want to let go.

“i’m sam,” he says, only letting his hand fall away from yours after a few moments. even then, your fingertips are merely inches apart now.

“sam greenaway,” you echo, easily remembering how he introduced himself yesterday. then you puzzle at his reaction and the way that the name doesn’t feel quite right as you look at him. he cringes slightly, like he’s done something to be guilty of. “or… not?” for a minute, things were starting to add up to you. the way you felt drawn to him yesterday and his job as an fbi agent finally explaining all of his many injuries. you figured he must be in fights often.

“i– i’m sorry, this is so– i mean if we’re really,” he takes a deep breath, trying to reset and figure out how to say things right. “if we’re really, you know, soulmates… well, there’s just a lot– a lot for me to explain. i’m not an fbi agent and my real name is sam winchester. but i swear, there’s a reason for me lying and i promise that i’ll explain it to you if you’re willing to hear it. which i understand if you don’t–”

“i do,” you say in earnest, finally cutting him off. it took you a second because, for a moment, you were too stuck on him saying the word soulmate aloud in reference to the two of you. it felt special and you were only half paying attention to the things he said after because of that. then all you were thinking about was how endearing he seems when he’s flustered and worried. “it’s okay,” you reassure him, “i want to hear it. i– i mean, sure, it’s sort of strange that you lied about, you know, all that, but… i’m not– i’m not gonna just meet my… my soulmate and not give you a chance.” he still looks a little tense, but his shoulders have dropped a bit in relief and there’s the hint of a grateful smile on his features.

“thank you,” he says, glad for your reassurance but still worried about how you might take the rest of the far weirder explanations that he has left to tell you. “can i maybe get you a drink?”

you smile at the offer, but shake your head a bit. “i was actually just heading out when i saw you. would you maybe wanna get out of here? my apartment’s less than a ten minute walk away.” for a moment, you wonder if that’s too much for just having met, but sam visibly relaxes just a little bit more.

“that would be nice,” he smiles. he’s getting ready to stand when he glances across the bar, seemingly remembering about his partner. or not partner. you’re not quite sure. “my brother, dean,” he explains simply when he catches your gaze on the other man. “i should tell him where i’m going.”

“okay,” you nod, filing the new information away in your mind and watching him weave between tables and flirting couples to reach his brother. the exchange is a bit funny to watch. at first dean looks annoyed at being interrupted by sam. then he glances at you with a sly smirk and makes some comment that is probably less than appropriate judging from his expression. and then his face morphs into one of surprise before it’s taken over by a smile. he claps sam on the shoulder and sends him off. you almost miss the look that dean gives you as sam heads back towards you because you’re so focused on the sweet smile that sam’s now wearing. you only catch dean’s look for a second before sam is back at your side. it’s easy to assume dean as the older brother, with his eyes on you being protective, proud, careful, and happy all at once. and they’re close enough that sam told him about you right away.

walking home with sam at your side is both completely strange and familiar all at once. it’s strange for a number of reasons, the main being that you’d never invite any other unknown man to your apartment, especially not one with a cryptic identity and such an imposing build. and yet, you’re not afraid or worried because of how familiar and safe it feels. it feels familiar because it feels right, it feels like exactly what you should be doing.

on the way over, he asks about you a little bit, trying not to overwhelm you with questions or seem overbearing with how eager he is to hear what you have to say. his kindness and carefulness are clear to you, and you love it. you answer happily, despite knowing he’s partially asking to avoid talking about himself until you settle down.

once inside, sam follows you right to the couch in the living room, sitting when you motion towards it and plop down into a chair across from him. he takes in the space, eyes roaming over your furniture, decor, and every little detail. he wants to know about you, just like you do him.

“it’s really nice in here,” he compliments, sounding so sincere that it’s just sweet.

“thank you,” you respond softly, wondering exactly what parts of the room he likes. you let him look around a second or two more before speaking again. “so… can i ask? you know, about it all, i guess? about you?”

he doesn’t say it aloud, but he thinks the way that you ask is so lovely. half of him wants to make up some silly, somewhat believable explanation to spare you the truth, but he knows that would never work out well. not if you choose to stay together in some way or another. already, that’s what he wants. he doesn’t doubt that you’re indeed his soulmate, the one who he’s been sharing wounds and flowers with for as long as he can remember. sam has both yearned for and dreaded this moment. he tries not to be obvious about it or over do it, but he’s sort of a total romantic. he’s had doubts about how this whole idea of soulmates could really be real or make much sense, but those thoughts are eased with each moment he spends with you. he still wants to get to know you before he does anything with you, but the way that he wants to get to know you is something he’s never felt before. it’s undeniably special.

the dread is because he’s known ever since he got back into hunting that he’d never be able to hide the truth of his world from you. he has no idea how he’s going to get to you to believe him or convince you that he’s not completely insane, but he’s going to tell you the truth anyway. even if you do believe him, he wants to give you a choice. you shouldn’t have to get involved with this life in any way at all if you don’t want to. he’d never force you to try things with him if it’s too strange or too scary or hard or anything. and already, he knows that he’ll never stop thinking about you if you do choose to stay away, but he also knows that he’d never try to change your mind or force you to do anything else other than exactly what you want.

“of course you can ask,” he responds, matching the softness of your own voice. “i, um– i’m honestly not quite sure how to say all of this without sounding totally crazy, and i completely understand that, but just– try to bear with me, i guess. and if you need proof, which i also understand, i’ll do my best to get it for you, it’s just– sort of hard.”

honestly, you’re wildly confused as to what the hell he could possibly say that would make him this anxious. it worries you a little bit too. you don’t want him to feel afraid to tell you anything at all. so, you nod at him in encouragement, trying not to seem nervous yourself.

“my brother and i, we– we hunt monsters. real ones. ghosts, vampires, demons, the works. they’re all real. your coworkers who died, they were– they were killed by an angry spirit. we got rid of it last night,” he says those words like they’re a ten ton weight off of his chest, but he’s still got another ten sitting there as he awaits your response. he looks at you so carefully, trying to gauge any sort of reaction.

you raise your eyebrows in surprise, and probably disbelief and a million other things. “angry spirit? like a ghost?” you’re not sure why that’s the first question that slips out, but you suppose it’s an easier one than are you insane? or what the hell are you talking about?

he nods his head carefully, like he’s waiting for you to freak out or call him crazy and tell him to go. “yeah. the ghost, she had died there, near the bathrooms where you felt the cold spot, in the 90s. she was triggered to kill when the man suspected of her murder was granted parole.”

“okay,” you breathe out, sort of nervously. the craziest thing is that you don’t disbelieve him. you’re not convinced by any stretch, but when you look him in the eye and listen close to his voice, there’s nothing but sincerity there. “i mean… that is sort of a kinda crazy thing to say,” you begin, “but i’ve always sort of believed in ghosts, so i don’t think you’re completely, you know, insane.” you laugh a bit, trying to lighten the mood a little. you don’t want him to stress, however unbelievable his words are. “the rest is a bit… shaky, i guess. it’s a hard thing to believe, i mean… vampires. and– and demons. it’s a lot. and honestly, i’m not sure how much i’ll really, truly believe until i see, i don’t know, something, i guess,” you admit, “but… but i don’t think you’re lying to me either.”

“thank you for that,” he says, voice as sincere as ever, “and i completely understand. honestly, part of me didn’t want to tell you at all, but… it’s sort of my whole entire life at this point and it wouldn’t be fair to hide from you. or– or to not give you a choice right off the bat of whether or not you wanted to be involved. it’s– it’s a lot and it’s dangerous. and if it’s what you want, i promise i’ll try to find a way to prove it to you, it’s just… hard to do that without putting you in danger. and i really don’t want to put you in danger.”

“that’s sweet, sam,” you say, not really bothering to hide the way you feel. “i’m not, you know, eager to meet any monsters anytime soon, but whenever it’s… the least dangerous, i guess, you can show me. until then… i’ll just trust you. and in the meantime maybe we can sort of just get to know each other?” you suggest, surprising yourself with how ready you are to trust him on this.

sam smiles at you sweetly. “that sounds perfect to me. i just– i don’t want to force you into something you don’t want for yourself. i live out of crappy motels and my brother’s car while hunting monsters that shouldn’t be real. i’m just… i’m sorry i’m not someone easier.”

you smile at him sort of sadly. “that’s not your fault, sam. i never asked for someone ‘easy’ anyway. just someone kind and respectful and you seem to be just that so far. besides, there’s gotta be a reason, right? that… we’re soulmates. honestly, if you were anyone else i wouldn’t trust you like this. an–and it’s not like i’m trusting you blindly because of something that we’re supposed to be. we just met. i’m only trusting you because it feels right to. and this whole soulmate thing never made too much sense to me until i met you. now it sort of does, because this feels right so far. at least, it does to me.”

“it feels right to me too,” he quickly assures, not wanting for you to misunderstand that for a second.

⟢⟢⟢

as two people who aren’t quite ready to jump into such a committed relationship with completely different lives, it’s a little bit strange to be soulmates. and yet, nothing about it is anything but honey-sweet to you. the night you met as soulmates for the first time, you ended up talking for hours. all you had to do was sort of ignore the huge and slightly unbelievable bomb he dropped on you within the first hour of talking. oddly enough, that was sort of easy. you learned that sam’s appetite for knowledge is just about insatiable, including when it comes to knowing about you.

he had words rolling off of your tongue, asking the best, most interesting questions and providing such sincere and in-depth responses. that night, he was just lovely, and that’s pretty much all he’s been since. he’s this adorable mix of confident and shy, awkward and knowing just the right thing to say. and he’s incredibly smart, an almost stanford pre-law graduate who was headed for bigger things before he was pulled back into hunting a little over two years ago. this explains the difference in all his injuries from the past two years versus the three beforehand. secretly, you mourn for the life that he, and subsequently you, might have had, but only because he gets a little wistful every time he talks about stanford.

mostly, you talk on the phone, only stopping late in the night when one of you catches the other yawning. he seems to sleep so little, yet he lives such a tiring life. you almost always seem to be the one who gets too tired first. one night, you fell asleep to his voice, and since then, you feel like it’s the single best way to drift into dreams.

sam tries to avoid the topic of the supernatural, but you ask him about it anyway. as you get used to the idea of monsters being real, you find yourself wanting to understand it all better. you want to understand him better. and you don’t want him to feel like he has to hide the biggest parts of his life from you or for him to have trouble fitting you into his world.

he always answers your questions, omitting any extreme gore or death, but it doesn’t take long for you to realize how many people he really saves. that’s his life; saving people.

it takes three weeks for you to see him again since the first night, and three more plus a whole lot of convincing on your end for him to bring you on a hunt with him. he tries to hide it, but he’s so worried for you, despite all the reassurances he’s made that this particular ghost isn’t really all that violent or dangerous. by now, you’ve already come to mostly believe all that he's told you, but to see it in real life is still the final confirmation that you need to be fully convinced.

sam keeps you by his side the whole time, one hand on you every moment that he can afford it. the second the ghost appears, he blasts it with a salt round from his shotgun, and he thinks he could cry when you flinch at the loud noise. yet, he feels comforted that you don’t seem all too scared. and strangely, you really aren’t. sam easily makes you feel safe. luckily, the next time the ghost appears, it bursts into flames moments later thanks to dean burning the bones.

the moment it’s gone, sam drops the gun to the ground and turns to you, accidentally ruining the now unnecessary salt line around you in his rush to check on you.

“are you okay?” he asks gently, a hand on your shoulder and the other cupping your cheek as he looks you up and down.

“i’m alright, sam,” you reassure. it’s true that you’re a little shaky, and just the tiniest bit scared, but to have your confirmation and sam by your side is much more important to you.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes anyway, pulling you into a hug that’s more for his peace of mind than yours. of course, you don’t complain, easily finding his arms to be your new favorite place in the world.

oddly enough, taking it almost slow works well. he kisses you the next time he sees you, a week and a half later, and you’ve never wanted anything more than to have him keep kissing you, over and over again. he just feels like yours and you feel like his and you’ve barely known him for long, but when he kisses you it’s like there’s stars hung from the ceiling and flowers made from nothing but love and healing growing all over you. when he kisses you it’s sunlight and moonglow bottled up and mixed with sweet, pure maple syrup. his lips on yours feel like lucky four leaf clovers, like it’s possible to taste heaven on someone else’s tongue.

and though it mostly works for him to just visit as often as he can, which sometimes isn’t often at all, and to call him at every moment you can, the yearning only grows. you swear that you’re addicted to his lips, to his big hands cupping your jaw all gentle and sweet or his bulky arms boxing you in as he kisses you so hard that you melt right into the sheets.

and some nights, though he tries to hide it, you can hear him struggling with what seems to be the weight of the world on his shoulders. his job is anything but easy or fruitful. before, you thought that you might worry less when you found out exactly why your soulmate was getting injured so often, but now every time new blooms appear on your skin, you spend all day fretting until you can get him on the phone to make sure he’s alright.

you suppose he gets just as worried as you, despite the fact that you’re never in nearly as much danger as he is. a week ago, a jagged edge on a metal wire fence snagged at your skin, drawing a very shallow, but long line of blood down your forearm. seconds later, you had a frantic sam on the phone, so worried about all the little blue flowers on his arm. 

it’s not as hard as he thinks for you to tell how much fear and worry he lives in. you know that he doesn’t tell you the half of it sometimes, even when you ask. all you want is to have him a little closer, to be there for him and provide the sort of comfort that you’re sure he’s never really had before. and though he’s told you that having you to talk to, so receptive and encouraging for him, has been a complete blessing, you still wish for more. you want his arms enveloping you and his lips on yours and his warm body in your bed. really, you just miss him. all the time.

⟢⟢⟢

tonight is one of the glorious nights that you get to have him with you. his broad frame takes up so much space in your bed, and you love it more than just about anything. he props himself up on one elbow and you mirror his pose as you let your eyes roam over each other’s features and take turns rambling about every little thing from this past week. unable to resist, sam kisses you often. he just leans over, swiftly closing the small space between you and pressing his lips to yours. he looks so beautiful like this; at peace, his shirtless body and protective tattoo framed all prettily by clean white sheets.

eventually, comforting words turn into a comforting silence, and you drop your head to your pillow. your eyes droop a little as you play with the idea letting a few more words slip from your tongue. you want to say something to him, but you can’t tell if it’s the right time.

sam settles on his pillow, just like you. “what is it?” he whispers, inviting and respectful. his voice tells you that you’re welcome to say whatever you’re thinking about, but that it’s okay if you don’t want to quite yet.

you smile a little at how well he’s able to read you. since he asked so sweetly, you say it. “i can’t be away from you, sam. i love you, i really do.” this isn’t the first time you’ve said the three special words to each other, but his eyes grow infinitely softer than they were before each time you do.

this time, his eyes do soften, but he cringes a little too, because he feels sorry and because he feels the same exact way. “i can’t make you live like i do. i love you, too, so much. and i hate being away from you, but this? this life, it– it’s sort of awful, and it’s dangerous and hard and–”

you swiftly cut him off with a kiss that he more than willingly melts into. “i know,” you whisper against his lips, barely moving from him to speak. “but– but what if we tried something else? you still go on your hunts and all that, but you and dean can stay here in between. there’s this cabin in the woods i’ve been eyeing, it’s sort of small but it’s isolated and we could ward it. i’ve been looking into protection and warding spells, and i think we could make it work… only, you know, if you wa–”

this time he’s the one to cut you off with a kiss, passionate and sweet all at once. when your lips part, he keeps his forehead pressed against yours like he can’t bear to be any further from you.

“i want to,” he says, voice so sure and sturdy. “i really want to… but how’re we gonna get the house? it’s not like me or dean can buy property, and i can’t make you–”

“i want to,” you echo his words, just as sincerely. “please, sam, let me do this. i’ve been saving money for a long time and it’s a little run down so it’s not too expensive. and i’m getting sick of this apartment.”

“you’re gonna live there?” he asks, not bothering to hide his hope and sparkling joy at that idea.

you grin. “of course. there’s three bedrooms and it’s so pretty and i can’t, you know, pay for that and the apartment at the same time. and i– i wanna be there every time you get home.”

that word gets to him. sam doesn’t really have a solid or normal concept of home—the closest thing he has is the impala. but it sounds so right when it comes out of your mouth. “and– and you’re okay with that?” he asks, still needing to be reassured, “you said it was isolated, and–”

“i’m sure, sam,” you emphasize, “it’s only 20 minutes from town and the roads to and from are never busy. i’ve always wanted to live in the woods, i swear. and if it meant i could be with you more, i’d never ever say no to this. please… can we talk to dean about it?”

“yes,” he gushes. “yes, of course, i– you’re amazing.” he seals the deal with a firm, giddy kiss. “and if dean says he doesn’t like the idea, i don’t care. i’m gonna do this with you.” another kiss and your heart softens infinitely. “besides, he loves the pie from the bakery on morrison street, which means he can’t say no.” he gives you another kiss and pulls away again, and you know that he’s bound to keep rambling if you let him, so you wrap an arm around his neck and thread your fingers through his soft, pretty hair. then you kiss him hard until he can’t breathe. he returns the favor by tenfold, whispering through labored breath how much he loves you and wants you and thinks that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Navigation || AU Masterlist || All images & fictional characters go to their respective owners. All bios barring Keegan and Hesh are taken directly from in-game. They are not mine.

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE MASTERLIST || Total Works : 22

╰┈➤❝ [Captain in the 22nd SAS and commander of Task Force 141. Peerless combat tracker. Elite seek-and-strike expert. Specializing in unconventional warfare, Price is a target-focused war fighter who deploys a cut to the chase lethality.] ❞

— In-Game Biography

LIEUTENANT SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY MASTERLIST || Total Works : 12

╰┈➤❝ [An expert in clandestine tradecraft, sabotage and infiltration. He lives with a redacted past and an undercover present, marked by a concealed appearance to hide his identity and maintain anonymity in the field.] ❞

— In-Game Biography

SERGEANT KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK MASTERLIST || Total Works : 4

╰┈➤❝ [Sergeant in the SAS. Recruited by Captain Price to Task Force 141 after operations in Urzikstan and Borjomi. Expertise in prime target elimination, demolitions, weapons tactics, covert surveillance, and VIP protection.] ❞

— In-Game Biography

SERGEANT JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH MASTERLIST || Total Works : 5

╰┈➤❝ [The youngest recruit to pass SAS selection, Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish is known as a perpetual FNG, a label he wears as a badge of honor. A confident, instinctive CQB expert, Soap was handpicked by Price for TF-141.] ❞

— In-Game Biography

ALEX KELLER MASTERLIST || (COD: MW 2019) || Total Works : 3

╰┈➤❝ [Former CIA SAD turned Warcom ground branch asset. Specialized training to infiltrate enemy lines and survive in inhospitable conditions. Charged with desertion after joining Farah to topple Barkov's regime in Urzikstan.] ❞

— In-Game Biography

SERGEANT KEEGAN P. RUSS MASTERLIST || (COD: GHOSTS) || Total Works : 5

╰┈➤❝ [Former member of the USMC and one of the original fifteen to survive Operation Sand Viper in 2005. Currently a Scout Sniper for Task Force: STALKER, also known as Ghosts.] ❞

LIEUTENANT DAVID 'HESH' WALKER MASTERLIST || (COD: GHOSTS) || Total Works : 3

╰┈➤❝ [Son of Elias 'Scarecrow' Walker and brother to Logan Walker. Joined the U.S. Special Forces after the ODIN strikes in 2017. Fought in the Federation War. Handler to his MWD, Riley.] ❞

KÖNIG MASTERLIST || Total Works : 3

╰┈➤❝ [König suffered from severe social anxiety throughout his life, often being bullied during his childhood. At the age of 17, he volunteered for the military.] ❞

— In-Game Biography

NIKTO MASTERLIST || Total Works : 3

╰┈➤❝ [Nikto is a former undercover agent of the FSB. At one point he was captured and tortured by Victor Zakhaev, leading to his face becoming disfigured. He constantly wears a mask to hide his injuries.] ❞

— In-Game Biography

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

The agent and the witch

Summary: All Marcus did was touch a bronze cat figurine after a new shipment of stolen art came in. He never thought a simple touch would make him travel back in time to meet his witchy soulmate.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x fem. witch reader

Wordcount: 5.9k

Rating: M

Warnings: timetravel-magic-soulmate AU, confusion, fluff, a masquerade ball, my take on how magic works, some.... kissing, falling in love, more time travel

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Full Masterlist // Marcus Pike Masterlist

Marcus had the headache of headaches. His eyes were still closed and he groaned, loudly, before he slowly blinked his eyes open. The room he was in was dark and he turned his head, finding a single candle burning on the bedside table. 

Frowning, he tried to remember where he was and what happened. 

He went to work this morning.

They got a new shipment of artefacts from the middle of the 19th century that the lab was checking for their realness. 

Marcus remembered flirting with the cute new lab techie Kristin who was way too young for him, but hey he was just a man and some flirting should be allowed. 

He remembered her showing him a bronze figurine of a cat that she thought was adorable. Marcus remembered picking the figurine up and then. 

Nothing. 

“You’re awake. Good,” he jumped, his hands flying to where his weapon should be normally, sitting himself up to find a woman sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room. 

He didn’t have his weapon on him. He remembered leaving it in his office. Shit. 

He blinked his eyes, not used to the darkness as the woman got up from the chair and walked towards him. She was wearing a long dark purple gown that reminded him of those princess movies his little sister had watched back when they were little. There was a small smile on her lips and she had beautiful green eyes. 

“Now you can tell me, where you stole my figurine?” she flicked her fingers towards him and held up the bronze cat with the other while Marcus headache seemed to work on making his head explode. He closed his eyes, only now noticing that he could not move anymore. Slightly panicking he tried to will his arms to move but it was like his body did not respond. 

“Fear not, I put your body on a sleeping spell, but your mind is still awake. Clearly. I might take the spell back once you start explaining,” the woman said and Marcus looked at her. 

“Spell?” he asked, his voice hoarse. 

“Yes.”

He wanted to ask more questions but, the woman only raised her eyebrow as she waited for him to talk. 

“I… haven’t stolen anything. A whole load of stolen artefacts have been shipped to HQ this morning and the lab had been checking them to validate if they were real or not.”

The woman tilted her head. 

“Listen, I have no idea what happened after I touched the figurine but if you let me call my boss I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Your… boss?” the woman asked.

“Yes… I’m an FBI Agent and I work in art thefts.”

“FBI?” she asked, looking at him like he grew a second head, and Markus sighed. Nothing made sense. Not him waking up with this strange lady, not her telling him he was under a spell, nothing. 

“Federal bureau Intelligence?” he helped. The woman still looked at him as if he had grown a second head. 

He sighed. 

„My badge is in my suit jacket,“ he said, the woman still not reacting. It gave him some time to really look at her and at the room he was in. 

There was no real light source. No lamp on the ceiling, not even a lamp on the bedside table. There was a what looked like a Gaslamp next to the door the woman was standing. It was dark outside, which made the whole set up felt like straight out of a horror movie. The furniture was made out of what looked like heavy wood. 

But it was the woman that fascinated him most. 

Her hair was styled back in a sleep bun but some curls had fallen out of her hairdo. The dress she was wearing looked expensive. He was no expert in fabrics but it looked like it was silk.

And definitely not out of this century. 

Which left him to ask his next question:

„What…. What year is it?“ He asked and finally the woman took a step closer, the bronze cat still in her hands as she looked down at him with eyes full of interest. 

„It’s 1824,“ she said and Marcus lips parted in surprise. 

„Why?“ She asked.

Marcus couldn’t help but chuckle. A chuckle that turned into a full laugh the woman was less than appreciate of. 

„I’m so sorry. This must have been the best prank ever. Is my sister behind this?“ He asked.

„I have no clue what you are saying. Why did you want to know which year it was?“ She asked him, now standing right next to the bed, the heavy fabric of her dress swishing against the bed he was still lying on, unable to move. 

„Because it’s 2024,“ he said, still laughing. But the longer he laughed the more her face changed into one of concern, his laughter slowly dying.

He gulped. 

„This isn’t a prank, isn't it?“ He finally asked. 

The woman sighed. 

„I’m afraid not, Mr….“

„Pike. My name is Marcus Pike,“ he said and for the first time the hint of a smile came to the woman’s lips.

„Mr. Pike. I think you being here is a spell gone massively wrong. This never happened before. I used the same spell for everything, how could it have gone so wrong?“ She asked herself and Marcus cleared his throat, her eyes snapping back to look at him. 

„Spell? Like… magic?“ He asked, still more than confused. 

„Yes,“ she nodded.

„So you’re a….“

„I’m a witch. Yes.“

When Marcus woke up the next morning, reaching for his phone and not finding it, for a small moment, he forgot that he… time traveled?

But once consciousness took over he sat himself up with a start looking around. 

He seemed to be in the same room he was in yesterday, but now the sun shone through the big windows. The walls were painted in a deep rich red, the furniture equally held in dark colours like he remembered from the night before. 

He took a deep breath, sighing when he exhaled. Rubbing his hand over his eyes he swung his legs out of the bed, noticing he was still wearing his suit from the day before. Well… The day before 200 years in the future.

He still could not wrap his mind around having time traveled. And there still was a part of him that thought this was all just a big joke. 

Stretching his muscles he slowly walked towards the window, lips parting in awe when he took in the busy street in front of the house. 

People were dressed similar to the woman he met yesterday. The women wearing long gowns, the men dressed in posh suits and each one wearing a hat. There were carriages pulled by horses driving on the street.

When he further looked around there was a lack of all things that were normal to him. 

No cars, no street vendors, no street lamps, no skyscrapers.

He startles when there was a knock on the door behind him, the door opening shortly after and in walked the woman, the… witch he met yesterday. 

„Good Morning Mr. Pike,“ she said with a small smile, carrying various items in her arms she set down on his bed. 

„Good Morning Mrs…“ he said and she huffed a laugh.

„I am not married,“ she said as she turned back towards him with a small smile. She told him her name.

„But I am only called Peach around here. There’s a big peach tree garden behind this house that I open for the city free of charge,“ she explained and Marcus found himself smiling at her. 

They stared at each other for a moment before Peach seemed to blink herself out of her trance.

„I unfortunately have not figured out yet, what went wrong with my spell. So I am afraid you will be stuck here until I can figure out a way to send you back, Mr. Pike,“ she said, walking over to his bed. 

„Please call me Marcus,“ he said and she hummed.

„Well, Marcus. You might be a man from the future, but we can’t let people know that. So I grabbed some old clothing from my brother who is currently out of state,“ she explained. 

Marcus stepped next to her, looking over the clothing she had spread over the bed. 

„I think you and him have the same stature, so the clothes should fit,“ she said and Marcus nodded. 

„I’m sure you have a lot of questions for me, some of which I will not be able to answer, but I’ll try. If you like you can join me for breakfast on the patio once you dressed?“ Peach asked and he agreed.

„I am a little overwhelmed if I am honest. I hope a cup of coffee can fix that,“ he hummed.

„Oh you’re in luck. We received a bag of coffee beans just last week. I will ask the cook to prepare some. Personally I am not too keen on it. It’s too bitter for me,“ she smiled and Marcus could not look away from her captivating smile. 

„Anyway. I will leave you be. Once you dressed just come down the stairs and go to your right. You should see the sitting room with the patio right outside right away,“ she nodded with a warm smile and Marcus mirrored her. 

„Thank you,“ he said just before she exited his room. 

„You are in this situation because of me, Marcus. It’s the least I can do.“

A week went buy and Marcus was slowly getting used to his new normal in the year 1824. If he was honest with himself he quite enjoyed not having to get into work every morning at the crack of dawn to work for 12 hours only to get some shitty take out on his way home and pass out in front of the TV. 

Instead he could sleep in and just dream into the day. 

Only yesterday Peach had took him on a walk around the capitol. He was fascinated how different yet familiar everything looked. And it was interesting how quickly he got used to the lack of noise in this century. 

There were no cars, no planes. Yes there was some screaming now and then, but nothing compared to the hum of the city he had gotten used without even noticing it before. 

The air was fresher and the people were kinder. 

He had started strolling though the neighbourhood twice a day after Peach had walked around with him the first two days. But he quickly learned that she was a busy woman. 

She was a valued member of the community and even though there were people, mostly men, around who did not take well to a unmarried woman being in charge of an estate, let alone a family business, her success spoke for herself. 

She was also fascinating, intelligent, had a killer sense of humour and one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen. More than once he caught himself watching her as she read through her spell book, searching for something that would get Marcus back home. 

And she was doing all that while also planing a giant masquerade ball for Halloween which would happen in the next week.

He knew by now that once she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and slightly aggressively brushing over her cat’s Lucius fur meant that she was getting frustrated. He learned to get her her favourite tea from the kitchen would calm her down and give him one of those small smiles and a squeeze of his hand as thanks that he was sure by now she knew made him blush. 

Of course, only he could accidentally travel back in time by touching a bronze cat, only to fall for the witch who put the spell on said bronze cat. 

„I have a theory,“ she said, exactly a week after Marcus had appeared in her house. 

It was night, Marcus sitting in an armchair opposite the fire place, her second cat Lucky in his lap, purring affectionately as he brushed over her head. He was reading a book, a glass of scotch waiting on the little table next to him. 

Peach was sitting in the armchair next to him, new spell book and another much older looking book in her lap. She was cuddled under a thick fur blanket, Lucius squeezed next to the books in her lap, the black cat only rarely leaving her side.

She was wearing his reading glasses, something she was almost giddy about once he told her what they were as he found them in his suit pocket, the dark thick frames sitting on the tip of her nose. 

„You have?“ He asked and she turned her head to look at him. She was pursing her lips and he found himself wanting to close the distance between them to kiss her plush lips. He took a deep breath, willing these thoughts away. 

„Yes,“ she nodded, sucking her bottom lip in. 

„Are you gonna… tell me about it?“ He asked, raising an eyebrow.

She loved and hated when Marcus looked at her like that. 

Marcus Pike plopped into her life exactly a week ago, and it was like a switch had flipped inside her head she did not know had existed before. 

And when he looked at her like that, his big brown eyes giving her his full attention, more than once she found herself forgetting whatever she was about to say. 

How could it be that no man from her time had held her under his spell as much as Marcus Pike from two hundred years in the future did?

It was like something clicked into place ever since he got here, and she found herself getting less interested in finding a away to send him back into his time. Which was not fair to him, but if she only thought about not seeing him ever again the sadness that took over her made it almost difficult for her to breathe. 

And as he looked at her now, sitting in the armchair next to her, Lucky, her cat that had never let anyone but her touch her until Marcus arrived as she sat in his lap, she again found herself forgetting the words she was about to say. 

She blinked at him, trying shake herself out of his spell, suddenly nervous about the theory she was about to tell him. 

„There is a…. Story about a witch who used the same spell I did on the same figurine. It brought her back the figurine and a man, she wrote was from sixty years in the future.“

„When did that happen?“ Marcus asked, leaning in closer. 

„About a hundred years ago. This spell book is from the mother of one witch from my coven,“ she explained. Marcus nodded. 

„Did she find out why it happened?“ He asked. 

Rubbing her tongue over her teeth, she took a deep breath. 

„Can you show me your left elbow?“ She asked. He frowned.

„Please?“ She added with pleading eyes and he looked at her for a moment more before he nodded. She watched him as he carefully set his book down and pulled the sleeve of the shirt he was wearing up and over his elbow. 

He breath stuttered when she saw the purple scar right above his elbow, the one she got after burning herself when she was just fifteen years old and experimenting with some potions. 

„Marcus…“ she whispered. He was looking at his elbow too, frowning. 

„I… didn’t have this before. What does this mean?“

Instead of answering him she to pulled at the sleeve of the dress she was wearing, showing him the matching scar. 

„It is said in these books, that witches that were born during a full moon on St. Hallows eve have the blessing of soulmates,“ she explained quietly. Looking up at him she found Marcus watching her, listening. 

„It is said that they have the power, knowingly or not, to summon their soulmate. Their one true mate.The universe will chose and find a way to bring them to the witch before her thirtieth birthday,“ she whispered. 

Peach saw Marcus process the words.

„The soulmates share every scar on each others body,“ she continued and Marcus gulped.

„Could you…“ he started before he cleared his throat. 

„I have a scar on my right hip from when I was shot…“ he began and her eyes widened.

„You were shot?“ She asked alarmed.

„Comes with the line of work,“ he shrugged. 

„Did it hurt?“

„Like hell,“ he chuckled and she released a shuddering breath. 

They looked at each others hands for a while. 

„I also have a scar on my leg ankle. Had to get surgery when I was little,“ he said after a while. Taking a deep breath she nodded, before she pulled her left leg up and pulled her dress up. She felt her cheeks warming as she pulled at her stockings. She had never undressed in front of a man like this and she was thankful when she noticed Marcus adverting his eyes. 

She stared at her ankle for a moment, her fingertips brushing over the scar she did not have a week ago. 

„Marcus,“ she whispered in awe and he turned his head to follow her sight. She jumped when she felt his hand on her ankle, his fingers brushing over the scar. 

When she looked up she found Marcus already looking at her and tears filled her eyes. His expression changed to concern as the first tears rolled down her cheek. 

„I did this,“ she whispered. 

„I pulled you from your time, your life, your family. It’s my fault you’re here. I’m so sorry, Marcus,“ she sobbed and she didn’t realise he had gotten up to hug her until she felt the warmth of his chest against her cheek. 

He soothed her, rubbing his hand over her back. 

„Peach,“ he whispered and she shakily breathed out. 

„You may have pulled me from my time, but you did not pull me away from my life,“ he said, chin resting on top of her head. Hesitantly she put her arms around him, her heartbeat slowing down. 

„My life only consisted of work. The only thing I might miss is my sister and her children. But apart from that? There is nothing for me there,“ he explained. 

„That sounds like you already made plans to stay,“ she whispered. 

„Is there even a way to go back?“ He asked. She pulled away from him so she could look at him. 

„There is. I would have to do it before my birthday. It’s a potion you take on the morning of St. Hallows eve that bring you back once the full moon has risen,“ she explained and he nodded. 

„So we have time,“ he said and she frowned. 

„Time for what?“

The smile he gave her made her knees weak.

„To get to know each other. To… to make a decision.“

„You really thinking about staying?“ She asked.

„I have been thinking about it for the last two days already,“ he smiled sheepishly and she found herself smiling at him. 

„I have also been thinking about kissing you,“ he added and her eyes widened. 

„You have?“ She asked and he nodded. Peach sucked her bottom lip in. 

„I have been thinking about many things. But kissing is the most innocent one,“ he said with a mischievous smile and her lips parted. 

She felt hot all of the sudden. 

„Marcus…. I have never…. I am not…..“

„Hey. It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything. I just wanted to be honest.“

„I do want to do something though,“ she whispered. 

„What do you want to do?“ He asked and she tilted her head up, looking into his eyes. 

„Kiss you,“ she whispered so quiet he wouldn’t have heard her if he hadn’t been already leaning in, lips so close to hers, he could feel her warmth. 

He smiled at her. 

„Now?“ He whispered. She nodded. 

„Now,“ she repeated. 

Marcus brushed his nose over hers, breathing her in before he slowly closed the distance between them and kissed her softly.

„What is it like in your time?“ Peach asked a couple days later. Both Marcus and her were lying under one of the Peach trees, enjoying the sunny day. She was lying with her head on Marcus’ chest, his arm wrapped securely around her, keeping her close. 

Since they had kissed for the first time, many have followed. 

She couldn’t go long without having him close, the planning of the Masquerade ball having been done with a great input of Marcus due to the fact that she just couldn’t bring herself to part from him. 

People had began to talk. Of course they did. 

Even though she was a great help and valued member of the community, there were still people whispering behind her back, calling her a mad spinster. 

Well, technically she was one. Is one. 

She had never been with a man, having been happy with her life as it was. But ever since Marcus came into her life, she began to ask herself if maybe there was a way to be even happier. 

Which brought her to her question about his time and how it was. 

She couldn’t imagine what the future was like.

But the letter she had received from her brother was concerning. He had been traveling for a while, and reported of the rise of the witch trials and the burning of witches. 

He was concerned for her and frankly, she were starting to be too.

She had noticed the whispers too, her coven spreading awareness, asking everyone to be even more cautious. 

„What do you want to know?“ Marcus asked, grabbing her hand, his fingers beginning to play with her fingers. 

Peach hummed, trying to think what exactly she wanted to know. 

„You said you worked as an… Agent?“ She asked, feeling him nod. 

„Yes. I am an FBI Agent. They are sort of a police, if I had to describe it. There are different sorts of police formed for different crimes. I work in art theft. Which means if a important piece of art, such as a painting or let’s say a bronze cat figurine get stolen, I get called to find out what happened,“ he explained. 

„Is this a dangerous kind of work?“

„Not really.“

„You did get shot though,“ she said, turning her head so she could look at him. He hummed, his finger wrapping around hers, holding her hand. 

„That was a…. Very unique situation that will never happen again,“ he said. Peach kept looking at him before she slowly nodded. 

„Where do you live?“

„At the moment in a small apartment that I pay way too much for,“ he chuckled, making her frown. 

„Rent is very expensive, but I do have my eyes on a house not to far from here actually. I looked at it a month ago and put in an offer.“

„I hope you get it,“ she said and he smiled at her. 

„Why do you ask?“

„I… might have not told you everything about the soulmate situation,“ she said and Marcus raised one of his eyebrows in question. 

„The summoned soulmate can go home, like I said. But the only time they can go home is before the thirtieth birthday of the witch who summoned them ends. If they stay beyond that day there is no going back,“ she explained. 

„The potion I brew this morning, while you were reading in the study can send you back into your time,“ she continued and Marcus squeezed her hand. 

„However the soulmates witch can also chose to go with them if she takes the potion too,“ Peach said quietly, and Marcus stilled beneath her before he sat himself up, pulling her with him. She was looking at him as he took her other hand. 

„You would go with me? Leave all of this?“ He asked, brows furrowed. 

„Would you stay here? Leave your whole life in the future that sounds like it has so many advantages compared to this time?“ She asked. 

„I would stay if it meant I could stay with you,“ he said sincerely and she found herself leaning in to kiss him softly. 

„And I would go with you if it meant I could stay with you,“ she mumbled against his lips. 

„But you don’t know what you would be getting into. I know both sides. I know what I would give up by staying here with you. Yes there are certain things, like indoor pluming I would miss, but I would have you. I could… I could grow old with you. Here. In this beautiful place. We could get married. Have children if you want them. You could teach me witchy things,“ he grinned and she giggled before her face got serious. 

„I might be in danger if I stay here. Witch trials are on the rise and my brother wrote about having heard of witch burnings on his travels. I don’t know if we could have all you dreamed of, if we stayed here,“ she mumbled. Marcus hand came to touch her cheek, his eyes focused on hers, his face serious. 

„I read about the witch trials once. I don’t think I would have a way to protect you,“ he sighed and she smiled sadly. 

„So tell me everything you could think of from your time. So I am as prepared as I could be if you would accept me to join you,“ she said.

He kissed her instead, pulling her close against his chest. 

„I would be honoured to have you with me, sweetheart,“ he whispered against her lips, before he began to tell her about his future. 

It was the night before St. Hallows eve.

Her brother had returned home earlier that day and once he had met Marcus, it seemed like he knew she was about to leave. Peach had a long talk with him after lunch, walking with him through the gardens, explaining everything. 

It would hurt her to leave her brother behind, but he told her he would be happy letting her go into a future where she could live with her soulmate, instead of having to be scared to lose her to the witch trials and their fanatics. 

It also meant he had to stop his travels, and finally settle down to take over the family business. But as he told her with a shy smile about a girl he met on his travels who was supposed to visit with her family in the following weeks, Peach felt better about leaving. 

After dinner her brother, Marcus and Peach took a nightcap, checking if everything was ready for the big ball the next day. Peach had made some costumes for the both of them, giving it to them before saying good night, retiring to her chambers. 

As she sat in the middle of her bed for what would probably the last night in her home, her century, she tried to think about what to take with her. She knew from Marcus that not everything he had on him made it to the past, to her. She could only hope that her spell book that she would put in her pocket would make it with her. 

She also had instructed her brother that, if possible, the should store some of her trinkets and things at a secure space at the local bank. She didn’t know if it would wait for two hundred years for her, but she wanted to try. 

She was about to blow out her candle to go to sleep when there was a knock on her door.

Knowing there was only one person who would seek her out so late, she called for them to enter, smiling when Marcus walked in, closing the door behind him. 

„What brings you to this side of the house on this late hour, dear sir?“ She asked teasingly. He slowly walked over to her, stopping in front of her bed. 

„I missed you,“ he just said and her heart stopped, before it beat twice the speed again. He was dressed in a long white night gown, something he was not used to, as he told her, telling her that he usually slept naked, making her flush with warmth. 

Nibbling on her bottom lip she looked up at him.

„Would you like to spend the night with me, Marcus?“ She asked. He exhaled audibly, his eyes closing. 

„That was not my intention. But I have to admit I would love to,“ he said warmly. 

„What was your intention then?“ She asked.

„A good night kiss,“ he said and she could his cheek blushing slightly. 

„I already gave you three,“ she teased and he chuckled, before he pulled back the covers of her bed, slipping under neath them. He turned to her, his face almost touching her. 

His arm came to carefully rest on her hip over the blanket. 

„I will never have enough of you, sweet love,“ he whispered and she smiled, butterflies in her belly as she closed the distance between them, kissing him softly. 

The kisses quickly turned passionate, tongues playing with each other, hands exploring each others body. It was when Marcus leg slipped between her legs and she instinctly moved her hips, her breath stuttering against his lips that he stopped. Painting for air as he rested his forehead against hers.

„We should stop,“ he whispered.

„What if I don’t want to stop?“ She whispered back and he groaned. She could feel his manhood hard against her belly and she had read just enough to know what to do to make him feel good. 

Slowly she let her hand slip underneath the blanket, her finger finding his hard length, giving it a small squeeze. He moaned her name and she had never felt so powerful.

„While I want nothing more than to fuck your little pussy,“ she gasped at hearing those words, „I would prefer we wait until we are in my time. I don’t think I could stop myself from coming inside of you and while I love the idea of babies, we should wait at least a little to work on them,“ he said and she parted her lips in a small O. 

„There are ways in the future that prevent pregnancies?“ she asked, fascinated. 

„Several,“ he nodded, before kissing her again. 

„There are however certain other ways to explore each other without going the full way,“ he continued, slowly kissing down her neck. 

„Oh?“ She asked. 

„Would you like to let me show you?“ He kissed down to her collarbone, pulling at her nightgown, looking up at her with dark eyes. 

„Yes please,“ she gasped, her eyes slipping close as his lips kissed down her body. 

The masquerade ball was in full swing once Marcus and Peach entered the hall. Him dressed completely in black, the beautiful black velvet cloak she had let made for him, fitting him perfectly. His face was hidden behind a simple black mask. Yet she knew it would be him anywhere. 

She was wearing a deep green silk dress, with a mask that matched Marcus’.

After they…. Explored each others bodies until the early morning hours, they had woken up in each others arms, spending the whole morning in bed with Marcus wishing her a happy birthday in all ways he could think of.The both had drank the potion before having breakfast, sealing their decision with a kiss before they left her chambers to help with the last preparation for the ball. 

Yet when the time came, Marcus seemed to be easily distracted from the dress she was wearing. His fingers seemingly finding their way underneath it and inside of her, making her sing his name while the whole house was already filled with guests, leaving her being late to her own ball. 

Now they were dancing.

They were laughing and she couldn’t remember ever being that happy. 

It was a quarter to midnight when they made their way outside, drinking the second part of the potion she had made, sealing it yet again with a kiss. 

Her bother was waiting with them, away from all the guests. 

They said their goodbyes, her crying a little at the thought of never seeing him again. 

„Be happy,“ he whispered, before he kissed her forehead.

Marcus and him also said their goodbyes, her brother whispering something to Marcus to which he nodded, before Marcus joined her back, taking her hand. 

„Do you know what happens next?“ Her brother asked, to which she shook her head. 

She looked at Marcus as the church bell began to ring and he kissed her with a smile. 

And then. 

They were gone.

One year later

„Careful,“ Marcus stopped Peach as she was carrying another huge pumpkin. He rushed over to her while she rolled her eyes affectionately. He took the pumpkin from her, carrying it to the house. When he came back he pulled her against him, or as much as the belly between them let him, kissing her nose. 

„You are not allowed to carry anything heavy, doctors orders,“ he reminded her and she sighed, dramatic. Looking down she felt her black cat, Lucius the second, slip by her legs before he walked outside to where Marcus had left the door open. 

„It wasn’t that heavy,“ she pouted and he sighed, kissing her pout away. 

„When is the coven coming?“ He asked. 

„In about twenty minutes,“ she mumbled, jumping in the next moment when the dishwasher began to sing its little melody to inform them it was finished. 

She still was getting used to the future.

Both Marcus and her had been more than surprised when she did not only find her trinkets and things she had asked her brother to put in the back safe, but a significant amount of money and estates in her name. 

Which is why they were now living on a small farm close to Marcus’ sister who, much to Marcus’s surprise, was a witch too. 

„So we have enough time for some…“ he kissed down her neck making her sigh. 

„You know twenty minutes is nothing enough, my love,“ she hummed making him sigh. 

„Later?“ He asked. 

„Later,“ she nodded, kissing him. They enjoyed each others embrace when they both felt a kick from her stomach, both chuckling. Marcus hand slipped onto her belly, another kick following. She put her hand on top of his, the ring he had put on her finger only last week at a small ceremony in their garden, sparkling in the light. 

Even though the future came with an overwhelming amount of new things they learned that contraceptives weren’t as reliable as Marcus thought.

Their little one was due in four months.

„I love you,“ she said and the smile he gave her was almost blinding. 

„I love you more,“ he hummed. 

„In every century?“ She asked and he chuckled. 

„In each and every one you find me,“ he smiled against her lips as he leaned down to kiss her. 

[arcane-vagabond]

Road to Perdition: Chapter Two

Road to Perdition: Chapter Two

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that blond-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)

Content Warning: Police, FBI, Self Deprecation, Jake being a scoundrel, Suggestive Comments, Cursing, Attempted SA, Derogatory Names being thrown at reader, Guns, Descriptions of Blood. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 4.3k

Series Masterlist

The ache to your temple had dulled, but still throbbed enough to be noticeable even after two days. You had woken in the alley, head aching from where Hangman had struck you as the police officer gripped your shoulder to steady you.

“Are you alright, miss?” The officer had asked, concern shining in his brown eyes as he looked you over. You had been dazed and disoriented, looking around to try and piece together what had happened. You glanced around and saw the bank manager already on his feet speaking with another officer. A particularly hard throb had you wincing and grabbing at your temple, and the officer before you offered you a sympathetic smile and a hand to help you up.

“It looks like they got you pretty good,” he muttered, eyeing the growing bruise on the side of your head. You grimaced at him, eyes wandering again and landing on a tall man pushing his way through the throng of police. He was older, his dark hair graying at the temples and making him look even sterner than his hard expression already made him look. His blue eyes scanned the area, and you wondered when the last time he got any sleep was, the dark circles under his eyes indicating that it had been quite a while. A shadow of stubble outlined his hard-set jaw, emphasizing the look of irritation that covered his handsome features. His eyes met yours, brow arching at you as you met his gaze.

“Do you remember anything, miss?” The officer next to you asked gently, and you turned to look at him. You opened your mouth to reply, but stopped as a figure walked up into your peripheral.

“I’ve got it, son,” the man dismissed gruffly, sparing the young officer a look before fixing his attention back on you. The officer seemed put out by the dismissal, but he nodded at you, tipping his cap with a final “miss” before walking off to join his fellow law enforcement. You watched him go for a moment, feeling the newcomer’s gaze on you as you pointedly refused to meet his gaze. The man cleared his throat, and that’s when you looked back over at him, keeping your face neutral as you met his gaze once more.

“The name’s Agent Beau Simpson,” he started, eyes roving over you as his lips twisted into a frown. “What’s yours?”

You gave him your name, sizing him up as you did so, a habit you supposed you picked up from the days when your father would take you out on some of his runs during prohibition. You needed to know the measure of people just in case.

“I work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” he continued, sliding his hands into his pockets as he allowed his eyes to wander across the alley. You let out a snort that drew his attention back to where you stood.

“What’s the FBI doing in a shithole like this?” You questioned. Agent Simpson raised a brow at your coarse language, earning an eyebrow raise of your own in challenge.

“The Bureau has tasked me and my partner,” he pauses to gesture over at an older looking man who’s stopped to talk with the bank manager, an easy smile on his wrinkled face as he listens to the other man attentively, “Agent Kazansky, with investigating the activities of the Dagger Gang.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Now it made sense. You had heard some of the nicknames whispered around town as Everyone had heard about the notorious gang of criminals roaming the rural areas of this and the neighboring states. The group was heralded as a godsend, robbing the crooked banks and giving the money back to the working poor. You weren’t sure what to think of them to be completely honest. It seemed to you to be too good to be true, and the bruise at your temple throbbed in agreement.

“The Dagger Gang, huh?” You muttered, bringing your fingertips to press gently against the pained skin. You winced at the contact, and Agent Simpson watched you with an unreadable expression.

“Looks like they left you with a parting gift,” he commented. You shot him a look before letting your hand drop.

“Did you need something, or am I free to go?” You huffed, crossing your arms. Agent Simpson said nothing for a moment, but you thought you caught a glint of amusement in his eyes before he took out a small notepad and pen from his jacket pocket. How he was able to wear that many layers in this heat was beyond you.

“You mind telling me what happened?” He asked, and you let out a sigh, recounting your tale to him as he wrote down every detail.

“And that’s all I remember,” you finished, picking at the seam of your skirt as you watched Agent Kazansky finish up with the bank manager. The police were starting to clear out the area as well, having finished bagging as much evidence as they could find.

“You’re sure?” Agent Simpson prompted, brow raised as he finished a note. “Nothing else happened?”

The flash of jade green eyes and soft lips on yours had heat crawling up your neck and to your cheeks. You took a sharp breath, steeling yourself and willing the memory out of your head as you offered him a nod.

“Positive,” you muttered, looking away. Agent Simpson stared at you for a moment before nodding.

“Alright then,” he sighed, putting the notepad and pen back into his jacket and pulling a small, white card out. “If you think of anything, give this number a call. The people at the Bureau will be sure to get the information to me.”

You took the card with a small frown, placing it into your bag with a nod.

“Will do,” you agreed, fingers resting on your camera as a thought struck you.

“Say,” you chirped, catching Agent Simpson’s attention as he was walking away. He turned back to give you a curious look. You held up your camera, waving it for added effect. “You mind if I take some pictures for the paper?”

Now you sat in the parlor of your oldest friend, Alice, in the home she shared with her husband of two years, Frank. It was a lovely home, much nicer than your own at least. Everything was kept in pristine condition, not a speck of dirt or mess in sight. You took a tentative sip from your teacup, a family heirloom of Alice’s, as she prattled on about the luncheon with the ladies from her parish.

You loved Alice dearly, having known her as long as you could remember, but since she got married, it seemed the two of you had been drifting further and further apart. You supposed part of that was your own fault, recounting the number of times Alice had invited you out to spend time with her and Frank. It seemed like they were always a package deal, and while you were fond of him, you couldn’t help but feel that you had been replaced as Alice’s partner in crime. The two of you used to do everything together, but since she had gotten married and settled into her fairytale life, you found yourself more often than not serving as the proverbial third wheel on their excursions.

“So what do you say, Moonie?” Alice chirped, eyes wide with excitement as she leaned forward to rest her palm on your knee. You stiffened for a second before relaxing, racking your brain for hints as to what she was asking you as you sipped your tea. It seemed that your time spend in self-imposed exile had made it hard for you to keep track of conversations.

“You have no idea what I just said, do you?” She sighed, leaning back with a swish of her long, blonde curls. You refused to meet her gaze as she let out another sigh, leaning forward once more to touch the bruise to your temple gingerly. You winced at the contact, setting your cup down on the table in front of you as you turned to look at her.

“I suppose it’s not your fault,” she mused, dropping her hand to take hold of yours. “It must have been so scary what you went through. And the nerve of those brutes to leave such a mess of your pretty face.”

“Alice,” you sighed, giving her a look that begged her to drop the line of conversation. She gave you a wry smile in return.

“Well, anyway,” she continued, mercifully dropping the subject as she let your hand go to place her own cup on the table beside yours. “I was asking if you wanted to come dancing with Frank and I tonight.”

“Alice, I don’t-” You began, but she waved your dismissal off with a brush of her hand.

“It won’t just be the three of us,” she said. “Frank’s friend from Wichita Falls is in town for some business, and I thought it might be fun to do a double date.”

You didn’t respond, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you studied her. You knew she only wanted you to be happy, to have the same kind of life that she lived now, but there was a part of you deep down that knew it would always be just outside your grasp. Still, the idea of getting to spend more time with Alice was appealing, and with Frank’s friend in town, you might actually get to spend some actual one-on-one time with her.

“What did you have in mind?” You relented, earning an excited grin.

Hours later, you were stepping foot into one of the hottest clubs in the Dallas area. You fought the urge to scratch at your face, not used to the makeup that Alice had dolled you up with. Rouge tinted your cheeks and a deep red painted your lips for the first time in years, and you could hardly believe your eyes when she had shown you in the mirror of her vanity earlier that evening.

“You look gorgeous, Moonie,” she had chirped, squeezing your shoulders as she dipped her head down to look at you. “Charlie is gonna be blown away!”

She had practically shoved a bright, red number into your hands as she pushed you towards the restroom to change. Your fingers brushed over the silky fabric in question, letting out a nervous breath as your small group entered the club. She had been right. Frank’s friend, Charlie, had looked gobsmacked when the two of you made your way to the foyer where the two men were waiting, and you let yourself bask in the warm feeling of being noticed by a handsome man.

Charlie’s hand rested on your waist as he guided you further into the room while trailing Alice and Frank. The club was in full swing, several people already on the dancefloor as the band played a jazz number that had you almost giddy. Alice and Frank stopped at a table close to the dancefloor, Charlie pulling out a seat for you as you gave him a grateful smile.

“Don’t get too comfortable!” Alice hollered over the noise, a delighted grin spread across her face as her eyes darted between you and your date. “After the first drink, we’re all headed to the dancefloor!”

“Oh, Alice, you know I don’t-” You began, brow furrowing in uncertainty, but she fixed you with a look that cut you off mid-sentence.

“No,” she stated firmly, arching a brow. “You do. You just haven’t. Come on, Moonie, let loose and live a little! There are no worries tonight!”

You sighed in defeat, casting an awkward smile to Charlie as he let his fingers brush over your shoulders. Alice gave you a knowing look before turning to say something to Frank, and you jumped as Charlie leaned into you.

“You look real pretty tonight, sweets,” he murmured, breath fanning over your cheeks, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol nearly making you gag.

“Thank you,” you managed, allowing your eyes to wander around the room. It was a beautiful place, it’s reputation doing little to prepare you for the majesty of the interior. Deep reds accented with golds lined the walls, artificial shadows cast across the room to offer the illusion of privacy in the crowded space. You wondered who or what lurked in them.

A waiter came around to take your orders, and while everyone around you ordered a cocktail, you stuck with plain water.

“No spirits for you, sweets?” Charlie asked with a lift of his brow. You gave a wry smile, mind flashing briefly to your older brother.

“I’m not one for alcohol,” you supplied, picking at the cloth of the napkin that sat in front of you.

“Shame,” he muttered, giving a smile to the waiter as he came back with everyone’s drinks.

You all chatted amongst yourselves as you sipped at your water, feeling yourself grow more and more stifled by Charlie’s presence as he crowded around you. The feeling of eyes on you tickled at the back of your neck, but you brushed it off as jitters about being out and about for the first time in who knows how long. Before long, Alice was on her feet and tugging Frank towards the dancefloor with her signature grin and bat of her eyelashes. Frank followed her eagerly, the two of them falling into an easy foxtrot.

“We should join’em!” Charlie called over the music, not waiting for protest as he took your hand and dragged you towards the dancefloor. You bit back your sigh, falling into step with the music, allowing yourself to get lost in the tempo as your feet moved. The feeling of eyes on you grew, and you allowed yourself to scan the room for the source of the uneasy feeling. You were pulled back, however, as Charlie stepped on your toes, causing you to wince with a hiss as he flushed a deep red.

“I’m so sorry, sweets,” he grumbled, attempting to guide you along the floor once more. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

“It’s alright,” you assured him, moving your feet once more as the music continued. The air between the two of you was silent and awkward as you continued, and you started to wonder how you were going to make it through the rest of the night. Perhaps you could feign illness…

“Frank told me you had a bit of a run-in earlier this week,” Charlie said, eyes glancing at your temple where, despite Alice’s best efforts, the bruise was still slightly visible beneath the layer of powder covering your face.

“Yes,” you sighed. “I suppose I did.”

“You must have been frightened, sweets,” he pressed, hand stroking along your waist as you gritted your teeth.

“It wasn’t that big a deal,” you muttered as the song came to an end. You pulled away, forcing a smile on your face as Charlie allowed you to withdraw. A slower number came on, and the two of you stared at each other for a moment before he cleared his throat, shifting on his feet.

“I’ll, uh,” he swallowed, “I’ll go get us another round of drinks.”

You nodded but didn’t respond as he spun on his heel and retreated. You let out another sigh, starting to make your way back to the table when a hand grasped your wrist.

“Where’re you going, dollface?”

You whirled around at the familiar voice, eyes meeting jade green that sparkled with mirth. You stood frozen for a second as the blond’s face split with a cocky grin.

“Let go of me,” you hissed, attempting to pull your wrist free, but his grip remained gentle but firm.

“Come on,” he drawled, pulling you closer, the smell of tobacco and mint making your stomach flutter. “Just one dance.”

He left you no room to argue as he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him with a devilish grin and taking one of your hands in his. He began to sway along to the music, and you begrudgingly followed.

“See? Isn’t this nice?” He crooned, looking down at you with hooded eyes. You glared back up at him, pressing your lips into a thin line as he whisked you around the dancefloor.

“I think you’re already having a better time with me than you were lover boy over there,” he grinned, nodding over to where you were sure Charlie was. His hand on your waist began to venture lower, and you reached behind you to drag it back into place. You cast the man in front of you another glare, but he remained unperturbed, leaning forward so that his lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

“Been thinking ‘bout you,” he murmured, sending a shiver up your spine, one that didn’t go unnoticed judging by the smirk that graced his lips. “Been thinking about those pretty lips on mine.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, your face warming at his words. How could this man stir such conflicting emotions in you?

“Been imagining how soft you’d feel against me,” he continued with a hum, lips trailing down towards your cheek, sending chills across your skin that had your insides twisting. “Been thinking about the pretty noises you’d make when I-”

“Don’t be crass,” you snapped, pushing against his chest. You only put about an inch or so of space between the two of you, your glare only a fraction of how fierce it was at the beginning of the dance. He chuckled, pulling you close again as he continued the dance.

“Sorry, sugar,” he smirked. “You’ve just been driving me crazy these past couple of days.”

“You don’t even know me,” you muttered, looking down at the floor. Hangman dips his head to look at you once more.

“No,” he acquiesced, “but I want to.”

You looked back at him at that, shock coloring your face.

“Why?” You asked, brow furrowing, waiting for the punchline. It didn’t make sense. You weren’t like the free spirited girls who flitted around town. You didn’t own nice clothes or worry about the latest trends. This man was beautiful, he could have anyone he wanted. So, why you?

“What do you mean ‘why?’” He laughed, stopping when he saw the serious look on your face. He offered a shrug. “I dunno. There’s just something about you, doll. Something that once I saw you, I knew you were something I’d never want to let go. Been thinking about it nonstop since the other day, and now here you are looking like an angel down from heaven itself right in front of me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you groused, earning another chuckle. You gulped as you felt his hand begin to wander south once more, heart beating wildly in your chest.

“Maybe,” he hummed, leaning into you so that his lips ghosted over yours. Your gaze flitted down, remembering the softness of his lips on yours, cursing how much you wanted to feel them again. “But you say you want nothing to do with me, that you don’t feel what I feel? I’ll be out of your life for good, dollface.”

Your eyes flickered back up to his, studying them for any signs of deception, but there was none to be had. Your mind whirled with the possibilities. It wasn’t smart to get mixed up with someone like him, especially when you weren’t planning on sticking around. You let out a shaky breath and Hangman cooed at you, stroking your cheek in a brazen show of intimacy.

“Use your words, honey,” he murmured, and you let out a quiet whine, cheeks heating at the pathetic sound.

“I-” You started, stopping as you heard your name. You whipped your head around to see Alice pushing through the crowd towards you. You pulled away from Hangman, refusing to meet his heated gaze as your best friend stopped in front of you, her husband right behind her.

“Moonie, honey,” she smiled, eyes glancing at the man beside you curiously. “Where’s Charlie?”

“He, um,” you stuttered, eyes looking around wildly for your date.

“Hi,” Hangman greeted, offering his hand for Alice to shake. “My name is Jake. Jake Seresin.”

“Oh, hi!” Alice greeted, taking his hand in a polite shake. “I’m Alice, and this is my husband, Frank.”

“Sorry about stealing your friend away,” he drawled, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. “I saw her from across the room and just knew I had to have at least one dance with her.”

You couldn’t see, but you were sure he was flashing her a mega-watt smile with the way she looked so flustered. You took a deep breath, anxiety licking up your spine as the room suddenly felt too loud and too crowded.

“I need some air,” you blurted out, already turning towards an exit, not bothering to wait for a reply. You pushed through the throngs of people, earning several dirty looks, but you couldn’t be bothered as you pushed your way through a door and into the cool, night air of an alley. The quiet enveloped you as you sucked in huge lungfuls of air, the sweat on your skin feeling like ice in the cool breeze.

What was going on with you? You had never been so affected by anyone in your life, and this man, this stranger, waltzes into your life and suddenly you’re making a fool of yourself. He must have hit you harder than you thought, that was the only logical explanation.

You were so busy in your spiral that you didn’t notice the door open as someone stepped out with you. You jumped as a hand clutched your shoulder, spinning to see Charlie looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Oh, Charlie!” You exclaimed, placing a hand over your chest to try and calm your racing heart. “I didn’t-”

“You know,” he interrupted you, a look of disdain flooding his features, “had I known you were so easy, I wouldn’t have bothered taking you out on a date.”

“What?” You asked, brow furrowing in confusion. He let out a bark of a laugh, taking a step towards you, and you took one back.

“A dame like you? I should have known,” he sneered, backing you up towards the wall of the alley. You grunted as your back met the brick wall, heart beating erratically for a different reason now. “Girls like you are too easy, the way you were putty in that guy’s hands just from a single dance. So, come on, sweets. Open those legs for me like the good slut I know you are.”

The slap echoed in the empty alley, your hand stinging from where it had connected with Charlie’s cheek. You were frozen in shock, which was all the time it took for him to recover, your head bouncing off the brick as he gripped your hair and slammed you back.

“Bitch,” he snarled, other hand reaching up to grip your dress. He pulled, and a tearing sound met your ears as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

“I was going to be nice,” he hissed, his horrible breath washing over you as you continued to struggle, “but now I’m going to make sure it hurts.”

His hand came up to wrap around your neck, and you let out a cry as he squeezed. You pressed your eyes closed, waiting for his next move when a click sounded over his shoulder.

“Let her go,” came the deep timbre, and you opened your eyes to see Jake standing behind Charlie, a gun in his hand which he pointed at Charlie’s head. Charlie let out a low growl, but obeyed the command, his hands falling away from you. You nearly crumpled to the ground, but caught yourself as Jake held his hand out to you, not taking his eyes off of the other man. Hesitantly, you moved passed Charlie, taking Jake’s hand and allowing him to push you behind him. Once you were safe behind him, Jake reared the hand holding his gun back, bringing it forward sharply with a sickening crack. You gasped as Charlie groaned, clutching at his nose which was now leaking blood through the cracks of his fingers.

“You sorry piece of shit,” Jake growled, the sound of the door opening behind you catching your attention. You watched as Alice and Frank made their way into the alley, eyes wide with shock as Jake stood over Charlie.

“I catch you even looking in her direction again, and you’ll leave with more than a broken nose,” he spat, dragging Charlie up by his collar and practically throwing him down towards the mouth of the alley. “Get the hell out of here.”

“Moonie, oh my word,” Alice started, rushing towards you as Charlie scampered off. “What happened?”

“I…he…” You tried to talk, but the words just wouldn’t come out. Your head hurt, and you were feeling dizzy. Your fingers played with the skirt of your dress as you tried to formulate a sentence. You were vaguely aware of Jake and Frank speaking in the background, but you were too distracted by the hole you came across. “Your dress…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alice hushed, pulling you close and leading you down towards the street. “Let’s just get you out of here, honey.”

Once again, you allowed yourself to be guided, the decision being made for you. You paused at the mouth of the alley, looking back to see jade green already looking at you.

A/N: It's been a while since I updated last, but here it is!! I'm still so excited to continue this story, and this Jake is quickly becoming a favorite of mine, I can't lie. I'm hoping to have the other three updates out this week, but more likely than not, it might just be one or two, so let me know what you want to see next!

If you would like to receive notifications on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @sailoraviator-library ) and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. You can find all of my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[acenerdsbian]

Does anybody else actually want the small town detective/federal agent bitter exes who still love each other au that the first episode teased us with though? Like loving the witch stuff don't get me wrong, but I'd read the shit out of that fic.

[sammyluvr]

forget-me-nots — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, soulmate!au, fluff, very light angst, light mentions of canon typical death, violence, and monsters, shirtless sam aaaaa, light descriptions of injuries and blood, reader believes in ghosts before knowing about the supernatural, drinking/alcohol mentions, silly criminal minds reference to my gf elle, kissing, poor editing, 5.6K words. requested !

summary : in a world where flowers grow on your skin in the exact places your soulmate is injured, you’re constantly covered in forget-me-nots.

heartache is one thing. heartache for someone you don’t know, someone whose face you’ve never seen or who you’ve never met, is another, stranger thing. it’s common for many to feel this heartache before they know their soulmate, but sometimes you feel as though you have to worry much more than most.

you try not to let thoughts of your mystery soulmate consume you, but you seem to have constant reminders of them litered on your skin in the form of tiny blue flowers. admittedly, you find it romantic that forget-me-nots are your soulmate flower, with their symbolism of true love, respect, and fidelity. the flowers themself feel like a good omen, a sweet promise of a steady love waiting for you. but, the frequency with which they appear on your skin feels far less lucky and always feeds you so much worry for this person you’ve yet to meet.

this morning, you wake with new blooms snaking along your left collarbone, peeking out from the seam of your sleep shirt. and when you change into new clothes, you find a few more growing on your bicep and the side of your ribs.

sighing, you stand at the mirror lightly brushing your fingers over the small flowers and wonder what sort of trouble your soulmate got into last night. as always, worry floods your chest, but you do your best to tamp it down considering the fact that you only bear a few new blooms. the more severe the injury, the more flowers appear on your skin. today, your soulmate must only be dealing with small surface cuts.

sometimes, you’re covered in so many forget-me-nots that you’re too worried to do much of anything at all. more than once, you’ve wondered how your soulmate could still be alive, and the continuous flowers on your skin serve as your only proof that they’re still around. there were a few years where you barely had any blooms, just the usual flower on a fingertip to signify a papercut or the occasional few because of a small accident. but one night the flowers came in bunches and never stopped.

you imagine what you might say or do when you meet them. maybe you’ll want to check on whatever wounds they have, be sure it’s not too bad, or maybe you’ll scold them for making you worry so much. you’ll certainly ask what they do in their life that gets them so injured so often. maybe you’ll do it all.

but for now, you’ll have to move on and get ready for the day. the flowers always linger, though.

⟢⟢⟢

it’s been a rather strange week. the flowers from last thursday have completely faded, and you’ve gone a day or two without any new forget-me-nots appearing on your skin. the strange part has been at work. on monday night, one of your coworkers died in the building, but you still had to come in to work the next day. one of the rooms was taped off, but that was the only evidence of the misfortune. the same thing happened last night, thursday, and you’re ready to do everything you can to get at least the next several days off of work. you don’t want to risk anything.

and now, it seems the goddamn fbi is interested in whatever has happened. you’re not a huge fan of the federal government, but you have to admit that the bureau has sent two of its most attractive agents. normally, you’d keep your head down, but you feel inexplicably drawn to one of them. he’s the taller of the two, which is impressive because the other is already tall, and he has pretty brown hair and dimples that you catch a glimpse of as he talks to one of your coworkers.

he looks away from her as he moves away, seemingly done with the interview. he catches your eye, and your breath gets caught in your throat for a moment. he’s a beautiful man; pretty and sweet looking at the same time as he’s traditionally handsome and slightly imposing. you’ve never loved a stranger’s eyes so much.

he approaches you and you can’t help but watch as he grows closer.

“hi,” he greets with a small smile, “i’m agent greenaway with the fbi. can i ask you a few questions about the deaths from this week?”

“i’m not sure i’ll be much help, but sure,” you nod, folding your arms over your stomach. agent greenaway doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but the topic at hand certainly does.

“that’s alright. sometimes the smallest things can really be helpful,” he reassures, keeping the kind look on his face. “have you noticed anything strange about either of the deceased or the building this past week or so?”

you shake your head. “not really. i mean i didn’t work closely with macy, and i never noticed anything off about lex.”

“and the building? any strange cold spots or flickering lights?”

you find the question sort of odd coming from an fbi agent, but you instintually feel like you should take it seriously. “um, yeah, actually. it was really cold by the bathrooms last night when i left. at first i thought the ac finally got fixed, but it was still sort of warm over here. in this area”

“okay. thank you for your help,” he smiles at you again and for a reason you can’t quite place, you don’t want the unusual conversation to end. you have to hide a hint of delight from your expression when he hands you his card. “call me if you think of anything else.” you accept the card with a nod. he looks like he’s about to walk away, but he pauses. “and, uh– be careful. you should go home early tonight.”

“oh. okay, i will.” without knowing why, you trust him. you want to see him again.

⟢⟢⟢

saturday night is the second busiest night at the bar, but you’re glad it’s not as crowded fridays normally are. you walk straight to the bar to order your go-to drink. as you wait for the bartender to make it, you stare at yourself in the mirror behind the counter out of the corner of your eye. today, there’s two little forget-me-nots right on your left cheek. they look sort of cute there, and you guess you should be grateful that it’s such a small wound. there’s no other flowers on your body yet, which feels like a good run for your soulmate. that’s a little over a whole week in between different injuries, even small ones.

the bartender slides you your drink and you thank them. there’s a small red carnation on their thumb, and you wonder if they’ve met their own soulmate yet. you suppose that at the end of the day, you’re scared of what just about everyone else is. without trying, you worry about not meeting your soulmate until you’re old and left without much time together. you want to meet them, and you think the sooner the better. the idea’s been particularly stuck in your mind since last night.

agent greenaway’s words echo in your head. “be careful. you should go home early tonight.” he seemed so sweet, so genuine and caring, and all you’ve been able to think about since then is meeting someone like him. finding someone kind with a little red mark on their cheek and a forget-me-not on their right pointer finger to match the papercut you got earlier this afternoon.

and simply, you’ve been feeling a little lonely these days. how nice would it be to have your literal soulmate by your side?

you sip slowly at your drink, and when the cup’s empty, you pay the tab. the bar isn’t quite serving as the distraction you hoped it would. as you head for the door, your gaze snags on a mop of brown hair that wouldn’t be considered familiar for the fact that you’ve only seen it once, but feels that way regardless. quickly, you scan the rest of the bar, and sure enough you catch sight of agent greenaway’s partner, across the way and very obviously flirting with a pretty brunette.

for a moment you pause, wondering if it would be weird or too out-of-the-blue to approach agent greenaway, but the pull you feel towards him overrides all else, taking your hand and guiding it to throw all caution to the wind.

he’s facing away from you, and with a friendly smile, you slide into the seat across from him.

“hi,” you greet over the noise of music and talking, “d’you mind if i sit here?” it takes him a moment to answer, like he’s lagging a little bit.

“uh– no, no i don’t mind,” he flashes a quick smile back at you, but his gaze and attention are clearly stuck somewhere on your face. for just a split-second, you’re confused by what he could be staring at, but it clicks not a moment later. you don’t know how you missed it: the red mark on his left cheek, so small that your eyes glossed over it when you sat down. eagerly, you drop your gaze to his hands, one casually wrapped around his beer bottle and the other resting on the table. and sure enough, so tiny and pretty against his big hand is a single forget-me-not on his right pointer finger, exactly where you have a bandaid wrapped around your own.

you suck in a sharp breath, eyes caught on the delicate flower and unable to drag themselves away to look back at his face. just like everyone else, you’ve thought about it a million times over, what it would feel like to meet your soulmate, what you would do, how you would act. in this moment, you feel frozen, but you feel right and you feel a million questions and urges rise up in your heart and mind. you desperately want to reach out to him, to touch his hand and the little flower and make sure that they’re both real.

but you absolutely cannot keep your gaze away from his face for long at all and when you meet his eyes, an irresistible smile stretches across your face. you look at him with nothing short of wonderment. he’s just stunning and you can’t believe that he’s supposed to be… well, yours. 

just staring at each other, you feel a little flustered and awkward, unsure what to say to him. then you realize he should probably know your name, and all you know is his last. so you stick your right hand out and tell him your name. he takes your hand with a smile and repeats it back, saying it carefully and savoring the sound and feel of it on his tongue.

when you touch him for the first time, your breath gets caught in your throat and it feels so right that you never want to let go.

“i’m sam,” he says, only letting his hand fall away from yours after a few moments. even then, your fingertips are merely inches apart now.

“sam greenaway,” you echo, easily remembering how he introduced himself yesterday. then you puzzle at his reaction and the way that the name doesn’t feel quite right as you look at him. he cringes slightly, like he’s done something to be guilty of. “or… not?” for a minute, things were starting to add up to you. the way you felt drawn to him yesterday and his job as an fbi agent finally explaining all of his many injuries. you figured he must be in fights often.

“i– i’m sorry, this is so– i mean if we’re really,” he takes a deep breath, trying to reset and figure out how to say things right. “if we’re really, you know, soulmates… well, there’s just a lot– a lot for me to explain. i’m not an fbi agent and my real name is sam winchester. but i swear, there’s a reason for me lying and i promise that i’ll explain it to you if you’re willing to hear it. which i understand if you don’t–”

“i do,” you say in earnest, finally cutting him off. it took you a second because, for a moment, you were too stuck on him saying the word soulmate aloud in reference to the two of you. it felt special and you were only half paying attention to the things he said after because of that. then all you were thinking about was how endearing he seems when he’s flustered and worried. “it’s okay,” you reassure him, “i want to hear it. i– i mean, sure, it’s sort of strange that you lied about, you know, all that, but… i’m not– i’m not gonna just meet my… my soulmate and not give you a chance.” he still looks a little tense, but his shoulders have dropped a bit in relief and there’s the hint of a grateful smile on his features.

“thank you,” he says, glad for your reassurance but still worried about how you might take the rest of the far weirder explanations that he has left to tell you. “can i maybe get you a drink?”

you smile at the offer, but shake your head a bit. “i was actually just heading out when i saw you. would you maybe wanna get out of here? my apartment’s less than a ten minute walk away.” for a moment, you wonder if that’s too much for just having met, but sam visibly relaxes just a little bit more.

“that would be nice,” he smiles. he’s getting ready to stand when he glances across the bar, seemingly remembering about his partner. or not partner. you’re not quite sure. “my brother, dean,” he explains simply when he catches your gaze on the other man. “i should tell him where i’m going.”

“okay,” you nod, filing the new information away in your mind and watching him weave between tables and flirting couples to reach his brother. the exchange is a bit funny to watch. at first dean looks annoyed at being interrupted by sam. then he glances at you with a sly smirk and makes some comment that is probably less than appropriate judging from his expression. and then his face morphs into one of surprise before it’s taken over by a smile. he claps sam on the shoulder and sends him off. you almost miss the look that dean gives you as sam heads back towards you because you’re so focused on the sweet smile that sam’s now wearing. you only catch dean’s look for a second before sam is back at your side. it’s easy to assume dean as the older brother, with his eyes on you being protective, proud, careful, and happy all at once. and they’re close enough that sam told him about you right away.

walking home with sam at your side is both completely strange and familiar all at once. it’s strange for a number of reasons, the main being that you’d never invite any other unknown man to your apartment, especially not one with a cryptic identity and such an imposing build. and yet, you’re not afraid or worried because of how familiar and safe it feels. it feels familiar because it feels right, it feels like exactly what you should be doing.

on the way over, he asks about you a little bit, trying not to overwhelm you with questions or seem overbearing with how eager he is to hear what you have to say. his kindness and carefulness are clear to you, and you love it. you answer happily, despite knowing he’s partially asking to avoid talking about himself until you settle down.

once inside, sam follows you right to the couch in the living room, sitting when you motion towards it and plop down into a chair across from him. he takes in the space, eyes roaming over your furniture, decor, and every little detail. he wants to know about you, just like you do him.

“it’s really nice in here,” he compliments, sounding so sincere that it’s just sweet.

“thank you,” you respond softly, wondering exactly what parts of the room he likes. you let him look around a second or two more before speaking again. “so… can i ask? you know, about it all, i guess? about you?”

he doesn’t say it aloud, but he thinks the way that you ask is so lovely. half of him wants to make up some silly, somewhat believable explanation to spare you the truth, but he knows that would never work out well. not if you choose to stay together in some way or another. already, that’s what he wants. he doesn’t doubt that you’re indeed his soulmate, the one who he’s been sharing wounds and flowers with for as long as he can remember. sam has both yearned for and dreaded this moment. he tries not to be obvious about it or over do it, but he’s sort of a total romantic. he’s had doubts about how this whole idea of soulmates could really be real or make much sense, but those thoughts are eased with each moment he spends with you. he still wants to get to know you before he does anything with you, but the way that he wants to get to know you is something he’s never felt before. it’s undeniably special.

the dread is because he’s known ever since he got back into hunting that he’d never be able to hide the truth of his world from you. he has no idea how he’s going to get to you to believe him or convince you that he’s not completely insane, but he’s going to tell you the truth anyway. even if you do believe him, he wants to give you a choice. you shouldn’t have to get involved with this life in any way at all if you don’t want to. he’d never force you to try things with him if it’s too strange or too scary or hard or anything. and already, he knows that he’ll never stop thinking about you if you do choose to stay away, but he also knows that he’d never try to change your mind or force you to do anything else other than exactly what you want.

“of course you can ask,” he responds, matching the softness of your own voice. “i, um– i’m honestly not quite sure how to say all of this without sounding totally crazy, and i completely understand that, but just– try to bear with me, i guess. and if you need proof, which i also understand, i’ll do my best to get it for you, it’s just– sort of hard.”

honestly, you’re wildly confused as to what the hell he could possibly say that would make him this anxious. it worries you a little bit too. you don’t want him to feel afraid to tell you anything at all. so, you nod at him in encouragement, trying not to seem nervous yourself.

“my brother and i, we– we hunt monsters. real ones. ghosts, vampires, demons, the works. they’re all real. your coworkers who died, they were– they were killed by an angry spirit. we got rid of it last night,” he says those words like they’re a ten ton weight off of his chest, but he’s still got another ten sitting there as he awaits your response. he looks at you so carefully, trying to gauge any sort of reaction.

you raise your eyebrows in surprise, and probably disbelief and a million other things. “angry spirit? like a ghost?” you’re not sure why that’s the first question that slips out, but you suppose it’s an easier one than are you insane? or what the hell are you talking about?

he nods his head carefully, like he’s waiting for you to freak out or call him crazy and tell him to go. “yeah. the ghost, she had died there, near the bathrooms where you felt the cold spot, in the 90s. she was triggered to kill when the man suspected of her murder was granted parole.”

“okay,” you breathe out, sort of nervously. the craziest thing is that you don’t disbelieve him. you’re not convinced by any stretch, but when you look him in the eye and listen close to his voice, there’s nothing but sincerity there. “i mean… that is sort of a kinda crazy thing to say,” you begin, “but i’ve always sort of believed in ghosts, so i don’t think you’re completely, you know, insane.” you laugh a bit, trying to lighten the mood a little. you don’t want him to stress, however unbelievable his words are. “the rest is a bit… shaky, i guess. it’s a hard thing to believe, i mean… vampires. and– and demons. it’s a lot. and honestly, i’m not sure how much i’ll really, truly believe until i see, i don’t know, something, i guess,” you admit, “but… but i don’t think you’re lying to me either.”

“thank you for that,” he says, voice as sincere as ever, “and i completely understand. honestly, part of me didn’t want to tell you at all, but… it’s sort of my whole entire life at this point and it wouldn’t be fair to hide from you. or– or to not give you a choice right off the bat of whether or not you wanted to be involved. it’s– it’s a lot and it’s dangerous. and if it’s what you want, i promise i’ll try to find a way to prove it to you, it’s just… hard to do that without putting you in danger. and i really don’t want to put you in danger.”

“that’s sweet, sam,” you say, not really bothering to hide the way you feel. “i’m not, you know, eager to meet any monsters anytime soon, but whenever it’s… the least dangerous, i guess, you can show me. until then… i’ll just trust you. and in the meantime maybe we can sort of just get to know each other?” you suggest, surprising yourself with how ready you are to trust him on this.

sam smiles at you sweetly. “that sounds perfect to me. i just– i don’t want to force you into something you don’t want for yourself. i live out of crappy motels and my brother’s car while hunting monsters that shouldn’t be real. i’m just… i’m sorry i’m not someone easier.”

you smile at him sort of sadly. “that’s not your fault, sam. i never asked for someone ‘easy’ anyway. just someone kind and respectful and you seem to be just that so far. besides, there’s gotta be a reason, right? that… we’re soulmates. honestly, if you were anyone else i wouldn’t trust you like this. an–and it’s not like i’m trusting you blindly because of something that we’re supposed to be. we just met. i’m only trusting you because it feels right to. and this whole soulmate thing never made too much sense to me until i met you. now it sort of does, because this feels right so far. at least, it does to me.”

“it feels right to me too,” he quickly assures, not wanting for you to misunderstand that for a second.

⟢⟢⟢

as two people who aren’t quite ready to jump into such a committed relationship with completely different lives, it’s a little bit strange to be soulmates. and yet, nothing about it is anything but honey-sweet to you. the night you met as soulmates for the first time, you ended up talking for hours. all you had to do was sort of ignore the huge and slightly unbelievable bomb he dropped on you within the first hour of talking. oddly enough, that was sort of easy. you learned that sam’s appetite for knowledge is just about insatiable, including when it comes to knowing about you.

he had words rolling off of your tongue, asking the best, most interesting questions and providing such sincere and in-depth responses. that night, he was just lovely, and that’s pretty much all he’s been since. he’s this adorable mix of confident and shy, awkward and knowing just the right thing to say. and he’s incredibly smart, an almost stanford pre-law graduate who was headed for bigger things before he was pulled back into hunting a little over two years ago. this explains the difference in all his injuries from the past two years versus the three beforehand. secretly, you mourn for the life that he, and subsequently you, might have had, but only because he gets a little wistful every time he talks about stanford.

mostly, you talk on the phone, only stopping late in the night when one of you catches the other yawning. he seems to sleep so little, yet he lives such a tiring life. you almost always seem to be the one who gets too tired first. one night, you fell asleep to his voice, and since then, you feel like it’s the single best way to drift into dreams.

sam tries to avoid the topic of the supernatural, but you ask him about it anyway. as you get used to the idea of monsters being real, you find yourself wanting to understand it all better. you want to understand him better. and you don’t want him to feel like he has to hide the biggest parts of his life from you or for him to have trouble fitting you into his world.

he always answers your questions, omitting any extreme gore or death, but it doesn’t take long for you to realize how many people he really saves. that’s his life; saving people.

it takes three weeks for you to see him again since the first night, and three more plus a whole lot of convincing on your end for him to bring you on a hunt with him. he tries to hide it, but he’s so worried for you, despite all the reassurances he’s made that this particular ghost isn’t really all that violent or dangerous. by now, you’ve already come to mostly believe all that he’s told you, but to see it in real life is still the final confirmation that you need to be fully convinced.

sam keeps you by his side the whole time, one hand on you every moment that he can afford it. the second the ghost appears, he blasts it with a salt round from his shotgun, and he thinks he could cry when you flinch at the loud noise. yet, he feels comforted that you don’t seem all too scared. and strangely, you really aren’t. sam easily makes you feel safe. luckily, the next time the ghost appears, it bursts into flames moments later thanks to dean burning the bones.

the moment it’s gone, sam drops the gun to the ground and turns to you, accidentally ruining the now unnecessary salt line around you in his rush to check on you.

“are you okay?” he asks gently, a hand on your shoulder and the other cupping your cheek as he looks you up and down.

“i’m alright, sam,” you reassure. it’s true that you’re a little shaky, and just the tiniest bit scared, but to have your confirmation and sam by your side is much more important to you.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes anyway, pulling you into a hug that’s more for his peace of mind than yours. of course, you don’t complain, easily finding his arms to be your new favorite place in the world.

oddly enough, taking it almost slow works well. he kisses you the next time he sees you, a week and a half later, and you’ve never wanted anything more than to have him keep kissing you, over and over again. he just feels like yours and you feel like his and you’ve barely known him for long, but when he kisses you it’s like there’s stars hung from the ceiling and flowers made from nothing but love and healing growing all over you. when he kisses you it’s sunlight and moonglow bottled up and mixed with sweet, pure maple syrup. his lips on yours feel like lucky four leaf clovers, like it’s possible to taste heaven on someone else’s tongue.

and though it mostly works for him to just visit as often as he can, which sometimes isn’t often at all, and to call him at every moment you can, the yearning only grows. you swear that you’re addicted to his lips, to his big hands cupping your jaw all gentle and sweet or his bulky arms boxing you in as he kisses you so hard that you melt right into the sheets.

and some nights, though he tries to hide it, you can hear him struggling with what seems to be the weight of the world on his shoulders. his job is anything but easy or fruitful. before, you thought that you might worry less when you found out exactly why your soulmate was getting injured so often, but now every time new blooms appear on your skin, you spend all day fretting until you can get him on the phone to make sure he’s alright.

you suppose he gets just as worried as you, despite the fact that you’re never in nearly as much danger as he is. a week ago, a jagged edge on a metal wire fence snagged at your skin, drawing a very shallow, but long line of blood down your forearm. seconds later, you had a frantic sam on the phone, so worried about all the little blue flowers on his arm. 

it’s not as hard as he thinks for you to tell how much fear and worry he lives in. you know that he doesn’t tell you the half of it sometimes, even when you ask. all you want is to have him a little closer, to be there for him and provide the sort of comfort that you’re sure he’s never really had before. and though he’s told you that having you to talk to, so receptive and encouraging for him, has been a complete blessing, you still wish for more. you want his arms enveloping you and his lips on yours and his warm body in your bed. really, you just miss him. all the time.

⟢⟢⟢

tonight is one of the glorious nights that you get to have him with you. his broad frame takes up so much space in your bed, and you love it more than just about anything. he props himself up on one elbow and you mirror his pose as you let your eyes roam over each other’s features and take turns rambling about every little thing from this past week. unable to resist, sam kisses you often. he just leans over, swiftly closing the small space between you and pressing his lips to yours. he looks so beautiful like this; at peace, his shirtless body and protective tattoo framed all prettily by clean white sheets.

eventually, comforting words turn into a comforting silence, and you drop your head to your pillow. your eyes droop a little as you play with the idea letting a few more words slip from your tongue. you want to say something to him, but you can’t tell if it’s the right time.

sam settles on his pillow, just like you. “what is it?” he whispers, inviting and respectful. his voice tells you that you’re welcome to say whatever you’re thinking about, but that it’s okay if you don’t want to quite yet.

you smile a little at how well he’s able to read you. since he asked so sweetly, you say it. “i can’t be away from you, sam. i love you, i really do.” this isn’t the first time you’ve said the three special words to each other, but his eyes grow infinitely softer than they were before each time you do.

this time, his eyes do soften, but he cringes a little too, because he feels sorry and because he feels the same exact way. “i can’t make you live like i do. i love you, too, so much. and i hate being away from you, but this? this life, it– it’s sort of awful, and it’s dangerous and hard and–”

you swiftly cut him off with a kiss that he more than willingly melts into. “i know,” you whisper against his lips, barely moving from him to speak. “but– but what if we tried something else? you still go on your hunts and all that, but you and dean can stay here in between. there’s this cabin in the woods i’ve been eyeing, it’s sort of small but it’s isolated and we could ward it. i’ve been looking into protection and warding spells, and i think we could make it work… only, you know, if you wa–”

this time he’s the one to cut you off with a kiss, passionate and sweet all at once. when your lips part, he keeps his forehead pressed against yours like he can’t bear to be any further from you.

“i want to,” he says, voice so sure and sturdy. “i really want to… but how’re we gonna get the house? it’s not like me or dean can buy property, and i can’t make you–”

“i want to,” you echo his words, just as sincerely. “please, sam, let me do this. i’ve been saving money for a long time and it’s a little run down so it’s not too expensive. and i’m getting sick of this apartment.”

“you’re gonna live there?” he asks, not bothering to hide his hope and sparkling joy at that idea.

you grin. “of course. there’s three bedrooms and it’s so pretty and i can’t, you know, pay for that and the apartment at the same time. and i– i wanna be there every time you get home.”

that word gets to him. sam doesn’t really have a solid or normal concept of home—the closest thing he has is the impala. but it sounds so right when it comes out of your mouth. “and– and you’re okay with that?” he asks, still needing to be reassured, “you said it was isolated, and–”

“i’m sure, sam,” you emphasize, “it’s only 20 minutes from town and the roads to and from are never busy. i’ve always wanted to live in the woods, i swear. and if it meant i could be with you more, i’d never ever say no to this. please… can we talk to dean about it?”

“yes,” he gushes. “yes, of course, i– you’re amazing.” he seals the deal with a firm, giddy kiss. “and if dean says he doesn’t like the idea, i don’t care. i’m gonna do this with you.” another kiss and your heart softens infinitely. “besides, he loves the pie from the bakery on morrison street, which means he can’t say no.” he gives you another kiss and pulls away again, and you know that he’s bound to keep rambling if you let him, so you wrap an arm around his neck and thread your fingers through his soft, pretty hair. then you kiss him hard until he can’t breathe. he returns the favor by tenfold, whispering through labored breath how much he loves you and wants you and thinks that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

[anonymous-dentist]

Somehow I feel like in an au where qCellbit stays under the Federation’s control that he’d somehow still be so ridiculously down bad for qRoier.

Like ElQuackity is putting the work in to try and get Agent 03 to even look at him but, nope. All 03 does is spend his shifts pining after one of the islanders despite the numerous rounds of ‘Treatment’ he’s gone through. It’s sickening

[samssoulll]

Medium Joel and FBI agent Etho AU I'm working on! Here's what I'm thinking the summary will be:

"They talk to me."

“Who…?”

“The dead people.” Joel admits, barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid the wrong person will hear it. There’s no one else in the room though. Just him and a special agent.

“The dead people talk to you?” Etho repeats, and he sounds doubtful, almost judging.

He thinks it’s a joke.

“Yeah, they-” Joel swallows, “They come to me with their unfinished business. Like justice, or revenge. I- I know this sounds crazy but you need to believe me-”

Or,

Joel is a medium who's sick of ghosts constantly pestering him, and Etho is a federal agent. They both want to solve a murder case for completely different reasons.

[sleepy-spacetronaut]

Gravity Holes; A Gravity Falls AU

Start note: This idea spawned in my head after my evening exam, i got inspired by the tons of fan art of ‘what if __ person went through the portal?’. There is a multitude of Alternate universes for GF, many have a more domestic aspect, but this one will contain the most out-of-worldly stuff happening.

Name origin: an unexplainable phenomenon called the ‘Holes’ often occurred at determinable intervals accros the multiverse, causing round fenestral portals to open at random in various dimensions, allowing weird creatures to fall into Oregon’s notorious mystery town “Gravity Falls”.

Main idea: the storyline begins to deviate from the plot on the episode ‘Not What He Seems!” , where instead of Standford exiting from the portal, Dipper, Mabel, Stanley and Waddles get sucked in due to some malfunction.

The ‘Tale of Two Stan’s’ happens in a way different context, where the twins meet their long lost grunkle on the other side of the Mystery Shack portal.

Soos, however, is left behind with the three journals and the half-collapsed portal, he closes off the mystery shack and calls Wendy explaining there’s an emergency. Together they start rummaging through all the stuff Ford and Stan had left behind in matter of books, blueprints and junk pieces that could serve to rebuild the machine.

The disappearance of the Pines is soon spread like wildfire through the town, upon what they all agree to keep it a secret from agents of the federal bureau of investigations . Soos and Wendy are soon joined by Pacifica, Gideon and Fiddleford McGucket , and the five of them form an unlikely rescue team in order to bring the Pines back.

Meanwhile, Dipper and Mabel meet their Grunkle Ford, and as a family of four + a companion pig, they travel from one dimension to another, fending of for their lives and simultaneously searching for the phenomenon called “Holes”, which is their sole chance of ever returning to their own universe.

Albeit, the Pines are not the only seekers of Holes, as after the portal collapsed, Bill Cipher and his henchmaniacs also began searching for a way to break into Gravity Falls for the sake of World Domination. As only Bill can travel freely without the need if complex traveling (he is incorporeal), he often jumps back to the town in order to traumatize and taunt its inhabitants. As this goes down, the Pines enter a race against the clock and against Bill.

One question remains: who can get in back to their dimension first—Who will win?

Can an AU have an ending?

If so, there’s a 50/50 percent chance they’ll make it back to the Shack—-so many possibilities out there!

It is unclear yet if they do return, if the Weirdmaggedon will still happen if they do, or if they open a collaborating with Bill Cipher later on to get back home, yet one thing is clear:

Stanley will be making stupid jokes about this for the rest of his life.

That is a promise.

The “Holes” - A summary

End Note: I will later post an in-dept explanation page about the Holes phenomenon. Yes, I’m making a schematized, nearly scientific explanation page about a (probably) nonexistent thing for the sake of the AU, I love world building :)

edit: darn you autocorrect, had to fix some stuff . (The autocorrect is my opp since 2020–I’m sorry in advance if there are more mistakes)