#get sophie a happy meal bro

[kris-sona]

average tuesday as a middle-grade protagonist ft sophella (tam went to the bathroom he will be back)

@queefsencen

[starlightsoulwriting]

Constellations Against Skin

n.t.

“You hold him in your arms, a thousand stars in the bones of a man, and nobody could have thought you’d come so close to holding constellations against your skin.”

Dean Winchester X Reader; Castiel X Reader

Soulmate AU

[AO3] [Chapter List]

Four: Polaroid

Dean makes an incorrect assumption about you, and you start a case.

You were ready to cut and run before the end of the first week.

But naturally you couldn't. Because Fate liked messing with you, apparently.

It'd been over a year since you'd lived with a roommate and it was a hell of an adjustment. Bobby was fine, you were used to him. What really frustrated you was that you couldn't even do any housework.

You felt like a freeloader.

So you took on fake FBI calls, connected hunters to resources, dug through mountains of lore, and tried not to feel bad about it. And even with all that, you still found time to work on your etchings.

But you were quickly running out of TV to watch when you couldn’t work. You can only watch T2 so many times before you did nothing but zone out.

You tried to find out what ritual Alioth had been putting together, but no matter what books you combed through there was nothing. And you still hadn't heard back about the weird oil on your clothes.

You'd sent it off to your friend, Sophie - one of the preeminent curse breakers in the US. If anyone could get answers it was her. But reaching out to someone like that also sent nerves swirling into your stomach. She was good at keeping secrets, you told yourself. Part of her job was discretion. You would be fine.

But using any contacts from the Continental's network was risky as hell. You'd managed to avoid the rest of the Morgans so far, but you had no way of knowing if they were looking for you. Looking for Echo.

But you’d shed that name like snakeskin, leaving it behind with the ‘family’ you’d broken. No one would call you that ever again if you had anything to say about it.

You would just have to trust Sophie’s professional reputation for now, and wait.

And read.

And sketch spell seals.

And try not to die of boredom.

By the third week you were just itching to charge into the first freakin hunt that came your way. But you were still beholden to the whims of your stupid goddamn cast. You couldn’t even cook your own damn meals, let alone kill a vampire.

You wanted to scream. Or bash your head against a wall. Or both.

And then you were reading.

And working.

And impersonating officers of the law on the phone.

Fun times.

At least Dean called about twice a week - at this point you were living vicariously through the Winchesters. And he was so fucking smug about it, too. But he was always happy to brag, so he indulged you and wove not-entirely-accurate stories of the hunts they’ve been on. He made himself out to be some big bad hero, of course, but that kind of made you like them better.

They even took down the ghost of a serial killer - and you were friggin pissed you weren’t there. How come they got to do all the cool stuff? You wanted to kill a serial killer.

It was embarrassing how much you loved those calls. At this point if Dean showed up at the house you would probably jump him. If your nerves and better judgment didn’t stop you.

You had three more weeks of horrible boredom to look forward to. Yay.

And so you worked.

And you prayed out of nothing more than habit.

And you searched for demonic omens.

At some point you actually found an old Gameboy you stole when you were fifteen. You’ve started seeing Tetris blocks in your dreams.

At five weeks you were practically vibrating out of your casts for all the pent up energy in your system.

Just one more week…

…

You nearly cried when you visited Sioux Falls General and they took the casts off.

Sweet, sweet, freedom.

And what did you do with your sweet, sweet, freedom?

Well, first off, you made sweets.

Bobby's kitchen, July 25th. A full six weeks after the attack. Overcast clouds rumbled outside with the summer storms on the horizon. The incandescent bulbs of Bobby’s old lights hummed on in the kitchen, lighting up the peaceful midmorning. You’d put an oldies station on the radio; the rhythms of the fifties and sixties floated through the air around you, and you’d opened up the window to let the breeze through. The house was too stuffy as it was.

So you hummed softly and swayed side to side, heartbeat slow and smooth. Calm.

Now that you had use of both your hands, you could actually cook.

You carefully draped pie dough over a ceramic dish before pressing it into the sides and fluting the top edge with your fingers. It was a messy job, your hand was still shaky and sore, but it would do its job just fine. You opened the oven door, sliding in the crust to bake by itself before you turned your attention to the sweet, gooey filling.

Pecan pie was your absolute favorite.

You didn't like to admit you could bake - you were a tough, badass hunter. You had a reputation to uphold, you couldn't be seen being domestic! The rumor mill was vicious, and you knew it would only end up with bro-dude hunters giving you shit. You already caught enough flack as it was, and you didn’t need any more.

But you did have a hell of a sweet tooth. And store-bought just can’t compare to something homemade. As soon as you had access to a real kitchen at Bobby’s place, you'd made up for lost time and taught yourself how to bake. He sure wasn’t going to complain - he got to eat what you made, too.

Although one time you forgot cookies in the oven and almost burned the house down. But that was just the once.

This would be the last chance you had to indulge for a while - you were going to start hunting again tomorrow. At least you hoped you would. It depended on whether you could find a case or not.

For now, though, you pulled the crust out of the oven, pouring in the filling and the pecans before putting it back to finish baking. The smell of gooey caramel was filling the house already, leaving your tongue watering. It had been too long since you’d enjoyed yourself.

Forty-five minutes on the timer.

You’d just started scrubbing out your mixing bowls when there was a knock on the door.

"I'll get it!" Bobby shouted from the other room and went to answer, footsteps squeaking along the floorboards as he went.

"Hey, Bobby! Figured we'd stop by since we were close." A familiar voice rang through the house.

Oh no.

You were covered in flour, you had water splashed on your shirt from the sink, your hair was in a bandana of all things, and you were wearing a ratty tank top and sweatpants.

And Dean was there. Fantastic.

So you steadfastly ignored the conversation slowly drifting closer to you, continuing to clean the pan you’d used to make the filling, hoping that if you were quiet enough they wouldn't notice you. Because that made perfect sense.

"What smells so good?"

You squeaked, turning around to see Dean leaning against the kitchen door frame, while Bobby and Sam spoke in the living room behind him - something about vampires?

You cleared your throat and gave your best, stilted attempt at leaning casually against the counter. Your hand landed in a gross glob of flour, but you smiled anyway. "Pecan Pie." And your voice just cracked. Wonderful. God, you sounded like a wounded animal.

"There's pie?" The excited expression that lit up his face made your heart race to light speed. Shit, he was so cute and you were so screwed.

"It's not done yet." You nodded at the oven, butterflies almost escaping your stomach and lodging in your throat instead. Were you blushing already? You hoped you weren’t blushing already.

“I'm gonna go get cleaned up." You blurted out and left the room before he could respond, completely forgetting about the photo collection you’d left on the kitchen table.

Real fuckin smooth.

It’s official: You were a wimp and a fool and a coward. You bit back the frustrated growl threatening to leave your throat, and you rubbed at your temples. You were supposed to be cool, damnit! Just ask him out, what's wrong with you?

But he made your insides go all oogey-goey and your limbs feel like jelly and no one in your entire, fucked-up life had ever done that. You don’t think you could emotionally handle a one night stand with him, no matter how desperately you wanted to take him to bed. There was no way it would end well, not with your heart doing backflips at the mere mention of his name.

And Dean wasn’t exactly the relationship type. Neither were you really, but god, did you want to be, if only until it eventually blew up. Fuck.

It would be better for everyone to just do nothing at all.

So you kept muttering your misfortunes as you got dressed, shifting carefully into your jeans. Your leg was mostly healed, but it was still sore when you moved and wearing jeans was hard. Ugh.

You tried not to look at your empty ribs when you changed your shirt, but you caught sight of them anyway. It still made you feel like you’d been stabbed in the heart, but you swallowed the feeling down and shoved it aside behind as many emotional barricades as you could muster.

You could feel bad later. Always later.

It's not like soulmark would’ve ever lead to anything, anyway.

---

You’d ran away from him. For real.

He would’ve laughed at the panicked look on your face if it didn’t actually sting a bit. But shit, you were cute looking all domestic like that. The sight of you baking, in lounge clothes and covered in flour? It made the part of him that wanted the white picket fence life scream.

It was in his head now and would probably haunt his dreams.

Instead of lingering on his wounded pride and your rapid escape, Dean just sat down at the table, grabbing a beer from the fridge on the way.

“Beer ain’t free, kid,” Bobby called from the living room but Dean just waved him off.

“We’ll buy you some more.”

“With what cash?” That was Sam, with a scoff.

Thanks for pointing out how broke they were, jackass.

Dean rolled his eyes and decided to ignore them as they went back to their conversation. Just talking about the vamp nest they took out in Iowa. Not a big deal.

But the beat-up, mod-podged shoebox on the table full of old Polaroids? That was a big deal.

It was crumpled in the corners and smelled like dust and old paper, and the paper glued on the sides was a but-ugly, neon pink mess. And Dean wanted to snoop more than anything else in the world. So he did.

He pulled the box closer to rifle through the loose photos near the top. Random shots of diners and a few mountains, a few people he didn’t know - and there was the one you took of him and Sam before they left. He curled his lip a little at that, cheeks going slightly pink. It was the least flattering photo of himself he'd ever seen - he had Sam trapped in a headlock and both of them had stupid, panicked expressions in their face. Why the hell you wanted a picture like that was way beyond him. He was half tempted to burn it.

He dug a bit deeper and found even more photos of strangers. And there were names and descriptions on the back of each one.

Annalise Nocte. Incel Werewolf, 6/7/06. A cute, smiling redhead with freckles covering her cheeks. Younger than any of you by at least five years, probably in college. Wearing a denim jacket and white sundress in front of the bookstore from Ridgeview. That was just a day before your attack. He didn’t remember talking to her during your case.

Joseph and Sarah Hoffman. Rave ghost. 10/23/05. Siblings, obviously, they could half-pass as twins. Mid-twenties, pale as hell, both had blue-grey eyes and hair dyed wacky colors. The girl had deep purple hair, multiple piercings, and a tattoo on her collarbone. The guy's hair was a midnight blue-black, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He wore a nerdy t-shirt referencing some show Dean didn’t watch. Both of them wore hiking backpacks, and the photo’d been taken in the woods.

Fareeha Suri. Jealous Witch. 2/19/06. The woman in this photo was in her mid-forties and cooking something bright yellow with lots of vegetables in a stew pot, inside a kitchen that looked like it hadn’t been renovated since the seventies. She had rich brown skin and deep black hair, and tired but kind eyes. The photo'd just barely caught kids running around in the background.

Were these all people you’d saved?

Under the loose polaroids was a thick, leather-bound book, an earthy blue color. An etched silver plate hammered into the front was the only decoration.

‘Memories'

Dean opened it and had to fight back an amused snort. It was all pictures of you! Some were selfies, of course, but some of them had been taken by someone else. There were even a few of a grumpy-looking, fourteen year old version of you that wore all black and a ton of eyeliner.

He skimmed through it, idly smiling, wanting to get to the more recent stuff - there were a few of a younger Jo and Ellen, and one or two of his dad, even - and lots of Bobby, yourself, and a too many other hunters he didn’t recognize.

His heart just about shriveled up and died when he stopped on one page though.

‘The Prom Crashing of Hillcrest High, 1995’

And there you were, wearing a deep blue prom dress, an official photo and everything. Your hair was done, you were actually wearing makeup.

And you were on a date with a girl.

A girl that was very visibly kissing your neck in the bottom right selfie in the spread. And that you were kissing on the lips in the left photo.

You looked happy.

And Dean felt childish jealousy burning in his chest.

So he shut the book harder than he needed to, and put it back where it belonged, and downed the rest of his beer in one go. He only barely choked on it, too. And then he went to the living room, ignoring the fact that his face was bright red and his heart was in actual pain and he was so, so, totally, screwed, and that he was just looking for distractions at this point.

It hurt. He hated to admit it, even to just himself, but it did. He’d never exactly thought that his major little crush on you would have ever led to anything, anyway. Hunters didn’t do relationships. Dean knew that. He agreed with that. There were good reasons for it.

But you were Awesome with a capital A. A badass, capable woman that gave as good as you got, and looked great in a leather jacket. Who kept up with his banter, and got him on a level he hadn’t felt understood on since… forever. And that wasn’t even mentioning the almost magnetic pull he felt from his soulmark whenever he was around you. He’d never stocked that much faith in romance or fate, but if it wasn’t for the fact his only mark was a familial blue writing out Sam’s name, he wouldn’t have doubted for a second you were the one. You made him feel like he was going to explode. But like, in a good way. Like his chest was too full of stuff.

And it killed him. You killed him. Your phone calls had been something to look forward to for the past month and a half. He’d gotten to show off and snark and laugh and relax with someone that wasn’t his goddamn brother for once in his life and it had been amazing and Dean hated to admit it but he’d wanted to jump you the moment you challenged him to a drag race. But he’d stopped himself, acting like a responsible human being for once - you’d still been hurt. You could barely walk around the house. It would’ve been a horrible idea.

And Dean could be patient when he wanted to be. But there was no amount of patience in the world that would fix this. No amount of waiting would make you stop being gay.

He wanted to crawl into the forest, lie down, and become one with the moss. Maybe with some intermittent screaming if he felt up to it.

Instead he just rubbed at the bridge of his nose and took some deep breaths.

He was so fucking screwed.

---

"This pie is delicious." Dean mumbled through mouthfuls, still not looking at you for longer than a few seconds at a time.

You were starting to get ticked off.

You rolled your eyes at the same time as Sam did, laying back against the couch and crossing your arms. Fine, you wouldn’t look at him either. It’s not like you wanted to, anyway. His face was stupid. And absolutely gorgeous. But you were trying not to focus on that bit when he could barely stand to look at you.

See, this is what happened when you were seen being domestic. You’d completely ruined your reputation.

"Dude, seriously?" Sam’s nose crinkled up and he furrowed his brow.

"But it's good!"

Sam looked grossed out.

"Thanks," You smiled tightly, only glancing at Dean for a second before looking back at the baseball game none of you actually cared about. "I would tell you we have more but I only made the one."

Dean shrugged and kept eating, seeming to enjoy himself well enough without you.

No, you weren’t going to be jealous of a pie. No way in hell would that ever happen. Especially not a pie you’d made yourself. Great. Definitely not.

There was a long silence.

And then Bobby’s phone went off and you winced. That goddamn piece of shit ringing sounded like nails on a chalkboard, after so many days in this place. If you heard it one more time you were gonna leave this damn place early, you swore.

Bobby didn't look very happy when he came back in. "Well, boys, it’s your lucky day. I’ve got a case."

You turned your entire body to face him so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash, all preoccupations on why Dean was being weird leaving your mind all at once. "What kind of case?"

He shook his head and rolled his eyes at you. He rolled his fucking eyes at you."The kind of case you're not taking."

That just about set you off all on it’s own, your face blooming hot and tension shooting through you to coil around your chest. "Seriously?” You gave him the same look you gave the people you used to interrogate. Hard, and cold, and reasonably terrifying. “I can handle myself."

He didn’t even seem to notice. The ringing started in your ears.

"You just had your cast taken off, there's no way you're going hunting alone, not like this." He turned to the boys, ignoring your point altogether and acting like you didn’t exist. "Suspicious death in Colorado. Witness says he saw a disappearing, ghostly woman."

Mother. Fucker.

The ringing became screaming sharpness in your head and the inside of your head was suddenly bursting with bright, blinding light that pushed out all other thoughts.

“I can take a salt and burn," You hissed, closing your eyes tight against the brightness that only existed inside you, fists clenching into the couch pillow next to you, nails almost ripping through the fabric.

When you opened your eyes the noise had started coating the world in shaky, blurry colors and if you didn’t calm down soon things would get ugly.

"No, you can't." He pointed his finger at you like you were fourteen and he could tell you what to do.

He couldn’t tell you what to do even when you were fourteen!

You stood up, mouth curling to form charged words, everything around you too slow and too fast all at once. There was nothing in your head but the ringing now. "That's not for you to decide!"

"It doesn't matter, you're not ready."

"The hell I'm not." You said low and hard and pointed, like the edge of a dagger.

Then you shut your eyes hard, and bolted to your room, breathing coming in sharp and you could feel the whole room around you shaking and you weren’t sure if it was just you or if it was being caused by you but everything was just so loud and you crumpled up in the corner of your room and you could feel everything for miles and it hurt and it hurt and it hurt and you wanted to claw out your eyes your head was going to explode everything was so loud -

A hand on your shoulder made everything suddenly go quiet.

Dean.

You just about cried in relief, opening your eyes to beautiful green eyes. "You good, princess?"

It was half facetious and somehow still exactly what you needed. And the world around was blessedly calm, the ringing, somehow, chased away by his touch.

You wiped at your eyes and gave him a weak thumbs up. "Never better."

He smiled and helped you up, before he went to lean on the wall. You started to throw your clothes into a duffel bag, turning away from him. He probably had no idea what had really just happened, how close you’d been to causing real problems for everyone. To him it probably just seemed like you were upset.

"You don't have to pack up and leave, okay?” His casual tone confirmed your suspicions. It was probably for the best he didn’t know, anyway. “You said it yourself, Bobby still handles you with kid gloves. He’s just worried."

"You don't get it." You sighed and flopped onto the bed. You met his gaze just the once before you rubbed at your eyes, fighting a massive incoming migraine. You haven't had an episode like that in about a year, and you’d almost forgotten how peircing the pain in your temples could be. "I've already been here too long.” Which was true, you had been. “I need to leave anyway." Also true.

Like you said earlier, you didn’t know if there were people after you. Or demons. Either one was a real possibility.

"Okay, how about, instead of diving right back into the game after almost two months off,” He looked at you like he’d just had the smartest idea in the world. “We ease you back into it? That way everybody's happy."

You gave a sarcastic bark of a laugh. "Can't exactly ease back into hunting, genius."

"Uh, yeah, you can,” He said plainly and raised his eyebrows. “You work as a team and have someone to watch your back while you get your sea legs back."

"Dean,” You covered your face with your hands and let yourself fall back onto the bed, dejected. “I don't have any friends."

"What the hell am I, then, chopped liver?"

Oh my god, you’d really just said that. And he actually looked hurt.

Shit.

You rolled over and wiggled your way to the other side of the bed, burying your face in your pillow to hide your blushing face. You probably looked ridiculous and childish, but you didn’t care. You were so fucking stupid. "I dunno, I figured I was just some random hunter. Not worth bothering with." You mumbled into the fabric.

If only you could dig yourself into a large hole and never be seen again.

He only laughed at you, though, which was something. "Why the hell else would I call so often?"

You shrugged, still wanting very much to disappear. Then pain burst through your ear, and you turned over with a girly shriek. “What the hell was that for?!” He’d flicked you in the ear! “That fucking hurt, jackass!”

You kicked him in the shin as best you could from your position on the bed.

Oh my god, he was still laughing at you. “Got you out of your head though.”

“Asshole.” You muttered and stood up again, grabbing more of your belongings.

“Anyway,” He started, acting like all this was completely normal behavior toward peers. Rude. “Bobby wants to know you’re safe, and you want to hunt.”

“Yes, I know about the argument I just had.”

“Hey, I’m trying to help here.”

“Okay, fine.” You glanced back at him for only a moment before you relented, forcing yourself to relax your frame. You didn’t need to be on edge here. You were safe.

"I think that you should come on this ghost hunt with Sammy and I. That way Bobby's not worrying and you get to stay Miss Independent.” He quirked his eyebrows and you were gone. You could not stay mad at this man. “Promise we won't cramp your style."

Oh my god, like you would ever say no to that.

"Okay," A smile worked its way across your face despite yourself. "But just one hunt."

"One hunt." He smiled again then, and holy shit it took all your willpower not to push him against the wall and kiss him hard. That voice was going to haunt you in your dreams. “And then we go to the drag strip, where I’m gonna kick your ass.”

And he was back to smack talk.

“Oh, I am going to leave the Impala in the dust, what are you talking about!”

If you didn’t have a heart attack before you got the chance. At this rate it was becoming a real possibility Dean Winchester would actually kill you one of these days.

But for now you would pack your things and climb into the back seat of the Impala for your first salt and burn in months, giddy excitement running around your veins like sparklers.

An hour later the three of you were gone, reading what little information Bobby had written down. "Are we sure this isn't the Joker?" You tilted your head to the side at the paper in front of you.

"Well, considering there were cold spots and flickering lights, I'd say it's definitely not." Sam turned around with a skeptical look from the front seat. You were in the back, legs laid out across the entire bench. You wiggled your toes intermittently, stupidly happy to be able to move everything again. “Besides, I don't think that's the Joker's M.O.”

You pursed your lips at that. “Are you sure? I could’ve sworn he did the whole Glasgow Smile thing.”

“No, he used poison. I think you’re thinking of a different serial killer.”

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Dean piped in.

"The case," You started. "Frat boy killed in his own bedroom. Found with a smile cut into his face. Roommate says there was a woman standing over the body that disappeared into thin air."

"That smile's gotta mean something about her death, you think?”

You just shrugged. “Probably.”

The drive felt like it took forever, even though you'd driven longer by yourself before. But you can only play the Alphabet Game so many times before it gets old (and before you got tired of Sam beating you at it). By the time you got there you'd even considered breaking out Never Have I Ever, which would have been a disaster, probably.

Pikes College was a small community school a few hours outside of Fort Collins, Colorado. It was just about the only reason the small town of Pemberton was on the map at all. About ten-thousand students attended, and it had only a handful of Greek Life chapters. Kappa Delta Alpha was the only fraternity chapter to have an actual house.

And Corey Matheson, a third year pledge, had been stabbed to death and mutilated in his bed a week before the fall semester started. He was a business major, well liked, and, according to his fraternity brothers, had big plans for his life.

But before the three of you went to the crime scene, you had to check out a motel room and get some sleep. It was pushing eight thirty at night, no way were you getting into the scene this late. And the ME’s office was closed already, which was a bummer. You would have to start fresh in the morning.

The motel was dingy and smelled like dust, but that was par for the course. Water stains trailed down the wall behind the desk, too, leaving gross brown residue on the drywall. You just hoped that didn't reflect the quality of this place's plumbing. You didn’t plan on taking a cold shower.

The man behind the counter, Lewis, slumped in his chair and looked half-asleep, staring blankly at the computer monitor. He barely looked at you when you walked up to the counter.

“Two rooms, please.” You chirpped genially, face going a tad Stepford Wives, and started pulling out one of your fake IDs and some cash.

He nodded slowly and started typing - at about three words a minute. Drawn out silence interrupted by lonely keystrokes. After about ten-thousand years he stopped and glanced at you, shrugging. “Only got the one. Buncha families in town for move-in week, I’m all booked.”

You sighed and looked back at the boys. The resigned look on Sam’s face gave you the permission you needed, so you turned around with slumped shoulders. “One room, then. Thanks.”

“Enjoy your stay.” He yawned out, slapping a pair of keycards down on the counter.

“I’ll try.” You laid down enough cash for three days and picked up the cards, plodding back over to the boys before all of you walked to your room. “Rock Paper Scissors for who sleeps on the floor?”

“(Y/n), no.” Sam looked at you like you’re nuts. “You obviously get one of the beds, you’re still recovering. Dean and I can take turns on the other one.” He elbowed Dean in the side. “Right, Dean?”

“Uh, right.” He seemed caught off guard, like he wasn’t paying attention at all. Had he just been zoned out the whole time? Really? “Sure.”

The wallpaper of your room was peeling off the walls, and the neon blue polka dot pattern was an affront to god and nature, but there were beds, and a shower, and that's all that really mattered. You plopped your duffel down on the bed on the far side of the room. When you looked back at the boys they were in a heated game of rock paper scissors.

Dean lost.

Sam laughed, “Again with the scissors?”

Dean just grumbled about his loss underneath his breath as he pulled out some sweatpants. You chuckled at them under your breath as you crossed the room, calling dibs on the first shower, sleep clothes in hand. There was no way you were wearing your normal pajamas with the boys sharing your room. You settled for soft knit joggers and a t-shirt.

You were pleasantly surprised to find that the hot water actually worked, thank god. Fifteen minutes later you were sitting on your bed in the main room - Sam took second shower. You were absent-mindedly patting your hair with a towel with one hand and digging through your bag for your rosary with the other. You could’ve sworn you put it in the side pocket with your med pack. There was no way you’d left it behind at Bobby’s.

A sigh of relief left you when you felt the familiar plastic against your fingertips, pulling out the fraying string of neon-pink plastic beads from your bag. You quickly glanced at Dean. He was busy disassembling his FBI gun, cleaning it on the tiny motel table by the door.

Good. You didn’t need to be made fun of.

You weren’t Catholic, not since you left the Nuns at the group home. But there was one particular prayer you never stopped. It was childish, maybe, and you felt like you were talking into an empty room and waiting endlessly for a response, but you still hoped that they heard you, wherever they were off to.

You clutched the plastic cross tight in both hands, closed your eyes, and started whispering in Latin. “Angele dei, Qui custos es mei, Castiel, Me tibi commi-”

“Are you praying?”

Of course he interrupted you.

The look you gave him could melt ice. He just looked a bit incredulous.

“Yes.” You forced out through clenched teeth, you could hear your heartbeat from your ears, face going red. You really didn’t want to explain the deeper reasons behind this besides just habit. He would think you were crazy-bonkers. “The group home I was raised in was run by a Convent.” You stared at the sheets instead of Dean. “You know what they say about old habits.” You murmured, just waiting for him to ask more questions that would expose just how nuts you probably were.

Those questions never came, though. Dean seemed to accept your answer for the half-truth it was, and went back to cleaning his gun.

So you gripped the first thing you’d ever owned after the fire, running your fingers over the worn beads, and finished your nightly prayer to your soulmate.

Wherever they were.

My guardian dear, Castiel,

To whom their love commits me here;

Ever this night be at my side,

To light and guard, to rule and guide.

Amen.

...I wish you could be here.

A/N:  So Dean makes an assumption in this chapter that isn't entirely correct but isn't entirely incorrect. Poor guy thinks you don't like men, and he's very confused about you because of it. Based on their upbringing, I doubt Dean really thinks of Bi people much, unless he's directly told to his face that someone swings both ways. So he assumes you Only Like Women, because that's what makes the most sense to him at the moment. And so he's trying to be a good friend. This misunderstanding will be rectified in a few chapters, but for now, there'll be a lot of pining and moon-eyes, and Sam will be annoyed at how obvious the both of you are. The prayer the reader is reciting at the end is a slightly altered Angele Dei prayer, also known as the Prayer to One's Guardian Angel. All in it's original Latin, of course, cause Reader is just Like That. It resonated with her for obvious reasons. She's done this every night for literally years, and the rosary (neon pink and glow in the dark - and yes, you can buy rosaries like that IRL) was the first thing ever given to her at the group home. It's literally the first thing she ever owned herself - the rest of it burned down in the fire. Also if anyone has guesses as to what reader was up to in New York I would be down, although there isn't all that much to go on right now lol. But trust me the wait for answers is going to be worth it. As always, I hope you enjoyed! Have a great week, wash your hands, and stay safe! :)

[pcradoxs-blog]

                                         hello  lovelies !  i’m  sophie  (  she/her  )  ,  i’m  9teen  and  i’m  about  to  head  to  bed  like  the  granny  i  am  but  thought  i’d  post  this  first  !  i’m  rly  excited  to  introduce  u  all  to  my  gloomy  raincloud  of  a  muse  ,  ezra !  he  is  the  love-child  of  me  listening  to  far  too  much  cigarettes  after  sex  &  quietly  pining  after  emotionally  unavailable  men (▰˘◡˘▰)  ...  anywho  !  there’s  more  below  the  cut  &  you  can  find  his  pinterest  board  here  !  please  flatter  my  ego  &  smash  that  mfin   ♡  if  u  wanna  plot  !

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒.

full  name:  ezra  franco  lange

birthday:  sunday  22nd  december  , 10:42am

age:  twenty  three  years

gender:  cismale

pronouns:  he/him

birthplace:  berlin  ,  germany  ⇢  moved  to  america  when  he  was  six

family:  mother  (  deceased  )  &  father.  

languages spoken:  english  &  german

star  sign:  capricorn

sexuality:  pansexual  &  panromantic

distinguishable  features:  a  freckle  beneath  his  left  eye  ,  as  well  as  multiple  freckles  speckled  around  his  body.  curly  hair.  dimples  on  the  rare  occasion  that  he  genuinely  smiles.  he  has  various  tattoos  ,  e.g.  a  question  mark  on  his  inner  finger.  his  left  ear  is  pierced  ,  as  well  as  his  nose.

𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘.

ezra's  conception  came  as  no  surprise  to  his  parents.  his  mother  had  spent  years  yearning  for  maternity  &  his  dad  a  little  less  eager  but  happy  to  pacify  her.  

by  an  unfortunate  twist  of  fate  ,  ezra  was  never  actually  able  to  meet  his  mother.  complications  during  childbirth  tore  the  two  apart  before  any  chance  of  bonding  was  possible.  instead  ,  his  distraught  &  widowed  father  was  left  to  navigate  the  world  of  parenting  alone.   for  a  man  who  had  never  really  WANTED  a  child  ,  he  did  what  some  would  call  his  best.  he  bought  him  everything  he  wanted  ,  the  pair  always  ate  their  meals  together  ,  and  occasionally  there  would  be  the  rare  sign  of  affection  through  the  awkward  ruffle  of  ezra’s  curls  -  but  that  was  really  as  far  as  the  familial  connection  stretched.  ezra's  childhood  was  for  the  most  part  managed  by  nanny's  ,  though  he  did  frequently  sneak  off  the  spend  time  with  his  grandfather  to  flip  through  photo  albums  &  hear  stories  of  his  mother's  childhood  years.  

he  was  a  pretty  odd  kid  -  choosing  to  spend  time  with  his  grandfather  and  HIS  friends  rather  than  attempting  to  bond  with  other  children  his  age.  he  became  somewhat  reclusive  as  the  years  went  on  ;  enjoying  the  company  of  books  /  music  /  art  /  bugs  he  found  in  the  garden  rather  than  socialising  with  others.  his  childhood  was  spent  either  tucked  away  in  his  room  or  the  shed  in  the  backyard  that  became  his  unofficial  hideaway.

the  move  to  america  came  when  he  was  six.  his  father  was  an  american  ;  only  having  moved  to  germany  to  begin  a  life  with  ezra’s  mother.  ezra  greatly  resented  the  decision  as  he  felt  like  he  was  being  torn  away  from  the  only  true  family  he  felt  he  had  &  his  only  lasting  connection  to  his  mother  ;  his  grandfather.

ezra  didn’t  struggle  to  make  friends  ,  per  say  ,  but  he  didn’t  easily  develop  deep  connections  with  others  (  &  still  doesn’t  )  -  he  mostly  floated  from  group  to  group  at  the  art  school  he  eventually  attended  ;  most  of  his  time  being  spent  getting  high  behind  the  bleachers  or  sketching  his  classmates.

by  the  age  of  fifteen  his  father  had  remarried.  ezra  never  really  gave  her  a  chance  ,  though  it  was  evident  the  two  would  never  see  eye  to  eye..  the  house  held  a  toxic  atmosphere  a  majority  of  the  time  ;  whether  it  was  ezra  fighting  with  his  parents  or  his  parents  fighting  between  themselves.  he  sought  external  distractions  much  more  fervently  -  rarely  spending  any  time  at  home.

he  moved  out  of  the  family  home  a  week  after  turning  eighteen  to  an  apartment  bought  for  him  by  his  dad  ;  a  way  of  relenting  some  of  the  tension  in  the  house. 

his  career  is  kinda  ????  i  guess  you  could  say  he’s  primarily  an  artist.  he’s  fucking  talented  bro  ..  makes  a  lotta  $$$  from  commissions  &  art  exhibitions.  he  also  releases  music  but  that’s  a  lot  more  Lowkey  ..  more  of  a  hobby  than  anything.

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓.

ezra's  a  pretty  aloof  guy  -  his  unrelenting  pessimism  doesn’t  help  him  to  present  himself  as  the  most  approachable  of  guys  ,  but  he's  by  no  means  a  mean-spirited  person  -  though  his  sarcasm  can  sometimes  make  it  seem  that  way.

he's  very  ...  dramatic.  he  kinda  acts  like  the  world  revolves  around  him  at  times  &  doesn’t  really  acknowledge  his  own  privilege  at  times.

he  has  an  Awkward  Energy  about  him  ..  constantly  switches  between  self-deprecating  jokes  and  ones  of  self-grandeur.  

he's  actually  a  lot  more  anxious  than  he  likes  to  let  on  ?   he's  hard  on  himself  for  sure.  everything  needs  to  be  perfect  ,  otherwise  he's  wildly  unsatisfied  &  restless.  

a  total  hedonist  ..  will  turn  to  any  form  of  adrenaline  to  ignore  his  problems.  a  new  tattoo  ..  drinking  until  he  blacks  out  ..  getting  high  ..

he's  actually  a  pretty  soft-hearted  guy  though  ;  despite  what  you'd  initially  think.  he's  caring  -  despite  his  tendency  to  focus  on  himself  ,  he  does  genuinely  try  his  best  for  those  he  cares  about.  he’s  also  a  secret  sucker  for  the  Concept  of  romance  ,  but  himself  in  an  ACTUAL  functioning  relationship  ?  he  can’t  relate.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

has  an  undying  soft  spot  for  his  rescued  black  cat  ,  ian  (  fondly  named  after  ian  brown  of  the  stone  roses  )  -  he  would  do  anything  for  this  damn  cat  ;  i  can  imagine  them  jamming  to  i  wanna  be  adored  together  ,  he’s  probably  sketched  him  583839  times  ,  a  proud  insta  cat  dad  ...

has  a  very  slight  accent  when  he  pronounces  certain  words  but  for  the  most  part  it  has  transitioned  to  american.  

dresses  like  he  just  stepped  out  of  arty  fuck-boy  insta  ..  paints  his  nails  black  ,  unbuttons  his  shirts  more  than  should  be  acceptable  ,  etc  etc  etc.

plays  the  guitar  ,  piano  and  has  some  faint  recollection  of  his  days  playing  the  violin.  

sketched  most  of  his  own  tattoos  &  has  sketched  for  others  before  (  not  that  they’re  all  masterpieces  ..  a  few  are  scratchy  stick-and-poke  designs  from  his  teens  )

falls  into  infatuation  easily  but  never  really  READILY  acts  on  it  because  he's  a  mf  COWARD  !

[weirdponytail]

“The Lucas Problem” pt 1 (Huntik Fanfiction, SnT drabble)

(A/N: Part one of that Lucas drabble I’ve been bashing out. Everyone is a little OoC, Lucas is a rude and grumpy jerk, and Zhalia sets him straight about toying with the Fears brothers abandonment issues. Dante is just as protective of the brothers as his girlfriend is, and Lok and Sophie take their roles as ‘big happy family don’t mess with us’ quite seriously. Feel free to critique the parts with the Casterwill team, I’m still very shaky on how to write them. :3 cheers!)

THE LUCAS PROBLEM

It was a rather crowded week at the Venice Casterwill Townhouse.

See, there had been a bit of emergency remodeling at Dante’s house. The various attempts by Blood Spirals to break his home defenses had, in a final cosmic act of petty vengeances after their defeat, managed to collapse the shields two weeks after the defeat of the Betrayer.

And it also collapsed part of the plumbing. So until further notice, Dante and Lok were crashing at Sophie’s place.

To make it even more crowded, not to mention slightly awkward for Harrison, Zhalia had appeared with the Fears boys. She had an order from Foundation HQ to move out of her apartment because of multiple threats on her and Harrison’s lives. Due to a few being anonymously sent from what appeared to be low tier Casterwills and even a few Foundation foot soldiers, not to mention the remaining Blood Spirals, the former spy thought it best to take refuge with the actual Casterwill leader.

With Sophie’s influence and protection, Zhalia would actually sleep a little better than in a hotel, knowing that any carried out threats from Casterwills would be met with something they feared worse than death: Excommunication. Harrison would be safe with the team and Zhalia watching him until they found a suitable apartment that would quickly be rendered safely invisible via ‘Does Not Exist’ Foundation blacklisting.

Then Lucas showed up, Dellix and Lane at his heels. “Family time,” he had said. Though honestly, it looked as if one of the other Casterwill elders had pinched his ear and told him to get to know his sister a little better now that they weren’t in danger of being shot at every few minutes. Seeing as Sophie hadn’t heard a word from her brother since the final conflict, it came as quite the surprise.

The team had all groaned a bit when they heard that Lucas was going to be around. Sure, he was a little more tolerable than when they first met, and everyone was quite fine with Dellix and Lane hanging out, but Lucas was still just a tick below insufferable in his high and mighty attitude. Even Sophie was nearly fed up with him by the third day of his visit, biting back some rather unladylike language she had learned from Zhalia whenever her brother sneered or commented on how LeBlanche’s way of cooking wasn’t exactly how a ‘proper Casterwill’ would have done it.

Poor Harrison and Den caught the brunt of the young man’s rudeness. Just bordering the edge of statements that the original Huntik team could justifiably call him out for, Lucas took nearly every opportunity he saw when around the boys to make snide comments about traitors and his team’s successes in hunting down the remaining Blood Spirals. Once he learned that they had grown up in an orphanage, instead of eliciting empathy as someone who had also lost both parents, Lucas seemed to view them with even more disgust than before.

Dellix and Lane, on the other hand, were near perfect houseguests. They helped with meals, joined in on any group activities the Huntik team happened to have going on, and were all around funny and enjoyable to have in the Townhouse.

‘The Lucas Problem,’ as LeBlanche had stiffly called it in a private conversation with Sophie one evening, reached a head by day four.

It was nearly lunchtime, and LeBlanche and Cherit had offered to make a refreshing summer meal for the group. Everyone else was gathered in one of the Townhouse’s split reading and media rooms. Dante and Zhalia were at one of the tables, scrolling through various activity reports and mission offers on their Holotome and Technomicon respectively. The younger two-thirds of the Huntik team was playing low volume video games on the massive TV that graced the wall above the fireplace. Dellix and Lane had taken the last remaining seats at opposite ends of the couch, cheering on whoever struck their fancy as they waited for a chance to swap in.

Lucas had decided to grace everyone with his presence half an hour ago, taking up one of the armchairs that tilted away from the television to read one of the Casterwill manuscripts he had dug up from the library shelves. Lok, ever good natured even to wet towels like Sophie’s brother, had invited Lucas to join them for a round but had been shot down more harshly than even Zhalia had managed before her betrayal. Dellix and Lane had quietly apologized, and soon it was all forgotten as the next match got underway.

Forgotten, that is, until it was time to pick a new game.

After three hours of Left 4 Dead co-op and verses, the play style was getting a little stale. Sophie opened up the cabinet filled to bursting with games for various consoles– all bought after much pestering from Lok and then Den later on– for them to peruse and was immediately mobbed by the Fears brothers.

“Smash Bros Brawl!” Den crowed, snatching the case from the shelf. “This’ll be great!”

Harrison shoulder checked his elder twin to the side, an impressive feat for such a boney boy. “No way! You know all the exploits!” He picked up the battered Game Cube case for the earlier version of the classic game. “Smash Bros Melee!”

Den’s eyes narrowed as he straightened from where Harrison had shoved him. “Brawl.”

Harrison bristled right back. “Melee!”

“Oh dear.” Sophie sighed. Lok grinned widely and patted the empty space on the couch beside him. “Here they go again.” The Casterwill heiress sat beside her boyfriend and leaned against his side. “You’d think they would have let go of this sort of thing after nearly killing each other.”

“Sophie, I gotta tell you.” The mirth was evident in Lok’s voice as the growled stand off between the twins grew to shouting. “When you actually grow up with a sibling…sometimes you don’t ever grow out of this kind of thing.”

“Hey.” Zhalia didn’t even look up from her Technomicon. It was nearly three weeks after the final battle with the Betrayer now, and she had learned to let Den and Harrison settle their differences in whatever way they saw fit. Taking sides or shutting their arguments down just led to miniature replays of the night the two had been separated, and brought up feelings of abandonment and betrayal. Letting the boys duke it out to vent their emotions over the trauma of the previous months ended up being the healthiest option she and Dante had found so far. “Keep it to an unpowered level, guys. I’m not cleaning up another busted window with you two.”

The twins grunted in acknowledgement and had the respect to place their argued game cases in the moderate safety of the cupboard…before launching at each other and ending up in a scrabbling knot of limbs and teeth and nails as they viciously wrestled on the rug in front of the fireplace.

Dellix and Lane had become used to the occasional spat between the two brothers during their visit. They sat back with Lok and Sophie on the couch, watching with amusement as the boys used every dirty trick available to them in attempts to gain the upper hand. The noise level increased exponentially, echoing down the halls and filling the room with mangled hybrid sentences of English and Dutch swearing.

All of a sudden, Lucas’s voice cut through the din.

“If you two don’t be quiet and act like civilized human beings, that woman is going to take you back to where she found you and bloody leave you there! I’m trying to concentrate!”

Lucas looked rather smugly satisfied at the abrupt silence his words had brought.

If he had taken the time to glance up from his musty old book he would have seen what a massive mistake he just made.

Den and Harrison had both frozen in place, wide eyes locked together in a look of shock and deeply ingrained fear of losing their home again. Sophie and Lok were both on their feet, and despite Lok holding Sophie back with a hand on her shoulder as she shook with tight lipped rage, the Lambert boy had blue sparks flicking off his clenched fist.

Dante’s glare was literally as powerful as fire. No one had noticed, but a tiny flame had burst to life on the table, which he had quickly smothered with his palm before turning his smoldering gaze to the elder Casterwill.

Even Dellix and Lane knew that their commander had crossed a line. The dark skinned swordsman subconsciously moved his hand to the sheath that rested against his knee, feeling the tension in the air thicken to a nearly unbearable level. Lane shifted uneasily as her fingers drifted to the amulet at her neck, ready to call Wildwood Druid at a moment’s notice if things seemed out of hand for her larger counterpart.

Zhalia had stopped at the sound of Lucas’s words, finger hovering over the final keycode rune to unlock the database entry she needed. If Dante seemed angry, then the woman across from him was at a level well beyond rage. She was at a point that surpassed any outward betrayal of the emotion, face deadpan as she slowly closed the lid of her Technomicon and stood.

Her voice, low and just barely containing the pure feral wrath that only Dante could feel rolling off her in heart crushing pulses, cut through the heavy silence like a razor bladed knife.

“Lucas. Sparing match. Outside. Now.”

Lucas waved her off, still engrossed in his book. The very idea of fighting Zhalia seemed to bore him. “I’m in the middle of a manuscript. Maybe later.”

The Casterwill elder let out a yell of surprise when an unknown assailant grabbed a fistful of his shirt on each shoulder and roughly yanked him over the back of the armchair, manuscript flipping from his hands and sliding across a nearby table. Dante wrenched the younger man around to bring him eye to eye, moving his grip to clench bunches of fabric so tight under his throat that it forced the Casterwill to lift his chin so he could keep breathing normally.

In an icy wave of realization, Lucas had the distinct feeling that he was looking a very angry, very protective, and very deadly lion in the eye.

And all that anger was focused on him.

“It’s rude to turn down a dance from a lady.” Dante growled. “But at any rate, she wasn’t asking, Lucas.”

A white steel sword suddenly appeared at Dante’s throat. In a flash Zhalia was at her partner’s side, and put herself between the bristling Dellix and seething Dante. Unafraid, she pushed the back of her hand against the flat of the blade, ready to deflect any ill-advised movement against her boyfriend’s neck.

“You had better put this away before I make you eat it, Dellix.” Zhalia’s soft voice held the fine edge of what was very much not an idle threat. “I’ve got nothing against you or Lane. I just want a chance to give your little leader a lesson in manners on the sparring field.”

“Oh, he’ll fight you alright.” The locked together foursome looked over when Sophie cut in. “Lucas, you went too far. This match isn’t a suggestion, it’s an order. From me.” Her green eyes flashed. “Dellix, Lane. Stand down. Zhalia and Lucas, you both have ten minutes to prepare. Meet in the courtyard and we’ll discuss the rules of the match. Dante’s referee.”

At the Casterwill leader’s command, Dellix stepped back and sheathed his blade, though a little reluctantly. Dante kept his gaze on Lucas for a long, tense second before shoving the young man back and letting go of his shirt.

As the Huntik team gathered itself up to head downstairs, Zhalia took a moment to slip past Lucas, getting very much in his personal space.

“I’m going to mop the floor with you, kid.”

Lucas was sure the woman had hissed those words in his ear as she passed, but hadn’t even glimpsed her lips moving. Despite the disturbing finality the statement had, he straightened his shirt and marched off to retrieve his amulets.

He was a Casterwill, after all. And no one would defeat him on his own ground.

(posting this on ff.net tomorrow morning because my eyeball is trying to explode. Friggin migraines, man...)

[isaxahprescott]

Isaiah Park (Sinclair) | #312hqtasksfive - A Development Task

what was your character like when they first joined? what were their traits, hobbies, habbits, lifestyle, etc? 

         Frick, my poor boy was so heckin’ lost when he first came to Chicago. Everything that had went down that caused his decision to leave NYC was still so fresh on the brain and he hated himself so darn much. He was so much more reserved and had no desire in getting to know anyone, terrified that if they got too close, they would find him out and hate him just as much as he hated himself for being a part of the reason that his best friend died. He didn’t freakin’ know how to do the laundry or anything mundane bc it was all done for him growing up. He didn’t know what he was going to do next, he just knew that he wasn’t going back home any time soon.

how has your character changed / developed since working at malnati’s? have their traits, hobbies, habbits, or lifestyle changed?

           Zaya’s still a bit awkward around other’s but now he’s trying really hard to make friends and he smiles so much more now and doesn’t stutter as much???? Meeting all these incredible people like Freddi who have helped him get out of his shell or Chardon, who’s had no problem in teaching him how to do things like cleaning or ironing?? Like, he’s in a whole lot better place now and can be a lil shiz when comfortable enough around you. There’s a lot of sarcasm and self deprecating jokes bc there’s still a lot of progress to be made in the self love department but gosh darn it, he’s stopped smoking bc he’s started channeling his nerves into something more positive like playing his uke Sophie or watching space documentaries with Jules. He now sort of sees boxing as more of a form of exercise rather than a way to let out all of his pent up feelings. He’s slowly progressed so much and kind of feels like he’s found himself a second home and I’m so so happy about it :’)

how do you think your character might change or evolve moving forward now? do you have any hopes or goals for them?

         He’s still got a long ways to go with accepting that Johnny is now gone and there’s not much else he can really do about it, but now he’s actually been able to share the experience with the people he’s closest to ( ie. Gianna and Freddi) and doesn’t have to bare that burden alone . I’d love to see him be able to go to his grave and kinda give his late best friend the sort of closure that they both need. I want to see him feel more sure of himself and gain his confidence back (not as much to the point that he’s hecka cocky and awful about it like he once was, but a good amount). He’s still trying to figure out what it is that he wants in life and I hope to see him find something that makes him real happy that he doesn’t want to let go of. I really want to see him make more friends and slowly become comfortable enough around them, too. (Especially with Teo, frick, I just need them to make up and become bros again, pls, before I die) I want him to be able to go back to New York and see his family after all this time; to realize that he can stop running from his past now, bc it’s going to be okay. I also want him to meet with a counselor when he’s ready and figure out a way to get help for his anxiety.  Overall, I just want him to find peace and contentment in this new lifestyle that he’s built for himself. 

bold flaws your character has / italicise ones they used to have, or have partially.  ( x )

absent-minded / abusive / addicted / aimless / alcoholic / aloof / anxious / arrogant / audacious / has bad habits / bigmouthed / bigoted / blunt / bold / callous / childish / cruel / cursed / dependent / dishonest / disloyal / disturbed / dubious / egotistical / envious / erratic / fanatical / fickle / fierce / finicky / flirty / gluttonous / gruff / gullible / hedonistic / humourless / hypocritical / idiotic / ignorant / illiterate / immature / impatient / impious / impish / incompetent / indecisive / indifferent / infamous / intolerant / judgemental / lazy / lewd / liar / lustful / masochistic / meddlesome / meek / megalomanic / naïve / nosey / obsessive / oppressive / overambitious / overemotional / overprotective / overzealous / paranoid / peevish / perfectionist / pessimistic / phobic / rebellious / reckless / remorseless / rigorous / sadistic / sarcastic / sceptic / seducer / selfish / self-martyr / self-righteous / senile / shallow / smart ass / solemn / spineless / spiteful / spoiled / squeamish / stubborn / superstitious / tactless / temperamental / theatrical / timid / tongue-tied / unlucky / unpredictable / untrustworthy / vain / weak-willed / withdrawn

bold all that apply. my muse knows how to … ( x )

bake a cake from scratch (partially) | ride a horse | drive stick | speak a second language | dance | catch a fish | play an instrument | throw a punch | build a deck | ice skate | unclog a drain | program a computer | change a flat tire | fire a gun | sew | juggle | play poker | paint | fly a kite | sculpt | write poetry | change a diaper | sing | shoot a bow and arrow | ride a bike | swim | sail a boat | do a back flip | play chess | give CPR | pitch a tent | flirt | stitch a wound | read palms | use chopsticks | write in cursive | use an electric drill | braid hair | make a campfire | make a mixed drink | do sudoku puzzles | wrap a gift | give a good massage | jump-start a car | roll their tongue | do magic tricks | do yoga | tie a tie | skip a rock | shuffle a deck of cards | read Morse code | pick a lock

bold which habits your muse has … ( x )

nail biting | throat clearing | lying | interrupting | chewing the ends of pens | smoking (used to have) | swearing | knuckle cracking | thumb sucking | muttering under their breath | talking to themselves | nose picking | binge drinking | oversleeping | snacking between meals | skipping meals | picking at skin | impulse buying | talking with their mouth full | humming/singing to themselves | chewing gum | leg jiggling | foot tapping | hair twirling | whistling | eye rolling | licking lips | sniffing | squinting | rubbing hands together | jaw clenching | gesturing while talking | putting feet up on tables | tucking hair behind ears | chewing lips | crossing arms over chest | putting hands on hips | rubbing the back or their neck | being late | procrastinating | doodling | shredding paper | peeling off bottle labels | forgetfulness | running hands through hair | overreacting | teeth grinding | nostril flaring | slouching | pacing | drumming fingers | fist clenching | pinching bridge of nose | rubbing temples | rolling shoulders

[rionebuys]

Family reunion (Chapter 6)

"He wants you to what?!" Jesse said. Belle had taken the liberty of talking to both Anne and Jesse about the bomb Daniel dropped on her three days ago. Yes, she was overthinking and debating on her own for three days. Having enough of her own fears getting in the way she decided to consult Anne and Jesse on the matter. Anne was surprised and had a look of pure shock on her face while Jesse held nothing back. He was freaking out and Belle almost thought she had to dial 911. "He's moving there end of this month, he wants me to go with him. He said that if I didn't want to stay with him that he would buy me a place but I'd rather stay with him then be a charity and take his money. I could also transfer and start school there at ACA to finish my degree as well as get a job." Belle said pointing everything out. Anne looked at Belle with a knowing look while Jesse looked like he was going to faint. "Jess you okay there?" She asked concerned but he just nodded with wide eyes. "Okay, that's totally not a scary face." Belle mumbled and before he could say anything, Anne spoke up. "Why does it sound like you are all for it but still trying to convince yourself sweetie?" Anne knew this was what she wanted, her dream was to go to NYC and make a name for herself. Belle had always talked about it and would plan everything out since she was a child. She knew Belle was unsure of leaving Anne and Jesse on their own but this was her dream and Anne wanted her to follow it, especially with Daniel beside her she would be safe. He loved her and Anne could see that very clearly. "I-I... I just.." Belle trailed off not knowing how to say it. "You're worried for us. Don't be. This has been your dream, you've wanted this since you were a child and letting Daniel go won't be an option. Sweetie there is something more than just attraction between the two of you and you know it. This could be a good thing. And if it fails then it does. It's your life honey, start living it." Anne said as she took Belle's hands in hers. "What?! You never gave me that speech when I wanted to go to Australia." Jesse said to Anne offended. A few months back he wanted to travel to Australia for a guy he hadn't even met and Anne stopped him. "Please Jesse, you weren't going to make it, you would have been deported within a week of bad behavior." Anne said tolling her eyes. Jesse took a minute to think about it and nodded laughing. "Yeah, that's so true." He said shaking his head in memory. Turning back to Belle, Anne and Jesse looked at her with a smile and she felt better about consoling them. "You know what to do." Anne said and kissed her on the cheek. Before all three of them left to go home, Belle took out her phone and texted Daniel. This was her choice and her life. She could live it and become great, become a person both mothers would e proud of or she could live in her fear and become her father. Knowing her choice she made it official. 'I'm in. -B' It's been three months since that text and Belle was happy. No she was glowing. NYC has really brought out the fun side of her she never knew she had. She missed Anne and Jesse and the goodbyes were the worst. But she Skype-ed them every night making sure to tell them a lot. School was school. She didn't have friends, only acquaintances. Everyone was nice to her and very accepting which shocked her. Daniel bought a pent house with three rooms making her have her own. She was very grateful towards Daniel and thanked him everyday which made him crazy but he accepted it like everyday. Belle had told him that she would stay with him until otherwise but that she would not accept anymore from him. She found herself a job at the local library, books were her second favorite and she loved being surrounded by them, getting a job there was easy and she liked the silence and the old exterior of the place. Daniel was not happy and wanted something more for her but saw she was happy with it and let it go. Living with Daniel has really grown on her, it started different but now it is actually amazing for her. It was a lot to get used to, they had each divided the chores in certain ways making Daniel do whatever is expected of the guy to do and Belle everything that is expected of the woman. It worked out great and since only Belle could cool, she made dinner on occasion as She and Daniel both started having dinner with his family. His family was very accepting and loved her. Sophie made sure to spend as much time as possible with her future sister in law while Daniel's mother fought her for Belle's time. Claire could also see her son change, he was warming up, he was becoming the son she remembered and for that she owed Annabelle everything. She could see the love the two had for each other and everyday it would just bloom more and more. Despite everything Daniel and Belle both got used to the living and being together. They were living as a married couple only minus the sharing bed, the ring part. Daniel had given her time to adjust in living in NYC before he asked her officially to be his girlfriend. While studying and working, Belle had started making a name for herself. She would occasionally have a gig all around and people loved her voice. Media had yet to know about their love blooming. Not wanting to scare her off he kept them quiet until she was ready for it. Daniel and Belle have grown a lot closer. She could feel herself fall for him more and more. The cliche butterflies were there and the toe curling kiss. Yes you heard right, kiss. Belle was lucky enough to have had shared her first kiss with Daniel on their first official date. But since then they never kissed again. It wasn't that they didn't want to. Daniel still kissed her, on her cheek, forehead, hands. But he was saving the best for last. They had in all honesty become so busy that it was natural to kiss each other's cheek. Daniel had really became het all. She was complete with him in her life and vise versa. Belle walked down the stairs of the penthouse that was very big and spacious , and came to a stop in front of Daniel who gave her a smile and was about to kiss her on the lips this time when her phone rang making him kiss her cheek instead as she turned her head. Daniel frowned, clearly this was not what he planned. She mouthed 'Sorry' to him as she answered. "Hello?" "Belle?"  "Jesse! How are you? I've missed you." Belle said when she heard his voice.  Daniel frowned at her not looking happy at all so she leaned up and kissed his cheek. He went to the dining table and put the breakfast on the table for them while she stood next to the piano talking to Jesse. They both missed each other dearly and Jesse just couldn't wait to tell her about the guy he has a crush on. Belle wished that she could have been there to see it and be there for him but she was glad that he indeed found someone. "So listen Belle, I'll talk to you later; have to go but it was nice catching up with you." "Thank you Jesse, same, bye." Belle put her phone in her purse and sat across from Daniel at the table. Looking up she saw him looking irritated at her. "So, Jesse called?" he asked trying to look like he is not fazed by anything. "Yes, he's in love with me." She teased starting to eat her breakfast. Daniel of course choked on his toast. "What?!" Daniel couldn't believe this, last he heard the guy was gay. What the hell happened in three months time? "Daniel, I'm kidding, he has a boyfriend, sort of. You don't have to worry, no competition whatsoever." Belle said winking at him. Daniel visibly relaxed, the last thing he wanted was fight a gay to keep away from his girl. Belle found his possessiveness very charming, she loved that he was protective but still gave her the space she needed. It was hard to get used to in the beginning. The whole being cared for in a different way. She never thought she would experience it but she was glad she did. She saw what love was meant to be like between two people. As they spoke and enjoyed each other's company, Daniel reminded Belle of the family dinner thrown at his mother's house. Alec was in town and it was time to have one big family meal as well since Donovan was also back from his two week trip to Dubai. Belle had almost forgotten but was so excited, she truly fell in love with Daniel's family over the past months and was always delighted to see them again. She was glad Don made it back safely, Sophie wouldn't stop talking about how she missed him for one second. Matthew on the other hand was head over heels in love with Annabelle. After he first met her he fainted, he couldn't believe that his uncle Danny was dating his favorite musician and you tube star. She was gorgeous to him like an angel and spent as much time with her as he could. It made everyone in the family laugh at his craziness but Belle was flattered and made sure to put Matt on a few videos with her. After breakfast Daniel kissed Belle goodbye as they separated ways to go to work. Belle was off to the library and then the studio as she was working on her first debut album while Daniel made his way to the office. Daniel's company had been doing so much better since he was back. All the troublemakers were fired and Daniel had to work hard to pull some investors back into the company. It wasn't that hard but the first few weeks back he had to stay long hours. As for now things were running smoothly on both his side and Alec's side of the business. Speaking off... It was around lunch time when Alec decided to make himself present in Daniel's office. "What is up big bro, I have big news!" he said sitting down across from Daniel. Alec was the playboy of the family and the fun one. Fun being partying, always happy and giddy. Alec loved his family but loved women more. He thought of them as a gift from the gods, but behind it all, Alec was a softy and more importantly a romantic. He waited for the right one as well just in his own way. Alec and Daniel were always close to each other and were the first to come to another if in danger or just about anything. "Hey, what is the news?" Daniel asked getting a drink for both him and Alec. He had missed his brother and missed the time they spent together he was also amazed at how time went by and they were grown up. "I like a girl, and I am thinking of bringing her to dinner tonight." Alec said proudly. Even though Alec played around, he never brought a girl home. For that Daniel was very glad. Their mother never knew of his games and they never saw the need to tell her. It was his life after all. Daniel looked at him with his mouth hung open. Alec has never said this to him before, about anyone. If he was saying this, he meant it. "Wait, what?" "Yeah well, it's just you and Belle are so perfect and it made me realize that I need to get my life together, I need to settle down you know?" Alec said as he took the glass of whiskey from Daniel's hand and took a sip. This is what he wanted, he wanted the family to meet the girl who stole his heart even though they already knew her. Daniel stood the and looked at him surprised. "Bro you are not serious are you?"  "Yes, in fact I am, speaking of, when are you going to make things official and ask Belle to marry you?" Alec asked changing the subject. He didn't want to give too much away and wanted the family to meet her later and then vent for themselves. Daniel thought about Alec's question. He had been thinking about that lately but didn't want to tell anyone. The last thing he wants to do is scare her off. He fell in love with her instantly and he wanted to tell her. He wanted to make her his for good and spend the rest of his life with her. He felt as though it would be too much for her. He feared it. Alec could see the wheels turning behind Daniel's head. This was always happening to him. Daniel was known to overthink things when he was passionate about it. He didn't want to ruin anything. So Alec decided to stop his ranting in his head. "Bro you are over thinking again, Belle loves you and you love her, she will say yes no doubt, just ask her." And with that Alec decided to leave his brother in peace and went back to his woman. Only Daniel was left with 'what if'. Returning Daniel had a cloud over his head. He couldn't stop thinking about what Alec had said. Everything pointed to right but it also pointed to wrong, not about her but the timing. Closing the front door behind him Daniel was brought back to earth as he heard and saw Belle running downstairs at the sound of his return. "Daniel, do I look ok?" Belle asked as she came running down the stairs. They only had an hour to get ready and to his parents house. If Daniel was to say no she would be in big trouble. She looked radiant and beautiful wearing a silk, emerald green, floor length dress with her hair in a fishtail braid. Minimal make up and jewels. Belle didn't think it was too much but it wasn't plain either. She was glad that the Bowmen family liked dressing up. She felt like a little girl again and she loved it. "You look absolutely stunning baby girl." Daniel said and he couldn't take his eyes off her. She was stunning and he couldn't stop the next words flying out of his mouth. It was like he was in a trance and it just slipped. "I love you." He said and Belle's smile dropped. "Whats?" She asked softly and blushing. She couldn't believe her ears. Daniel said those three words she longed to hear. She was speechless as she saw him snap back to her. "I mean it. I love you Annabelle, I'm pretty wire I loved you the moment I saw you. I'm sorry it's not romantic or anything but, I love you." He said and she blushed a bright red. Her heart swelled and she felt dizzy but it was a good dizzy feeling. "I love you." She said and kissed him on the lips. She felt like she was floating. She felt high up in the sky but also warm as Daniel wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled her close so their bodies were flushed against each other. Annabelle deepened the kiss as she turned her head sideways making Daniel groan. Now they both remembered why the didn't kiss each other a lot. They were irresistible towards each other and they were both as drug to each other. Before things could get too heated Annabelle pulled away, both breathless, both holding a look between desire and love for each other. "W-We should get going." Belle said shaking slightly from the kiss. Daniel only nodded not making any move to let her go. Soon enough both of them were ready to go. Belle still looking as gorgeous the way Daniel found her and Daniel freshly showered and dressed in an Armani suit. The family was buzzing and happy to be reunited with each other. Claire, Sophie and Daniel were both surprised, shocked and happy to learn that Maya, Alec's date, was his childhood friend from long ago. Belle was getting along good with Maya, and so was the whole family. She was a real great girl and she made Alec happy, which wasn't hard to see. The couple gave each other the same look that both Daniel and Don gave their significant other. Everyone was gathered in the lounge talking and laughing but all Daniel did was stare at the beauty next to him. Belle, she is everything that Daniel has always wanted and He wanted her to be his so bad, was Alec right? Could he ask her and she would say yes? Is it too soon? Claire saw his internal battle with himself and pulled him away from everyone and into the kitchen. "Daniel, what is bothering you? Are you and Belle not happy?" She asked concerned, the last thing she wanted was for them to split. She was good to him and vise versa, she loved Belle and was very happy having her part of the family. "No mom, it's nothing like that,. I was just thinking." "What about dear?" She asked with a smile and Daniel stared at her for a while before answering. "Do you think it would be crazy asking Belle to marry me? Is it too soon?" As he asked this, Claire looked at her son with such happy eyes and smiled while answering me. "No, no it is not too soon. I believe you two are meant for each other. I was wondering when we'd have this talk. Belle has been so good to you, she brought back my son that was always working and had no time for family, you and Belle are perfect together, just look how happy Alec is, even he found who I believe is his future wife. Don't waste time in waiting, you know what you want, now go get it." She kissed him on the cheek and walked back to the party with her glass of red wine. Daniel took in what she had said. She was right, but he had only said 'I love you' to Belle less than three hours ago. Was it too crazy to prepare for a proposal? Daniel sighed and left that thought for another night. As he looked towards Belle, he saw her smiling at him before returning to laugh with Maya. Yes, she was perfect... Copyright © 2015