#give gramma a break the woman just wants her family | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spiriituma · 4 years ago

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||--not sure what, if anything, to tag this as but !! potential trigger warning for death, some gore... basically magic horror beneath the cut, so have fun !!--||

IT WAS AN ALL BUT SILENT NIGHT. The witch’s heart pounded in her ears, she could feel it rising up into her throat. Each footfall was more panicked than the last, and though the sirens were far enough behind her to fade into obscurity behind the thick curtain of fog that followed, the fear that they would catch her couldn’t help but creep into her thoughts. Lee’s white-knuckle grip on her cloak and the bag she carried over her shoulder only grew tighter as she barreled through underbrush, deeper and deeper into the thicket, paying little attention to where she was headed, only looking to get far, far away from where she’d been.

Once she could no longer hear the sirens, the girl stopped, doubled over coughing, trying to catch her breath. She didn’t know how long she’d been running, how far the town she’d just booked it out of was behind her. A shaking hand reached out to grasp at the nearest tree, nails digging into the bark. She’d gotten a little bit too cocky with her thievery; breaking into a pawn shop to rob them of their most valuable objects only to find an armed night guard hadn’t exactly been a shining moment of hers. (She was a teenager with magic too strong for her own good; it was bound to get to her head eventually.)

A few minutes passed before the blonde finally stopped shaking. She took a tentative step forward, pulling the hood of her cloak back up around her. It had just begun to drizzle; thunder rumbled in the distance, lightning flickered faintly overhead. If she didn’t start moving now, she’d never make it to somewhere she could keep dry before it started to downpour. The last thing she wanted was to be rained on when she had only one other set of clothes to change into and nowhere warm to sleep. If only she could start a fire that wasn’t cold, something that she’d have to teach herself later; maybe she could practice while she walked.

Muttering to herself, playing with a small blue flame, Lee picked her way through the woods, starting down a little dirt trail that looked like it hadn’t been trod down in years. A half an hour of walking, of practicing, and an iron gate blocked the young girl’s way. Soft, blue-gray eyes gazed up at the wrought iron design arching above her head. There was no name on the gate, but the headstones just past it led her to believe she’d just stumbled upon an old cemetery, seemingly forgotten to all but her.

The witch very cautiously pushed the gate open with a loud creak, fog pooling around her ankles as she wiped the rust on her tattered jeans. It must have rained rather hard there before she arrived, puddles lined the gravel road down both sides; the gravestones, some of which appeared to be old, scuffed marble shone with a new glory, the dust and dirt washed away. As she walked, she read the names, the inscriptions. A married couple resting side by side. A young boy. A woman taken in her prime. Several stones with no names, names that had faded away with time. Feeling the tears begin to well up, Lee paused, squatting beside them, fingers grazing over the still wet stones.

Condolences were whispered to the souls who laid beneath, an apology uttered along with it. A fascination, a connection, with the dead had always bubbled within the witch. As a child, she had spent a lot of time in cemeteries, more so after the loss of her grandmother. A witch herself, Lee’s grandmother had been the young girl’s rock, teaching her the basics, helping her control her magic. When the woman passed, Lee was lost-- completely devastated. Her one solace was visiting her grandmother’s gravesite every evening... until their family moved. And kept moving. With every mistake that Lee made regarding her powers, the girl’s mother grew more and more angry, holing her away from people save to send her to school. The blows to her psyche kept coming, and the pent up anger and aggression rose ever further to the surface.

Until the girl blew a fuse. Quite literally.

Lee visibly winced, trying to push the thought out of her conscious as she stood, casting a lingering glance at the wordless grave markers before continuing on. The thunder she’d been trying so hard to avoid boomed louder, echoing around her, seeming to shake the cemetery itself. Her breath hung in the air like dragon smoke amidst the fog around her; a quick peek over her shoulder determined there was no going back-- she was far enough along that the gate had since disappeared. “Well...” The word was breathy, quiet, said to no one in particular, not even herself. “I guess the only way out... is through.”

Continuing on, Lee had to stop herself from stopping at more headstones, telling herself that it would be fine, that those who rested there would forgive her for not acknowledging them. All that mattered was making it to a safe, dry, and preferably warm location before the oncoming storm finally touched ground. As she reached what she presumed was the edge of the cemetery, about to hop over the rusty iron fence, something caught her eye. There was a portion of the wrought iron that was broken, overgrown by a large tree. Past it, an even lesser traveled path poked out from underneath loose leaves and brush. She paused, fingers tapping against the iron; teeth bit down hard on her lower lip. Keep going keep going keep going-- Her mind told her to keep going straight.

BUT IT WAS HER HEART TUGGING HER TOWARDS THE SHADOWS.

Lee jogged over to the broken portion of fencing and hopped the roots that had overtaken it, pushing past the underbrush as she moved forward, keeping her eyes on the gravel path so that she wouldn’t be lost in the fog were she to want to head back. There was an air of excitement, of mystery, around the place. She had never been one to find cemeteries spooky; in fact, the contrary was true-- walking through one’s gates felt like going to visit friends. However, what she stumbled upon in the woods was a sight unlike anything she’d ever seen before.

A hauntingly beautiful mausoleum stood among a circle of trees, seemingly protected from time itself, and standing in front of it... A STATUE OF A HORSE. She was transfixed by the creature, and how could she not be? The piece was immaculate, sculpted from what appeared to be black marble or granite, though a more exotic kind than she’d ever seen, shot through with swirls of red and gold. What intrigued Lee most of all, however, was not what the horse was made of, but its posture, its physique. It looked to be a mare, standing alert, one ear pricked forward, her neck arched and nostrils flared-- though the horse was not rearing up or striking, all four feet planted on its base, something about it sent a chill down the witch’s spine.

SHE WAS A PROTECTOR. A FIERCE ONE. A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH.

It was clear to her that the mare had been placed at the site as a memorial, but also as a warning-- one that she would later regret not heeding. Though, in that moment, she was desperate. An idea had worked its way into her mind. She remembered a spell in the book her grandmother had given her that would give life to an inanimate object, long enough for the object to provide a service to its creator before turning back into whatever it had once been. A loud crack of lightning across the cloudy night sky told the girl all she needed to know. She needed to find that spell, and she needed to find it fast. This horse could help her. Maybe it could protect her, be her guide; if nothing else, it would at least provide a way out of the woods that was faster than her own two feet.

Setting down her bag, Lee dug through it and grabbed the musty, torn spell book her grandmother had given her. Flipping through it, she occasionally cast a glance up at the horse; maybe it was just her own paranoia from the events that had transpired earlier that night, but she felt like it was eyeing her. Sizing her up. Upon finding the spell, Lee set the book down onto the wet ground (how odd that the page had already been marked, and not by her own hand,) before taking a deep breath and stepping back towards the statue. Her tongue stuck out from between her lips in concentration as she began to draw a circle around the base with her magic, lighting up the surrounding area with an eery blue glow.

Lee checked the circle once, twice, three times, going back and forth to her spell book to make sure she had everything right. Stepping back to admire her handiwork, eyes closed tight, a plea to a higher power slipped past her lips. The witch swallowed thickly and opened her eyes-- it was time to try out what she’d learned. Hands hovered above the book, she stood square with the statue’s base, looking up at the stone mare. This had to work. IT JUST HAD TO WORK.

“Veni... ambulabunt mecum.” (COME... WALK WITH ME.)

Another crack of lightning split the sky, though it was Lee’s magic that still illuminated the clearing and everything in it. Leaves began to swirl at the statue’s base, and the witch felt her breath hitch in her chest. Her hands trembled, fingers tense from holding the spell, but she simply had to see it through its completion. Lee’s teeth gritted, brows furrowed, fighting the urge to stop. I can take it. I can do this. I’m strong enough. Gramma wouldn’t have given me the book if she didn’t think so--

Blue tendrils of magic branched out of its circle, snaking up the statue’s base and around the horse’s legs, up its chest, barrel, haunches... crawling up and wrapping its neck and head. Suddenly there was a CRACK that wasn’t from above; Lee’s eyes shot up, the circle she had created around the statue’s base ceased to glow, fading into the ground. The clearing was silent.

DEATHLY SILENT.

The statue began to twitch. Head canted to the side; stone crackled and chipped as its ears flicked back and forth. Eyes forced themselves to blink; hooves were picked up one by one off of the base, the creature gaining its footing for the very first time. Lee’s magic still ensnared it, the mare’s eyes glowing a bright blue. From her position on the ground, Lee took a step back, a small smile of disbelief on her face, watching the creature. She’d done it, she’d completed the spell--

She tripped over her backpack, sending her falling onto her backside with a thud. Breathless, the witch’s eyes locked onto the statue, meeting the creature’s gaze. Something felt wrong. A sudden terror struck her as the magic that had been meant to fade began to change; the blue tendrils warped themselves, swirling faster around the figure and changing from the electric blue that Lee was so familiar with to a blazing blood red. Scrambling backwards, desperately trying to get herself untangled from her backpack, Lee’s heart nearly froze in her chest.

THE MARE’S JAW CRACKED OPEN IN A SILENT SCREAM, AND THE CREATURE RAISED ITSELF ONTO ITS HIND LEGS.

Within seconds, it sprung towards the witch, Lee having just barely managed to kick herself free and get to her feet, throwing herself in the direction of the path she’d traveled earlier. Once again, she found herself in a desperate chase, though this one easily felt more LIFE AND DEATH than the previous. She couldn’t stop shaking, sparks flying from her fingertips with each stride; the girl dared not look behind her, for it was enough to hear the stone horse crashing its way through the underbrush.

There was a slight bit of relief as the broken portion of cemetery fence she’d jumped earlier came back into view through the fog. Frantically, Lee leapt the fence, but she was stopped short upon landing, her cloak caught on the wrought iron spikes. She stumbled to the ground, choking, clutching at her neck in an attempt to free herself of the garment. Just past the fence, the horse had come into view, menacing red eyes shining through the heavy fog. IT WAS AFTER HER. IT WASN’T STOPPING. IT WAS GOING TO KILL HER.

AND SHE WAS RUNNING OUT OF TIME.

With enough struggling, the cloak ripped, sending the witch flat onto her face, but providing a bit of a distraction for the ghastly creature that had hunted her down. As Lee scrambled back, the horse became tangled in the cloak. It had no voice, it could not speak, but THAT DIDN’T STOP IF FROM SCREAMING. Eyes were still fixed on the young witch as she backed away from the creature, her thoughts a blur, mind racing, trying to determine a plan of action-- or if there even was one. Her ankle was twisted from the fall, running would no longer be an option; the book that contained her spells was somewhere past the horse, on the other side of the fence, still at the mausoleum, there was no way she’d be able to reach it in time.

WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I--

The stone mare had finally freed itself from the cloak, shaking the garment that was now tattered beyond recognition off of her hooves and facing down the witch. Save for Lee’s ragged breathing, the cemetery was quiet; the sense of dread that had overtaken the witch was soon replaced with anger as the creature stood there, a ways in front of her, watching her with an almost disappointed gaze. AS IF SHE WERE WOUNDED PRAY THAT THE HORSE HAD EXPECTED MORE OF A CHASE FROM.

“Wh-- What do you want--?!” Maybe SCREAMING AT IT wasn’t Lee’s best option, but... she didn’t see any way out of this in which she was STILL LIVING. Tears began to stream down the witch’s battered face; she clutched at her side, knees trembling, trying to convince herself to KEEP STANDING. “What do-- do you want from me? You wanna kill me? IS THAT IT?!”

There was no response from the horse. Had the girl really expected one?

Letting out a shaking, choppy breath, Lee spat blood at her feet, keeping her eyes trained on the mare. It had finally hit her, the anger that she had kept deep inside ever since her grandmother’s death. Still willing herself to keep standing, the blonde gritted her teeth, staring down the horse through her tears. “THEN FUCKING DO IT! GET IT OVER WITH! Look at you, you fucking bitch-- you’re a MONSTER. And I’m the one that made you--

I’M NO BETTER THAN YOU ARE.

I’ve wasted this life. I’ve wasted my life, a-and I’ve played god, and I DON’T DESERVE A SECOND CHANCE, SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR--?!

JUST GET IT OVER WITH ALREADY!”

And so, it seemed, the mare would, launching forward at Lee from her end of the small cemetery. There was nowhere for the girl to go, and as she faced down the horse, she knew then and there--

Wait, no-- NO NO NO. SHE DIDN’T WANT TO GO.

Before the mare could finish the job, Lee held both hands out in front of her, willing her magic to do whatever it needed to protect her. Never before had she put such faith in her powers, but with her life dependent on them... she didn’t have a choice. A burst of electric blue beams shot from her palms at the horse, seeming to blind it. Sliding to a stop, the stone creature reared up and backed away, the blast hitting it square in the chest. Though the horse wasn’t knocked over, it had stopped, and as the magic faded from Lee’s palms, it stood quietly, blinking at her, the red fading to a soft magenta. Lee’s hands fell to her sides, a breathy laugh of relief slipping past her lips. Whatever she had done... the horse now seemed... normal. Friendly. Curious, even. It looked like her magic had--

WITHOUT WARNING, THE GIRL FELL TO HER KNEES.

A searing pain shot through her chest, and she doubled over, forehead resting on the ground, hands wrung together at her throat. What was happening? It was pure, blinding agony; Lee had never felt something so powerful in her life. Her breathing ragged, the poor girl frightened and confused, a blue glow began to seep past her closed eyes. She dared not look; teeth gritted, Lee tried her best to curl up even further, but it was no use. The witch’s chest split open like someone had taken an ice pick to a frozen pond, her whole torso starting to crack, the veins resonating from the area above her heart.

“P-- P-Please--”

Sobbing, the witch was knocked out of her fetal position, the magic coursing through her forcing her up onto her knees. Blue tendrils surrounded her, one of them BLASTING her full in the chest.. and retrieving HER STILL-BEATING HEART. Lee watched on in horror, unable to believe that the organ had been so easily taken from her, UNABLE TO BELIEVE THAT SHE WAS STILL ALIVE WITHOUT IT. Yet, that wasn’t entirely true-- rapidly, the witch’s body began to change.

HOW MANY PEOPLE CAN SAY THAT THEY HAVE WATCHED THEMSELVES DECAY?

Her skin became pale, ghastly, with the very hint of rigor mortis setting in. Bruising seeped into her finger tips, causing the beds of her nails to turn a dark black-ish purple; the same could be said for the area surrounding the witch’s eyes, creating almost a mask-like appearance that stretched over her face. She shivered, both trembling from shock and the newfound COLDNESS that crept into her body. Lee’s hair, which had been neatly braided, hanging roughly to her waist, burst from its tie, growing wild and unruly to the full length of its potential. If it were cut, it would never grow back, for it had done all the growing it ever would in this lifetime.

Still in shock, her thoughts drifted-- THE HORSE. Where was the horse? The creature that had attacked her had turned tail, absolutely terrified, though it seemed that LEE’S MAGIC HAD CAUGHT UP WITH IT. Electric blue tendrils grabbed the horse’s legs mid-stride, pulling it backwards and onto the ground, dragging it nearer to the human heart that floated just above them both, still beating, surrounded by a glowing orb of magic. Lee locked eyes with the creature; there was a part of her that felt for it, despite the fact it had tried to kill her.

IT WAS CONFUSED. SCARED.

Lee was about to reach out to the animal when the heart-- HER HEART --split in two, rocketing one half into the witch and the other... INTO THE HORSE. The force of her heart reentering her body sent the girl flying onto her back, though she managed to shakily position herself so she could see the animal in front of her. LOOKING BACK, SHE WISHED SHE HADN’T.

The animal’s stone facade CRACKED AND SPLIT, down her spine and in veins across her barrel. Magic whisked away into the woods surrounding them, sucking the life out of everything around them-- trees lost their leaves, wilted, decayed; birds fell from the sky. WHAT LEE HAD GIVEN WASN’T ENOUGH; more had been needed. Her eyes were no longer a solid, glowing mass, but the whites now shown, the magenta orbs pleading with Lee for help. BUT THERE WAS NOTHING SHE COULD DO.

Both of them exhausted and bleeding, Lee crawled her way towards the scared creature. Its mane and tail that had once been sculpted stone were now long and slick; as the girl pulled herself closer, she could see fleshy areas on the animal’s hide. The mare was CHANGING, like Lee had changed, though were life had been taken from the witch... it was rapidly, TOO RAPIDLY, being given to the mare.

Lee managed to reach the horse, one hand lifting to shakily press against the creature’s now warm, soft muzzle before the girl passed out, everything around her fading to black.

#||..leijona | headcanons && i'm done with my graceless heart #||..save #hahahaaaa yeah so this got real long real quick #god i hope this makes....#any semblance of sense lmao #pls enjoy #||..lava | headcanon && what the hell is that?

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captainofthebrokentides · 5 years ago

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Am I your Lock Screen? Benny Colon x OC

Just a little ramble I wrote for the prompt : “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Lilly yawned as she followed Benny into the departure lounge of the airport, there were kids running around all over the place, and tired looking parents shouting at them and trying to round them as various boarding calls were heard over the loud speaker.

She knew she’d regret agreeing to go to Dallas with him for Thanksgiving this year. Not being from America it was never a big deal to her, she’d normally just spend the few days off curled on her sofa with a glass of wine and a good book. Perfect peace for a couple of days.

But when he and Erin broke up he’d basically begged her to come with him, as his family were expecting him to bring someone. He’d batted his big dark eyes at her and pouted. He knew it was basically impossible for her to resist him when he looked at her like that.

“Ugh fine.” She’s said with a playful grin and lightly smacked his chest.

“You know they’ve always wanted to meet you.” Benny had shrugged.

“I’ve no idea why.”

“You’re important to me.” He looked at her deadly seriously. He put his hand out, seeking hers. They were alone in his office at Tac, and it was late. They sat on the floor, their backs against the leather sofa and their legs outstretched. Benny has shed his jacket, waistcoat and tie. He’d undone the top two buttons of his shirt and rolled his sleeves up, taking the time to relax after a long and stressful day.

Lilly took a sip of the expensive scotch he had poured her, not wanting to look at him in that moment. She’d loved Benny since the moment she met him, the day Bull had introduced her to the team as his new PA and his gorgeous dark eyes had locked with hers. Over the last two years they had grown closer and closer, helping each other through tough family times and break ups and celebrating successes and events. There had been a few close moments where they’d nearly become more than friends, where they’d nearly kissed, and Lilly had wished desperately that they had.

“Come with me. Please?” He scooted closer and took her hand giving it a little squeeze. “Plus you’ve never lived until you’ve had my grandmother’s pasteles.” His eyes lit up like a child and his stomach unconsciously rumbled.

“The way to your heart really is through your stomach isn’t it?” She laughed, and he shrugged with a contented look on his face.

“What can I say? I love as woman who can cook.” He started ticking them off on his fingers, “My Gramma, My mother, My aunt Louise, hell, even you aren’t too bad?”

She reeled back and looked at him with a mock shocked face, her hand on her heart, “Not bad? Remember that triple chocolate and caramel lava cake I made you for your birthday last year?”

He closed his eyes dreamily, and grinned, showing off his perfect white teeth and dimples, “Ohhh yeah, that was good, you’re lucky I didn’t propose to you, right there on the spot.”

Lilly felt a heat rush over her body and burn up her cheeks. She felt hot on the inside. Biting her lip, she gazed into the amber liquid in her glass, “Mmm, it is a pity, What would you have done if I’d said yes?”

He took a long, steady sip from his glass, looking at her over the rim with intensity deep in his eyes.

“I’d have been happy.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are sorry to announce a delay on American Airlines flight DA4461 to Dallas due to weather conditions. The flight will now depart at 20:30. Thank you.”

Lilly rolled her eyes and leaned on the handle of her carry on bag. Benny shrugged at her, the soft suede of his jacket stretching over his arm muscles as he did do.

How does he even look this good on flights? I look like I’ve just rolled out of a hedge somewhere. He looked impeccable as ever, tight jeans and a form fitting dark blue polo shirt.

“Looks like we’ll have to wait a while, wont we?” he got himself settled in a seat, and patted the empty spot next to him, encouraging her to sit down.

She yawned and plonked herself down on the uncomfortable leather chair.

“I wish I’d have known, I could have taken that nap.” Lilly sighed wistfully, she hadn’t slept well the night before – Bull had her fielding phone calls until 5 am.

“Come here” he lifted his arm up and tapped his chest, encouraging her to lay her head on him. She welcomed the gesture, breathing in his unique scent – cinnamon, leather and something spicy she couldn’t put her finger on. “We’ve got hours to go, try and get some sleep.” He wrapped his arm around her back and traced soothing patterns on her bare arms with his finger tips.

“I can’t sleep here. There are other people around.” But the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his body, were already comfortably lulling her, and her eye lids drooped.

“Ignore everyone else, it’s just you and me.” The last thing Lilly felt as sleep took over was Benny placing a kiss into her hair, and she smiled. She wished it was. Just him and her.

Lilly must have dozed for an hour or so before she began to stir. Her head was still cradled in the crook of Benny’s neck and he was still holding onto her tightly, she blearily tried opening her eyes the whole way, but shut them again, unappreciative of the naked airport lights.

She was acutely aware that Benny was humming contentedly, the action giving his body a pleasurable vibration. He was staring at his phone. As Lilly’s eyes slowly came into focus, she realised what he was looking at.

There, on his home screen was a photo of them, on his birthday last year. They were both laughing into the camera, with chocolate cake smeared across their faces. He has swiped a finger full of frosting from the cake and dolloped it onto her nose. They both looked so happy.

She grinned to herself. “Am I your lock screen?” She asked him, voice still loaded with sleep.

“Uh …” He looked down at her coyly, his cheeks tinging a little pink “Yes, but you weren’t supposed to see that.”

“We look happy.” She sat up straighter, so they were on the same level again, but she kept herself clutched tightly at his side.

He swallowed audibly, his eyes switching between her mouth and her eyes. The tension between them was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“I’m always happy when I’m with you.” He breathed lowly, his voice inaudible to anyone but her.

She felt the familiar heat and butterflies of being happy with him bubbling up in her belly as she looked at him. They were so close their noses were almost touching, their breath mingling on eachother’s cheeks.

“You make me happy too.” She reached a hand up to his jaw line and stroked her fingers over his flawless olive skin.

Benny seemed to pause for a beat, his dark chocolate eyes looked like they were hiding a raging inner battle, and then he leaned forward, softly placing his lips on hers. She smiled into the kiss, and worked her hand from his face into his hair, deepening their contact.

He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers as they both caught their breath.

“Here’s to being happy.”

Hope you like @reelovesbennycolon

#benny colon x reader #benny colon x oc #benny colon #bennycolonxreader #bull2016 #jason bull #benny colon imagines #freddy rodriguez

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onewfantaesy · 5 years ago

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In firehouse surrender au, the day finally comes where Taemin’s birth mother agrees to meet them. It’s in the summer, just a couple weeks after Taemin gets out of school and before his eleventh birthday. They try to make it as private as possible, meeting at a small coffee shop in town. Minho doesn’t tell the family about it in case it goes bad; he doesn’t want Taemin being reminded about it if things don’t go well.

Minho gets them there a little early. Gets a booth for them, orders two coffees and a mocha frappe for Taemin. Taemin just sits between Minho and the wall, but after a couple minutes, he moves very close to Minho and starts looking upset.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Minho asks, putting an arm around Taemin’s shoulders.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” Taemin whispers, gripping Minho’s hand.

“Don’t be silly,” Minho teases, trying to ease away the tears that threatened to fall from Taemin’s eyes. “We’ve been sending her letters for months. She seems very excited to meet you. How could she not like you?”

“But what if she sees me and thinks I’m weird and doesn’t like me?” Taemin asks, sucking in a shaking breath.

“Then that’s her loss,” Minho tells him firmly. “And even if she doesn’t like you, you’ll still have me. And all your aunties and uncles, and grandma and grandpa. We all love you so so much, no matter what.”

“I know,” Taemin whispers, and he huddled closer to Minho’s side.

“Don’t be scared,” Minho says softly. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

That’s when a young woman walks up to the booth, timidly letting out a small, “Hi there.”

When they look up, Taemin smiles.

“Hi, Ms. Kwon!”

“Hello,” Minho says, smiling.

It’s Taemin’s fifth grade teacher. Taemin had enjoyed her class all year, only ever had great things to say about her. And Boa only ever had good things to say about Taemin on all his progress and report cards, and during the parent-teacher conferences.

Except Boa looks so nervous, her hands are shaking, and she’s gripping a letter in her hands. Minho pretty quickly realized what’s happening, realized why he had thought she looked so familiar all year, but Taemin just looks happy to see his favorite teacher.

“I don’t quite know how to tell you this,” she says softly, looking between Taemin and Minho. “But well,” she lets out a nervous laugh, “I’ve really loved reading your letters the last few months, Taemin.”

Taemin looks confused, turns to Minho, and then seems to finally realize what it means.

“Are you?” Taemin asks softly, not able to finish the question.

“Is it alright if I join you?” She asks, and Minho doesn’t miss the way her voice shakes. It’s like he feels his heart breaking for her all over again, just like the night she brought Taemin to the firehouse.

“Of course,” he says gently, motioning towards the other side of the booth. “Please, sit down. I got you a coffee, if that’s alright.”

“Thank you,” she says, a little breathless. “For everything.”

She looks so close to tears that it snaps Taemin out of his own worried tears, and he leans over the table and holds his drink tightly.

“Don’t cry,” Taemin begs. “Please don’t be sad.”

“Oh,” Boa laughs, smiling at him. “I’m not sad! I’m just so happy.”

Taemin looks confused, and it does make Boa laugh. It makes Minho laugh a bit as well.

“I was always so worried about what might have happened to you,” she explained softly. “I had no idea the fireman I gave you to adopted you. I didn’t know where you went or if you had been adopted or not. Then you gave your family tree presentation, and I knew you were the baby I gave up.”

“How did you know?” Taemin asks, and Minho gives Taemin’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He doesn’t want to interrupt, but he wants Taemin to know he’s there for him.

“You look so much like your birth father,” Boa says gently. “I sort of knew the moment you walked into my class. I always thought, you must be some sort of relative of his. But then you gave your presentation. And you’re the right age, you look just like him, you said the fireman adopted you. And then I met your dad at our first parent-teacher conference!”

She’s laughing and smiling despite the tears in her eyes.

“And I recognized him, of course. I just couldn’t believe it.”

They keep talking. They already know each other, but nowhere near as intimately as either would like.

“Is that why you didn’t wanna meet sooner?” Taemin asks. “‘Cause you were my teacher?”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she says gently. “Or your father, or Kai. I thought it was best you finish out the year and then met me like this. I hope you both understand.”

“Oh, entirely,” Minho assures her. “Thank you. I have no idea how hard that must have been for you all year.”

“It was a bit hard,” she admits, then smiles. “But it was so rewarding. Getting to see you everyday, teaching you. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher, and then I had you as one of my first students! This was only my second year teaching my own class, I only just recently got my education degree.”

Taemin is grinning at her. It really is so special.

“You’re my favorite teacher,” Taemin gushes to her. “Kai’s too!”

“Thank you,” she laughs. Then she smiles very softly. “Will you tell me about your family? You and Kai are so close, and your letters talked about how everyone is a firefighter.”

“Yeah, they’re all firefighters!” Taemin says excitedly, throwing his hands up. “Grampa was Chief before he retired, and Uncle Changmin is Chief now! And Uncle Onew is Captain, and Uncle Key is a firefighter, and you know my dad’s a firefighter! I’ve gotten to ride in the fire truck and slide down the pole and everything, it’s so cool! I’m gonna be a firefighter when I grow up, and so is Kai.”

Taemin keeps rambling about the family, talking with his hands the whole time and getting off topic pretty often. Boa is completely mesmerized, taking in every detail, soaking it all in. Minho can’t help but smile at both of them.

After a while, Taemin calms down a bit and then asks softly, “What about you?”

“Oh?” Boa asks. “What about me?”

“Well, what do you like?” Taemin asks. “Or, what’s my birth father like? You said I look like him.”

“You do,” she chuckles. Then she says a quick, “Oh!” before looking for something in her purse. Then she passes a picture across the table.

“This is your birth father,” she says gently. “His name is Heechul. We dated all through high school, even after-” she cuts herself off, still looking a little haunted at just the thought of having to give her baby away. “We were sixteen, both of us, when you were born. Juniors in high school.”

“Is this picture from when you were in high school?” Taemin asks, his fingers fluttering over the photo of Boa and Heechul.

“Yes,” she says gently. “From our sophomore year.”

“You’re really pretty,” Taemin whispers.

Boa laughs a little, but Minho hears the way it shakes. When she sucks in a deep breath, Taemin looks up.

“I know you’re still very young,” Boa starts in a soft voice. “But Heechul and I were both so young, too. I didn’t even - I was very in denial that I was pregnant. I never even told him until after I gave you away. We were in high school, we didn’t know what having a child meant, there was no way-”

She chokes up a little, but then sends him a tight smile.

“If you’re angry with either of us, you should only be angry with me,” she says. “He had no idea. No one did, I never told anyone. I just wanted you to have the best chance you could get, and I couldn’t give you that. Not then.”

“I’m not angry.”

Boa looks almost shocked. Like she had prepared for Taemin to hate her.

“Sixteen sounds really old and far away now,” Taemin starts, “but that’s just a few years older than me. I don’t think I could take care of a baby then, either.”

Boa can’t even find any words, so Taemin smiles at her.

“Besides, then I never would have had my dad or my Grampa and Gramma or my uncles and aunties and cousins. Can you imagine me without Kai? It’s just not right.”

Boa laughs. A shaky, watery laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. Taemin and Kai are as thick as thieves. She loved having them in her class, but she did eventually have to change the seating chart so they were on opposite sides of the room because they would talk and laugh and pass notes too much.

“Please don’t be sad,” Taemin says softly, still smiling at her.

“I won’t be,” she promises him, smiling back. “Just for you.”

“And thank you,” Minho tells her. “Taemin has been the best thing that ever happened to me. You will always be the angel who brought him to me.”

Taemin does get a little embarrassed whenever Minho says that, and he has a silly smile on his face while his cheeks tinge pink.

“Would you like to go get dinner with us?” Minho asks.

“I would love to.”

It starts a very sweet tradition of having dinner and meeting with Boa every so often, usually on a Saturday night. Eventually, Boa is able to convince Heechul to meet Taemin and Minho. Then they meet Minho’s family. And they do become a very strange, but happy family. Boa and Heechul, for as much as they clearly love Taemin, never overstep any boundaries. They only ever want to get to know him, to be part of his life. They know Minho is his father, his real parent, and they don’t want to step on his toes.

#taemin #shinee #minho #boa #firehouse surrender au #did i cry while writing this? maybe

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kissmylipswhileisleep · 5 years ago

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I hate feeling like this. Tonight I went for a drive, but nothing enlightening happened. This heartbreak... feeling like I’m broken beyond repair... it’s rocking me to my core. I am absolutely mortified that I’ll be too scared of feeling this way again to ever be all in with anybody in the future. Or once I do go all in, how will I freely trust or communicate or compromise like I usually do? I got left for another woman. What’s to stop someone else from doing the same? I did so much reflecting on the two loves in my life on this drive... and I sobbed the ~entire~ time. I just... suck at timing, I guess.

I loved Zach. I mean, I really loved him. He is the only person I’ve ever dated I felt I could be completely myself. And the first relationship where I truly felt like I was enough. All I had to do was exist, and he would go above and beyond for me. And vice versa. I was so comfortable dating him. We clicked so well. We love the same. We didn’t have a lot in common, except that we were absolutely bonkers for each other. We compromised, we communicated, we had fun, we both love science, we traveled together, my family loved him... dating him was so easy and effortless. We were always on the same page. We were so lovey dovey and thoughtful towards each other. We spoiled the shit out of each other. I really did love him so much. I’ll always hold love for him in my heart. But I wasn’t all in. I knew what came with graduation. We were young and scared and there was so much uncertainty. So we both held back. I never allowed myself to envision a future beyond college. There was just so much uncertainty. There was no lack of love, just copious amounts of fear peppered into our relationship. I wasn’t all in. But not being all in is the most selfish thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I’m terrified of this happening in all of my future relationships.

I love Marquita. I mean, really love her. She’s the only person I’ve ever completely given myself to. Heart, soul, body, mind... all in. We could joke for hours. Lay around together for hours, and I was completely happy. Just being around her made me so insanely happy. She’s the first person I met who I had an insane amount in common with. I’m weird about hygiene, she’s weird about it too. I’m weird about smells, she’s weird about it too. I’m weird about my teeth, she’s weird about it too. I’m weird about food, she’s weird about it too. We had so much in common. I felt comfortable with her in that regard of being myself. I didn’t have to adapt my livelihood or weird quirks for her, because she had them too. We fit together so well. And we understood each other. We supported each other so much. She would lose sleep just to make sure I was ok while my gramma was in the ER. I would send her flowers from a thousand miles away just so she’d know I was thinking of her when she was having a frustrating day of work. We could go to each other with absolutely everything and anything, and it wouldn’t scare the other off. We really did have a beautiful thing. We talked about our future so often. We promised each other so much... I think that’s why I allowed myself to envision a life with her. And that’s why this breakup is absolutely destroying me.

Everything I held back in Zach and I’s relationship, I didn’t with Marquita. I did long distance, I flew her to see me twice, I told her things I’ve never told anyone, I was the most vulnerable and honest I’d ever been, I had sex with her, I internalized that her family was going to be my family, I envisioned raising a family of our own, I came out to my friends and family, I was willing to move to Arizona so she could fulfil her dream career, I made sure she was my number one priority. I gave her all of me. And I don’t regret it for a second. Marquita was my future, she was going to be the person I spend the rest of my life with, and I believed it. There was no uncertainty on my part. She was it. And when it was over, I fought like hell to keep her.

But I’m sitting here, alone. Wondering how I could’ve been so wrong in both of my relationships. I should not have held anything back with Zach. I never gave us a fighting chance. There is so much I should have done. And with Marquita, I should have waited a little longer. If I would have just waited 6 more months, I’d know that her heart was with somebody else. That she never gave me her whole heart, no matter how badly we both wanted her to. I never wanted her to prove how much she loved me, or prove how much she cared. I just wanted her to love me. And care. And be humble and honest with me about her feelings for Leayah while we were together. Instead, Marquita broke my heart to try to piece Leayah’s back together. That is what hurts so much. She left a healthy, loving, supportive, genuine love... willingly... to see where things went with Leayah. It’s almost a year later, and she’s in the same place she was this time last year in regards to Leayah. And it breaks my heart for a lot of reasons, but mostly because I know she’s still feeling guilty and not enough and unworthy and stuck with Leayah, and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

My timing was off with Zach. We were so young and dumb and scared and in love. Neither of us had really established ourselves in the world. We had so much individual growing and maturing and living to do. We both felt that the other deserved more, and we respect each other too much to ask for the other to give up their dream. Zach is almost done with medical school, and I’m an environmental scientist. Our individual dreams which were the sole reason we broke up... are now reality. I have nothing but respect for Zach. I have no regrets.

My timing was off with Marquita. Her heart has always been with Leayah, and I always knew it. Maybe I thought if I could just give every inch of my being to this woman, it’ll be enough for her to choose the healthy and genuine love I have for her. It wasn’t. If it was, we’d be together right now. But I love her more than I’ve ever romantically loved anyone. I was all in. I did everything I possibly could, and at one point she tried as hard as she could to move on from Leayah with me. I love her more than I knew I was capable of. I have no regrets.

I’m simply terrified of this heartbreak breaking me. How do I get back the parts of me I gave to someone who didn’t want them? How do I heal? How do I recenter?

20 May 2020

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atc74 · 6 years ago

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The Letter

Square Filled: Psychic!Jensen

Warnings: Angst, flangst, fluff, loss of loved ones,

Summary: Y/N loses everyone close to her. She receives a very cryptic letter from her grandfather after his passing that sends her on a search for the next seven years. What she finds is not what she expected.

Pairing: Psychic!Jensen x Reader, eventually

Word Count: 10,277 (I am not even a little bit sorry. I know it’s a beast, but it will be worth it, I promise. Escape with me for just a little while)

Written for: @spnaubingo

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, thank you for taking the time, for your continued and unwavering support, love and encouragement.

A/N: When I got this new card, I was very apprehensive about most of the squares, but especially this one. I wasn’t sure how I wanted to play this, but an idea came to me. With a little gentle nudge from @sis-tafics, this is the final finished product. I am so proud of this, and I hope you guys love it as much as I do.

As a reminder, this is a work of fiction and should be regarded as such. No harm is intended toward the actor or their families.

Y/N couldn’t believe she had driven eight hours from her home, her sanctuary, for this-this travesty. What these scam artists did was take advantage of people. People that were in mourning, grieving for the loss of a loved one, holding out hope that they’ll be able to say one last I love you, or I’m sorry.

Hundreds of people crowded the small theater and she couldn’t believe she was one of them. She hadn’t left her small town in years. She hadn’t even really left her property in nearly six months. It wasn’t that she was afraid of people or crowds, she just didn’t like them. She didn’t trust humans as a general rule. That is why it was just her and her animals. She liked the peace and quiet of her solitary existence. It was mostly how she was raised and how she liked it.

Y/N was born to a single mother who had died during childbirth. She was raised by her grandparents until her grandmother, Victoria, had died when she was only five years old. It had just been her and her grandpa, Cliff, save a couple of farm hands and Marta. Marta was a nice woman that came and cleaned and cooked for them. She also home schooled Y/N until she turned sixteen and graduated from high school. The following summer, the week before her seventeenth birthday, her grandpa had passed away.

She was truly orphaned. Marta still came to look after her a couple days a week and the workers were there from sunup till sundown, but they weren’t family. Because she had been tutored by Marta, she had never had friends. She doubted if anyone other than three people even knew she existed.

“Y/N, honey, we need to talk,” Marta called as she pulled dinner from the oven one night a couple weeks after he died. Roasted chicken with homemade mashed potatoes, green beans and squash covered the dining table in her grandfather’s, well her, house.

“Thank you for dinner, Marta,” Y/N said politely as she took a seat.

“Sugar, your granddaddy left this for you. He asked me to give it to you after his funeral.” The old woman slid a yellowed envelope across the table. “Now, let’s enjoy this meal.”

After dinner was eaten, the leftovers stored and the kitchen cleaned, Marta took her leave as usual. Y/N remained at the kitchen table with the letter and a cup of tea. She slid the envelope around the table several times, just watching it spin. Finally, she picked up the cup of tea, dumped it in the sink and locked herself away in her bedroom.

Sleep would not come easy for Y/N that night, just like it hadn’t for the previous two weeks. Slumber and Y/N were fickle friends and would not see eye to eye for some time.

Over coffee and toast the next morning, she eyed the letter sitting there on her table. It was mocking her. She shook her head and went about her day, letting the letter sit alone at the table.

Come dinnertime, Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off the ancient envelope. She grabbed a letter opener from her grandpa’s desk in the study and meticulously opened the letter.

My sweet child Y/N,

The day you were born was both the best and worst day of my life. Your mother, my only child, died bringing you into this world. I have never felt so conflicted in all my years. You brought me such joy, just as your mother had.

I am sorry, Y/N/N, for I don’t feel I raised you right. I should have sent you to a real school. You should have met friends your own age. You should have gone to sleepovers and dances and gotten in trouble for breaking curfew. Instead, I let you shut yourself in, staying cooped up in this house with me or Marta, only coming outside to tend to the animals like they were your only friends. Maybe they were, but still, baby, it ain’t right. I should have done better by you.

I think I was afraid to you lose you like I lost your Mama. There was no worse heartbreak in the world than losing her, then my wife so close together. I wish you had known her better, Gramma I mean. Your mother would be so proud of the woman you have grown into. They both would have. I know I am.

Now, sweet child, there are things that have been kept from you; things you must find. I have faith in you that you will find them all and make me proud. Know that I will be watching you from Heaven with your Mama and Gramma.

I love you sweet child,

Grandpa

A stray tear drop fell from her eye, landing on the yellowed parchment. She was sad, she was angry. She was angry at herself for being sad and sad that she was angry. She curled into a ball on the bed and cried herself to sleep that night. Tossing and turning, she heard her grandfather’s voice guiding her with cryptic clues and nonsensical rhymes.

For three weeks she dreamt of him and his letter. Each dream was different. In one, he handed her a crossword puzzle, just like they would do every Sunday when the newspaper came. Another dream featured a weathered map with a single ‘x’ on it, but the map was written in a language she didn’t recognize, nor was the topography anywhere she had ever seen before. She used all sorts of tools in these dreams; shovels, a pickaxe, a jackhammer. Was she supposed to dig? Was it some buried treasure?

Dreams of riddles and scavenger hunts plagued her restless nights. In the rare case she snuck in a nap during the day, Grandpa was there, telling her to get up and go get it. The dreams were all different, but they all ended in the same location: St. Louis, Missouri.

She spent weeks rummaging through every cupboard, every cabinet, drawer, closet and loose floorboard in the house. She checked the chicken coop, the goats’ pens and the horses’ stables. She dug up the entire patio and half the yard. Her muscles were sore, her back aching and her mind was tired.

“Marta!” Y/N called, bursting through the back door one afternoon. She had been out tending to her chickens when she reasoned the answer could very well be in her house at that very moment.

“Yes, sugar?” Marta turned where she was removing a hot pie from the oven.

“Did you read the letter?” Y/N questioned her.

“Oh no, sweet pea! That letter was private! I would never read something that wasn’t addressed to me,” Marta pledged. “What is in that letter is between you and your granddaddy.”

“Marta, will you read the letter, please?” Y/N pleaded with the older woman. “You’re all I have left and I can’t decipher what he is telling me to do. I can’t sleep, I barely eat. I am slowly going insane! Please help me.” Y/N cried into her arms as she hung her head on the dinner table.

Marta took a seat, pulling her chair closer to the girl she had loved and cared for most of her life. “Dear, please don’t cry. Of course I’ll help you. I will always help you. It is what I have always done and will do until my last breath.”

Together, they read the letter out loud. Y/N felt the tears begin anew and the old woman wiped them away. Marta turned to her.

“Child, is this why you have been pillaging this house and digging up that yard? Are you looking for something?” Her eyes were like steel behind her glasses, boring into Y/N as she nodded quietly.

“He said there are things I need to find. Where did he hide them?” Y/N said, exasperated.

“All in due time, sugar. All in due time,” Marta repeated, patting her on the head as she set about tending to dinner.

As she sat in that crowded theater, the throngs of people, the din of their voices, she almost got up and left more than once. She was here for a reason, even if she didn’t believe in it herself, Marta had and it was the sweet old woman’s dying wish that Y/N come and ask the questions Marta hoped Y/N could find the answers to.

“You have to promise me something, sugar,” Marta gripped her hand and pulled her near. “Promise me you’ll go, that you’ll keep looking.”

Marta slid another envelope out from underneath her afghan and passed it to Y/N. “What is this?”

“Open it and you’ll see,” Marta rasped, her breathing becoming labored.

Y/N pulled the envelope from the woman’s delicate hand and opened it. Inside was a single ticket and another letter.

Sugar,

I know you will find every excuse to stay home, but please go. I have heard good things about this man and had an honorable experience with him myself. If you won’t do it for you or your granddaddy, please do it for me. Go, find what you are looking for. I know he can help you.

With all my love,

Marta

Inside the envelope was a ticket: An Intimate Evening with Jensen Ackles, Renowned Clairvoyant and Medium.

“Marta, I c-can’t,” Y/N breathed heavily in the hospital room.

“You can and you will, sugar,” Marta took her last breath, her hand going limp in Y/N’s. Her tears fell once more against the woman’s hand as she held on the last person who loved her.

Wiping away the tear brought on by a memory, Y/N composed herself. She quietly sat in her seat, willing the last twenty-four years of her life not to give away her uneasiness of being in a crowd this size. Her seat was on the aisle of the second row, stage right. As the house lights dimmed, a hush fell over the audience.

An older man stepped out onto the stage, dressed in a nice blue suit, not expensive, but nice enough, with a white shirt and a blue striped tie. He raised a microphone and looked out to the sea of faces.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to An Intimate Evening with Jensen Ackles. With all the skeptics in the world, spouting how the afterlife doesn’t exist, how psychics are nothing more than scam artists and there is no such thing as mind reading, I caution you this.

“Anything is possible. With an open mind and an open heart we can achieve anything. We can believe in anything. We can accomplish so much and see more than we ever thought possible. I would like to thank you all in advance for coming and now without further delay, I present to you, my son, Jensen Ackles!” The older man stepped back, holding one arm wide as another man stepped out from behind the curtain.

Y/N had done her research on this man. She knew he had a small, but loyal following. She had read testimonies from the young to the old, all of them saying the same thing, ringing the same praises. Mr. Ackles seemed to be legit from what she had read, but tonight would bring the proof or blow holes in the theories she was holding in.

“Thank you. I am so happy to see so many faces here tonight,” Jensen addressed the audience. “As my father said, the world is filled with skeptics, the naysayers that don’t believe. I myself have encountered frauds that lure people in with promises of saying goodbye to a loved one, of leading them to their loved ones lost treasures. What I ask of you before we begin, is don’t believe what you hear, I only ask that you believe what you can see.”

He walked proud and tall across the stage as he spoke, looking out to the crowd. He was neatly dressed in a dark gray slacks, a white dress shirt and a cable knit sweater. His feet were clad in black boots. He stopped at the corner of the stage and gracefully lowered himself to the floor.

“Can you turn up the house lights please?” Jensen raised his eyes towards the back of the theater and soft lighting filled the space. “Thank you.”

“I feel more comfortable out here with you, if that’s alright. Up on that stage, I feel like a spectacle, an attraction,” he chuckled lightly into the microphone. “I guess that’s what some people think, right. Think back to the early days of the circus with their sideshow performers: The bearded lady, the fire breather, the sword swallower, the mind reader. These attractions drew people, didn’t they? But, do you really think they were real? I didn’t. People talked about them for days after.

“But, it was almost like a mockery of what those people were. Yes, it was just an act, but for those people, it was real. That is who they were. The bearded lady was just an unfortunate woman, perhaps with too much testosterone in her system. I didn’t know what a clairvoyant was until I realized I had a gift. Well, when my grandmother realized I had a gift. I just thought I was helping people. I guess I was about three or four years old.”

Jensen strolled casually across the floor in front of the stage, making eye contact with those he could see. He moved with a grace that Y/N hadn’t seen from many men, then again, her experience was limited to those in her small town. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he slowly approached the side she was seated on.

“I remember my dad losing his keys, and I just knew where they were. I rescued all kinds of animals, found all kinds of things, things that had been lost for a long time. I just could see things, ya know? I made friends easily, and enemies even easier. For me, it was easy to tell the good from the bad; it’s all in their aura. I stayed away from those people and tried to keep my friends safe, but it made me an easy target and I got beat up more times than I can count. But it didn’t keep me from protecting people.

“Again, I just thought I was helping people. It wasn’t until I was about six, when I was reading a comic book in my room. Bright lights were swirling around my vision, I just thought I had read too long, but when I saw Mr. Romans, our next door neighbor, lying in the middle of his kitchen, I knew something was wrong. I ran down the stairs, told my dad Mr. Romans was dead in his kitchen. We rushed next door and sure enough, he was there in the middle of kitchen floor, just like I saw him. My father called 911 and the paramedic pronounced him dead at the scene. We later found out it was a heart attack. That scared the hell out of me! I was just a kid and now I was seeing visions of dead people?! I was back in my room a couple weeks later, thinking about Mr. Romans lying dead in his kitchen, thinking I should have been able to save him, when I heard him calling to me. We had a conversation, of sorts. I saw papers, money and I passed this information on to my dad. Turns out Mrs. Romans had been looking for his will and life insurance papers and I was able to tell her where they were, with a little help from her husband.”

Jensen stopped at the edge of the front row, looking up and down the aisles, smiling at people, shaking a few hands when his eyes landed on Y/N, lingering on her face, looking her up and down. “I don’t want to stand up here and tell you about me or what I have done.” He looked directly in her eyes as he spoke, his jade orbs piercing in the soft lighting of the theater. “Tell me, what can I do for you?”

Y/N looked around the crowd. Surely he was not speaking directly to her. She was completely not ready to ask him to help her find what she was looking for. Hands rose all around her. Across the aisle, a small girl of about ten years old, waved a picture and it caught his attention. Y/N breathed a sigh of relief and he turned to the child.

“Hi sweetheart, what can I do for you?” Jensen crouched down to the girl’s level. She handed him a picture.

“This is my dog, his name is Oscar and he is missing,” the little girl cried.

“What’s your name?” Jensen asked softly.

“Katie,” she sniffed.

“Katie, I have a dog named Oscar, too. Tell me about your dog. Where does he like to go? What is his favorite toy?” Jensen quizzed the little girl and she answered all his questions.

“Katie, I am going to need your help here, okay? Can you hold my hand?” Jensen smiled at her and held out his hand. She slipped hers into his palm, dwarfed by his large hand. “Is this your mom?” Katie nodded and Jensen looked over at her mother.

Jensen closed his eyes and held tight to Katie’s hand, Oscar’s picture in his other. Y/N could see his eyes fluttering under his lids. He opened them slowly, and his eyes started darting around the theater, like he was watching something move about quickly. He had laid his microphone on the floor when he took Katie’s hand, but Y/N could hear the whispers as they left his mouth.

“Hidden, brown, 25, trees, a long fence, gates, water,” Jensen looked back to Katie’s mother. “Did any of that make sense to you?”

The woman nodded, tears coming to her eyes. “There is a dog park out on Country Rd 25 called Hidden Pond. It’s a small wooded area with a fence around it with gates to come and go. It has a brown sign and a small pond. Do you think that is where he went?”

“Worth a shot, don’t you think?” Jensen looked back to Katie. “Go get Oscar, Katie.” The little girl hugged Jensen, then grabbed her mom’s hand, pulling her up the aisle. “Keep me posted please!” Jensen called after them, but Katie was already out the door.

Y/N sat in her seat, riveted by the exchange between Jensen and the girl. She figured it was all part of his act, but he was quite charismatic, dashing and connecting with the people that had come to see him. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She had to remind herself why she had come in the first place.

“Miss? You’ve lost something as well,” Jensen’s voice boomed like it was right next to her. She opened her eyes to see a pair of black boots next to her seat. She followed the long line up a pair of dark gray slacks, followed by a cable knit sweater and the greenest eyes she had ever seen.

“Not really lost, just haven’t found,” she whispered. Jensen crouched next to her, just like he had done with Katie.

“Still haven’t found what I’m looking for,” he sang lightly. “I heard a song like that once.”

Y/N laughed. “And he sings.”

“Miss, will you tell me your name please?” Jensen smiled.

“Y/N.”

“Miss Y/N is looking for something, but not something she lost. Does that about sum it up?” Jensen asked, standing to his full height, he must have been over six feet tall.

“Pretty much.”

She observed Jensen once more as he looked one way then another, but never really looking at any one thing. At one point he pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, almost like he was in pain.

“Puzzle, maps, shovel, holes,” Jensen muttered only loud enough for her to hear him. “You really are looking for something. A farm, an old man, a letter.”

“My grandfather,” she whispered.

“Is it something your grandfather lost?” he prodded.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

Jensen reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card, passing it to her as he shook her hand. “We’ll get to the bottom of it. I promise.”

She looked down at it, seeing his picture and a phone number. It had a small hand written ‘1’ on the back.

The evening continued on like that, Jensen spending a few minutes with several people. His act was spot on, seeming genuinely concerned for the people he came in contact with. With only a few minutes left before the end of the show, for lack of better term, Y/N thought, the door burst open and a dog came running down the aisle.

“Oscar! Come back here!” Katie was yelling and chasing after the animal.

Y/N’s heart leapt into her chest, overjoyed that the little girl had found her lost dog. It was just coincidence, she thought, brushing the feeling aside.

Jensen greeted Katie and Oscar at the end of the aisle. The dog jumped up, laying his large paws on Jensen’s chest and wagging his tail excitedly.

“Thank you so much Mr. Ackles for finding Oscar!” Katie threw her little arms around his waist, hugging him tight. Jensen stood there, hugging both the girl and her dog, the smile on his face a mile wide, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

After the excitement of Katie’s reunion with Oscar died down, Jensen’s father came back out on stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming tonight. I hope that you continue to believe in the work that Jensen does, the help he provides and, for those of you that arrived here tonight skeptics, my hope is that he was able to open your mind, allowing you to see things in a way you may not have before. Thank you and goodnight.”

Jensen was making his way back down the aisle to the stage through the lines of people exiting their seats. Y/N had decided to stay put while the theater cleared out. She saw no value in standing in a slow moving line. Her mind replayed the events of the last two hours, her hands subconsciously fidgeting with the card in her lap.

“Miss Y/N?” an older blonde haired woman stood before you. “My name is Donna Ackles, Jensen’s mother. I understand he handed you a card tonight. He would like to see you in private; he feels he can help you with your search.”

“Right now?” she was surprised.

“Yes, Y/N. Jensen prefers to keep the feeling, the images fresh. It’s only a tick after five, then we’ll have some supper,” Donna motioned for Y/N to follow her through a side door. She led her to a hallway, doors on either side. “Here we go.” Donna knocked on the first door and it opened quickly, Jensen filling the frame.

“Thanks, Ma,” Jensen leaned forward, pecking his mother on the cheek. “Hello, Y/N. Please come in.” He stepped back, allowing her space to enter the small room. Something told her she should feel reluctant to be alone in a room with any man, let alone a stranger, but there was a feeling of peace that washed over her as she stepped inside and took a seat on the small loveseat against the wall.

“Miss Y/N?” Jensen spoke as he closed the door. “Can I get you some water?”

“Just Y/N, please and no thank you,” she responded, her hands now folded in her lap.

“I can sense this was a big step for you, a long journey to get here tonight,” Jensen pulled up a chair and sat a respectful distance from her, but close enough that they could speak softly. “I know you aren’t a believer, and that’s okay. I don’t want to pressure you, but I know I can help you find what you are searching for.”

“Mr. Ackles...:” she started.

“Please, call me Jensen, or better yet, you can call me Jay,” he smiled, putting her at ease.

“Fine. Jay, I came here to appease an old woman who believed you could help me. I don’t even know what I am looking for!” She had reached the point of exasperation years ago, but it felt more like desperation the longer she searched.

“Marta,” he murmured.

“You knew her?” she gasped.

“Yes, I was able to help her some years ago and we kept in touch. She called me just a few weeks ago and told me about you. I am sorry if I haven’t been forthcoming, but I was hoping you would be here tonight. She thought the world of you, you know. I’m sorry for your loss. I am sad to see she passed away,” Jensen cleared his throat.

Y/N had no words. There was so much that Marta and her grandfather had kept from her and she wasn’t sure where to turn anymore. The search had gone on far too long and she was ready to move on.

“Mr. Ack-Jay, I’m not sure I should be here. The last several years of my life have been a waste, an expedition of the unknown, a fruitless hunt. I don’t have the energy anymore,” she cried, then chastised herself for getting emotional.

“Y/N, your life has been filled with loss since the day you entered it. Your mother, your grandmother, then grandfather, and finally Marta. Loss is never easy and, from what Marta entrusted me with, it has hit you harder than most, having no one else that you can trust.

“You can trust me, Y/N. Marta did and I hope you will as well,” Jensen paused, taking her hand in his gently. “Close your eyes, Y/N.” Jensen’s voice was soothing, calming any left over nerves she had. She did as he instructed and closed her eyes.

The room was quiet, their breaths the only sounds that could be heard around her. Jensen didn’t move and she sat still as he held her hand in his. “I want you to clear your mind for me, Y/N. Let go of everything you are holding on to, just for a few minutes, okay?”

“Hmhmmm,” she hummed her agreement and tried to clear her mind. Taking deep breaths, she saw her grandfather, grandmother and Marta standing around her in a circle, their smiles clear as she let them fade away. She didn’t know how much time had passed before Jensen spoke again.

“Seven...doors...an envelope...grandpa...one…,” Jensen’s voice was barely audible and he pulled his hand away from her. “I don’t feel any objects, Y/N. I don’t think your grandfather left something for you to find.”

“What do you mean? There has to be something he left for me? Why would he tell me to go find these things if there is nothing for me to find?” Y/N exclaimed, frustrated once more.

“I can see you have been looking. Your mind is filled with riddles and puzzles, the things I saw before. But I see no object that he left behind for you. What I see are colors, emotions. Cliff is regretful, melancholy, but I can feel Marta as well; her emotions are different. They’re hopeful, joyful, promising,” Jensen paused and opened his eyes, looking at Y/N.

“Mr. Ackles, thank you for your time, but I feel this has been a waste of mine,” Y/N stood and gathered her things hastily. “Have a nice evening.”

“Y/N, wait! Please don’t go,” Jensen reached for her once more, but she sidestepped him.

“I can’t stay here,” she muttered and, with that, she walked out of the room and his life.

Y/N sped back to the hotel, throwing her things in her bag and wanting nothing more than to get on the road and as far away from the Ackles’ as she could. She couldn’t believe she spent so much time, so much energy, for it to turn out to be nothing. No one could help her; she could only help herself.

She missed her animals and her home. Most of all she missed her grandpa and Marta. Her thoughts drifted as she made the long drive home back to Ada, Oklahoma. What did Jensen mean when he said he didn’t think Grandpa left something for her? Everything is either person, place or thing. If it wasn’t a thing, what the hell was it that she was supposed to find? A place? A person?

Could it be her father? She had been told a long time ago that he was also dead. Apparently he was killed in a car accident before Y/N was even born. By the time she was old enough to comprehend what loss meant, she didn’t even care anymore. Surely her grandfather or Marta would have told her if he was still alive. There wasn’t even a name listed for him on her birth certificate.

By the time she pulled into her driveway, she was beyond tired. It was after two in the morning and she trudged up the stairs, falling into bed still fully clothed. She was asleep within moments, but like hundreds of nights before, it was fitful and filled with dreams once more.

But, these dreams were different than before. There were no puzzles, no riddles, no maps. What she did see was what seemed like millions of bright lights, of all different shapes and colors. There were small lights, twinkling in the distance. Some were giant balls, bursting with brightness right before her eyes, threatening to blind her. Blue, green, gold, pink, purple, orange swirling with all the colors of the rainbow and more. Beyond the lights, she could make out faint shapes, ovals, crescents, perfect circles. What she would realize later when she woke, was they weren’t shapes at all, but faces.

It would be the faces she would recall for days to come. They would be there while she went about her daily chores, cleaning pens and collecting eggs. They looked back at her in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. She could see them reflected in the screen of her laptop. What bothered her the most is that they were murky, like the bottom of a lake; you could see it, but every time you tried to look closer, taking a small step stirred up the sediment. That and the fact that she couldn’t recognize any of the faces she was seeing; they were all foreign to her.

Shortly before dinner and a few days after the wasted trip to St. Louis, there was a knock at her door. This was unusual in itself. She never had visitors, not since she sold off the farm land, and she was not expecting any deliveries that she knew of. She reached for the shotgun she kept loaded in the front closet when a second knock sounded.

“Who is it?” she demanded, fire in her voice and the shotgun heavy in her hands.

“Y/N? It’s Jensen. Jensen Ackles. Can I please come in?” his deep timbre pulsated through the solid wooden door.

“Why are you here, Jensen?” she asked, some of the fight leaving her voice.

“Please just let me come in and I can explain all of it. Please,” he pleaded with her.

After releasing the deadbolt, she swung the door open and there he was, his eyes wide at the sight of a weapon in her hands. He held his hands up to show her he meant no harm. “Jensen, why are you here?” She stowed the shotgun back in the closet and turned to face him. That was when she noticed there was something in his hand. A letter. Her letter. “What are you doing with my letter? Where did you get this?”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on!” He held it out to her and she snatched it from him. “You left it. It must have fallen out of your bag when you rushed out of there. I’m sorry it took me so long to return it to you, but I figured you probably needed some time.”

“I didn’t even know I had lost it,” she muttered, holding it tightly to her chest. It was the last thing she had from her grandfather.

“I know you feel your trip was a waste, but there is something different about you today, than when we met just a few days back,” Jensen pondered this as he entered her home. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Wait-” she held her hand up to stop him from getting any closer to her. “How did you even find me?”

“I’m a psychic, remember?” he laughed, but back tracked quickly seeing the look on her face. “No, really. I started with the info Marta had given me, then just followed the signs until I found you. Besides, I promised you that we’d get to the bottom of it.”

“So, essentially, you tracked me?” she asked.

“Essentially,” he echoed. “The letter led me to you. You’re avoiding the question, Y/N. Do you want to talk about what is different?”

“Yes, I am avoiding it, but leave it to you to bring it up again, knowing that I am avoiding it,” she rolled her eyes and walked through the house to the kitchen, leaving Jensen staring after her. “Do you want some tea?”

Jensen accepted the invitation and moved to follow her, though he stopped every few feet, surveying the room. He could sense so much, almost to the point where he felt overwhelmed, drained, like he did at the end of an evening gathering. He made his way to the table where he collapsed into the nearest chair.

“Oh my! Jay, are you okay?” she rushed to his side.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. It’s just...this house. I am feeling everything,” he admitted, rubbing a hand over his stubbled face.

“Wha-what does it feel like?” she questioned, curious about his gift.

“It’s like feeling everything all at once, overwhelming, really. The flashes I see, the emotion that goes with it. It’s a lot to absorb,” he breathed out.

“What are you feeling right now? What did you see?” her eyes were wide with wonder.

“I saw the day your grandparents brought you home after you were born,” he closed his eyes. “They were heartbroken over the loss of your mother, but elated over your birth. Concerned with what the years would bring and overjoyed at what you might accomplish.”

“Well, I feel mostly that I disappointed them,” Y/N scoffed. “I never stray far from home, I don’t have any friends. I have no family left. I sold off grandpa’s land to keep the house.”

“None of that means you’re a disappointment. I don’t feel anything of the sort, in fact. Pride, joy, love, happiness, mixed with a tinge of sadness is what I am feeling,” Jensen offered with a reassuring smile

“That doesn’t answer my ongoing situation though, Jay,” she rose, returning to her task. She busied herself with measuring the tea, so caught up in her own thoughts that the spoon slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor when the kettle whistled to life.

“Maybe you’re overthinking it, Y/N,” Jensen proposed.

Y/N eyed him carefully as she returned to the table, setting a mug in front of him, then taking her own, holding it with both hands. “How do you mean, Jay?

“Well, I am no expert when it comes to your grandfather, but sometimes people say one thing when they mean another. I met you four days ago. Since then, I have kept your letter in my possession. And no, I didn’t read it. But I don’t need to. I could feel his intentions,” Jensen explained.

“Can you break this down for me? You’re being just as cryptic as grandpa,” Y/N griped.

“Yeah, sorry. It comes with the job I guess. I had a few interactions with your grandfather these last few days. It was the letter that led me to him. The things he was referring to, aren’t things at all. Not tangible at least. He feels he kept them from you. Kept you from finding them your whole life and now he wants you to go looking for them. Friendship, companionship, love; human connections. At least that is my read.” Jensen elaborated. “I just want you to have the information, Y/N. What you choose to do with it? Well, that’s up to you.”

Y/N pondered this for for a few moments while they sipped at their tea in silence. Normally, she experienced awkwardness with folks since she had only been around a few people her entire life. She lacked what some might call ‘social skills.’ But it was different with Jensen. She felt different. For the first time in her life, at least her adult life, she felt calm, at peace.

She surmised that what Jensen was saying made sense in some ways. Grandpa’s letter had said she should have been at school making friends. She took another sip of her tea and glanced at Jensen across from her.

“Could it really be that simple?” she muttered. It wasn’t until Jensen looked up, meeting her gaze that she realized she had said the words out loud.

“Sometimes it is,” Jensen shrugged. “I should let you get back to it.”

“Wou-would you like to come back sometime?” she sputtered, suddenly shy.

“I would like that, Y/N. I think your grandpa would, too,” he smiled and turned, heading for the front door.

“Do you like pie?” she called after him.

“I could eat a slice or ten,” he chuckled.

“Well, then I guess I’ll make two,” she added.

“Here’s my personal cell phone number, Y/N. Please, call me if you need anything, okay? Especially to let me know when you’re going to make those pies,” he joked, handing her another card.

“I will,” she took the card and walked him to the door. “Drive safe. And Jay? Thanks for coming, I feel better and I think that is because of you.”

“I am relieved to hear that, Y/N. I’m glad I could help,” he ambled down the front steps to his car.

Y/N watched as he drove down the dirt road, dust billowing behind him. She smiled. She realized she had smiled more that day than she probably had in the last ten years. Maybe, just maybe, Grandpa, Marta and Jensen had been right.

That night, she settled into bed, pulling the quilt up and curling onto her side. She closed her eyes and for the first time in what felt like forever, she slept peacefully.

~*~

Y/N kept herself busy for the next few days. She tended to her animals twice a day like always. She cleaned and started decluttering around the house. She hadn’t touched her grandfather’s belongings since he died and she decided it was finally a good time to tackle his room.

She looked around his room, now boxed up, save a few mementos, and smiled. She caught herself doing that more and more.

Normally, she had the general store in town deliver her groceries and supplies for a few extra dollars, but when she walked through the door, the shopkeeper was surprised to see her.

“Mornin’ Y/N. How’re you doing? Was about to send Tommy over to your place when I didn’t get your order this week,” Ed eyed her carefully.

“Good morning to you, Ed. I’m well, just here for my weekly shopping. Trying to get out a little more, I guess,” she smiled at him as she grabbed a basket and made her way through the aisles. Thirty minutes and four bags later, she had everything she needed for the week, plus the ingredients to make a couple of pies and a good meal.

“Thank you, Ed. Have a nice day,” she called out as he headed back into the store after loading her bags into the back of her truck. He turned and just shook his head, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t be a stranger now, Y/N. It was good to see you,” he responded. He stood there watching as she drove away.

Back home, she stored her supplies and groceries, all the while humming a tune. She knew how it had gotten stuck in her head, and she picked up the phone, dialing quickly before she changed her mind. She wouldn’t have had the chance anyway, the person on the other end picking up on the first ring.

“Y/N?” his voice was strong and smooth.

“Hey Jay, I’m not going to ask how you knew it was me,” she commented.

“Well, not many people have this number so...a good guess?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, sure, let’s go with that,” she agreed sarcastically. “So I picked up some apples today. I was thinking about making a pie later…”

“An apple pie? One of my favorites,” he confided. “Along with cherry, pecan, banana cream, pumpkin…”

“Okay, okay. You like pie, I got the hint,” she giggled. “So if I made this apple pie, would you come by and eat some of it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want it to go to waste,” Jensen joked. “I have a couple of things to take care of here, but I can be there in four hours. Does that work for you?”

She checked the time and realized it would be just after seven when he arrived. She nodded, then laughed at herself. “Sorry for laughing, I nodded and realized you can’t see me! So, yes, that works. Say, why don’t you pack a bag, too? I have plenty of room and I don’t want you driving back and risk falling into a pie induced coma!”

“Are you sure?’ he asked cautiously, but pleased that she seemed so light hearted, a change from their last conversation.

“Yeah, I’m sure Jay. I’m trying to live a little,” she assured him. “See you later.”

“See you soon, Y/N,” he hung up the phone and went to pack a bag.

Y/N didn’t know what had come over her, but she smiled as she peeled and sliced apples for the pie. Once the pie was assembled, she set it to bake then headed upstairs. She quickly changed the sheets in the spare bedroom and opened the window for some fresh air. Satisfied, she jumped in the shower and sang quietly to herself as she cleaned up.

Dressing in her most comfortable jeans and a tee shirt, she finished up dinner. She felt good for the first time in a long time. She had slept well the last few nights and she firmly believed it was a contributing factor. Y/N knew it wouldn’t fix everything overnight, but she felt she was putting in a solid effort on her new outlook. Jensen played a big part in that, she thought as she placed the macaroni and cheese in the oven.

She knew the path had been originally laid by her grandfather and Marta, but without Jensen, an outsider, she wasn’t sure how far she could walk that path on her own. But, with only a few steps in, she felt confident she was headed the right direction.

She took note of time, knowing dinner had about thirty minutes when there was a knock at the door. She couldn’t help herself as she rushed to the front of the house, a wide grin overtaking her features. She turned the knob, seeing a very casual Jensen leaning against her door frame.

“What took you so long? I can smell that pie all the way out here! It’s how I got here; I just followed my stomach!” he laughed reaching his hand out to take hers.

She surprised both of them by pulling him into her arms, pressing her small frame against his in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you could make it, Jay! And you’re early!”

Jensen couldn’t hide the look of astonishment on his face as he returned the hug. A feeling of happiness washed over him, albeit shadowed by a remote feeling of anxiousness. He slowly released her, pulling back and observing the woman before him. Gone were the dark circles, her eyes bright and shining in the autumn sunlight filtering through the still open door. She looked healthy, happy and eager.

“You look good, Y/N,” Jensen commented, his eyes travelling her frame carefully. “Your colors have improved.”

“How do you mean?” she asked inquisitively.

“Well, everyone has an aura; I can see them, read people,” he explained. “You have more pink, a hint of orange now, mixed with a little soft blue. I feel a more loving, social nature with a peacefulness that I had not seen in yours before. You’re like the sky at sunset right now.”

“I am guessing that is a good thing?” she said, closing the door behind him.

“It’s a very good thing,” he confirmed. “Now where is this pie?”

“Right this way, Jay. Dinner is almost ready,” Y/N led him through the house, back to the kitchen. “I hope you’re not lactose intolerant; I made macaroni and cheese.”

“Well, then it is a good thing I can handle cheese,” Jensen reaffirmed. “Now, what can I help with?”

“Nothing. It isn’t often I have guests...honestly, I’ve never had a guest, so have a seat and let me finish up here,” she confided. “Beer?”

“That sounds great, Y/N. Thank you.”

They chatted for a few minutes, Y/N telling Jensen about her animals and her day, even telling him she went to town.

“Trying to make friends, I see,” he teased.

“Well, I thought a lot about what you said, about what grandpa wanted for me, so I’m trying for him, and for me,” she said thoughtfully. “It wasn’t as bad I used to make it.”

“That’s awesome, kid,” Jensen commended, taking a sip off his beer.

“Kid? You know you’re only a year older than me, right, old man?” she poked, noting the look of fake shock on Jensen’s face. “I did my research on you, too.”

Just then the timer went off.

“Saved by the bell,” Jensen remarked.

Dinner was comfortable and filled with conversation. Jensen did his best to block his gifts in most situations and, with Y/N, it was no different. He didn’t want her to feel like he was constantly reading her and trying to get into her head. His knowledge of her was quite limited based on what Marta had confided in him and what they had already discussed, so he kept the conversation centered on her. He wanted to know everything about her.

“Okay, okay, enough about me, Jay,” she stopped him as she served up that pie he was so eager to dig into. “Tell me something about you; something I can’t read on the internet.”

“Well, there isn’t much to tell, honestly. A lot about me is already out there. I have a brother and sister, my parents are my managers, I was an athlete in school,” Jensen shrugged, taking a plate from her. “This looks heavenly, Y/N.” He held the plate, taking a whiff and sighing with joy.

“Thank you. The recipe is actually Marta’s; mostly everything I cook is. She taught me everything I know,” she said sadly. “I miss her.”

“I know you do,” Jensen reached his hand across the table, taking hers in his larger one.

“Are you reading me?” she asked, offended.

“No, Y/N. I am not reading you, I promise. I told myself I wouldn’t do that, not since the last visit,” he vowed. “I want you to be able to trust, and I think you are, but I know you can’t if I use my gift around you. With the exception of seeing your aura when I arrived, I have been blocking it. I can hear it in your voice when you talk about her, I can see it in your eyes. I swear it.”

“I’m sorry I got so defensive, this whole letting people in thing is new to me. Please be patient with me, I’m trying,” she smiled.

“Hey, hey, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Jensen squeezed her hand. “I know this is new to you. To be honest, this is a little new for me, too. Most people I meet just want something from me, but not you. You’re doing great, Y/N. I’ll help you navigate your path if you help me with mine.”

“I think that sounds like a fair trade, Jay. Thank you,” she squeezed back. “Now eat your pie!”

Jensen knew he had never tasted pie this good before and he made a fool of himself eating it in front of Y/N with the noises and faces he was probably making. “I’m sorry. This is just so superbly delicious and I just can’t stop myself.”

“I’m flattered, really. I’m glad I did it justice. This was her first prize recipe at the Oklahoma State Fair three years running,” Y/N whispered, pretending it was a secret. “But don’t over do it; I have pecan, too.”

“Are you serious?” his eyes now as big as his stomach. “Please, please can I have a slice?”

“You’re a like a puppy with a treat, Jay!” she laughed and plated a slice of the pecan for him as well. “Good thing I readied a room, you’ll be asleep in no time from all these carbs.”

“Good think I packed sweatpants to sleep in, stretchy waist!” he mumbled around the flaky crust and buttery filling of the pecan pie.

Y/N excused herself to the restroom only to find Jensen at the sink, his sleeves rolled up and washing dishes. “Jensen Ackles! What do you think you are doing?”

“Well, I figured it was a fair price for room, board and pleasant company for the evening,” he shrugged. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Fine, but no doing the breakfast dishes,” she relented, sitting down and picking up her beer as she watched Jensen. He had a quiet confidence about him and she was enjoying his company.

“Tell me Jensen, was it your idea to take your gift to the people?” she asked.

Jensen mulled that question over for a bit before answering. “No, not really. My grandmother used to bring people home at first, ones that she thought I could help. Then my folks encouraged me to do private readings. People started paying and it just snowballed from there. This is not something I would have chosen for myself, but I help people.”

“Are you happy?”

“All the travelling, the crowds; it makes me anxious, to be honest, but I like helping people. I have more money now than I could ever spend and I’m only twenty-five. What would I do if I didn’t do this?” his words were spoken from the heart.

“You can still help people, Jay. But, do what makes you happy. That is all I am saying,” she replied.

“Now who’s helping?” he teased, wiping his hands on a towel.

“We’re in this together now, right? Friends helping friends? You’re my first friend, Jay,” she confessed.

“I’m glad,” he smiled, taking two more beers from the fridge, passing one off to her. He held up his beer towards her. “To friendship.”

“To friendship,” she agreed and clinked her bottle against his.

After those last two beers, they made their way up the stairs, Y/N showing him to the room she had prepared. “Bathroom is just down the hall. I laid out some towels if you want to shower now or in the morning. Goodnight, Jensen.”

“Thank you for a nice evening,” Jensen said graciously. “Sleep tight, Y/N.”

With their nighttime ados exchanged, she made her way to her own room at the end of the hall, Jensen watching her until she closed the door. She changed into her night clothes and climbed into bed. She laid there for sometime, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the night. She fell asleep with a smile on her face and Jensen’s face in her dreams.

~*~

The smell of coffee and bacon woke her the next morning. Her eyes opened slowly and she stretched out her tired limbs before climbing from her bed. After a quick change of clothes and a visit to the bathroom to take care of business and brush her teeth, she rushed downstairs.

Jensen was still in his sleep clothes, gray sweatpants, a tight black tee shirt and bare feet, when she entered the kitchen. He was standing at her stove, a steaming mug in one hand and flipping bacon with the other.

“Well, Mr. Ackles, this is something I could get used to,” she smiled, pouring herself some coffee.

“Well, Miss Y/L/N, this isn’t something I get to do often and I thought it would be nice to give you the morning off,” he slid some bacon from the pan onto the nearby plate. “Besides, I was raised in my granny’s kitchen. I know how to cook, I just don’t get to as much as I would like.”

She went to the back door and slipped on a pair of shoes. “Let me run out and grab some eggs to go with that bacon.”

“You don’t need to run to the store, we can make do with what you already have,” Jensen replied, adding another slice to the pan.

“Oh, no, not the store silly. My back yard. I raise chickens; have since I was a kid,” she laughed and slipped out the door, not missing the look on his face.

She returned just a few minutes later, a basket full of fresh eggs of all colors. Jensen looked in the basket, that same look of awe on his scruffy face.

“These are not from chickens. Chickens lay white eggs, maybe brown, but not blue and green!” Jensen protested.

“Jensen, surely a man with your education knows better than this!” she laughed. “See these blue eggs are laid by Araucanas chickens. These eggs here are from what are affectionately known as Easter Eggers; their eggs can range in color from blue, green, rose or brown to sage, olive or cream. But the key is they are larger eggs than the others from the Araucanas. The deep brown colored eggs? Those are from my French feathered friends, the Marans chickens,” she explained as she picked a few to cook up.

“I was raised just outside of Dallas in the suburbs. I know about horses and bulls and people, maybe even dogs, but I never claimed to know anything about chickens,” Jensen defended himself. “Can I meet them?”

“Yes, only if you eat all your breakfast, Mister,” she laughed, cracking eggs into a mixing bowl.

Jensen was fascinated by her animals and asked all about them over breakfast. She told him all about the chicken and the goats. She had never seen someone eat so fast in her life. He was finished and already washed his dishes before she had cleared half her plate.

“Jay, they will still be there when we’re ready. Why don’t you go shower and change and I promise I’ll be ready when you are,” she waved him off and finished her own breakfast. By the time she had washed her dishes and gotten rid of the bacon grease, Jensen was back in the kitchen, dressed in jeans, a black undershirt and a green and blue flannel, looking every part a farm hand.

“I’m ready!” Jensen announced, practically bouncing as she slipped her shoes back on.

“Now who’s the kid?” she teased as they headed out the back door. Jensen could barely contain himself as she let them in the fence and over to the chicken coop.

“How much land do you have here?” he asked as he surveyed the area.

“Had about 500 acres before grandpa died. In the last several years, I have sold off all but ten. I sold enough to keep me here and kept only what I needed for these guys. I had the entire ten fenced in so they can go anywhere they want and they return to the coop each night and for feeding time,” they were now surrounded by over a dozen chickens, of all shapes, sizes and colors.

“These don’t even have tails!” Jensen pointed, giggling.

“Those are the Araucanas; no rumps,” she explained.

“Where are the goats you were telling me about?” Jensen looked around, trying to spot the small, horned and hoofed creatures.

“Probably out grazing, that is what they do,” she surmised. “Oscar, Billy, Gruff, Peanut!”

“Those are their names?” he laughed.

“Yes. Why is that so funny to you?” she side eyed him.

“Because it’s awesome and incredible and I am having so much fun,” Jensen explained himself. “I grew up around horses named Tex and Spitfire, bulls named Stingray and Goliath.”

As if on cue, two of the goats made their way back into the pen, thinking it was feeding time. “This is Oscar and that little one is Peanut.” She affectionately scratched the top of Oscar’s head and he nudged her leg.

“He likes to be scratched just like my Oscar,” Jensen observed. “I guess most pets are alike. Like humans; we mostly crave the attention, the affection, interaction.”

“That is a very generalized theory, Jay,” she told him. “But you’re not wrong. I guess I am proof of that.”

Jensen walked back over to her, Peanut hot on his trail. “Hey, look at me. Just because of the situation of how we met, doesn’t mean you crave attention or affection; it is after all, a natural instinct. What draws us in, it doesn’t mean we’re needy because of it. So don’t you think for one second that I think that, or anyone else.”

“I’m still trying,” she looked down at her feet.

“And I am still helping,” he promised.

“I have something else you can help with,” she tugged his hand and led him back to a shed in the corner. “It’s feeding time.” She pointed out the buckets and Jensen didn’t hesitate to grab one in each hand. She grabbed two more and they made their way back to the pen.

“Those are for the goats, just pour it into the trough there,” she instructed while passing through the gate to feed the chickens. “Jay! Can you grab one more of the red buckets?”

“Yeah, no problem! Just a sec-” she didn’t see what happened, but she heard a crash, followed by a thud and the goats bleating up a storm. She raced to the gate to find Jensen flat on his back, surrounded by goats and covered in feed. She couldn’t help herself and started laughing.

“This is not funny!” Jensen yelled, struggling to get up and escape the animals.

She managed to get through and close the gate, coming to Jensen’s aide. “You’re wrong, it is funny, City Boy. Come on, I got ya.” She held out her hand to help him up, but missed the look of mischief on his handsome face.

Jensen reached for the hand she offered, but instead of trying to pull himself up, he yanked and pulled her down into the dirt with him. She squealed as she hit the ground, but soon they were both laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes.

The goats were nipping at the tips of Jensen’s short hair and he tried to fend them off, but it just fueled their fire. Y/N was no help as she couldn’t stop laughing, but Jensen now looked less amused. He rolled himself over, coming face to face with her.

“Jay, what’s wrong?” she managed to get out. “Are you okay? I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine. I’m great. And you’re beautiful, you know that?” the look quickly changed to one she didn’t recognize, but felt. Her cheeks were heating up under his gaze.

“Did you hit your head?” she questioned, sure that was it.

“No, I have never felt better, more free in my life,” Jensen looked directly into her eyes. “Tell me you feel it, too?”

“I don’t know what I am feeling, Jay. It’s too much and not enough and I am conflicted,” she admitted, looking away.

Jensen cupped her cheek in his hand, turning her back to face him. “We’re helping each other right?”

She nodded in agreement.

“Then let’s start figuring this out, together,” he suggested and she nodded once more. “Good, cause I really wanna kiss you.”

“I really want you to,” she leaned a bit closer, counting on Jensen to take the lead.

Jensen did just that and closed the gap, lightly pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was unhurried, soft and warm and tingly. It didn’t last as long as the kisses she had seen in the movies, but her knowledge was limited. Jensen pulled back, a dopey smile on his face, matching the one on hers.

“What are you thinking, Y/N?’ Jensen asked.

“That I finally found what I’ve been looking for,” she beamed and leaned back in for more.

Have something nice to say? What did you think? I know it was long, but was it worth it?

The Whole Enchilada: @closetspngirl @emoryhemsworth @iwantthedean @meganwinchester1999 @sis-tafics @wilde-abandon @wegoddessofhell @holyfuckloueh @horsegirly99blog @smoothdogsgirl @dolphincliffs @thisismysecrethappyplace @neeadinghugs @roxyspearing @theoriginalvicki @andkatiethings @mrswhozeewhatsis @linki-locks11 @evansrogerskitten @hennessy0274-blog @hobby27 @gh0stgurl @charliebradbury1104 @blacktithe7 @the--blackdahlia @fortisetgloriosusinarduis @roseblue373 @hannahindie @pinknerdpanda

Jensen’s Jamboree: @supernatural-jackles @dean-winchesters-bacon @cameronbraswell @docharleythegeekqueen @maddiepants @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @adoptdontshoppets @wingedcatninja @akshi8278 @kathaswings @deansgirl215 @x-waywardaf-x @elara98azalea @jerkbitchidjitassbutt

AU Tags: @luci-in-trenchcoats @kayteonline

#spnaubingo #Jensen Ackles #Jensen Ackles AU #Jensen x Reader #Jensen x Reader AU #psychic!jensen #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction

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andromytta · 6 years ago

Text

All Your Life

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 23 | andromytta vs. @ladylilithprime

Prompt: Apple Pie

Ship: Claire Novak/Kevin Tran

Word Count: 2441

Tags/Warnings:

Nerd Claire

Punk Kevin

Family Drama

Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags

SPN Rare Ships Creation Challenge

Thanksgiving Dinner

Apple Pie

Demisexual Claire Novak

Summary: Claire finally brings Kevin home for family dinner. But it can't just be any family dinner, no, it has to be Thanksgiving dinner. With her ENTIRE FAMILY present. Oh, and her dads still hate him....

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16651645 (Part 3 of the Never Let You Go series)

Kevin lounged on Krissy’s bed watching Claire pack for her Thanksgiving trip home. He had offered to help her multiple times, and each time she responded with “You’ll just do it wrong.” So, he resigned himself to thumbing through magazines on her roommate’s unmade bed, skimming the articles and sex tips and sniffing every perfume ad. It was Wednesday, and Claire had just finished her last class before Fall Break.

“You’ll be back here on Monday, right?” he asked.

“Mmhmm…”

“And your folks live less than an hour away, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Then why do you need so many bags?” Kevin asked with a chuckle. So far, Claire had three bags packed and was working on her fourth.

“Well, this one has all my books,” she said as she pointed to the oversized wheeled backpack. “This one has my computer and my camera equipment.” That one was a medium sized hard case with wheels, plastered with stickers. “These other two are for my clothes and, you know, girlie products.”

“Wait, so you’re on vacation and you’re still going to be doing homework?”

“Well, duh.”

“Ok, ok,” Kevin said with a chuckle. “You do you. But you know,” Kevin said brightly, “try to relax a little.”

“Oh yeah, like that’s even possible.” Claire said, rolling her eyes. “What about you? Can you relax? Are you even ready to meet my family tomorrow? I mean, like, my whole family?”

“Yeah, Babe. I’m actually fine. I mean, I already know your grandmother and your aunts, and they love me. So what do I have to worry about?”

Claire rolled her eyes again. “Oh, I don’t know. Only that my dads basically hate you already, and if Jack doesn’t like you, well, then all bets are off. I mean, if my twin can’t stand you , then there’s not anything I can do about it. And then there’s Alex. She hates everyone.” Claire started pacing and her voice got faster and higher pitched the more she talked.

Kevin grabbed her forearms and stopped her pacing in the middle of the room. “Shhh. Chill out. It will be ok. Your siblings will love me. I mean, I am pretty awesome. And I have no doubt Ellen will make sure your dads remain civil during Thanksgiving dinner.”

Claire actually laughed at that. “That’s true. My gramma can be pretty scary when she wants to be.”

About an hour later, Kevin was dropping Claire off in front of her parents’ house. “You and Krissy and Joss will be here on time, tomorrow, right? Don’t be late.”

“I know, I know. High noon. Sharp.” Kevin said with fond exasperation. They had been over this dozens of times already. “Our watches are synchronized and I have my super secret decoder ring.”

“And bring your guitar,” Claire continued. Kevin wasn’t sure if she heard his snark in the midst of her panicking. “Jack will want to play. Dad won’t let him touch his ever since he got jelly on it…” she trailed off, though still mumbling to herself as she pulled her luggage out of the backseat.

“Yes, Claire, I know. Now go, see your family. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Kevin kissed her on the cheek before leaving her, and her bags, in the driveway. Hey, he offered to help, but she’d steadfastly refused.

Claire wrestled her bags to the front door and was just trying to dig her key out of her purse when the door flung open. Jack was standing there with a huge smile on his face.

“Claire! You’re home!” He engulfed her in a big hug, grabbed her bags, and ushered her inside. “Alex! Dads! Claire is home!” He didn’t really need to shout, because they were all gathered in the living room already.

Alex looked up from where she was lounging on the couch. “Hi.” She returned to her phone after that affectionate greeting.

“You’ve been out of class for three hours. What took you so long?” Castiel asked. “I hope you brought your midterm project with you.”

“Geez, Cas. You’re on vacation. Can’t you give ‘Professor Novak’ the day off?” Dean said, smoothing his hand down his husband’s arm and grabbing his elbow, giving him a gentle shake before greeting Claire with a hug. “Welcome home, Kiddo.”

“Hi, Dad.” Claire returned the hug affectionately, their previous fighting long but forgotten.

“Ok, now go upstairs and get cleaned up. We have pies to make.”

“Awesome. Is Gramma coming over tonight?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “She’s coming over tonight to help with the cooking. Cas is picking up Sam and Jess and Gabe and Kali at the airport tonight, so Jess and Gabe will also be here to help. Jess said she’sreally excited to learn Mom’s stuffing recipe. Then Grampa, Jo and Charlie will be here tomorrow. I’m assuming your new ‘friend’ will be here then?”

Claire nodded, hearing the finger quotes in her dad’s voice.

“And I assume your therapist is coming too?”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Da-ad. Krissy is not my therapist. But yes, she’s coming and bringing her girlfriend too, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

A couple of hours later, Claire was pressing pie crust into her fifth pie tin, covered in flour up to her elbows, when the door opened and Ellen Harvelle-Singer walked in. “Gramma!” Claire exclaimed, running to give the woman a big, flour coated hug.

“Hey, baby,” Ellen said, smoothing Claire’s wild blond hair.

Dean came out of the kitchen just behind his daughter. “Hey Mom,” he said, wrapping both women in a hug.

Ellen looked at Claire. “Well, didja tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Dean asked.

“Guess not.” Ellen said. Changing the subject, she asked, “So where’s my dreamy son-in-law and my other two grandbabies?”

“Cas and Jack went to pick up the rest of the family at the airport, and Alex is up in her room. She cut herself peeling apples for Claire, and wouldn’t let me help her. She insisted on waiting until you got here. Apparently, you fix cuts better than me,” Dean pouted at his mother.

“Well, then, let me go take care of that,” Ellen said before turning pointedly to Claire.

“While I’m gone, you tell him, got it?” No one defied the matriarch of the family for very long.

“Yes, ma’am,” Claire gulped, and she sheepishly made her way back to the kitchen and forced herself to concentrate extra hard on her pie crust. Dean just stood in front of her with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Well?” he said with a lifted eyebrow.

Never looking up from her pie crust, she said in a single rushed breath, “So, you know that band that played at the Roadhouse, the punk band that did a cover of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ that you hated, and you really don’t like how Gramma hired him as the music manager there, even though he’s really good and the bar’s profits are up, but you just generally really hate that guy for no actual reason?”

Dean stared at his kid for a long moment before simply barking, “Yeah.”

Claire finally looked up from her pie, her blue eyes locking with Dean’s green. “Well, that’s Kevin. My Kevin.”

“Wha-What?” Dean spluttered. “But-but you said he was in band not A band.”

“No, I said he was in a band. And I was ready to bring him home for dinner, until Aunt Jo told me what you said!” Claire stashed her last pie crust in the freezer, slamming the door to emphasize her point.

Dean dropped heavily into a chair at the kitchen table. Now, Claire’s actions made sense. They’d been fighting for months over this very issue. And it was all his fault. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, feeling chagrined. “So, that’s why you haven’t been home for family dinner?”

“Well…..yeah,” Claire said as she started removing the peeled apples from the cinnamon and ginger infused water they were resting in. That was her secret, why she made her family’s signature apple pie better than Dean, and even better than Ellen. She began chopping as she was talking. “I mean, it’s not exactly encouraging to bring your boyfriend home to meet the parents, when you already know the parents hate him.”

“Oh, come on, Claire! You know that’s not what I meant. Just because I hate the way he performed, doesn’t mean I hate him. I don’t even know him.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly the poster boy for easy going paternal figures, particularly if it comes to your beloved Led Zeppelin. Who I still think are overrated anyway.” Claire said sassily as she continued to chop.

“Like you’re any different. Just let someone butcher a Beatles’ song,” Dean retorted lamely. He had a note of pride in his voice he couldn’t conceal.

Claire shrugged, a small smile tugging at her mouth “Well, I am your daughter.”

Dean got up from the kitchen table and moved to one of the bar stools in front of the counter where Claire was chopping. “So, tell me about him. Clearly there must be more to him than the butchering of perfectly good classic rock.”

Claire’s soft smile widened just slightly. “Well, his rendition of ‘Blackbird’ is the best I’ve ever heard.”

Dean looked mildly surprised. “That’s saying a lot.”

“Dad, he’s enormously talented. Just because you’re too old to get his style of music doesn’t make it bad.”

“Your face is old.”

Claire raised an eyebrow at him. “Nice comeback, there, Pops. If my face is old, what does that make your face?”

“Shut up,” Dean retorted with a smile of his own. “So, go on, tell me more.”

“You literally just told me to shut up.”

“You know what I mean.”

Claire stuck her tongue out at him, but continued talking. “Kevin is really great. He plays six instruments.” Dean made a “huh” face at that. “He has a degree in music theory from Princeton. Did you know that because of his help, the Roadhouse has become one of the top college bars in the city?”

“Please, your grams and Jo could have done that.”

“No, Dad. Kevin is the one who hooked them up with the up and coming bands in the area. There’s more to music than just cover bands for mullet rock, you know.”

“Hey, I like those bands. And they don’t all have mullets.”

“Yes, but you’re not a twenty something college student with miles of disposable income,” Claire said cheekily. “Your bands still play there; just other bands play there too. Gramma put him in charge of this summer’s Battle of the Bands. It will be epic.”

“You know, I don’t know how I feel about my kid sister meeting your boyfriend before me.”

“Hey, it’s not like that was planned. They didn’t even know we were dating when they hired him. It was only after he and Jo got to talking and that’s how she found out. Then she called me and told me what you said about him.” Claire dropped her eyes back to the cutting board. She’d been making this pie for so many years that the chopping came naturally to her and she hardly had to watch what she was doing, but she found she couldn’t look into her dad’s eyes anymore.

Dean reached across the count and stilled her hands. “Hey, hey, Claire-bear, I’m sorry I said that. Well, I’m sorry I said it like that. If I had known he was important to you…well, I was drunk so I probably still would have said it.”

“Wow, Dad, you suck at apologizing.” Claire smiled weakly.

“Well, I’m sorry, but your boyfriend’s music does suck.” She glared at him. “To me,” he added. “But I won’t let that affect my judgement of him as a person. But if he turns out to be an asshole and he hurts you, I’ll just beat him up extra hard.”

“He’s got a black belt in three martial arts, Dad, I doubt you could take him.”

Dean took her hands and looked her in the eye. “Seriously, though, Claire, what kind of guy is he? He’s not pressuring you into anything, right?” That was a problem in her last relationship. Her ex-girlfriend’s addictive personality lead to her wanting to do things that Claire was uncomfortable with.

“Dad, he’s a really, really great guy. He knows and respects my limits, sometimes even better than I do.” Claire blushed and ducked her head down. “He, well, um, Kevin, he might be the one, Dad.” Dean’s eyes lit up with happiness. But before he could say anything, Claire added, “But don’t you dare start planning a wedding. We are nowhere near that yet!” His face fell comically fast.

Just then, Ellen and Alex emerged from upstairs. “Well, I got her all patched up, and she’s graciously decided to socialize with the rest of her family,” Ellen said as they came into the kitchen.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I decided so much as she’s making me,” Alex grumped. Ellen smacked the back of her head. “Ow!”

“Hey, it’s not like we’re asking you help with cooking in any way. Just keep us company. It’s not like you see me or your sister every day,” Ellen scolded her.

“Yeah, please don’t help us cook,” Claire teased as she tossed her apples into the skillet. She then turned to her grandmother. “Before you ask, yes, I told him.”

Ellen turned to Dean, “And you’ll be on your best behavior and give this boy a chance, right, son?”

“Yeah, Mom. He sounds like a good kid,” Dean said.

“Hey, he really is a good kid. Even your pop likes him, despite his weird hair.” Ellen said.

“Well, if Dad likes him, then I guess he must be ok.” Dean agreed. Bobby Singer pretty much hated everyone who wasn’t family, and sometimes he didn’t like them much either.

They didn’t have a chance to discuss it further, because just then the front door swung open and the rest of the family came piling in. Gabriel and Jessica were already arguing over who cooked what better, Cas and Kali were having a heated discussion about politics, and Sam was telling Jack something no one but them could hear, Jack hanging on his favorite uncle’s every word.

The Winchester-Novak-Harvelle-Singer Thanksgiving was certainly going to be interesting this year. But there was at least one thing Claire could definitely count on: Every single one of her apple pies would be devoured before the end of the day. The rest, as usual, would be a toss-up with her large and unpredictable family.

Poor Kevin.

#spn rare ship cc #spnrareshipcc #ladylilithprime #Claire Novak/Kevin Tran #apple pie #thanksgiving dinner #dad dean

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ooey-and-gooey · 6 years ago

Photo

Here is Ran’s bio!

Name: Ran Minamoto

Gender: female

Age: depends on what point in the story, usually 16 in RP

Ssxuality: Bisexual

Occupation: student

Height: 5'4

“Hair” color: cool purple

Eye color: inverted black eyes with yellow pupils

Narionality: Japanese

School: UA

Hero Stuff- Hero/Villain Name: Ran (undecided)

Costume:(none yet)

Quirk: Goo

Weapons: a whip

Personality- Personality: Ran is a very passionate person, the kind of passionate that only pages and pages of essays and debates could help with. She has strong ideals of being a hero and sticks by them closely. She is observant and quick thinking. She knows what she can handle and is the type of person so try almost anything once. The girl is friendly to everyone except those who have- in her eyes - skewed morals/ideals. Ran gives off a very chill vibe most of the time except when it comes to her academics and career, as well as her ideals, any other time she will go with the flow. She’s an extrovert and acts very cool though when she is alone, can be very obsessive. Ran is very very paranoid. She spends most of her time researching things about her parents and such and barely get much sleep. Her calm and collected facade is brought on with people surrounding her - That is when she is the most relaxed. If it were not for her baggage, Ran would probably act this way always. She is easy going and a risk taker around people, but a mess when not.

Likes: pro heroes, social media, winning debates, writing, being listened to, talking, supporting her friends, passionate people, people on journeys, cats, researching, breakthroughs

Dislikes: her parents, people who follow the ideals of stain, stains ideals, villains, people with weak ideals, people easily swayed or persuaded, the crowd mentality

Interests: writing, reading, presenting speeches, sparring Fears: Society changing for the worst, being vulnerable, failure

Goals: - Ran would very much like to confront her parents and try to argue with them -She would like to be the one to capture her parents -She wants to be an influencer, weather that means being a big role model as a hero or trying to become a teacher, she’s all for it - Ran wants to make sure she is known. She makes it a point to make good first impressions so that she is never forgotten thus her ideals are never forgotten.

Family- Parents: Haruhi and Kazuhiko

Siblings: none Relationships-

Friends: Maki Aiko, Maki Harumi, Hitoshi Shinsou

Crush: hmmm

Enemies: her parentsahaha ~~~Quirk~~~ Quirk name: slime Description: 80% of her body is made of the goo like texture you see. She has basic organs and can function like a normal human being however most of her fat, muscle, and other parts are made of the substance. She can transfer her mass but is limited to a simple human body shape. The only removable part of her body is her hair, which she can rip parts of and stick places.

Strengths: most projectiles will not affect her, mostly just getting stuck in her. She can change her appearance. She is a quick thinker and knows what bite would be too much for her to chew. Has a high pain tolerance as some attacks (with blunt objects) can bounce off of her. She can become slippery?

Weaknesses: She lacks in one on one combat and full frontal attacks. She can get carried away with emotion in some cases which causes her wits to become faulty. She can be affected by projectile attacks if they go all the way through her. She does not do well in intense heat, can melt without being about to control it.

Costume description: she wears a tough material (usual hard to rip, water resistant and fire resistant fabric) as a leotard. Her shoes/ankles, bracelets, belt, and rubber band are actually hidden whips - each rectangular shape being a handle. (In her shoes’ case, the handles are built into the sole of the shoe). Her whips are gold in color. Her leotard extends in a drippy pattern to her legs. In the chest area of her leotard, there is a teardrop shaped keyhole though it is placed above her neck and is only there for decoration. (Its not there to show her breasts, That’s why it’s places a litter higher)

Character summary: Ran was raised by her parents for a short amount of time. Because they had seemed so busy with their “work” - some undescribed business they run- Ran was mostly watched after by her grandmother. The family lived in her grandmother’s house, all seeming to get along somewhat. Her parents raised her with a specific set of ideals, telling her to think for herself, to always question authority and question what the general public thought was right. Though she didn’t have much say, this was suspicious to Ran’s grandmother. Years of week long business trips and the occasional conflict between the parents and Ran’s grandmother flew by. This would lead to Ran being a sort of mature child, that tried to keep as in-the-know as possible whenever her parents were leaving and weren’t leaving - that way if she had needed them to be somewhere, she would or wouldn’t get her hopes up. Suspicion began to grow as the windows in which her parents were absent began to grow. This tense curiosity would breech it’s breaking point for Ran’s grandmother when an event was exposed on the news. Some sort of group, terrorizing the city and trying to spread their message- down with hero society. When the leaders of this group were identified, it was Ran’s house that was searched endlessly and the two were questioned. Of course both Ran and her grandmother had no idea what had happened, nor did they even know that both these people had the capability to do such an act. Though the event did not kill anyone, it did injure some with the use of firework-like bombs and some thick smoke that flooded the area. After this horrendous event, Ran’s grandmother was left to care for Ran. At this point, Ran had some vague idea of what was happening, though never asked her grandma about it- feeling she would receive no answer. Ran grew up very loving with her grandma. She was very close to the woman and acted as good as any kid could, though had always been mature for her age. Ran’s parents were on the run, though would most likely never return. As time went on, Ran became more and more interested in the ideas of justice and what it meant to be a hero. At first she was not fascinated by the glamor of heroes, their desire to help people, or the fame, but by the concepts behind it. She had become deeply interested in philosophies of what it meant to be a hero and though she had some mincsule problems about the hero industry, she decided what better way to change it for the better, than to become a hero herself. She also took interest in past crimes and organizations, wanting to be knowledgeable on all potential threats. This was when she had found out about her parents, leaders of some dangerous cult, once that had caused harm then vanished. This wasn’t the biggest effect on Ran, only taking her a couple months to get completely over. They had probably fled the country or something, and she wasn’t even particularly attached to them. With her interest in heroes now becoming a full on blossom, Ran found some interest in the genuine ideals of a hero- helping people and making people feel safe. And so, she had applied for U.A, general studies of course. Though she was excited to become a U.A. student, she hasn’t felt like she could transfer into the hero courses just yet. She hasn’t had much time to train and by entrance exams, the gooey girl wasn’t ready. After being accepted into the general studies, Ran worked extra extra hard to make sure she would be able to at least make an impression at the sports festival. In general studies, the girl found a friend in Hitoshi, who seemed to be one of the most, in her opinion, genuine people she’d ever known. The two hold a tight companionship. Around the time of her first getting in, Ran received a letter on her doorstep. This was one of the few letters that was ever addressed to her. Too early to be an entrance exam result, Ran was confused by its presence. Upon opening this mysterious note, she found it was sent from none other than her parents. A sort of “Good luck! :) We’re keeping an eye on you and Gramma!” Letter, which caused Ran to spiral into a paranoid state. Research and research and connecting the dots online led her to hints that the group might still be active. Rather than going to her grandma for help, Ran decided to take matters into her own hands. Apart from training, Ran protects her property as best she can, swearing that she will always take care of her grandmother and if her parents decide to somehow do harm to her, she’ll be ready for it. Though, the way that her grandma acted had made Ran feel she knew what was going on.

Fun fact #1: Ran must keep her PH from becoming too acidic. If she comes in contact with something too acidic, she may involuntarily melting. She may use this to her advantage though! Ran had a certain party trick where she will get everyone to gather around her. She demonstrates how her mouth looks, sticks out her tongue, takes a gulp of the freshest soda she can found, swirl it around in her mouth and swallow. She will then show everyone the damage it does on her mouth (mainly her tongue) which becomes a slimey and dripping mess. People usually react in disgust to this or think it’s really cool.

Also I’m always always always open to RP! I love OCs and I do literate RP so :^) RP also helps my characters develop more soo Thank you for reading!! Have an amazing day!!

#ran art #bnha oc #my hero academia oc #mha oc #original character #canon x oc #oc x canon #ran minamoto #ran's bio #important

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ruckystarnes · 7 years ago

Text

So, You’re Y/N

Author: RuckyStarnes

Summary: Reader meets Steve’s mom for the first time.

Warnings: nothing really

Pairings: 1930s!Steve Rogers x Reader

Words:

A/N: This is for @lovelynemesis Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree Writing Challenge using the prompt (#22) Meeting [Steve’s] Family for the first time. Hope you like it Sam.

Y/N took a sip of her soda and leaned back against the wall. The two boys across from here were polar opposites from each other and it always made her curious how the two became friends, but she never asked. Bucky Barnes was a cake-eater with his slicked back brown hair and dreamy eyes. There were enough Debs around that wouldn’t mind necking or doing it with Barnes, but she never found him be anywhere near the Sheik girls said he was. Now, the smaller boy, Steve Rogers, was a different story. He was a sickly kind of kid from what she heard; a list of ailments a mile long: asthma, surviving from both rheumatic and scarlet fever, heart problems, just to name a few. It didn’t waver the feeling of being stuck on him at all.

“It’s just dinner,” Steve said softly, his eyes shifting towards Bucky, in annoyance, “I know my mom would love to meet you.”

“I-I guess I could make it. I would have to tell my ma that I wouldn’t be home for supper then,” Y/N replied, cheeks burning.

“So does this mean you two are serious then?” Bucky teased, giving the two of them a cheeky grin.

“Dry up, Barnes,” she groaned and rolled her eyes at the brunette before giving Steve a smile. “What time should I be there?” She finished her soda and started to get out of the booth.

“Ma works until five,” he blushed, “did you want me to meet up with you or…”

“I know where you live Steve,” she laughed and grabbed her coat, slipping her arms into the sleeves and made sure her cloche hat was perfect. “I’ll see you Tuesday night then?” She waited for Steve to nod before she bid both boys farewell before.

Bucky nudged Steve with his elbow with a smirk. “Meeting your ma, that’s serious punk,” he teased and finished his own drink.

“We’re just friends, Buck. Stop being such a jerk about it,” the blond replied with a roll of his eyes. “Not like Y/N likes me like that. We all known each other for what? Ten years now? You think my mother would like to visit the person we go to the movies with or Coney Island?”

“She’s been asking, hasn’t she.” It was a statement, because Bucky knew Sarah Rogers well enough that she would want to meet anyone who was close to Steve.

“Every day for the last two years,” Steve sighed.

“You brought it on yourself, Steve,” Bucky laughed as his friend blushed and shook his head.

Y/N shifted the plate on her hand to knock on the door. The wind was chilly and it had started to snow heavy, wet flakes which made her regret not cancelling. It wasn’t going to be great to go home in an hour or two the way it was coming down. She heard mumbling voices and the door opened to Steve with pink cheeks and slightly mussed up hair.

“Hi,” she softly, her eyes looking everywhere but him. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. Bucky always made Mrs. Rogers seem like this big mother bear who would maim anyone who would come near her son with even the slightest ill intentions. “My grandmother sent some Polish gingerbread with me since it’s Christmas.” Steve nodded, stepping aside to let her enter. She noticed he was breathing heavily, his chest almost heaving to get a full breath, which made her frown. “Steve, if you’re not feeling well, I can go. You need rest.”

“I told him the same thing,” a woman’s voice replied from the other side of the small apartment, “but he insisted that he would keep this date of his.” Y/N turned around and met face to face with a slim blonde woman who was no taller than her, apron fixed around her middle and towel in her hand. “So, you’re Y/F/N

“Mrs. Rogers,” Y/N nodded and held out the plate of brown squares. “Piernik from my grandmother.”

“What a lovely thought,” Mrs. Rogers smiled, “Steve told me you live with your grandmother and that she makes the best sweets according to James.” She took the plate of gingerbread and walked back to the small kitchen, placing it on the table.

“Yeah,” Y/N blushed, “Gramma likes to spoil them with her desserts. This last Lenten season Bucky ate five pączkis, says he’s boxing and needs the energy.”

“That sounds like James,” Mrs. Rogers laughed and went about to set the table.

“Let me take your coat,” Steve mumbled and moved behind Y/N to catch her coat as she slipped it off, hand held out for her hat. “No askin’ for stories, alright?” He gave her a look with wide eyes and the pink growing deeper. “She’ll tell some I’m not too fond of.”

“S’alright, Steve,” Y/N smiled, “I don’t think this is going to go bad. She seems nice and by the way Bucky talked about her, I’m okay.”

He turned from the coat hanger and gave her a genuine smile, the one that always made her stomach flutter and heart pound harder. “I hope you don’t mind an Irish dinner, Y/N,” Mrs. Rogers said, her blue eyes shifting between her son and Y/N.

“No ma’am,” Y/N replied, “been curious since Steve mentioned it.”

The meal went by easily, talking about how long Steve and Y/N known each other, her family upbringing and what her plan was once school was done. Mrs. Rogers was friendly, never asked anything that was too taunting or personal, she even offered Y/N help to get her into the nursing field.

“Do you plan on working here in Brooklyn?” Mr.s Rogers asked as Steve started to clean the table, something that was refutted by both him and his mother to allow her to help.

“Yes,” Y/N answered softly, “Gramma needs help most of the time and it would be cruel to leave her all alone here if I were to go anywhere else. Besides, I don’t adjust well to new surroundings, so I think Brooklyn will be my home until my end.” She saw Steve smile as he set a cup of coffee down in front of his mother and then one in front of her. “My friends and family are here.” She took a small bite of the gingerbread as they continued to talk, Steve avoiding any questions that would have to do with after school.

Once dessert was done, Mrs. Rogers gave Y/N a hug, one that seemed too tight for a stranger to give another. “Don’t break his heart,” the other woman whispered in her ear before pulling away and gave her a sweet smile. Y/N only nodded, because she knew by the look in Steve’s mother’s eyes meant that bad things would happen if Y/N did. “Merry Christmas, Y/N, and tell your grandmother thank you for the delicious piernik,” the blonde woman added.

“Yes ma’am, and merry Christmas to you too,” Y/N replied as she put the coat on Steve held out and took the hat. Steve opened the door and she took a step through the threshold. “Thanks for having me over Steve. It was pleasant and maybe we can do it again.” She leaned in and kissed Steve’s red cheek.

“I’m glad Ma didn’t scare you off,” he muttered, “S’afraid she would as I like you too much to let you go.” She couldn’t help but smile at the crimson shade he sported on his cheeks and neck now. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Steve.”

#samsrockinwritingchallenge #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america.#captain america x reader #captain america fanfic #captain america imagine #Skinny!Steve #Skinny!Steve x reader #ruckystarnes

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eatbreathewrite · 8 years ago

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The Adventures of Todd and Granny

(Alternatively: “I Saw Granny Ethel with the Devil”)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Grocery Store

Todd the demon is a he, now, if only because Granny Ethel insists upon using copious ‘Dear boy, keep trying’ and ‘Atta boy!’ critiques to varying degrees depending on how well his needlework, crochet, and knitting attempts progress.

Gender isn’t a concept the demon concerned himself with before. If Todd had been, say, a girl named Tonya, he supposes he’d be a she instead. If Todd had been gender-neutral and properly communicated with his grandmother, he supposes she would call him they or child, appropriately. Granny Ethel isn’t one to discriminate. Even when she properly wears her glasses and sees his obviously un-Todd-like appearance, only shaking her head and smiling with a good-natured “kids these days” on her lips. But he wouldn’t mind if Granny Ethel called him boy, girl, thing, or abomination, so long as she stayed happy.

Granny Ethel is a patient woman. Todd simply can’t understand why or how she’d become the black sheep of her family, especially after a full week of living with her hospitality. Through the constant baked goods and the modest but satisfying three-meals-a-day; the careful (oh-so-careful) dusting of trinkets and bookshelves with tiny cloths and feather dusters not fit for large claws, which he insists upon doing while she looks on in worry before brewing more coffee; the midday television re-run breaks spent sealing cash donations into envelopes and discussing human rights issues instead of watching old shows, he simply can’t think of her as anything but a paragon of her kind.

It’s a problem with them, he concludes. Not her.

It isn’t a decision he makes lightly.

Spending such a brief time with her, he’s already learned so much more about humans than he ever would have cared to know, beyond perceiving them as vessels or a means to an end. There is much suffering in the world—sometimes even more than that in Hell—but there is also kindness.

He’s known that, but he witnesses it first hand during their first trip outside of Granny Ethel’s home.

“Come, now, Todd, we have much shopping to do. I’m afraid my pantry isn’t stocked appropriately for the upcoming food donation drive and I can’t just skip it this month.”

Todd remembers addressing an envelope to the local food bank—most people would stop there, figuring their good deed was done.

“I also have to stock up on this week’s groceries. Feel free to buy whatever you want, dear. I can cook anything, you know! At least, I try. I suppose you’d like some snacks, too. But I am so glad you’re here; think of all the bags we can carry between the two of us!”

There is no car in Granny Ethel’s driveway, or a garage to store it. He wonders how they’re going to make it to the grocery store as he waits for her to lock the door behind them, as she hobbles down the two small concrete steps with her cane in hand.

It isn’t until she’s halfway down the sidewalk that he realizes they’re walking. In public.

An old crone in black and a demon at her side, wearing a handmade shawl so lovingly stitched with various, terrifying occult symbols.

He isn’t the only one who sees a problem with this—the neighbor’s dog, a small, bug-eyed thing, yaps indignantly at them from the front lawn as it bounces around the dewy grass at its owner’s feet, soon erupting in warning yowls and howls, before falling silent mid-yip when Todd locks eyes with it. The neighbor—Maurice, if he remembers Granny Ethel’s gossip correctly—stands frozen, watering can dangling limp from his hand as he overwaters the begonias at his feet, mouth hanging open in undignified disbelief.

“Good morning, Maurice!” Granny Ethel calls with unmitigated cheer, and a hint of pride. “Nice morning, isn’t it? Oh! Have you met my wonderful grandson Todd? He finally came to visit! We’re going shopping now. Will you watch my house?”

Maurice simply stares, dumb with shock.

Halfway down the block, another neighbor’s car brakes with a squeal before they make it out of the driveway and they stick their head out of the window to gape.

Shutters crack open. Curtains are shoved aside.

Before Todd knows it, they are the cul-de-sac’s center of attention.

Granny Ethel doesn’t pay it any mind and continues obliviously on, waving to each face in turn as those faces pale, yet hers remains rosy.

“My, such a busy day today. I haven’t seen everyone out like this since the Fourth of July block party. Oh, if you’re still here during summer, Todd, we should definitely take part. Maybe we should start knitting an American flag for the occasion. What do you think?”

He can only nod.

They make it to the grocery store without incident—aside from the broken fire hydrant caused by a distracted driver and the one, single person who ran away screaming, and the handful that crossed themselves, and the one person bold enough to snap a picture with their phone before Todd grabbed it from their hands and threw it while Granny Ethel wasn’t looking, too distracted with how well the city’s roadside flowers were blooming—and Todd, ever the gentledemon, takes a small shopping cart from its line and trails behind Granny Ethel as she consults the list taken from her purse.

As expected, those within the store stop and stare. Even the calming elevator music jolts to a pause.

A young man in an employee vest, who looks high, shoots Todd the demon-horn hand sign and smiles before swaggering away to the frozen food aisle, and the manager meekly approaches them, skirting around a fresh fruit display.

“Ma’am, is there—is there something I can—do you need help?” he asks, sweating from his receding hairline to his neck as he tugs at his collar and straightens his frumpy tie.

“Oh! I’m so glad you asked. I didn’t see any sales circulars by the door—what kind of specials are on right now? Particularly on things like pizzas and cereals and whatever else young men like to eat.” Granny Ethel leans in close to the man, close enough to loudly whisper, “See, my grandson here is a quiet, shy boy despite his appearance, and I don’t think he’d ask me himself, but I bet he’d love to get some junk food to snack on between meals.”

The manager’s eyes widen, blood-shot, as he looks to Todd, who only smiles—which comes off as terrifying, he’s certain, with all the sharp teeth and red eyes involved.

“S-SURE! Junk food. Right. Um—uh, w-well, I think there’s a BOGO—buy one get one free—deal on the frozen pizzas. Uh…most cereals are marked down right now…th-there’s a sale on potato chips…hot dogs…” His voice trails off, too burdened with trembles and fear as he continues to hold Todd’s gaze. “And—you know, I’m sure some other employee can help you, ma’am. I’m not one anymore as of this moment. I QUIT.” That said, he yanks the flimsy plastic nametag from his shirt and runs for the door, followed by half of the shoppers who abandon their carts and drop their baskets, scattering groceries everywhere.

Granny Ethel watches him go, then sighs. “He must have been overworked and stressed. I almost walked out on a job a long time ago for the same reasons, but I needed it. You be careful of corporate America, Todd.”

He takes her words to heart, and he fully agrees.

Shoppers that remain in the grocery mart avoid them at all costs as they meander through the frozen food section, the bread aisle, the junk food corner—and Granny Ethel pays them no mind, filling the cart to the brim with refills of groceries she needs back at home and treats she thinks Todd needs more of in his life. He supposes he does, if she says he does. Far be it from him to contradict her adolescent-savvy wisdom.

Even so, the single shopping cart is far too small for all of the spoils—halfway through the shopping list, he finds them in need of another. It isn’t an issue. Many are left scattered, abandoned, around almost every corner. By the end of the list, both carts are full to the brim, and Granny Ethel is simply beaming.

The checkout lines are deserted—they have their pick. Although only one station is manned by a clerk, and it greatly narrows their choice.

As Todd wheels the two shopping carts to the register, he recognizes the young employee from before, who once again shoots him the demon-horn hand symbol.

“Love your poncho, dude,” Sam (as his nametag reads) comments with a bit of a tired drawl, and there are dark shadows under his eyes as expected from an overworked youth on minimum wage, but he is otherwise energetic, quickly scanning each of the items set on the conveyor belt, and smiling at demon and old woman in turn. “Did the little lady here knit that for you?”

“Crocheted!” Granny Ethel corrects with a grin, preening like a proud parakeet. “It does suit him, doesn’t it? Of course, I would never make something that didn’t suit my dear grandson. He must always be well-dressed.”

“You seem like a really supportive gramma. That’s cool. When I was in my super hardcore death metal phase, mine just dragged me to church every Sunday.” A digital beep accompanies nearly every word as he skillfully rings up each grocery down the line.

“Oh, I would never do that. Mainly because I no longer belong to a church. And also because Todd seems so averse to discussing Bible passages, so I never force him.”

At this, Todd gives a wry smile. He places the final handful of groceries onto the conveyor belt and sidles around Granny to the other side of the checkout, bagging the groceries that have already been scanned. It seems the official bag boy has fled in fright.

“I can imagine. Never one for religion, myself. Oh, and you’re eligible for the senior citizen’s discount, so let me just…” Sam pauses a moment to key in a code on the register and it dings. “Aaand, there. Your total comes out to $204.56. Stocking up for the winter already? It’s only March.”

“Oh, dear, no. Half of this is for the food drive!” Granny Ethel chuckles good-naturedly as she leans her cane against the counter and digs through her small pocketbook and produces a checkbook, then dives back in to search for her favorite pen.

Sam turns to Todd while awaiting payment. “By the way, dude, that costume is killer. I’ve never seen anything so realistic, with the added bonus that you scared the boss away! Totally made my day. My week, even.”

Todd gives a nod, happy to be of service, even if it isn’t a costume. He can’t exactly say it aloud. Perhaps one day he’ll learn how to speak English coherently, but for now nonverbal cues work just fine.

Finally, Granny Ethel finds her pink, plastic jewel-encrusted ballpoint pen and makes out a check to DeVille-Mart, even going so far as to take one of the heavier paper bags for herself, never one to make Todd carry all of the groceries himself. “You have a wonderful day, young man. Thank you.”

“Y’all have a great day, too, Ma’am.” Sam offers a toothy smile, and it seems sincere enough as he sees them off with a lazy wave “Hope to be seeing you shop here again.”

Todd isn’t so sure they’ll ever return once upper management hears about this visit, but it’s nice to know they are accepted by at least one individual.

“Now, Todd, let’s get to the food bank. We have such a long day ahead of us. But there’s a reward at the end of it—I bought ingredients specifically for chocolate turtle brownies!”

If the visit to the food bank is in any way similar to this excursion—and it will be, he decides, as yet another gawking driver’s car slow-collides with the corner vending machine when they pass through the automatic doors—they have a long day ahead of them, indeed.

#original writing #todd and granny #weekly exercise #looks like i got this done early for the week #todd and granny is the tag i'll be using for future entries #feel free to use it too #also yes granny has a name now #I like Anette too though!#original

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coalitiongirl · 7 years ago

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well!! i just wrote 2k of a random thread that i’m not actually going to post or make into a full story, i’m just not into s7 enough for it to go anywhere. but i thought i would post it here on the off chance that someone might be interested!

ETA: also apparently tumblr ate all the italics, I put back the necessary ones but y’all are gonna have to imagine my emphases rip!!!

“You might not remember us, but I remember you,” Lucy informs her dad. He’s still staring at her with a vaguely amused look on his face, and he blinks around the bar owlishly, as though he’s never seen anything quite like it before. Which is so impossible, because Daddy’s seen everything. Daddy was born in a world without magic, just like this one, and there’s no way–

“Should you really be in a bar?” he asks finally. “Aren’t you, like, seven, kid?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I’m ten. Do I look seven to you?”

He almost quirks a grin. “I really don’t hang out with many people under twenty.”

“Do you hang out with anyone?” she says, a little snobby but a little interested, too. Daddy’s is really into missions and meeting new people and having adventures, but he’s not really into having friends. His friends are all Mama’s friends, and he likes to slip away when Mama starts chatting with them, crooking a finger so Lucy will join him.

Liked. Daddy doesn’t remember any of that anymore. “Not really,” he says, his eyes flickering to the bar. “Hey. Is that who we’re looking for?”

Lucy follows his gaze, but no, it isn’t Mama at all. It’s a woman she knows only vaguely at the bar, someone from this land who Mama has fake memories of being friends with. “That’s Roni. She’s not one of us.”

“One of us,” Daddy echoes, and he’s still staring at her fixedly, his brow furrowed as though to call forth a memory. She pinches his arm where she knows Daddy is super ticklish and he jumps. “Hey!”

“Pay attention,” Lucy orders him, scanning the bar. “We gotta find–” Oh, crap. Mama has already found them. She’s hurrying across the room, weaving through tables, and she shoves Daddy back with fiery eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing with my daughter?” she demands. “Lucy, you’re supposed to be upstairs in bed. What are you–” She looks wildly from Lucy to Daddy. “How did you– did you run away?” she says, and her eyes are wide. “Who is this?”

“I’m sorry,” Daddy says, and he smiles tentatively at Mama, his brow furrowing again as though he really does know that Mama is important. “She just…showed up at my doorstep and insisted she was my daughter. I tried to bring her back as quickly as I could. I’m Henry Mills.” He sticks out an awkward hand.

Mama doesn’t take his hand. “Lucy, you’re coming straight upstairs,” she orders. “What were you thinking?” She glances back at Daddy, then back to Lucy again. “The upstairs isn’t a bar,” she explains quickly. “The owner rents an apartment to us. It’s perfectly stable.” She sounds defensive, and Lucy wants to scream. Not this single mother thing again. The moment she’d jumped through the portal last month, she’d been added into the story of this fake place and had become part of Mama’s family.

And if she ever wants to break the curse that had suffused this place, Mama and Daddy are going to have to remember that they’re true loves and that this is what happens.

Mama hurries to the bar, Daddy still trailing after them like a lost puppy, and she says, “I’m heading upstairs. Let me know if you need a hand,” to Roni. Mama helps out sometimes because Roni gives her the apartment upstairs for really cheap. Lucy likes Roni. Roni is funny and nice in a really sharp kind of way, and she’ll probably have plenty to say about Lucy running away in the middle of the night.

But she’s engrossed in conversation with a blonde woman who barely glances their way, and she nods in acknowledgment to Mama and then returns to the woman. The woman stares at them for a moment, eyes flickering to Daddy still standing behind them with his hands in his pockets, and she chews on her lower lip and then shrugs, returning to Roni.

Mama talks pleadingly with Lucy, lectures her in that way where she feels really bad until she remembers that none of this is real. She’s Mama’s only hope, and Daddy’s going to leave if she doesn’t act quickly. She brushes her teeth and gets back into pajamas and closes her door, and she parks herself at the window to see if he’s going to leave.

It takes twenty minutes after she’s in bed before he goes, trudging out the door of the bar and glancing back over his shoulder as though he isn’t entirely sure why he’s going. Lucy pushes the window open and calls out in the loudest whisper she can manage, “Daddy!”

He blinks, looking up at her. She shakes her head frantically, mouthing please don’t go, and he sighs and shoves his hands into his pocket again, looking very undecided. “Please,” she says again, and he sighs again and goes back into the bar.

Lucy steals out of her room. Mama is asleep on the couch, worn out from a long day, and Lucy pulls out a blanket and lays it over her. She kisses Mama’s cheek and opens the door carefully, sliding back out and toward the stairs.

Daddy is waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re going to get me arrested,” he warns her.

She grins. “Maybe. Mama’s a detective.”

“Jesus.” Daddy pinches the bridge of his nose. “What’s your deal, kid?”

“I just want to talk.” And for you to fall desperately in love with Mama again, she adds silently. She knows that this is how curses break, has heard about the legendary Storybrooke and Gramma and Grandma and all their adventures. Daddy has a book just for them, and he always says that he isn’t going to finish the book until their love story is complete.

That’s what true loves do. They break curses. “You don’t remember, but you were once the Author,” she tells Daddy. “You wrote about lots of different stories in lots of different realms, and then you met Mama and you wanted to be in the story again. So you stayed. And then one day you and Mama disappeared and you were in trouble and I…” She gestures at the bar. “I came here. To find you. You’ve got to write us out of this curse. You’ve got to.”

Her voice is rising, and Roni is suddenly beside her, crouching in front of her. “Lucy, what are you doing out of bed again? Where’s your mother?”

“This is my father,” Lucy says, and maybe Roni will understand. Maybe Roni can help her.

Daddy’s already shaking his head, but he and Roni are looking at each other curiously. “I do know you, don’t I?” Roni says slowly. “I remember…” She shakes her curly hair, shrugging airily. “You must have been here before.”

“I don’t think so.” Daddy laughs uncomfortably. “Though according to this little girl, there’s a whole lifetime of memories with her that I’ve forgotten.”

“The oldest pickup line in the book,” Roni says dryly, gesturing to the blonde woman who’s followed her over to them. “She keeps saying the same thing. Lucy, don’t you think you’re a little young for this guy?”

“He’s my dad,” Lucy says, and she wants to stamp her foot like a kid before the rest of Roni’s words sink in. “Wait. She keeps saying…” She turns to stare at the blonde woman, for the first time really taking her in. She looks like a regular person from this world, red jacket and jeans and a gun at her hip, but there’s something else in the way that she’s staring at Lucy with the same narrowed eyes.

“Don’t let him leave,” she tells Roni, and she grabs the woman’s hand and pulls her to the quiet staircase to upstairs. “You. Who are you?” she demands. “What do you remember?”

“Listen, kid, I don’t have time for games.” The woman glances back at Roni, and Lucy sees yearning in her eyes. “I have to–” She takes in a deep breath. “What do you remember?”

“The Enchanted Forest,” Lucy says immediately. The woman swings around, her eyes sharp and haunted. “That’s where I come from. My Mama, she’s upstairs– her name is Cinderella. But she doesn’t remember.”

“Your Mama is…” The woman’s voice trails off. “Alexandra?” she says, staring at Lucy. The name is wrong, but the familiarity in the woman’s voice can’t be disguised. This woman knows about Cinderella, about the Enchanted Forest– This woman could help her. “No. There’s no way you’re–” She clenches her fists. “I have to go back out there. I don’t have time for this.” She climbs back down the steps, back toward the crowded bar.

“My dad is Henry Mills,” Lucy calls after her. It’s a dumb idea, to tell people Daddy’s name when he’s so powerful and has so many people after him. But he’s also made a lot of powerful friends along the way, and this woman…there’s something about her that just seems good. Right, in a way that Lucy can’t explain, like sitting on the bar before it opens and watching Roni mix a fruity drink for her.

And the woman freezes, just like that, Daddy’s name enough that she stops moving instantly. “Henry Mills,” she repeats hoarsely. “That’s…Henry Mills?”

Maybe it was a mistake to mention him. Lucy can see hunger in the blonde woman’s eyes. Lucy knows desperate souls, the kind who’d stop at nothing to use the author’s pen. This is that kind of desperation.

Daddy doesn’t see it. He’s talking to Roni, who has a hand on his shoulder and is smiling at him with the same smile that she usually reserves for Lucy. “Yeah,” Lucy admits, rising to clamber after the woman. “He’s Henry Mills. But he doesn’t remember, so he isn’t going to write you anything–”

She stops when she catches up to the woman and sees the tears and awe glimmering in her eyes. “Henry,” the woman breathes, and she doesn’t say it like people do when they say the Author. She says it in a choked voice that’s thick with hope, and Lucy wonders if she has found an ally, after all.

She asks what she should have asked first. Every name has a story, Daddy’s told her a thousand times. And every story is worth knowing. “What’s your name?” she says, staring up at the woman, glancing back to the stairs, staring across the tiny yet endless gap between them and Roni and Daddy.

“Emma,” the woman says, and it’s Lucy’s turn to gape up at her with eyes glimmering with awe. “My name is Emma Swan.”

Gramma. Gramma Emma, a woman she knows more about than anyone else in the world– except for maybe Grandma Regina. She’s been raised on bedtime stories about Daddy’s moms, about curses and Storybrooke and Neverland and Camelot– and she’d always believed that she’d meet them someday. They might be in some distant realm, but Daddy has always been certain that he’d meet them again someday.

Lucy bets that it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Roni– Grandma Regina– is kicking out the last stragglers at the bar now, and Daddy is eyeing the door like he isn’t quite sure if he should go or not. “You’re staying, kid,” Gramma Emma says, putting a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Did you just call me kid?” Daddy says dubiously. “How old are you?”

“Never ask a lady her age,” Grandma Regina says archly, flicking his head with the back of her knuckles. Gramma Emma grins up at her, and there’s so much adoration in her eyes that Lucy understands why Daddy had been so stubbornly sure that they’d fall in love someday.

(“You don’t see it when you’re younger, you know?” he’d said thoughtfully. “You think of having two moms who love each other as perfectly natural, but you don’t think about them falling in love.” His eyes had gleamed, and he’d looked wistful for a moment. “Then you start writing stories, and you don’t know how you ever missed it.”)

#fanfiction #swan queen #swan mills family #with another mills or two #ouat spoilers #bc of little bits and pieces of spoiler i guess

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lareinedediamants · 7 years ago

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Favorite episodes (season 1)

I'll try to stick to 4 favorite episodes per season (and cheat with honorable mentions lol).

1.01 "City of Heroes"

"City of Heroes" is one of my favorite pilots. It made me fall in love with the show, its premise, its characters and their relationships.I liked the locations chosen to represent Central City, the sets (CCPD, Barry's lab, Jitters, Star Labs) and the way the music was used to set the mood and highlight the personality of the main character (see the upbeat intro playing when we meet grown up Barry for the first time).

Along with the congenial vibe, the superhero journey, the writing, the dynamics and the score (I love that the show has a kickass theme for all the important characters like Cold, Reverse, Trickster, Zoom, Savitar...), the thing that makes this show dear to my heart, is its cast. I have never loved an entire cast, especially a big one, as much as I much as love the cast of The Flash, and "City of Heroes" did a wonderful job introducing their characters.

I became an instant fan of Nora Allen and I was heartbroken by her death.

I thought Barry was an absolute sweetheart, just adorable, and a great CSI. It was also love at first sight with Joe West, who came across as a smart, no nonsense, lovable guy with a sense of humor, who was fiercely protective of Barry and incredibly proud of him.

Iris waltzed into Barry's lab, talked his ear off and ate his fries lol. She looked like she adored him, and I was struck by all the things that were hanging in the air, left unsaid between them. He was attracted to her. She was oblivious. I had my suspicions that she might like him too when she started going on about what an amazing guy he was. Any doubts I had vanished after she climbed him like a tree when he walked into Jitters 9 months after his accident.

Originally posted by grantsass

I fell hopelessly in love with the utterly fascinating and enigmatic Dr. Wells, who remains my #1 favorite character on this show after 3 seasons. He had a darkness about him, bubbling under the surface, beneath the veneer of elegance and class, and I could NOT take my eyes off him. He was a ticking time bomb and I was afraid I would miss something important if I blinked when he was on screen.

Also fell in love also with the adorable, funny, supportive and amazingly gifted Mr. Ramon (my number 2 fave after Eobard). I had a soft spot for the grief-stricken, kind and nurturing Dr. Snow (I kind of wanted her to me my doctor until she went icicle on us).

Now Henry Allen gave me another dose of sadness when I was watching him talk to Barry (who was crying his eyes out) from behind that prison glass... Let”s just say Henry will always have a special place in my heart.

I even liked the metacriminal-of-the-week, Clyde Mardon and the tornado he summoned on that farm. I didn't know it yet when I first watched the pilot, but the other guy shown in the police photos (there were 2 mugshots, one for Clyde and one for his brother Mark), was going to become one of my favorite metabaddies ever : the Weather Wizard :)

10s across the board!

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1.15 "Out of Time"

Westallen kiss #1, Weather Wizard, Barry rearranging timelines. What's not to love?

Originally posted by henycavil

First, there's the awkward love quadrangle with Barry, Iris and their respective dates at the bowling alley. Iris was acting a bit territorial and touchy feely with Barry. I don't think she was fully conscious of what she's doing but Miss West was bothered, the entire time Barry was dating Linda. Her jealousy really came to the surface when she asked Barry, how things were going with "Lindaaaaaaa" in the same tone she used to hate on Barry's old girlfriend, Becky "Coo-perrrrr" lmao. Linda, Eddie, Barry, Joe, it seems everyone can see that Iris has feelings for Barry, except for Iris herself.

Lots of suspense in the episode because Cait and Cisco are trying to trick a man who's a lot more dangerous than they realize. The first time I watched the episode, I was worried for Cait when she took Wells to Jitters to get him out of Star Labs. Wells kept talking about Star Labs, and he didn't want to stay at Jitters to enjoy his coffee. When Cait got up to take the coffees to go, she came back to an empty wheelchair. 😱

I should have been worried about Cisco. "Out of Time" gave us the unforgettable scene where Reverse shreds Cisco's heart, after saying that Cisco showed him what it was like to have a "son".

One of my fave baddies ever, the Weather Wizzard, almost stole the show when he flexed his metamuscles to create a tsunami. A WHOLE tsunami! I'm in awe of Mark Mardon's skills, I’m not even gonna lie, but Barry’s still the boss meta around here, and his powers are nothing to sneeze at. He's been seeing another Flash running alonside him. He and Iris kiss, he tells her he's The Flash and then runs around the Central City coastline so fast that he goes back in time and erases the entire day.

Epicness! From start, to finish.

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1.09 "The Man In the Yellow Suit"

Ah yes, that Christmas episode. It's tree trimming time at the West household and Gramma Esther become a household name for her nog. There's foreshadowing to Barry proposing when he gives Iris a replica of her mother's wedding band. Barry breaks my heart whe he tears up after Iris tells him she's moving in with Eddie, and when later admits that he's in love with her.

There's also a first showdown between Barry and the Man In Yellow and Barry gets his ass handed to him (s'okay Bear, you'll get him next time).

It's an emotional episode for Caitlin. She sees Ronnie, or rather what's become of the man she loves (a confused, twitchy, vagrant on fire, wearing Future!Barry's wig... or is that his brother Oliver's island wig but I digress), and the poor thing is devastated. Cisco as always is there for her. It's easy to see that Cisco has a very deep kind of affection for Caitlin...

Another beautiful bond? Joe and Barry's and that emotional scene where Joe tells Barry the light Barry he brought to the West family. "The world may need The Flash but I need my Barry Allen."

One great alliance: Cisco and Joe. They make detective and crime-busting magic when they work together, and they have a breakthrough in their investigation into Nora's murder when Cisco realizes that there was not one, but two speedsters in the house the night Nora died.

At the end of the episode, Iris is staring at Barry and looking uncomfortable on Eddie's lap as if she's not supposed to be there.When Eddie has her arm around her, she looking back at Barry and all I want to say is Iris honey, you’re trying hard to convince us that you’re happy with Detective Pretty Boy yet here you are, staring at your bestfriend like he’s a white chocolate brownie (they told us in the pilot that Iris had a brownie obsession).

This action-packed, emotion-packed, revelation-packed episode ends with Wells' iconic "Merry Christmas" as he's facing his yellow suit in the time vault. Come on. Eobard!Wells was the GOAT and that's a fact lol.

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1.20 "The Trap"

Barry, Cisco and Cait find the time vault and the 2024 article written by Iris West-Allen. Well well...

Joe, Captain of the Westallen ship refuses to give Eddie his blessing to propose to Iris because he knows his daughter's in love with another man. Hmmh...

Barry has a hilariously awkward conversation with Eddie who believes Iris will one day be Mrs. Thawne. Oh, boy...

In a flashback to Barry coma days, we learn that Iris likened her saying yes to Eddie asking her out to a "dumb thing" she did because Barry was not around to stop her.

Iris might be confused about her feelings, but she is right on the money when it comes to her investigation. She figured out the link between the explosion, Star Labs, and all the people who acquired powers. My girl!

The team sets a trap to get Wells to confess to Nora's murder. There's a little bit of angst when it seems like Joe killed Wells but nope! It's Hannibal Bates aka Everyman, the shapeshifting meta. My man Wells is playing chess while everybody's playing tic tac toe lol. He has all the footage of their secret investigations in the time vault and he's on his way to snatch Eddie up, right as Eddie's about to propose to Iris.

Flash comes to save his woman from Eobard's Vibrating Hand of Punishment and when Iris touches Flash's hand, she feels the same jolt of electricty she felt when she was sweetalking Barry and touching his hand when he was in the coma.

Finally there's this great scene where Eobard!Wells talks to Barry, and marvels the irony that he's now stuck having to protect him after he came all this way to kill him. I got chills when Eobard said he watched Barry grow up, "science fairs and soccer games". Reverse Flash has one of the most compelling story arcs I had the pleasure of watching in a while. Karma bit him in the rear a major way.

Travelled through space and time to kill Barry, killed Barry's mom and was punished through the loss of his speed, had to wait for Barry to grow up, make him The Flash, train him, 15 years of stalking and hard work, only to fail in the end. I don't know what happened to Thawne on "Legends" because I don't watch the spin-off, but his story arc on "The Flash" is amazing storytelling.

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Honorable mentions

1.04 "Going Rogue" Introducing Captain Cold (and his theme), my third favorite villain after Eobard!Wells and Zoom. Felicity walking into trivia night in that cutout dress 😵, E=Mc Hammer ("can't touch this" lol), Eddie sweating bullets in the car as "When a Man Loves a Woman" and "Let's Get It On" start playing on the radio right after he had a tense conversation with Joe about Iris ("quiet is good") lmao.

1.08 "Flash vs. Arrow" That A-MAzing fight scene between Barry and Oliver, and Barry like we never get to see him, giving free reign to his anger and jealousy as he attack Eddie under Rainbow Raider's control and demands to know WHY Eddie gets to come in here and TAKE whatever he wants *coughIriscough*. Oh yeah...

I think that’s it for season 1. 😄

My favorite episodes

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jumpthethunder · 7 years ago

Text

Swan Queen Week Day 3: Grandmothers

Here’s my day 3 fic, one day late.

Enjoy!

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11487132

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12570320/1/SQ-Week-Summer-2017-Day-3-The-Future-on-your-Doorstep

The Future on your Doorstep

When Regina swung open her front door to find a strange child on her doorstep her first thought was that Emma apparently had another child who'd come to find her. The girl, who couldn't possibly have been more than 11 or 12 years old, bore such a striking resemblance to both Emma and Henry, from her hazel eyes to her silky brown hair just a hint more mahogany than Henry's as it felt in soft curls around her shoulders, that there simply didn't seem to be any other logical explanation then that she was indeed Emma's long lost daughter. As the child looked up at her, her face stuck somewhere between terrified and hopeful, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her black jeans and causing her shoulders to rise in an almost shrug, Regina found she could predict what she was about to say even before the simple little word fell from the child's lips with a tilted smile.

"Hi." The girl's voice was so very young and yet it held a deeper cadence than Emma's even with its upward lilt as if her greeting was really more of a question. It took more than a few seconds for Regina to remember that a response was customary and that proved enough time for the little girl's cheeks to turn bright red and her head to fall, eyes fixated on her own shoes.

"Hi." It was not at all what she intended to say, not the firm question of 'What are you doing here?' or 'Where are your parents?' that she meant to ask, but it was all she seemed able to manage. It did appear to be enough for the child who once again looked up at her, this time with more excitement on her face, as she rocked forward on the balls of her feet, pulling her hands from her pockets and rubbing them down the front of her thighs as if wiping off nerve induced sweat.

"Um, I'm, uh, I'm sorry to disturb you Gr-uh-M'am, but, are you Regina Mills?"

Regina scowled, crossing her arms over her chest as she attempted to read this child, sort out what a slightly tanner, brown haired, tiny version of Emma Swan could possibly be doing on her doorstep inquiring about who she was.

"Yes, I'm Regina Mills."

"Yes!" The little girl pumped her fist in the air, suddenly celebratory, before thinking better of her actions and quickly becoming more serious again.

"And who might I ask are you?" Despite her natural suspicions Regina couldn't help but find this child endearing, her eerie resemblance to a woman she would grudgingly admit was her best friend was tugging at her heart, and she had always had a soft spot for children.

"My name is Lexie, nice to meet you." A small hand presented itself to her, waiting eagerly for Regina to reach out and take it, and so she did only to be met with a surprisingly strong and confident handshake. Regina bent down, bringing herself to eye level with the child and patting the top of the hand still held in her own.

"That is a very nice handshake you have there young lady. You know, a steady handshake shows you respect the other person but more importantly-"

"That you respect yourself just as much!" Lexie cut her off, finishing her thought with a mischievous twinkle in her eye and causing Regina to pull back in surprise, again regarding her with suspicion.

"So, Lexie, where are your parents? Did you need help finding them?" The crestfallen look that took over Lexie's features made it clear that something about her question was terribly upsetting for the child and Regina instantly felt horribly guilty.

"They're, um...they're gone."

"Gone?" Regina's tone was softer now, kinder and much calmer than she felt as she reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind Lexie's ear. "What do you mean gone?" As far as she knew no recent major crimes had taken place in Storybrooke, they appeared to be in a bit of a calm period after finally defeating the Black Fairy and getting through Emma and Hook's "fairytale" wedding, and she was fairly certain that if a family had gone missing and/or abandoned a little girl she would have heard about it. When Lexie's face only crumbled further and she burst into tears Regina felt her guilt over having upset the child increase tenfold and the next thing she knew she was hauling the girl into her arms and cradling her to her chest, her hand stroking gently through her hair as she murmured quiet words of comfort.

"My-my-my mom died." Lexie stuttered around tears.

"And your father?"

"I don't know, I never knew him."

Once again Regina found herself wondering about the similarities between this child and Emma, and upon hearing this story she realized that it was possible that her mother being "dead" was nothing more than a story she'd been told to explain having been given up as an infant. Her heart ached and she was beginning to get irrationally angry at Emma. Had Emma given up a second child? Had she have found herself pregnant and in no position to raise a kid again, even after what she'd been through with Henry? Had her story about giving Henry up for his own good, for his best chance, been nothing more than a fib, something to make what might be a pattern of behavior excusable? And, most importantly, if all of this were true, how could Emma have lied to her for so many years? How could she have hidden something so important?

"Honey, when did your mother die?" Regina hated to ask, but she had to find a way to put together the pieces of this confusing story.

"When I was 5."

"What was her name? Did you know her? Did she raise you?"

"Yeah, it was just my mom and me for a long time. Her name was Evelyn." Lexie sniffed, wiping her dribbling nose with the sleeve of her flannel shirt in a move that made Regina wince.

"Sweetheart, if it was just the two of you, where have you been living since she died?" Regina could see a hesitance in Lexie's eyes, as if she wasn't sure whether she should answer even though she obviously want very badly to say something. The girl's eyes danced across Regina's face for a minute, then two, looking for something though she couldn't be sure what. Finally, and with a big sigh, she responded.

"With my Grandmothers."

"Grandmothers?"

"Mmhmm." The little girl nodded, pulling back from Regina's hold and wiping her eyes with the back of her hands, rubbing at them as if trying to force the rest of her tears back inside. When she finished, her eyes locked with Regina's and the look in them was so intense that she had to fight to keep from breaking eye contact and pulling away. There was a sinking feel in her gut as she noticed for the first time that she could feel magic coming off of this child, surrounding every inch of her small frame. She'd always prided herself on her instincts and they were screaming at her, a voice in the back of her head warning her that she wasn't going to like the answer to the next question she planned to ask even as she felt the words forcing their way out of her mouth.

"And who are your Grandmothers?"

Lexie's hand rose, cupping Regina's cheek as a sad, small, knowing smile far beyond her years spread across her small lips.

"You are, Gramma. You and Gran. You found me and brought me home when Mom died." Fingers smoothed along her cheek as if marveling at the feel of her skin, new and familiar all at once.

"Gran?" Regina felt the word get stuck in her throat, coming out broken and with an undignified squeak.

"Grannie Emma." Lexie's tone was matter-of-fact, as if what she'd said was the most obvious thing in the world. Regina's heart seized, fumbled its beat and stuttered as a choked breath scratched its way into her lungs. Of course, the implication she was reading into Lexie's words could be wrong, could be completely off-base. As co-parents to Henry it made sense that they would be linked for the foreseeable future, but what would the two of them be doing raising a grandchild together, living with this grandchild unless Lexie's now deceased mother was, in fact, a child they had raised together. But then again, it was possible that her mother had been Henry's wife, or girlfriend, or what-have-you, and Henry was the father Lexie had never known. That would explain why she and Emma would look after the girl upon the death of the only biological parent involved in her life, but, though that explanation might make much more sense than the idea that she and Emma were a couple of some sort, were an actual family, she just could not-would not-believe that Henry would ever abandon a child by choice. Maybe, just maybe, Henry had grown up to make a foolish mistake at an age too young to feel ready for a child (though she hoped with her whole heart that this never happened), or perhaps he would find himself in a relationship that didn't work out and the child would end up with its mother. This was all possible, but something about the way Lexie was looking at her told her none of it was true. As she watched, Lexie's brow furrowed in worry, the expression disturbingly similar to one of her own.

"Gramma I'm sorry, you told me not to come here, but I had to." Lexie looked on the verge of bursting into tears again, her worry and distress vividly displayed in every bit of her body language. Before she could figure out what to say to reassure the little girl, Lexie's gaze jumped over Regina's left shoulder and her entire face lit up. "Gran!" she shrieked, pulling out of Regina's grasp and running full-speed through the doorway and across the entryway before throwing herself into the very surprised arms of one Emma Swan who, it would seem, had just arrived in Regina's foyer in a rapidly fading cloud of grayish-white smoke.

"Hey, uh, kid." Emma hesitantly wrapped her arms around the child returning her hug with far less enthusiasm, her eyes locking with Regina's and giving her a look that said 'What the hell is going on here??' to which Regina responded with a shrug of her shoulders as she moved into the house and shut the door behind her.

"Emma this is Lexie." Regina gestured to the little girl whose grip on Emma's waist was so tight it was nearly painful and the kid turned and stared up at her.

Emma was taken aback as she took in the kid's features, the hair that reminded her of Regina's when it was long except a bit lighter and with more wave and less natural curl (she'd discovered Regina's hair was, in its normal state, abundantly curly after one late night drinking session that resulted in the two of them soaking wet after Emma attempted to poof them both home and ended up dumping them in the harbor by accident). The kid's nose was 100% the other woman's, the intensity in her expression so very much like Henry's when he was young and shouting about true love and fairytales being real, and something about the cocky grin she was giving her reminded her immensely of Neal. Regina's voice pulled her back out of her thoughts as she continued with her introduction.

"According to Lexie, we are her grandmothers and she is, I'm assuming, from the future. Our future." Regina looked to Lexie for confirmation of this, which she got in the form of an exaggerated nod.

"We? Our? Grandmothers???" Emma's brain was short circuiting, and it only got worse when almost identical chuckles spilled forth from the kid in her arms and the woman standing before her, both finding her stuttering shock amusing.

"Yes, Gran! I'm from your future, you and Grammie's." The 'duh' at the end of Lexie's sentence was unspoken but clearly heard. Emma rolled her eyes, putting her arms on the kid's shoulders and pushing her back so she could get a better look at her.

"So what are you? Henry's kid?"

"Nope."

"No?" Emma and Regina spoke simultaneously.

"Kid," At Lexie's scowl Emma amended, "Lexie, if you're our grandkid but you're not Henry's kid, whose kid are you?"

"Your daughter's!" Lexie was practically vibrating with excitement and Regina was only a little surprised to see that the smaller objects scattered around her foyer were vibrating right along with her. 'Magic.' she thought, remembering the way should could feel it all over the child when they were closer. Apparently it wasn't just all over her but inside of her, a part of her, which if she were being truthful about her lineage did make perfect sense.

"Our what?" Emma's mind was reeling. She had literally just returned from her honeymoon with her husband, the man who loved her (and who she loved, because of course she did...right?), but here was a child claiming to not only be from her future but to be the daughter of a child that apparently belonged to herself and Regina. "I mean...how??"

"How? Really dear?" Though Regina felt nearly as perplexed and thrown off balance by all of this new information as Emma did she couldn't help but take a slight bit of pleasure in Emma's confusion and obvious discomfort. Between them Lexie giggled, pulling herself back to stand so she could look at them both, mimicking Regina's posture and placing her hands on her hips, looking at Emma like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Magic." The way she moved her head as she spoke screamed attitude, screamed Henry when he was being particularly entitled.

"Alright honey, say we believe you. How exactly did you manage to get here? Time travel is extremely difficult and complicated." Regina couldn't help but be hung up on this one issue, the simple fact that time travel, especially like this, was nearly unheard of and the idea that a child could have done it herself was astonishing.

"I dunno." Lexie shrugged. "Mom always said my magic was special. She said because I was the product of true love, and she was the product of true love, and Gran was the product of true love, combined with you and Gran's magic, that I can do things other people can't do." As she spoke Lexie had ticked off the generations of true love on her fingers, her nose scrunching in an ever-so-Regina-like way as she focused on getting the facts right.

While Regina was caught up in sorting through the complexities of magic, Emma had gotten stuck back on the statement that this kid's mom, the kid that was apparently hers and Regina's, was also the product of true love.

"Wait-so you're saying that your...Gramma...and I are...true loves?" Emma was fairly certainly that her jaw was on the floor but she couldn't seem to close her mouth as she gaped at the child who remained grinning up at her. Regina was hanging on to her composure slightly better, however Emma could see the cracks in her facade, was an expert at doing just that after years of learning to read Regina's tells. When Lexie approached them both, taking one of Emma's hands in one of her own and one of Regina's in the other and tugging them closer together she had a look of such seriousness on her face, one that would allow absolutely no arguments, that there was no denying she was their granddaughter, and one they had both had quite a hand in raising.

"Gran, Gram, I'm really sorry I disobeyed you and came here. I'm sorry I used my powers and I know I'm not supposed to change the past, but I had to."

"Why?" Regina's voice was hushed and laced with tension and Emma spared her a sidelong glance, wondering what this would mean for the two of them, wondering how Regina felt about what they were learning.

"Because," Lexie pulled them even closer, causing both of them to bend slightly at their waists so their heads came together like the three of them were whispering precious secrets in eachother's ears, "your family needs you."

Emma spluttered out an anxious laugh, that phrase an exact replica of the one Henry had said to her when he'd showed up on her doorstep in much the same way (minus the time travel) years before. She knew what those words meant. She knew that what followed them would turn her whole world upside-down and make her realize that everything she thought she knew was not as it seemed. She felt Regina reach out and grab the hand not held by Lexie, her fingers sliding through Emma's and squeezing.

"You have to help me. We can save my mom, but we have to do it now. I didn't know it before, when I was little, but I found her book and I found out what she knew and where it all went wrong. Please, you have to believe me!"

"Oh honey," Regina's hand freed itself from Lexie's grip and found its way to her once again red and teary face, cupping it tenderly as she spared a quick glance to Emma who nodded once, "of course we'll help you."

"That's right kid," Emma squeezed the small hand holding her own in reassurance, "we'll do everything we can to save your mom. I mean, as you might have heard, I'm kind of the Savior, and that means that saving people is literally my job."

Neither Emma nor Regina knew why they trusted this child without question, knew why they could each tell without a second guess that her words were true. Maybe it was the way she looked and acted like she was absolutely a member of their strange, mismatched, cobbled together Swan-Mills family, maybe it was the way they could each feel their magic reaching out to and recognizing hers. What they did know, deep down in their hearts, was that she was a part of them, without a doubt, and that meant that her mother was their daughter. They may not know their child, this Evelyn, yet, may not have even known she was a possibility or that she was wanted, but if there was one thing the two of them would never, ever allow it was for someone to hurt their children, not if there was anything they could do to stop it. For just a moment, just a beat, Regina moved her focus from Lexie to Emma, squeezing the woman's hand again and drawing her attention. Emma's eyes told her how scared she was, how uncertain and anxious, but they also showed her fiery determination sparking deep within and fighting to the surface.

"Are you sure Emma?"

"Yeah. You?"

"It would seem we don't have much of a choice."

"There's always a choice Regina, the question is if this is one we're ready to make."

Silence fell again, Lexie's presence fading to the background as the two women studied one another. Regina tugged the corner of her bottom lip into her mouth and bit it, Emma gave a small shrug and tight lipped yet hopeful smile. Finally, and after a curt nod from Regina who then drew herself back up to standing and straightened her tailored suit jacket, Emma reached out and pulled Lexie to her side, an arm wrapping around her shoulders as Lexie's came up around her waist.

"We got this kid."

The grin, bright and beaming, that spread across Lexie's face was so Emma, so Regina, so Henry (and even and little bit Snow and Charming and Neal and Gold and yes, even Cora) that, if there had been any doubt whose family she belonged in, it would have vanished that instant.

"Ok," She started, a seriousness far beyond her years taking over for her childish grin, "this is what we have to do."

#swan queen week #swanqueenweek #swan queen week 9 #sqweek #sqw #swan queen #emma swan #regina mills #my writing #my fic #swan queen fic #swan queen fanfic

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