#he sees a beautiful person and just *fixes hair theatrically*

[devinescribe]

To Get Back To You

Ch.11 of “My Sunshine” [TreechxReader]

Warning: death, dying, kids dying. Cabin typical stuff, swearing, one part alludes to it being kind of suggestive? There’s just two comments made.

The next morning, you woke up early. Quickly getting dressed and fixing your hair before getting out of the house.

You were the first person in the auditorium.

You took a moment to straighten out the chairs and desks as you looked up the screens. Mostly everyone was sleeping.

One person was up watching, and you couldn't exactly see who it was.

You sighed, going through the bleachers and picking up trash.

"Why are you doing that?"

You jumped, scared by the sudden voice. Looking up you saw it was just Dean Highbottom, and you continued what you were doing.

"Oh... um... just got here early and was bored...plus people should really pick up after themselves," you responded with a smile.

"You remind me of a girl I once knew... too kind and good for this world. She let one man in... loved him with all her being... and he froze her heart over, killing her. Not physically... but mentally and emotionally," he explained.

He gave you a look of pity as he went by the desks, turning on your guys' computer systems to send gifts.

"Was she pretty?"

"Oh yes. Matter of fact, that's why he went after her. Sending snow storms of roses so beautiful could make any woman fall in love... but he only wanted her."

You smiled, it sounded like a bed time story.

"Well this woman... where is she now?" You asked, sitting on one of the bleachers.

"Six feet underground my dear. Loving that man caused her demise," he said, sitting next to you.

You wondered why he compared you to her.

"If I were you, I'd be careful of whom I trust. Do not fall for the theatrics and roses. Beware the frost that creeps into your garden when he's around. You are a very special lady. And I would hate to see anything horrible like that happen to you. The Snow gets stained with blood too."

And with that he walked away, leaving you with your thoughts. What did he mean by that? Who was this woman? Who was the man? Who was he warning you of?

Your eyebrows creased together in thought for about five minutes until you were broken from it by a tap on your shoulder.

"Oh goodness, you scared me Coryo," you laughed, looking up at the boy. "I brought some pastries if you want one... thought I'd give one to everyone..."

He smiled and extended a beautiful white rose out to you.

You recognized them as the ones from his grandmother's garden. Slowly and carefully grabbing it, you twirled it in your hands.

"It's so beautiful, thank you." You smiled.

"Well... it's the least I could do... you've helped so much... you deserve more than one rose... in the future maybe?" He said, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You nodded.

_-_-_-_

The events of the night before had Treech waking up every hour.

His anger was almost immeasurable. It pained him to know you were hurt. Your teary (e/c) eyes looking at him through the gate... he wished he could have helped.

Coral was getting aggressive. Very aggressive. And soon the group would fall apart. He figured tonight, although it had only been a day so far, he would run away during what would be his turn to watch.

He could run to the underground and find a spot to hide. Yes, that is what he would do.

_-_-_-_

It was the late afternoon and nothing had happened. On one hand, you were glad. On the other, it was torture knowing they would eventually release something into the arena to light a fire under them if they didn't put on a good enough show.

You saw Dill slowly come out of the tunnels and to a small puddle of water. She drank it, although it was dirty.

"There's Ill-Dill, tuberculosis on legs, we haven't seen her in a while," Flickerman said.

You watched curiously as she began to cough, holding her throat.

This wasn't normal for people with that illness, there was something off about it. She spat up blood, and lied down, her breathing coming out raspy and shallow until... silence.

You covered your mouth as tears formed in your eyes.

"Dill? Dill?"

Reaper's voice came into focus, and you saw him running to her side.

He checked for a pulse and screamed in anger.

He carefully picked up the young girl and placed her next to Bobbin.

The boy Coryo had killed.

He went around, grabbing the bodies of all the deceased, laying them next to each other. He walked to one of the sides, ripping a Capitol flag from the wall making the room gasp and chatter explode throughout the room.

"Are you going to punish me now?!" He yelled, staring into the camera.

You cried, softly placing your head on the table.

No.

You sat up and forced yourself to watch. Reaper took the flag and placed it over the bodies of the tributes.

You heard a faint voice call out to him.

Lamina.

Somehow the audio wasn't picking up what she said, but she dropped down her bottle of water to Reaper. He once again ripped another flag down making even more people cry out in outrage.

He threw it up to her and she used her axe to catch it, and draped it over herself to cover from the sun. Smart girl.

The two had an alliance of sorts. Good.

Reaper went back down to the tunnels.

Not to long after, you saw Lucy Gray run out of the tunnels screaming.

"Where's Jessup?"

That was answered shortly after, as Jessup came running after her. You were confused.

They had been so close, why would he turn on her? You saw the white foam coming from his mouth and the crazed look in his eyes.

"The bite... he's rabid," whispered Coryo.

He turned to Lysistrata and told her to send water. He was already a lost cause.

Lucy Gray stumbled up some slanted debris, and Jessup chased after her.

"Why are you running away? What's wrong?"

He sounded so confused. It pained you. Rabies made everyone forget who they were and what was happening. There was a bad outbreak back in seven. Some wolves had gotten it from who knows where and were spreading it to other animals, who in turn spread it to humans.

Drones flew in, dropping water bottles that shattered on impact, making him scream and swat them away, falling to the ground a sickening thud as he died.

That word kept popping up in your mind. But you couldn't use another. The sounds were sickening and horrible.

Lucy Gray slid down, closing his eyes softly, comforting him in his last moments.

Then, the pack quickly came out, seeing her out of the tunnels. She ran, but got trapped.

The pack closing in, she went to run one way as Tanner sang, "Lucy Gray~•

Treech quickly ran, sliding into place, and pointing his axe at her.

"Stay right there."

The small smirk afterwards had you looking down with a small blush.

'Yeah he's missed out on a lot of kisses... and other things. Victor's prize once he gets out. God get your head out of the gutter now is not the time to be thinking about that!'

He wasn't hurting her, but he also wasn't helping her.

"What is he doing I thought-"

"You told me to tell him to not hurt her. Not that he couldn't help others who might kill her."

"That's kind of implied, but I guess it can't be helped."

You shot him a glare, watching as Lucy Gray looked for an out.

Suddenly he started sending in drones of water.

"What are you doing?!"

"I'm just sending water."

The drones flew in and began to circle around the group, attacking them, giving Lucy Gray the opportunity to run. She grabbed a bottle of water and ran behind some debris.

The pack was fighting off the drones, and kind of failing.

Treech slashed one with his axe, which accidentally sent it flying to Coral, before getting hit with another which sent him to the floor.

Soon most of the pack was on the floor groaning.

"Not now..." you heard Coriolanus whisper, seeing Lucy Gray on the big screen.

What did he mean by that?

"God damnit..."

There was an interaction between Coral and Tanner you couldn't hear.

She then grabbed Treech by the collar, your eyes widened.

"Get this water into a pile, lumberjack. And then when you're done, you two can watch that beam while we get your little friend from back home up there at least," she hissed.

Treech looked up at Lamina and looked away.

_-_-_-_

He didn't know Lamina. Or at least, not that well. He knew what she’d told him the past week.

But he cared.

He cared because that was the only semblance of home here in the arena.

He knew who her parents were. He knew her from school.

His fear of being killed by Coral in this moment outweighed that as he began to grab the water and put it all together.

-_-_-_

"Looks like my girl has your little toy scared out of his mind," they snickered.

You glared at them.

"At least my boy has somewhat of a moral compass," you hissed.

You shook your head and turned your attention back to the screen.

Lamina noticed the pack coming closer to her and she climbed back on top of the beam, gripping her axe.

She looked... bored.

You giggled slightly, seeing Coral try to climb and fail at first until she gave her weapon to Tanner. Then her and Mizzen began to climb up.

Mizzen was slow, and not really climbing.

Lamina turned her attention to Coral.

"No not the girl..." Pup whispered.

"Well she can't take two at a time. Coral is climbing... Mizzen can barely get his footing," you giggled.

Lamina walked to the side where Coral was. She scoffed and swung her axe, making Coral slide down about a yard. You saw a tuft of her hair fly away.

"Fucking badass, Lamina..." you whispered.

Mizzen finally got up, and Lamina turned her attention to him.

He wasn't sure of his footing up there, making it easy for Lamina to swing her axe at him, making him loose his knife. The second swing, she brought the flat side against his knee, making him lose his balance. He fell, catching himself with one hand. The blow made Lamina fall back a bit.

Finally, Tanner was able to throw the trident at Coral who caught it, and cried out. Lamina defended herself well, the first few blows getting blocked by her axe.

You held your breath, watching her fight.

Pup reached over his shoulder to grab your hand and you squeezed it tightly.

Coral weaved the trident skillfully, plunging it into Lamina's stomach. She cried out in pain, and Coral got her knife out as a second solution.

It wasn't needed as Lamina fell back off the beam, dying on impact.

"No!" Pup screamed, the echo reverberating through the hall.

You put both of your hands up to your mouth, crying softly.

"(Y/N), you ok?" He whispered.

You nodded, sniffling as you dried your tears. Lamina was dead. You could have done more… you could have been nicer..

He left, going to sit where the rest of the mentors who had lost their tributes.

Coral helped Mizzen up, and down the beam, using Lamina's flag and tying it around his knee.

She picked up her trident again, and the camera switched focus to Treech.

He looked... scared? Upset?

He took a step back, and looked around, his chest heaving with fear.

The camera switched focus as Coral used the trident to stab Tanner, killing him instantly.

You gasped. You knew this would happen. And he needed to get out of that.

"Go grab the water-"

She looked the the pile of water bottles that had now been emptied, only one remaining.

She cried out in frustration, pushing Treech to the ground. He groaned, but stood up again.

"I don't trust that last bottle..." he said, as Coral went to go drink it. "Weird how she emptied all of them except that one, leaving it in the middle."

You heard Coryo curse besides you.

You sent some water and food his way, and when the drones dropped them for him, he offered water to Mizzen, the young boy happily taking it and giving some to Coral. He then split his food with the other two.

"Thanks Sunshine, your sweetness graces me once again," he called out with a smile.

"Are you thanking her or praising a goddess?" Coral teases.

"Is there really a difference?"

The crowd awed and the cameras were on your blushing face.

_-_-_-_

He felt guilty. He should have stopped them. He should have protected Lamina.

He should have never even joined the pack.

Coral was already killing them. She wouldn't kill Mizzen. But he was definitely next, which made his plan to get the hell out of there a lot clearer to choose.

_-_-_-_

It was a bit later when you saw Wovey come out of the tunnels.

"It's Wovey! She's still alive!"

Her mentor celebrated that.

She saw the water bottle and grabbed it.

That water... there was something wrong with it.

"No..." whispered Coryo.

There was something wrong with it and he knew. What did he do?

She took a few sips before she curled up on the floor, similar to what Dill did, and stayed there.

You watched and waited for that sweet girl to get up, but she didn't.

In your head you could only thank whatever would listen that those baby girls didn't have to die violently.

Reaper came out once more, and saw the corpses. He gathered them, putting them all together. The only one he wouldn't touch was Jessup. He was smart, and didn't want to get infected.

Grabbing a piece of the flag, he took it and went to the top of the stands laying down.

There was no more 'excitement' for the day.

You decided to sleep there overnight. You didn't want to go back to the silence that gripped your house.

The other mentors decided to do the same, all of you arranging yourselves around the hall.

Late into the night, you couldn't sleep, so you stayed watching the screen.

That's when you saw Treech carefully sneak away. He went down into the tunnels, and hid.

The first place, he stayed for a while and cried. Your heart broke at the sound. You wished you could go comfort him.

You heard him mutter apologies in his crying.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, matching his. You hated seeing him cry.

He sniffled and stood up, going to find a place to actually hide.

Wherever he hid, you couldn't see him.

But you heard his soft voice as he quietly sang your lullaby.

"Close your eyes, my love, so dear...Underneath the night so clear. Dream of worlds beyond this one, Where the gentle moon and stars do run. Rest your head upon my chest, Feel the rhythm, soft and blessed. In dreams, may this forever shine, In your heart, for all of time..."

You felt your eyes softly close and you fell asleep.

_-_-_-_

He cried for what he'd done. He let her die and he felt guilty about it.

Would Lamina forgive him? Would her parents? Would people back home forgive him for leaving her?

Would (Y/N) forgive him?

Hiding in a corner somewhere in the tunnels, he quietly sang her lullaby, hoping it would calm him down.

_-_-_-_

The morning soon came and you groaned, standing up and clapping your hands together.

It was almost time for everyone to be here.

"Guys... time to wake up..." you said softly, turning the lights up slowly.

You went one by one, waking each of them up gently.

"Where's your tribute?" Coryo asked.

"He got away from the group last night. He's hiding. My smart boy," you giggled.

The door opened and someone you weren't expecting to see walked in.

"Clemmie?"

The group of mentors rushed to her, asking her how she was.

She glared at Coriolanus.

Yeah, something definitely went down with those two.

——

Nothing had happened so far other than Coral cursing out Treech when she found out he was gone.

Mid day, and nothing had really happened. Clemmensia tried sending food to Reaper but he ignored it.

Your broad cast was interrupted.

"It is with great sadness that I must announce a tragic death. One that affects us all... Felix Ravestill, son of our beloved president, has this morning succumbed to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing..." Dr. Gaul's voice echoed through the room.

People gasped, and started whispering. Some started crying. You were upset loosing another classmate. And one who was tolerable at the very least.

"Out there in the districts, they will be celebrating this young boy's death as a triumph. I will not allow my games to give our enemies such a victory. I swear to you here and now before the sun goes down tonight; a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there is to be no victor in these games."

You gasped and covered your mouth.

Coriolanus ran out of the room.

You wondered where he was going.

"No victor? What? Then who will win the Plinth Prize?"

You couldn't believe how shallow they were. These were human lives that were on the line. And they treated it like... well, a game.

About half an hour had passed and you saw Treech quietly walking out of the tunnels. Coryo came back, sweating and panting.

"Where were you?" You asked.

"Had something come up..." he answered. He looked you in the eyes.

He had figured it out. You only believed him when he made eye contact. But there was still something about your expression that made him think you didn't believe him.

You didn't.

Suddenly you heard the sound of wiring. You looked at the screen to see a drone, bigger than any that brought the tributes gifts, bringing in a giant tank.

You saw all the tributes stare up at it. Well, the visible ones.

The tank was set in the middle, and you all watched confused.

Treech took slow steps back.

The tank suddenly erupted, and snakes began to come out.

You gasped.

Clemensia screamed, falling back and out of her chair.

_-_-_-_

"Oh fuck me," he groaned, running away from the snakes, climbing the score board, and sitting on the ledge.

He watched the chaos.

Sure, it was morbid. But he was safe. He made you a promise that he would come back to you, and he was going to get back to you.

_-_-_-_

"Oh fuck me," Treech groaned.

"Oh oh goodness that's.. uh..." Flickerman stammered for words.

"Sounds like a job for (Y/N)," one girl called out.

You blushed and rolled your eyes, watching the screen.

Coryo watched obsessively. Lucy Gray wasn't out in the arena. She was in the tunnels.

You watched as Coral helped Mizzen get to higher ground, getting bitten.

The action made you feel bad for her.

Mizzen cried out for Coral, tears streaming down the boy's face.

A cry was heard from a woman.

Lucy Gray. It had to be. Unless Teslee was hurt? No Teslee was on the beam.

Coryo gripped onto the desk tightly, worried.

Suddenly you heard singing coming from the tunnels.

Lucy Gray backed out softly, singing, the snakes following her.

By the end of the song, the snakes had wrapped around her and not attacked.

"The singing. It must calm them," Coryo said.

——

Five tributes left.

The snakes had been cleared out, most dying from the night and the cold. You assumed they weren't used to being outside of Dr. Gaul's lab, which is why they died so quickly.

You all watched as the tributes all did different things.

Teslee was still messing with a drone like she and her district partner had been doing. She actually got it to work, and it flew up, her with it.

She laughed brightly but you were confused. What was she going to do?

The other drones flew and everyone was freaking out.

What was she doing and how?

The question was answered when Mizzen was knocked over, falling, a cry of Coral’s name slipping past his lips. He landed on the concrete, breaking his neck and dying on impact due to her and the drones.

She laughed again, kind of celebrating the death.

It didn't last for long as an axe was struck into her skull.

You gasped.

Treech had just killed her. He stared in horror at his hands and the blood pooling around Teslee's body. You heard him whisper an apology.

"And then there were three. Let's see how this plays out," Flickerman announced.

Reaper, who hadn't really done much was behind Lucy Gray.

Was he going to attack her?

Treech went over, and went to get him away from her. He wasn't aiming for Lucy Gray.

"He's protecting her?" Clemensia questioned, turning to you two.

He was. He wasn't going to kill Reaper, but maybe get him away. Enough to buy time for them to run away.

Lucy Gray didn't see that. She panicked and hugged him. Treech dropped his axe, hugging her back.

But his face soured immediately.

He swiftly pulled away, grabbing his axe and tripping Lucy Gray. One of the rainbow snakes slipped from her hand, and Treech hit it with his axe, chopping its head off in one fell swoop.

_-_-_-_

"Treech I-i... I'm sorry I-"

"Yeah yeah, save it song bird. Have fun defending yourself. You know, I never told Coral and the group when you came up if they were sleepin'. I purposely tried to fail and give you an escape. I mean for fucks sake, I know what happened to that water bottle and I let you. I let Lamina die because I didn't alert them to you bein' in the open again. I did all of that because (Y/N) asked me to not hurt you. She begged me to at all costs leave you be. My sunshine is sweet. Too sweet. Because she lets people like you and that blonde prick manipulate her. And she'll still feel sorry. I won't hurt you, 'cause I promised her. But I ain't defendin' you anymore," he spat, kicking the snake's corpse away.

She tried to apologize.

But he didn't listen to any of it, climbing back up the scoreboard.

He almost died because he was touch starved. He missed you. He missed his mom. He missed his dad. He wanted to go home. And he almost ruined that because of a hug?

"You can sing your way out of trouble, Lucy Gray. But you can't sing your way to an apology."

_-_-_-_

You looked at Coriolanus.

He knew what she did to the water? What had she done? Did Coryo know about it too?

"Down to three! How are you feeling Clemensia?"

"Well, I think that Reaper is going to do well. I mean, Lucy Gray can't sing her way out of everything. And she lost the only alliance she had with Treech. So she's kind of by herself. He just hasn't eaten yet, which reminds me-"

Clemensia sent him some food and water. He ignored them.

"How about you (Y/N)? There's been lots of whispers around about all he's said about you, and we are all curious."

"Treech is strong. And fast. He's smart too. Right now neither of his opponents can climb like him. The only bad thing is he has a close range weapon. But he's familiar with it. Like my classmate mentioned, Lucy Gray lost his trust, so I think... he'll do well. And about everything he's said... I've kept mental notes," you explain, giggling at the end, winking at the cameras.

"And finally, Coriolanus Snow. You and Lucy Gray were second Capitol favorites, beat only by Treech and (Y/N). How do you feel about this is going to play out?"

"Lucy Gray is smart. And if Treech had not noticed the snake, he'd be dead making her odds better. She can't sing her way out of everything is what people keep saying, but so far it's worked so..."

You glared at him.

He was supposed to be your friend. He was the one who told you to tell Treech not to attack Lucy Gray. Lucy Gray knew about the arrangement right? Coriolanus said it would be mutual. Had he been lying? What had he told you? Would he have lied?

You turned your attention to the screen where Lucy Gray was getting Reaper's attention. He looked sickly. Maybe he had gotten rabies from Jessup? He was acting how he had. And he had moved the corpse eventually. He moved it when he moved Coral's, Mizzen's, and Teslee's.

She yelled at him, and he merely looked at her before going back to laying down.

She huffed, grabbing the flag that covered the dead tributes.

That got his attention.

_-_-_-_

He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Lucy Gray was trying to tire him out.

For what?

Probably to kill him. But how? She had no weapon. Well... except that little compact of hers. He'd noticed it. She put some white powder into that water bottle. She killed Wovey.

That water puddle... wait. The water puddle that Dill drank from.

She killed Dill too.

He scoffed.

When he killed Teslee... he couldn't believe what he had done.

He looked at his hands.

She laughed. Laughed at the death she caused. And Mizzen. He was a sweet boy despite the circumstances. He was like the little brother Treech never had. And to watch this girl laugh and mock him for screaming out for Coral before dying?

It made him upset.

But was he any better than her? He killed her. It didn't matter what the circumstances were. He killed her.

Would you ever forgive him?

Would he ever forgive himself?

_-_-_-_

After Lucy Gray dropped the flag, Reaper stopped chasing. He grabbed the flag, spreading it over the tributes.

Clemensia sent water again.

He ignored it.

"What the hell is wrong with him!" She shouted.

He went to a puddle. The same puddle that Dill drank out of. He took a few sips, before he passed out.

No... died.

You watched as Lucy Gray went and offered Treech a water bottle.

_-_-_-_

"Do you think I'm stupid?" He scoffed, swinging his legs on the scoreboard.

In that moment, a drone arrived dropping water for him.

Lucy Gray sat defeated at the bottom.

He rolled his eyes.

"What are you going to do if you win?"

"Well... I'm going home."

"I mean about your girl. She Capitol. She'll have to stay."

"... Home is a lot of things. District Seven. The forest. And her. If it meant starting over in the Capitol I'd do it. If they send me out to 12, I'd fight my way back to her. I could be dying and I'd crawl home. I'd crawl home to her. Just as I am willing to give up everything for her, I know she'd be willing to do the same for me. I know that's hard to comprehend since blondie wouldn't do the same for you." He said, using some of the water to rinse his hands and face of the dust and grime.

The silence filled the arena.

"I'm sorry. Just... guess I'm still upset. What about you? What will you do if you go back home?"

"I'm going straight back to the Covey. I miss them like crazy. You wouldn't believe... I miss performing for people to have fun. Not just because I need to."

"Well, I promised her lots of things. That I'd get out of here alive, that I wouldn't hurt you... but we have a mutual deal that if I win, she gives me all the letters and things she's written for me over the years, and I'll give her mine. I'm excited for that," he laughed.

A sudden noise in the arena made him jump.

"Congratulations to our victors of this year's Hunger Games."

_-_-_-_

The crowd had changed and begged for both to live. And Dr. Gaul never ever wanted the games to be recieved badly.

So she let both out.

You got up, people were congratulating you, but you ran out the door.

Out the door, out the school, thorough the streets... until you were in front of the arena.

Flickerman was there somehow. The guards let you pass, and you ran inside.

"Hi sunshine, long time no see," he whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

"Hey there Lumberjack... did ya get stuck in a tree?"

And with those words you ran into his arms. You pulled back and looked up at him, kissing his lips as tears rolled down both of your cheeks.

"I promised I'd come back to you... I promised you," he mumbled in between kisses.

"Careful camera is here," you laughed.

"I don't care I just survived the fucking Hunger Games and now I want to kiss my Sunshine. They can kiss my ass," he scoffed, pulling you into another kiss.

“I told you, years of kisses to catch up on.”

[blackink-onpaper]

The Descend and the Resurface

Damian Hart (Beyblade) x OC

Summary: OC comes from a complex background, and in the midst of trying to save it all and help her family she enters a strange arrangement, which will change her life forever.

Masterlist 🖤

Tags: Beyblade, Beyblade Metal Masters, Jack, Damian, OC, sex, smut, nsfw, team Starbreaker, dr. Ziggurat, Hades Inc.

A/N: This chapter features a song, so I included it for the ambiance! Enjoy~

Chapter 14

As the hour rolled by, Zeo opened up and told me about his personal vendetta against Masamune; now I finally know his name. Although I am sure there is, as always, another perspective on the whole situation, I have to say I was surprised Gingka hasn’t noticed his teammate was such a selfish power-hungry guy. Nonetheless, I think talking to Zeo about it helped him and even if that is the only extent to which I can help, I am fine with that.

“I will be cheering you on Zeo, don’t you worry” I gave him a side hug with my right arm: “I’m just surprised Gingka didnt realise he was like this earlier.”

“Masamune thinks he didn’t do anything wrong” Zeo sighed: “The arrangement tomorrow will finish him off, and I will have my revenge by any means necessary.”

In my thoughts, I reflected on the fact that Starbreaker members all have a strong drive: Zeo’s revenge, Damian’s need for dominance, and Jack’s need to express himself. None are necessarily bad, Zeo’s especially sounds quite reasonable, but it’s just strange how different they are than Excalibur. My thoughts then moved onto the clock on my wrist, wondering when was Damian going to be done.

“Have you seen Jack?” I asked, to change the topic.

Zeo checked his smart watch: “oh he’s probably painting or something. He always has the energy burst day before a big match.”

“Wait, is he fighting Gingka or Damian?”

“Well, unless Gan Gan Galaxy somehow found a third member they didn’t announce anything about, I think Gingka will go against both Damian and Jack. I insisted on Masamune.”

The elevator door slid open, and Jack stepped out. He was without his mask and coat, his hands covered in bits of paint. With a small pant, he sighed: “I finished yet another beautiful masterpiece!”

“Great Jack” Zeo said without any particular emotion, more like an acknowledgement: “Wanna come sit with us? I think they’ll serve lunch soon”

“Excellent” Jack sat down next to us: “I am positively starving!”

“How do you feel about tomorrow’s match?” I asked him as he fixed his hair, which also apparently had some strands covered in an ultramanrine blue paint:

“FILLED WITH INVIGORATING EXCITEMENT” he yelled, which startled both Zeo and I considering his seemingly tired enterance into the room: “I cannot wait to use the feathers of a mythical Pegasus to scatter across a canvas distributed to a global audience to see!”

Zeo seemed bored with Jack, but also worried about his own problems. To compensate for the differences in energies, I tried to calm them both down:

“Tomorrow is going to be challenging, but you have every upper hand possible” I shot a smile at Zeo particularly, and he smiled back softly: “Yeah, it seems Damian’s cruelty saved us a lot of work in this tournament.”

“Blessed are his hands” Jack added, theatrically waving his hand, which I just noticed was missing a glove: “There is just sometning so beautiful in destruction and obliteration, something so simple and clean. And he really does a beautiful job.”

Without knowing what to say, I stood up to get some water, when two people dressed in black plain clothes entered the room with two trays of food, putting them on the table in the conversation pit and leaving just as fast as they came in. I poured myself a glass of ice cold water and sat down with the boys again. Jack dug into his rich plate first and quite hasty:

“Bon appétit!” I smiled at them, Jack nodded as a response because his mouth was full, and Zeo perked up his head:

“Oh you speak French?”

“Yeah, I studied it in school. Latin and French were mandatory second languages. But now I mostly just listen to the music really…”

“That’s so cool” Zeo smiled and took a bite of food off his fork.

“Let’s play some music!” Jack waved with his fork, almost stabbing Zeo’s ear: “Camila can even play some refreshing French music to add ambience to this bland room, which I told Ziggurat many times requires more colour…” Jack kind of trailed off into his own thoughts.

“Yeah of course I can play some” I picked up my phone and looking through the songs I had, before finding one I was convinved Jack was going to love: “Jack, this one is for you!”

As the first notes of ‘dernière danse’ by Indila played, Jack was completely in trance: “oh my… OH MY!”

“Now you’ve done it” Zeo almost choked himself laughing at Jack, who was moving along to the music. He then stood up, and gradually made additions to his range of motion: “Camila, this is WONDERFUL!”

I laughed and got up to join him, singing along with the singer. Zeo was definitely enjoying what he was seeing, because he accidentally spilled my water all over himself by kicking the table with his foot. By the end of the song, we had a little party of three: Jack and I were the singing dancers, and Zeo was our delighted audience.

“Okay what’s next?” I picked up my phone: “what do you guys listen to?”

“I really like this artist” Jack pointed to the ceiling with his finger, referring to the one we just litened to. I looked at Zeo, who was patting himself dry with a napkin: “oh man, uhm, I don’t know… I kind of like rock?”

A mischevious thought crossed my mind, bringing warmth to my cheeks: “what does Damian listen to?”

Jack and Zeo unanimously said: “Ziggurat”, before all three of us burst into laughter.

“He always seemed like a Carmina Burana guy to me” I sighed, sitting down. Although I didn’t expect anyone to get my reference, Jack burst into laughter: “Carmina Burana… this is too good!”

I pressed play on a song called ‘love story’, also by Indila, to Jack’s major satisfaction, as the three of us continued the chat. Then, the elevator door slid open, and Damian stepped out with a smile pointed my way: “Am I interrupting a party?”

“Camila’s been playing us some delightful French music, Damian. Come and join us!” Jack said, he was visibly very happy. Zeo also seemed much more relaxed than earlier.

“Hm” Damian’s eyes rolled across the room and the three of us: “Interesting.”

“Sit with us, Damian.” I smiled at him.

“Fine” he sighed and sat down with his elbows on his knees. The song continued in the background:

“Is she saying ‘love story’? In the song?” Jack asked, and I nodded in response.

“At least something we can understand” Damian added, referring to none of the boys speaking French.

At that moment, all three of the boys receieved a message on their devices. Zeo and Jack read theirs on their smart watches, and Damian read his on a phone-like device he pulled out of his pocket.

“Group meeting?” Zeo looked up: “About what? Haven’t we decided everything already?”

“Well then there are other things to discuss, obviously.” Damian replied with a grin, but visibly annoyed by Zeo’s question. As a response to what Damian said, Zeo stood up abruptly with his fists clenched in anger and his lips pursed together, as if to prevent himself from saying something, and walked over to the elevator:

“I’ll see you at the meeting.” he stated before the doors closed behind him.

“We should be going as well” Jack said casually, as if this scene didn’t happen at all, making his way to the elevator. When his back was turned to us, Damian whispered: “see you after” into my ear before rushing off behind him.

With the fall of the evening, the energy and heat of the day lifted, and tiredness swept over Hades. I was laying in Damian’s bed, as he was studying the data Hades Inc. has collected on Gingka, his fighting style and Bey, off his large TV screen.

“Damian” I purred, slowly hugging him from the back: “You’re ready. Please come to bed.”

His face remained focused on the screen: “I don’t want any surprises tomorrow.”

He evidently didn’t understand I was craving his attention: “You need rest for the Arrangement tomorrow, there is nothing Gan Gan Galaxy can surprise you with.”

“I suppose you’re right” he sighed and turned off the TV, crawling under the sheets, and I cuddled up to him:

“Have I ever told you that I really like the name Starbreaker?”

“Hm?” Damian lifted an eyebrow, clearly departing from his previous train of thought.

“Because of, obviously, the flag, but also because you break stars” I slid myself on top of him, and caressed his hair: “stars like Gingka… and what is a galaxy without stars?” I smiled at him, trying to allude to Gan Gan Galaxy’s name.

His mouth stretched into a very satisfied smile, this has improved his mood significantly: “I really am the Chosen One because of how lucky I got.” he leaned in and kissed me passionately before turning me around and got on top of me, more assertive and confident than earlier today.

“Aren’t you tired?” I checked the time and saw the effects of the Arrangement were supposed to kick in by now.

“Not at all” he grinned in a sadistic smile, pushing his hands under my top, and placing his knee between my thighs accidentaly, making me moan unexpectadly. I moved my hips in motion, grinding on his knee and thigh until he suddenly flipped me around, grabbing my hips. I realised he knew what he wanted, to assert dominance and fuck me senseless, and relaxed all of my muscles in hopes of being rewarded. Soon after, I was moaning breathlessly as his thrusts kept hitting my senstitive spot. With my chest pressed flat against the bed, his one hand holding the back of my neck, and the other gripping my hip, I had completely let him take control.

“Damian..” I moaned into the bedsheets, separating the sylablles from the thrusts.

He chuckled: “you’re a slut for me, aren’t you now?”

“Yes” I moaned: “please Damian, please… I’m about to finish…”

He chuckled again, this time a bit more sadistically, as he put his other hand on my hip as well, gripping them from both sides now, and letting out a pleasure-full sigh: “Good for you”

Then he picked up the pace, and I came. For me, orgasms have always felt like tripping over something: there is a repetative motion until a point when you trip over something, and then are in a free fall, surrendered to what’s happening to you, and what’s about to happen to you, before a wave of sensations comes crashing into you. He finished soon after me, my pussy still pulsating from my own release as he was filling it up with his sperm.

He laid down onto his back next to me, and I turned around to my side to face him. We locked our eyes, simply staring at each other for a minute or so before slowly drifting off to sleep.

[3ofpents]

#but there's nothing like seeing a broadway show and noticing the spot being a bit slow on pickup or the sound ring just a bit#and then they fix it quickly#and i love seeing how human they are but also how good

Yeessssss, I'm also big into theater, and I grew up 45 from NYC back when $80 was expensive for orchestra seats, so I've seen a lot of professional Broadway productions. I'm sure I witnessed plenty of mistakes that I just never noticed, but two of my favorite moments were mistakes.

One of them was in Chicago back in the late '90s when the current run first opened. I don't remember if the actor we saw playing Billy Flynn was an understudy or new to the production or just got distracted that night, but during one of his big dramatic speeches (I think it was his closing arguments, but it's been thirty years) he blanked on his lines. And like, not everyone noticed! I asked after the show and even my mom, who'd been sitting right next to me, didn't notice. Because he didn't give anything away and the way the part is played it just read like a dramatic pause. The only reason I noticed? Was because I happened to hear the person off-stage whisper the line to him.

The second one was Beauty and the Beast. This was also back in the late '90s, back before Disney held so much theatrical real estate on Broadway. Beauty and the Beast was their first Broadway production and it was genuinely such a fantastic show that we ended up seeing it twice, I think in the same year. The first time we saw it, though, there was a Mishap. One that I'm sure was humiliating in the moment for the actors playing the Beast but especially Belle, but I've always looked back on as very funny in a completely relatable way.

The actor who plays the Beast wears a mask and gloves as part of his costume. But there's that moment where he transforms at the end, and the transformation happens on stage. When this goes as-planned, the actor's lifted up on a flying rig, his arms, because of the way they were positioned when he was lying on the ground, slide over his head and around a bit and the mask and gloves vanish. To where? I don't know. But that was how it happened in the successful version of the scene the second time I saw the show.

The first time I saw it, some part of the slight of hand didn't work and instead of the mask vanishing ... it fell down behind the actor and flopped onto the stage right below him. The actress playing Belle, bless her, was kneeling on the floor right beside him and, after a moment of hesitation, tried to reach over really quickly to shove the mask off the stage. Except if you've ever been on a black painted stage before, you know it's not the kind of texture that allows for things to easily slide, nevermind a big floppy mask likely made of some kind of rubbery material covered in faux fur and hair. She shoved, it just flopped right back. She shoved again, same thing. Finally she grabbed it and put some oomph behind it. Success! It slid! And stopped short like six inches from the wings. It was too far away from her at that point, but luckily a helpful hand appeared from backstage to grab it and finally get it off-stage to stop ruining the big climax of the show.

It was genuinely so funny and I hope that actress looks back on that and laughs the way I do when I look back on that time I kicked off my shoe dancing with the wolf in a community theater production of Into the Woods.

Looking at the small details of other people's artwork to sniff out the mistakes, not to catch them out as a Bad Artist but to remind myself that even people who make art I like and consider high level professional quality are also human beings and that being talented doesn't mean a final piece with no flaws whatsoever.

That slightly wonky line? That weirdly shaped hand? That random mark? That tiny section you forgot to line? that microscopic spot that got missed during the coloring phase? I love them. All of them. They're little bits of yourself you left on the page that wave to me and say, "Hey! It's okay! I'm just like you!"

None of us are machines, and frankly even the machines make mistakes.

[hellish-heart-ships]

🏖️🥥🍧 For Mishima!

Finally getting around to answering these now that I’m not dying!

Seaside self ship questions here

The beach 🏖️ - When was the last adventure/vacation/mission you went on with your f/o?

It’s been a fair while what with Kazumi being a teacher, and the only times we’re able to have a holiday/adventure are during school breaks. The last time we’ve gone out was actually to the beach though. Not on a particularly hot day so there it wasn’t full of people, but we’d had lunch, splashing around and swimming together, Kazumi helped with a sandcastle I was building, and I always have to go to see rock pools, and Kazumi finding my childishness heartwarming.

Coconut 🥥 - What are things your f/o does to express physical affection for you? (Or vice versa)

Of course he adores sharing kisses and hugs and cuddles, but we both love the feeling of running our hands through each other’s hair and brushing them over each other’s body (both giving and receiving (sfw)), fixing up each other’s clothing and brushing each other’s hair out of our faces, holding hands. And massages are especially loved and appreciated by both of us. Kazumi always tends to have a hand touching me or an arm around me absentmindedly during quiet moments.

Shaved ice 🍧- What are things your f/o does that you find particularly/oddly attractive, that are usually unconventional or perhaps are strange to find attractive? (Or vice versa)

First off, it isn’t something odd that he does, but the fact that I find it attractive since it’s a bad habit that he hides, but the smoking. He just looks hot af doing it ok?

But actual oddities? Kazumi is full of them. The theatrics, his personal style, his enthusiasm for just about everything, and the way he tries so hard to not be off putting to others while still scaring them. It’s all beautiful to me.

And I’m the same really. Kazumi finds me adorable and just enchanting really with the fact that I’m every bit as strange and dramatic as he is, and with my hyperactivity, how easily excited and pleased I am, the fact that I talk to animals, and how I’m equally obsessed with everything cute and girly, and dark and spooky. He finds me utterly precious and darling.

[onepiecehcs]

Twin Blade Thatch, 4th division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, gets weak at the knees when someone taller than him is witty enough to tease him back, and in this essay i will,

[stylesberries]

Rainbow Cardigan

Summary: Harry loses his favorite cardigan. You learn how to knit. (Based on the JW Anderson cardigan knitting trend.)

Genre(s): fluff, a sexual innuendo

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning(s): mentions of sexual intercourse.

Harry’s sense of style is one of the main things that make people around automatically drowns to him. High waisted flares, custom Gucci suits and newsboy caps - Harry in a nutshell.

His style is so distinctive, that even if his face and tattoos were covered, people around would still recognize him just by looking at his outfit.

You, of course, are one of the many fans of Harry’s style. Being his girlfriend had its benefits. Getting to steal his clothes was, obviously, on top of the list.

“Sweetheart!” Harry calls out for you from the bedroom.

You got up from your place in the living room, following your boyfriend’s voice. You knew that if he just wanted to tell you something, he would’ve texted. He clearly needs you to come up to him, so that’s exactly what you do.

Going up the stairs, you kept thinking about who could be the killer in the new detective series episode you’ve been watching.

When you reached your bedroom, your eyes trailed right to your worrying boyfriend, who was walking in circles around the room with his brows furrowed and in deep thought.

“Love, is everything okay? You seem upset.” You gently started.

He really looked frustrated, and you had no idea what was the reason behind it. He would always take every hardship light-heartedly, knowing that everything can be solved and everything can be fixed, and if that’s not the case, he would say, “Well, that’s what life’s about, isn’t it? It can’t always be easy. That’s the beauty of it.” Your mind started walking in circles just like your distraught boyfriend, thinking about anything that could’ve caused him to react this way.

“Y/N, I think I lost m’rainbow cardigan.”

Then it hit you. He really loved that cardigan. It wasn’t just adorable, warm and cozy. He wore it for your first date, and being someone who imbues everything with meaning and gets emotionally attached to things, his reaction wasn’t surprising to you.

“My dear, I’m sure we will find it. Come on. I’ll help you lo-”He cut you off full of sadness and frustration.

“I’ve already looked everywhere, and I mean everywhere. I’ve looked in every room, on every shelf. I looked under every couch, just in case. I even checked the stove. Like, come on, it could never be there, but I still looked! I don’t know what t’do. I always take it along wherever I go. If I am here and it’s not - I lost it. I fucking lost it. Y/N, what do I do? Where else could I look?” He was full-on bawling now. You couldn’t help but cut the distance separating you short and hug him.

“Don’t worry, Har. We will find it. I know how much it means to you. We’ll find it.” You kept repeating it. Although, your voice was muffled by his hair, he caught every word leaving your mouth.

“I cannot lose it. I can’t. What if it’s lost forever? How could I let it out of my sight?” The sight of him so genuinely saddened by the situation made you let out a sigh. You were full of compassion and understanding, trying to remember the last time you saw the poor cardigan. Failing to do so, you turned to your crushed boyfriend and tried to get information out of him.

“When did you last see it, baby? Do you remember?” You carefully asked, trying your best not to push him even more. Judging by his appearance, you knew that he could easily beat himself up for losing the cardigan to a point of having an anxiety attack, and that was the last thing you wanted right now.

You watched him slowly breathe air in and out, trying to slow his heart rate down.

“I haven’t seen it for over a week. The last time I’ve seen it was at the studio, I think. I put it on t’go there. It was cold that day.” He explained.

You remembered exactly what day he was talking about. He went to the studio early and you missed him a lot, so when he came back home you jumped on him, which later on led to a heated make out session. The thing was that you didn’t remember taking the cardigan off of him that day.

“Har.” You tried to be as gentle as you possibly could, but you knew that there wasn’t anything that could make him feel better about losing something so dear to him.

“Yeah?” He took a step back and looked at your saddened face.

“I’m afraid you came home without the cardigan.”

After having your crying-your-eyes-out-because-of-a-piece-of-clothing session, you were determined to find the cardigan. Knowing that Harry just went to the studio and back that day, you did the same. Harry asked everyone working at the studio if they’ve seen the cardigan, and with every new person your hope withered more and more. As you asked more people and tried to track the cardigan down, you realized that it was probably lost on a bench he sat on by the studio, to drink his morning coffee. That meant that you’ll never see it again. Understanding the hopelessness of the situation, Harry gave up looking.

Seeing your Harry walking around the house completely destroyed by the situation, you couldn’t help, but think about a way to make him feel better.

He would skip his morning runs to sulk in the bed, cuddled up in the blankets with his feet tangled with yours. Harry was never one to skip any part of his daily routine, so you understood how attached he was to the lost cardigan.

One night, after you both finished your dinner and went to watch some rom-com in the living room, your grandmother called. You apologized to Harry and answered the call.

As you gave her an update on your life these days, Harry cuddled closed into your side and let his eyes close.

Your grandmother asked you about everything, starting from what you had for breakfast to how your university project was going.

In couple of minutes Harry started lightly snoring into your ear. Next thing you know she’s telling you about the new blanket that she knitted.

Then an idea came to your mind. You’ll knit him a new cardigan.

Next day was spent shopping for yarn and needles and watching knitting tutorials. The fact that Harry was out in the studio made it even easier for you to bring your ideas to life.

In the beginning you found it a little hard, but with a little motivation you knitted a couple of colorful squares, just like the ones in Harry’s precious cardigan.

The image of the cardigan mostly came from your head, but whenever you needed a reference you could type “Harry Styles Rainbow Cardigan” into Google and freshen the memories.

It took you some time to get the cardigan together, knitting every little square with the other, making sure everything is as neat as possible.

You felt bad for lying to your sweetheart, but you had to admit - it was fun running around hiding your surprise from him.

When the cardigan was ready, you took a look at your creation.

Although, it wasn’t the same as the one you both had so many memories with, it was made with love, coming straight from your heart.

You finished the last touches at about 7 o’clock, and Harry was supposed to come home a bit later today due to a meeting with the management. You waited for him until late evening and found a box to put your little creation into.

After folding the wrapping paper around the box and tying a bow from the ends of the yellow ribbon, that was now wrapped around the sides of the box, you laid down in your bed and picked up an unread book to finally finish it.

In an hour or so your exhausted boyfriend stepped into the house. You could head his steps coming from outside of the bedroom. By the time he came back home, the book found its way back on the side table, as you wrapped the blanket around yourself to mimic the warmth of missing Harry.

Harry walked into the room slowly, making sure he doesn’t step on certain creaking planks in the floor, not to wake you up. He carefully undressed himself and folded the corner of the blanket to get under it. As he carefully positioned himself next to you, you turned around, making sure not to take him by surprise and scare the living shit out of him.

“You’re so late, love. Did something happen?” You asked, hoping that everything was okay with the upcoming tour. Your mind didn’t view anything else as a possibility because you trusted him completely. You knew you had nothing to worry about, as he proved his loyalty to you enough for you not to have any doubts about it.

“Jeff kept me a bit late, m’precious. We were going through the tour schedule. I’m sorry I made y’worry, baby.” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a kiss on your temple. You let him shower you with more and more kisses, before you remembered the box you hid in the closet. You eyes abruptly opened and Harry caught the look of realization on your face.

“What happened, bean? Not in the mood?” He made sure to ask you.

You got up from the bed, pushing his hands off of you, and walked right to the closet.

“Baby? Is everything alright?” Harry was confused over the way you were acting.

You left his questions unanswered and grabbed the box, after opening the doors of the closet looking for it. You walked back up to the bed, but now from Harry’s side. He seemed completely oblivious of what was coming next and, obviously, awaited for an explanation.

“It’s a present. For you.” You now let yourself smile at him, after putting on a show to freak him out. You let out a laugh after seeing Harry look insulted by the way you played with his feelings.

“You’re a meanie. That’s not cute. Was gonna make love to you just now, but I am no longer going to do so.” Harry ended the dramatically long sentence with a theatrical frown.

Despite the little show he put on for you, he couldn’t help but keep looking at the box, laying in front of him.

“What’s that?” He curiously asked.

“Open and see for yourself.” You moved closer to him, with only the box separating you.

Harry carefully unwrapped the bow, making sure he doesn’t rip the paper you carefully wrapped. Something so small, almost unnoticeable, but another thing you loved about this man. There was love in every little gesture and move of his. He could’ve just torn the paper and the ribbon off, acting on his curiosity, but he didn’t. He knew you took time to make it look pretty for him, and he wouldn’t ruin your creation, even if it’s just wrapping paper.

When Harry got to opening the box, he looked up at you, as if asking for your permission. You nodded, smile grazing your face.

As the lid came off the box and the bright colors of the carefully knitted cardigan started gleaming from the light, coming from the lamp on the bedside table, Harry’s facial expression turned from curiosity to utter shock. Noticing his surprise, you chose to speak up.

“I made it myself. I knew how heartbroken you were after losing that cardigan, so I thought - maybe I could knit it for you. I know it’s not perfect, but it would make me very happy if you kept it.” You nervously blabbered, thinking that he didn’t seem as happy as you thought he would be.

“You knitted it yourself?” He looked up at you in shock with tearful eyes, as his hands finally let themself touch the buttons of the item.

“I did. I watched tutorials on YouTube. Thanks to those, I learned how to knit.” You joked, trying to lighten up the atmosphere.

“You learned how to knit to make this for me?” His voice turned raspy, as it always did when he got emotional and he looked like he desperately needed a hug.

So that’s what you gave him.

“Come here, my love. Please don’t cry. I didn’t knit it to make you sad. I wanted to make you happy.” You cooed into his ear.

Harry held onto you with such need and desperation, that you haven’t seen him show before. He squeezed you closer, his hands still keeping hold of the knitted piece.

“You made me so happy. You make me so fucking happy.”

© all right belong to stylesberries. do not repost or modify.

[newtonsheffield]

okay so i don’t think words can describe how much i loved ‘Goose’. That chapter is so beautiful and im so happy for these fictional characters ( david can suck it).

I wonder if how matthew and eddie continue the wednesday tradition with an older (toddler and maybe speaking) edmund? cause that’s all my heart wants.

side note ‘Goose and Eddie’ would be an amazing name for a romantic 90s-2000s sitcom or a romcom movie

Okay! I cannot tell you how relieved I am about how much everyone seems to be enjoying Goose! This fic was a largely selfish venture because I made myself fall in love with Matthew Goose Bagwell who just met a girl in the museum who was smart and funny, and she made little puns about dinosaurs to her Nephew who had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, and fell a little desperately in love with the way her nose crinkled when she smiled and had no idea that she was that Edwina. The Edwina Sheffield who by this time had been voted England’s most beautiful woman thrice in a row. And then I think like a grand total of 1 person asked to see more about them and I forced this fic upon you all, in true Molly Fashion!  

David can get Wreckkkkkked. He never deserved Edwina and after she was with Matthew, take comfort in the fact that Edwina fully realised how ... unsatisfied she’d been by him. (Get it Girl) 

And YES I want to watch “Goose and Eddie”! I want to watch this fic that I wrote as a romantic comedy tbh. Is that vain? Probably. 

Now, I fully, subscribe to the fact that Edwina still takes Edmund to the museum every week, and then miles, and then Charlotte and her own Daughter Sarah, and Mary, and eventually her son. And Matthew takes a long lunch and sits with his wife’s family, more than content to watch Kate’s manic children run all over his office little hands grabbing at everything within reach.

“Auntie Eddie! Edmund is pushing!” Miles’ tiny voice called out as she shut the car door. Edwina sighed, turning towards her Nephews, Edmund looking very innocently back at her. “I wasn’t!” He said, the charming smile Anthony used to get away with things fixed on his face, slightly startling on a boy barely three years old. Edwina fixed them with her sternest look despite how adorable they looked, Miles’ electric blue glasses strapped to his face, An astronaut on his shirt. Edmund’s shoes flashing brightly as he tapped his foot excitedly. “Boys we have to behave, otherwise we’re going straight home, and Grandma Mary will probably make broccoli for lunch.” Both boys wrinkled their noses and Edwina had to bite back a laugh as though her mother would ever force Kate’s children to eat anything they didn’t like. Mary Sheffield had been a very kind mother, but stern when needed. Grandma Mary didn’t know the meaning of the word. Kate’s boys seemed to have her wrapped tightly in their little fists, all of them were trapped there really. 

“Okay, then, Hold hands.” She said, holding her hands out for the boys to take, making their way down the street to the museum. “When Mummy has the new baby, are you going to bring her with us?” Edmund asked as they made their way. Edwina hummed. “Probably. What makes you so sure it’s a girl Neddy?” Edmund grinning at the nickname only she used. Eddie to Neddy she always said when she told him faux secrets and his little face lit up with joy. “Because I already have Milo. So now I need a sister, like Mummy has you.” He said, shrugging as though that made perfect sense. Edwina chuckled to herself as they came through the door, the boys both grinning excitedly just like always.

“Where’s Uncle Matty?” Miles said, tugging on her arm as he looked around the foyer scanning for him. “Uncle Matt can’t meet us today, sweetheart. He’s a little busy setting up something new to show us next week.” Edwina said, her heart clenching at the way both boys pouted. Edmund sighed, “Is it gonna be cool?” He said sceptically a crease forming between his tiny eyebrows, and Edwina had to bite back a laugh. “I think it will be very cool.”  “Well I suppose that’s okay.” He said as though that quite settled the matter tugging his aunt and brother in the direction he had decided they should go.

“It’s bigger than Uncle Ben!” Miles practically shrieked in delight as he looked at the triceratops skeleton his little legs moving with excitement just like it always did. And Edwina felt her heart skip. This was why she loved bringing them here, watching their little faces light up with excitement, watching them discover and learn new things, it was truly beautiful. And a strange sense of longing welled in her chest. Matthew was enough for her, really he was, but recently she couldn’t stop imagining him with their own children rather than Kate’s. He was so patient and kind with them, and god she just wanted. But she’d chickened out every time the thought had pushed at the back of her throat.

“Excuse me, Miss?” A familiar voice said behind her, bringing a smile to her lips “It’s not usually my specialty but maybe I could give you a hand.”  Edwina turned to find her husband grinning broadly, his hair flopping into his eyes, that were shining at her in the bright lighting, and her breath caught a little. But even so, “Mmmm, thanks but, no. I’m waiting for my husband.” Matthew laughed. “Ooof he must be a lucky man.” He said as he leaned in and pressed his lips lightly to hers only to be interrupted by Edmund sprinting headlong into Matthew’s legs. “Uncle Goose! Auntie Eddie said you weren’t coming!” His little voice cried out excitedly and Edwina’s heart stuttered as Matthew Crouched down and let out a little honk at his nickname, grinning broadly as Miles barrelled into him as well. “Hmmm Auntie Eddie can be very silly.” He said shooting her a quick wink. “How could I not see my favourite palaeontologists today?!” both boys grinned excitedly, tugging him towards the skeleton

“Triceratops has 800 teeth!” Miles called out and Matthew gasped theatrically  “No way, Milo! You’re making that up!” Matthew said and Edwina thought, in that moment that she couldn’t be any more thankful that this man had bumped into her just a few feet away.

And that night, when the thought pushed at the back of her throat as they sat on the sofa, his head resting lightly in her lap, she let it fall out.  “Matt, I want to have a baby.” Matthew’s eyes softened as he looked up at her  “Yeah?” He said lightly his eyes staring into hers carefully. And she forced herself to nod, as nervous butterflies beat against her stomach. And then her heart skipped as a broad smile spread over his face. “Then let’s have a baby, honey.”         

[kanerallels]

Okay, no clue if I can send in multiple prompts, so no pressure, you don’t have to reply to this one.

But maybe Kanera with soulmates, rescue (maybe even fix-it 👀👀) As you can see I’m a sucker for soulmate AUs🧍‍♀️💀

Alrighty, this isn't EXACTLY a soulmate au, but it came to me and I have ZERO self control around domestic Kanera, so let's go!!!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word Count: 1,592

Tags/Warnings: Rated G (for me getting ridiculously sappy today)

“One more story?”

Kanan shook his head. “Not tonight, Jacen. I told your mom I'd have you in bed before she was home.”

“I don’t want to go to bed until she’s home, though,” Jacen said. “I want to say goodnight to her.”

Brushing a hand over his son’s hair affectionately, Kanan said, “I know, kiddo. But your mom will string me up if you’re still awake when she gets back. You’re up late enough as it is.”

Jacen let out a theatrical sigh, and Kanan heard him shifting his weight in bed as he clearly considered his next maneuver. He couldn’t help but repress a smile at it-- the kid’s tenacity came straight from his mom. Although Hera would claim he inherited it from Kanan.

“What time does Mom get home from the appointment again?” Jacen asked.

“She’ll be back around ten-thirty, as you already know,” Kanan reminded him. “That was a really bad stalling technique. Time for bed.”

“No! Tell me another story,” Jacen begged. “Tell me about when you first met Mom.”

Kriff. The kid knew his weak spot. “Jacen…”

“Just this story, then I’ll go to bed. Please?”

Letting out a sigh, Kanan said, “Okay. But only one more, and then you’re going to sleep. Got it?”

Jacen let out an excited yelp, bouncing up and down in bed. “Yes! I promise.”

“Good, now lay back down,” Kanan ordered. “You’ve got to at least pretend you’re going to try and fall asleep after this.”

Immediately squirming back down under the covers, Jacen lay still obediently, and Kanan felt himself smiling as he paused for a minute to collect his wits for the story. If he was being honest, he loved telling this story.

“The first time I met your mother, I was on a backwater planet called Gorse. Now, the planet wasn’t much to look at, but the moon was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

“Until you met Mom,” Jacen jumped in, and Kanan nodded.

“Exactly. So, I was working as a pilot, flying explosives to the mine at that point. Wasn’t a safe job, wasn’t a smart job. But I didn’t really care back then. I didn’t care about much of anything. Until one night, when I was heading out of this old tapcafe where I’d been eating dinner, and I heard it.” Kanan tilted his head to the side, closing his eyes and imagining the moment with a soft smile.

“What was it?” Jacen asked, as he always did, his voice dramatically curious.

“The most incredibly beautiful voice,” Kanan said, his own voice equally dramatic. “It was soft and warm, so totally unlike Gorse and everything I’d ever come to expect about the galaxy. The minute I heard that voice, I knew there was something worth living for. And at the moment, it was finding out what kind of woman had a voice like that.”

“So you went after her,” Jacen supplied.

“I did-- after I paid my bill, of course,” Kanan said. “Side note, never run out on a bill from a Besalisk with anger management issues. Anyway, I went to find her, but she’d disappeared, like she was some kind of dream. For a while there, I almost thought she was one. Until--”

“You heard her again!”

“Hey, who’s telling the story?” Kanan gave Jacen a mock stern frown.

“Sorry,” Jacen said, his tone making it clear he was grinning. “I won’t interrupt again.”

“I should hope not,” Kanan said sternly. “But yeah, I heard her again. And, typical of your mother, she was about to get in a brawl with a gang.” As he spoke, he heard the door to the bedroom creak open, and stifled a smile as he kept talking. “So I rushed in to save the day.”

“Oh, did you?” Hera’s voice came from behind Kanan, and he could no longer hold back his smile as Jacen let out an excited yelp.

“Mom!!! You’re home!!”

Kanan ducked just in time to avoid Jacen as the boy launched himself out of bed and at his mother. Catching him, Hera hugged him, and gently set him to the ground. “What are you still doing up, sweetheart?” she asked, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “As if I didn’t know,” she added, directing a look at Kanan that he didn’t need eyesight to decode.

“You don’t know what he threatened me with,” he said, shooting a wink at Jacen. “It was brutal, Hera. You almost lost your husband tonight-- and how would you feel if you came home and your son had committed patricide?”

Hera let out a scoff that was very clearly hiding a laugh. “You’re full of it, dear.”

“Full of love for you,” Kanan said, grinning, and that pulled a laugh out of her.

Stepping forward, she set Jacen onto his bed. “Okay, get back in bed, Jacen. Your father will finish his story, and then it’s time to sleep. Got it?”

“Okay, Mom.” Jacen snuggled back under the covers, and Kanan began his story again.

“As I was saying, your mom was about to get in a fight with a gang of ten, fifteen beings. But little did I know as I started to charge forward to save the day, I was right next to one of the most competent and incredibly talented women I’d ever met. She started fighting right along with me-- handled more than half of the gang, I might add,” Kanan said with a grin.

Hera, who’d settled next to Kanan, chipped in, “Meanwhile, your dad got tackled through a window.”

“Who’s telling the story here?” Kanan demanded, and Hera let out a quiet laugh as she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

“Sorry, love. Keep going.”

Turning back to Jacen, Kanan said, “Anyway, once I finished my fight, I made my way back to where your mom had been-- and there was no one there. Just the cloak she’d dropped when the fight began.

“But when I picked it up and turned around, there she was. The most beautiful woman I’d ever met.” Kanan paused for a moment, a soft smile crossing his face. “I was spellbound immediately.”

“Meanwhile, I was wondering what this scruffy gunslinger was doing with my cloak, and why he was staring at me,” Hera said wryly. “I took off, despite his attempts to follow me or convince me to stay.”

“But then you met him again at that bar,” Jacen said.

“And from there, I found myself dragged into shenanigan after shenanigan with this woman,” Kanan said with a teasing grin. “Somehow, she convinced me to help her save Cynda and Gorse from that psychopath, Count Vidian. Long story short, we ended up on an exploding Star Destroyer together. And that’s when I actually saved your mother’s life.”

“True,” Hera said softly. “I still remember when I saw you use the Force for the first time. You were the last person I would have expected to be a Jedi back then.”

“Well, that was the point,” Kanan said.

“But he’s still a good Jedi,” Jacen said. His voice was growing steadily sleepier as he spoke.

“One of the best,” Hera said.

“I had my moments,” Kanan agreed. “But one of the best things I ever did was save you then. You know, kid, in some cultures, they say that when you save someone’s life, that means they’re your soulmate, that you’re meant to be together.”

“Is that true?” Jacen asked, letting out a huge yawn.

Kanan shrugged. “Who can say? I would have married your mom regardless. Now, time for you to go to sleep.”

As he and Hera rose to their feet, Hera dropping a quick kiss onto Jacen’s forehead, Jacen let out another yawn. “Night, mom. Night, dad.”

“Good night, sweetheart,” Hera said as she switched off the light, and the two of them slipped out of Jacen’s room.

Kanan gently closed the door behind them, then turned to Hera. “Hey. How’d your appointment go?”

“Pretty well,” Hera said, catching him by the hand and leading him away from Jacen’s room and into the living room. “The doctor said that I didn’t have a stomach bug, but there were a couple other tests she wanted to do on me.”

“Oh?” Kanan kept his voice calm, but he could feel his heart rate pick up. They hadn’t been sure when Hera had gone in, but he had a feeling… “What were the results?”

Giving his hand a quick squeeze, Hera said softly, “Why don’t you check for yourself?”

Kanan needed no further encouragement to reach out with the Force towards Hera, sensing her usual bright spark of warm life. And then, somehow within it and separate from it, there was another one. Another life form, tiny but insistent.

“Oh, wow,” Kanan breathed, awe sweeping over him. “Hera-- you’re--”

“Pregnant,” Hera finished, and Kanan could hear the vibrant joy in her voice. “You were right, love. We’re having another baby.”

Kanan felt a grin spreading across his face, and he pulled his wife into a fierce embrace. “This is amazing,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against her temple. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Or him,” Hera corrected. “Even you can’t tell this early, Master Jedi.”

“I have a feeling about it,” Kanan said with a smirk, and he felt rather than heard Hera’s laugh.

Pulling back from him slightly, she said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Kanan murmured, and bent down to give her a kiss. “Both of you,” he added.

[anika-ann]

No Strings Attached - Pt.1

Y/N vs. The Mutual Crash

Type: Modern-college-professor AU x CHUCK, part of Attached series More info here and on the Attached masterlist

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 2900

Summary for the series: When you literally run into a cute guy named Chuck in school hallway, you soon learn there is much more to him than meets the eye. Unfortunately for you, you learn the hard way.

What’s worse, the encounter sets events in motion you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams – and it make you question everything you know.

Warnings: for this chapter - tiny bit of 18+ nsfw smut in the beginning though it’s barely there, swearing, mention of a migraine... that’s it?

A/N: Just so I don’t spook you, we’ll start off easy… with a 2,9k chapter… enjoy and thank you if you’re giving this crossover a chance. You don’t need any knowledge of Chuck, not realy.

Attached & No Strings Attached masterlist

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Almost as soon as you woke up, there was a feeling in your gut; today was going to be strange. Strange in a way that you might not be entirely able to put a finger on, nothing all that special happening, but even though it was only half past six, you knew it was going to be one of those days.

Maybe it was the fact that you cautiously dropped a forehead kiss on Steve’s still sleeping form only to find out he was very much awake. His arms swiftly took a hold of your waist and pulled you on top of him, drawing a startled yelp from your lips, which he quickly silenced by a passionate good-morning kiss.

Maybe it was the fact that you nearly ended up being late.

You were not the only one waking up with a peculiar mood. After Steve’s kiss stole all air from your lungs, he was rolling the pair of you over, trapping you against the mattress, arousal evident, hands wandering and sneaking under your sleepshirt, trailing higher and higher until they reached one of his favourite playgrounds. The rest was history; it was quick and little sloppy but undeniably lustful. Still, it led to mutual satisfaction and to not having even remotely enough time to get ready for the day.

Maybe it was the e-mail Bucky sent yesterday at almost 10 p.m. informing his students that there would be a last-minute change of classroom, because special guests were coming to give a lecture. A lecture that started at 8 a.m.. You hated early morning classes; the only thing making them bearable was Bucky, because he was a damn good and funny professor.

God knew if the guests were about to be a blessing or a punishment. Either way, you had a hunch today was going to turn out kinda weird.

And you only had that confirmed as you rushed through the corridors, the home-made coffee in your opened thermo cup in hand—and suddenly it was gone.

Because you crashed into someone. Well, someone crashed into you. It was a mutual crash.

Point being – a hiss of pain escaped your lips, cup slipping from your fingers as the last remnants of coffee stained it, hands thrown in the air—only to slap the person’s shoulder in the process, because they happened to be in the way.

“Whoa!”

“Dammit!” you cursed, shaking your hand to distract yourself form the mild burn.

You eyed the puddle of brown liquid at your feet before your gaze moved up, noticing a few droplets on your jeans, and finally you fixed your gaze on your crashmate.

A relatively tall brunet stared at you, dark eyes wide, an apologetic expression on his face.

“I’m sorry!” you both blurted out at the same time.

Short awkward silence followed as you just kept staring at each other, unable to utter a word. And then you chuckled at the absurdity.

You noticed the guy’s lips curling up in a brief smile as you shook your head and went to find tissues in your backpack.

It wasn’t funny – more like annoying, actually. But you did find it funny. Maybe it was because you had a perfectly steamy morning quickie with your fiancé, making you giddy. Maybe it was because this guy, dressed in a grey shirt and black dress pants was kinda cute, the dark curls of his hair causing him to look rather endearing and charming at the same time and—he was smiling too. There was an air around him; a very friendly air.

“Oh, no, let me help!” he rushed to crouch by the offending puddle before you could even open your backpack and you swiftly lowered yourself too.

“It’s no problem, the cup was pretty much empty, luckily…” you mumbled, shooting him a forgiving smile. He met your eyes, one corner of his lips rising higher.

Oh no. He really was cute.

Now, after the mess with Daniel, you were wary of cute guys, even if it came to innocent flirting. But this one, your crashmate… well. There was something about him screaming ‘trust me’; with Daniel, when you looked back at your first encounter, everything screamed ‘smug jerk’.

The brunet reached for the pack of paper tissues you were holding and so you shrugged, handing him some. If he wanted to help, who were you to stop him? It was both yours and his fault.

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t full and I didn’t go all Hugh Grant on you,” he uttered as you both worked.

You stared at his Converses for a full second and then it hit you, drawing a surprised laughed from you.

“Was that a Nothing Hill reference? Am I Julia Roberts in this scenario?”

He smiled unsurely at you, seeming rather embarrassed – but seeing your expression, he relaxed. “Yeah, but luckily, you’re not, because the cup was almost empty. Still sorry about the coffee though.”

Picking up the soaked tissues, you went to find the nearest trash can.

“Well, if I-“ didn’t let my fiancé fuck me raw when I was supposed to be getting ready for the day-  “-was watching where I was going, this wouldn’t have happened, so we’re good,” you assured him.

“Are you sure that I shouldn’t, eh,” he pointed somewhere behind him vaguely in a sweeping gesture, smile a smidge shy, ”run to the cafeteria or something to buy you a fresh cup?”

Alert! A guy’s asking you out!

And alert it was; after the fiasco with Daniel, you made it a point to cut things off before they could develop into a sticky situation.

“Oh! That’s really nice of you…?”

You didn’t remember seeing him around before. New student? An exchange student? Because it always went so well with those…

“Chuck.”

“Right, Chuck. Nice to meet you,” you quickly uttered, introducing yourself as well. “But I don’t really--- I, eh-“

You gave up and just awkwardly showed off your left hand. The beautiful ring that once belonged to Steve’s mother – and goddammit, wasn’t it still making you feel all soft and fuzzy – sitting on your ring finger.

Chuck’s gaze zeroed on the jewellery for a moment and then it seemed that something clicked in his brain. He swiftly raised his hands in a no harm gesture, brief panic crossing over his face.

”Oh no! That’s not what I meant, though--- congratulations, but I really didn’t mean to ask you out or something-“ he babbled, hands clenching and unclenching, toying with the belt-loops of his pants the next moment.

You felt your cheeks heat up. Was he trying to cover for the fact that he was embarrassed for wanting to ask you out or had you totally misjudged this situation?

“-though this totally was a meet-cute if I’ve ever seen one and it’s not that you’re not good-looking, I mean attractive and beautiful, because of course you are-“

Oh god, he wasn’t cute.

He was an adorable disaster! You didn’t even care what the truth was at this point.

“-but obviously you’re engaged and I really wasn’t making a move or anything—and I’m gonna have to stop talking right now,” he finished breathlessly, closing his eyes with a self-depreciating smile, his chest rising and falling as he was trying to calm down.

Your cheeks burned from smiling so wide, a cackle fighting its way past your lips. Even if you didn’t want to laugh at him.

“Okay, Chuck. I think I get what you’re saying,” you assured him and because he was clearly adorable, he warily cracked one eye open as if to check if the embarrassing situation you two found yourself in went away. When he noticed your smile, his tense shoulders relaxed, both eyes opening.

“I’m glad. I’m sorry for embarrassing us both. I might as well be that guy from Nothing Hill…”

You laughed – like honestly, nearly having to clutch your belly, laughed. You couldn’t help it.

“Well, you’re charming enough. But I’m afraid I’m no movie star in hiding.”

“You’re cute enough to be one, no discussion here,” he said, his twinkling eyes gave your face a very quick once-over. Somehow, you found his compliment both funny and flattering. A lopsided grin appeared on his face, twisting into a grimace as he hesitantly raised his finger. “But, if we’re talking meet-cutes, I’m afraid I’m more of a Richard Gere here… I got a little bit lost. Point me the right direction, please?”

Whoa, he was stepping up, talking Pretty Woman now. You really liked that dorky comment though.

“Where you headin’?”

“2.34?”

You blinked in surprise, wondering if you heard wrong. Because that was where you were heading.

“Oh? Interesting…” you muttered, earning a curious head tilt from him. Glancing again at your jeans, you grimaced. Those stains had to go… guess direction would have to do. “Yeah, that one is a little tricky… and dumb. You have to go through 2.33. Not that there’s any badge on the door on anything.”

He gasped theatrically. “Tricky!”

“I know! It’s a test of our interhuman skills; can’t really finding without asking someone first. I’ll see you there, I suppose, gotta clean up the cup and… well, me.”

“I’m sorry, again. And thank you,” Chuck said politely, sending you a final smile.

“You’re welcome, Chuck.”

Here’s a thing about hunches: sometimes, they come true.

Being run down in a hallway was nothing too weird, oh no. Not even when a funny charming guy was involved.

Things only got weird when you entered the lecture hall and finally realized why was Chuck heading to the same room as you did. He stood next to Bucky at the professor’s stand, quietly talking to a stunning blond woman in a dress suit and glasses.

Feeling blood rushing to your head, setting your cheeks aflame in embarrassment, you went to find a seat, noticing everyone was sitting with a space of at least three seats between them and never behind. As if you were about to write an extremely important test. Great.

Could this day get any better?

Two taps sounded through the room as Bucky tried the microphone.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Well, good for some of us, at least,” Bucky stated, unmistakably finding you in the crowd as if he knew exactly how your morning went – at least the part before you left the apartment. You wanted to sink through the floor – and wasn’t that a familiar feeling under Bucky’s knowing gaze. “Find your seats, please, so we can start. We have some special guests from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs today with us to present you a special program you can apply to, so… you know. Pay attention. They’ll tell you the rest.”

Oh, so you had run into a guy from Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Spectacular.

To be fair, he had been a dork. How were you supposed to tell he was important?! He was still pretty cute standing there.

Also: the blonde by his side? Yeah. You understood now why he reacted the way he did earlier. Because if he knew a woman like that, the idea he was trying to ask you out – or anyone, really – was laughable. Hell, you’d ask her out.

“Morning, my name is Charles Carmichael and this is my colleague, Sarah Walker,” Chuck started off pleasantly, if little nervous from having all eyes on him.

“Like your professor said, we’re here to present you… with an opportunity to get a training for special analyst in one of departments. And before you ask why we’re ambushing a history class when we’re looking to fill an analyst vacancy…”

Several people laughed and you did too – he sounded like the guy from the hallway, only a bit more presentable.

“-it’s because we really talk about this with pretty much every student on this university, so you can see we have a lot of presentations still ahead. Anyway, I’m gonna talk a bit about the program and about our ministry in general, so… yeah. Please listen carefully and watch carefully too. Spoiler: it’s important. Thanks.”

The lights dimmed and he started the presentation, slowly pulling you in and making you forget the incident in the hallway.

And despite his charming ways… the presentation was rather strange too.

It was just one of those strange days.

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You didn’t think there would be anything to add insult to the injury, to turn into the so-called cherry on top.

You were wrong.

Chuck, or Charles Carmichael, was an alright presenter. He remained a dorky character, only enough to hold all of the students’ attention, that was quite okay. It was the pictures that appeared in between those images that felt perfectly in place, that were… just weird. Like… a rose. A beach. New York skyline. Pictures that were not at all related to what he was talking about. He always played it off as a joke – supposedly placing them there to keep you on your toes – but there was something that just felt… off.

And during what you later found out was like the last third of the presentation, you felt a headache starting to build. Not a terribly intense one, but strong enough to be fairly annoying and insistent on bugging you, just above your eyebrows. You couldn’t remember your head ever hurting in such way.

Then things got worse; you indeed got a test to complete. The nice people from Ministry of Foreign Affairs told you not to worry about getting it wrong affecting your marks in your course, obviously, so you didn’t, not really.

But it was hard to ignore that it was the weirdest fucking test you had ever seen.

In each task, pick five of ten words you associate with the word in question, read the instructions. Which on its own could be considered strange, but… it was the supposedly associated words that truly confused the heck out of you.

For ‘rose’ there were clear answers like ‘thorn’ and ‘flower’. The rest of the offered words? Non-sense. Like—utter nonsense. Bulldog, Victoria, Sao Paolo, camp, mirror, Tower Bridge, eagle, heroin. You stared at the words, reading them over and over, the pressure in your forehead growing more vexing by the minute.

For some inexplicable reason, your mind kept on gravitating towards the Sao Paolo, eagle and heroin; surprisingly vivid images of each flashing behind your eyelids as you closed them to relieve the headache. The light was starting to hurt your eyes despite being rather low. It was irritating.

Deciding the stupid test didn’t matter, you went with the first thing that came to your mind for each question, finishing among the firsts. It was rather relieving to see everyone’s face as confused as you imagined your looked.

Leaving the class, you spared Chuck one last glance, finding him staring at you with eyebrows furrowed; brief glance at Bucky told you why, for he wore the very same expression. It seemed that you weren’t very good at masking your suffering. You attempted a lame smile, knowing that you were about to ditch the class that followed.

Catching up with Linda, one of the girls who were with you in Callahan’s class, you begged her to give him your apology; the headache was turning into a splitting damn migraine.

Linda shot you a compassionate smile and assured you she would vouch for you looking absolutely terrible and having no other option than leaving.

“Thanks,” you chuckled weakly, nails digging into your palms as a mild case of vertigo threatened to throw you completely off balance.

“Hey, do you want me to call someone? Take you to the infirmary?” Linda worried, sporting a textbook example of having concern written all over her face. “Not joking, you do look like you’re gonna pass out. Rogers’ gonna be out for blood if he finds out I talked to you and let you wander off in this state.”

The image of Steve stalking down the hallway with an exasperated expression on his face searching for your classmate seemed rather amusing; but that was unlikely to happen.

“Nah, he should be all sunshine. Lots of endorphins released this morning,” you mumbled, absently rubbing at your forehead.

You only realized what you said when a dramatic silence followed, soon broken by Linda’s snort of laughter. The shock of you blatantly revealing something like that in your compromised state helped you to focus a bit more, bringing some clarity to your vision.

“I so didn’t need to know that. Good thing I have Callahan now and not him, I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. I’d be imagining him shirtless with a perfect case of bed hair. Gosh, you’re such a lucky bitch.”

“Don’t I know it,” you offered with another weak smile.

“I’m sure you do,” she hummed, lightly patting your shoulder. “Now you get home safe and get some rest.”

“Thank you, Linda. Really.” She only shrugged it off as if it was nothing. The friendly display brought an honest smile to your face and caused you to perk up enough to joke. “Oh, and Steve usually sleeps in a t-shirt, sorry to break it to you. But his bed hair is dreamy.”

“…I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

She would have if you added that the rumour about Professor Rogers being true. That he was indeed packing.

With a smirk at that thought alternating with a grimace whenever a sharp pain hit the back of your head, you headed home.

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Part 2

About

Chuck characters

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Thank you for reading :-*

In case you missed one of my way too many announcements, in Chuck, every episode was named Chuck vs. Something. I decided to keep the theme and go against my usual not-so-frequent use of Y/N in my stories.

P.S. – if any of this felt familiar to Chuck fans, know, some of the plot is a big nod to episode 1x07 Chuck vs. the Alma Mater. It’s one of my faves for many reasons – the plot, hilarious lines, the LOTR references… Honestly, they had me at this scene (0:05 – 0:25  though you can watch the full 2 min, obviously)  

Anika Ann out

[undertaker1827]

Hello! how are you? I really like your blog! i req a hc for bassy edwy and grell to a very beautiful s /o who has long soft hair, with rare eyes (like purple eyes) and a very soft and pale skin, also who is very kind and attentive with them thank you!❤️❤️”

Hi I’m good, hope you are too!! Aww thank you!! Here you go, hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

-

Sebastian

Okay, so Sebastian absolutely loves your eyes

As a being with unusual eyes himself, he finds humans with unusually coloured eyes to be very interesting

In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever met a human with purple eyes before, so of course he needs to know more about that

Is it your real eye colour, not contacts? Yes? Then do you know how you got those gorgeous eyes of yours? Because he would really like to know

This demon thinks your personality absolutely suits your looks

Gentle, caring, always wanting those you care about to be happy and well and working to ensure that too

He loves the attention to detail you pay

For example, you know as soon as you see him if he’s had a stressful day, and generally you know how best to make him feel better

You seem able to tell if he wants to sit down somewhere comfortable and cuddle for ages, or if really he just wants to be in the quiet for a moment

He went to your place for the calming atmosphere it always manages to give

You yourself help reduce his stress to no end

He never fails to be amazed by how kind you can be, how thoughtful

And you don’t even do things in big flashy displays

It’s just a small smile here, conveying that if he wants to talk to you he can, or a gentle hand on his arm there, letting him know you’re here if he needs you

He especially loves how your eyes are different to other people’s and that you absolutely embrace it, you don’t try and hide or anything like that

If anyone gives you any schtick for being ‘weird’ or ‘different’, Sebastian will introduce them to a fear they didn’t even think was possible and you can be absolutely certain they will never bother you again

Might even compliment how nice you look

That said, it would only happen while you weren’t present

You’re too kind to ever do anything like that and he would hate to upset you through you seeing him do it

One of his favourite things is to just gently run his hand back through your hair

It’s so soft and smooth and it smells so good

He doesn’t even know how you manage it, but it’s the most comforting thing to him

And the scent is so much stronger to him after he runs his hands through it, which really just prompts him to do it more

He also likes just pressing a kiss to your head and lingering there a moment, taking in the delightful smell of your shampoo

Something else he finds very relaxing

Grell

Now Grell

Grell

The thing she loves most about you is your absolutely gorgeous hair

Doesn’t matter what colour it is (though of course if it’s red, you have completely stole her heart ad there is no return - I mean there isn’t anyway, but yanno?) but it’s so soft and perfect and long

This reaper is impressed

Like she takes great pride in her own hair and to see that you do too?? Awesome

So happy

If you think future pampering/relaxation days are not going to revolve mainly around hair care, you are so completely wrong

Obviously facials and masks and the like, don’t get me wrong, but hair in general deserves so much more attention than it gets during your average spa day and Grell is a massive advocate of that

She’s already got down the best routine, she knows which products are going to complement your hair type best and the greatest thing about it is that you don’t have to say a single thing to her

Like she just takes one look at you and knows

But of course she wants to discuss what you already do with your hair

What’s your current routine, assuming you have one? (If you don’t, she’s all ‘darling that is an unabashed tragedy, this is a faux pas we will have to fix immediately’, and by immediately, she means right that second)

What products do you put in it to make it so luscious and my god what shampoo is it she’s never felt hair so soft in her life

Like Sebastian, she doesn’t have typical ‘human’ eyes so she’s interested in the fact that you don’t either

Less in a ‘wants to know why’ kind of way and more like ‘we’re so alike darling, we were simply meant to be’

Theatrics all the way, of course

And she also loves how thoughtful you are

Grell is very good at covering her emotions (the real ones I mean) with over the top displays that most people roll their eyes at, but you seem to know how she is really feeling, no matter how well she hides it

But once you take her hand, maybe press a small kiss to the back of it and ask if she’s okay with that caring, concerned look in your eyes, she doesn’t try to hide anymore

On the one hand you already know so what’s the point, but also you want her to talk to you and she can see that, ad she trusts you enough to let you help her

Edward

Edward, being the only human of the three, is far more curious about your eyes

Like not in a bad way, he absolutely loves them and thinks the colour really suits you, but you are human right? So how come you have these brilliant eyes?

The questions continued, all good natured of course, like have they always been this colour? Did anyone else in your family have the same colour eyes?

Either way, he loves how unusual they are and is more than willing to put anyone in their place should they have something negative to say about them

Your hair is also gorgeous of course

He enjoys seeing all the different ways you have of styling it, how you match your hair to your outfit for the day, how you put extra special effort into it for the functions you attend with him

You always look so beautiful, but especially when you dress in all your finery and he can walk around with you, secure in the knowledge that you’re his and he’s yours

Edward enjoys seeing others compliment what you’re wearing, how you’ve done your hair

You even receive compliments from his mother, which in itself is a massive achievement in his eyes

She once complimented both your hair and clothing in one go and he barely managed to stop his eyebrows from rising to his hairline

He didn’t think he’d ever heard her say that before

Unlike Grell and Sebastian, Edward is more likely to be open about his feelings

I mean he’s the heir to a great legacy and must keep up a strong front, etc, etc, but once he sees that talking to you if he’s stressed or upset about something is less a display of his weakness and more of his inner strength, he is far more open to it

He encourages you to talk to him about your feelings as well, to build on the mutual trust you two have going

You kindness helps him a lot on this front - you never have anything negative to say when he confides in you, even on the smallest of issues, and to say your words of comfort make him feel better is the biggest understatement

A few short sentences from you can quite literally turn his day around and he loves you so much because of it

[hoodoo12]

Elegy (1/6)

What follows is a story of Miss Argentina and Beetlejuice and how their own personal issues keep them locked in their own private hells. Contains smut and angst. It was done as a rp between @clairjohnson and myself. NSFW. Beetlejuice/Miss Argentina. Beej is a combination of movie and musical; Miss Argentina has contains hcs (such as her name and circumstances). Also contains minor mentions of OC Dante’s Inferno employees.  (Tagging people who have asked in the past. If you’d like to be tagged, hmu. If you’d like to be untagged, hmu.   @turtlepated @thewolfisapartofmysoul @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @janitor-boy @beejiesbitch @angelicspaceprince) Enjoy!

He’d married, been murdered, vanquished the evil that was Juno – he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again anytime soon – said some weird heartfelt goodbyes to people he just terrorized, and was carried off by his clones in the smallest, most subdued mosh pit style ever, for an exit that was worthy of some kind of award, just for the theatrics of it. 

The second he was through the swirling mists of the doorway that separated the living from the Netherworld, he turned on his own clones and attacked them remorselessly, using claws and teeth to tear them apart, growling like he’d lost his mind and spitting like he was rabid. 

None of the clones attempted to fight back or escape. They were part of him, and he was so fucking angry – it made him angrier that they just took their destruction passively, his destruction, a destruction of self that made his hands drip with gore, his mouth taste like clotted blood, and his clothing, the tuxedo conjured specifically for something positive in his fucking waste of a life, a deeper color. 

He hated this fucking suit. 

He was too exhausted by the end of his rampage to flick it away, however. Stepping over the piles of meat that had been clones, he wiped his hands down his front and winced as they brushed over the new ventilation that goddamn teenager graced him with. He kicked the door to the waiting room hard enough that it bounced off the interior wall of purgatory, startling the assholes sitting around waiting for their stupid numbers to be called.

---

It had been another slow day in the waiting room. Not that Miss Argentina had any way to count “days” – time had little meaning in death – but her job was as uneventful now as it had been several hundred new arrivals ago. Staring down at her clipboard Maria crossed out the name of the last soul she’d sent back to meet their case worker. Juno was surprisingly absent at the moment, but the receptionist wasn’t too concerned. Her boss was a work-alcoholic and honestly, what else did Juno have to do? She’d be back soon. 

In a practiced motion, one she’d done a million times, Maria stood and slid open the dividing screen to the waiting room. 

“Number 5,678 Mr. Hen – “ 

The rest of the name caught in her throat when the door to the left of her was blown open, rattling on hinges that threatened to give. A split second of panic washed over her, an emotion really only needed for the living, before she saw who it was.

Betelgeuse. 

“Mr. Hendrix,” she finished, moving her gaze from the fuming poltergeist to the sorry looking dead man standing up from his seat. “Your caseworker is waiting for you – please step through those doors.” 

Maria placed her clipboard back on the desk then leaned out the window a little further, giving the older, bloodied man a deeper once over. “Back so soon, Mr. Betelgeuse? Should I pull you a number?”

"Fuck this place and fuck the numbers!" he spit, literally spit, making the ghost sitting nearest in his line of fire wipe his face as he hoisted himself up – some kind of heart attack took him, no doubt, from the lack of obvious trauma and the effort he took to get out of the molded plastic chair – and hurried as fast as he could out of range. 

He could take that chair and beat down every wall in this place. He could tear apart every single soul in this forsaken pit. He could bypass the eons of fucking waiting and just march right down the hall to the Lost Souls' Room –

– scary thing was, that option held some real fucking appeal at the moment. 

Beetlejuice glared at each and every dead person cowering in place. Fucking losers. Just like the fucking Maitlands, but worse, because they followed the goddamn directions in the fucking Handbook and were now stuck here. 

But what did that say about him? the voice in the crate in the back of his mind whispered. You tried, and you still ended up right.here.with.them. 

Beetlejuice grabbed the side of his head, mindless of the residual tackiness on his hand, and gave his hair a yank. Sometimes that dislodged the voice enough to make it shut up. 

His gaze fell on the beauty queen behind the partition. He couldn't tell if she was politely waiting for his tantrum to subside, or if she was being indifferently patient, having seen it all before.

Maria wondered, absently, where all the blood had come from. She noticed the gaping hole in his chest and assumed it might all be his – but it was always hard to tell with Betelgeuse. His brand of “bio-exorcising” wasn’t the cleanest. However, based on his outfit, she doubted his day job was what sent him back here. The fool had tried to get married again. 

Fixing him with a cool, pleasant smile, Maria yanked a number from the ticket dispenser and held it up. “I’ll just pull one for you, then. You know the rules – no number, no getting to see Juno.” 

The beauty queen leaned further out of the window and rested her chin in the palm of her hand – her clipboard and list forgotten for the moment. Red tuxedo – a classic for him. How many times had she seen him in it? She could remember at least four, and she guessed he’d worn it twice as many times before she’d crossed over. Betelgeuse never told her how old he was, but after working with him for over three decades, it was clear he had a few hundred years under his belt. 

When was he going to stop pulling this stunt? It never worked. Always ended up with him down in the waiting room – back here with her. Maria bristled, both angry and jealous that he got to leave this hell and go gallivanting top side as he pleased. Her smile tightened and she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“You never invite me to your weddings,” Maria said casually, lifting the hand from her chin to examine the ruby manicure. “Any good plans for your honeymoon?” 

She flicked her gaze up to catch his reaction.

The bitterness and pure rage inside him managed to ratchet up another notch with the receptionist's detached apathy to his situation as she offered the ticket out to him.

Anyone else, and he'd have taken that hand off at the wrist; he could feel his teeth lengthen in anticipation of it. As it were, he snatched the paper away with enough force to tear it. He crumpled it in his fist and shoved it into a pocket without looking at it, casting his glance around the room again at all the lesser assholes who were pointedly trying not to look at him and become the focus of his ire. 

Maria's words, her barbed little query spoken in her light accent, just poured salt into the gaping hole in his chest. 

"Fuck you," he roared. His voice cracked.

Maria was used to seeing Betelgeuse angry. She was also used to seeing him happy – manically so. The man had a way of taking emotions to the extreme. She was not, however, used to hearing the crack in his voice. The next biting remark died on her tongue and she peered up from her nails, her brow furrowing. 

“Oh, don’t look so upset.” She tutted, but there was less sarcasm behind it. “You have all the time in the world to try again, don’t you? It’s not like you’re stuck here (like she was). Not for long, anyway.” 

Had this time been different from his other attempts? The pain in his expression suggested so. If he kept this up she may just bring him around back to avoid disturbing the waiting ghosts. Maria didn’t like bending the rules, but for the good of her job she’d bend them. That’s what she told herself at least. For the job.

try again 

not like you're stuck here 

Her words meant to comfort stung, jamming themselves like smaller spears into his chest. She was partially right. It wasn't like he was stuck here, so long as he could convince some dumb sucker to fulfill the terms of the contract. Finding the right dumb sucker was what took the time and energy. 

That led to the whole "try again" debacle. What was the point? He'd never succeed; despite the seemingly impressive power he had in the upper world, it was useless. He was useless, like everything was smoke and mirrors and the one being fooled was him. 

He realized he had his fists clenched so hard he was shaking. The ghosts surrounding him in the mismatched furniture, patiently waiting their turn, still did their damnedest to pretend they heard and saw nothing. 

"No one is like me!" he'd shrieked in the Maitlands' faces. 

The stupid deads sitting here proved it. He had half a mind to grab the nearest one and rip him apart like he'd treated his clones, just to continue to give his rage an outlet, but on top of everything else he didn't want to deal with the consequences of that. Maria was still watching him, as if she expected him to do something of the sort, like she was steeling herself to have to intervene and de-escalate him, even though he knew it wasn't anywhere near part of her job.

The shaking of his fists drew her gaze down – would he really be so brash as to tear through the souls waiting? Not that he could actually kill anyone, but it would make them have to get a new place in line . . . and the paperwork involved would be a headache. 

Maria lifted her Miss Argentina sash over her head and draped it on the back of her chair. Quietly, but quickly, she moved around her desk and out the side door that led to the waiting room. Like approaching a wild animal you didn’t want to startle, Maria crept forward. Delicately, she placed her fingers on the side of his arm to get his attention, keeping her back straight and her expression calm. 

“How about you come wait in the back, Mr. Betelgeuse.” 

Her voice was smooth. She had started adding in the “Mr.” when he’d gone rogue and stopped working for Juno. The days of familiarity, of her calling him “Beej”, were long gone. Maria still kept a certain level of fondness for the poltergeist, though she’d never admit it aloud.

The roots of his hair were probably the color of this fucking suit. 

When Maria physically approached and laid a manicured hand on his arm, he almost spun on her. When the pressure on his arm increased, aided by her nails digging in so hard he could feel them through the layers of fabric, he forced himself to relent. 

"Fine," he agreed bitterly.

She’d felt him tense at her touch, and Maria briefly considered she’d made a grave mistake approaching him, until his muscles relaxed – slightly – under her fingers. Thank goodness. 

Keeping her hand on his arm the receptionist guided him to the office door. She peered out to catch the relief on the newly dead faces before shutting it behind her. 

“Take a seat.” She gestured to the chair next to her desk and sat back down on her own. She wanted to stay disinterested, wanted to keep things professional, but she couldn’t.

“So.” Maria pulled some papers together and tapped them on her desk until they were even. “Is most of that blood yours? I haven’t seen you looking so . . . out of sorts in quite some time.”

 The beauty queen looked at him from the corner of her eye, pretending to keep most of her attention on the work in front of her.

He sat where indicated, in the hard straight back chair beside her desk. If he wanted, he could look up and see the filing cabinets, the paths in the rug worn through to the subfloor underneath, the endless stacks of paper, and the hallway where the caseworker's offices were. 

He didn't want to. He could walk through the place blindfolded. Nothing changed in the Netherworld; it was all slog and dismay. And they thought he was crazy for wanting back out?! 

A cigarette appeared in his hand. Sticking it between his lips he glanced up at her question and statement. 

"Yeah. The blood's mine. First from that goddamn teenager and second – " He broke off there and used lighting the cigarette as an excuse not to finish and admit he'd torn apart his own clones in a fit of rage. " – never mind. Nothing matters. It's the same shit for eternity."

Maria watched, with pointed interest, as he brought the cigarette up to his mouth. Well, at least the blood was his. Less mess for Juno to clean up later. 

“Thanks.” She drawled sardonically, bringing her own cigarette into existence. “I’d love one.” 

As she took a drag, Maria let his remark sit in silence for a few moments, unsure of how to respond. Most of the dead seemed to be having an on-going crisis – and if Beej had been feeling the same, he’d never let on. 

“You’ve always been one for the dramatics. But never nihilism.” She paused, “ – also, did you just say teenager? You know what – I don’t want to know.” 

She threw her hand up at that, waving the question off. He was a scumbag, to be sure, but the thought of him being that scummy was not an idea she wanted to entertain.

He'd have felt bad about not offering her a smoke if he was in a different state of mind. As it were, it didn't even register until she pointed it out. Even then he couldn't quite bring himself to care. It was easy, however, to fill in the blanks she left out. 

"It was a fuckin' green card thing," he growled. "Most teens – especially gothy ones who think their existence is the worst of anyone, ever – are dumb as shit. Easy to manipulate. Except this one was too damn clever for her own good. She used – " 

It was on the tip of his tongue to admit his naked, desperate desire to be accepted was used effectively against him, but that made sour bile rise in the back of his throat and he had to swallow it down again. 

" – ugly art to impale me," he corrected after only a brief hesitation. He took a deep drag, and was dismayed to see that some smoke drifted out the hole in his chest. That kid must've punctured a lung. He sighed as he pulled at his shirt to try and cover it. 

From the corner of his eye he watched her watch him. He didn't want her pity. He didn't know what he wanted, but he knew he didn't want her pity.

Maria felt herself relax at his growled response – pleased to hear he was still a normal scumbag of the con-man variety. She couldn’t hide the twitch of her lips into a smile when he admitted how he kicked the bucket this time around. She’d seen a lot of dumb ways to die, but ugly art was a first. Chuckling through a drag, she eyed the smoke coming out of his chest, causing her lips to curl even further upward. 

As good as it was to have him talking, the anger radiating off him was still obvious. She could practically feel it on her skin. Whenever he got out of hand Juno was usually around to deal with him – but not this time. She was still surprisingly absent. Fortunately, Maria had worked here long enough to know what her boss’s trump card was. 

“Juno’s been away from the office today.” she started, putting out her cigarette in the glass tray on her desk. “And you look like you’re in the need of a distraction after . . . your little accident.” 

The receptionist spun her chair to face him, one slender bare leg crossed over the other, and raised a brow at the bloodied ghost. 

“How does a drink or two at Dante’s sound? On Juno’s tab, of course.” 

She smiled, scarlet lips parting to show off her straight white smile. In many ways the two were opposites. Beej was unapologetically himself, moss and all, while Miss Argentina went to great lengths to appear perfect. Even though she had let some of that anxiety go in death, bad habits were hard to break. 

“I’ll join you – if you don’t mind. I could use some time out of the office.”

In an effort to appear disinterested in the state of both his clothing and the new hole he was going to have to figure out how to close, Beetlejuice kept his eyes on the paperwork she'd straightened. A kid's profile, from the looks of it. One perk about working as Juno's assistant way back when was helping the kids when they came through –

He glanced up sharply when Maria mentioned Dante's. Actually suggesting it, and accompanying him to it. He would've thought that the beauty queen would pretend that place never existed, although he knew she must have been both scouted and offered a job there. 

"On Juno's tab? A drink or five sounds great." 

Some time that old hag was going to show up again, slathered in Sandworm spit and gastric juices, and he'd much rather not be found here if possible. He stood up abruptly, making the wooden chair squeal against the floor. 

"Fine. I'll let you take me out."

“Only drinks, Mr. Betelgeuse. I’m not paying for any other services.” 

Miss Argentina hadn’t had a chance to be out in quite some time. With an eternity stretching out in front of you, there was little rush to do much of anything other than your assigned job. Peering down at her burgundy gown, she also realized she hadn’t changed her outfit in years – wearing the same dress to two different parties used to be a mortifying thought when she was alive. 

How things change. The beauty queen stood, and with a few moments of concentration, changed into a red cocktail dress. Her French curled hair now in tight waves around her shoulders. It felt nice. A little like being alive, even. Even if it was just to go out and watch this man get drunk off his ass. But she understood his desire to live again – didn’t all ghosts wish they could be top side? He was certainly the most tenacious about getting there. 

“All right, ready when you are,” she said while smoothing down her new outfit. She turned from the older man and started towards the office exit, throwing a ‘are you coming?’ glance over her shoulder at him.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her hands smoothing down the fabric of her choice of dress. With his cigarette still caught between two fingers, he ran his thumb over his lower lip, thinking about the differences between the dead and the breathers changing clothing – the breathers had to take it off and put it back on, versus simply willing a new outfit into existence. 

Of course the dead could be titillatingly mundane, if they chose. It was too bad this was the never-closed office, and there was a waiting room full of ghosts on the other side of the glass partition –  

At her invitation and with a sigh, Beetlejuice stepped off the road that daydream was headed. He'd lost the chance with her a long time ago. 

He flicked his still lit cigarette into the ether and decided if she was going to be dolled up, it wouldn't be right for him to accompany her in what he was wearing. Between one step towards the door and the next, his blood-soaked tux became his favorite striped suit. He left the hole in his torso under his shirt. 

"Lead the way, muñeca." tbc . . .

[supernatural-jackles]

The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 7

Title: The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 7

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 6,184

Warnings: Angst, Semi Graphic Mentions of Self Harm, Mentions of Previous Suicide Attempt, Anxiety, Depression, Desire to Relapse, Mentions of Pain Killers, Self Hate, Self Blame, Fluff, Dean being the best. 

Summary: Driving down the road, going well over the speed limit. You come across a man walking in the opposite direction with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His head cast down as he walked. Your gut instinct is telling you to check on this man, no matter what your parents told you growing up. Little did you know just how much this would change your life.

The Man on the Side of the Road - Masterlist

Square Filled: Falling in love ( @spndeanbingo​)

A/N: The contents of this fic are not suitable for all audiences. This is your warning. That being said, I hope you enjoy this part! Feedback is greatly appreciated. 

 You lay in the middle of your bed, your books scattered everywhere and your laptop in front of you. You hated midterms. You hated that you didn’t have the week before off to study. You were stressed out to the max, and you were trying to bury yourself in your homework. You didn’t want to deal with everything else.

 Ever since everyone found out that Jo was pregnant with your ex-fiance's baby, you had just shut down. You didn’t want to talk about it, or even think about it. Even more so when people asked you about it. Ketch had tried to talk to you a couple of times, about it specifically. It was now clear to you that he had been cheating and he knew it as well as you did. It was hard for you to see him after what you knew. Jo hadn’t even glanced in your direction. Ruby tried her best to keep the topic light for your sake. You knew deep down that she was still talking to her, even if she told you that she wasn’t friends with her anymore. Your trust had been betrayed more than once by so many people you considered to be close to you. It was really hard for you to wrap your mind around everything.

 Your mom blamed you for making Ketch look elsewhere. If you would have catered to his needs you wouldn’t be in the situation you were in. Clearly he wanted a baby and you withheld it from him, so he found someone better than you. You did this to yourself. That was the conversation you had with your mom earlier on in the day. The conversation that brought you to tears. After all, he’d been with Jo for two years. You clearly hadn’t been good enough for him for a long time.

 You were never going to be good enough for anyone.

 Your eyes glossed over with tears as your mother’s words rang through your head over and over again. You read over the same sentence eight times before realizing you had. Studying was no use. Midterms felt irrelevant at this point. You had so much more going on that you just didn’t care about studying, or your grades. You didn’t care about anything else. You just wanted the world to swallow you whole.

 “Hey you,” Dean’s voice cut you from your trance. “You got time for a study break? I’ll make you a snack.”

 “Uh no thanks,” you shook your head. “Not hungry.”

 “Okay,” he nodded. “Can I help you study for anything?”

 “I think I’m going to pack it away for the night. I can’t retain anything,” you admitted. You prayed he couldn’t hear the defeat in your voice.

 “Understandable,” he smiled. “You want to do something tonight? Watch a movie? Take a drive in Baby?”

 “You finished?” your head perked up with a smile on your face for the first time all day.

 “I finished and drove her home today,” he beamed widely. “You wanna go for a drive with me?”

 “Of course,” you agreed.

 “Good,” he smirked. “I could use some quality time with my best friend. You look like you could use a break too.”

 “You got it,” you nodded. “Just give me a few to clean myself up.”

 “Okay,” he smiled, shutting the door behind him. You packed up your books, and placed them on your bedside table. You shut your laptop and rolled off the bed. Your legs felt heavier than usual from sitting cross-legged for so long on your bed. You walked straight into your bathroom. Your hair was a mess, and your eyes looked tired. You were tired. Tired of studying. Tired of crying. Tired of it all. You needed a good week of sleep to begin to feel better.

 You opened the bottom drawer, your eyes falling on the plastic case that was once meant for dental floss at one point. You knew exactly what was in that case, and the fact that you were staring at it right now was a big problem. It was a bigger problem than a lot of the ones you were already facing. You were at the point mentally that you felt like this was an option. That this was okay again when it was the farthest thing from okay.

 You slammed the drawer shut. A single tear slipped down your cheek. You were better than this. You didn’t have to resort to this. You were stronger than that. You were going to get out of this bathroom, and head out to Dean. You were going to ride in his baby, and try to take your mind off of everything. He wanted to spend time with you. You were going to pull yourself together and be the person he knew you to be. He didn’t need the extra theatrics.

 You didn’t bother changing out of your sweatpants. You’d much rather be comfortable in the car and be able to jump right back into studying. You grabbed your bigger sweater, pulling it over your shoulders. You could hear Dean twirling the keys in his hands as you stepped out of your room. Going out with him was probably going to be the best part of your day.

 He was waiting by the front door, keys in his hand. He had put on a blue, red and white flannel, making him look all the more comfortable. God, did he look good in flannel. He looked good in anything he wore the more you thought about. Dean was handsome, and there was no denying that. You thought that the second you laid eyes on him. Bloodshot eyes and all.

 He motioned for you to head out the front door first. He locked up the house with his key while you headed to the beautiful ‘67 impala that sat on your driveway. You were in awe. She looked brand new. Dean had done an amazing job with her. You had no idea he was this good with cars. You were damn sure she was a write off when you saw her. You were sure your jaw was on the ground.

 “Here, let me get the door for you, m’ lady,” he grinned, reaching for the passenger door handle. He opened it up for you, allowing you to slide in before shutting it for you. He circled around the car, hopping in the driver's seat. He put the key in the ignition and started her up. It had to be one of the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard. The car was a thing of beauty. Inside and out. You could see yourself going on roadtrips in this car.

 “You did an amazing job, Dean!” you complimented him. “You are really freakin’ talented. This took you no time at all.”

 “Thanks,” he smiled. “It feels good to have her fixed. My dad would have been proud, I think. This was his. He loved this car. I’m just happy that I have her back. Makes me miss him a little more.”

 “I’m proud of you. This car deserves to be driven again,” you told him. “You can park her in the garage if you’d like. Keep her safe and untouched.”

 “You sure?”

 “Hell yeah! She’s worth so much more,” you assured him. “So where are we headed anyways. You never mentioned a destination.”

 “Somewhere special. Somewhere we’ve never been together. I think you’re going to like it. I just need some time there. It’s a happy place.”

 “Then I look forward to it,” you breathed out. “Everything okay today?”

 “For the most part, yeah” he mentioned. “I feel a little off today, not going to lie to you. I just wanted to drive my baby, and show you her. Driving helps me clear my head.”

 “I understand that. Something else to focus on. Just the open road,” you smiled sincerely. “I am really proud of you, Dean. Not just for fixing up the car. You look better and better everyday.”

 “Thanks Y/N,” he nodded. “Means a lot to me coming from you.”

 “You’re welcome.”

 “So I needed to talk to you about something. You said I could talk to you about anything right?” He questioned.

 “Of course,” you said, turning your head to look at him, giving him your full attention.

 “There’s this girl,” he began, taking a deep breath. A small smile playing on his lips. “I see her pretty often. Out and about, you know? She’s nice to me, I think she flirts with me. She’s beautiful, and she’s smart. I’ve been thinking that I want to ask her out, but I’m not sure how to do it in a way that doesn’t come off as too strong.”

 “Do you know her well?” You asked. Deep down, you were a little upset that he was asking a girl out. A part of you knew that if he did, and the girl said yes, Dean would be spending very little time with you. It was selfish as hell, but you knew how much you needed him. Even if he didn’t know you nearly as well and that was on you for that. You were the one who couldn’t quite break the wall down. You weren’t going to make him choose you over someone he could have an amazing relationship with. After all, he deserved to be happy. You had dealt with your issues on your own most of your life anyways. You could survive without him if it came down to it.

 “I’d say I know her a fair bit, but not too extensively,” he shrugged. “You’re a girl, how would you like a guy to ask you out?”

 “Honestly, it’s really just about how confident you come across rather than how. I’d like to know he’s paying attention to me if he does, and that he sounds like he really wants to go out with me. I’ve only ever been asked out once so I really won’t be helpful.”

 “Nah, you’re plenty helpful. You’re my best friend. I just hope she says yes,” he chuckled. “I don’t think any of what you said is going to be a problem. Now if she says yes, is dinner and a movie okay?”

 “For the first day, yeah! That’s a great first date,” you breathed out.

 “What would be your ideal first date? I gotta know for the next guy who asks you out,” he winked.

 “Dean, no guy is going to ask me out,” you scoffed playfully. “Dinner and a movie is good. Mini golfing is also another good one, especially if it's someone you kind of know.  Honestly, I’m up for anything that he thinks I’d like. I’m not picky. It’s all about who you spend time with over what you do.”

 “All fair points,” he let out a laugh. “Mini golfing is definitely a good first date idea.”

 “I’m glad you think so,” you let out a chuckle. “When are you going to ask her out?”

 “Not sure yet. I might just wait to see if she shows anymore interest in me before I take a leap. I just don’t want to do it and then have her say no.”

 “She’d be stupid to say no to a guy like you. You’re a catch. You’re smart as hell. You’re cute. You’re the most amazing cook I’ve ever met,” you told him. “Not to mention, you’re clearly good with your hands.”

 “I hope you’re right,” he smirked.

 “I know I’m right,” you nodded. “It’s the one thing I’m certain about.”

 Dean drove through the streets of Lawrence, heading towards the edge of town by the looks of it. You figured he just wanted to drive her for awhile. You really didn’t mind. You didn’t care where you were going, or when you’d be home. The open road was going to give you some time to relax, and not think about how messed up everything was. Just you and Dean on the road. That was exactly how you wanted things.

 Dean was pretty quiet as he drove, and you wondered what exactly was on his mind. If he was solely focused on driving or if his mind was elsewhere. No matter how much you watched the road ahead of you, your mind resorted back to that little plastic container at home. The thought had barely left your mind. You knew you weren’t going to stop thinking about it. Not until you did something drastic about it. And after that, you’d hate yourself more than you already did.

 “I feel like it’s time I ask are we there yet?” you giggled.

 “Yes we are almost there,” he chuckled. “I spent a lot of time here when I was growing up.” You nodded your head, taking a deep breath. You could enjoy the sound of that. Learning a little more about him.

 After about five more minutes of driving, Dean made a right turn off the main road. The street was quiet. Not too many people in sight for just after six. It was a nicer day out. All you needed was a sweater to keep you warm. The sun would be more than enough. It was surprising for fall, but you weren’t complaining. It was only a matter of time before things got cold.

 Dean pulled into an empty parking lot. In front of the car was a small forest by the looks of it. Behind you was what looked like an elementary school. Did he go to this school growing up? You were probably going to find out at some point throughout the evening.

 You got out of the car at the same time. You glanced over to Dean to see where exactly you were going. He motioned for you to follow him. You were headed towards the forest. Dean clearly knew where he was going and you were going to have to trust him. You could take it all in and hopefully that cleared your head. Something else to focus on, Y/N.

 You and Dean kept a safe distance between the two of you. Your eyes were everywhere, taking it all in the best you could. It was beautiful to see it all. You had never really been around forests, and paths to walk in. Nothing was as beautiful as this. Growing up, it was always big houses, and parties. You didn’t get to explore like this. Not like you wanted to.

 Eventually the path led to a narrow road with a rapidly decreasing hill. It was pretty steep when you started walking down it, but there was something in the adventure that you looked forward to. There was something that you found relief in. The openness of the wilderness was almost comforting. It was almost like no one could find you here. A safe space from people like your mother and Ketch specifically.

  At the bottom of the hill was an old ruins building that caught your interest. There wasn’t a single person in sight. You headed straight over to the entrance, Dean following closely behind you. You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering. You wanted to take it all in. Remember it when you got home and were left in the silence of your room.

 Dean lead the two of you across the wooden bridge to get across the rocks beneath it. There was a ledge big enough for the two of you to sit on comfortably. Below the ledge was a small body of water, and some trees that grew tall, covering above you. It was enough to keep you distracted. It was absolutely beautiful. You could see why this place was special to him.

 “We’ve been friends for a little while now,” he pointed out, breaking the comfortable silence. His eyes took in the trees above.

 “Yeah,” you nodded. “Best friend.”

 “You want to talk to me about what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he swallowed hard. His lips formed a line as you looked at him. He wasn’t joking this time around. You knew there was no pressure for you to talk to him. He’d never pressure you to. But you could see the concern in his eyes. It damn near broke you. You couldn’t. You knew if you did, there was no going back for either of you. You didn’t want to add that extra weight on his shoulders. “Okay.”

 You adjusted yourself, resting your back against the wall of the ledge. You brought your legs up to your chest, breathing in the fresh air. His words were ringing in your head. He offered to let you talk to him. He was your best friend. If anyone would understand what you were going through, it would be Dean. He knew the little things you did because he lived with you. He knew something was wrong. He knew that you were struggling immensely. As much as you didn’t want to burden him with it, you knew you weren’t going to be able to hold it all in for much longer. You were trying your hardest to make it through each day. You couldn’t do it much longer. You already wanted to open up the plastic container in your drawer. It was only a matter of time before you did and caused more damage than you already had.

 “I’m not okay,” you breathed out. “I’m the farthest thing from okay right now, Dean.”

 “It’s okay, I’m here,” he nodded. “Talk to me.”

 “I need you to promise me something,” you almost mouthed. A lump forming in your throat..

 “Anything,” he smiled, his voice a little higher than usual.

 “Promise me that you’re okay right now. Promise me that if I talk to you that it’s not going to ruin all the progress you’ve made. That you’re not going to see me any differently.”

 “I promise you,” he stated, holding out his pinky for you to take. “I’m more than okay, Y/N. I promise you that I am. Is that the reason why you haven’t talked to me yet? You’re afraid of being too much for me? You’re afraid I’d see you differently?”

 “Yeah,” you nodded. “You’re already going through so much. I don’t want to be too much for you. I’m the one that’s supposed to have it together.”

 “You don’t have to all the time,” he smiled weakly at you. “Why do you think I brought you out here? I can see you aren’t doing okay. You never have to worry about it being too much for me. You talked me out of killing myself, Y/N. If you think that I wouldn’t be there to do the same for you every single time.”

 “I don’t want to kill myself,” you assured him. “I know how much that would hurt you, and I can’t do that to you. But I have to tell you that it’s really hard for my head to not think that way. Everything that has happened with Ketch, and Jo. The way I feel about myself. The way I feel like I’m going to end up. I spent the last three years of my life with a man that would rather fuck my best friend than me. My mom thinks that it’s my fault he got Jo pregnant. I should have given him exactly what he wanted, and I didn’t. It’s my fault why it happened.”

 “It’s not your fault, Y/N. You didn’t push him towards her,” he shook his head. “Cheating is a choice. Don’t believe for a second what your mom said to you. None of his actions are your fault. You are not responsible for what he does.”

 “Two years, Dean. Two years he had been cheating on me for. What does that say about me and the person I am?”

 “It says you’re loyal. Even if the guy is a piece of shit,” he stated. “You have a big heart, Y/N. That’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

 “Sometimes I feel like it is. All I have ever wanted was for someone to love me the way I love them. You know how pathetic that is? How pathetic I am for staying with him for as long as I did?” you sighed.

 “You had your reasons, sweetheart. It’s not pathetic to want to be loved, especially when your mom never showed you what it felt like. Every relationship is great in the beginning. You can’t recognize signs of abuse as easily when you are in a relationship,” he mentioned. “It’s so fucking hard to see them when they aren’t physical.”

 “I know you’re right, but there were so many clear signs, Dean. Physical signs! And I am still stuck around. I stuck with it, thinking that he was going to get better. That I’m a good person and I could make him a good person too. I stuck around after he hit me. After all the things he did that weren’t okay.  I can’t help but think that I’m in this position because I chose to stay. Because I said yes to marrying him. I didn’t want to be alone. It didn’t matter how well he treated me at what time. There are so many things that I should have done differently. That I could have done instead. This should have happened two years ago and not two months ago.”

 “Is that why you can’t move past this? You’ve been bottling it all up for that long?” he asked. “You’re not alone, you know? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You got out and that’s the most important thing. It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t right away. You are a good person, Y/N. Regardless. Now, I’m pissed that he laid a hand on you. But sweetheart, he’s not going to hurt you anymore and I’ll make sure of that. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here now.”

 “Yeah, now,” you breathed out, he reached his hand over to your calf.

 “And from now on,” he added in. “I’m not checking out on you. I’m not leaving you. Believe it or not, I actually love living with you. You’re the best roommate I could ever ask for, and an even better friend. Ketch threw away a rare diamond for a stone he found in a swamp. He’s not good enough for someone like you. He never was and he’s never going to be. I don’t ever want you to doubt yourself because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. He’ll get bored of Jo and the baby, and he’ll try to come back. You are worth more than that. You are worth more than most people can give you.”

 “Dean,” you cocked your head to the side, wiping away one of your tears.

 “Y/N, you are beautiful, and smart. You have a gorgeous smile, and the biggest heart of anyone I know. In fact, you remind me a lot of my mom. What I can remember anyways. You deserve so much better, and one day you’re going to find it. You don’t deserve to be sad like this.”

 “I don’t want to be sad like this,” you admitted. “I haven’t felt like this in a really long time. I just want it all to go away. I want to be able to look at Ketch and not have my heart drop into my stomach. I want to be able to laugh at Jo when she’s nine months pregnant with a guy who is going to do the same thing he did to me to her. He’s going to leave her when she needs him the most. By then, I want to be over this. I want to move on from this.”

 “You will be, sweetheart,” his lip curled upward. “I didn’t think I’d ever get better after that day and I did.”

 “You’re strong, Dean” you told him.

 “So are you,” he half smiled. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

 “I don’t feel that way right now,” you confessed. “Before you asked me to go out with you tonight, I went to the bathroom and opened up my drawer. In the bottom of it, I have this little plastic container that used to be for dental floss. I have a razor blade in it, and I so desperately wanted to cut myself, Dean. So bad.” That was the very first time you had said those words out loud to someone else. It was the hardest thing you ever had to say to someone you were close with. You didn’t want to scare him away by saying it. You didn’t want him to feel like he had to watch you. You just wanted to tell him before you got home and retired back to your room and something happened. If something happened.

 “You- do you? I don’t remember seeing any the day we went swimming together,” he pointed out.

 “I haven’t in two years,” you stated. “Remember how I said I’ve been there?”

 “You -”

 “It was the scariest moment of my life and I remember every detail until I passed out. I had gotten to a fight with my mom earlier on in the day about my sex life of all things. She made some comments that stuck and kept going on and on the whole day. When I got home, Ketch was on me about going out to the bar with his buddies. I said no, and he told me I was boring now that he and I were together. The sex had gone out the window. He said I could stay home and sulk, he was going out regardless. I just wanted to take the edge off. Cutting was how I did it. Made me feel better when everything was so chaotic. I was on the bathroom floor when I did it. It made me feel better for awhile. But I was in that headspace where I thought the world was against me. I got sloppy. Before I knew it, I had gone too far. For a split second, I thought about just leaving it. I got lightheaded quickly and called 911. I told everyone it was an accident. But no one believed me that it was. My mom wanted me in a mental institute, and didn’t want anyone finding out that Ketch’s girlfriend tried to kill herself. My dad - he was there for me when I needed him. He’s not around much if you couldn’t tell already. He works all over the place. But he stopped and took three weeks off to stay with me in the hospital while I got help. He was what got through to me. That was the last time I cut. Before that I felt like I deserved pain, other times I just had an itch. When Ketch saw them for the first time, he told me that crying for attention wasn’t attractive. He didn’t realize how bad it was until the day I almost died.”

 “I know it’s not. Believe me, I know it’s not,” He nodded. There wasn’t a single hint of judgement in his voice. “And you want to do it now?”

 “If I’m being honest, it’s been in my mind all damn day. But I know that if I do, then all of the progress I made will be erased, and I’ll have to start from scratch. I know it’s going to make it all worse, and not better. But I can’t think of anything else,” you shared. “Everything feels so fucked up that I don’t know which way is up. I didn’t want to bother you, and I don’t want to call my dad and worry him. I miss my dad, if I’m being honest here.”

 “Here. Look at me,” he said softly. “I’m up. I’m your best friend, Y/N. There is no one in the world that looks out for you the way I do. I’m the one who protects you. I brought you out here, remember? I care and I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay to miss your dad, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid to call him if you need him.”

 “What if I can’t get past this, Dean?”

 “I promise you, you will,” he nodded. “I’m not going to let you go through this alone. Now, I need you to pinky promise me that you are not going to cut yourself. Can you do that?”

 “I hope so,” you sniffled, holding your pinky up for him to link his with yours. “I don’t want to let you down.”

 “You won’t. You never have,” he furrowed his brows.

 “You’re the only person I haven’t.”

 “You won’t ever,” he stated. “Ketch is a no one. You said it yourself, not everyone is like him. He’s going to regret it, and you can invite him to your wedding and have him watch you walk down the aisle in a dress that’s a million times prettier than the one you sold. He’s going to watch you and think about how that could have been him if he would have treated you better, and cared about you the way any human being should care.”

 “I like that idea,” you nodded your head. Your lip curling up at the thought.

 “Me too. I’m so fucking proud of you,” he reminded you. “I think you and I have a lot of learning to do about ourselves. I think we should take that road trip next week. Go see my brother. Spend some time away from this town. Just you, me and baby. Let go of all the toxicity here and come back refreshed.”

 “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” you nodded.

 “Feel a little better?”

 “A little,” you whispered. “Thank you for listening.”

 “You don’t need to thank me,” he shook his head. “I care. You can talk to me anytime.”

 “I care about you too.” Dean shifted closer to you so that he was sitting directly in front of you. You could see it in his gorgeous fanfiction green eyes that he wasn’t judging you. He genuinely cared about you and how you were doing. He wanted you to get better so you’d get back to that ball of fire he met that day on the road. He opened up his arms for you to crawl into, and you graciously accepted this time.

 It felt so damn good to be hugged by him. You weren’t sure whether it was his affection that he showed you, or the fact that he was just showing you affection in the first place that really struck a chord with you. His hugs were always warm and welcoming, and you embraced it every time you got one.  

 You also knew now more than ever that you were really starting to fall for Dean, and there was no stopping it now. It really should have scared you, with the whole thing with Ketch. But it wasn’t that problem. The problem was that he was too good for you, and he was into another girl. He couldn’t see a girl like you as someone he wanted to be with. You were the best friend. The wing woman. The one he came home to after a long day. You weren’t going to be his girlfriend or future wife. You weren’t going to be the perfect girlfriend for him. You didn’t know how, and quite frankly, you were too broken for his love. He deserved happiness. He deserved everything you couldn’t give him.

 “You wanna head home? You’ve gotta be hungry by now,” he asked you.

 “Yeah okay. Can you make some of that tomato soup for me? My stomach is still uneasy,” you said, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

 “On one condition.”

 “Okay?”

 “I want your blades gone. I don’t want you to open up your drawer and be reminded that they are there,” he stated. “And in return, I’ll throw out the painkillers in my bag that you didn’t know about and we’ll start fresh.”

 “You -you still have-“

 “Extra in case I wasn’t successful. I haven’t touched them, I promise. I actually forgot about them until I found them yesterday. I wouldn’t do that to you. I swear.”

 “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

 Dean helped you off the ledge, making sure you were safely on the ground before you started walking. You had to admit that you did feel a lot better after talking to him about everything that was going on in your head. You knew what was going to happen if you didn’t. Dean was the one who was keeping you grounded. He had proven to you time and time again that he truly cared about you. He was the only real friend you had ever had the more you thought about it. He was the kind of man you wished you had in your life all those years ago.

 Dean threw his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as you walked up the big hill. You smiled softly, snaking your arm around his waist to hold him back. It was comfortable for you to be so close to him. That was where you wanted to be. Right next to him. He made you feel completely safe. He protected you. You wanted to be able to protect him.

 He opened up the car door for you, allowing you to get in before he circled around to the drivers side. You were looking forward to going home and relaxing, You weren’t going to study anymore than you already had. You were going to see if you could convince Dean to watch a couple of episodes of Dr Sexy with you so you could start catching up. You just wanted a night with him.

 “I’ll get started on that soup for you,” he smiled. “Can you go grab the tiny case for me?”

 “Yeah,” you nodded.

 “The pills are in my room. My duffle bag in the side pocket. They are in a plastic bag,” he told you.

 You headed down the hall, stopping at Dean’s door first. You twisted the door handle, opening up the door. He had his bed made, and on the end of the bed was his pyjama pants. He had a t-shirt folded right on top of it. On the nightstand, he had a bottle of water and a picture of his family. The duffle bag was sitting in front of the closet. It was empty for the most part, which meant he had moved his stuff in completely. You took that as a sign that he felt like he was at home. He really did love living here with you.

 You opened up the side pocket of his duffle, reaching in to find the bag of pills. There had to be at least fifty painkillers in the bag. It all came rushing back to you again. If you hadn't found Dean that day, he wouldn’t have been standing in your kitchen right now. You wouldn’t have met your best friend. You wouldn’t be standing if it weren’t for him and everything he had done for you. That’s what was making it so easy for you to hand Dean the blade. You didn’t want him to have that same fear you felt the night he moved in with you.

 You were quick in heading out of his room, and going into yours. You only had the one left that you kept in your drawer. This time when you looked at the plastic case, you didn’t have the urge to open it and use it. You didn’t want to disappoint Dean. You wanted him to stay proud of you. To never doubt the trust he had in you.

 You headed back to the kitchen, finding Dean standing at the stove, stirring away at the soup. You placed the plastic case on the counter, and the pills right next to it. He turned around with a sad smile as he looked at the two things together.

 “Fresh start,” he nodded.

 “Yeah,” you agreed. “Thank you for being an amazing friend to me, Dean.”

 “Always will be, sweetheart. We gotta look out for each other.”

 “Dean, I’ve never told people a lot of the stuff I’ve told you. You know, the stuff about my mom and dad, Ketch, and the way I feel. No one else really knows about it, except you. I trust you, Dean. I trust you more than I have trusted anyone. I’ve always needed someone like you in my life, and I never thought I would have someone. I really hope that you know just how big of a spot I have for you. You are my favourite person, Dean.”

 “You’re my favourite person too,” he smiled softly. “And for the record, I’m really proud of you for talking to me today.”

 “Made me feel better,” you admitted. “What are the chances of me convincing you to watch some older Dr Sexy with me tonight, and maybe sleeping over?”

 “High, very high.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 8 coming Sunday!

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your response is what keeps me going! 

[oddlyhale]

IronQrow Villains AU

Ironwood and Qrow as villains in the RWBY show AU.

Ironwood is based off of the Three Snake Leaves fairytale, a story about a man who revived his dead wife with Three Snake Leaves. However, reviving her only brought him betrayal, as she lost love for him and tried to kill him with her lover. Able to survive, the man went to the King and told everything the Princess had done. She was then punished with her lover to be drown in sea on a sinking ship.

Qrow is now based on The Juniper Tree fairytale, a story about a young boy who was killed by his greedy step-mother that wanted the inheritance he would get from his father. She killed him, cut him up and served him as dinner to his unknowingly father, and forced her daughter to bury his bones under a juniper tree next to his real mother. The boy became a bird, singing about his story and received three gifts from strangers that listened. He gave the gifts to his family: his father got a gold necklace. His sister got lovely red shoes. And his evil step-mother got crushed under a millstone.

In this AU, for Ironwood:

He fakes being a good headmaster, only to reveal his true identity once the fall begins.

He is a man masked under oxygen, for his first death caused him breathing problems.

His semblance is to revive the dead, however he tries not to use it often, as it causes him immense pain and can run his aura dry.

HIs goal is to find his wretched ex-wife and murder her for what she did to him (she’s not dead in this one.)

In this AU, for Qrow:

Qrow is a bit psychotic. Not theatrically insane, like Tyrian, but he’s on a level of kalopsia (delusions of seeing things more beautiful than what they are.) He is quietly energized by mayhem and distress.

His semblance is shapeshifter, accommodating by being handsy with building his own crazy weapons. HIs favourite weapon is a giant hammer made of millstone.

He plays the ‘nice uncle, playful drunk’ for a while, under the Fall hits. Turns out his ‘drunkard antics’ were just him covering up his manic laughters and bursts of rage.

He doesn’t try to kill Ruby or her friends, but he warns her to not come for him, or he will kill them without hesitation.

His goal is to live ‘beautifully’ and die in the deepest pit of bliss. By that, he wants to live to cause harm and art, and die a masterpiece himself.

About the relationship:

Ironwood and Qrow are married (James proposed.)

Qrow is utterly in love with Ironwood, as is James for Qrow.

James finds Qrow to be the most endearing psycho he’s ever met, figuring out how Qrow has a hidden humanity about himself, as he cares deeply for music and art.

Qrow was smitten the first time he met James, immediately wanting to be his.

The two men met each other years ago, back when James was to be happily wed to his queen. He was thrown off the ship by the crazy woman and her secret lover, nearly drowning, had it not been for the single loyal servant that saved him. James’ semblance unlocked that day out of panic, thoughts of dying only fueling his semblance to be released. His body revived itself, waking James on the raft that the servant was on, but the act left James badly injured.

The servant was weeping, both in joy to see their master was alive, but in horror as to what had happened to James’ body. His right arm, his right leg, gnawed off by the active sea beasts in the water. His hip was chewed at, nearly severing him in two. Despite being alive, the only thing his semblance couldn’t do was regenerate some new body parts. And yet James was conscious, despite the bleeding and pain. Alive and pissed.

His lungs were filled with water, only a dead person could carry so much. Once they arrived at shore, finding no persons in sight to help, the servant ran out to the land to see if there was any civilization nearby. James laid in the raft in pain, waiting for the servant to return.

Somebody finally came, but it was not the servant. It was a lithe and tall man with dark hair and pale skin, eyes bright red like rubies. He stumbled onto the beach after seeing the frantic servant run into the village nearby, curiously wanting to see what the fuss was about.

“My,” Qrow smirked down at James. “You look like you need a hand.”

James stared blankly at the man, as if he were incredibly unamused. Until he replied, “are you pulling my leg?”

Qrow couldn’t help but burst into a short fit of laughter. James did too, but not for long as he was cut short. His back was killing him.

“I can get you a new body. And some.” Qrow assured. “Come with me. I know somebody.”

“At this point? Fine.” James huffed. After being betrayed by his queen and almost eaten alive by sea beasts, he could hardly imagine this stranger could make anything worse.

Qrow took James to the Whale, to Salem. After some convincing, Salem allowed Qrow to let James stay, so long as he was the one watching their new guest. Qrow agreed happily.

Qrow’s story was only filled with pain. He learnt from a young age that he was never loved by his step-mother, and being left behind by his sister. His step-mother murdered him in his sleep, cutting him up and serving his flesh like he was grade-A beef. His soul took the form of a crow, fueled by the rage he had for his step-mother. He wanted her dead, and by luck, he met Salem. She granted him the wish to have his vengeance, helping him turn back into a human. He was only a little boy still when he met Salem, growing up to look to her as his new mother.

After killing his step-mother, Salem took him in and had been at her side since.

James was soon recovering, but his rage was building deep within. All he could think of was his wretched wife, who was almost successful in killing him. She knew he couldn’t swim. How the sharp teeth of the massive sea monsters would eat at his body. He was ready to kill her, avenge himself.

James’ internal injuries couldn’t be fixed. He had to constantly wear a breathing-mask to help inhale more oxygen that his fragile lungs couldn’t take in normally. It was pain, feeling like he aged 50 years, even though he was only 20 at the time. From what he learned, Qrow was also the same age, at least feeling comfort in knowing somebody his age was around.

During James’ recovery - while Salem was mildly interested in this loner - it was Qrow who was the most intrigued. He loved coming to see James, see his progress so far. A new robotic arm, a new robotic leg, and some new parts had to be added in. Unfortunately, it meant much of James’ lower-half had to be remade, Half of his waist was not salvageable, meaning he’d have to lose a hip and his genital area. James didn’t care, wanting to be fixed already, and out of the stupid medical bed. Wanting to be strong again.

Though, he made a joke about giving him a massive metal cock, barking out laughter when he saw Qrow’s reaction of giggling like an embarrassed old woman. But, his wish was curiously granted.

As James was back up on his feet and trying to adjust to this new body, it was still Qrow who helped him. To the others that were residents of the Whale, they were surprised at how much time Qrow spent with James. Knowing the guy, Qrow could hardly process empathy. He would laugh at burning houses full of orphans, and dance on a dying man while he’s down.

But now, he was the most gentle, tender and kind to this perfect stranger.

Would you believe it when this story ends with the two marrying? After knowing each other for 5 years? Well, that’s how the story went. The two men fell in love, not caring for how crazy their lives would become. James loved this psychopath. And Qrow loved this vengeful man.

James was quick to become compliant in Salem’s plans, to start a new world and have their wishes granted. What he wanted was that bitch of a wife dead, and anybody else that associated with her existence. He didn’t care anymore if they were innocents, they had to be taken out. Feeling the same pain he felt.

Qrow had no goals, other than to live and serve Salem. To be the perfect little dog and grant her every wish. But now, his devotion turned to James. He loved him to bits, and would kill anybody for him. Already, James had killed quite a few people for Qrow, and that was probably one of the most romantic things he’s ever received. The only painful thing he could think is to live a life without James. Even his devotion for Salem couldn’t keep him alive.

Despite their chaotic life, the two surprisingly had a well-adjusted marriage and relationship. It was contentment, understanding and fun. They adored each other the same way they first met, and it seems that their honeymoon phase never ended, after 15 years together. They’d have a wedding dance next to a pile of dead bodies if they could, and they’d still be completely enamored by one another.

During the years together, the two had begun building their false identities among the people. Qrow had contact with his family, still there as Ruby and Yang were young and had grown to attend Beacon Academy. Ironwood had stolen the identity of a previous soldier of Atlas, taking their place and soon becoming the headmaster and general of Atlas. Their appearance was nothing to be judged, coming off as noble and normal.

When the time came for Beacon’s Fall, Qrow was the first to act. After the death of Penny 1.0, he had gone to murder the others in the Beacon Vault. He was successful in killing Glynda, Ozpin and the Maiden (transferring her powers to Cinder who is still in the gang), but he pretends to have no success in killing Ironwood, giving false hope to the heroes that at least one of their own is OK.

After that, he went out to go kill some more civilians of the Academy. Ruby and Yang realized their uncle was part of the evil team, and are broken by the betrayal. Qrow was quick to dismiss them as his family, skipping off merrily back to Salem.

When time passed and it was time to arrive at Atlas, it would be Ironwood’s turn to betray the teams. While cooperative and kind, Ironwood legitimately had no remorse for any of the kids. Quite frankly he wanted them dead, as well as the Ace Ops.

[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Epilogue

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is the epilogue of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, or the previous part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 19

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: N/A; there’s not even swearing what the hell

Historical Inaccuracies: N/A

Word Count: 2.2k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Madison Square Garden, New York, United States, 1st of December, 1977

Years could pass— years would pass— and yet the feeling would forever remain the same. The rush, the pure and simple thrill of music and theatrics. Queen performing. You would never get tired of it.

Never get tired of Freddie’s flourishes and dramatic spins, John’s little dance moves that were becoming more frequent and less shy, Roger’s funny faces and showing off with those incredible falsettos, Brian’s look of concentration through a guitar solo, and the smile that broke it when you caught his eye from the wings.

The huddled conversations before a show, the raging parties afterward that you and Brian would often sneak out from, halfway through, because there were stars and comets and Perseids and planetary alignments to be seen.

You never missed an astronomical event.

Brian had bought a little notebook specifically for the two of you to mark such things in, and it was with a giddy smile that you’d toss him the notebook on a day where he’d forgotten what would be happening in the night sky, and watch him light up as he read your note.

He had also adopted a new tradition, it appeared, leaving you polaroids you hadn’t known he’d taken— in the backpocket of the bell bottom trousers you’d laid out to wear the next day, between the pages of whatever novel you were currently reading, on your pillow alongside a bouquet of wildflowers.

You’d never met anyone like Brian, who, for all his absent-mindedness, was ceaselessly thoughtful when it mattered.

Except today.

It would seem that all logic had been thrown out the window today.

But that was fair enough, you thought, because Queen were to be playing at Madison Square Garden.

And Brian’s parents would be there to watch.

He was fretting about that fact, it was obvious. He’d walked around all day wringing his hands and chewing on his lip, pacing, chattering, at moments falling entirely silent. He’d even forgotten to bring his guitar with him when Queen had stepped onstage for the afternoon’s soundcheck.

The problem was that Brian hadn’t had the time to see his parents earlier on in the day, and wouldn’t get to do so before the show, because they were arriving in the city only half an hour prior to the concert.

“Sit down, Brian,” said Roger finally, and Brian fell back into the chair beside you, completely on autopilot.

You reached out for his hand, and he took it without a thought, grasping a little too tightly. As he worried at his bottom lip with his teeth, you rubbed circles into the back of his hand with the pad of your thumb.

“Have a cuppa, darling,” Freddie said. He stopped in the act of painting his toenails with a sparkly varnish in order to hand you the cup of tea that John had just poured.

In turn, you handed the cup to Brian, but only seconds after he’d taken the first sip of tea, the cup crashed to the ground and shattered into a thousand little pieces, tea splattering all over his white shoes.

“Oh, you klutz,” Freddie sighed. “That was one of our only good cups. The only one without a chip.”

Uncharacteristically, Brian immediately mumbled an apology, rising from his seat.

“Well, at least it won’t have a chip now,” you joked, and Brian smiled weakly.

Deacy pointed a finger at the two of you. “Don’t move,” he said. “You’ll only crush it more.”

You nodded, and a broom was passed amongst those outside of the warzone of porcelain, the mess quickly cleared.

Your hand found a place in Brian’s hair and you dragged your fingers soothingly through his curls until he sighed and stopped fidgeting for long enough to take a deep breath.

“Right,” said Gerry Stickells, Queen’s current tour manager. “Time to go, if everything is in order?”

Three nods, one quip from Freddie: “Brian’s nerves aren’t in order, but I don’t suppose anyone can fix that.”

His remark was met with silence, so everyone rose from their seats and followed Uncle Grumpy— because that was Gerry’s nickname— toward the wings of the stage.

You kept a hold of Brian’s hand as though the two of you were assured partners in crime and this was your mission— to make it to the stage and through the show without a mishap precipitated by nerves.

You journeyed successfully to the wings, and released Brian’s hand so that he and the others could go and get geared up for the show, offering him a reassuring smile which he accepted with a terse nod.

Then the house lights came up, and Freddie proffered the masses of crew and family his signature wink, Roger gave an experimental twirl of his drumsticks, and John kissed his wife, her belly, and Robert goodbye, because they had come along on tour this time.

Brian was last, as usual, and took his time in leaving you, more reluctant than ever, reasoning that if he did not go onstage, there would be nothing for his father to critique. You shut him up with a kiss and pushed him onto stage, reasoning that if he never went, he’d never know the outcome of the night.

You were a little nervous yourself, as the show began, because you had not met Brian’s parents before and would be meeting them for the first time on this occasion. But your worries would scarcely have helped Brian with his, so you’d kept your peace.

But then there was a scuffle amongst the wings, and you halted in your half-conversation with Veronica, because Crystal was stepping aside to let an older couple through to the front of the wings.

Brian’s parents.

Veronica squeezed your arm reassuringly, and to your dismay, shuffled over to view the concert by Gerry’s side, in place of yours.

Glancing over at Brian’s parents, who, despite Brian’s fears, looked eager to see their son perform, you decided to approach them and introduce yourself.

You gave a little wave, catching the attention of Mrs. May, a woman with curling hair who smiled briefly but radiantly in your direction before touching a hand to her husband’s elbow. She reminded you very much of her son.

You made your way over during one of Freddie’s speeches, stretching out your hand to shake those of the two Mays.

“Hi,” you said, “I’m Y/N Andrews.”

“Y/N,” Ruth May smiled again, “we’ve heard so much about you.”

You fought the urge to wring your hands precisely as Brian had been doing earlier on, electing instead to main eye contact like the civilised person you were pretending to be.

You laughed, knowing how much of an automaton you sounded, but scrambling desperately to cover up your nervousness. “All good, I hope.”

Harold May, it seemed, had the same pensive dimension to his personality as did his son, and spoke only now. “Of course. He speaks very fondly of you.” His voice had a slow, careful quality to it, every word embossed with intention, and you flushed, because you were now sure that Brian did speak very fondly of you.

You were lost in your thoughts a moment, and when you returned, you did not know what to say. You settled for, “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mr. May, Mrs. May.”

“And you, dear. Call me Ruth, please, else you’ll make me feel old!” she chuckled, and you suddenly realised from where it was that Brian had acquired his gift for always making others feel welcome in his company.

Brian’s dad nodded to you. “Harold,” he said, in conjunction with his wife’s remark. You got the impression that he was a man of few words, but then again, like father, like son. It would seem that Brian drew much from his parents. From stars came stardust.

The next song began, and a guitar riff harmonised with voices sent a shock of electricity down your spine. Queen was always good, but tonight they were especially good. Ruth and Harold May had picked a good show to attend.

You looked on in silence as Queen ran seamlessly through their setlist, your heart nearly bursting with pride by the time Brian perched on the stool, his acoustic guitar poised on his knee as Freddie joined him, lit up by a singular spotlight that might as well have been moonlight.

“This is ‘Love of My Life.’”

You couldn’t stop yourself from turning to Brian’s parents. “What they do,” you said, “it’s magic. I’ve never seen or heard anything like it.” You shook your head slightly as you returned your eyes to the stage. “And Brian. He has this sway, which you don’t notice at first, because he keeps to himself, but then he begins to speak, or play, or sing, and it’s like space bends around him.”

You knew you were rambling, but you couldn’t help it. If you did nothing in this life but to convey to Harold May just how proud he should be of his son, then it would still all have been worth it.

It wasn’t Ruth who spoke up this time.

“I understand that now.”

And there was Harold May, with tears in his eyes at the sight of his son, the musician. Not the astrophysicist, but the musician.

It was abundantly clear to you that Harold May was as proud of this part of his son as he was of any, of every, part of his son.

And it was clear to everyone in the wings that this was it— this was the moment.

Queen had made it. They had actually made it.

The world was theirs for the taking.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The sight you were met with upon leaving the wings was not one you had expected.

You had not expected to find Heather Dersch, of all people, hugging Roger Taylor so tightly that both parties were practically blue in the face.

And when she saw you, she gave a cry and rushed forward, throwing her arms around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

Wordlessly, you returned her embrace, because in your head, you had already half-forgiven her.

“It was never about you,” she murmured. “It was about me feeling insecure and sorry for myself, and I envied you for having it all together.”

You couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up in your throat. “Wherever did you get that idea?”

She shook her head as she pulled away from you, sniffling slightly and pawing away the hair that stuck to her tear-streaked face. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “After I came back home, I went up North and talked to my parents.”

You nodded in understanding; she’d fallen out of contact with them for a while.

“And it helped,” Heather went on. “So now I’m here to apologise for the way that I left, and for what I said to you, because you didn’t deserve that.” She looked down. “You don’t deserve that. But we’ve always been such good friends, and I was hoping…” Her usual demeanour of stubborn defiance returned as she met your eyes. But her tone was still softened by emotion. “I was hoping you might forgive me..?”

You rolled your eyes, pulling her back into the hug. “I’ve done so many stupid things in my life, and I won’t let losing you be one of them.”

When you drew away from Heather again, she smiled.

“My love,” Brian’s voice reached you from nearby, “where was I when you did all of these stupid things?” He kissed your cheek, and you spun to face him as his arms encircled you. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, and you thought your heart would burst.

A noise of disgust announced Roger’s presence, and the subsequent cackle Freddie’s.

Quite suddenly, you and Brian were surrounded by a flock of both crew and family, with Deacy chasing Robert around the room as Veronica laughed.

“Brian.”

Brian’s eyes widened, and his lips fell parted before he turned at the sound of his father’s voice.

“Dad,” he said, his hesitance evident in the way the word caught in his throat like he wasn’t aware whether or not he still held the right to say it. It was rather sweet how much regard he still held for the opinion of his parents, even at the largely independent age of 30.

“I understand.”

His father said nothing more. He did not have to say anything more, because Brian understood too.

For all the world, he finally understood that he was enough. Understood that he was enough for you, for his parents, for himself.

And as he embraced his family— you, his parents, Roger, Freddie, John— you stared up at the ethereal being that was Brian May and understood something too.

Years could pass— years would pass— and yet the feeling would forever remain the same.

Never in your life, never, would you stop being starstruck.

THE END

���˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: i cannot avoid being sappy about this, so here we go. 

thank you to

@hgmercury39​ & @pi-kai-sso​ for being here since literally the beginning (of time?)!

@imcompletelylost​​ for repeatedly complimenting my dialogue-writing, and for being enthusiastic about the gang going to a disco!!

@brianmays-hair​ for binge reading the first many parts, completely unprompted, and for live-blogging every! single! chapter! after that. also, for making the best memes, and for being excited for saturdays 💞

@joemazzmatazz​ for spending her work shift binging starstruck, and thereafter, for all of her lovely live-blogs 💕

@doing-albri​ for complimenting the ‘magic’ of starstruck, so many times, and for making an edit??? inspired by starstruck??? take my love.

@archaicmusings​​ for… um... everything. live-blogs, tagging me in stuff that reminded her of starstruck, general friendship, support. ily!!!

@deacyblues​ for her never-ending kindness about my talents 🥺 💘

@aprilaady​​ for binge-reading the first many parts of this, for also tagging me in stuff that reminded her of starstruck, and for making me smile with all her live-blogs 🥰

@mazzell-ro​​ for her wonderful comments and general support! 💗

and to everyone who has supported me throughout the writing of this. i never thought i would even publish starstruck, but here we are!

i’m gonna go have an existential crisis now lmao

taglist: @melting-obelisks​ @cxllianmurphy​ @hgmercury39​ @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz​ @perriwiinkle​ @brianmays-hair​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @ilikebigstucks​ @doing-albri​ @killer-queen-87​ @n0-self-c0ntro1​ @archaicmusings​ @cloudyyspace​ @annina-96​ @themarchoftherainbowqueen​ @annajolras​ @mazzell-ro​ @aprilaady​ @themtvcrib​ @the-great-imagines-of-1812​

Masterpost / Part 19

[concealeddarkness13]

WHG 15 Impostor Syndrome Part 1

Triel is going to have a fun time! Tagging: @sparkles-and-hens, @knmartinshouldbewriting, @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses, @thoughts-of-nora, and @ratracechronicler!

I wandered outside the district as my thoughts wandered through my plan one last time. Today was the day. I was going to volunteer as tribute and give the Capitol a big middle finger as I helped as many tributes as possible escape from the arena and to freedom. What could go wrong?

It was going to be foolproof. It had to be, right? I had to project confidence, or no one would believe in my scheme. And it would work. It had to.

“Sparrow, what are you—” I barely heard the voice before I bumped into someone. Not just someone. I grinned as I looked up. Aunt Reeves. She was here!

I flung my arms around her, and she hugged me back in one of her signature bone-crushing hugs. I held on tighter. “I could ask you the same question!”

She grunted. “You didn’t even let me finish it.” She paused. “We’re here because Graem wanted to talk to you.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t tell him I said it, but he’s worried about you.”

“I heard that.” I pulled away from Aunt Reeves as Uncle Graem walked up. I grinned and ran over to him to get crushed by one of his hugs too. When we broke apart, he sniffed. “And I’m not worried about you. I just want to talk over your plan a little.”

Aunt Reeves snorted in the background, and I probably should give some exposition about who these two were. They weren’t really my aunt and uncle. First, they weren’t married, and they weren’t my blood relatives. Aunt Reeves was a pirate captain, and Uncle Graem was her first mate. They found me when I was a baby, and I had been cast out to sea. There’s more to my backstory, but I’m not going to divulge everything yet.

I grinned and nodded. “So, I’m planning on volunteering for the Hunger Games and convincing as many tributes as I can to escape from the arena, where my airship and crew will be waiting for them to take them to safety!”

“And where is safety?”

“I’ve been eyeing this interesting fabled mansion that has anti-Capitol defenses that should keep us all safe. Shine will be in control while I’m in the arena, and they [yes, they’re non-binary��and deaf, just to let you know] will make sure everything runs smoothly on the outside.”

Uncle Graem frowned. “And what happens if it doesn’t work out so perfectly?”

That was the big problem, wasn’t it? And no matter how much I thought about it, I hadn’t come up with a solution. It would all go to shit if it didn’t go well. I smiled sweetly. “Could I ask for your help?”

Aunt Reeves snorted. “You can—”

Uncle Graem nodded. “—but we won’t be helping you in this scheme. I must say, I was impressed in how you found Nesri and hid her from the Shades [exposition to come about those guys], so I want to see where you’ll go after achieving so much. We will only be impartial observers.”

I had known that would be the case. I nodded. “Thanks. I hope you’re impressed.” I bowed theatrically, and Uncle Graem and Aunt Reeves were gone as soon as they had come.

Now, I could explain about the Shades and Nesri. The Shades joined the Capitol and somehow were able to give kids this magic that made a person glow and float and crystallize liquids in a certain radius around them, and the crystal was as strong as a diamond. The Shades were behind the fear mongering about the people who had the glowy magic, so the Capitol thought they could control them. And for the most part, that was true. But Nesri was able to escape, and I had found her a month ago. She joined my pirate crew, and the Shades had no idea where she was. Unfortunately, she was a Victor, so she had to show up to the Reaping and the Hunger Games, but I wouldn’t let them take her.

Everything was going to work out. I just had to work my hardest, and everything would be fine.

I jumped when the bells rang. The Reaping would start soon. And my plan would be put into motion.

*

But first, I had to fix my look. Last night, Shine had made a bet with me, and they had won. Because of that, I didn’t have a cool hat or coat anymore, so I had to get those for the Reaping. I headed over to the Victors’ houses to find suitable replacements.

I went to Cahira’s house first. She was one of the oldest Victors, and she still defied the Capitol whenever they weren’t paying attention. She was an information specialist, and I had gone to her to get the information I needed for my plan. So, she wouldn’t be surprised to see me.

I knocked on the door, and Cahira herself opened it after a slight pause. She grinned at me and patted me on the shoulder. “To what do I owe the visit, my dear?”

I smirked back. “Wardrobe change.”

Cahira laughed and let me in. “I’m not attached to any of this stuff, so you can have it, as long as it fits you. But you should hurry. The Reaping’s starting soon, and I heard from a little sparrow that it will be an exciting one.”

I nodded and started walking. “Don’t worry. I don’t mean to miss it.”

Cahira left me to it, and I stalked through the hallways, looking for a promising room to raid. Before I could get very far, however, I froze at the light on in one of the rooms. I snuck up to look inside, and I smirked. Oh. Cahira had a guest.

She was a dashing beauty, with curly, dark blue hair and bright green eyes. She didn’t have make-up caked on her face, unlike most of the rich snots in the Capitol. But she was from the Capitol. No one from the districts would have such an impressive (read: ugly) wardrobe.

As she was perusing the selection, I walked up with my best dazzling smile, eyeing the perfect long, black coat and wide-brimmed hat just hanging in there, asking to be taken. She didn’t even startle; she just looked over at me with a smirk.

“And what is a local doing in Cahira’s mansion? I thought she was a loner?”

She certainly sounded like a Capitol snot. Light, breezy voice that sounded like she wanted to give a tinkling laugh in your direction at any moment. I smiled wider. “Miss Cahira invited me to find the perfect outfit for the Reaping here. And I’m glad I took her invitation. I wouldn’t have found such beauty here otherwise.”

She did give the tinkling laugh. “How cute. If you’re able to be Reaped, I’m too old for you.”

“Does that mean I can’t appreciate beauty when I see it?”

She cocked her head, still smirking. “Is there any reason why you came to my room in particular?” She paused, gesturing at her expansive wardrobe. “Anything catch your eye?”

A trap? Her eyes were amused, and she crossed her arms. I turned to the clothes and pretended to look over them. Most of them were gaudy Capitol things. It was kind of odd that there was anything normal in this selection. “Honestly, Capitol fashion has always intrigued me, but this—” I pointed to the long coat and wide-brimmed hat, “really confuses me. How does this fit with the rest of the styles you have?”

She laughed that same annoying laugh. I couldn’t tell if she was toying with me or not. I couldn’t read her at all. Who was she?

She took the coat and hat down and set them on her bed. “Truly a curious trend. It happened a few Hunger Games ago, when the tribute who won refused to wear anything fancy during his interviews or chariot ride. So, we decided to hop on the bandwagon and wear casual things, but casual things are such a drag. I only brought this along just in case a local came looking for good clothes. Why don’t you take them?”

Oh, she was totally toying with me. I eyed her. “What’s the catch?” I could get away with just stealing this. She wouldn’t be able to use me after the Reaping, since I was going to be a tribute. So, there wasn’t a huge risk for me. But still…

She cocked her head. “Oh, I’ll think of something before I leave. I’ll find you after the Reaping. Wear the coat and hat proud until then.” She winked.

I nodded. That was acceptable. I wouldn’t have anything to give after I became the Capitol’s property. So, even if she could get to me during the visits, it would be useless. I snatched the coat and hat and ran out of the room before she could change her mind.

[waywardnerd67]

Fan Mail

Summary: Jensen has been penpals with a fan for his entire career. Now he wants to meet her to tell her his true feelings for her. He is in for a great surprise to find out who she truly is. Characters: Jensen Ackles, Reader Pairing: Jensen x Reader Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1706 Prompt: “A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject.” -- Winston Churchill A/N: @spnfanficpond​ Unfic Challenge

(Y/N), I’m sitting in my trailer after wrapping for the last time on Supernatural and I really wish you were here with me. You’ve been my constant companion, my friend throughout all my career and it’s hard to believe we have never met. I want to fix that. I would like to invite you to the Supernatural wrap party in Vancouver. You don’t have to worry about any of the expenses because I will cover them for you. All you have to worry about is bringing you amazing, beautiful self here. I know it’s not a lot of notice which is why I am overnighting this letter to you. Below is my number, just send me a text with your answer. I really want to meet you, (Y/N). It would mean the world to me. Talk to you soon. -J

She reread the letter a few times leaning against the counter. (Y/N) quickly folded the letter and slipped it into her back pocket when the trailer door swung open. The deep, infectious laugh of Jared Padalecki filled the air bringing an instant smile to her face.

“(Y/N)! My favorite person in the whole world!” Jared wrapped his long arms around her and hugged her tight.

She started laughing as he let go of her and flopped down into a chair, “Jared I don’t know if anyone has told you but we wrapped a week ago. You’re supposed to be packing your apartment up to move back home. What are you doing in my chair?”

“My apartment is done and Jensen is sulking around his. I need some sunshine in my life and figured you might need some help packing up the trailer.” His hazel eyes looked around the trailer fondly staring at the wall of photos featuring different looks throughout the years.

(Y/N) smiled softly, “Well I could definitely use your height to get some of the boxes down from our overhead storage.,” she pointed up as he smiled back at her.

After a few hours, (Y/N) and Jared had the whole make-up trailer packed up. An overwhelming sadness tightened around her chest knowing this would be the last time she would ever be inside the trailer of her favorite show. As she turned to look to Jared, she watched in horror as his eyes were skimming a familiar piece of paper. She quickly slid her hand into her back pocket confirming he was indeed reading Jensen’s letter to her.

“Jared…” she said as he looked up at her with his mouth gaping open.

“You’re her! I knew it! I told Jensen it was you. What are the chances that two girls in his life would have the same name. I can’t believe it.” His excitement only made her panic more.

She stepped towards him with her shaking hand reaching for the letter, “Please Jared… just give me the letter.”

He held the letter above his head where she could not reach it, “You’re gonna tell him, right? (Y/N), tell me you’re going to tell him.”

She shook her head, “I-I can’t…”

“(Y/N), you have to tell him. He is moping around his apartment because the wrap party is tomorrow night and hasn’t heard from you. I’ve never seen him like this.” The concern in Jared’s voice made her heart flutter slightly.

He handed her the note and pulled her into a hug, “Between you and me, I think you’re exactly what he needs in his life right now.”

Jared kissed her temple and walked out the trailer door. (Y/N) let out a breath burning within her chest before slumping into one of the chairs and allowing the tears she held to flow freely. After a few minutes, she gathered her things and made her way out to her car. Looking back at the trailer one last time, (Y/N) drove to her apartment downtown. As soon as she was home, she went into her closet pulling out the small chest that held hundreds of letters from Jensen.

She never thought writing a fan letter would put her life on the course it was currently traveling. It started when she tore her ACL at eighteen and ended up watching Days of our Lives as she healed. Instantly, she fell for the blond hair Eric Brady and found that all the actors had a PO Box they received fan letters from. Taking a chance, she wrote Jensen a letter and from there they struck up a friendship. She followed his entire career and he followed her throughout college then theatrical make-up school. When she landed a job on Supernatural, she came face to face with the man who held her heart. Though, he never knew she was the (Y/N) he would write too. Her mail was forwarded from her home in L.A. to Vancouver making Jensen none the wiser that she was his penpal.

(Y/N), Wouldn’t it be amazing if you got a job on Supernatural. I know it would be a long shot, but then we could see each other all the time. It would be nice to have someone other than Jared to hang out with up here. 9 months out of the year with him gets old. I could even take you for a ride in Baby just don’t judge her on how she sounds because it’s not as cool as it is on tv. How did apartment hunting in LA go? Looking forward to your next letter. -J

(Y/N) sat on her bed with the chest open and added Jensen’s latest letter to it. She grabbed her phone pulling up her text thread with Jensen and sent him a message before losing her nerve.

“Hey Jensen, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out and have dinner at my place? Something I need to talk to you about.”

His reply was immediate, “Be there in 30.”

(Y/N) ordered from their favorite Mexican place that would cater on set and anxiously paced around until there was a knock on her door. As she opened it, Jensen was standing next to a delivery man chuckling. He quickly pulled out his wallet and paid for the meal before she could say anything.

Stepping aside, he walked inside looking around her living room. (Y/N) grabbed the bag with their food and made her way towards the kitchen, “Make yourself at home. Would you like a beer?”

“Sure. Thanks for inviting me over. I was looking for an excuse not to pack up my apartment.” Jensen’s deep voice sent goosebumps all over her body.

She took a deep breath before grabbing two beers, a couple of plates and their food. They sat in her living room eating and reminiscing about their time on Supernatural. Conversation between them was natural and easy flowing like water. Once they were done eating and both of them were onto their second beer a comfortable silence fell between them.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Jensen leaned back into her couch and placed his feet up on her coffee table.

(Y/N) swallowed the large lump in her throat before pulling out the chest that contained the truth she had been withholding from him. Sitting at the other end of the couch she placed it between them, “This.”

Jensen sat up looking curiously at her before he opened the lid. He pulled out a letter and once he found what it contained his olive eyes snapped up at her, “You?”

She nodded silently. Watching him ruffle through every letter he had ever sent her was terrifying and liberating. He put out the most recent letter and began chuckling, “I guess you’re already going to the wrap party.”

“Jensen, I know you’re probably mad that I never said anything. I just didn’t know how to approach the subject. I love receiving your letters and didn’t want that to change. With the show ending and knowing you all these years, it wouldn’t be right for you not to know. I’m sorry.” She was rambling until he reached out and grabbed her hand squeezing it.

He set the chest with the letters on the table and moved closer to her, “I told Jared today that if I didn’t hear from my penpal that I was finally going to have the balls to ask you out.”

“And now…” she asked looking up just in time to see Jensen leaning in and pressing his lips against hers.

“Now, we hang out and do some more of this,” he kissed once again, “and we take it day by day.”

“I like the sounds of that.” (Y/N) snuggled into his side as she turned on the tv trying to find something for them to watch.

After a little while Jensen asked, “If you were going to write me another letter, what quote would you have put at the end?”

(Y/N) laughed getting up and grabbing her 1001 Random Quotes book. She had taken to ending her letters with random quotes that she picked by simply randomly opening to a page and blindly pointing at a quote. She did exactly that then started laughing as she read it.

“A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject. -- Winston Churchill” She looked up to see Jensen smiling, “I guess that explains me in a nutshell.”

Jensen slipped his arm around her shoulders pulling out his phone bringing up his camera, “As my biggest fan I think we need to document this important moment,” he snapped a few pictures of them together.

Suddenly, his phone began chiming rapidly with texts while Jensen started laughing, “Well I now owe Jared twenty bucks since he was right all along that you were my fan penpal.”

“I know he found out earlier today. Honestly, who would believe a story that a fan would be penpals with her favorite actor.” She chuckled as he lifted her chin to have their eyes meet.

“You’ve always been more than just a fan to me, (Y/N).” He leaned in kissing before they snuggled with one another on her couch to continue watching a movie.

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