#honey mish is on the phone!
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peachsukii · 7 months ago
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sweet like honey ꒰ tangled hearts series - kiribaku x fem!reader ꒱ ⇢ you and kirishima organize a small dinner to celebrate bakugo's 31st birthday.
꒰ tags & content ꒱ fluffy & tooth-rotting fluff for kat's birthday ♡ cross posted to ao3 // wc; ~1.1k ✿ tangled hearts masterlist ✿ ↶ | previous entry (twisted in bedsheets) ↷ | next entry (stitched muses)
Trying to plan a surprise was literally impossible in the Kirishima-Bakugo household. The house was always in pristine condition, everything in it's proper place and able to be located without a second thought. If something was moved or used, there was a 95% chance Bakugo would notice, no matter what it was - his favorite spatula, a random mug, and even a specific set of towels in the bathroom. He had the house mapped in his mind down to the last non-existent dust bunny in the foyer.
By some miracle, Bakugo believed Kirishima was taking him out to dinner for his birthday and didn't invite you along. Sure, they needed their time alone together too, but most of the time, Bakugo was the one making sure you were included in their plans. It all worked out in your favor, though. Earlier in the week, you’d texted the both of them to trick Bakugo into thinking you wouldn’t see him Saturday.
the lion, the witch & the gym bro ❤️💖🧡 [you] hey babes! are you guys free saturday for dinner? [katsu 🐯🧡] what kinda fuckin’ group name is that?! i better be the lion [katsu 🐯🧡] and sorry baby, eiji's made plans for us [eiji 🥊❤️] i think it’s cute 😜 [eiji 🥊❤️] sorry love! we can meet up for breakfast on sunday though 💕 [you] that's okay! yes, kats, you're the lion lol. breakfast on sunday it is 💖
Kirishima was fully aware of your plan, ecstatic that you wanted to do something so sweet for Bakugo. He’d told you how all of his past surprise parties had failed for him - he couldn’t keep the excitement to himself and would fold before the party happened. You had to do a little work to be sure he wouldn’t spill the beans this time, too. Nothing a few sweet kisses couldn’t fix, promising to reward him for keeping quiet.
A quick trip to the grocery store and plenty of recipe research later, you had everything you needed to make the dinner. Kirishima mentioned that you’d have about half an hour to set up and get everything ready, so most of the cooking would need to be done in your apartment. It was simple, a mish-mash of his favorites; mapo tofu, cooked salmon with a honey garlic glaze and some grilled vegetables. You thought about using Bakugo’s home grown veggies, but that would have given away the surprise if he saw them go missing that morning.
Cooking went surprisingly easier than you thought it would. Creating the glaze for the salmon was honestly the hardest part, but you're proud of how it looks and smells, the fish cooked with a perfect sear. Your kitchen smells incredible and it's sad that the aroma won't be fully following you to their home.
Just when you're putting everything in the oven to keep warm, you get a text from Kirishima.
[eiji 🥊❤️] we’re leaving the house now! you’re clear to head over in five minutes [you] thanks eiji! i’ll pack up and head over.
When you arrive at their house, you park around the corner to be sure Bakugo doesn't see your car before he goes inside. Your unloading the food onto the kitchen counter when your phone buzzes three times, one from Kirishima and two from Bakugo, outside of your group chat.
[eiji 🥊❤️] headed home, kats is a little grumpy lol. see you in 15!
[katsu 🐯🧡] eiji fucked up our reservation and we're headed home [katsu 🐯🧡] if ya wanna come over. miss you sweets
'Oh, if only he knew,' you thought, smiling to yourself. You don't respond and place your phone back on the counter.
With the food in the oven to warm up, the table set, the lights off, and Bakugo's present on the counter, you were ready for them to walk through the door any moment now. Kirishima warned you that Bakugo was upset, but you're confident his mood will do a 180 once he sees the true plan.
The front door opens, accompanied by shoes hitting the floor and keys hitting the table in the entry way.
"Can't believe they messed up the reservation," you hear Bakugo complain, grumbling to himself. "Stupid ass fancy place can't keep their books straight."
"I know, I'm sorry baby," Kirishima apologizes, looking toward the kitchen to catch your eye. "But I think you'll prefer to be home, anyways."
Bakugo's about to question why when you walk out of the kitchen and into view, hair pulled back in a neat ponytail and wearing his favorite pretty black dress.
"Happy birthday, Katsuki! Hope you're hungry, we've got plenty waiting for you."
You're expecting him to burst out laughing, make a snarky comment, or roll his eyes with a smirk on his face, but none of that comes. He stands there, awestruck with a gleam in his carmine stare while his lips curl into a genuine smile.
"You two really did all this for me?" Bakugo asks, looking back and forth between you and Kirishima.
"Of course, Kat. You deserve to be spoiled! Come on, dinner is ready." You take his hand and lead him into the kitchen, pulling out his normal chair at the table. Kirishima follows, helping you prep three plates of food and delivering them to the table. After you place Bakugo's plate down in front of him, he grabs your face and tugs you back into his bubble to kiss you.
"Thank you," he whispers, nuzzling your nose before letting you go. He repeats then sentiment to Kirishima as well, giving him a peck on his forehead before he joins the table. "Both of you."
The three of you devour every bite of dinner - it turned out absolutely fantastic, ending with Bakugo asking you for the recipe you used for the salmon. That's the highest compliment coming from him, knowing that he's going to take the original and hit the ground running with a version of his own.
"One more thing for you, Kats!" you exclaim, grabbing the gift bag from the counter. Bakugo takes the present from you, rustling through the orange tissue paper. When he pulls out the brand new gardening tool kit, including some vegetable and flower seeds, his eyes sparkle with delight.
"I know you more than likely have a set already, but it never hurts to have a back up!"
Bakugo sets the bag on the counter and scoops you into a tight hug.
"Thank you, princess. I appreciate it."
Kirishima struts over, patting him on the back. "Maybe our little goddess here could help you plant the new seeds! Now that you have two sets, you could teach her how you tend to the garden."
"That's a great idea, Red. We can start soon with spring in full swing."
You couldn't be happier with how the day turned out. Seeing Bakugo's smile is all you ever wished for. He was glowing for the rest of the night, giddy over the idea of teaching you all about his gardening ways in the coming weeks.
Safe to say, it was a successful birthday.
⋆ ˚ʚɞ — recipe for the salmon cause it made my mouth water! i also wrote this in a frenzy so i hope it still is quality haha ✿ wildflowers; @maddietries @smolbeanzzz @camila2201 @lik0 @pixel4ffecti0n @moonlight-dreamer04 @lumi-cent @pastelbakugou @hannahk @camryn-ciel67 @c4prisuna @perfectsukii @screechingpeachdelusion
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urboymutual · 2 years ago
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"Oh mah gurd what is it honey buns truffle sprinkles butterfly cutie pie?" Jared asked noticing Misha gasp. He tried to form a worried look on his face but after 33 rounds of botox (he did couples botox with Centur jensen, it always made Misha jealous) his face struggled to move... Neither the less, he picked up Mishs phone licking the greasy breadstick taste off of the mobile device before winking at Misha. "Are they making you president of the United States forever?" Jared asked curiously peering inside Mishas beautiful and enchanting blue porta potty water eyes. Though before Misha could reply, a nee guest entered the chucky cheese domain. It was tree, Misha's president manager's assistant and they ran over to their table. "This is code red mr collins."
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" I am so proud of you, Mish," Jared said placing a kiss on Mishas delicate forehead. "Or should I call you President Misha..." he giggled. Misha had entered the 2028 United States Presidential Election beating out the other opponents such as Centaur Jensen Ackles and Jules Conrad and My Chemical Romance (the Band). Jared was so proud of his little Election star and couldn't wait to celebrate. " How about we go to Chucky cheese and celebrate this election win, Mr. President." Jared batted his eyelashes. "Just you and me, your first lady"
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"awww thank you jare-bear," said misha blushing as jared's fish lips smacked his hairline, "but of course i couldn't have done this without you." he smoldered, letting out a 'rawrrr' as jared started tickling his feet under the table. misha continued to smile as jared sung his praises, he loved hearing good things about himself! but of course misha had a secret that jared could never ever know, a secret that would stop his jaree-poo from stroking his toes! the truth was that he had cheated to win. he had sent his opponent jentaur into the glue factory and had thrown jules conrad and the emo band into a volcano. jared still thought that they had disappeared due to fearing him--and misha intended to never let jared know. "i would love to go to chunky cheese with you," he said batting his eyelashes back and biting his lip, "i'll arrange it so they throw all the nasty kids out and we steal all the prizes we want."
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angeloroki · 4 years ago
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broken engagement. 2. — i. midoriya
— part one.
— character ; aged up!izuku midoriya x gn!reader
— genre ; angst
— warnings ; curses
— a/n ; part 2 bc you wanted it, but i never said it'd be fluffy :(
please let me know if there are any female pronouns (i'm doing it unintentionally sorry :/), i want to keep this writing as inclusive as possible!!
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« hey.., it's me, again.
please call me back. i never wanted this. »
message deleted.
this was at least the 10th time you repeated the process. your ex-fiancé would leave you a voicemail, you'd listen to it all the way through, even though your friend advised you long ago to block him, and then you'd delete it, reluctantly.
maybe that's why he's been so insistent for the past month. the fact that you haven't blocked him or deleted him from your contacts could only give him hope.
and yet, you'd like to pick up the phone and tell him what an asshole he is. and that it was over, that you could never love him again, and even why not lie to him and tell him you were seeing someone else, and blah blah blah.
but it was all wrong.
you still loved him, even after crying for days.
" i don't know if my feelings for you are strong enough to satisfy you. "
he had made you believe for weeks that the fairy tale you were living with him was real. it was a change from the cheesy endings in disney movies. what a bastard.
you sighed to yourself, gazing at the engagement ring that lay far away on the bedside table.
it gleamed in the moonlight, beautiful, representing the love izuku had for you. now it was just the bearer of the bitter words he had spat in your face.
you looked away.
« y/n hun, i'm going to a friend's house. it's my date i've been telling you about for two weeks now, i hope he's worth it or else you'll hear me complaining, she says in a weary voice. i left the dish in the fridge for you, and please don't resume your series on my netflix account, it's too boring to know where i left off. » your friend shouts from the front door.
you smile slightly.
« i'll try, but i can't promise anything. »
« hahaha, no but for real, i'm serious. anyway, see you later honey, and wish me luck. »
it's been a month since you moved in with your friend, she insisted that you stay with her until you find another apartment. and she was a good cook, so how could you refuse ?
you sat down in front of the tv, and resumed the series you had started. a pathetic love story, the married boy who falls in love with a woman who is pregnant, even though she is a virgin?
you rolled your eyes before turning off the tv. everything was about him, when you're on social media and you see a couple of friends already married, or when a jewelry commercial would be airing right when you turn on the tv, and of course the dates that are coming up on your best friend's side.
it's as if fate didn't want you to forget him.
you were going to have a piece of cake, and you were going to start a horror movie. just to chase away that too sad cloud over your head.
of course, your new roommate had finished the raspberry bush, and so it was her fault that you found yourself at 11pm, in the 24 hour supermarket, in front of an old shop window wondering if ice cream was better after all.
with a Ben & Jerry's in hand, you headed to the cash register to pay and quickly return to your blanket cave.
« ouch ! » you exclaimed.
you had just bumped into someone, who was strangely tall by the way. you were about to apologize and ignore the stranger, when his scent shocked you. it couldn't be possible ? he couldn't be standing in front of you, at 11 pm, in a supermarket, and especially more than 25 kilometers away from your old apartment. argh. obviously this is the only store in town that sells his favorite snacks.
« y/n... »
you finally dared to meet his eyes. he hadn't changed, no wonder, it had only been a month since you left, but you expected something huge when you saw him again. his well-shaped jaw made you want to cover it with kisses. no, stop, y/n. but he smelled so good. " i don't even know if i want to get married ! " that truth echoed in your head. fuck, you had almost forgotten that he had broken up with you.
« what ? » your voice was as hard as a rock.
without giving him time to answer, like last time, you left him hanging and headed for the exit. never mind the ice cream, you'll come and buy it another time.
« what do you mean what ? i've been trying to call you for a month. »
he followed you, leaving his groceries behind too. a breath came from your lips, forming a small cloud of coolness in front of you.
the situation was so cliché that a dry little laugh escaped from you.
« how strange ? i've been ignoring you for a month now. » you said with sarcasm in your voice.
he took your hand gently and suddenly at the same time.
« stop this, and let me explain. »
you felt the melancholy in his voice, his expression camouflaged by a big scarf couldn't hide all the tears he had already started to cry. you just wanted to hold him, to tell him that you were going to get through this together.
you repressed the urge.
no, he was being unfair to you and your feelings. so he didn't deserve your pity.
you disengaged yourself from his grip, and it was with some regret that you saw that he did not try to hold you.
« there's nothing to explain, midoriya. i was stupid not to see that you didn't love me as much. or that i loved you too much. so please let it go. »
« how can you ask me to let go of the love of my life ? stop being so sutpid. »
your eyes widened. did you hear right ?
« i beg your pardon ? was it me who said I didn't want to get married anymore ? was it me who rejected her fiancé for months for absolutely no reason ? was it me who broke your fucking heart when i was patient, and patient ? so don't talk to me about the "love of my life". »
he didn't answer, and a long silence fell between you. you had to bite your lip to keep your tears where they were, in the corner of your eyes. he just needed to say a word, a phrase or even a fucking onomatopoeia to make you stay.
the absence of an answer made you smile sadly.
« midoriya please forget about me. »
« you still have it? the engagement ring, i mean. »
you felt your throat tighten. no need to lie.
"indeed, yes."
a faint smile settled on his face, reddened by the cold. silently, you slipped your hands into your pockets. he was cute that way.
« ...miss your cooking, too. » he said half amused, half saddened.
your exhausted laughter echoed in the street.
« izuku, don't make it worse for yourself. » you said in a tired voice.
the fact that you called him by his first name brought the stars back into his eyes. your tongue came to moisten your lips, you wanted to feel his against yours. just once, before you went home. because you knew that your story wasn't a fairy tale. that even though you loved him madly, and maybe he loved you too, his sweet words couldn't erase the obnoxious behavior and insensitive words he'd thrown at you for weeks.
and most importantly -
a sweet warmth invaded your body, and his scent filled your nostrils. his lips against yours, you could only respond to his ardor. you melted under his caresses that flooded around your waist. your hands met his collar, and you drew him to you. deepening your passionate kiss, the air quickly ran out.
you abruptly pulled away from him. a look of bewilderment painted both your faces. it was unexpected.
« y/n, please... »
« i'll give you the ring back, but it's over. thanks for the kiss. »
yeah, thank you for the kiss izuku, it was a beautiful bitter farewell.
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tagging ; @holykvn @iluvvhewer @0lissa0 @animesuck3r @dekusassistant @cyjstars @softbkg @bobbatea-and-hotchocolate @vegaolive @awizuku @maltese-sparrow @erens-s1ut @djmbgbeast @yyuuna @iliketobullydeku @tecna09 @sxmmio-o @lotusxcos @superblyspeedydragon @taceticbitch @joonie-centric @mishe-qm @ab456123cd @pluviophilefangirl @number1cokewhore @stans-nami @ravngers@quillvinrune
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javisjeanjacket · 4 years ago
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Javier and “you look like shit”?
Michaela this is 100% something Javi would say! thank you for requesting!! I hope you like it! 🥺
Lunch - (Javier Peña x reader)
"Yeah, the name on the order is Peña." You said, smiling softly at the waitress behind the countertop.
The woman nodded and replied, "Okay, I'll go grab it." She turned on her heel and sent her ponytail spinning through the air.
You swallowed and fiddled with your hands. You tried again to clear the fluid in your throat but to no avail. Wiping away beads of sweat on your forehead, you smiled when she returned with a bag of food tied neatly in her hands.
You reached into your bag to pay for the food Javi had called in, but she said, "Don't worry about it, Agent Peña's is on the house."
You raised your eyebrows in surprise and nodded. "Oh, uh, okay then, thank you."
~~~~~~~~~~~
The door to Javier's office was a thick slab of cheap wood with a mish-mashing of expensive paint lathered over it. His name rested in gold in the middle of the door underneath the title of 'Director'.
You knocked gingerly and twisted the handle, opening to reveal Javi with the phone in one hand and scribbling something down on a notepad with the other.
His dark eyes looked up to yours and a smile twinged upon his lips. He breathed you in, your warmth and kindness a welcome reprieve from the violence that had become synonymous with his work day. He took a moment to look you up and down, to yearn for the feeling of you under his hands. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to return to his phone call.
You closed the door behind you and sat in the chair across from his desk, opening the bag of food and searching for his first. You pulled the Styrofoam container from the plastic bag and handed it over to him, then reached down to grab a bag of plastic silverware for him as well.
He took both gratefully, trying to communicate his thanks with the raise of his eyebrows.
You nodded before trying to clear your throat again and starting in on your lunch.
Javi noticed the sound in your throat and the sheen of sweat on your forehead. The way your hands shook just holding the cheap plastic fork.
He furrowed his eyebrows in thought as he waited for the bureaucrat on the other line to wrap it up.
You were halfway done with your food when the receiver finally clicked back into it's spot and Javi's hand reached across the piles of paperwork on his desk to grab yours. You grinned meekly at him.
"You look like shit." Javi said, his mouth parting as he looked over your features, analyzing the almost tangible weakness in your shoulders and the breaks you had to take in between bites of food for air.
You swallowed your food and then replied, "Well, hello to you too, honey."
Javi huffed bemusedly and stood from his desk, rounding it towards you. He took your face softly in his hands and pressed a tight-lipped kiss to your forehead. He kept his mouth on your clammy skin for a beat too long and it took you a moment to realize that he was trying to take your temperature. He pulled away and ran a calloused palm over your cheek. "Do you feel sick?"
You cleared your throat again and wheezed deep in your chest. "Kind of."
Javi's mouth frowned and he ran a thumb thoughtlessly down your lips before saying, "Okay, come on. I'm taking you home." He walked back behind his desk to grab his jacket and keys.
"Agent Peña, if you wanted to take me home all you had to do was ask." You joked and tried to suppress a cough.
Javi smirked, "Let's worry about that later, honey. You ready?"
You said, "Yes." and ran a hand over your tired face. You put your unfinished food back in the bag and tied it tight once more.
Javi took the food from you and then reached for your hand.
You kept hold of him shakily as he guided you through the office building and out to the parking lot.
Outside was overwhelming, the brightness of the sun and the whirring of cars and machines sent pain surging through your head. A needle-like twinge of pain slammed into your head and you bent over, hands on your knees, to wait for the feeling to subside.
Javi stopped short as you dropped his hand and he rushed back to you, one of his palms reaching to your back and the other still clutching lunch tightly. "What's happening?" He whispered.
You shook your head and continued to gape in breath. After a moment, you stood back up straight and huffed loudly. "I'm okay, let's go."
Javi's eyes were worried, the lines around them tensing. He chewed the inside of his lip and hooked an arm in yours, determined not to lose you.
You finally made it to the car and heaved yourself in, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead once you buckled in.
Almost as soon as Javi began to drive, the lull of the car and the safety of him next to you allowed your shoulders to slump and your exhaustion to catch up with you. Your eyes flitted closed and your head lulled to rest against the car window.
Javi looked over at your sleeping form in between moves in traffic and ran his teeth over his bottom lip, thinking. He took in a deep breath and reminded himself to call the ambassador for time off as soon as he got back to the apartment.
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JAVI TAGLIST: @mndalorians @anetteaneta @hoodedbirdie @insideafictionaluniverse @din-damn-djarin @artsymaddie @jedi-mando @edencherries @buckysalefty @happy-beeeps @triggerhappyflygirl @oloreaa @alwritey-aphrodite @m-1234 @littlebopper96 @mando-writings @thelastskywalker @okilover02 @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @mrschiltoncat @anakinswhore
GENERAL TAGLIST: @softly-sad @over300books @autumnleaves1991-blog @phoenixhalliwell @ntlmundy @myheart-pedro @intu-witch-tion
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Tammy x Alice #7 😋
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7. What annoys them the most about their partner? Would they change it if they could?
For Alice, it’s the unpredictability of Tammy’s schedule. 
They would have plans set out down the road, travels or dinner dates or anything, and then Tammy’s phone would ring and she would be packed and leaving by the next morning. 
And Alice would be left to make the phone call to cancel their plans. 
Again. 
As much as Alice wanted Tammy to switch careers, she constantly worried about losing her — like. Constantly. 
And even when Tammy was back, Alice would stay up late or wake up early buried in the news and bracing herself for police at her door.
What she really wanted was for Tammy to retire. 
They were set. Set. With hundreds of millions of dollars safely in the bank. 
And Alice knew that even if they were reckless with it for the rest of their lives, there was no way that they could spend it all. 
She often pleaded with Tammy, in the safety of darkness and the comfort of her arms, on those nights that she would get home from a particularly long job. 
But Tammy would just shush her, kissing her hair and stroking her hand down her back. And it always left Alice feeling blown off and unseen. 
For Tammy, it’s their different parenting styles. 
It was almost like they were from different times, the way their parenting views differed. 
And while Alice was a great mother, she was much messier than Tammy was, and she would often come home from long jobs to crayon marks on the walls or scuffs on her baseboards. 
She had asked Alice about it the first time. 
“Come on, Tammy. They’re just kids.” 
But then she had dropped it. 
Because if she was honest with herself, as much as her perfectionism pricked at her fingers when she had to step around toys or found newspaper covering their dining table, play-dough smeared across it, she wouldn’t change it for the world. 
Alice was creative in a way that Tammy just wasn’t. 
Bright colors and nature and “go play outside and get your hands dirty.” 
Tammy leaned more towards clean lines and crisp shirts and some sort of mental puzzle or mind game. 
And when Tammy’s kids came up to her, a proud smile on their face as they held up whatever mish-mashed project they were working on — 
“Oh that’s lovely, sweetheart! ...What is it?” 
“It’s an owl, mom.” 
“Is it?” 
— and Alice followed right behind, giving Tammy a light kiss to her cheek or behind her ear and murmuring “Isn’t it beautiful, honey?” Tammy realized that Alice was giving them something that she never could. 
Her mind just didn’t work like that, more set on order and organization. And Alice still wasn’t much for them watching television, which was one of the first things they had agreed on. 
Tammy watched her kids creativity grow with their imaginations, watched their grades get better at school — they had always been a straight A family, but now they weren’t asking for help as much and their work was getting so much deeper — and she went along with them to the bookstores when she could, noting the way they moved from history books to fantasy to science fiction. 
And Tammy honestly wouldn’t change a bit of it. 
They made a good team, her and Alice. And while Tammy continuously had to hold on to her patience when she came home to paint-covered children and sticky counters, she knew that whatever Alice had done, no matter how messy, had filled them with joy. 
Tag List: @thatgirlintheleatherjacket @shineestark @duchessfics @darling-dontforgetme @midnight-lestrange @nerdaroo @pradababey
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waywardnerd67 · 4 years ago
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TFWB - Chap 11 New Student
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Summary: A new student comes into Misha’s studio who looks oddly familiar. Characters: Misha Collins, Molli Sanderson (OFC) Pairing: No Pairing Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 699 Squared Filled: Mistaken Identity A/N #1: This is for @spnfluffbingo card
Check out: The Family We Built Masterlist
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Misha hit his phone to stop the annoying sound piercing his ears. Rolling over in his bed, he pulled the covers tighter around him trying to drift back to sleep. Several thoughts floating through his mind as he laid half conscious.
“Tomorrow I have a new student coming in early. I must remember to get up earlier. I should probably set my alarm now for tomorrow. Wait, tomorrow is actually today…”
Misha shot up from his bed grabbing his phone to look at the date and time.
Wednesday, October 28th 8:45 AM
He quickly jumped out of bed grabbing whatever clothes he could find on the floor and rushing down to his studio. He was fifteen minutes late for his new student whom he found sitting at an empty easel.
“I’m so sorry. I’m not usually late for private sessions but I was up late working on a project and time just got away from…” He looked closely at the woman sitting there.
“I understand, that is the life of an artist.” Her voice seemingly familiar to him as the wires inside his mind made some connections.
Misha scoffed, “Ha. Ha. Very funny Rach. Is this some kind of trick being my first private lesson?”
The woman turned around with a small smirk on her face, “That does sound like something she would do, but sorry to disappointment I’m not Rachel. I’m just her little sister, Molli.”
He could feel his jaw slack slightly, “Oh… wow. I, uh, thought you were living in San Antonio,” his thoughts were bumbling out of his mouth.
Molli looked just like her sister except for the warm honey eyes that shined in the early morning sun. Her chocolate hair stopped just at her bare collarbone. Misha swallowed hard as she extended her hand to him.
“I just moved to Austin to attend school at UT. Jared and Rachel are letting me live with them so I don’t have to pay for room and board. I saw a flyer for your studio on their fridge and decided to book a class.”
Her hand was soft and small within his hand, “Well as a new resident to Austin and close family member to a friend this session is free of charge. Let’s get started.”
Over the next hour, Misha and Molli painted side by side. Their conversation went from your typical small chat to how they both loved discovering new and interesting places around town. She talked about her semester abroad in London and his European Backpacking Trip with Jensen. He found they had a lot in common with each other.
Misha walked Molli to the front door displaying her art piece in the window, “If you don’t like criminal justice then you definitely have the knack of being an artist.”
“Well, thank you. I think it has a lot to do with having a great teacher. I will definitely be back for another class.” Molli pushed herself up pressing her soft lips to his rugged cheek, “I’ll see you soon, Mish.”
Stunned, he watched her walk out the door and down the street towards the nearby parking lot. His cheek tingled and he found himself longing to see her once more. He leaned against the door for a moment with a bright smile spread across his face. He had never had someone make him feel so vibrant and alive. He wanted to spend all day and night listening to her talk about her life. Pure joy filled his heart as he continued to think about her.
Then he felt his phone buzzing within his pocket. Looking down, he found Rachel’s face appearing as she called him and his smile faded. The joy quickly turned into the thorns of panic as the complications of what he truly wanted flooded his mind.  
“Oh crap…”
***
(Y/N) chuckled as she looked at the picture of Molli’s first painting. Remembering all the drama that came from that fateful meeting almost split their little family apart. She looked out her window, seeing her friends laughing as Misha had paint all over his face. She could not imagine life without any of them in it.
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spnsmile · 5 years ago
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[Hello! I understand this can be upsetting to some so tags are on: RPF, ENGINE FAILURE, ANGST, EMOTIONALLY HURT/ COMFORT/ FLUFF] work of fiction BUT FLUFF/ KISSES
Response to @cocklesdestielfiction​ prompt BOTTLE (Cockles, a 5K story)
“The right engine exploded… like… BOOM!”
— Richard Speight Jr. (VegasCon 2020)
********
“Where’s Misha?”  says Jensen above the steady hum of the plane’s engine blending with sounds of shuffling bags, pitter-patters, and clinking glasses but Misha can always hear him perfect pitch or not.
“Here.” he heaved himself from the end of the aisle after unloading his personal bag with the other smaller luggage. He can hear Cliff talking to the attendant by the coach but he’s just too tired to say hello. 
“Hey, Cliff.” 
Misha’s eyebrows rake up and unfortunately for him that’s all he can muster with his limp. There’s a blunt grunt from the security papa bear.
“Nappy time for you, Misha. You look shit.”
“Thanks.” he grimaces. After ten hours on set (and that’s without Jared), he’s just too exhausted. Stalking to the cabin seats, Misha joined the others with bleary eyes.
He catches glinting green whose cherry lips begin to form into a wild smile. There has to be some rule about instant rejuvenation just from receiving that dose from such a nice face.
Richard beats them both in whatever shit they were about to say.
“Service is slowing, Misha. Your customer’s been addressing his complaints to the not-so-proper authorities.”Misha sniggers.
 “Who’s proper here, do tell.”
“Jensen’s not being proper at adulting.” Alex supplies staring out at the green primo uomo Misha’s been ignoring. The whine comes. It’s like a sweet tickle on his ears. Petulant and cheeky growly voice—signs Misha learned—since his first day—never to encourage.
“Misha! Mish! One more call you’re gonna deliver a bar.” 
He turns.
“Been callin you out.” 
“You do that to spite me, fucker.” Misha drawls, walking to Jensen and holding out another bottled water that has to be his 8th. “Here. Don’t believe the media when they tell you the world will never run out of water. Maison says the water sprites will invoke the right to strike just on principle.”
“Sweet faerie. But I believe you. You just hoarded eight hundred Aquafina.” 
“And who’s fault is that?”
If Jensen wasn’t giggling so dorkily at him, he would have snatched the bottle and cursed him for the reminder. But Misha couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of lips. Even Rich and Alex hark laughter at the meaning.
Cause Misha Collins just had a truck of bottled water delivered on set that’s still causing stomach hurts from the cast. Recently, Jensen had taken up the habit of ‘mentioning Misha ’on set as a result of that one interview involving some intense heart eyes and delivery of drinks caught on camera. Nothing to deny there, relationships over ten years tend to turn if not bitter-sweet memories, then the opposite tooth-rotting.
This takes the cake. Everyone began doing the same.
Of course, Misha— pleased by the attention and a new game to distract himself from the already distracting Jensen, returned all summons. Misha who was never one to do things halfway and pledged on delivering all sorts of drinks every Jensen pings his name—except apple juice, jesus. 
But it’s one of those feats that usually get out of control in Supernatural so by the end of the first week, everyone’s just going ‘Misha.’ He liked that a lot. Also, like the truckload of bottled water delivered on set much to their amusement.
When Vicky saw the number on their credit card receipt, she didn’t even raise an eyebrow. Oh, but he wanted to tell her anyway.
All fun aside, Misha’s particularly grumpy now for another reason. Sleep-deprived and emotionally drained after pouring everything on that last take, he’s now headed to Vegascon with this little group. It was nice Jared arranged his private plane to take them. The pretty convenient thing when a pandemic is out there.
Jensen looks tired too, dark lines under the eyes, lips dry— thus the water bottle Misha’s been carrying around— but how the fuck he managed to radiate with teenage energy even when it’s already late will forever evade Misha who wants to snuggle beside him but instead just looks him straight in the eyes.
“Fuck you,” he mouths, backing to his empty chair.
“Do it.” Jensen teases him and Misha will not appreciate that radiance of beauty pulling him in.
“Can’t, there’s our kid here. Don’t wanna make it awkward.”
Alex shakes his head. “Nope. I think I’ve seen the worst of it.”
“That’s what you think.” Misha chuckles.
“Buckle up, Mishano, signals on.” Richard turns his back from the window facing Jensen with red-light flashing above their heads. “Let’s save the Cockles once we’re in Vegas, kay guys? Innocent guy trying to avoid diabetes so save the Cockles.”
“Save the Cockles.” Alex fumbles inside his jacket to fix his earphones. 
Misha and Jensen roll eyes at each other and Misha returns to his spot. Jensen is directly on his line of sight so it’s quite easy to check out on him, maybe snap adorable photos and stack it on his 100 terabyte collection he can post someday when he’s 90.
Taking his phone out after securing his belt, he hears the pilot give instructions as the plane begins to move. Soon, he’s immersing himself with replies on tweets and messages on his number using his extra handphone. Zoning out wasn’t difficult, especially when trying to block out the funny feeling of the engine preparing to take off. They’re all used to it by now.
A few minutes later, they all feel the usual sensation of slowing down bodily before the plane thrusts forward— Misha closes his eyes,  hands clasping his chair until they feel the plane level after the accent.  When he opens his eyes, he hears everyone including him take a deep breath. There are exchanges of words but he is already glued to his phone answering messages sleepily. He’s so tired he can sleep forever. His eyes begin to droop and he sighs in content, finally able to rest even for just minutes.
Till there’s a gentle nudge on his leg. 
He ignores it.
Another kick. 
No.
“Mish.” Kick again.
Misha grimaces. Such long reach for bowlegs…
“Misha, I swear—”
“Social distance, Jen?” he opens his eyes, obviously grumpy.
“A truckload of beer from Poland sounds nice, I’d prefer that.” Jensen wags the water bottle with mischievous dimples showing off on the corner of his cheek. Misha frowns and shuts his eyes again. Good god for distractions. Good god for soft manly middlemen with so much energy…
“Mish…”
Ignore him.
“Mish!”
Imagine if Jared’s around…
“Hey, Misha, Poland beer really—”
Misha’s eyes flutter open.
“No, honey, I will not argue with you about Polish ‘Alkohole,’ it’s not even articulated the same.” Misha throws a grumpy look over notorious green-eyed lynx whose chuckling over his misery, “You’re gonna fuck with me again and I’ll have another story in my head I am unable to tell a soul as its rightfully not for children, sorry, Alex.” 
Ball on Alex’ court, he blinks from Jensen to Misha quietly then shakes his head.
“I am legally an adult.” He obviously could hear them from his pods. Misha raises a finger.
“Correction, the show says you’re 3. All fanfiction does.”
“I’m married.” Alex injects in amusement.
“Fanfiction says Misha and I are married.” comes from Rich’s corner. 
At this Misha sits up, preparing his list of things why Misha-will-never-be-married-to-Richard-Speight-Who-Got-a-Rob impromptu—
“I’m married.” Alex retorts but Richard and Misha are bickering over the type of marriage to hear him.
“You both can say whatever the hell you want, Cockles will top.” 
Sometimes Jensen just can’t bridle it. Sending Misha his heart eyes flirtatiously, he stops the argument with a wink. Misha giggles with all tiredness gone, replying to Alex about marriage while Rich says something about Jibcon to Jensen when things begin to go wrong.
Misha did not see it happen. He was busy looking over Jensen, admiring the bravado and confidence about the newly found comfort over their relationship (and their characters) when a loud bang from his right splits the air, followed by crashing sounds of that thing that Misha dreads, one of the worst sounds he never wants to hear in his life.
 But that’s only just the beginning.
The first explosion rocked the plane violently forward, then topples without warning to their right. It throws them off with seatbelts tightening—making them grab around the seats, stomach in their throat as they keep their steady hold. 
Misha looks outside to the cloud of smoke and crashing debris, his mind tuning only to the present and hears himself as well as Jensen and Richard cursing with jesuschrists. Misha doesn’t know. He was never a steadfast believer but for this one, he’s already calling out god. 
The show’s influence is deeper than he thought. He thinks of all the near-death experiences he’s had but it’s nothing compared to this one. For one, he can only look at Jensen and the feeling sinks in the hollowness of his guts.
This is worse, much worse than the drop tower ride or any gyro drop his children always admired him for riding. No. Here the safety belts that kicked in didn't secure anything from the loud crashing sounds that pierced their ears, the shrill sound of the engine roaring like as it beat fragments unto the air leaving maybe nothing of its parts. How many engines are exploding?
Misha doesn’t close his eyes. He tries to deny the possibility that this is where him, Jensen—  Alex, god Alex just got married! He’s so much more ahead of his life— and Rich just might finally find their end. An irony of life where the show that’s keeping their lives together now also on the way to its end. A kind of twist in reality that’s been shown by many, if not more famous names ahead of himself but Misha tries not to think about them. He tries not to think about the same profession that killed them. He can’t afford it, oh god his children…
He realized he didn’t even kiss West goodbye the morning he left. How he left the unkempt dish on the sink in a hurry. How he didn’t check Maison’s daily log of mischief she does while he’s away.
Now he may not return.
He closes his eyes as the plane shudders violently again. Please...
He calls Castiel’s name too, the back of his mind telling him they're dying. A more humorous, sadistic side of himself adding Dean is here, and that angel of Thursday isn’t going to let his husband die.  They shouldn’t. He and Castiel shouldn’t.
But he’s no Castiel. He’s only Misha.
If anyone asked him how he felt when the plane steadies itself as the pilots pull for control, Misha is not sure anyone would believe him. For the briefest second, he feels this tug at the back of his mind telling him it will be alright and the remarkable part is, Misha believed it. Fucking believe the whisper.
That’s when everything settles down.
Misha quickly looks around at Jense, Rich, and Alex. All of them are pale and he knows he doesn’t look any better. He wants to throw up but the uncertainty of the flight kept him guarded, his grip on the armchair not loosening.
“You guys alright?” Jensen’s voice much deeper than Misha remembers barely managed a nod.
Alex is looking at the floor with concentration where laptops, neck pillows, cups, and stuff are all scattered on the ground. Richard looks as if he’s going to throw up the way he’s holding his stomach. Jensen is staring outside the right window while Misha tells himself to breathe.
“Are you alright?” comes Cliff’s low voice from behind Misha sounding obviously shaken too but still steady. Misha didn’t have time to collect himself. Not that he’s stupid, his body just doesn’t get it, but he quickly pulls his phone and begins texting Vicky and the children.
“What the hell happened?” Richard turns his head over the cockpit when the rumbling dies down.
“Right engine exploded.”  Jensen is already unbuckling himself from his chair and casting everyone a look. “You all good? Mish? Cliff?” He doesn’t wait for answers. He shoots off to the cockpit and stops just by the door looking uncertain. 
“Hey, uh… do we have a situation?” Nobody spoke while he was gone so it's easy to hear the response of the pilots ahead.
“We most certainly do. Get in your seat. Put on your seat belt. We’re doing emergency procedures.”
Calm. Collected. Professional. That’s all Misha had to hear. It doesn’t seem like he’s alone. Everyone else breathes in relief as they all watch Jensen amble back to his seat, nodding. 
“Okay, you certainly have my attention, sir.” 
He buckles up and lifts his chin. The look on their faces must’ve triggered Jensen to clap his hands together. “Hey, buckle up! Cliff, sit down. Rich, breathe, kay? It’s gonna be fine. It’s only one engine, guys, c’mon. This thing flies on three! You think Jared had anyone else to listen to about private jet education? We’re gonna be fine.”
Then like heaven-sent, the pilot begins giving them reports of the situation from the paging in a very clear and commanding voice.  He tells them the right engine exploded which requires them to make a trip back to the nearest airport in Vancouver. That’s all he gives and a promise of an update as he wished everybody to stay calm and follow the protocol for emergency procedures.
“Hear that?” Jensen clears his throat, his hands clasping. Misha receives the full impact of the meaningful green eyes. The plane steadies itself with hum in the air. A full minute pass and the airplane did not drop.
“Fuck.”
Misha forces himself to relax as he drops his head back on his chair.  He can’t feel his body. His hands are still trembling when he smacks it on his cold face. “Fuck!” He can’t seem to say anything other than that.
“Fuck, indeed.” Richard agrees, grabbing his phone, “Good thing I got my pods on, that sound coulda destroyed my ears.” he begins typing on his phone immediately. Alex begins a speed typing contest while Misha receives Vicky's reply after his first message.
‘Kids are mine, right?’
‘Because I cannot make them alone. What’s wrong?’- V
Misha goes on about the engine and the exchange of mail becomes rampant. When about twenty minutes pass with a few throws of questions around, Misha looks up when he hears the blubbing sound of whiskey. Jensen is pouring 
“I’m gonna be drinking that scotch when I get back home,” he’s saying as he hands the glasses each to Richard, Alex and finally to Misha who shakes his head, putting the glass on the holder. Jensen takes the armchair beside him to which Misha is glad, especially when Jensen wounds his arm around his shoulder.
“We’re fine, Mish, stop shaking.” Jensen drops the side of his cheeks on Misha’s raven hair.
“I’m not,” Misha says shakily, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s torso and just pulling him into a tight hug. “Fuck!”
Continue reading: AO3
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BTS DRABBLE-JIN
@knamjoonkive​: You and your kids miss Jin while he is on tour. 
Tags: BTS, BTS Drabble, Bangtan Boys, Beyond the Scene, Bangtan Seonyandan, my asks, my requests, Kim Seokjin, Jin, Jin x you, Jin x reader, Husband AU, Father AU, Dad!Bangtan
Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst
Title: Missing You
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You stand in front of the bathroom mirror, palms pressed against the cool surface of the counter, staring at your reflection, eyes unseeing, as the same thought spins round and round in your head. 
No, this can’t be happening. No, no, no.
“Mama!” You hear your younger daughter call, giving you just enough time to sweep the used pregnancy test into a drawer, before she bursts into the room. 
You straighten, placing a smile on your face as you meet her eyes in the mirror and ask, “What do you need, Mish?” 
“I need help with my geography homework.” Your nine year old says, almost in a pout, crossing her arms over her chest. 
“Okay.” You say, nodding, trying to swallow the anxiety that is building in your throat, wanting to hide it until later, until the girls are in bed and you can freak out by yourself. “Let’s go then.” 
You follow her through the apartment on autopilot, allowing her to drag you over to the kitchen table, where Hyo is focused intently on some math homework spread out before her. 
She glances up as the two of you come into the room, and then she says, snarkily, as only a thirteen year old can, “You really can’t do it on your own, Mishil? You’re such a baby.” 
“Shut up, Hyo.” Mishil snaps back, taking her seat beside her sister, as she sticks out her tongue, only to have her older sister return the gesture happily. 
“Stop it, you two.” You chide, putting your hands on the back of Mishil’s chair, leaning over so you can see the problem she’s struggling with. “Mishil, tell me what you need help with.” 
“I need to label where Egypt is on this map, and I don’t know how to find it.” Your younger daughter whines, motioning to a badly copied black and white map of the world on the table before her. 
Taking in a breath, thoughts straying once again to the pregnancy test hidden in the bathroom, you refocus, pointing with a finger to the African country as you say gently, “Mishil, honey, Egypt is here, in North Africa. You know this. We’ve practiced.” 
“But I can’t focus.” She says in response, neatly writing the name of the country across its proper place on the map, before dropping her pencil in defeat and leaning back, tipping her head to look up at you. “I miss dad.” 
You brush back some dark hair from her forehead, her full lips pouted up at you, and you can’t help but think about how much she looks like her father. The pink, plush lips, the dark, sparkling eyes, the same loud, obnoxious laugh when she is amused. She’s a carbon copy of Jin. 
“I know, sweetie. Me too. But he’ll call tonight and you can see him, okay?” You sigh, turning her head with your hands to look back at the map. 
“Don’t be such a baby, Mishil.” Hyo cuts in once again, flashing her sister a glare, pencil still clutched delicately in her hand. “Dad’s been going on tour since before you were born.” 
“Hyo.” You warn, shooting her a stern look, before saying to Mishil, “Want me to show you where dad is on this map, Mish?” 
At her nod, you lean over, squinting slightly, until you find New York on the map, and drop your finger on top of the state, saying softly, “Dad’s here. In New York, in America.” You sweep your finger across the large country on the half of the map. “And I know we all miss him, but he’s doing something important. He and your uncles are doing something special, something that has never been done before.” 
You glance up to find Hyo watching the two of you thoughtfully, and you swear you see a hint of tears shining in her eyes, before she hastily drops her gaze back to her mathematics. 
Smiling to yourself, knowing how teenagers can be, you don’t say anything, instead, patting Mishil fondly on the head before you say, headed toward the kitchen, “Finish your homework, you two. I’m going to make dinner.” 
*****
“Hyo, Mishil.” You say, tiredness leeching into your tone, as you lean back on the bed, positioning the laptop on your lap in the middle of you all. “Please stop jostling each other. This bed isn’t big enough for all three of us, let alone, when the two of you are messing around.” 
Mishil sticks her tongue out one last time at her older sister, before she snuggles down against your side, her head on your shoulder, as she cranes her neck to look at the screen of the computer. “When is he going to call? This is taking forever.” She whines, throwing one arm across your waist, eyes still on the blank screen. 
“There’s a time difference in America, dummy.” Hyo says, leaning against your other side, her own eyes darting to the screen you hold in your hands. 
“He said he’d call at 9:00 our time, Mish. It should be any minute.” You reply, patting her hand, which is playing with the strings of your hoodie, or rather, Jin’s hoodie. 
Anxiety is beginning to build up in your stomach again, as your eyes drift to the open door of the bathroom, and the pregnancy test hidden in the drawer beyond. 
A shrill ringing from the computer has the girls scrambling over you to be the first face their father sees, as you laugh at their antics, pressing the accept button on the skype call. 
The connection is shoddy for several brief seconds and then a clear picture of your husband comes up on the screen, and his eyes brighten, as he grins at the three of you, and says loudly, waving, “There’s my girls! How are you, princesses?” 
“Dad! I miss you!” Mishil lowers her head, blocking the screen from your view, as she waves excitedly back to her father. 
“Move, Mishil! I can’t see!” Hyo huffs, shoving her sister’s head out of the way, before she offers her father a bright smile, her fingers wiggling back at him. “Hey, dad. How’s the tour?” 
Laughing, Jin settles back into the duvet that covers his hotel bed, adjusting one of the pillows behind his head, before he brings his phone closer to his face, as he replies to the girls’ multiple queries, “I miss you too, Mish. So much. All of you.” He winks at you over their heads, where you have remained silent, letting them have his attention. Turning to his older daughter, he continues, “America is great, Hyo. We’ve done a lot of fun things. I’ll send you some pictures, okay?” 
“Dad, mama showed me where you are on my geography map.” Mishil butts back in, with a sigh from her sister, but she’s too eager to talk to her father to notice. “It’s really far away!” 
“Yeah, it is.” Jin sighs, and you suddenly notice how tired he looks, as he rakes a hand through his thick dark hair, his lips setting into a slightly thin line, although he manages a smile for the girls, before he says, “I can’t wait to be back home with you guys. It’s nice here, but it’s got nothing on being with my girls.” 
“Funny, you know how far away America is, but you couldn’t find Egypt by yourself?” Hyo grumbles under her breath, as Mishil glares at her, reaching over you to pinch her arm. 
“Girls, please.” You sigh, holding out your arms to separate them before the fighting can escalate. “Don’t waste this phone call with your father because you’re fighting.” 
They both sit back with huffs of irritation, still glaring at each other, and you shoot Jin an exasperated look, as he leans forward, fixing your daughters with a firm stare, as he says sternly, “Hey, you two. Listen to mama while I’m gone, okay? Be nice to her AND each other.” 
“Yes, dad.” Mishil, sufficiently reprimanded, says meekly, as Hyo groans and rolls her eyes, before letting out a sound of affirmation under her breath. 
“Right. Girls, say goodnight to your father. It’s time for bed.” You motion to the screen, ignoring their moans of protest at your words. 
“Fine.” Hyo complains, leaning forward to blow her father a kiss, as she smiles at him softly, before saying quietly, “Goodnight, dad. Love you.” 
She leaves the bed, headed toward her own room, and Mishil leans forward next, pressing a literal kiss to the computer screen, as her father grins, causing her to giggle lightly, as she chirps, “Goodnight, dad. I love you.” 
When Mishil is gone, the door closing behind her, you let out a long sigh, butterflies of nerves in your stomach, as you lay back on the bed, holding up the computer so that you can still see Jin’s face. 
“You okay?” He asks, reclining on his own bed, leaning on one elbow, cheek cradled in his hand, as he watches you with astute eyes through the screen. 
“Yeah, just tired.” You say, swallowing, listening for a brief moment to the girls bickering coming from down the hall from their shared bathroom. Glancing back up at him, you offer him half a smile as you say quietly, “The girls aren’t the only ones who miss you, you know.” 
“I know.” He groans, flopping onto his back comically, as he throws a hand over his eyes, phone held above his head. “Trust me, do I know. You’ve made me soft. Sleeping in a bed without you after all these years feels like torture.” 
You laugh, reaching up to swipe a finger across the screen, as if you could actually reach out and feel his cheek beneath your skin. “Sorry, love.” 
You sit, in silence for several moments, gathering your courage, and then you adjust, sitting up straighter, as you say softly, seriously, “Jin.” 
“Mmmmm?” He hums, low in his throat, removing the arm from his face, as his dark eyes meet yours. 
You take in a breath. “I need to tell you something.” 
“Okay....” He draws the word out, and you can tell he’s suddenly worried, as he sits up in his own bed, eyes darker than before, as he regards you seriously. 
“I threw up at work this morning.” You begin, watching him carefully, your fingers fiddling with the hoodie strings in a nervous manner, as confusion flits across his face. “I figured it was just because I dealt with some pretty nasty cases at work, but....” You hesitate, biting your lip between your teeth, as he leans toward you through the screen. 
“But?” His voice is softened by something you can’t identify. 
“I took a test when I got home, just to be sure, because I vaguely remember feeling like this with Hyo, and...” You move to twisting your fingers in your lap. “I’m pregnant.” 
There is silence, as Jin processes this, and then you hear him say softly, under his breath, “Shit.” 
He sits back heavily in the bed, his hands once again going into his hair in a slightly agitated manner, as he looks at you again, waiting for his response, and then asks, disbelief tinging his tone, “How did this happen?” 
“Really?” Your lips twist into a humorless grin at his question. “You need me to explain to you how this happened, Jin?” 
“No, I mean.” He shoots you a glare at your slight teasing, shuffling to get closer to the screen, before he continues, “I mean, HOW did this happen? We were careful.” 
“Not careful enough, apparently.” You sigh out, leaning back once more into the pillows behind you, tiredness suddenly coming over you in a wave now that your confession was out in the open. 
“Shit.” He repeats again, expression serious, and still slightly shocked. “I thought we were done. I mean, Mishil’s almost ten.” 
“Trust me, I thought we were done too.” You say, holding out your hands, palms up, as if to ask him what you should do now. “Those two are more than enough to drive me crazy.” 
He chuckles sardonically, the shock seeming to be slowly draining from his face, as he steeples his long fingers before pink lips, seeming to be lost in thought, before he says, “Well. Congrats to us, I guess? I must be one hell of a shot.” He winks at you, familiar grin starting to creep back across his lips. 
“Shut up.” You groan, flopping onto your side, cheek cushioned against your arm, as you stick your tongue out at him. “How are you not panicking? Earlier, I swore I was going to puke when I saw the test. Although that may just be the morning sickness.” You grimaced. 
“I’ll admit, it caught me off guard, and there’s part of me that’s a little apprehensive.” He says carefully, eyes still on yours. “But, I’m not panicking, jagi, because I’m doing this with you. And yeah, maybe it’s not what we had planned,” He offers you a rueful grin, running a hand through his already tousled hair once again. “Hell, it’s definitely not what we had planned, but if I’m gonna have another kid, there’s no one I’d rather do it with again than you.” 
“Ew.” You scrunched your face up teasingly at his speech, although his words helped to lessen the anxiety that was boiling in your stomach just a bit. “Okay, Okay. I get it.” 
“Everything will be fine, jagi.” Jin, suddenly serious, puts his hand up to the screen, and you follow suit, placing your palms together, as close as they can get, over the distance and oceans that separates the two of you. “I mean it.” 
“I know.” you pull your hand away, and offer him an affectionate smile. “Thank you, Jin.” 
“And besides.” He says, clearly relaxed once again, as he shoots you a wink through the connection. “Maybe this time, we’ll get a boy. And he’ll give us less of a run for our money than his two older sisters have.” 
“One can only hope.” You say, laughing, feeling the last of the nerves dissapear from your stomach. 
“I love you, Jagi.” Jin says, eyes alight with soft fondness as he watches you. 
“I love you too, Jin.” 
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anotherdayinchuckletown · 5 years ago
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They’re Funny That Way, Chapter 1
Hey, guys! How’s it going? I’ve been writing for about ten years now, but this is only the second ever fic I’ve shared anywhere, so I’m super nervous!!!  
This is basically my take on a Harley Quinn origin story tailored to the universe of Joker (2019).  It’s going to be Harley like we’ve never seen her before, with lots of Arthur, lots of Sophie, lots of original characters, and lots of twists and turns.
I’m SO beyond excited to finally share this with you guys, and I hope you all enjoy! Please like, comment, reblog if you do so that I know if you guys love reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it!  This fic is also posted to my AO3 account (https://archiveofourown.org/users/marie_deneuve), so you can also read it there if you’d like!
Without further ado, heeeere we go!!
Chapter 1
 The apartment building at Eleven-Forty Anderson Avenue is an eyesore situated in the midst of a likewise ugly city called Gotham. A pimple on a face only a mother could love. A pariah among pariahs.
Management has long since stopped caring about its maintenance, leaving it a patchwork of leaking ceilings, cracking foundations, and broken windows haphazardly boarded shut. Even the most seasoned resident of Gotham City would quicken his pace when passing the telltale archways which separate the apartments from the rest of the city.
Sophie Dumond is currently doing her best to avoid saying any of that out loud.
“It’s really not that bad,” she lies. “Definitely a far cry from where you’re living now, but once you get used to it, it’s not the worst.” Although she is on the phone, she looks down at her shoes anyway, so as not to look her guilt in the face. A crack in the tile beneath her feet stares back accusingly.
“Really? My brother told me his appliances never work, and the maintenance crew is impossible to reach,” the voice on the other line replies skeptically. It belongs to another young woman by the name of Emma Boulanger – Emma Scott, actually, ever since her marriage – who has been Sophie’s best friend since the two of them met in elementary school. She is also the godmother of Sophie’s five-year-old daughter, which was an unpopular decision she had been made to justify more times than she would have liked (honestly, though, her sister could call her if she ever became less of a pretentious bitch).
This phone call marks the first time Sophie has heard from her in one month, two weeks, and six days. Not that she’s been counting or anything.
It’s just strange not to talk to her, as she’s always the first to know of any big changes in her friend’s life. Emma is certainly the first to know about changes in Sophie’s life as well. She’s there when they both open up their letters of acceptance into Gotham University, whooping and cheering and dreaming of finally, finally leaving this shithole, getting glamorous jobs in the big city. She’s there when Sophie is curled up on her bathroom floor, crying and clutching a positive pregnancy test, wanting the best for the child growing inside of her, yet fearing she would never be able to provide it.
That’s why it’s so odd when Emma’s twin brother is the one to mention in the hallway one day that his sister has filed for divorce. And furthermore, that she’s returning to Gotham to live with him until she gets back on her feet.
“Like I said, Emma, it’s not perfect,” she relents. “But hey, at least it’ll be nice to hang out again. It’s been way too long.”
“Yeah, it really has! I moved, what, almost two years ago?” Emma’s voice brightens marginally, and Sophie can nearly see the lopsided grin spreading across her face, so familiar is she with every tic, every tell, every minuscule inflection to her words. “Metropolis is boring as hell, by the way. I almost miss Gotham - call me crazy.”
Sophie huffs, knowing full well that Emma is playing it cool - trying not to let on how much she dreads moving back to a city she called a living, breathing prison for so many years. Best to keep things lighthearted then. Empathize with her, acknowledge her feelings, but never, never pity her. “You’re definitely crazy, Em,” she shoots back, raising an eyebrow. “What exactly does it for you, the enormous rats or the graffiti dicks?”
An almost imperceptible chuckle filters through the receiver. “Well, no one ever really escapes Gotham, do they? I figure I might as well develop a little Stockholm Syndrome.”
Sophie doesn’t immediately respond to the bleak sentiment. It’s simply a joke, of course, and as a matter of fact, very on-brand. But there’s enough truth to it to cause a momentary lapse in the lightness of their conversation.
Sophie has found gradually that Emma was right growing up. Gotham truly seems less like a place and more like an entity. It has a certain way of taking, taking, taking from a person, and when that person has nothing left to give, taking just a little bit more. The citizens meander like restless spirits, doomed to wander to and from their low-wage jobs for eternity. The air is heavier out there, tugging their faces down into sour expressions, aging them prematurely. A reflection of their surroundings.
Sophie often wonders if she looks the way they do.
If Emma notices the shift – which she certainly does, she always does – she politely ignores it. “I guess beggars can’t be choosers… It was nice of Eddie to let me stay with him on such short notice.” Fondly, she adds, “He may be a bit of a shithead, but he’s a good brother.”
Before Sophie can stop herself, she laughs aloud. “No comment. We do live on the same floor, you know.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Do you two ever hang out?”
“Not particularly.” Sophie doesn’t dislike Eddie – quite the opposite, in fact. She always chalks up her lack of chemistry with him to simply having nothing in common. He and Emma share nothing but a birthday, a head of golden hair, and a pair of striking ice-blue eyes.
Rapid footsteps make their way into the foyer, breaking Sophie out of her reverie. “Mommy, look what I drew!”
Muttering a quick “hang on a second” into the receiver, she turns toward the source of the sound, and a sheet of paper is practically shoved in her face from below. She is met with a mish-mosh of various shapes and colors, one large brown figure taking precedence in the middle of the page.
She smiles warmly. “Wow, that’s very good, Gigi! What’s that a picture of?”
The artist beams with pride. “It’s the roach you killed in the bathroom yesterday!”
Son of a bitch.
“Can we put it on the fridge, Mommy?”
Blinking owlishly, Sophie scrambles for a response. They really don’t teach her this shit in those parenting books she sometimes finds at Gotham Central Library.
She settles on, “Honey, you already have so many nice ones up there, I just can’t decide which ones to keep! Let’s put this one away for now, and I’ll think about it, okay?” She offers her free hand to take the drawing so that she can accidentally misplace it later.
It does the trick. “Okay!” her daughter chirps, proudly handing over her portrait. Encourage, then swiftly change the subject – a motherly sort of manipulation that works in everyone’s favor.
“Holy shit, I haven’t even asked about Gigi yet!” Emma exclaims. “God, she must be getting so big! She starts Kindergarten this year, right?”
“Yeah, in the fall. And she comes all the way up to my waist now, isn’t that insane?” Unmistakable pride colors Sophie’s response.
“That’s so awesome! Did she miss me at all?” comes over the receiver as Gigi simultaneously begins an onslaught of “who’s that, Mommy, who’s that?”
“Miss you? Are you kidding? Listen to this.” Sophie crouches next to her daughter, holding the phone away from her ear, but nearby so that Emma can hear. “Gigi, your Aunt Emma’s on the phone. She’s coming to live here again soon, isn’t that great?”
The resounding shriek is a good indicator that she agrees. And that Sophie is going to have to bring the neighbors another gift basket so they don’t complain about her to the landlord.
“Can I talk to Aunt Emma, Mommy? Can I, can I, please, please, please?” Tiny, impatient hands grapple for the phone as laughter pours in from the other line.
“Come on, if I let you talk to her now, we’ll be stuck here forever.” A quick glance at the clock reveals that it’s nearing eight o'clock. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for bed soon?”
Gigi wrinkles her nose in distaste, and Sophie cuts her off before the complaints can begin. “No arguments, Gigi. Go start your bath – I’ll be there in just a minute.”
She receives a defiant huff; nevertheless, Gigi stomps her way to the bathroom, and Sophie waits for the sound of running water before she returns to the previous conversation.
“So anyway, Eddie tells me you’re holed up in a hotel room until the weekend. I’m guessing that Daniel didn’t take the…the breakup news very well?” she asks, somewhat cautiously. Talking about Emma’s husband – now ex-husband – is a mixed bag, even back when they were dating.
“You could say that,” Emma responds sheepishly. “It wasn’t pretty, let’s leave it at that. I thought it would be best for me to get out of the house right away, give him some time to himself.”
It makes Sophie nervous that she is skirting the question, but then again, Emma’s in a vulnerable position at the moment. And she’s rarely one to talk at length about her own emotions in the first place – she’s much more of a listener.
Sophie would like to ask what she means by “it wasn’t pretty”, but decides against prying. She would also like to ask why she ever married that jackass in the first place, since their relationship had been obviously strained from day one. It was always as if the two of them were tightrope walking over a volcano – bubbling quietly, boiling and threatening to swallow them both whole. The smallest change in the wind, the most harmless comment about Daniel not picking his towel up off the floor could send them tumbling into the inferno. She supposes one of them finally fell.
Something about that man has always creeped her out, but she gave up voicing her discontent with him after about the thirtieth time Emma brushed her off. She won’t say “I told you so”, since she wouldn’t want to belittle whatever pain Emma is going through. Still, she can’t help but feel a little relief – that doesn’t make her a terrible friend, right?
All of this can wait, though. It can wait until they’re seeing each other face-to-face again. Until Sophie isn’t on a strict time limit. She needs to wrap up the current conversation quickly because if she doesn’t, she could possibly be dealing with a flooded bathroom shortly. Five-year-olds do not generally care about the cost of repairing water damage if it seeps into the downstairs neighbor’s ceiling.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, with…you know…everything.”
“Of course!” Emma reassures her. “I’m perfectly fine. Like I said, I’m looking forward to being home. Honestly.”
Sophie is not convinced, and frankly, it sounds like Emma is not either. She wonders if her friend has been checking in on the worsening condition of their hometown from Metropolis. The homeless population is growing by the day, and the working class is becoming more and more restless due to low wages and poor working conditions in the inner city. Rumor has it that sanitation workers are chief among the dissatisfied, and a garbage strike is all but guaranteed by winter.
So much she wants to say. So much she can’t say. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”
 _______________________________________________________________
Emma remembers around this time last year taking a trip to Paris, France. She saw the premiere of a musical there called Les Misérables – it was based off of her favorite book by Victor Hugo, so naturally, she begged and begged to go.
And what a payoff! The show was spectacular, from the costumes to the stage design to the music. Oh, the music! Despite being there with her then-husband, she had the most fun she’d had in years, letting the melancholy chords turn her as light as the air and the lyrics carry her far, far away in the wind.
Even more than the music, she was captivated by the plot. She could practically feel the plight of the poverty-stricken citizens. One of the opening scenes depicted the starving masses singing of their grief over the way they were snubbed by the wealthy, left to rot in the streets.
That is the scene Emma finds herself stepping into today. Only this time, she is not a passive observer, watching the events unfold without being affected. From today on, she is one of the characters.
From the moment she arrives in downtown Gotham City by taxi, the tension claws at her with icy hands. It digs into her ribcage with each glare aimed her way, even in the mild September breeze. She knows she sticks out like a preacher at a Pride parade in her obviously expensive skirt and heels. It’s not like she had time to go digging around her closet for something more appropriate that night she left her house.
Handsomely tipping her driver, she climbs out of the car and rushes underneath a set of archways and inside the apartment building where she’ll be living for the foreseeable future. She doesn’t look very closely at it from the outside, so desperate is she to get off the street and away from whatever the hell that smell is.
Emma uses the opportunity to finally look around a bit, taking her surroundings in with narrowed eyes. The lobby is dimly-lit, with no color to it whatsoever. The walls are painted a chipped-up brownish yellow, which could have been white many years ago. It reeks of mold, to the point where the smell outside might be the lesser of the two evils.  
Leaning carefully against the nearest wall, she mutters, “Not that bad, my ass.” From her purse, she retrieves her recently-purchased copy of a new novel titled Jumanji, and she waits.
And waits.
And waits.
And waits.
Emma’s eyes snap open - she hadn’t consciously closed them to begin with. She realizes with embarrassment that she almost fell asleep standing up. God, she’s more exhausted than she thought. How long has she been standing down here anyway?
“I’ll be home from work around four; I just need a little time to tidy up before you head over,” Eddie had said on the phone the night before. “I’ll meet you in the lobby and walk you up at six, okay?”
“That works,” Emma had replied. “As long as you’re actually there at six.”
“Hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve never exactly had a reputation for being punctual.”
“Jesus, Em. You think I’m gonna leave you hanging out down there alone?”
“We’ll see.”
Shutting her book, Emma checks her watch.
Six forty-five. That fucking flake forgot.
She groans, pushing herself languidly off the wall and scanning the room for assistance. No one at the front desk - in fact, there hasn’t been anyone there since she arrived, making her wonder briefly if she’s even in the right building.
Her eyes next land on the myriad of mailboxes against the opposite wall, closed off from the rest of the lobby by rusted wrought-iron bars, most likely to protect the postman. She walks through the open gate tentatively, and upon closer inspection, each mailbox has a sticker labeling the residents by apartment number. Bingo!
It doesn’t take long to find what she’s looking for. On the eighth floor, perfectly spelled out for her, she sees both S. Dumond in 8B and E. Boulanger in 8H. Why not visit the one who didn’t leave her stranded for an hour first? She could always call Eddie on Sophie’s phone anyway - the asshole probably smoked a joint as soon as he got home and passed out on the couch watching Magnum, P.I.
She heads for the elevator and presses the call button. As it whines slowly and almost menacingly down the shaft, she hears someone softly trudging along behind her, the very first sign of another life in here. As she enters the elevator, she politely holds the door open, and makes room for the clown getting on after her.
No, not a silly person. An actual clown. Painted face, red nose, neon green hair and all.
Of all the weird people she might expect to see in a place like this… Not even two hours in Gotham, and the evening is already shaping up to be quite the roller coaster.
Emma can’t help but stare as the doors shut and the clown punches the button for, coincidentally, the eighth floor. She settles into the far corner as she discreetly analyzes him. His posture, his defeated gait, the pitiful expression underneath his painted-on smile… His aura permeates the entire space, seemingly enough to weigh them both down, causing the elevator to drag slowly up the shaft like molasses, screeching all the way.
This is without a doubt the saddest clown Emma has ever seen. And she’s seen Pagliacci.
Around the third floor, there’s one long, particularly loud screech. Emma’s heart leaps to her throat as their ascent suddenly comes to a complete halt, and the lights in the tiny elevator space flicker on and off once. Is a three-story drop enough to kill a person her size? She prays that this isn’t how it ends - in this dingy elevator, terrified, with no one but a fucking clown. A clown who hasn’t moved an inch this entire time.
Thankfully, after a few seconds that seem to drag on for a lifetime, they start to slowly crawl up the shaft once more. Emma breathes an audible sigh of relief, and the clown seems to finally notice her, tossing a quick look of sympathy in her general direction.
Once she’s certain she can speak without her voice quivering, she does so. “Does…that happen often?”
Her voice really gets his attention. He whips his head around so fast she almost worries his little hat will come flying off like a frisbee. He blinks at her once, then twice, as if processing the fact that she is addressing him. For a split second, it looks like he’s going to say something.
Then, remembering himself, he simply shrugs bashfully. Emma lets out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s been holding.
She notices the decorative red flower adorning his lapel, one of those prop flowers that’s actually a tiny water gun. Smiling in a way that she hopes is charming instead of ill-at-ease, she points to it. “I, uh…I like your flower. It’s very pretty.”
The clown tilts his head curiously. After a beat, he wordlessly reaches up and into his bright plaid coat, holding said flower slightly out toward her. Offering for her to come closer, to lean in and smell it.
Emboldened, she grins, shaking her head at him. “No way, mister. I know how that trick ends.” She’s kidding around with him, but she really can’t afford to get her clothes wet right now; she only has the ones on her back, after all.
Still, his lips at last curl upward, a real smile that reaches the lights of his eyes. And it’s then that Emma can see the color in them, an enchanting seafoam green that inexplicably draws her in, pulling her away from the corner and toward his side. He watches her carefully and intensely with an expression she can’t quite read. When he turns to face the doors once more, it’s not without keeping her settled in his periphery.
Most people would probably be a bit nervous being…examined so thoroughly. However, Emma finds his mannerisms endearing in an odd way. She’s never cared much for clowns before, but this one doesn’t seem so bad.
They ride in comfortable silence for another few moments. When they reach their destination, Emma is the first to exit.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely taking the stairs from now on,” she says.
The clown nods in response as he exits behind her, giant red and blue shoes flopping comically over the threshold.
The hallway is a bit noisy, voices of the residents drifting through the paper-thin walls like a mist, creating a fine haze over everything. The walls are just a touch too close together, making Emma claustrophobic and urging her to get to 8B as quickly as possible.
Not wanting to come off as rude, she introduces herself. “I’m new to the building, by the way - my name’s Emma. It’s a pleasure.” She extends a hand to shake.
The clown does return the gesture, but not before staring her hand down for an abnormally long period of time. And his grip through the rough material of his gloves is so soft and careful, it’s as if it’s barely there.
She’d honestly like to chat with this fascinating new neighbor of hers a bit longer, but instead, she pulls her hand away, settling for a polite nod and a cheerful “good night”.
She does not look back to see that the clown’s unwavering gaze follows her all the way down the hall.
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bamby0304 · 6 years ago
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Apple of my Eye- Ch.8
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Series Masterlist
Summary: When Sam and Dean were pulled back into their world, you were left behind. Stuck in the hustle bustle of Hollywood life, you have no choice but to play along, leaving almost all of your old life behind. Seven years later, when a rip in time and space opens up, you are finally able to go home… but you don’t go alone.
A/N: ... I can’t remember who looked over this chapter, but thank you to whoever did xx
Warnings: Angst… of course. You should expect all the angst by now. But there is some fluff, too, don’t worry.
Bamby
“Do you think Sam and Dean will be back soon?” Dakota asked as she stood in front of you in the bathroom, fresh out of the shower and now dressed in a pair of pyjamas.
Looking at her, you were reminded that the two of you needed more things. Clothes, toys, stuff. You’d left everything behind in the other world, you were starting fresh here. Dakota was a child, a little girl, she needed things to keep her occupied. For now, though, you would worry about it later.
Grabbing the towel Jack had given you for Dakota- which was far too big for her considering it usually catered for the giant brothers- you used it to dry her hair. “I don’t know, sweetie.”
“Can I draw them pictures? I think they’d like that.” She smiled as you lowered the towel from her head.
You returned to smile, nodding. “Why don’t you run along to the library? I’ll clean up in here while you get to work on those pictures.”
“Yay!” She jumped in the air and did a little excited dance as she hurried out of the room without glancing back once.
Cleaning the bathroom didn’t entail much work, but it gave you a chance to think and stop, to be alone for a little while. The brothers had been gone for two nights now, and it had taken a toll on your daughter. She wasn’t used to having no contact with people she cared about. Jensen and Jared had either always been around or always a Skype call away, but Sam and Dean… you weren’t sure if they wanted the interruption.
It’s not that you thought they wouldn’t appreciate the call or check in, you were pretty sure they’d find it sweet and nice actually. The brothers had lost a lot, just like you had, so the small moment of family you all experienced in your lives had always meant the world. You weren’t a hunter anymore but you hadn’t forgotten what it felt like.
The problem was you. Dean was upset, you knew it and you were pretty sure Dakota was figuring it out. You avoided the subject of him as much as possible, and dodged her questions expertly- in a way only a mother could. Dakota, though, had spent just as much time with you as you had with her, and she wasn’t a dumb kid. She could tell something was up.
So now you had to deal with your suspicious six year old, and your 39 year old grumpy ex.
“Uh… hello?” a deep, hoarse and familiar voice called.
You dropped everything in a heartbeat and hurried out, rushing in the direction the voice had come from. What it lead you to had you came to a skipping halt.
“Castiel?”
Standing there in the war room was the tall blue eyed angel you’d known years ago… with your daughter’s arms wrapped around his legs as she hugged him tightly.
Cas looked from Dakota to you, shock over taking his confusion. “Y/N?”
“What’s wrong?” Jack came running around the corner, only to stop as soon as he spotted Cas. A bright smile stretched his cheeks then. “Castiel.” He hurried forward to hug the angel much like your daughter was.
Dakota, though, quickly caught on something strange. Pulling away, she frowned up at the blue eyed man. “What’s a Castiel?
Sighing, you moved forward and crouched down beside her before waiting for her to turn to you. “Honey,” you reached out to brush her hair behind her ear, “this isn’t Misha.”
Blinking, trying to register your words, she soon responded. “He’s not Uncle Mish?”
“No.” You shook your head, giving her a sad smile.
“Like how Dean and Sam aren’t Uncle Jen and Uncle Jay?”
“Exactly.”
“So… who is he?”
You turned your smile to Cas. “This is Castiel, but people call him Cas. He’s an old friend, Dean’s best friend.”
Her face lit up then, and just like that she trusted him. “Dean is my friend, too,” she exclaimed. “Wanna draw pictures with me? I’m making them for Sam and Dean. We can give them to them when they get back.”
Cas’ eyes flitted from you to Dakota and back. The confusion was returning, and just like before you’d disappeared you knew he was struggling with process this information. While things had been weird when you left you remembered that he really had been a friend before he changed, which is why you saved him in that moment.
“Why don’t you and Jack draw instead? I should talk to Castiel, catch him up on things,” you explained to her as you stood again.
She looked from you to the angel and then back. “Okay, but don’t take too long. We have to make lots of pictures for Sam and Dean, okay?”
“Promise.” Leaning down, you pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Now go on.”
Not needing to be told again, she grabbed Jack’s hand and dragged him over to the library where some paper and colouring pencils had been left yesterday. As soon as you were sure she was distracted enough, you turned to Cas and gestured for him to follow as you walked out of the room and towards the kitchen.
The moment you turned to face him you spotted the confused and shocked look you recognised from years ago. The one where his mouth is slightly agape, brows furrowed as he looked over his shoulder in the direction you’d come from before turning back to you and leaned forward a little.
“Y/N?”
“Yes.” You gave a short nod.
“You’re really Y/N?”
“Yes,” you answered again. “And before you ask, I’m not a shapeshifter, demon, ghoul or angel. I’m not a monster, I’m the real deal.”
His eyes looked you up and down suspiciously. “Excuse me, but I have a hard time believing that.”
“Test me then.”
Watching you carefully, he stepped forward and pressed his palm to your forehead. He was colder than you anticipated, but that thought faded as you felt something probing in your mind, like a foggy hand sifting through your thoughts and memories gingerly. Cas stood before you, eyes squeezed shut and brows still furrowed as you searched your mind.
Pulling back, his expression was replaced by astoundment. “How?”
“Jack.” You shrugged, turning to grab yourself a drink of water.
“He brought you back?”
“Yep.”
“And the girl…” he paused, looking over his shoulder again before continuing, “she’s your daughter.”
Filling a glass with some water from the tap, you then turned to lean against the bench as you took a sip before nodding. “She is.”
“And she’s Dean’s.”
You actually weren’t surprised he figured it out or whatever. The guy had just been through all your thoughts and memories, and even if that hadn’t tipped him off Dakota would have. She’s hugged him, she’d been close enough that he would have been able to sense and read her energy, her aura, her soul. While she was her own person, there were parts of her that came from both you and Dean.
“Where are Sam and Dean?”
Taking another sip of your water, you took a moment before answering, “They went on a hunt.”
The confusion returned to his face. “Dean left the two of you here?”
“It’s not like we’re not safe,” you noted. “He and Sam assured me that this place is the safest place on Earth. And even if it wasn’t, there’s a nephilim here.”
But that didn’t seem to be enough for Cas. “I’m calling Dean,” he stated as he pulled his phone out of his trench coat pocket.
“Woah.” Pushing off the counter, you hurried around to stop him. “Woah, Castiel, wait. Why are you calling him?”
“Dean should be here with his daughter and partner.”
You flinched at the comment. “Dean and I aren’t together… and while he’s Dakota’s biological father,” you cleared your throat, shifting on the spot, “he’s not her dad.”
Cas tensed for a second before slowly turning to you. “Dean is her father, that makes him her dad. There is no difference.”
“There’s plenty of difference,” you argued, standing your ground.
Glaring lightly, as if he was reading you- which wouldn’t be a surprise- he took another moment before he called you out, “Dean left because you upset him.”
“You get that from reading my brain?”
“I don’t need to read your thoughts to know the reason why Dean would leave you and his daughter,” he countered. “I know Dean, and I know he wouldn’t leave the two of you here without a reason.”
“I might have said some things, but it was the truth.”
“Your truth, not his.”
As you stood there, looking at Cas and his unwavering gaze, you knew he was right. You’d thought about it on and off during the days Sam and Dean had been gone. You’d been hot and cold on the subject, blaming yourself and then blaming Dean. In the end you’d decided to leave the issue until he returned, but Cas’ words had stirred some left over anger from your argument with Dean.
Now, however, as the angel looked at you with those unblinking blue eyes of his, you knew you were wrong. Maybe not entirely, but you certainly weren’t completely right, either. Dean was Dakota’s father, her dad. When you decided to jump back into this universe, when you decided to return to Sam and Dean, you decided to let them into her life.
It was complicated and it was going to be hard, but Dean was part of Dakota’s life now and he had every right to be.
Dakota was fast asleep, curled up in one of the arm chairs in the library. Jack had set up his computer for her to watch My Little Pony a while ago, but she hadn’t lasted long before she crashed. You were cleaning up all her pictures and things on the table when they appeared.
Cas and Jack were in the war room, talking about how Jack had opened the rip to get you, but as soon as the door opened they stopped when Sam and Dean walked into the room.
“Cas.” Dean smiled at his angel friend, nodding at him. You got the feeling they would have hugged if there weren’t more pressing things to deal with. Pressing things being you and Dakota.
Turning away from the other men, Dean headed towards you.
He walked with heavy and wide steps, the gape of his bowlegs making his walk a little more dramatic. You stood there and watched as he approached you, hands by his side and face unreadable. He wasn’t mad, though, which was a good thing- you’d expected another argument. When he stopped there was about a foot of space between the two of- enough space for comfort, but he was also close enough to be a little intimate.
“I don’t want you to go,” he stated simply.
You nodded lightly. “I know. Don’t worry, we’re staying,” you assured him.
The relief that flooded him was strong enough for you to see as he relaxed a little all over. This was the point where you made him tense again.
“But the instant I feel like this is too dangerous, I’m leaving.” When he opened his mouth to respond, you lifted your hand and cut him off, “I can do difficult. I can deal with you and I arguing, and I can deal with things never being the way they were. I can deal with mundane things, Dean, but I cannot and will not put my- our daughter in danger. I don’t want her hunting. She deserves better.”
Standing there, Dean looked down at you as he contemplated your words, and then he gave a short nod. “Deal.”
To say you were surprised would be an understatement, but there was no way you were going to comment and risk him taking it back. So you simply smiled and nodded back.
He turned to look at Dakota then and you practically melted as his features softened the second he saw his sleeping daughter. “Need a hand taking her to your room?” he asked without turning to you.
Smile still plastered on your face, you nodded again. “That would be nice. Thanks.”
Bamby
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sis-tafics · 6 years ago
Text
My Story
Summary: Jensen goes through the hardest day of his life.
Characters: Reader, Jensen
Pairings: Jensen x Reader
Word Count: 3500
Warnings:  PLEASE READ THESE- Death, Angst, loss of a child during pregnancy, mentions of trouble getting pregnant, mentions of a previous stillborn. Jensen’s POV
A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading. This is both for Kari’s ( @thing-you-do-with-that-thing ) 9.5K British Song Challenge. My song was Small Bump by Ed Sheeran and Steph’s ( @torn-and-frayed ) Gif Challenge
This is unbetaed, all mistakes are mine
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It’s been a long ass day filming, the trailer nap didn’t cut it and I can’t wait to get home. Pulling out my phone, I look at the sonogram snapshot on my phone, the one Y/N had sent me earlier from the appointment I’d missed, and I can’t help but smile as Cliff drives and bitches about the traffic, Jared talking to Gen in the other seat.
She’s so tiny, her profile defined and damn she’s got her mother’s nose. Five more months, five more months until I get to meet our baby girl. I’m so pissed I missed the appointment an hour ago, but Jared had been provoking Mish and the scene had taken way longer than expected. I couldn’t exactly tell them why I needed to go, Y/N and I haven’t told anyone yet. We’ve spent the better part of three years trying, had one stillborn, and a handful of false readings. Even though we are four months in, it doesn’t seem real.
I’m heading home. See you soon baby
It was just this last checkup and we were finally going to tell our friends and family. We really don’t have much choice, Y/N is just starting to show, and pretty soon she won’t be able to hide it. And anyways, so far so good. Every appointment so far, everything has been normal, and Y/N had texted me right away and told me everything went great this time too.
“Jensen, I hope you didn’t tell Y/N you were on your way, there’s an accident up ahead and it is going to be awhile.”
“Too late,” I chuckle, tossing the phone on the seat, staring out the window. She won’t mind anyways, I’m sure she’s just making it there herself, and we aren’t going anywhere tonight, just ordering in and spending the weekend together.
The SUV creeps up by the flashing lights of the cop cars and the ambulances on the six lane, the officers directing traffic to the far lane and around, trying to keep rush hour traffic moving.
I glance down and realize I left my phone unlocked, the picture still up. Jared sees it and snatches it off the seat.
“Give it back,” I try to get it out of his hands but he pushes me away.
“Is this...Is Y/N-?”
I swallow hard, “We haven’t told anyone yet… Not after what happened last time.”
Our first baby had been fine for awhile and then right after the six month mark, they couldn’t find a heartbeat. It had almost destroyed us. We’d only been married for about a year at that point, she’d shut herself off. She had to deliver and I couldn’t get a word out of her for weeks and weeks, I wasn’t much better. It really fucked us up for awhile, but we came out of it stronger than before.
Jared hands my phone back to me, “Congrats man.”
“Thanks, just don’t tell her I told you,” I chuckle.
“I won’t say a word.”
“Yeah right,” I smile, looking at the picture again, “You can’t keep a secret to save your life. Gen will know in five minutes.”
He laughs, his whole body shaking as he looks out the window, “Hey, it’s a good thing you aren’t driving, this car looks like your Dodge.”
My heart leaps into my throat, jumping; Y/N’s Impala was in the shop, she’d driven my car to her appointment today.
As we pass the crash a Dodge is demolished, smoking, it looks like a fucking pretzel. It can’t be her, but my heart keeps thumping in my chest and then it stops completely, seeing the anti possession decal on the bumper. She’d gotten us matching ones as a kinda inside joke.
“Cliff, stop the fucking car,” and I’m halfway out the door before he can, running through the open lane towards the accident. It feels like I’m running through mud, the smoke of the burning oil and gas clogging the air as the firefighters put out the last of it.
Hands grab me, stopping me in my tracks, “Sir, I’m going to need you to get back in your vehicle.”
I look over at him, shaking my head, seeing other officers heading over.
“Sir-”
“That is my fucking vehicle, my wife was driving it. That’s my-”
His hands drop, waving the others off, “I’m going to need you to calm down.”
“Where’s my wife...Y/N!” I look around frantically, where is she, she’s gotta be okay, her and the baby have gotta be okay, “Y/N!”
The officer tries to grab me and I shove him off, heading towards the wreck, panicking. There is a pickup that barely looks touched a little ways back and another car that spun out, hitting the median. No, no, no.
“Jensen,” Jared grabs me and spins me around.
“Y/N, she-” I can’t find the words.
“Jensen, they took her to the hospital, the ambulance already left. Let’s get back in the car and get there so we can figure out what’s going on.”
“Jared-”
“C’mon man, let’s get you out of here,” he pulls me towards the SUV.
I let him guide me, unable to think of anything but her. No, this can’t be happening.
The hospital is ten minutes away but that feels like years, time passing too slowly as I try to picture her face but can’t for some reason, the thought of the sonogram creeping in every time I think of her. They have to be alright, they need to be alright. I can’t go through that again, and I can’t lose Y/N.
Cliff pulls the SUV in front of the ER doors and Jared tries to follow me as I sprint in the doors, right up to the desk, “My wife was brought here…”
The lady looks up, holding her finger up for me to wait as she talks on the phone.
“Goddammit!” I shout, shoving papers off the desk, sending them flying, “Hang up your damn phone I need to know what’s going on with my wife, she was in a car crash.”
“Sir I’m going to need you to-.”
“No!” I yell, “Fuck that, I need to know if she’s okay. Her name is Y/N Ackles, she was brought in in the last half hour, now tell me where my wife is!”
“Come with me please,” an older woman in scrubs that was sitting farther down the station stands up and motions for me to follow her.
I nod, “Where’s my wife?”
“I’ll take you to her,” she smiles, but it isn’t really there, it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Please,” I swallow hard, feeling the tears sting the corners of my eyes, fuck, I’m so scared.
“It’s okay honey, just walk with me, we are going upstairs,” she waits for me to catch up to her, leading the way towards the elevators.
“Is she alive?” I whisper.
“I’m going to take you up to surgery and see if I can get someone to talk to you that knows more.”
“Is she alive?” I ask again, quieter, jumping when the elevator beeps.
“As far as I know yes,” she gets in the elevator and hits the button for floor eleven.
“What about our baby?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry, they will know more upstairs.”
The floors click by- two, three, four, five...It’s too slow and with every floor the rotting feeling in my gut gets worse. If I just would have told them I had to go I would have been with her, this might not have happened.
The doors open at floor eleven and I let her out before me, and now instead of rushing and feeling like everything around me is moving too slow it feels like the world is rushing and I’m stuck here standing even though somehow my feet are carrying me forward.
She talks to another nurse behind the counter, gesturing towards me as I look around, there are people sitting in chairs, people flying through the halls, pushing gurneys and yelling numbers and orders. The place smells like fucking death and bleach.
“Come on honey let’s get you set up in the waiting room.”
“I thought you were going to take me to see her.”
“The nurse said she is still in surgery, she’s with Dr. Hanson, she’s in good hands. As soon as he can, he will come and find you.”
“But-”
She touches my arm, “There is nothing you can do but be here for her. Can I get you anything?”
I shake my head, trying like hell to stop the tears as she leads me to a room full of chairs. There is one other woman sitting in here, sobbing. I take a chair as far away from her as I can, resting my elbows on my knees, rubbing my face, I still can’t believe this is happening. Why is this happening?
I can’t think, I need to know if she’s okay, I need to know if they are okay and I’m not going to get answers anytime soon.
“Hey bud,” Jared slides into the seat across from me, “did they tell you anything?”
I shake my head, brushing the tear off my cheek, “Nurse couldn’t tell me anything other than she is in surgery. They didn’t even tell me what was wrong. Fuck.” I run my hands over my face, pressing as hard as I can, “Fuck.”
“I’m sure she’s fine, Y/N’s tough.”
“Yeah, yeah...I know. Did you find out what happened?”
Jared nods, “Yeah, I talked to one of the cops I found after you ran off. The truck hit her, they think the guy was texting and driving, went across his lane, another and into hers and ran her into the median. He was life flighted here.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snap, “This happened because some asshole couldn’t put his damn phone down? I’m going to fucking kill him if he isn’t dead already.”
“Easy,” he puts his hands up, “let’s just worry about Y/N first.”
“Y/N,” I whisper, almost whine and bury my face in my hands, trying like hell to hold it together. Not knowing is the absolute worst part, my mind is going crazy, but I know they would have told me if she was already dead, there’s still gotta be hope, there has to be. I  can’t do this without her.
The minutes tick by into hours, people come and go, Jared leaves for awhile, comes back with coffees and is gone again. I can’t blame him, this place is awful, filled with people finding out the fates of their loved ones and I’m still sitting here waiting.
I think about her smile, about when we first started dating. She’s weird and quirky in the best way possible, always saying random shit that makes me laugh. That’s not what made me want to marry her though, what really did me in was the love I could always feel radiating off of her, her passion, her strength.
“Mr. Ackles?” A voice cuts through my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I stand up quickly, closing the distance to the man in the blood covered scrubs.
“I’m Dr. Hanson, I’ve been working on your wife-”
I swallow, “How is she doc? Is the baby alright?”
His face doesn’t show any emotion and I don’t know what to expect, “Your wife came in in critical condition, she had a lot of damage to her organs, broken ribs, severe burns on her arms, but what we’ve been working on is her brain, there was a significant amount of hemorrhaging and swelling. We’ve done what we can for now, but only time will tell. The one big thing is she is breathing on her own.”
“She’s alive?”
He grimaces, “For now, but Mr. Ackles I have to be quite frank, it’s going to take a miracle for her to survive the night. Unless the swelling in her brain goes down, best case she will be alive but will not have any brain function.”
“She’ll be brain dead?” No, I can’t lose her, I won’t.
“Yes.”
I close my eyes, rubbing my face, trying like hell to keep it together, “The baby?”
“I’m so sorry, we tried everything we could but your wife was losing blood too fast and she sustained injuries that were fatal to the fetus. We lost the heartbeat about an hour into surgery.”
“It’s not a fucking fetus, it’s our baby!” I growl, the surge of anger and loss rushing through me.  I can’t look at him, turning away, grabbing the closest chair and tossing it across the room into the wall. Not again, please God don’t let this be happening again, I can’t get through this without her, “No!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jared comes rushing up to me, grabbing my forearms, trying to keep me from doing any more damage to the waiting room and scaring the shit out of the few people there.
“Jare-” I choke, unable to process this. I thought if it ever happened again, if we ever lost another baby I would know how to deal with it, but nothing could have prepared me for this, nothing.
I turn back to the doctor, “I want to see her, I n-need to.”
“I can take you to her, she’s out of surgery.”
I follow him down the incredibly empty and brightly lit halls, and it’s like I know what’s going on but I don’t understand. My chest hurts, and I feel like I’m going to throw up everywhere and everything feels stiff and it’s hard to move. My feet carry me, but my brain doesn’t follow Dr. Hanson. All I can think about is my wife, my wife and our little girl.
He stops in front of a door, “I’m going to give you a couple minutes and then I can answer any questions that you have.”
He holds the door open for me, and I walk in, fuck. She’s laying here, her head wrapped in white gauze, hooked up to tubes.
“No,” I walk up to her side, her face bruised and cut, stitches across her cheekbone, “No sweetheart.”
I run my fingers over her hand gently, scared to death that I’m going to hurt her. She feels colder than normal and I guess it’s all this shit they are pumping into her.
“Goddammit Y/N, I’m so sorry,” I should have been there, I should have been driving, the otherside of the car had barely been touched, she would have been fine.
My whole body shudders as the sob wracks through me, she can’t be here like this. The shouldn’t be her.
“Fuck,” I hiss, wiping away the tears angrily. She can pull through this, she has to pull through this. Y/N’s tough, hell, she’s put up with me for five years.
On the table beside her there are some of her belongings, it must have been what she had in her pockets when they brought her in. Her phone is laying there, perfectly intact. I pick it up.
“J-Jensen?” Her voice breaks through the quiet and I shove the phone in my pocket. Her voice makes my heart swell in my chest, the most beautiful sound in the world.
“Hey, hey, I’m right here baby,” I take her hand.
She blinks, looking around, confused, trying to get up, “Jensen? Where? W-What?
“Hold on, take it easy,” I push her back down gently, “You’re in the hospital.”
Her face falls, her hand tearing away from mine and moving to her stomach, her eyes widening and my heart breaks. I open my mouth, but words don’t come out, how do I tell her? How can I?
But I don’t have to, the tears start streaming down her face and she lets out a choked sob, looking away from me.
“Y/N?”
She looks back at me, her eyes glistening, “Jensen, I’m sorry, I’m so s-sorry.”
“Oh sweetheart, it’s not your fault,” I cup her chin, pressing my lips against her cheek, “it’s not your fault baby, it’s that asshole that ran into you.”
She shakes, sobbing harder.
I don’t know what to do, how to comfort her, how to fix this. Then I realize there is no way I can, because even though I’m suffering I have her, I can do this with her, but I’m not a mom, it’s not the same, I’ll never know what that feels like.
Her head rolls to the side as she looks at me, but she doesn’t say anything. Her eyes are so sad, lost and she’s trying like hell to hold it together.
“Jensen,” she whispers, her voice helpless and high pitched, “I-I-I…”
Her head snaps back and the monitors start beeping like crazy, but one screams louder than the rest, a constant beep with no change in tone, “Y/N? Y/N!”
Shit, no, she’s fine, she was just talking to me, “Hey! I need help! Hey!”
People in scrubs come rushing in, Dr. Hanson with them, yelling back and forth as they flatten the bed and start doing compressions. All I get are bits and pieces as I back up against the wall.
“Flatlining.”
“Charge.”
“Clear.”
“No pulse.”
“Charge.”
“Clear.”
“One more time.”
“Clear.”
“Nothing.”
“Call it.”
“Time of death 20:52.”
I don’t know where I’m going but I can’t stay here, my feet taking me down the hall, away from her. She’s gone, everything is gone. Nothing matters.
Jared is standing in the waiting room, but I walk right by him, down the hallway a little before I can’t move anymore, leaning up against the wall, breaking down and falling apart. I punch the wall, the tile not moving but at least I feel something and I do it again, my knuckles cracking.
“Excuse me.”
I look over and there is a man leaning on his crutches, his face bruised but that’s it.
“What?” I snap.
He swallows, unable to look me in the eyes and I know. This is the fucker that hit her, that killed her and my baby.
“You son of a bitch,” I grab him up by the collar of his shirt, slamming him against the wall, my fist colliding with his face again and again, “you fucking killed them.”
He doesn’t fight me as I hit him again and again.
“Stop!” A woman’s voice screams, “Stop!”  
Hands grab my forearm, and I try to shake it off but then I see the woman that was crying in the waiting room earlier, “Please stop.”
I drop him, not saying a word as I back away, turning and rushing down the hall, I have to get out of here.
I get outside, the buzzing in my pocket making me stop, but I pull out her phone instead of mine, the last text I sent her still in the notification box on the screen.
I’m heading home. See you soon baby
____________
Eighteen Months Later:
I set the final wreath on Y/N’s headstone, taking a step back, my eyes traveling from hers to the two smaller ones beside her. I feel my heart sink and the tears prick the corners of my eyes.
Fuck, it hasn’t gotten easier and truth be told, I don’t think I want it to, I don’t want to forget her.
“I be back later baby, I promise. I miss you so much,” I choke before I touch the top of the stone, heading through the wet morning grass to the car.
I drive to the church I’ve been going to every week since a month after the accident. I’ve never said a word, just sat and listened. Jared made me start going after he had to come get me out of the drunk tank at the police station, and I’ve gone ever since. I didn’t like it then, I’m still not sure I like it now, but the repetition, the fact that it gives me something to do once a week, the repetition gives me some structure.
I take the seat I always do, the one furthest from the door, waiting for people to filter in and fill up the other chairs. The group leader, Darcy, starts the meeting, giving the usual speech, that anyone is welcome to talk, that we are all here to support one another.
“So if anyone would like to start off today, the floor is open.”
It’s quiet for a moment. Shit. She’d want me to get better.
I clear my throat and everyone looks my way, and half of them are shocked. I’ve been here seventeen months and never said a word. I shift uncomfortably, “Hi...I’m Jensen and, shit...I don’t know how to start this. I just want to thank you guys for letting me be here and I’m here every week and I get to look at you, and I get to see you guys, and I know you all have a story and I-I think I’m ready to tell mine.”
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waywardnewcomer · 6 years ago
Text
Reunited Part Eleven
A/N: It is back and with a time jump! Angst is coming so buckle your seatbelts and prepare for a bumpy ride in approximately 3 chapters time. Hope you enjoy this and thank you for sticking with me through hiatus. You’re the best.
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Summary: Y/N visits Jared in Pittsburgh for a con and ends up telling her story on stage
Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff
Pairings: Jared x Stepdaughter!Reader, Genevieve x Goddaughter!Reader, Jensen x Niece!Reader, Misha x Niece!Reader
Word Count: 1.6k
Previous Part Series Masterpost Masterlist
*One Year Later*
Once your Mom had stopped appearing on the show you travelled to Vancouver less and less. You were still home-schooled but now you lived in Texas, with your Dad coming home on the weekends. Your Aunt Danneel and Uncle Jensen lived across the street meaning you always had someone to lean on, especially with your Uncle Misha a phone call away.
You were laid on your bed, laptop open on the work you were procrastinating on and surfing YouTube instead. Honey came and joined you, her nose working its way under your arm. You laughed and wrapped your arm around her, giving her a kiss on her forehead.
“You’re a sweetie.” You laughed as she licked your face affectionately.
You heard your phone ring making you reach over and grab it, answering the facetime call while Honey was still licking your face.
“Hi Bub, Honey.” He laughed, nodding to the dog as she whipped her head up to listen to his voice. She licked the screen and panted waiting for her pat on the head. “Sorry, Honey I’m not there, Y/N will have to do.” He laughed as you faked hurt, patting the dog.
“Hey, Dad, what’s up?” You asked once Honey had sauntered off to go get some love off your Mom.
“Nothing much, I just need your help with something.” He looked down nervously coughing and clearing his throat.
“Sure Dad, what is it?” You asked worriedly.
He silently brought up a velvet black box with a gorgeous diamond ring inside. You gasped and covered your face as he smiled widely at you.
“Shh, we don’t want your Mom to hear.” He smiled sheepishly, and you bit your lip trying to hold in a squeal.
“When are you gonna ask?” You asked excitedly, almost jumping up and down on your bed.
“That’s what I need help with. I’m gonna fly you out for a con in Pittsburgh this weekend and you’re gonna help me plan it. Jensen’s gonna get Danneel to distract her with a spa weekend as an excuse.” He smiled widely as Jensen came into view patting his back.
“I can’t wait to see you all! Is Uncle Misha gonna be there?”
“I swear you miss him more than me.” Jared pouted, Jensen nodding in agreement.
“You two live either with me or across the street, I haven’t seen Misha in months.” You laughed seeing their faces fall, “I still miss you both loads, I miss your goofy faces.”
“We miss yours too,” Jensen smirked, winking at you.
“Y/N dinner!” You heard Gen shouting from downstairs. You looked towards the boys with a sad smile.
“Go, we’ll see you this weekend. I’ll ring your Mom later,” Jared smiled. You said your goodbyes and ended the call.
You bounded down the stairs with a spring in your step, you had missed your Dad terribly all jokes aside. Especially now you lived in Vancouver less and less, Texas had become your home once more and you finally felt at peace. You could visit your parents’ graves easier and see family you had left behind. It was calming.
“You look happy,” Gen smiled, putting your plate on the table.
“Dad’s asked me to go to Pittsburgh this weekend, he said he’d call you later,” You smiled excitedly.
“Sounds fun, I’ll see if Danneel will save me from being alone this weekend,” She laughed, sitting down opposite you.
“You’ll always have Honey,” You reminded her as Honey jumped up at the table stealing a piece of bread, “Hey!”
The rest of the week seemed to fly by due to your excitement, and before you knew it your plane was landing in Pittsburgh. You looked out for a big moose in the airport and ran gleefully when you spotted his long hair under a grey beanie. You thudded into his chest and wrapped your arms tightly around him as he spun you around. He kissed your hair and squeezed you before letting go.
“Hey sweetheart, you okay? How was the flight?” He asked, grabbing your suitcase and leading you through the airport.
“It was good, a little lonely but I had my phone for films,” You smiled, wrapping your denim jacket around you a bit tighter.
“You cold sweetie?” He asked as he shielded you from the people taking pictures to the right.
“A little, but I’m good. Is Cliff picking us up?” You asked, putting your sunglasses on your face.
“Of course, Jensen and Misha are in the back too. We’re going straight to the convention hall.” He explained and opened the car door for you. You jumped in and gave your uncles a giant hug each, you had missed them terribly.
“Ready for some fun?” Jensen asked wiggling his eyebrows, making you laugh as Cliff sped off to the hotel.
“So, how’s life been treating you, Uncle Mish?” You asked, leaning onto his shoulder.
“You know, pranks on set, your Dad and Uncle messing with me 24/7, amazing obviously,” He spoke sarcastically, with a playful grin on his face.
“Ahh standard?” You laughed, seeing it first-hand last year. They were pretty brutal.
“How about you? How’s school going?” Jensen asked, patting your knee.
“Mom is a pretty great teacher, even better at making lunch. She’s teaching me how to cook in between lessons at the minute and let’s just say the smoke alarm may need new batteries soon,” You grimaced, making your uncles laugh.
“Ahh, your Mother was the same Y/N, I used to make dinner, or she’d burn the house down,” Your Dad laughed, you smiled thinking of your burnt hot dogs or toast. It always tasted good, as it was made with love.
Your Dad had sparked you a trip down memory lane and you zoned out for the rest of the car ride, not looking up once. Happy sitting with your memories.
Once you had got to the hotel and left your luggage in the rooms your Dad and Uncles had a panel immediately. You sat on the side of the stage laughing at their antics and shouting with the fans.
Misha kept looking at you evilly and smirking; it was making you uneasy. He was going to do something, and you knew it.
“Can I take the next question? Sorry, we’ll swing back around to you,” He nodded at the girl smiling, before walking to the side of the stage as if he was a fan.
“So, I just wanna say how much I love you, Jensen, you’re amazing. You both are but my question is for Jared.” He gushed as a fangirl making them all roar with laughter and putting you in a fit of giggles.
“Cockles is alive right now,” Jared laughed making the fans squeal and Jensen shake his head laughing.
“Cockles will never die,” Misha whispered into his mic making everyone laugh again. “Anyway, Jared. My question is when are we, the fans because that’s what I am, going to meet your mysterious daughter?” He smirked looking at you as you mimed no aggressively.
“Well, Misha was it? As a massive fan, I suppose just for you I could get her out here. She’s here today,” Jared smirked walking over to you.
“What a coinkydink.” Misha smiled sarcastically at the audience as he walked back on stage.
“Dad, please. I look a mess,” You muttered nervously.
“You look beautiful, and we have to do it sometime.” He smiled and took your hand leading you on stage. He lead you to his stool and sat you down, handing you his mic and grabbing another one from a stagehand.
“So, this is my daughter, Y/N,” He smiled, hugging you from behind making the crowd scream.
“Um hi?” You laughed nervously.
“So, some of you may be wondering why you’ve never heard of Y/N before last year and I’ve told the story before, but I’ll tell it again,” He smiled, licking his lips.
“Can I?” You asked him nervously.
“Take it away,” He smiled down at you, kissing your cheek.
“So, this is my first time at this so be gentle,” You spoke making the audience aw in unison.
“When I was 3 my father died of a heart attack. Jared here was my father’s best friend and Gen my mother’s. Jared and my mother quickly fell in love and he brought me up as his own,” You cleared your throat as the tears gathered in your eyes. “And when I was 12 my mother died in a car accident. Long story short I was sent to my Mom, Gen in my mother’s will and I lost touch with Jared in the process. He had just started supernatural and he was busy, and we were states away from each other,” You smiled, wiping away your tears. Your parents’ death was always hard to talk about.
“Can I butt in?” Jared smiled.
“Of course,” You mumbled, as he squeezed your shoulders.
“When we first started season 4 I found out Gen was gonna be cast as Ruby and I got her phone number and rang her straight away. We met up, talked and figured out a way for Y/N and I to be reunited,”
“Then Y/N so rudely bumped into me on set and I took her on a tour. She saw Jared, ran away, I became her agony uncle, they made up and BOOM. Father and daughter reunited,” Misha interrupted smiling.
“It was a beautiful moment.” Jensen admitted, nodding to the fans who awed in response.
“It’ll always have a place in my heart,” Jared admitted nodding.
“So, there you have it. Our story.” You laughed, finally comfortable being on stage.
You sat up there with them until they finished their panel, occasionally butting in with an answer. Jared kept looking at you and smiling, all the feelings brought up as fresh making him so thankful you were with him. You smiled softly at him and mouthed ‘I love you.’ He walked over giving you a hug and whispered the sentiment back in your ear. This was it, your safe place. Your home was in his arms.
Next Part
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namira2006 · 6 years ago
Text
Sandstorms this time of year shrouded the city from the outside world. Shop sails blustered in the winds battering the stalls. The marketplace at night, seemingly dead and simultaneously thrumming. The three moons of Frankston illuminating different parts of the earth.
In the edges of the city a robed figure stalks. Lurking only in the shadows in attempt to remain unseen. Of course anyone around would probably have tripped on the robe's train, the turquoise velvet trailing near a metre behind the figure. Unbeknownst to this figure, a second figure had been circling her movements and had swiftly closed the gap between them. He reached the robed form and rapped his knuckles upon the back of her head playfully. A sharp intake of breath from beneath the velvet hood.
'Fucking hell Mish! What have I told you about wearing that bloody cloak to our meetings? Seriously how do you get the sand out of that shit?'
Mishka whipped around to face Jasper as he stared her down. He had dirt marks all over his face except for where his goggles had been sitting, like a bad stencil job. He'd obviously been in the garage all day again, lanky frame hunkered over some busted merchant's zilas, tinkering, tinkering.
Mishka huffed.
"Obviously I just give it a good shake. What are you following me for anyway?"
"Oh, I'd missed our banter, it's so good to have you back Mish. All these straight people were killing me."
She cackled heartily.
"C'mon then weirdo, let's have some soup."
------------------
A little while away, probably around the corner in terms of space and time stuff. But still pretty far away in terms of general scientific understanding. A young woman is perched on the end of her four poster bed. A breeze entering through the window perched open a crack has the lacy curtain floating up, down.
Agnyss is hunched over, head seated in the palm of her hand, her phone limply sitting on the other as she scrolls her miscellaneous social media for the afternoon.
---------------
They sit across from each on the same branch. Mishka is slightly higher than Agnyss due to the branch gnarling, but they still maintain eye contact. Soft smiles. Mishka reaches above her to pluck a eucalyptus leaf from another branch, and places it neatly behind Agnyss' left ear. It sits askew due to Agnyss' lack of hair, but it resides there for a moment. Then she gets another and twirls it into Agnyss' nose ring, pushing the stem through the leaf so it forms a ring and stays there. Agnyss laughs, her dangling legs shake as she does. She grabs the nearest branch above her for leverage, stands on the branch and leans above Mishka, kissing her softly. Mishka.
Mishka smiled through the kiss, then got cocky about her position in the tree and tried to grab Agnyss by the back of the neck and in doing so nearly lost balance from her carefully acquired crouch on the branch. She scream-cackled. It echoed through the park's quiet liveliness. Rising above the birds and bugs and children, Agnyss noted it sounded like some kind of chorus of joy. She'd already known she'd do anything for that laugh but this knowledge cemented itself every time she heard it.
----------
They lay clutching each other in the four poster bed. Jasper the little spoon to Milos' big spoon. Milos' chin perched atop jasper's shoulder. He was trembling.
"what's going to happen to me?"
Jasper tilted his head to brush his lips against Milos' temple.
"I don't know honey. But we'll give it the best we got."
Crumpled sheets wrapped amongst limbs, and terrors and the meekest of hopes.
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Winds of sand, of dirt, of change, battered the outside walls of the two storey building. Townspeople had managed to get down most of the shade sails but the few they missed had been ripped off their fastenings and were now lost to the sandstorm.
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Wordsworth: a small non human man, sorta. He is discovered by jasper and Mishka and agness in an underground ruin / tomb thing. He has been trapped for an unknown extended period of time and is worthy of suspicion.
#w
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handymnrond · 3 years ago
Text
Hiring a True Professional Handyman Services
Employing somebody to come out to your home and fix your home ought not be a problem. At the point when you get down on a jack of all trades to come and perform jack of all trades administrations you expect they show up when they say they will, do what they say they will do and return your calls when you have inquiries previously or after the work is finished. It is significant that you understand when you are employing a jack of all trades his administrations are for the most part broad upkeep projects and not out and out remodels. Assuming you are searching for somebody to re-try the entire washroom you will call a project worker who represents considerable authority in restroom rebuilding. Assuming you are hoping to have the spigot supplanted you approach a jack of all trades' administrations. Get more information please visit here  Hire A Honey Handyman.
To characterize further exactly what jack of all trades administrations conceals I could end in a tough situation with respect to the definition. A person that offers an ability for general home fixes and upkeep for an amount of cash is a jack of all trades. I know not very enlightening. Assuming I drill down each ability that a jack of all trades can forces I would compose a book. Essentially you should characterize your necessities and observe a jack of all trades to meet them and in all likelihood anybody considering themselves a jack of all trades can deal with the work.
There are a couple of rules to observe while employing a jack of all trades to assist with the honey do list around your home. The main guideline you want to keep is to have a reasonable thought of what you want and need. This requires you making a rundown of what should be refined. This way the jack of all trades administrations can be cited out and you can be certain you are getting what you paid for and that the jack of all trades is additionally being repaid reasonably. Try not to begin tossing different positions in with the general mish-mash after you have as of now settled upon a reasonable remuneration. This isn't the means by which jack of all trades administrations work.
In observing a jack of all trades you ought to adhere to the second guideline which is prospect jacks of all trades. This can remember searching for nearby ordered, the web and informal exchange from companions and neighbors who have as of late had work done. References are the most ideal way to find somebody who can be trusted and will do a task without really wasting any time for a reasonable rate. Additionally check references and take a gander at past work that the individual has finished. You can get a ton of data from meeting with somebody to examine the work. Assuming that you stomach impulse questions it at all you should keep exploring jack of all trades administrations.
Hire A Honey Handyman
Address: 1721 White Oak Loop Round Rock, TX 78681
Phone Number: (512) 861-0221
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handymnround · 3 years ago
Text
Hiring a True Professional Handyman Services
Employing somebody to come out to your home and fix your home ought not be a problem. At the point when you get down on a handyman to come and perform handyman services you expect they show up when they say they will, do what they say they will do and return your calls when you have inquiries previously or after the work is finished. It is significant that you understand when you are recruiting a handyman his services are for the most part broad upkeep projects and not all out remodels. In case you are searching for somebody to re-try the entire restroom you will call a project worker who spends significant time in washroom renovating. In case you are hoping to have the fixture supplanted you approach a handyman's services. Need more information please click here  Hire A Honey Handyman.
To characterize further exactly what handyman services conceals I could end out of luck with respect to the definition. A person that offers an ability for general home fixes and upkeep for an amount of cash is a handyman. I know not very distinct. On the off chance that I rattle off each ability that a handyman can groups I would compose a book. Essentially you should characterize your necessities and discover a handyman to meet them and no doubt anybody considering themselves a handyman can deal with the work.
There are a couple of rules to follow while employing a handyman to assist with the nectar do list around your home. The main guideline you need to follow is to have a reasonable thought of what you need and need. This requires you making a rundown of what should be refined. This way the handyman services can be cited out and you can be certain you are getting what you paid for and that the handyman is additionally being remunerated reasonably. Try not to begin tossing different positions in with the general mish-mash after you have effectively settled upon a reasonable pay. This isn't the manner by which handyman services work.
In discovering a handyman you ought to adhere to the second principle which is prospect jacks of all trades. This can remember searching for nearby grouped, the web and informal exchange from companions and neighbors who have as of late had work done. References are the most ideal approach to discover somebody who can be trusted and will finish a task in an ideal way for a reasonable rate. Likewise check references and take a gander at past work that the individual has finished. You can get a ton of data from meeting with somebody to examine the work. In the event that you gut sense questions it at all you should keep investigating handyman services.
While employing an individual you should pose inquiries this is rule number three. I'm certain you considering what kind of things you ought to ask about. You should begin by requesting references. Don't stop there really look at them. Question them about the licenses they hold. Ensure they are protected with the goal that the work they do on your house is safeguarded too. In the event that the handyman gets injured at your home you need to ensure their protection will cover them. Discover how they charge. Do they give free gauges? Do they charge per work, by hour or considerably hour? It ought to likewise be standard to verify whether customer grievances exist against the handyman.
Hire A Honey Handyman
Address: 1721 White Oak Loop Round Rock, TX 78681
Phone Number: (512) 861-0221
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jiminies-ahmee · 7 years ago
Text
Tagged: 92 Truths
Rules: Once you have been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 92 truths about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. 
Tagged by: @multijin <3
LAST : 
Drink: bubble tea hehe 
Phone Call: a friend 
Text message: the same friend I last called 
Song you listened to: Breathe by Lee Hi (listening to it as I write lmao) 
Time you cried: mmm, I watched The Greatest Showman yesterday and I almost cried like 5 times so does that count?? 
HAVE YOU EVER 
Dated someone twice: I haven't even dated someone once lmao 
Been cheated on: do snakey friends count?? 
Kissed someone and regretted it: nope 
Lost someone special: no, I keep them close 
Been depressed: no 
Been drunk and thrown up: what’s ‘drunk’ mean? (i’m joking, but no i haven't) 
IN THE PAST YEAR HAVE YOU 
Made a new friend: um Y E S, and i’m so lucky to have met them <3
Fallen out of love: not that i know of 
Laughed until you cried: happens all the time man 
Met someone who changed you: yes and it was definitely for the better, i’d say 
Found out who your true friends are: god, yes and i’m glad 
Found out someone was talking about you: eh yes, but it was from a low-key crush so hehe 
GENERAL 
Do you have any pets?: well not at the moment, but in the past we’ve had a dog, a cat, fish, pigeons, rabbits
Do you want to change your name?: hell no, you don't meet many people with my name, plus I like the meaning lmao 
What time did you wake up this morning?: About 10am? It’s Sunday so 
What were you doing last night?: Watching Fight for My Way and doing homework bc yr 11 is a pain in the ass 
Name something you cannot wait for: 5sos’ third album, the ed sheer an concert anddddddd MR JUNG HOSEOK’S BLOODY MIXTAPE 
Have you ever talked to a person named tom?: lmao what a random question, but yes i have, he was my guitar teacher 
What’s getting on your nerves right now?: writer’s block 
Blood Type: i actually don't know this? 
Nickname: amee (like army but without the r HAHA), amish (like uh-mish), adash (it means friend in my language) 
Relationship: single pringle with a bit of independence, but more dependent on my mama 
Zodiac sign: S C O R P I O whooooooo
Pronouns: she/her 
Favourite show: mmmmmm i can’t really say, i haven’t been watching them in a while 
College: i’ve got two more years till university 
Hair colour: brown with a bit of red bc i died it with henna a lil while ago 
Do you have a crush on someone?: irl there’s two, one i’ve known since birth and the other works at the shop next door to my dads and sjovsovnveoin i don't know his name or anything but w o w 
What do you like about yourself?: I literally never know how to answer these questions, but maybe my eyes??? 
FIRSTS
First surgery: to this day (thank god) i haven’t undergone surgery 
First piercing: my ears when i was a few months old 
First sport you joined: Swimming when I was like six months old lmaoo 
First vacation: I went to my parents’ hometowns overseas when i was three (don't remember a thing) 
First pair of sneakers: the only one’s i can remember are these pair of blue vans with hello kitty’s on them 
RIGHT NOW (i wish you were here with meeeeeeeee)
Eating: chewing gum 
Drinking: it was that bubble tea 
I’m about to: do some more homework yayayayyaa 
Listening to: Tenerife Sea, Ed Sheeran (spotify’s going crazy with this shuffle thing) 
Want kids: yeeeeeeeees 
Get married: mhmm 
Career: i still have no idea and its scaring me 
WHICH IS BETTER
Lips or eyes: both 
Hugs or kisses: hugs... kisses? no, hugs definitely 
Shorter or taller: i’d prefer taller, but whoever i’m supposedly going to be with in the future can be either bc why not 
Older or younger: older - but not THAT much older 
Romantic or spontaneous: surprise me ;) 
HAVE YOU EVER 
Kissed a stranger: hell no 
Drank hard liquor: nopedynope
Lost contacts/glasses: not yet haha 
Sex on first date: that’s never gonna happen honey 
Broken someone’s heart: i sure hope not
Been arrested: definitely not 
Turned someone down: BAHAHAHAHAHA YES 
Fallen for a friend: mmm yes.... known each other since birth idk what to do 
DO YOU BELIEVE 
In yourself: i struggle with it a lot 
Miracles: sometimes 
Love at first sight: depends 
Tagging: @valenjagi, @verngyu, @blushingforbts, @jhopebitch and anyone else who’d like to do it bc you don't need to be tagged to do this stuff, YOU DO YOU HONEY 
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