#it must have felt nice for him to be able to eat a homemade meal in a family setting

[marymekpop]

⟢ highlight of the hour: flex x cop [07/16] ⟣

a full stomach and a happy heart

[strawberrywooyou]

Baby, Don’t You See? [Part 1: Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Joshua]

[HomeAU: AU where you live in the same apartment building as Seventeen and have become friends with all of the members over the years.]

Synopsis: Some of the boys’ childhood friends come to visit and make you feel insecure about the way you look. How do each of the members respond?

Warnings: insecurity about physical appearance, rude comments about physical appearance, mentions of food.

You had been cooking since 8AM and it was almost 5PM. Seungcheol and Woozi’s childhood friends decided they wanted to come visit, and you thought it would be nice to cook a homemade meal instead of going out to eat somewhere. You were really proud of how the braised short-ribs, japchae, and seafood pancakes turned out, along with all of the other side dishes that you had been working on all day. Jeonghan would have had a fit if he knew how much work you had put into all of this; he was always telling you to work less. But you had been wanting to cook the boys a nice meal for a while now. It had been a couple of weeks since you last got to sit down with everyone, due to how busy their schedules were. And you smiled in anticipation at seeing the boys’ reactions to your food; they were always so enthusiastic about making sure you knew how much they loved your cooking.

You sent a quick text to Seungkwan, asking him to open the door for you, and slowly made your way over to their apartment with all the tinfoil-wrapped baking dishes and numerous containers of side dishes. Seungkwan gasped when he saw you make your way in and shouted, “What is all this? Did you make all of this?” You were too occupied with trying not to drop anything and heard him yell out again. “Vernon, get out here! Help Y/N!” Vernon emerged several seconds later, hair mussed, clearly having just woken up from a nap. “What’s up, Y/N?” he mumbled while giving you a one-armed hug. His eyes widened when he saw all of the containers. “Whoa, what is all this?” He gave a little sniff and his eyes widened further. “It smells really good.” You reached over to smooth down his hair. “Thanks Vernon. Can you guys help me get the rest of the stuff from my place?” 

With Seungkwan, Vernon, Mingyu, and Wonwoo’s help you were able to set up the table for a feast. At around 5:30PM, the rest of the members noisily filed into the apartment from their various whereabouts along with Seungcheol and Woozi’s friends, who both had their suitcases so they could spend the night. As soon as they saw the dining table, the room erupted into a cacophony of people shouting “Who made all this?” and “It looks so good!” and “Let’s eat!” Predictably, Jeonghan came over to give the palm of your hand a fake slap,  before hugging you. “I told you to stop working so much!” You chuckled into his neck and mumbled, “I just want to make sure you guys are eating well.” He broke away from you to cup your cheek gently, his eyes swimming with fondness. You suddenly felt someone’s arms around your neck, hugging you from behind. Seungcheol whined, “Y/N, I told you you didn’t have to make anything. A restaurant would have been fine.” You turned around to hug him back. “I did it because I wanted to. You know I would do anything for you guys.” Seungcheol enveloped you in his arms for a brief moment and pressed a kiss against your cheek before letting you go.

After several minutes of introductions and getting settled, everyone was finally digging into the food. Mingyu moaned after trying a short-rib and Dino threw you an enthusiastic thumbs-up while slurping up your japchae. Hoshi mumbled around a mouthful of rice, “Y/N, why can’t you just live with us? I want to eat your food every day.” You chuckled while you removed the last bone from a piece of grilled fish and set it on top of Jun’s rice. “Hoshi, I literally live down the hall from you guys. You guys know I’d make whatever you guys wanted.” At this, Seungcheol’s friend, Minwoong, turned to you and said “The guys are so lucky to have a friend like you! They must be really relieved too, like whenever you guys go out to eat and stuff.” You cocked your head in confusion before saying, “What do you mean by relieved?” Minwoong finished chewing a piece of pancake before saying, “You know, like if you guys ever go outside to hang out and stuff. No one would like mistake you for any of the guys’ girlfriend or anything so you can chill without worrying about the paparazzi.” 

You froze in shock and the room grew cold and silent as everyone paused in what they were doing. “I-I’m not really sure what you mean” you stuttered out. Sungho, Woozi’s friend, continued, oblivious to everyone’s glares. “I guess you don’t look like an idol or anything. I don’t think anyone would mistake you for a celebrity ‘cause you’re not really at that level visually. So I guess people would just assume you’re a family member or something.” You couldn’t do anything but look down at your lap as sudden tears began to well in your eyes. 

The guests had hit a nerve they weren’t aware of. Ever since you had become friends with the boys, you had been self-conscious of the way you looked compared to them. The boys had made every effort to bring up your self-confidence, complimenting you at every chance they had. But there were still weak moments though, times when you didn’t even want to look in the mirror. Seungkwan’s voice sounded far-off when he yelled, “What the fuck did you just say?” DK’s hand found yours under the table and while you appreciated the warmth, you were too embarrassed to look up at him. You could hear Jeonghan and Seungcheol shouting angrily, but it was all drowned out by a sudden roaring in your ears. You weakly mumbled out, “I have to go” before getting up and running out of the apartment, not stopping to look at anyone as you left. 

You don’t know how much time had passed since you got back to your room. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying and your throat felt scratchy. You wanted to check the time on your phone but you hesitated, knowing that there would be a barrage of texts and missed calls from the boys. Suddenly, you heard a loud banging on your door and a voice calling out, “Y/N? Are you okay? Could you open the door please?” You knew that whoever it was, they wouldn’t go away until they spoke with you. Reluctantly, you opened the door and saw:

Seungcheol, his eyes sad and full of apology. As soon as he saw you, he enveloped you in a crushing bear hug. You couldn’t help the tears that spilled down your cheeks and he began to rub circles on your back, making quiet shushing noises. He whispered against your ear, “Y//N, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” He wiped your tears away with his thumb and tilted your chin up so that you were making eye contact. “You are so so beautiful. Don’t let what those assholes said change how you think about yourself.” You made to push him away but he gathered you in his arms again. “You may not believe me right now. But that’s okay, I’ll say it every day until you really believe it. You’re beautiful. You’re gorgeous. And you’re mine. I love you so much, Y/N.” 

Jeonghan, who immediately grabbed your hand and led you back inside. He guided you onto your couch and wrapped his arms around you. You cried against his chest and he did nothing but smooth your hair and make soft cooing noises. Once you had settled down a bit, he made sure you were looking at him before squishing your cheeks together. “My baby. My precious, adorable baby. Did you let what those losers said affect you?” He made an exaggerated tsk-ing noise and started pressing kisses all over your face. You tried to distance yourself, giggling “Jeonghan, stop! That tickles!” But he didn’t let up and starting kissing down the column of your neck. “I guess I have to tell you more often how pretty you are. Or better yet...” He moved so that you were lying down looking up at him, his arms making a cage around you. “Maybe I should show you how beautiful I think you are instead?” 

Joshua, who was holding a giant wicker gift basket with two hands. It was stuffed with chocolates, various stuffed animals, and there was a little balloon tied to the handle that said “I’m Beary Sorry!” You couldn’t help but laugh at how enormous it was. “Joshua, why are you the one apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for.” He gave a little shrug, “I never want you to be sad.” You let him come inside and he set the gift basket down on your kitchen table with a loud thump. Once his hands were free, he held one of your hands in his while his other hand moved to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry love, you shouldn’t have had to hear such utter bullshit earlier.” You gave a fake gasp, “Joshua! What an un-gentlemanly thing to say!” He gave a small chuckle but the laugh didn’t reach his eyes. “Y/N. You have to know that what those guys said earlier is completely untrue. You are incredibly beautiful. You know that, right?” You shook your head sadly, “Josh, I know you mean well but I-” He cut you off by pressing his lips against yours softly. “Y/N, my love. You are beautiful. You are worthy. You are loved.” Your mouth was too pre-occupied to say anything more. 

[artemiseamoon]

Our Lonely Hearts 3

Steven Grant x f reader /nickname Cat | ft. Marc Spector

Previous || next || fic info

Words: 2,811

⚠️warnings: moments of confusion, no outward mentions of it, but DID, mentions of injury 

An: Aside from past lives being one of my fav tropes ever, there is this super fascinating thing called simultaneous past lives, where a soul can be in many bodies at once/ more than one body. So it is completely possible to have a dual past life that may line up timeline wise or be connected to the same location or time in history. This has always fascinated me and is part of this story. 

AN: Two for one this week! We are back to the weekly schedule next week. Watch out for the ETA for chapter 4 mid week.

You must have checked the recipe a dozen times, making sure everything you got from the market was vegan. You were nervous.

Officially, you've never made a meal for someone but you wanted to do something special for Steven. Besides, there are only so many wraps and sandwiches a person could eat, you were happy to attempt feeding him a decent homemade meal.

You've noticed before he didn't have a full fridge and after talking on the phone yesterday, this idea came to you. If anyone deserved it, it was him and Steven happily accepted the invite.

After scrolling through what felt like dozens of recipes, you settled on Vegan Ravioli, thankfully you were able to find everything at the market, trying to make this from scratch would surely have been a disaster. You make a large salad and bake some vegan cookies for dessert, completing the night's menu.

In the back of your mind, you kept wondering if this could be considered a date, or if such a thought was too forward of you. You didn’t exactly say ‘date’ on the phone, just invited him over but you were holding regularly now, and having movie nights so maybe...just maybe...

One thing was for sure, you had first date jitters and changed your outfit 5 times. Nothing you owned seemed right or felt too much like a date outfit. You finally settled on something casual, your favorite jeans and shirt combo.

Just as everything is done and you set the table, Steven arrives. You buzz him in and a short while later he knocks on your door. When you open it, he’s wearing a smile and holding flowers.

He greets you and draws you into a hug. Steven gave the best hugs, the kind you never wanted to leave. It was so easy to melt into him and hold him tight. After greeting each other, you welcome him inside.

As you close and lock the door, he looks around, “it smells great in here.”

“Thank you.”

He notices your outfit and then glances down at himself, “I feel like a knob. I’m overdressed.”

He looked so handsome, dressed in a nice black shirt, slacks and shoes. You were certainly underdressed; maybe this was a date.

“Oh sorry, I wasn't sure what to wear," you say quickly, " please sit, make yourself comfortable. I’m going to change.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. It will only take a moment.”

You flash a smile and head back to your room. Once inside, you close the door and rummage through the pile on the bed. You pull out the simple dress you did try on previously. It was in your favorite color and would be the perfect complement to what Steven is wearing.

When you come back out, he’s sitting on the couch still holding the flowers. He looks nervous, it’s the cutest thing. When he sees you, his eyes light up,

“Wow. You look very nice.“

“Aww, “ you shrug, “ thank you, you look handsome. Come, let’s eat.”

Steven stands, you take the flowers from him and put them in a vase.

The nervous jitters still have a hold on you as well, but once you sit and start to eat both of you relax. You fall into a natural conversation about both your days, Steven compliments the food, much to your relief.

Steven helps you clear the table after dinner as you put the cookies there with some tea. You notice he’s doing that thing, where he wants to say something but doesn't. You try to make it easier and help him out.

“What’s on your mind?” You ask softly, placing the plate of cookies on the table.

“I was just wondering - is this a date?” He has the most innocent look in his eyes. You want to kiss him on the spot.

Grinning, you walk over to him and take one of his hands in yours, “it would be really cool if this was a date. I’d like that.”

He raises his brow. This almost feels too good to be true.

“Yes. Really.” You confirm, excitement stirring in the pit of your stomach.

Overjoyed, Steven laughs and moves closer to you. “Oh, that's great! It’s a date then!"  

You nod and plant a kiss on his left cheek. Steven watches you with soft eyes. If there was any doubt left in you that the feeling wasn't mutual, you knew for sure now he was smitten with you as you were him.

Over dessert, the two of you continue to talk. Steven brings up the phone and storage locker key he found in his flat. You offer to go with him when he feels ready to check it out. He has museum shifts the next two days but considers going on his day off.

Soon the conversation shifts to all the questions he has. The missing time, Marc, Arthur, Khoshu. Though you didn't have the answers, you can tell it's comforting for him to speak to you, to have support as he tries to figure this all out.

You haven’t told him about the tall bird-like figure in your dream yet, you didn’t want to add any more stress on his plate. But once he describes what he saw that night in his building, it clicks, you saw the same thing in your dream.

The news does worry him, but you continue to talk it out and try to piece it together. If you were dreaming of what he was seeing, it had to mean something, it was connected somehow. Why would Khoshu appear in your dream? Was it a warning?

After a while, Steven asks you about your favorite show and the two of you move into the living room. Getting comfortable on the couch, you settle in, excited to share this with him. Since you both love Mythology, you hoped Steven would love this show too.

Midway through the second episode, you feel a little cold and Steven quickly notices. He unfolds the blanket on the side table and places it delicately over your shoulders, the two of you gazing into each other's eyes as he does.

“There, nice and warm.”

Steven caresses your shoulder before settling back in place. You lean into him, and he rests his arm across your shoulders. Blissfully content, you continue to watch the show together.

Soon, tiredness strikes. You struggle to keep your eyes open. You didn’t want this night to end, and tried to stay awake as long as you could. But somewhere between episodes 3 and 4, as the two of you cuddle on the couch, you slip into the land of dreams.

…

🎶🎶

The air in the room is alive, electric. You walk closer to the statue, continuing to rhythmically shake the sistrums in your hands as you approach. You feel her presence, you feel her love, you feel her power.

“To Sekhmet who is great of power, I offer my praise, O fierce-hearted lioness, great Eye of Ra, beloved of Ptah…” You continue your prayer, feeling yourself elevate to higher and higher levels of spiritual elevation...

After the ritual, you make your way up the steps. Feeling pulled by a force, you find your way to a balcony. It’s night now, the sky illuminated by a crescent moon.

As you look down at yourself, your appearance is different than before, though you were on the same lands. Your fingers, your adornments, your dress; this form is unfamiliar.

Called to the moon, you look up, gazing at it. The footsteps behind you come closer until someone stands beside you. When you look over at him, you can’t see his face. It’s hidden, blurred.

His hair is covered with the traditional headdress of the Pharaoh's warriors. In his left hand, he holds a spear, a shield in his right. His skin is brown, tan, with golden hues just like the man before.

As you observe him closer, you realize it’s not the same man, but a different one. Around his neck, he wore a special symbol, an amulet given to only the greatest of the Pharaoh's defenders.

He sets the shield aside and reaches for your hand, taking it into his own. A feeling of relief mixed with sadness fills you, this touch igniting a storm of emotions as they swell up from your gut and reach your chest. You feel a sense of relief…he’s returned, he’s come home…

As you and the man start to speak, your surroundings suddenly change. You find yourself inside of a great hall, just ahead is a pool accented with trees. You notice a figure seated and writing on papyrus. You glance down at your body, this form is familiar, it's the one you've always known in your dreams.

A feeling of happiness, of love blossoms through you as you watch the seated figure, you know him, you know this place; it’s the man from the first dream, the one who walked by your side and protected you.

You pass others as they enjoy the pool and make your way to him. As you approach, he stops what he’s doing and looks up at you. You can’t see his face, not clearly, it's blinded by the sun. Though you can't see it, it feels like he’s smiling…

...

A sudden sense of urgency fills you, taking hold and pulling you out of the dream. When you open your eyes, you find yourself alone on the couch, and a few steps away Steven is heading for the door.

Rubbing your eyes, you jump off the couch and walk over to him, “I’m sorry, I didn't realize I was tired - “ you stop cold. Something is off.

He slowly turns to look at you and something about him is…different. Adjusting your eyes, you take one more step closer, studying him.

“Steven?”

Despite the stone expression on his face, you see a flicker of recognition in his eyes, something familiar, something old. But it doesn't last long, it vanishes and is replaced by a cold stare. His brown eyes, Steven’s eyes, are completely different,

He clenches his jaw, his eyes still burning into yours, “you should have stayed asleep.”

Even his tone is off. He didn’t sound like Steven and the accent was completely gone. He starts to turn away again until his eyes catch the pendant around your neck. He stops and stares at it.

“Steven what’s-” he takes a step closer to you, a warning look in his eyes,

“Cat, go back to sleep. Forget about this.”

Just as you start to ask another question it hits you like a ton of bricks, you take in a sharp breath, “oh god. You’re not Steven!”

The way he slowly shakes his head in response is chilling, his eyes now scanning your face.

“....M-Marc?” You can feel a lump forming in your throat.

He narrows his eyes at you, his brows tense. For a fleeting second, it seems like he’s going to say something else. Instead, he turns his back to you and heads for the door.

Trying to calm the panic rising in you, you think of Steven and quickly run past Marc and cover the door with your body, blocking the lock and handle.

Marc grunts in frustration, “get out of my way.”

You maintain eye contact, standing your ground, “No. I can’t let you leave!”

Marc scoffs and looks away from you. He rests his hand on his hips, and you notice how different his posture is from Stevens.

A weird silence falls between the both of you. Your mind feels like it's working overtime trying to make sense of this and adjust to the fact that you were now dealing with Marc.

“This is what you’re going to do,” Marc’s dark eyes land on yours again, he raises his hand to point at you, then the couch, “you’re going to lay down and go back to sleep. I will not repeat myself.”

His warning and tone sent a chill down your spine but you had to protect Steven. Who knows what Marc had planned for him tonight, you couldn’t let him walk out that door without making an effort.

When you don’t move, Marc shifts his weight and firmly plants his hands on his hips. He closes his eyes, “Get out of my way.”

“No.”

Before you could blink or take another breath, Marc took hold of you, grabbing you by the waist. He picks you up, moving you away from the door. The moment his hands touch you, the energy in the room shifts, and memories flash before your eyes...

The crescent moon

The balcony

The warrior

The warrior's eyes

Marc lets you go with a jolt, his eyes wide. He shakes his head like he’s trying to release what he saw. Your pulse is racing even faster now, and you search his eyes for answers. Something’s changed in the way he’s looking at you.

Marc takes another step back, closer to the door. His face is still tense, you can feel words lingering on his lips, words he’s not sure if wants to say.

You feel frozen in place, unable to move closer or block the door again. Marc opens the door, pauses in the doorway, and glares back at you.

“You… you shouldn't be here.”

He closes the door behind him with those words, and it's like all the air in the room leaves with him.

When you finally feel able to move again, you rush into the hallway and down the stairs. When you reach the outside, it's a ghost town, not a person in sight, including Marc.

….

You couldn’t sleep that night, not after everything that happened. Any attempts to get a hold of Marc, or Steven, fell short.

With each passing hour, the guilt builds up inside of you, maybe you could have done more? But Marc was strong and had no issue moving you out of the way while being strangely gentle about it at the same time.

It’s not until later that morning that you reach him. Running on a second cup of coffee and anxiety, you show up at his apartment.

Steven opens the door looking exhausted but happy to see you, he wastes no time pulling you into a warm hug. “Cat!” He beams.

As you step inside, you try to find your words. It seemed silly asking if he remembered, you know he didn’t.

“I had another one of those dreams, it was mad…” He heads to the kitchen, “ would you like some tea? I’ll make you some. Last night was great, lovely-”

“Steven,” your somber tone causes him to stop and focus his attention on you, “I know you were wondering if…M-marc, is real…”

He walks over to you and grabs your hand, rubbing the back of it. You can see the concern in his soft puppy dog eyes.

“Last night…we both fell asleep and - ” you know what you want to say but the words are having a hard time meeting your lips, “I saw him. Marc is real.”

Stevens' expression changes, his lips slightly parted as he processes your words. He’d been questioning his sanity over and over again, wondering if he made Marc up.

“I’m so sorry. I should have stayed awake. I tried to keep him inside, I did - ”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steven holds your face, gazing into your eyes, “ it’s not your fault. Come here.” He holds you against him, and you lock your arms tight around his body.  

As you hold each other, the events of last night replay in your mind, the dreams playing in the background like a second screen. What did it all mean? Why did Marc look at you like that? What happened when he touched you? What did he mean by ‘you’ shouldn’t be here?

You try to calm your thoughts and focus on holding Steven. Just as you’re about to close your eyes, a Thoth figurine on the closest bookshelf catches your attention. Another series of images flashes in your mind's eye,

The pool

The seated scribe

The sunlight on his face

His hand in yours as you walked on the sand

You find yourself on the sand again, like before and this time he’s standing in front of you, your hands still interlaced. The bright sun starts to set, revealing more and more of his face as the golden rays pass. His dark curly hair, his forehead, his eyebrows, his eyes -

“Oh my god - “ you breathe as the vision becomes perfectly clear. Feeling back in your body, you tear your eyes away from the statue and lean back enough to look Steven in the face, his arms are still around you.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He frees one of his hands to caress your cheek,” he didn’t…h-hurt you, did he?” You see a flash of worry and anger behind his gentle eyes at the thought.

“No, he didn’t. I um,” you look down, sorting your thoughts, “I’ll tell you all about it, it happened so fast he was just, out of the door in minutes but…” you re-establish eye contact, Steven’s hanging on your every word, “I think we knew each other before, Steven. And, I don’t know how it’s possible, but I think I knew him too.”

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[farfromsugafanfic]

Sutures - Chapter Eleven: Right Place

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): mentions of anxiety (sort of), exes who won’t leave you alone, family hospitalization, mentions of death

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

You swung your legs towards the seat across from you, but they were just barely too short and they fell straight back down which caused Yoongi to chuckle. He sat diagonally from you with his feet resting on the seat beside you. He wore headphones and had his laptop in front of him. You hadn't even realized he was paying attention to you. 

You held your knitting needles and your creation was nearly done. Yoongi had told you about his family dog--Holly--and you remembered seeing his picture in Yoongi's studio. You were knitting a small scarf that would tuck easily around his collar. You wished you had more time to make him something like a jacket, but Yoongi had sprung the trip on you, planning and taking on a large project like that took weeks to complete. 

The scenery on the train flew by so quickly you could hardly make it out and it made your head spin if you tried for more than a few seconds.

"You seem quiet," Yoongi said. He hadn't taken his headphones off and you laughed at the thought that he simply had them in as a habit.

"You were working. I didn't want to disturb you."

Yoongi shrugged and lowered his laptop screen and allowed his headphones to fall around his neck. "You seem nervous." His gaze lowered down to your fingers that continued knitting as you spoke and looked into his eyes. You hadn't even noticed the way your fingers continued the pattern. 

"I mean, I want to make a good impression on your family. I know we're not really together or anything, but I'm your soulmate and if they don't like me--"

"Exactly, you're my soulmate," Yoongi said. "Finding each other was less than one in a million. Almost less than one in a billion. And, don't they say that soulmates are often not just compatible with the person, but their family as well?" 

"That's been the case so far," you said, remembering reading the Wikipedia article on the handful of other soulmate couples. "But, soulmate science is new and imprecise. And, I imagine for those who are different from their families or don't have good relationships with them, that can't always be true."

"I have a feeling they will like you," Yoongi said. "You don't have to worry."

You didn't get a chance to respond as the train lurched to a stop and announced its arrival in Daegu. The doors opened and you stood up. You and Yoongi had had the train car to yourselves, so you were able to stand up and grab your suitcase immediately. 

"Are the press gonna be here?" 

"I don't know," Yoongi said. "We didn't officially announce this trip, but I wouldn't be surprised if someone is following us."

You nodded. It was becoming familiar to see camera flashes and your face used as a cover photo. The thought of growing used to it sent a shiver down your spine as you extended the handle on your suitcase.

Yoongi stood beside you and your eyes met briefly causing his lips to turn upwards in a small smile. He reached up and pulled the mask you'd forgotten was looped around your ears and hanging around your chin up over your lips and nose. 

"Just in case," he said.

---

You hadn't seen a single camera as you neared Yoongi's parent's place. You weren't sure if it was a blessing or a curse. Just because you couldn't see the cameras, didn't mean that they weren't there. You half expected to see a picture of you and Yoongi getting off the train in Daegu pop up in your newsfeed. 

"We're here," Yoongi said. The car stopped and Yoongi was immediately out and walking around to open your door. You stepped out and gripped the handle of your suitcase, the bones of your knuckles feeling like they were about to burst through your skin. 

Yoongi walked slightly in front of you and opened the door. The first thing you heard was a high-pitched barking and before you could catch sight of Holly, the brown full-sized poodle was jumping up on you in greeting.

"You must Holly," you said, crouching down and allowing the dog to rest its front half on your lap. "I've heard a lot about you." 

"Ah, I'm right here." Yoongi's face contorted into a look of simultaneous amusement and jealousy. 

You laughed as you ruffled the dog's ears and crouched down so he could lick your chin. "Oh, you're so sweet." You reached into your purse and pulled out the scarf you finished on the train ride and carefully tied it around his neck. 

"Oh!" you heard someone exclaim from the other end of the room. "I wasn't expecting you two for another hour. Dinner isn't done yet." 

"It's fine. We have to get settled anyway." 

Yoongi's mother's eyes widened as she met yours. It was as if she had just noticed you. She stood just a few inches shorter than Yoongi and you could see they shared many features. From the slope of the nose to the way her eyes seemed to narrow in on you, the same way Yoongi's did in certain moments.

"You must be Sumi," she said. "It's so nice to finally meet you." 

She reached out and pulled you into a hug. You tensed as she wrapped her arms around you. From everything Yoongi told you about his family, they were not outwardly affectionate people and so you had expected at most a firm handshake. 

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just feel like you're part of the family already." She glanced over at Yoongi and back at you. "I haven't seen Yoongi this happy for a long time." 

"Oh," was all you could get out. Yoongi had told them you were trying to sever the relationship, right?

---

Yoongi met his mother's gaze. Her eyebrow slightly arched, a look Yoongi had seen many times. Holly broke the silence with a bark signaling for you to reach down and pet him again. You crouched down so your face was level with his and allowed him to lick your chin. 

Yoongi couldn't help but smile as he watched you. Your hair was ruffled from the train ride and he noticed the way your shaking hands calmed as they ran through Holly's fur. He crouched down next to you and met your eyes, a small smile simultaneously appeared on both your faces. 

"I've never seen him warm up to someone so quickly," Yoongi said, ruffling the dog's ears.

"I guess he just likes me." 

"Yeah," Yoongi said, his voice an octave quieter. "I guess he does."

Yoongi's phone buzzes in his pocket. His hand reaches for it, but he doesn't want to leave this moment. It wasn't like he was reliant on his phone, but with an upcoming album and the other members working on it in his absence, he couldn't ignore it.

Jihee's name appeared on his screen and his widened. He hadn't blocked her number purely because the texts after the break up stopped and with the whole soulmates thing, he'd honestly forgotten.

Yoongi opened the text and found a screenshot from Instagram where she'd posted a picture of herself laying on a bed with her legs straight up in the air. It wasn't the familiar slope of her calves or the arch of her back that caught his eye, but rather the black pumps she wore. 

He recognized them instantly as the ones you'd worn and abandoned the night he'd met you and the ones you'd failed to get back from Minki. Yoongi had no idea how Jihee got a hold of them, or how she even knew their significance. 

He screenshot the text and emailed it off to the legal team at BigHit. He knew the post would probably gain some attention, but he trusted it would be seen for what it was, an attempt to seek attention. 

Blocking her number, he slid the phone back into his pocket. Yoongi knew he should tell you, but watching the way you adjusted the scarf around Holly's neck, he decided he'd tell you later.

---

Yoongi was starving and watched as each dish was placed on the table. His parents had made a bit of everything and as soon as everything was set he quickly reached for braised pork and his mom's homemade kimchi. 

You grabbed a bit of everything and mixed it together with your rice. Yoongi reached out and grabbed a few more pieces of meat and set them in your bowl. 

"You didn't eat much this morning." 

Your eyes widened and Yoongi thought he caught your lips curl into an embarrassed smile.

"Sumi," Yoongi's mother said. "I'm so happy you came into Yoongi's life. We were getting a bit worried Yoongi would never find someone who made him truly happy." She glanced over at Yoongi's father. "Even in his past relationships, I never saw Yoongi like this." 

Yoongi felt the heat rush to his ears and his feet fidgeted under the table.

You--despite Yoongi seeing the way you fiddled with your chopsticks indicating your nerves--smiled. "Well, I didn't really have a choice." You laugh, which normally made Yoongi's heart jump, this time made it fall. 

While it was entirely true that you and Yoongi hadn't a choice in getting to know each other, there was a part of Yoongi that didn't want this to end. He wanted to see you play with Holly, see your hair splayed over your face in the morning, and your small smile when he gave you more meat. 

"I am happy I met Yoongi though," you said. "Even if we can't spend the rest of our lives together and this is all some weird biological thing, these past few weeks getting to know Yoongi have convinced me that we are truly soulmates. I don't think soulmates always have to be romantic or end up together, we just get each other."

The table fell silent. But, it was content and for the remainder of the meal, the only sounds heard were light conversations and the sounds of eating. Yoongi couldn't help the swelling feeling he felt in his chest. He worried he would suddenly float off the seat like a balloon if he didn't try to stifle it.

You set down your chopsticks. "Thank you for the meal. I'll clean up my things and head to bed." 

"Oh, no need to clean up. You're our guest. Yoongi, why don't you show her to your old room? I'll set you up a bed on the couch." 

"Ah, mom, we're soulmates. Is that really necessary?"

"Yes," his mom said. "Maybe the poor girl wants a break from you." 

His mom's quip made you laugh and he let out a sigh. "All right," he said. "Come on." 

---

Yoongi led you to his childhood bedroom. When he opened the door, you were met with Epik High posters and notebooks lining the shelves of his bookshelf. You smiled at how distinctly Yoongi it felt. While it obvious his room hadn't changed much from when he first left home, you could still see hints of the man Yoongi would become. From the basketball trophies to the books about music production. 

"Hey, I need to talk to you about something." 

Yoongi's demeanor changed as he closed the door. "I got a text from Jihee earlier. She somehow got ahold of your shoes and posted with them. I sent everything to the company and I'm sure they will take care of it. I just wanted to warn you in case this blows up--" 

"I trust you, Yoongi," you interrupted. "They've already said everything they could. It can't get worse than it already is and I know you'll do your best to take care of it."

You flopped down onto the bed and patted the bed beside you. Yoongi laid beside you. Your bodies were centimeters apart, but you didn't touch. 

"Your parents didn't like Jihee, did they?" 

Yoongi shook his head. "No," he said. "They tolerated her because I liked her, but they said they never pictured her as part of the family." 

"Mine never liked Minki either." You were silent for a moment. "Maybe they knew somehow." 

"Maybe," Yoongi said, his fingers brushing against yours. You turned and noticed he was still looking up at the ceiling, seemingly not noticing how his hand wandered to find yours. You wondered if it was a side effect of being soulmates. Your hands would always find each other.

The moment was severed when your phone rang. It was your mom and your stomach turned as you realized it was 5 am there. 

"Hello?" You didn't care that Yoongi was in the room anymore. In fact, something kept you clinging to his hand. 

"Sumi? You need to get here. Grandma's in the hospital and they don't think she has much time left. We're gonna leave her on life support until you get here because we know she would want you here. I don't know if it's possible without risking your own health and Grandma will understand--" 

"No, I'm coming. I'll find a way. Give me a couple days. I'll be there, okay?" Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears and after you said your goodbyes, they rushed out. You weren't cognizant, but when you opened your eyes, you were folded into Yoongi's chest. 

"Did you hear everything?" 

Yoongi nodded. "I've already called a car to take us back. We'll be back in Seoul in a few hours." 

"Yoongi, what are we going to do? You have a comeback soon. You can't just come with me to California." 

"Shh, we'll figure it out. Just get your things together, okay?" 

You nodded and got off the bed to collect your things. "Yoongi," your voice was still hoarse and barely there. "Thank you."

[spooky-mister]

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Hey!

So I am definitely continuing I Am A God when I have the time, but for now, have a tooth-rotting Spiralshipping fic <3

This fic is set the morning after Zeke was supposed to meet his dad for takeout/Will claimed to be sleep training his son.

Also this is my first time writing for these characters so be nice :)

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One Of The Good Ones

Fandom: Spiral from the Book of Saw

Paring: William Schenk x Ezekiel Banks

Genre: Tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 1,545

Potential Triggers: None I'm aware of. Feel free to comment <3

Spoilers?: Yes

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One Of The Good Ones

What happened to dinner with his dad?

William Schenk slowed his steps to a stop as he gazed into the meeting room, appreciating the sight of Ezekiel Banks asleep on his work with a soft smirk of amusement. It was a good thing he was the first in. Zeke's fellow cops didn't seem like the sort to let him get away with sleeping on the job - even if they weren't worth half of Zeke's integrity and dedication. Will sniffed, glancing over his shoulder before slinging a large flask of coffee under his arm and meandering over to the table. He shuffled to a stop beside Zeke's sleeping form before huffing a laugh and tapping the detective's shoulder.

"Hey, Banks," He mumbled, voice gruff with fading sleep. His schedule didn't leave much room for rest. "Wake up, partner."

Zeke reacted with a near comedic intensity, dragging an audible laugh from Will as the rookie took a step back. Zeke cried out and thrashed his arms, soon setting his eyes up on Will with a mix of relief and embarrassment.

"Shit, Man - don't do that!" Zeke scolded, running his fingers through his rough hair. "Never wake a man while he's sleeping! Jeez…"

"Yeah, well… Better me than Fitch," Will retorted in good humour, hesitating before setting himself down next to Zeke. "Are you okay? What happened to dinner with your dad?"

"Old man cancelled on me," Zeke explained as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. He looked exhausted, Will noticed. How long had he been sleeping? “Came back in to work the case. Must have gotten too comfortable."

“You could have called,” Will offered with a frown, setting down his flask and letting his bag slide off of his shoulder. “We could have worked the case together.”

“What about sleep training?” Zeke muttered in response, eyes drifting to Will. Will paused at that. Right. His… Family. He didn’t have time to retort before Zeke spoke again. “You worked hard yesterday - you deserved a night off. Enjoy your family while they last.”

“You’re just a beacon of romance and optimism, aren’t you,” Will teased, appreciating the glimmer of a smirk received in return. “Well… Thanks. Did you at least get to eat last night?” Zeke’s hesitation didn’t seem to bode well for Will’s throw-away concern. Will arched a thick brow. "...Zeke?"

"I was gonna order something in," Zeke reasoned. "I left the takeout my dad ordered at his place so he had somethin' when he got back. But then I guess I-"

"Fell asleep," Will finished for him, taking in the sigh and the nod as Zeke started shuffling through papers again. Will was feeling oddly involved in this minor inconvenience. Why did he feel so compelled to take the mantle of caretaker? Zeke was an adult. Older than him, even. But Will felt the draw to guard and care for his partner as a skilled gardener would cultivate a flower they planned to pluck. "Well, that's no good. How are you supposed to lead an investigation on an empty stomach?"

"Jeez, mom - I don't know," Zeke huffed a laugh, looking Will over. "What's got in your head all of a sudden - I can take care of myself." Clearly. "If you hold the fort, I'll run out 'n grab a… Coffee and grilled cheese or somethin'."

"No need," Will sighed as he hiked his satchel up onto his lap. He could see Zeke's puzzled expression as he rifled through before drawing a plastic tupperware - still beaded with hot steam. He hadn't been able to let it cool before leaving for work. He sniffed and set it in front of Zeke with a fork and his tall flask. "...Homemade frittata," He explained with a gesture of his hand towards the box. He smirked at Zeke's baffled expression. "I made it for me, but… Y'know, I actually ate last night."

"...Nah," Zeke shook his head, pushing the food back towards Will. "I ain't eating your breakfast, Schenk. I-" He paused when Will put a firm hand on the tupperware, locking eyes as the younger detective slowly slid it back in front of him. He bit his tongue before letting out a sigh and popping the lid off of the plastic. "Thanks," He muttered, taking hold of the fork and poking around the fried egg and vegetables.

Will watched Zeke's apprehension with muted amusement for a moment before speaking up. "It's egg," He explained. "Egg, cheese, spinach, garlic… It's nothing bad, Zeke. I'm not trying to trick you." He got a kick out of the look of minor embarrassment on Zeke's face, chuckling.

"I didn't…" Zeke went to defend himself before sighing and scooping a large piece of frittata onto his fork. "Thanks, Schenk." He shovelled it into his mouth, chewing it with a hum.

"Will, please," Will reasoned, watching the detective's changing expression with a growing smirk. The 'Mmm' sealed the deal as Zeke wiped his mouth with a hand and reached for the flask. "Good?"

"Shit, man - that's… You made that?" Zeke raised his eyebrows and pointed at the frittata. He was baffled at Will's confirmation. "Jeez… You really are the full package, huh? Your wife must love you."

"Yeah… Maybe," Will mused with a smile, admiring Zeke as the man ate. Part of him wondered why he'd even developed that lie… It just created one more barrier between himself and Zeke. But he couldn't go back on it now. "Maybe I can cook for you again sometime."

Zeke hummed in agreement, slurping down the breakfast with only half a mind on his manners. "Haven't had many homemade meals since mom left," Zeke explained between mouthfuls, sensing Will's sudden tension. "Knew the number for the pizza place before I was potty trained."

"Just… You and your dad as well, huh?" Will mumbled, watching Zeke closely. "Yeah… I know how that is. But my dad wasn't… Around much by the time I got to middle school - I learned to take care of myself." Was that giving away too much about himself? No… If anything, it was pulling Zeke closer. He could tell by the familiar concern in the detective's eyes.

Zeke floundered for a response for a moment. He was never good at conversations like this. The feelings were difficult to process… So instead he turned his attention back to his meal. He scooped up a forkful and switched his gaze to Will. "You wanna share?" He asked, an attempt to change the subject. "Today will be pretty intense… You wanna get fuelled up."

Will moved to hesitate, but… this was a moment of tenderness. Of sincerity. He could tell this was Zeke’s way of letting his guard down, so he smiled. "Sure," He agreed, leaning towards the fork. Zeke seemed taken aback by the movement, clearly expecting Will to take the fork, but he quickly adjusted - moving the fork to Will's mouth and watching the young detective take it into his mouth. It was weirdly intimate… Or maybe it had just been a while.

Will pulled off of the fork and knitted his brows, chewing through the mouthful of warm eggs. He shrugged slightly and reached for his flask to wash it down. "I've made better," He commented before flooding the taste out with coffee. He tried not to focus on Zeke’s scoff.

"Made better, huh?" Zeke muttered, turning his gaze away from Will and digging his fork into the tub. "Might have to prove that one, man - this is pretty fuckin' good…"

Will perked up at that and smirked. "...Are you inviting yourself round for breakfast, Detective Banks?" Will teased, biting back a laugh as he watched Zeke's face drop. He let Zeke fight for a retort for a moment before shaking his head. "I know what you meant." Will was just indulging in a little wishful thinking.

Zeke cleared his throat, pushing around the rest of his breakfast with a fork before offering it back towards Will. "Uh… Thanks, Schenk. I needed that." He offered before getting to his feet. He could feel a growing, undefined tension between them… And he wasn't a fan.

"Will… please," Will corrected, licking his lips as he watched Zeke readying himself to leave - probably to get his own cup of coffee. But… Will didn't want him to leave. He swallowed dryly, leaving Zeke to gather up his jacket and step away from the desk before quickly reaching for the man's wrist. He met Zeke's puzzled expression with apprehension. He… Wasn't completely sure why he'd done that. "I'm… Glad you enjoyed the frittata. Sorry." He moved to pull his hand away.

Zeke smirked, chuckling softly and reaching to playfully ruffle his young partner's hair. "Man, don't say sorry…" He hesitated before leaning over and delicately pressing a kiss to Will's head. "You're one of the good ones, Will… Now get to work."

Will bubbled into giggles as Zeke gently batted the back of his head on his way out, unable to stop the colour in his cheeks or the grin on his lips. Shit - did Zeke really just… He felt like a giddy school girl. And as he glanced back to watch Zeke leave, he could have sworn that he saw a smile to match his own on the senior detective's face.

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[hklnvgl]

but for their voices (iii)

(for the first week of the Mister Impossible Countdown by @pynchpromptweek : Adam’s College Experience! tw: past child abuse.)

3/4 | ao3 | prev. chapter | from the beginning

Breaks were the worst, Adam was starting to realize.

It’d also been like that back at the trailer, because with school off it was inevitable that his dad saw more of Adam, and he had more days to recover, too.

Ronan’s text came out of nowhere. Plans for thanksgiving?, and he left it at that, not offering plans of his own, not clarifying if this was him asking Adam to come down to visit or it was to make sure Adam actually did have plans.

But Ronan had no way of knowing Adam didn’t. In Ronan’s eyes, Adam had a perfectly normal family waiting for him back home to celebrate Thanksgiving with. Once, when Eliot had asked if he missed any homemade meals from home, Adam had said his mother made this awesome soup in chilly days. The only soup the real Mrs. Parrish had ever cooked was the canned type you got at the supermarket, a four-pack for less than four dollars. And it was up to Adam to heat it up most days, when his ma came late from work and his dad got cranky if he didn’t eat at the same time every day.

Might go home, Adam wrote, because it was the expected thing to write. You?

we normally gather here but my brother insisted on hosting this year. We’ll see how the shitshow goes

Fletcher asked, too, and only when Adam saw him freaking out because he’d run out of space in his hand luggage did he realize he needed to also start packing if he wanted it to be believable that he was travelling home.

“Packing is the worst,” Adam said, carefully folding his already ironed shirts on top of his comforter, wishing Fletcher would hurry up so he could hang them back into his tiny closet before any wrinkle appeared.

“And then you have to unpack,” Fletcher said, finally sitting down to tie his shoelaces. “Well, Adam. Have fun, yeah?”

“You too.” Adam forced a smile to cut his face. Fletcher waved as he wheeled away his suitcase.

Adam counted to ten after he’d left before he crossed the room to the door and locked it.

When he was younger, he’d been naïve enough to tell himself he’d be able to stop lying like this once he reached college. He was used to it, of course. He didn’t need to think too much to keep all his lies on track—he made sure to never tell stories that could contradict each other, even to people from different circles. It wasn’t even tiresome anymore—it just was. He’d been lying every hour of every day since he could remember. To his parents, to his teachers, to his classmates.

He didn’t believe his own lies, of course. Despite what his dad liked to say, Adam knew the difference between a lie and the truth. But once he told a story he made it real, in the way that he now had memories of having told that story, and the other person had no proof that what Adam had said hadn’t actually happened. So it was not only in Adam’s head.

Nobody wanted to hear the truth, anyway. The truth would just turn everything ugly and sad. It would ruin everything Adam had managed to build here, as flimsy and fragile as it all was.

He didn’t text Gansey, who was also staying in town, to meet up. He’d mentioned he had plans to go hiking somewhere anyway—nobody had questioned that he hadn’t joined his parents on their Europe trip. But they would question Adam if they knew he was staying.

So he ordered takeaway and stayed in his room, alone, catching up on his reading. He didn’t clean too much, so that when Fletcher came back he believed that Adam hadn’t been there either.

When Ronan texted him a picture of him and his brothers, Adam had a minute urge to throw his phone to the wall. He reined it in, of course, and sent back a smiling emoji before switching the whole thing off.

Sure, it must be nice to gather together around a big table with people who didn’t hate that you were born and enough food to put on a couple pounds. It was just not something Adam could hope to have.

He had work to do, anyway, so he spent the weekend catching up on his reading.

He was actually relieved when Fletcher came back, until he reminded Adam that it was less than a month until Christmas break.

Everyone here was thrilled about going on break—did they not want to be at Harvard in the first place? Why were they all so eager to leave?

So Adam had to cave and go along with the default sentiment and pretend he was also excited when he learnt that the dorms were closed for three full weeks so he had to find some alternative housing if he didn’t want to sleep under a bridge or something.

Ronan was back, too, but Adam wasn’t really in the mood to talk about vegetables and cattle when he was about to spend all the money he’d so carefully saved during these months in some shitty apartment that would charge him extra for staying such a short time.

He should probably look into off-campus accommodation for the following year.

Ronan, of course, noticed he wasn’t really feeling the holiday spirit.

“It’s just—,” Adam began, and Ronan’s face was so open, as he listened to what Adam had to say. As if Adam wasn’t using him to feel better about himself. “Exams are next week,” he lamely finished, hating himself for it.

“You’re going to fucking ace them, man.” Ronan raised his glass of soda in a mock cheer.

Adam nodded, because if he hadn’t Ronan would’ve known there was something else going on.

They hadn’t kissed again. Adam was hoping they could maybe do so tonight.

“Gansey’s been fucking annoying, too,” Ronan said. Adam remembered they were talking about exams.

“Yeah, you being here must be an unwelcome big distraction,” Adam nodded, before he realized what he was saying, by when it was too late to take it back.

Ronan laughed.

“That’s the reason I’m fucking here,” he said.

Adam looked away from him, at Gansey dancing with Benjy under the bright lights. Of course Ronan was here to visit his friend. Why had he let himself believe that Ronan had driven the whole eight hours it took to get here from his farm just because he missed Adam? After just a kiss that neither of them had mentioned ever since?

Adam truly was stupid.

“So you going home for break?” Ronan asked.

Adam looked back at him.

“Isn’t everybody?” he said, feeling cold all over despite how stuffy the pub was.

“Do you think—I mean, if you’re not busy, maybe I could come visit?”

“What? No, that’s—”

“I don’t care if it’s far. I just have my brothers over on Christmas day, but the rest of—”

“You can’t,” Adam snapped.

Ronan frowned, probably because Adam had let too much of the real him show.

The curve of Ronan’s eyebrows was asking for an explanation, but Adam didn’t have it in him to care to elaborate one. He went back to his own drink.

Ronan eventually stood up and went to talk to Gansey. Not long after, they both left.

Sorry for assuming, Ronan texted him later, when Adam was in bed reviewing his notes for his first exam on Monday morning.

He could have said something, then. A no problem, or I have a lot to study, or I miss my parents and want to spend some time with them. Whatever would make Ronan not run away. But he really needed to get a good grade in this exam and his eyes felt heavy already and he couldn’t let himself be distracted from the real objective here.

So, with a sigh, he went back to his notes.

He took his exams. He found a place to crash during break. On the 25th, he briefly considered sending Ronan a Merry Christmas text, but then chickened out when he remembered Ronan would be with his family.

The day he moved back to his dorm, Gansey called and said he wanted to meet with everyone. Adam hadn’t talked to anyone for weeks, outside of the job he’d taken refilling supermarket shelves, so he agreed to go.

As they walked to the diner, Fletcher told him all about the cute trinkets his grandmother had gifted the whole family. Adam kept asking questions about it so that Fletcher wouldn’t remember to ask Adam about his own presents.

He only realized Gansey had failed to mention he wasn’t coming alone when Benjy was already hugging him hello.

Because, sandwiched on the booth between Gansey and a girl Adam didn’t know, there was Ronan Lynch.

(next chapter)

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter Three

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie:

Trojan horse.

Week 1(War and Peace)i: 

Monday came around quickly. The amount of sleep she had managed to achieve felt like something of an accomplishment considering what little else there was for her to do.

Feeling brave she gathered herself up and began an exploration of her new home. She recalled the features that Jamie had detailed to her on the Saturday morning before she’d fallen into a light coma for the next 30 odd hours. First, she started with the basement. Recalling the moment in Home Alone where Kevin had been forced to face his own below-ground nemesis, she took the steps carefully, the popular scene repeating over and over in her head until she actually came face to face with a harmless looking space.

As described, there was a washing machine and a dryer -the funnel used to expel the warm air from the back leading up and out of a tiny window near the ceiling- as well as several boxes stacked high in the corner. With not much else to view, she noted the cupboard which contained all the powders and conditioners she’d need and returned to the kitchen.

She’d never really been into cooking before, but despite this she thought the massive aga with its shiny maroon front looked extremely professional. It was, however, so clean she didn’t think it had been used much before. With Jamie working odd and long hours, she presumed it was more likely that he lived on cold snacks and microwave meals.

Looking in the large American-style fridge, she found an assortment of basic produce. What looked like a bottle of unpasteurised milk (most likely bought in himself) and some homemade butter lay in the door alongside a batch of freshly laid eggs. It all seemed fairly self-replacing and she smiled at the idea that one could live completely unaided in the middle of the Highlands if you knew how (or lived with someone else who did).

The freezer, as she expected from inspecting the contents of the fridge, contained a whole host of bagged and sealed meats - enough protein to keep a whole family afloat for months.

Closing the door, she pulled a stack of post-it notes from her pocket and penned a reminder. Seeing all the produce he’d got neatly tucked away reminded her of her teenage years.

Having lost her parents young, she had grown up travelling the world with her uncle and along the way she had gathered herself some producing and growing skills, mainly vegetables and greens, but useful nonetheless. Aiming to reinvigorate her knowledge of horticulture, she wrote:

“Ask about potential vegetable patch/greenhouse…CB”

Placing it on the front of the fridge, she admired the initials she’d signed off with. It hadn’t clicked until she’d come to the end that she could no longer refer to herself with her maiden name and she had hovered over the ‘C’ for longer than normal before sighing and signing with her new pseudonym instead.

Mentally exhausted from overthinking two small letters, she poured herself a glass of water from the tap and continued through into the lounge where she’d sat only hours before with her initial guardians.

It seemed larger and brighter now she actually had the time and a little more energy to view it.

The fireplace was extensive and contained a series of photographs in expressive frames. They must, she thought, have been set up there by someone else.

The first was of a group of young children. Ashamed, she felt badly that she couldn’t pick her host out of the line up. His face and features were still hazy, the only signifier she could recall was the mop of bright red hair that sat atop his head and possibly blue eyes...though she could have been mistaken.

Looking harder, she tried to squint, hoping that might clue her in as to which of the children was Jamie. Giving up, she carried on along the line, smiling as the young girl turned into a young woman. It must be his sister, she pondered, touching the tip of the frame as she looked over the wedding photos. The dress was stunning, the groom looking favourably over at his new bride whilst the crew in the background threw confetti in the air above them.

Picking out Jamie, she noticed his tight smile and high cheekbones. She felt relieved, having not been able to determine who he was in the earlier line-up had made her instantly abashed but at least somewhere in the back of her mind she’d had the forethought to note his defining features in her tired haze.

Towards the back of the ground floor she found a small sitting room. It contained the TV and some rather large overfilled bookcases and looked out over the small garden to the rear. Although she knew she wasn’t supposed to leave the house, she enjoyed -for a moment- sitting on the arm of the chair and looking out across the fields. The sun was still low in the sky and the wind was blowing the long grass gently whilst clouds occasionally masked the sun from view.

The space was enclosed with a waist high stonewall along the top which ran from an outhouse building, to a gate and then on to a covered open-shed arrangement. To the right and behind the shed was a row of rather tall trees. These captured her attention for several minutes as she watched the branches sway and the birds flit in and out of the woodland area. She could almost smell the scent of the spring day and taste the pollen on her tongue as she leaned closer to the window.

It was there she sat for several hours before her stomach growled angrily, reminding her of how little she’d eaten over the weekend.

Making herself a quick sandwich, she wrote out a ‘thank you’ post-it before returning back to her room. She knew Jamie probably wouldn’t be home for a while but the chime of the clock as she’d cleaned up her plate had made her suddenly nervous, as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to make idle conversation yet, and she’d escaped just in case he came home out of the blue to check she was alright.

As it stood, though, he hadn’t and didn’t arrive home until well into the evening. The sun had already begun to set as she put down her kindle at the sound of the door opening and closing.

She knew it was dinner time and the afternoon had passed so quickly that she had barely looked up since she’d returned to her room. Glancing out of the window, she watched the birds fly across the inky blue sky, the orange hue slowly fading as late afternoon turned into evening. Warring with herself, she argued over going down, her mind compromised by her unwillingness to seek out company. She would, after all, have to succumb at some point - it would be rude not to.

Having some form of sixth sense on the matter, Jamie appeared to understand her a little more than she did herself, and for the next few days he allowed her time to adjust and settle.

He would come home at a normal time and, instead of crowding her, he prepared supper, placed hers in the microwave, and then placed himself in the study until bedtime. By the middle of the week she had become accustomed to this routine and would often wait for him to close himself in his own quarters before sneaking back downstairs to eat herself.

As this progressed, her post-it notes become more frequent and she would often add small doodles with large smiley-face stickman on them. Jamie found these endearing, it had been a long time since he’d had anyone else living in the family home and it was a nice surprise to find that he enjoyed it - even if it was only the small noises of Claire moving about that clued him in as to her presence. Stashing the notes in the back of his jeans pocket, he began to collect them, placing them on the pin-board in his small office as he did so.

By the end of the day on Friday he had managed to arrange them into ‘thank you’ notes and ‘question’ notes and had created a set of his own which he aimed to place on the fridge for the following morning. All of these were answers to her queries. Intrigued by her idea for a vegetable patch in the yard, he had returned that specific ask with a list of items he’d ordered from locals and friends which he aimed to have ready for the weekend - this was the one he was most proud of.

“Wire and mesh for coverings, 4 X wooden planks for a raised surround, fertile soil, seeds, glass sheeting to be cut in prep for greenhouse, assorted spring veg selection...JF”

That had been left on Wednesday and he was chuffed to return home in the evening to find a rather large spaghetti bolognaise aside his newest ‘thank you’ note.

Having made the bolognaise she had shyly returned to her room, the message hidden away in her pocket as she’d sat at the desk for the evening to research plant and vegetable growth extensively. There hadn’t been many evenings in her old life where she’d had the time to process alone, and so even though she knew her hobiting away time was coming to an end, she was grateful to have been allowed the week to relax.

Through the use of notes, she had built herself a mental picture of Jamie and his personality. He, at the beginning of the week, had left her meals and then absconded so that she could eat alone, but by the end of Friday their roles had been reversed as she felt he shouldn’t have to take care of her when he’d been out at work all day. She didn’t have a large cooking repertoire, but there were plenty of cookery books hidden in one of the cupboards and she’d taken to reading them to pick out the easier looking recipes to trial.

There had been some mistakes. Some burned pasta (which she hadn’t known to be a possibility until she’d achieved it) but overall it hadn’t been too traumatic.

Peeling open her book, she pulled the post-it -which had now lost most of its stickiness- and ran her fingers over the text. She couldn’t deny how excited she was over the prospect of a garden of her own. The overwhelming thoughtfulness of it was helping to coax her out of her bedroom and she resolved to use the weekend to thank him in person.

As much as she was revelling in their silent, written communications, there was little chance she was (or should be) able to avoid total human interaction for the next 11 weeks. He was going above and beyond for her, changing his own habits whilst she reassessed her life -something few others, she thought, would do for a complete stranger.

With her decision made, resolved to be more social in the morning, she curled up under her duvet with her newest book. Before she knew it, the words were bleeding together, her eyes struggling to remain open as she fell into a dreamless sleep. ��

[aster-aspera]

One love, one house

CW: food mention, loads of fluff

Relationships: romantic DLAMP

Chapter title is from sweater weather by the neighbourhood

read on ao3

Masterlist for my superhero AU

Patton loved his roommate, he really did, but he was just a little eccentric. Patton could deal with the sneaking in at hellish hours in the early morning, and the mud he tracked into the appartement and the faint smell of antiseptic and blood that was always present in their bathroom.

He could even deal with his roommate occasionally forgetting his tasks or even disappearing for days on end.

But this was just unacceptable. Patton stood in front of a near empty fridge, only a refrigerated tupperware full of noodles and a jar of pickles left.

“Virgil?” He called.

His roommate looked up at him from under his messy bangs, dark circles that seemed to take up half of his face under his eyes. He really should stop sneaking out at night. Patton had hoped he would have gotten more sleep during the holidays, but it seemed his roommate was determined to work himself into an early grave.

“What have you been eating?” He asked, pointing to the fridge.

Virgil gaped at him for a moment as the question made its way into his sleep deprived brain.

“Uhm, noodles?” He said, sounding unsure of himself.

“Just noodles?”

“And pickles, I guess.”

“During the holiday season?”

“Yes?”

Patton sighed. Virgil just continued staring at him, seemingly unaware of why Patton was so upset.

“You did eat something other than noodles on Christmas, right?” He asked, his voice edging on desperation.

“I dunno, when was Christmas?”

Patton snapped.

“Nope, this is unacceptable. I don’t care if you celebrate or not, but you should at least eat something.”

“I ate.” Virgil grumbled.

“Noodles!” Patton interjected.

“And it’s not like I had a lot of time on my hands to cook an elaborate meal.”

“One, it’s not that hard to throw some vegetables into a wok and two, what are you even doing during the holidays, it’s not like we have classes.”

Virgil looked down.

“Studying.” He mumbled.

“More like studying , with the way you look.”

“I don’t look that bad.”

“You look like a corpse, a cute corpse, but still a corpse.”

Virgil flushed and Patton had to fight not to coo. He was just so cute.

“Whatever, are you free tonight?” He continued.

“Uhh, sure? I have something at 11 though.”

“That’s fine, I’m cooking you dinner tonight and we’re going to have a little holiday celebration.”

“Patton, I don’t really celebrate Christmas.”

“It’s not about Christmas. I just want to have a nice night with my friend and while I’m at it, I want to make sure you’re eating something for once.”

“Ok, fine. We’ll have a holiday celebration.” Virgil groaned, but he didn’t seem totally against the idea.

Patton cheered.

“Okay, I’m going to pop over to the store first. We’ll need ingredients.”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to bother yourself too much.”

“Nonsense, I love cooking for others. Also, we’re all out of food except noodles, so I’d have to go shopping anyways.”

Virgil had the decency to look mildly guilty at that.

Virgil accompanied him to the store. Which, unlike Patton had expected, did not speed up the shopping process, but only slowed them down as they fooled around.

“Okay, okay. Let's get this done quickly, thyme is money.” Patton said, waggling his eyebrows at Virgil.

“What the hell am I doughing here.” Virgil groaned.

Patton gasped. “You made a pun!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah well, don’t expect too many of those. I wouldn’t want to oatverdo it.”

Patton gasped in delight.

“The s’more puns you make, the s’more i love you.” He proclaimed and Virgil blushed beet red.

Patton giggled as he looked at Virgil having fun. His roommate was usually a lot more reserved and morose. He had no idea what had happened that had put Virgil in such high spirits, but whatever it was, Patton was grateful. The smile that graced Virgil’s face was the most breathtaking thing he had seen all week.

Patton looked away, aware he had been staring just a little too long.

The meal was delicious, if he said so himself, and Virgil seemed to agree. He lounged back in his chair languidly, sleepy from the good food. He looked better than Patton had seen him all month. The colour had returned to his cheeks again and his eyes sparkled.

Patton silently congratulated himself on a job well done.

“That was great, Pat. Seriously.”

“I’m humbled by your compliments.”

Virgil smiled.

“Where did you even learn how to cook like this?”

“My moms taught me. They made sure to teach me all the basic survival skills like cooking, laundry and how to snare and skin rabbits.”

“Snare rabbits?” Virgil laughed.

“I lived in a forest, I had to be able to take care of myself. They taught me all kinds of other cool survival stuff too.”

“Nice, my mom barely taught me how to turn on a stove.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Virgil waved him away. “My parents just had other priorities in my upbringing. Maybe you could teach me to cook something other than pasta?”

“I’d love to.” Getting to cook and spend more time with Virgil? It sounded like heaven to Patton.

Virgil looked at the clock and suddenly shot up.

“Shit, I have to go. I’m sorry. Thanks for the food, Patton.”

“It’s fine. Anytime.” Patton watched him leave with an empty feeling in his stomach.

He didn’t mind his roommate’s odd habits, but sometimes he wished he didn’t always run off.

~

Patton had to be honest, when Virgil had first told him about his boyfriends, he had been quite shocked.

Not because of the boyfriends, plural. Patton was pretty sure he was polyamorous himself.

No, it was the fact that quiet, shy, reserved Virgil, the guy who Patton had never seen interact with anyone except Patton, had somehow gotten himself not one, but two boyfriends.

And yeah, maybe he did feel a sharp stab of jealousy when Virgil first told him. He wondered how his boyfriends had gotten him to realize they wanted to date him. Patton had been trying to make his feelings clear for months now and was almost convinced Virgil was aromantic.

They must have yelled something along the lines of “We have romantic feelings for you” to get through that thick skull of his.

Patton didn’t resent Virgil for dating them, he was happy for him. Virgil really needed something good in his life.

And now, here he was, cooking up an elaborate meal for Virgil’s boyfriends.

When Virgil had told him about his boyfriends and the fact that they had been going steady for a while, Patton had insisted they come over for dinner sometime.

“I have to make sure they’re not going to break my best friend’s heart.” He had argued.

Virgil had complained at that, but his boyfriends had agreed and a date had been fixed.

Patton had maybe gone a little overboard with the meal. Two curries stewed on the stove and he was just about to throw the homemade falafel into the pan. In the oven, naans he had made from scratch were baking.

He hoped they liked Indian.

Virgil let his boyfriends into the appartement and wow, they were hot.

One of them, the shorter of the two, beamed at him, his smile perfectly blinding, and walked over to him.

“Hello, you must be the charming Patton I’ve heard so much about.” He said with a theatrical bow.

The taller one walked over to them with a more reserved smile.

“I’m Logan and this character here is Roman. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Virgil has told us a lot about you.” He stuck out his hand.

“Really, he has?” Patton felt a warm glow at that knowledge.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too.” He continued.

“So you’re the one who’s been keeping our Virgil alive?” Roman asked him.

“What?” Patton asked.

“V has a lot of skills, basic self care isn’t one of them.” Roman clarified.

“We’re happy he has such a good friend.” Logan added.

“Well, I’m happy to take care of him. But, yeah, self care isn’t one of his skills.”

“As much as I appreciate you guys bonding, I can take care of myself.” Virgil interjected.

“Debatable.” Logan said.

Roman seemed to have noticed the food bubbling on the stove by now.

“Ooh, indian.” He exclaimed.

“It smells good.” Logan complimented.

“Well, it’s nearly done, so get seated and I’ll bring the food over.”

“You guys are in for a treat. Pat’s the best cook I know.” Virgil informed them.

Patton blushed at the high praise.

“I must say I’m intrigued.” Logan said, while taking a seat at the table.

Patton turned off the stove and added a few leaves of coriander before carrying the dishes over to the table.

“Do you need a hand? It looks like a lot.” Roman offered.

Finally, with Roman’s help, the table was set and they all dug in, dipping their naans into the curries Patton had made.

Roman moaned theatrically.

“God, this is just heavenly.” He praised.

“It’s great Patton.” Virgil offered.

“Yes, it is quite splendid. What spices did you use?” Logan asked him.

“Well, this one has chilli powder...”

“I can taste that.” Virgil grumbled.

“Turmeric, cumin and coriander and the other one has bay leaves, cardamom, cinnamon, cloves and more chilli powder.”

“That’s a lot of spices.” Roman said.

“That’s the secret to Indian cooking, the things they can do with spices is just magical.” Patton replied.

They talked more.

Logan told him he was studying theoretical physics at the university where Virgil also studied.

“Wow, theoretical physics. Isn’t that like black holes and stuff?” Patton asked, intrigued.

“Oh boy, don’t get him started.” Virgil muttered.

Logan paid him no mind.

“That’s one aspect but it’s also so much more. It touches on all aspects of our lives.” With that Logan launched into an impassioned speech about all the things theoretical physics touched on and the different aspects of it.

Patton didn’t understand everything he was going on about, physics hadn’t been his best subject in school, but he enjoyed listening to Logan all the same. He had a way of speaking that drew you in. It was clear he really enjoyed the subject he was studying. Patton felt like he could listen to Logan for hours on end. A glance at the others told him they felt the same way, both of them staring at him with fond expressions.

“I apologise. I was rambling again, I have been told I have a tendency to do that.” Logan cut himself off.

“What? There’s nothing to apologize for, it was really fascinating.”

Logan smiled softly but didn’t go on. An awkward silence fell over the table.

“So!” Patton piped up brightly. “What do you do, Roman?”

“I’m studying to become a nurse actually.”

“Really? cool!”

They chatted about all kinds of things. Roman complained about the amount of things he had to learn. Logan told him it was nothing compared to what he had to study. Virgil lamented about annoying professors. And Patton listened, feeling a little like an intruder but a part of it all the same.

They complemented each other perfectly. Patton had no idea how they had met or what made them such a good team, but it must be something wonderful indeed.

In that moment, Patton wished so fervently he could be a part of it. He barely knew Logan and Roman and yet he could feel himself falling for them even now.

They didn’t seem to mind him being there, roping him into the conversation easily.

Logan smiled at him from across the table and Roman slung an arm over his shoulder, laughing at one of his puns.

Virgil was just getting up to refill the water jug, when an alert on his phone went off. All three of them jumped up.

“We have to leave.” Logan said, looking at his phone.

“Shit, I’m so sorry Patton.” Virgil repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time. It felt like whenever Patton was finally making progress in his relationship, something interrupted.

He didn’t mind the weird habits, he just wished he would let him in on his secrets. Hadn’t he proved his trustworthiness to Virgil?

They left him with the dishes and an empty feeling in his chest.

~

Roman, Virgil and Logan sat at the dinner table while Patton busied himself in the kitchen, finding comfort in the familiar routine of cooking. A tense silence filled the usually cozy apartment.

“How long have you known?” Logan asked finally.

Patton looked at Virgil when he answered.

“Probably since the first month.”

Virgil stammered. “I thought…”

“You thought what Virgil? That I didn’t notice you sneaking in at five in the morning? That I didn’t notice that whenever you ran off during dinner, Storm was suddenly on the news? That I didn't notice all the cuts and bruises you collected? You thought, what? That I was stupid? Blind? Deaf?” He knew he was being unfair, the others looked tired and miserable and guilty. But all his frustration at being left in the dark for years was bubbling over.

He was so tired of being treated as stupid, of being left behind when the others had to attend to hero bussiness. He was tired of lying awake worrying about them.

Patton returned to chopping the leeks with more force than absolutely necessary.

“We wanted to protect you.” Logan said, guilt colouring his voice.

“I don’t need your protection. I think you saw that tonight.”

“Yes, we were wrong. I realize that now. We apologize”

“I don’t.” Virgil said.

Patton stared at him. “What?”

Virgil stood up and faced him. “I’m sorry about lying to you, but I won’t apologize for trying to protect you. It’s bad enough these two are out on the streets, I don’t need another untrained civilian risking their life.” Virgil gestured at Roman and Logan, who didn’t look happy about being called untrained.

Patton laughed bitterly. “I’m not untrained, that much should be clear. And what makes you so trained then?”

Virgil sighed.

“When I said my parents had other priorities in my upbringing, I meant it. Instead of learning maths and chemistry, I learnt how to fight, how to take down a grown man, how to disappear into the shadows.”

“Why?” Patton asked, he was aware Virgil hadn’t had the most traditional upbringing, but this wasn’t what he had expected.

“I was to be an assassin, but the company we worked for disbanded and my mom decided to give me a normal life.” He explained coldy, it was clear there was more there, but Patton decided now was not the best time to ask.

They were all tired from the events of the evening and Patton really just wanted to curl up in bed and sleep for another week. All his anger at his friends keeping him in the dark had faded, leaving him with just his exhaustion.

He turned back to the quiche he was making, with store bought dough, his mom would be shocked, and slid it into the oven.

“I’m just happy you guys are alright.” He said, extending an olive branch.

“Well, we were lucky our valiant knight in shining armour came to our rescue.” Roman said, his voice lacking his usual flamboyance.

Patton sat down next to Virgil and laid his head on his shoulder. Virgil wrapped his arm around him.

“You guys are lucky I knew where you were.”

“Yeah, how did you do that? Do you have us micro-chipped or something?” Roman questioned.

Patton just smiled mysteriously.

~

Patton popped his head into their bedroom, where Janus was talking into a phone. Patton listened for a moment as Janus talked to someone in rapid fire French, sounding mildly irritated.

He noticed Patton standing in the doorway and held up a hand signaling he would be done soon. He rolled his eyes and mouthed “Grandmother” at him.

Patton stifled a giggle. Janus’s grandmother was notoriously difficult.

“Oui, oui mémé, je promets.”

He put down the phone with a sigh.

“Why is she like this?” He sighed in exasperation.

Patton wrapped his arms around Janus’s waist and nuzzled into his neck.

“It’s ‘cause she loves you, honeybee.”

“Loves to annoy me, more like. Anyways, did you need something, mon cœur ?”

“Yeah, you said you’d help with dinner?”

“Course, give me a minute, I’m coming.”

“I’ll go peel the potatoes.” Patton bounced down the stairs.

On the couch, Logan and Roman were attempting to watch a period drama, keyword, attempting.

They were currently critiquing the costumes in the show, Roman in particular was raving about corsets on bare skin.

Patton smiled, he loved them both very much, but watching a movie or show with them was nearly impossible. They both had trouble keeping their thoughts to themselves.

“Having fun?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to Roman’s forehead.

“Corsets on bare skin, Patton! What is wrong with them?” Roman flung his hands up, nearly knocking Patton’s glasses off.

“Whoops, sorry.” He apologized.

Patton kissed him again and gave Logan a quick side hug.

“You guys enjoy, I’m going to get started on dinner.”

“I highly doubt I will be able to enjoy it, considering all the mistakes in the writing and costuming.” Logan muttered.

Janus joined him in making dinner and together they worked efficiently. Janus was a great cook and a good help in the kitchen. Together, they managed to make something good without getting in each others’ way too much.

Janus put on an old timey jazz song and as the food sizzled on the stove, they slowed gently in the kitchen.

The door opened and Virgil blew in with a gust of cold air. He groaned as he dropped his bag on the floor.

“Everything all right, mon amour?” Janus questioned.

“Just tired, training was hard today.” Virgil sighed.

“Yeah, I see. Go take a shower.” Janus wrinkled his nose.

Virgil made to kiss Janus but he warded him off.

“Go shower first.” He instructed.

“I want a kiss.” Virgil whined.

“I’ll give you a kiss.” Patton said.

“Don’t enable him.” Janus groaned but he pressed a quick kiss to Virgil’s nose.

Patton drew Virgil in for a soft, gentle one and then pushed him in the direction of the shower.

“Go. Food’s nearly done.”

Right on cue, Roman bounced into the kitchen, Logan trailing behind him.

“Food’s ready?” He asked.

“Not yet. Will you guys set the table?” Patton asked.

As busy clattering filled the kitchen, Patton felt a smile slip onto his lips. Janus noticed and wrapped his arms around him.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered into his ear.

“Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

“Yeah, we really are.” He sighed.

They smiled as Virgil entered the kitchen and promptly got wrapped up in a hug from Roman.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Teacher Of The Year - P.04

Pairing: Professor Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Heartbroken and restless, she walked into a bar with the full intention of getting smashed but she got more than she bargained for. Much more.

Warnings: Fluff and feelings in this chapter

WC: 2133

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s another night that Dean lies awake and can’t seem to be catching on sleep. Which is weird, since normally, when he has sex, he’s able to fall asleep really quickly, will usually fall into a dreamless sleep and only wake up when his alarm goes off. 

But tonight is different, he can’t stop thinking about her, about the things he said to her. 

After she left, he picked up the faculty handbook and read every single page of it and oh my god, there were so many pages. At the end, his head was spinning and he kind of had a hard time getting it all into his head so he quickly prepared his lessons for the next day, realizing that their schedule won’t clash and he won’t get to see her (unless he asks her to stay or meet her outside of school, but he doesn’t really want to come across as desperate, even that’s probably all he is), and went home.

Now he’s here in his bed, it’s almost midnight and he debates with himself if it would be weird for him to text her. Of course it would, that’s why he does it anyway. 

D: How are you? Dean x

There’s no answer, even after thirty minutes. Well, maybe that really was not his best move after all.

He turns around, switching off the bedside light and is about to make himself cozy when his phone lights up.

Y/N: How did you get my number?

Oh, he forgot that she didn’t actually give him her number but instead he looked at the student lists and got her number out of that. Well, no turning back now, right?

D: I have my ways.

Y/N: My ass is sore. 

Dean has to chuckle at that. 

D: I’m sorry, I got carried away.

He really did get carried away. Her ass was just too nice not to spank so hard and he loved it, loved every second of it. Loved how after he brought his hand down, there was immediately a red hand print of his. Loved to see that it’s his. 

Y/N: It’s okay, I’m just laying on my stomach. I hope I can sit down for class tomorrow.

Dean bites down on his bottom lip. There’s really a lot he would give right now to have class with her tomorrow. Wants to see her squirming in her seat when she sits down, knowing that he did that to her. His dick starts to twitch in his pants, and he thinks that it’s crazy how little stimulation it needs lately.

D: I’m a little disappointed that I won’t see you in class and see you try to sit tomorrow.

Y/N: Maybe I can see you later in the evening.

Dean frowns before a little smile creeps on his face. Maybe he’s not such an idiot after all. Maybe she’s in this as much as he is. 

D: I’d love that. 

D: Now go to sleep.

D: Good night, sweetheart

Y/N: Good night, professor xx

Oh, she knows exactly what she’s doing to him with that. Dean chuckles, places his phone back on it’s charger and turns around, hoping sleep comes soon.

  She hasn’t seen Dean yet today, since she didn’t have classes with him, but just thinking about him alone makes her heart jump and thumb ridiculously fast in her chest. What the hell’s wrong with her? She can’t be falling for him already, can she? It’s just a stupid crush is what it is. At least that’s what she tries to tell herself. 

There’s no way that she can let herself fall in love with a professor. He probably has other girls lined up too, doesn’t really think she’s the only one. He’s so good looking, he could literally have any girl he wants, since they are all lusting after him. She also doubts that he wants anything more to do with her than teaching her the kinks that she might or might not be into. There’s no way that this could lead to anything more, not that she wants to anyway. 

There are only ten minutes left of her class, and then she’ll be able to go to her room, sulk a little, maybe, because Dean didn’t seek her out today. Perhaps it’s a sign? Maybe it was best they end it now before it can start. These things should not last, should they?

Honestly, she doesn’t know. All she knows is that her body aches for him, aches for his touch, his kisses, hell, even his spanks. Her pussy feels incredibly empty and she was so horny this morning that she rubbed herself off in the showers and she did come but it took a ridiculously long time because she couldn’t quite reach the places he manages to reach and her fingers didn’t feel quite right like his fingers do. Hers are short and thin and while his are thick and long, oh god, so thick. After her orgasm, she felt emptier than before, if that was even possible.

About thirty seconds after her class ended, her phone vibrates and she turns it around on her table. Thumbing open the message, her heart rate shoots up significantly. 

D: Y/N, come to my apartment at 6? Please? 

Her cheeks begin to burn up and her lips widen to a grin. He even added a ‘please’ and she thinks it’s ridiculously cute how he’s trying to be all polite and not force her into anything. She thinks he must have a hard time dealing with it since he’s a person of authority to her but he wants to make sure that she knows that she can say no anytime she wants. Her face hurts from grinning and she probably looks like a complete idiot but honestly, she just didn’t care.

Y/N: I guess I can do that.

Every fiber in her body wants to write FUCK YES but she didn’t want to sound desperate, even though her body aches and there’s a tingly feeling down there. A tingly feelings that’s been there since she met him a couple of nights ago. It’s really something he hasn’t felt before.

D: Good. And oh, hey, bring the list! xx

She smirks at the ‘xx’ he sent her, stares at the phone for longer than she should have and only remembers that she’s still sitting in class as the classroom starts to fill up again. She tucks her phone away, puts everything into her backpack and leaves with a growing tingly feeling between her legs. She wonders how she should survive today without getting herself off again. She’s all hot and bothered and he didn’t even do anything yet. This is seriously fucked up.  

That damn list, though. She forgot about it and now she has about an hour to list her kinks, kinks she doesn’t even know she has. Kinks she doesn’t even know exist! She’s so close to just throwing the whole idea out of the window. Is actually close to just go there and tell him that they should abandon that damn list and just fuck however they like, but then again, what does she like? She doesn’t know, since sex with her ex has been mostly vanilla. 

Her ex wasn’t really into foreplay either, at least he never went down on her, said he doesn’t like how it tastes. She went down on him a couple of times, but didn’t feel like she should when he doesn’t do the same for her and he would then say that it’s not really fair since she doesn’t complain about how his dick tastes like he does with her pussy. He’d climb on top of her, missionary style and always comes on her stomach. It’s always the same too, the same things over and over. Kissing, stroking, taking off clothes, him on top, he comes, they sleep. She has to be quick with rubbing herself if she wanted to come at all, because it would always be over way too soon. 

Now, looking back, she guesses that the relationship was doomed to fail anyway and she has zero regrets of finding him in a compromising position with another girl.

 *

 She doesn’t have a car while she’s on campus because she doesn’t need one and public transport honestly creeps her out a little, so like the last time she was here, she walks the couple of blocks to Dean’s apartment. Thankfully he didn’t live that far out. 

After she arrives, she takes the stairs up to his apartment, still vaguely remembers that it was on the fourth floor. She’s all hot when she arrives, her cheeks are flush from climbing the stairs and she takes a couple of seconds to recollect herself. Knocking at the door to his apartment, she looks at it, sees one crescent moon etched into the wood of the frame, blushes when she remembers what happened here a couple of nights ago.

“Come in.” He calls out from inside and she opens up the door, letting herself into the little space.

Dean’s apartment is not big. It has a kitchen, a dining table that sits four. There’s also a sofa and a TV. There’s only one bedroom and one bathroom but it’s enough for one person and it’s certainly more spacious than her dorm room. 

“I hope you’re hungry.” Dean smiles brightly as he juggles with a pan and plates in his hands.

“Oh! Oh, sure.” She nods. But honestly, she doesn’t even know that she was hungry until now that she smells food and her stomach starts to growl. 

Y/N sits down at the table and it’s then that she realizes that she hasn't had anything in her belly since breakfast. She would’ve eaten something at lunch but she had to change buildings and frankly, there was just no time. When she got back to her apartment, she was thinking about that list and got distracted.

“Et voilà.” Dean chirps as he places a plate in front of her.

“Oh god, it smells so good.” Her mouth starts to water and she wonders what other talents this man has in stores for her other than looking and cooking ridiculously delicious. 

She hasn’t tried it yet, though, wouldn’t know if it’s really any good but from the way it smells it must be great.

“Pasta with homemade pesto.” He declares before he sits down and pours them both some wine. He’s looking a little proud too, and she thinks it’s cute. 

“Please, not too much for me.” She interrupts his wine-pouring. “I’d rather not be hungover again tomorrow in class.”

“Sure.” He smirks at that and she thinks that he probably remembers her hungover self sitting in third row.

They eat and talk throughout the meal and she gets to know Dean better. 

Apparently, he likes to cook, and he’s hella good at it, the pesto was indeed finger licking good. She found out that he has a brother, Sammy (well, Samuel, or Sam, but actually never Sammy because Sam apparently doesn’t like to be called that). Sam’s a hot shot lawyer and partner at a firm in Chicago and she makes a mental note to track him down should she get into any troubles because apparently, he’s the one to turn to. 

He talks a lot about Sam, told her how they grew up together, that he was the sole caregiver since their dad was busy with his own company and didn’t have time for the both of them. It seems like the mom is apparently out of the picture, she doesn’t know what happens or what is going on but she doesn’t feel like it’s her place to ask. 

Dean first started to study Mechanical Engineering at MIT but soon dropped out because he and Sam had to take over the family business after their father’s death. When Sam decided that he’d had enough of the family business, Dean sold it, which led him to move on to study as well and now he’s teaching his second passion, history. She can’t say she minds his change of direction because it led him here. If he wouldn’t have done it, she wouldn’t be sitting here at this very table, wouldn’t be staring into his eyes that are still green even with the dark rimmed glasses. She blushes and lowers her head, hopes that he didn’t notice her staring.

After the meal she wants to help him clean up but he wouldn’t have any of it. He tells her to go sit her sweet ass on the couch and wait for him, but not before he gently squeezed it and pulled her close for a kiss leaving her longing for more.

P.05

[flyingstar360]

Bittersweet Memories

So, Happy Thanksgiving and I’m really sorry for Alex angst/ooc. There’s a little bit more adult-ish content in it,  and by that, I mean we have boys kissing, mentions of teenage drinking, a few colorful words I may have forgotten to edit out, and mentions of some pretty serious homophobia topics. Also, I’m straight, so I’ve never had to come out or anything, and this is my first time writing openly gay characters. Hopefully, I did okay, and I don’t offend anyone! Any way, it’s a long one, so sorry!

Bittersweet Memories

              Alex twisted his drumsticks between his fingers. Julie and her family weren’t home. She told the boys she was going to go volunteer with her dad and brother, but honestly? Alex’s anxiety post Orpheum had been at an all time high. Between secret meetings with Willie, trying to avoid Caleb and save Willie’s soul, band practice and their growing fan base, and the fact that the holidays were coming up? Alex felt like one of the strings of Luke’s guitar, right before it snapped.

              He knew Thanksgiving had always been Reggie’s favorite holiday. It was the one day his parents didn’t scream all day, because there was just enough distraction and alcohol to keep them from going after each other. He and his brother would play flag football and watch the parade with their cousins.  The delight was practically oozing off him as he and Luke were curled in front of Julie’s laptop, rambling on about the musical acts performing. Ironically, it was a show about hell, or something?

“Dude if musicals had been like this? Yo, I would never have given you a hard time about them.” Luke said to Alex, looking up from his spot on the ground.

              Luke’s relationship with Thanksgiving was a little more complicated than Reggie’s. It wasn’t his favorite, but he didn’t hate it. Plus, now that they were dead, Luke had never been closer to his family. Even though they had no idea Julie was actually helping him leave little clues around for them to know he was there with them.

              “Are you gonna go see your parents today?” He asked Luke.

              “Already done. Julie helped me leave a little message for my mom.” Luke grinned.

               Alex rolled his eyes. “Please tell me it has nothing to do with cranberry jelly.”

              Emily Patterson made the best homemade cranberry sauce Alex had ever eaten. The Thanksgiving he’d spent at the Patterson’s was one of the best meals Alex had ever eaten. But Luke, for some reason, didn’t like the cranberry sauce his mom made. It was one of those fancy ones, with real cranberries and orange in it. To Alex, it smelled and tasted exactly like he always dreamed the holidays would. Sweet, with a hint of spices. But no.Luke wanted processed cranberry jelly. Alex remembered seeing the two of them arguing about it the last Thanksgiving they’d been alive. Luke had run away a few weeks later, and they’d died in July.

              “Julie got me a can of cranberry jelly to leave on the counter. Mom’ll know.”

              Alex hated canned cranberry jelly. All he could think about was the way it had clung to his button down shirt the last Thanksgiving he spent with his parents. He remembered the sounds of the plates crashing, the way the glass pie plate had shattered as it hit the wall and smashed next to his face, and the way his father’s voice spit out the words as he- No, Alex didn’t want to think about it.

              Alex hated Thanksgiving, actually.

              It was two Thanksgivings ago- or two Thanksgivings before he died, instead. His dad’s coworker had come over with his family. Alex didn’t mind. Mr. Marsters’s son was a little older than him. And he was cool. Seth Marsters was a baseball player at the fancy private school in town. He was class president. He was handsome. He liked good music. And he was honestly really nice. Alex never minded spending time with him, and their parents were good enough friends that it happened pretty frequently. The two had ended up in Alex’s room while their dads talked work and their moms finished the dinner and drank wine. Sometimes they’d play Super Mario Kart on Alex’s Nintendo and the TV he had in his room. Other times, the boys just sat around and talked and listened to music.

              “Okay.” Seth had said as he opened the tape deck Alex had in his room. “Don’t laugh, but I made you mix tape with some of the other songs I thought you’d like. I would have burnt you a CD, but Dad wouldn’t let me use the computer, because he was too busy with work.”

              Alex grinned and flopped himself across his blue bedspread as he watched Seth fiddle with the tape deck. Alex didn’t have a lot of friends. His anxiety made it hard to make friends at school. So, the guys in band were his best friends- and so far, the only people who knew he was gay. Luke had actually been the first guy Alex ever kissed- after they’d snuck a bottle of something that had made Alex’s eyes water and throat burn out of Mr. Patterson’s liquor cabinet. Reggie would turn up at the backdoor in the middle of the night sometimes, with cuts or bruises Alex never questioned but would clean up nonetheless. And Bobby would show up at lunch with extra food packed for the guys, and his mom always made sure Alex had something without nuts in it. It was that kind of stuff that made Alex feel normal. And not like a freak. Even though he knew he was different from everyone else.  But besides the guys, he didn’t feel comfortable with almost anyone else. Except Seth.

              “Okay, but I can’t promise not to laugh until I hear what songs you picked.”

Seth grinned back and hit play as he plopped himself next to Alex, resting on his elbows, face to face with Alex. It took everything Alex had not to blush as Seth went on and on about why Nirvana was a better band than Poison. Nodding dumbly, he didn’t even register what was playing- until he heard a familiar voice whose CD was hidden behind his copy of The Hobbit on his bookshelf.

              “I’m sorry, is this Whitney Houston?” Alex sat straight up. Seth was the one blushing now, as he fumbled to skip the song.

              “Yeah, it’s dumb, I just-“

              Alex reached out to stop him. “Dude, I love Whitney Houston. She’s got a killer voice.”

              Seth turned a shade redder than before. Alex had never seen him flustered at all before. Seth was normally the one all put together, and Alex was the anxious mess. It was honestly pretty endearing, and Alex felt the butterflies in his stomach.  “I heard this on the radio and I kind of thought of you instantly.” Seth said quietly. “It just.. well. It makes me think of you every time I hear it, I guess.”

              Alex just kind of blinked for a moment, processing what that could mean, as Seth watched him carefully. But Before Alex could really say anything, Seth leaned in and pressed his lips against Alex’s.

Oh.

OH.

Alex closed his eyes as Seth wrapped his hand around the back of Alex’s head and pulled him in closer. His lips were soft and Alex thought he could taste a hint of Chapstick, and root beer. It was a million times better than the clunky teeth and lips kiss he and Luke had shared. This was like a movie kiss, in Alex’s opinion. The butterflies in his stomach, the way his heart was pounding- suddenly he felt like he really got why the guys in the band were so obsessed with girls  Being able to have moments like this, feel like this, without anyone judging you? Without anyone thinking you’re spreading a deadly disease? It felt almost as good as playing music.

              “And I will always love you-“ Whitney’s long hold of the note drowned out the sound of Alex’s mother’s heels clicking down the hall, but not the screech she let out after pushing his door open and seeing the two boys’ moment.

Alex wouldn’t forget that sound. Or the sound of the front door slamming as his Dad sent Seth and his parents away without even eating.

              “Dad, it’s not his fault.” Alex said as his father stormed back into the dining room where Alex stood next to his mother. As his dad started to yell again, Alex cut him off.  “Dad! It’s not his fault. I-I kissed him back.”

His father froze, eyes wide, face purple. Veins were bulging on his neck. Alex hadn’t meant to say that.

              “I’m gay, Dad.”

He sure as hell hadn’t planned on saying that. He took a deep breath and continued. “Look, I know it’s upsetting, but I’ve known for a while and I didn’t know how to tell you guys. I didn’t want to disappoint you, and-“

              That was when the glass pie plate with his mom’s famous cherry pie hit the wall next to his face. Alex ducked to avoid the plate of cranberry jelly that followed it. His father only stopped hurtling dishes at Alex because his mom stepped in between them and told him to leave the house. He ran out, shirt covered in cranberry goop splatter and cherry pie filling. He must have looked like he’d murdered someone when he’d shown up at Bobby’s house. Bobby’s mom brought him clean clothes and let him spend the night. After that Thanksgiving, Alex noticed Luke’s parents looking at him strangely after church. Reggie’s parents didn’t let him come over anymore, not that he did much anyway. And Seth got accepted to a “boarding school” that Alex had heard whispers about. He never saw him again.

~

             “Alex?” Julie stopped just inside her bedroom, by the door. Alex jumped up from where he was sitting by the window. Somehow, during his trip down memory lane, he’d wandered into her room, absent mindedly tapping on the bongo she had by her window.

              “Ah- Sorry. Boundaries. I know.” He mumbled, putting the bongo back on her windowsill.

Julie shook her head and sat on the edge of her bed, opposite the chair Alex had found himself in.

              “It’s okay. Carlos told me he heard drumming coming from in here and went to distract dad. When I didn’t see you in the studio, I just figured you went to spend Thanksgiving with Willie or checking in on your family or something.”  She looked at him intensely and he shifted uncomfortably. “Are you okay?” She asked quietly and reached her hand out to rest on top of his. It slipped right through him, and he pulled away, embarrassed. Here she was, trying to be a good friend, and he was lying to her and being an anxious wreck again. He started to protest, tell her he was fine, when someone knocked on her door. Ray stuck his head in.

              “Hey, niña.” He smiled at Julie. “Pizza should be ready in about ten minutes.” Julie nodded. “You did some good work today. Thanks for coming to help out.” She smiled back at her dad.

              “You know it’s always been my favorite part of Thanksgiving.” She told him. Alex noticed Reggie and Luke peeking out from behind Ray. “I’ll be down in a minute.” The guys slipped through the door as Ray closed it, both standing awkwardly.

              “We’re sorry, dude.” Luke started. “We kinda both forgot that Thanksgiving isn’t a great day for you.”

              “I got really excited because it’s always been a good day for me. I didn’t mean to brush off your feelings.” Reggie shifted his weight from side to side. “I just really love the parade and I heard there were puppies after it now and puppies are way better than football and-“

              Julie cut Reggie off. “You don’t like Thanksgiving?”

              “You work on Thanksgiving?” Alex countered. He knew he was being a little short, but there was no way he could handle Julie looking at him the way other people did when they found out he was gay.

              “We volunteer at Marsters House every year. We serve dinner and hang out.” She said. “And you’re avoiding the question.” Alex stiffened in his seat when Julie mentioned the word “Marsters”. Luke and Reggie went pale. Julie noticed all of it. “Please don’t tell me the Marsters’s stole music or something from you guys too.” She groaned. “It’s bad enough knowing Carrie’s dad isn’t who I thought he was, if Seth and Cory are liars too, I couldn’t handle it.”

              Alex was pretty sure he was going to throw up. Could ghosts even throw up? He tried to take a few deep breaths. “Julie.” He whispered. “I need you to tell me where this place is.”

              She jumped up. “No. No way. Last time you guys were upset and I told you where something was, you got sucked in by Caleb and I almost lost you to those stamps. No way!”

              “We’re going and you can’t stop us!” Alex raised his voice at Julie. “Wait, what are you doing?”

              Julie was grabbing her sweater. “I’m not letting you go alone. I’ll take you there. But you guys aren’t going alone!” Alex looked over at his bandmates.

              “Okay.” He said.

              “Dad?! I just realized I left my phone at Marsters’ House, I’m gonna go grab it!”

~

              It sounded like the aftermath of Thanksgiving dinner from just outside the building. There was yelling at football games and possibly video games. There were lots of people inside- most of them around his age. But the man who opened the door was decidedly not his age. But it was absolutely Seth.

              “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I think I may have left my phone in the kitchen?” Julie lied without a blip in her demeanor. Alex was both impressed and terrified. Looking over at Luke, Alex would be willing to guess Luke felt the same way. As they went inside, Alex knew he wouldn’t be going to the kitchen. Instead, he turned down the hall, and followed adult Seth into an office. On Seth’s desk was a photo of him with another handsome man- blond. Seth had a type.

              “Alexa?” Seth said, as he settled himself down at his desk. “Play Alex’s Mixtape.” Suddenly, Whitney Houston came from the speakers. Alex couldn’t breathe. Someone grabbed his hand. Julie. She squeezed it tight.

              “Thanks Seth! Happy Thanksgiving!” She yelled over her shoulder as she pulled Alex away. Reggie and Luke were waiting outside. He brushed past them for a few yards, pulling his hand free of Julie’s grasp, before having to stop. He crouched on the ground, arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth as sobs ripped from his throat. He felt the rest of the band catch up, wrap their arms around him. He turned his head and sobbed into Luke’s flannel. Reggie rubbed circles on his back. After a few moments, as the sobs subsided, he realized Julie was murmuring something to him.

              “Alex, it’s okay. You’re okay. We love you, and you’re okay.”

He inhaled and wiped his face and looked right at Julie.

              “I’m gay.” She blinked a few times. Gave her head a little shake Looked at Reggie and Luke, who were holding their breath next to him.

              “I- Was-was I not supposed to know that?” She asked.

All three boy’s jaws dropped.

              “You knew?” Alex asked. “How long have you known?”

              Julie shrugged. “Since like, day one? Anyway, you talk so much about Willie too, so I just assumed that-” She stopped suddenly. “Seth. You’re Seth’s Alex. Oh my god.” She stood up and took a few steps back, then started pacing. “There’s no way. None. I don’t understand.” She looked at the guys. “Seth has seen the video my dad made for Edge of Great. How did he just not notice?”

              “I noticed.” A voice came from behind her. Julie whipped around. “Your dad called. Wanted to make sure we found your phone. I told him you had left already, but I figured I’d check to see how far you’d gotten. Didn’t expect you to have company.” Seth stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

              “Can you see them?” Julie asked.

              Seth shook his head. “No. But I mean, you’re talking to air. And it sure sounds like you’re trying to talk Alex out of an anxiety attack. Lord knows I’d done that a few times.” He got quiet for a minute. Alex stood, and walked slowly until he was face to face with Seth. He had more wrinkles around his eyes than Alex remembered, but of course. He was twenty-five years older. “Is he here?”

              “Tell him I tried to take the blame.” Alex turned towards to Julie. “Please.”

              She nodded. “He says he tried to take the blame. He didn’t want his parents to blame it on you.”

              “I mean, I did kiss him first. Anyway, they were going to send me for conversion therapy no matter what.” Julie winced. Alex looked back and forth between Julie and Seth.

               “What’s that? They sent him to a school. That’s what they told me”

              “No, Alex.” Julie said quietly. “It wasn’t a school.”

              Seth sighed. “Of course, that’s what they told him.” He looked at Julie and the empty space around her. “Um, where…”

              “Oh! Um, A little towards your left, just kind half turn, and he’s right in front of you.”

              Seth shifted and looked at Alex. “It wasn’t a school. It was a group of people who thought that, through a bunch of therapy and medical procedures, they could make me not gay anymore. Clearly, it was not successful, as I am still a flaming homosexual.” Julie giggled at that, and Alex couldn’t help but smile as he saw Seth’s face break into the familiar grin he once knew. His heart ached a little as it faded away. “I was worried they’d sent you to one too. And when I heard you had passed away from a bad hot dog, I worried- well, I was scared that it was a cover-up. That you’d… Anyway.” He trailed off. “I have no idea how you’re here. Or why. But I’m happy. I love Colby. He reminds me of you sometimes. You’d have been great friends. We met at a Whitney Houston Concert in DC when I was in college. He spilled his beer on me during I’ll Always Love You. I said you were sending me a sign.”

              Alex blinked back tears. “It was the best kiss of my life.”

              Julie smiled. “He said it was the best kiss of his life.” Luke pouted and crossed his arms as Julie’s eyes got wide.

              “It is a long story.” Alex laughed, as he wiped away some tears.

              “Want a ride home?” Seth asked Julie. “Something tells me you’ve got a lot going on.” Julie nodded.

~

Later that night, there was a knock at the studio door. Alex did not expect to see Julie, in her pajamas and with a blanket and pillow outside the studio.

              “Hey! Are you okay?”

              Julie nodded. “We’re watching a movie.” She held up a copy of The Bodyguard on DVD. “I knew my mom had a copy somewhere.”

              As they snuggled on the couch, Julie’s back against Luke’s chest, her legs draped over Alex’s lap, Reggie sitting on the ground in front of them, holding Julie’s hand and leaning against Alex’s legs, he realized something.

              Maybe Thanksgiving wasn’t so bad after all.

[atxlxs]

Beyond The Veil: Chapter 6

A glance at the time told Eras that Muska was still stuck in the meeting. Unsurprisingly, but also disappointing. She had hoped the meeting would go faster so Muska would get home an hour ago. She really wanted to get food started so she could relax, the nerves of Musa going to a highschool had eaten at her all day.

Great, she was starting to sound like an actual mother.

*sigh*

Pulling out her phone, Eras opened the phone app and pressed call on Muska’s contact. Conveniently titled ‘parasite’. It rang for a total of 3 times before it clicked, suddenly two voices flooded through the phone. One, that was Muska, the other was definitely Nedzu. So the witch put her on speaker phone. Nedzu was probably trying to get her to answer more questions then they agreed to answer.

The chirpy “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your meal but if I may inquire, is your guardian real or not? I know you're older than most of us but as you said you are a minor for your kind. We would like to get you in a safe environment for the time you spend learning here and research revealed nothing but a name, Viridis Eras if I remember correctly.” was surprisingly soft and sounded genuinely sincere.

Maybe, Eras wouldn’t have to worry constantly about her friend.

“I am very much a real person, Nedzu.” She said simply, her voice coming across smooth and melodic. The other side of the line went dead quiet. It almost made her chuckle but she refrained. Intimidation was hard to maintain through giggles.

“Hey Eras, what's up?” Muska asked, a hint of relief in her voice. Ah, Nedzu definitely was trying to pry more details out of her.

“The person that actually needs to eat physical food is not in my house to eat it. Since school ended 2 hours ago and my parasite wasn’t here yet despite me stating it was a pasta night, I got worried.” Eras responded, ignoring the soft “actually need to eat?” from the background of the call.

She wasn’t lying. After school had ‘released’ she had been checking the clock every 10 minutes. Anxiety over what could be happening kept her from focusing so she had sat down on the couch and glared at the fireplace for the entire 2 hours.

So what if she was overly worried, and for nothing it seemed? She has had bad experiences and experience is always the best teacher.

“Awe, was my sugar mommy worried about me?” Muska said, her tone teasing and Eras could pick up the faint sounds of choking from the other side of the line. Of course she would throw that term around in front of others.

“You wish, gremlin child.”

“Old woman.”

“Bitch witch”

“What kind of pasta?”

“Spaghetti, homemade, and with a homemade roasted garlic seasoned meat sauce. As well as a salad but Who knows if you’ll have the appetite for it. It’ll be there though.” Eras had gotten up at this point and was shuffling around the kitchen. “Will you need a ride home?”

“Nah, Nedzu is practically vibrating in his place at the thought of another veil member, which he has correctly hypothesized you are, and would most definitely stalk the gate for you.” Muska returned, amusement bleeding into her tone as Eras caught snorts from around the room she was in.

Suddenly, a cough snapped her attention back to the conversation as said rat cleared his throat.

“As amusing as this is, Before you leave would I be able to ascertain who or what you are? Considering the age of the witch present, for her to address you as ‘old woman’ I assume you must be someone who has lived far longer.” Nedzu stated, interest coating his words.

Before she could respond someone in the back of the room, a gruff voice that was deep as fuck holy shit, spoke up with a warning present in his voice.

“Nedzu, I don’t believe interrogating them will get you any of your answers.” the voice said, agitation and resignation in his tone. He was probably well versed in Nedzu.

“Thanks Aizawa-sensei.” Muska said, a little choppy on the sensei but that was expected honestly. Well, nice to know the name of the voice. However, Eras wanted to make the rat suffer a bit. He spent a few hours interrogating so she might as well dangle an interesting opportunity in his face and not allow him to reach for it.

“Yes thank you Aizawa-san, I don't mind telling you what race I am , Nedzu. I am also much older than the teen witch in front of you at the moment. Yet, alas,” she said with faux disappointment and sorrow, “I seem to be needed somewhere else. The pot that hasn’t even begun to boil yet is very threatening to me so I simply must end the call here. See you at home bestie.”

With a response of “You got it bestie.” the line clicked and went dead. Snickering to herself as she finally started the stove.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aizawa Shouta has had several revelations as the day passed. First of all, the broken bone boy was very determined to keep his place in the heroics class. He’s going to be a problem child, he has a sixth sense for them at this point. Secondly, one of his students is an enigma. She looks to be a bit older than 16, maybe 17, yet is over 2 and a half fucking centuries old. When he had first come across the term ‘beyond the veil’ he knew there were probably things that far surpassed humans in different areas but that old? That counts as a teen?

With a heavy sigh, Shouta sat through one of the wildest faculty meetings he had the displeasure of being forced to attend. That was saying something considering his employer was Nedzu. Granted, he wouldn’t have skipped this one anyways when knowing answers to the veil would be given. Understandably, not all of the answers, but now they had a firm idea about what actually lived beyond it. Also understandably, the new information was perplexing. Shouta wouldn’t touch any more information with a ten foot pole until whatever he was just given was processed.

As Viridis left the room, thankfully less chaotic than when she had entered, Shouta let out a sigh of relief. He rubbed his hands down his face and contemplated what he just heard. Finally, they had an overall summary of the types of races present in the veil and a somewhat structured hierarchy that would have to be explained further at some point in case they stumbled into the veil now but that could wait.

Shouta shivered as he remembered how oppressing the air had gotten in the room during Viridis’s talk about the forgotten. He had met hardened villains that had less presence and conviction then she did during her rant. They would need to hear about the taboos as well, he really didn’t want to be branded thank you very much.

Luckily, the goblin of a teen did actually have a guardian that existed. (No ‘Zashi, his jaw was firmly in place and had not dropped when the person spoke, even if it did that was warranted because he's sure he saw even nemuri marvel at how smooth it was, and no he did not snicker when they obviously baited Nedzu.) They wouldn’t have to worry about finding a place for them to stay safely while attending their school. This brought up some new considerations though. Groaning he slammed his head onto the table dramatically, the other teachers swiveling their heads to snap their gaze to him.

“Nedzu, she’s probably already done with the general education curriculum. If we don’t find a way to occupy her, we’ll have to deal with whatever chaos she makes to entertain herself while bored in class.”

All the teachers nodded in agreement. Fear flashing through their eyes at the idea. The flashy pro’s were unusually subdued after that showing. Whether from the presence of something completely unknown to them that was downright terrifying, or just the way Viridis acted and spoke to Nedzu, Shouta wasn’t sure.

Honestly though? Rat-man was his new favorite nickname to call the chimera in his head, it was stuck and was hilarious.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning of the second day of Muska's highschool life, Eras felt off, like something bad was going to happen kind of off.

When she had ‘woken’ from her vegetative state that morning everything just felt wrong. Then as she got up to start the day things just kept happening. None of them were good.

First, she found out that Tibbles had knocked over her higher end coffee grounds. (Accidentally of course, Tibbles may see them as servants but he was smarter than most and knew better than to ruin something a vampire enjoys. Eras could hold a grudge and it isn’t pretty) Next, she was informed that she had 4 business meetings, back to back, since there was a supply disruption and her pseudo-bosses that she pays to handle shit like this were out of their depth and had never experienced this before. Great.

Rushing, Eras made the coffees out of the cheaper brand and it hurt her soul to do it, coffee was sacred, and ran back to the observatory where her closet was to get dressed.

Grabbing out one of her many business related outfits, she threw on the first one she saw and paced over to her full length mirror to adjust it. A forest-pine green silk button down, the top three buttons were left open and a mesh underbust corset tied it together and tucked it into black dress pants. She tugged on black platform heels that came to a stop above her ankles. A charcoal black coat that stopped at ankle length hung off her shoulders. Since fall was starting to approach, the days have gotten cooler so it was there just in case.

Not that she actually felt the cold, she was technically undead, but the aesthetic was important.

A few extra accessories to tie it together, a silver chain necklace and several statement rings that were scattered on both hands along with earring sets, and after fixing her middle part she was done. Black circle sunglasses were grabbed absentmindedly through habit as she left the room. The sun was bright and Eras’s eyes were made for the night.

When she walked back into the kitchen to grab her thermos filled with a caramel macchiato she heard a wolf whistle from the dining table. Spinning around, she noticed Muska staring at her with surprise.

That was warranted, Eras dressed like a gym obsessed hobo most of the time.

“Holy shit, Lookin hot as fuck, Damn bestie. where are you heading to?” Muska said as she idly sipped her coffee while the phone she was scrolling through laid on the table, opened up to some kind of story based on the paragraphs of text she was seeing.

“Thanks, I have 4 business meetings that are emergencies because apparently a food supplier that I relied on had to recall everything, so I have to go down and explain what to do and listen to suggestions all day. I should be done by the time your school gets out so I’ll swing by and pick you up if time favors me.” Eras rambled a bit towards the end while fidgeting with her cup.

She was never able to gracefully accept a compliment outside of a text message, no matter how many years Muska’s been with her and hyping her up. Grabbing her keys, this time to her car and not the motorcycle (no matter how much she loves that bike she doesn’t want her hair ruined before she gets to the meeting, she's about to rip into some people.) She turned to Muska.

“Want a ride there?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

A total of 3 minutes passed as Muska’s sleep-addled brain caught up and she nodded, downing the rest of her coffee like a shot and slipping into her room to change into the uniform.

That was also a new weird thing, Eras was definitely not used to seeing Muska in anything but various black outfits with the occasional color. She missed seeing the edgy outfits and platform heels that were always an unneeded height since Muska was fucking taller than her. (she could change that but she was comfortable with 163cm)

Once Muska came back out, a quick pet to Tibbles given on the way which gave them a meow (Muska immediately glared at the cat. Sadly, Eras was at a loss as to what the cat was saying. Again.) and they both walked out of the door. Despite living on a mountain, they had a stone path that led to a fairly sleek building that blended in with the surrounding trees and mountain terrain. Once inside, parked along the furthest wall and facing the exit were three vehicles. The motorcycle that Eras had driven Muska with on the exam day, a military grade jeep that was blacked out and decked out, and finally, a 1970 volvo. It was a pastel mustard color and belonged to Muska.

Swinging open the door to the Jeep, Eras climbed in and started the car. Opening the garage door with the touch of a button and left the moment Muska was strapped in.

The ride to UA was easy and calm, except for the blaring of Muska’s playlist that Eras didn’t dare tell her to turn down because it was one of her favorite songs and she was loudly singing along. Pulling up a block away from the highschool, Nedzu precaution, Eras waved Muska out of her car and yelled another “KICK ASS WITCH BITCH!” before cackling as she drove away from a very aggressive middle finger from her friend.

Time to go deal with meetings that could have been a conference call.

“I AM-” A loud voice sounded from the hallway, startling Muska from her glare down with PomPom, “COMING THROUGH THE DOORWAY LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!”

That is, not how normal people enter a room what the fuck?

The newest blond in the class stood at around 200 fucking centimeters tall and wore spandex like a second skin. In american colors. Muska had never paid attention to the #1 Pro hero before but the more she looks at this walking american flag the more she’s grateful for not paying attention. Then something caught her attention.

The man had the same leaking weird energy as the twink from the faculty room.

How the hell did the solid brick wall of meat turn into the skeleton of a man she had seen literally yesterday????? Not only that but the leaking energy seemed to travel through the classroom, as if closer to the source of what's gathering it. As she followed the line of energy she noticed it stopped in front of her, going right into greenie….

What did she just stumble upon?

This feels like national secret type shit.

She tuned back in to hear the hero describe the battle trails they would be facing. 2 on 2 battles with full quirk use and indoors with a fucking bomb to locate. Paper mache but still, this was kinda advanced. She did, however, perk up when he mentioned costumes.

That, she was extra excited about.

Despite not really coming to UA for the hero aspect but more of the quirk training aspect, Muska still felt pretty excited about the costume. Also, she would legally be allowed to beat people up as a hero as long as they were classified as criminals or villains. That sounds like a good stress reliever within reason. She wasn’t going to just maul them. That’d be an abuse of power.

After being dismissed to change, Muska ran up to snatch her costume and bolted to the locker room. She had some say in the weapons but Eras had actually taken the time to design the costumes basics in order to cover everything that might be flung after her. It was also a way to help placate her. For some reason Eras had been extra fidgety ever since she started going to school. There were some things she didn’t know about Eras’s past, but she definitely knew that there was some kind of trauma there, and whatever caused it happened in a school setting.

Opening the case, the first thing Muska noticed were the knee high steel reinforced combat boots that had armor built into it to act as knee braces as well. Next to them was a pair of mirror sunglasses that were purple, placed on top of a letter.

[You’re probably wondering about the glasses. I sent them into a support company for a little upgrade to help you out on the field. They're not necessary so if you want to skip wearing them that's fine but at least check out the surprise I’ve added ok?

Kick ass witch bitch

-E.V ]

Placing the sunglasses on her face Muska almost jerked them off in surprise as a cat mascot character appeared on the right side and waved before jumping across the glasses and they powered up, showing an HUD layout. Something said ‘put on suit to connect’ but that was ignored in favor of the other abilities. The right side had facial recognition software and a tracker for things that are marked in view. There was also a marker that she could activate to aim weapons, like a video game. The left had the ‘connect to suit’ warning at the top but underneath that was a mini map of the surrounding area using a fucking satellite. How the fuck?

Taking them off for now, Muska went and picked up her suit to throw on. There were Two layers. First was a black body suit with colored accents that glowed when wanted, right now they were purple but they could change colors. It was Kevlar and another special type of alloy to make it shock resistant, fireproof, frost proof, and immune to knives and bullets. Next, was a cropped hoodie and shorts which stopped at the upper thigh. The cropped hoodie was purple and the hood part of it looked like a witch hat, the long point fashioned after the stereotypical black witch hat.

There was a tactical belt that wrapped around her waist and connected to two belts that wrapped around her thighs below the shorts. The belts that went vertically on the side of her thighs held pockets of medical supplies and smoke bombs. The previous on the left and latter on the right. The belts that were wrapped around her thighs carried the pockets that held her brass knuckles. The belt around her waist held the whip so it dangled while coiled up off her right hip. Slipping on the boots and lacing them up surprisingly quick, the full outfit was on.

Putting on the glasses once more Muska discovered why it said to put on the full suit. At the top left of the sunglasses was a full body scan that continuously displayed her vitals. It was green for now but if she retained injuries it would slowly move between green to yellow to red. Red being critically or fatally injured.

Holy SHIT Eras! This is some Tony Stark shit?!?

Tags:

@baguettehead

[ichigo-daifuku]

Masked Admirer

❅ How does one outwit the slyest of them all? ❅

Modern AU | Partly inspired by the Masquerade Crusade Battle Event we had last October. Two of Ieyasu's lines were based on his chibi's dialogue.

Word Count: ~2k | AO3 Link

“Trick or treat, Takechiyo?”

“Tricks? Go ahead and try, if you think you can.”

She was trying to add humor to their situation, but clearly, he was in a wonderful mood. For the stellar response he gave her, she almost wanted to give him a round of applause; almost, if not for the little things that had begun to bother her: like how the plush seat had begun to feel warm from them sitting on it for too long, or how her shoulders, bared from the style of her dress, already felt a bit chilly in contrast. An exhausted sigh escaped her lips as she reached for her red wine on the table, her manicured nails giving the glass soft clinks as she tapped against it, lost in thought.

Takechiyo sat beside her, his blond hair tinted a shade darker by the golden light of the chandeliers, a frown marring his face. Classical music played in the background so beautifully, but he looked like he was hearing the most unpleasant thing that existed in this world. The mask he wore exuded an air of mystery as the feather attached to it swayed with every movement of his face. His wine remained untouched as he did nothing at the party like he couldn’t wait for the night to be over. 

It all began about a month ago. She had a day-off from the restaurant and woke up at noon, relaxed. When she made her way towards the kitchen to make brunch, an envelope was pinned on the refrigerator door by her little strawberry magnet, waiting for her. She opened it and was greeted by the scent of roses, strong and sweet from the paper. It was an invitation to a black-tie event in a grand hotel in the city: a masquerade ball. There was only one person who knew the passcode to her apartment, so she grabbed her phone and called Takechiyo.

He picked up after a few rings. “What.”

“Hello…” she greeted. “There’s an invitation to a masquerade ball here. Is it from you?”

There was a pause, and the sound of footsteps coupled with the closing of a door was all she heard from the receiver. “I don’t want to attend that boring party alone. You’re coming with me.”

Of course, he had to be as unconventional and evasive as ever, even when he was asking her on a date. It made her want to challenge him sometimes, like at that moment. “What if I don’t want to?”

“You mean you don’t want to?”

“What? I mean, I do... but…”

“Huh. Then, we’re going.”

She shook her head with an amused laugh. He got her there, he really did. If there was one thing about him that she had learned over the time they had spent together, it was that he was as sly as those tanuki in folktales. So much for trying to one-up him. Better luck next time, she thought. She opened the cupboards in search of ingredients for pancakes. “Is it your lunch break? Make sure to eat well, alright?”

“Whatever. You’re getting worse than that hairless oaf,” he complained, but the next thing she heard was a ring of a bell as he opened a door and a greeting from a receptionist of a restaurant.

It made her happy that he was on the way to have lunch after all, and she replied with a laugh, “As long as you eat.”

“Hmph.”

“Okay, have a good meal.”

“I’m coming over later,” he said and hung up.

Breakfast had been wonderful. She couldn’t deny it; she was on cloud nine with excitement for the upcoming event with Takechiyo. One of the first things that came to her mind was that she didn’t have anything appropriate for the occasion. Yes, she had a couple of formal dresses and a mask somewhere in her closet, but none of them were good enough for such a special affair. And so that night, she busied herself with browsing various fashion catalogs in her laptop on the kitchen table, a cup of tea within her reach as she contemplated whether this or that would be better. Takechiyo, who arrived in the evening from work and insisted he was too tired to return to his own home, was staying overnight. He passed by her in the kitchen as he went straight to the refrigerator to get the tub of strawberry-flavored ice cream she bought earlier. She didn’t mind; it was there for him anyway. 

"Gold is a nice color," he mentioned casually as he grabbed a spoon and left.

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled, distracted, as she happened to scroll over a beautiful dress and clicked for more detailed photos at once, already in love. It was the perfect one. She hit the order button and folded her fingers together, pleased. Later on, she found a suitable mask for the dress and wasted no time in making her purchase, too.

The 31st of October arrived. The moment she stepped out of her apartment building, she knew something was wrong.

Takechiyo stood by the car door. It was the first time she ever saw him in a suit. He looked good—dashing, even—and she gave him a shy smile. His eyes widened as he appraised her approaching form, but then his agape lips shifted into a frown a few seconds later. She wondered what it was, then. Was her makeup too much? Did she spray on too much perfume? Was her dress—

Ah, her dress.

Gold is a nice color, he had said.

Takechiyo held a mask; its base and feather were gold, and so was his tie. He even had a bouquet in his hands, magnolias wrapped in special yellow paper. Through the absolute surprise that he got her flowers, the question rang repeatedly inside her mind: could it be possible that he had wanted to… match?

She stood in front of him, and he thrust the bouquet into her hands and turned away. "Baldy planted them in his backyard and said I should bring them. That's all." 

Despite his statement, she only needed one glance to tell that the yellow petals were cultivated to perfection, the arrangement and wrapper were too fancy, and the ribbon on the stem was too intricate for a homemade bouquet. Takechiyo was silent as he drove away and has given her dry replies since. A few weeks ago in her imagination, the two of them danced the night away in each other’s arms, but of course, this was Takechiyo. Now, at the party, he was being an awful date, if she could call even call this a date.

Trick or treat? How does one outwit the slyest of them all?

“Let’s dance,” she invited him with enthusiasm in hopes of turning the mood of this night around.

He sighed. “Why must I dance, exactly?”

"It's a masquerade ball," she leaned in and said, "Look around you."

Takechiyo did so and took a moment before responding, "Why don’t you dance with that guy, instead. You're matching with him."

He gestured towards the top of the grand staircase where a lone man stood, his arms leaning on the banister as he observed the ball. Sure enough, the man Takechiyo referred to was wearing a deep red mask and tie. Even the color of his hair was the same fiery shade; much like the dress she was wearing. It was difficult to believe at first, but Takechiyo’s words confirmed her suspicion: he really was upset about not being able to match tonight.

The man who wore a red mask caught her gaze and smirked, raising his glass. She smiled back politely and raised her own, half-full with red wine, and took a sip. It tasted exquisite. What a pity; Takechiyo, who has still yet to taste his wine, didn’t know what he was missing out on. But how surprising it was she encountered that man here of all places; Oda Saburou.

Takechiyo didn’t miss her exchange with the stranger. "What was that."

"Hm? Just saying hi."

"You know Oda."

His statement, which was laced with surprise, disbelief, and poison all at once, made her chuckle. She placed her glass down on the table and turned to Takechiyo who looked away at once. "Oda Saburou comes to the restaurant and gets konpeito with his take-out all the time... See his glass? That’s not some fancy cocktail or anything of the sort. That’s melon soda.”

“Tch. Why would you even know such things?”

“Of course, I would. I prepare and serve his food. He tends to avoid the alcohol section on the menu. I’m guessing he can’t handle his alcohol or something like that.”

Takechiyo didn’t respond and glared at the table’s centerpiece. Poor roses… If looks could make them wilt, they would have already done so... thirty minutes ago.

A movement from her peripheral vision caught her interest. Oda Saburou leaned back from the banister and began his descent down the stairs to join the party, the reason only the devil knows; maybe he got bored or hungry, or maybe saw another acquaintance. It wasn’t any of her business. A while ago, she had planned to get some desserts from the buffet table for Takechiyo and herself as a last resort to try to improve his mood when her eyes flickered from her date to Oda Saburou, and an unexpected idea popped inside her mind. 

“Hey, you know what? Maybe I’ll take your advice,” she informed him, grabbing the red lipstick from her clutch, and retouching her still-perfect makeup. She stood up and made a show of brushing her skirt and fixing a lock of her hair as she stole a glance in his direction from the corner of her eye.

Takechiyo was no fool; he knew right away which advice she was talking about. The expression of shock and slight panic was visible across his face, failed to be hidden by the mask he wore, literally and figuratively. That was it. She had pushed his buttons, and she knew they were the correct ones.

“Hold it right there… Damn it.” He let out a string of curses under his breath as he grabbed her hand and led her to the middle of the ballroom. His warm hands slid to her elbows, raised them so her palms landed on his shoulders, and settled on the sides of her waist, pulling her closer.

"Why are we dancing?" she teased, inwardly pleased at the turn of events. She also discovered that Takechiyo possessed a hidden talent no one would expect: he was excellent at dancing. She was impressed.

"It's a masquerade ball,” he leaned in and whispered, "Look around you."

Really now, she thought. They blended well in the sea of couples dancing to the tune of a romantic ballad. Amongst the far end of the crowd, she spotted Oda Saburou indulging on a slice of cake as he occupied a table with some of the men he dropped by the restaurant with. She failed to notice right away, but Takechiyo’s hand moved from her waist to cradle her face and nudge her chin to face his way, connecting his gaze with hers. Speechless, she could only chuckle in response and moved to match his graceful pace, giving her full attention to him once more.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “And what in the world is so funny?”

“Nothing.” She smiled, delighted to be in the arms of the one most precious to her. He was always so sly, and though it seemed for a time she couldn’t beat him at his own game, the night proved it otherwise. He would have words about this later when they return to his place or maybe hers, of that she was sure. But the moment of her victory was still fresh, and she would bask in it for as long as she could. “Nothing at all.”

Trick and treat.

3 days until Ieyasu's birthday! ♡◝(⑅•ᴗ•⑅)◜♡

Golden Days | Ieyasu's Birthday Countdown — Masterlist

Ichigo Daifuku's Full Masterlist

[slytherin-puffskein]

i promise you.

summary: At long last, Barnaby Lee decides to ask Laurent that one faithful question. A question that, if answered positively, would lead to a wedding.

- - -

notes: implied nsfw themes

- - -

A mere piece of paper more than enough to make Laurent King over think and jump to the craziest, most unlikely conclusions throughout the day. While he was supposed to get some rather important work done, his entire focus was fixed on what had happened in the morning, uneasiness throning in his mind and gifting him with sweaty palms. A small note, bearing Barnaby’s all too recognizable writing, four words etched against it. He had to fight with their Kneazle for a good five minutes in order to get it, the cat having convinced itself that the note was in fact a new toy.

We need to talk.

Who wouldn’t assume the worst scenario following such message? Questions had been quick to swarm Laurent’s mind, thundering against his skull and preluding to a headache. Why would Barnaby want to talk to him, and why would he express the need to announce it on a note? Couldn’t it have waited for tonight? What had been on Barnaby’s mind exactly? Soon enough an assumption had broken into his thoughts, as blinding as the sun and worsening his dizziness. He wants to break up with me, that’s it. After years of being together, before and after graduation, he wants to end it all. Why? Did he meet another guy? No, that’s not it... has he grown tired of me? After all, I’m pretty... intense. Or has he--

He was unable to pursue his own thoughts as he was brought back to reality, the fanged geraniums he was tending to now trying to bite his fingers off. Reluctantly he shoved all of his worries in a faraway corner of his mind, and focused on his work. However, what he had been fearing came fairly soon: the time to go back home. Unprompted, fear slid back into his mind, sticking to his brain like black mold.

We need to talk. It echoed in his mind, jumping around and leading way to a headache that was pressing against his forehead. As he faced the cottage’s wooden door he hesitated before finally going inside, all hope fleeing from him.

Questions were about to slip off his lips until he noticed the living room was dark, with no trace of his boyfriend. Eyebrows furrowing, he scanned the room in an attempt to find something that might tell him what was going on, and at last his eye caught a glimpse of light that was coming from the dining room. Quietly, he made his way there, mindlessly tying up his hair with the headband that has been around his wrist. Tying my hair. I do that when I’m stressed, right? Right. This is ridiculous... did I do something wrong? Or is he just tired of me? I should just shut up and see what happens. Or not. Why would I shut up? Why would I keep quiet? Why would he break up with me anyway? We’ve been happy, right? Oh yeah, we’ve been really happy, and--

Thoughts swirled inside of his mind in a hurricane-like fashion, and his heart came to a full stop as he finally stepped into the dining room.

Candles rose atop the table, small flames burning brightly and providing enough light for Laurent to spot colourful petals scattered around. A heavenly smell filled the room, one that reminded Laurent of his favourite meal. What was happening, exactly? No answer came to him as his gaze finally landed on Barnaby Lee, who was standing near a chair with a smile etched on his features. One that hid anxiety, Laurent could clearly see it. A thought slithered into his mind, whispering nonsense he would be able to believe anyway, considering how anxious and confused he was feeling: It’s his way to break up with you. Nice dinner, then scram! It’s only to soothe the wound. Nothing else. He’s just too thoughtful.

He opened his mouth as if speak, but Barnaby was quicker. “H-Hey! How was work? J-Just fine, right? You told me you had to work on fanged geraniums. They weren’t... too mean, right?”

What on Earth is going on. Laurent found himself answering anyway. “I got my fingers bitten a few times, but hey, that comes with the job I suppose.” He forced out an awkward giggle, one he couldn’t believe at all. This is so fake. He looks so fake. I look fake. What is he hiding!?

“Oh! I... I assumed it might have gone wrong. Your hair are up, and you do it when you are either stressed or focused, or both. So I assumed it... it...” And he trailed off, as if he had forgotten what he had meant to say. Silence swelled in the room.

Untying his hair and letting them fall on his shoulders, Laurent gazed up at Barnaby. “Ah, um... yeah, I had to focus quite a lot...” And then, gesturing to the table. “What’s all this for?”

Barnaby beamed in response, puffing out his chest with pride. “A gift! You saw my note, right? I-I felt like it’s been a while since we had a proper date! Not one in a restaurant, one where everything is homemade and filled with love! I-I planned everything to spoil you! Nice meal, cuddles on the couch, just you and--WOAH”

Laurent had failed to hold himself back. With no hesitation, he had pulled Barnaby into the biggest hug while he was still speaking, knocking the air off his chest. Waves of relief washed over him and relaxed his muscles, and there was no way he could wipe off his smile anytime soon. He had jumped to conclusions. Thank Merlin he had jumped to conclusions. Having Barnaby break up with him would have been the worst thing for Laurent, and now he just had his confirmation that it wouldn’t be happening. At last, he allowed himself to breathe freely, freed from that weight that has been sitting on his chest ever since he had read the note. “W-What’s wrong, Lau...?” 

Laurent was pulled out from his thoughts, and he simply buried his face into his boyfriend’s chest before answering: “Your note... was so ambiguous. Let’s say I got scared something back would happen...”

Barnaby softly hummed, curling his arms around Laurent and pulling him closer. “Nothing bad will happen to us, Laurent. I promise.” And to punctuate his claims, he pressed a kiss on his forehead. That was when something caught Laurent’s attention: while his heartbeat was calm and steady, Barnaby’s was erratic, as if his chest was about to burst up. “Come on.” The latter whispered gently. “Sit down, and let me show you some homemade Lee cooking!”

“You know that I’m the one who showed you the recipe for my favourite meal, right?” Laurent giggled.

“Yup.” Barnaby acknowledged, pulling Laurent’s chair. “But there’s a special ingredient, one only I can make: Barnaby love!”

- - -

Barnaby Lee has had an idea ever since he and Laurent graduated from Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was an idea that followed him wherever he went, one that lulled him to sleep and brought on sweet dreams, but also one that seized him with an odd mix of fear and excitement that made him feel like his heart would explode.

That idea was to marry Laurent Dorian King.

But he couldn’t just drop on one knee and ask. No way he’s doing that, because Laurent didn’t deserve such proposal. He had promised himself one thing: to give Laurent the sweetest, most romantic proposal that he shall never forget. One that will make him feel about just as happy as he makes Barnaby feel on the daily. One that will make him have that beautiful smile of his, that Barnaby cannot get enough of.

He had immediately figured out a homemade dinner was the best way to go. What was purer, what was better than that? A fancy restaurant would have been crowded, loud, and would have left them with no intimacy. By staying in their cottage, Barnaby was providing them all the calm and peace they needed, which only made it more romantic to his eyes.

As great as his strategy sounded to him, however, he found himself crushing under unbearable stress only because of a word and a word only: might. Laurent might accept his proposal. He might burst into tears of joy and hug him and accept... or he might refuse. Laugh in his face and walk away. He couldn’t deny that while he had sweet dreams over his future proposal, he also had nightmares.

A wedding should be expected. A proposal should be a surprise, his father had once said. Probably the only decent advice he had ever given him. You cannot simply ambush your partner with the big question, you have to know that it has been in both of your minds as of late. Both of them must have considered marriage, and then eagerly waited for the other to do the first step. The thing was, had Laurent considered marrying Barnaby? Had he considered it as much Barnaby considered marrying Lau? A question deprived of answer that haunted him.

Today, however, was the big day. He was going to propose to Laurent. He was going to give him the best date he has even been on, and then he will drop on one knee and ask the question.

Or not, a voice snickered in his mind as he was filling two glasses of wine. They were now eating dessert, strawberry panna cotta, and worry clouded Barnaby’s mind. Certainty became doubt, and excitement became anxiety, Maybe wine will calm me down. Dear Merlin, please let wine calm myself down. I can’t drink too much, though. No way I’m proposing when drunk! Way to make a fool of myself!

“I didn’t know you could make panna cotta!” Laurent suddenly exclaimed, wonder filling his eyes.

Barnaby was pulled out from his thoughts, which he greatly appreciated. “I didn’t know either! You have no idea how many times I tried and failed... I was close to give up, but then I did it! Without using magic!”

In fact, everything they had eaten has been made without the help of magic, a fact that made Barnaby’s heart swell with pride. Laurent’s smile only became bigger, and Barnaby took no shame in admiring him. I love him so much. So much. With that in mind he started eating, but his thoughts soon took a turn: how he was going to propose exactly. 

Come to think of it, the one knee on the floor trick is pretty common, what about some outside of the box thinking? Yes! Let’s see... His gaze landed on Laurent’s dessert, as well as his wine glass. How about I slip the ring in his wine glass? No, wait, it will stain. His panna cotta, perhaps? Seeing his face upon noticing it would be so cute... He considered distracting Laurent and doing it, but a panicked voice quickly bellowed in his mind. NO, NO! What if he doesn’t notices it and eats it and chokes and dies!? You really want that to happen? Dumbass, dumbass, dumbass!! He nervously chewed on his bottom lip, which Laurent noticed.

His voice had a worried tone as he asked him if everything was alright. Barnaby nodded, putting on his brightest smile. This is a mess. I’m a mess. It won’t work! Whatever idea I’m coming up with... they’re all bad! Maybe I can propose to him by only getting down on one knee? No!! What if I lose balance and fall!? If I slip his ring in his food, he might choke and die! Maybe I can sing...? NO WAY. The ring, resting in his pocket, now felt awfully heavy... and he finally came to a decision.

No proposing tonight. It’s going to be disastrous, I’m feeling it.

A defeated expression threatened to take over his features, but he managed to tuck away all of that negativity. Another day. I’ll do it another day. But what if I’m still afraid...? What if I’m still a mess...?

Soon enough they finished their dessert, and Barnaby gazed at his boyfriend. His beautiful boyfriend, whom he would like to eventually call his fiancé. Their eyes locked, and Laurent smiled. “That was great, Barnaby... and I believe you mentioned cuddling on the couch once the dinner is over, right?”

A mischievous glint passed through his eyes, one that made Barnaby smile fondly. Let’s just make it a simple date. On the bright side it will give me more time to think about my proposal. “Yes. I guess you are up for it?”

“You bet.” Laurent replied.

That being said, they both headed to the living room with their arm around the other’s waist. Once they sat down it didn’t take long for Laurent to press kisses on his boyfriend’s neck. Light, teasing kisses that only made Barnaby wish for more. Just as he was about to say that, the words clung in his throat as Laurent’s fingers started fiddling with his shirt’s buttons, finally unbuttoning one. A blush came forth, colouring his cheeks. Don’t stop.

And thank Merlin, he wasn’t stopping. Kisses now trailed down his neck and reached his collarbone. Another button came undone, and their gazes met as Laurent looked up, his face reddening as well. “Maybe we can... do more than cuddles, if you know what I mean.” A giggle bubbled out of his lips as he wiggled his eyebrows, and a single word came to Barnaby’s mind: Adorable. Without a warning Barnaby’s lips crashed on his, strong hands gripping at his waist and pulling him closer, much closer. Laurent was quick to respond to these kisses, returning their passion and sinking his fingers into brown locks, tugging softly. Quickly enough their positions were flipped and Laurent was laying on the couch.

Would it be inappropriate to propose to him right now? It didn’t take him long to figure out the answer: yes. Instead, he kissed him.

- - -

Sunlight spilled inside and filled up their room as Barnaby slowly opened his eyes, vision taking a while to adjust to that sudden brightness. Without a second thought he reached forward, patting the other side of the mattress only to find it cold and empty. Where is Lau...? Tending to flowers, probably. But it’s Saturday... we could have slept in and cuddled...

Groaning softly, he managed to pull himself out of bed despite it’s comfort, and once he slipped on clothes made his way to the kitchen for a well deserved snack. What could he possibly choose? A banana? An apple? A-- and all of a sudden memories flowed right back to him, hitting him right in the chest and causing him to lose his breath for a quick second. My proposal. My missed proposal. I chickened out. Idiot, idiot, idiot!

He had planned everything until the last minute, and now it was all ruined because he had been too scared to make a move! He couldn’t possibly propose right now! Not without a romantic atmosphere, not without a nice, homemade meal, not without sweet cuddles on the couch! Laurent deserved the best, only the best, and Barnaby had to provide! Jumbled thoughts spun in his mind and, once he stepped in the kitchen, he barely noticed Laurent’s presence. When he did, however, he found himself breathless.

He always looked amazingly handsome when he had just woken up. Messy, tangled hair coupled with an adorably sleepy look. To top it all off, he would always wear a pair of boxers as well as a sweater belonging to Barnaby, which looked way too big for the redhead. It was an amazing sight, one that left Barnaby with jumbled words and clammy palms. “G’morning.” He whispered, awe in his voice.

Laurent’s attention went from the pancakes he has been making to his boyfriend, a smile immediately curling his lips. “Hello, sleepyhead. I suppose last night left you exhausted~”

Barnaby walked to his boyfriend in order to gently wrap his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss on his forehead. “You tease.” Laughter filled his voice.

“You bet. One pancake or two? I added blueberries in them.”

“Two!”

Suddenly, Laurent was giggling, fingers gently walking up Barnaby’s chest. “You must be looking forward to these pancakes, your heart is beating like crazy.”

Shit. Barnaby had failed to notice that, and now he was just realizing how hard it was hammering against his chest. Why, exactly? Simple: his love for Laurent Dorian King was swelling, getting bigger and bigger, and threatening to burst in one moment or another. He wanted to ask him, and now. The question was threatening to spill off his lips, ruining all of his plans.

Will you m--

“Your pancakes are that good, babe~” Idiot. No one’s heart beats like that when seeing food!... right? Soon enough they were eating on the couch, the same couch they had cuddled on, the same couch Barnaby had thought about proposing to him on. With memories surging back to him, he only felt a wave of uneasiness that he tried to hide as best as he could... but to no avail, as he suddenly felt Laurent’s small hand on his cheek.

“Everything ok? You look... worried. Is the job giving you trouble? Something else?”

He’s so caring. So damn caring. He always asks me if I’m fine, and if he can help in one way or another. He can just look at me and figure out I’m not feeling alright. I love him. I love him so much. He’s perfect, and he deserves perfection.

But what was perfection? Could it really be a planned event? Couldn’t it be, instead, a spontaneous reaction based on the purest emotion to exist; love? Did Barnaby really need to try and organize everything? Wouldn’t it be perfect already, since Laurent was with him? Wouldn’t it be perfect already, since they are both madly in love with each other?

Yes, a voice whispered in Barnaby’s mind. Yes, all is perfect already, because you have each other. Marriage has been in both of your minds, you see it whenever Laurent’s gaze locks on a ring when you two are out shopping. You see it whenever his eyes sparkle when a friend of his announce they are now engaged. He is ready, and you are. He reached for Laurent’s hand, lacing their fingers together and feeling warmth spread throughout his body. Wait. Not warmth, not really. Love. “I want to marry you.”

There, it was said. It was said, and there was now no turning back. Everything now rested in Laurent’s hands, but Barnaby was feeling optimistic. Sure, fear was still tugging at his mind, but his certainty that Laurent loved him as much as he did prevailed.

Laurent’s eyes widened, his jaw dropped, his cheeks flushed, his eyes began to sparkle with tears. Ones of joy. The purest joy Barnaby had ever seen. “You... a-are you serious!?” The redhead squealed at last.

“Super serious.” Barnaby confirmed, feeling his cheeks burning as well. “I... I was supposed to ask you yesterday, y’know, after dinner, but I was... pretty anxious, I guess. Yeah, very anxious.” He punctuated his sentence with a giggle, one that appeased his beating heart. “But... I love you. I love you so much, Laurent... so I have to ask you. I’m... I’m not afraid anymore. I love you, and I want to marry you! I... ack, hang on!”

Laurent had no time to say anything as Barnaby fled to their bedroom, fumbling through the clothes he had worn the previous day and pulling the ring out of his vest’s pocket. Victory painted over his face he dashed back to the couch, but he didn’t sit back on it. Instead, he did what he had meant to do since a long, long time. Dropping on one knee, breath clinging to his throat, he reached for Laurent’s hand and showed him the ring. “Laurent Dorian King. Will... will you marry me?”

He was met with astonished silence, but Laurent’s expression screamed all that Barnaby wanted to see. Joy, relief, surprise, excitement, anticipation... love. Before he could fully register it, he had now his boyfriend in his arms, his face buried into the crook of his neck and hearing gentle sobs.

He usually hated hearing Laurent cry.

But at that very moment, he was crying as well.

“And what answer are you expecting, Barnaby?” Laurent asked, attempting a giggle despite his tears.

“Have I told you you are a tease, Laurent King?”

With that, Lau nodded, and faced Barnaby at last with his hands cupping his cheeks. “Laurent Lee. My answer is yes, Barnaby... yes!”

[darkmttrcat]

ALL I KNOW

Description: A failed case assignment for Prosecutor Edgeworth definitely spoiled his evening. However, it also brings some joy to his life.

Pairing: (Ace Attorney) Miles Edgeworth x Phoenix Wright

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2,253

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RLcLgaS4CYY

@wolfex126 - love ya, dearie.

The troubles of the previous days soon began to weigh down on Miles. His once confident demeanor, the one with his head held high and his shoulders pulled back, shortly slumped down once he entered his household. With a simple sigh, Miles decided to take some time off for himself with the remaining hours of the day he had left. When usually he arrived home from being successful in the courtroom, he would get started on the files that piled up in his home office. However, the failed case disappointed him and he didn’t want to bother himself with any more work.

Miles had constructed a plan of how he would spend his evening. He shrugged off his burgundy suit jacket and slung in upon the coat rack. Then, his jabot was unpinned from his neck and placed alongside his jacket, where they usually went. Now, he was left in his white, button-up dress shirt that was behind an unbuttoned black vest. It was a strange outfit to be considered comfortable. However, the prosecutor had worn the outfit and similar clothing styles for as long as he could remember that he soon considered it as his loungewear.  

Miles directed himself towards the kitchen, with two things on his mind - the recent sessions in court and what he should make to eat. One thing was decided quickly, though; he pulled out the ingredients for his favorite recipe and shortly began to cook. While he chopped up vegetables and boiled the water, he boggled the loss around in his mind.

It was the usual murder case for Prosecutor Edgeworth - the main goal being to prove the defendant was guilty. Which has usually been easy for Miles. So far, the man held a perfect slate of never losing a case. He always enjoyed his job and gave one hundred into his work. However, this week was different. He had done the procedures like usual but he didn’t come out winning this time.

He can remember the smug look on Phoenix Wright’s face when the judge ruled the defendant innocent. The image burned its way into the prosecutor’s brain and saved itself as a reminder. The thought of the man angered him. With each slice of the vegetable, it became more violent; the blow of the knife became harder and sliced through the food rougher than before. He reached the end of the vegetable while his mind raced with anger. Soon enough, Miles didn’t realize that the knife reached the endpoint and he lightly sliced the tip of his finger.

“Ow!” He yelped out in pain. He retracted his finger and wagged it vigorously. He threw the knife onto the counter, next to the chopped up vegetables. With his other hand, he applied pressure to his wounded finger and angrily mumbled curse words underneath his breath.

Miles scrambled around his home, looking for something to temporarily cover his hand. The noodles were boiling and the vegetables were frying - the occasional “sizzle” and “pop” noises worried him and even spooked him at times. The foods that were on the stove constantly made him nervous as he anxiously searched. However, with no bandage replacement, he gave up and trudged upstairs to his restroom.

As angry as the man was, his feet made little pitter-patter as he rushed upstairs. Once he made it to the restroom, he searched drawers upon drawers to find a single band-aid. The search for the item was under intense pressure as he could still hear the food boiling and sizzling - however, the smoke alarm didn’t ring. So, he knew he was good.

As Miles walked back downstairs and into the kitchen, the remainder of blood on his finger was wiped off onto his clothes. He usually cared about how neat and tidy his clothes were but today was not one of those days. Although, he would still hate for someone to witness him in such a situation - to catch the normally calm and collected Miles Edgeworth under pressure. Once he reached his destination, he finished crafting up his meal. When the food was onto a plate, he then started to clean up his surroundings before he could sit down and relax. The counter was cleaned up, dirty dishes were put into the sink, and the remaining food was stored in the fridge.

“Finally.” Miles thought to himself as a slight smile appeared on his face. He basked in the serene atmosphere momentarily before he started on his food. Miles’ home had usually been considered a peaceful one. Most of the times, he finishes his work at his office and does not bring any home with him. That is, only if he is studying for a case. However, the past few days were hard on him. His opponent brought in new pieces of evidence several times which forced him to either stay late at the office or come home and work for what seemed like hours on end. So, now that he was able to relax in his own homemade him feel better.

The aroma of the recently cooked meal floated around his home as he tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his hand. He plopped down onto his living room couch with the plate in his hand. He relaxed fully into the couch and turned on the television; to which he then switched to the channel of his favorite show. While the television played in the background, he ate his meal. His eyes were focused on the t.v set but his mind couldn’t comprehend what was playing. It kept going back to the court case from earlier - 

RING!

Miles’ doorbell suddenly rang and it echoed throughout the household, disturbing what could have been a chance for peace. With an unsatisfied groan, he sat his plate of food back onto the table and pushed himself up from the comfortable couch. To which, he longed for instead of having to interact with whoever was at the other side of the door.

“Who could it even be?” He thought, “Gumshoe? That Fey girl?” 

Miles made his way to the entrance of his house and opened his front door. Out of all of the people he expected to be there, Phoenix Wright was not one of them.

He was absolutely bewildered by the fact that his enemy in court was standing right at his doorstep. However, seeing him after so many years passed and under different circumstances had softened him a little bit at that moment.

Phoenix could tell the other man was shocked by his appearance, so he started to speak, “Hey, Miles. I brought you a little something.”

He cleared his throat and shuffled his weight between his feet. Phoenix held something behind his back with both of his hands and Miles tried very hard not to peek. Although this definitely sparked his interest - it couldn’t have been something to brag about referring to the recent case. From knowing Phoenix all those years ago, it couldn’t have been something bad. A kind heart is what supposedly inspired him to become a defense attorney (or so what he heard).

“What is it, Mr. Wright? To what do I owe this meeting?” Miles responded. He straightened his posture and mimicked it from before. His hand rested upon the edge of the door while the same side of his body slightly leaned into. He then flattened down his shirt with his other hand and kept it over the dirtied spot on his top. Of course, this had to be the day someone saw him in a relaxed manner.

“Well… It’s nothing, Miles - er, Edgeworth.” Phoenix replied. He cleared his throat once more, scratched the back of his neck, and dropped his head. From his actions, Miles could tell how nervous he was. Then, suddenly, he quickly removed the gift from behind his back and shoved it towards Miles’ chest, “This is like a… ‘pick me up’ gift. And to say how well you did in court today.”

Miles’ mouth slightly dropped open in shock. His hand went towards the middle of his chest, more so towards his heart, and he immediately felt the softness reoccur in his heart. No one had done anything this nice for him - not even his mentor or his secretary. He was even swooned by the action. His mouth shut and his lips formed into a smile. His smile showed his joyfulness along with the playful look dancing in his eyes.

Miles gratefully took the bundle of flowers out of Phoenix’s hands and brought them even closer to his chest. The man bowed his head towards the flowers and sniffed the beautiful aroma. Phoenix looked up in shock, he didn’t expect the other to take it with such ease; he expected Miles to shut the door on his face and lock him out. The man straightened his posture, now with a burst of confidence.

“I’m surprised you remembered, Wright.” Miles said after a moment of silence was shared between the pair. In return, Phoenix furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and slightly tilted his head to the side. From the other man’s reaction, Miles continued to talk, “These were the flowers I chose for my father’s funeral… He and I both shared a love for this flower.”

“Oh… I…” Phoenix replied, his eyes wide and mouth agape. In all honesty, the man did remember; the whole funeral left quite an impression on him at such a young age. The image of a young, crying Edgeworth holding a bundle of flowers and walking them towards his father’s casket must have stunned Phoenix. He later assumed that was why he was attracted towards the flower in the store, “Of course I remembered, Miles.”

Miles looked up in shock, surprised by the answer the other had given. Unwanted memories and childhood trauma still surrounded him in his daily life. For numerous nights on end, he would wake up in a cold sweat. His nightmares would strangle him and deprive him of sleep. The night terrors kept him awake and forced him to think about the horrendous memories of his father’s last moments alive. With red, tear-stricken eyes, he was left in the early hours of the dark morning to think of the damaging wound left on his heart and mind.

However, as much as he wanted to get rid of all this pain, everything that related to his father felt like yesterday. He can reminisce about joyful times spent with his father that leave him wondering where did the time go? Whereas, he feels as if he cannot escape the feeling to dwell on the past and guilt himself into wondering where did the time go? Miles felt like he was the only one who truly remembered his father’s funeral. His family members brushed the incident off and rarely continued to talk to him. While the ones he and his father worked alongside didn’t share a glimpse at the boy whenever he walked into the office after that day. He couldn’t tell whether or not that was a good thing. Sure, he wanted to escape all of the emotions he was feeling and even the world he was living in; but he didn’t want to be the only one to have experienced it. So, hearing Phoenix says that he too remembered his father’s funeral brought an immense amount of relief to the man.

“I…” Miles nearly choked on his words. Tears formed in the corner of both of his eyes and threatened to pour. He lowered his head once more, cleared his throat, and quickly wiped away the beginning of the tears. He cleaned his hand off on his shirt, near the bloodied spot of his wounded finger. It felt as if a large weight was lifted off of his shoulders when he heard Phoenix’s response. He closed his eyes and let a small tear droplet escape his eyelid to then sprinkle upon the bud. It felt good to cry. So good that he even let out an airy chuckle as his lips continuously spread to eventually form a large smile.

Miles then soon looked up from being engulfed by the flowers. A smile that showed his teeth danced upon his face. His eyes were slightly red, and it indicated that he cried for a different reason. Phoenix’s eyebrows were raised in shock, he had never seen his old friend smile so big. As strange as the sight was to him, he returned the gesture in a matter of seconds. What Phoenix was not expecting was a small embrace from the other.

Miles quickly wrapped his arms around the slightly shorter male’s neck. The bundle of flowers tickled the back of the other’s neck. Before Miles could pull away, Phoenix brought him closer to his body by enclosing his arms around the man’s waist and burying him into an even deeper embrace. The warm feeling of their two bodies against each other sparked something in Miles - a yearning that he wished lasted forever. However, the other snaked his arms away from his waist and he repeated the action with his neck. Miles brought the flowers to his chest once more and stared into Phoenix’s coffee brown eyes. He bit his bottom lip roughly and a smirk danced upon them as he looked down at his feet. The other had never seen the confident lawyer nervous like this before, but he soon understands once he hears him speak.

“I have dinner ready. Would you like to join me?”

[sherlockbelstaff]

Honey and Sting|Detroit Become Human|Gavin x Innocent!Reader

Request by: @river-ride

Gavin x Reader (Female)

Word Count: 1,417

A/N: Feel free to smite me for taking so long into posting something.

Summary:

A fork was gently placed on his open palm, the sound of (Y/N)’s soft laugh tugging him to his where and when.

Where, the problem lied. It wasn’t as though he had a problem with people seeing (Y/N) around him. The biggest and must sour twisting fucking issue was the fact that people had to see him around her.

--

“Twenty bucks that he’s on something.” Johnson quirked.

Adams cracked a smile, coffee gurgling slightly while he cackled in his sip.

“You’re on, man.” Without taking their gaze away from Detective Gavin, they clasped a hand to seal their pact.

Three seats over, anyone with perfect hearing would be able to listen in to the men’s conversation without an issue. Gavin had to rely on his weekly sessions on anger management with his therapist in order to not stomp over to Johnson and Adams to give them a piece of their mind.

Count to three, focus on something concrete and refrain from beating the phck out of those shi-

“Good evening Gavin.” Whatever intrusive rushing through his mind in that moment halted with an abrupt whir as soon as he heard her sweet voice.

Honey, soft, warm eyes that could brighten up anyone’s day. Easy going concern that was born out of a kind heart. Whatever entity had decided to pair him with a pure personality like hers was probably playing a heavy prank on him.

The clutter around the bar even reached a momentary halt, most being customers concurring to the bar just as he did. The palpable stupefaction in the atmosphere was choking, and he swore that he heard Adams literally choke on his coffee.

With a distasteful sideglance, Gavin left his seat, the ugly expressions usually taking over his face magically replaced with a genuine happiness that even he himself doubted was capable of executing in all of his pathetic life.

God, he was in deep shit.

“I apologize for being late.” She smiled sheepishly, placing her purse on the counter. “If you have to return to work I don’t mind postponing the-”

“It’s not a problem.” He blurted stupidly, cursing every god out there that had the audacity of making his legs shake with pure unadulterated nerves to pair up with sweating hands that he not so gracefully cleansed against his worn out jeans. Why hadn’t he chosen something better to wear? Some effort needed right there pal. A great beginning to the evening.

“Fu- uh.” He could feel one of his brain cells dying to replace his swearing with actual proper words. “For now I say we take a seat and uh- enjoy some drinks. Order anything you like.” He ushered her gently to her seat before sliding in on the one next to her, ushering the bartender over.

His coworkers would’ve probably followed every movie cliché of bullying his attitude if it weren’t for the fact that they were arduously trying to process just what the fuck was happening right in front of them.

The Earth might as well swallow him up whole and end his suffering.

--

Phck Phck Phck Phck Phck.

“You didn’t have to, (Y/N).” She didn’t really have to.

And yet the delicious scent of a homemade meal, the beautiful sight in front of him, the spices wrapping around him in a luring cocoon. Hell, it was just food, but any sane person that has been eating off from microwaveable meals, just like him, would testify just how mind blowing was to have a homemade meal in their hands.

He didn’t almost shed a tear because of that.

A fork was gently placed on his open palm, the sound of (Y/N)’s soft laugh tugging him to his where and when.

Where, the problem lied. It wasn’t as though he had a problem with people seeing (Y/N) around him. The biggest and must sour twisting fucking issue was the fact that people had to see him around her.

She was just the complete opposite of what he stood for, with those pastel coloured clothes that compared nothing to the softest expression that never seemed to leave her. When people found out they were dating, he didn’t really blame them for gaping explicitly at him.

Really, he didn’t blame the poor souls that had to see that happen.

By that point the precinct knew who she was. She even seemed to liven up the atmosphere that at times became tedious and dull.

So he did the only thing he thought of in that moment.

He ate his problems away with some wonderful food.

And oh, he almost moaned at the first bite, the juiciness of the chicken, the gravy, soft and cloudy mashed potates that couldn’t compare with those awful store-bought meals. He was in heaven, he had died and gone to heaven.

“Excuse me Detective. I need you to sign some papers.”

And then the moment broke because, that was how life worked. At least it always did for him.

Then he was swiveling on his chair, mid-bite in a piece of tender chicken, gravy sliding down his chin in a slow trek.

Fuck, the android.

Then he realizes.

Fuck, the android he most certainly didn’t talk to nicely.

He stole an urgent glance at (Y/N), sitting down at the edge of the desk, smiling kindly at him at his clear enjoyment of her food.

He might’ve choked with the chicken.

Grabbing a napkin from the small pile in the crumpled back where the food had been stored, he dabbed at the gravy slathered on his face, clearing away the rasp in his voice with a big gulp of coffee.

Then he looked at the puppy android.

“You need me to sign what?” He asked. And he didn’t know why he was getting angry, because the android had done nothing, and yet there was this increasing fire inside him, motioning his body with a he’s an android with puppy eyes, what the fuck is going on with the world.

What truly busted his brain was the fact that the android clearly knew why he was angry and took all those shoves, glares, swears without any sign of offense taken.

“This.” Connor handed him a file, plastered with rows upon rows of neat handwriting, oh what the hell, he could clearly recreate any font on paper, he doubted he knew or possessed what was an individual handwriting.

And he almost retorted with an I bet you could copy off my own signature you plastic dipshit until something, someone, moved in the corner of his vision and stepped closer to the android.

“You must be Connor. I’ve heard plenty about you.” (Y/N) offered a hand to shake, and Connor being the secret smug bastard he was, must’ve calculated the situation with his computer brain, or whatever way he processed stuff, and realized what exactly was going on.

“Connor. Pleased to meet you.” He smiled sweetly at her. And his smile was as sweet as hers, but there was just that missing essence that would differentiate human from android.

Or maybe Gavin was just trying to find a way not to correlate how similarly kind they both were.

Ugh.

And next thing he knew, the android bastard was bringing up (Y/N)’s hand to press a kiss on it, the motion innocent enough. But then he was looking at Gavin, and smiling with something else, something that had his therapy sessions SELECT and DELETE. 

Gavin had to clutch the arms of his chair not to throw himself into a fight with Connor.

But he did grab the jumble of papers, jot down his signature and move to a tense stand, stepping up into Connor’s space -If only he was slightly taller- and press the folder against the android’s chest with some extra force delivered to the push.

He took a long moment of silence, mouth open to deliver a well deserved swear, but hold up, he couldn’t do that, (Y/N) was there, and Connor was not looking at him with a pleased expression of Take your time Detective, all the time you need.

“Here are your papers.” He gritted, breathed out. Then- “Connor.”

The android set into motion, taking the file and tilting his head to the side, significantly moving closer to him and whispering. “Your effort is greatly appreciated Detective Reed.” Stepping back and away from his desk to his own.

If Gaving weren’t too proud of himself, he would’ve felt touched by the comment.

What he did though, was feel overwhelmingly warm when (Y/N) rubbed a soothing hand on his back, still smiling, just sending him into a sudden spiral of Maybe Connor isn’t that bad.

Perhaps it was just the moment, having her close to him automatically igniting those thoughts.

Or maybe her kindness was starting to get to him.

[atc74]

The Letter

Square Filled: Psychic!Jensen

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

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

Pairing:  Psychic!Jensen x Reader, eventually

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

Written for: @spnaubingo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My sweet child Y/N,

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

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

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

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

I love you sweet child,

Grandpa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sugar,

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

With all my love,

Marta

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Katie,” she sniffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N laughed. “And he sings.”

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

“Y/N.”

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

“Pretty much.”

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

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

“My grandfather,” she whispered.

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

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right now?” she was surprised.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Ackles...:” she started.

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

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

“Marta,” he murmured.

“You knew her?” she gasped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you mean?” she asked inquisitively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds great, Y/N. Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

Just then the timer went off.

“Saved by the bell,” Jensen remarked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you happy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Those are their names?” he laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I am still helping,” he promised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded in agreement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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