#my laptop died without warning me in the middle of this i was crashing out real bad

[evergreen-endo]

@nyxypoo ok goodnight

[simplyhale]

So You Need A Time Machine?

summary: after (y/n)’s laptop crashes a familiar doctor comes to her rescue.

pairing: eleventh doctor x reader

warnings: fluff/comfort, some cursing, it’s mostly fluff (that’s all i could think of but if i missed anything let me know and i’ll add it <3)

word count: 1148 words

authors note: When @heytherejulietx tells you your writing is amazing you write more immediately. This truly brought me so much joy to write and i loved the thought of the doctor with a companions that is an art history major. so don't be surprised if i write more things like this cause i already want to do something with river and this character type. (also my requests are open so please make sure you read the rules before making a request!)

(y/n)’s back slid down the cold bare eggshell colored wall of your college hallway. The fourth to last light flickered broke the dim fluorescent lighting. It always did that, it has since the first time she walked down the hall. Even the professor who had been there longest has said it did this, saying The Dean was sending someone. But someone never did.

Fully sitting on the floor letting out the frustration and anxiety, that she had been holding in for what felt like forever, sigh trembled out of her mouth.

This is hell.

She had diced on two things right now, either she died in her sleep and this was hell or this was limbo. Running her shaky hands through her hair trying to calm herself down, but failing. Everything seemed like it was going to hell and this was her final pity party that didn’t want to end.

“What happened?” He asked and she knew without even looking at him, she knew he already studied her expression. Granted most passerbys would think (y/n) was sad, but the doctor knew her better. He knew the anxious pissed look far too well

“My stupid fucking laptop crashed right in the middle of me putting the final touches on my final! It corrupted and easiered the entire project and now–” Her head moved from looking up at the ceiling tiling to the Time-Lord with glossy eyes. “--I have less then seven hours to redo two months worth of work!....I’m fucked,”

Her head lightly hit the back of the wall as the hot angier tears were fighting for their way through. But she wasn’t going to let them win.

Her plan, which was still being developed, was to spend between an hour or thirty minutes to cry over and feel sorry for herself before spending the remaining six hours cramming as much as she could into Google Slides. It wouldn’t get her the A she wanted, the A she worked her ass off for. But it would at least be passing. And that’s all she wanted at the end of the day is to pass.

“So what are you going to do?”

Her head snapped towards him. It was his tone, the same tone the two would use as a way to lead the other down the route towards a plan.

It was his look too. Of course it was the normal old eyes she grew to love so much, but it was different. It had care and kindness in them. Of course the Doctor was caring, especially this one, but it was the look he would give her that reassured her that everything was going to be okay. The type where once he gives it to you, you quickly realize how much you’ve missed it. Man she missed the look.

“You know what I really need right now?” She said as the corner of her mouth slowly curled as he hummed in response. “A time machine. And not to go back to save my file, that would be messing with the timeline. No, I want to go see the actual paintings, high quality photos and endless time to analyze them.”

The Doctor smiled in ‘aw’ at (y/n) loving when she would go on rambles. Rather it be seeing a famous artwork, or analyzing whatever art was around, her and River talking for hours about the beauty of architecture, he loved it. It made him happy to see someone ramble to the ends of the universe about something so passionately like he did. Not to mention the excitement and joy she expressed all made him fall for her more.

“So you want to go through the past and then someplace where time doesn’t matter so you can write your final?” He played along.

“Final project, it’s not some essay I can cram out in an hour.” She corrected playfully before continuing, “And it’s not like that, I want to get all my information I need and then leave. I don’t want to be anywhere near here, cause then I’ll be freaking out more about it. Besides you can only handle Earth for so long when you know a Time-Lord.”

He laughed, nodding his head, finally looking away from her. She had been going back and forth between him and the ceiling. “So, if I’m hearing you right, you want a time machine but also a spaceship.”

“Time And Relative Dimension in Space.” She laughed out as her smile grew even more. “I think it’s called a Tardis?”

“Is it a big blue box that says ‘POLICE’ on it? Cause I think I saw one coming in. But I think it needs a key.” He said in a poor defeated tone, not being able to cover his happiness.

She looked down at her chest, reaching her hand up pulling a thin chain from under her shirt. Holding it between the two, revealing a metal key and a small charm. A small telephone booth charm.

The Doctor gave her a key after their fourth adventure. He had asked (y/n) to go with him, travel with him, and she wanted to. But she couldn’t, knowing she couldn’t just up and leave college. Her parents wouldn’t understand, neither would the friends she had. And she knew all too well that she couldn’t make up a believable lie. So, she made him a deal. Everytime she needed a break from ‘normal life’ she would call him. And if he were ever lonely he could call her. He never did call her though, he would usually just show up in true doctor fashion.

“You mean this one?”

The two broke out into laughing fits. Afterwards, The Doctor sprung to his feet swiftly pulling (y/n) up with him, dropping the key and holding his hand. “Now I say we swing by your room, grab whatever you need, and then to the past we go!”

“Geronimo!” (y/n) shouted smiling widely as his expression matched hers before the two started running down the hallway.

[krappykawa]

Okie so Can I request some headcanons for atsumu tsukishima and kuroo who has an s/o who's more reserved and likes to read and often likes to just be comfertable like they climb into their lap while reading or using their laptop because they feel more comfortable that way in public or not,and the s/o has really dry humor and makes jokes about some of there classmates but in a super subtle way that makes you have to really think about what they said.1/2

ATSUMU, KUROO, AND TSUKISHIMA WITH A S/O THAT LIKES TO READ

atsumu x reader, kuroo x reader, tsukishima x reader

genre. fluff

warnings. language

word count. 2k

part 2 of the ask

note. there was a lot of stuff in this request so i hope i got most of what you were asking for!!

ATSUMU

— you two met because you were reading at the park when suddenly a ball came flying over your head

— like straight up WHOOSH (probably could have taken your head off lmao)

— you were just trying to finish this book you were reading, and so you were really irritated when this blonde guy runs up to you

— “oh shit sorry! did ya get hit anywhere?”

— now, of course you knew who he was because how could you not when this dude is notorious for being an asshole at your school

—you’re not really one to really judge until you meet someone though, so you didn’t immediately tell him to go away

— you mumbled something like “does he usually almost murder people on a daily basis?” under your breath

— atsumu heard you and had the nerve to smile

— “i’d never attempt to murder someone as pretty as you, darlin’”

— you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes

— you ignored him and he was like “whaaa??” cause this dude could get any girl to talk to him and you just ignored him

— at that point, he’d picked up the volleyball and was just watching you as you went back to your reading (not in a weird way or anything lmao)

— you knew he was staring, but you refused to look up

— “whatcha’ readin’?”

— “don’t you have anyone else, like literally anyone else, that you can be bothering right now?”

— he smirked and then shrugged “no, not really”

— you ended up looking up at him and then back at your book before standing up and leaving him where he was standing without saying another word

— oh man, this doof is whipped from then on

— let’s just say he warms up to you because you find out that he’s actually kind of funny (like he’ll make jokes about the classmates that he knows don’t like him and you have to fight a laugh because this man has absolutely no shame and says what you’re thinking but are too afraid to say out loud)

— you know you should be telling him off for doing so, but you agree in your head so it seems hypocritical to tell him to stop

— he’s funny in other ways too

— like he straight up guffaws with this ugly laugh and you have to wonder why exactly it is that this guy is so popular with the girls

— well it’s this guy that wormed into your heart, so really you can’t be talking

— he’s also strangely interested in your books? he never reads them, but he genuinely listens when you rant about this character or this ending that you don’t like because he likes how you don’t have a filter when absolutely bashing a character or book

— when you start talking about how annoying a character is and how you wish they’d fallen into some sort of pit ... atsumu’s on the floor with laughter

— he gets all heart eyes when you talk about something in the book that you do like because you have that cute little smile on your face that you never show him otherwise

— so when you eventually start dating him, he fully understands how much you like to read (he doesn’t mind it either because you’ll sometimes go to his practices and just read on the sidelines, or when he doesn’t have time to spend time with you because of volleyball he doesn’t feel as bad because you were gonna catch up on your current book anyway)

— LOVES it when you climb on his lap and curl up against him while you read

— he’s like a giant tsum tsum (pun intended)

— if he’s not doing anything while you’re on his lap, sometimes he’ll lay his chin on your shoulder and read along with you (which he turns into some kind of game because he has to read extra fast so that he can read the whole page before you turn the page)

— you eventually catch on to what he’s doing so you make it your personal vendetta to read faster than him

— one day he catches you reading a book on the couch while wearing his sweatshirt

— he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world

— he’s already taken a picture of you and made it his lockscreen before you even notice what’s happening

— he may or may not also have that picture on his wall just so he can smile at it before falling asleep

— this guy hates paying attention in class, so when you send him a text about how something just happened in your book in the middle of class, he eagerly responds right away

— has absolutely no clue what you’re on about because he doesn’t really pay attention to what’s happening in your books, but he’s genuinely interested in you talking about them because he likes the way you get so excited

— will text like “what?? no way” or “hell yea get him!!”

— basically really short texts because he’d much rather read about you ranting than actually contribute to the conversation

— sometimes you’ll send him updates about your book while he’s at practice or while he’s sleeping so he can’t answer right away

— he absolutely crashes no later than 12 AM because he’s tired from practice, so he doesn’t read your 1 AM screaming session until he wakes up in the morning

— he’ll laugh at his phone because there’s just this stream of messages about you freaking out over something

— osamu hits him with a pillow sometimes when he starts loudly laughing at 6 in the morning after reading your texts

KUROO

— THIS MAN IS A STRAIGHT UP NERD

— like he literally reads chemistry books for fun (i know he does. you cannot fight me on this. he does.)

— he’s best friends with kenma so he already knows what it’s like when someone he cares about is super engrossed in something that they don’t want to be bothered with

— he’ll come over to your house just to do homework while you read

— sometimes if his hand starts to cramp up while writing he’ll plop down right next to you and try to get a look at the page you’re reading

— you literally have to fight the urge to swat him away

— because HIS HAIR

— HIS HAIR GETS IN THE WAY

— like you’ll be reading and suddenly this big mess of black hair obscures your vision

— one time he did that right as you were about to get to the really good part of the story and you almost took scissors and cut all of his hair off right then and there

— after the first time he does it he realizes it annoys you

— so naturally he does it as many times as he can

— you started to catch on after he did it a few times, so now every time he gets off his bed while you’re reading, you literally sprint to your bathroom and lock yourself in

— cue his hyena laugh

— will literally stand at the door of your bathroom and bother you until you have no choice but to come out (you glare at him when you do and he thinks it’s so cute so he does this a lot)

— to get back at him you start to climb into his lap while he’s doing homework and refuse to budge

— at first it’s just for revenge purposes, but he is literally the most comfortable pillow

— you take any chance you get and crawl into his lap after that

— you stole his shirt once because it was a graphic tee of this character from one of your books

— kuroo’s eyes nearly fall out of his head when he sees you wearing it

— “take my entire closet. take it. you can keep anything forever because you look so good wow.”

— one time he was doing homework when you slammed your book shut and screamed into your pillow

— he just stared at you for a good minute while you did that

— when you stopped screaming he waited a little bit to ask what was wrong because he was kinda scared to ask

— when you told him it was because of your book he practically melted

— “literally marry me right now oh my god???”

— sometimes you’ll text him in class about the book you’re reading, but he won’t read it until after the class is over because he actually pays attention in class (which you tease him for)

— after class though he’ll greet you by asking about what happened in the book because he is literally invested in anything you text him about when it comes to what you’re reading

— like he literally yelled “WHAT??” in the middle of the gym after one of his practices because he was so distraught over you texting him to say that his favorite character died

— everyone on the team thought they got in trouble or something, so when this absolute nerd goes “oh shit sorry *insert character name here* just died in this book Y/N is reading” the team loses their shit

TSUKISHIMA

— you two met because you sat next to him once in the library

— he doesn’t usually spend time in the library, but yamaguchi was out sick that day so he decided it was his best bet since he wasn’t keen on talking to anyone that day

— he practically glared at you when you pulled on the chair across from him and sat down

— at first, you thought he was glaring at something behind you, so you turned around and there was nothing there

— you realized that he was glaring at you, but you were not phased in the slightest

— “are you alright? you look like you’re envisioning a very slow and painful death for me.”

— he actually almost smiled at that. almost.

— after that, he stopped glaring at you, but he didn’t say a word in response

— you didn’t mind because you were just there to read in silence anyway

— he came to the library more often after that

— he told himself that it was because he didn’t want to give kageyama or hinata the chance to corner him for homework help, but really he was there because of you

— he always sat at the same table and you always sat in the seat across from him

— it became like a little routine between you two

— one time he was doing his homework and you were reading when you caught him sneaking glances at you

— you kept quiet about it though because you knew he’d deny it if you asked

— after a few months of only seeing each other in the library and never talking, he’s the first one to break the silence

— “do you … do you read anywhere else?”

— at first, you’re offended

— but then you look closer and see the little blush on his cheeks and suddenly you realize what’s going on

— you don’t look up from your book when you say, “i read at the bakery down the street sometimes. i think i’ll be there this saturday at noon”

— low and behold he actually shows up at the bakery that saturday

— he’s sitting at one of the tables with a plate of strawberry shortcake and he’s picking at it like he’s angry with it

— “gee, what did the poor shortcake ever do?”

— he looks so nervous when he looks up and you think it’s the cutest thing ever

— you both consider that day in the bakery your first date (spoiler alert: it actually went really well)

— after that, you would meet at the library and one of you would state a place and a time where you would be and just hope that the other shows up

— he always shows up to yours. you always show up to his.

— you two never really have a talk about making it official, it just sort of happens??

— dates with him after you two become a “thing” consist of you reading while he watches weird documentaries about insects

— he just likes the feeling of having you around so it doesn’t bother him when you don’t want to watch the documentary with him

— you two will sometimes sit at the park during a date and just make weird assumptions about the people walking by and each assumption becomes an inside joke between the two of you (“i bet he went to a culinary school but can’t cook” or “she probably has three cats at home that she knits little sweaters for”)

— he is not very keen on physical affection (even when you’re alone)

— but he eventually warms up to you. just a little bit.

— it takes you a long time to convince him to let you sit on his lap for even a second so the second time that you decide to crawl into his lap while he’s watching another documentary he goes

— “what are you doing?”

— you’re kind of a little shit so you just smile to yourself and say “reading.”

— you can practically hear the gears turning in his brain

— for a second you think that he might actually push you off

— but then he relaxes

— he doesn’t put his hands anywhere on you while you’re in his lap but you already know that him letting you sit there for longer than a minute is one of the longest showings of affection you’ll get from him so you just snuggle further into him and he relaxes

— you also send him a lot of texts about your books

— literally his number might as well be saved as goodreads on your phone because his number is like a review dump for you

— i’m talking full-on paragraphs of analysis and little reactions that probably span as 15 messages in a row

— sometimes he replies and sometimes he doesn’t

— when he doesn’t reply, he’ll ask you about the book the next time you see each other though

— he might say it’s annoying but you know that he secretly loves it when you text him your reviews and reactions

— when he can’t sleep he’ll text you at 1 AM and ask you how the book you’re reading is going

— he falls asleep with a smile on his face after he basically gets a whole novel worth of text messages from you

requests are open!!

[queen-of-deans-booty]

To Be Your Person

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester, Reader’s Uncle

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: angst, minor fluff, death of a loved one, funeral angst

Request by @originalposter-96: Can I request for Dean Winchester? The reader is dating him and is close to Sam. When she receives the news that her aunt had passed away, the three of them all go visit her family. When they visit her uncle, he is quiet for most of the time but when the reader starts talking to him about a picture that she still has of them goofing off, it makes him smile. Dean thought that was really sweet because no one else has been able to do that and Dean loved the way she bonds with him.

Summary: When your aunt unexpectedly passes in her sleep, you and the brothers go to her funeral. There, you try and comfort your uncle as you two remember who she was.

hurt/comfort for @spndeanbingo

guardian angels for @teamfreewillbingo

photobomb for @spnfluffbingo

Author’s Note: This is unbeta’d and all mistakes are mine. If you have any requests, please send them in!

It’s a chill day in the Bunker which is a rarity. Usually, your days are filled with fear, terror, and ghastly things that most people just wouldn’t survive. You see so much death and destruction a day it’s amazing how you’re still alive at this point--or sane enough to function on your own. Well, you would be if you did it on your own.

Sam and Dean have been great roommates since the moment you decided to live with them. They’re men, so it has it’s downsides to living with them, but other than the usual shit, they’re pretty great. It’s hard to share a house with both brothers and not fall for at least one of them. You tried for so long to keep your feelings at bay, but you and the elder Winchester connected almost immediately.

He’s the reason why you’re here today.

Your relationship has been touch-and-go for the most part, but you’re going on four months now, and everything seems to be going great. There is still a lot of things that you don’t know about him, and there are certainly a lot of things he doesn’t know about you, but you like taking it slow and learning about each other in surprising ways.

You can trust him wholeheartedly with your life when you go out on hunts. He’s proven more than capable of holding your life in his hands. Hell, he’s had to do it a few times over the years. You can go on a hunt knowing that you’re going to come out of it okay because of Dean Winchester. He knows exactly what he is doing, and even though he doesn’t need to, he takes care of everyone when they’re hunting with him.

The problem isn’t trusting him with your life… it’s trusting him with your heart.

You’ve been hurt too many times in the past to just hand it over like it’s something he has a right to. No, he needs to earn the rights to your heart. Your relationship is still pretty new, so you’re not even close to letting him near your heart like that. It’s going to take a lot of time and effort to make your body know and understand that he isn’t going anywhere, and he is here to stay.

Right now, you’re looking through different newspapers for potential cases while Sam is on the laptop. Dean wants to help, but he’s pretending to do work on his laptop when you know he’s really just playing some meaningless game. You’re not finding anything in the newspaper, and our eyes are getting tired from staring at the same thing. You place the paper down and get up to get something to drink.

“You guys want anything?” you ask.

“Two beers,” Dean says and holds up two fingers.

You walk into the kitchen and get the beers along with a beverage of your choice. Once you grab them, you start to head back. Just before you can walk into the war room, your phone rings. Your uncle is calling, so you shuffle everything to one hand so you can answer the phone with the other one.

“Hey, Uncle Zack! How are things back home?” you ask as you walk into the library.

“Not good, Y/N. I am so sorry to be telling you this over the phone, but your Aunt Pearl died this morning in her sleep.”

You’re in the middle of handing Dean his beer when you just tense up and freeze. The beer bottle slips from your hand and crashes to the floor, shattering into pieces. The drink you grabbed for you is next, but luckily, Dean catches it before it can suffer the same fate.

“What the hell, Y/N!” Dean says, but he trails off when he sees the look on your face.

Your Aunt Pearl and Uncle Zack were the ones you went to whenever your parents were out on hunts. They left you with them because it was too dangerous to have their only kid go with them. Zack and Pearl knew of the supernatural, but they didn’t want any part of it. They supported your parents, and they would only help if research needed to be done or something that can be done from home. They wanted to live a normal life, but it’s not like Pearl was going to let her sister hunt on her own without some kind of help.

Whenever you stayed with them, you would always have the best time together. Pearl made you forget your parents were out hunting monsters and took you to the zoo, shopping malls, the amusement parks and gave you a childhood you could be proud of. Your uncle taught you more survival skills since he loved to hunt animals in the woods behind their house.

Pearl and Zack are the best couple you knew besides your parents. They knew what the other was thinking, relied on each other when they needed it, and loved each other endlessly. Most people you knew got divorced within the first five years of being married to each other, but Pearl and Zack have been married for sixty years this past month, and you’ve always wanted what they had.

You knew love existed because of your aunt and uncle. You loved your parents to death, but they were never able to give you a childhood like your aunt and uncle did. They always made sure to set aside some time to devote to you, and you always appreciate that of them.

To hear that your aunt Pearl has passed is devastating because you know just how much your uncle loves her. It brings you back to when you found out your dad had died during a hunt. That’s what it took for your mom to retire, but it was too late for her. She died a few months later from a broken heart. Pearl was old, so you knew it was coming, but you didn't think it would be here that quickly.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Sam asks, concerned that you haven’t moved for the past five minutes.

You’ve just been staring at the wall behind Dean with your phone to your ear.

“There’s going to be a funeral, and I’d like for you to be there,” your uncle says.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“I know you loved her so much. I know how hard this is.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whimper.

“I’ll send you more information regarding the funeral later on. I just wanted you to be the first person to know. At least she’s with your mother now.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You can’t seem to form words that are more than one syllable right now, and he understands you need to take this in. He’s done enough grieving this morning to finally call someone, and now it’s your turn.

“I love you so much. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

There is a moment of silence before he hangs up. The phone slips from your hands just as your knees buckle. Dean is quick to catch you, and as soon as you feel his arms around you, you break down crying. Your sobs are loud, and they echo off the walls causing them to be haunting. Sam and Dean have no clue what that phone call was about, but they are going to wait until you calm down so you can tell them.

Dean sits back on his chair, bringing you with him. You crawl into his lap and bury your face in his neck, sobbing into it. His neck is wet from your tears, but he doesn’t make any move to wipe them away. The only thing he does is run his hand up and down your back trying to soothe you. Sam gets up and cleans the mess you made on the floor before scooting his chair closer to you and Dean.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” you stutter.

“It’s okay. Take a deep breath for me, okay?” Dean says.

You pull away enough to look at him, and you try to do what he asked of you. Your bottom lip trembles, but you manage to take a big breath in and out.

“What’s going on? Who was on the phone?”

“M-my uncle. My a-aunt pas-passed away this m-morning.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam sighs.

“They gave me a ch-childhood I’ve a-always dreamed of. They were m-my second parents,” you cry. “There’s going to be a funeral.”

“Do you know when?”

“No. He’s going to call me back. God, I feel so sorry for him. They l-love each other so much. They were m-married for sixty years.”

“I know it’s rough. I wish there was something we can do,” Dean sighs.

“Will you both come with me to the funeral? I don’t want to go alone.”

“Yeah, of course. Whatever you need,” Sam nods.

“Yeah, anything,” Dean agrees.

The rest of the day was spent lying in Dean’s arms, thinking about living in a world without your aunt.

The funeral happens a week after she passes. Your uncle managed to get everything ready quickly, and you know he only did that to keep himself busy. The real struggle is going home after this to an empty house and living in that house knowing that the person you love is never going to walk those halls or sleep next to you. The hardest part hasn’t even come close, but you’re going to try and be there for your uncle through it all.

Your aunt was loved by all, so there is a lot of people at the funeral. All of your family, her family, and all of her friends are there talking about what a great person she was. Everyone is talking to someone except for your uncle. He’s just sitting by himself, watching everyone else. You leave Sam and Dean’s side to join his. As soon as he sees you, his eyes light up but not by much.

“Y/N,” he says sadly.

“I am so sorry,” you whimper.

He takes you into his arms, and you hug him tightly. He kisses the top of your head, and you pull away enough to look at him in the eyes.

“It’s not your fault, butterfly.”

That’s a nickname he loves calling you since he believes you could do much more with your life if you’d just spread your wings.

“She’s not gone for good. She’s right here,” you say and place your hand over his heart. “She will always be watching over us. She’s your guardian angel now. You know how much she believed in that kind of stuff.”

“I know she did,” he sniffles. “Excuse me.”

He shrugs out of your grasp and leaves to go upstairs. He might cry or yell, but you know he has to do it alone. Sam and Dean approach you from behind, and you turn to face them with a sigh.

“I can’t believe she’s gone.”

“I know,” Dean whispers.

He brings you into a side-hug, and he kisses the top of your head in a comforting way. Your uncle doesn’t want to be present for this part since he knows he won’t be able to survive it. Your aunt has a lot of admirers and friends, and almost all of them talk about how great she was, shared some memories, and even cried a bit. You wanted to say something, but everything you wanted to say was about the hunter’s life. You can’t bring anyone else into this life, so you’re going to say your eulogy for when you’re alone.

She deserves to hear it.

Your uncle came back down after everyone was done, but even then, he didn’t talk to anyone. He didn’t smile, he didn't laugh, and he didn’t do anything except sit at his chair and watch everyone else do what he couldn’t. Sam and Dean notice how sad he looks, but they sure as hell don’t know how to make him feel better.

You tried to make him feel better by talking about how she is always going to be here, but maybe that was the wrong approach. You decide to take a different one, and you take out your phone so you can access your photos. You leave the brothers’ side and sit next to your uncle.

“Butterfly, I’d really like to be alone,” he sighs.

“Remember this?” you ask and hold up your phone to show him one of your favorite pictures of you, him, and your aunt.

You remember wanting to take a nice picture of you and your uncle, but you two had just gotten done roughhousing with your aunt. She still wanted to play and joke around, so she photobombed the picture. She jumped on your uncle’s back, look at the camera, and made a funny face. You’re laughing at her entrance, and your uncle is just smiling because he loves his wife so much.

Your uncle takes out his glasses and looks at the picture. He remembers that day as if it were yesterday; It might as well be. He smiles at her face, and you move to sit next to him so you can show him more pictures like this one.

Sam is getting food, but Dean is watching you and your uncle. Your uncle hasn’t smiled once since this whole thing started, but you managed to get him there with one photograph. You’re the only one who got him to smile at the memory of your aunt instead of sulking in it. He wishes to be that close to you, to know you can always come to him no matter how down you’re feeling because he’s always going to try and cheer you up.

Your relationship is new, and that’s okay, but he’s in it for the long run. You’re just that special, and he’s never met anyone else like you. He wishes to be your rock, your best friend, the one you’ve been married to for sixty years. He wants to love you the way your uncle loved your aunt.

He wants to be your person, and one day, he hopes you let him.

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[nalgenewhore]

With My Life - Chapter Two

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

warnings:  (all graphic) violence, gun violence, blood, smut, implied PTSD

Elide slept fitfully for a couple hours more after Lorcan left. After ten minutes of hiding from the sun by burying her face in his pillow and switching positions every thirty seconds, Elide decided to accept the fact that she wouldn’t fall back to sleep and there was nothing she could do about it. 

With a sigh, Elide got up and padded over to his closet, swapping his black dress shirt for a pair of sweats that practically drowned her and one of his old hoodies. She walked over to the dresser he kept, opened the top drawer that she had slowly begun to take over and grabbed her tortoise shell hair clamp to twist her short but thick hair and clip it back. 

Then, she walked out of his room, out the short hallway before she got to the top of the stairs, which were located beside the windows that went from the floor to the ceiling of his second floor. Elide stepped down the stairs, her hand resting elegantly on the railing. 

Elide sighed again and rubbed her eyes as she walked into his pristine, state of the art kitchen. 

She looked out the wall of floor to ceiling windows, wondering where in the city Lorcan’s clients would take him today as she filled up the kettle in the sink. 

After putting it on the stove and turning the burner on, Elide picked up the remote control and turned on the big, sleek flatscreen. A voice in the back of her mind reminded her the revisions for her thesis weren’t done yet. Elide scowled as she flipped through the channels and landed on a rerun of a baking show. 

Reasoning with herself, she decided to take the day off. Between the extra class load undergrad psych courses she’d agreed to teach and research for her graduate degree, as well as spending more and more time with Lorcan… she deserved a break. 

Taking the day off would give her time to think about them. And about dinner. 

Elide thought about their relationship as she fixed herself a cup of tea. Being with Lorcan was simple. Not at all serious, just some harmless fun, but still, quite possibly her most valued relationship nonetheless. 

There were times, so many gods-damned times when she wanted more. And thought that he felt that way, too. 

Like when their intimate activities were done for the night, when they both passed out where they dropped onto the sheets, Lorcan would search the king-sized mattress until he could pull her close against him. In all the nights she had spent with him, Elide had not once fallen asleep without his arms around her. Or when he had had a hard day, he would call her in the middle of the night - when he knew she was still up working tirelessly on her degree - just to hear her talk and ramble about whatever she’d learned that day. 

He listened to her like… he loved her, like she loved him. 

He trusted her with his life and he wanted to talk to her. What else could he have to say, right? 

Elide had a distinct feeling that everything as they knew it would change today.

+*+*+*+*+*+* 

Get in. 

Get the list. 

Get out. 

Lorcan repeated it like a mantra as he moved through the seemingly abandoned building like a shadow. He breathed calmly, keeping his nerves in check. It’s just another work day, keeping it together, he told himself, schooling himself into detached neutrality as he continued through the house. 

Methodically, he checked every room he passed, toeing the door open and stepping in, smoothly pointing his gun and checking every inch of space before moving on. 

He listened intently, his ears nearly twitching with every sound besides his own breathing and steady steps. 

The radio in his ear crackled to life, “Upstairs, second door on the right.” Connall and the team at headquarters had been tracking the computer - the one that held Erawan’s list of suppliers and dealers - for months and it would finally come to an end today. 

The house around him remained eerily quiet, but Lorcan shook it off as his own tension as he moved up the stairs, studying them briefly and avoiding places he knew would creak too loudly. 

Like the good spy, like the good little soldier he was years ago, Lorcan checked the first rooms first, then the one opposite the room the computer was in. Nobody was there. 

And just when he was thinking the gods hadn’t forsaken him again, Lorcan walked into the second room on the right and bit back his low curse. It was stupid, juvenile and foolish to think that the gods had ever cared, for the man sitting behind the very laptop countless people had died for had a bullet wound in the middle of his forehead and the wall behind him was splattered with blood and the laptop had been torn apart. 

“C?” 

“L?” 

“They got it. Laptop’s ripped open and,” he walked in further, swallowing his gag at the reek of blood, “they shot their guy. Been here… half an hour, at most.” Which meant someone was following him. 

There was a pause and Lorcan heard Connall take a breath to speak but then, “Wait. Shh.” 

Connall didn’t fight it, didn’t speak another word as Lorcan listened, narrowing his eyes and slowly putting his gun back in his shoulder holster. He could’ve sworn he’d heard something coming from… the hallway. 

Lorcan gave the room one last glance and stepped out into the hallway, just in time to see a black clad figure sprint down the hall and jump, crashing through the window and onto the streets below them. 

“What was that?” Connall asked, evidently having heard the glass smashing. 

“The list,” Lorcan bit out, already moving when Connall told him Nehemia was tracking the hard drive. “I’m in pursuit.” 

Lorcan ran to the end of the hall, stopping himself from crashing through the pane and searching the rooftops. Two buildings away, there was that same shrouded figure hopping along the buildings of Morath, glancing back at Lorcan every so often. 

“Tell Elide I’ll be late.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Her plan for a day off hadn’t worked. Elide had tried to relax, as Lorcan told her to constantly. She snorted to herself as she highlighted a passage and switched to a blue pen, scrawling a note on the margin. It was rich coming from Lorcan. The man could barely sit still for a half hour show without fiddling with something, dropping into push-ups or another exercise. 

There were a couple trays of cranberry-orange muffins sitting idly by, ones Elide had made after getting a craving from the baking shows. She plucked one up, mindlessly picking at it and thinking to herself. 

Her thesis advisor and mentor, a man named Weylan Darrow, sent her an email about her next review panel and she clicked on it, reading through his notes. He was a crotchety old man, that is, to everyone except Elide. He had developed a bit of a soft spot for her over the past couple years. 

He had been a huge help - a godsend, really, during the years. Being a former foster child herself, writing on how the system affected cognitive development was a personal and delicate subject for her, but Darrow, as he preferred to be called, had always respected boundaries and pushed her to take time off when she needed it. 

Elide zoned out and absentmindedly munched on her muffin, only realizing she’d been sitting at the kitchen island, staring off into space for a couple minutes when the buzzer sounded. 

She got up and padded over to it, furrowing her brow as she tried to recall which button it was to talk. The largest was lit up and flashing green, so she took a chance and held it down as she said, “Hello?” 

“Miss Lochan?” 

“Yes?” 

“Mr. Salvaterre had a package delivered for you. Would you like me to bring it up?” 

Elide shook her head, forgetting for a second that they couldn’t see her. “Oh, no, Malakai, I’ll be down soon.” 

“Alright, Miss Lochan. See you soon.” 

Elide walked back to the counter and put ten or so muffins into a container for Malakai and his husband before she slipped on her shoes and went downstairs, wondering what on earth Lorcan had sent her. 

One of his neighbours was in the elevator with her and they chatted idly. The older woman was a sweetheart and Elide gave her a muffin from the container, graciously thanking her for the invitation to have tea later that day. 

Elide bid the woman good-bye and smiled at Malakai, handing him the container, “Fresh from the oven.” 

He smiled and put the container under the front desk, coming back up with a sleek, black and silver edged dress box, tied together with a matching silver ribbon. “For you and,” he pulled up a matching black and silver bag with silver ribbon handles, “for you. There’s a note in there, too.” 

She smiled, trying to control her blush as she fit the bag’s handles in her elbow and picked up the box, ignoring Malakai’s cheeky wink. “Oh, stop it.” 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

Elide just rolled her eyes and went back upstairs, making herself wait until she returned to the penthouse to open it. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Marama, do you have eyes on Salvaterre?”  

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Lorcan hardly heard the words flying over the radio in his ear as he dodged a cheap punch, ramming his elbow up into the masked figure’s face, hearing the telltale crunch of the man’s nose and using the advantage of the man’s head snapping back to lock him in a chokehold and put pressure on his windpipe. “Where is it?” 

The man spoke an ancient, dirty language - one of the man legends say tried to rip the world in two. Lorcan snarled in his ear, gripping the top of his mask, “Tell me where it is or I swear to Hellas, I’ll throw you off this gods-damned bridge. Tell me where it is.” 

The man fought for breath and Lorcan let him struggle before loosening his hold, letting the man believe he had the advantage. “You will never find it.” 

“I need two more minutes,” Nehemia said, her voice tinged in desperation. 

During the chase across the city to the decrepit bridge they stood on now, the man had dropped the hard drive, the small black square escaping Lorcan’s attention. Nehemia had managed to track it somehow, probably from the original tracker they had planted in the computer, and was deciphering its security features. 

Lorcan ripped the mask from the man, turning him and leaning him over the railing, “Tell me where it is.” 

Erawan’s man’s pupils were dilated, leaving only a thin circle of watery blue around the depthless black. Most of the fanatic’s forces took a drug hybrid Erawan and his team had crafted themselves and flooded the streets of every major international city with, a drug called Wyrd. It made one feel invincible, making them believe they could withstand any physical act like torture and harm. 

Really, it just severed the pain receptor connection and the majority of users ended up near dead in the hospitals. 

“You cannot stop the prophecy. He will reign supreme,” the man promised, choking slightly as the blood from his broken nose slid down his throat. 

Lorcan fought the urge to roll his eyes and gripped the man’s collar, twisting the material until he could barely get a breath in, “I will break your neck, tell me where it is.” 

The man clamped his jaw shut, biting down so hard and fast that Lorcan saw a cracked tooth when the man attempted to spit on him and instead, drooled down his weak chin. “You… you…will never… know.”

“Are you in position,” that hissing viper voice snapped, not one part of the sentence in question. 

“Yes, ma’am. Three buildings southwest, clear view of Salvaterre and target.” 

Lorcan was distracted for a split second by listening to Fenrys’ location, and the man grabbed at the chance, ramming his knee up between Lorcan’s legs and pushing him off. 

That quickly, Lorcan was incapacitated by the pain in his body, hardly fighting the target as he stomped on his knee, forcing it to bend in a way no knee should. He swallowed his scream of pain, his head whipping to the side when he was punched in the face, already tasting blood in his mouth and spitting it onto the ground before fighting back. 

The man was relentless, with zero regard for his own protection as he rained blows down on Lorcan, lashing out with his feet and knees. 

Lorcan snarled and easily sidestepped the next punch, returning one of his own to the throat and one to his solar plexus. The man stumbled back, blood and saliva leaking down his face and fighting for breath. 

Panting, the man attempted to strike, a hard jab to the stomach that had Lorcan bending reflexively and giving the man just enough time to slip away and sprint towards the city.  

Lorcan groaned in pain, rasping to the earpiece, “He’s running.” 

“I got him,” Fenrys said and Lorcan started running, pushing his agony down down down. “I got him.” 

The man’s multitude of injuries started to heed his escape as Lorcan used every lesson drilled into him to keep his mind off the white hot pain in his left knee and tackled him to the ground, quickly pressing his knees into the man’s elbows and using his weight to keep him down. “Where the fuck did you put it?” 

The man pressed his lips together, pure rage and unadulterated fury in his eyes. Somehow, he slipped his arm free and slashed, slicing the knife Lorcan didn’t know he had down Lorcan’s right cheekbone. Then, the target flipped them as Lorcan felt warm blood leak down his face and pressed the tip of his knife into Lorcan’s throat. “I will never tell you. The prophecy must come true, our king will be crowned at last.” 

“What’s the hold up,” Maeve snarled, wondering why he hadn’t shot yet. 

Lorcan remained as still as possible, the cool metal edge of the blade cutting into his skin. He felt warm blood drip and pool in the hollow of his throat as Fenrys said he couldn’t get a clear shot. 

“Take the fucking shot,” Maeve ordered and the target was distracted by something. 

That quick, Lorcan shoved him off, flipping them just as he heard the distinct sound of a bullet being shot through the radio and nearly instantaneously, searing pain ripped through his left side, forcing him to take a step back. 

He bumped into something cold and metal, pausing as he slowly looked down and lifted his fingers to the hole in his black tactical shirt. They came away red and as if life was in slow motion, he looked up at the target, whose own eyes were widening. Swallowing thickly, Lorcan whispered, “Agent down.” 

Then, he stumbled back another step and hit the railing, tipping over it and falling to the river. 

The wind whipped at his body and he was so tired, he was in so much pain. 

Eventually, he hit the water below with a resounding boom, the spray nearly touching the bridge he’d fallen from. As he grasped to the tendrils of life as the current swept him under, he felt someone cup his face and opened his eyes. 

Elide floated above him, a gentle, peaceful sort of smile playing at her round lips. She didn’t say a thing and Lorcan tried, tried to tell her the words that had been locked away inside his ancient, wicked heart for an eternity, but there was too much water, down his throat, down his nose, in his eyes. 

Elide Lochan, I love you.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

It was a quarter to eight and Elide looked at herself in the mirror, appraising the vision. She could almost imagine how Lorcan would react. 

First, his eyes would catch on her face and he’d smile - he always did and he never noticed. 

Then, in afterthought, he would flick his gaze over her body and pause, his lips parting in a soft gasp as he drank in the sight of her curves. He would sear her skin with his stare as he looked at the way the black silk of the dress he’d bought her slid over her body, delicate diamond decorated straps that attached the cowl neckline to the low-cut back and left her creamy skin on almost full display.

Lorcan would walk up slowly, looking up and down her figure and then ruin the moment by doing something juvenile like grabbing her ass or saying something crass that had her laughing even though she would deny it until she was blue in the face. 

Elide reached over for her earrings, single drop diamonds that had once belonged to her mother. She cast a harsh glance over her makeup, her cheeks heating at the deep maroon lip. Lorcan had a little bit of a thing for coloured lipsticks and liked to have her leave marks over his body, smeared against his across his skin.

She heard a knock on the door and her stomach clenched in anticipation. Elide breathed out slowly as she walked out of the bathroom and down the stairs, one hand holding her swishy skirt and biting back her smile as she waltzed across the front hall and put her hand on the cool silver handle. 

With one last calming sigh, she opened the door, not at all prepared to see Rowan and Connall standing on the doorstep, wearing somber faces. “Oh, hi. Lorcan’s not here right now, he’s still at work, I think. We’re going out.” 

They looked at each other with unease and Connall stepped forward, the moon to his brother’s sun wearing a broken expression. “Ellie…” 

She curled her shaking hands into fists, determined to not let them see her breakdown over nothing. Lorcan probably had to work late, she understood. They could reschedule. 

“Ellie, Lorcan’s not… he’s not…” Connall’s voice died off and he looked in desperation at Rowan, who looked seconds from tears. 

Her voice was dry and cracked when she dared whisper a question for which she dreaded the answer,

“Where is he?”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

oh he fucking dead doe - that’s where he is 😳 anyways, i just wanted to let everyone know that i will not be posting as often as i did with previous wips - frankly, i can’t keep it up, i’ve been writing pretty much nonstop since april and im a lil tired. there are other contributing factors (ie, i have thirty chapters planned out + an extra scene and im writing it serially which i don’t usually do) but yeah, that’s what’s up! i am hoping to post twice a week on sundays and wednesdays (8pm pacific time babey) and that may drop to once but whatcha gonna do 

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss​ @superspiritfestival @lovemollywho @queen-of-glass @jlinez @sleeping-and-books @ireallyshouldsleeprn @verypaleninja

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Atlantis 6

Previously on Atlantis

The moment she woke, Clarke kept her eyes closed and just listened, realizing that things were not what she’d expected. She felt the familiar weight of her blankets, and she smelled the smell of her parent’s house, the smell as old as time, that she often never noticed, but after being removed for so long, inhaled greedily as she dug her face in her pillow. 

There were noises downstairs that finally registered before she opened her eyes, held her breath, and hid in the pillows. She heard some clamor of her parents making breakfast, coffee steam sifting up through the vents. She heard the squeak and chatter of some birds in the trees outside her window. For a moment, Clarke pretended that she was miles underwater, and there might be a beautiful girl awkwardly standing outside her door. 

But there wasn’t, and there wouldn’t be. Clarke rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling before digging the heel of her hands into her eyes and sighing. A day ago, she was in a beautiful palace, and now she was back at her parent’s house, without a job, without a career, without a mentor, without any idea of what was to come forward. 

Her body was completely healed, a feat that was mind-blowing considering her wounds and condition after the explosion and being stranded at sea. But now, when it was quiet, and she was safe in the familiar, Clarke realized the massive grief heaped upon her, that surviving came at a cost. 

When it got to be too much, when she cried silent tears that covered her face and left her chest fluttering and aching, Clarke wiped her face and took a few deep breaths, hoping to find some sort of center amidst the flood of absolute pain that washed over her entire body. She wanted to take another sleeping pill and pass out until her heart didn’t hurt anymore, but that seemed unwise. 

As soon as she made it down the stairs and stepped into the kitchen, Clarke realized she’d made a horrible mistake and should have stayed in bed. 

“Clarke! Oh my God!”

“We were--”

“I’m so glad you’re--”

“You look!”

The chorus of voices erupted and she took a step back, confused and overwhelmed by the outpouring of her closest friends as they began to circle and reach out and smother. 

“Okay, okay, back up everyone,” Abby jumped in carefully, keeping the horde from her terror-stricken daughter. “Give her a moment to breathe. I’m sure she’s not used to being around people, they had her in isolation due to exposure during the explosion.”

“But luckily, she didn’t come in contact with any of the pathogens she was studying,” Jake smiled graciously behind the island as he added more pancakes to the pile forming on the large breakfast display. “Better safe than sorry though.” 

“You should have seen your mom. I think she nearly got arrested for trying to break into a government installation,” Raven offered with a smile as Abby hit her shoulder. 

“Come sit,” Octavia hurried, clearing more of a path. “You must be hungry.” 

“Not really,” Clarke smiled softly and took the seat anyway. 

The friends shared a look as Clarke sat there and looked at the display of everyone trying to be normal. Abby hovered, rubbing her daughter’s back, soothing away the worries that remained. No one knew about the ten minutes ago, where she broke down and clawed at her chest in her bed. No one. 

“Your appetite will come back,” her mother promised. “Let me make you a little plate. Everyone can dig in. Your friends have been anxiously waiting to see you.” 

The general hubbub of people moving about the kitchen really only settled well after Clarke had a plate set in front of her. She ate a blueberry and nodded, smiling at her mother to tell her not to worry. It felt like before, like how it always was, since middle school, the whole gang fighting over this and that, piling over each other to eat. Even when college and life took them different ways, they were never far off. There was something grounding in it, just like her sheets, just like the noises of the morning. 

“So what happened, Clarke? We only heard bits and pieces on the news,” Raven explained between mouthfuls of Jake’s famous pancakes. “They kept repeating the same things, over and over again.” 

“What did they say?” 

Clarke already knew the story. She’d been held in a government facility for six hours and briefed on how to behave and what to say. She had a business card with FBI on it and Agent Barne’s number hidden in her sock drawer. 

“Just that a bad storm led to the ship sinking. I can’t imagine how bad it must have been,” Octavia shook her head. “At first they said no survivors. We all thought you were dead for seventeen hours.” 

“I’m… I’m…” Clarke furrowed and shook her head, looking guiltily at her food, afraid to meet their eyes. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But you’re not,” Bellamy interrupted. “And you don’t have to talk about what happened.” 

A pointed look was exchanged between him and the rest, warning them to behave and not push. 

“There isn’t much to tell,” she shrugged, perking up a bit and deciding to pick up her fork. “The storm was bad, and then I woke up in a government hospital. I wish there was a better story. I was checking weather reports in the navigation center, and I think we hit a wave or gust and I must have hit my head and blacked out.” 

“It’s not every day that a concussion is a blessing,” Jake offered, finally taking his seat with the rest. “But it must have saved you.” 

“A blessing,” Clarke repeated, contemplating the word for a moment before taking a big bite of breakfast. “Like these pancakes. I feel better already.” 

The group chuckled and refused to talk about the accident again, while Clarke ate and smiled until she couldn’t any longer. She explained that she was still a little drowsy, and wanted to lay down. Every person promised to be back and see her again, demanding that she call if she needed anything at all. With grateful and long and tight hugs, her lifelong friends filed out as Clarke slipped upstairs. 

It truly was exhausting, to finally think about it, to remember the storm and her colleagues and all of the people who died. The numbness-- that was the true blessing of Atlantis. There wasn’t time to grieve when her body was overloaded with stimuli, unlike now, where everything was mundane and allowed her to think. 

Clarke slipped into her childhood bed again, and she pulled the blanket over her head, rolling into herself tightly before drifting off to an uneasy sleep. 

XXXXXXXXXX

For about a full week, Clarke existed in a fairly mundane routine of recover that all at once suited her and drove her nuts. Simultaneously, she felt prepared to do something-- anything-- and yet, could not imagine doing anything other than nothing. Her body and mind and soul needed time to come back, and she knew it. It didn’t make it any easier for her to stomach, but she begrudgingly listened. 

Every morning she got up and had a special breakfast her father made, even though her appetite was minimal and favored banalities. And then she would take a walk, sometimes with a friend, sometimes alone before coming home to shower and read or watch tv before a nap. Usually someone came by in the afternoon before dinner to occupy her, keep her busy, keep her doing something. Then came a family dinner, every night, her mother arriving right on time to join them. Dinner led to a movie, which then led to sleep. 

It was a safe and easy schedule in which she didn’t talk about anything with anyone. 

Until the arrival of the invitations for the funerals for the people finally confirmed dead after the concluded investigation into the crash and retrieval of bodies from the water, an initiative led by the Atlanteans as a gesture of good faith. 

Two weeks after her return, Clarke found her schedule consisting of funerals, nearly every day, each more difficult than the last, but as the final crewmember standing, as the only representative of her research team, she sat there at each and remembered with everyone else, commiserating in their grief. It helped and hurt, as any cathartic thing is meant to do. 

The third week she returned somewhat to her normal schedule with an intermittent funeral, the last residual ones ending quickly. 

A month after her return, Clarke felt marginally normal, except that she had no idea what the future held. 

It took five weeks for her to schedule an appointment with the university, despite her mother and father telling her she could take more time. 

Only after six weeks, did Clarke allow herself to really think about her time in Atlantis. Most of the time, she found herself daydreaming about Lexa in some form because it was one of the few thoughts that made her feel unburdened and less heavy in her chest. But, she actively kept herself from thinking too much, often shaking away the thoughts when her mind began to drift. 

After the nightly movie, and after she excused herself to sleep, Clarke sat at her desk and look at her laptop, knowing full well what was about to happen. She moved to lift the lid and then stopped, closing it and drumming her fingers along the top before looking over her shoulder at her closed door, straining her ears to hear anything. 

Though it was quiet, she hurried to place an old sweatshirt near the bottom of her door to block out any light, listening again, closer to the hall, at the familiar noises of her parents getting ready to go to sleep. 

Satisfied that no one would see her, Clarke ripped open her laptop, and quietly as she could type, logged in and began to type her query. 

L-E-X

Backspace.

A-L-E-X-A-N

Backspace.

P-R-I-N-C-E-S-S O-F A-T-L-A-N-T-I-S

Enter.

In the dark room, the glow of the screen colored her face, but she didn’t care. She bit her lip and looked at the photos first, and upon not finding many, looked through the first few search results. Little was known about Atlantis, let alone the heir to the throne, and any pictures that existed were not good. 

Mildly disappointed, Clarke slumped back in her chair and toyed with the scroll, debating what to do with no information and how deep, exactly, she was willing to dive into conspiracy theories and doctored photos. 

Backspace.

A-Q-U-A-G-I-R-L

Enter. 

Clarke paused only to look back at her door and close her laptop slightly, though not all the way, when she heard a sound in the hall. She held her breath and waited for her parents to go to bed before opening it fully again. 

There were more search results for that name, and Clarke mildly regretted it, because the images of Lexa, in a skin-tight suit, with a weapon, was a little disorienting. And then she stood beside her father, who was, even though it was an understatement, an actual mountain of a human. Lexa had his eyes, his chin, his grin, and goodness, did she have a similar fitness regime. 

Slowly making her way through the gallery, Clarke smiled to herself when she thought about Lexa, shy and with red-tipped ears, kind and gentle and soft to her for no reason at all. And then she looked at Lexa’s biceps. 

“Fuck,” Clarke sighed and shook her head. 

Backspace.

A-Q-U-A-G-I-R-L -B-I-C-E-P-S

Clarke hesitated before smiling to herself. 

Enter.

XXXXXXXXXX

The meeting at the university didn’t turn up much good news, as the semester was just ending and the summer was approaching. With an epic catastrophe to handle and fix, the powers behind all decisions, didn’t have any answers other than to enroll Clarke the following semester to finish her degree requirements. 

It was fair and just and gave Clarke time to recover and get back into thinking about existing again. Of course, Clarke found anything reasonable to be exhausting, in and of itself, and so she hated having to wait, hated losing her research, hated everything about everything that left her stuck. 

Three days later, however, she found herself back at the Spindrift, unsure of why she was there, and marvelling at how it operated when it was opened. People were buzzing about, familiar with their duties, as if it hadn’t opened merely two months prior. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Agent Barnes,” Clarke smiled, shaking the agents hand as she approached the waiting area. 

“Thanks for coming down.” 

“I don’t think I had a choice.” 

Clarke looked over her shoulder at the two men that picked her up for her ‘appointment.’ When she looked back, the agent was not amused. 

“You are being formally offered a position here, at the Spindrift.” 

“I might formally ask why?” she furrowed and looked at the blue folder that was handed to her, complete with the seal of Atlantis on it. “I’m still in my degree program for the Masters, and haven’t decided to complete the doctorate…. Is this salary serious?” 

“Government salaries are never a laughing matter.” 

“I could make three times this in the private sector.” 

“Yes,” the agent nodded. “And you would never work with any Atlantean healers or products ever again.” 

“Why me?” 

The agent opened another folder she was carrying. 

“You searched Atlantis comma Princess Lexa six times,” Barnes read from the folder, dragging her finger along the words there. “And Biceps comma Aquagirl, approximately a dozen.” 

The manilla folder shut quickly. 

“Per the queen herself, in conjunction with your university and the United States government, you are being offered a position at the Spindrift for research in intercontinental knowledge sharing.” 

Clarke furrowed and shook her head, not sure of what she was following entirely. There was certainly some mortification in there, she knew that, felt it eating her alive in front of the agent with an inability to change her inflection at all. 

“I find this idea the best case scenario, and you to be a complete risk to yourself and the sanctity of Atlantis,” the agent muttered, tossing the folder on the table. “Accept it so that I can watch you behave yourself and stop doing searches online of a reclusive and dangerous foreign entity that only you have visited.”

“You… you-- you hacked my computer?” 

“You are an intern and only living non-Atlantean who has been to Atlantis, of course your government is watching you.” 

“But why? I don’t know anything.” 

“You know enough.” 

“Who else has seen this?” Clarke blushed, though she attempted to hide it as best she could. There surely was no surviving this level of mortification. 

“No one.” 

“Was my offer made because of-- because I know--” she paused and took a breath. “Who did this?” 

“This offer was asked for by the Queen herself on behalf of one of her greatest medical researcher. Apparently you are the only person this researcher could tolerate.”

That feisty old broad, Clarke thought to herself as she shook her head. 

“How is… um, how-- How is the-- uh-- How is Aquaman? I heard about a battle before--”

“You have seventy-two hours to think about this. I will only ever communicate with you regarding official matters in this office, and anything relating to activities done by Atlantean royal family are unofficial until commented upon by official state representatives.” 

“You sound like a blast at parties.”

The agent didn’t move at all at the comment. 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke apologized. “That was rude. You are just so-- intense.” 

“I’ve worked fifteen years with the King to make this a reality. If I wasn’t intense, it would be for nothing.”

“Can I ask about, um, the Prin-- about Lexa?” 

“Officially, no.” 

“Unofficially?” 

“Unofficially, no.” 

“But you just set it up like you would say something unofficial.”

“I cannot control any inferences made.” 

With growing frustration, both at the agent and herself, Clarke pursed her lips and looked down at the seal on the folder. It was something, and some sort of direction in a time when she very badly needed it. 

“Unofficially,” the agent finally started, lowering her voice. “Just save the pictures. Why would you keep searching the same thing?” 

“After a brief, embarrassed pause, Clarke nodded and looked back at the agent. 

“I’ll look this over and get back to you. Unofficially or officially or whatever, thank the Queen, if you see her.” 

The agent nodded instead of arguing, nudging her head slightly so the agents would continue to escort the scientist back toward the entrance. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Three months after her shipwreck and rescue to an untouched land, hidden in the depths of the sea by a beautiful princess with a mythical bloodline and inheritance in the shape of a trident, Clarke sat at her desk in a very small cubicle, in a very small office, with six other research associates. 

It was a very tedious job for the first few weeks, and just on the horizon was the actual research that Clarke hoped would lead to figuring out what the healer did to heal her so quickly, and if she could figure out how to help other people. 

There was an element of escapism to worke each day, enough that Clarke found herself staying late to avoid her worried family’s glances and the mothering that all of her friends did. It was appreciated but also extremely stifling for someone who was stubborn and willingly admitted it. 

“You heading out soon?” Wells asked as he shouldered his bag and looked over the cubicle wall to see Clarke’s small desk, covered with pictures of Atlantean books. 

“Yeah, in a bit,” Clarke nodded, not looking up from the notebook she was writing something down quickly. 

“I could wait around and we could go grab dinner. There’s this great place in town. Only like fifteen minutes from the main gate.” 

“I’m not sure how long a bit is going to be. I want to finish looking at this property sheet before we get samples next week.” 

Kind and bright, Wells was a soft-spoken doctoral student with a knack for keeping an eye on Clarke without being overbearing. Always firmly pressed in his khakis and tucked primly with his button downs, he hid behind thick-rimmed glasses, but ran marathons. He wasn’t overwhelming in the eye he kept on his co-worked. Sometimes, Clarke thought he might even fancy her a little bit.

When Wells didn’t say anything, Clarke looked up and offered a smile as he debated the next step for the evening. 

“Get out of here,” Clarke told him. “I won’t be too much longer, and some quiet will help me.” 

“If you’re sure.” 

“I’ll see you on Monday.” 

“Have a good weekend.” 

Clarke watched him nod and returned to her work, doing her best to transcribe an ancient language with limited training and the most basic knowledge of what some of the ancient plants used. She felt like an archaeologist, investigating something she would never truly understand, and yet she’d been there. She’d heard the words spoken. 

The ‘little bit’ she mentioned gradually turned into a while, and the evening settled outside on the water, calming it until the waves were nearly non-existent. There was still a fading light outside when Clarke closed her notebook and shut her laptop for the evening, and it only truly disappeared after she shouldered her bag and shoved in a few folders to work on over the weekend. 

With a final look around the office, Clarke nodded and made her way to the door, preparing for two long days of her parents making sure she was alright. She needed her own place, and enough space to stop thinking about--

“Lexa?” 

The same smile, the same caught look in her eyes, the same stance, the same eyes-- the entire package looked back at Clarke expectantly. Gone were the formal Atlantean clothes, and in their place was simple jeans and an old sailor’s sweater, a shoulder lovingly patched by expert hands. Gone were the intricate braids and armor, and instead a wild mane perched itself atop Lexa’s head, blown about by the wind and her hands in equal measure. 

“You’re here late.” 

“You’re here.” 

“You said you’d be close.” 

Without meaning to, Clarke took a step forward before catching herself. Lexa tucked her arms behind her back, ever vigilant to remain proper and royal. 

“Have you eaten?” Clarke finally broke the quiet. 

“You were my first stop after my grandfather’s. I don’t know my way around land that well.” 

“I’m honored.” 

“Care to show me around?” 

The question came with a grin, and Lexa extended her elbow willingly, waiting for Clarke to take it again as she hadn in the Hanging Gardens. That was all she needed, to remember that it hadn’t been a dream, that three days, three months ago happened. 

There really wasn’t a question to it at all. 

Clarke nodded, smiled, and took the arm offered to her, and whatever else would come attached.

NEXT

[hyunqlns]

adventure to his heart  ❦  hyunjin

⇴ genre: apocalypse!au ; angst ; future fluff 

⇴ part : 1          | 2 ; 3 ; 4 ; 5 ; 6 ; 7 ; 8 ; |

⇴ description: just when you thought your crush, the well known school heartthrob hwang hyunjin, was your biggest problem, a crazy alien invasion managed to prove you wrong. 

⇴ author’s note: inspired and based on the book and movie “the fifth wave”

⇴ warnings: apocalypse, swears

⇴ word count: 1476

it was rather pathetic. how god was playing with your lives.

you would never have imagined yourself standing there - lost in the woods, with absolutely no clue where you were or where were you going to head to. you were always a very positive and carefree person who with no doubt loved all type of adventures - diving deep into the sea, flying with a parachute, traveling around the world. however you swore that your scaredy ass would have never put a foot into the woods. the idea of walking around countless of trees and thousand of bugs just terrified you, was it surprising that you never attended a single of the school trips? definitely no.

but how fun, god really had other plans for the humankind. the day the others came was surely the day the whole humanity should've expected to be wiped off the face of the earth. that was the day your hell had just began.

the first wave killed around half million of people. it was just the starter. waves, was what you called the stages of attacks.

"lights out" was the very first wave to be used by the others (as reffered to by you) in attempt to wipe you, the humans off the face of the earth.your father had believed that the others needed your planet simply because their planet was either not enough or the conditions were uninhabitable by now.

the wave itself was a massive electromagnetic pulse, or you could call it an EMP strike that managed to short out all possible objects running on electricity. how smart and convenient, right? everything stopped, all it took was a second. the phones, the vehicles, all lights, batteries, pretty much everything. 

gone.

it was almost 2 pm, a cloudy but warm day in early spring. the birds were unusually quiet, already sensing something was bound to happen, as expected. you were in your last period, which was apparently physics - your least favorite class. you were really hoping you’re anywhere but mr. choi's boring physics class. maybe in the flower garden, sitting on the benches, admiring hwang hyunjin (a.k.a the school heartthrob) or atleast home, praying that the world isn't ending. you remember texting your step sister, melanie, whom you were really close with. she was a foreign chick, just like you,  that your parents had adopted when you were at the age of nine. truthfully, at first you weren’t very fond of the idea not being the only child anymore, not being the main center of attention for your parents, but you quickly got used to it and now you cherish my little sister more than anything.

your conversation was about the usual - your crush, the well known school's prince hwang hyunjin. every girl seemed to love him, including you. but this was completely normal. 

look who is sitting in front of me in history class ;)) [image]

omg, you lucky bitch

the first wave rolled in quietly. no fanfare, no tantrums. it happened in a matter of seconds. the lights just winked out, so did your phone. someone in the room screamed. typical reaction of the people nowadays. people are just so used to the electricity and to the objects running on it, so when it stops, you’re completely lost.

the teacher had told the class to stay in your seats. but no one listened. since the humanity was on the pins for ten days, frightened and expecting for something to happen, when it did, it left you panicked. but it was normal. most students weren't even attending school anymore, so the classroom was nearly empty. your parents of course, on the other side had decided it's for the best if you continue your lives as if nothing had happened - attending school, school clubs and going to work. when in reality, everything was happening. nothing felt normal anymore, for these 10 days the stress had just piled up, added up, for you, it felt like a time bomb that could explode any second.

the teacher wasn't panicked. it was just a normal black out. nothing more on nothing less. a normal blackout couldn’t harm you, right? but this didn’t feel normal to you, though. when you announced to the class that your phone had died, lim minhee, a visibly panicked boy sitting at the back of the classroom, also exclaimed that he couldn't turn on his laptop that he used for school purposes (according to him)

the whole class started talking. no one listened to mr. choi anymore. you all, god knows why, went to the nearest window and started looking outside.you guessed that's what you do when the lights go out. you didn't know what everyone was looking for, until a 727 appeared in the picture, tumbling end over end to the earth, from over nine thousand feet. it quickly disappeared behind the trees nearby and exploded. cars and trucks, all kind of vehicles abruptly stopped and crashed at each other, most of them catching fire.

nobody said much after that. you just continued standing in front of the windows hopelessly, your eyes frozen on the scenery. some of you checked your phones and cried in fear. what was just happening?

soon enough, 

the door flew open and there stood the history teacher, mr. shin who told you to head to the gymnasium. what a smart idea - gather us in one place so it would be easier for the aliens to eliminate us without wasting any excess ammunition, you thought, but didn’t protest and followed him.

everyone sat on the bleachers surrounded by and in complete darkness. only the cries and the whispers could be heard. people were crying, others were praying. some were doing both. the principal didn't seem less panicked than us. he nervously paced back and forth, occasionally yelling at the students to shut up and wait for their parents.

and about those who had cars parked in the yard? ha, jokes on you buddy. the cars wouldn't work.

you were siitting next to melanie as always. weird enough, you weren't talking much. she was just nervously tapping her foot while you were trying to breathe. you had an asthma and anxiety, and the stress now was more than overwhelming. your inhaler was in your left hand just in case.

all students were whispering, so were you.

"this is it, this is the fucking end of the world" melanie exclaimed dramatically. well, she wasn't wrong at all. you were optimistic, yes, but now you tried to be  rather realistic. this indeed was it, the end. there was no other reasonable explanation for this. or was there? 10 days on the pins, expecting and waiting for something to happen, now when that something really happened, it was obvious that was it, the thing people waited for.

melanie started crying. you pulled her in a hug and patted her back. you looked around. the scenery unfolding in front of your eyes was excruciating, heartbreaking. kids were having panic attacks while teachers and other workers were huddled up by the gym doors, in case the aliens had plans to barge in the gymnasium.

"there were so many things i wanted to do" she choked back a sob.

"is one of them fucking felix under the bleachers?" you gave her shoulder a nudge and laughed. you were surprised how calm you were in this situation. with all your might, you tried to crack some jokes, lit up the atmosphere.

"oh my god y/n, all you talk about is sex!" melanie whisper-shouted, breaking the hug.

she wasn't either right or wrong. you had no problems talking about sex, you only had problems talking about sex involving you.

"you should tell hyunjin though" she exclaimed.

"no." you flatly refuse.

"why not y/nnn? you've got nothing to lose. that might be our last day and you wanna spend it thinking how you're gonna die? hell no" she flicked your forehead and shook her head, before fixing her bangs.

"if i was you, i'd go up to him and say 'i know this is the end of the world, but i ain't dying without doing it with you'"

"and do you know shat happens next?" she asked.

"what?"

"i'd have sex with him in the flower garden"

"you're ridiculous, this sounds like a drama. tsk, impossible" you click your tongue and laugh, not even able to imagine it.

"come on y/n, you like him since middle school. middle fucking school!! it's been years. it's time to atleast confess. and it's not as unrealistic as the thing happening right now"

and she was completely right.

but you never did. and that was the last time you ever saw him. a few rows behind you, you saw his face, his blank expression that even until today you couldn't read.

[victorianwestpiano]

What would it be like if Colette and Holt lived in 2020 (without the virus!) but there was no Dreamland? What jobs might they have? How would they meet? How did Holt lose his arm (war? accident?). Is Colette famous? If so, for what?

Oh so many ideas, but here’s the one I’ll respond this ask ;)

Kentucky, June 2020

Holt Farrier, ex horse showman, was reading the newspaper in the morning like he always does every day. Although today, it was for him to concentrate because of his son Joe, who was playing with his new Xbox he got last Christmas.

It annoyed a bit the cowboy that Joe was so addicted with this technology with high volume and at this early hours. His daughter Milly was not different, when she was younger once in a while sat on her father’s lap and read the paper together alongside with his wife Annie. But now she prefered watching the news on her cellphone, searching science updates in the world. The worst part was the uncountable TikToks they do with their friends, now that summer began, TikTok was their only way to communicate apparently.

But in some way it didn’t surprised Holt at all that his kids were so submerged in their gadgets. Since their mother died of an illness almost an year ago, his children coped with their loss in the best way they could. In some parts, Joe dealt with Annie’s death better than Milly but it was still hurtful for both of them.

However, Holt felt he was suffering the loss the worst, he lost the love of his life while he was away on a excursion on the mountains with his friends Arav, Puck and Rongo. He felt guilty for not being there for her and for his kids. And if it was not enough, some days before Holt received the news of the death of his spouse, he had a terrible accident while he was climbing on the rock mountains. According to his friends, Holt was barely on the top, trying to reach one of the picks, but out of nowhere he slipped and fell many feet in the air. His body crashed somewhere in the rocks and woods. The last thing the cowboy remember is that he waked up in a hospital...without an arm. His left arm was gone and some days after his wife was gone too.

Holt and Annie were horse showman and woman, touring around USA doing  tricks with their stallions since that was the thing they loved to do the most. Their connection with horses was one of the things that united them even more. They loved the aesthetic of old-school circuses, but nowdays people are not longer interested on circuses anymore which brought Holt many economic problems.

Now without the love of his life, without an arm and without a job, Holt’s world was no longer the world he adored, so he decided to move with his daughter and son to his childhood town and buy a small house with the few savings he had kept. It wasn’t much but it was something, they had at least a roof upon their heads, electricity, hot water and of course wifi which is very expensive. Not living in tour anymore felt weird; static like a rock and being in just one place, it was practically boring.

Holt’s friends, who came from different parts of the country and the world, tried to convince him and lend him money until he find a job, however, Holt was so proud to accept money from his friends. If he wanted money, he had to earn it and he did not want to be in debt with the people he cared.

Just in very rare ocassions he accepted his friend’s monetary help and became stubborn promising a lot of times he’ll return what he owes, even though his pals said to him is not a big deal, that he’ll pay when he can.

That’s why Holt was reading the newspaper, so he could find a decent job, although, what job would accept a handicapped guy?. The rider from Kentucky was desperated, mostly for his children.

Suddenly, a knock of the door was heard, Holt reacted to the sound and quickly lifted his head up. The cowboy looked at his son sitting on the couch, which was nearer to the door, playing with his Xbox, super concentrated.

“Joe would you get the door?” Holt asked the boy.

“I’m busy dad, I’m in the middle of a mission right now.” the kid responded.

Holt rolled his eyes and spoked again, “Joe, c’mon, or I’ll plug off that damn thing this instant” he warned out loud.

Joe turned his head to see his father and reluctantly the kid obeyed him. He paused his game and circled the couch to get to the entrance.

“It was an important mission you know?” Joe protested.

“Yeah you said that yesterday 12 o’clock PM, you’ve been playing all week boy”

Joe’s eyes widened and then he nodded embarassed, “Non taken.”

The boy headed to the door and opened it, only to find a short man, he was the same height as Joe. He was around his sixties, had white curly hair, a pair of shades on his eyes, brown shorts, black flip flops and a radiant colorful hawaiian shirt.

“Hey Max!” Joe exclaimed in surprise seeing their family friend.

“What’s up little buddy!” Max responded in glee, “Tell me, is your dad here? I have excelent news for him.” the short man said excited.

“Max!” Holt waved him from the kitchen, “Come on in and sit.”

Max Medici, a not very succesfull sales man, was best friends with Holt’s dad and him when the rider was just a lad. Holt enjoyed his company, his optimism was very contagious even when his plans not always go as he wanted. Anyway, Medici’s smile made everyone smile too, that was one of his gifts.

“What is it Gustavo? Please sit” Holt invited his friend to sit with him at the kitchen table.

Max sighed at the mention of his real name, “Please Holt, just call me Max, ok? You’ll ruin my reputation here.” he took off his sun glasses and cliped them into the collar of his shirt.

“Ok sorry,” Holt chuckled, “What are this incredible news you have for me? Oh, please don’t tell me you had another fail in your bussiness and you need cash.” Holt sat slowly, expecting the news to be bad, since, now he’s used to them “Don’t ask me money pal, I still owing you those $100 bucks from last month---”

“Can you please shut up cowboy” Max interrupted him. “Jeez, I didn’t came here to bother you, on the contrary, I came here to cheer you up, bud.” he said with a huge smile.

Holt rose an eyebrow and listened. “So, what is it?”

“Look, a friend of a friend, of a friend, of a friend of mine, said that a famous actress has a ranch here in Kentucky, and she needs a foreman to take special care of it, mostly the horses.” Max said with a trusting glance.

“Wait, wait, wait a minute. Work for a famous actress? Who?” Holt was curious and wary of proposal.

“Colette Marchant the french actress of course!” the old man made a happy gesture with his hands to encourage his friend.

The name of the woman ranged on Holt and Joe’s ears, so much so that the boy left his game and turned around to face the adults.

“You’ll work for Colette Marchant dad!?” Joe asked happily, “I love her movies, and she’s so pretty. You will work with her dad?”

“What happened? Why is Joe so excited?” Milly enetered to the living room with cellphone in hand and her curly hair combed into a bun.

“Dad is going to work for Colette Marchant, the actress!!” Joe was very happy about the news.

“Wow, really?” Milly looked curious at her father.

“Kids uhhmm, I haven’t decided this  yet, I just found out. Go to your rooms and I’ll tell you later, or go outside.” Holt said to his children who obeyed him after a few minutes.

After that, Holt continued, “You want me to work as a foreman for a celebrity?” This didn’t conviced the cowboy very much,”Remember Max, I used to be a celebrity as well, I was like a superhero on top of my horses, if my friends find out that now I work as a foreman... they’ll think I fell so low.”

“Yes I know, but now things changed lad, this is a great job and the pay is very good. Look, this woman will stay in America all summer, from June to September 3rd. The rumor says she wanted to leave her home France for a couple of months and be alone, or somethng like that. She says she loves horses and needs somone efficient for the job. And don’t worry, she does speak english.”

Holt started to think massaging his chin, “And how is she, I mean, she’s bossy or calm?”

Max inhaled through his nose, “I heard she’s quite, well, spoiled but nothing that you can’t handle.”

“And where’s her ranch?”

“In Louisville, right in the north.” Max answered.

Holt’s eyes opened wide, “Louisville? But that’s too far! Mhmmm, I don’t know Max, I’ll have to think about it...” Holt was trying to considerate the offer.

“Well,” Max said a bit nervous, “in your place I won’t think it that much because... I’ve already talked about you and maybe I’ve send you refferences as well.”

Holt looked at his friend in shock, “You did what!!? How can you do that without telling me!? Are you insane!?.”

“I did it because I knew you were going to doubt and think this kind of job is below you.” Max stated strictly. “Here,” the older man took from his pocket a card with a number, “this is the phone number of her butler, if I were you I’ll call him now and accept the job.”

Holt gave a glare at Max, he couldn’t believe that his friend did all this behind his back.

“Holt c’mon, is a good payed job, surrounded by nature, taking care of horses and have your kids taking fresh air, isn’t that what you wanted?” Max stood up and left the card on the table. “Do it pal is a great opportunity.” the short man put his shades back on his face, approached the door and left.

Holt passed his only hand through his hair and looked at the card, this was all new to him he didn’t know what to do. But at the same time, working for a celebrity could be very interesting not to mention to payment, it could be higher than he can imagine. Also, the most important thing for Holt now are his children, he needed to give them a secured and stable life.

The cowboy reached for his laptop and searched about Colette Marchant, some pictures were showed on Instagram and the most recent one was a photo of her black and white, already in Kentucky sunbathing, in the backround there was her big house of her ranch.

Then Joe’s words about her resonated on Holt’s mind, She looks...pretty... I’ll give her that, he thought. He had never seen any of her movies but now he knows why a lot of people admires her or talks about her as soon as he read the reviews of her films. Then he searched for more pictures of the place, including her horses, which looked very healthy and beautiful. Holt went to the kitchen table and stared at the card with the number one more time. He made a long sigh and took it.

“I must be very crazy right now.” he said trying to grab his phone too.

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

A couple of days later and some other calls made, Holt and his kids finally flew all the way from the south of Kentucky to the north in Louisville to get the foreman cadre. In the airpor they were greeted by Sotheby, Miss Marchant’s english butler.

He gently guided them to the car, which he personally drove, and headed to Marchant’s ranch.

After 30 minutes travelling by car, they finally arrived and admired the big splenderous house. The vehicle parked in front of the property.

“Wow!” Milly and Joe said at the same time in awe looking the place through the window. “ Look at this place! I want to get in now!” the Farrier boy exclaimed opening the car door.

“Now, now lads,” Holt stoped Joe making a sign with his hand, “This is gonna be my working place, let’s go with calm.” Holt exited himself from the car and then his children followed him. He was wearing a dark blue short sleeved t-shirt, blue jeans, snikers and his lucky white cowboy hat. As soon as they were getting closer to the house, Milly took a couple of pictures of it and post them on Twitter.

Once they were on the porch, Sotheby told them to stay there, “Just wait here, Miss Marchant will talk to you in a couple of minutes, please sit.” the english butler politely offered to the Farriers.

Three minutes passed and Holt was already getting nervous, so he decided to talk to the children.

“So, how do you imagine Colette Marchant is behind the cameras?” Holt asked.

“I don’t know,” Milly answered “I heard she’s a diva, I watched her latest film Femme Fatale with my friend some months ago, she was very good in it, but...the plot sucked.”

“I see...” Holt rised his eyebrows. He remembered when he read Colette’s film reviews, some the critics said practically the same, Colette was stunning, but the direction and script by the known famous director VA Vandevere, where just ok or not very good.

Suddenly Sotheby appeared again, the Farriers rose up from porch couch and waited for the butler to speak.

All of the sudden, coming out from the door, there was a woman on her mid thirties, with almost wavy black hair, black dress, make up on her eyelids and intense blue eyes. It was her.

“Mademoiselle Marchant, this is Holt Farrier and his children, he came here for the foreman job.” Sotheby intoduced the cowboy and the actress.

Joe and Milly where in awe by looking at the elegant actress, Joe tried his best to not squeal, while Milly couldn’t contain her big grin.

Holt put his head steady and took a deep breath. “Hi, is a pleasusre to meet you,” the rider offered his hand to shake with hers.

But when Colette turned around to see clearer the man, her face showed a shocked expression. Then she started to talk.

“Uhhhmm, excuse moi but, what is this?” the french lady questioned staring at the cowboy.

Holt’s eyebrows frowned in confusion, “I’m sorry? I came here for the job Miss. that’s why I’m here.” he retreated his hand took off his white hat.

Colette’s eyes were fixed on on the man’s left side.

The cowboy noticed that and looked at where his left arm once was. Holt exhaed a quiet laugh and spoke up again. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’ but don’t worry, it didn’t hurt that much.” he said trying to erase the uncomfortable topic, “and it doesn’t hurt now---”

“You don’t have...an arm monsieur.” the french celebrity was obviously dissapointed.

Milly and Joe glanced with concern at their father. They knew how hard it was for him to deal with a missing limb, it was something that made him more insecure with time. But they also knew that their dad tried to ignore it and move on, he hated when others feel pity for him.

“Well, yes Miss,” Holt started to get even more puzzled, “I mean....you didn’t know?” he looked at Sotheby who was just as confused as him.

Colette sighed impatiently “Do you think I would’ve hire a handicapped man as my foreman if I knew he was handicapped?”

“But, with all respect, I thought they had send you my refferences. My friend send them to you.” Holt explained.

“I have recived them and nothing in there mentioned a missing arm.” Miss Marchant said bluntly.

Holt started to breathe through his teeth with impotence, “Max you idiot!” he quietly muttered a bit enraged. First Max send his refferences without asking him first and he didn’t even mention the thing about his arm? The rider wanted to kill his friend at that moment.

The european lady sensed Holt’s discomfort and clasped her hands, “I’m sorry, but I cannot hire someone who is not capable.”

Holt turned his head to face the woman, breathing deeply and swallowing , “I am capable, please Miss, give me a chance.”

“You are not up to my standards, ma cherie.I cannot force a cripple to do this kind of work, because they can’t---”

That word hit Holt right in the chest, like bullet to his heart. That single word made his blood boil and encreased his anger, “I’m not... a cripple.” he said low and serious.

Colette’s eyes opened wide giving him a sarcastic shocked reaction, “Then I am not french!” she stated joking with irony, “Oh, my parents will be glad to hear it!”.

“Very funny.” Holt gave her an unamused sideway smile, “Look, if I’m going to stay in this place to be insulted, I’ll get the hell out of here. Let’s go lads.” Holt put his hat on, taking his children with him while walking away from the woman and her butler.

Colette crossed her arms, exhaled an unimpressed sigh, denying her head. She looked how the Kentucky rider was leaving the porch walking by her loan, until she spoke again.

“With that attitude of yours you are not going to get anywhere. You are too proud, cherie.”

The Farriers stoped as soon as Holt stoped, the rider bit his lip and slowly turned around. He wasn’t going to let this woman to have the last word.

“And you, princess,” the cowboy challenged, “you’re too spoiled”. His kids looked at eachother in surprise for what his father had just said.

Colette’s mouth fell open at Holt’s statement, “What an attitude.”

“What an ego.” Holt interjected again teasing her, imitating her tone and with a rised eyebrow.

“You have a problem?” Colette’s voice became demanding. She started to walk towards him.

“You’re my problem. Princess.” Holt smiled like a child.

“Do not take that tone with me. Do not disrespect me!” Colette approached the cowboy until she was just one meter from him. “And please, do not call me a ‘princess’.”

“You called me a cripple, and I call you princess. I think is pretty fair.” Holt rested his hand on his hip. “It is what you’re. You’re spoiled, believing you’re better than me, also, you like to whine when people tells you the truth. Oh, I’m sorry, did her majesty got her feelings hurt.” he teased her with a exagerated pout.

“How dare you---!” before Colette would say or do something else, the cat and dog fight was interrupted by Sotheby who ran towards the two of them.

“Miss Marchant, if I may please!” Sotheby calmed his boss, “Try to considerate this man, we have read his file, he may not have an arm, but his expirience is very good. Better than the other ones, and Miss, if I you give me your permission to say this, yesterday you said you liked his profile, that it was what you needed.”

“Don’t worry mister.” Holt stated directly to the butler. “Is not necessary to defend me, we’re going now, have a nice day. C’mon children.”

But Milly did not move, “No dad wait.” she exclaimed and turned to face Colette.

Holt and Joe stayed where they stood when Milly spoke. Her dad whispered to her, “Milly, what you doin’?”.

Milly walked towards the actress with her chin held high and honesty in her eyes, “Miss Marchant please forgive my dad, I know he can be a bit, well, stuborn.”

“I saw that.” Colette gave a glare at Milly’s father for a second. Holt rolled his eyes.

“But... he tried for months to get a job that we don’t know if he’ll ever get another opportunity like this one anytime soon. Please, give him another chance.”

The girl’s pleading moved a little the french woman, she amired how determinated she was, it reminded of herself when she was Milly’s age.

“Please Miss,” the Farrier girl’s voice suddenly became melancholic, “since...my mom died, life has been hard on us.” she turned to see her family, “It was very hard for my dad too, he lost his arm in an accident, but he’s still strong, he always was.” the girl smiled at her dad.

Holt felt overwhelmed by his daughter’s words and smiled back at her. Then he faced once more at the actress who was just moved as him. Sotheby also felt the emotions of the girl.

Miss Marchant placed a hand on her heart and showed a genuine worried expression, “Your mother died, petit? I’m so sorry...I didn’t knew.”

“It’s ok.” Milly answered.

“What was her name?” Colette asked.

“Annie.” Holt responded for his daughter, “Her name was Annie. She left us an year ago.”

“I see, and what is your name petit?” Colette asked to the girl.

“Milly”

“And yours monsieur?” the actress looked at the boy at Holt’s side.

Joe froze as the famous celebrity talked to him, “I-I’m Joe, a-a-and I’m your biggest fan.” Joe said nervous.

Colette laughed a bit at the boy’s presentation, she thought it was kind of cute. She glanced over Holt again and approached him litte by little, making him suspect on what this woman is going to do now.

“How much do you need this job?” she sternly asked at the rider, not breaking eye contact.

Holt blinked and inhaled deeply, “Honestly....very much.”

“Tres bién, I’ll give one more chance, I’m not giving it just because you are capable, we will see about that with the time. But also because this will be good to your children as well, do it for them, not just for you.”

“I am”. Holt answered firmly looking at the woman’s sapphire eyes.”My kids... are the most sacred thing I have left in this world.”

She gave him a trusting grin, “That’s the attitude I wanted. You are hired ma cherie.” she gave him her hand.

Holt looked at her elegant and white hand and gently, he took it and shaked it, sealing the deal. He glanced again at her face forming a tiny smile and feeling the softness of the lady’s hand.

“And I’m sorry if I insulted you, is just you can really push a person’s buttoms, monsieur.” Colette said not letting go the gentleman’s hand.

“I can say the same thing about you, but I’m sorry too. Thank you for givin’ me this chance, I hate to admit it but I’m forever in your debt.” Holt’s voice became quickly smooth with real remorse on his apologizing words. Then, he winked at her to give her trust.

All of the sudden, Colette’s cheeks turned pink, she was blushing. She didn’t know if the cowboy noticed, they were in summer so he could see her cheeks became hot for the heat. But Holt would never guess what was happening inside Colette’s body, because Holt’s commentary and the soft look in his eyes made her heart skip a beat.

The woman coughed and gently released her hand, she still could felt the roughness of the rider’s hand on her palm and fingers. But... somehow....she liked it.

“Tres bién! Let’s go inside, shall we?” Colette guided the Farriers to her house. Milly and Joe rushed inside the mansion, leaving Holt and Colette behind. The two giggled at the kids’ enthusiasm.

“They are very charming, monsieur.” Colette said walking alongside Holt, Sotheby was heading to the house a few meters away from them.

“Yes, they are. I’d give my life for them.” Holt turned to see the actress.

“I know they will enjoy being here, you will have good rooms to stay and later I will show my horses.”

“That sounds nice.... princess.” Holt teased her, containing his laughter.

Colette, as soon as she reached the entrance door, she turned again back to him with a warning stare, “Do not play smart with me Holt, I mean it.”

“Sorry...” he took off his hat and put it behind his back, he was smiling in a very naughty way.

“Non, you are not.” Colette crossed her arms, smiling in the same way as him.

“True.” with that Holt entered in the house. Leaving the french lady denying with her head, rolling her eyes and laughing to herself.

“Oh mon dieu, this man!” she entered to her house and closed the door behind her.

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

THE END.

@vavandeveresfan​ This was fun, not my best work but still fun, I hope you liked it ;)

[thehoodsweetheart]

Twin Flames.

A/N: This is something that popped up in my mind. I was feeling a little uninspired lately but knew I wanted to get some type of content out. Tell me what you guys think. Should this be something I continue? I hope it’s not total crap.

Summary: Sometimes you can’t shake a person, no matter how much you try to let go. However, you hand can be forced. This is the case with Isis and Erik. (I don’t want to give up too many details).

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: ??? There are none. I write for Black audiences, Black women in particular. My main characters are Black and that’s that on that. Isis is and will remain a Black woman. 

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      Isis sat perched up in the middle of her oxblood colored crushed velvet couch legs folded beneath her as she diligently clicked away on her MacBook Pro. Isis was dressed in a black mesh panel Ivy Park crop top with the matching leggings. Her wash and go was on day 2, which was honestly her favorite due to how much volume the fizziness gave her hair. Isis’s fluffy coils created a large halo like fro around her head almost like a crown. It hadn’t even been an hour since she landed in Los Angeles from her 21-hour flight from Johannesburg and she was getting straight to work. The soft murmur of Martin re-runs played on the wall of her condo from a projector and providing most of the light in the room. The projector was Isis’s idea after debating with her best friend, who also happened to be her roommate, over an obnoxiously sized flat screen TV.

      She glanced up from her work on your laptop to give a soft laugh at Martin & Gina sneaking into Tommy’s apartment attempting to find out if he was apart of the CIA. It reminded Isis of how nosy her own best friend could be when she felt like Isis was hiding something from her. It was no offense to their friendship. Isis was an only child and somewhat of an introvert. She grew up with the struggle of overly sharing or not sharing herself at all with ‘close friends’. She learned fast it was best to be picky with who and what she shared of herself. Isis was private in nature and her current job only added to it. Isis was awarded the once in a lifetime opportunity of being part of the visual director team and personal photographer to Beyoncé. Yes, the one and only Queen Bey.

      It was 11:11 PM, which Isis considered peak working hours. She knew that she’d be awake editing pictures until well after 3 AM. Isis wanted sort through all her captured footage from her last trip and edit the best images. Seemed like a simple task but any artist will tell you it’s the most challenging part. What if a photo she absolutely hates is one that her client loved? Or Vice versa? The longer Isis looked at the image the more flaws she could find, but wasn’t that the beauty in art, photography in particular?  

     Isis played around with the gradient and shadows of the picture trying to highlight its depth using Adobe Lightroom. She was so fixated on editing that she didn’t even hear the front door open, but the sounds of giggling and the door slamming sure caught her attention. Her best friend Brea was home and she were not alone. Brea was accompanied by a large male figure that towered over her petite frame. Isis gave them a quick glance before returning her attention back to the work before her. Despite not getting a clear view of Brea’s male ‘friend’, Isis felt an odd sensation of familiarity. Isis knew Brea hadn’t even noticed she was there yet because she was too focused on her male companion who was actively kissing and groping her.

“Aye, who is that?” His gruff voice questioned. Brea shot him a confused look before turning on her heels to face the couch. She let a loud gasp followed by a squeal.

“OH MY GODDD ISIS!!! YOU’RE HOMEEE!” She ran over to Isis giving her a bear hug, completely disregarding the laptop on her lap. Isis let out a small chuckle, fumbling with her MacBook Pro so it wouldn’t crash onto the floor, yet still trying to reciprocate Brea’s embrace.

“I know…finally right?” Isis’s light voice followed. She spent two weeks in South Africa, and she had only been home for four days prior to that after a trip to New York. During those four days, Brea was away on a business trip for the NPO she worked for, so it was safe to say they hadn’t had a chance to see each other in a solid four weeks.

“Soooo, how long do I have the pleasure of having my bestie back?” She nudged my elbow.

“We never know. Until duty calls again I guess.” Isis shrugged.

“Well you have to tell me about South Africa! Any fine niggas?” Brea attempted to whisper the last question. Isis couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh, which Brea soon joined in on. Leave it to Brea to be so bold in front of her male company.

     Erik cleared his throat catching Isis and Brea’s attention silencing their laughter completely. Isis’s eyes locked with Erik’s. She finally zoned in on his face. This was Erik that Isis has heard Brea talk so much about in the past months, but nothing of substance. Brea just pretty much boasted on his good looks and sex drive but no concrete details of the ‘mystery man’. Not even a screenshot of a picture of the man had been offered from Brea. The three seconds that they held eye contact felt like nearly an eternity. Her heart began to pound in her chest so much so she could hear it in her ears. It was as if they could see through each other’s exterior and see straight to the core. Brea’s guest was indeed handsome…strikingly handsome yet familiar.

     Erik’s face was one Isis would never forget. His face was etched in marble in her mind. Her mind worked like a camera, her favorite vice. Capturing faces in a moment, associating them with particular narratives. Every face held a different story; all worth discovering yet Isis wasn’t much of a storyteller. She was the observer obsessed with the details of stories in a calculating way. This one in particular was mysterious and how it intersected with Isis’s was less than complicated but not in the least bit simple.

*********

           They met what seemed like a lifetime ago during one Isis’s summer visits to the Bay, on Isis’s father’s birthday. It was the summer before high school. She met Bria that same summer during Summer Bridge, a requirement for the private high school they attended. He was her favorite boy cousin’s best friend. Despite her introverted ways, Isis and Erik linked as if they knew each other their whole lives. It began as a platonic friendship. It soon became obvious that they had crushes on one another but they didn’t say anything about it in respect to her cousin. Then her cousin died and Erik moved away the same year causing them to lose contact. But before he moved he told her, “Don’t trip, I’ll find you one day. I feel like I’ll always find you. No matter what lifetime it is.”That was the summer before her senior year of high school. And find her is exactly what he did, multiple sporadic times.

      It was actually puzzling to say they never kept consistent contact with one another. Like the summer after her first year of college when she landed an internship in New York at the Staley-Wise Gallery, and Erik casually sauntered through the crowd of the gallery on a busy afternoon. He was notably different. More mature in his looks and moved more guarded than the teenager Isis once new, nonetheless his magnetic pull drew her in almost immediately. It was that force that never allowed her to shy away when she was near him, even if she tried. Isis was uneasy with idea of being attached to Erik, because life had a way of showing her that her best bet was on herself. Despite this, he made her feel safe. He was there when the gallery closed. They chilled with each other like there was no time lost between the two. Any time she was free during his two week stay, Erik made sure he spent it with her sparking that old crush letting it fully ignite. When he asked her, “You saved yourself for me?” It wasn’t much of a question. He knew she did.

           Years passed and after graduating from undergrad, Isis moved back to Los Angeles. Isis like every woman has experienced a fair share of cat calling and unwanted extra male attention. When she experienced it one particular night, the ‘I have a boyfriend’ and ‘your man don’t let you have friends’ debate was brought to an abrupt end with a ‘Nah’ from a male voice behind her. Isis wanted to roll her eyes because she knew she didn’t have a man but she didn’t necessarily want to entertain the new unknown voice because he played superhero. She was in luck to find it was Erik. Isis was stricken with awe. She was sure their last encounter would be the final one. Isis came to terms with that.

      Erik and Isis practically bound. What else could explain their unexpected reconnections? Their most encounters recent were in Johannesburg. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since she’d seen or heard from him. She knew of him being in the navy and his plans for Wakanda. Part of her thought he was dead. When attending a museum on a much needed off day, pictures of South Africa’s neighboring country Wakanda acted as a friendly reminder of her old friend.

“What do you know about Wakanda? Almighty Isis.” The familiar predatory voice purred in her ear. Isis whipped around to see a vastly different appearance yet Erik in the flesh.

********

     Isis raised an eyebrow as a sly smirk crept onto her face. The same smirk that Erik held, mirror-like with arrogance. She turned her attention to her best friend. Isis waited for what would be a proper introduction. After all, Brea was oblivious to Erik and Isis’s acquaintance.  She had no clue that Isis and Erik’s once-in-a-blue moon meetings sparked a flame consuming the flesh and spread like wild fire only to be put out not long after it starts. Neither Erik nor Isis was accustomed to the immense connection they possessed, like a shared soul internalizing each other’s pain without explanation, knowing things about each other that never needed to be verbalized. Something about it always savoring the essence of its natural flow and it was still so foreign. Yet, Brea did not know that her Erik was Isis’s N’Jadaka.

“Sorry, I’m being rude! Ice, this is Erikkkk” Brea sang his name. Isis chewed her inner cheek to keep from cringing. She wasn’t sure if it was the way Brea said his name or the thought of Erik fucking her best friend.

“Wassup” Erik said with a nod. Isis coach herself mentally not to roll her eyes. Should she tell Brea? Would it even matter? Could she even be mad at Erik? They never had anything exclusive, ever.

“Hello.” Isis kept her response curt.

“Yo…You look hella familiar like I know you from somewhere.” Erik tilted his head dreads falling more into his face as his tongue ran over his gold fangs. If he wanted to be petty, Isis could match all energy.

“Doubt it…Probably Instagram.” Isis said with a shrug gaining an uneasy look from Brea. Brea was accustomed to Isis being more polite in general, after all she deemed Isis as the ‘nice’ friend.

     If this situation couldn’t get anymore awkward, Isis phone began to ring illuminating with the name Aaron and a picture of her and a handsome chocolate man making goofy faces with the Snap Chat dog filter. Isis sucked in a deep breath breaking her gaze from her phone immediately locking eyes with Erik. She couldn’t believe the situation that was unfolding before her. Her secret on and off ‘fling’ was in her home with every intention on fucking her best friend, despite having a two-week long mind-blowing sexscapade with Isis in South Africa just days prior. Her best friend had no clue and her current situationship was hitting her up for the late night action.

“Don’t ignore my brother-in-law. You know the drill.” Brea laughed. It was too late. Isis missed the call. Isis could only let out a nervous chuckle while avoiding looking at Erik altogether.

“Whatever Bree. I’ll get out of you guys’ way.” Isis said fanning them off while quickly texting Aaron she was on her way.

       She sat her laptop down to get ready to leave. Isis quickly gathered her tote, which was packed with her essentials since she had landed that night. It was no need for Aaron to leave the door unlocked she had a key. He was far more invested than she was but she did care for him.

“This picture is dope. These scars look so familiar.” Brea squinted as she studied Isis’s MacBook Pro.

“Ehhh, you know ritual practices…just something I saw in South Africa.” Isis said looking directly at Erik with a smirk. She took her laptop from Brea as she headed towards the door. “You two have fun!” Isis shot them a wink.

[dxlansfxck]

EVERY WOUND WILL SHAPE ME [G.D] • 01

Summary: The higher I’ll get, the lower I’ll sink, I can’t drown my demons they know how to swim. // When the demons in your mind get out of control, deciding over your life and everything you do. Over luck and happiness - both long gone - but also over sadness, anger and frustration. When exact those demons try to ruin your life and no escape is in further sight. When your best friend turn into your worst enemy. Then, you’ll realize how small hope can be.

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING! [contains explict content, like depression, self harm and maybe even anorexic behavior. please, please don’t read if you’re not comfortable with that! try out one of my other fics, then], also some smut, hehe.

Chapter 01 • The anxiety I feel overwhelms me

Red meets black and white. Over and over again. Drop for drop. A small puddle of blood is slowly forming on the tiled floor. The strongly lighted room is starting to move while her body gets colder each second that passes. Then, it went black.

The fear, the fear of falling apart.

She is currently sitting on the floor, her back pressed against the cold surface of their modern bathtub, head placed on her boney knees while she is trying to regulate her breathing. Slowly, she tries to raise her head, pushing the way too long strand of hair out of her sweaty face. Then, she dares to look at the most destroyed part of her body – she shouldn’t be shocked about the way her legs looked by now, covered in scars and fresher cuts, but sometimes she is. Sometimes, it feels like another person was hurting her, anyone but herself.

It was already one of her easiest routines to clean up after what she just did, grabbing an old towel that nobody else used anymore, dipping it into lukewarm water to wipe her leg clean from all the blood, wrapping a fresh bandage around the fresh cuts before she gets dressed again. Then, she starts wiping the floor, cleaning off whatever was left on it and stands up, smiling into the mirror. Look how good I can fake it.

She walks right into the living room, where one of her two best friends was sitting on his laptop, probably scrolling through his social media or doing some of his weekly online shopping. Licking her lips, she tried to hide her shaky voice before speaking up. “Gray? You can go take your shower now, I’m done.”

~~

Grey smoke was dancing through the air as she was sitting on one of the stylish – and fucking expensive – deck chairs on their patio, watching her blunt being the reason for this piece of art in the air. Smoke was more than the waste of a cigarette or a blunt for her, it was so beautiful and fine, could be destroyed by the smallest breathe of air and would never last longer than a couple seconds. She was inhaling once more, her fingers were shaking as she was holding her blunt, and as soon as she breathed out another cloud of smoke, the previous one was gone, and Y/N would never see it again.

She lets out a deep sigh, feeling like the now gone cloud, blurry and ready to dissolve. Scratching her fully clothed thigh without even realizing it, she gets lost in her thoughts once more. The weed was blurring her mind, loosening up her brain while her thoughts got louder and louder, comparing her to any other girl she’s ever met, any other girl her best friends, Ethan and Grayson, have ever met. Hell, they were some of the most famous teens right now, their youTube channel exploding while Y/N was in their house, living with them and being their best friend – but left out of anything that relates to their fame.

Of course, Gray and E were the most handsome men she’s ever met, but she’s seen them pre puberty, knowing how they looked like before their success – and how no girl ever wanted to go out with them. They were always the infamous trio, there was nobody that could be part of their clique because no one was like them. It’s always been the three of them. It still is, but things have changed. Things will ever change. The saddest part is, the twins have changed. But Y/N, she was still the same girl – with different feelings.

As soon as the last bits of the addicting drug were filling her lungs up to the top, she tries holding her breath as long as possible before slowly blowing out one last cloud, letting her fingertips swirl up the grey strings before throwing the end into the overflowing ash tray. She was going to empty it. But not now. Maybe tomorrow.

Yawning, she stretches her aching body that gets number with every second before standing up and slowly making her way back into the house. Grayson and Ethan had no clue about her problems; not that drugs, alcohol and cigarettes should be considered a problem, because both of them knew and took them as well. They were the ones that got her hooked up on weed, having to calm their own social anxiety with it before going out to public meetings.

No, they didn’t know about her feelings. About the way her brain worked by now, about anything that went through her mind every second of the day. And they didn’t know anything about her wounds.

Ever since they moved out to Los Angeles, she had more than enough space for herself, her bedroom was just filled with her necessities: a huge bed, the newest TV that Ethan got her for her birthday – including the fitting sound system. A desk and her wardrobe, that was all she needed in there. The only pop of color was a painting on the wall, that Grayson got her when they went to some art exhibition, it was a red lake in the middle of nowhere. It fitted.

Y/N wasn’t taking her “mental illness”, as most people would call it, too serious. Sure, she felt horrible. Of course, she was cutting her legs open on a daily basis – but wasn’t it funny that neither of her “best friends” knew about that? That they didn’t realize any of her daily breakdowns? It was humorous to her, almost feeling like Hannah Montana, living a secret life.

A few rooms further, it was probably in the kitchen, a loud crash was heard, followed by an annoyed scream. Groaning, she made her way into the kitchen, feeling the urge to check if Grayson was actually hurt or if he was just being clumsy again. Arrived at the scene of the accident, the first thing she realized was Grayson sitting on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and remains of muesli which was supposed to be inside the glass.

“Y/N! Surely you are an angel and want to help me clean up, right?”, is the first thing Grayson says while smiling up at her with a frown. Shrugging, Y/N kneels right next to him, trying to get rid of the largest pieces of glass without getting anyone hurt. She smiled sadly, feeling that the broken glass symbolized her life more than perfectly. It was him that let the glass fall, it was him that shattered her heart. And it was him, only him, who could fix it.

“… brush up. Yo, Y/N! Do you even listen to what I’m saying? Fuck, what are you doing? Be careful!”, his calming voice makes her jump the slightest bit, letting her directly fall into one of the glass pieces which directly digs into her palm. Grayson takes her hand carefully into his own, holding it close to his face to take a look at it, examining it before slowly pulling the glass out. “Thanks, Gray, but I’m sure I could’ve done this by myself”, Y/N tries to pull her hand out of his much larger one, but Grayson keeps on holding it. His gaze wanders from her hand to her face, her full lips that have several bite marks on them, her freckled nose, her eyes. And then, his eyes met her soul.

It feels like thousands of seconds, but Grayson kept his eyes on her. Y/N’s brain on the other hand was messed up, feeling like a hurricane, completely out of control. She tries to look away, but the only thing that she could concentrate on was the little freckle on Grayson’s face. Biting her lips once more, she looks further down, letting her eyes rest on his tattooed thighs. My body is a journal, my tattoos are my story.

Out of instinct, she checks her arm, seeing the same angel tattoo that he has on his leg. They went to get it together, back when nothing was standing between them. Back when life was good.

Then, Y/N looks back up at him with watery eyes – Grayson did it again, brought her out of concept. Suddenly, she feels another stinging pain, the sound of more glass breaking and the well known feeling of blood running out of the wound. She can’t hide a giggle, making Grayson raise an eyebrow in confusion. “We need to disinfect the wound and clean it. Put a bandage around it. No, wait, we’re going directly to the doctor, I don’t want it to get infected. Imagine, you could die from a blood poisoning because of that! I bet there are lots of people that died because of something like a cut. C’mon, get dressed, I’m going to grab my keys!“, Grayson speaks in rage while Y/N just sits there and watches him, not caring about her cut at all. “Calm down, Gray. It’s just a small cut, nobody would die from that, believe me”, otherwise I’d be dead for a long time by now. The tensed face of her best friends relaxes slowly, almost in slow motion. Slow motion could be funny, for example while destroying a watermelon. But this kind of slow motion was making her heart skip yet another beat. “Are you sure, Y/N? Aren’t you feeling any pain?” Pain? Because of that? Cutie, I’ve got more scars than friends. One more or less doesn’t make a difference. Resigned, she just shakes her head while trying to give him a soft smile and mumbles “No, I’m fine, really” while throwing the left over glass into the trash bag. The bleeding already stopped, but she goes to the bathroom anyways, cleaning it before letting Grayson wrap it up in a bandage. “Something like that only happens to you, girl. Promise me you’re telling me once it hurts again, alright?”, the strong bathroom light made his eyes look more green than they usually do, but Y/N tries to not get lost in them once again. “Sure, bro. Don’t make an act about it, I’ll be fine. Did you smoke one too much or why are you on the ‘let’s take care of Y/N’ ride again?”, the amusement in her voice was rough, just like the bittersweet pain that fills her body once more. She wanted to test his reaction, wanted to make him aggressive. It was one of her favorite things to do: Let’s see how long you can get on Grayson’s nerve before he turns into an angry supersaiyan.

Grayson just stands up, hovering over Y/N while looking down at her. His jaw clenches while his eyebrows narrowed once more this day. “Smoked one too much? Who of us is the one that smokes on a daily? Listen, it’s not that I’m too innocent when it comes to weed, but you’re the one that smokes more than usual as soon as some stuff is in the house”, his eyes sparkled in anger while his entire body tensed, making him look more giant than he already was, muscles popping out of his veiny arms. But Y/N wouldn’t be her if she wasn’t impressed at all. It was what she was expecting, so she just shrugs her shoulders while smiling at him provocative. “Thanks for your time, doctor. I hope I won’t be a problem to you in the future, but I would love to have some time for myself in my room now”, with those words, she turns away before going straight into her play-room. Nothing ‘Shades of Grey’ like, it was really a gaming room, filled with any gaming console you could imagine.

Throwing herself onto the soft couch, she starts one of her favorite games to get rid of her anger, shooting some soldiers but getting even angrier in the process. Grayson made her fuming, even though she was the one to see him frustrated. She rummages in her “secret” drawer, pulling out whatever she was in the mood for now: even more weed. She made sure she’d always be stacked up without Grayson or Ethan knowing about it. This little treasure was meant for emergencies, just like this was one. She needed it to kill any remaining feelings. The purest cannabis in LA.

It was around midnight when the tiredness – and weed – were winning over her body, making her turn off the console she was currently playing on before walking into her bedroom to fall onto the soft mattress. She grabs the blanket, wrapping it around her before closing her eyes, making her way into her own world: where she was deciding what would happen and nobody – except for her own demons – would destroy her dreams.

 ~~

Warm hands were roaming her body, not as carefully as she’d expect, no. Those were huge hands, rough and they knew what they wanted. Her eyes were opened, but she couldn’t see anything besides darkness. The hands made her way around her cheek, her neck and her stomach while her chest was rising heavily. It doesn’t matter how worked up she was right now, she needed to know who was touching her. But when she wanted to use her voice, she couldn’t bring out any words. Winding under the touch, that was now on her lower region, she tried to escape. Once the hands were trying to get into her pants, she started kicking her legs, a panic attack rising in her mind and her breathing got even faster. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t, her voice was gone.

“The world is ugly, but you’re beautiful to me.”

Surprised, she holds her breath, tensing every muscle in her body. Just as she wanted to talk, the well known voice spoke up again.

“Right now I feel invisible to you, like I’m not real.”

The stranger’s face came closer and closer and Y/N was able to taste his breath on her lips, tasting like cigarettes and whiskey.

“There’s a voice in my head says I’m better off dead.”

Her mouth was still sealed, no sound coming out of her lips and her heart was racing so fast, she felt like having a heart attack anytime soon.

“And when you go, don’t return to me my love.”

Rough, dry lips were meeting hers, the only body parts of them that were actually touching right now. She didn’t see anything, didn’t feel anything and now she wasn’t even hearing anything. All her senses were concentrated on his lips. The taste of his lips. The bourbon he must have been drinking, the menthol cigarettes he must have been smoking. She didn’t kiss him back, didn’t push him away. She just laid there, hoping that this nightmare would be over soon enough. Not knowing what she was supposed to feel, her heart seemed to break over and over again, making her chest feel tighter than ever. A billion tears were burning in her eyes, but none of them made their way out. His lips weren’t moving anymore, they were just laying on top of hers, sofly, calming, gentle. The two hands were back again, opening something behind her head, allowing her to see again. But as soon as she saw who was really kneeling in front of her, she was able to open her mouth. But instead of talking to the person in front of her, she let out one of the loudest screams in her life.

In front of her was Grayson, but it wasn’t him at the same time. Almost as if a different version of him was here, almost dead. His wrists were cut open, bleeding onto the white bedsheets. Empty eyes and a weak smile on his face. “I can’t love you when I’m dead.”

 Once she opened her eyes again, she was still in her bed. Without the blood, without a dead Grayson. She just lays there, starring against the wall.

Didn’t realize how the door opens slowly.

Didn’t realize how the bed dips in as someone sits down next to her.

Didn’t realize how the same rough hand caresses her shoulder and engulfs her in a tight hug, trying to keep her save.

Didn’t realize how she gets lost in her dreams again.

 ~~

11:27 AM. Sun. Dry throat. Heavy body. Sleeping man inside her bed. Everything was the same as usual, besides the sleeping man in her bed. Her head was buried inside his arms while she was checking out the tattoos that were covering the light skin. The tattoos that wandered up his arm to his neck, leaving her gaze on the soft face covered in slight scruff. Closed eyes. Messy hair. Closed eyes. Welcoming lips. Opened eyes.

Scared, she jumps back while pulling the blanket up to her nose, looking at him like a shy deer. His lips turn into a loving smile. “Good morning”, his raspy voice was pure beauty in her eyes, making her grimace as she heard her own, croaking one. “Morning.” She wanted to run. Wanted to get distance between their cuddling bodies. She disliked cuddling, disliked any kind of body contact. Turning around, she tried to get out of her bed, but she was still just in her sleeping shirt and panties, revealing her bandaged legs – which she would never show Grayson. So she kept laying there, looking at her best friend. “What was wrong last night?” He sounded worried, almost scared.

The thing is, Grayson Bailey Dolan wasn’t as bad of a person as it might seem, no. He was the one. Literally. In every aspect. The most loving one, the kindest, the funniest. And the one that Y/N loved. But too much happened in their past. They could never be a functional couple. They were still best friends, Grayson and Ethan seemed like the only people that truly cared about her. And she hated herself how much her feelings made her act like she does. Like a heartless, cold bitch. She didn’t want to be like that, but she couldn’t stop her monsters. Not now.

“Nothing, I think I’ve just had a nightmare.”

We’re all suicidal kids, telling other suicidal kids that suicide isn’t the answer.

[tanyatakaishi]

So as a great apology for my severe writer’s block and crashing nearly every night at 9pm after the kid is in bed and I have no energy because of the school year starting, I give you a sneak peak of a memory in the next chapter of Remember, the sequel to my digimon fanfic, Innocent Games.

Yolei wants to to have sex. Davis solicits advice. Humor, sexy times, and fluff. Daiyako. (a little steamy, nothing explicit)

Full story links: AO3 & FFN

“Yolei wants to have sex.”

“Oh.”

Ken is looking at me like I’ve grown an extra head and I groan, falling back on my bed. “I mean I want to, too. But… what if I’m bad at it?” “I don’t think I’m the best person to talk to about this.” I sit up and my eyebrows sort of have a mind of their own, creasing together in the middle of my forehead. “Why not?” “Lack of experience?” “But you’re smart.” Ken frowns. “You guys are ready for that?” “She’s a college girl now and I’m…” My mouth turns down to match his. He already knows how insecure I am being the younger one in the relationship, still stuck in high school while Yolei goes on adulting, so I bypass that issue and go straight for the next. “I kinda thought it’d happen by now, but you know, stuff always gets in the way. Parents, digimon, roommates, maybe if you remembered condoms, we're not doing it in a car!” I finish the last few lines in my best imitation of Yolei’s voice, scolding me. “Maybe you should talk to Tai,” Ken says and I immediately feel relief flood over me. “That’s perfect! His first time was with Mimi. If he can tap that…” “Davis.”

*

“It was awful,” Tai says, looking at me over a laptop and a pile of textbooks. I’m pretty sure I’m interrupting him writing his term paper, but he doesn’t let on that he’s bothered. “I mean, she wasn't, but I was. She didn’t complain per se, but I could tell.”

“Um, any pointers on what not to do then?” “Don’t do it drunk.” “Perfect,” I say. “So what about with that other chick? Second time a charm?” “That’s not,” Tai starts and then he closes his laptop to smile at me. “You guys are gonna be fine. You love each other, right?” I try not to go red, but it's happening anyway. I give an enthusiastic nod and realize I look way too eager. Thank God Tai’s so cool. “Just take it slow. Use protection.” “Thanks, Mom.” “Look, if you’re wanting details, all my good advice is going to be from my most recent relationship.” Going pale, I jump to my feet and grab Veemon by the tail, yanking him off Tai’s bed. “But Agumon was getting cookies,” he cries. “Abort!” I yell, giving Tai a horrified look. “Abort!” *

Matt stares at me. “Google it.” Why didn’t I think of that? * “Google has traumatized me.” “I warned you not to click on the ads. Do you want me to install a proper antivirus software? Yours is outdated.” “That is not the problem, Izzy.” “Why don’t you try the library?” * Cody starts to type my request into the library database and does a double take. “Please don’t involve me in this,” he says. "I'm running out of options. The guys on the team were the worst. They all started heckling me for being with the same chick for three years without getting some.” (“You’re counting the breaks?”) “So what if we didn’t do it yet? They just don’t get Yolei. She's gonna want it to be perfect and she's got all these ideas on how things should go. I can’t keep track of ‘em. Like, get this, she told me about how gross this guy dating her sister was just ‘cause he spent the entire time slobbering all over her t—" “Why don’t you talk to TK?” “He’s dating Kari.” “Point taken.” * “I need medical advice.” I open a book in front of Joe’s nose the moment I enter his apartment. “How accurate is this?” He lowers his glasses to look at the pages and suddenly turns pink. “I’m not sure if my opinion on Kama Sutra would be considered medical advice.” “Why doesn’t anyone know how to have sex?” “That’s not, oh God.” “Oh, honey,” Mimi pipes in, emerging from the bathroom. I didn’t even know she was there. She slings an arm around my shoulders and grabs the book from my hands. “You’re looking for advice from the wrong gender.” “Do you live here?” I ask her. “Sometimes,” she says. I stare at her in awe. “I have so many questions for you.” Joe immediately bolts out the door. * There are literally so many feelings tumbling over and through me that I’m not sure what I say first: “wow” or “sorry.” I think it ended up coming out as a combination of the two, because Yolei is looking at me with a sort of a weird expression. Her eyes are so much easier to see without an inch of glass in the way. The brown is nearly gold, something I never really paid attention to until we started kissing each other (she always takes the glasses off so I don’t smudge them with my “face grease”). I don’t think she’s ever looked prettier than now, hair all a mess and her face soft, with those eyes and her flushed cheeks. Some of the makeup around her lashes smeared and I rub it with my thumb which makes her bat my hand away. “Don’t be sorry,” she says, combing her hair back before she turns on her pillow. We barely fit there together and my eyes take in the clock behind her head, making sure we finished well before her roommate is done with class. “That was totally normal.” My eyes shoot back to her. “That’s it?” I ask, trying not to feel offended. “You just said sorry.” “Okay, true.” I groan. “Ugh, I’m sorry.” “Seriously, stop.” She’s smiling and she slips her hand over my chest, nuzzling her face in my neck. “It’ll be better next time.” I smile so wide my cheeks hurt. “You’re not gonna dump me?” “For finishing without me? I don't think I was going to get there anyway." She flicks my nose when I pout and I snatch her hand. "It was our first time. Jeez, Davis.” I put her palm on my mouth and her fingers cover my eyes. “It didn’t hurt too much, did it?” “Only a little, same as the dozen other times you asked.” “Sorry,” I say again and she wiggles her hand out of mine and tickles my ribs. I nearly knock her in the gut with my knee, so she ends it with a firm squeeze and I feel every part of her again, pressing on every part of me. I squirm, super uncomfortable. “Okay, I gotta do something about this. I’m gross. How do you cuddle after that?” She laughs when I stand up and she has the nerve to watch me deal with things. “The movies are full of lies.” When I come back to her tiny twin bed a little less disgusting she welcomes me into her arms. My thighs trap her left calf and her stomach rises and falls under my chest.  I feel sleepy and rest my cheek on her, closing my eyes. Her fingers rake under my hair and down my neck. “I heard you borrowed Kama Sutra from the library to prepare,” she says. I slip my arms between the mattress and her back, pulling her in tight. “That was intimidating.” “Mimi said you scared Joe right out of his own apartment.” “He was totally unhelpful,” I mumble into her skin. “Mimi was amazing though.” Yolei pinches me right on my bare ass and I let out a really undignified squeak. “You should’ve just talked to me,” she says and I lift my face out of her boobs to see her squinting at me. Damn her terrible eyesight. “I've had a lot of unsolicited advice from my sisters," she says and then as an afterthought, she adds, "and Mantarou." Her tongue hangs out like she's gagging and I'm tempted to grab it with my fingers,  but I know that pisses her off and I'm gonna be smart when all my most vulnerable parts are still exposed. “Aren’t you the expert?” I grumble. “The point is, I had an idea of what to expect. You should’ve told me you were nervous.” I scoff even though it's true so she looks at me with her serious face and says, "This was supposed to be between us.” Oh no, she set me up. "You know what else is between us?" I can’t even keep a straight face. I let out a ridiculous sounding snort and her groan vibrates in her chest. I kiss her jaw before she starts to get mad and her hands relax on my back. “I’m sorry,” I tell her again, moving to the spot behind her ear. “You should be,” she says and her voice is all air. I used to have this list: a bunch of boxes I needed to check off in order to think of myself as a man. If you had told the past me I’d be checking any of them off with Yolei Inoue, I would’ve died laughing. But now that we’re here, I can’t imagine being with anyone else. If you don’t count the argument about who should put the condom on that delayed the whole thing awhile, she made it easy. All the awkward moments we spent fumbling were filled with mutual giggles and a few snide jokes neither of us took too seriously. I don’t even care about those stupid boxes anymore. “I love you,” I tell her, kissing her ear, her cheeks, her lips. She rolls me underneath, all laughter and smiles, and says it back.

[queenkaneko]

The Turning Point

Pairing: Colt Kaneko x MC (Ellie)

Word Count: 2297

A/N: Okay so things are going to get a little dark here. Warning everyone now, there will be a character death at the end of this chapter. I have mixed feelings about it but I hope nobody sends me death threats for this. I needed a catalyst and well...this is definitely that. Other than that, just the usual, a little angst and probably some cursing.

Summary: After a few close calls during their job, Ellie and Colt celebrate a successful heist. But an unusual phone call brings everything Ellie knew crashing down around her. (I officially suck at summaries. I’m sorry.)

Part Four Part Six

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The next two weeks were busy for Ellie and Colt. There were security measures to disable, escape routes to plan, and Colt also made Ellie practice every night in an empty lot, though many of those nights they ended up in the back seat, not the front. Once everything was ready, they loaded up her car at the shop and drove off into the night, heading for Fresno. Ellie merged onto the 5, heading north, with one hand on the wheel and the other out the window. She felt more at peace now than she had in weeks. They had a good plan, this would be an in and out job, and it would be good for Colt to have something to remember his dad by. She was doing this for him, yes, but she was also doing it for herself, to feel more comfortable in her own skin. Colt reached over and placed his hand on her knee, squeezing gently and Ellie flashed him a brief smile before turning her attention back to the road.

The ride was mostly silent, as they both reviewed their plan in their heads. A little less than two hours later, Ellie pulled into a gas station in Bakersfield, Colt getting out to put gas in her car as she ran inside to use the bathroom. Colt watched her run to the door smirking and shaking his head. They were almost to Fresno, and he wasn’t sure if he’d have had the strength to do this job without her here. If she hadn’t showed up, he might have just let it go, even if he’d had the crew to do it. This was more personal than he wanted to admit. Ellie emerged from the store a few minutes later, an open bag of chips in her hand and two soda bottles tucked under her arms. Colt was leaned against her door with his arms crossed, looking at the ground deep in thought until Ellie shoved one of the soda bottles into his chest with a smile. “Come on, don’t make that face. We can do this.” 

Colt took the soda and gave her a half smile before walking around to the passenger side. “I know.” He replied sliding into the seat as Ellie did the same. By the time they arrived at their destination, the sun was just starting to come up. She pulled her car into the short, abandoned driveway and parked.

“Well, it’s certainly been a while since I’ve been here.” Ellie spoke quietly, taking in the familiar house in front of her. “I...I haven’t been here since my mom died.” They’d planned to use Ellie’s father’s childhood home. It was mostly abandoned now, though some tourists rented it from time to time. Her dad hadn’t been able to bring himself to sell it, and her grandparents had paid it off so they kept it. The renters were just a way to pay the taxes on it and, if possible, a little extra income. It was a perfect hideout. Without another word, Ellie got out of the car and grabbed her backpack out of the back seat.

Colt followed her up the driveway, hands in his pockets as he took in the old brick fencing around the yard and the...pool? “Ellie you didn’t tell me this place had a pool.”

Ellie laughed a little as she pushed through the wire gate, leading him onto the back porch. She leaned down, searching for a certain empty flower pot with a red flower painted on the side. “Really? Did I forget to mention the hot tub too?” Finding the right one, she retrieved the spare key and unlocked the back door.

Colt let out a low whistle as he turned to follow her, but broke into a grin when he stepped inside and saw a pool table in the middle of the room. “And a pool table. Damn, Ellie, how rich were these grandparents of yours?” That earned him a punch in the shoulder. He chuckled and followed Ellie deeper into the house as she headed toward the bedrooms.

“I’ll kick your ass at it again, after I sleep for at least twelve hours.” Ellie walked in to a familiar room with tacky black and white wallpaper and black shag carpeting. “And yes, I know it looks like the set of a T.V show from the 70s.” She mumbled as she flopped face down on the bed in the middle of the room. Colt sat beside her before lying on his back, arms crossed behind his head. She moved closer and curled into his side, his arms immediately moving to wrap around her and pull her closer. They fell asleep like that, Ellie’s head resting on his shoulder, Colt’s hands slowly running up and down her arm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The job started out going smoothly. Ellie had learned a few things from Toby about working around electronic security systems and that knowledge, combined with her affinity for computers, it only took her fifteen minutes to remotely shut it down using her laptop from a block away in the safety of her car. Once that was done they’d slipped inside and stalked through the shadows toward the garage at the back of the property. She disabled that security system too, using the panel on the side of the building, and the two slipped inside. It was late at night and the owner was out of town, but they’d still made sure the plan was timed down to the second, just in case. The system would restart in ten minutes, just enough time for Ellie to hotwire the car and Colt to drive it off the property. If they took too long, the gate would lock and the camera’s would come back online. It took Ellie five of those minutes to get the car started and when it was done, she looked over at Colt with a self satisfied grin. When she saw the expression on his face, her grin immediately faded. “Colt? Is everything alright?” They really, really didn’t have time for this, but she was worried by the look in his eyes.

Colt was staring at the car, unmoving. It was a different color, a gaudy shade of purple, but it was the same car. His eyes traced the frame as he replayed his father’s death in his head. He was frozen in place and his breathing was becoming frantic. Ellie realized then that Colt wasn’t with her right now. He was back on that bridge, seeing the same flames that haunted her nightmares too. Tentatively, she reached out and put a hand on his arm to remind him she was here, that they were here and that they were passed that point in their lives. Finally, he looked away from the car and into her eyes. The fear she saw there told her what she needed to do. “Colt, we don’t have time for this. I’m sorry. Just go and get my car, I’ll drive this one and meet you at our rendezvous point. Okay?” Ellie took his hands and pressed her keys into his palm before gently kissing his knuckles.

Colt had barely nodded before Ellie was behind the wheel. He stayed behind only a moment longer, watching her drive away in a nearly perfect copy of his dad’s car, then closed the garage door and ran back through the gate just seconds after the automatic locks engaged. He took his time getting back to Ellie’s car, mentally kicking himself for choking like that on a job, putting Ellie at risk, and for being too weak to drive the damn car himself after coming all this way. By the time he caught up to her, she was leaning against the back of the car, half of her lit up by a street lamp, the other half hidden in the shadow of a pawn shop. They’d chosen to meet across town in case the police showed up, so as not to lead them back to where they were staying. Colt parked her car behind the stolen one and crossed the distance to Ellie in just a few strides, hugging her tightly.

Ellie didn’t say anything, just rubbed small circles on his back, holding him close. He was grateful for that, she always knew when to push and when to just hold him. She understood that expressing himself didn’t come naturally to him and that there were times when just having her close was what he needed. They understood each other beyond words. Finally, Ellie gently pushed him back, gripping his arms. “Well, all things considered, that went well. I’m feeling like a race.. Let’s go store this and get into some more trouble.” Ellie smiled sweetly up at him and kissed him briefly before heading back to the driver’s door of their new Aylesbury. “Try to keep up.” She added with a wink over her shoulder and slid into the seat.

Smiling despite himself, Colt turned and got back into her Panther. Immediately, Ellie took off, clearly having fun testing the limits of the new car. Colt followed, managing to catch up to her soon after with the Pather’s powerful engine. He pulled up next to her, matching her speed, and watched her through the window. Noticing him, Ellie turned and flashed a cocky smirk to rival his own before smoothly upshifting the car and gaining a few feet. They raced all the way back to their safehouse, chasing each other down abandoned streets in the moonlight. The thrill of speed wiping everything else from Colt’s mind, causing his heart to race for a whole different reason. Watching Ellie race always amazed him, a cop’s daughter who made valedictorian only weeks ago was outpacing him, the son of an L.A crime boss, easily even in an unfamiliar car. By the time they’d stowed the stolen car in the small attached garage and walked inside the house, Colt had managed to calm down.

Ellie never mentioned his hesitation, instead challenging him to a game of pool which lasted until early the next morning. Colt was watching her line up her final shot when he noticed her phone buzzing on the table next to him. “Ellie, your dad’s calling.” Colt called to her and she looked up from the pool table to the clock which read 4:43am. Ellie took the phone with a look of confusion, wondering why her dad was calling so early.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself and to prepare to lie her ass off to her father, Ellie answered the call. “Hello?”

The voice on the other end wasn’t her fathers. “Miss Wheeler?” A woman’s voice asked softly.

“Um...yes?” Ellie responded, growing more confused and feeling a sudden sense of dread in her gut. “Who is this?”

“Miss Wheeler I’m from the L.A.P.D, I’m so sorry to tell you this while you’re at college, but your father was killed in action earlier tonight. He made sure that you would be informed as soon as possible in case this happened.”

Panic and grief seized her chest. This was a dream. This wasn’t happening. She was somewhere else, deep asleep and she would wake up in the morning like it never happened. Before her thoughts could run away from her, she took a deep shaky breath. “H-How?” Her voice cracked and Colt immediately stepped closer to her. Ellie stepped back, face pale as a sheet, and put up a hand as she listened to the cop.

“I’m not sure if he shared this with you, but he was working with the FBI to track down the members of the Brotherhood that escaped when Jason was brought in. They’d found the woman named Hester but when they went to arrest her, there was backup. She shot him and two other agents. He...He died in the ambulance.” Ellie’s hand was shaking, tears filling her eyes as she processed what the woman was saying. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. “We’ll need you to come home and claim his body, as you’re his only living relative. I’m truly sorry, Ellie. Your father was a great detective, and a better man.” Unable to say anything, Ellie just hung up the phone and stared at it.

Colt watched her, curiosity and concern written on his face. He took another tentative step forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “Elle, talk to me. What was that about? What’s wrong?” She looked up at him, pained and watery eyes meeting his and Colt felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He knew that look, he’d seen it in the mirror too many times in the last month.

“He’s dead. My dad’s dead.” She whispered, rushing forward to hug him and Colt felt her hot tears on his neck as she buried her face there. He wrapped her tightly in his arms, stroking her hair. Colt had been through this, yet he didn’t know what to say to her right now. He didn’t even know what he’d needed to hear when his dad died, maybe words weren’t enough for this kind of pain.

Ellie stood there, crying silently with only an occasional whimper, for a long time. She let Colt’s arms keep her grounded, focusing on them and not the throbbing pain in her chest. Once her tears stopped, she pulled back from him, looking at him with a determination he’d only seen in her eyes the night his own dad died and she’d held him on the curb outside the burning auto shop. “Hester shot him. I’m done playing by the rules. I’m done trusting the system. They all have to die, Colt.” 

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Tags: @poeticscolt @courtesan-of-garage @nazariortega @lovehugsandcandy @maxwellsquidsuit @brightpinkpeppercorn @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @postcardfromsomewhere @walkerduchess @zaira-oh-zaira @umiumichan @long-gone-girl @leelee10898 @client-327 @desiree-0816

[dahliawolfe]

Retribution

Sam and Dean stand in the back of the crowd, watching as the young woman tosses a handful of dirt over her mother’s grave. The preacher prays, and people begin to disperse.

“That’s her, right? The daughter?” Dean asks, eyeing the mocha skinned young woman, more of a girl, really, make her way out of the cemetery.

“Yeah. That’s her. Jade Munro.” Dean nods and heads to the parking lot surrounding the cemetery. Dusk is just beginning to fall, and he’d really like to wrap this up before night falls completely.

The parking lot is nearly empty when they arrive at the cobalt Mustang at the edge of the asphalt.

“Ms. Munro,” he calls out. The woman pops up from behind the car, her arms reaching over her head to unzip the lace dress that’s hugging her body. She gives them a smirk and wave.

“You’re the hunters, then?” she asks, sliding the lace over her shoulders and down her body, exposing her skin. All of her skin, save for what little is covered by her lace bra and panties. Dean and Sam turn away, out of respect.

“Uhh… What? No!” Dean chuffs. How the hell did she know.

“Yeah right. Look, I know what Holly did. I know she was a hunter. And I also know that she wasn’t killed in a bear attack.” She was right. Holly Munro was one of the best in the business. But she’d always claimed to have kept it from her only child. “You can turn around now. I’m decent,” Jade announces.

“How?” Sam asks.

Jade shrugs, sliding her feet into combat boots. “I’ve known for a long time. I found her journal when I was 10. I just let her believe whatever she wanted. Wasn’t like she was ever home anyway. So, what’s our first move?”

“Excuse me? No. There is no ‘we’. You’re not involved in this,” Dean argues, voice hard.

“Look, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve got a few hunts under my belt, myself. So, it’s either with you, or alone. But I’m going to kill the son of a bitch that killed my mother.”

“Holly sent us to take care of you. You’re a kid, and we’re here to get you set up somewhere safe and keep you away from this stuff.” Jade barks out a laugh.

“A kid? Dude, I’m 19.”

“Exactly,” Sam replies with a huff.

“And how old are you? 23? 24?” Jade asks him, a smirk pulling at her cheeks.

“25,” Sam replies, dejectedly. Jade grins.

“Well, look, you’ve heard my terms. I’m doing this. With, or without you.” Dean sighs.

“Fine. But you stick to us like glue.” Jade salutes them before tossing her funeral clothes in the trunk and slamming it shut.

“Sir, yes sir.”

Back in the Impala, Dean is fuming, and Sam knows that the blow up is coming. Jade is definitely getting under his skin.

“Dean, calm down. It’s her mom. She has the right to help get justice.”

“Justice, Sam!? That’s not justice. It’s revenge. And look where it’s gotten us! Do you feel any better!? Cuz I sure as hell don’t!” Sam sighs. He knows that he’s not going to get anywhere with Dean when he’s acting like this, so there’s not much point in trying.

…

It’s nearly dawn when they pull into the Oak Ridge Lodge. Jade pulls in smoothly beside them and parks, jumping out of the car before Dean has even put Baby in park. The elder Winchester shakes his head. He unfolds himself from the front seat and heads to the office.

…

“Jade, you take the bed closest to the bathroom. Sammy, take the bed by the door. I’ll take the couch,” Dean instructs when they enter the room. He dumps his bag on the couch and heads to the fridge to put the six pack he’d picked in the cool air. Jade places her bag on the bed and rifles through it, digging out some clothes before making her way to the bathroom.

“Dean, that thing ain’t sleep-able. Just crash with me. It’s not a big deal,” she invites. Dean studies her, then the couch, then her again before nodding.

“Fine. Thanks.”

…

Dean is laying stiffly on the edge of the bed when Jade returns from the bathroom. She’s wearing a tank top and boxers. She slides in on the other side of the bed and curls up, back facing Dean. It’s silent for a few minutes before Jade speaks.

“Dean,” she whispers. Dean’s eyes snap open.

“Yeah? You ok?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to spook you. I just wanted to say thank you for doing this. And for letting me come with you. I know you didn’t have to do that, and it means a lot.” Dean turns his head toward her.

“It’s not going to make you feel better, ya know? Killing the thing that killed your mom. It won’t help.”

“I know. But it’s what she would do for me. So, I owe her that much.”

“Fair enough.”

“You…You’ve lost someone too, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dean whispers brokenly. “My mom and dad. A demon. Almost took Sammy too.” Tentatively, Jade takes his hand.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I know it’s hard.” Dean gives her hand a little squeeze, letting the room fall silent again.

The next morning, Sam, Jade, and Dean sit down to eat breakfast at the motel diner.

“So, I figure we head out to Sarvis Creek. It’s in the Routt National Forest, and it feels like it might be the best bet for finding a wendigo,” Sam says, clicking the keys of his laptop.

Jade chokes. “Wait. Wendigo? Really? Aren’t those like super rare?” Dean nods.

“Yeah, but we ran up on one a few years ago. It does fit the M.O.”

“How do we kill it?”

“Fire.” Jade’s eyes are a little wide as she takes in Dean’s words.

…

“You ready for this, Kid?” Dean asks as they park in the forest’s visitor center’s parking lot.

“I’m ready,” she assures, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She pulls her hair out of the strap, brushing it out of her face and over her flannel covered shoulder.

“Wait, guys, what is this?” Jade calls as they round the back of the visitor center. Sam and Dean join her and look up.

“What’s what?” Sam asks, squinting.

“That,” Jade says, leaning up on her tiptoes, pointing to markings on the wall of the building.

“Anasazi drawings. Probably warning about what hides in the woods.”

“Anasazi? Do people still communicate that way? With hieroglyphs and stuff?”

“Some do.”

Night falls early in the forest, and Dean builds a fire. Jade camps herself on one side of it, looking forlorn.

“What’s up, Jade?” Sam asks, offering her a bottle of water.

“Huh? Oh, nothing. Just thinking.”

“About what?” Dean asks, sitting next to her.

“Just, ya know. My mom. She did this stuff by herself all the time. And then one time she just didn’t come back. And I used to be so angry at her for being gone. And when she was home, I was awful to her. I would stay in my room and avoid her. I’d refuse to tell her I loved her or give her a hug. I was a terrible daughter.” Dean takes her hand.

“You were a kid without a mom. And it’s understandable that you were mad. You had every right to be. And Holly knew that. She also knew that you loved her. Even if you wouldn’t say the words, she knew. Trust me. We always want that one last time to tell them how we feel, but we don’t always get it.” Jade gives him a small smile before laying her head on his shoulder.

…

“Jade. Jade!” the voice wakes her up. Why is Dean calling her in the middle of the night. The fire has died out, and Jade can’t see to the other side of the clearing, where the boys are, so she stands up, intent on following the voice.

“Dean? Dean, what is it?” she asks, walking away from her sleeping bag. She tiptoes further away from the embers of the fire. “Dean!” she hisses. “Where the fuck are you?!”

“Jade!” The voice echoes around her, and she freezes. She has no idea where the voice is coming from. She hears a thump behind her and turns, screaming at what she sees.

“Dean!” she shrieks, as a claw rakes down her left arm, shredding the skin.

The creature standing in front of her is hideous, and she’s glued to the spot for a few seconds, until Dean’s, “JADE!” tears through the air.

Jade turns on her heel, running as fast as she can, but the thin, cold hand that wraps around her throat and draws her forcefully back is much stronger and much faster. She slams into the creature’s body, forcing the air out of her. But not for long.

“Dean! Sam! It’s him! Help! Turn left!” She knows that her odds of not being eaten but the creature under her are greater if she keeps yelling, telling the Winchesters where she is. The wendigo clamps a hand over her mouth, its smell nearly making her gag, and yet, she continues to scream.

Soon, but not nearly soon enough for Jade, she hears loud footsteps running toward them. That’s when she feels the creature jump. Then heat, and the sensation of falling. She hadn’t realized that her eyes were closed until they sprang open, just in time for her to slam into the ground. Her leg was on fire, and the ground was much harder than she was hoping, and flaming bits of wendigo were flying all around her, but she was alive. So, she gives a small smile, and let’s the darkness draw her in.

…

“What the fuck?!” she splutters as the cold water hits her face.

Sam tosses the canteen to the ground, reaching to help Dean lift Jade to her feet. “OWW!” she hisses when she puts weight on her left leg.

“I know, Jay. We’re going to patch you up. It’s gonna be ok,” Dean reassures, scooping her up.

“What happened? Did we get him?”

“Dean got him with a Molotov cocktail. He’s dead.”

“Good. Should we like…” she was getting woozy again. “Find his cave or whatever?”

“Just rest. I’m gonna get you back to the hotel and fix you up, Sammy will take care of the nest.”

…

A few days later, Jade, Sam, and Dean are packed and ready to leave. And the youngest hunter’s stomach is in knots. She doesn’t want to leave the boys. She’s grown too attached.

“Ready to go?” Sam asks, coming back in from packing the cars.

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” Jade replies, struggling to her feet. Sam helps hoist her up, and she gives him a grateful smile.

“Alright, Losers. I figure we’ll rest up at Bobby’s for a few days, then we’ll find a new hunt. Let’s hit the road. I need a burger.”

“Wait. ‘We’?” Jade asks, hopeful smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, ‘we’. You got a problem with that?”

“Not at all, Dean. Not at all.”

The end.

Want more Jade Munro? Let me know.

Word count: 1893

[amarantine-amirite]

Three Worlds, One Problem

Have you ever come across two or more things that seem completely unrelated, but aren't; and it all comes together once you have one more thing that relates them all? The best example I can think of that shows you what I'm getting at is if you have three puzzles pieces that are three different colors: blue, white, and green. They seem like pieces from entirely different puzzles, but they're part of the same puzzle. You don't see it until you have that fourth piece that links the three colors together.

In my lifetime, I've come across three things that seem totally unrelated, but actually are. The first thing is something that happened to me when I was 15 years old. At the time, I attended a school for gifted children that, for some reason, had an unusually high number of students pursue careers in the government, and the school would select a student in sophomore year at random to apply early to Duke as a government major (they weren't kidding; they sent you a pre-filled application and everything). The girl who they picked originally (Jane, her name was? Or maybe Judy?) died, and I agreed to take her place. Normally, this wouldn't be an issue, but I was just woefully bad at doing real, actual work. When I was at school, whatever I handed in would be extremely sloppy (if not incomplete) and it didn't matter one bit. They just checked it off as complete anyway.

Once I got to Duke, that wasn't the case anymore. They went over what you wrote with a fine-tooth comb. My first paper for history was about the Civil War, and what I turned in read like the plot of a stupid movie where The Beatles fought against radioactive Viet Cong sharks (no, really, I used the phrase "radioactive Viet Cong sharks" at least eighty times, if not more). I repeatedly never studied for tests, nor did I ever complete a paper before about 12 hours before it was due. I was always doing other things-be it watching YouTube, playing tennis with my roommate Ashlie (while I should've been studying for my history midterm) or writing dumb folk songs about people who wanted to ban bananas because they looked like penises (when I was supposed to be writing my history midterm) or anything else. Not only did I not get any work done, I forgot I even had work to do; to the point where I wound up on academic probation. In fact, I was teetering on getting suspended for my bad grades. I'd never been suspended before, but I'd been warned about it in the past. Never in any of my past experiences had I been warned of suspension as a consequence for half-assing it on my schoolwork, but I (at the time) didn't know that suspension was a legitimate consequence for bad grades in college. And I was very afraid.

Fortunately, I stayed. About 3/4 of the way through my first term, I pulled myself together and started doing my work for real. Gone were the badly written papers that my TA's mistook for B-movie proposals and my habit of missing midterms. Instead, I wrote eloquently, and I aced all my exams. I had legitimately changed. I had, inexplicably, changed. Why? The reasons everyone brings up ("Cassie fails to do work in class because she is defiant", "Cassie is bored in school", etc.) didn't hold water, nor did any of my explanations ("I was way out of my comfort zone", "I was woefully unprepared for university") make any sense. Whatever caused me to change my work habits for the better, it wasn't the warning of a suspension.

The second thing is the Sia song "Breathe Me". "Breathe Me" was written in 2004, and since then, it was used everywhere (I'm not joking, either. I remember being bombarded by it from movies, TV, and ads when I was in middle school). Not only was "Breathe Me" overused for a little bit, it was overused for a long time.

I'm not sure if I'm the only one who thinks this, but I seem to remember that (and this was especially true during my first year at Duke) it always reminded me of "Revolution 9" by The Beatles. The association was so strong, it couldn't have been constructed from my own memories. It could have only come from having heard one particular rendition of "Breathe Me" that was really weird. When I say weird, I freaking mean it. The piano part was played on a sitar, and there was this weird whispering thing that kept saying "right" throughout the second stanza, and there was that outro. Oh, my God, that outro. That outro was so bizarre.

Honestly, maybe I didn't actually hear it in real life. Now that I mention it, I probably dreamt it. It seems too weird to be real. Sia's lawyers would have gone absolutely nuts had somebody made a version of "Breathe Me" that was that strange. The more I think about it, the more I suspect that I might have dreamt it, because I began to associate that weird version of "Breathe Me" very strongly with wind turbines, electrical lines, and other energy related outdoor structures. To me, that just screams dream.

The thing and final unrelated thing concerns a conference I had attended about the same week I turned 16. Since I wasn't invited to the conference, I tried to lay low as much as possible. Usually, this meant that I just hung around and talked with all these financial people. I pretended to know what they were talking about, but I kept changing the subject when I got the chance. If someone said that the bank of wherever was on thin ice, I'd change the subject to how ice crystals formed. Either that, or I'd hang around eating all the cucumber slices that they have.

That said, there was one place where I screwed up. I screwed up so much, it was glaringly obvious that I was neither invited to the conference nor as calm and collected as I appeared. About halfway through some old German guy's speech about the (dim) future of the Eurozone, I just completely lost it. I actually had a panic attack that was so extreme, the speaker told me to shut up. I remember the guy's exact words: "If you panic at the thought of the collapse of the Eurozone, just kill yourself. Your life won't get any easier from here on in. In fact, you shouldn't even be here. Fuck off, will you?" That, and that, was the thing that sent me from panic to flat-out rage. I walked right up to the guy and told him to reach up his ass and pull his head out. A chase (and a flip-out) soon ensued. My God, that was some flip-out. I pushed a photocopier out a window and onto a fire hydrant.

After things cooled down, it was all over. They found out I snuck into the conference, and they kicked me out. In a fit of defeat, I went to bed. I didn't fall asleep easily that night. In fact, I was so upset that I spent most of the night thinking of dropping out of Duke and just plain going home. I was so scarred by what I did, I probably won't be able to go to a financial conference again.

Now, all three of the things that I told you (my sudden improvement in my work habits, my association of Sia's "Breathe Me" with The Beatles's "Revolution 9", and my flip-out at the conference) are completely unrelated. They're just three things that happened around the same time that have no connection to each other, right?

Wrong. There is a connection. That connection is, of all things, an episode of the girl's cartoon Winx Club.

Typically, this wouldn't make any sense. How would a cartoon connect three seemingly unrelated events in my life? Well, between the death of my high school classmate Jo (finally, I remembered her name) and the end of my freshman year at Duke, I would watch Winx like there was no tomorrow. I loved (and I do mean loved-the past tense is for a reason) Winx Club, and my obsession with the show peaked around the same time at the conference. It was right when the German guy began speaking at our conference that I stumbled across a "lost" episode of Winx Club on YouTube. Without so much as a second thought (or for that matter, a first thought), I clicked on it and watched. The title of the episode was "The Kraken", and at the time; I figured that maybe the Winx would have to rescue somebody from a giant space octopus. Well, there was a giant octopus, but nobody was rescued. If anything, everybody was more or less doomed.

This sounds like a cliche, but it's not. I remember clicking on the video and it taking almost an hour to load. I also remember my laptop crashing. After turning it off and back on again, I went back to the video. This time, it played no problem. I was so excited that I got to see the episode. Looking back, there wasn't much of a tip off that things weren't normal. The opening sequence was normal, the video didn't get stuck a second time, none of it. Absolutely nothing was amiss. Unfortunately, the normalcy ended with the title card.

The episode started sort of normal, but there was this purple tint to everything that persisted throughout the entire episode. The very first scene showed the window to Bloom and Stella's room. You couldn't really see them that well, but you could see their silhouettes. They were talking about how they couldn't figure out what was bothering Flora so much. Bloom's guess was that it had something to do with Helia (Flora's boyfriend) actually being female this whole time, while Stella's guess is that it had something to do with how she put on a few pounds. Either way, they couldn't agree on something. They couldn't even agree to disagree. Yet, their disagreement wasn't what stuck me as odd. What struck me as odd was that there weren't any scenes where you saw their faces. Either you got a silhouette or a closeup of their lower legs. I was a bit weirded out, but I continued to watch the video.

What happened next was where things started to really head downhill. While Stella and Bloom were arguing, Tecna was busy taking apart the printer at the end of the hall. Musa kept saying, "Tecna, you're not allowed to take the printer apart", "Tecna, for the love of God, stop messing around with the printer", and "Knock it off, or I'm ratting you out". Tecna completely ignored this, and continued messing with the printer until she got it to pick up the Yankee game. Meanwhile, Bloom and Stella continued arguing until Bloom asked, "Why's Tecna watching the Yankee game on the printer?" Unsurprisingly, Bloom thought this was hilarious. Again, nobody's face was shown. All you literally saw was the display panel on the printer and, eventually, the Yankee game.

The scene faded to a silhouette of Flora crying. She talked about how she was fearing for her life, that she was actually a test subject for a government experiment. She'd escaped after the power went out during a fire drill, and she mentioned that she cut off the tracker attached to her wrist before the power came back on. She'd been hiding out at Alfea ever since. As I watched this scene, all I could think of was oh, come on, enough with the conspiracy theorist rant, make your point already, but I pricked up my ears when she mentioned something called "the Kraken". As she said the word "Kraken", a strange, staticky image of an octopus splashed across the screen. The whole thing gave off a really, really strange vibe. A really, really, really strange vibe.

The third scene was where things really went down the drain. We didn't see anybody's silhouette this time, but the quality of the video went downhill. The Winx girls were in Faragonda's office, and she wasn't pleased. She was swearing at them, calling them "disgusting bitches who belong in a sewer", and threatening to beat them. Now, this is incredibly dark for a kids cartoon (and it isn't even dark in the normal way Winx is sometimes dark. To be honest, it sounded like it came from some stupid Lifetime movie about a psycho teacher). What was even more unsettling was that the girls were all wearing black masks. Some wore half masks, while others wore full masks. The masks were crudely drawn, like they were those anonymity silhouette things you sometimes see on the news. Apparently, not only did Faragonda find out about what Tecna and company did to the printer, but she got off the phone with the government scientists who worked at the research facility from where Flora escaped. Musa had ratted both Flora and Tecna out. Later, Flora and Tecna were led outside; Flora to a black van, and Tecna to a blue car. This is the part of the episode in which the weird version of Sia's "Breathe Me" begins to play. The minute I heard "Breathe Me" play, I thought oh, jeez, not this shit again. Yet, this was different. Something caught me totally off guard the minute Tecna got in the blue car. An androgynous voice uttered the following words: Take this brother, may it serve you well.

After that, I couldn't not watch it. I had to see where this 100% messed up episode was headed. "Breathe Me" resumed, and the black van pulled up to the research facility. The two drivers of the van dragged Flora out and led her into the facility. The scene eventually cut to Bloom flying towards the facility, only to get caught in electrical lines while Tecna (who's boarding a helicopter at this point) says to the man escorting her, "You hear something?" just before the scene fades out to wind turbines. As the scene fades to wind turbines, the phrase "number 9, number 9, number 9" (and, of course, the random screaming of "Right!") repeated in the background.

What happens next is probably the reason why I will never listen to "Breathe Me" (or, for that matter, anything else by Sia) the same way again. There was a close up of Stella getting struck by the blades on one of the wind turbines. Now, I never liked Stella (she was bit of a doofus), but seeing her get killed by a wind turbine just made me feel ill. Worse, there was a lot of cutting back and forth between the helicopter flying off into the night and Flora in the research facility, getting subjected to some God-awful experiment where she was injected with something that made her turn into a werewolf and lash out against the scientists. This is where the bizarre outro to "Breathe Me" starts playing. One of the scientists was about to kill Flora, but his coworkers had to hold him back. She was uncontrollable, violent, wild even. I really don't want to delve into too much detail here, but in the end, she mauled the scientists to death.

The rest of the episode was just a mishmash of Flora destroying things and the helicopter with Tecna in it catching on fire and crashing into the ocean. The sound was a mishmash, too (Seriously! At one point, a half-human-half-lupine Flora said, "Satan, look at me. Please?"). That is, of course, until the very end. The screen cut to black, and it was completely silent, with the exception of a very low frequency hum. 

At this point, a Matrix -esque sequence of letters and numbers flicker on the screen while a roboticized Tecna looks right at the camera. I will never forget the menacing red glow of her eyes as she said the following: Yes, what happened to Flora was a tragedy, and what became of Magix and Alfea was nothing short of disastrous. But, I know where everyone lives. I know how you fake sympathy, crawl away from the truth, search out cognitive consistency, and kill off our faith in humanity. I know what you do. I can watch your every move, and I can control what happens. Your insignificant little blue planet means nothing to me. I made you do these things, and I can make everything stop. I'm the Kraken, goddammit! Again, the staticky image of the octopus appeared, but it didn't just flash over the screen. It actually played a video of the octopus splitting the Earth in half, then transforming into a black hole. After that, the episode was over.

I was in shock. I thought it was a never before seen episode of Winx, but it turned out to be the most demented thing I'd ever see. What I'd just seen had ruined me. I was so shocked that I melted down. Right there. At that conference. All that work I put into laying low at a financial conference was wasted by the simple act of watching an episode of Winx Club on my laptop that scared the ever loving shit out of me. This is gonna sound stupid, but I think it fundamentally changed me.

Seriously, that one episode of Winx Club is the reason that I kicked my schoolwork into high gear 3/4 of the way into term, the reason that I associate Sia's "Breathe Me" with The Beatles's "Revolution 9" , and why I flipped out at the conference. That was the thing that tied together three otherwise unrelated events.

Oops, my bad. There were actually four unrelated things happening. The fourth thing was Jo's death. Thinking back on the episode, I couldn't help but notice the name on the byline: Siobhan Lansig. Maybe it was someone with the same name, but I kept thinking to myself, isn't that Jo? I also couldn't help but notice the description of the video Let's get a few things straight here. I'm absolutely desperate to get the hell outta here! My teachers treat me like crap, I've been bullied so much you'd think it was a joke, and I got booted out of every club for my "behavioral disorder". Here's the reason why schizophrenics are "evil": YOU ACT LIKE WE ARE. PERIOD!!! I'm taking that early admission to Duke even though my study habits are even worse than those of Cassie Oakley. After that, I'm gonna take over the world. I understand that I don't have much time left, so this is what I'm leaving behind to all them mortals here on Earth. I know I'm gonna die, and I know that I'm gonna come back. Someday, I'll be back. Siobhan "Jo" Lansig (AKA the Kraken)

Not only did Jo dying allow me to get early admission to Duke's government program, she also wrote the messed up Winx episode that shocked me into better studying. The more I think about it, the more I think that Jo did this as a personal message for me. It wasn't so much as "Do well, make me proud" as it was "Get your shit together or you're gonna get it". Jo was never my friend; she was a madwoman. If this was the power she held when she was dead, I don't even want to think about the power she would wield if she were still alive.

[dabble-writes]

The Magician and I- (2)

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 |

Pairing:

Yoongi/Reader

Summary:

Suga is a wish-granting magician. He grants wishes—for the price of your most prized possession.

Your parents and brother died tragically in a plane crash and you visit Suga to grant your wish to bring them back to life...but instead you become his assistant.

Now you’re thrust into a world of magic and the mysterious being known as Suga.

Tags:

Fantasy, romance, comedy, a bit of a slow burn, angst

Warnings:

Mentions of death and war

CHAPTER 2: DEADLY MEMORIES

On your way to your apartment, you received a text from Hyelin.

-Hey girl! How did things with Suga go?

You forgot about Hyelin. You wondered if you should tell her.

Probably not, I hardly believe it and I saw it with my own eyes, you thought. But I don’t want to lie to her, especially if I’m going to spend a lot of time there now.

~Funny, I ended up getting a job there….

-OMG, what????

~Yeah, they were hiring and I thought why not and got the job…

-Wow that’s crazy. Maybe u were sent there because u were going to get that job

~That’s probably the reason

-And Suga?

~What about him?

-Is he a magician? Or a total scammer?

You didn’t know how to respond. You entered your apartment and threw yourself into your bed. You stared at the message again and sighed.

~I can tell u, but then I’ll have to kill u lol :P

-I see, u can’t give away business secrets. So what r u doing for him?

You breathed out a sigh in relief, I’m glad that worked.

~I’m like his assistant, his last assistant got pregnant

-Is he cute?

~What does that have to do with anything????

-Everything! Come on, give me something to work with here

~Ok, fine, he’s really hot. Happy?

-Omg!!! I’m so jelly!!!!

You huffed, if she met Suga she will have nothing to be jealous about.

~He’s a jerk tho. Like major asshole

-Oh damn :/ is he giving u a hard time?

~Sort of? He’s just super expressionless and rude

-So like a tsundere?

~No! Just a jerk

-Oh man, and here I was thinking ur finally going to get laid...

~Hyelin!!!!!!!

-Lol kidding <3 u know I love u

~You’re lucky you’re cute

-✿◕ ‿ ◕✿

~So how was your dad?

-He’s doing good! It was awesome seeing him again. He’s going to go away next week tho :’(

~Oh damn for how long this time?

-A month D:

~ D: well know that we can hang out whenever u want

-No we can’t, u have a job remember?

~Oh right….damn. still, u know I’ll make time for u

-I know, that’s why I love u <3

~I love u <3

-Love u more <3

 A week passed by and nothing much went on in your “job”, just an occasional wisher wishing for the usual stuff. No exciting drama or anything.

You thought working for a magician would be exciting, but so far you’ve been cleaning and acting as his receptionist. You thought Suga would be more interesting, but he has been evading all your questions. So far the only thing you learned from him is that he really loved his naps.

You realized quickly that he’s much grumpier when he doesn’t have these naps. He’s already grumpy enough, so if he’s one of those moods he becomes unbearable.

Today, it seemed like he woke up in the wrong side of the bed because he was in one of those moods again.

You said your customary greeting to him, giving him a smile, and he just gave you an unimpressed look.

“You can just go to the front desk now, I don’t feel like dealing with you today.”

You frowned, “You talk as if I’m high maintenance—I do everything you tell me to do.”

“Your presence is annoying.” He simply answered back “plus you talk too much.”

You grit your teeth and made your way out the door, “And you’re such a pocketful of sunshine.”

“Don’t interrupt me unless there’s a customer.” Suga said and without looking back you flipped him off.

Jerk.

Still, that was the dynamic between you two. You thought he will let up a little once you started working for him, but he’s still rude and cold. You sat down at your usual chair and took out your laptop from your book bag. You decided to bring your laptop with you because not only is it more organized, it kept you from being bored while waiting for a customer or Suga to think of something for you to do.

You were in the middle of some random Buzzfeed quiz when you heard the door open. You looked up to see a girl around your age wearing sunglasses. You wondered what was up with that, but just gave her a smile. Maybe she was blind. She does seem to be fumbling around a bit.

“Hi, how may I help you?”

She walked up to your window.

“I’m here to see Suga…? I spoke to you yesterday on the phone and you said it was fine to come at this time.”

“Yes…Jisoo, right?” You said, consulting to the post-it that your stuck next to phone yesterday.

“Yeah, that’s my name.”

“I’ll just lead you to Suga then.”

You got up and opened the door for Jisoo.

“Do you need help?” You ask politely, offering your arm. You then felt stupid, if she was blind she can’t see that. You lightly touched her arm.

“Yes please.” She answered and grabbed your arm.

Maybe she’s here to wish for her sight, you thought.

“So what brings you here?”

“It’s my boyfriend, I’m worried about him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s sick and doesn’t want to go see a doctor.”

“Oh.”

This seemed like a typical wish then, you were a little disappointed.

You knocked on the office door, even though you know Suga knew that you guys were here.

“Come in.” You heard his grumble and you opened and door and ushered her in.

“Do you want tea or something?” You asked her politely, but she shook her head.

Suga didn’t bat at eye at Jisoo’s strange appearance and you wondered if anything ever fazed that man.

“So what brings you to me today?”

You led her to the seat across from Suga and she sat down.

“It’s my boyfriend.” Jisoo said, “there’s something wrong with him. I don’t know what.”

“I knew you’d be passing by sooner or later.” Suga said casually and she looked at him in shock.

“What do you mean? How do you know me?”

“I actually know your boyfriend,” Suga said, “Jinyoung, right?”

“Are you a stalker? What the heck!”, She jumped up.

“I’m nothing of the kind. I’m a magician, so I know these things.”

Jisoo slowly sit back down, “So do you know what’s wrong with Jinyoung?”

“Are his dreams tormenting him? Does he keep going into trances and talking to people that aren’t there? Is he in a constant state of panic and paranoia?”

“Yes, all of those! I keep telling him he needs to get some help, go to someone, but he insists that they cannot help, and it will be useless.”

“He’s not wrong—no one on this earth can help him. Except maybe me, of course.”

“What do you mean that ‘no one on this earth can help him’? What exactly is wrong with him?”

“You first have to understand is that he’s not part of this world.”

“What? Is he like an alien or something?”

“More like from a different dimension.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Exactly what I said: he’s from a different universe than this one. The memories of his bloody past are literally haunting him.”

“B-bloody past?”

“Yes, the ghosts of the souls he has killed are literally haunting him because he is remembering them.”

She looked a bit skeptical, “So can you help him?”

“Yes, but the price is your prizes possession.”

This caused Jisoo to hesitate, “…I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You have to make a wish once you see me.”

She smirked and took off her sunglasses—her eyes were taped shut, “Technically I didn’t see your face so actually I don’t have to make the wish. My friend, who told me about you, told me about that stupid rule of yours and I decided to come prepared.”

You were so impressed by her ingenious that you laugh, I should have done that, damn, then I wouldn’t be here.

“Wow, that’s so smart.” You said and gave her a high five.

Suga was less impressed, “Fine, you don’t have to make a wish. But here’s a warning: this is only the start. Jinyoung will get only worst as he remembers more of his past. Soon, he will be showing physical wounds and could actually die if he keeps remembering.”

Jisoo bit her lip, very troubled, but said, “I don’t believe you, this is just a scam.”

He didn’t even bat an eye, “It’s true, he will die if he doesn’t forget those memories.”

“I still don’t believe you.” She said stubbornly.

Suga nodded, “I understand. You know where to find me if you change her mind.”

You led Jisoo out the room. Once she was out of his office, she took the tape from her eyes.

“You really won’t change your mind?” You ask, and she shook her head.

“I don’t believe him. This whole ‘other dimension’ thing is just too fishy. Plus, you can’t die of tortured memories.”

You saw her leave and went back to Suga’s office.

“That was wild.”

Honestly, you were a little glad there was excitement again, but it ended too quickly.

“What’s going to happen now?”

“How would I know?” Suga said, “I can’t predict the future.”

You snort, “You certainly act like it though.”

Suga just gave you an unimpressed face.

“But what would happen to Jinyoung if Jisoo doesn’t do anything?”

“He’ll probably continue to be haunted by the ghosts of his past, like what I said. His physical wounds would get worst and he’ll probably die a painful death.”

You winced, that didn’t sound good at all.

“What if Jinyoung made the wish instead? Surely he would want to save his own life?”

“That won’t work because Jinyoung already came to me and asked for his wish.”

“You can’t grant more than one wish?”

“No.”

“Wow you’re selfish, aren’t you supposed to grant like three wishes?”

“Those are genies, and that’s fiction.” Suga answered.

“But that sucks, that Jinyoung already asked for a wish. What was his wish?”

“Why must you insist on asking questions?” Suga groaned.

“Come on, tell me what’s Jinyoung’s deal. Why is his past tormenting him so much? Was he that much of a bad person? Did he really kill that many people? What was he, an assassin or something?”

“If I tell you, will you leave me alone and let me sleep?” Suga snapped and you beam.

“Yes! Tell me!” You sat across from him and he groaned.

“Alright but know that this is not your problem—don’t get involved in this.”

“You know I can’t guarantee that.”

“You really do like to stick your nose in other people’s business—that is such a human trait.”

“Of course, I am human. Just tell me the story, Suga!” You said, impatient.

He sighed again and said, “Alright. Like I said, Jinyoung came from a different universe. That universe is very different than this one. It is a complete war zone. Every inch of that universe is a battlefield and everyone is involved in the war—there are no exceptions. It is a very devastating place, you constantly do unthinkable stuff every day. The only way the beings there could function is to forget what they have done. Through evolution, this particular species only remembers that day and by the end of the day their memory is wiped out.”

“Oh, like 50 First Dates?”

Suga looked confused, but also quite annoyed that you interrupted him, “Sorry, continue.”

“That’s the only way that the ghosts of their pasts don’t haunt them, you see. Jinyoung was a soldier and was at the thick of the war. One day he got injured and was sent to recover in one of their healing facilities. He met a nurse there and fell in love at first sight. She tended to his wounds and was so loving and gentle with him. He knew that such a pure soul wouldn’t survive in this universe, so he came to me and wanted to make a wish. I told him it was dumb to waste his wish on someone he just met, that didn’t even love him back.  He argued that he loves her for that day and reminded me that he would forget her the next day so he doesn’t have time to waste. So I grant him his wish.”

“What did he wish?”

“That she was a different being living in a universe that is safe for her.”

You paused, connecting the dots together, “Wait…is Jisoo…?”

“Yes, she was the nurse. It’s strange how fate works, huh. It sometimes makes me question if love is real after all.”

You gave him a look, “Of course love exists.”

He shrugged, “Love is a human trait.”

“You mean that your kind don’t love?”

“Love is dangerous for us.” He simply said and you waited for an explanation but he didn’t give any.

“Alright then…so Jisoo is the one that has to make the wish.”

“You can’t make someone wish for something if they don’t want to.”

“But he’ll die if he keeps remembering his past, right?”

“Correct.”

“We have to do something!”

“We is a lot of people.”

“Ok, I have to do something!”

“What did I say about not getting involved?”

 “I said I made no guarantees.”

He sighed, “She’ll come around eventually.”

“You don’t know that! You just said that you can’t predict the future.”

“Alright, here’s her address.” He wrote something down on a paper and handed it to you, “But that’s all I’m going to be doing.”

“Fair enough.” You said, and took it. You were about to walk out the door when he spoke again. 

“What about if I erase your memories of them?”

“What?”

“For your wish. I can’t bring your family back, but I can take your memories away, so it doesn’t hurt.”

You paused, considering it. It would be easier.

“I’ll think about it. First I need to go talk to her, then I’ll talk to you later.” You told him, and you left.

Suga was about to go take a nap when he heard a voice.

“Look, Suga, I told you before. It’s ok that you’re mad at me but, don’t hate my sister.”

Suga turned and saw the figure of his teacher sitting casually on the couch and just stared at him.

“Hey, don’t act like you’ve seen a ghost. It’s been a while since I’ve shown myself. Won’t you pretend to be happy?”

Suga frowned and turned away, “You’re a ghost. I’m not happy. Try saving your energy and stay in a more ghostly form.”

Jin got up from the couch and made his way to Suga, “Wow, even after thousands of years you still hate me. But still, you shouldn’t hate on my innocent sister. Right? My cute disciple.”

He pinched Suga’s cheek as he said the last sentence and Suga swat his hand away. 

“Don’t touch me. Don’t you know how awful a ghost feels?”

Jin smirked, “Really?” He started to poke Suga all over, annoying Suga.

“Stop it!” He pushed Jin away, who just laughed, “Anyway, I don’t hate her. I just want to be free of this agreement. You asked me to look after her, but I’ve never taken care of anyone before.”

Suga turned to see that Jin was studying one of his framed paintings.

“What strange taste... even this frame is weird. Hey, whatever happened to the IU poster I gave you?”

“Stop changing the subject!” Suga snapped, annoyed at his teacher’s antics.

He hasn’t changed a bit.

“Ok, I don’t have much energy left anyway. What? You want to get rid of my sister’s memories? And you then get rid of her after that? You can’t, it’s a cowardly method. Plus,” He stroke a dramatic pose, “It’ll be such a shame to forget such a beautiful and incredible brother.”

Suga crossed his arms, “Why don’t you just admit it, even after death you’re still full of yourself. Also, there’s nothing that was worse or more cowardly than your wish.”

There was a pause, then Jin said, “Oh no! I’m losing energy, guess I gotta go.”

“Stop trying to run!” Suga snapped as Jin disappeared.

Jin’s presence was still in the room and Suga heard his voice, “You’re right, I’m a horrible coward. But Suga, you still haven’t learned a few things. Until I teach you, I can’t contentedly play with the girls of the afterworld. As you look after my sis, you’ll learn a lot. So, you can’t get rid of her memories.”

“Fine.” Suga ground out.

“And another thing,” Jin’s voice continued, “the one being burdened by memories and wanted to erase them all is you, Suga.”

With that, Suga felt Jin’s presence leave the room.

When you reached Jisoo’s apartment, she opened the door and was surprised to find you there.

“Why are you here…uh….?”

“Y/N.” You offered.

“Y/N, I don’t want to make that wish.”

“Let me in, let’s talk about it.”

She reluctantly let me inside her apartment, which was nice. You heard voices and look at her in alarm, “Is someone here?”

Jisoo sighed, “Only Jinyoung.”

‘He’s here? How’s he doing?”

She frowned, “He’s getting worst. He’s not coming out of his trances no matter how much I try.”

“And you don’t want to make the wish?”

You couldn’t believe her. Did she even love him? He made the sacrifice, why couldn’t she?

“What could possibly be worth his life, Jisoo?” You asked her and she bit her lip.

“I don’t want him to forget me.” She said softly and you pause.

“What? T-that’s what’s most important…”

“Yeah, his memory.”

“Only..”

“Only? Do you know how long it took me to get him to remember my name? A year! A whole year. And that was just my name. I was so happy the first time he said my name…There’s so many precious memories while we dated. If all that goes, if he can’t remember he loves me, and he no longer loves me…what the use of me living? I don’t know what I would do if I have to start over again. Also, if he did commit those crimes, he should pay, even in that way.”

You stared at her in disbelief, “What the hell! Pay? He didn’t create the war, he didn’t have a choice! He’s in so much pain because he still feels the grief from it. Most people don’ feel a sense of guilt or regret. The reason he’s in so much pain is because he’s got a good heart. Leave him to pay for his sins? Then how are you gonna pay for the sin of letting such a good person die?”

“I—”

“Fine, if you won’t wish, I’ll do it. It’s to make him forget, so anyone can wish it. So I---”

“No, enough.” Said a voice at the door and we both turned.

There stood Jinyoung. He looked weak, but he had a determined look.

“I also don’t want my memory erased.” He turned to Jisoo, “Don’t worry, Jisoo, no matter what, I’m not going to forget you. Don’t you know that you are my life? You are all the memories I have. So if all that went away, who would I be? It’s better this way.”

Jinyoung went up to Jisoo and grabbed her hands, “Like you said, I must pay. Even if I died now, I feel you won’t be too sad, so I can die happily.”

Jisoo looked at Jinyoung in horror and he collapsed in her arms.

“Hey, wake up! Don’t die!”

She started to cry, “Jinyoung, you’re wrong. If you die now, I’ll hurt forever.”

You rush to them and see him thrashing around, “He’s getting worst. It’s now or never: is his memory of you worth more than him living?”

She bit her lip and stared at his shaking body, full of injuries, and shook her head, “No it’s not.”

 “If you watch TV dramas or movies, memories come back after receiving a shock.” You said to  Jisoo as you guys were walking in a nearby park. It has been a few days since she made her wish.

“Yeah,” you continued, “in some drama I saw the other day, a girl almost got hit by a car and her lover’s memories came back to him. You can maybe try that!”

Jisoo didn’t look amused, “And if I get hit by a car and die?”

You picked up a rock, “How about I hit him on the head with a rock? He’ll remember—”

“And if Jinyoung dies?”

You were starting to run out of ideas, “Uh…then kidnapping and throwing him in water---"

“Y/N, stop,” Jisoo cut you off, laughing, “this is real life, not some drama.”

“True.” You frowned, “Sorry, I just want to help.”

She smiled, “I know, thanks for your help.”

A frisbee flew past you and landed in front of Jisoo.

“Hey!” We looked up and, to our surprise, Jinyoung was waving at us, “Hey kid, can you throw the frisbee!”

“Now’s your chance!” You nudged at her as she picked up the frisbee. She regarded it, then Jinyoung, then threw it.

He caught it and smiled, “Thanks, kid!”

Jinyoung started to walk away and you turned to her, “Why didn’t you do anything?”

She smiled and then cupped her hands around her mouth to amplify it, “Hey!” He turned to her yell, “My name is Kim Jisoo! My height is 162, weight 45 kg! My favorite color is purple, and I really like rice! Remember it! Next time I see you, if you’ve forgotten, I’ll get mad!”

Before he can respond, she grabbed your hand and ran away.

You smiled, you had a feeling this was going to be a start of a new relationship.

Suga pet your head like a dog and you swat his hand away, “Stop that, I’m not a pet!”

He shrugged, “You had such a content expression.”

“Well of course! I helped a lot this time. I was the one that got her to make her wish.”

“She would’ve done the same on her own.”

“No! 70% was thanks to me.”

He snorted.

“Okay then, 50%....30%....10%....2%”

“Fine, 2%”

You clapped excitedly, “Alright!”

“Why are are you so happy? It’s only 2%.”

“Even 2% is a lot.” You answered with a smile, “More than cleaning and arguing with you. The fact that I can contribute is important. Also, I’ve been thinking about your offer, about the wish in forgetting the memories of my family.”

“Oh? Your conclusion?”

“I’ll have to say no. Although it might seem like a good thing now because I’m hurting, in the end I still love my family. I want to remember them, all the good memories we had together. I can’t just forget them because of my selfish desires—who would keep their memory alive if not me?”

Suga nodded, “That wasn’t well thought out on my part.” He then took out a book and gave it to you.

You look at the cover and raised your eyebrows as you read the title, “ ‘How to find love: A Dating Manual’. Suga, I didn’t think you the type to have this kind of book.”

He coughed, “This is all the loving memories I received as prized possessions. They ended up becoming some sort of dating manual. I have no need for it, but figured you might want to have a look at it”

You were a little touched by the gesture, he never gave you anything before, “Aw, thanks. But why do you think I need a dating manual?”

“With a face like that, I figured you need all the help you can get.”

You stared at him, not believing he just called you ugly, “Excuse me? I’ll have you know that I don’t need a dating manual. I can date anyone I want, thank you very much.”

You pushed the book back in his arms and caught him smiling which made you pause. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile. He has a very nice smile. It was gone before you knew it, replaced by that expressionless face he always wears.

“Whatever, just say you don’t want the book, I was just going to chuck it in a corner—”

“Fine, give it to me.” You snapped and took the book back. You saw him give you an amused look and you huffed, “It’s only because I’m curious on what it will say.”

“Sure.”

“Well I’ll be going then.” You said, a bit embarrassed.

“Let me walk you home.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, “Why would you do that?”

He never walks me home. Never.

Suga shrugged, “Isn’t it dangerous for someone like you go around in the night?”

“ ’Someone like me’?” You asked, wondering if he’s going to acknowledge that you’re a girl.

“Someone small and frail like you. Also troublesome. You always attract trouble for some reason.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Small? Frail? Troublesome? What the heck?”

“Am I wrong?”

“I know karate.” You say in protest and he shrugged.

“Okay, if you don’t want me to go with you, I won’t go.”

“No, no it’s fine. Let’s go.”

You wonder what brought this sudden change since he never cared for your safety before.

Maybe he finally considers us friends?

But you spoke too soon. Of course things wouldn’t be so simple with someone like Suga.

He isn’t so tall, so how can he walk so fast?  

 Without any consideration to you, he just started to walk and didn’t stop. You almost had to run to even keep up with him and you ended up just trailing him. He would occasionally look back, but he will continue walking.

This frustrated you to no end.

“Are you kidding me?” You grumbled as you got caught in a red light but he was able to cross the street. He didn’t even look back, “How is this walking me home?”

When the light turned, you hurriedly ran to catch up with him.

This started to attract some stares and some sympathetic stares to you.

“That’s kind of pathetic, does she have no pride?” You even heard one passerby say and you fume.           

Damn Suga. This is definitely worst than going home by myself.

[plaidstiel-wormstache]

All I Want For Christmas

This one is for @percywinchester27 and her quote challenge. - I’m a bad friend, I’m sorry I forgot. I chose the quote: “I hate this plan.” I said, “Let’s do it.” I’ve combined this with the request from @whispersandwhiskerburn All I Want for Christmas Is You, Dean x Reader I know Dean dies in May and comes back by Castiel’s hand in September, but for the sake of working Christmas in, let me bend the dates a touch! I have tried to keep the rest as canon as possible. AN: This is unbeta’d and written in around 2hrs while I’ve been at work. So all mistakes are mine! Also, the lyrics are in italics and the quote is in bold. Word Count: 1,792 Characters: Reader, Sam, Bobby, Dean Warnings: death, loss, angst, denial, fluff?

I woke up in Dean’s arms, turning to face him, burying my cold feet under his legs, making him growl in his sleep. His arm tightened around me, his legs kicking back and forth, trying to put me off. I smiled as I watched, two inches from his face, the frown lines appear on his brow, his lips pouting. “Morning, baby.” I whispered, lips ghosting his cheek. “Shhh, sleep.” He grumbled, letting go to flip onto his other side, facing away from me. I closed the gap, winding my arm around his middle and tucking my hand under his shirt, fingers splaying on his chest. “Dean, it’s Christmas.” I said, nipping at the shell of his ear. “Merry Christmas,” He muttered, desperately trying to cling to sleep. “Fine, I’ll go wake Sam.” I pouted, shoving his shoulder as I pushed off him, flinging the covers back so as to let the cool air under the warm sheets. “Come back.” He half heartedly reached for me, but I wasn’t turning back.

I don't want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need. I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is you.

I woke up, reaching across the bed for the warm body. Finding nothing, the harsh reality of another day without Dean settled in. I took a deep breath and calmed the bubbling emotions, instead I focused on looking across the motel room to the other bed. Sam looked so peaceful when he was asleep, not that he did much of it these days. Sleep was an escape for me, I could dream about Dean, be with him when he wasn’t here. Sam saw sleep as a weakness, a waste of time. We could be hunting Lillith, searching for a way to get Dean out. But there was only so much you could do with no leads.

I don't need to hang my stocking there upon the fireplace. Santa Claus won't make me happy with a toy on Christmas day. I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is you.

“I thought we were going to Bobby’s?” I asked, standing up from the motel table Sam had left me at when he had gone to drown his troubles at the local bar. “You can take the car, I just… I gotta go.” Sam said, glancing back at the door again. “I’ll come with you.” “No.” He almost shouted. “Sam? Let me help you, if it concerns Dean, I need to-” I tried to plead but he cut me off. “I gotta do this by myself.” There was a long pause, a silence that filled the room, both of us staring at the other. “Tell me it’s not a deal.” If I knew the Winchester’s at all, I knew they were capable of stupid ideas, just look at-- “It’s not.” “Promise me?” I was standing a foot from him and I knew I sounded desperate. Hell I was desperate, I couldn’t lose Sam too. “I promise I’m not making a deal. This is just something I have to do by myself.” Sam’s voice had softened, his eyes were begging me to let him go. I grabbed his jacket and pulled him to me, giving him a crushing hug. “Don’t do anything stupid.” I muttered into his chest before finally letting him go. “Go to Bobby’s. Stay safe. I’ll come find you when I’ve got it figured out.” He said, leaving before I had a chance to say one more word.

I won't ask for much this Christmas, I won't even wish for snow, and I just wanna keep on waiting Underneath the mistletoe. I won't make a list and send it to the North Pole for Saint Nick. I won't even stay awake to hear those magic reindeer click. 'Cause I just want you here tonight, holding on to me so tight. What more can I do, Baby all I want for Christmas is you.

“Merry Christmas, Bobby.” I said, giving the older man a kiss on his stubbled cheek. “Merry Christmas, YNN.” Bobby said, patting at my hand on his shoulder. I’d found him in the kitchen, staring at his toast. “What’s wrong?” I asked, pulling a bowl from the cupboard and pulling down the lucky charms. “I wanted to do Christmas for you, but, well, I’ve buggered it up.” Bobby explained, pointing to the fridge when I raised an eyebrow. I pulled open the door to find a raw chicken staring back at me. Well, it would’ve been staring had it had a head. “A chicken?” “I wanted to get a turkey for ya, but they’d sold out. Some crap about ordering in advance.” Bobby muttered, lifting his cap to scratch at the balding spot atop his head. “I don’t like turkey, anyway.” I scrunched my nose when he gave me a knowing look. “We’ll figure it out.” I insisted, pulling the milk from the fridge and closing the door.

All the lights are shining so brightly everywhere. And the sound of children's laughter fills the air. And everyone is singing, I hear those sleigh bells ringing, Santa won't you bring me the one I really need, won't you please bring my baby to me?

“Just like a spell, you mix, I read, we’ll have a roast chicken in no time.” Bobby said, smiling over the top of my laptop at me. Can’t I read, and you...?” I asked, waving at the chicken and other assorted ingredients. “Do you really want cinnamon and paprika flavored chicken?” He asked, putting his glasses on and settling into the seat. “I hate this plan.” I said, pushing my sleeves up my arms, turning to the chicken anyway. “Let’s do it.” “Okay, first, you need to rub the chicken with olive oil, salt and pepper.” Bobby read out, looking up. I searched the bench top of everything I’d pulled out of the cupboards. “What’s a replacement for olive oil?” I asked, turning back to look at Bobby.

I don't want a lot for Christmas, this is all I'm asking for. I just wanna see my baby standing right outside my door. I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true, Baby all I want for Christmas is you.

There was a knock on the door just as I pulled open the oven to check on the chicken. I left Bobby to it, probably a hunter in need of a place to crash for the night. The voices were hushed, just a running murmur from the other room till a loud crash pulled me from my usual thoughts. “Bobby?” I called. “Bobby, it’s me!” A gruff voice sounded from the lounge as quick footsteps retreated into the office area. “My ass.” Bobby bit back. I grabbed the shotgun from between the wall and fridge and cocked it, hedging out into the hall.

“Wa- wa-wait! Your name is Robert Stephen Singer, you became a hunter after your wife became possessed... you’re about the closest thing I have to a father.” I froze. The voice was all too familiar, my mind screamed demon. “Bobby, it’s me.” The voice pleaded. It was quiet, save the desk chair wheeling across the old floor boards.

I poked the end of the shotgun around the corner, but I couldn’t will my feet to move. Instead I stood still, watching as arms, feet and corners of flannel flicked into my vision before disappearing again. It was obvious Bobby was fighting the man, but I couldn’t-- It sounded too much like my nightmares.

“I’m not a shapeshifter.” The demon barked. “Then you’re a revenant.” Bobby growled before being shoved. “Alright, if I was either, could I do this with a silver knife?” The voice was deep and breathless after fighting. The sudden quiet did the trick, my body lurching forwards, the barrel of the gun coming to point at … Dean. He was drawing the silver blade along his bicep, blood dribbling down his arm. Bobby had his back to me, but by the slump of his shoulders I could tell he was believing the sight in front of him.

“Dean?” Bobby was believing the demon. But I wasn’t. I steadied my aim, just above the thing’s head as he stepped towards Bobby, and fired. The blast startled the two. “Bobby.” I called for the old hunter, nodding my head at my side, trying to get him to stand behind me, out of reach of the beast in Dean’s body. “YN?” Dean’s eyes were on me, the dirty green catching in the late sun streaming into the room. “Bobby.” I bit through clenched teeth, blinking back tears. “Baby, please, it’s me.” My insides melted, my heart beat harder, as if straining to connect with his, to pull me to him. My knees weakened and so did my grip on the gun. “It’s him YN.” Bobby said, looking between me and Dean. “It’s what I’ve been tryna tell you.” Dean whispered. “No. Dean died. My-- Our Dean is dead, Bobby.” I spat, trying to keep my eyes on the monster, but the tears were starting to blur my vision. “It’s Dean.” Bobby stepped forward and pulled Dean into a hug. The man’s arms wound around the older hunter and held him tight. The shotgun fell to my side as a sob left my body.

“It’s good to see you boy.” Bobby pulled back and held him at arms length. “Yeah, you too.” Dean’s eyes flicked to me, but neither of us made a move toward the other. “How’d you bust out?” “I don’t know, I just woke up in a pine b--” Bobby splashed holy water at Dean, getting him straight in the face. There was a silence and I watched with horror, ready for the man to start howling in pain, for skin to begin searing, for my Dean to disappear and a Demon to take his place.

He turned his head to the side and spat out some of the water. “Not a demon either, ya know?” Dean said. The shotgun fell from my hand, my legs propelled me forward, until I was flying into Dean’s arms. We collided, bodies smacking with enough force to knock the air out of each other’s lungs. “Sorry, can’t be too careful.” Bobby said, a smile lighting his face.

I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true. Baby, all I want for Christmas is you.

Hope you liked this, a reminder, it’s unbeta’d and written in just over two hours while at work! If you like it then you shoulda put a comment on it... If you like it then you shoulda reblogged it...

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@wi-deangirl77 @wideawakeandwriting @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople @captainemwinchester @kittenofdoomage @room-with-a-cat @atc74 @katymacsupernatural @emoryhemsworth

@thing-you-do-with-that-thing @ackleholic-hunter @mrsbatesmotel53 @whispersandwhiskerburn @ruprecht0420 @sandlee44