#when he holds out megs heart like a 'do you like me? yes/no' letter

[mcmadcanvas]

me watching reanimator: great movie! not too sure where all the shipping art comes from tho...

me watching bride of reanimator: ah, i see

[the-amazing-simp]

Laurie’s Beloved | T.L.

📝 Title: Laurie’s Beloved

📚 Requested: Yes/No

✍ Summary: After losing a bet to Jo, Laurie has to write a letter to you. But what happens when you find the letter and think it’s for someone else? | 1.3k

“Jo, please I’ll do anything else.” Laurie begged as Jo held a triumphant smile.

“Rules are rules, Teddy. This is what you agreed to.” Jo reminded him.

“Please Jo, have mercy on me.” He pleaded, giving the girl a look.

Jo shook her head, “Nope.”

“Now what’s all this fuss about?” Meg asked as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Teddy won’t keep his part of the bet.” Jo said.

“Meg you have to help me!” Laurie said, walking to the eldest March sister.

Meg raised a questioning brow, “What’s his part of the bet?”

Jo smiled, knowing she had found an ally, “Since he lost the bet he has to write a love letter to his dear Y/N. Only now, he refuses to.”

A small smile reached Meg’s lips, “Well Laurie, a deal’s a deal.”

Laurie glared at the both of them, “You’ve got to be joking! I swear all of you are teamed up on this.”

—

It took him a week to finish the letter. Not because he found it hard to pour out his feelings for you. But because he wanted to find the right, the perfect words to express just how much he loves you and how much you mean the world to him.

“Happy now?” He asked, handing the fresh letter to a beaming Jo.

“A bit.” She cooed as she read the letter upon Laurie’s request to improve anything that would embarrass him - especially grammatical and spelling errors.

“What do you think?” Laurie asked nervously as the silence grew, “Is it bad?”

Jo shook her head, giving him a smile, “Surprisingly, it’s rather wonderful. Did you have some kind of poet write this?”

He furrowed his brows, “No. I wrote that myself.”

“Hm.” Jo hummed, giving the letter another look through, “There’s only one thing missing then.”

“What’s that?” Laurie asked.

Jo’s smile seemed almost wicked, “To give it to her.”

Once she had uttered this words, she stood up and dashed in the direction of your house.

Fear started to run through Laurie’s veins as he chased after Jo.

But, Jo was faster than him and arrived at your door within minutes.

She quickly rapped a knock on your door, clutching the letter behind her back while Laurie stood by the side, horrified.

Just as his luck was getting worse, you were the one who opened the door.

“Hello Jo.” You smiled, “What brings you here?”

“Meg just wanted to make sure that you’ll make it to tea this weekend.” Jo returned the smile.

You nodded, “Tell her I would never miss it for the world.”

“I definitely will.” Jo said.

“How about you Laurie? What brings you here?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe.

The heat immediately rose up to the boy’s cheeks, being winter - it would’ve made sense. But the snow wasn’t what caused it.

It was you.

“Uh, n-nothing.” He managed not to trip over his words, “I just accompanied Jo.”

Jo chuckled, “Definitely true. Anyway, we’ll be going now Y/N/N. See you on the weekend.”

You nodded, lips still holding that wonderful smile that managed to make Laurie weak in the knees.

Once the two of them were far enough from your house, Laurie frowned at a laughing Jo.

“You do not have a right to give me a heart attack like that.” He deadpanned.

Jo made a face at him before handing back the letter, “She deserves to know how you feel. But, mark my words Teddy, if I do get tired of your pining, then I’m really giving it to her myself.”

Laurie rolled his eyes at her, “Fine.”

—

“Damn it.” Laurie cursed under his breath as the two of you made your way to the lake, since it had been frozen over it would be a great day to go skating.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“I forgot my gloves in the study.” He said.

You gave him a smile, “I’ll go get it. It’s on your desk right?” 

He nodded, “You’re an angel, you know that.”

“I know.” You called out, walking back to his house.

Making your way up to his study, you immediately spotted his gloves on the desk. Picking it up, you were about to get back to him when you noticed a folded piece of paper on the side.

You didn’t mean to be a snoop, but Jo had always said that you were sometimes too curious for your own good.

Looking around to find the study empty, you picked up the paper and unfolded it as your eyes started to scan over the words written in Laurie’s handwriting.

To my beloved,

I don’t know how the poets do it. But I find it hard to find the words to describe how much you mean to me.

Because you’re perfect. Therefore, I want to make this letter as perfect as you. 

I have loved you ever since I’ve know you. I couldn’t possibly imagine a life where I’ve not known you.

As cliche as it is, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to my life. 

You always occupy my mind. Your laugh, your smile, your twinkling eyes that give the stars a challenge. Not to mention how kind and sweet you are to everyone that comes your way.

If you don’t return my feelings, that’s okay. I won’t hold that against you because as much as I love you - I also cherish our friendship. I’d rather remain friends than lose you all together.

But if you share them, know that I’ll always do everything in my power to make you happy.

All my love, 

Laurie. 

How you wish that you were the one the letter was addressed to. But you knew deep in your heart that Laurie would never love you back as much more than a friend. The letter was obviously addressed to-

“Hey! What’s taking you so long?” A familiar voice echoed from the hallway, “Did some kind of desk monsters get to yo-“

Laurie stopped in his tracks once he entered the study, walking in on the sight of you with his letter in hand.

“Did you read it?” He asked, bracing himself for rejection.

“Yeah.” You nodded, “When do you plan to give it to her?”

Laurie furrowed his brows, “To who?”

“Jo. Obviously.” You answered.

His confusion deepened, “Why would I write a letter to Jo?”

“Oh I don’t know.” You said sarcastically, “Maybe for the same reason you wrote the letter for her in the first place.”

“Now that’s just unfair.” Laurie argued.

“What is?” You asked with a scoff.

“That you’re accusing me of writing the letter to Jo without giving me the chance to explain myself.” He said.

“That’s not unfair Laurie!” You countered, “You know what is? It’s the fact that I’ve loved you my whole life and I’d just be content to stand aside and watch you fall in love with my best friend because I want you to be happy. Even if it’s not with me.”

Laurie stood there, jaw slacked as if he couldn’t believe what he just heard, “You love me?”

“Yes Laurie.” You said, finally putting down the damned letter, “Practically my whole life.”

He was silent for a moment, “What makes you think that the letter is for Jo?”

You scoffed, “The way you look at her Laurie. The fact that you’re always with her. Even a blind person can see just how in love you are.”

Laurie shook his head in protest, “But Y/N/N, the letter isn’t for Jo. It’s for you.”

It was your turn to be confused, “What?”

He walked toward you, tapping the topmost part of the letter, “I called you my beloved because I remember when you would tell me about the romance novels you would read and how you would swoon when someone calls their love interest ‘beloved’.”

You giggled, “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

Laurie smiled, “I remember everything about you.”

He then brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “Since you do return my feelings. Can I kiss you?”

“I would certainly leave you freeze if you don’t.” You smiled.

tagging:

@magicchai, @mendesxruel

[marshmallow-phd]

Nine Little Letters

Genre: College AU, Fake Dating AU, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before AU

Inspired By: This graphic made by @rcse-tvler​

Pairing: EXO x Reader

Summary: Just when you thought life was done shoving you down, it got much, much worse. After finding out that your latest crush was already in a relationship, you did what you always did when emotions ran high: you wrote a letter. Signed and sealed, you put it away with the eight other letters you’d written to past one-sided loves, never to be seen again. That is, until a mix up accidentally sends those letters out to their respective recipients and you find yourself in the middle of one confusing web of love. With fake relationships, insecurities, and revelations swirling around, things are bound to get a little messy.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11

This was the worst kind of humiliation. Standing there on the sidewalk staring open-mouthed at the one person you were excited to see today, you were crumbling into a million pieces. And no one even noticed. That was what made this humiliation so bad; there was no one to witness it. You were breaking and no one cared.

You should have known better, really. This morning was going too well. You had woken up on time, had a delicious, filling breakfast, and had managed to put an outfit together worthy of any Pinterest board. Your confidence was through the roof and you were going to do the one thing in your life you swore you would never do.

You were going to confess to your crush.

Signing up for math tutoring was the last thing you wanted to do. Who in the world wanted to spend their valuable free time learning more about equations and algorithms? But you needed to pass this class. It was the second time you’d taken college algebra and the thought of taking it a third time made you want to crawl under your bed. So, you buckled down and took the walk of shame into the math lab. (Yes, that was an exaggeration. Everyone knows there is no shame in getting help. Didn’t mean you had to like it.) When you got the call from your assigned tutor, you ignored it. You didn’t like talking on the phone to anyone let alone a number you didn’t recognize. No voicemail was left. Then a text came through.

Hi, (y/n)! This Kim Junmyeon! I’ve been assigned as your math tutor. When you get a chance, let me know when you’re free so we can create a schedule that works for you. Have a great day!

You waited an appropriate amount of time before replying. So, an hour and half later, you texted him your schedule and made a plan to meet up in the library the following Thursday. You marked that day on your calendar with exactly zero enthusiasm. In your head, this Kim Junmyeon was the cliché nerd from movies: dorky glasses, snort-like laugh, and clothes that looked better on a grandfather. Oh, boy were you so happy to be wrong.

Sitting down at one of the tables by the large, ceiling high windows, Junmyeon was nothing like you’d imagined. He had a sophisticated aura about him. He dressed nicely, a thin long-sleeved shirt over a patterned button down, the collar laid nicely over the top of the shirt, and was blessed with sharp, handsome features. You knew you were in trouble. But you didn’t care. You sat down at that table eagerly, ready to… learn.

For the past month and a half, you’d met Junmyeon twice a week to go over the lessons and work on the assignments. By some miracle, your grade was actually going up in the class. Somehow you were able to better comprehend the material and secretly fawn over your tutor simultaneously. At this point, you were sort of feigning how much you weren’t understanding to keep the tutoring sessions going. The nice thing about algebra, once you understood the basics, everything else built on top of it.

But today – today you had decided that you were going to step over the line from tutor and student into the realm of perhaps something more.

You liked Junmyeon. You liked his math puns and the way he scrunched his face when he thought hard about something. His lips would pucker whenever he lifted the sheet of paper to check over your work. Each time you met up with him your heart acted like it was in the middle of a NASCAR race and it was determined to win. You had it bad. This wasn’t the first time you’d had a crush like this, but you had set your mind on making this one different. This time, you wouldn’t hold it inside. You were going to be the brave one, the bold one. The fact that birds were tweeting as you rode your bike onto campus should have been a sign that things would only be downhill from there. Unfortunately, like the optimistic idiot, you took it as a positive instead.

After locking your bike up, you headed straight for the courtyard near the pond. Junmyeon had told you that he often spent his mornings there to finish up homework or to read a book (the fact that he read so much was another factor in your liking of him). In your head, he was all alone, flipping through a novel as he leaned against the trunk of a tree, looking like a prince taking a rest in the shade on a warm summer’s day. The water would be glistening in the background as a lovely, lighthearted melody played softly through the air. He would see you approach and smile that wide, brilliant smile. Your heart would skip as you sat down in the grass next to him and poured out your feelings. The daydream turned into a nightmare the second he came into view.

Junmyeon was not alone nor was he sitting under a tree with a book. He was on one of the benches, splayed out on the wooden beams with his head resting in the lap of a very pretty, more his league type of girl. She laughed as Junmyeon told a story. A delicate hand ran through his soft brown hair. Your heart fell to the ground, forming a crater at your feet.

Shoulders slumped and day ruined, you turned and headed for the student union. If today was going to suck like this, then you were going to sprinkle it with an overly sugary coffee drink. Preferably with extra chocolate drizzle. It helped - a little bit.

Your morning classes went by in a blur. You were certain you took notes, but none of the information sank in. Later you would have to transcribe your quick scribbles to a word document to help you study. You would learn the information then. By lunch, you were starting to peel yourself off the sidewalk of humiliation. Especially when the one person you could always rely on joined you for lunch.

“How did it go?”

You remained silent, continuously munching on the sandwich in your hands as your best friend sat down across from you at the small, two-person table near the middle of the cafeteria.

Baekhyun laughed his signature, SpongeBob-like laugh. “That bad, huh? I told you not to do it.”

“Technically, I didn’t do it,” you corrected. “He already has a girlfriend.”

“Ouch.”

You nodded. How could you not see this before? Did he mention having a girlfriend and you just blocked it out? Junmyeon and you talked casually between math problems, about your friends and fun things you liked to do on the weekends. He’d failed to mention one very important detail.

“Well,” Baekhyun reached over and plucked a potato chip off your plate and plopped it in his mouth, “at least you found out before you said something. I told you he wasn’t worth it.”

“Just because he has a girlfriend doesn’t mean he isn’t worth crushing on.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “You’re so much help.”

Ignoring your quip, Baekhyun snatched another chip. You smacked his hand, but all that managed to do was break off a few pieces, the crumbs falling to the table. Smiling proudly, Baekhyun popped the half-chip into his mouth. “So, are you just going to go home and write a letter?”

“Are you just going to go home and write a letter?” you mocked with a scrunched face.

Byun Baekhyun had been your best friend since the two of you had met in the first grade. He’d stolen your popsicle that your mother had packed as a special treat for your first full day of school. When he saw you start to cry, he broke off the piece he’d been sucking on and handed the rest back to you. There was a bit of a disagreement on the level of nice-ness that act achieved since it was your popsicle to begin with, but somehow it caused the two of you to be inseparable ever since. Being your best friend meant that he was privy to the more private parts of your life.

Like the letters.

Starting as young as ten years old, you’d developed a bit of a tradition when it came to your crushes. Emotions were hard to process, but you found them easier to work through if you thought about them and translated them into words. Those words would fly across the paper, transferring the feelings that made you both laugh and cry into the graphite that formed them. Not to mention, the act made you feel like the heroine in a rom-com. Certainly it was something that Meg Ryan or Rachel McAdams would do once they realized how they felt about the male lead.

The first letter you ever wrote was during your final year of ballet class. Dancing had been a part of your life since you were three, but a new passion had been discovered so you’d decided to quit after this last cluster of classes. A terrible decision, really. Because right after your mind was already made up, a new boy had joined the class.

Kim Jongin.

He had just moved into town after his father was promoted to a new position and had to transfer to headquarters. You’d never seen him at the park or the grocery store before. He was completely new. And beautiful.

He was blessed golden skin that glistened, shining brighter the longer he danced. And, oh, the way he danced. It was well beyond what anyone else could do. His movements were fluid, water-like, as if the very beat of the music were pulling and manipulating his limbs to convey what the notes had to say. Each move was a word and when he formed them together, they could make you smile or cry. And when he smiled… oh, his smile was like starlight. The kind of brightness that stayed in the sky even as the city lights flickered on. To this day, you’d never found one that could rival it. He was a dream that every composer coveted. So, what was your young heart to do?

Well, the movies told you to confess. But there was no way you could find the courage to do so, especially since you only saw him in class and you couldn’t confess in front of everyone. The only other option was to write it out; to write it out like Jane Austen pouring her heart out for Tom Lefroy.

 Dear Jongin,

I’m not sure how to start this. Do I compliment you on your dancing? It’s nothing like I’ve seen before. Prima Donnas in the Russian Ballet would be jealous of you! But you probably hear that all the time. And about how handsome you are, even under all that hair. I can’t help but watch when you pull it back for class so you can see yourself in the mirror. Why can’t I look like that? I somehow ended up looking like a frizzy wet cat that just climbed out of the tub.

I guess what I’m trying to avoid saying is that… I like you. A lot. I like your laugh and your wide smile. I like how much you love music and how you interpret the melody with your moves. No one can freestyle like you! My heart does a dance of its own whenever I see you. I hope you don’t have anyone that you like, just so I can stand a chance. Would you ever think of me like that? If not, it’s okay. I just needed to tell you. Someday, you’ll be on stage dancing to an audience of thousands and I’ll be right there in the front row, cheering you on! Until then, I hope you always find happiness in what you love.

Love,

(y/n).

 That sentence about watching him on stage made you cringe in hindsight. Cute for a ten-year-old, but a bit stalkerish. Luckily, though, you never gave it to him. You chickened out every time up until the last class. The idea of him opening it and reading right there in front of you was mortifying. So, then, you decided to mail it. The teacher gave you his address after you told her you wanted to invite him to your birthday party (it should be a little worrisome that a teacher was willing to pass on private information like that… perhaps it was because you were a kid). Three times you went to the mailbox to send the letter out and three times you ran back inside to hide it under your mattress.

That was the beginning of your weird little tradition. Though you never sent the letter to Jongin, you felt better having somewhat confessed your feelings and worked through them without the humiliation of actually… doing it. So, the next time you had a crush so overwhelming that you needed to get the feelings out, you wrote a letter. You even went all the way each time to address the envelope, giving the confession a sense of finality. There was no fear in them ever going out. Baekhyun was the only other one in the world who knew of their existence. At the current moment, eight were hidden in a drawer in your vanity. The way your fingers were itching, a ninth one was on the way.

“I might,” you finally replied.

Baekhyun leaned forward eagerly. “Can I read it when you’re done?”

“No!”

He snapped his fingers as he sat back in his chair. “Darn.”

“Why am I even friends with you?”

“Because I’m charming.”

There was no question in his voice. He one-hundred percent believed it. And… to be honest, he did have his moments. But that was all in the past. “Like a plank of wood.”

Shaking his head, Baekhyun rapped his hands on the table before standing up. “Alright, I’m going to class. Have fun with your pencil and imagination.” For emphasis on his stupid remark, he stole one last chip before walking off.

You finished off your sandwich in a bit of a rage. By the time you were finished, your mouth muscles were aching as if you’d spent several hours at the gym and it was jaw day.

You only had one class left for the afternoon. But it was algebra. How were you supposed to concentrate on functions when your sad attempt at getting into a relationship with your tutor failed so epically? Somehow you managed, though, and you packed up at the end of class with a new sort of determination. As you hopped on your bike and rode home, you thought over what you were going to write. You were so lost in your head that you hadn’t notice the car pulling out of your neighbor’s driveway, nearly hitting you before the driver hit their brakes.

“Shoot!”

You back peddled to break. Your heart thumped in your chest. No life memories flashed before your eyes, but you were sure you almost died. Slowly, you moved forward to get out of the way of the car. 

“I’m sorry!” you yelled over your shoulder.

The driver leaned out the window.

Oh, great.

It was your neighbor. Or, at least, your neighbor’s son. Do Kyungsoo. He stared at you with an expression that could be blank but could also be a glare. It was hard to tell with him. Shaking his head, he pulled back inside the car and drove away.

Fighting off embarrassment for the second time this day - albeit this situation was much lower on the scale and it happened a bit more often than you’d like to admit - you put your bike up in the backyard and headed up to your room. Your mother, a literary history professor, and your father, a doctor at the local hospital, were both at work and wouldn’t be home until well after dinner. You were used to it. Besides, you were an adult and you liked being able to decide to have pizza for dinner and not worry about what other people wanted for toppings. Once you put your order in, you sat down at your vanity and got to work.

 Dear Junmyeon,

Has anyone told you how your hair looks in the sunlight? The dark brown hues seem so warm and inviting, like an ebony chair that was warmed by the unfiltered rays. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to run my finger through it. Would the strands be as soft as they look? Would you wear the same smile on your face that you do during our sessions? But I guess I might not be meant to feel them. Today, I intended to tell you how I felt. I woke up with a determination, a goal to say how much I like you to your face. I was so nervous riding my bike to the university, but it was the good kind of nervous; the kind that makes you keep going. It seemed, however, that I was too late. Or maybe I simply never had a chance at all. I’d missed any signs that said you were already someone else’s.

I hope she knows how lucky she is. I hope she makes you laugh and listens to you when you’re having a bad day. Your laugh is like a symphony. Does she tell you how light and lovely it is? Or how infectious it is? When you laugh, I can’t help but laugh along. It’ll be sad not to hear it anymore. Or have our talks filled with random subject changes. But I think I’ll miss your smile most of all. The way it crinkles your eyes yet still lets them shine. The way it spreads across your face and the way your cheeks grow. It is truly a sight to behold. I hope wherever you go, you are always smiling. You always let your light shine even on the cloudiest of days. That’s what’s so special about you and what made me fall for you. Even when I was frustrated or couldn’t understand, you were patient, taking my mind off of the negative and turning me so I could face the positive. That’s a rare kind of person. You are a rare kind of person. Please always be happy, Kim Junmyeon.

Love,

(y/n)

 With a sigh you sat back in your chair. The letter had done its job. Though you were still sad about the way things turned out, you no longer felt defeated. The words you needed to say were now out there without being “out there”. Okay, so he had a girlfriend. Big deal. It wasn’t the end of the world. There were more potential love interests out there that you could find. He was only one and obviously wasn’t the one.

Beginning to smile again, you folded the letter and put it in an envelope. You didn’t have Junmyeon’s address, so you wrote out the address for the math lab. Opening the top drawer of the vanity, you placed the latest addition to your collection under the first envelope. The doorbell rang right as you closed it up again. Oh, thank goodness. Food.

Practically skipping down the steps, you hurried to the front door.

“Hi-” You stopped as soon as you’d opened it. The person waiting on the other side was not the pizza delivery guy - it was Baekhyun. The boxes holding the pizza and cheese sticks you’d order for no one but yourself were in his hands. Over his shoulder, you barely caught sight of the delivery man driving away. “Really?”

“What? I was bored. And hungry.” He flipped open the lid to show you the hot, melted cheese of the appetizer. “Cheese stick?”

Rolling your eyes, you stepped aside so he could come inside.

Baekhyun had been to your home plenty of times in the past so it was easy for him to make himself at home. He didn’t wait for you before pulling plates out of the cabinet and pouring a drink. He even went as far as getting you glass as well. “Thirsty?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

The two of you ate at the kitchen table as your mother had a “no meals in the living room” policy. Small snacks like nuts and popcorn were okay, as long as you didn’t spill any on the couches.

“So… how did the writing go?” Baekhyun asked cheekily between bites.

You shrugged. “Fine. I’m deciding that I’m getting over it.”

Now it was Baekhyun’s turn to roll his eyes. “You always get over them fast.”

“What’s the point of dwelling on the things you can’t change?”

That was always your answer. Yes, the hurt was immediate and painful, but Baekhyun was right, you tended to push it aside rather quickly. That was the whole point of your letters, anyway. Get the feelings out of the way so you could move on. What was the point of clinging on to something like that? You would only end up worse if you stayed in that spot. So, you pushed yourself to move on. And eight times out of nine, it had worked. There was only that one nagging letter that failed to do its job. That particular set of feelings refused to go away even as you looked to other crushes, as you found other boys to like. It was the one you would always wonder about, the one that was completely off limits. The dull ache still crept up every once in a while. If moving on was what you had to do, you would do it. Because you would prefer if you never had to go through something like that ever again.

[nerdywriter36]

Sleep So Long Awaited

taken from a post by @behindthemirrorofmusic on tumblr: 'apparently in one of the millions of Love Never Dies drafts, it was Erik who died. The final scene was very different with Erik pushing Raoul out of the shot's way and subsequently getting hit himself. As Erik lays dying in Christine's arms, Raoul assured Erik he will be a better father to Gustave and raise him in his honour and Christine tells him she loved him. Then Erik sings his last words to her: "Christine, don't weep, for I can finally sleep...I have heard you sing...once more..."

@phannah--montana asked me to write this, so blame her for the pain that follows. i cried multiple times writing this, so...my apologies. 

AO3

FFN

~

Erik's heart was pounding. Over the course of his life, he had been in countless terrifying situations that had made his heart race and adrenaline course through his veins, but none compared to the way he felt as he rushed through a crowded amusement park, knowing that his only child was missing. 

The roar of rollercoasters and giddy squeals of children did nothing to calm his anxiousness; every young boy he saw made his heart skip a beat, but none of them were his Gustave. 

Despite all of that, though, what pained him the most was seeing how distressed Christine was. The panic on her face and the tears in her eyes made his heart ache and his nerves fire off more than they already had been. 

"Erik, what if we don't find him?" she asked as she turned to him, taking a shaky breath before she looked away to scan their surroundings again. 

"Don't say that, we are going to find him," he immediately replied. He tried to be gentle but kept his tone firm to reassure her. He refused to let her believe that they'd lose their son for good, and he didn't want to believe it either. 

"But what if we don't? Or if we do, what if it takes hours? He could be anywhere out here in the dark, surrounded by strangers. What if someone has unsavoury intentions? They could just...just take him! Oh, and the water; Erik, he can't swim, what if he falls in?" Christine said, her rapid-fire questions finally ceasing as her tears overflowed. 

With a quiet sigh, Erik pulled her into his arms and held her head to his chest. "Don't think of such things, my darling. We will find him and he will be alright and we will take him somewhere safe," he said, gently rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe her. "We must keep searching, though. Go with Madame Giry and search over there, by the concession stands. I will stay here and do another close look before we move on." 

Christine nodded, taking his hand and squeezing it before she hurried off with Giry, leaving Erik to hurry the other way to continue the search for his son. As much as he had been trying to reassure his angel that Gustave would be found, he was beginning to realize that the exact same fears were running through his own mind. His son simply having gone missing was enough to terrify him, but what Christine had said about him being alone in the dark, taken away, or falling into the rough bay surrounding the island made his stomach twist in a way he had never felt before. He didn't even want to consider his one and only child being scared, possibly hurt, and god, if something worse happened, then- 

"Mister Y!" someone called. 

Erik stopped in his tracks at the sound of his pseudonym, knowing that almost no one could pair that name with him. As he tried to consider who it could be without looking, he heard the same voice use his birth name and finally turned around, only to frown right away. 

"R-Raoul?" he stuttered out, too surprised by the man's appearance to use his formal title as he usually did. "What are you...I thought you left?" 

"I did, but I couldn't get to the docks. Christine deserved more than a letter, so I came back to talk to her about everything. Explain my decision," Raoul replied, only to frown slightly when he noticed how frantic the man in front of him was. "Is something wrong?" 

"No, no, n-nothing is wrong," Erik said immediately. "Christine is, um...she-she's not at the hotel." 

"That's fine, I can wait, but something is clearly wrong," the Vicomte said with a sigh. "Not that I'm particularly concerned about you - I'll sleep fine tonight, - but it's inhibiting this discussion, so you may as well just tell me." 

"Gustave is missing." 

Immediately, Raoul's frown deepened. "What?" 

"Gustave is missing, my-my son is missing," Erik repeated, running a shaky hand through his hair as those simple words made the situation all too real for him. 

"Wh- how? When did this happen?" Raoul asked, pushing aside his past with the ex-Phantom to try and get to the bottom of the matter at hand, and while the truth of Gustave's parentage stung, he could see Erik's distress plain and simple; he was a villain no more, but merely a frightened father instead. "I saw him at the theatre before I left, he was meant to stay there." 

"Yes, I know that much, but when Christine and I returned to her dressing room, he wasn't there. At first, I thought you had taken him, but it was confirmed that you left alone. Madame Giry isn't to blame either, so now we're trying to track Meg down." 

Raoul thought to himself for a moment, only for the blood to drain from his face as a realization dawned on him. "She goes swimming every morning, near the bar where we spoke." 

"Suicide Hall, oh my god," Erik breathed, exchanging a panicked glance with the Vicomte before he bolted towards Christine, who stood not far away, with Raoul right behind him. 

"Raoul?" Christine said with a frown, turning to Erik for answers. "What is he-" 

"Meg!" Erik yelled as he ran down the pier, his heart leaping into his throat when he saw his son held in the woman's arms. "Meg, stop, please!" 

"He's going to help, but we think we know where Meg took Gustave, come," Erik immediately replied as he took her hand and started running towards the seaside bar and pier. 

~

He immediately skidded to a stop, though, when he watched her pull a gun from behind her back to point it at him. "Stay there! I'll shoot if you don't! Or...or he'll end up in the water!" she threatened as she shuffled Gustave closer to the edge of the pier despite his efforts to squirm away. 

"No, Meg, please! Leave him out of this!" Erik pleaded, sighing shakily when he heard Christine crying quietly behind him. "Please let him go, Meg, please don't hurt him." 

"Why should I listen to you?! That's all I've done for ten years, only for you to refuse to even look my way!" the young Giry retorted. "And why does his safety matter to you so much? You hardly know him!" 

"Meg, he is only a child, he should not be caught up in something like this," Erik said calmly, his eyes locked on Gustave, who was looking right back at him with distress painted on his face. "Just leave him be and keep this between us." 

Meg shook her head, still holding Gustave tightly. "He is involved because he ties you to her! You couldn't just leave her behind, and then you had a child with her!" 

Erik's heart sunk when he heard her and watched a frown form on his son's face. "What?" the boy quietly asked. 

"And he didn't even know! The secrets never stop with you, do they?" Meg snapped, adjusting her hold on the gun still pointed at them. "The family resemblance is rather strong, though; he would have figured it out soon enough." 

"Meg...Meg, please let him go," Erik said quietly, fighting to keep his voice steady despite the tears starting to well up in his eyes. "He hasn't hurt anyone, leave him out of this fight." 

His fingers twitched as he waited for any sort of response or reaction from Meg, feeling Christine's hand on his back, gripping his suit coat, her anxiety palpable even though he couldn't see her. 

What made the situation all the more heartwrenching, though, was what he heard his son quietly say with tear-filled eyes: "Papa, help." 

"Oh, Meg, please let him go," Adele Giry piped up to say. "Let the boy go to his father, he has no part in this." 

It was another moment before Erik released the breath he'd been holding when Meg pushed Gustave forward and the boy ran right into his arms. "I've got you, Gustave, you're alright," he whispered, holding his son tightly when he felt how he was shaking, then turned around so Christine and Raoul could comfort him as well. 

As Gustave hugged his mother, he turned to look up at Erik. "So...so you're my real father?" he asked quietly. 

Erik sighed and gave him a weak smile. "I am. I'm sorry you only just found out and that it happened this way; the situation is very complicated. Still, I'm glad you had Raoul to take care of you until now." 

"So am I," Gustave replied, smiling back at him. "But I'm glad I have my real Papa now too." 

"As am I, Gustave." Erik reached out to hesitantly smooth down his child's hair and simply stood looking at him for a moment, ecstatic that he was safe, but even that didn't keep him from noticing the sound of a gun's hammer being pulled back from behind them. Whirling around, he had hardly registered the weapon aimed at them before he shoved Raoul out of the way just as a shot rang out. 

Then all he could feel was the searing pain in his abdomen. 

There were screams as he stumbled and collapsed, that much he knew; two women - Christine, undoubtedly, and Meg along with her - as well as his son...oh, his son. The boy he had only just discovered, yet loved with all his heart, and was at the risk of leaving forever before even getting to know him, raise him, love him even more or- 

"God, what did you do that for?" the Vicomte demanded, interrupting his train of thought for the second time that night. 

Erik managed to find the energy to focus again and looked up to see both Raoul and Christine hunched over him, both looking rather worried, though that was more true of the latter, naturally. 

"She was going to shoot you," Erik replied, stifling a groan as the Vicomte held his suit jacket to his wound to apply any pressure he could. 

"So her shooting you was a better alternative?" Raoul retorted. "You...you have a family here." 

Erik sighed quietly as he glanced up at Christine, who had moved to rest his head in her lap, then back to his former rival turned associate. "As do you." 

He noticed the Vicomte seemed to pause at that; he looked up from the gunshot wound to his face and the pressure on his abdomen lessened momentarily. Erik wasn't surprised that Raoul had seemed caught off guard; earlier that very day, they had been at each other's throats, fighting to call Gustave and Christine theirs. That said, neither of them could have foreseen the way the night would go, so quick decisions had to be made, that much Erik recognized. 

"Papa?" he heard a familiar, quiet voice say, which made him turn his head slightly to see Gustave next to his mother, fear all over his face and tears in his eyes, a few having already fallen onto his cheeks. "What's going to happen?" 

Oh, how badly he wished he could say that all would be well, but he could tell that wouldn't be the case; he could already feel his strength waning and his breaths becoming more laboured with each passing moment. 

"I'm sorry, Gustave. I wish you and I had had more time together," Erik said quietly, his heart aching as he watched his son simply shake his head in response. 

"But I don't want you to die, I want you to stay here with us," Gustave said before he leaned over and much to everyone's surprise, hugged his father. 

Erik winced slightly when he did but waved Raoul off when he began to tell Gustave to move. "I'm so sorry, my boy," he whispered, slowly moving his arm so as to avoid any extra pain and wrapping it around his son. "You're going to be alright, I promise." 

"Please stay, Papa. I don't want you to go," the boy replied just before a quiet sob escaped him and he buried his face in the crook of his father's neck. 

"Shh, no tears, Gustave. I'm sorry I cannot stay, but your maman has plenty of stories about me. I will never really go away, I promise you that." 

"And your Papa will never break a promise if it is in his power," Christine quietly added as she gently pulled Gustave up and held him close while she fought back tears of her own.

Raoul sighed as he looked at his wife and her son, then glanced back at Erik, pulling his jacket away and feeling his stomach twist slightly at the amount of blood stating his shirt and soaking through his waistcoat. One look at Erik's face and seeing the expressions of pain that he was trying and failing to hide told him enough; the man was dying and unless help arrived that very moment, there was nothing to be done about that fact. 

"They're going to be alright, Erik," he decided to say as he set his jacket to the wound again, even though he knew the ex-Phantom was well aware that it was pointless. "I am going to take care of them and I am going to do it right this time. Gustave deserves better than what I gave him, and if you can't be the one to do that, then...then I'll do it on your behalf." 

Erik managed a weak smile and nod in response. "Thank you," he said hoarsely. "I...I trust you." 

Raoul returned the nod and took Gustave into his arms when Christine leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Erik's forehead, then his lips. While a slight spark of jealousy flared up in his chest seeing that, he managed to smother it; the man was dying and deserved a moment with the woman he loved, the mother of his one and only child. Even someone with all his faults and flaws deserved that. 

"I love you, Erik," he heard Christine say as he gently smoothed down his hair, no doubt trying to soothe him in his final moments. That was her way, after all; gentility and kindness whenever possible. 

"As I love you, my angel," Erik whispered, lifting a slightly shaky hand to brush his knuckles against her cheek. "Thank you for...for all you've given me." 

When his wife finally allowed a sob to slip from her lips, even Raoul found himself getting teary-eyed seeing her in pain. Still, he gave the pair their space, settling to hold Gustave close and wait for the inevitable end to the situation at hand. 

"Oh, Christine," Erik said softly, a tear falling from his own eye, the Vicomte noticed, before his voice lifted into the weakest song he'd ever heard, which was undoubtedly all the man could manage: "Christine, don't weep, for I can finally sleep... I have heard you sing...once more." 

All was silent and still at that, and Raoul hugged Gustave even tighter as he noticed the rise and fall of Erik's chest had stopped, the hand that had been resting just above his injury slipping to fall onto the deck of the pier. 

"Papa?" Gustave asked quietly, lifting his head and looking over at his father's body as he started to sniffle again. "Papa, w-wake up." 

"Shh, Gustave, he's gone. I'm so sorry," Raoul whispered, cradling the boy's head to his shoulder and shuffling closer to his wife to wrap an arm around her while she hugged Erik's head against her chest. "I'm sorry, Christine." 

His wife simply nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of Erik's head before she turned to him. "Thank you," she whispered. 

"For what?" Raoul queried with a frown. 

"For everything you said. You brought him peace when he needed it and I can never thank you enough." 

With a small smile, the Vicomte leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Of course. He wanted his family to be safe and I wanted to reassure him that that would be a reality. He deserved to know that you two will be okay even when he isn't here to make sure of that himself, and I intend to ensure that happens." 

[smol-and-grumpy]

Cross My Heart - CH.16

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: Flangst

WC: 2759

SERIES MASTERLIST

As soon as they’re back, Dean places the groceries into the kitchen and Y/N was right about her period because it starts to kick in as soon as the stress level wasn’t that high anymore. 

It’s not long before she finds herself cramping up a little so she uses her first tampon and plants herself on the couch, lays her head on the pillow and pulls the blanket up to her chin. 

Dean walks in, grins a little before he scoops her up and sits her on his lap, still with the blanket and all. She curls up above him, presses her face into the crook of his neck. 

“You need anything?”

“Nuh-uh,”

“Nuh-uh?” Dean kisses her temple, and then he whispers, “Okay, I know you’ve been dying to ask. Shoot, I’ll answer all your questions.”

Y/N actually doesn’t really know what she could ask, she doesn’t want to come across as jealous, when that’s actually what she is. 

“The boy looks like you,”

“Yeah, but I can guarantee you that I’m not the father.” Dean’s voice rumbles underneath her. 

“How do you know?” 

He shrugs, his one hand rubs along her thigh over the blanket, “I came back from an eight month deployment. And after two months she told me that she’s pregnant. Turns out she was already four months along, so no, I don’t really think it was possible that I’m the father. Unless she kept one of the condoms in the freezer and kind of houdinied the semen out and injected it into her uterus.”

“You used a condom?” She raises an eyebrow, she’s curious, not because it’s supposed to be a dig at him.

“She insisted we always use one. Because she didn’t trust me and according to her, I could technically be having sex with everyone while I’m over there.”

“Wow,”

Dean lets out a soft chuckle, “Yeah,”

“She wanted you to trust her but she didn’t give you her trust in return?” She looks up at him, his scruff rubs along her forehead before he tilts his head down to look back at her. From this angle, Dean’s has a double chin but he looks cute with it and that again, is not really fucking fair.

“Apparently, trust in a relationship is not a two way street for her.” Dean just shrugs, “It’s in the past. I don’t even know if it was love at that time or just the comfort of having somewhere to stay with, and someone to be comfortable around with without having to pretend and hide. It took a big chunk of burden off my shoulders too, because I couldn’t afford rent and paying for Sam’s education at the same time.”

“You two already lived together?” 

“With her parents,” He says with a chuckle.

“Oh my god,” 

“Her parents were nosy,” Dean’s laughing now, probably thinking back to the memories, “The thing was, we were young, I was maybe too comfortable with what I had, too tired from war to make a change, and that’s why I stayed with her and then when she said that she was pregnant, I kind of rolled with it. I didn’t even think that I ever wanted kids. We never really talked about it. Looking back, I don’t think I did love her and I’m glad that I could walk away from it. I don’t think that I was ever really truly happy with her. And I have proof that she wasn’t really happy with me either. We were two cowards who were too scared of what was out there, and we were afraid to leave our comfort zones.”

“Were you ever truly happy in your life?” It’s not meant as an offense but the more he tells her, the more she gets the impression that Dean’s life was hard. Full of responsibilities and making choices that he shouldn’t make from a young age on. 

“I am,” He smiles a little when he cradles her face with one hand and pushes his thumb under her chin to make her look up at him, “You don't see it, do you?”

“See what?” She frowns a little.

“Baby, you make me happy,” He kisses her nose, “Yeah, there are some minor inconveniences along the way but the truth is, I’m the happiest I’ve been in years when I’m with you.”

“Oh,” She really didn’t know.

Dean chuckles and kisses her and she grins against the kiss. She wonders if he feels it too, feels the butterflies fluttering around in his tummy, feels the stinging in his heart that hurts so good. 

Their kiss gets more heated, gets deeper, and she really wishes that she’s not on her period. But there’s something that pulls both of them back to reality. 

“I think that is really your phone in your pockets,” She jokes, mumbles the words against his lips and Dean chuckles while he pushes her off his lap playfully to take the phone out of his pants. 

He stops and frowns when he looks at the caller ID, shows it to her before he picks it up.

Chuck.

“Mr. Winchester, where the fuck are you?” Chuck’s so loud on the other end. 

“Uh, we moved,” There’s no sir at the end. She can tell that Dean’s sick of pretending.

“I know that. Where did you take my fucking wife?”

Oh, now she’s his fucking wife. 

Dean places a hand on her shoulder, somehow it soothes her. It would feel a lot better if he wouldn’t be shaking himself, though. He’s visibly upset and the crease on his forehead deepens. 

“I took her somewhere safe. Because that’s my job.”

Chuck laughs, it’s loud and mockery, “That’s not your fucking job anymore, is it? I haven’t paid you to do your work for over a week! Now tell me where she is or someone gets hurt.”

They hear someone whimpering, it’s a female voice. She realizes that she knows that voice. 

Oh god, no.

“Why do you want her? It was you wasn’t it? It was you who sent that hitman after us!” Dean growls, his voice is deep, he’s angry. She’s never seen him like this. 

He has Meg, She mouths to Dean and Dean’s frowns some more at that.

“I knew I shouldn’t have hired an ex-marine who left on his own will. I should have gone with an army outcast, someone who’s paid to do what they should and not fucking second guess everything I say!” Chuck snarls, “Look, Winchester, fair trade. You bring her to me and in return, I won’t kill off her best friend, how does that sound?”

“Yes,” Y/N whispers.

“No,” Dean’s voice is louder, it’s a deep growl, it makes her flinch. 

“A life for a life, sounds fair to me!” Chuck says and he must be doing something to Meg because she cries out. It’s a terrible sound. Something hurts inside of her when she hears it. 

“I’ll text you the address and I give you 12 hours, because I know that you’re far away and traffic is a bitch. Don’t even tell me that I don’t give you a fair chance.” Chuck sounds proud, “No police. Just you and me, Winchester. You pull something, she’s dead and I have friend in high places, Winchester, so don’t fucking play with me or I’ll send someone else, every fucking day.”

He hangs up before Dean can even answer.

“No,” Dean says and gets up to pace around in the room. She opens her mouth to say something but he holds out his finger, repeating himself, “Don't even start, the answer is no!”

“But—”

“—I’m not fucking losing you!”

“We have to! He’ll hurt Meg!” She argues and stands up too. 

Dean’s phone pings with a message. It has the address on it and a picture of Meg. She’s been beaten black and blue. 

Y/N feels nauseous and needs to sit down again after seeing that.

Dean moves over quickly to sit down on the chair, typing in the address into google maps, “Okay, we need about six hours to get there. We still have time to form a plan.”

“You’re going to help Meg?” She walks over to stand next to him and then he looks up to her.

“Of course I’ll help Meg,” He pushes his chair back, pulls her into his lap, “I’m not happy about it but I’m helping where I can. She’s important to you and you’re important to me, so.” 

“I’m sorry I pulled you into this.”

Dean sighs, “We’ve been over this, haven’t we?” He says, places his chin on her shoulder as he wraps his arms around her waist, “We’re in this together. And now we need to see how we can all get out of it, Meg included.”

 *

 They arrive at a record shop. It doesn’t look like anything impressive on the outside to be honest, but they found out through google, that it has a recording studio in the back. Of course it would. That’s Chuck for you. He knows that it’s soundproof, he probably rented it out under a false name, either. 

Y/N gets off the bike, takes off her helmet and waits for Dean to do the same. 

He’s standing before her, “Remember what we said, okay?”

She nods.

“And here’s your gun,” Dean hands it to her too, “Just, this time, if you shoot, try to hit what you’re aiming for, alright?” He chuckles but it’s not a light-hearted or funny chuckle, it’s more sinister. 

“Okay,” 

“Right,” Dean takes a step closer, weaves his arm around her waist, pulls her into him, “Try not to get shot at, alright?” 

“And you don’t get dead. Promise?” She stands on her tip toes, their noses touch. 

“Cross my heart,” Dean smiles a little, seals his words with a kiss. 

 *

 She watches Dean leave with a nod.

The plan’s for him to go in first and that they’ll improvise on the rest. 

There was no time to plan anything else ahead because they didn't know what would be waiting for them once they arrived. 

Of course they contacted Benny because Dean hasn’t heard from him yet. But since it’s now a pressing matter, Benny’s doing his best to inform the local authority, and even drives here himself. It would take him longer to get here from wherever he was, she never asked, but Dean’s phone is on standby with Benny and the call is recorded.

The plan was also for her to wait until Benny or the police is here but she can’t because she hears a dull thud and fuck—

—She runs in as fast as she can, almost trips over a stack of records but she keeps on going and pulls the heavy door open, her gun drawn. 

She sees Chuck, and Meg’s next to him on her knees.

“Oh, hey, wifey.” Chuck greets her with a fucking big smile on his face. 

The shot was only a bait to lure her in. Chuck has a gun in hand too and he waves it in her direction. 

“Let Meg go,” She says with the calmest of voice she can muster up. 

Chuck raises his eyebrow, pouts a little, “Where are your manners, Y/N! Say please,”

She looks at Dean and they exchange looks. He’s on edge, is ready to launch forward. There’s so much tension in the air and she doesn’t think that she’s breathing at all. 

With a sigh, she says, “Please,”

“Was that so hard?” Chuck mocks, “I only give Meg to Winchester and you’re coming to me.”

“No,” Dean whispers, it’s faint but she hears it nonetheless. 

Y/N knows that Dean doesn’t want that, but also she wants her friend safe. It’s the only other person in the world who she trusts next to Dean. She loves Meg. Meg was always here, even when she had a hard time herself with her failed business ventures. Y/N was always there for Meg and vise versa. 

Looking at Dean, she nods, and she sees that he doesn’t like it one bit but he nods back. 

“Lower your gun and I will, too.” She tells Chuck and that might be the first time in ages that they agree on something.

Chuck lowers his first, Dean follows and then her. 

“Now Meg,” Dean says, holds out his hands, beckons her over. 

Meg’s still blue in one eye and she walks over, she’s wearing an oversized sweater, something Y/N’s not used to seeing on her. Meg’s always dressed so good. She wonders what happened in the short time that she was away. 

Her friend nods at Y/N in passing, and goes to stand next to Dean who’s a couple of feet away from her. And Y/N turns to nod at Dean one last time, sees Dean nodding back, holding Meg up with an arm around her.

Y/N takes a step closer to Chuck, then another one. 

On her third step, a shot rings in her ear, it makes her jump. She turns around to see the source and sees Dean on the floor.

“Dean!” She calls out, wants to run back but Chuck’s voice interrupts her train of thought. 

“Ah-ah, you stay.” He says calmly and he draws his gun when she sees her drawing hers. 

She looks at Meg, sees that woman smiling. She can’t believe that she’s been played by her best friend, “Why, Meg? Why?” She starts to cry. 

Dean’s grunting, he’s clearly in pain, blood seeps out from his stomach wound. She knows that she has to stop the bleeding but she’s caught between a rock and a goddamn hard place. 

Meg’s smile dies down, “I’m sorry, I really am, Y/N.”

“Did he pressure you into doing this?”

“He offered me a million! Imagine, Y/N! A fucking million! I can start anew! I thought about it long and hard. I love you, I do, but I would also love a new start. You understand, right? I’m sorry but I gotta look out for mysel—”

Meg didn’t get to finish her sentence because Chuck shot her right in her face.

“I never liked her,” Chuck says, “She always talks too much. And she really thinks she’d get away with it.” He scoffs. 

Y/N’s full on sobbing, she can’t stop even if she wants to. “So, you’re going to kill everyone? What are you going to tell them, huh? Three dead people?” She knows that she should get going, that she should help Dean, she knows that time is fucking running out.

“I’ll tell them that I’m a hero. I tried to save you from your crazy friend who wanted to take away everything from you. Not even your bodyguard could help protect you. So it was me, the loving husband who has to rush in,” He pauses for the dramatic effect, “But it was already too late.”

Dean’s still grunting, he’s still alive. Oh thank god. She risks a glance. Dean’s visibly pale, the blood starts to pool. His eyes are on her. 

She nods at Dean and takes a deep breath before looking back to Chuck who has his gun cocked and ready. It’s really now a matter of who shoots first. His finger is tight around the trigger, but hers is, too. 

“Go to hell, Chuck,” She mumbles and pulls the trigger, sees Chuck staggering and losing balance. His gun is still tight in his hand and he pulls the trigger, shooting into the ground before he kneels on one knee. She has shot him in his thigh, right above the knee.

Ready to pull again, a sound of someone barging in stops her, and then, everything happens so fast. Someone’s pointing a gun at Chuck and she sees him raising his hands. Someone has an arm around her, asking her if she’s okay. She hears it faintly, “Ma’am, are you okay? Ma’am, can you hear me?” 

But she can’t, she can’t talk, she can’t hear, she can’t see. 

She needs to get to him. 

Y/N falls on her knees, crawls over the body of Meg to get to Dean. Someone’s already working on his wound. Dean’s face is the palest of pale she’s ever seen in her life. There’s sweat on his forehead and his eyes look empty. But he’s still looking at her. She’s crying, leans her head against his, kisses his cheek, his nose, “Please don’t leave me,” She begs with every fiber of her being. 

CH.17

[nothing-but-dreams]

Raised From Darkness, We Deserve the Light

SPNDBCC (By @foundfamily4eva): Part 6- Destiel / Part 8- Love Confession Dean/Cas, 2.9k, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Angst to Fluff Summary: On the heels of losing Cas, and not being able to speak his truth, Dean goes on a mission to rescue Cas from the Empty. Things quickly go awry, and Dean has to fight to save the man he loves. AO3: Link

It was pitch black, the roar of thunder filled the nothingness like a cosmic being screaming a warning, and Dean felt like he was falling through time itself. He should’ve expected such, seeing as the Empty was, in fact, a cosmic being, and it was pissed that it couldn’t be left alone.

Dean took a shot at a spell he found in one of the old Men of Letters books. They said they used the spell to resurrect a demon who they needed information from. It wasn’t super specific, but Dean figured if it could get a demon out of the Empty, it could also work for an angel.

As he lit the ring of holy oil, a rift appeared, similar to the one that let them travel to purgatory and apocalypse world, but this one was black. Before he could figure out the next step, he was sucked into the void, and found himself falling endlessly through the Empty.

He hit something with a thud. He’d call it the ground, but it wasn’t. Everything around him was darkness. It fell silent. There was no more wind, no thunder, no distant calamity. Dean wished he had a map. Or a flashlight. Or a more thought out plan, because he really only thought this through up to the point where he got here. All he cared about was finding Cas, and bringing him home. He figured he’d make the rest up along the way.

Dean stood up, unable to see or hear anything other than his own breathing.

“Cas!” he shouted, hoping maybe, somehow Cas would be able to hear him. There was nothing. So he shouted his name again, and again, and again, calling out into the void, hoping something would shout back. He was about to give up when he heard a whoosh.

“Dean?”

Dean turned around, and sure enough, in front of him stood Castiel. It was overwhelming, the sudden rush of emotions that shot through his body. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to say, but he didn’t know how. He was just as shocked standing before Cas now as he was when the Empty took him.

“Cas? Is it … is it really you?” Dean was skeptical, it seemed too easy to call out his name and that was enough to summon him.

“Yes. Are you really you?”

Dean tilted his head, waiting for an explanation.

“The Empty has been playing tricks on me ever since I got here. It’ll manifest as you and then make me think you were here to save me. Much like you are now.”

“No, it’s really good ol’, 50% scar tissue and cholesterol, me.”

“That’s good to hear. Well, not objectively, because the number one killer of humans is heart disease, and if you’re 50% cholesterol, that’s not-”

“Look,” Dean interrupted, realizing there was a very real possibility of Cas going off on a 30 minute tangent, “I don’t know how much time we have, so let’s try to figure out a plan to bust you out of here.”

“I don’t really know how to get out of here. Do you?” Cas asked, eyebrows raised.

Dean was flying by the seat of his pants. He realized, yeah, he really should’ve done a little more research on how to escape the Empty, but when an angel confesses their love to you, it can make you do crazy things.

“Not exactly. I kinda figured we’d go out the way I came in. Whatever, we’ll figure it out, but right now, we have to go.”

Dean went to grab Cas’s wrist, and in an instant, Cas’s body melted into a pile of black goo, and reemerged in the image of Meg, sitting on her throne.

“Dean, long time no see.”

“Meg?”

“No, this is just the face I’ve taken a liking to. But I figured you’d connect better with a certain lovesick angel. Gotta say, I’m pretty pissed you had to go and ruin my fun, because I could’ve toyed with you all day.”

“Where’s Cas?”

“All business, no play. Got it.” The Empty snapped its fingers and Cas appeared next to the throne. He was unharmed, but his eyes went wide and his jaw fell slack as soon as he saw Dean.

“Cas!” Dean tried to run to the angel, but he was frozen in place. It didn’t seem like Cas could move either.

“Ah, ah, ah, not so fast there lover boy. I know you want E.T. here to return home, but since I have him, I want to make a deal.”

Dean’s jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. Evil sons of bitches always wanted to make deals, and every time Dean said yes, he’d end up screwed over in the long run. But what the hell? This was for Cas.

“What do you want?”

“I’ll give you your precious angel, if you hold up the bargain that Death promised me.”

“And what was that?”

“It’s loud.” The Empty waved its hand and a cacophony of tortured screams echoed through the void. “They were all sleeping. And when they sleep, I sleep. But you, and the angel, and God kept coming in, and dragging people out. Now all they do is scream and I’m sick of it.”

“Sorry about your beauty sleep, but I don’t really see how that’s my problem.”

“Oh, you don’t?” With another snap of the Empty’s fingers, Cas fell to his knees, hunched over in pain, and started vomiting up blood. “Because I can do this for the rest of eternity, Dean.”

Unable to watch Cas suffer any longer, Dean gave in.

“Fine, I’m in. What do you need me to do?”

The Empty snapped its fingers, and Cas went back to normal.

It explained to Dean that in order for there to be peace in the Empty, there needed to be no more unwelcome guests, and no more resurrections. The Empty would be the only one with the power to let things in or let things out. In order to do that, he would need to close the rift to the Empty, forever.

It was a simple spell, in that it was only a few ingredients, but Dean didn’t want to put his trust in another bad guy. Cosmic entities were high up on his don’t-mess-with list.

In order to close the rift, Dean would have to take the Empty’s plasma, mix it with holy oil and demon blood, use the mixture to draw a devil’s trap around the rift while it was still open, then set the sigil on fire. It seemed doable, but there was a catch. There was always a catch. The Empty wouldn’t return Cas back to Earth until the spell was complete.

If he agreed, there was a risk that the Empty would keep Cas trapped in there forever. That just wasn’t a risk Dean was willing to take. Luckily, he had a plan B.

“No deal,” Dean said, pulling an angel blade from his pocket.

“Is that your plan? Attack me with an angel blade? That’s cute, Dean. But I’m the Empty. I rule over fallen angels, remember, that’s not going to work on me.”

“That might be so,” Dean said, throwing the angel blade at the Empty, watching as it landed in its chest, “but an angel blade bonded with pieces of Death’s Scythe? That’s Kryptonite.”

When Dean found the spell that would let him into the Empty, the Men of Letters also included a section on how to slow the Empty down. If you were able to cut the Empty with the blade of Death’s Scythe, it would send the Empty back to the depths of its abyss where it would have to reform. When Billie attacked him and Cas, she broke off a couple small pieces of her blade, which Dean later found in the hallway. He figured if he could weld the two metals together, it would work.

As the Empty melted and vanished into the void, Dean stared, shocked. His plan actually worked. It wasn’t a sure thing, about a 50/50 chance, and considering the other option was him and Cas being murdered, he was glad to see his gamble paid off.

“Alright, let’s go.” Dean grabbed his blade, and ran with Cas in a direction he could only hope was correct. They didn’t get very far before the ground began to quake beneath them. “What the hell is that?”

“What the hell is right,” a voice grumbled as it materialized into a human form. It was followed by another, and another, appearing from nowhere.

“Demons,” Cas said, turning in circles, realizing he and Dean were quickly becoming surrounded. “Run.”

Both men sprinted into the darkness, but were quickly tackled by a group of demons. Dean and Cas fought, punching and wrestling the demons. It seemed like every time they escaped and were able to cover some ground, more demons found them.

They ran and fought their way through the Empty, until they found it. They could see the glow of the rift in the distance, they were so close, but demons kept finding them, and they were intent on keeping them trapped in the Empty forever.

Cas fought the best he could, but with his powers all but gone, he didn’t have much to draw from. The odds were against him. Luckily, Dean was able to kill the demons, with the help of his blade, but not before they pummeled Cas.

Dean kneeled down next to Cas, terrified by the sight of blood spilling from his mouth. This was bad. Dean tried to help Cas get back on his feet, but Cas shook his head, staying put.

“I’m too weak,” Cas said, wincing as his words emphasized the pain of his bruised ribs. “You have to go without me.”

“Cas, don’t do this.”

The ground rumbled again, and the pounding of demon footsteps drew closer. There wasn’t time to argue.

“This is where I belong, Dean. You still have a chance to save yourself.”

“No. Not this time. We’re so close. I’m not leaving you behind.”

“Must you be so stubborn, Dean? You can still make it.” Cas’s voice rumbled with frustration. “Go.”

Dean recognized instantly that that was not a request, but an order. He didn’t care. He knew how this played out once, saw first hand the miserable fall out of it all, and as long as he still had his own free will, he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“Not without you,” Dean said, reaching his hand out again to try to help Cas. Cas knocked it away, overcome with anger.

“Damn it, Dean, why won’t you just go!”  

“Because I love you, Cas!” Shock hit Dean as the words left his mouth. Even though he knew Cas felt the same way, it still somehow felt too heavy, too intimate to actually speak into existence. It felt like his soul was an open wound, raw and exposed. He turned his gaze to the ground, trying to compose himself. He had to keep it together if he was going to get them back to Earth. “So don’t you ask me to leave you, because I can’t do that. We’re both getting out of here, or we’re both dying here, and those are the only two options, got it?”

Cas nodded, the faint hint of a smile forming. “Got it.”

Two demons caught up with them, and set their sights on Cas. Dean could see the bloodlust in their eyes, and attacked them before they could make their move. He made quick work of them, stabbing them and sending them to wherever demons go when they die in the Empty. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that they were gone, and he could get Cas to safety.

Dean slid his arm around Cas, lifting him up. Cas was right, he was weak. He had a limp, and he was bleeding, but Dean could handle it.

“I got you, buddy. Don’t worry.”

Dean picked Cas up into a fireman’s carry, more demons charging toward them in the distance, and with the last bit of strength he had, he ran into the rift.

They landed back in the bunker, and Dean knew he didn’t have much time. He grabbed the container of holy oil he used earlier and poured it into a bowl. He pulled the altered angel blade from his pocket and used it to stir the mixture. It had both plasma from the Empty, and demon blood on it. Two birds with one stone. Hopefully.

“Hang in there, Cas, alright. It’s almost over,” Dean said, drawing a devil’s trap with the oil around the still open rift. He struck a match, and dropped it on the oil, watching the sigil burst into tall flames.

The devil’s trap began to glow before shooting a beam of light up to the ceiling. The light pulsed for a second, then swallowed the rift as it contracted and disappeared. The fire went out, leaving nothing but the faint wisps of smoke in its wake.

The bunker was quiet. Dean and Cas looked around, there was no sign of the Empty, no sign that any angels or demons had followed them back. It was just the two of them, alone.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dean grabbed some bandages and rubbing alcohol, despite Cas’s objection to leave him be and that he didn’t need to be fussed over. He carefully cleaned his wounds, and bandaged up the really bad cuts.

As Dean cleaned the blood from the corner of Cas’s mouth, his hand resting gently on his chin, the pricking tickle of peach fuzz against his fingers, he looked into Cas’s eyes, and swore he could see the rest of his life right there.

“Cas, there’s something I have to tell you, man.”

“No, Dean, it’s fine. You don’t have to-“

“Just let me say this.” Dean took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to focus on all the reasons why he needed to say this, instead of the voice telling him to keep his mouth shut. “When you told me you loved me, I didn’t know what to say. There was so much happening, and there just wasn’t enough time.”

There was a tightening in the back of Dean’s throat, and God damn it, he didn’t want to cry, but when you’re unearthing something that’s been buried for decades, it hurts like hell.

“Cas, you mean more to me than I can even say. It’s so hard for me to admit that, because everyone I care about dies, and I can’t handle losing you again. Every single time you left me, I fell apart. And I know you don’t think that’s true, because I never told you, but honestly, it was just because I was scared. I was scared of my own feelings, I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way about me, I was scared you couldn’t feel that way about me. And then you said it, and it was like my world turned on its head. It was everything I wanted, and everything I was so sure I couldn’t have all at once. I didn’t even have a chance to process any of it before you were just… gone.”

Dean took Cas’s hands into his own, both of their eyes brimming with tears. This time Dean knew in the back of his head that no one was coming to ruin his happiness, even if his heart couldn’t fully accept it yet. He knew he was safe with Castiel, the angel, who out of many options, chose to love. The angel who gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. The angel who saw the best in him, when he only saw the worst in himself. The angel who gave up an army, rebelled against heaven, gave up his own life so many times for one man.

“So, say it to me again, so I can give you the answer that you deserve.”

Cas smiled, tears falling down his cheeks. He had hoped for years, that this moment would be a reality, but he, much like Dean, didn’t think it possible. But here he was, holding hands with the human who made him question order and obedience. The human who felt things so deeply, and loved with all his heart. The human who changed him, and how he saw the world, and the world itself.

“Dean,” Cas began, happiness filling his being. His smile, full of pure joy. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Cas.”

Without hesitation, and because he felt like he couldn’t hold himself back even one more second, Dean pulled Cas in close and kissed him. The too-rough passion of it, as if their lips found their soulmate, was so much better then what either of them imagined. The wax and wane of their breaths slipping between tongues— a song to say “yes” to when a lover asks if they can have this dance. It was a gentle surrender to bliss, a white flag they both wished to wave for far too long.

In that moment, with nothing more between them, no more lies, no more doubt, they both got to experience a moment of true happiness. They got to experience each other. No consequences. No punishment. Just true, honest, peace.

Their voices were no longer silenced by the forces they thought held dominion over them. This was not the end of their story, but the beginning. They were two magnificent beings, brought together not by fate, but by free will, finally being able to live the life they deserved— one full of hope, endless possibilities, and knowing that the person they loved, loved them in return.

[the-great-imagines-of-1812]

Mystery of Love~ A Jo March x fem!Reader imagine

This is for @my-morning-straightjacket , to hold her over until i publish the next part to ‘To Love Another’ :)

Song Used: Mystery of Love, by Sufjan Stevens (lyrics in italics)

Summary: Jo and Reader’s relationship, from beginning to end.

A/N: fluff, ANGST, then fluff again. happy ending. also, i highly recommend you listen to the song while reading for more effect. :)

~~~~~~

Oh, to see without my eyes The first time that you kissed me

 First Meeting: December 25, 1861.

You remember the day you met Josephine March so very well. Being a childhood friend of Laurie’s who moved to France to further your education in art, you visited your best friend as often as you could, often several times a year. He and his grandfather always welcomed you with open arms; his tutor less, as you often had a habit from distracting him from his studies to go to the music hall or some party.

Ever sine you had moved across the sea, away from your family, Laurie always kept up his letters. He had practically begged you to come visit for Christmas, staying a couple of weeks through the new year. 

You, of course, said yes. You were long overdue to visit the Laurence household, and your own family. It wasn’t your fault; this semester at the University had been a tough one, and you were glad to have a two month’s break. 

You arrived in Concord, Massachusetts, on the mid morning hours of Christmas Eve. Laurie had practically run to you, sweeping you into his arms and grabbing your luggage off the port. Both of you spent the entire day chattering, catching up on one another’s lives.

Boundless by the time I cried I built your walls around me

After you spent hours by the fire place talking about your semester at the University, it was Laurie’s turn to speak. He told you all about the March family next door, and the loveliest of the sisters, Jo March. By the way he spoke of her, he was practically in love. You could see it in his eyes. 

You will always be able to tell by someone’s eyes. 

The next morning, you talked away with Laurie’s grandfather, telling him all about Paris. 

It all happened to fast. One minute you were eating, and the next you were carrying your breakfast to the March Family’s house, since they had given up theirs to the poor Mrs. Hummel and her children. The family greeted you all as soon as you entered.

You stood in the corner, awkwardly, since you didn’t now anyone, with the exception of Laurie and his grandfather. That was until a blonde, bright-blue-eyed girl approached you, to introduce herself.

She held out her hand to you, and she was oh so welcoming and her voice sounded like home. You wanted to hear it for the rest of your life. 

“I’m Y/N Andrews, it’s nice to meet you. You must be Jo. Laurie’s told me all about you.” 

White noise, what an awful sound Fumbling by Rogue River

She grasped your hand firmly. “Oh, it so nice to meet you. I hope Laurie has said all good things. Is your family by any chance the publishing Andrews of New York?” she questioned.

You nodded. “It’s my Uncle’s business.”

She kept her gaze on you. She thought you were beautiful. “Interesting. How come I’ve never seen you before?” 

“I live and study in France, furthering my education in the art field. But Laurie’s a childhood friend of mine.”

“How intriguing! A woman with a career?”

You blushed and nodded. “Indeed. I quite enjoy it.”

The conversation between you two flowed so easily, and soon enough she introduced you to the rest of her family. You and Amy got along great, with you telling her all about your art career. You and Meg talked about your favorite dresses. And Beth was the most quiet, but shyly showed you a song on her piano. 

Feel my feet above the ground Hand of God, deliver me

You had to go back to France a few weeks into January, in order o go back for the new semester. But before you had left, you and Jo had exchanged addresses, and had sent so many letters back and forth. She would send you original poems and stories, all about - you. It was strange and new, and beautiful. She always made you blush. You couldn’t wait to see her again. 

That May, you had finished your time at the university and planned to move back to Concord to stay with your family, until you got your own job and were able to move out. 

Therefore, you and Jo were able to spend much more time together. Oh, you remember the day she kissed you in so much detail. She took you to a field of lavender, and confessed to you as you both were sitting down, enjoying the sunshine. 

She covered your hands with her own and you brought your face close to hers. You heart was beating so fast. She traced a gentle hand along your face. 

“Jo I-”

“Shh. Relax, my love. Let me try this, why don’t you?”

You nodded, and she slowly leaned in, capturing your lips with her own. It was sweet. Having someone care for you in such a pleasant way; your soul almost left your body. 

Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me The first time that you touched me Oh, will wonders ever cease? Blessed be the mystery of love 

You had never been happier in the time you shared with Jo. The sun seemed to shine just for you, and the stars at night, too. You grew closer to her sisters, too. You and Meg gossiped often. You would teach Amy an art class, free of charge. Beth was like the little sister you never had; she would often lay on you as you read her a story. Sometimes Shakespeare, sometimes Charlotte Bronte. 

Oh, but the time spent with Jo. You two would sit in the couch in the attic when no one was home, with your head upon her chest, and every once in a while, she kissed your forehead lovingly. After the story was done, she would bring you into a deep kiss, and the sunshine shined on both of you. 

You wished for moments like these forever. 

Lord, I no longer believe Drowned in living waters Cursed by the love that I received From my brother's daughter 

Among the both of you, there was talk about the future, a future where you two could live openly, free of judgement. 

“I’d marry you, you know.” said Jo one day as she kissed the shell of your ear. Both of you were cuddled up in front of the fire place at your house. 

“But, Jo-”

She kissed your nose. “Ah ah ah. No buts. We’ll be together under the eyes of the lord, he’ll bring us into his grace for eternity. We’ll live in happiness.”

“Sounds perfect to me, love.”

Like Hephaestion, who died Alexander's lover Now my riverbed has dried Shall I find no other?

But you were both so naive. Thinking that the world was made for you. That the sun would shine for the pair of you. 

“Mother, you can’t possibly do this to me. Father, tell her!”

“No, Franklin. Don’t speak. You will marry Alexander Cores by next week. No more discussions.”

You sobbed. “I wanted to have a career!”

“You will. As a housewife. Back in Spain.”

“Helene, you can’t possibly expect her to-”

“She’ll learn to be a proper lady, Frank. No more discussions. You’ll be married next week and straight off to Spain the day after.”

You ran straight out the door, no coat or anything. You had to go see Jo. You burst into the March home, with no regard for anything. She was talking with her sisters and fell into her lap, crying.

“Y/N! What’s wrong?” Amy said, putting a hand on your back. 

“They’re-They’re-” you said, your cries cutting you off.

“It’s alright, take your time.” Said Meg. You could feel Beth wrap her arms around your waist. No words needed to be said from her. 

Once you had gathered yourself up. You were able to explain. “They- my parents are forcing me to marry.” you felt tears come up in your eyes again. “And he’s taking me off to Spain!”

Jo felt her heart clench and drop in her stomach. She couldn’t lose you, not like this. She leaned down to kiss the side of your head. “Isn't there anything you can do? There must be something!”

“No there isn’t. The wedding is scheduled for next week!”

Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me I'm running like a plover Now I'm prone to misery The birthmark on your shoulder reminds me How much sorrow can I take? Blackbird on my shoulder And what difference does it make When this love is over?

It was the night before the wedding. The fireplace in your room crackled and popped as you stared at the room. There were no thoughts in your head. You had given up.

You heard a knocking on the window. You got up and opened it. Jo. 

And just like that, you had burst into tears. Her face dropped at this, seeing your unhappiness. “Oh my love. Oh my sweet. It’s going to be alright.”

You trembled in her arms. “No it’s not! I’ll be away from you and never see you again! And I’ll be in pain, and it will be horrible!”

“One last night.”

“Jo, what?”

She fully crawled through the window, now in front of you. “Let me spend one last night with you. We’ll make this our forever. I’ll be gone by morning.”

You had  never nodded quicker. You brought Jo into your bed, letting her wrap her arms around you. “Oh, love of my life. Rest.”

She kissed the tears running down your face, and you soon fell unconscious. 

This would be your forever, after all. 

Shall I sleep within your bed? River of unhappiness

You had been in Spain for almost seven years now. You missed Jo more than you could fathom. Sure, there were letters exchanged back back and forth nearly every day, but it was nothing like kissing her or laying your head on her chest and having her read to you while basking in the sunshine and enjoying the privacy of the attic. 

In other words, you were miserable.

And as for Alexander- you really tried with him. You tried to love him, but you couldn’t. She was always on your mind. 

As for Jo, she could possibly be worse. She fell into a depression, and she couldn’t explain to anyone why, with fear of judgement. Believe it or not, she rote some of her best work during this time. 

All artists have to go through something tragic to create their life’s work.

Hold your hands upon my head Till I breathe my last breath

It was then that you prayed for a miracle. It was as if the Good Lord has heard your cry and decided it was time to align the stars for you two.

Alexander was caught in an embezzlement fraud from work, and was charged and put into prison for 6 years. His lawyers advised that you divorce him.

And so you did. Packed your bags, and booked boat tickets for Concord. 

It was then that you received the letter from Marmee. She detailed of Beth’s sickness, an advised you to come, in case anything should happen. You were more than happy to permanently stay in Massachusetts. 

You arrived early on a cold January afternoon in 1869. On the same port that Laurie picked you up on so many years ago. It now seemed dull.

But you were here to stay, no matter how glum it may be. 

You quickly made your way to the March house, without a single thought. You set your bags down as you came in, Meg’s twins coming to greet you. “Auntie!”

“Hello, my lovelies! Where’s your mother?”

“Hello, Y/N” Meg said, with a said with a sad smile, peeking out from behind the wall. You set the twins down and went over to her. 

“She’s passed, Y/N. Beth. She’s gone.” You could see the tears running down her face, the ones she was trying to hide. 

You brought her into a hug. “It’s going to be alright, Meg. I’ve got you.”

She cried into your shoulder before puling away. “Jo’s upstairs, you know. Just be careful. She’s fragile.”

You blushed. “How’d you know?”

She gave you a wink as she wiped away the last of her tears. “I always know. You can tell by the way you looked at one another.”

With that, you gathered your skirts and made your way up the stairs. Nearly tripping over the many skirts. Jo always said you wore too much. When you reached the top floor, there she was. 

Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me The last time that you touched me

She was hunched over Beth’s bed, crying silently. She didn’t notice you come into the room. You nearly broke down at the sight of her. 

“J-Jo?”

Her head quickly shot up, eyes fixed on you. Your dress looked expensive; Alexander must have been well off. But you were the same beautiful girl she met way back. 

She stumbled as she walked over to you. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She collapsed at your feet, grabbing at your skirts as you got to her level.

“Please don’t leave again! I’ve been in such terrible pain! Please!”

You stroked her hair, her head now being in your lap. 

“I’m here to stay, love. I’m not leaving.”

You were here for good. 

Oh, will wonders ever cease?

A year later, you and Jo were on a carriage ride to church on a warm, spring Sunday morning.

A secret marriage. You guys’ little secret. 

You took a black wedding band out of dress pocket, putting it on her finger. “With this ring, I take thee, Josephine March, as my loving wife. I promise to love and cherish you for all eternity. In sickness and in health, as long as be both shall live.”

You whispered, so the driver couldn’t hear you. “With this ring, I take thee, Y/N Andrews, as my loving wife. I promise to love and cherish you, for all eternity; in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.”

She pulled you into a deep kiss, her hands on your neck and yours on her waist. As you pulled up to the church she helped you out the carriage, and you two gave each other a look as you went inside the building.

That day, you took communion together, and considered each other married in secret. 

Death was the only thing that parted you, as you passed away from tuberculosis in 1900. She always held your hand, even when you passed.

She passed away two years later, in 1902. Her last wish was to be buried with a photograph of you. 

You two met again in heaven and you were both young again, with the rest of the March family. Laurie and his grandfather, too. 

On the 26th of June, 2015, gay marriage was legalized in all 50 states under the Obama administration. In all states, people of all sexualities would be able to marry their partner, without discrimination. 

You and Jo rejoiced from above, along with everyone else. All that you wished was that it happened sooner. 

But you celebrated with joy along with everyone down in the land of the living. 

Blessed be the mystery of love. 

~~~~~~

A/N: I LOVED this. feedback is appreciated! :)

- Talya

[dreamingabouttaron]

The Assistant Part 29

You looked down at the small shiny blue and white invitation that sat neatly in your hands. As you slowly traced your fingers over the bumpy white letters, you held tightly onto your breath. Your mind was racing. You had arrived at United Agents that morning to find a letter addressed to you sitting neatly on your desk. You had eagerly opening it to find an invitation to the Cannes premiere of Rocketman inside alongside a handwritten letter from Taron personally asking you to come along. It felt like time had stopped. You didn’t know what to do. You hadn’t seen or spoken to Taron in months. Would it even be a good idea to go?

James looked over at you from his desk, he noticed the frozen state that you were in. “Is that your invitation?” He asked quietly, clearly knowing what you were looking at. You looked up at him slowly, still holding tightly on to the piece of card. “Are you going to go?”

You released a breath that you didn’t realise you had been holding. “I… I don’t know.”

James got up from his desk and dragged his chair over to yours. “I’m going to be honest with you and I’m saying this because I love and care about you. I think you should go. I think it would be good for you to see him. If worse comes to the worst Lindy and I are going to be there with Taron doing press so I can keep an eye on things.”

You gently placed the piece of card onto the desk and looked back over the letter Taron had written for you. You ran your fingers over his hand writing. You pictured him sat there writing it out over and over. You thought back to the voicemail he had left you a few weeks ago. You felt guilty for not responding but you didn’t know what to say. You still had feelings for him. You still craved him. But you knew you could be toxic together. Would it really be a good idea to drag the past back up again?

“Megs..” James placed his warm hand on yours. “Be real with me for a moment. Do you still have feelings for him?” You looked into his eyes and he didn’t need a vocal answer. The answer was written all over your face. “and I think we have our answer.” James climbed up from his chair and dragged it back over to his desk. “I’m taking you shopping this weekend. We’re going to find you the most perfect dress.”

That weekend you met James in Central London; you trailed around a number of different boutique shops until you finally found the ‘most perfect dress’ for the premiere. The days flew by and before you knew it, you were getting ready in your hotel room in Cannes. You had been arguing with yourself for days, was this really the right thing to do? You didn’t know what had come over you. You felt so stupid. What if he was with someone else? What if he was only inviting you because you worked for him? If you saw him, what would you even say to him? A million questions ran through your head, they had kept you up at night making the room spin.

You took one last glance at yourself in the mirror before you left your room. You were dressed in a floor length light blue chiffon dress. You had accessorised with a silver bag and silver heels. The blue in your dress made the blue in your eyes stand out. You had to admit, you looked good. You left your room and climbed into the back of a waiting car. You had been in constant contact with James, he was giving you little updates and kept checking in with how you were doing. You were so thankful for his support.

When you arrived at the premiere, you were blown away with the scale of it. You hadn’t experienced anything like this. You felt like a fish out of water. It was incredibly overwhelming. You made your way straight up the red carpet and straight into the building, ignoring the craziness of the red carpet. You quickly took your place in the cinema and waited for everyone else to arrive. As the room started to fill up, your eye got caught when you noticed Tina and Guy walking in to find their seats. As they scanned the rows for their places, Tina noticed you. You felt your breath hitch. You smiled gently towards her and she waved warmly back. You wanted to run over and hug her. You wanted her comforting ways. You wanted her to tell you everything was going to be okay. You were starting to feel a little silly when you felt your phone vibrate in your lap. You looked down to see a text from Tina. I’m so happy to see you. I’ll find you and give you a hug after the film. Tina x

You felt a wave of relief wash over your body. Something so simple made everything feel better. You quickly typed a reply as the rest of the room filled up. You watched as the rest of the cast and crew found their seats. You felt more and more anxious as you waited for Taron to enter the room. You weren’t sitting anywhere near the front of the screen but just being in the same room as him filled you with a cocktail of emotions. And that’s when you noticed him. You clocked James and Lindy following closely behind a rather sharp looking Taron. He looked incredible. You felt your heart beating as everyone in the room clapped and cheered as the last of the cast and crew took their seats.

The film itself was a masterpiece. You couldn’t have been any prouder of Taron. You could finally see why he was so busy and so stressed when you were together. As you watched the scenes play out, you thought back to the filming process and the stress and arguments it caused. It brought back so many memories of Taron singing the songs on repeats for months and months. You felt overwhelmed with emotion just thinking about it, it brought tears to your eyes. When the film finished, you made a beeline back to the hotel where you were going to meet James before you made your way to the after party. You wanted to compose yourself in case you saw Taron.

A few hours and drinks later, you were standing with James at the bar. You were so relieved that he was there with you. You couldn’t have done this on your own. The party was in full swing, the drinks were flowing, the dance floor was packed and the music was incredibly loud. Everyone was having a wonderful time. You were in the middle of a conversation with James when you followed his eye line to a group of men all laughing and shouting. The group parted and that’s when you saw him. Taron.

A rush of emotions hit you, it was like you couldn’t breathe. Could this really be happening. Were you really here? You knew you were standing, but you couldn’t feel anything. You couldn’t feel your hands, legs or anything for that matter. All you could feel was your heart. It was beating, so fast you thought the whole world could hear it. Everything was so bright. Memories came flashing back. You pictured the first time you met him. You walked into United Agents and there he was. The way he looked at you and smiled. They say in the few seconds you can see a persons true feeling towards you. That’s where it all began. A friendship and love. A love that you had never felt before. You tried to calm yourself down, slowly, taking deep breaths until your breathing was back to normal and the room was no longer spinning.

The room seemed to go silent. Time seemed to stand still. There he was. Not quite right in front of you, but the other side of the room. Which quickly felt a lot smaller than it actually was. Everything was happening in slow motion. Yes, it was highly cliché; but the moment you laid eyes on him you felt something inside you shift. There was something about Taron that just...shook you. He just stood there, laughing and joking with his friends holding a beer, typical, but god did he look good in that grey velvet suit jacket.

You felt like you were staring at him for an awfully long time but you didn’t care. That’s when he noticed you, but you still couldn’t look away. His whole face softened when he saw you. Now you were just two people in a crowded room staring at each other. From an outsider’s perspective it probably looked a little weird. Then he did something, something you thought if you saw in person again it would break you. He smiled at you. A wonderful, bright smile.

Do something, you kept repeating in your head over and over again. Move. Smile. Look away. Anything, just stop staring.

You managed a little wave of your hand causing his smile to grow even more. He got pulled back into his conversation with his friends. That’s when everything came rushing back into focus. The room you were in, the people, the flashing lights, the thumping music. You could hear James calling your name beside you, but you couldn’t open your mouth to respond. You wanted to leave, you needed to get out but you couldn’t move.

You watched as Taron excused himself from his group and slowly made his way through the crowd over to you. James reached out for your hand and gave it a little squeeze before he melted into the crowd giving you time alone.

Taron stopped in front of you. You both stood staring at each other for a moment. You felt the whole atmosphere shift. There he was. You took in his features. Still exactly the same. Still the man you fell in love with.

“Hey.” He finally managed to say.

“Hey. You smiled back.

“Wow look at you. You look like a star. You’re a vision in blue.” Taron said as his eyes scanned you and your body.

“Oh, I do?” You gulped and ran your hands nervously over your frame. You felt your cheeks growing red hot.

“Hey, you came!” He said with a slight frown on his forehead. It was as if he suddenly realised you were actually stood there in front of him.

“I wasn’t sure if I should come…” You whispered in response.

‘I’m very glad you decided to come.” He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. You both just stood there examining each other. You just wanted to reach out and touch him. You wanted to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

“Megan..I.. um.. I would really like to talk to you. Alone.” He said as he leant down and spoke quietly into your ear. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but would you come up to my room with me? I think it’s the only place we’ll get some privacy.”

You hesitate before nodding and following him through the crowds. The music getting quieter and quieter as you walk away. You were glad, it allowed your thoughts to form. You wanted to be as switched on as you could for this conversation. You wanted to be open and honest, you didn’t want to hold anything back.

When you arrived at Taron’s room he shut the door behind you, leaving you both completely alone for the first time in months. Now stand in front of Taron, neither of you saying a word. Both of you building up the courage. Minutes seemed to pass, still, no one said a word.

“H-how have you been since…” Taron finally broke the silence but trailed off not knowing how to finish his sentence.

“Since that night?” You snapped. “Oh, I’ve been great. You know, it's not like I’ve spent every day for the last four months wondering what the hell happened. Wondering what I did wrong. Wondering what I could have done to have saved us.” You didn’t mean to be sarcastic and petty but yet you couldn't help it, it just came out that way.

“I’m sorry.” He bowed his head in defeat looking down at his feet.

Silence once again fell between the two of you. Moving away from Taron, you walk towards the sofa and sat down.

“Megan, I know me saying ‘I’m sorry’ didn't mean anything to you then and probably means even less now, but I really am sorry. For everything. Hurting you was something I never wanted to do.” A rush of emotions ran through you, your anger was gone. Despite everything that had happened you didn’t hate Taron, you didn’t really know how to hate him. “But, why?” He asked, his voice was barely a whisper.

“Why what?” You questioned.

“Why did you end things. D-did I do something wrong? Was there someone else…”

“No! God no, to both.” You replied quickly.

“Then why?”

“I-I” You didn’t know what to say. “I felt like we were spending more time apart than together and when we were together it was as if we were on two separate planets. We weren’t connecting at all. All we did was argue and kiss and make up. Our work schedules were just crazy and that just torn us apart even more. I thought it would be best to give you the chance to find someone who would be home when you would be. You deserve someone who you can have spontaneous dates with, someone who you could fall asleep next to every night, not every couple of months. So I decided to let you go.”

“You really are stupid you know that.” He said raising an eyebrow and laughing at your comment. “Was there any particular reason you thought I was unhappy?”

You thought for a moment before replying. “Not exactly.” You shook your head.

“Did I ever actually say that you being away with work so much was ever an issue for me?”

Once again you paused and thought about what he asked. You both knew the answers. “No.”

“But regardless, you took it upon yourself to decide what I wanted from a relationship.”

“I told you, you deserved better than what I was able to give you at the time.”

The energy in the room seemed to shift. You watched as he took a moment to take in your words. “Did you know that I wrote down all of the things you ever said that touched my heart, and when I recently read them back after all this time they still touch my heart” Taron said as he sat down on the bed keeping his distance from you. The distance between you was charged with energy. You watched as he took his phone out of his pocket to find what he was looking for. You watched his finger scroll as he read what was on his phone. He then suddenly stopped and looked at you with his wonderful wide eyes. 

“Megan. You’re on my mind, constantly” he shot at you. You furrowed your brows and frowned, not knowing what to reply. “If I’m happy it’s because of you, if I’m mad it’s because of you, everything I feel is because of you. But lately I’ve been more... sad? mad? I don’t know, but I know it makes me feel twisted inside.” You watched as tears started to fall from Taron’s eyes. You could see him struggling to identify the emotions he had been bottling up within himself. It pained you to see him like this. The sight brought tears to your eyes too.

“Do you remember our first ‘date’, you took me to that restaurant that had just opened around the corner from where I used to live…” You allowed the words to fall out of your mouth as you wiped your tears away.

“Yeah,” he paused, his face changed suddenly, a huge smile growing across his face as he remembered, “You wore that pink dress, you looked absolutely beautiful. That night I just knew you were the one.”

You felt your cheeks flush with heat, you loved that he still remembers so much about it even after all this time. You placed your head in your hands as you felt the emotions of the day catching up with you. Without any words Taron simply stood up and went over to where you were sitting. He kneeled in front of the sofa and leaned forward to hug your waist. You were both practically a sniffling and snotty mess. You held each other tightly. Touching for the first time in months. Holding each other. Comforting each other. Allowing yourselves to be there for the other person.

After some time when you both finally felt like there were no more tears left in your bodies, Taron came up from where he was almost cradling you. He cracked a reassuring smile and wiped your tear-filled face with his sleeve. He kept his eyes on you. He drew circles on your knee with his delicate hands. The movements felt soothing.

“Sorry. Everything just sort of hit me. You and me, us. Everything leading up to the break up. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m holding you back or anything. I get that you would want to move on at some point. That you have to move on.” Your voice still sounded a bit shaky and not as convincing as you’d hope for.

“You think this is what I truly want? Don’t you know me at all?” Taron looked hurt while saying this. You just shrugged while not knowing what to say. But then again here he was looking at you with those beautiful deep eyes. The same eyes you’d fallen in love with.

“I never wanted this Megan. Never. I just went along with this because that’s what I thought you wanted. You seemed so determined about it. I thought you were tired of me. I thought maybe you didn’t love me anymore.”

You were almost crying again while vigorously shaking your head at his words. You had let him believe that you didn’t love him. You moved out of the chair and slid onto his lap to wrap your arms around him in a bone crushing hug. His warmth engulfed you. In your mind you tried to hug away the last couple of months. If only it was that easy.

“I left because I love you too much Taron. I had to. The way you made me feel scared me so much. I was scared so many times that you would leave me for someone else. Someone better. I felt like I didn’t deserve you or your love. Like I wasn’t worthy of it.”

“Oh God Megan! No! I’m so sorry! I know I fucked this up from the very the beginning. I sure managed to royally screw us over didn't I?” He shakes his head.

“Hey, no ones perfect, even you.” You joke, even throwing him a wink teasing him and he laughs. You are so surprised at how all of a sudden you are so comfortable with him.

Taron cautiously reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, then gently caressing your cheek. It's like muscle memory kicks in and you automatically lean into his hand, closing your eyes enjoying his touch.

“I miss you, so much.” Your eyes dart open looking directly into his, god how you missed his eyes. You could hear the hurt and emotion in his voice. Feeling his body heat radiating off of him, you notice how close you had become with your bodies practically pressed against each other.

“I miss you too.” Responding with just as much emotion. As soon as the word left your mouth, Taron reached his other hand around your waist pulling you closer. Taron looked at you and you felt the world still around the two of you. His hands now came up and rested on each side of your face. His hands caressing your face, you leaned into the touch. He looked as if searching for something. Ever so slowly he leaned forward. You could feel his breath as he came closer. Your lips collided. His soft lips on yours. Your body knew exactly how to respond having a mind of its own. You reach your arms up around his neck, your fingers glide through the short hairs on the back of his head. It was like no time had passed. You fit perfectly together. You had to pull away to catch your breath. You couldn’t help yourself from smiling at Taron who looked just as flustered as you. He let out a breathy chuckle still holding you close to him as if you could disappear at any time.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” You don't reply with words, you just pull his lips back down to yours. Both of his hands, now around your waist, they grip you harder. Like he never wants to let you got. You secretly hope he wouldn’t.

Reluctantly you did let go. Words got caught in your throat, you had so much you wanted to say so much you wanted to ask. Almost like he could read your mind, Taron brushed the tip of his nose against your placing one quick kiss on your lips.

“Well that was something.” He whispered.

You agreed with him with a wide smile on your face. Both out of breath. The two of you couldn’t hold back a small laugh. You leaned forward and rested your forehead on his. Your hands wandered to his back and neck drawing all kinds of shapes.

“Seems like we just wasted several months of our lives.” You hummed silently feeling content.

“I think we did!” You could feel Taron’s chest vibrate from a laugh. You leaned into him wanting to be closer if that was humanly possible. This feeling right here was everything. “I love you” He whispered.

You let out a deep sigh and leaned into kiss him once more. You weren’t planning on stoping anytime soon, not that he would let you. You weren’t going anywhere. You belonged right here with him. You knew it was still incredibly early but you knew things were on the way up. You could feel it. The spark was back in your eyes and you couldn’t wait to see what was going to happen next.

Tag List - 

@primaba11erina @hitmeonmytspot @fuseburner @autumnslovex @tiffleen @y0ungandfuckingdumb @huathmoon94

A/N -

Thank you everyone for your love and support. I am very saddened to say that I have one more part left of this wonderful journey. I can not thank you all enough for all the kind words I have received. I will be opening up a request box soon, so if anyone has any requests or one shots they would like written I’m all ears! I hope you have a wonderful week x

[theartofimaginaryfriends]

Chapter 9 - Rules

Fic series: The Final Straw (HP/PJO Crossover)

Premise: Nova has a a nightmare and the teams are chosen.

Masterlist

taglist: @ilvermornymascot, @lukecastellandeservedbetter, @eva-blog-p

word count: 2,100

A/N: This break from the fic was longer than intended but I've been fixated on Hunters (Amazon Prime) and started a blog for it because there's barely any fanfiction for Hunters and that's a travesty. To make up for it being nearly a month since I last updated (I think?) I made the chapter way longer than normal, but I think I'm going to stick to chapters being around this length. Definitely reduces the amount of chapters I originally planned while keeping the timeline in check XD Hope you enjoy this very late installment!

Nightmares were a common occurrence for demigods, being nearly unavoidable. Some were stronger than others, leaving the demigod remembering every vivid detail when they woke up. Others were weaker, causing the demigod to wake up with a few details forgotten. Nova was unlucky, her latest nightmare leaving her confused in the morning.

The demigoddess stood in the corner of a dimly lit room, watching as a house-elf brought a letter over to their master, who was lounging on a plush leather couch. "Great. A letter from that wretched school. Now scram, I want dinner in an hour."

"Yes, mistress." The house-elf squeaked and scampered off.

Unable to help her curiosity, Nova moved closer to the girl and peered over her shoulder. The name addressed in the letter was blurry, but the contents spoke of the transfer program. The witch tossed it aside in annoyance and got up from her spot on the couch. Nova followed her as she stormed out of the home and into the adjacent forest.

Nova had to jog to follow her pace but stopped when the air chilled. It was dusk, but the sky darkened quicker than usual. The atmosphere changed to one that was all too familiar, and yet brand new at the same time. The demigoddess's breath shook as she couldn't contain her fear. "You've come back sooner than expected."

"That transfer program that has been rumoured is official," the girl said, clearly annoyed. "I can't just play nice and be chummy with all of them! This is complete rubbish."

"Listen, child," the voice said. It sounded like it was coming from all around them, and the voice belonged to no one in particular. Gaea was what immediately came to Nova's mind, but the voice was male. It was Ouranos, it had to be. "You said you wanted to fulfill your former Master's plans and kill that boy you keep talking about, didn’t you?"

"Yes."

"Seeing as you follow me now, you will abide by my rules," Ouranos commanded. "Go to this transfer program. Make friends with them or don't, it makes no difference to me. Follow the program, and update me monthly on what is going on. We cannot be hasty, patience is a must. When the time comes, you will help me regain my physical form, so I can destroy those wretched demigods and you can kill your enemy."

Nova watched the girl, knowing very well what Ouranos was doing. He made it seem like they were allies and working together when in reality, the Titan was in complete control. He was just going to kill her when he was done with her, and she didn’t stand a chance. "Thank you, Master Ouranos."

The sky lightened back to dusk, and the atmosphere changed back to normal. Nova found herself following the traitor back to the manor, but as she walked the scene began to melt away.

She couldn’t make sense of what she had just seen. The Sky Titan's voice was clear in her mind, but everything else was fuzzy when she woke up. Nova sat up, and placed her head in her hands, trying to process what had just happened. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Nova answered Payton, who had pulled back the curtains to sit on the edge of Nova's bed. Her arm was outstretched, holding Nova's water bottle out to her. "Thanks."

"Wanna talk about it?" Payton asked, a worried look in her eyes. Nova shook her head after taking a giant swig of water and took a deep breath.

"Not really, no," she sighed. "I'd rather process everything first."

"Maybe breakfast will help," she said.

"Ah, yes," Nova had a small amused smile on her face. "Eating. What a concept."

"Just get dressed so we can go," Payton laughed. After taking another minute trying to rack her brain for a clearer image of the nightmare, Nova got up and changed before grabbing a book and heading out.

The girls were silent as they made their way to The Great Hall, but the silence wasn't filled with as much tension as it had on the first night. While it was still heavy, Nova found herself feeling less apprehensive around her old enemy. Payton really did seem to want to be her friend, and even if last night's comment was a little odd, Nova knew in her heart that it was well-intended.

When they got to The Great Hall, the girls separated and Nova made a beeline for her usual group. She sat in between Cree and Percy, the table already in deep discussion about the teams being chosen tonight. She didn’t add much to the conversation, feeling drained. "Nova, is everything okay?"

"Nightmare," she shook her head, looking at Cree. "I'll be fine."

"What about?" Percy interjected, the group's attention shifting to The Head Girl.

"It was unclear, but I believe that one of the people in the dream was the traitor," she said. "I never saw their face, but they were talking to Ouranos. It felt more like I was in a Pensieve."

"Pensieve?"

"It stores memories," Harry explained. "Depending on the memory, it can feel like you're in a nightmare."

"And it felt like I was intruding on someone else's memory," Nova sighed. "But we shouldn't worry about that right now, there's still another eight hours for people to enter."

Nova took to people watching on the stairs again, paying more attention to the book in her hands than she was yesterday. "Didn’t realize this year would reopen old wounds."

"Neither did I," Nova said, turning to Harry. "How are you feeling?"

"Angry," he admitted. "But who isn’t?"

"You and Percy have the worst luck," she stated. "Once everything's calm, something else pops up."

"My scar hasn’t hurt, which is a bright side," Harry reached up and touched his forehead instinctively. "But it feels like it will any minute. As if I hadn’t actually killed him."

"Voldemort is dead, Harry," the witch reassured her friend. "We don’t have to worry about him."

"Just need to worry about something completely out of my range."

"Isn't that the point of this competition?" Nova chuckled darkly. "To ensure it won’t be?"

"Sound about right." Harry shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. The two of them ended up chatting for most of the day. Cree joined in later, stating that Nova's Head Girl duties have deprived him of time spent with her.

After dinner, the school settled into the balconies as if they were going through a sorting ceremony, waiting for the names to appear. Instead of Professor Tahamente making the speech, he left the floor to McGonagall. The woman managed to quiet the entire student body with one stern look, before beginning her speech. "In a moment, the fountain will reveal the teams. If your name is called, please make your way back into The Great Hall, and sit with your chosen partner. I will announce the names as they appear, and while this happens I expect there to be silence until the end."

The headmistress stepped back, and everyone watched as the fountain began to glow. The teams came up in four groups each time, and there were mixed reactions. "Harry Potter and Percy Jackson."

The two boys high fived, and happily descended down the stairs. No one was surprised at that pairing, many students finding it unfair. "Clarisse La Rue and Draco Malfoy."

Clarisse shoved past the Slytherin, making him stumble as he followed her. Draco didn't seem pleased either, his signature scowl on his face. "Jason Grace and Luna Lovegood."

A few classmates snickered, and Jason seemed a little worried. Luna was often in her own world, and to Jason, she didn’t seem like much of a fighter. "Leo Valdez and Hermione Granger."

Leo immediately tried to charm his new partner, and Hermione rolled her eyes at his attempt.  "Annabeth Chase and Seamus Finnigan."

The two walked in silence, Nova noticing the gears in Annabeth's head-turning. She never stops thinking about a strategy, even when she doesn't know the challenge at hand. "Hazel Levesque and Blaise Zabini."

Hazel glanced at her partner as they walked together, and Blaise was completely stone-faced. It was always hard to tell what he was thinking, but he had fought in the war against Voldemort with most of the Slytherins. "Nico di Angelo and Ginny Weasley."

Nova thought their dynamic would be interesting. Both were smart, but polar opposites as far as she was concerned. "Travis Stoll and Ronald Weasley."

It was almost like Ron was partnering up with one of his brothers, which screamed utter chaos. The next four teams came up quicker than the first two times, the air growing tenser as everyone anticipated who would be next. "Meg McCaffery and Neville Longbottom."

Everyone tried to hold back a snicker while watching Neville glance at the short and temperamental thirteen-year-old. Meg had given Neville a once over, before nodding once in approval and bounding down the stairs. "Piper McLean and Dean Thomas."

Dean smiled at Piper, and they started chatting in low voices. The demigoddess could tell they'd make a great team and smiled to herself. "Frank Zhang and Pansy Parkinson."

Murmurs started, and Frank was clearly nervous. He stopped at Nova and whispered to her. "Should I be worried?"

"A little bit, yeah," Nova told him. "I'm sure if you sit with Hazel it'll be fine. Blaise can keep Pansy in her lane."

"Thanks," Frank audibly gulped and made his way down to an annoyed Slytherin, who glared at the Praetor. McGonagall cleared her throat to tell the school to be quiet and continued.

"Kayla Knowles and Cree Fletcher."

Cree looked at Nova for guidance, and she assured him that Kayla would be a fantastic partner. Relieved, he left her side and met the archer a the bottom of the stairs. From where Nova stood, she could see that those two were already getting along, and it made her relax significantly. Cree was her best friend and if anyone would make sure he made it through this alive, she was glad Kayla was that person.

The rest of the teams were called out, and by the end of it, everyone was either bored or fidgety. "Would our Head Boy and Girl please join us in The Great Hall, as well as Will Solace. As for the rest of you, you may go to the lodges, and get ready for the campfire."

"Why are they asking for me?" Will asked as the three students made their way in.

"I'm guessing it's because they want the healers to be in the loop," Nova told him. "Chiron likely mentioned that you'd be an important asset."

Nova often aided the Apollo kids, and especially Will, when they needed an extra medic. The two of them had taught each other different healing techniques, and Nova supplied the camp with healing potions. It benefited them in the wars they fought within a year of each other.

"Congratulations to all of you that were chosen for the championship," Professor Tahamente smiled at the group. "There will be many trials and tribulations ahead of us, but please remember that this is about building teamwork and developing a bond that may assist us all in the future. Our first task at hand will take place on Saturday, November 21. In the Quad next week, we will set up stations for each of your teams to build a chariot together. Lucas and Nova will oversee it in shifts to ensure there is fair play. We will have Pukwudgie guarding the area during the night so that we can make sure there won’t be any sabotage.

"Will Solace will act as one of the healers on sight during the competition. The others will be Nurse Hawkins, Madame Pomphrey, and Nova Sterling. There will be no additions to the chariots that can potentially ruin another team's chariot during the race, and we will be checking for any extra charms on the chariots that could allow anyone to cheat. As for specific rules of the games, that will be revealed on game day. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Everyone chorused.

"If you have any questions in between now and the day of the competition, please don’t hesitate to ask," Tahamente smiled. He dismissed the group and stepped away from the podium. As soon as they all made it to the campfire, the teams were greeted by applause.

Some students basked in the attention, others seemed nervous. The only thing certain at the moment was that the dynamics were about to change.

[dweetwise]

day 11: crying

prompt from: whumptober pairing: felix x ace notes: all this angst is getting to me, i’m so glad tomorrow is a fluff day ;w; warnings: amnesia, implied suicide word count: 1960

If there was anything Ace had always been good at, it was dealing with all the various shit life threw his way. He'd smile and roll with the punches, not wasting time on pointless concepts like regret and what if:s.

The Entity's world had been no exception. Sure, it was objectively worse than just another poker losing streak or scam gone wrong, but since there wasn't anything he could do to change it, he just tried to make the most of it. And no, he didn’t particularly like getting chased or stabbed or brutally murdered, but in the end he was still alive and free to hang out with his newfound friends and make shitty jokes. It was the new normal, and like always, Ace adapted with surprising ease.

Until he didn't.

It had been like any typical not-day at the campfire, where a trial was taking place but Ace wasn't chosen for it. The only thing different from usual was that Ace was a little on edge, though from worry or anticipation, he wasn't sure.

Felix was the newest addition to their group, and despite only being there for what couldn't be more than a couple of months, he'd made a huge impact on Ace's life. Ace had never been any kind of clingy in his old life, but even he had to admit that he'd much rather have Felix by his side at the campfire than in a trial at the mercy of the Entity's Monster of the Day.

And maybe his heart broke a little when Adam, Cheryl and Quentin returned from the trial and Adam met his eyes and offered a pained “I'm sorry, we tried”. Ace gave a half-assed reassurance in return, and despite knowing that they always came back after a sacrifice and weren't any worse for wear, it wasn't a pleasant thing to go through.

But if he'd thought that information broke his heart, the next one shattered it into pieces.

Felix finally returned to the campfire, his look just as impeccable as ever, like he'd been preparing for an important business meeting instead of taking a chainsaw through the gut. Ace felt his fake smile give way to a genuine one, unexplainable relief flooding through him upon the confirmation that yes, even after a hundred sacrifices Felix was still alive. For some reason, Felix was frowning, so Ace made his way over to cheer him up, a witty comment already on the tip of his tongue—

“Wo zum Teufel bin ich?" Felix said, looking at him with a very confused expression that made him stop dead in his tracks.

It wasn't uncommon for Felix to revert back to his native tongue in certain situations, but it was usually only a word or two. And it wasn't like him to keep his distance from the others like this, not since befriending the group and especially not after they’d started dating.

“Come again?" Nea snorted from somewhere behind Ace, probably thinking it some kind of joke.

When Felix looked at her with clear wariness, Ace already knew what he was going to say, having seen that same exact look only months before.

“Where am I?” Felix asked, and then further twisted the knife in Ace's heart by looking back at him and adding “Who are you?”.

Ace didn't pay much attention after that. He sat by the fire while the others hovered around Felix in worry, staring at the ground and asking himself why.

Claudette came by to offer him some empty words of comfort and a gentle hand on his shoulder. He heard Bill raising his voice in the group and urging them to “calm the fuck down and let the guy breathe”. And eventually, Yui was there, kneeling before him and commanding Ace to look at her.

“He got hit with Leatherface's mallet really hard during the mori,” the biker told him, her stern expression being enough to convince Ace. “Adam and Claud said it's post-traumatic amnesia from the concussion. It's temporary.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Ace said, realizing how shaky his voice sounded, dragging a hand through his hair to try to quell his doubts.

Hours passed and Felix didn't get any better. Meg and Steve were by his side the entire time, reminiscing stories from the campfire and some of his best moments of outsmarting the killers to try to jog his memory, but nothing seemed to work.

Claudette suggested maybe Ace should talk to him, as he'd been the closest to him since he got here. So he swallowed his own grief and put on a shitty smile and shooed Meg and Steve away to sit down with Felix alone.

But when Felix started talking about how he had to get back because of his girlfriend and the baby he was so excited for, Ace had to nope the fuck out before he started bawling or cussing him out.

He avoided Felix for the entire day, playing some dumb card game with Ash he was pretty sure the other just made up, and despite his mind not being anywhere near the cards the bastard let him win. Nea was being even more obnoxious than usual, shit-talking the killers and trying to get Ace to join in, and it was really obvious that they were trying to keep him distracted, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

Then the next trial came and Dwight, Tapp, Kate and Zarina were off, and Ace was left to stare at the futile sight of Jane asking Felix about trials he had no recollection of.

“What if he never remembers?” Ace heard Cheryl whisper.

“It's temporary,” Yui immediately snapped.

“Maybe it takes another resurrection to fix,” Adam said, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Ace felt empty. The worry and fear and absolute loneliness had created a hole in his chest he didn't know how to fix, and wouldn't until Felix was back to his old self, because he would be, because that's how it always worked—

And then Dwight stumbled into camp and looked around with pure terror in his eyes and asked if they knew a way back into the city and Ace's world stopped turning.

The hole in his chest was instantly filled with grief and anguish and he was helpless to stop the sob from wracking his entire body, burying his face into his shaking hands and mourning what he now knew he'd never get back.

There was a commotion again, and he wasn't the only one who was crying, the entire group shaken to the core at their leader losing his memory and now realizing it wasn't an accident.

There were arms around Ace’s shoulders and who he thought was Laurie whispering that she's “so, so sorry, but we’ll get through this”, and if he could do something other than cry he'd have told her that no, he doesn't think they will.

The Entity had a lot of creative ways to torture them, but none of them had been enough to break him until now.

It was hours or maybe even days before Ace came to and could try to think somewhat clearly. Nancy and Adam were standing in the middle of camp, evenly explaining that they needed to start documenting everything, that the Entity had changed its rules and a death now meant forgetting everything after coming to the realm.

Some of the others were sobbing and the rest looked grimly serious, the usual laughter and outrageous stories around the fire long forgotten. Yui was hugging Kate in a death grip and Nea and Meg held each other and carried a hurried conversation with worried expressions, the couples no doubt terrified of forgetting each other.

He looked over to Dwight, and saw Jake being much more calm and collected than Ace could ever be, patiently explaining everything to his boyfriend and gently holding his hand. Dwight already looked almost as smitten as before he lost his memory, and Ace couldn't help the sharp pang of jealousy at how easy it was for them.

“So you, uh… said you left your family? Can I ask why?” Dwight asked, just as eager as ever to get to know Jake, and blushing when Jake gave a lovestruck smile and shared his life story without complaint.

How Jake wasn't a broken shell of a man like him, he'd never know.

Ace considered telling Felix everything, but what would be the point? Even if he did somehow manage to worm his way into Felix's heart again, the memories were lost forever, not to mention he’d be back to square one after Felix got sacrificed the next time.

There was a map and a piece of charcoal shoved into his hands, and Ace looked up at Zarina's usually carefully schooled features twisted into uncertainty.

“We're writing letters to yourselves,” Zarina explained. “For when—if we die, we have some guidance and know about the important stuff.”

She left him to it and he idly wondered if it would have even made a difference for Felix.

Suddenly, a new determination hit him and he started jotting down what he knew he needed to hear. His codeword for safety, so he’d know it was real. How he got to the realm and how long he'd been there. The names of his friends and the insistence that he trusted them all with his life. The few killers who were somewhat reasonable. The names of the couples and some random gossip he could use to lighten the mood.

‘Felix’ he started a sentence automatically, but then paused. A dark thought was creeping up in the back of his mind, and he knew exactly what needed to happen next. He finished the sentence with ‘has a girlfriend and kid in the real world’, before folding the piece of paper and placing it in his jacket pocket and waiting for a trial to start.

It was two days before Ace got called into a trial, and while the others were panicking and hugging each other and trying not to cry, he felt calmer than he had since this whole thing started.

“Keep an eye on Ace, okay?” he even heard Kate murmur to Bill, and it was almost enough to make him change his mind.

But then the trial started and Ace ran right into the center of the map to get chased first by the Wraith.

He was on his second hook, struggling against the Entity’s claws, with only one generator left and only one other person having been hooked. His chances were looking good, a weak killer on a strong map, his teammates pumping out generator after generator. With a much worse threat than sacrifice and resurrection looming in the distance, their determination had improved tenfold.

The Wraith was nowhere to be seen when Bill made his way over to the hook.

“Hold on, bud,” Bill grunted, slowly vaulting the window in front of him as not to alert the killer of the rescue in advance.

The last generator popped and Ace smiled for the first time in days, a toothy grin that probably came off as maniacal, realizing he could finally fulfill his plan while knowing the others would make it out.

“Ace, what are you—” there was alarm on Bill's features and he picked up his pace to a sprint, but it was too late.

“Sorry, old friend,” Ace offered before he let go.

“ACE!”

Bill's panicked scream was the last thing he heard before the claw pierced straight through his gut, and he had a few seconds of time to feel a bad for putting Bill through that, before his consciousness faded to black.

At least he wouldn’t remember any of it.

[vmheadquarters]

Welcome to… 

We're going to play a game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors will take turns telling this story. Each writer will craft a chapter (with no prior planning) and then "toss" the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected! Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Chapter One of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @susanmichelin​ (a/k/a CMackenzie). 

And stay tuned next week for Ch.2 from @nearfantastica​ - tag, you’re it! -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER ONE by CMackenzie

“Welcome aboard!” The captain of the luxury trawler, ominously named Irish Wake, greeted them on the dock with individual thermoses of hot cocoa, and dire predictions about the weather. “There’s a snow squall coming so we best be on our way– you’re my last two passengers for the night.”

Veronica managed to contain her eye roll- barely. This was going to be a very long weekend if all she had to look forward to were predictable ‘it was a dark and stormy night’ cliches. How Wallace had convinced her to make this trip North was still unclear. “Why are we doing this again?”

“Because I’m tired of watching you mope.” Wallace, following the captain’s orders, headed below deck to the saloon. It was paneled in teak and outfitted with leather banquettes and an actual, working fireplace. Wallace dropped onto the bench, leaving the seat closest to the fire for Veronica, and tugged off his gloves.

“I’ve only been home for THREE days,” Veronica said, reluctantly joining him on the sofa. She loosened her jacket and stared morosely through the windows at the gray water.

“Exactly. Three days of unwashed you walking around in a robe, wearing a sad face, and acting more pathetic than Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. I will not spend the rest of winter break listening to you sing Unbreak My Heart.”

“As if.” She leveled Wallace with a hard look. “And for the record, my heart’s NOT broken.”

“Sure, V.” Unfazed, he pulled out the multi-page invitation for this party and started reading. “The island has its own pond for ice skating, and there are--”

“Hello? Grew up in Southern California, I don’t skate.”

“You don’t surf either, so what’s your point?” He waved the expensive vellum invite at her. “They have snowmobiles, a heated pool, an extensive library, a wine cellar--”

“What no conservatory and billiard room?”

“Plus,” he continued, undeterred. “There’s a murder mystery for you to solve. You can show off your detective prowess, while I play your devastatingly handsome side--”

“Devastatingly handsome?”

“The Watson to your Holmes.”

“This is more Christie than Doyle-- And Then There Were None ring any bells? Do you even know who owns this mansion?” Her best friend was being VERY cagey about this entire weekend. “And why were we invited?”

“WE weren’t invited, I was, and you’re my plus-one.”

“So why were YOU invited? Since when do you have rich friends who can throw Gatsby-like part—” Veronica’s eyes widened as realization dawned. “NO, absolutely not, I’m not going to be trapped on an island with HIM.”

“Totally over him, my ass,” Wallace muttered, shaking his head. “You know Logan Echolls isn’t the only rich guy in the world, right?”

Veronica humphed. She could count on one hand—on one FINGER—the amount of wealthy people Wallace knew well enough he’d consider traveling to this desolate place, and risk incurring Veronica’s wrath. 

There was NO WAY she was staying. She rebuttoned her jacket, and folded her arms across her chest. As soon as they docked, she’d make the captain return her to the mainland. If Logan…  Veronica frowned. “Let me see that invitation.”

“I thought you weren’t interested?”

“I’m not.” But her curiosity was getting the better of her. There was just no way Logan Echolls would throw a lame THEME party. 

She held out her hand, and Wallace hesitated, staring at the card like he was trying to come up with a good reason to say no; but when none materialized, he relented, and passed it to her. 

This time Veronica didn’t hold back the eye roll. The first line read: ‘Mistress X’ (Seriously? What is she, a porn star?) ‘cordially invites you to a mysterious good time.’ As far as Veronica could tell, the only ‘mystery’ was the identity of their hostess (and why she loved stale cliches). And maybe-- “Who else will be there?”

Wallace shrugged. “It’s a party, Veronica. Did you forget how those work? We eat, drink, and have fun- the only mystery for you to solve is a fake one.”

Sorry, BFF, but you’re wrong-- there was NO mystery solving in her future, fake or otherwise. Even if her curiosity was demanding to be satisfied, she would NOT be staying on this island, which is exactly what she told the captain after he docked the boat, and she scrambled topside.

“We need to go back to the mainland.”

The man continued to wind the dock line around a cleat in a tight, figure-eight pattern, ignoring her demand. Or maybe he just didn’t hear it? Frigid January air howled around them and buffeted the sides of the boat, making it thump against the wood pilings. Veronica tried again, a little louder. “You have to take me back to shore.”

“Sorry miss, no can do,” he said, shaking his head. “They’ve upgraded the storm to include white-out conditions and at least a foot of heavy snow.” He stopped adjusting the boat fenders long enough to squint uphill at the imposing limestone mansion. “I just hope you kids will be safe up there all alone.”

Veronica followed his gaze. Copper-trimmed windows glowed from inside, and several chimneys dotted the black slate roof, all of them puffing billows of gray smoke into the night sky. It was both inviting and foreboding. She shook off the ridiculous thought, stomping the cold from her feet and shoving gloved hands into her parka. “Aren’t you returning to Rollins?”

“‘fraid not; I’m gonna have to hunker down in the caretaker’s cottage till the storm passes. ”  The captain glanced at Wallace who was still standing on the boat, luggage at his feet. “Let me help you with those bags, son.”

“We good, V?”

“It’s not like I have a choice.” Too bad she hadn’t paid more attention to Duncan when he’d tried to teach her how to sail, then she could take the—skiff? Scow? Sloop?—berthed next to Irish Wake, and make her own way home. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Without waiting, she left him to carry both duffels, and marched toward the house. Wallace stopped her at the front door. “Uh, Veronica, before we go in, you should know there’s a story to follow.”

“Say what now? A story?”

“Yeah, for the mystery. It’s called Murder at the High School Reunion.” He dropped the bags, and withdrew a blood-red envelope from his coat pocket. “You’re supposed to be Enid Curtis,” he added, handing her the sealed letter.

Veronica groaned. As if this wasn’t bad enough, now she had to be called Enid AND attend a pretend reunion. She ripped open the character summary. 

Enid Curtis was the high school outcast. She couldn’t wait for senior year to be over so she could escape her hometown. Immediately after graduating, she fled to New York and became a successful lawyer, but she never got over her one true love, Mason. Enid is attending this weekend in the hopes of rekindling their relationship, but a dark secret—

“You are so going to owe me for doing this,” Veronica said, skimming the rest of the contents to confirm she wasn’t the killer. “I’m thinking YOU will be the one driving to Stanford every single weekend from now until the time I graduate.” 

“Haven’t I been doing that?” 

“Yes, but now you’ll do it without complaint.” She shoved the red card into her messenger bag. Depending on how many guests and bedrooms, she could have this solved in under an hour. All she needed was to search everyone’s things to read their dossiers. “So which high-school stereotype are you? Wait, let me guess-- class president? Teacher’s pet? No, no, I’ve got it, you’re the new transfer student!”

“You disappoint me,” Wallace said with a sad head shake. “Obviously, I’m the lovable jock- Brady Huddle.”

“Bad puns too? Could this weekend get any worse?” She entered the house and got her answer-- yes, it could. In fact, the party completely bypassed ‘worse’ and went straight to intolerable as she crossed the threshold into the living room. Dick Casablancas was behind the bar (natch), pouring a liberal amount of vodka in a collins glass. A probably-tipsy Gia, who was draped over Luke Haldeman, giggled at Dick, and Veronica’s eye twitched. Hell. I’m in hell.

She scanned the rest of the room, searching faces. Very familiar faces. 

Cole was lounging on a leather Chesterfield the color of old parchment, his arms spread across its back like he was trying to redeem the lost souls of Rio, and blathering on about the Ivy Club at Princeton. Listening to him with rapt attention was Kimmy, who looked eerily like a dead Meg. Obviously she was still going to Fantastic Sam’s with Meg’s picture (and maybe even a trip, or ten, to Dr. Griffith’s office).

Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall and in front of them stood Carrie Bishop, sipping a white frothy confection from a punch cup.  Her bored expression was reflected in the darkened panes as she absently nodded at Susan Knight.

“Who’s the girl about to be swallowed by the fireplace?” The carved-limestone monster was massive. Its mantle towered over the unknown brunette’s head and the firebox was tall enough for a man to stand inside.  

“That’s Alexis Link,” Wallace said, wearing the same moony expression from senior year when he pined after the perky cheerleader.  His sudden interest in this party now made sense. 

“Don’t even think about leav—” The warning was too late. Wallace was already on the move. She sighed. If the weather wasn’t clear by tomorrow morning, she was going to need a new escape plan.  

Someone playfully bumped her elbow, and a frisson of excitement shot down her spine. Please let it be, Logan. Her eyes flew to the window to see the person behind her, and she had to fight to control her disappointment when she identified Casey Gant.

“Welcome to Whispering Rock, Veronica.” He jutted his chin toward the non-existent view. “It’s not much to look at right now, but during the day it’s pretty impressive-- a pond, trees, mountains.”

“Is this your house?”

“God no, it’s way too rural for my parents. I think my mother might literally die if she was this far away from civilization… and a Starbucks.” He smiled. “I got here early and went skating with Susan.”

Veronica nodded, then schooled her features into a mask of disinterest. “So is this everybody?”

“You and…”—not remembering Wallace’s name, he skipped right over it—“...were the last to arrive.”

“Oh.” Any interest she may have had completely evaporated. What was the point without Logan? Could she swim back to shore? Throw herself into the freezing water and hope for the sweet escape of death by exposure? “Guess I’ll go find my room.”

“Do you want me to get one of the maids to bring your stuff up?” Casey glanced at the lone duffel at her feet. “Or did the butler already take your bags?”

“Veronica travels light.”

Logan. She whirled around to face him. It had been over seven months since she’d seen him last (seven months, nine days, and five hours, give or take) and she deserved a little ogling time. She drank in the visual. His hair was shorter, his shoulders a little broader, and his arms… woof. 

Her head tilted. “Hey.”

His smile was slow. “Hey.”

Her fingers itched to touch him. To reassure herself he was actually here. Missing him these past months at Stanford had been a physical thing. Before she did something foolish, she tore her eyes away, and leaned down to grab her bag. Straightening, she blurted, “Are you Mason?”

“Echolls. Logan Echolls.” He pulled a mock-sad face. “Have you forgotten me already?”

As if. She was never going to forget him. Or get over him. Or move past him. She knew this. Even if she’d never tell him. “I meant your character.”

“Shouldn’t you know? I mean I am your great love.” 

“True love.” She frowned. “And Mason is Enid’s true love.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to.... But I am surprised you had to ask. Haven’t you already searched everyone’s rooms, or were you going to do that next?”

She flushed at how quickly he’d guessed her strategy. Was there such a thing as knowing someone too well? “Says the original snoop.”

“Takes one to know one.” His hand closed over hers and he took hold of her bag. “I’ll show you to your room-- it’s right next to mine-- and I can tell you about the other players.”

Logan took a step toward the stairs and the lights went out. A scream pierced the sudden silence. Veronica identified the direction of the ear-splitting sound (near the windows) and her head swiveled in that direction. It was too dark to identify the person (her guess was Susan), but the cause of her fright was plain to see. 

With the darkness inside the house equal to the night sky, the view through the windows had changed. Moonlight and a battery-powered lantern illuminated the pond. A body lay in the center of the ice, still and unmoving.  

“The game is afoot,” Logan whispered near her ear.

“Who’s the dead dude?” Dick asked, as he passed in front of the dim-glow of the dying fire to move closer to the windows. “We’re all in here.”

“Maybe it’s one of the staff?” The suggestion came from the vicinity of the bar; Veronica guessed the speaker as Gia. 

“That’s lame.”

Veronica was forced to agree with Dick. It was lame. Why bother to set up all the backstories and character histories if you weren’t going to use them for the plot? She unsnapped the front pocket of her messenger bag and withdrew two LED flashlights. After clicking on hers, she passed the other to Logan.  “Guess we’d better go take a look.”

A smile flirted across his lips as he took the Maglite and tipped his head towards the door. “Lead the way.”

Wind whipped through the entrance, tearing the knob from Veronica’s grip and pushing the door wide. Logan caught it mid-swing before it hit the wall and held it for her. Obviously the captain’s weather report wasn’t just part of the story. Heavy snow was beginning to fall and a thin shroud of white already covered the ground. 

Veronica slowed her pace, taking tiny steps across the slick flagstone to the lawn. Icy flakes pelted her face, stinging her cheeks and making her eyes tear. A wide path was cut through the center of the grass leading directly to the water’s edge. 

They trudged along. Each slippery step treacherous as the snow continued to build. Veronica kept her eyes focused ahead. The body on the pond had yet to move. Its stillness rang warning bells in her brain. It was too cold out here for a partygoer, or even an actor, to remain that motionless. 

She stopped on the berm and glanced over her shoulder. Everyone had grabbed coats to follow her and Logan outside. All of them still believed this was a game. “I think you need to stay here,” she shouted over the wind. “And I’ll go—”

“Steal all the clues?” Cole scoffed. “We should all go examine the body.” He moved around her and took a step onto the ice.

Logan angled the light to see Veronica’s face and frowned. His gaze slid toward the body. “Let me go first,” he said, brandishing the flashlight in Cole’s direction. “No sense for us to be wandering around in the dark.” He enveloped Veronica’s hand in his. “Ready?”

Together they started across the frozen pond, inching closer to the body.  It was bathed in light from a camping lantern. The green lamp was on its side in a puddle of red. 

Blood. 

Veronica tightened her grip on Logan’s fingers when she saw the face of the corpse. A bloodied ice skate was near the top of his head, and a deep gash ran across his neck.

“Nice makeup job, dude.”

“I don’t think that’s makeup, Dick.” Logan played his flashlight over the scene. There wasn’t much to see. 

“Hey, that’s my stalker from senior year- Leo somebody,” Gia gushed. “Well, he wasn’t like, you know, an actual stalker, stalker, but he followed me around, and I definitely think I was his type.”

“Young?” Carrie said, without any trace of humor. 

Veronica didn’t have any doubt, but she needed to be sure. She let go of Logan’s hand and used her teeth to pull off her glove. Gingerly, she stepped closer to the body. Careful to avoid the blood, she bent down and felt Leo’s wrist for a pulse. “He’s dead.”

[lifblogs]

Title: Livin In You: Chapter 7

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: Explicit (for later chapters)

Pairing: Destiel

Summary: Castiel is a mental health worker who is just fine with the way his life is. The only thing that really bugs him is how much his co-worker, and friend, Meg, mentions Dean Winchester, the most famous rock star in the modern age. Meg drags him to a concert, and he ends up getting tied into the wild and angsty life of Dean Winchester. Suddenly his old life seems boring, but so much calmer. Suddenly, it matters to him that he's still a virgin. Suddenly, this rock star that he despised the mention of, now matters to him.

Dean Winchester is a rockstar who's on top of the world when it comes to music. Yet there's more that he wants. He misses Lisa and Ben, he craves connection, craves being himself. Any hope for that amidst his alcoholic life all changes when Zachariah, the head exec of Heaven's Records, pairs with a new exec, Michael Edlund -- the Archangel of Music. Under Michael's dominance, he's no longer in control of his own life. There are rules. No more sex with fans. No more alcohol. And in Dean's view, no more god damn free will. Yet he stumbled into Castiel.

A/N: They finally meet!

Buy Me a Coffee!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Meg had gone to a hotel after the performance, but Castiel wasn’t ready to sleep. He needed to calm down, needed to get his ears to stop ringing. And was his heart beating too fast? Maybe the concert had been a natural high. Or too much stimulation all at once for someone who’d never been to such a thing before.

He shook his head, feeling an ache coming on behind his eyes, and he pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

“Would you like honey with that?”

Castiel breathed in and out evenly, and took his hand away from his face to look at the college-age student working behind the counter at the café he’d stopped at.

“Uh, yes please,” he responded, hoping that it would get rid of the scratchiness in his throat. Besides, honey was good, and Castiel loved bees. Ironic that he’d found a café that was called “The Beehive.”

After paying for his tea, and waiting a few moments, he was given a cup with a cartoon bumble bee on the side, its previous flight path designated with a dotted line coming from the end of its body.

Castiel took a seat by one of the large windows, and sipped at the chai he’d ordered. He breathed deeply, trying to get himself to relax. He felt the hot cup in his fingers, heat radiating down the appendages, even singeing his fingertips a bit.

About to take another sip, Castiel was startled from his reverie, spilling hot tea all over his abdomen and legs as there was a loud crash from outside. It’d sounded like thunder, and then screeching.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Castiel had crushed the cup in his surprise, and hot liquid was also on his hand.

He grabbed a bunch of napkins from the table, trying to hurriedly mop himself up, even as he stood to see what all the noise was. His skin twinged and burned.

“Fuck!” he heard from outside, and then a car door slammed shut.

Oh no, was that Castiel’s car that was rammed into in the back? Had someone seriously ruined his 1978 Lincoln Continental? There was a black car that seemed mostly free of damage, stuck in the end of his car, the metal crushed against the gleaming frame.

“Oh god, sir, do you want me to call 911?” the barista asked, her voice panicked, phone already out.

“Not yet,” Castiel told her, still mopping himself up. “I’ll see what’s going on.”

Wind blowing against the flurry of napkins in his hand, he stepped outside.

And he stopped dead when he saw who was prowling about the two cars, swearing his head off.

No, no, no, he begged. No, no, no, no, no.

But no amount of begging and pleading changed whose car that was.

The celebrity ripped off his leather jacket, and threw it through the window of the 1967 Chevy Impala, and then kicked Castiel’s car before starting to try and pry them apart. Metal squealed, but they didn’t budge.

“Uh, sir, that’s my car,” Castiel told him.

“It was in my way!” he yelled. And then he tried to straighten, and swayed.

Dean Winchester met him with hard eyes, but then they soon zoned out, looking slightly to Castiel’s left.

Oh! Oh, he was drunk!

Typical. Of course a celebrity was drunk after a big performance.

“I was parked on the side of the road, you… you… assbutt!” Castiel argued. The tea that had been spilled on his clothes started to chill in the night air, and he stuffed the remaining, and somewhat soggy, napkins, in the pocket of his too-tight jeans.

“Assbutt. Okay. And some side of the road,” he huffed. “Now come on, help me pry ‘em apart.”

Stunned, Castiel got up beside him, and started to push at his car, as Dean Winchester did so with his own. It didn’t escape Castiel’s notice that Dean’s right hand was poorly bandaged with a blue and white bandana.

After a great deal of struggling, nothing happened.

“Great. Just great,” Castiel told him, surveying the scene with lowered brows. Dean had collapsed across the hood of the Impala, seemingly strung out and definitely drunk. “I gotta call the police.”

“No, no, don’t!” Dean urged, righting himself with a lurch. He reached out to Castiel, grabbed him, and Cas just stared, not sure what to do. “You gotta help me, buddy. I can’t have the police here. Then there’ll be paparazzi, press. It’ll be a mess. Please. I’ll… I’ll pay you.” He let go, Castiel squinting at him in befuddlement, and Dean began to go through his pockets. “How much you need for the damage? Or uh, a new car. How much?” He pulled out a wad of cash, and started going through it, fingers clumsy as he counted. “Uh… six thousand? Seven thousand?” He slammed it against Cas’ chest, and he found he had no choice but to accept it. “Here. Here, take it.”

Castiel stepped back, confused as he clutched the money in his hand.

“Is this seriously your life?” he asked. “You just make a mistake and think you can get rid of it with money?”

Dean shrugged, almost fell and sat back against his car. “No.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, hoping the look would prompt him to go on.

“Okay, not most of the time. I just need help.”

“Yeah, you’re drunk.”

“Smooth observation, baby.”

Baby? When had he decided to call him baby? Cas couldn’t decide if that was inappropriate or not.

“Look, I’m a mental health worker,” Castiel told him, slowly approaching. “I can help you get sorted out, at least for the night. You shouldn’t be out here, or on the road.”

“Ha, my brother would say the same thing.”

“Maybe you should listen to him.”

“What about your car?”

Castiel eyed the money, and held it up. “Well, you paid me.” He gave a couple thousand back, too stunned and shocked to even think about how much money he was holding and said, “I only need repairs. This car means something to me.”

“Yeah, mine too.” There was silence as Dean took the money back, and then they stared at each other.

“How come you’re not freaking out?”

“I am.”

“About me, I mean. You know who I am, right?”

“Yeah, you’re Dean Winchester.”

“Oh.”

“And?”

Castiel went around to the driver’s seat of his car, seeing if he could start it up, thinking he could drive it a few feet, get it out of this bit of wreckage.

That idea worked, once he signaled for Dean to get out of the way, and the drunk rockstar finally realized it.

“Now what?” Dean asked.

Castiel was shocked that he was the one supposed to be taking the lead here, but Dean stood with his arms crossed, looking towards Cas. How had he suddenly gotten authority?

“We could go our separate ways,” Cas suggested.

“You said something about helping… about helping this.” Dean pressed at his head like he himself was the problem.

It was Dean, per se. Alcoholism was a mental disorder, but aside from sobering him up, he couldn’t fix him in a night.

“Don’t you have a bodyguard or something?” Cas asked. “Or uh… what are they called — handlers?”

“Waiting for me at the hotel. Told ‘em I needed some air.”

Castiel held his arms out. “Well, you got it.”

“Can you help me?” Dean asked.

“You just crashed my car! And you were driving, drunk. It’s beyond me why I haven’t called the police on you yet. I don’t even like you!”

Dean’s face fell, crestfallen.

“You don’t even know me.”

“Exactly.” Castiel looked around, and observed himself as well. This tea all over him was super annoying, but he told himself it was just in the moment. It wasn’t a big deal. And his car, well, he could get that fixed. That was a big deal, but he’d already shown anger about that, so it was time to get himself to focus on dealing with it. Coping. That’s what he always taught his patients. He hadn’t reined in his reactions like he should’ve, but he could control what he was doing now. He even tensed and relaxed a few different muscle groups as he stood there, letting his body know he was fine. “But, I can’t just let you be alone like this. You could hurt someone, or uh… someone could hurt you, I guess. You have an address for where you’re staying?”

Dean licked his bottom lip, bit it, and then started digging through his pockets. It took him awhile to find the right pocket, and then to find what he was looking for. He handed Cas a horribly crumpled piece of paper with faded lettering, but he was able to make out the address.

“Uh… my car’s not going anywhere.”

Dean pat the hood of his car. “And I’m not leaving Baby behind. Just let it get towed. We’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

Cas, with keys in hand, looked at the Lincoln Continental. He’d had it forever, had gotten it from his dad, Chuck, who then up and left. It was all he had left of him, aside from some family photos he didn’t like to look at. Could he just leave it like that?

“It’s…”

“Just call a tow company now if you want,” Dean said. “And we’ll be gone before they get here.”

“Insurance is gonna want to look at this,” Cas said, leaning down to get a look at one of the headlights that seemed like it was close to just dangling off.

“No, no!” Dean responded in a panic. “We can’t have that.”

“Don’t you have a guy for this or something?”

“My people don’t want me out. Uh, hold on.”

Dean got out his phone and then walked a distance away before pacing back and forth. Castiel heard him muttering, “Pick up, pick up, pick up!”

Cas didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he was soon able to hear one side of the conversation. He stayed by his car, trying to pat down his clothes with napkins some more.

“Look, I know you told me not to call… No, I’m not at the hotel… And you are?... Come on, I got into a mess… No, a girl is not involved… Uh, maybe a guy?... Okay, look, not in that way. But insurance is gonna be all over this, and I was wondering if you could…?... Yeah, I want you to make it disappear… Well, if you don’t, Zach’s gonna rail me!... Please, for me. I’ll uh, I’ll do anything, even hook you up with someone… Okay, right, duh, you don’t want that. Look, I’ll owe you a favor… Yeah, of course I can follow through with a favor… Just help me out here. I’ll be in serious trouble if you don’t. I’ll give you the details after, alright? Towing company, everything… Yes, it was Dad’s car… No, it’s not ruined. The other guy’s car is, and no, he hasn’t called the police… You think he should call the police?... Sam! Ugh, I’ll get back to you tomorrow, and you’re gonna help… Fine… Fine!... Love you, bro. Bye.”

“Who was that?” Castiel asked.

“My brother. He’s gonna clear this up. Call the tow company, and he’ll take care of insurance.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows, getting his own phone out, which he realized had gotten spilled with the tea. And it was refusing to work. Great.

“Mine’s… not working,” he admitted. “Can… Can I…?”

Dean rolled his eyes, but held his phone out.

Castiel used it to call, ignoring how it was a much better model than his own, and was running on very high speeds. The battery probably cost more than his month’s salary. It seemed custom made.

He gave him the phone back when he was done, took one last look at his car, and then held his hand out for the keys.

“What?”

“You’re not driving.”

Dean put a hand on the Impala near the wind-shield.

“You’re not touching her.”

Cas put his hands in stuffed, damp pockets, trying to seem nonchalant, but really feeling irritated, tired, and awkward. And the headache from earlier was pounding at him with full force.

“Alright, good luck then.”

Dean grabbed his shoulder as he passed, and Castiel nearly gasped. How had he not realized how nice his hand was before? Wow, that was a gorgeous hand. Cas wondered if his own hands were bigger. For some reason the idea of that made him feel a bit warm.

The rockstar sighed, and then handed him the keys.

“Not a scratch.”

“Promise.”

[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

HNNNN @megatraven

This is a weird AU to imagine, but it’s not a complete AU?? It ties in with my art MC AU thing. So like I said in my art MC AU thing, she goes to an abandoned building to paint during the Hera thing.

So I imagine her just painting one room completely black (idk she has a lot of pain it’s a small room??) and then she’s like “well...better get used to it.” Because at this point, she believes she’s going to die. She just believes there’s no point. She’s in despair. She remembers when Hera almost took over.

It was dark. Nothing to be seen, so this black room is just a memory to her. She believes this will be all she sees for a long time.

She suddenly begins to feel drowsy, so she sits down and actually falls asleep.

She wakes up not to the room, but actual darkness. She calls out but only hears her voice echo. Then, every insult the gods have ever spoken to her echoed out from the darkness.

Ares telling her she’s a “distraction”, Zeus calling her weak, and more voices echo out. It hurts her ears, she tries to lessen it by covering her ears with her hands, but it doesn’t quit. Because of the shouts, she gets angry, and gives a little shout as she falls on her knees and bangs her fists against the dark ground. She can see her fists in front of her and she breaks down.

She just can’t help it. She feels so weak and lost. The darkness surrounding her makes her mind mess up. She hears whispers saying, “you’re not good enough. You aren’t that important to anyone anyway.” After hearing them, she eventually starts to agree with them.

However, after her tears seemed to have stopped, she opens her eyes to see not the dark ground she saw before, it was a marble floor. A very familiar floor. She looks up and sees that she’s in Aphrodites estate. She gets up and looks around confused. “How?” Before she can really say anything, she hears the heel clicks of someone to find out it’s Aphrodite. She tried to speak, but behind herself she hears a child’s laugh. She turns around and low and behold, she sees her but also her mother. But it’s not her now, it’s her when she’s around 6.

Little MC lets out a gasp and runs towards Older MC. She is a little shocked and stands still, for Little MC to go through her and Old MC hears Aphrodite let out a laugh. MC turns around to see Little MC being swung around by Aphrodite. Old MC is in a little bit of shock. She wonders if she always did that. She then sees her mom walk towards Aphrodite and Little MC (she must’ve passed through Old MC too) smiling and laughing. Suddenly, the room around her turns back to darkness, to come back to the same room, but this time Aphrodite and Little MC are on the couch.

Aphrodite has Little MCs head resting on her thigh and she’s talking. Old MC has to walk a little closer to hear, but what she hears is very sweet.

“You know, youre very sweet for a kid.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, people aren’t always this kind and friendly. I’ve seen enough of it.” Aphrodites features turn to sadness.

“Alex is very honored to be your friend, and so am I.”

“You’ll let me be one of your friends?”

Aphrodite lets out a laugh and she looks a little sad at the idea of Little MC not knowing Aphrodite is a close friend of hers. “Of course I’m one of your friends and you’re one of mine. Not just your moms, silly.” Aphrodite moves hair from Little MCs forehead and leans down to kiss her head. Aphrodite continues to stroke Little MCs hair, as if she’s trying to get her to sleep.

Then it suddenly blackens and reappears in another room. It looks like Aphrodites personal room. Old MC looks around in awe at the sight of the jewels and how beautiful the room looks. She hears a little “wow” and sees Little MC doing the same thing. She also sees Aphrodite right beside her, smiling at her excitement.

“Can I try on that necklace, please?” Little MC is looking at Aphrodite with the biggest puppy eyes Old MC has ever seen. She didn’t even know she could do that good of puppy eyes to even a goddess. But she believes at the beginning of knowing Aphrodite, she didn’t even know she was a goddess. She just remembers her being her moms friend.

“Alright, come here and I’ll help you put it on.”

Old MC watches as Aphrodite pulls out a pearl necklace and puts it on Little MC. Old MC lets out a little laugh at how it is too big for a 6 year old, but also at how Little MC is so excited. Aphrodite laughs and so does Little MC. Old MC notices how happy they both seem.

But MC knows she’s close to Aphrodite, but now she knows it’s not just because of Alex. However, MCs spirit is still in despair. She knows one goddess’ opinion won’t hold back Zeus and the whole pantheon.

As if wherever she was knew that, it suddenly blackened again to only show her in Olympus’s hallway. She looks around to see Little MC (same age) and her mom walking towards her with excited faces. Once they get closer, she can finally hear them.

“Momma, are we seeing Ms. A and Alex today?”

“Sorry, sweetie. She’s a bit busy. But we can see another one of my friends! His name is Hades.”

Old MC puts a little smile on her face at the mention of Hades. She wonders if this is where she met Hades for the first time.

It blackens again, to show an office, with said god at the desk and Little MC giving him a big hug. Old MC can’t help but feel embarrassed at her younger self being so affectionate and not being professional. However, it blackens again to one of the rooms in Olympus surrounded by tables. In one of the tables, MCs mom, Aphrodite, and Hades are all there talking. She looks around a little confused as to why she’s there, but sees Little MC trying to “sneak up” on Hades. Old MC lets out a sigh as this embarrassing memory happens in front of her eyes.

Little MC runs her hands through Hades hair and Hades tells her, “I know you’re there.” She laughs as she sees Little MC run away to who knows where. As she’s laughing, it blackens once more, to show Hades holding Little MCs hand, and it looks like he’s giving her a tour.

MC has to walk so she can keep up with them but she hears Little MC ask Hades something.

“Do you think I’ll be a good agent here?”

Hades laughs and looks at her and he looks truly confident and proud. “Of course. I think you’ll be one of the best agents here.”

Little MC breaks out in a happy laugh and pulls Hades hand so he can reach down to give her a hug.

“Thanks, Mr. H!”

Old MC realizes that she must’ve started that and it’s why Josh whenever he sees Hades or Aphrodite, he says “Mr. H” or “Ms. A”.

Hades laughs and pats Little MCs head while he’s in the hug. However, Little MC pulls away with excitement and reaches into her little purse she has with her and pulls out a purple notebook. Another memory of her own hits MC. She remembers that when Hades asked her questions about Alex with their yearly review, he pulled out a purple notebook exactly like that one. “No way...” Old MC whispers out. She guessed maybe she did know Hades but didn’t remember it.

Hades thanks her and they continue to walk, but pass jokes with each other. Old MC laughs at some of them and watches as Hades guides Little MC through H.E.R.A.

It blackens once more, but nothing shows up again. MC begins to have a little bit of panic. She wants to wake up. However, a voice calls out to her.

“It’s okay, MC. You’re gonna wake up, but I had to remind you of things you forgot and give you a little bit of encouragement.”

Before she can ask anything, she opens her eyes to the black room. She stands up and goes back to her paints, knowing that this room isn’t gonna stay dark for long. She gets gold paint, white paint, silver paint, and blue paint.

She paints Alex’s gold pendant with her blue heart necklace they gave her. Both of the chains are wrapped around each other, symbolizing their lives matching together and how they will be together forever. Then, she paints the ring Alex gave her right below the two necklaces. Then, MC paints a white silhouetted family. She makes them look just like everyone she considers family. Hades, Aphrodite, Alex, May, Josh, and her mom.

She moves on and paints “Hope” in big, white letters, with flowers and tree branches and plants surrounding it.

She sighs as she stands back and looks at her work. She’s filled with determination and not the darkness doesn’t look as bad as it did before. She leaves with her carrying her paints home, but she’s also carrying determination and thanks that voice and what was shown to her.

Does this make sense?? No. But did I imagine it for a long time after getting those headcannons from you??? YES. I don’t think AUs have to 100% make sense but here. This is one way my AU of art MC goes. This wasn’t the original idea so the original idea is coming whenever I get it planned out bc irs also just as weird DJWNDBEB. But yeah take this and love you Meg. The headcannons of theirs that I used in this post can be found here. Go give it a like but that’s it for right now. The rest of the actual AU should be coming soon or something when I’m not so busy.

This old house is gonna be done on Monday thank God

[niphre124]

Roses.

Written for Raoulstine Week. 

What if Raoul had been older then Christine?

First Meeting.

In this world, it's Gustave Daae that Raoul de Chagny is friends with, as Raoul is 40 years of age, and 10-years-old Christine sees him as an uncle. Still, he is the first to dive into the waves to fetch her scarf, and she rewards him with a kiss on the cheek.

Hannibal.

<p>When Christine sees Raoul again after ten years, she is a beautiful flower of a girl, and he is thirty years older then her. This time, when Meg asks her if she knows the new patron, Christine does not say they were childhood sweethearts. Instead, she says, ''He was like an uncle to me.'' and Meg remarks how handsome he still is at his age. His smile-there is something in his smile that pulls at her heart.

Think of Me.

When Christine sings, Raoul recognizes her instantly, and heads out to buy her a bouquet of flowers-lilies, and pink roses. He smiles, and goes along with the managers to her dressing-room, and leaves when they are not looking. She sits there, clad still in her fairytale princess-like dress of white satin overlaid in star-studded tulle,holding a rose in her hands that seems very likely from an admirer.

''Hello.'' he begins, and she turns to look.

''Is it- oh, it's good to see you!'' she exclaims and runs to embrace him.''Uncle.'' she teasingly calls him.

''There's no need for that anymore.'' he says, and presents the flowers to her. ''Oh, they're beautiful!'' she sniffs them, smiles at him. She walks over and places them in a vase, arranging them nicely. Then she turns and waits, hands clasped in front of her.

He smiles.'' You sang beautifully tonight. I think the angels would have wept to hear you.''

Christine smiles. ''Is that all?'' She looks as if she expects him to ask her out to dinner, and indeed, if he were a younger man, he would have done so. But he is not young anymore. He knows what could happen to her reputation if he does. So he merely bids her good-night, and Christine must take comfort in the nearness of her Angel.

Il Muto.

As Raoul heads to confront the managers about the letter he received, he is stopped by a masked figure. While he cannot see the face, he wonders who the man is to talk to him.

''Who are you, sir?'' he questions.

''No one at the moment.'' the man replies, his voice low. ''What business do you have with Miss Daae?''

''Her father was my friend.'' Raoul answers.

''She's grown, hasn't she?''

Raoul nods, and feels confused. This conversation is going nowhere. ''She's very lovely.'' he says after a while.

''You care for her.'' the man remarks.

''Yes, as an uncle. Nothing more than that.'' With that, the conversation is over, and Raoul heads towards the stairs.

Rooftop.

When the stagehand is hanged, Raoul runs to find Christine, to make sure she is alright. Why? Because- no, he cannot think such a thing of her. She finds him, and pulls him towards the stairs. ''Hurry!'' she urges. ''He cannot find us!''

Who? Raoul wants to ask, but does not. When Christine wants to, she will tell him.

Once they reach the rooftop, Raoul must stop and take a breath, as he is a little tired from running up all those stairs. Then he walks over to Christine. ''Do not be afraid. I'm here.'' She steps closer. He holds out his arms, and she throws her own around him.

It is the sort of thing a uncle would do, he is sure, and he desperately tries to ignore the beating of his own heart.

She pulls away, and he kisses her forehead.

''Take me away from here?'' she asks, and he cannot refuse.

''Of course.''

She tilts her head, looks at him. ''Can I say something?''

''Anything.'' he affirms. He is not prepared for what she does say.

''I love you.'' she says, fingering the edges of his evening jacket. ''I suppose I have always loved you, ever since you rescued my scarf from the sea. I did not think to harbor such feelings for so long, yet it was only when I saw you again at the Hannibal rehearsal that they began again. Please, I don't care what people think, but I believe that a marriage ought to be based on love. Couldn't you-'' she looks at him with those eyes, brown and large like a doe's, ''Couldn't you love me, too?''

Raoul stares at her in shock. ''Christine, for God's sake, do not say such things to me. Please! I could not bear it.'' he steps back from her, and she stares at him. ''I'm much older than you.''

''Aristocratic girls marry men much older than themselves. There's no difference.'' Christine pleads. ''If you cannot love me now, could you try to love me?'’

He cannot refuse her any longer. ''Very well, then. We'll have a pretend engagement.''

 Masquerade.

Christine must accept the idea of a fake engagement, even though it makes her heart ache.

Still, she laughs with Meg, and they gossip about what the wedding will be like, even though she knows there will be no marriage. Every time she sees him- she thinks of running away, to avoid the heartbreak of it all.

But she does not, and time passes.

There are times when they stand next to each other, and his arm brushes hers or his side touches her own, and he stiffens. She thinks that he might feel something, but the next minute, he is gone.

Her dress for the masquerade is pink silk satin, with a tulle overlay and tiny rosebuds at the neck and sleeve overlay. She is a princess, and Raoul comes as a soldier. It is like the stories, where the knight swears to guard the princess.

Everything is happy, everything is joyful, until the Phantom shows up and Raoul runs off to get his sword, hoping to finish the monster off. But Christine dashes off after him, holding her skirts. 

''Raoul, you shouldn't!'''

''Why?'' he questions, almost furiously. ''You care for him?''

She shakes her head. ''No! I care for you.'' Still so stubborn in that one respect. Still so stubborn. She takes his sword away from him, places it carefully on the floor. ''I don't want to see you get hurt.'' she tells him, stands on her tiptoes, and presses her mouth to his. He stands there in shock, and his mind says to pull away, this is wrong-but his heart tells him to kiss her back, to give her what she wants. Give Christine what she wants is what he does, his mouth meeting her own in a gentle need-and it's not enough for a girl who has experienced her first kiss from the man she loves.

Raoul cups his hand to the back of her head, deepens the kiss and his other arm winds around her waist, pulls her closer.

One of her hands presses against the satin of his costume, and she can feel his heart, that beats as fiercely as her own. 

He stops-this is not right, not at all! He pulls away, picks up his sword quickly, even though his hands shake. 

''That will not happen again.'' he says firmly.

Graveyard.

It is very early in the morning when Christine wakes up, and for a moment she smiles, remembering his mouth on hers, the way he'd kissed her, as if he could not help himself. ''Oh my darling.'' she whispers. ''Oh my dear heart's darling.''

She starts to go back to sleep, but then she hears her Angel's voice again. Not now.she thinks.Not after what happened.Still, she gets out of bed, and she is halfway down the stairs, passing a sleeping Raoul, when he mutters something in his sleep, and she turns. 

He cannot have said that. 

He says it again.

''Christine, I love you.''

She steps towards his sleeping frame, brushes a few strands of hair out of his face. ''I love you.'' she whispers, and he starts, jerking his head away from the wood. 

''What was that?'' She pulls her hand away, and hurries to the stables to fetch a horse, when he catches up to her. It is most improper, as she is still in her nightgown with a shawl wrapped round her, and he only in a loose shirt and pants, but still, they ought to talk.

'Where are you going?'' he asks, voice still thick with sleep.

''To the cemetery to visit my father's grave.''

''I'll come with you. Get dressed.'' She hurries back inside and pulls on a black velvet dress and tucks a black scarf into the neck, for it is cold outside. 

She returns, he helps her onto the horse, and they head to the graveyard. She finds her father's grave, whispers a prayer, and places a bouquet of roses on the stone.

A phantom's plans have been thwarted, and he will not stand for it.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Cross My Heart - CH.12

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: Flangst

WC: 2347

SERIES MASTERLIST

The next day Dean had moved her to another safe house and they had spent the two days far away from anyone. She didn’t really ask him why, not that it matters to her anymore, anyway. They have everything they need here and they didn’t want to risk going into town and expose her to the public eye. Not when Chuck’s plan comes to an end today.

Dean texted Chuck this morning, telling Chuck their coordinates but it was the one from their second safe house. Not this one. He does have something in mind and even though he hasn’t told her about his plans, she thinks she kind of knows. 

The safe house they’re in now is apparently not really a safe house. Dean said he spent a lot of time here and it’s close by a lake. They took a stroll there once and she liked it. Likes the quiet of it and somehow when she was there, standing by the lake and breathing in the fresh air, it felt like her problems were all gone. 

She doesn’t know what’s going to happen next. Only knows that they don’t want to go back to what they were. There’s no going back. Not after all she’s been through. 

When it’s safe for her to go back, though, she’s determined to find a lawyer and divorce Chuck. She doesn’t even care about the money, it was never about the money. It was about Chuck’s reputation all along and the only loser in this is going to be her. Because she’s sure that Chuck will be able to turn this all around and make out that she’s the one to blame for the divorce. But strangely, she’s ready to take that fall. Maybe because she knows that Dean’ll have her back, no matter what.

Dean has fucked her on every surface of their new cabin, and has made her come more in the last days than she ever did in the marriage with Chuck. But it’s not only about that. It’s also about the way he treats her. He never made her feel uncomfortable, never did pressure her into anything and it makes her wonder if a relationship should be like that? She never knew anything else than what she had with Chuck. 

While Dean’s still in the showers, she decides to cook them breakfast. She hasn’t cooked in a while, though, kind of hopes that it’s going to be edible at all.

She turns the bacon in the pan and jumps up when she feels an arm coming around her waist, before Dean lays his chin on her shoulder.

“Smells good,” Dean whispers, “Could eat you up.” His other hand that’s not around her waist slips beneath her shirt, and she doesn’t wear any panties, which grants Dean a super easy access. 

“Dean,” She chuckles as he kisses along her neck, his scruff tickling her. His other hand palms over her ass, squeezes it lightly. She gasps, letting her head fall back against his broad shoulders, “I’ll burn them.”

He kisses along her cheek, “It’s not my fault you look so fucking delicious,” His hand goes between the crack of ass cheeks, toys with her pussy from the rear, “No underwear, too. How am I supposed to resist you like this?” He dips two fingers in easily, she’s still plenty wet from his teasing in bed this morning, right before he pushed himself up and went to take a shower, leaving her hot and bothered.

Dean’s a total tease. She had learned this the hard way. And apparently, his willpower is stronger than hers.

“Dean, the bacon,” She warns him, doesn’t really want him to stop though. She keens, arches her back, wants more of it. 

He chuckles, his chest rumbles and she can feel the vibrations on her back. Taking his fingers out, Dean licks at them. She turns her head and he grins cockily, “You’re right. That would be a waste of bacon if you’d burn them,” He kisses her forehead and helps her set up the table as if nothing happened. As if she wasn't so close to coming on his fingers. 

They eat in silence and Dean’s kind of absent. She can see that bodyguard Dean’s back. Can see it in the tense of his shoulder. He frowns more and is more lost in his thoughts. 

Y/N offers to do the dishes afterwards, leaving Dean time to do whatever’s on his mind. He starts up the laptop, they still haven’t heard anything from Chuck yet regarding the coordinates Dean sent out. But she also knows that Dean has a plan because he’s typing away at something on his laptop. It seems like he’s chatting to someone. 

After she’s done the dishes, she sits down with him and watches him work on his firearms. He’s cleaning them and checking them up. It looks so easy, Dean calloused fingers working swiftly. She bets he can do it blindly and she blushes when she thinks where his fingers have been moments before. 

“Am I turning you on?” There’s that cocky smirk again and he’s full on looking at her while his hands are still working on his gun.

“No?” She says but she blushes some more, has to squeeze her thighs together to ease the throbbing that she feels between them.

Dean sorts out a laugh, “Liar,” With his next breath he asks, “Can you handle a gun?”

It’s her turn to grin, her lips stretched big on her face.

“Not mine, Christ, Y/N.” He almost rolls his eyes.

“Oh,” She giggles, “Then no.”

“Maybe you should learn how to use one.” 

“Yeah,” She says, “Maybe,” But actually she doesn’t want to. She can barely cook without hurting herself, she doesn’t think having access to a loaded gun will be any good.

Dean looks back to the gun, assembles it quickly before he works on his other one. She doesn’t know why he has so many. 

“You ever killed anyone?” She asks, and then thinks that it’s a really stupid question because he’s an ex-marine and was deployed, and of course he killed at least one other person, he must have. 

His face changes and there’s a growing crease between his eyebrows, “Yeah,” Dean says. It’s almost a whisper, “Yeah, I have.”

“In the war?”

Dean nods, and turns his gaze back to the gun. 

She doesn’t press further, just sits there and watches him. And after a while, Dean starts to talk again.

“I was on a mission, we’re twelve of us. And it was all routine until there was an explosion that blocked our way and they came jumping out from their hiding spots. We were surrounded without an escape.”

Dean takes the cloth and wraps it around his finger, dips it into some kind of grease and starts to clean the gun with it, “More than half of us didn’t get out of there. And I was with Cas.”

“Cas is an ex-marine too?”

He chuckles lightly, “Yeah, doesn’t look like it, though. He had some troubles adjusting when we came back and he’s been battling his inner demon since.”

“You do too.”

“More than you know.” Dean clears his throat, “Cas got stabbed in his thigh on that day. A young guy launched forward and I tackled him to the ground. Everyone was struggling at keeping the enemy at bay and as far away as we could, and I straddled that guy while bullets were still raining on us.”

Dean grips his gun a little tighter, the white of his knuckles showing, “I still remember the look in his eyes. He was maybe barely legal, and while I looked at him, his face turned white. All I could see was the fear in his eyes. He was so fucking terrified and that’s when I thought, he’s a human being too, y’know.”

She nods.

“And then I thought that the last thing he’ll ever see is my face, and that’s no way to die. The last thing you see should be of someone you love and not of someone who’s going to shoot you in the head. I decided to quit right then and there. I don’t want to be at the receiving end, if I can avoid it.”

Dean sniffs a little, tears pool in his eyes and she gets up, walks around the table to stand next to him. She lays her hand on his shoulder until he tilts his head towards her, leans it against her stomach and she cradles his face, strokes his head. 

“But now you’re still working a dangerous job.” She says because it’s true. He could get shot either. 

He lets go of the cloth and his gun, wraps his arms around her waist and stares up at her, his chin resting on her stomach, “Not every bodyguard job is the same. 99% of it it’s just me trying to protect people from crazy fans. There’s nothing really dangerous about it.”

“I’m sorry.” She says, feeling guilty to have dragged him into this. 

“Don’t be,” He turns her around in his grip, makes her sit on his lap sideways and noses at her temple, “Besides, I think after this is done, I’ll quit.”

“You will?” She asks him and he chuckles, kisses her cheek.

“Yeah,” Dean’s voice is low, the bass transfers over to her body, “I met this girl and I think, when this is all over, I’ll ask her out.”

At the mention of a girl her heart drops into her stomach and there’s a momentary numbness but then her lips spread into a small smile upon realization, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I don’t know if she would say yes, though.”

She turns her head, kisses his nose, “I think she will.”

“You think so?” He raises his eyebrows. 

“I know so.” Her hand comes up, paints along Dean’s face with her thumb. There are so many freckles, and she thinks she’s memorized them all by now.

He replicates her smile, holds her just a little tighter and rests his chin on her shoulder, “I wanna take you out properly. Take you places you wanna go. Wanna walk around, holding your hand. Wanna take you to meet my friends, and I wanna meet yours, if you — ”

Dean gets interrupted by his phone. 

It’s an unknown number to him because he frowns but she knows the number by heart. It’s Meg’s.

“Meg,” She whispers and Dean picks up, putting her friend on speaker.

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?” Meg’s voice is loud and furious.

“Woah, Meg, calm down, will ya?” Dean’s almost equally loud but maybe because Meg is so loud. She’s sobbing on the other end, too.

“You killed her, didn’t you? I’m on my way to the police station, by the way, don’t even think that you can get away with this!”

“I killed who?” Dean growls.

“Y/N!”

It’s then that Y/N speaks up, “Meg, I’m okay, nothing happened to me. Don’t go to the police!”

“Oh my god. Oh thank god, you’re alive. You’re really okay? Oh my god!”

“I’m really okay,” She gets out from Dean’s lap and stands next to him, one hand on his shoulder to calm him down because she can feel his blood boiling underneath, “What makes you think that I’m not okay?”

Dean’s already typing in her name in google and clicked on the first link that shows up. 

  BREAKING: A SEVERED RING FINGER WITH WEDDING RING SENT TO FAMOUS RECORD MOGUL CHUCK SHURLEY

  The article mentioned that Chuck has identified the finger as hers and there’s a picture of the engagement ring and her wedding band. 

Her jaw drops.

“Y/N? Still there?” Meg asks between sniffs.

“That’s total bullshit!” Y/N cries out, “I haven’t worn my wedding band in ages except I had to play the happy wife.”

Dean’s been awfully quiet. His lips are pressed into a tight line. 

“Why would someone do that?” Meg asks, “And why doesn’t Chuck say that you’re safe with your bodyguard?”

Dean clears his throat, “Because if Chuck says it was me, he’ll be going down himself. He’s not a fucking idiot, unfortunately. He knows that I have all the evidence that I’m hired to keep her safe and he got all the updates on our whereabouts by texts and emails.” 

“But whose finger is it? Ewwww,” Meg sounds disgusted, “And why?”

“Meg,” Dean says, “Does anyone know that you have my number?”

“No,”

“Good, keep it a secret. Don’t go to the police. Play along, be the distraught friend. Don’t reveal to anyone that Y/N’s safe and sound. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Y/N hears Meg squealing on the other end and even Dean has to chuckle at that. 

“Right, Meg, please, please stay away from Chuck until I know what’s going on, okay? If you stay away he won’t be able to bother you to ask if you’ve heard from me.” She tells her friend.

“Of course.” Meg says, “Alright, I need to go back to work then. I’m so glad that you’re okay. I love you.”

“Love you, too. Bye.”

Dean disconnects Meg and they both stare at each other, neither of them know what to think about it.

He pinches at the bridge of his nose, “How did he get the rings?”

“I have them in my jewelry box. I didn’t take them with me. Where do you think he has got the finger from?” 

She places her hand on her stomach, feels nauseous just thinking about it. 

“I guess we’ll know when the finger has been examined. Unless he succeeds in manipulating the test results as well.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” She feels her tears pooling, one of them drips down her cheek. She doesn't even want to cry. 

He stands up and wraps his big arms around her, making her disappear into his chest, “I don’t know. I don’t like it but I got you, alright? We’ll figure it out.”

CH.13

[gwenore]

The Demon’s Opera house. Chapter 11.

Chapter 11: Christine and Erik have an heart to heart as they start to grow closer to each other. 

---

Christine had been able to reach the evening post with a letter to Raoul as well as getting to speak with Meg who was luckily still awake. It had not been easy to explain her reasons for how she acted… but luckily Meg was just happy that she had a change of heart.

She had asked if she was worried about her tutor’s reaction to her missing a session. It was a good an explanation as any…

“Where did you get that ring?” Meg exclaimed looking at it, Christine quick to pull her hand away, rubbing her finger gently.

“A present… from my tutor,” she muttered softly. “But… I should hurry back. I will see you early tomorrow.”

Meg again was surprised at her friend’s actions… yet it all seemed to come back to this mysterious tutor…

The need to keep him secret.

Who could he be?

And then there was that she carried a ring of his… it certainly did not look like any promise ring which she had ever seen, black as coal that it was… but… if he was eccentric, which he surely must be… it was not impossible.

At once Meg’s mind went to all the scandals which so easily happened to the woman who earned the adoration of men on stage.

Yet Christine was not the type of woman to fall for the charms of such men… no he must be a musical genius of sorts… that being what drew her towards this man.

But… why keep it a secret if she was indeed engaged as the ring would suggest?

Meg knew that she had not been sleeping in the opera house for some time… though… she could not remember anyone having seen Christine actually leave… could her lover be someone at the opera house?

If that was the case… Meg could not think of who… but she was certainly going to find out!

---

After her talk with Meg, Christine had rushed over to the nearest largest mirror where Erik helped her to the other side. They didn’t speak much on the way back down, but the air was easier between them than it had been in quite some time.

Like the bad feelings had been aired out…

Of course there was much left to discuss between the two of them. However… both of them were exhausted and decided to simply have a simple meal before crawling into bed. Christine rested on the bed in her night gown as every light in the chapel went out so that again she would not see him once that mask was removed and he had to lower his guard.

She listened to his movements, trying to imagine what he was doing and what he looked like. She let out a long breath as she felt him climb up behind her.

But like before… he didn’t reach out to touch her… that distance still between them.

Christine’s eyes closed, and despite being exhausted, sleep would not come… her head was simply too filled with thoughts…

Slowly she turned around and was met with those softly glowing red eyes, the only thing that she could see in the dark. Christine let out a soft hum as a slight smile came upon her lips as even from his eyes alone she could see he was surprised.

“Cannot sleep as well?” she questioned. Due to her movement, they were now laying closer than before.

“I suppose…” he murmured softly.

“Are you in pain…?” Christine was rather concerned reaching out her hand towards his chest, but his hand grasped her, stopping her fingers from reaching him.

“No…” however his voice was rough and trembling.

“Are you certain?” she whispered, feeling how his hand gently caressed hers, running his fingertips slightly across the ring, Christine feeling an odd tingle shoot up her arm.

“Yes… you need not worry,” he whispered. Christine stared into those demonic eyes, not moving her hand away.

“Why… why was it so important that I carry your ring?” she asked, daring even to go so far as to lean even closer to him.

“It…” he murmured softly.

“For among humans… I am certain you know the meaning of it…” she tried to discern the features of his face by the light of his eyes.

“It…” he stuttered as he let his hand fall from hers, avoiding her gaze. “… I just wanted a promise… a sign… that I would no longer be alone…”

Christine swallowed, before she slowly reached out her hand, knowing that with the way they lay, his demon side was pressed against the pillow. She felt him holding his breath as her fingers brushed against his forehead, moving up towards and letting them gently brush though his hair.

“I wish I could show you that you are not alone, Erik…” she whispered softly, continuing to stroke her fingers gently through his black hair. He was practically trembling under her hand.

“Do you wish for me to stop…?” she asked, wondering if her touch was detestable to him. She felt him shake his head.

“Please… if you would… please continue,” he whispered softly. Christine gently smiled towards him nodding her head.

“As you wish…” she whispered, slowly tracing down his face, feeling his sharp cheekbones gently. His breathing shivered as he reached up his human hand, resting it on her forearm, as if he was pleading with her not to remove her hand.

Christine let her hand continue down, allowing it to rest on his neck just below his jaw bone, continuing to stroke the skin there gently.

“Life has not been kind to you… has it?” she simply whispered to him, feeling that despite he was clean shaven, there was prickling sensation where the stubble had started to grow.

Erik did not respond, simply tightening the grasp on her forearm tighter. Christine continued to gently stroked that area below his chin gently.

“How about we… talk… a bit?” she then asked. “We have talked a lot I suppose… but we haven’t truly gotten to know each other… there is still this wall between us…”

She felt his hand move up her arm slightly, caressing the silken sleeves of her night gown.

“I suppose… if you wish…” he said softly. “What do you wish to know?”

Christine thought for a while… of course there were several questions which she had been bursting to ask for a while now… about demons… all the implications that carried with it… however…

It was a sensitive time now… she would have to pick her questions carefully.

“You know so much about music… I have never met anyone who has such passion nor can play or sing like you can… but where did you learn?”

He let out a soft hum. “I suppose it is from my father’s nature… several humans have called upon him… to have him teach them the arts… to grant them the ability to reach what they have always thought was out of reach. The curse of the artist… no matter what they do… they will never be satisfied… and some are willing to sacrifice everything in a hope to reach that satisfaction…”

He shrugged slightly. “Does not end well… as the moment it is reached… the artist loose their reason for life…”

“That is… dark…” Christine whispered softly.

“I suppose… the other part is that I grew up in an opera house… even if I could not participate… I was always surrounded by music… it was my only comfort…”

Christine swallowed softly… “I… I think it is more than that…”

“Oh?” Erik questioned.

“Yes… I have stayed with you for quite some time already… I have had time to watch you. You work hard on your music… there is quite the concentrated look on your face when you play or write… you have a real passion for your work… despite your… born talents… that doesn’t take away from the work you put into your music,” she spoke honestly. Watching him work… it drew Christine closer to him. He became alluring to her…

However if she were to approach he would quickly stop what he was doing, even hiding his writings from her.

Erik had to swallow so that he would not let his voice betray the tears which ran down his cheeks. Those words… they had hit his heart deeper than the wound he had created.

“Thank you…” he murmured softly. Christine nuzzled against the pillow softly.

“I mean every word of it…” she smiled softly. “I would like to see what you have written… perhaps even sing some of it… if you would feel comfortable about it…”

She hesitated slightly as she saw how those eyes looked at her.

“I would… I would enjoy that most ardently…” he then said with a slight tremble in his voice. “I have to admit most have been written with you in mind…”

Christine’s heart skipped a beat. To think that someone had spent so much time composing something for specifically her to sing. It touched her and she felt her cheeks fluster. It was… was it not what she had ever wanted? It was… her dream… was it not?

To have someone adore her so much… that was so inspired by her… that they would compose music for her?

“I am looking forward to it…” she smiled softly towards her.

Erik had to clear his throat. “And you? Have you always wished to sing?”

Christine had to think for a bit. “I believe so… my father was a musician… a violinist.”

“I know of him… he played here more than once. He was a very talented musician,” Erik nodded his head. Christine had to let out a chuckle.

“Coming from you that is high praise indeed! I have heard you criticize just about everyone in the entire opera house!” she exclaimed, Erik himself having to let out a chuckle himself.

“Hmm… nothing which is not warranted…” he then muttered. Christine had to raise a slight brow at him, not certain if she agreed with his statement.

“Anyway… he took me on his travels… I grew up surrounded by music… and I fell in love with it. He encouraged me… he truly was a friend and a teacher as well as a father…” she said softly.”I was happy…”

Her eyes fell slightly as she let out a sigh.

“But… such times do not last… and he passed away… leaving me all alone. Luckily I had been taught ballet as well… so Madame Giry got me work here… but music has always been my true passion. I got to sing in the chorus and now I have an actual part. I know it is small, but…” she smiled. “I am truly excited for it…”

He let out a soft hum.

“I am truly happy for you… you deserve that part… and everything else…” he murmured.

“You have been very supportive to me…” she told him softly, continuing to gently scratch him with her finger nails.

“I adore you… truly… you are an angel…” he whispered softly. Christine chuckled as she shook her head.

“I don’t know about that…” Christine laughed softly. “I am far from an angel…”

“You are the closest that I will ever come to one…” came the murmur from the demon. Christine’s breath shivering a bit as she realized that he was truly damned simply by the actions of those that brought him into the world.

She could not answer him… not knowing what sort of comfort that she could give him when she could not save him…

His eyes slowly closed, lost in the gentle touch. Slowly his grip on her arm loosened and fell to the side as his breath slowed to the point she knew he was asleep.

“Good night Erik… I hope you sleep well…” she whispered, but did not pull her hand away from him. With his eyes closed… she could not see him… but she remained awake for some time… simply looking ahead into the darkness to where she knew he was before she too succumbed to the world of dreams.