this makes taylor laugh so hard and i love making her laugh

“Troop Leader” Part 11

Summary: How will your father handle the fact that James Buchanan Barnes is the one mending your broken heart?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Papa!Tony

Word Count: 830

A/N: We are almost to the end! Probably three or four more parts! Both taglists are open.

Troop Leader Masterlist

Originally posted by duckbuttt


“I have a way for you to make it up to me then.” Bucky said with a huge smile.

You signaled for him to continue.

“Go on a date with me?”

“Get better first. Then, maybe we will see about a date.” You told him smugly.

He sighed, but agreed to your terms. He was just looking forward to his date with you. He needed to have patience because he knew you were worth the wait. You gave him a kiss on the cheek and went to go grab some food for the both of you. Once you were fully out of sight, Tony snuck in.

Bucky was shocked to see Tony. He never would have thought he would come and visit him, but once he started talking, he knew it wasn’t a get-well visit.

“Listen, Tin Man, I don’t want you dating my daughter. She might’ve forgiven you for your past, but I’m not there. She’s been through too much already. I don’t want you adding to the pile of people that hurt her. I’m tired of her crying herself to sleep at night. I’m tired of her not being happy. I don’t want you with her.” Tony practically yelled.

Bucky had no idea how to respond. If only Steve was there to help him. The only thing he could think of was trying to defend you.

“Tony, I get it, I really do. But can’t you see that she has been happy. I don’t think you’ve seen her smile so much in only an hour. I don’t want to hurt her. I will try my best not to, but I want to be with her. She’s the most beautiful dame I’ve ever seen. She’s sweet, kind, and caring. Taylor didn’t deserve, and I don’t either, but I’m going to try my hardest to make her happy.” Bucky told your father.

Tony took a deep breath before giving his answer,

“I swear to God, if you hurt her I will not hesitate to remove your arm. Again.” Tony warned him.

“I would expect nothing less.” Bucky laughed out.

They might have had their differences, but loving you was something they had in common.

 You had caught the last bit of the boy’s conversation. You let out a huff of laughter at your dad’s warning. He has always been the dramatic type. With a smile gracing your face, you pushed open the door to Bucky’s room. You had a plethora of food with you. You had no idea what he could and couldn’t eat at the moment. So, you got a variety of soft and hard foods for him to choose from. Both men smiled as you entered.

“Alrighty, I got a bunch of food for you to choose from, Bucky. I don’t know what your doctor wants you to eat, but I just got something of everything.” You said as you laid the food down on the rolling tray.

“What would I do without ya, Doll?” Bucky asked before digging into his feast.

“Probably starve to death. I think that’s a safe bet.” You laughed as you took a bite of the sandwich you had bought for yourself.

You heard Tony let out a laugh behind you, “Your damn right he would. I’m gonna make my way back to the tower. The Terminator over here is gonna need a new arm and Bruce needs my help building it. I’ll see you both later. Hands to yourselves and keep it PG.” Tony warned before backing his way out of the room.

You and Bucky let out a howl of laughter, but stopped when Bucky winced. His fractured ribs made laughing painful. It would soon be healed, then he could laugh at your sarcasm and jokes again. You made yourself comfortable on the small hospital bed next to Bucky and continued to eat in a comfortable silence.

“Ya know Doll, this is technically our first date, but look at us. We are having a meal and cuddling together. It’s hard to deny the fact that this a date.” He said with a combination of his Brooklyn accent and a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him and said, “You really want our first date to be in a hospital. I was thinking using the whole movie room in the tower and ordering pizza and then maybe you getting lucky.”

He choked on the sip of water he was taking. You laughed at him as he kept on coughing.

“You can’t just say that to a man, Dollface. Your gonna give em’ a heart attack!” he exclaimed.

“Well, if you couldn’t handle that, then you definitely wouldn’t be able to handle me in bed!” you laughed out at him.

He groaned and hid his face in his hands. The poor guy was embarrassed. You kept laughing at him until a voice interrupted,

“That’s not keeping it PG, guys!” Tony’s voice bellowed out.

Of course he could still hear you.

Permanent: @imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes

Series: @arabellaaurorabarnes

(Bolds wouldnt let me tag)


YAY REQUESTS! Could you write a spence x reader where the reader is a badass, and introduces spencer to her friends which makes him really nervous about their relationship since he’s such an adorable lil geek? THANK YOU ILY  -Anon

Pairing: Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1929

Warnings: none really

A/N: I kept most of the requests from the old blog and will be doing them here. I have been working on this one for a while and since school is over, now i have some time to myself to write. I hope you guys like this, and share it with your friends :)

Originally posted by jeichanhaka

Keep reading

Engagement- Andre Burakovsky

Originally posted by bennonmymind

Ok this one is kinda long (sorry?)! I really like this prompt. I know I say this every time but you all are giving me really good prompts so can you blame me??? This is the last Andre requested so far, but keep on the lookout for other players! As always, enjoy! And anon I changed the prompt a little, I hope you don’t mind!

Warning: alcohol, mention of balls

Anon request: if youre not bored of writing andre, i’d love to make a request! though if you are i totally understand and its okay if you decide not to do it! i was thinking one where andre and his gf have been together for like 6 years or so and everyone on the team adores her bc shes just like the sweetest person ever and they love them together and theyre super cute and so andre finally proposes and everyone is so so excited for them that they throw a surprise engagement party for them on a day off :)


Keep reading

Movie Affair

Chapter III

Current obsession; Aaron Taylor-Johnson.

Summary: Life as a young actress was hard, but when you get a part in a promising movie and reunite with the man you’ve fantasized about since you were 15 things get harder. At first it’s like every dream you ever had is coming true. But reality pulls you down from cloud nine as you start to fall for the one guy you weren’t supposed to.

WARNINGS: Mentions of alcohol and pregnancy, lots of “God” and “Oh My God”.

A/N: In this chapter the reader and a friend talk about two real movies I do not own the credits to. However the reader’s characters come from my imagination.


Aaron drove me home after exchanging numbers to keep in touch before starting to film. Right now I found myself alone with all the thoughts I’d pushed to the back of my mind since seeing him.

I owned what they call a micro apartment, it was very comfortable and cute. As I walked in I drop my stuff in the kitchen counter and fall onto my couch. Pressing my face against a pillow and wiggling the shoes out of my feet like a little girl. “Im going to hell” I say against it but it comes out as a muffled groan.

There’s a knock on my door and I groan louder. Standing up I open the door slightly, hiding behind it. I sigh relieved when I see my neighbour Kelly outside and let her come in. “How did it go?! Did they tell you what part you’re gettin yet?” she asks excitedly dropping sat on my bed. I smile sadly and walk over to the couch. Giving her suspense. Kelly was a 24 years old hair dresser I met moving in, she was a sunshine and the mom friend type.

I look at her as she waits for a response impatiently. “I GOT THE SECOND MAIN CHARACTER!” I yell and she jumps excitedly in her place, cheering me. “That’s so great Y/N!” she exclaims. I smile widely, I loved having someone understand my excitement. “You are looking at Agent…” I make a pause, trying to remember the name of my character “Carsey? Cassidy?” I frown to myself, none of those were right.

“Oh my God you forgot” she giggles and shake my head, c'mon I knew I could get it. “CARINA! HA!” I stand in victory shaking my shoulders “With a C” I specify pointing at her, moving towards the kitchen. “I’ll make us a drink” I say turning towards the fridge, Kelly was a sucker for the sweet alcoholic drinks I used to make every now and then. I bend to get a better look at the contents on my fridge and Kelly slaps my butt. You could say she was my bestfriend, but it’s not like I had any other friends in New York.

“Actually…” she trails off and I look at her raising my eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna take off with your boyfriend again!” I scold standing straight again, she bites her lip but shakes her head. “What then? I have so much to tell you….” I trail off putting a fake sad face, she was gonna abandon me before I even got to tell her about Aaron.

She is trying to contain a smile as she reaches for the back pocket of her jean. Her big green eyes staring into my own as she shows me a pregnancy test. Every expression banished off my face I freeze. Did it say positive? Did it say negative? Who knows? But because she is showing me - after I offered her alcohol- I assume it says positive. A little unsure and stunned I look at her wide eyes. “You’re pregnant?” I ask very softly, hoping not to make a fool of myself. She smiles even more and nods “I’m pregnant!!” She jumps in place and I hug her immediately.

“That’s… great, I hope your boyfriend gets happy!” My voice sounds as unsure as I am, she let’s go and chuckles. “Y/n believe it or not there are people who want kids” she says mocking my startled state. I laugh and scratch my cheek, “I know its just that…” she stops me by raising a hand. “You’re young, you don’t see it now.” I shake my head laughing even more. “No! It’s just that if one of my friends came to me saying she was pregnant I’d expect tears and regret and all that…“ I dramatize with my hands “I just forget how old you are” I tease and she pushes my shoulder back.

“But really, those are big news Kel. I’m very happy for you” she gets a huge grin. “Sooo, let’s make a milkshake instead” I propose turning towards the fridge again. “Oh yess please” she says sitting on the counter.

I take out everything I had to make a milkshake as I tell Kel about Aaron. “Oh the guy from Savages right?” she asked and I nodded, oh boy I loved him in that movie. I told her everything since I ran out of the cab until I got back home. After many “Oh my God I can’t believe you know him!” and “Oh he is SO HOT” she finally asks how did we even met. “Filming an Avengers movie, had many scenes together” I tell her. “You are in a super hero movie?!” She asks and I snort.

“You didn’t know this when we became friends?” I ask her and she opens her mouth but stays silent for a minute. “I did not! Do I look like I watch super hero movies? I just thought you were in that show you moved here for.” The sound of the blender interrupts her and I smile, she puts a poker face knowing I did it in purpose. “I just make special apparitions on that show, I have a contract with Marvel.” I tell her over the sound of the blender. “I’m a demigodess that can poorly control ice” she gives me a smug smile and I know she’s about to say something stupid. “Like Elsa?” her eyebrows dance up and down and I roll my eyes.

The blender stops and Kelly hands me two glasses. “Anyhow, point is unlike Aaron my…” I stop mid-sentece and squint my eyes, a devilish grin appearing on my face. I look at Kelly as I hand her a glass of milkshake. “Do you wanna see the Avengers movies?” I ask kicking an eyebrow up and down. She takes a sip and licks her lips “Sure”. I smile, internally celebrating.

I was about to do two things. First; introduce her to MCU and make her love it. And second; make her ultimately love Pietro so much she wouldn’t even see his death coming. I smile to myself setting up the tv. What? I was a fangirl, I was going to make her suffer with me.

“Was wondering…” She trails off getting down from the counter. “Could I like, throw this in your bin?” I turn my head and she holds up the pregnancy test, I nod repeatedly. “You peed there, why are you still holding it?” “I want to surprise my boyfriend. Don’t want him to find out by seeing this in our bin when he comes home.” She says as she disposes of it on the small trash bin hidden under the counter.

“Sure, barely use it anyway.” I say sitting in my bed careful not to spill the milkshake. “Let me go get my movie blanket” she says and I laugh, getting her middle finger as she disappears behind the door onto her apartment. My phone buzzes and I answer it without looking. “Hai” I greet with a half-full mouth.

“Hey” a deep male voice greets back laughing. I choke on the milkshake and cough loudly sitting straight.

“Aaron” for a moment I’m shocked “checking if I gave you the right number?”

“Nah. Just looking through the contract still…”

“Oh yes? See something interesting?” I ask and he hums unsure.

“We got a kiss scene darlin’ ” my mouth falls open to his words. Without thinking I put the call on mute and squeal, putting the milkshake down I jump from the bed with the phone in hands.

“OH MY GOD! OH LORD I GOT A KISS SCENE!! OH MY GOD ” I’m ecstatic as I dance around to a song only I can hear. “I GET TO KISS AARON!! GOD THANK YOU!” I yell like a fucking 13yo But something pulls me down from my cloud.

“Hello?” It’s Aaron’s worried voice. I breathe a bit and chill.

I put my most serious face in order to relax my tone “Hey! sorry, my neighbor is here and I didn’t want her to know anything about the movie before seeing it” I say completely achieving a calmer tone. God I was a good actress.

“Oh alright. Well just letting you know little one, in case you’re not comfortable with it.” I see Kelly run inside my apartment with wide scared eyes. I shush her putting my finger on my lips violently and she sighs throwing her head back.

“Ok first you’re gonna have to stop calling me little one A, It’s gonna get weird.”

“I know you’re saying that so I quit it. I will not”

“Ugh you’re a pain” I joke.

“Deal with it big girl”

“Oh please” I roll my eyes and after seconds of silence we both end up laughing. Once we’ve stopped I say “Honestly I don’t have a problem with it, you?” God don’t let him have a problem with it pleaaase? I get on my knees on the couch and make faces waiting for his answer.

“Not at all little one, it’s the job.”

He sounds like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. Neither do I for a minute, hoping he’d gather the courage to say it. But perhaps it was just my imagination.

“Y/n movies are waiting” Kelly says loud enough for Aaron to hear it on the other line. I fall back on Earth and nod without looking at her. “Sorry about her, she’s excited that I’m about to introduce her to our acting” Kelly passes behind me and slaps my shoulder as a complaint.

“Say nice things about me, he’s hot.” She fake flirts and Aaron chuckles, used to the attention. “And you’re pregnant go away” I tease turning to see her and she flips me off.

Aaron’s laugh fills my ears. “She freaking flipped me off” I complain and he laughs harder.

“Tell her I like her”

“You’re both so mean to me!” I complain and Kelly snorts.

“Cuz you’re little” she says and I gasp.

“OHH! I heard that! I like her even more!” I laugh throwing my body on the couch and putting Aaron on speaker, peeking Kelly’s interest.

“I’m never letting you two meet” I mumble

They both laugh. “It would be a nightmare, I can see it”

“Yeah cuz little one’s are easy to bully” I frown at my phone, Kelly laughs without a sound.

“Aaron I’m your friend!”

“Kelly can be my friend too” he flirts and my eyes roll to the back of my head.

“UGH, old people” they both laugh again. FOR REAL?!

“Well I’ll leave you girls to it, wouldn’t wanna steal your friend Y/n”

“She already likes you more than she likes me!” I joke

“Das not truee” she says and I smile, taking the speaker off.

“Better not be, he doesn’t make milkshakes like I do” I reply and Aaron chuckles. “Hey, well see you soon then”

“Real soon little one, have fun” “Bye” and with that he’s hanged up. My mind immediately runs back to his news. I jump from the couch “Oh my God Kellyyy” I sing and she looks at me. “You like him” she states and I frown. “What!? No!”

She raises her eyebrows, not buying it. “Ok then what were you gonna say?” I stop and think. If i actually told her how excited I was about this kiss scene she was going to think I did like him. “Ugh!”

“See? You do like him” “No I don’t” I crawl in the bed and sit down next to her. “I am just getting my first kiss scene” I say low. “Is it with him?” she smirks knowingly and I groan throwing my back against the wall.

“Knew it” she teases putting the movie on play. I pause it again. “I Don’t!” Her eyes turn to me “This is stupid…. I might just have a teeny tiny desire for him” I explain and she frowns “Like… sexual.. desire?” “Yes like sexual desire Kelly” her mouth falls open.

“Oh you WANT him” I chuckle “Shut up” I say playing the movie and laying down next to her.


“You’re an ass”

“I know” I say handing her another tissue. She pushes my hand away. Ok she’s just mad, not crying anymore.

We sit in silence as the credits play in front of us. She turns her head to me and stares like a little angry kid, I try to hold back a laugh. “Is it bad that I would’ve preferred the kid to die?” She asks and I explode in laughter. After I take a breath I look at her “Considering you are going to have a kid yourself, yeah” she groans and shifts.

“Tell me about set” she asks putting her empty glass away. Oh yeah, I had to make two more milkshakes for her because she debuted her newly acquired pregnancy card on me. I sigh and shrug, going back in my mind.

“It was so much fun, but tiring too. They would have to take so many scenes again because the guys were fooling around or something.” I chuckle at the memory “Elizabeth makes SO many faces when she’s not rolling” I laugh now and so does Kelly. “And Aaron putting up that accent… Oh MOTHER” My memory travels back to those moments.

《 Avengers:Age of Ultron set 》

I pretend I’m freezing something putting my best concentrated face. Then, as rehearsed, I turn and my character accidentally freezes the floor. Causing Pietro to slip and slide all the way to me, colliding with my body and throwing us both to the floor. Once they’re done with Aaron ‘slipping and sliding’ they make us lay on the floor, him in top of me. We make the take and my character apologizes many times as Aaron stands and I do too. “You’re gonna get me to die” he says angrily in the heavy accent. He is very close, his breath moving my hair, my character looks down in shame. “I.. I can’t help it” she says in a low voice, but Pietro is gone.

《 Back in 2017 》

“I bet you got all kinds of feelings having him that close” Kelly teases and I snort “You have NO idea”

“I don’t know how you people do it” she says shaking her head “I’d literally die right there having a daddy like Captain America so close” “Kellyy!” I scold and she laughs “You have a boyfriend for God’s sake” “He’s in like China or something girl, don’t worry” “Oh my, poor man” .

“ Anyhow, well when you work for movies like this your character has a reputation to live up to. You gotta transform yourself into another person because there is people that have read about this characters since they were kids and you gotta give your best and it’s exhausting. But the cast is by the most part so nice and all goofs, they make everything better…” My mind lingers for a bit longer “Gosh I miss Aaron in set with us, he smiles so much” I say and Kelly rests her chin on her hand.

“Anyway… um, the guys are the worst you should see them” I laugh trying to get Aaron’s face out of my head. “Captain America kissed Iron man once” her eyes go wide, he face lighting up “There is no evidence” I shake my head slowly and she fake cries.

“And I learned that Hemsworth loves to get wet” I wink as she drools at the image playing on her head.

“Yup, sounds like a good job” she states. I snort, she wasn’t wrong.

Originally posted by looking-over-my-shoulder

Originally posted by supernaturally-avengers

Originally posted by perfectlysporadiccrusade

Originally posted by itsandreaya

Originally posted by chubbygirlygeek

Here - Michael Latta

latta’s got a lot to tell you 

for anon 

lowercase intended

warnings: like maybe one swear 

word count: 1890 

a/n: wow did i enjoy writing this, thanks for the great prompt!!

Originally posted by bvnting

“how did i let you talk me into this? i suck at mini golf,” you whined. you gripped the little putter tightly in your fist and shook it threateningly at him.

Keep reading

Trimberly one shot

Biology was almost over. And by almost, Trini meant, half an hour down, one more to go.

Even so, she was as nervous as never. She fiddled with her pen and actually focused on the teacher for once, trying to absorb as much information as possible. That was, of course, so she could keep her eyes off Kimberly Ann Hart.  

Kimberly Ann Hart. Her only girlfriend. As in a friend that was a girl. Her best friend. The best Trini could’ve ever asked for.

Trini clearly remembers the day she met her. Actually met her. Standing there, in her profound glory, with her short hair bobbing up and down, and smiled at her as if she was everything.

Trini has no choice but to stare for just a little longer.


Anna was the first girl Trini had ever loved. She was only 14. Trini could only tell her that if her parents found out how she looked at her, she’d be homeless. She had then cried for 2 days straight, and Trini starts playing back to those small moments. That the library would smell like their books, the way Anna would give her a special smile every time they looked at each other. A smile reserved just for her.

It had only been 2 months, and Trini’s heart had been broken into the smallest fragments possible.

Experiment. She hates that word.

If there’s one thing that Trini hates about being gay, it’s when people date her. In order to ‘experiment’ and to ‘try it out’. Because Trini despises being used, as a subject. When she pours her heart into loving this girl, and she ends up saying ‘I’m so sorry, I’m just not into girls…anymore.”

Trini knows that that’s bullshit. So she makes a vow on her seventeenth birthday, declaring to never fall for a straight girl ever.


That vow was broken in less than a week after she moved to Angel Grove.

It was after her small party hosted on the highest spot of Angel Grove with the gang. A beautiful sight. But really, nothing could ever be as beautiful as Kim.

The two of them were on Kim’s bed. Just there. Just existing. Together. Then out of nowhere, Kim started talking and snapped Trini out of her thoughts.

“To be honest, we’re literally floating on a tiny planet in fucking space, or universe, should I say. Why are we surrounded by hatred and misery? Why can’t everyone just calm the fuck down and lay on some grass. The sun is a GIANT BURNING ORB and why does money even exist? Fuck everything!”

Trini snorted and raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you speak my language princess?”

“I mean really! Gosh but like we spent hundreds of years looking up at the stars and wondering “is there anybody out there” and hoping and guessing and imagining all kinds of shit.”

Trini didn’t say anything. She loved it when Kim would ramble out her thoughts to her, out of nowhere. Only to her. Like she was exceptional.

That was when it happened. Kim just suddenly rested her head on Trini’s shoulder and grumbled.

“Why the hell are you so short, Trin?”

Trini felt herself stiffen up. Kimberly obviously felt it and sat up straight away.

“Is something wrong?”

Trini loosened up immediately. “No. No, not at all. Just think we should get going now. It’s kinda late.”

Kim shrugged and stood up making her way to the door.


It was like electricity when Kim had rested her head on Trini’s shoulder.

And it hits her like a truck. She realized that she’s falling. A great void opens up and she feels that she is falling, falling into deep, black space. There is no climbing back, no ray of light, no sound of human voice or a human touch of a hand. Because Kimberly had the type of eyes that could hold the sun, the moon, and the stars. Her eyes held galaxies, universes, time itself. But most of all, in her eyes, if anyone looked hard enough, they could find Trini’s heart.


Trini now lets Kimberly in. She loves the way Kimberly’s eyes spark when they’re talking or when she’s telling her something she wants her to know, the way she mouths the words herself when she’s reading and concentrating, the way she looks at her as if there’s only her, as if she can pass the flesh and bone and bullshit right into Trini that’s there, the one she don’t even see herself.

And so she tries.


Biology’s finally over.

Everyone shuffles out the doorway and the 2 automatically walk side by side towards their normal spot.

“What’s after class?”

“English,” Trini replied while tapping her foot.

“Mhm. Can you get me lunch today? I wanna listen to some music. Thanks.”

Trini didn’t even bother to hesitate. The longer the drag, the better. She was nervous as ever.

She came back with Kim’s favorite’s classic ham and cheese and saw Jason beside Kim chatting away.  

A flash of jealousy passed her face but disappeared in godlike speed.

She sat down on the other side of Kim, and as if on cue, Jason stood up to get to Billy. Conveniently, Zack just had to be hiding behind a pillar right in front of them.

Kimberly muttered thanks, and Trini decided now would be it.

“Hey…uh so we’ve known each other for a while now and we’re pretty close and uh I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date.” Trini rubbed the back of her neck with her right sweaty palm.

After a second of a felt like-late reply, Kimberly pulls out her earphones. “Did you say something?”


Trini has no choice but to give a pained smile and say, “D-do you have a pencil I could borrow during English later? For uh doodling? You know how boring Mrs. Khader’s class can be right? Ahahaha…”

Kimberly gives out that smile and nods. “Sure.” Her mouth’s full of food, so it comes out like a “Shoore.”

Trini laughs and her boost of courage is gone, because Kim can make her melt just like that.


School’s over and she finds her phone exploding from Zack’s messages.


*Media file*


still keeping that pink pencil?

Trini almost has a heart attack. Zack had filmed the whole process of Trini’s failure to ask Kimberly out on a date.


Zack Taylor if u send that 2 any1 I will single handedly come up 2 ur house rn with no hesitation n grab for the nearest thing available 2 gouge ur eyeballs out n feed it 2 ur goldfish


easy crazy girl just go ask again no biggie alright i’ve got a lotta blackmail material but tbh i nv use it so ur good to go


yea right


no legit


And so she tries. Again.

She pulls Kimberly aside first thing in the morning.

“You alright?” The concern is immediately showing on Kimberly’s face.

Trini lets out a low laugh. “Yeah, I’ve just got something to ask you.”

Kimberly brightens up immediately. “Shoot.”

Trini takes in a deep breath and goes for it. “Uh…so we’re pretty close and uh I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date.”

Kimberly doesn’t reply.

Trini starts to panic because she doesn’t know who to tell anymore when she finds new music and she doesn’t know where she’s gonna express how much she loves it. She doesn’t know who’s gonna agree with her and who she’s gonna listen to it with while she falls asleep. She doesn’t know who’s going to hear about her day and her test grades and how long she napped and what she ate for dinner and what movie she watched and the interesting things she learned in class and how much she hates physics and when she didn’t read the assignment for English. She doesn’t know who she’s gonna tell how she went to get food instead of jogging laps in the gym and how productive she was studying that night. She doesn’t know who’s going to listen to her sing her favorite bands and then sing with her and take walks with her in the summer on the most beautiful days. She doesn’t know who’s going to do that all and care about it if Kimberly finds her disgusting and sickening. She doesn’t know.

Trini’s not one to ramble but she does. “I mean I can completely understand and I respect your decision if you don’t want to be with me in that kinda way because you might even have something going on with Jace I just –”


Trini stood there and her head shot up and looked at Kimberly. Kimberly’s brown hazel eyes shone. She was being sincere.

But Kimberly didn’t stop there. She smiled and leaned against the lockers. “Trini, I would love to go on a full on gay date with my best friend. I’ve always wanted you to kiss me in the public, put your arm around me so people know I’m with you. I’ve always wanted you to pull me in because I’m just not quite close enough to you. I’ve always wanted you to make me watch that one tv show that’s your guilty pleasure. Tell me your biggest fear and I’ll promise to protect you. I’ve always wanted you to kiss me at red lights because if you don’t then I’ll kiss you. I’ve always wanted you to show me the one song you can never listen to without crying. Trini, don’t hide the tiny details about you. Because I’ll remember every one of them.”

“You’re so cute when you ramble.” Trini clamps her hands over her mouth. “Holy shit. I did not just – ok.”

The bell rings. First period is about to begin.

“Text me.” Kimberly winks, leaving a dazed Trini behind.


Her phone lights up as soon as Kim disappears round the corner.

Kim <3

rmb to call me babe in front of our waiter

Kim <3

btw u can keep the pencil :)

We’ll Be Okay

Author’s Note: Hey guys! So this is my entry for @impalaimagining‘s 1k Followers Challenge, and I chose the song “Everlong” by Foo Fighters. I really hope you all like it! I also used a song called “Cinderblock Garden” by All Time Low. As always, requests are open and if you would like to be tagged in my fics just send me an ask! Enjoy!

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Language, i think that’s it

Word Count: 2,104 (Including Lyrics)

It was hard. Just all-together fucking hard. You both knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but it was getting easier and easier to think about just walking away from it, like it would be better for you. And him. You barely saw each other, and when you did, all you did was fight about never seeing each other. No one was at fault; he filmed nine months out of the year and it seemed like when he had those two to three months off, you were on a tour and he wasn’t up for travelling that much and you couldn’t blame him. Occasionally, when you had a couple of days off of tour, you would fly home and see him for maybe a day-and-a-half, then you were right back at it. It was exhausting. It was almost becoming a chore to the both of you, and that broke your heart.

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Celebrate- Andre Burakovsky

Originally posted by th3littlemermaid14

The Caps are literally the bane of my existence right now. Like not only do we choke in the playoffs… WE LOST 6-2 TO THE PENS. Omg they upset me so much last night. Ok deep breaths sorry! Still love Andre! So enjoy!

Warning: none

Anon Request: Heyy…i love your writing! so i have two things. 1) do you have a masterlist?? and 2) can you do one on andre burakovsky where the reader and him are dating and he brings you to a game to watch him play and they go out celebrating after a big win at a bar or something?? you can switch anything up if you want. thanks!


              “You’ll be ok?” Andre asked for the fifth time.

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A better man (part 2 if 'If you ever come back')

She was gripping the paper in her hands, tears rolling down her cheeks. Why had he chosen now to tell her all this? Couldn’t he do it the night they broke up? She would’ve stayed if only he had told her he was willing to fight for her, for them and now he decides to tell her? Damn you Adam Wiles. Two weeks and there hasn’t been a day where she didn’t think of him. Despite all that happened during the last couple of months, all she could remember were the good things. The little things he did for her and she hated it because she missed him. Missed waking up with him, missed his arms around her, his lips on hers.

Deciding it was best to leave it alone for the day, although she knew she wouldn’t stop thinking about the letter, she left her apartment to visit her mom. She wouldn’t tell anyone about the letter, choosing to keep it to herself for a while so she could ponder what to do without anyone’s input.

Friday. It was tomorrow. The night his door and his arms would be wide open for her to crawl back into. She didn’t if she should. All she knew is that she had never had her heart broken like this. The future they had planned was shattered, all those little things they talked about. She had never loved anyone like she loved him in a relationship. It had never lasted this long. It had never given her the certainty of a future like she thought this one had. Adam Wiles had promised her a forever. Adam Wiles had promised to fight through whatever came their way. Adam Wiles promised her his love for the rest of their lives. Adam Wiles had broke all those promises.

She understood though. It happened, falling out of love happened. But now here he was, telling her all she thought was true was right. That him falling out of love with her wasn’t true.

By the time the next day had dawned, her mind was made up. She needed to talk to him. There were things left unsaid and she wouldn’t be okay until she sorted out the mess inside her mind so maybe she wasn’t going home, she wasn’t back to him but she was willing to listen to him, to see if he could make her stay.

The flight to LA seemed to be longer than usual, allowing her mind to wander off to thoughts she only had when she was alone. She though of him, allowing herself to travel back in time to the beginning. She remembered her favorite moments with him and she let herself fall back into the perfect daydream she used have when they were happy, when she wholeheartedly believed he was the one. That had flown out the window during the last month or so.

She insisted on driving herself to Adam’s house, although agreed that security trailed behind her. She had warned them that it would probably be a while until she left so she said that if an hour went by and she hadn’t returned then they’d go home. She knew it was certain because whatever happened inside that house would probably take the whole night to resolve.

Taylor took a deep breath as she entered the code before retrieving back inside the car. As she drove through the driveway, she took the time to calm herself down a little. It would go nowhere if she was so nervous she couldn’t spill a word of what she wanted to say to him. Boy was she nervous about being face to face with him.

When she stepped out of the car she noticed most of the lights were out, in the room she could see from that point. She shut the door, took one last glance at the house and made her way to the porch. Just as he said, there was a key under the mat. She couldn’t keep the small smile from creeping at her face. If she didn’t know any better, this would be an amazing romantic movie. She snapped out of it and got ready to open the door.

The light in the hall was on and the house was inviting, she could swear she was in the past for a second, coming home to him. It felt okay for a moment, it felt right but she knew it was all quite the opposite.

She heard footsteps causing her to stop right as she reached the living room. He was rushing down the stairs, having heard the door shut. He didn’t believe she actually came. Either that or someone had gotten in his house to rob him of all he had.

Then he saw her, catching glimpse of her blonde hair from behind. His breath hitched and his eyes widened a tiny bit. Taylor didn’t turn around at the sound of him coming closer. She didn’t move at all from her spot, she was all brave before and now hearing his voice was making her head spin.

“You came.” He murmured, stepping closer. And she turned to face him, his eyes staring right back at her. They were soft. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this is actually happening.” He chuckled to himself and suddenly she felt a little pissed.

“Did you think a letter was enough?” She spit at him and his smile dropped. It wasn’t going to be as easy as he wanted it to be. “Are you for real? You couldn’t have told me all this two weeks ago?” She waved the letter in her hand and his eyes glanced at it briefly before staring at her. “You’re right. You are an idiot.”

“I am.” He nodded.

“You took me for granted.”

“I did.” He took a step towards her.

“You made me feel like you didn’t love me, like you didn’t want me around anymore, like my love was some kind of loaded gun. You accused me of cheating on you.” She shook her head and Adam’s heart broke. He really really was an idiot.

“I’m sorry.” He told her.

“Why on earth would you send me a letter saying all that? Did you think I would just fall straight into your arms again?” She laughed bitterly and he smiled the kind of smile that accelerated her heartbeat.

“No.” He shook his head. “You being here means you haven’t given up yet which means I can try make this right.” He spoke gently, walking to her.

“What makes you think I’m gonna let you?” She challenged, looking up at him.

He smiled. “Why are you here then?”

“I…” She trailed off, not knowing why herself.

“Taylor, I’m gonna make this right.” He said, grabbing her hand. She let him. “Because I love you and I’m in love with you. I made many mistakes and for that I can never show you how sorry I am, how I regret so many things but if you let me, I can make it up to you and I can be the better man you want me to be. If you let me, I promise I won’t ever repeat the mistakes I made. And if you let me, I know I will love you for the rest of my days and I’ll show you I love you.” They stood face to face and Taylor couldn’t say anything just yet so she didn’t. She turned away, the closeness and the intensity of his eyes making her forgive him right away.

It couldn’t go down that easy. She couldn’t just forget the last month had happened. She couldn’t forget how miserable she felt but there he was. Saying all the things she ever wanted him to say. She could see it in his eyes that he meant every word of it. She hated that her heart had already forgiven him. She hated that all she wanted to do was press her lips against his and to get wrapped up in his arms.

“Taylor…” he spoke gently, turning her around to face him. “You’ve successfully buried yourself in my head.” She couldn’t help the small smile from forming on her lips as she looked up at him as she recalled the late phone call on February 26th when he spoke those words for the same time. “No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about you, ever. Not even when you thought I didn’t love you.” He paused. “When I spent hours upon hours locked up in that studio and forgot to make time for you, I didn’t forget you. You were my inspiration and I didn’t realize I was losing you until the MET. Until I saw you with someone else. I realized that everyone wants a piece of you because you are so special and you’re so beautiful. That scared me because someone better than me could have you at any moment-”

“But you had me, Adam. I was yours. For the last fifteen months, I was yours!” She argued, grabbing his face.

“I know that.” He nodded. “It wasn’t the way I wanted to treat you, Taylor. It was never how I wanted to treat you but I got scared. I got so scared about losing you and I was irrational in the way I let you know that. It sent you the wrong signals and I’ll never forgive myself for causing so much pain but if you can forgive me, please just, stay with me and I will never make those mistakes again.”

With a smile, she responded. “Okay.” She nodded. “Let’s try again.”

“Taylor?” He called out upon entering the house. He shut the door, making his way further inside the house. “Babe? You home?” He furrowed his brows when there was no answer. She had a meeting that morning while he went to the studio so he figured by the time he got home she’d be there.

They had fallen into a routine, always making sure they spent time together. He would either go to the studio in the morning or to the gym while she was also recording her sixth record. She was incredibly excited about it and had even recorded a couple of songs in his studio at the house. It wasn’t rare that they ended up eating dinner in the studio together while bouncing ideas off one another. She told him what she was working on and he told her what he was working.

It had gone back to normal, although the previous month was not forgotten at all, they just tried harder to make it all work and to make each other happy. So far it was all working perfectly. Adam had been trying extra hard to let her know he loved her. He planned romantic getaways, took her out to dinner, made her breakfast in bed. He wanted her to know he loved her more than anything so he never forgot to tell her.

Adam took a glance around the house, smiling when he saw Meredith crossing the room. He looked outside, noticing the window that lead outside open. He chuckled to himself and walked out there.

“Hey, you’re home!” She spoke excitedly jumping up and running towards him. He laughed against her lips as she joined them with his.

“Hi!” He grinned. “We’re having a picnic, huh?” He looked beyond her onto the blanket placed on the grass.

She shrugged. “I felt like it. It’s nice out here.” He pecked her lips, smiling. “Let’s eat, yeah?” He nodded.

They sat down and began eating. They talked about their mornings, what new things had happened and the plans for the next few weeks, all while Adam stared at Taylor, wondering how on earth he had gotten so lucky to deserve a second chance with the love of his life. He watched as she laughed at some stupid joke he had told her about something that happened with Burns. He noticed how carefree she was, how he had missed seeing that smile on her face and how happy he was that he was the one who put it back there. He had begun to take notice in little things she did more. Tiny details in his daily life that he had begun to love more than anything, like how when she got home late and the first thing she wanted was his arms around her. He noticed the way she acted around her friends, how caring she was. Noticed how she turned softer and at peace when she played with little ones, especially her godson. He heard her voice when she woke up in the middle of the night with an idea for a song, he enjoyed staying up just to catch a little glimpse of the smile when she had finally gotten it right. He loved her eyes in the morning and he cursed himself for stopping to notice it for a while. He loved how peaceful she looked sleeping. Finally, for the first time ever, he noticed the way she looked at him. He had never felt so loved in his life than the times she looked at him. He couldn’t explain, it was just a look that told him how in love she was, how much she cared and he wondered if she saw the same when he looked at her.

“What?” She giggled, taking a sip of her Diet Coke after noticing he was staring at her.

“What do you mean?”

“You have that stupid smile on your face again, babe.” She shook her head chuckling and putting down her coke. Adam grinned and leaned forward, kissing her lips.

“I want to marry you.”

She laughed. “Then marry me.”

Feedback is welcome, babes!

Someone New (Gabriel x Reader)

Someone New (Gabriel x Reader)
Characters: Gabriel x Reader

Someone New (Gabriel x Reader)
Word Count:  14,655

Summary: You are a hunter who is lured to a case where everything reminds you of your boyfriend Gabriel, who has been dead for 7 years. You’re forced to relive all of your memories with him. Inspired by the song “Someone New” by Banks.

Note: Reposting this with edits made to correct typos. 

Originally posted by fand0maniac

The nightclub was rundown, set in a dark, dingy part of Denver that Y/N tried to avoid when she could, but her job led her to this area more than she would like. She walked up the sidewalk, head down, not making eye contact with the locals until she reached the entrance to The Lemon Drop Nightclub and Cantina. The door was red wood with a giant swirly lollipop for a handle. Y/N shook her head as she pulled it open and walked inside.
     Her senses were immediately assaulted by loud pop music and bright colored lights spinning from the ceiling, the walls were covered with candy ornaments of all kinds from old vintage tin signs to neon versions of Kit Kats, Twix, and Butterfingers. Gabe would love it here. The thought came into her head unbidden, as did the quick, sharp stab of pain when she thought of him. Taking a deep breath, she wrinkled her nose to keep any tears at bay and focused on the task at hand. She was a hunter, damn it, and she couldn’t afford to be seen as weak.
     When she was sure her emotions were in check and her eyes had adjusted to the light, she made her way to the bar. The bartender was tall and muscular, his arms bulging out of a sleeveless Slayer t-shirt. His long black hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail. Wiping a glass with a questionable rag, he caught Y/N’s eye and gave her a backwards nod. “What can I getcha?”
     “I was looking for Jillian Banks?” A knowing look entered the man’s eyes as he grinned widely.
     “You a fan, then?” He raised his eyebrows and Y/N sighed.
     “I’m here to talk to her about the…problems…she’s been having here.” It was her turn to grin when his smile faltered. “You wouldn’t know anything about those, would you?”
     “Look, i don’t know what you’ve heard…are you a cop or something, cuz if you’re a cop, don’t I get to have my attorney present or some shit like that?”
     “Number one, I’m not a cop. Number two, you don’t look like someone who has an attorney on retainer.” The man stared at her and Y/N wasn’t sure if he was too nervous to speak or didn’t understand the word “retainer.” Sighing again, she pulled a business card out of the back pocket of her jeans and slid it across the bar to him. “I’m a paranormal investigator. She contacted me, If you could point me in her direction or let her know I’m here, that would be great.” He picked up the card, checked it out, and gave a her a brief, unreadable look before saying he’d be right back.
      Y/N leaned against the bar and looked at her reflection in the mirrored wall between all the bottles of booze. I look like shit, she thought, catching how her long Y/H/C hair fell from her head in lank, uninspired waves and her Y/E/C eyes were weary and sad. Not able to stand the sight any longer, she turned and faced the club, resting her elbows on the padded edge of the counter. She watched the patrons dance and laugh and drink, all seemingly having the time of their lives. I used to be like them, she thought wearily, as memories came flooding back.
      Memories of hustling pool in dive bars all over the country with the Winchester Brothers. Their favorite ploy was using the fact that she was a girl to make knuckle headed drunks think she was a pushover, when in fact the only person who had ever been able to beat her was Sam. Sam freakin’ WInchester, the man who texted her earlier tonight with this case. Sam Winchester, the man who held her and comforted her after she lost everything. It didn’t matter where he told her to go for a case, she would do it. She owed him her life. So many times over. She was thinking of texting him a picture of this godawful place when the music changed. Taylor Swift’s “All You Had To Do Was Stay” began playing and her heart constricted painfully.
      Everything she had wanted to forget came sweeping back. Gabriel. His ridiculous plan to leave her and fight his brother to keep her and everyone else safe. The fight they had about it before he left, the horrible, horrible things she said to him as he walked out the door.
     The look in Sam’s eyes when he had to tell her that Gabriel had been killed by his brother.
     This stupid song always made her think of Gabe. Some nights when she felt like wallowing, she would put it on repeat and cry into a glass of Jack Daniels. Most of the time, she simply avoided the song but here…there was nothing to do unless she wanted to kick the jukebox into submission. “Let me remind you this was what you wanted (Oh oh oh)….you ended it…you were all I wanted….”
     “Fuck, come on,” she said out loud, biting her bottom lip hard. She would not give into the memories. Not here, not tonight.
      Not here, not tonight, not here, not tonight.
      That had been her mantra since that night. Y/N would say 97% of the time it worked. Tonight, however, looked to be the time that the 3% reared it’s ugly head. She felt the despair and grief wash over her and she had to sit down on a bar stool so that she didn’t sink to the floor. Even after seven years it was strong enough to knock the wind out of her. She wondered if it would ever get easier; then she realized that deep down, she didn’t want it to. If it did, that meant she was moving on, forgetting Gabriel, the only man she had ever truly loved. She couldn’t do that, not to him.
       Y/N met Gabriel ten years ago while she was working a case in Springfield, Ohio with The Winchesters. He was deep in his Trickster persona and messing with Sam and Dean’s minds, causing them to fight more than usual. Y/N thought she could get the drop on the bad guy while they were bickering. She trailed him to his apartment after he left the university where he was posing as a janitor. With a stake dipped in his victim’s blood hidden in her oversized purse, she waited until he was inside before making her move.
        She had been watching him long enough to realize that women were a weakness of his, so she put on her tightest jeans and her lowest-cut shirt before fluffing her hair out and walking boldly up to his apartment door. He answered almost immediately after she knocked and she had to wonder if he knew she was coming. “Well, hello, pretty lady. How can I help you?” The trickster let his eyes roam up and down her body as he grinned and leaned against the door, still wearing his grey janitor’s jumpsuit but the front was unzipped, showing off a crisp white t-shirt underneath.
        “Um, hi, my car broke down outside and…I…uh…” when his eyes made their way back up to hers, she suddenly lost her train of thought. They were the most brilliant shade of gold, almost like sunlight streaming through a bottle of whiskey. She had never seen eyes like that before; she felt like she was drowning in them. Focus, Y/N, she told herself sternly, pulling her gaze away. That was when she saw the cocky smile, as if he could tell what she was thinking. “Uh…yeah, my car. It broke down and my phone is dead. Could I use yours?” She flashed him her most innocent grin and pushed her chest forward. His eyes flicked down quickly and she knew her ploy was working.
        “Not from around here, are you,” he asked, his voice smooth as velvet.  She shook her head. “And I’m on the third floor. What made you pick my apartment?”
        “I saw you pull in and I thought you looked nice,” she shrugged, raising her eyebrows and biting her bottom lip. “Please? I just need to call my friend so he can come pick me up.” The trickster stared at her for a beat too long, making her skin break out in goose pimples. Those eyes were dangerous. Then he stepped back and swept his arm gallantly.
        “Who I am to turn a pretty woman away in her time of need. Please, be my guest.” Y/N rushed past him and into the apartment, taking it all in quickly. It was small; a tidy living area held only a television set, a recliner, and a TV tray. It led into an open kitchen. She noticed the counters were covered in sweets: pies, cakes, and cookies were everywhere.
        “Having a party,” she asked, nodding her head to the bounty. He laughed, shutting the door firmly.
        “I have a sweet tooth and a love for cooking shows,” he laughed. “I end up cooking everything they make on there. Want a cookie or something?”
        “No, thanks, I’ll be out of your hair shortly if you’ll just point me to the phone.” To her surprise, he still had a landline hanging on the wall in the hallway. It was dark and she couldn’t see past where she stood. Hoping nothing jumped out at her, she dialed Dean’s number.
       “Y/N, where are you,” he barked in greeting.
       “I’m at an apartment building at 5th and Grant,” she replied. “My car broke down. I think it’s the carburetor.”
       “Is he there with you now,” he asked, his voice brisk with a touch of worry. He recognized their code immediately.
       “Yes, he was nice enough to let me use his phone.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled at the trickster, who was standing a few feet away. He raised his eyebrows at her.
       “Do you have a weapon?”
       “I do.”
       “Be careful. We’re on our way.”
       “Ok, thanks.” She hung up and turned around slowly. He was standing just a little closer than he had been. “Thank you. I’ll just go wait in my car now.”
       “Are you sure you want to wait out there? It’s chilly.” His eyes were back on hers and she felt her stomach flip. She didn’t understand her reaction to him. He wasn’t her type of guy at all. She normally went for the tall, manly, dark haired muscular guys who were teddy bears underneath. Like Dean. This guy was nothing like her hunter - shortish (she gauged him around 5’8”, 5’9”), with unruly honey colored hair, thin lips, and just the tiniest bit of a belly. Probably from all those sweets, she thought. Not to mention he was a monster. A trickster who had killed innocent people. She had no business even thinking about him the way she was.
        “So, uh, thanks again,” she stammered, walking towards him, her hand on the strap of her purse. “Maybe I will take that cookie. One for the road, you know?” He winked at her, turning to grab her a cookie from the kitchen. That was when she made her move, sliding the stake from her purse and rushing up behind him. He shocked her when he turned so fast, grabbing her wrist and forcing the weapon from her grip. It clattered uselessly on the floor. He pushed her up against the wall, pressing his whole body against her, holding her captured hand above her head. She couldn’t breathe, knowing for sure that she had failed and she would be his next victim.
       “You reek of hunter,” he said, his face inches from hers. She could feel his hot breath on her face and it smelled of butterscotch. Her belly fluttered against her will. He cupped her face in his free hand, running a thumb along her lower lip. “A sexy hunter, sure but a hunter nonetheless.” Y/N tried to tell herself that her heart was pounding a mile a minute because death was imminent and not because he was so close to her, those whiskey eyes peering into hers with a scorching heat. He had to be causing these sensations; he was a trickster, after all.
        “Stop it,” she ordered, trying and failing to sound authoritative. Her voice came out in a thick whisper.
        “Stop what,” he asked, all innocence.
       “You’re fucking with my mind. Just kill me and get it over with.” He chuckled and shook his head.
       “Oh, sweetheart, your mind isn’t what I want to fuck.” He never gave her a chance to react to that statement. His lips were on hers in a hard, wet kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth. She found herself responding even though she knew she shouldn’t. He tasted so good though and his body felt right against hers. When she moaned against his kiss, he pulled away just a fraction. “No, I can’t kill you. I’ll be seeing you around, though.” She heard a snap and suddenly everything spun out of control. A few seconds later she found herself in the passenger seat of Dean’s Impala as he sped down the highway.
      “Jesus Christ,” Dean yelled, swerving the car into oncoming traffic before gaining control and righting the wheels before pulling over to the side of the road. “Where the fuck did you come from?”
       “Umm….the trickster made me,” she said, still trying to get her bearings. She was dizzy from the trip to the car, not to mention her lips still buzzed from the kiss and her body was keyed up from his words.
       “So, what, instead of killing you, he snapped you here?” Y/N shrugged. “Maybe he figured you appearing out of nowhere would give me a heart attack and we’d both die.” She laughed at his explanation; it was better to let him think that than tell him what really happened, she decided as she ran her tongue along her bottom lip, still tasting the butterscotch from his kiss.
      As she sat at the bar inside The Lemon Drop, she bit her lip with her tongue, fancying she could still taste him. Knowing that she would never again feel his lips on hers broke her heart all over again. She could feel tears threatening but was saved by the bartender returning. “Okay, Jillian wants to talk to you but it’ll be a while. She’s getting ready for her stage show and she doesn’t let anyone back there while she does so.” Y/N nodded. “She asked me to get you whatever you’d like while you wait.”
      “Shot of Jack and…do you make butter babies?”
      “Absolutely I do,” he grinned.
      “Four of those as well, please.” Y/N knew she was hurting herself by drinking the one drink that reminded her of Gabe but this place seemed to lend itself to memories. Every song that popped up on the jukebox made her think of him. At that moment it was “Bubblegum Bitch” by Marina and the Diamonds. The lyrics always made her think of the different sweet-related nicknames he called her. At first she hated it but they grew on her and now whenever she heard the words “sugar,” “cupcake,” or “gumdrop,” pain squeezed a tight band around her heart.
         The night after the trickster spared her life, Dean tracked him to the university auditorium for the showdown. When the hunter returned with the news that he had killed the trickster, Y/N was actually a little disappointed. She didn’t know if his spell was still lingering but she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Three months later, she walked into her motel room in Los Angeles, dirty and covered in blood. The only thing on her mind was a hot shower and her bed. So when she saw the trickster standing in the middle of the room with a sassy smirk on his face, she stopped cold, not sure if she should be pleased or worried. “Dean killed you,” she said finally, shutting the door behind her. She could see he recognized the motion as she wasn’t going to call for help.
        “Trickster,” he replied, holding his arms out in a “ta-dah” motion. “You gotta get up pretty early in the morning to fool me.”
        “Are you here to finish the job, then?” Y/N hated how her body was responding to being in the same room as her again. She should be angry that he was alive, scared that he was here to kill her but instead she felt herself wanting to be closer to him, feel his lips on hers once more.
       “And which job would that be, cupcake” he asked with a cocky grin, taking a few steps towards her. Every instinct told her to back up, call for the boys, but instead she felt herself walking in his direction. “I already told you I couldn’t kill you. But if you’re referring to the ravishing you so deserve then, yes. I am here to finish the job.” By the time he finished his statement, they were standing inches away from each other. She was so confused. How could she be feeling this heat for a creature that she should be killing?
      “Tell me something and please be honest,” she said, her voice husky with the need to taste his lips. “What I’m feeling for you, is this your doing? Is this a trick?”
     “No.” His answer was so simple that it took her aback. She cocked her head and furrowed her eyebrows at him. His amber eyes were the most serious she had seen them.
     “No.” A thrill coursed through her body when he reached out and grabbed the back of her head, roughly bringing her lips to his. There it was, that butterscotch taste that she had been craving. With one hand she grasped the lapel of his army green jacket while the other hand snaked through his dark blonde hair, trying desperately to pull him closer. When he finally broke contact to let her breathe, he laughed.
     “What’s so funny,” she asked.
     “You’re a hunter, I’m a trickster. This shouldn’t be happening.” He shook his head before kissing her lips again, this time softly. Was it her imagination or did the softer kiss cause her toes to curl even more than the desperation? “It’s like someone is playing a trick on me.”
     “Maybe they are. Are there others like you out there?” He clucked her chin with his hand and grinned.
     “Sugar, there is no one else like me. Anywhere.” She returned the smile, amused by his cockiness. “There’s only one explanation then.”
     “What’s that?” The trickster slung an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. She exhaled an, “oof!” as she bounced off of his chest. She slid her arms up over his shoulders as he winked at her.
     “You were meant to be mine.”
      You were meant to be mine. Y/N had scoffed when he first uttered those words, she recalled, slamming down the last butter baby shot. She chased it with the Jack then let out a huge sigh. The bartender was watching her, asking with his eyes if she wanted another round. She nodded slightly even though her head was telling her to stay sober. Her heart, however, needed some help getting through the memories that were assaulting her non stop.
       “How can you not believe in destiny,” the trickster had asked after she told him his idea was silly.
        “I believe in free will,” she answered, pulling out of his grip. “I’ve seen so much bad happen to good people…I just can’t believe that things like that were destined to happen to them.”
         “Free will, huh? Ok, here’s a question for you, then.” He snapped his fingers and suddenly, laying on the motel bed was a wooden stake tipped with blood. Her stake that she lost that night. “There’s your weapon. And here’s the monster.” He spread his arms out wide, leaving his whole body vulnerable if she chose to strike. “If you’re not mine…if I’m not yours…if we aren’t meant to be together, kill me.”
         “Dude….what the….”
         “Do it,” he said, his voice gruff, his eyes hard. “Take that stake and plunge it into my heart. Finish what you started.” Y/N stared at him, her mouth agape. He was crazy. “Yeah, maybe I am crazy,” he said, startling her, “but I’m crazy for you. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve messed with a lot of hunters and I’ve had a lot of women hotter than you…don’t get pissed,” he smiled when she huffed angrily at him. “But you…there’s something about you. Like you were made for me. After all these centuries of just drifting around, suddenly some mortal, some hunter, shows up and I’m done. I don’t want to play tricks on you, I don’t want to kill you. I want to hold you, and kiss you, and…shit, I want to be with you, okay?” His voice had taken on an edge of desperation, as if he needed her to believe what he was saying.
         Y/N walked over to the bed and picked up the stake.  She turned it over in her hands, getting used to the feel of it again. “So if I kill you, like a good hunter should, you’re wrong about destiny?”
        “Dead wrong,” he answered, causing her to laugh. She approached him slowly, the stake pointing out in front of her. She poked him in the belly with the tip lightly.
       “But if I choose not to, emphasis on choose, then somehow that proves that we’re meant to be?”
       “You got it, sugar lips.” She stared at him as she reflected on how her body reacted to him, how that kiss had made her feel. Was he right? Was her person actually a trickster? How screwed up did that make her destiny?
       “God damn it,” she breathed, tossing the stake to the floor where it immediately shimmered and disappeared. “Why you,” she asked, cocking her head to study him.
       “God only knows,” he winked, dropping his arms to his side now that he knew he was safe. They stood in the center of the room, staring at each other for what felt like forever. The trickster had a smug yet pleased look on his face and the longer Y/N looked at it, the crazier it made her. The heat between them was palpable. When she could stand it no longer, she launched herself at him, kissing him with everything she had. He returned the sentiment, his hands twining into her long Y/H/C hair and tugging her head backwards so he could delve deeper into her mouth with his tongue.
       She was overcome with the need to feel him, feel his skin on hers and she started pulling at his clothes; she slid his jacket off then ripped at his black shirt, popping the buttons clean off. He chuckled at her earnestness and returned the favor by pulling her thermal shirt over her head and tossing it to the floor.  He bent his head and kissed the tender flesh above her bra, causing her to moan loudly while she ran her hands over his bare chest and stomach. Y/N grabbed the waistband of his jeans and thumbed the button open, shoving them to the floor. It made her giggle when she saw he was wearing rubber ducky boxers. “What the hell,” she laughed, as she trailed a multitude of kisses down his torso, sinking to her knees. Just as she went to yank the boxers off, she stopped and looked up him.
       “By the way, I’m Y/N.”
       “Yeah, I know,” he chuckled, his eyes hot as he stared down at her.
       “What should I call you?”
       “Gabe,” he replied, his face softening a little. “You can call me Gabe.
       “Gabe,” Y/N whispered, desperate as a prayer. She finished off her third line of shots, feeling sufficiently liquored up to remember the sex. The first few weeks were amazing; every time Gabe touched her, it felt like her skin was ablaze.  Not to mention that having to hide their relationship from Sam and Dean, whom she was still hunting with, made it exciting. The first time they were almost caught was when Dean showed up at the door, already half-drunk, holding a six-pack of beer and looking for some company. That had been part of her relationship with Dean from the beginning but now she didn’t even think of him that way at all. Her brain, heart, body, and soul was completely saturated by her trickster. Y/N kept the door open just enough to tell him she had someone in the room with her; understanding dawned quickly and he tried to peek in. “You gonna introduce me?”
     “God, no! This is fairly new and besides…you’re scary.” He laughed. “I will take a couple beers, though,” she said, snagging a couple before shutting the door. After that night, Dean would tease her about her new boyfriend, wanting to know details, wanting to meet him but she was able to put him off, distract him with liquor and, in desperate times, porn.
      After a few months, her relationship with Gabe cooled to where some nights they were simply happy to be in each other’s company. Y/N’s favorite thing to do was snuggle with him on a lumpy motel room bed and watch old movies. He would sneak himself into the movie and she enjoyed trying to figure out where he would appear. One night while Y/N and the boys were on the trail of a Rugaru in New Orleans, she was chilling with Gabe, watching The Thin Man when there was a loud pounding at her door. “Y/N, we gotta go,” Sam yelled as she padded barefoot across the room. “A body was found in the French Quarter!” She opened the door, peeking out as was her norm now.
     “Give me a sec, I’ll be right out, okay?”
     “That guy here again,” Dean asked from behind his brother. She nodded, starting to close the door. When a big, beefy, tattooed hand appeared above her head and flung the door open, it startled not only her but the brothers as well. “Whoa,” Dean breathed, craning his head back to take in the full view. Y/N turned around to see what the hell was going on and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
     Gabe had transformed into a giant biker dude. He was 6’7” and easily 350 pounds with long, black hair and a full dark beard. He was wearing ripped jeans, black boots with chains around them, a Megadeth t-shirt and a denim vest covered in patches. Every inch of skin that was showing was tattooed and he had huge silver skull rings on three fingers. “What’s up guys,” he boomed. “You must be Sam and Dean. Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”
       “Uh, yeah, hi,” Sam stuttered back, obviously not used to having to look up to make eye contact. Y/N would have bet her life savings that Gabe did that just to screw with him. “I’d like to say the same but Y/N’s kinda played you close to the vest. We don’t even know your name.” The trickster grabbed Y/N and pulled her into a tight side hug.
       “It’s Gabe. But you can call me Mad Dog. And, yeah, she said you guys were scary but you look like all right to me. Put ‘er there!” He stuck out his free hand to shake Sam and Dean’s, gripping tighter than necessary according to their grimaces. Y/N knew Gabe was enjoying this way too much and it was time to put an end to it.
       “Okay, okay, you know my big secret now…”
       “Emphasis on the big,” Dean muttered, earning a glare from Y/N.
       “Give me a second to get my stuff together and I’ll be right there, ok?” Both men just stood, rooted to the spot, staring at Gabe. “Okay,” she repeated, this time louder. The brothers jerked out of their trance and nodded, walking away as she shut the door, “And you!” She rounded on her boyfriend with hot eyes, her index finger poking him in his hairy, tattooed chest. “What the hell was that?”
      “They were starting to get suspicious of me so I let them see me,” he replied, laughing as he shimmered back to his normal form. “This way, when you say you’re with me, they won’t come around bothering you. I cut a pretty impressive figure, right?” Y/N sighed; it was impossible to stay mad at him when he grinned at her like that, the right corner of his mouth tipping up roguishly.  
      “Okay, yeah, I think you shocked the shit out of them, I’ll give you that.” Shaking her head, she rushed over to stick her feet into her boots and grab her hunting bag. “I gotta go. Will you be here when I get back?”
      “Absolutely.” She walked over to him, slipping her arms around his waist to hug him. He kissed the top of her head. “Be careful.”
      That was always the last thing he would say to her before she left on a hunt and she to him when he would leave to dole out just desserts to deserving humans.
       Except that last time.
       That thought had her opening her mouth to flag down the bartender for another round but was stopped by a sweet voice in her ear. “Hi, Y/N?” Turning around, she came face to face with the prettiest woman she had ever see. Tall and curvy with shiny blonde hair that floated around her cherubic face in a cloud, she had big blue eyes with lashes a mile and a half long and pouty lips painted blood red. She was wearing a gold dress that sparkled in the rainbow lights of the club and matching heels, giving her an extra five inches of height. Y/N figured that even out of the shoes, she would tower over her. As if I didn’t feel bad enough about myself, she thought, this woman looks like a goddess.
       “Yes, you’re Jillian?”
       “I am. Thank you for coming.” Jillian sat down on a stool beside her and nodded at the bartender. Without a word, he brought her a tall, fruity drink in a hurricane glass topped by a hot pink umbrella and a lime green twisty straw. She took a long sip, closing her eyes and savoring the drink before looking over at Y/N. “So, Sam said you could help me.”
       “I hope so,” she answered. “Why don’t you tell me a little about what’s been happening.”
       “Well, it feels like I’m being watched 24/7,” she started, giving a little shiver. Jillian rubbed her hands over her bare shoulders. “But the creepy stuff, the real creepy stuff only happens when I’m here.”
       “What’s the creepy stuff?”
       “Things go missing and then appear in a place they should never be…things hurl themselves at me.” She propped a shapely leg on the rung of Y/N’s barstool and lifted up the hem of her dress, revealing an ugly bruise on her calf. “This happened about five days ago…an amp came sliding across the stage during one of my sets and slammed into me.” She removed her leg, holding out her left arm for view. She pushed her thick diamond bracelet up; underneath it was a long, angry red scratch. “This happened yesterday. I don’t even know what caused it. Or what I did to cause it.” Jillian’s voice caught and Y/N looked up to see the singer’s eyes filling with tears.
        “Don’t cry, you’ll ruin your perfect make-up,” Y/N smiled, covering her hand with hers. Jillian sniffed and giggled. “It sounds like an angry spirit. But I can help you with it,” she hurried to say as Jillian’s mouth dropped in fear.
        “You can, you really can?” She gripped Y/N’s hand tight. “You can make this stop?”
        “I can. That’s what I do.”
        “Thank you!” The woman jumped up and threw her arms around Y/N’s neck. “Thank you so much!” The hunter couldn’t help but laugh and after all the sad she had been wading through, it felt good. “Where do we start?”
        “Well, I’ll need to check this place out when it’s empty, do a sweep with my EMF meter. I’ll need to do some research on this club as well, see if anyone died violently. And of course, I’ll need to ask you more questions, figure out why this spirit has linked itself to you.”
        “Wow, okay,” Jillian breathed, pulling away from the hug. “It’s time for my set but if you want to stick around and listen, you can question me afterwards.” She smiled brilliantly and Y/N grinned back.
        “Sounds like a plan.” The goddess sauntered away, taking her drink with her. With nothing to distract her now, Y/N’s ears tuned in immediately to the jukebox. Kelly Clarkson’s “Behind These Hazel Eyes” was playing and the hunter just shook her head. What were the odds that every song this place played would remind her of Gabe?
          They had been seeing each other for a little over a year when everything changed. She and the Winchesters were hunting a band of shapeshifters in New Orleans and had tracked them to an abandoned warehouse down by the docks. Y/N was going in as lead with the brothers flanking her about six feet back, guns drawn. As she passed through the first set of doors, she paused to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. The area looked clear and she could see a second set of doors just to her left. She slowly and quietly picked her way over the gravel floor, motioning for Sam and Dean to follow. She was about five feet away from the entrance when an explosion rocked the warehouse.
         Y/N felt herself flying backwards through the air; she landed on the ground hard. All the air left her body and she felt as if she were on fire. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see, she couldn’t hear. She tried to call for the boys, make sure they were okay, but she wasn’t sure if her voice was working either. She tried to sit up, assess the damage but she couldn’t move. Fear started to wrap itself around her as she swiveled her eyes, trying to see someone, something…anything.
        Suddenly, Sam’s face was above hers. He was dirty and bloody but he was upright. His mouth was moving; it looked like he was yelling her name but Y/N couldn’t hear anything but the obnoxious ringing in her ears. Sam grabbed her shoulders and a whole new pain shot through her body; she think she screamed but she couldn’t be sure. He immediately let go as Dean appeared above her next to his brother. They both looked worried, scared. Sam had just pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket to presumably call for help when there was a brilliant flash of light and Gabe showed up behind them. “Gabe…” She couldn’t tell if the whisper actually came out of her mouth or not but he shoved the Winchesters aside and was kneeling at her side.
        “Y/N, baby, oh God, baby, hold on, I’m here, I’m right here.”  Through the fog of pain, she realized she was hearing his voice in her head. It was comforting, knowing he was with her. With her in her last moments. She had accepted this and was happy that she would see the face she loved before she died. She tried to smile at him, tell him how she felt. “No! You will not die, not if I can help it!”  It didn’t surprise her that he could read her thoughts. She started to tell him how much she loved him when Sam grabbed Gabe by the collar of his coat and yanked him up, away from her. She didn’t know what they were saying but Sam was angry, yelling at Gabe. Her trickster simply snapped his fingers and the boys were gone. He turned back to her, kneeling at her side again.
        “This might hurt but just hold on to me, okay, sugar? Just hold on.” Gabe put her arms over his shoulders as he leaned over her. At first all Y/N knew was the most intense pain she had ever felt. The bright golden light surrounding her pressed against her and put out a warmth that eked into every pore of her body, softening the pain molecule by molecule until it was completely gone. Y/N sighed and let her body go limp against Gabe’s chest as he held her to him. “Come on, baby, let’s get you somewhere safe.” She realized that she was actually hearing him talk now, it wasn’t just in her head.
       “Gabe, you….saved me.” Her throat was raw; the words scraped out painfully. He kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger there for a couple of seconds.
       “Of course I did. I couldn’t lose you. I love you, Y/N, you’re my world.” She was so tired, all she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep for a year but her trickster just told her what she had been yearning to hear for months. He loved her.
       “You love me…Gabe, you love me?”
       “I do, I love you more than anything.”
       “I love you, too,” she whispered. She lifted her face to his and he kissed her lips gently.
       “Let’s get you out of here.” He picked her up, cradling her in his arms and carrying her out of the warehouse. As they walked outside, Sam and Dean immediately besieged them. “She’s okay, guys, she’s gonna be fine,” Gabe said before they could ask any questions.
       “Y/N, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have taken the lead,” Dean said, grabbing her hand in his.
       “Don’t blame yourself, Dean. It’s okay,” Y/N said weakly, trying to smile at him.
       “Put her in the Impala,” Sam demanded, his voice angry. “We’ll get her to a hospital.”
      “She doesn’t need a hospital,” Gabe answered firmly. “All she needs is me. I will take care of her.” He started to walk away from the boys then turned his head to look over his shoulder at them. “We’ll be in her motel room if you want to see her when you get back.” She heard the snap, felt the dizziness and she was suddenly in her motel room, Gabe laying her down on the bed. “Close your eyes and rest, cupcake,” he directed, his voice soft, smooth like velvet. She wanted to argue, wanted to ask him how he saved her but her eyes were heavy…so heavy….
       When she awoke, she felt like she had been asleep for a hundred years. But she also felt amazing; there was no pain anywhere and she felt clear-minded and alert. She lay there for a few moments, savoring the feeling before forcing herself to remember what had happened. The explosion, the pain, Gabe saving her and snapping her here.
       Gabe saying he loved her.
       She sat up slowly, pushing her hair out of her face. There was her trickster, sitting at her bedside, a smile on his lips. “Good morning sleepy head,” he said, standing from his chair and sitting on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
        “Good,” she answered. “I feel good.” She reached out and covered his hand in hers, squeezing tightly. “Thank you for saving me.”
        “You don’t need to keep thanking me, Y/N,” he replied, leaning in and kissing her temple. “It was a completely selfish act. I couldn’t bear the thought of existing without you.” Her heart melting, she threw her arms around him and kissed him thoroughly. Just as she pulled away, the door to her motel room flew open and the Winchesters barreled in, looking scared and pissed all at the same time.
        “Hey guys,” Y/N smiled. They pulled up short, obviously shocked at how good she looked and sounded.
        “Are you okay,” Dean asked gruffly, sending a hard look at the man sitting on the bed next to her.
        “I’m fine, I feel great.”
        “Took you guys long enough,” Gabe laughed. Y/N watched both brothers’ jaws clench and eyes narrow.
        “It felt like it took a week to get here,” Sam growled, “What did you do?”
        “Y/N needed her rest. She almost died. She didn’t need you two muttonheads bothering her.” He smirked at them. “And it was only two days, not a week.”
        “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t stake your ass right here, right now,” Dean grumbled, taking a step towards the bed.
         “Dean, don’t…” Y/N started but the trickster stopped her.        
        “One,” Gabe put his index finger up in the air. “I saved your precious hunting partner. Two, I’m incredibly handsome and three…well…okay, I can’t think of a third reason but…”
        “Three, if you do, I’ll never speak to you again.” All three men swung their eyes to Y/N who looked deadly serious. “The fact that he saved my life should be enough. Maybe you could try thanking him. Unless I don’t mean as much to you as you’ve always said I do.” Both hunters had the grace to look abashed at her words, mumbling half-sincere thank you’s. “That’s better,” she praised with a smile.
         “So, I’ve gotta ask, why would you save Y/N? I mean, she’s a hunter.” Sam looked genuinely curious while Dean looked annoyed at the whole situation.
          “Yeah, and why is a hunter defending a trickster,” the older brother asked, genuinely pissed off.
          “You chuckleheads haven’t figured it out yet,” Gabe asked, laughter tinting his voice.
          “Figured what out,” Dean huffed, narrowing his green eyes. Y/N held her breath as the shimmering started and suddenly Mad Dog the big burly biker was sitting next to her on the bed. He grinned and held his arms out in a “ta-dah” motion. Watching Sam and Dean’s reactions as the realization set in would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so terrifying. As soon as Gabe shimmered back to himself, the boys exploded.
       “What the hell?”
       “Are you fucking kidding me?”
       “All this time?”
       “You’ve been running around with this asshole?”
       “How could you do that do that us, Y/N?”
       Y/N found she would rather deal with Dean and his anger rather than Sam and his disappointment. She fixed her eyes on the older brother and said, “It’s none of your business who I see,” she yelled back.
       “He’s a monster! We kill monsters, we don’t cuddle up with them!”
       “Are you really going to play that card,” she shot back. “Benny.” She waited until Dean’s mouth hardened into a flat line before looking at Sam. “Ruby.” The tall man blushed hot and looked away. “I love Gabe. Love him. And he loves me. And that’s the end of this discussion.” The brothers looked like they both wanted to argue more but Y/N’s expression deterred them. It wasn’t often she got angry with them but when she did, they knew to back off.
       “How were you able to heal her,” Sam asked finally, his voice calm as he stared at the trickster.
       “What kind of a question is that,” Gabe asked. “I brought your precious brother back from the dead, why couldn’t I do something as simple as keeping someone from dying?”
       “What? What the hell?” Dean’s eyes widened as he stared at Sam. “What is he talking about, Sam?”
        “Later.” Sam shook his head without looking at his brother. “So, you love Y/N?”
        “With all my heart.” Sam sighed and shook his head. It was hard to argue with Gabe when he was so sincere. “You’re right, Y/N, we have no right to tell you who you can be with. Just….just be careful.”
        “I will. Thank you Sam.” She swiveled her eyes over to Dean who looked like a spoiled child who was told he needed to finish his spinach before he go out and play. He finally rolled his eyes and muttered, “whatever,” before stalking towards the door. He grabbed the handle then stopped and pointed at Gabe with his middle finger.
       “You. You even think about hurting her, I will stake you so hard.” Without waiting for a reply, he stomped out the door, followed by Sam who still looked baffled by their pairing. When they were alone, Y/N let out a huge sigh.
        “Well, that went well.” Gabe laughed and kissed the side of her head.
        “Thanks for standing up for me.”
        “Of course I stood up for you. You’re mine, remember?” She caressed his cheek and kissed his lips lightly. “So…what did you mean by you brought Dean back from the dead?”
         “Oh…I might have trapped Sam in an alternate universe where he had to watch Dean die every day.” Hs tone was flippant yet he was watching out of the side of his eye for her reaction. She gasped, slapped his chest, then starting laughing.
          “Why? Why would you do that? When did you do that?”
          “Mmm….it was a couple of months ago. I did it because that caveman wouldn’t stop flirting with you.” Gabe wrapped his arms around Y/N and shifted all his weight so that he fell on top of her. She screamed, startled at the sudden position change but settled underneath him, her hands sliding over his shoulders. “Plus, it was a good time to teach Sam a lesson. Dean’s going to die and he needs to know what life without him will be like. It’s getting closer, you know, his crossroads contract.”
         “Yes, I know. I’m trying not to think about it. Isn’t there anything you can do to save him?” Gabe shook his head.
        “Crossroad deals are binding. Even someone like me can’t break them.” He kissed the tip of her nose before pushing himself up and crawling off of the bed.
       “Where are you going,” she said, pouting just a little. He stood in the middle of the room and stared at her, his expression all kinds of serious.
       “Look, I need to tell you something. I’ve wanted to for a while now but tonight seems like the right time.” As Gabe took a deep breath, Y/N sat up so she could see him better. “An ordinary trickster, well, he can’t do the things that I do. I’m different…because…” A soft, golden glow began to emanate from his body, growing brighter by the second. His eyes began to glow blue and suddenly, a pair of golden wings unfurled from behind him. “…I’m an angel.”
       “Oh my God,” she gasped, unable to take her eyes off of the wings. They were huge, the feathers quivering with tiny electrical pulses, glowing with a light of their own.
       “Not just any angel, either,” he continued, taking a step towards her. “I’m Gabriel.”
       “The archangel,” she breathed.
       “The one and only.” Y/N stared at him for a while, taking everything in. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, she ended up closing it again because she didn’t really know what to say, how to react. “Are you okay? Is this too much for you?”
       “No….no….it’s, well, it is a lot to take in. You’re an archangel, for crying out loud. I grew up hearing about you in Sunday School.” She chuckled and shook her head, a baffled look coloring her features. “If I had told crabby Miss Parkerson then that Gabriel the archangel was my soul mate she would have stuck me in the corner for blasphemy!”
       “So. this doesn’t frighten you off? You still want to be with me?” Y/N was shocked to hear worry in his voice. She crawled off of the bed and walked up to him, sliding her arms over his shoulders and linking her hands behind his neck, careful not to touch the wings that were shooting tiny sparks between the feathers.
        “You’re mine. I’m yours. Forever. Wasn’t that the deal?”
        “It was indeed.” Gabe rested his forehead on hers, his eyes, now returned to the whiskey color Y/N loved so much, stared into hers tenderly. She could have stayed there, in that embrace, forever.
        The pain of remembering that night was still sharp after all these years and it cut her in places she thought were scarred over. She caught the bartender’s eye and signaled for another round. When Kelly Clarkson was done singing, the lights dimmed and the patrons of the club started applauding, gathering around the stage on the east end. A tall thin man with lanky dark hair dressed in a black suit with a shite shirt and red skinny tie came out and strapped an acoustic guitar around him. He started to play a soft melody that Y/N recognized as Lana Del Rey’s Born To Die. She grunted in disbelief at the opening song choice and downed the last of her shots. This was just getting ridiculous.
        When Jillian took the stage, the crowd went wild and it seemed like the number of patrons had tripled in the last few seconds. She smiled beatifically and walked the length of the stage, touching hands with fans before beginning to sing into the silver bejeweled microphone. The first note quieted the crowd as her voice floated through the air. The group swayed as one as if they were in a trance. Y/N immediately thought siren but shook her head of that silly notion; the siren’s song was transmitted through saliva and it wasn’t like Jillian was out there licking people.
       Y/N watched the crowd, looking to see if they all appeared human or maybe her vengeful spirit was wandering among them. She heard one girl say that she sounded like an angel, causing her to start laughing. The laugh caught in her throat and finished as a sob.
        Gabriel was not a singer. He tried but he sounded like Scuttle from The Little Mermaid. “Where did the expression ‘sings like an angel’ come from if you can’t sing,” Y/N would tease him. He would just sing louder at her until she covered her ears and begged for mercy. She missed those times most, the fun times when she could forget that she was a hunter and he was a trickster and an angel.
        Like her, he had a job to do. He still meted out just desserts to those who deserved them, even if it was her hunting partners. Almost two years after they discovered she was seeing him, they disappeared off the face the planet for a few days. Bobby couldn’t track them, Castiel couldn’t find them. And then Cas vanished as well. She called Gabe, asking if he had a hand in this and he told her he did, that they were fine, he’d send them back soon. They just had to learn a lesson. Again. So she waited.
         And waited.
        After three days, she tried to call Gabe but he didn’t answer. Now she was worried. He always answered, no matter what he was doing. She took a chance and dialed Dean’s phone. When he picked up, she wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or more scared. They wouldn’t hurt Gabe, would they? “Where are you,” he barked. “We need to have a conversation, you and I.”
        “I’m at The Bluebird on 4th, room 27,” she answered, now more scared then ever. She tried Gabe time and again with no luck until Dean pounded on her door. She pulled it open and stood back, knowing he was going to storm in and she was right. “Are you guys okay,” she ventured, shutting the door after looking behind him and seeing no Sam.
        “Oh, we’re just peachy,” he snarled, his voice on the brink of being a shout. His eyes were brimming with anger, his jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists. For a split second, Y/N had to wonder if she should be worried about her safety. “That douchebag boyfriend of yours is a freaking archangel!” Now he did shout. But she was more surprised by the fact that Gabe had finally told them his secret.
        “Yeah…” Dean rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air.
        “And you freaking knew! Of course you knew! How long have you known?” Dean kept his distance, maybe, she thought, because he was so angry he just might lash out physically at her and he didn’t really want that on his conscience.
        “Since the night he saved me after the explosion,” she answered quietly. Dean closed his eyes as he absorbed the fact that she had known for two years. His fists clenched tighter before he took a deep breath and opened his eyes.
         “And you didn’t tell us why?”
         “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”
         “It wasn’t your…Jesus Christ, Y/N, you could have saved us a lot of trouble by telling us this when he told you!”
         “He asked me not to,” she said, bravely taking a step towards the angry hunter. “Besides, you wouldn’t have believed me then. That was well before Cas showed up. You would have thought he was tricking me.” Dean opened his mouth to argue but she could see he knew she was right. The anger seemed to leave his body with a sigh. “Is he okay,” she asked quietly. “Is Gabe okay?”
          “Yeah, yeah, we left him in a circle of holy fire but he’s otherwise unharmed.” Y/N could tell that he was annoyed but she didn’t know if it was by her question or the fact that Gabriel was still kicking.
         “Where’s Sam?”
         “In the car. He didn’t really want to talk to you right now.”
         “Well, your boyfriend put him through a lot. A lot more than me, actually.”
         “I’m sorry. What was the reason for all of it?”
         “To tell us to play our roles in the apocalypse.” Dean was starting to get worked up again so Y/N closed the gap between them and grabbed his hands in hers.
          “Damn him,” she exclaimed. “I’ve asked him and asked him to see our side of things. But for eons he’s been walking around with the idea in his head that you’re Michael’s vessel and Sam, Lucifer’s. He’s stubborn.”
         “Yeah, we get that.” Dean sighed again and looked her dead in the eye. “So you’re on our side and not that angel’s, right?”
        “Of course. Till the very end.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead firmly. “I’ll tell you where he’s at so you can go free him…if he needs it…I turned the sprinklers on but…” he shrugged, “…but only if you try again to persuade him this apocalypse shit doesn’t need to happen. Tell him fate isn’t written in stone.”
         “I’ll do my best,” she promised. When she got to the abandoned paper mill, she heard the fire alarm ringing but no fire trucks were in sight. She pulled the heavy door open and saw the sprinklers that Dean had activated were spitting out the last of their water supply onto a very wet, very pissed off archangel who sat cross-legged in the middle of dirty, wet floor inside a blackened ring of ashes. “Hey, hot stuff,” Y/N greeted, hoping to get a smile from him. Instead he merely raised his head and looked at her, water dripping from his head. “Baby, are you okay?” She received a shrug in return. as she kneeled next to him. “Gabe, talk to me. Please?”
        “Your friend Dean really knows how to a cut a man deep, you know that?”
        “I’m aware,” she replied, thinking how many times she got pissed at him for his insensitivity and cruel tongue. “What did he say?”
        “He brought up things I wanted to forget. Me running away from Heaven when the fighting  between my brothers got bad. I wasn’t there when Lucifer was banished. Maybe if I had manned up and stuck around, I could have fixed it. Or stopped it.”
         “Gabriel,” Y/N tried to reach for him but he shied away. It broke her heart to see her trickster so upset. “If you believe in destiny, then Lucifer’s falling had to happen. There was nothing you could have done to stop it.”
         “Actually, that destiny was set on place after the fall.”
         “Really? So…you’re saying that something unforeseen happened that caused a new destiny to be put into place?” He nodded sadly. “And if that’s true then maybe something we do, you and I, or Sam or Dean, can change destiny again?” She let her words sink in; suddenly his whole body language changed as he realized what she was saying. He stood up, his eyes sparkling again.
         “Maybe…maybe!” He clapped his hands together and winked at her. “This is why I love you…well, one of the reasons. You’re smart, you’re always thinking.” She grinned at her angel and stood up.  
      “So, why didn’t the fire department show when Dean set the alarm off,” Y/N asked as she entwined her fingers with Gabe’s.
       “Because brilliant little me warded the place before I brought The Wonder Twins in here. I didn’t want anyone accidentally wandering in.” She tilted her head, and Gabe heard her unspoken question. “Nothing I do is ever warded against you, sugar lips.” She chuckled, allowing Gabriel to finally embrace her and press his lips to hers. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
       “Thanks for rethinking your position on this whole apocalypse thing.”
       And there was the rub, Y/N thought as she came back to the present where Jillian was now singing another cover, Better In Time. By now she expected every song to remind her of Gabe so she let this one roll on by. Although she realized that Time, something she thought she would always have with her trickster, was the one thing they, in fact, did not have.
        Y/N was working a rugaru case in Indianapolis a few months later. Sam and Dean were hightailing it out to help her after a demon possession in Smithfield, IN. Sam called her from the road to tell her that they were being delayed by a storm of biblical proportions and that they were staying the night at a place called The Elysian Fields Hotel. They would catch up with her tomorrow. As soon as she hung up her phone, she heard a telltale rustling behind her and her heart soared, knowing that Gabe was there. But when she turned around to face him, he looked serious, scared. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
       “Your boys are in danger,” he blurted out. “And before you say they’re always in danger, I mean serious, their ass is in the fire, they’re gonna die danger.”
       “What? How? I just got off the phone with Sam….”
       “Yeah, the hotel they’re staying at is only an operating hotel when they want it to be.”
       “When who wants it to be?” Gabe was pacing, obviously worried and it was frightening Y/N. “Gabriel, tell me what’s going on.”
       “Do you remember when I told you about that gang of demigods I hung out with millennia ago?”
       “You mean Kali and her cronies.” The tone of Y/N’s voice dropped a couple of degrees. Gabe had told her about his fling with the Hindu goddess shortly after they started getting serious. While she knew it was in the past, Y/N couldn’t help but be jealous. How could one compete with a literal goddess? Gabe stopped his pacing and gave her an exasperated, sideways glance. “Sorry. What do they have to do with Sam & Dean?”
       “They want to stop the apocalypse as bad as you guys do but they figure with Michael and Lucifer’s vessels in their possession, they can use them as bargaining chips. Zao Shen is already talking of killing them.”
      “We have to go then,” Y/N exclaimed, reaching for her hunting bag. Gabe stopped her with a hand on her arm.
      “No. You can’t.” His voice was hard, almost as hard as his grip. She flicked her eyes up to him in surprise. “Kali already has a blood spell performed on the boys. They can’t leave and I’m the only one who can get close enough to her to get their blood back. She’ll snap your neck the second you show up.”
      “I can’t just leave them to die, Gabriel!”
      “I know you can’t. That’s why I’m going. I just wanted to let you know what my plan was…you know…just in case…” He yanked her up against his body and kissed her forcefully. “I love you.”
      “I love you. Be careful, take care of my angel.” And he was gone. Y/N tried calling Sam back but the phone just went to voicemail. She hated being in the dark, waiting, wondering….and knowing he was with Kali, well, that just made her blood boil. She waited about an hour before Gabe popped back in. He looked ragged, tired, resigned. “Babe! Are you okay? Are Sam and Dean…”
      “They’re fine, we’re fine. Kali tried to kill me but I was too smart for her.” Y/N rushed up to hug him but her hands went right through him, causing his image to shimmer. 
      “Gabe?” He sighed and looked at her with sad eyes.
     “Kali is quick and I was distracted,” he admitted. “She got my blood so now I can’t leave, either.”
     “What do you need me to do,” she asked immediately.
     “Nothing. Stay right here where you’re safe.”
     “What are you planning, trickster?”
     “Look, my original mission was to go in a rescue the guys. But…things have changed.” He took a deep breath and didn’t meet her eyes when he said, “Lucifer is coming. He may already be here.”
      “Then you’ve gotta kill Kali, break the blood spell, get the hell out of there!”
      “No can do, sweetheart. I have a job to do…Dean made that very clear.”
      “Dean? Why is Dean suddenly in charge?”
      “Look, cupcake, if Lucifer is dead, this whole apocalypse nonsense stops right here, right now. And I’m the hero of the story. I have to stop running and do what’s right.”
      “Gabe, don’t be a fool!” Y/N wished more than anything she could grab onto him, keep him here with her. She could see the determination in his whiskey eyes, that he wanted to be the one to slay his brother. “You can’t take on Lucifer! He’s too strong! And this isn’t your fight!”
       “Dean said….”
      “I don’t give a fuck what Dean said!” Her scream shocked both of them. But Y/N was angry, scared that he was going to sacrifice himself this way because of some bravado Dean Winchester had spouted. “It’s not your place to kill your brother! If Dean wants him dead, he can damn well kill him himself!”
      “He’s tried.”
      “Gabe, please, please, don’t fuck everything up, please?” She reached for him, even though she knew it would do no good. “If you shimmer out of here intending to go for Lucifer, I will never speak to you again! Do you hear me?”
       “I love you, Y/N.” His eyes grew moist and soft, his lips turned up in a sad smile. He reached for her, too. “Don’t forget me. And don’t fall in love with someone new, okay?” He shimmered away before she could answer, leaving her standing there in the middle of the floor, hand outstretched, hot, angry tears coursing down her face.
       “I hate you, Gabriel,” she cried, sinking to her knees and praying for his safety. She didn’t know how long she stayed on the floor, crying, pleading, begging into the emptiness of her hotel room. At some point she fell asleep and dreamed of the devil coming for her, his red eyes glowing in the darkness, laughing about how he killed Gabriel and she was next. She awoke to the sound of pounding and yelling outside her door. Shaking the cobwebs from her head and pulling herself to her feet, groaning as her muscles stretched, she recognized Dean’s voice. Her stomach a mass of knots, she threw open the door to see the Winchester brothers standing with a tall, beautiful, dark skinned woman. “Gabriel,” she asked, hating the piteousness in her voice as the trio walked into the room.
       “Y/N, I’m sorry,” Sam started.
       “No,” she yelled, slamming the door behind her. “No! Don’t say it!”
       “He fought valiantly,” Dean said, his voice soft. “He saved so many people.”
       “Is Lucifer dead?”
       “No.” Y/N stood in the middle of her room and let the reality wash over her. Her angel, her trickster, her heart, was gone. Lost to her. Forever. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was an archangel, he was supposed to be eternal. She snapped her head up and stared at the woman.
       “Are you Kali?” The goddess, not used to being spoken to that way by humans, widened her dark eyes in surprise as she nodded. “This is partly your fault!” Y/N strode across the room to face her, pointing at her. “You crafted that blood spell on him, making it so he couldn’t leave. If he could have snapped out of there…”
      “Whoa, easy there,” Dean said, cutting her off with both hands raised in the air. He stood in between the two women, his back to Kali. “This chick can kill you with her mind…like Vader. So I’d take it down a notch or two.”
      “Right now I don’t really care.” She was still upset but she turned the volume down.
      “I understand the role I played in Loki’s death,” the Destroyer answered, her voice smooth and even. She placed a long nailed hand on Dean’s shoulder and gently pushed him out of her way. Her eyes bored into Y/N’s unblinking. “I feel great remorse for the way it played out. Here…” She held out a small glass vial that contained a golden red liquid. “This belonged to your angel. I’d like to give it to you as a small token to acknowledge the wrong I did him. And you.”
      “I-thank you.” Y/N wanted to be angry at the goddess, rail against her, but she could see Kali was truly remorseful. She took the vial and held it tight in her hand.
      “I could sense how deep his feelings ran for you, mortal. Just as I can see you truly loved your angel. Again, you have my sincerest condolences.” She nodded at Y/N before doing the same at the boys and then simply vanished.  
     “Y/N, are you doing okay,” Sam asked, once they all took in the fact that Kali the Destroyer was gone. She shook her head in response, still staring at Gabe’s blood. The tall hunter came over and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m so, so sorry.” She nodded and whispered her thanks. Dean walked towards her, arms outstretched to pull her into an embrace but she backed away.
      “You,” she spat, looking up at him with fire in her eyes. “This is all your fault!”
      “Excuse me?” Dean looked offended.
      “You filled Gabriel’s head with all that honorable death crap! Telling him to man up and kill his brother. What right did you have to tell him that, to force that burden on him?” Y/N could feel the tears welling, threatening to push through and spill over the dam she was trying to hide them behind.
      “I’m just trying to stop the freakin’ apocalypse,” Dean shot back, obviously wounded by her words.
      “And you don’t care who you use to do it!” She took a deep breath, so close to her breaking point. “I know you didn’t like Gabriel, you’ve made that abundantly clear over the years. Was this your way of finally getting him out of your life? Goad him into playing chicken with Lucifer?”
      “Y/N..” Sam tried to intervene but she was having none of it. She rolled right over him with her words.
      “Are you happy now, Dean? Huh? Are you happy? He’s gone! The one man I ever loved, will ever love, and you killed him.” The hunter opened his mouth to defend himself but he didn’t have the time. “Don’t you even say that it wasn’t you, it was Lucifer. You may not have been the one to stick that angel blade in him but you sure as hell put him in the way of it. He wouldn’t have been there, trying to play hero if it wasn’t for you!”
      “I’m not happy,” Dean replied after a few beats of shocked silence. “I’m sorry it worked out this way, Y/N.”
      “I need to go.” Y/N ignored Dean’s apology and started grabbing her things, leaving him a stunned statue in the middle of the room.
      “Where are you going,” Sam asked.
      “Home. Colorado. I can’t…I can’t stay here, I can’t be around…” she motioned vaguely at Dean and Sam sighed.
      “Let me drive you, at least?” Y/N stopped in the middle of throwing clothes in a duffel bag.
       “I can drive,” she grumbled testily.
       “No, I don’t think you’re in any condition to drive, nevertheless all the way to Colorado. Please,” he walked over to her, and pulled her into a tight hug. She dropped the bag and started to cry, arms limp at her sides. Sam didn’t seem to care that she was sobbing all over his jacket and shirt. He simply held her until she gained enough control of herself to look up at him and say, “Ok.”
       “Ok. Thank you. Dean can pick me up whenever he’s ready, right, Dean?”
       “Yeah, sure,” he grunted, keeping eye contact with the carpet. Y/N wasn’t sure if he was unhappy at the extra driving time or feeling angry over her accusation. She let Sam help her pack the Jeep and gave him the keys when they were done. She never said another word or even looked in Dean’s direction.
       As Jillian spoke to the crowd at The Lemon Drop, Y/N counted how many years it had been since she spoke to Dean. It was going on seven. Although she did help with the procuring of some items they needed when he had the whole Mark of Cain thing going on. Y/N thought about Dean, wondering if she should give up this grudge she had been carrying around for so long. Seven years was a long time to punish someone. Maybe it was the memories assaulting her tonight but she felt like she should call him, or maybe swing by wherever he was when she was done with this case. It was a shock to realize that she actually missed Dean Winchester.  While she was at it, maybe she should stop hunting alone. It had been nice to have a partner, someone who had her back. She was tired of rushing headlong into dangerous situations with the hope that whatever she was hunting would end her suffering. As she pondered this change of heart, she fiddled with the silver chain around her neck, twisting it so the clasp that had found it’s way to the front was back behind her neck. Hanging from it was the vial of angel blood. She hadn’t taken it off since she slid it on the chain; she couldn’t. It was all she had left of Gabriel now.
       Jillian started another cover song; this time it was Shakira’s Broken Record. Y/N rubbed her hand over her face in disbelief and was more surprised to find that she had been crying then she was that this was yet another of Gabe’s songs. She realized that she hadn’t thought about the archangel’s death in a very long time, at least not the details of that night. She had kept those locked down tight for seven years and yet tonight, everything seemed to scream at her to remember every painful moment. She grabbed a cocktail napkin and wiped the tears away, hoping not too many people had seen this display of emotion.
       Y/N dug her phone out of her shirt, deciding to research this place before the show was over; she was done reliving the worst time of her life. It was time to focus on the reason she was here. She googled Lemon Drop Denver and was surprised when nothing came up except a doughnut shop and a handful of places she could buy the candy. She modified the search by adding “nightlife” to it but it only pulled up the best nightclubs that served Lemon Drop drinks. “Hey, when did this place open,” she asked the bartender.
    “No idea. I just started working here.” Nodding, Y/N entered the club’s address into google. It came up as the Sleep-E-Tyme Motel. Following the links, she discovered that it had gone out of business three years previous. Not only were there zero indications that the property had been bought or converted into a nightclub, it also had a very non-existent history as a motel. No murders, unexplained deaths, or suicides connected with the property. Even after she used a little knowledge she’d learned from working with Sam all those years and hacked into the Denver County Assessor’s Office, she ended up with nada. The property was originally purchased 75 years previously and had been ten different motels over the years. Y/N, desperate to figure this out, tried a broad search for unexplained deaths in the Denver area but nothing matched up. Giving it one last try, she plugged Jillian’s name into the search engine and came up with a giant goose egg.
      There were results for people who had her name but nothing came up about her at all. No Facebook page, no Twitter or Instagram account. In this day and age, how could a singer garner so much attention without having a presence on social media? An image search also pulled up nothing. “All right, Sam, what have you gotten me into,” Y/N said out loud as she texted him to ask who passed along the case to him.
    “I’d like to sing a brand new song tonight,” Jillian announced, as Y/N waited for Sam’s reply. “It was written by my partner in crime, my guitarist Mad Dog.” She gestured to the long haired man standing to her left, who saluted the cheering crowd with a cheeky grin. “It’s dedicated to a certain someone out there in the audience tonight. She knows who she is.” Y/N scanned the mob of people to see if anyone reacted like they knew this song was for them but no one seemed to stand out. Her phone buzzing cut her search short.
       “What case are you talking about,” Sam texted back.
       “The possible poltergeist case in Denver. With the lounge singer? Jillian?”
       “I got nothing. It wasn’t me.” There was a short pause before a second text from him popped up. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”
       “I’ll let you know,” she sent back, her mind still reeling with possible explanations. If Sam didn’t send the text, then who did? Her phone buzzed insistently now, indicating she was receiving a call. She ignored it, knowing it was Sam being overprotective, and let the call go to voicemail.
       Right now, the song demanded attention, starting out with a slow, melodic guitar riff. Confused as to where to go from here, Y/N put the phone down and turned her eyes to Jillian, the reason she was here. The singer had her eyes closed as she swayed to the beat. When she opened her mouth, her voice was smooth and effortless.
    “Everything I do, I’m gonna think of you, don’t know what else to do…You got me, you got me, baby…everything I make, I only make for you…Baby, be patient for me, and please don’t fall in love with someone new…I promise one day I’ll come back for you.” Y/N’s heart stopped when she heard the words. Surely she heard wrong. She shook her head and leaned forward on her stool, determined to pay closer attention to the lyrics. “Oh, you say you hate me now, and you burn me with your words…Calling me a fool, saying that I’ve fucked up everything…and you’ll never forgive me, though I’m doing this for you…”
      “What the fuck,” Y/N whispered, her head spinning, her heart pounding. How was this happening. Why was this happening? Jillian sang the chorus again and she heard it clear as a bell: “Please don’t fall in love with someone new.” Y/N started looking around but for what or whom, she wasn’t sure. She just knew that someone was deliberately messing with her. She didn’t understand, though, how anyone could know that Gabriel had said those words to her. She never told anyone about their last conversation.
        “Believe in you, believe in me, we’re meant to be together…” Jillian sang the next line and looked right at Y/N. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a song,” Y/N told herself as her eyes welled up. She didn’t want to cry again, not now. But these lyrics were meant for her. And Jillian wasn’t breaking eye contact. She stepped off of the stage and began walking through the crowd towards her. The fans parted like the red sea. It was like they didn’t even care that the woman they had been screaming for moments before was walking by. “Please don’t hate me,” she sang, causing the dam to break. Y/N couldn’t stop the tears if her life depended on it.
        “I don’t hate you, I love you,” she whispered, choking on her tears. The closer Jillian got to her, the more convinced Y/N was that she was going to shimmer into Gabriel. The vial of Gabe’s blood that she wore around her neck was starting to heat up; it was burning her skin where it hung underneath her shirt. Y/N pulled it away from her, knowing in her heart of hearts that her angel was here.
        “I promise one day I’ll come back to you…” Jillian smiled, extending a hand towards her. Y/N stood up from her barstool, holding her breath. The singer stopped in front of her, a beautiful smile on her face. “I promise one day I’ll come back to you.” Suddenly, everything around her shimmered; the neon candy, the crowd, the bartender. In a flash it was all gone. Y/N was standing in the lobby of an abandoned motel, facing Jillian. One lone spotlight remained, illuminating the beautiful singer. Y/N reached out to touch her hand, whispering her angel’s name.  
           But her hand went right through the songstress, who shimmered as well and disappeared. The spotlight shut off. “What? No, no! Where are you? Gabriel, where are you?” She spun around, seeing nothing but dark and street lights streaming in through grimy, boarded up windows. Everything was gone. Sinking to her knees, she sobbed Gabe’s name over and over, feeling as though she had lost him all over again. Maybe she was dead and this was her hell: reliving all the painful memories of him and thinking she had the chance to have him back. Or maybe another trickster had her in his sights.
         Her rational side flared up, yelling at her to get up and investigate the situation. This whole thing smelled fishy and the quicker she got to the bottom of it, the sooner she would have answers. It wasn’t doing her any good to lay in the dirt and cry. She reached for her phone, planning to use the flashlight to search her surroundings until she remembered she had left it on the bar. When the bar disappeared, did her phone follow suit? Y/N sighed, wiping her tear-stained cheeks and pushing herself to her feet. If she had lost her phone in this debacle, she was screwed. She turned around slowly as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. She could make out a couple of tables, one laying cockeyed because of a broken leg, and a scattering of chairs. She didn’t see a bar or any barstools. “Damn it,” she said out loud, her voice echoing in the darkness.
      Maybe it was on the ground, she thought, having fallen when the bar shimmered away. She crouched down and started feeling around with her hands. The floor was disgusting, covered in years of dust and dirt and, “Oh, God, what the hell was that,” she asked, praying it wasn’t animal droppings she just touched. Taking a deep breath and reminding herself she’s handled worse things during hunts, she crawled a few more feet before her hand touched something that felt like a shoe. A shoe that had a foot in it. As Y/N ran her hand up the shoe, she wasn’t sure if she wanted there to be a body attached to the foot or not.
      Suddenly a light illuminated the space above her. Peering up, she was startled to see Jillian’s guitar player standing there, her phone in his hand, flashlight app functioning. “Looking for this?”
       “I, uh, yeah, thanks.” As she started to pull herself up from the floor, he held out his free hand to help her. She reached out to take and it, half-expecting him to be a mirage as well. She gasped when her fingers closed around a real hand. “What’s going on,” she asked. “Why are you still here?” In the light of the phone, she could see him smile. A smile she knew like the back of your hand. “Gabe,” she whispered, her heart thumping hard against her chest. She didn’t think she could survive another letdown. “Are you real?”
      “I’m real, sugar.” He snapped his fingers and there was her angel standing before her. She didn’t move for a few moments, just stared at him, letting her mind adjust. He started to walk towards her but she stopped him, rapidly pulling a knife from her belt. “Whoa, whoa, cupcake, no need for violence.” He put both hands in front of him, his whiskey eyes wide.
      “I need to be sure I’m not in a Djinn soaked dream,” Y/N told him, drawing the large blade across her palm, opening her skin. Dark red blood spilled from the wound and onto the floor. Nothing happened, she stayed where she was, as did the man in front of her. “Okay, then,” she whispered, tearing her eyes away from the blood and looking up at Gabriel. “You’re really real. You’re really, truly real.”
       “I’m really, truly, honestly here.” He stepped up to her, bringing her hand to his lips. He kissed her palm lightly and the wound disappeared. When his lips touched her skin, Y/N gasped, the sensation so much more intense than she remembered. She looked up at him and burst into tears. He gathered her into his arms and held her while she sobbed. Seven years of pent up anger, grief, sorrow…it all came out right then. She didn’t know how long she stood there in his embrace but she finally was able to catch her breath and pull her head away.
       “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything I said,” she told him. “I don’t hate you, I never did.”
       “I know, I know. It’s okay.” Gabriel used his thumb to wipe away a couple of straggling tears from her cheeks and she leaned in to his touch.  
       “It’s not okay, Gabe, it’s not. I was cruel and I should never have said what I said.” Y/N grabbed his face in both hands and placed her forehead against his, standing on her tiptoes to do so. “You were so brave to take on Lucifer that way, saving all of those people, those gods. I should have encouraged you but I was scared. I didn’t want to lose you.”
       “You didn’t lose me, I’m back.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m back.”
       “How are you back, anyway,” Y/N asked, not wanting to remind him of the seven years of torture that she endured when she did lose him.
       “Dad put me back together.” He stepped away from her and held out his arms. “Did a fine job, I must say.”
       “I don’t understand. I thought Chuck said…”
       “When Dad revealed himself to the Hardy Boys? Yeah, they asked about bringing my brothers and me back to help fight Auntie Amara and yeah, he told them archangels were too difficult to build in such a short time. But when the dust settled and everything turned out A-OK, Dean prayed to Dad and asked him for a favor.” He smiled sweetly and took her hands in his. “He asked for me to be rebuilt. For you.”
      “D-Dean prayed? For you and I?” Gabriel nodded, his honey colored hair flopping into his handsome face. “I can’t believe it.”
      “Believe it, doll. He felt guiltier about getting me killed then anything he’s ever done.” The angel winked at her. “He misses you.”
      “I…I don’t know what to say.”
      “You could start by thanking him.” Y/N laughed.
      “Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that,” she promised on a sigh as she hugged her angel again. “So you put this whole elaborate thing together just to surprise me?”
       “Of course. Would you expect anything less?” She shook her head against his chest. “I wanted to be sure that you wanted me back. I needed you to comb through our memories together and see how you felt about me. I didn’t want to intrude if you had actually met someone else.”
      “There will never be anyone else, Gabe. Ever.”    
      “I feel the same way about you, babe.” The look he gave her melted her insides. “I have to say, though, that watching you relive my death was pretty rough. I’m sorry I had to put you through that.”
       “I hadn’t thought about that night in years. I think it was cathartic, though, something that I should have done a long time ago.” He pulled her flush against him once again before holding her out arms length, looking her up and down.
       “Damn, I love you.”
       “I love you, Gabe. I missed you.”
       “Let’s get the heck outta this dump, shall we?”
       “Let’s.” Gabriel snapped them out of the building and into Y/N’s Jeep. As she started up the car, the radio came on, blaring Led Zeppelin. She turned the volume down and said, “You know, I really liked that song you wrote.”
       “Yeah. And Jillian’s voice was lovely. You should create her again, make her a star.” Gabe pursed his lips together, thinking about the idea as she pulled out of the motel parking lot.
        “I like it. We could make some serious cash.”
        “Better than hustling pool with the Winchesters,” she laughed. Gabe chuckled, reaching over and putting his hand on her knee. She smiled, feeling every broken piece of her knit back together.


Title: Anticipation

Athlete: Andre Burakovsky

Word Count: 3,504

Requested?: Yes

Request: I received two requests like a day apart so I’m combining them, Can you do an Andre Burakovsky one? And the other request was Can you write an Andre Burakovsky one? Maybe about your wedding day or something?

Author’s Note:  I hope you both enjoy the story!

Your name: submit What is this?

Snickering on either side of you is what pulled your from your sleep.  You fully stretched out as you attempted to wake for the day.  “What are you two laughing about?” Your best friends were in the bed with you and still amused by something which occurred before you woke.

“We were just wondering if Andre woke up in bed with two of his groomsmen.” You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“I bet the long lost roomies stayed up all night gossiping.” You turned to your left looking at Nina.

Keep reading

imagine: Can you make an imagine where Hayes and the reader gets into a fight about girls flirting with him, but he dose nothing about it but flirt back and the reader feels left out like she’s not enough for him and the next day at school she found him having a make out session with a girl in the girls bathroom and she got upset and ran away crying and went to her secret hide out and the rest is up to you. If you need more details let me know. Thank you
Request from: Anon
Warings: Not that i know of… ? except maybe a few curse words.. like two
A/N: So the way i ended it was you kinda got with Nash but not really… Hope you enjoy! :)

You were causally leaning up against the locker besides Hayes while he chatted with some more girls. Or should you say while he flirted with them.
“OH WOW you do have some pretty big muscels” One stated, but his reply didn’t help the situation as you watched him lift his shirt up.
“I got some pretty decent abs too” He gave them a wink before the slantered off giggling, content they got to feel Hayes up. You on the other hand were not content. You wanted to get home and you have to wait on Hayes everyday after school with some new girls or girl.
“Do you not like me or something?” You asked while opening  your car door as Hayes got in on the passenger side.
“Of course! Why wouldn’t i???” He seemed a bit annoyed, but you did ask quite a bit recently.
“So you would consider us together, right?” the car roared to light and you swiftly pulled out of your high schools parking lot.
“Yes ?!”
“Well doesn’t seem like it since you’re always flirting with every other breathing being except your own girlfriend”
“Are you kidding me right now?? They flirt with ME” His lips formed a thin line the signal that you probably should drop it but enough is enough and you couldn’t stand his treatment towards you. He always got so defensive when you mention it.
“UH im hayes look at my muscles arnt they big, here let me lift my shirt so you can feel them while my girlfriend is right beside me” You snapped in a terrible imitation of his voice.He was quiet for a moment.
“So you’re jealouis, typical, drop me off at home.” He growled.
“Gladly” a bitterly response came from your mouth, you probably looked pissed and in complete control but on the inside you were slowly breaking down. You always felt like you weren’t good enough and every smile that sends to another girls just seems to make it worse.
When you started pulling up the driveway to his house he got out before the car even stopped and slammed the front door behind him. You let out a sigh and turned your car off, maybe you should just go home, cry, call your best friend an eat some ice cream. Instead you get out and walk inside. You were greeted with the warm smell of cookies and Nash and Skye standing over the oven.
“(Y/N)!” Skye screamed happily as she saw you walk in the kitchen, Nash sent you a small smile probably already knowing you got in a fight with Hayes. Skye ran up to you and hugged your legs tightlg.
“Hi princess” you smiled sweetly while giving her a hug in return.
“Want a cookie ? we`re about to watch a movie for kids if you want to join to” Nash said holding the magical gooiness of a chocolate chip cookie.
“NASH it IS not for little kids!” Skye sassily replied to hi and put her hands on her hips.
“My bad a super duper adult movie” He replied cheekily to her and she giggled while running off to start it.
“Yeah i’ll join, thanks” You aceppted the cookie, he gave you a look but didn’t press anymore and you both wondered to the living room. Once all settled in on the couch with the biggest blankets you could find skye pressed play.
Half way through the movie Hayes decided to grace you all with his presence.
“Wow so since i can’t give you the right treatment you run to my brother, smart” He glowered at you.
“Hayes shush you’re just mad because Nash treats her better than you” Skye was quick to respond, a shock look spread over his face and he mumbled a whatever before returning back to his room. Skye turned her attention back to the movie.
“Thanks Skye” You sent a small smile her way before finnishing the movie with them, when it finally finished you gave them both a quick goodbye and went on your way to your car. you didn’t even say goodbye o hayes, he didn’t deserve it.
The next morning you went to get Hayes only to be greeted by Nash saying he already left, he thought he went with you but you assured him it defiantly wasn’t. So you headed to school alone, for the first time in a pretty long time. You probably looked like a mess so you went to girls bathroom to freshen up but the scene that unraveled before was something you never have been prepared for. Hayes was lipqocked with some girl right there. They wouldn’t even regard your presence as you let out a gasp and you hands flew to your mouth tears already threatening to spill like waterfalls.
“Hayes” You voice broke only then did he even turn. Shock, confusion, anger all flashed in his face like a slideshow. He started to say something, probably an excuse but you wouldn’t hear it because you were already gone the tears that were threatening to spill falling freely. You were just through the motions it was time had stopped as you fled to your hide out. You couldn’t believe it, i meam sure yo guys had your moment but he would never CHEAT on you. But then again he just did.
“omygosh how manyi times HAS he cheated on me?” you gasp to yourself, you barley could see where you were going now the raindrops in your eyes making you become blind.
You stood in front of the huge tree, the leaves spilling out of the branches like mimi canopies. You crawl up to the little treehouse you built when you were probably about five. It was two story but just about one room and then anther staked on top. The droplets fell hard and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.
Why did you ever fall for that smile of his?
Why did it hurt so much when you knew this probably was going to happen?
“(Y/N) ?” A small voice broke you out of your thoughts. You did realize how much time passsed by but the sun was starting to set over the horizon.
Pease don’t be hayes you begged silently.
Nash appeared before your blurry vision and you gave a small smile. Then a small laugh. Then before you knew it you were laughing, hard. You probably looked like a mess, you could feel the mascara streaks on you cheek ad your hair was everywhere from you constantly pushing your hands through it.
“Um Hayes has been searching for you… Why, why are you laughing?”
“I have no cue to be honest” he said in between gasps of air and giggles. A few moments passed and your laughter soon died down.You reached for your phone and to your surprise Nash was right you had 20 missed calls and even more messages.
(Y/N) I’m sorry
please reply
i messed up
well i messed up a lot
I’m sorry you saw that
it was her
please reply
it won’t happen again
You loaned and pushed your free hand through your (Y/H/C) hair. You felt Nash breathing beside you.
“Im sorry” he finally broke the still air.
“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing”
“How many times have you caught him” you heart stopped for a second, times. As in plural.
“What do you mean times” you emphasized the s.
“Shit” Nash cursed under his breath and now it was his turn to push his hands through his raven black hair. you glowered at him urging him to continue. “Well i might have caught him once..” You rose your eyebrows “…twice..” you just continued to stare ”..a lot, okay? Ive caught him a lot, and I’m sorry i should’ve told you but..” That was all you needed to here for the so though dried up well filled up again.
Nash pulled you into him as you bawled your eye out drenching his shirt. He whispered comforting words as he realization that all those scenarios you thought off became real. Hayes cheated on you. Multiple times. After a good half hour you calmed down enough to talk again.
“Do you want to talk about it?” you held up a finger for a one-moment thing. You had to dump his sorry ass first. You dialed the all too familiar number into your cell phone as it began to ring. Half of you felt strong and believed you could do it, the other half felt like you were crumbling apart.
“omg (Y/n) ? Im so so sorry, just please…” you were quick to cut him off.
“Cut the crap Hayes, how many times ?”
“wh-what do you mean ?” he blubbered.
“How many times did you heat on me” you emphasized each word as i you were talking to a child. The other line went silent. “How many ?” you repeated.
“I’ve lost track..” he trailed off, you let out a scoff.
“Alright cool, so heres whats going to happen, were over. Since you can’t seem to commit i won’t make you, have fun with people who won’t care about you. Also ill still be coming over because i love hanging out with Skye and Nash and when i am over you aren’t to speak at me. Have fun” you clicked the end call button before you could even protest. Nash had become quiet either with shock or because he was impressed. “Ready?” you asked already climbing down the stairs to the bottom of the tree.
“For what?”
“I wanna make cookies with Skye”
“You know Skye was right” He let out a chuckle before following after you to your car.
“About what?” you questioned, trying to fix yourself up as much as you could in the car mirror. The end result was about as close to as putting a bow on a trashcan.
“I do and would treat you better than Hayes.” Nash replied as he climbed into the passenger seat, his blue eyes piercing your own.
“I guess i should find out if thats true then huh?” you causally replied with a million dollar smile as you turned the ignition on and drove to his house for a date with Nash, Skye and chocolate chip goodness.

It's Cute X Daryl Dixon X Reader

This is one I wrote ages ago and I can’t remember if I posted it..

“YOU KNOW WHAT FUCK YOU!” Your boyfriend Taylor shouted as he slammed your front door behind him. You threw your glass of rum at the door just as he slammed it making rum and glass go everywhere. You were used to it now. Everyday you argue, scream and part ways. You couldn’t remember the last time you were happy together. You spent all that time out in the world of the dead together, you never thought you could have such arguments like you lived normal lives again.

He was yet again accusing you of cheating. You had no idea why or how he came up with this idea because you could never do that. Yeah maybe sometimes you would look at Daryl and think if only but to you there’s no harm in window shopping. Maybe he had caught you looking at him. But it’s not like he ever looked at you. He would never like you.

You picked up the bottle of rum and your smokes and went out side. You parked yourself on your steps and sighed. ‘fuck me’ You thought. There had got to be something better than this. Being in a miserable relationship.

“Hey you alright?” Daryls voice made you jump.

You gave him a little smile “Yeah I’ll be fine. Sorry if we were shouting too loud.”

He sat down next to you “Not at all. You know you could do so much better than him. Hell even I’m better than him.” He laughed a little.

“You’re right there. But why would you care?” You asked

He shrugged “Ermm. I don’t. I just don’t think you should be with him.”

“Thank you Daryl” You smiled and gave him a little peck on the cheek making him blush.

“I KNEW IT!” Taylor came marching down the path towards you “I KNEW YOU WERE WITH HIM!”

“You best go” You said to daryl. He stood up but did go. The arguing carried on like you didn’t have an audience “Jesus Taylor can’t I have friends! People that don’t make me miserable like you!”

Taylor marched up the stairs making you step back abit. He pushed you against the door pretty hard “So what are you saying? You would rather be with that redneck scum than me?” he face was horribly close to yours.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying! But he ain’t scum the only scum around here is you!”
You could see the anger fill his eyes and in a spilt second he smacked you across the face. You heard Daryl shout something as he marched towards you two but this was your fight. You looked up at Taylor who had this shit eating grin like he won. You brought your fist up and punched him in the nose breaking it instantly. You then kneed him in the crotch and pushed him on the floor. “I don’t ever want to see you in my house ever again. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah you crazy bitch!” he shouted at he hobbled away.

Daryl ran to you and held your face “Are you alright?”

You smiled at him “For once I actually am” You wrapped your arms around his waist and gave him a hug.

It had been 2 weeks since you and Taylor had broke up and it felt like a weight had been lifted off you. Runs were more fun, you had stopped drinking, meal times were good and you even got to spend time with Daryl a bit.

It was super sunny that morning and you were on babysitting duty which you loved. You missed your baby sister and Judith looked just like her. You were sat on the porch swing just swinging back and forth while she held onto you smiling. You sang to her that song you used to sing to little Annalise your sister.

“Heey baby, daddy’s gonna take you to the zoo today. To watch all the monkeys go ooh ooh oooh. In the zoo today” She looked up at you giggling, trying to grab your face piercings just like Annalise did.

“You’re good with her ain’t yah.” You heard daryls voice from the steps which made you look up.

You shrugged “Yeah being the oldest of 5 I guess I learnt how to look after kids.”

“Its cute” he said as he smiled at you. For the first time ever you saw love in his eyes. He walked to you and sat down on the swing. He placed his arm on the back rest behind you and looked at Judith. “Hey lil ass kicker.”

You looked at him and felt love for the first time since the world fell to shit. You knew you wanted to be with this beautiful man sat next to you.

He looked up, looked into your eyes and smiled. He looked so perfect. You’re eyes flickered to his lips and then back to his eyes. He leaned in slightly and ever so gently pressed his lips against yours. But you get interrupted by a little tap on your face from Judith.

“Oh I’m sorry. Was I not paying you enough attention” You both laughed at her.

His arm then wrapped around your shoulders and brought you in closer to him. You rested your head on his shoulder as you continued to pulls faces at Judith.

“Now that is a perfect family picture.” You hear Rick’s voice near you. You both jump a little, you kinda got lost in the moment you forgot people were around to see you.

“Yeah perfect slut and her hillbilly.” You heard Taylors voice as he walked past you.

Rick took Judith out your arms as you stood up. You marched down the steps and walked after him “Hey fuckin ass hole!”

He stopped and turned to you “What!”

“You have a problem with me?”

He walked closer to you “Yeah I have a fuckin problem! You cheat then wave it in everyone’s face like a little whore!”

“I never cheated on you! You treated me like shit. You only ever looked at all the other women here and never me. You’re a waste of fucking space, everytime I turn around you’re there watching me! I wish you would just disappear!” you spat in his face.

He got real close to your face again and you saw that look. He raised his hand and smacked you in the face.

Just as you looked up he was on the floor face bleeding. Daryl was stood next to you chest heaving from anger “Go near or touch my girl again I’m going to kill yah. Hell if I even catch you lookin at her I will end your life! Understand?” he looked at you “You alright?”

A smile stretched across your slightly bruised face “your girl ey?”

He suddenly swooped you up bridal style and kissed you “You’re damn right” he stepped over Taylor and walked you to his house.

For @emmmna who asked me for something to cheer them up. I went through my blog looking at fluffy otp prompts and found this: “‘Be nice to your seat partner. They might just be your future spouse!’ the teacher says, and you turn to me and wink. Are you even real??” au. I wrote it rather quickly but I hope it makes you smile, sweetheart!

Derek is a popular kid, and by law (according to every teen movie ever made) his brand of popular is not supposed to get this dumbstruck when the guy who once sneezed on his apple the first day of pre-school winks at him in the middle of Biology.

Derek doesn’t know what it is about Stiles Stilinski but he drives him insane– standing by his locker, talking to that McCall kid in class, sitting on the bench, fidgeting at lacrosse games. One moment Derek is a perfectly normal teenage boy with a perfectly functioning teenage brain and the next he’s that guy in a romantic comedy; all the lights dim and it’s just him, Stiles and whatever bizarre thing Stiles is doing. It’s horribly, wonderfully unsettling and Derek is 95% sure he’s in some kind of love. (He is still a little disturbed Erica had to physically drag him away last week when his eyes refused to stop looking as Stiles tried and failed to lick some kind of sauce – meat, Derek thinks it was – from his elbow.)

“What?” he asks, blinking, trying to look up at Stiles’ face. Unfortunately, his brain has other plans and he continues to remain fixated on the way Stiles is holding his pencil, twirling it between his fingers. He wonders, briefly, what they would feel like laced between his fingers or running through his hair before immediately stopping because no. Stiles also makes him want to bash his head against the wall 75% of the time. He’s a lethal combination.


“I said I’d like a fall wedding. They seem to be quite popular for some reason. Maybe it’s all the pretty leaves.”

Derek blinks again, suddenly struck by the image of Stiles in a suit surrounded by crisp, golden leaves to match his eyes. It’s a strangely lovely image and turning away a little, he scowls at the way his stomach flutters. He’s seventeen for Christ’s sake. He’s only kissed one person: Paige Krasikeva during a game of truth or dare. “You know Miss Byrne was kidding when she said we’d all get married, right? We’re not going to fall in love just because we got seated together in one class together.”

Derek hopes it will be just one class, anyway. He doesn’t think he’ll survive the year otherwise. At least, his grades won’t.

“That’s what you think.” Derek feels his scowl deepen and Stiles throws his head back, sighing. “Yes, buzz kill, I do actually know what a joke is, thank you very much.” He blushes a little, ducking his head, and Derek instantly feels bad.

“I, uh…”

“Dude, look. It’s fine. Sorry.  I didn’t mean to, like, offend you or whatever.”

“You didn’t offend me.”

Stiles snorts. “Uh-huh. You moved your chair the moment you sat down next to me. I get it, it’s fine. I’ll shut up, I promise.” He mimes zipping his lips, blush deepening, and his eyes zero in on his textbook but Derek can tell he’s not taking in a word of it, even as he turns the page.

Opening his note book, Derek cringes, writing down the date. He looks to the clock. He’s got another thirty minutes of sitting here with Stiles.

Twenty-nine, he swallows.

Twenty-eight, sneaking a glance at him.

Twenty-seven: “I’m sure you’d make a beautiful bridegroom.”

Stiles’ head snaps up and he drops his pencil. They both watch it roll away. “What?”

Derek wants to slap himself. Of all the things he could have said, of all the fucking things, who the fuck says…that?

“I, erm-”

“You don’t have to mock me, you know,” Stiles hisses, defensive, embarrassed. “I get it. You’re the basketball captain and I’m on the bleachers. You don’t belong with me, whatever.”

Derek bites his lip, supressing a smirk. “Did you…did you just paraphrase Taylor Swift to me?”

Stiles’ cheeks colour again and Derek’s breath hitches. Fuck, he’s never going to tire of that.

“You knew I was paraphrasing Taylor Swift?”

They both burst out laughing at the same time, earning them a scowl from Miss Byrne and a guffaw from the back of the room. Turning, Derek catches Lydia Martin roll her eyes at them before shooting Stiles a knowing look. When he turns back around, Stiles is an even brighter shade of red, if that’s even possible, mouthing something to her. It’s utterly, utterly endearing and Derek kind of wants to do something stupid, like hold Stiles’ hand or draw hearts all over his notebook.

“You know,” he whispers, after a moment, feeling brave, “I’ve still never forgiven you for sneezing on my apple. Maybe you could buy me a new one, after school.”

Stiles’ mouth drops open. “That one is on you, buddy. Who actually brings an apple to give to their teacher on the first day of school anyway?”

It’s Derek’s turn to blush. Dammit. “Oh, I don’t know. People with manners?”

Stiles’ eyes widen. “That’s…the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard, dude.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my god, but it is.

“Are you going to buy me another one or not?” Derek asks, rolling his eyes, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself. God, what is wrong with him.

Grinning, Stiles reaches into his bag, presenting him with a –

“I don’t know what kind of apples you eat but that is an orange.”

Stiles curses, scratching the back of his neck, and Derek just about falls out of his seat with how tingly he feels looking at him.

He desperately hopes he’s not giving him heart eyes.

“Points for trying?” Stiles grins, hopeful.

Derek pretends to consider him before taking the orange and beginning to peel it. “Depends.”


“If marrying me includes a date after school today.”

In the end, it’s Stiles who falls out of his seat, and Derek can’t stop grinning for the rest of the day thinking about it.

Pick you up at 6? comes a text the moment he sits down in History. Erica peeks over his shoulder, trying to pry as usual, but Derek hides his phone, heart pounding as he replies, I help coach the pee wee basketball team until seven. Pick me up then?

So. Darn. Cute, Stiles texts back.

“Derek…are you – are you blushing? Oh my god, you never blush. Who was that? Was that Stilinski?”

“Shut up, Erica.”


Stiles ends up taking him to an apple orchard and buys him exactly one hundred and one apples. 

“One hundred and one apples for forever and a day?” he asks, winking. Derek’s stomach flips.

“Sure,” Derek says, shaking his head fondly, biting into one and then, because Stiles bought him several different kinds, another.


“Forever and a day?” Stiles asks, fourteen years later, holding out an apple. It’s cut in half and getting down on one knee he opens it carefully, like a box. Inside is a ring.

“Sure,” Derek whispers, grinning so hard it hurts, falling to his knees and burying his face in Stiles’ neck to hide his blush.



Stiles laughs. “Fair enough.”

Always Molly

Despite the emotions that had basically eviscerated her during the phone call with Sherlock, Molly was oddly calm afterwards. She wipes away her tears and clears the counter. At some point, she ends up in bed with Toby curled up against her side. She absently strokes her companion until her hand grows tired.

She does not cry herself to sleep.

She wakes up to the sound of her phone vibrating. The screen casts the room in a soft white glow. A text. It takes her less than a second to decide that she does not care to see who it is from, though she has an idea. She briefly entertains the idea of throwing her phone into the wall. She thinks it might feel good to do that. The thought evaporates when she realizes that she would have to buy a new phone. Over him. Became of him.

Well, that just will not do. This was the point wasn’t it? That too many things have been for him, because of him. This was why this whole sordid business was what it was. Oh, the many things she had stupidly and unwittingly destroyed because of this man. She turns off her phone and places it safely back on the table. She does have a certain fondness for the device.

She falls back asleep easily.


In the morning she plays music and treats herself to a large breakfast. She putters around her kitchen in leggings and a tank (sans bra) with her hair down and large glasses perched on her nose. She takes her time and wonders why she doesn’t do this more often. She loves to cook, to create something with her hands and the shiny tools she has bought over the years to fill her kitchen.

She really should do things that she likes far more often. Far more fucking often.

Her phone vibrates. A call this time. She absently glances at her phone when her music is interrupted. Sherlock Holmes. She ignores the call and turns up her music. A stream of texts follows shortly after. She finds it easy to ignore them. She probably should check to make sure none of them are from John. She was due to watch Rosie later. Though, if John knew anything about her, he would know that nothing between her and Sherlock would keep her away from her goddaughter. She gives herself permission to not worry about it for the moment.  

Halfway through breakfast, she comes to the conclusion that it might do her some good to talk to somebody, someone to help her process her life and all the moving parts of it. She spends nearly an hour looking up therapists in her area. She calls to set up an appointment. The woman, miraculously, has an appointment open later on that day. One of her clients cancelled. She asks Molly if she would like to stop by.

Molly laughs. “God, yes.”


Dr. Taylor is in her late 40s and stunning. Her gaze is insightful and immediately disarming. Molly does not shrink away. She wants to be seen. Fuck, she wants to be seen. She needs it. Dr. Taylor tells her to sit in the arm chair opposite her and makes it a rule that Molly must call her Rachel. After Molly agrees, Rachel simply regards her for a moment. It makes Molly nervous, so she takes time to survey the office.

“Who are you, Molly Hooper?” Rachel asks.

Molly blinks. “…I’m sorry?”

Rachel smiles. “Who are you?”

Molly is thrown by the question. She is expecting the first question to be about why she was here. She is (just barely) prepared to answer that question. She struggles. Rachel waits patiently.

Molly clears her throat. “Um. I’m a forensic pathologist at St. Bart’s…”

“That’s not who you are.”

Molly pauses. “What?”

“I asked who you are, not what you are.”

Molly frowned. “What’s the difference?”

Rachel leans forward. “Well, one is enduring and the other has the potential to be temporary.”

Interesting. She has never considered that distinction before. She is…intrigued. She leans back in her chair until she is comfortable and crosses her legs.

“Say more.”

Rachel laughs merrily. “Oh, I like you already, Molly Hooper.”

Molly smirks. “Feelings mutual.”

Rachel nods. “Good. About this distinction, then. Who you are is permanent. It should be shouldn’t it? What you are is temporary and can be changed with any life experience. That’s’ not very stable is it? You weren’t always a pathologist, but you were always Molly. You will retire one day, so your identity can’t be about what you do for a living. What do you have after it’s gone if that’s the case?”

You were always Molly.

Molly mulls this over. The logic of it was hard to argue with. There was something about this that was both sensible and profound. She had always been drawn to sensibility.

“That makes sense,” Molly concedes.

“Were you expecting the first question to be about why you’re here?” Rachel asks knowingly.


“Most people do. The question I asked is more important.”

“Why?” Molly asks.

“Because most people don’t know the answer to the question and it’s why they come to me.”  

Well, fuck. This woman really was rather good.

Molly nods. “I see. So you’re going to help me answer that question?”

Rachel laughs. “Goodness, no. That’s a bit beyond my abilities as a therapist isn’t it? My job is to help you figure out how to answer that question. Plus, I’m not really convinced that you do not know you are, Molly. My hope is to help you identify why you are afraid of yourself and to get you living out of who you really are. Provided you decide to come back.”

Molly thinks for a moment. She reaches into her bag to turn her phone off. Having it on silent just doesn’t feel like enough. She carelessly tosses it back into her bag and then tosses her bag a few feet away from her. She takes off her shoes and folds her legs under her. Rachel watches her observantly. She wears a small smile as Molly makes herself comfortable. She asks her assistant to bring in two cups of tea.  

“So, Molly, why did you come here today?”


The next week passes. She goes to work and continues to ponder what she and Rachel talked about. She gets many texts and calls from Sherlock. She sends him one text message: When I want to talk, I will. He does not call or text her after that. She intuits that he still wants to. She is not grateful for the space he gives her. She should not have to be grateful for someone doing something as simple as respecting her space and agency as a whole person. It is the least he can do.

She has hardly processed all of what the phone call made her feel, what it means. She hears pieces of the story from Lestrade. She can piece together Sherlock’s phone call to her was a part of a larger game that he likely had no control over, which is probably what he has been trying to tell her. Harry is staying at John’s place while John and Sherlock answer an endless barrage of questions about their ordeal. She is grateful that she does not have to face John until a week after the phone call.  John, instead of Harry, answers the door when she drops off Rosie. He looks haggard, but also lighter in a way that he has not since Mary died. He smiles at her, though he seems cautious.

“Thanks for watching her, Molly. You have been such a life saver since…”

“Happy to be a part of her life,” Molly interjects as she strokes Rosie’s head.

He invites her in and asks if she would like a cup of tea. She declines, but helps him get Rosie settled and comfortable. She tells him funny stories about Rosie. She can feel him watching her, wanting to say something. She knows he wants to explain what happened, why it happened. She kisses Rosie goodbye. The sweet girl gurgles happily. She kisses John on the cheek as a goodbye. As she is pulling away, he pulls her into a tight hug. It surprises her, but she lets him.

“If this is a pity hug, it is grossly misplaced, John.”

He pulls away and shakes his head. “No, Molly. It’s a ‘I’m happy that you are alive’ hug. We thought you were going to – “

She nods. “I figured. Thanks for doing what you needed to save my life.”

John hesitates. “It was Sherlock. Sherlock was the one who did it. Had to do it.”

Molly smiles indulgently. “Good. He owed me anyway.”

John seems thrown off by how blasé she is about the whole thing. He regards her curiously. She is not sure what he sees and does not care to ask. She is used to spending an awful lot of time worrying about what people think of her. She finds she has grown exhausted by it. She says goodbye to him and heads off to her Pilates class.


Mycroft shows up at her apartment a few days later. His appearance does little to surprise her. Mycroft has always been concerned with the affairs of his brother. She considers him for a moment. There is something different about him, fragile almost. A normal person would never see it in him, but Molly does.

“Seems like you always show up right as I’ve baked a treat don’t you?” Molly asks coyly.

Mycroft relinquishes a small smile. “So it would seem.”

She crosses her arms and leans against the doorway. He wants to come in. This is not what of his transitory visits. She looks behind him to see a few agents milling around her stairs. She looks back to Mycroft with a smile.

“There is no room for you to be high-handed or vague during this visit, Mycroft. You don’t like it, don’t come in.”

Mycroft appraises her.  “Understood, Dr. Hooper.”

He sits in the same chair he always sits in when he visits. She wonders if Sherlock knows about her ‘sessions’ with Mycroft. She wonders if he knows that somewhere along the way she and Mycroft had developed something approximating friendship, though reluctantly on his part. She sets Mycroft up with a slice of cake and tea before she takes tea to his agents and commands them to stop looking so suspicious. They reply with a ‘thank you’ and yes ma’am’. It makes her laugh.

She comes in to find that Mycroft has already retrieved UNO from one of her drawers and has already dealt. He tells her about Eurus. She can tell that he leaves some pieces out and she can assume it is for Sherlock’s benefit, so that he can tell her himself. She asks him if Sherlock knows where he is at the moment. Sherlock does not, as far as Mycroft knows. She wins the first game and is only slightly surprised when he has her deal for a second round. Of course he would want a rematch. She did win the first. Leave it to Mycroft to be competitive at a game as simple and childlike as UNO. She likes to beat him. She does nearly every time.  

“If you’re here to vindicate your brother, don’t,” she says as Mycroft decides what card he wants to play.

“What gave you that impression?”

Molly is unfazed by his subterfuge.

“I am just preemptively discouraging you from doing it should that be the reason you are here. I understand what was at stake. I appreciate that and respect what needed to be done.”

Mycroft plays. “You have always been uncommonly bright haven’t you?”

“You see this flat? Didn’t get it by being simple minded.”  

Mycroft smiles. They play another couple of rounds. He seems stunned when she asks how he is doing, though he really shouldn’t be given what he knows about her. He seems unsure of how to answer. He would be. Mycroft Holmes does not do feelings. Or so he says.

“I am relieved to have the situation resolved,” he says stiffly.

Molly laughs. He seems confused about what could possibly be so funny. She doesn’t let him in on the joke. She offers him another slice of cake and he accepts. They sit in silence for a while and then e bids her adieu. He pauses on his way out.

“My brother is a better person for you being in his life, Dr. Hooper. I do hope that you two manage to smooth things over.”

Molly laughs again with genuine delight over how simple such intelligent men could be. Mycroft looks at her as if he is categorizing new information about her. She can see him rearranging things in that big brain of his. He nods at some conclusion that he will probably never share with her. She is not particularly motivated to over-explain herself, but she does want one thing to be clear.

“My silence is not a punishment for him. It’s not about him. Not everything is about Sherlock. That’s the whole point.”

For a moment, it seems as if Mycroft understands. He says goodbye once more and then is gone. She wonders if he will share what she just said with Sherlock. She does not care one way or the other. It feels a bit like freedom.


Weeks pass. In the midst of Sherlock and John remodeling 221b, they go back to solving crimes. She is happy for them. Both seem to be inching towards healing. Sherlock taking on cases again means that he has to come to morgue sometimes. The first time she can tell he is unsure how to navigate the shift in their friendship, the ways it has dissolved. He lingers near the door, watching her with a mix of things she can name and things she can’t. He seems almost confused and she wonders about that briefly. John senses the tension and volunteers to go grab coffee. Molly smiles softly at his antics. Sherlock mirrors it. As soon as John is gone, she meets Sherlock’s gaze.

“I’m an adult and a professional, Sherlock. Don’t tiptoe around me when you’re here for work.”

He nods, stands to his full height, and places his hands behind his back. Ah. Sherlock Holmes, world’s only consulting detective had finally entered the room. He always was rather formal when he was unsure of what to do, when he doesn’t have the upper hand. It was as much a shield as any of his scathing deductions.

“I am well aware of your unimpeachable professionalism, Molly.”

“Lovely. Here’s what I found. It is rather interesting.”

She walks him through her report and even comes to conclusions before he does. She thinks he smiles at her, but she can’t be sure. She makes suggestions about the type of suspect he should be looking for. They finish up as John comes back in with coffee. Molly takes hers happily and asks about Rosie. They chat for a bit.

It occurs to Molly that she is less aware of Sherlock than she normally is. Sure, she knows that he’s in the room, but she’s not actually sure what he’s doing. He is uncharacteristically silent and she refuses to turn away from John as they talk to see. She is normally so cognizant of his movements, yet at the moment she is very present for her conversation.

What a curious thing it is to be unconcerned about him.

“You’re wearing scrubs,” Sherlock blurts out from behind her.

Molly and John pause in their conversation. Molly looks down at her green scrubs and then at John. He seems equally as confused. They both look at Sherlock curiously.  

“I am.”

He blinks. “You never wear scrubs.”

“Good observation,” she teases good-naturedly.

What he does not need to know is that she is wearing scrubs because she has done a pretty intensive overhaul of her wardrobe. She almost hated herself for being so cliché, but after talking to a Rachel a few times she realized that she uses clothes to hide, rather to be seen. She was a little old to still be hiding away behind baggy trousers and cherry jumpers wasn’t she?

No, Sherlock did not need to know that. It has nothing to do with him.

He blinks more rapidly and seems just a tad flustered. She wonders if he even knows why he felt the need to verbalize his thought about her apparel. Normally, she would be expecting a long deduction, but she gets the feeling that Sherlock is not building up to one.

He clears his throat. “Yes, well. Thank you for your work as always, Molly.”

She shrugs. “No problem. Good luck with the case, gentlemen.”

She puts her headphones back in and heads over to put away the body. She has two more autopsies and a fuck ton of paperwork to get done today. She does not see the way that Sherlock looks at her before he leaves. She does not see John looking curiously between the two of them.  


They find a new rhythm. None of it feels particularly normal. The typical banter is absent. They do not have dinner and she never helps him on cases outside of the morgue. She finds that she does not miss it. Sure, she misses him. She misses their friendship. She finds, however, that the joy of self-discovery far outweighs the weirdness of not being friends with Sherlock in the same way.

He seems happy with John and Rosie living in Baker Street. It suits them. The pain of Mary’s death has not passed. How could it? Grief is such an enduring process, an all-consuming process at times. She remembers the first year after her father passing. It had been horrendous. Still, she feels the dull ache of his absence. They are all still in the beginning stages of grief. The part where it is still as sharp as a thousand razors and unrelenting. She is grateful for Sherlock and John’s brotherhood. It would be healing for them, as it has always been. Their crime-solving adventures give them something to do between the moments of silence. She is glad for it on their behalf.

Still, there seems a part of him wrestling against some sort of disquiet. She can see it in the way he looks at her sometimes while she gives her analysis of a body. She’s not an idiot. She knows that their jagged friendship is hurting him in ways she probably underestimates. There were times, in the weeks immediately following the phone call, that she wanted to comfort him, to assure him that everything was okay. The trouble is that in order for things to be okay between them, things need to be okay within her. They were gradually becoming okay. She owes it to herself to allow the process to do its own thing.

Sherlock allows the space she needs.


She joins a book club and makes friends. They hang out at pubs, go to concerts and film festivals, drink wine at each other’s flats until they’ve sometimes had too much. When she has a few days off, she takes herself on mini holidays. She never goes on dates, however. She feels unmotivated to date. She can confidently say that her disinterest in dating has nothing to do with Sherlock Holmes. She had always seen moving on from Sherlock as moving on to another bloke. Now, however, getting on with her life means moving on to herself.

Molly Hooper is happy.


She keeps seeing Rachel. She is quite fond of the woman, honestly. They do not talk about Sherlock much. They don’t need to. The restlessness of her heart transcends the detective. No, they rarely talk about Sherlock. This is why Molly is surprised when Rachel brings him up.

“How are things with Sherlock?”

Molly shrugs. “We see each other in passing and for work. Not the same as it used to be, but it can’t really be can it?”

“No, I suppose not. Have you talked about what happened yet?”

Molly shakes her head. “No.”

Rachel watches her for a moment. Molly raises an eyebrow. She waits. She has picked up on Rachel’s cues by now.

“Think it’s time you talked to him?” she asks gently.

“I don’t think about him much until I see him,” Molly admits with some surprise. “Our lives intersect because we share friends and a goddaughter, but other than that my life feels very separate now.”

“Do you suppose he is greatly affected by the way your relationship is now?”

“I’m sure he is. He might not be in love with me, but he does care about me, I would imagine,” Molly allows.

“Would it give you closure to talk to him? Not for him, for you.”

“I suspect it would. Though other things have seemed more important lately,” Molly muses.

Rachel nods. “Other things have been more important lately. However, this is a part of your healing too, Molly.”


The problem with talking to Sherlock is that she has no idea what she wants to say to him. What more is there to say? She loves him, is in love with him. Or had been at least. She is hardly sure if that was still true. She never really allows herself enough time to think about him. That eliminates any time she would devote to discerning her feelings for him. Even if she is in love with him, she is more than a little disenchanted with the idea of being with him and is certainly not moved by her feelings in the same way she was. She knows what his feelings are and are not. So what? She has always known that. She also knows, with some details missing, what happened with Eurus. She knows that Sherlock did what he did to save her life. She is not angry with him. Not over the phone call at least.

The phone call had served as both a catalyst and a spilling over, the straw that broke the proverbial back, so to speak. She had never verbalized her feelings for Sherlock prior to that moment and she had never planned to because she knew he did not return those feelings. She had never harbored expectations for him. Her assistance had never been a means of leverage to inspire him to fall in love with her. One does not pick who they fall in love with and one does not pick who they do not fall in love with. She has always operated under that reality.

Yes, she wants her friend back. She truly does. However, friendship with him will have to come with new boundaries. For so long it had always been about Sherlock and what was good for him. Their friendship was too important for it to be that one-sided, that uneven. Either they had to figure out a new pattern of friendship or there could be no friendship. The thought of not being with him romantically does not hurt the way it might have once. The thought of never really being his friend again causes an ache in the center of her chest that is as steadfast as it is heavy.  

This a part of your healing too, Molly.


He comes into the morgue shortly after her conversation with Rachel. She lets him look at the body while she goes to the lab to grab the reports. When she comes back he is bent over the body with his magnifying glass. He mutters to himself in true Sherlock fashion. She asks him if he wants to look at her report independently. He politely asks her to stay and give him her own conclusions. She does. He hums in agreement a few times. He goes back to look at the body when she is finished. This seems odd to her since he has already examined it and they just went over her report. She lets him be and starts the process of cleaning her tools.


She can tell, even without looking at him, that she has his full attention.


“I think it would be good if we talked soon.”

She knows that he does not need her to elaborate. She turns to face him. He looks relieved, but his posture is still professional, detached even.

“Yes, I think that would be good.”

She turns back to what she was doing. “Text me when your case is over.”

She gets a text from him no more than twenty-four hours later. She asks him to meet her at Hyde park the following afternoon. She offers him a specific location and then abandons her phone to go for a jog.


Sherlock is already sitting on the bench when she gets there. She is fifteen minutes early. She is still a reasonable distance away so she takes a moment to look at him. She has not really looked at him in months, it seems. He looks well. He wears a tailored black suit and white button down. His Belstaff is appropriately absent given the warmness of the day. He is still very much Sherlock and she finds she is glad for this. She is aware the he knows that she is approaching. He always knows. He looks up and his eyes do a casual sweep. He gives her a small smile. The floral dress, wide brim hat and flats are only appropriate given the weather.

More importantly, the ensemble is just plain cute.

“Molly,” he says by way of greeting.

She nudges his leg with her foot when she is close enough.

“Come on. I’ll buy you an ice lolly. I want to walk around a bit,” she says.

He stands up at her beckoning. He walks beside her with his hands in his pockets. Neither of them say anything for the first few minutes. The silence is easy as they lick happily at their treats. She asks about the conclusion of his case. He gives her a brief recap of what he and John’s investigation. She laughs when he tells her about John falling into a pool during the chase. She has avoided the blog recently as part of her try at separating her life from Sherlock’s, but she might make an exception for this particular case. They continue on in silence for a few more minutes.

“So. You have a sister. How fun,” she says.

Sherlock smirks. “Leave it to me to have a secret sister.”

“Only in the Holmes family. Tell me about her.”

Sherlock looks at her. She wonders if he had been waiting for months for her to yell at him angrily. She had no intention of doing so. After a moment he smiles a bit and launches into the story of Sherrinford and his discovery of a number of family secrets. She is heartbroken for him when she learns about Victor Trevor. She smiles when he tells her about visiting his sister and their mutual love for the violin. It does not surprise her in the least bit.

“She sounds complicated,” Molly offers.

“Is that a euphemism for psychopathic?” he teases.


“Fair enough.”

She simply smiles. They find a bench and sit down. Molly loves the way the sun feels on her skin. The breeze is light. It really is a beautiful day.

“You seem well, Molly.”

Her smile is radiant, sincere. “I am well.”

“You look…well.”


“I am.”

“You’ve been rather busy,” Sherlock says watching as people walk past.

“Hm. I suppose so,” Molly concedes. “Perhaps I’ll tell you of some of my adventures later.”

He smiles. “Molly Hooper on adventures. Sounds intriguing.”

She supposes she can no longer drag this out, thought it had not been her intent to do so. She has been genuinely curious about Eurus from Sherlock’s perspective. She is pleased to have the full story.

She turns to him. “I know why you called me. Why you asked me to say it. Obviously, it all seemed rather callous and nefarious at the time. I understand now.”

He looks remorseful.  “I did not wish to hurt you. I needed to save your life. You could not die. That was not a reality I was willing to accept, Molly. I could not accept that.”

She nods. “Thank you for trying to save my life, despite my life not actually being in danger.”

He frowns. “Yes, well, I was too preoccupied to notice.”

She shrugs. “You only had three minutes and your friend was in danger. You’re not infallible, Sherlock.”

He smiles. “That is becoming increasingly clear to me.”  

“I thought you were having a laugh at my expense. That is why I made you say it to me first. If you were going to ask me to be that vulnerable over a case, over something so stupid, then it was only fair that you had to say it. I wanted you to feel the weight of having to say something you didn’t mean if I had to say something I did mean. I wanted to hurt you because you seemed intent on hurting me. Seems a bit bitter and foolish on my part in hindsight, but it felt perfectly righteous at the time.”  

“You had no reason to believe that I was doing anything other than trying to hurt you, Molly.”

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it? That my history with you is such that I could believe that you were trying to hurt me, that you were playing a game for your own amusement. That is, at the very least, problematic,” she challenges.

He is contrite. “I have not always been the friend you deserve.”

“No, you have been far less than that, Sherlock. Far less.”

“Tell me how to fix it,” he implores. “Tell me how.”

She looks at him squarely. “Look at me, Sherlock.”

His eyebrow raises in confusion. “I am looking at you, Molly.”

She gives him a sympathetic smile.

“No, I mean really look at me. The problem is that you see can so clearly and still sometimes you see nothing at all. You are far more human than you were when I met you all those years ago. Yet, you still struggle to see people, not means to your own end. You always say to John that he sees, but does not observe. I think your problem is that you observe, but you don’t always see.”

He contemplates her words. His gaze is piercing as his eyes light up with the promise of a new puzzle to solve.

“But you see, Molly. You always see.”

She snorts. “Well, I have not always seen myself. I’m working on that.”

He knows she wants to say more so he remains silent. She likes this Sherlock Holmes. Patience suits him.

“We have to get some things straight before we dive back into friendship,” she asserts.

He nods. “I am all ears, Dr. Hooper.”

“I am a grown woman. A full adult woman. I am a doctor and a scientist. I am actually known in my field for my work and my research. For God’s sake, Sherlock. I make a good amount of money. You’ve seen my flat. I am not some silly girl or a pawn in any of your games or experiments. Ever. I am not at your beck and call. I have a life and my life is important. You will respect that. You might not always know how to do that. You are not too old to learn new tricks.”

His lips quirk at her obvious implication.

“Your addiction is not a game, Sherlock. It should never be a part of any plan to win back any friend. Ever. It is manipulative and stupid. Your plan with Culverton Smith might have had the desired effect, but it was a bloody stupid plan. You are not some superhuman who can decide when he wants to use drugs and when he does not. Drug use is not a strategy to get what you need or want, you fucking moron. Do not ever do that again. You do and we are done. Permanently. Are you listening to me?”

He nods soberly. “I am listening, Molly.”

“Do you hear me?”

He meets her stare evenly. “I hear you, Molly. I am truly sorry for all the many ways I have hurt you.”

She takes a deep breath and leans back into the bench. She is properly winded from her speech. Sherlock never takes his eyes off her. His eyes flit over her in the way they do when he is working something out. She feels unbothered by it where she once might feel exposed, unsafe. Instead, she feels light. Almost giddy.

“I forgive you. Do you agree to these terms and conditions?” she asks.

Sherlock has a proper laugh at that. “Yes. Agreed on all accounts, Dr. Hooper. I can’t very well go through life without you can I?”

She smiles and holds out her hand. He looks at it probably longer than is really necessary. Instead of shaking it, he picks it up and holds it in his much larger hands. He turns it over a few times as if memorizing it. Then he does something unexpected: he brings it to his lips and kisses her knuckles. The kiss is quick, but firm. He loosens his grip and allows her to pull her hand away. The look he gives her is soft and affectionate, similar to the one he gave her after their day of solving crimes together.

“Would you believe that I have missed you, Molly Hooper?”

His question sets something right inside of her. She most certainly needed the distance she put between them. She did. Still, it had been hard to estranged from him. Their reconciliation adds to the pervasive happiness she has become familiar with.  

She smirks. “Of course you have. Who else puts you in your place like I do? You’re a bit of masochist aren’t you? It’s why you fancy Irene Adler so much.”

Her statement absolutely stuns him. The look on his face makes her laugh in delight. His eyelids flutter rapidly. She and John call this his ‘buffering’ mode. She is over the moon that she can drag this response out of him.  

“It’s rather cliché don’t you think? The stiff and proper detective loving the dominatrix?”

He still looks nonplussed. She laughs even harder. Eventually he comes out of his reverie.

“While I can admit to some previous attraction to Irene Adler…”

“Some and previous? You poor delusional man.”

“…You and John’s understanding of my feelings for her might stretch beyond what they actually are.”

Molly smiles and pats his knee. He frowns at her hand.

“Honestly, Sherlock, whatever you feel for the woman is your business and your right. I’ll just tease you about it from time to time because it’s fun. That’s what friends do.”

“Molly, you honestly do not understand…hold on. How do you know as much about her as you so clearly do?”

“I found her to be lovely. I could hardly decide her motives and she was rather flirty, extremely flirty actually, but I liked her,” Molly says nonchalantly.

Sherlock narrows his eyes. “Details. Now.”

“You observe, but do not see,” Molly repeats ominously. Then she has a nice cackle about it.

“This is ridiculous, Molly Hooper. I want to know right now,” Sherlock demands.

Molly shrugs. “Perhaps later.”

She can see Sherlock struggling to put the pieces together. She has no problem leaving him in suspense. She imagines that eventually he will l just ask Irene Adler and she’ll be as vague as Molly is being now. It was all in good fun, honestly.

“I’ll just work it out you know,” he sniffs.

“You do love a good mystery don’t you?” Molly sings.

He looks at her as if he can read her mind and get the answers he wants. She gets up and starts walking again.  

“Come on then. I have the night shift. I need a nap.”

He eventually gets up and follows her. He does not ask about Irene again. Molly tells him of her adventures. He listens intently.


They are proper friends again. She visits Baker Street more often than she did in the months prior. They watch Rosie together. Sometimes she helps him with a case outside the morgue, though not often. She still maintains a healthy distance. He still uses her flat as a bolt hole provided that he texts or calls first. He is no longer allowed to take over her room. She relegates him to the guest bedroom. Sometimes she comes home to find him lying with his eyes closed on her couch, hands tented under his chin and takeaway still warm on the table. Sometimes she eats alone while he remains unreachable in his Mind Palace. Sometimes he joins her. She makes him watch horror films with her. He likes them even if they are mostly improbably and unrealistic, which he has no problem pointing out. Of course Sherlock Holmes would have an affinity for gore and terror.  

He is confined to her guest bedroom when she has friends over. For her sanity, of course. She is quite surprised when he supplies wine for one of her girl’s nights. He says it’s because her wine is cheap. He admonishes her for not having better taste. She suspects he is just being nice because he wants to. She thanks him and reminds him that he either stays in the guest bedroom or goes back to Baker Street. He grudgingly goes into the guest bedroom. At some point he leaves via the window. She discovers this after her company leaves and she goes to check on him. She shrugs at his absence and goes to bed.

Things are good between them.


She only occasionally teases him about Irene Adler. He seems less horrified about it than he did that day in the park. Still, he responds strangely every time. He just looks at her as if there is something that she is missing and it’s something that he can’t quite put together himself. She has no idea what. She knows that he never sees Irene, at he hasn’t recently, but his feelings for her seem rather clear. At least they seem clear to Molly. Complicated and muddy, sure, but real and present. He gives her a look whenever she brings it up. She can recognize exasperation, but there is something else in the look that she does not understand.  

It occurs to her one day that he might be worried about her own feelings, that it hurts her to talk about Irene Adler. She fears he thinks she brings it up as an attempt to get over him, to uncomplicated things. Their talk in the park hadn’t actually included discussing either of their declarations. There had been no point in her mind. What more was there to say about her previous feelings that he did not already know? However, she had not been vigilant in helping him understand that those feelings were all but gone at this point. She brings it up one day as they are taking a walk around Hyde Park. It is a place that they frequent when spending time together. There has been a lapse in their conversation and they are walking comfortably in silence, her hand in the crook of his elbow.



“In the park, that day, we never talked about my feelings. About me telling you I love you.”

There is a slight shift in his body language. He is not tense, per say. He does seem curious and a bit unprepared. It amuses her.

“I just want you to know that I don’t tease you about Irene Adler in some strange attempt at martyrdom. It doesn’t hurt me talk about her, not that we ever really talk about her. It’s mainly me teasing you…”

“Not mainly, Molly. That is precisely what it is.”

“…I just want you to understand that I was always aware that your feelings and my feelings were different. It really is okay that you’re not in love with me. That has always been okay. You don’t need to apologize for that and I don’t need to apologize for what I felt for you.”

“Felt?” Sherlock asks curiously.

She shrugs. “Yes, past tense. Thank God. My point is that I just want you to be happy. I am more than okay with the person who makes you happy, should you ever have a person in that way, not being me. I know It won’t be and I don’t want it to be me. I just wanted to make sure that was out there so that you and I had cleared the air. So that you understand.”

Sherlock is silent for a moment as they walk. She wonders about his thoughts.  

“You hypothesize that Irene Adler will bring me happiness?”

Another shrug. “Depends on how you define happiness, I suppose. You don’t actually need to talk to me about it if you prefer not to. Not my business. Though you should talk to someone if that’s a thing, you and her. I just want us to be clear about us, okay?”

He nods. “Thank you for the clarity, Molly. I do understand.”

There is something in his voice. She can’t quite place it. The word for it escapes her, but it’s there. She wonders if she has crossed an unspoken boundary by occasionally bringing up his relationship, or lack therefore, with Irene.  

“Does it bother you when I talk about her? I don’t mean harm. I just like poke at you, but I will stop if you tell me to.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Stop worrying. It’s boring, a quality which you most certainly do not possess. Have your fun.”

“It is fun,” Molly agrees immediately.

His look is pointed. She smiles in return.

“That look is why it’s fun.”

He ignores her.

“Should I have an issue, it would lie in my confusion about why you believe me to be in love with Irene Adler,” Sherlock continues.  

“Are you?”  

Sherlock sighs. “I have already stated multiple times that I am not. The Woman is fascinating, intriguing— “

“Beguiling?” Molly offers with faux innocence.

Another look. “—The feelings she inspires in me are not what I would label as romantic love as I have heard it described.”

Molly shrugs. “Then you don’t love her and that’s okay too. You don’t have to love anyone in that way. Nobody is holding you to that.”

Sherlock looks down the length of the sidewalk. “I am capable of loving in that way.”

He says it almost as if he needs to defend himself. Molly wonders what she said to make him feel like she doubted that. She also is surprised that Sherlock would feel the need to defend that truth. He is a different man now, but his capacity for romantic entanglements has never been something Sherlock Holmes felt the need to convince anyone of.

“Of course you can. You have great capacity in that heart of yours. If you ever find it, you find it. We’ll throw a party. If you never do, then we will still celebrate all the love you already have in your life,” Molly says.

He hums in response and she decides that there is nothing more to say. He seems to believe what she says about her own feelings and intentions. That is what matters to her.

They continue walking in silence. Sherlock is pensive for the rest of the evening. Molly never asks him why.


He asks her to accompany him to an event that he must attend for a case. He could bring John, but prefers not to and predicts that John would be reluctant to join. She thinks she might find it fun, the event. That evening is free for her. The idea of dressing up and drinking champagne seems exciting. She does have a certain fondness for champagne.

“Depends,” she responds not looking up from her microscope.

“On what?” Sherlock asks prepared to bargain with her.

“You have to buy me chips. Those events never have portion size for real adults. I’m going to be starving afterwards, Sherlock.”

He nods. “Done. Any other demands?”

“No, but the chips are important. The chips are everything.”

“You shall have your chips, Dr. Hooper.”

She chooses a black dress with a lace top, low back and tulle skirt. She pairs the dress with vibrant red pumps with chunky heels so she does not topple over. She may have been confident, but she was still clumsy as all fuck. Sherlock gives a playfully long whistle when he sees her and tells her that she looks beautiful. Molly looks him over. She has never seen him in all black.  His hair is slicked back and he wears glasses. She asks him if they’re fake as he hails a cab and they climb in. They are. It’s a good look for him. She tells him this and asks if Irene has ever seen him in glasses. He pretends to not hear her. She smiles. He pointedly looks at his phone. She looks out her window, seemingly giving him a break.

“Has Irene sent you a dirty text?”

“Oh for the love of God!”

She cracks up. He ignores her for the rest of the ride. She giggles on and off. She has fun at the event. She does get to have her champagne and people watch. A few men flirt with her while Sherlock is away sleuthing. She chats them up amicably, but eventually turns them down. There Is a certain appeal in being unattached romantically. Her life is loads of fun these days. She and Sherlock end up dancing as he divides his attention between her and the other dancers, clearly looking for something in particular. He is a very fluid dance. She surprises him by keeping up. He jokes about it. She laughs good-naturedly and hints at some of her wilder days back in university.

He buys her chips afterwards. They talk about some movies she has seen recently at a horror film festival. He talks about some of his cases. They talk about Rosie. She finds it funny that he refers to her as Baby Watson.

“What will you call her when she’s not a baby anymore?”

“Toddler Watson, of course. Do keep up, Dr. Hooper.”

Molly laughs. His forehead scrunches and his eyebrows furrow together. It’s the same look he gives her sometimes. She still does not have a word for it. It unsettles her. Not always, but sometimes.

“Why do you give me that look sometimes?” she asks.

He frowns. “What look?”

“Like you’re working something out about me. You never say what it is.”

Sherlock shifts his gaze away. “Noticed that have you?”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not exactly subtle, Sherlock.”

“No, I don’t suppose it would be to someone with your observational abilities.”

She just raises an eyebrow and waits. He pointedly takes a drink of his water.  

“I have been trying to figure something out for a while now,” he admits slowly.

“About me?” she asks.


She raises an eyebrow. “You could just ask.”

His eyes dart around briefly before settling back on her.  

“Not like that. It’s not a question. At least not one you could answer with any degree of certainty.”

Oh, this seems interesting. She pushes the chips away and rests her chin in her hand.

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you know so far and we’ll work it out together?” she suggests.

He nods. “Smart plan.”

“Genius, really.”

“Arrogance doesn’t suit you, Molly.”

“Of course it does.”

His lips quirk. “Indeed.”

“Stop stalling, Sherlock.”

He sighs and looks around the shop, takes in the people sitting around talking. His eyes land on a couple a few tables away. He watches them laugh and talk as they share a basket of chips. She watches him as he watches them. She finds herself fascinated. His eyes are laser focused when he finally looks back at her. It almost startles her.  

“During that rather unfortunate phone call, I told you that I loved you.”

Oh. They were going to talk about the phone call. Again.

“Yes. You were under duress at the time.”

He smiles at her wording. “Just a tad.”

“I should never have asked that of you,” she says softly.  

He fixes her with a look. “Are you going to brush off everything I intend to say to you?”

She blinks. “Hadn’t planned to, but I get your point. I’ll be quiet.”

“Thank you.”


Another look. She motions that her lips are sealed. He rolls his eyes, but smiles. Then his look shifts into something more serious.

“Molly, what if I told you that our roles have been reversed, so to speak?”

She blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. She leans in further as if she has just heard a bit of juicy gossip.

“Say more.”

He clears his throat. “Right. You see, Molly, I have discovered that I have…developed feelings for you?”

Bloody hell. How much had she had to drink?

“Are you asking me a question?” Molly asks trying to wrap her head around what is currently taking place.

He shakes his head. “No. My apologies. It was not meant to be phrased as a question.”

His fingers tap out a rapid rhythm on the table. He maintains eye contact with her, but she can tell that he wants to look away. Sherlock Holmes is way out of his element. She realizes suddenly that she has all the power here. All of her words, movements, looks and actions have so much sway in this moment.  Sherlock Holmes is in the position of vulnerability.  

A role reversal, indeed.  

She reaches over and places her hand over his to stop the drumming. She uses her thumb to caress his pointer finger, his beautifully crafted musician’s hand. He looks down at their hands and closes his eyes.

“No, look at me,” she commands gently.

He does.

“It’s me you’re talking to remember? You’re safe,” she reminds him.

He smiles. He reverses their hands so that he is the one caressing her slender fingers. He brings her hand to his lips and places a tender kiss on her knuckles the way he did in the park when they had talked after all those months. He places her hand back on her side of the table and she understands that he wants her to have complete autonomy in this moment. She appreciates that. She rests her chin back in her hands.


“Molly Hooper, it seems that I have fallen for you, as they say. The proverbial they, of course. I have yet to be informed of who they are.”

She smiles. “Nobody knows who they are. When did you realize you felt this way?” she asks lightly.

It might be because she feels a touch light-headed. She is finding it difficult to make sense of anything presently.

He looks thoughtful. “It is fair to say that these feelings developed long before I had words for them, which is rather surprising given that I know many words. Obviously, I do not often have words to describe my…feelings— “

He says the word as if he is sampling the word for the first time and has not decided if he likes the taste.

“—I lacked the necessary emotional context, as my sister would say. It was and remains rather confusing for me.”

Molly smiles. “I imagine it is confusing. Would you like to describe to me what it feels like?”

He seems surprised by her suggestion and her reaction, how steady she is. She thinks he might also be grateful.  

“It is like a case that never ends. There is always new information I’m presented with to process, to make sense of and a lot of the time I can’t. I do not mean it in a way that objectifies you or turns you into anything less than a whole person. I only mean to compare it to the way that my mind is occupied during a case. When I am not with you, I think about you constantly. When I am with you, I struggle to find any motivation to leave you. I understand staring to be quite uncomfortable for most people, but I have trouble keeping my eyes off you, Molly Hooper. You have taken over every room in my mind palace. Every single room. You’re even in Mycroft’s room, Molly. Mycroft’s room!”

Molly laughs almost breathlessly. “You gave him an entire room?”

Sherlock sighs theatrically. “There is much to Mycroft, though he seems so simple.”

“Indeed,” she agrees.

Sherlock looks at her curiously. She sees him piecing things together. She waves him off quickly.

“Sorry, keep going.”

He continues to watch her. She takes a sip of her drink. His eyes narrow.

“You spend time with Mycroft!”

“I think he’s fun.”

“Does he show up after you’ve baked something?”

“Weren’t you trying to tell me something?” Molly reminds him.

He just studies.

“You are dangerous, Molly Hooper.”

“You were saying, Sherlock?”

“You are rather cunning for someone so small.”

She snaps her fingers at him. “Back to the issue at hand.”

“You would make the most fascinating criminal mastermind.”  

“Focus, Sherlock.”

“Right. Yes. Where was I?” he asks still distracted.

“Mycroft’s room?”

His sigh is put upon. “Ah, yes, where cake abounds. That you obviously bake for him. Explains your presence in his room.”

“Your emotions, Sherlock!”

He blinks and seems to remember himself. His voice lowers as he continues.

“Of course. My point is, Molly, that my feelings for you greatly extend beyond friendship and I have no idea what to do. This whole thing is well outside of what I know how to navigate or understand.” Sherlock concludes.

He appears both exhausted and relieved by his admission. Molly is still struggling to comprehend everything that he is saying. She has yet to decide if she is awake or not, but she knows her friend well enough to know that he needs her to be present.

“What would you like to do, Sherlock?”

“John told me once that I should get a piece of what he had,” Sherlock with a wistful smile. “It was more of a yell, really.”

Molly is confused. “What did he have?”


Oh. Oh, of course. Molly nods. She understands and her heart breaks in a way that she could hardly have expected. In what world could it be true that Molly Hooper had abandoned her feelings for Sherlock right as he was falling in love with her? She takes a deep breath and meets his eyes. His gaze is understanding and kinder than she can take. She is stunned that she has to work hard to not tear up.

“I know that your feelings for me have changed,” Sherlock acknowledges softly.

She exhales. “You have terrible timing, Sherlock.”  

“A fact. I do not wish to cause you distress, Molly. I have no expectations. I am content to have you in my life as just a friend. However, it feels inappropriate to allow you to misinterpret my relationship with Irene Adler. The feelings that you perceive to be for her are actually for you. And since you were forced to say something to me that you never intended to, it is only fair that I am willingly honest with you.”

“Well, fuck me,” Molly breathes.

“Not the way I would have phrased it so soon after my revelation, but all you would have to do is ask,” Sherlock jokes.

Molly looks at him disbelievingly before she bursts into laughter. They laugh together and draw the attention of the other patrons. They are wholly indifferent to anyone else in the room. They continue laughing for several minutes.

“This makes no sense,” Molly says trying to catch her breath.

“It baffles me too.”

Molly leans back and runs a hand through her hair. She looks at Sherlock and is thrown off by his look of tenderness. He holds his hand out. She regards it for a moment before taking it. He holds it gently, tracing her palm with his thumb. She notices the way his hand swallows hers. He always had such beautiful hands.  

“You have all the power here, Molly. If you need space, then you are free to take it. Whatever you need and whatever you want to do is what we’ll do,” Sherlock assures her.

She shakes her head. “I don’t want you out of my life. Not again.”

He lifts her palm to his lips. “It is not my preference either, but I will oblige you anything.”

Her head is swimming. This past year had been completely focused on leaning into her own identity and extricating her life from Sherlock’s. She loves him dearly. Of course she does. How can she ever not love him? The question remains about whether she is in love with him. There was a time where that was undeniably true. If she is, she feels wholly disconnected from those feelings now.

“I would like to know what you’re thinking,” Sherlock says.

“I’m thinking that I love you. I do, Sherlock,” Molly sighs.

“But you are not in love with me.”

She meets his eyes. “Everything is different now. I’m different.”

He nods. “I understand.”

She smiles and brings his hand to her lips. She rests her cheek against it.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“It is the very least of what I owe you,”

They sit like that for a while longer before he gets up pays for their food. He offers her his arm and she takes it as they walk to her flat. The silence is not awkward. Heavy, maybe, but not awkward. Both are contemplative. She wonders what is happening in that head of his, but never asks. He glances at her periodically, yet never says anything. Molly pauses abruptly when they arrive at her flat.

“Hold on. What about the case?” she inquires.

He rolls his eyes. “I solved it before we even left the venue. Lestrade arrested the woman over an hour ago.”

She hits him. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

He eyes her. “One, you never asked about it…”

“Fair point.”

“And two, clearly the time spent with you was more important to me than the case. It was only a five.”


“Yep,” he says popping the ‘p’ as is his way.    

She frowns at him. He leans down and kisses her cheek.

“Thank you for your help this evening.”

She gives a mock bow. “Happy to help, Detective.”

“Night, Molly,” he says and begins to walk away. She watches him for a few moments.

“Sherlock,” she calls after him.

He turns to her. She walks to him.

“I feel so disconnected from the feelings I had for you. The ones I have had for years. This all feels surreal, honestly. Give me time to figure out what I’m feeling. In the meantime, I don’t see why this needs to be a closed door for us. What if we left it open and see what happens? I would be okay with that if you are okay with waiting even though you don’t know what you’re waiting for.”

He regards her with great fondness and reverence. It is not a look she has seen Sherlock give to many things.

“Please understand this, Molly. The sway you so clearly exert over my heart—and mind palace, for that matter— is in no way transitory. Though, you may be tempted to believe otherwise. I can wait.”

She beams at him and he returns her smile. He kisses her cheek once more, before he strolls away. She giggles when she hears him humming an upbeat tune that sounds suspiciously like Beyoncé. He turns to give her a wink before disappearing around the corner. She shakes her head.

She stands on her sidewalk for nearly ten minutes after he is gone. She dissolves into laughter at the sheer absurdity of it all. She sends a text.

You know Beyoncé? – MH

His response is almost immediate.

I have been told she is the Queen. Queen of what exactly? – SH

Everything. Don’t you know that girls run the world? – MH 

What regal qualities does she possess? Catchy lyrics and tempo cannot be a qualifier. – SH 

Molly wonders if it is Mrs. Hudson or John that listens to Beyoncé. Her money is definitely on John.

She is brilliant, beautiful, and fierce– MH

And that makes her the Queen? Can there be more than one? – SH 

Molly laughs. Leave it to Sherlock to be critical on whether or not one can qualify as a queen.

1) Indisputably. 2) Yes. - MH

There is a lag in his response and Molly expects a long explanation about why those characteristics are not nearly enough to declare someone royalty. He surprises her. Fuck, he keeps surprising her.

Then I suggest you start wearing a crown, Molly Hooper. – SH

I Don't Want To Live Forever - Part 2

When she was notified of someone being at the gates of her home, she was having a quiet evening just writing some music, having a cup of tea. She wasn’t expecting anyone, her plan was for the quiet to last the whole day but apparently the universe seemed to have a different idea for her because right when she saw who it was, she was a mess of nervousness.

She opened the door and there he was, standing a bit awkwardly at her footstep with a sheepish grin on his lips, hands on his pockets. Wearing a t-shirt that she suspected she had bought for him.

“Hi!” He cleared his throat. She smiled gently.

“I see you’re finally off the crutches now, huh?”

“Yeah, got rid of them yesterday.” He told her. “Would you mind if I come in?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure! Come in!” She stepped aside, chuckling lightly. Adam stepped inside and he noticed something different in the house, the pictures in which he was in had been replaced with her friends, he felt his chest tightening at the reminder that they had actually broken up, that they had moved on with their lives without each other. But he quickly snapped out of it, not wanting her to be uncomfortable.

“How are you? Is everything alright?” She questioned as they moved to the living room.

As if remembering just then the reason for his visit, Adam’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I just wanted to see you. I’m sorry I didn’t call or anything.”

Biting her lip, she tried not to look at his eyes. I just wanted to see you seemed like such a strange thing coming from the man that had broken her heart, the man whose heart she broke just a few weeks ago with nothing but the truth and irony of life. “Oh, it’s okay. I wasn’t doing much so it’s fine.” She shrugged and he nodded his head. “So they gave you the all clear on everything? You’re okay now?”

“Yes, everything is great. They said I recovered fast. It’s just my memory that is a bit messy. They said I may be able to get it back but there’s no way to know for sure and it may never happen.” He explained.

“Oh well, it’s better than nothing. Thank god it wasn’t worse than this.” Worst scenarios crossed Taylor’s mind for a moment and she refused to think about it. The thought of what could’ve happened left her little breathless. Because she still cared about him, you don’t just go from loving a person for a year to hating them. She could never hate him and that’s what she hated about this. It was easy to ignore when they didn’t talk, when they didn’t cross paths and when they agreed to just be friendly when they needed too but this…actually having him here was making her rethink a lot.

“Taylor, I’ve been trying to remember everything that happened, you know? Going over pictures and articles and stuff people tell me. I’ve been trying so hard but I can’t understand what I did, what we did. It’s so confusing.” He sighed.

“Adam…I don’t think I understand either and I remember it.” She smiled softly, placing her hand over his for a second that was far too short in Adam’s mind. “It’s okay. It’s in the past.”

His lips stretched into a smile as he looked at her. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Her brows furrowed and she chuckled. “Sure.”

“I lied. I didn’t come here just to see you.” He told her. “I came here because I have a proposition to make.”

“And what’s that?”

“Ten days is what took me to convince you to date me. So I want to ask for ten days to let me convince you again.” His words were so certain, he seemed so sure of this. “If after those ten days, I’ve made no progress then I’ll give up on you. I guess what I’m saying is that I want us to start over. Everything.”

“Adam, you can’t just do this. This past year has been hell for me, for us. I can’t risk getting hurt.”

“I can assure you that I know what mistakes I made to lose you, Taylor and I know that I won’t make those same mistakes again. I can’t promise you it’ll work but if you give a chance to try, that’s all I’m asking. A chance. So please, let me try.” He begged, grabbing her hand. It was hard to say no to a face like that. But what he was saying was substantially insane and she should totally be against doing it but there was something about having someone handing out what you wanted for months right in front of you.

She didn’t speak for few seconds, turning to look at him. “Ten days. You have ten days.”

“Thank you.” He laughed, hugging her. She was surprised at the contact but soon relaxed under his touch, her arms wrapping around him before she pulled away not wanting to get caught up.

“So this starting over thing, how does it work?” She smiled.

“Well, Taylor Swift, would you go on a date with me?”

“Why are you freaking out over this?” Gigi laughed, laying sideways on Taylor’s bed as she came in and out of the closet pulling different outfits. “It’s not like you don’t know him. It’s not that hard, Taylor.”

Taylor groaned. “I know! But still, I’m just nervous about it all.” She came out of the closet wearing a black dress. “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect!” Gigi grinned at her.

She frowned, looking down at herself.

“What is it?” Gigi asked.

“This was one of his favorite dresses that I wore.” She mumbled, running her hands over the fabric.

“Babe, it’s okay.” Gigi stood up to hug her. “You’re gonna be fine. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself. It’s Adam. He did screw up big time but he’s a good guy and you know him in and out.”

Sighing, she grabbed her phone, checking if anyone had texted her, if Adam had texted her. Thankfully he hadn’t said anything which meant she still had time until he came to pick her up.

“Do you think I should’ve given him the chance? What if he remembers everything suddenly and then he hates me?”

“You’re overthinking it, Tay, honestly. This is good, I mean, you can just end up as friends but maybe it can work out this time. I know you still have feelings for him and I wanted to cut his balls off for a second there but you should give this a shot.”

Taking a sharp breath, she smiled softly. “Okay. It’s gonna be fine.”

Gigi smiled at her encouragingly and Taylor’s phone started ringing. Her eyes widened.

“Oh god.” She groaned and swiped it right, answering Adam’s call. “Hello?”

“Hey, Just letting you know I’ll be there in like ten minutes.” His voice came from the other side of the line.

“Okay, yeah, great!” She smiled nervously. “I’ll see you in a bit then.”

“Can’t wait.” He said before hanging up the phone.

“Isn’t this crazy? It’s crazy isn’t it? I made a mistake.” She muttered, running a hand through her hair.

“Okay, stop!” Gigi held her shoulders, looking into her eyes. “You need to breath, Taylor. You gave him a chance to get you back, which is super brace and I think that maybe if it doesn’t work out, you can get some closure on the Adam thing, which you and I both know you don’t have right now with everything that happened, okay?”

Taylor nodded and then smirked softly, looking at Gigi. “When did you get so wise?” Gigi laughed, shaking her head. “I need to get ready!”

Adam was driving the car, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he tried to calm himself down. He wasn’t even sure why he was so nervous, it suddenly felt like this was his first date ever with a girl. Perhaps it was the fact that this was Taylor or just the fact that he lost his memory and now the girl he loved, who he wanted a future with, had left him. Too many things had happened for his liking. How he managed to screw up so badly was beyond him, he kept wondering how on earth did he not fight for her to stay. He knew she had made mistakes but from he’d been told he was the biggest reason for their break up and he wanted to make sure that he would never make the same mistake twice.

He was driving through the familiar street that led to her house, telling himself it was going to be fine. That he could actually convince her to take him back.

Thinking back to the moment she told him what happened, he never knew losing her could hurt that much. He felt suffocated, his lungs collapsing as his heart broke into tiny pieces. It didn’t make sense. Everything people told him about, the articles he read about what he said, it just didn’t make sense. How he had hurt her, pushed her away like that. How it all went down, from the break up to Taylor and Tom, it was very confusing and the only thing he knew was that he needed to get her back.

‘I’m outside.’ The text message read as Taylor checked her phone. Taking a deep breath, she made her way out of the door quickly. Excited yet nervous about that night. She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake by doing this. This was Adam, the guy she was still sort of, very much in love with who didn’t remember anything about their break up, who was a completely different person than the guy she left, in a good way.

His car was parked in her driveway and she saw him wave before he exited the car, heading towards her with a grin on his face.

“You look absolutely beautiful.” He complimented her with a huge smile on his face. She giggled, walking towards him. He planted a kiss on her cheek. “Shall we get this whole date thing started?”

“Let’s do it.”

garglyswoof  asked:

44 klaroline.

44:  “This is a totally inappropriate soundtrack.”

Ofc my head could only think of Kol when you gave me the idea for this prompt xD so you know, this is koroline and klaroline mixed together lool Klaus is probably super OOC and maybe Caroline as well lol i’m sorry??? Hope you like it anway~~ On FF.

Also, if you want one!

Inappropriate Soundtrack

The sound was booming and echoing throughout the morbidly empty room; the clanging of rusted metal intertwining with the music in an upsetting way, and the moans of pain and vicious laughter only made the scene even more horrific. Caroline vamped into the formerly sealed room, and wondered if she was having some drug-induced hallucination - at least she hoped she had been drugged.

“Kol, what in the world is going on?” she asked, the sight only growing more disturbing with time.

Looking at her, as if she had grown another head, he happily replied, “I am in the middle of torturing someone, obviously.”

It wasn’t exactly what he was doing that perturbed her the most, it was how he was doing it; because listening to Ellie Goulding screaming at the top of her lungs for someone to love her like you do, while viciously torturing someone was incredibly unsettling.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “This is a totally inappropriate soundtrack.”

As she finished talking, Call Me Maybe started playing, and at the irony of the situation, Caroline almost laughed, instead she just asked, “Why would you torture someone with pop music in the background?”

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Silly Love Songs

There are exactly twenty-two cassette tapes in the shoebox under the passenger seat of the Impala. There have been exactly twenty-two cassette tapes in that box since Dean was twenty-five and bought a copy of Abbey Road and Combat Rock from a record store in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Most of the tapes were John’s, inherited right alongside the Impala, the soundtrack of a life on the road: Motorhead and Lynyrd Skynyrd; Black Sabbath and The Kinks; there’s even some Springsteen in there that Dean is pretty sure belonged to his mom before everything went to hell. Dean (and even Sam) can pick some of them out without even looking: Kashmir’s label has worn off from being handled so many times; Back in Black has a noticeable chip in the left corner; Heaven and Hell is weirdly heavier than the rest. Dean’s lived by this music; driven back and forth across the country to the sounds of those tapes. There are exactly twenty-two cassette tapes in the shoebox under the passenger seat of the Impala, until one day, there are exactly twenty-three.


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Previous Chapters:  Teaser/Prologue, Chapter 1

Unexpected – Chapter 2

He loves this feeling. The way his heart swells in his chest when he sees their small, often tired eyes, light up with the sight of him. The way his cheeks hurt from the permanent smile that is plastered on his face for the entire length of his visit. There are moments that it’s hard. Many of them really.  When he walks into a barren hospital room to find a child hooked to more tubes and machines than he has baseball caps.  When a child sits on his lap, their skin pale and cold, and he finds himself wondering if they will still be there when he visits next.  But he knows that he would fight off the tears that always threaten his eyes a million times over to see the smiles upon their faces.  

It is, he has always believed, the most rewarding perk of his stardom and without question, his most favorite time to don his Captain America suit.

He doesn’t know how many times he’s been here.  Hell, he doesn’t even know how long he has been here today.  It doesn’t matter.  He would come every day for hours on end if he could.  Every children’s hospital is special, he thinks, all of them worthy of visits from superheroes, all of them providing tugs to his heart and spectacular little smiles.  But Boston Children’s Hospital will always be extra special to him.  It’s the first place he ever visited and he’s been here so many times since that he knows the names of virtually all of the staff and, even though it pains him to say, all of the longtime patients.

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State of Grace~Remus Lupin Song fic

A/N: Look at that, I had some inspiration. ALSo look at the fricking gif a jsd;kf He is adorable, I can’t get over it. Also, random thing I did today, I asked my friend to give her phone because the wifi wouldn’t work on mine and wanted to look at pictures of Ben Barnes 😂 Lately, he has disappeared from my dash and it makes me sad

Based off: State of Grace by Taylor Swift-Red

Pairing: Young!Remus Lupin x reader

Word Count: 2858

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, bad dancing (it’s pure awkward and that is a worthy of warning)


Originally posted by allenparker

I was not one to go to dances. Or quidditch games (unless my friends were playing). Or parties. Or school activities. I just didn’t like being in such a crowded room with all the yelling and music and the limited space. I would much rather be in the common room or one of my friend’s dorms with them and only them. Especially Remus. He and I had a lot in common and I was sure that when they announced the Yule ball, he would stay back with me while Sirius went and got drunk while listening to James complain about how Lily had rejected his offer to be her date for the night. Turns out, I was wrong. As soon as we heard about the dance, Remus turned to me and asked me if I would go with him as a friend. Of course, going as friends made me a little disappointed (it was pretty clear to me by now that I definitely wanted to be more than friends with the boy that stayed back to read books with me rather than go to a noisy quidditch game), but I was even more disappointed that he wanted to go. I had thought we could have another night alone in his dorm, discussing the latest books we had read and joking around. However I still didn’t want to give up a night of hanging out with my favourite gryffindor, so I accepted.

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