iluvroadrunner6 | table } { love bingo round 3

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table } { love bingo round 3

And this is my table for

love_bingo posted on DW because most of my stuff is going to wind up posted here anyway.

FINISHED FILLS

Love Binds Hearts: all along i believed i would find you, Haven, Nathan/Audrey, 1037 words.
Somebody to Love: i have spent all my years believing you, Throne of Shadows, Dean/Christine, 1028 words.
Un-break my Heart: i don't have to have these dreams no more, The Vampire Diaries/Buffyverse, Matt/Buffy, 1442 words.
Love Potion: i took my troubles down to madam ruth, Supernatural/Vampire: the Masquerade, Sam/Artemis, Dean/Everyone, 1002 words.
Family Ties: and the boy has a bite better far than his bark, Teen Wolf/Buffyverse, Derek/Dawn, 1650 words.
Vengeance: but if they get their chance they'll end it for sure, Everworld/Heroes of Olympus, Christopher/Piper, 786 words.
Widowhood: for parting is not goodbye, White Collar, Peter/El, 2,740 words.
Comfort: there is one thing that remains forever true, White Collar, Neal/Sara, 1,749 words.
Walk on the Beach: i wanna taste the way that you bleed, Riftverse, Stefan/Scarlett, 1,336 words.
Commitment Ceremony: well i know this little chapel on the boulevard we can go, Doctor Who, Doctor & Rory, 807 words
Seduction: just wanna try you on, Faenanigans, Rebekah/Hayley, 783 words
Why?: oh i'm sorry, but i'm still mad at you, The Vampire Diaries/Teen Wolf, Stefan/Allison, 1,081 words
Tenderness: there's some kind of blessing here, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor/Jane, 832 words
Tenderness: give me a long kiss goodnight and everything will be alright, Faenanigans, Emily Bennett, 1,291 words
Polygamy: but this don't even feel like falling, The Vampire Diaries, Bonnie/Caroline/Elena, 939 words
One More Night: or maybe we could stick around for just one more drink, Beyond the Rift, Castiel & Cassie, 974 words
Indecent Proposal: you got yourself into your own mess, White Collar/Vampire Diaries-verse, Neal/Rebekah, 918 words
All By Myself: careful the wish you make, Riftverse, Charlie & Dylan, 806 words
Marriage of Convenience: maybe the problem's simply codependency, Buffyverse/Supernatural, Sam/Lilah, 610 words
Cherish: you're just like a dream, Teen Wolf (AU), Parrish/Laura, 702 words
Disagreement: when i'm out on the road, i gotta be in control, The Vampire Diaries, Elena & the Salvatores, 777 words
Yes!: please take my hand, Supernatural/Star Trek (AU), Dean/Christine, 829 words
Lovers' Quarrel: a kick in the teeth is good for some, Teen Wolf/Buffyverse, Peter/Buffy, 702 words
In the Name of Love: i'd walk to you if i had no other way, Teen Wolf (AU), Stiles/Cora, 929 words
Best Friends: you know i'll never be lonely, Doctor Who, Amy/Rory, 621 words

CLAIMED PROMPTS:
love binds hearts ~ havendiarynatural-verse ~ throughworlds
somebody to love ~ dean/christine ~ hypospraying
un-break my heart ~ surprise crossover!! ~ mothering
love potion ~ sam/artemis ~ stranger_to_the_rain
family ties ~ teen vampire slayer-verse ~ grumpypuppy
~~comfort ~ white collar ~ burkethejerk (Soldier)~~
best friends ~ ponds ~ keptbiting
vengeance ~ titanic and tacos ~ cute_andviolent
one more night ~ cas & cassie ~ ohstarryeyed
walking on the beach ~ the ship of bad life choices ~ damagedone
all by myself ~ angel bffs ~ inthistwilight
commitment ceremony ~ smith & williams ~ bowtimeandspace
polygamy ~ bonnie/elena/some really lucky duck ~ judgy
tenderness ~ emily bennett (faenanigans) ~ judgy
seduction ~ hayley/rebekah or other sexy lady times ~ ihaveclaws
indecent proposal ~ neal/rebekah ~ easily
marriage of convenience ~ sam/lilah ~ succubitch
why? ~ stefan/allison ~ transferee
tenderness ~ marvel cinematic universe ~ shesearches
~~widowhood ~ elizabeth burke ~ burkethejerk WHO IS A TERRIBLE PERSON~~
disagreement ~ elena and the salvatores ~ titfortat
yes! ~ dean/christine ~ hypospraying
lover's quarrel ~ buffy/peter ~ cunningwolf
in the name of love ~ canon au ~ fadingspark
cherish ~ parrish/laura (regency) ~ fireproofdeputy

Requests are acceptable if you know I know the fandom. Please provide them at your leisure. Otherwise I'll just write whatever I want.

Final Word Count:
24,630 words

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Love binds hearts for: Havenverse (for whoever and whatever inspires you!!!!!)

or

Bela/Sam!!!!!

or both!!!!

From the moment she meets him, she feels like she’s coming in in the middle of the story.

She gets swept into the way it just clicks, the way you feel it should in all those old romance stories. He knows her, from whatever his future is and she can’t help but love him in those brief moments, love the way he feels, love the way he seems to tear down something in himself when he comes back to her that time on the beach. Even the way he kisses her feels like he’s done it all before.

Sarah Vernon is practical woman. She pours her heart and soul into her work, not into men who are unreliable. She’s not searching for a Prince Charming, nor will she ever be. Princes are for girls who can’t take care of themselves, and if there is anything that Sarah can do, it’s take care of herself. She’s been to war, seen what killing can do to a man, can do to anyone.

And yet, Nathan digs into some part of her that she can’t seem to let go of, even after he’s gone. He leaves his mark in more ways than one and from the first moment she holds James in her arms she knows, knows that Nathan will find a way to be with her again. She couldn’t possibly comprehend the meaning of it all, but he left behind something heavy inside of her.

Seeing her son has a way of making that feel lighter.

She only wishes she didn’t have to give him away.

***

She has always known that there was something missing.

Lucy has never had much to tie her down. It’s never been something she’s been all that interested in. There’s a weight that she’s already dragging, a feeling of loss and heartache that follows her wherever she goes, and the more she explores Haven, the more she starts to realize that the answers she’s looking for, the weight that she’s looking to alleviate might be something she did in the past. Vince and Dave try to tell her that she was – is – this woman Sarah, and there are memories that flash that she can’t explain. All she knows is that there are answers in the walls of this town, power in their secrets and pain in the things that they cannot say, and all the same it never really matters.

What she’s looking for belongs to Haven, but why can’t she seem to find it?

She helps who she can. Loves who she can. She finds James, and both holds answers and is missing them all at the same time. And then she loses him.

To the world, he’s the Colorado Kid. To her, he’ll always be just her son.

She can’t even bring herself to grieve until she’s within the confines of the police station, a young officer of the Guard named Garland Wuornos is standing in front of her, trying to console her in any way he can, but there isn’t much left to do. Her son is dead, her time is up, and she needs to find a way to fix things before the barn comes and she disappears again.

There’s still so much she doesn’t understand, but son or not, hers or not, James lifts a part of her than she’s always had to carry alone and she didn’t want to have to do that anymore.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks, holding out a box of tissues for her to take from, and she does at first, her hand hesitating as she glances out the window to see the beginning of streaks in the sky. The meteor storm is coming. She is out of time.

Or maybe not.

“Help me.” She reaches for his hand, gripping it tightly as she pulls herself to her feet. “Help me get him to the barn.”

***

She’s had a weight in her heart for as long as she can remember.

It’s a heavy thing, that kind of loss. It sinks into your skin and permeates the way you see the world. It’s hard to be the kind of person who is constantly looking, constantly searching for answers that can’t be found. An orphan questions their identity every day, and while most of the time those questions are asked into the void, an empty vacuum that swallows them whole, when she enters Haven, for the first time in her life the answers finally start bouncing back.

Lucy. Sarah. Numerous women, all with her face, all with the ability to help the Troubled, and she steps into their shoes without really thinking about it. She takes up helping people because she knows that they don’t need to be saved, or stopped they simply need to be understood. They’re people. They’ll always be people, no matter who’s face she’s wearing.

And then there’s Nathan, a man who’s silence speaks more volumes than she would ever be able to say, and who’s mere presence is something she can cling to like an life raft. Nathan makes her feel like she’s floating, makes her feel like she’s part of something, even if she can’t understand it completely. Every moment she spends around him, she feels herself remembering, feels like she’s finally putting things into context.

She’s seeing the start of the story and there’s an icy chill at the thought of the end, though she’s not quite sure where the middle went. Maybe it’s something she forgot, or maybe it’s something they lost, but right there in front of her is the answer to that hole she thought she’d never be able to fill. Still, no one ever said that wooing Nathan Wuornos was easy. Prying him out of his shell takes time and effort, but in the end, all of it will be worth it.

She knows, almost as though she’s been there before, felt the frustration and reaped the rewards. There are times she thinks it’s never going to be able to happen, but in the end, the truth is always the same.

“Why do I always go for the shy ones?”

Maybe there’s a reason that she never manages to learn.

Somebody to love; Dean/Christine

The problem with Nysgods … is mostly that there are Nysgods.

They’re egotistical, pompus sons of bitches, and ninety percent of the time Dean wants to stab them in the fucking face, but that’s life for you. Or at least that’s Dean’s life. Being bossed around by immortal beings who think they can control his life, and he tells them to shove it where the sun don’t shine.

Which is why, when it comes down to the end and Dean puts his foot down, tired of their bullshit, he manages to use everything he has to piss them all off at once. He burns all of his bridges except for one, the one that gets him safe haven in An-Teng, with wards to keep him away from the Nysgods prying eyes, and no one is surprised that he takes as many of them down with him as he can.

What surprises him however, is that Christine goes with him.

“You really need to learn to admit when you need help.”

She’s giving him one of those you’re too stupid for your own good looks (probably what he sees it as more than what she’s actually thinking) as she patches up a chunk of his arm that got taken out by a cart he was repairing. He makes a face at her right back, before shaking his head.

“I was fine. The cart just came down wrong, that’s all.”

That earns him another look, one that is a bit more severe, a that’s not what happened, is it? and he just grins back at her. Most of it just rolls off him, and it’s nice to have someone there to look out for him, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to be less of a little shit about it.

“Besides. What’s the point of dating a really hot nurse, if I don’t have her be a nurse every once in a while?”

She rolls her eyes good naturedly before smoothing down the rest of the bandage. “Try not to injure yourself again for a while, alright? Supplies are running low as it is.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’ll be more careful.” And he will until the moment that he’s not. Dean’s never gone into these things aiming to get himself hurt, but he always seems to, and she seems to always manage to have his back.

“You better.” She steps to the side to start to put some of the items away, and he stands from the chair he was sitting in, moving towards one of the open windows. The small apartment they’ve managed to claim for themselves was nothing special really – four walls, floor and ceiling with just enough space for just the two of them and all the privacy they needed. Dean saved An-Teng once upon a time, protected them from demons when they needed it, and that is enough for them to keep their mouths shut, at least for now.

Eventually they’re going to have to find somewhere else to go, and Dean doesn’t know where that’s going to be yet. All he knows is the place they have now is safe, even if it lacks the kind of medical facilities that Christine is used to. He thinks that she likes the work, looking after the people around them and helping earn that good faith. All things considered, it’s about a good a life as they’re going to get in a place like this, and in a lot of ways, he’s grateful for it.

Being on the run, whether it’s from crazy immortals or from yourself, always sucks.

(Ben probably would have liked it here, now that he thinks about it.)

He stiffens just slightly when he feels her arms come around him from behind, before relaxing back into her, shifting a bit so that she could look out the window as well. “Where are you?” she asks, and cuts him off before he can respond. “And don’t be a smartass.”

He smirks a bit, giving her hand a squeeze before shaking his head. “Nowhere. Just thinking.”

“Uh-huh.” She squeezes him around the middle gently before pulling back and turning towards the stove. “I picked up some fish at the market. That sound good for dinner?”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

It’s heartbreakingly domestic. Dean’s been in love before, and it’s never been like this. Granted the only time he’s been in love is Cassie (and Jo, maybe, but Jo’s gone now too), and the example had been a lot of fighting. A lot of struggling. And this isn’t to say that he and Christine don’t fight because they do, but it never feels like the struggle it could be. They fight, but it’s never like all they have is riding on it.

He honestly hopes it never does.

He’s stays there, standing at the window, listening to the sounds of her moving behind him in the kitchen, when the shadows open in front of him and a blond man steps through them, as naturally as taking a stroll down the street. His jaw tightens and his shields automatically go up, when the man looks straight at him, and gestures for him to come closer.

He wishes he could pretend he didn’t see them. He probably would if it wasn’t such a familiar face. Taking a deep breath, he makes his way back over to where Christine is standing at the stove sliding an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“I gotta go check something out. I’ll be right back.”

She glances up to him with a smile and a nod, and when she catches the look on his face, she frowns. “What is it?”

He shakes his head. “Just … be ready, just in case.”

You never can tell with Nysgods. There’s always a chance he won’t come back. She nods weakly at that, and he presses another kiss to her forehead, before stepping to the side and heading out the door. He glances at the apartment one last time, before heading down the stairs to meet with Jaan as quickly as possible.

At least home was nice while it lasted.

Un-break my heart; surprise me with a crossover pairing!!

After LA, she doesn’t go home, but she does call her mom, to tell her that she’s fine and she’s safe and she’s so, so sorry. There’s a part of her that wants to go back to Sunnydale, but there’s a part that can’t all the same. Too many bad memories, too many losses. Too many times with too many people she couldn’t save, no matter how much she desperately wanted to.

Her mom doesn’t really understand, but it’s not as though she can stop her either.

The next call she makes is to Giles, looking for a place she can go that isn’t Sunnydale, because if there’s one thing she does know it’s that she needs to be the Slayer. She needs to keep fighting because it’s the one thing she can do, and evil isn’t going to rest. Sunnydale may be the Hellmouth, but it’s not the only one – it can’t be. It takes some attempts on Giles’ end to get her to reconsider, convince her that she needs to go back and face her demons, rather than run away from them, but for Buffy right now, running away is the thing that comes naturally, even if it’s running smack dab into another fight.

SMACK!

“Oof!”

Buffy’s momentum is caught off guard the second she walks in the front doors of Mystic Falls High School on the first day of senior year, sending her sprawling back onto her butt and her books flying everywhere. There a soft thud somewhere nearby of a football hitting the ground, and when she looks up, all she can see is a red letterman’s jacket and a pair of surprisingly blue eyes.

“I am so sorry.” His voice is apologetic but warm as he reaches over, offering a hand to help her up. “I didn’t even see you there.”

“No, it’s okay,” she says with a small smile as she takes his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. “I forgot that football had been changed into an indoor sport.”

The smile widens – a really, nice smile, for that matter. Buffy clearly failed to mention to the Powers that Be that cute boys on the first day of school were a really dick move. Unless, of course, said cute boys are a reward for returning to the Slayer fold, in which case there has to be something wrong with him. “Yeah, well. The rules and regulations are still being worked out. There are definite penalties for mowing down the pretty new girl on her first day, though.”

Cute and flirty. There is absolutely something wrong with him.

Still her head ducks in a bit of a blush – it’s an instinctive reaction when someone calls her pretty, she can’t help it – before regaining her cool and moving on. She finishes gathering up the rest of her books before looking up at him again. “Harsh, severe penalties. Like possibly even pointing her to the registrar’s office?”

“Down the hall, to the right,” he says with a nod, before tipping his head to the side. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

“Thank you,” she says with a nod, starting to follow his lead, before her nose starts to wrinkle. “Do I really stand out that much, that you could pick me out as new?”

“We’re a pretty small town. We don’t really get a lot of new people around here.” He glances back to her, before extending a hand. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

She shifts her books to one arm and shakes his hand with the other. “Buffy. I just moved here from Sunnydale.”

“Sunnydale?” Matt raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like a nice place.”

“Sounds can be deceiving.” Buffy purses her lips together before shaking her head. “It’s a nice place with … some good people, but it held a lot of bad memories. I needed a bit of a break.”

She watches him for a moment, and she almost thinks that she can see a bit of recognition in his eyes. From what Giles could tell her, Mystic Falls sublimates things just as badly, if not worse than Sunnydale. But there are some people know, and there’s a brief, hopeful moment where she wants to ask if Matt is one of them. Then he blinks, it’s gone and she brushes it off. That’s usually too much to ask, and she should have known better.

“Look, you should come to the bonfire tonight. I know you’re new, but it’ll be a good way to meet people.”

Buffy hears that as a good way to troll for vampires. Either way, she’s in. “Sure. Sounds good.”

He brightens as they come to a stop in front of the main office. “Great. I’ll see you there.”

“Yeah. See you there.” First day and you’ve already made a friend. Way to go, Buffy.

Too bad that things are never really meant to stay normal.

***

Matt stands her up at the bonfire. Then a car explodes. She later finds out that one has to do with the other, but in that particular moment it’s all really rude, but the explosion is enough to distract her for now. It’s hard to say whether it was supernatural or not, but from what she’s managed to pick up given the targets, it’s hard to say it wasn’t.

All the same, it’s probably for the best. She’s not ready for a relationship right now anyway. The wounds from Angel are still too fresh. He apologizes to her the next day and they carry on as friends. Two parentless teens becoming close is probably the start of every teen soap ever written but for a while, that’s all they actually are.

(She continues to ignore calls from Sunnydale. It’s probably for the best – to keep a clean break.)

Then Homecoming happens, and he walks in on her trying to stake what she later learns is a hybrid (a hybrid) and well, her cover is a little blown. The night ends with the two of them sitting on his couch and him filling her in on what’s going on in agonizing detail. Every vampire he considers a friend. What he knows about how they work. They’re not like any vampire that Buffy’s ever heard of, but she’s willing to take Matt’s word for it that they’re good.

(Caroline and Tyler, anyway. Possibly the hybrids, given the whole sire bond thing. The jury’s still out on the Salvatores, but she’s leaning towards the side of “no.”)

He walks her home after, and as they’re standing in front of her (Council paid for) apartment, he turns to face her with a bit of a nervous look. “Are you sure you’re okay with all of this? I mean, I know you’re ‘the Slayer,’ whatever that means, but that’s still a lot of information I just dumped on you.”

“Trust me. I can handle it. And it’s not like I didn’t already know there were vampires here. That’s why I came – to help.”

“Well, I really hope you can.” He doesn’t sound that confident. Buffy isn’t entirely sure he should be. She needs to call Giles and see what he can dig up on the Originals, but for now, she’s keeping her game face on. Just because she’s worried, doesn’t mean he should be.

“I’ve fought bigger and badder things. This isn’t my first rodeo.” And it won’t be her last either.

He nods a bit, and she turns to go unlock the door to her apartment. Before she can get too far, his hand is on her wrist. “Hey, Buffy?” She turns to start to face him, and the next thing she knows, he’s kissing her, sweet and soft, and for a second she melts into it, letting herself get carried away, just for the moment. As their lips part, she exhales slowly, trying to stay in the moment as much as possible.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” His voice is a little hoarse, but in a good way. A sexy way. The kind of way that makes her want to kiss him again, but before she can, the floor creaks and she looks up.

(She shouldn’t have. That was her big mistake.)

The silence almost swallows her whole. Somewhere Matt is saying her name, but she can’t hear it, can only focus on the fact that someone is standing in front of her who shouldn’t be, not after she ran a sword through his heart and sent him to Hell.

Matt turns to see what’s wrong, and he frowns, a brief look of confusion crossing his face as he does. “Who’re you?”

He doesn’t have to respond. Buffy does it for him.

“Angel.”

Love potion

Artemis/Sam

(I am a terrible person)

It’s not often that Sam will admit he needs help. If he does, that help can usually come from Dean or Bobby, but with Bobby gone, Garth MIA and Dean being the problem Sam needs help with, he doesn’t have a whole lot of options left. The information the bunker is coming up empty. What he needs is someone with a lot of information and resources, and considering he doesn’t have a lot of living friends left, he decided to move on to the undead ones. After pushing the buzzer on the gate for twenty minutes, Artemis’s voice came with a snap from the other end of the line.

“Who is this?”

“Wow, is that her voice?” Dean leans over Sam’s shoulder to get closer to the buzzer. “Dude, I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with a voice before but … ”

“Shut up,” Sam mutters, shoving his brother back before turning back to the box. “It’s Sam. I would have called but it’s kind of an emergency.”

There’s a long pregnant pause on the other end. “Define emergency.”

Dean leans across Sam again, shoving him back against the seat hard. “Has anyone ever told you that your voice sounds like the soft cooing of a flock of pure white doves on a summer’s day?”

Sam rolls his eyes before shoving Dean back again. “Sorry about him, he’s … ”

There’s no response from the other end of the line. Just the click of the gate swinging open, giving them permission to continue through. Sam doesn’t argue, just continues to drive through to the front of the compound, Dean asking him inane questions about Artemis’s disembodied voice as he goes. Sam for the most part ignores him. He has been for the better part of two days.

When he finally gets to the front of the compound, Artemis is standing at the door, staring at him skeptically as he climbed out of the car. “Tell me what happened.”

“Near as I can tell? Someone magically roofied him into being in love with everything he comes across.”

Dean stumbles out of the car and takes to standing just behind Sam, a dreamy look on his face as he stared at Artemis. “Hi.” He’s almost like a sheepish teenager saying hello to his first crush. Sam mostly wants to smack him.

Artemis stares daggers into him, and it doesn’t seem to phase him. There’s still that goofy, dewy eyed expression on his face. She then rolls her eyes and takes another step closer to grab him by the chin and bring him down to her eye level. Sam could see the way his brother’s back was bending, and it couldn’t have possibly been comfortable, but Dean treats it like it’s the best thing to ever happen to him.

It’s kind of disturbing.

“Love potion. Almost definitely.”

“You have the … prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Artemis blinks at him for a moment, before releasing him and allowing him to stand up again. “It should be fixable. Are we safe to leave him on his own or is that going to be asking for trouble?”

“You tell me. If we leave him somewhere, will someone kick his ass for this.”

She considers him for a moment, the fingers on one hand twitching as she mentally weighs either the pros and cons of Dean getting his ass kicked, or the number of the people in the compound who would take offense to Dean’s current behavior. Or maybe she was just considering the weather.

With Artemis, it can be a little hard to tell.

Either way, she just turns and gestures for him to follow. “We’re going to the library.”

Dean bolts after her like an overeager puppy. Sam can’t help but roll his eyes as he follows. This is going to be a long day.

***

A few hours later, Sam is up to his neck in books and has lost track of Dean, but that’s probably for the best in the end. If he has to spend any more time with him, he might have had to punch him in the face, and that wouldn’t really do anyone any good. He trusts that if he had gotten himself into real trouble, Sam would have been able to hear the altercation and intervene. Right now, he’s basking in the blessed silence.

“Why did you come to me?”

Or somewhat silence at any rate.

He glances up at her in surprise, like he isn’t sure why she would ask the question. “I needed help. A lot of my other resources were tapped out.”

There’s another one of those pregnant pauses before she nodded. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Sam watches her carefully for a moment, almost as though he was trying to get in her head somehow. Granted, he’s known her long enough by now to know that it’s near impossible to do, but he’s curious all the same. “You’re surprised that I would? I told you after you showed me the library that you’d have a hard time digging me out.”

She gives him a mild look at that, before shaking her head. “Just thought you would have had closer friends, that’s all.”

“A guy introduces a girl to an angel and takes an impromptu trip to Australia to close a Devil’s Gate – I’m pretty sure that’s as close a friend as you can get.”

She probably meant proximity. He doesn’t really care.

She gives a wry smirk and looks as though she’s about to say something when there’s a sudden CRASH from the other end of the library and the hard smack of skin on skin. Sam stares at the book in his hands for a moment, before shaking his head and getting to his feet.

“I better go … ” He gestures in the direction of the sound, and Artemis nods.

“Don’t let him break my library.”

He takes a deep breath. “I’ll do my best.”

He honestly doubts this is going to end well.

Edited 2013-12-06 20:22 (UTC)

Family Ties -

Hales vs. Summers

Bonus points if it's them as teens.

It all starts with a locker door.

More specifically, it starts with a locker door that collides with Derek’s head.

Dawn Summers, a young girl quickly learning just how hard it is to explain that you had to change schools because your school was resting on a Hellmouth and was consequently destroyed when your entire home town was swallowed as that Hellmouth was destroyed (the officially story in record is “sinkhole” but Dawn’s always been a bit of a ramble-y liar, and she isn’t sure how well that story is holding up), isn’t doing so well with spatial awareness at the moment. It’s one of those things that tends to happen when she gets lost somewhere in her own head, a kind of tunnel vision purely focused on wherever she needs to go and not much else. She makes a beeline for her brand new locker, ready to shift some of her books around and move on to the next day, and clearly not paying attention as a line of jocks makes their way towards her.

The fact that, lack of spatial awareness or not, she should be aware enough to be more conscious of where she’s flinging around metal doors, but that’s beside the point. The point is, she flings the door open, ready to grab her history book and move on, when that door she suddenly opened hits something with a loud CLANG!

There’s a pause, a silent oh no that sits in her features briefly for a moment before she turns and sees that it’s the cute guy from her math class two periods earlier and she probably just caused him permanent brain damage. Excellent job, Dawn. You are already having an awesome first day.

“I am so, so sorry,” she says as she semi-closes the door again, crouching down to see if he’s okay. “Are you okay? I didn’t’ permanently damage anything, did I?”

The boy looks up at her with a scowl, but it’s not a harsh one, more of one to indicate that he isn’t entirely sure what just happened. “ … Ow.”

She winces. “Yeah, that sounds about right. I’m sorry, again, I just didn’t see you there.”

The boy frowns up at her as she offers a hand to help him up, which he takes. “Did the door did something to piss you off, or was that me?”

Dawn blinks at the question, before trying to pass it off with a shrug. “Well, you know. First day at a new school – injuring some innocent bystander is clearly high up on the list with impressing new teachers and catching up on homework.”

And then he smiles, and Dawn is momentarily distracted from what they were actually talking about. Of course she has to hit the boy with the nice smile. It’s just how she rolls. “On behalf of the rest of the student body? That first one doesn’t leave as good a first impression as you think.”

She sags a bit in relief as he doesn’t seem to be taking it personally. “Noted. Definitely will try and refrain from brain damage in the future.” She pauses, taking a beat before extending a hand to him. “I’m Dawn, by the way.” She has his attention, might as well take the opening.

He eyes her hand for a moment, before shifting to shake it with his. “Derek. Welcome to Beacon Hills.”

“Thanks.” The warning bell rings and she cringes again. “And I should get to history. Sorry again, for the whole locker to the head thing.”

“No harm done,” he replies, and as she looks at him, she can see that he’s not wrong. It’s almost as though nothing ever happened which is … intriguing, but not really her concern at the moment. History first, potentially supernatural cute boy later. “I’ll see you around,” he comments, and she nods.

“Yeah,” she says as she closes the door. “See you around.

***

Dawn arrives home from school that day with a heavy sigh, slumping a bit against the front door. It was a long day at a new school, and the potential injury didn’t help either. She doesn’t even look up at the sound of footsteps she knows are Buffy’s.

“First day was that bad, huh? No fun teachers even?”

She glances up as her sister sits down in front of her, cup of tea in hand, and sighs. “There was a cute guy in my math class.”

“Now, that seems like a good. Why so glum, chum?”

Dawn gives her a look at the phrasing before shrugging. “It was. Until I beaned him in the head with my locker door on the way to sixth period.”

Buffy winces. “Yikes.” Then the look softens. “Some guys like that in a girl?”

There is even more of a look. “I’m not looking for a guy like Spike.” She regrets the word almost as soon as it comes out of her mouth, watching the way Buffy’s face falls at the mention of one of the casualties of Sunnydale that hit the hardest. “Sorry – sorry, that was … ”

“No, you’re right. That doesn’t have to be what you’re into.” She glances up with a smile before giving her hand a squeeze. “I’m just saying that it might not be as bad off as you think.” There’s a pause as she starts to get up. “But right now, we need to get ready for dinner.”

“Dinner?” Dawn blinks. “Did we previously have dinner plans?”

“No. Giles reached out to one of the local druids and arranged a sit down with the local alpha. We have to go make nice with werewolves – she’s bringing one of her kids, so I thought that having someone their age around wouldn’t hurt.” There’s a beat. “Unless you have other plans?”

Dawn shakes her head. “Just homework.” And she has to admit that she’s curious. Werewolves have been in their lives for a while, but they’ve never run into an actual pack before. The intellectual in her already has questions popping up but she pushes them down again. She’ll probably have time to ask them later. Now was the time to make a good first impression. “I’ll go get dressed.”

***

As they make their way up to the arranged meeting place – the druid’s house, neutral territory – Dawn glances around and tries to take in as many details as possible. It’s hard to say when they were going to have the chance to meet someone from this particular branch of magic again, but she muzzles the instinct to just blurt out questions, hoping to find an opportunity to do that tactfully later.

“This is a nice house.”

That’s a much better topic of conversation.

Buffy nods in her agreement as they get to the top of the stairs, and shifts the (store bought) pie to one hand so that she can knock on the door. Not long after she does, a very impressive woman with long black hair opens the door and greets them both with a smile. “Welcome. I’m glad you could make it – my name is Talia Hale. Which one of you is Buffy?”

“That would be me,” Buffy says with a nod, before tipping her head to the side. “This is my sister Dawn. Thank you for agreeing to sit down with us.”

“Days like this, we take whatever allies we can get,” she steps to the side to let them both inside and as she does, she glances to the pie in Buffy’s hands. “My son can take that for you. Derek!”

Dawn is mulling over just what a coincidence that is, that she has a son named Derek and the kid she hit with a locker earlier today also happens to be named Derek when a pair of sneakers skids to a halt as he comes into the room.

“Dawn?”

Her head snaps up to meet a very familiar pair of hazel eyes, and she immediately cringes. “Derek?”

Talia looks confused. “You two already know each other, I take it? From school?”

Buffy blinks, glancing between them for a moment, before turning back to Dawn. “Locker boy?”

Dawn nods, swallowing a bit. “Locker boy.”

“Well. Good thing we brought pie.” Buffy glances down at the box in her hands, before turning to Talia. “Maybe we should just – ”

“Of course.” Talia nods, still confused but leaving it to the two teenagers for now. “I’m sure Deaton needs a hand in the kitchen.”

As the two of them disappear, Derek’s eyes widen as he looks back at Dawn. “Your sister is the Slayer?”

“And your mom is the super alpha? Which makes you … ?”

Cute boy with supernatural healing factor is a werewolf. Go figure. At least she’s carrying on the Summers family tradition in that respect. She takes a deep breath, before running a hand through her hair and trying to center herself.

“Look, we have nothing against werewolves. That’s why we’re here. We’re not a threat.”

Derek’s lips form a fine line as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Look, I’m not saying you are. It’s just … a bit too crazy of a coincidence.”

She glances down at her hands for a moment before shrugging. “Coincidences happen. Probably a lot more often than you think.”

He doesn’t seem convinced. She can’t really blame him. His jaw sets. “Are you and your sister here to hurt my family?”

Dawn matches his posture, her heartbeat steady in her chest and she shakes her head. “No. That’s the last thing we want to do.”

Some of the tension goes out of his shoulders and he nods before tipping his head to the side. “Come on. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Dawn exhales slowly, before nodding and turning to follow his lead. That could have been a lot worse.

Let’s hope the rest of the night follows in suit.

Comfort: White Collar

Sara gets a phone call from Peter about Neal in the middle of a night a few days after it happens. It’s been over a year since she’s seen him, but the news is a punch to the gut all the same. Still, Neal Caffrey is dead, and the world goes on.

At first, it reminds her of the conversation they had when they had faked Sara’s own death, when they first came into each other’s lives beyond their roles of insurance investigator and thief. It’s hard to remember that there was a time where she would have only been upset by his death because it means she’d never find that Raphael she had wanted for so long. Now the loss she feels is the pain of missed chances, the life that they could have had, one that they never will.

But the world keeps turning, her job keeps being demanding, and in some ways, throwing herself into her work is exactly what she needs. She doesn’t go home for the funeral, mostly because she doesn’t have the time, but also because she isn’t ready to say goodbye. She hides behind the demands of her job and for a little while longer, she can pretend that he isn’t really gone. Denial’s always been one of Sara’s weaknesses, as much as she tries to live in the real world. With Neal there is no puzzle to solve or theory to create, but she can pretend, and pretending is what keeps her buoyed above water.

It’s in Russia where she starts to wonder if her denial approach is really working all that well. She’s there mostly on business. She reassured a client that she would personally handle any discrepancies with their art and she meant that. There are still moments where she misses her insurance investigator routes, and she even though she is the head of the London office, she wants it to be clear that she keeps her word. If she says she’s going to bring a piece back, she brings a piece back.

She arrives in Moscow and is being given a tour of the gallery in question where the piece is being held when she catches it out of the corner of her eye – a pair of broad shoulders and a very familiar fedora heading down the hallway away from her. She stops, faltering for all of a second, before she blinks and the man is gone, almost as though he was never there.

She convinces herself it has to be a coincidence, and she doesn’t give it a second thought. At least until it happens again.

And again.

And again.

All throughout the city, almost as though she’s being stalked throughout her case. It unnerves her just as much as it angers her because she can’t determine if it is her own mind playing tricks on her or if she’s legitimately being stalked by the ghost of her dead ex-boyfriend, but fact of the matter is, she’s sincerely freaking out and doing her best not to let it show in front of her client. Sara Ellis is nothing if not a professional, after all.

It all comes to a head one night when she is heading back to her hotel, and she realizes that she is actually being followed – and this time, not by a man in a fedora. This time it’s by a man twice her size and she has a feeling he’s more directly related to the piece she was trying to find. She starts to pick up the pace, trying to make it back there faster, but she still has five blocks to go, and a lot can happen between then and now. She’s about to step onto the corner to cross the street quickly, when she feels a hand on her arm yanking her around the building and out of view. Her hand immediately goes for the baton in her purse, but his hand follows to catch her there, his body pinning hers to the wall, and the sight of his face is enough to stop her cold anyway.

“Neal?”

He brings a finger to his lips, signaling for her to be quiet, before tipping his head down the sidewalk. “C’mon. This way.”

She doesn’t argue – at least with Neal she knows she’s safe, and there’s some rather undignified anger rising when her brain is connecting the fact that she was told he was dead with the fact that he’s not rising, but he won’t hurt her – and just follows quickly, until he pulls her into one of the other hotels, heading straight through the lobby with a purpose that makes her think he must be staying here, and he doesn’t release their hand until they’re in the elevator, heading to one of the upper floors.

He presses five or six of the floors, possibly to confuse her tail with regards to which floor they’re actually getting off on, and then turns back to her with that charming, dumb smile that usually precedes a line of some kind. “You know, this really wasn’t how I wanted to make my – ”

SMACK!

The slap comes hard and fast – not with her baton, but with the flat of her hand, though the idea of smacking him with the baton probably crossed her mind briefly before she did it.

“Ow!” He looks mildly offended that this is the greeting he’s getting, and she just glares in return.

“They told me you were dead.”

“Yeah, well, legally I am.” The tone is annoyed for the most part, but it softens a moment later as his hands find her waist and he pulls her in closer. She doesn’t resist, her hands resting on his chest as she takes in for a second that he’s real. He’s there. “But I’m also not.” Her hands slide up his chest, not quite meeting his gaze until he slips his fingers under her chin and tips her head up to look at him. “I’m not dead, Sara.”

When she finally meets his eyes, any further resistance she has crumbles. She knows he has a lot of explaining to do but right now, that doesn’t really seem to matter. Neal was dead, and now he’s not.

Her fingers curl into the lapel of his suit and she pulls him in for a warm kiss, letting his arms wrap around her and hold her to him tightly. She kisses him with the desperation of finding something that she thought was lost forever, and she doesn’t stop, even as they stumble into his hotel room a few moments later.

***

He explains everything to her after, what was happening with the FBI and his plan to escape. It’s ingenious, really, and she’s glad that he’s finally free from a system that was only seeing him as a tool he could use, rather than the person that he was. At the same time, it’s a drastic measure to take – almost too drastic, and she can’t help but wonder if he thought of all the collateral damage.

“Does Peter know?” she asks as she lies in bed next to him, just soaking in the moment while she has it. She knows enough to know it isn’t going to last, but she and Neal were never really built to last in the long run. They were only really meant for moments like this one, and they both figured that out a long time ago.

“I left him all the puzzle pieces,” Neal says with a nod. “It’s only a matter of time before he puts them together.”

“Do you think he’ll come after you to arrest you again?”

“It is what he does,” Neal replies dryly. “What we do. But … this time I don’t think he will. He understood how unfair things were just as much as I did.”

Sara nods for a moment, one finger coming up to trace against his chest. “I’d say ‘good’ but I know how much Peter means to you.”

“We’ll see each other again. One way or another – parting isn’t always goodbye.”

She raises an eyebrow with a smirk. “Did you just quote Billie Holiday at me?”

He laughs. “So what if I did? It’s true, at least.”

She pauses for a moment, before nodding. “I suppose it is.” There’s another quiet pause between them, before she looks up at him again. “Why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why … see me in person, I guess.”

There’s a moment where he looks confused, almost as though he isn’t entirely sure himself, before he shifts to face her more, resting on his side next to her. “Because I wanted you to be sure.” His hand comes up, brushing hair away from her face gently as he does. “I didn’t want you to have unanswered questions.”

Her heart clenches with the fact that he’s never forgotten how much this means to her, even in this. She surges forward, leaning in to kiss him again and letting him pull her in, shifting until she’s straddling his waist above him, and she pulls back with a sigh.

“This can’t last. We still can’t have that life.”

“I know,” he says softly, looking up at her as his face makes it clear the conflict that this presented. “But it’s good to have, just for now.”

She nods in return, leaning in to kiss him again, taking the comfort in his hands sliding over her hips and up her back and she just wants to run with it, but another thought occurs to her before she gets too far, and she pulls back again.

“Did you steal my painting?”

Neal just glances up at her with the most innocent face he can manage – which, being Neal, is not all that innocent. “Ms. Ellis, I would never.”

A wide smile stretches across her face for a moment, before she shakes her head and leans in to kiss him again. “Liar.”

***

When she wakes up the next morning, Neal and all of his things are gone, and she is alone, save for a cardboard tube that’s resting against the side of the bed. Attached to it is a card, which reads:

Sara,

Tracked this down for you. Tell your client that he really needs better security. Hope you get your two percent. Check out is at noon.

Caffrey

“That bastard,” she huffs with a laugh, before snatching up the tube and getting ready to get back to work.

Best friends, the Ponds

Annnnnnnd Vengence Christopher and Pipers

Christopher is not really the vengeance type.

He likes to think he’s live and live. You go your way, he’ll go his. Everything’s fine so long as no one dies. It’s a balance he’s learned to navigate delicately in his time in Everworld, because everyone takes everything incredibly personally, especially when you aren’t using the slang everyone’s accustomed to. If anything, Christopher’s become quite the skilled diplomat. Most people (read: David) would be impressed, if they actually cared enough to be impressed.

That being said, there are some crimes that even he cannot abide.

“We should murder them,” he says simply, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “We should murder them and leave their heads on sticks as examples for all of their double dealing creepazoid friends.”

Piper blinks for a moment, before turning her head to face him in confusion. “First of all, no one uses the word ‘creepazoid’ anymore. You need to update your slang. Second of all, do you mean actual murder or just figurative murder.”

Christopher pauses for a moment, glancing awkwardly between Piper and her tall, hunky, totally not intimidating Roman I-may-have-possibly-had-a-thing-with-him-once person and tries not to make it seem like he was being That Guy. You know, the one who says something incredibly awkward but one hundred percent true because he spent too much time hanging out with slaughter happy Vikings during his crucial formative teen years.

“Figurative.” Yep. Nailed it. Completely convincing. “Totally figurative.” He’ll even give an awkward yet reassuring laugh for good measure. “What, you think I’m going to actually murder someone over something that dumb? I’m not insane.”

He is insane. He would have totally murdered them.

But he doesn’t let that sit for long. “So. What’s our plan of attack?” Jason squints at him for a moment, almost as though he’s trying to get a read on what he was really thinking, but in the end he just lets it go, turning his attention back to the plans in front of them.

“We’re going to want to wait until they head to dinner. That way their cabin will be empty and we can work uninterrupted.”

“April’s already agreed to be our look out-slash-great big distraction,” Christopher says with a nod. “The head counselor has a major crush on her – it’s nothing she hasn’t done before.”

“Great. So we get, get out, get gone. They’ll never know what hit them.” Piper glances up to both of them with a smirk before nodding. “Let’s do this.”

Yeah. They’ve totally got this.

***

They didn’t even remotely have it. Not even a little.

It’s not their fault, exactly. The thing about trying to prank the children of Ares and/or Mars is that while for the most part they look like big dumb brutes, they’re not as dumb as they may appear to be. They can definitely lay booby traps. Especially when they’re warned that someone is going to try and get them.

“I’m going to murder David.” Christopher stands under the blast of the house as they try to neutralize all of the itching powder that had been lying in wait for them when they went to enact their vengeance. Piper is standing next to him ~~in what is sadly not a white t-shirt~~ and is waiting for her turn with the blast, but when April switches the spray so that it falls on her instead, Christopher can still feel the phantom tingles crawling up his skin. “For real murder. I’m going to separate his head from his body and leave it on a pike.”

Piper sighs, which turns into a cough as water sprays down the wrong pipe. “You’re not going to murder David.” Her voice is hoarse from the coughing, but she still gets her point across.

“Can I stab him a little?”

“No.”

“Hit him in the face a few times?”

“Christopher.”

“Fine, fine,” He pouts a bit, before one hand comes up to scratch at his shoulder. “I will just contemplate it endlessly in my mind, like I have been for the past year and a half.”

“It’s just a little itching powder.” Piper gives him a look to add a little more emphasis to that fact. “Don’t worry. We will have our vengeance.”

Christopher glances over at her, staring for a moment before smirking. “You already have a plan, don’t you.”

“Of course I do.”

“I love you.”

Piper squints at him for a moment, trying to decide if he’s serious, before brushing it off. “Of course you do. I’m awesome.” And with that she flounces off. He watches her go for a moment, before realizing he was far more serious about that than he should have been.

“I’m so screwed.”

Rory tumbles through the Veil and it’s not the first time he’s had to adopt to a world he doesn’t quite understand. Traveling with the Doctor means usually being dropped into something you don’t understand and having to wing it, but in those scenarios it was different. He was usually doing it with someone else.

He was usually doing it with his wife.

Instead, Rory comes through the Veil and arrives in London with nothing but his wife’s wedding rings and the faint memory of the feel of her hand in his. He blames the angels at first, thinking that whatever he and Amy were trying to do to stop him being stuck in New York for the rest of his life backfired horribly, but in the end, that isn’t the explanation. It was just another cosmic intervention in the mess that is his life, and now he’s going to have to figure out how to do this without the one person who always existed as a constant in his life. He can’t remember a time when he’s ever been without Amy – they’ve known each other since they were children after all. Now, people are telling him that he’s going to learn how to manage, that this is forever, but a large part of him still doesn’t want to believe it.

So he finds work, settles in, and he waits. He waited for two thousand years for her before. He’s sure that he can manage to do it again.

* * * * *

When Amy was caught out of her own time stream, she found a robot and named it “Rory.” In a lot of ways he became her Wilson, someone to talk to because there was no one else to talk to. Rory, on the other hand, has plenty of people to talk to. He could talk to the entire city of London if he wanted, but it doesn’t change the fact that he misses her fiercely. There’s an absence there, that he can’t see, exactly, but he can feel it every day. It’s not even a weight so much as an expectation of her being there. He’ll see something and he’ll turn to show her, but she’s not there to see it, and the reminder hits him hard and fast that this is his life now.

He’s going to have to wander through this brave new world alone.

Amy’s wedding rings sit on the ledge above the sink and every so often, when the isolation gets to be a little too much, he would tell her about his day, talk as though she’s actually listening, hope that one day the Veil would catch up and she will be there, and all this waiting won’t have been for nothing.

It goes on this way for months, and he repeats the same patterns, and to be fair, the world almost becomes boring. He can make plans. He can commit to jobs. The Doctor won’t be swooping in to steal him from the world, and in a lot of ways maybe that’s for the best. He never really was one for the traveling anyway.

Amy was.

* * * * *

One morning, he gets on his regularly scheduled bus to head towards his normal nine-to-five job as a nurse at the local Shadowkind-friendly clinic and help people, hoping that at least it’ll take his mind off of the things that are missing in his life for a little while.

On the stop halfway between home and the clinic, a troll boards the bus, attacking the driver and taking all of them hostage.

It seems, that even without the Doctor, Rory’s life can never be completely boring. Who would have thought.

One More Night - Cassie and Cas
Walking On The Beach - Stefan and Scarlett
All By Myself - Charlie and Dylan

Even though they were standing on a beach in the open air, it was impossible to miss the way the bass of the concert throbbed out through the ground and matched up with the frantic and steady heartbeats around him. He could already smell the adrenaline, but it’s not the kind he usually liked the adrenaline he usually liked came from terror and fight of flight response kicking in, when they really have nowhere to run and they know it. Stefan is a vampire who’s always liked the thrill of the chase even if there’s no actual chasing involved, but if he can get the heartrate of his victims up, he can consider that a meal eworth having.

Right now, however, the patience and excitement of the crowd around him matches his own, and it leaves me feeling impatient and anxious, wanting to get on with it already, but it’s her turn to pick (it’s always her turn to pick) and she always likes to take her time.

He moves up behind her slowly, winding his arms around her waist and pulling her in as his eyes scan the crowd. “Found one yet?”

She glances back over her shoulder at him with a dry smirk – so impatient is what the look says without her needing to say it – before her eyes turn back to the crowd again. “Not yet,” she replies, closing her eyes as Stefan’s nose moves to nuzzle her neck. “Not going to get there any faster if y’keep doing that.”

He smirks against her skin, nipping against her throat with his blunt human teeth to feel her shiver against him. “Really? I thought this would be motivating.” She follows that retort by elbowing him sharply in the ribs which makes him pull off laughing, but not going far. He may be a hundred and seventy years-old, give or take, but it doesn’t stop him from giving in to his impulsive teenage urges that he never seemed to grow out of. A Stefan that’s off the wagon is a much more playful Stefan, and when he can find someone that matches his particular level of sadism, those playful tendencies become even stronger.

“I’ll find them. Just wait for me out … ” Her voice trails off a moment later, eyes focused on something in the crowd before she turns and points. “Wait. That one.”

The one that she points to is a tall, slim man that’s hanging out on the outskirts of the crowd. He’s your typical jock-frat boy stereotype and not Stefan’s type at all, unless manipulating their girlfriend is involved, but there’s a reason Scarlett gets to pick the victims. It’s her Calling that needs to be appeased, not her boyfriend’s overly indulgent appetite. Questioning her choice will only get that Calling turned on him, and he’s already experienced that particular consequence one time too many. The last time she tried, it almost got her killed, so he tries to avoid making her do it again.

He weaves his way through the crowd until he’s standing at the man’s side, not even hesitating before making eye contact. “What’s your name?”

The guy looks confused at first, almost hesitant to answer. “Joey.”

He holds the eye contact a little while longer this time, waiting until his eyes get that glazed over look that comes with the freshly compelled. “What’s your full name, Joey?”

“Fuller. Joey Fuller.”

“Good boy.” He reaches forward and places a hand on the man’s shoulder, starting to walk him away from the rest of his friends. “Come with me. Don’t fight.”

It’s almost too easy to get him to do as he’s told, leading him away from the crowds of people and out towards the edge of the beach. There, Scarlett is waiting for them, standing in the water, eyes fixed on their new friend as the waves lap around her ankles.

“What’s his name?”

“Joey,” Stefan replies, stopping when he feels him stop short at the edge of the water and turning back to him, confused. “You don’t like the water, do you Joey?”

“Not really,” he replies obediently, even hesitant at letting the water lap around his feet. At that Scarlett smirks and takes a step forward, her head tipping to the side as she probes into his thoughts and fears, drawing out illusions and hallucinations that start Joey’s heart beating wildly, that fight or flight response kicking into gear. His blood starts to smell even sweeter, if it were at all possible, and when he tries to act on that response and run away, Stefan uses his vampire strength to hold him in place, which he definitely doesn’t like. “Stop! Let me go!”

Stefan certainly wasn’t letting him go. It was taking all of his restraint to hold back from biting down and filling his appetite right then and there. But he knows that Scarlett needs to push things to a certain point before she can let it go, and she would give him the signal as to when. Stefan just wishes he could see what she was showing him for himself.

“Now?” he growls after a moment. It’s almost like smelling the turkey on Thanksgiving Day after a while – you’ve been smelling it baking for hours and you are impatient to eat it, ready to have the flavors explode in your mouth that you know so well. The only problem is, you have to wait until it’s ready, and Scarlett is the only one who knows for sure when that is.

“Not yet.”

A few moments later, Joey starts to beg. It’s a babble of words that probably doesn’t make any real sense to anyone but him and Scarlett, but there’s a mixture of “no,” “please” and “stop” sprinkled in there which makes Stefan believe he’s very, very close.

“Now?”

“Wait.” Scarlett turns a frustrated glare on him that quiets him for a moment, but it’s not long after that that Joey is turning and trying to make a break for it again, and Scarlett nods, a sharp smile crossing her features. “Now.”

Stefan lets him go, just for a moment. He lets him get a few feet ahead of him, just enough to give him something to chase. But before Joey can get anywhere near the vicinity of being able to call for help, Stefan uses his vampire speed to zip ahead in front of him, stopping him in his tracks and grabbing hold of him before he can go any further. A few moments later, Stefan’s fangs are bared, digging into the soft flesh of his throat where that pulsing jugular is waiting for him.

The blood floods his mouth, sweet and spicy, full of adrenaline and other hormones that read fear, which only makes Stefan drain him faster. A few moments later, Joey drops to the ground, dead – or dying, at any rate – and Stefan looks up at Scarlett with a grin as he reaches up to wipe the blood from his chin.

“I think that was our best one yet.”

She grins back at him, looking a bit more like herself and less frantic around the edges than she was earlier, moving closer and leaning in to kiss him before those last bits of blood are gone and gestures to the body.

“Help me dump him in the water?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he nods, before reaching down and wading out to toss poor, poor Joey into the drink. Hopefully by the time his body washed to shore again, a shark or two will have gone at it to hide the cause of death, and Stefan and Scarlett will be long gone.

He washes the rest of the blood from his hands and mouth in the ocean, before turning and extending an arm to her. “Would you like to go for a walk on the beach?”

She grins as she takes his arm, nodding in agreement as she pats down her pockets to find a cigarette. “I would love to.”

Every year, just for a day, Castiel finds himself back in Chicago again.

He isn’t sure how it happens, or why, but he’s always grateful when he does, as in a lot of ways it feels like coming home in a way he’s never felt before. Possibly, because Chicago was the first place he ever felt like he had a home. And even though he knows he only has twenty-four hours, he still takes his time, sitting in Grant Park and just taking all of it in. He’s not worried about running out of time (he knows he will in the end). He doesn’t sleep anyway, so some ways he knows he has more time than most.

First he finds Kali – or rather, Gabriel finds Kali, after she winds up stranded on Navy Pier – followed by Jo at a bar somewhere in the theater district. That particular situation might have resulted in him unexpectedly crashing a production of Chicago in the theater behind the bar, but he apologized and he’s fairly certain they’ve forgiven him.

For the most part, anyway.

The one person he has a truly hard time finding, however, is Cassie. It hurts, in a way, that he can’t seem to find her no matter what he does, but he knows that the rifts can be unpredictable, and just because he always comes back to Chicago for that last day, doesn’t mean his friends always will. Never mind the fact that for some of them it might have been more than a year, and they might not be the person he remembers.

Or that they’re not out there anymore to find, though that is an answer that Castiel simply won’t accept. After seeing that Jo is alright, he returns to his sentry position in Grant Park, sitting on one of the quiet benches as the sun goes down and waiting for that nagging familiar presence in the back of his mind. He waits patiently, quietly, sitting with his dog and his kitten, Chuck, and looking to anyone else like another nondescript business man hanging out with his dog in the middle of the park.

Just as twilight is fading to the dark of the night, he feels it. That quiet whisper of “Cas?” from somewhere within the city, and he’s flying to her in a second, a small smile on his face to match her bright one.

“Hello, Cassie.”

“Hello, Cas,” she replies with a small smile in return. She’s older than he remembers, with lines folding around her eyes and the corners of her mouth, and gray strands dotting her hair. Still, where it matters, she’s still the same Cassie, and he would recognize her anywhere. She steps forward, before linking her arm in his. “How much time do you have?”

“About twelve hours,” he responds simply. “Give or take.”

“Well then,” she says with a nod as she drags him towards one of the local bars. “Better make the most of it, then.”

* * * * *

By the time the sun starts to come up, the two of them are sitting on the fountain to watch the sunrise, Cassie’s head resting against his shoulder with a soft sigh. “You’ve got a lot of adventures ahead of you.”

Castiel looks down at her for a moment, shifting to let his hand rest over hers. “Have I?” He’s not used to someone knowing his story in advance, after studying those on Earth for so long from Heaven.

“These days – they happen every year, but they don’t always happen in order, least not where the two of us are concerned,” she says with a small smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to spoil the surprise. But when you see me next, make sure you tell me all of them, yeah? I don’t want to miss a moment of them.”

“I promise,” he nods with a small smile, and that’s a promise he has no trouble making. He’s sure that she will be happy to hear all of them, and he hopes he has many to tell.

“Good.” She squeezes his hand again, before sighing softly. “I miss you. But I’m glad we still get these little visits. One night of time with you is better than no time at all.”

“I agree,” he says with a nod, but he knows he can feel his time in Chicago drawing to a close. It’s almost time for them to part ways, and as much as he doesn’t want to say goodbye, he knows he’s going to have to. “Maybe you can come with me this time.”

“Ahh, that’s not how the story goes,” she chides, before patting his hand gently. “And I have a family to get back to. I have a feeling my days of bouncing through the universe are behind me.”

He considers that carefully for a moment, before glancing over to her with a small frown. “Is there a way to say goodbye that isn’t saying goodbye?” Humans are so inventive with their language, filling it with nuance and meaning, and he knows there’s a way to convey the sentiment he wishes to convey, but after so many years of trying to learn more and more about humans, there are still some places that he doesn’t know where to start.

She glances up at him with a nod, and smiles a bit as she does. “See you soon,” she states carefully. “Or ‘Until we meet again’ if you wish to be more dramatic, but you’re not really the dramatic type.”

No, he certainly is not. He nods for a moment, before turning and pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. As the sun rises, he knows his time is up. “See you soon, Cassie.”

He disappears before he can hear the whispered “see you soon” in return.

The Rift is a funny thing.

Not that this is a thought that Charlie Wellman has at the moment. He’s not all that concerned with the giant hole in the universe that lives to make his life complicated, he’s more concerned with weaseling out from under the attention of his former-girlfriend/current-babysitter Jane and go running free through Grant Park with the wind through his hair. In his current shape, however, the first of those goals isn’t all that hard.

After all, when your six years-old, you’re basically a professional at wriggling out of situations you don’t want to be in. Especially when you’re not hesitant about applying liberal amounts of saliva.

(Sorry, Jane.)

“Charlie! Charlie!” comes the sharp cry of her voice as he slips through her fingers and darts off across the grass and in the direction of the fountain. His feet pound against the grass, laughing as he goes because really this is all a game in the end. He hasn’t felt this light and free in years and while he has a basic awareness of who he’s supposed to be – thirty-odd years old, angel of death, the weight of having fought in a war on his shoulders but right now he’s not worried about any of that.

He just wants to be a child, even if it’s only for a little while.

He skids to a stop around the opposite side of the fountain, before dropping down next to a little girl who has a series of sidewalk chalks and bright red hair. She glances up in surprise when he stops, a shy, skittish look in her eyes, before recognition creeps in and she smiles.

“Hey, Charlie.”

“Hi, Evie.” Memories of his old life are good for something at least. He presses his back against the cement of the fountain, before peering at her drawings. “What’re you drawing?”

“A picture, for Fletch,” she says simply, shifting back to lying on her stomach because little Charlie is not a threat to her continued artwork. “I’m gonna do it all by myself.”

“Cool.” Charlie fidgets anxiously for a moment, knowing he probably shouldn’t sit still for too long if he’s going to stay hiding from Jane, but he wants to hang out with his friend too. Being a child on the run is so complicated. “Can I help?”

There’s a moment where she blinks because she just said that she was going to do it all by herself, but after a moment, the concern fades and she shrugs. “Sure. You can color in the blue.”

“’kay,” he says as he wriggles over onto his stomach and reaches for the blue chalk. “You need me to do the water part?”

“And the sky,” she says with a nod, pointing to them with her finger. “I’ll do the grass and the trees.”

He nods and gets to work, little brow tight with concentration as he starts filling in the bits and pieces and before long they’ve drawn themselves a beautiful sidewalk mural and he’s forgotten what he was doing previously – more specifically, who he was supposed to be hiding from.

“There you are,” Jane’s voice comes around the corner of the fountain, and two tiny faces look up from what they’re doing, a caught expression written into their features. “You can’t just run off like that. Something could have happened to you.”

“Sorry, Jane,” he says, letting his head hang just a bit, the perfect image of a child who knows he’s done wrong. “I just wanted to hang out with Evie. We’re drawing a picture for her friend Fletch!”

Jane sighs for a moment, exasperated, before nodding. “I see that. It’s very nice.”

Both children beam brightly at her before Charlie scrambles into a sitting position and asks, almost as though he wasn’t being reprimanded five seconds earlier. “Can we get ice cream?”

Evie brightens as well and she grins. “Yeah, ice cream!”

Jane glances between the two of them, before shaking her head. “Why do I have a feeling that giving you more sugar is just going to end badly for all of us?”

“C’mon, Jane! Please?” Charlie crosses his fingers in front of him in a praying gesture and Evie does the same.

“Please, please, please?” Evie asks. “Charlie and I always have ice cream together.”

Jane glances back and forth between the two of them for a moment, almost as though here was a connection there she couldn’t quite make, but eventually she sighs and nods. “Alright, c’mon. Let’s see if we can find an ice cream truck.”

Both children cheer and dart off ahead of her for the edge of the park, and Jane just shakes her head as she follows them, already knowing she’s gotten in over her head.

“I’m so going to make you regret this when you’re full-sized again.”

commitment ceremony, rory and the doctor, because i pick the most awkward things ever.

For some reason, “weddings” seem to be a thematic element in Amy and Rory’s travels with the Doctor. The Doctor seems (for the most part) thrilled with the fact that they’re married as long as they don’t talk about the things that married people do, and is happy to show that off to all of the people they meet. See. Those two. They’re married.

Still, it isn’t just the Williams’ obvious marriage that is the starring feature of their time as companions. They also crash a lot of weddings, inadvertently find themselves in them (Rory is still not over Henry VIII), never mind the Doctor’s own wedding to River Song.

This wedding, however, is a bit different.

The problem with the TARDIS translation matrix is that it doesn’t always translate everything. Some things they are forced to rely on the Doctor for and sometimes his translations can be … unreliable. In this particular instance, it’s one of those languages like “baby” or “horse” where only the Doctor knows exactly what they’re saying, and for the moment, Rory is happy to leave it that way. It’s hard to decipher the nuance that comes with this particular species when their facial expressions aren’t all that clear.

The Hundorians are odd, blob like creatures, with nubile stalks over their head. They communicate through gestures, similar to languages like sign language, and while the translation matrix can handle written or spoken word, it can be a bit lost on the nonverbal. Regardless, the Doctor insists on his expertise in the language, and charges forward into the fray.

“Big one weddings, the Hundorians! You’re all married, you love a good wedding, don’t you?”

“Just because we’re married doesn’t mean we need to attend every wedding, Doctor,” Amy points out petulantly as the Doctor talks back and forth with the Hundorians, most likely trying to obtain the location of said wedding from the locals. “But it’s your TARDIS.” Then there’s a huff. “We’re never going to make it to Rio.”

“You never know,” Rory quips before the Doctor reaches out to grab his wrist.

“Quick, Rory, I need an extra set of arms.” That statement is followed by him putting Rory into ridiculous poses in an effort to communicate, and Rory goes along with it while the Hundorian they’re speaking to seems to grow more and more excited by the prospect. Eventually, it reaches forward, taking a wrist in each of their hands and pulling them away. The Doctor goes easily and Rory shrugs before following his lead as the Doctor shouts back at Amy. “Come on, Amy! Time to go see a wedding.”

“You know what I would love more? A wedding in Rio!” She follows, however, if for no other reason than the fact that she probably wouldn’t fare well all by herself with no translator.

When they reach what looks like the Hundorian version of a chapel, Rory and the Doctor are separated, dragged into separate rooms where they’re “freshened up” as the Doctor called it. Rory seems a bit confused by it all but … well, alright, his clothes probably aren’t the best for a wedding, so he wouldn’t mind dressing a little nicer and … oh, those flowers are nice. Amy’ll probably like them. It’s not long after that, that he’s pushed right to the front of the chapel, standing up in front of a crowd full of people, including his wife, and he frowns.

“Isn’t this normally where the … ” The Doctor is pushed out a few minutes later, similarly cleaned up, but sans flowers, and Rory blinks for a moment, before looking back at the rest of the room. “Doctor?”

“Yes, Rory?”

“Why does it seem like we’re the ones getting married here?”

There’s a long pause as the Doctor surveys the situation, and then he glances to the minister who is starting to begin the ceremony, while the screen above them begins to translate the words of the ceremony for those who can’t see in the back of the room. The written Hundorian words slowly indicate that there is a clear misunderstanding here.

“Wait, wait, no, I’m already married.” He reaches over to grab Amy’s hand and pulls her up with him. “To her. Also why am I the bride?”

The Doctor is in the process of translating, before glancing over his shoulder to Rory. “Perhaps they thought you had more delicate features.”

“Delicate?”

“Oh, relax, Rory,” Amy sighs as she takes the flowers from him, bringing them up to her nose to inhale their scent. “It could have been worse.”

“Yes. I’m sure it could have been much worse than marrying my son-in-law.”

“Oh, enough of that. You really need to learn to look on the bright side.”

“And how is that?”

“Now you can stop giving me trouble for marrying Henry VIII.”

polygamy - bonnie/elena/person(s) of your choosing
tenderness - emily bennett (faenanigans)
seduction - hayley/rebekah or some other wonderful femslash idek

“Have you ever been with a woman?”

It’s a question that’s asked innocently as Rebekah and Hayley recover after the latest bacchanal, sprawled out on one of the large, lavish bedrooms that rest above Klaus’ club. It’s almost asked lazily, as though Hayley already knows the answer, but wants to ask anyway just to be sure. The benefits of being much, much older than the brunette woman is that there’s probably not a lot of things that Rebekah hasn’t tried, but Rebekah appreciates that she was courteous enough to ask all the same. Her fingers trail slowly through her hair for a moment, before leaning back against the pillows as she considers.

“Several, actually,” she admits. “There were times when my brothers took to terrorizing every male suitor I had, so I had to get … resourceful. Fortunately for me, those were also the periods of time when men were the most insufferable. Having a woman’s company instead of a man’s was preferred.”

“Really?” Hayley raises an eyebrow curiously as she rolls over to face her.

“Yes, really,” Rebekah replies as she shifts over to match her positioning on the bed. “When you’re with a woman, there is no secondary purpose of conception.” Her hand moves up slightly, before letting her fingers trail along the line of her arm. “The only concern is the pleasure of both you and your partner. And a woman is much more in tune with what is actually pleasurable than a man used to be.”

“I take it men didn’t exactly care back then?”

“There were a few, whose reputations depended on it,” she teases, thinking of the great Casanovas that have dotted history. “But as for the rest, they all simply cared about their own pleasure, and nothing more.”

“How stingy of them,” Hayley replies, before she shivers quietly under Rebekah’s touch. She’s not doing anything particularly sensual, allowing the conversation to do most of that for her, and when her eyes open again, they glow a bright gold. “They should really learn to share.”

“Indeed.” Rebekah pauses for a moment, before moving her fingers up Hayley’s arm again, this time moving past her shoulder and dancing across her clavicle. “Have you? Been with a woman, I mean.”

Hayley pauses for a moment, before shaking her head. “Didn’t really know it was an option before I came here. In the pack, it was just … expected I’d marry Jackson. The end.”

“So they didn’t really … allow you to get adventurous then? Explore your possibilities?”

Hayley shakes her head as Rebekah’s fingers meet the name of her neck, settling comfortably under her touch. “Ever since I started coming to the bacchanal, though … ”

“You’ve started to get curious.” Rebekah smiles as she finishes the sentence, inching a bit closer so that their bodies are pressed together more, one leg slipping between Hayley’s to use as leverage to bring her closer. “Wondering what it might be like?”

“I’ve seen … ” There’s a gasp as Rebekah’s fingers are replaced with her lips pressing a soft kiss to the nape of her neck. “ … I’ve seen a lot. But I haven’t tried any of it.”

This isn’t the first time that they’ve wound up tangled like this, under more innocent circumstances. Best friends are best friends and often wind up in each other’s space more often than not. But this is something different. Something charged with electricity and sensuality, and not a line that they can take back once they’ve crossed it. Hayley has her pack expectations, whether or not Rebekah agrees with them, and Rebekah has whatever she has with Damon, though she don’t think that Damon will care about what’s happening here.

(Maybe a little hurt that he wasn’t invited, but this is the kind of thing that Rebekah isn’t inclined to share.)

As much as she wants to just jump in, relish in the moment and take advantage of the opportunity presented them, she needs to make sure that Hayley understands what’s happening. What they can’t go back from. She pulls back so that she’s meeting the other woman’s eyes, shifting to cup the side of her face so that she can hold Hayley’s gaze.

“Are you sure? That this is what you want.”

Hayley swallows hard before nodding, her hips pushing forward to meet Rebekah’s in a soft grind, and the other woman moans for a moment, but doesn’t push back, not yet.

“Say it. I need to hear it.”

“Yes.”

One soft, breathless word, and Rebekah nods, pulling her closer so that her lips are a hair’s breath away. She brushes one finger against her cheekbones before whispering her response.

“Kiss me.”

Emily Bennett is not the most notable of the Bennett line, but she’s certainly infamous enough to hear the whispers that circle around her when she happens to walk into a room. For the most part, she happens to be known for her tendency to disappear. She has her reasons for disappearing, reasons that date back to the Salvatore brothers and a fateful day in 1864, but when it comes to things that matter, things that are important, she always finds her way back into town again, one way or another.

This is one of those things that are important.

Sheila doesn’t want to call Qetsiyah about this, and she certainly doesn’t blame her for that. Telling the progenitor of their druidic line that things have drastically changed is a hard choice, but Emily isn’t afraid of their First Born. She never has been, and she isn’t about to start now. That also, however, happens to be one of the reasons why she’s always leaving, but she’ll come home for this, now, and for the grim looks crossing Sheila and Abby’s faces when she walks in the room. Sheila’s looking older than she was when she last saw her, which is funny, considering Emily is the older of the two, but it is a look befitting the Ash, the leader of the Light, and probably the only Fae elder that Emily actually respects.

“What’s wrong?” Emily asks, glancing between both of their grim faces. “I came as soon as I got your message.”

“Bonnie’s started presenting.” There’s a moment of silence as Abby continues, fear and concern crossing her features, and she crosses her arms in front of her chest. “She’s taking after her father.”

Emily’s eyes drift from Abby to Sheila, and then over to Rudy, who she hadn’t noticed immediately in the corner. The incubus stands tall, but silent, the quiet pride rolling off of him. Emily knows that it isn’t that he would have cared if Bonnie had taken after either bloodline – but Bonnie being a succubus, rather than a druid, means she is free from Qetsiyah’s control. She doesn’t have to descend into the pitfalls of being born of such a powerful bloodline.

In some ways, Emily can’t help but agree with him. But she also knows the consequences of this – Qetsiyah will only care about keeping her bloodlines pure. Which means they need to find a way to keep her off of Qetsiyah’s radar, and give her somewhere to hide. That is her goal, more than anything else, except for the fact that she knows why Sheila has brought her here, and she wants no part of it.

“It was a risk,” she says to Abby, tipping her head to the side. “You knew that when you became pregnant with her.”

“Yes, well, you need to fix it.” Her voice is tense and tight, but low, so that Bonnie, wherever she is in the house, doesn’t hear them. “You need to change it before she finds out and reigns down hell on all of us.”

Emily grits her teeth for a moment, before shaking her head. “I can’t do what you’re asking me to do.”

“You’ve done it before,” Abby replies, tone accusing. “In 1864 – ”

“In 1864, I was foolish and young, and people were killed.” Emily’s eyes flash as she turns on her descendant, determination in her tone, even though her voice doesn’t rise. “I cannot change what nature has set forth. Your daughter is a succubus. You need to learn to live with that, and find another way.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Sheila tips her head to the side, and smirks, though there’s no mirth to it. “Eventually, Qetsiyah is going to start asking about the status of the latest Light witch of the Bennett line. What will we tell her, exactly?”

Emily pauses, considering for a moment, before smirking. “What Light witch?”

“Emily.” Sheila’s tone is the kind that will not tolerate vague sass at this crucial juncture, but Emily will ignore that in favor of heading to the stairs.

“Where is she? Upstairs?” The question is directed at Rudy and he nods in agreement, and Emily ignores the protests of her descendants and head up the stairs to find Bonnie. It doesn’t take long to find her room and the slight teenage girl sitting on her bed. She pauses only long enough to step inside and close the door behind her, and at the click! of the door, Bonnie looks up, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Who are you?”

“Hello, Bonnie,” Emily begins with a soft smile. “My name is Emily.” There’s a pause as that recognition sinks in, and then comes fear, as though she’s jumping to the same conclusion her mother had and Emily is quick to reach and place her hand over Bonnie’s giving them a small, gentle squeeze. “I am not here to hurt you.”

“But you were sent into hiding by the Ash,” Bonnie’s confusion is clear in her voice, and she frees one hand from Emily’s grasp as she goes to brush back the tears from her cheek. “After you tried to change – ”

“I am not here to do that to you. I made that quite clear to both your mother and your grandmother.” She pauses for a moment, before moving to sit in the seat next to her. “But that doesn’t mean you are safe. Eventually our First Born is going to come for you, and when she discovers what you are, her reaction will be swift and violent. The only way we can keep that from happening is if you listen to me very carefully, and come away with me.”

Bonnie tries to let that sink in, before she shakes her head. “I don’t understand. My mother is letting you do this?”

“Your mother wants me to change you. To try and put you through an extremely painful process that will awaken the latent power in your genetics and suppress your succubus genes. It will destroy you, before you even know who you are.” Emily reaches over and brushes a hand against the side of her face gently. “She is desperate, and scared, and I do not blame her for feeling this way, but I told her that I would have no part of it.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take you with me, to New Orleans.” Emily’s voice is quiet and calm, as it always is. “And I will introduce you to a friend of mine who will help you find protection with the Dark.”

“The Dark?” Bonnie jerks her hands away, almost as though she’s ready to bolt and Emily holds up her hands in surrender.

“They are not the terrible people you think they are. Not all of them, anyway. And they will be able to protect you better than the Light can.” Bonnie stills and Emily reaches forward again, giving her hands a soft squeeze. “It is your choice, Bonnie. But this is the one that will keep you safe.”

“Who – ” There’s a brief pause as Bonnie tries to regain some of her composure, before she swallows. “Who will I be staying with?”

“His name is Damon,” she says softly. “Damon Salvatore.”

“Do I really have to leave?” Bonnie swallows hard as she looks away. “This isn’t my fault.”

“I know,” Emily sighs. “But Qetsiyah is not the kind who cares. I’m sorry that this is happening to you, but this is the way you will be the safest.”

Bonnie is quiet for a long time, letting the information sink in and turning it over and over in her head for a moment before she finally takes a deep breath and nods.

“When do we leave?”

No one ever questions three women living together. Especially not when they’re first starting out.

They leave Mystic Falls with no intention of looking back, hitting the road and leaving nothing but the highway behind them. Two vampires and a witch, connected by the inevitable, by being best friends since before they ever knew what friends were, so when three hot coeds show up to live together, no landlord ever question what exactly they do in that apartment. They don’t blink when they tell them they can manage on two bedrooms, why they need a California king put into one of the rooms, while the second bedroom always looks unused, beyond the closet.

(Caroline suspects they already know, and teases them for being some perverts wet dream, that they’re giving the guy spank bank material for days, but beyond hitting her with a pillow and a God, Caroline they don’t seem to give them all that much protest. It keeps their rent low and the landlord is never overly gross about it, so they leave it be.)

Still, Elena doesn’t regret this choice, she never could. If she was going to have to spend an eternity with someone, she was going to have it be with her best friends. She can’t think of anything more perfect than that.

Every decade or so, they have to change towns to try and distract from the fact that Caroline and Elena don’t age, but that doesn’t change the fact that Bonnie does. She grows into herself and her power, a formidable witch in any light. She’s never any less beautiful either, not to Caroline and certainly not to Elena. But with getting older comes certain wants. And while Caroline and Elena will always look like college party girls, Bonnie wants something more.

“I want to have a baby.” She brings it up as the three of them are lying in bed together, Elena and Caroline on either side of her, and Elena picks up her head curiously, a want that isn’t completely foreign stirring in her chest from where she buried it long ago, when she became a vampire and left her mortal life behind.

“Yeah?” she asks, tipping her head to the side.

“Yeah,” Bonnie says with a nod, before pushing herself up on her elbows a bit, forcing Elena and Caroline to do the same. “But … I want to have it. Not just adopt it. I want it to be my blood, to teach it magic, to … to continue the line I broke. Maybe start a new one.” There’s a pause before she shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“No, hey,” Elena reaches forward and gives her hand a soft squeeze. “I get it. I do. And I want you to have that.” More than anything, that’s what she wants. But there are some complications there, and Caroline is quick to fill in those blanks for her.

“That doesn’t change the fact that we’re kind of ill-equipped to make that happen.” Caroline glances. “Aside from the obvious, we are very, very undead and I’m not sure I want to turn this threesome into a foursome for a guy.”

“Which is fair, but that’s what sperm banks are for, right?” Elena offers helpfully, before shifting to reach for her phone. “They get all this information so we can figure out exactly where it’s coming from.”

“Actually, I already had a donor in mind,” Bonnie speaks up and Caroline gives her a shrewd look as she listens.

“How long have you been thinking about this without actually telling us?”

“A while,” Bonnie admits sheepishly before reaching over and taking Elena’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I was thinking of asking Jeremy.” Elena’s eyes go a little wide because she knows about her brother and Bonnie’s previous relationship and that just sent all kinds of implications spinning. Caroline, almost as though she’s reading Elena’s mind, looks like she’s about to spit them out but Bonnie is quick to grasp both their hands tightly. “Because he’s a Gilbert. Not because he’s Jeremy.” There’s a beat as she continues. “He’s the only male relative you two have between you. So it’s probably the closest we could get to me having a baby that’s really ours.”

Elena’s heart skips a beat at that, and Bonnie’s thumb brushes over the back of her hand gently, drawing her attention back to her. She then shifts her arms to pull them back in closer again, pressing shoulder to shoulder between them.

“But only if this is okay with both of you. Because this would be our baby, after all. And we’d all be doing this together.”

“Of course I’m okay with it.” Elena’s response is swift and immediate, shifting her arms to pull her in closer into a tight hug. “It’s your decision, Bonnie, I want you to do it in a way that makes you happy.”

“Never mind that even as a vampire, Elena is total mom material,” Caroline chimes in from her place on the other side of Bonnie.

“You get a say in this too.” Bonnie squeezes her hand pointedly. “We do this, we’re doing it together. Just like we always have.”

Caroline laughs, before nodding. “Yeah. I’m in. If Jeremy is in, let’s do this.”

Bonnie looks between both of them gratefully for a moment, before pulling them in closer. Elena reaches across her to Caroline does the same, wrapping their arms around each other tightly. “I love you both.”

“We love you too,” Caroline nods. “And this is gonna be good.”

Elena can’t help but smile and nods as well. “Yeah, it will.”

Indecent proposal - Neal/Rebekah
Marriage of convenience - Sam/Lilah
Why? - Stefan/Allison

Edited 2013-12-04 13:02 (UTC)

“This is a terrible idea. Why are we doing this again?”

Stefan takes a deep breath as he moves about his kitchen, throwing together dish after dish for Thanksgiving dinner. It’s his turn this year, now that Caroline has met Allison and insisted on rotating the cooking through the various households. In a little more than two hours, his apartment is about to be descended upon by various family members from both sides of things, and he has to make sure that everything will be ready to be eaten at that time. Allison has arrived early to help set up, and she is currently setting the rather long table that will soon be containing various family and friends, all who he has to hope won’t murder each other.

Basically, your usual Mystic Falls/Beacon Hills Thanksgiving.

“You mean the fact that your father decided to invite himself to Thanksgiving dinner?” He glances up with a teasing look. “Because that is not something we really had any control over.”

“You could have said no.”

“I could have, yes. And your father would have just shown up anyway. It tends to be his thing to just sneak out of the shadows and surprise you when you least expect it.” Allison glances away guiltily at that, and Stefan smirks before he continues. “At least this way, if I know he’s coming, I can at least prepare Damon and make sure he’s on his best behavior. You know that he doesn’t exactly do well with surprises.”

“Also does Damon have to be here?”

“He is my brother. It would be a weird Thanksgiving if he wasn’t invited and the rest of Mystic Falls was.”

“Yes, but it would also be a quieter Thanksgiving, and there might not even be any bloodshed at the dinner table.”

Stefan’s mouth opens as though he’s about to protest that particular statement, holding up the carving knife in his hand, before he takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, okay, holidays with my brother can get a little violent if we’re not careful, but he’s also not looking to cause any trouble. And if anything, Elena can be a … calming influence.”

He hopes.

Allison doesn’t look convinced, and she huffs slightly, before shaking her head. “My dad’s still not thrilled with the fact that I have so many vampires in my life, you know. Caroline and Elena I think he’ll be okay with, but Damon?”

“Look, Damon’s greatest hits do not need to come up at the dinner table. Even if one of them … will be at the dinner table.” Meaning Caroline, but they don’t need to get into that too heavily right now. “The point is, it’s just Thanksgiving Dinner. There’s going to be a lot of people around, and it’s not like we’re locking the two of them in a room alone together. Everything will be fine.”

“I hope so.” She makes her way around the counter to stand next to him, and he smirks before leaning in to kiss the top of her head.

“I know so. We just have to keep telling ourselves that. Everything will be fine.”

Allison takes another deep breath and she nods. “Everything will be fine. It’ll just be one quiet, calm family Thanksgiving.”

“It will.” Stefan smirks. “And if Damon ruins it, I’m sure Tyler will be more than happy to bite him.” Not something he would actually make Tyler do, but he’s sure that the visual at least will brighten his girlfriend’s spirits.

“You’re right,” she laughs as there’s a knock on the door. “That is an option.” She leans in to kiss him gently, before moving away from his side to get the door. It only takes a few seconds for her cross the room, and as it opens her face falters, only for a second.

“Hi … Dad. And Damon.”

“Allison,” Damon says graciously as he makes his way inside with a kiss on the cheek and a bottle of wine. “Happy Thanksgiving. You never said your dad was such a silver fox.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Allison replies thinly, looking as though she might gag on all of that charm Damon was trying to pour on things. She then turns back to her dad with a more sincere smile. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart,” Chris says slowly, his eyes not leaving Damon the entire time. “Stefan.”

“Chris.” Which is about as familiar as he and Stefan got, to be frank. “This is my brother, Damon. Damon, this is Allison’s father, Chris Argent.” There’s only a slight shift in his tone when he says Allison’s last name, almost as though that’s a subtle reminder to his brother to behave himself, even though Stefan knows that can be a fifty-fifty shot.

“Nice to meet you,” Damon says with a smile, holding out his now empty hands. “Damon Salvatore.”

“I’ve heard quite a few things about you,” Chris replies, before hesitantly shaking the other man’s hand.

“If they’ve come from your daughter or my brother, I’m going to guess not all of them good.” He says it as nonchalantly as a guy who doesn’t really care about the consequences of his actions can, before giving a shrug. “I’ll have you know that I’ve really cleaned up my act. I’ve taken the Stefan approach.”

Stefan’s eyebrows go up at that in surprise, but he’s not going to deny it in front of Allison’s father when they’re trying to have a peaceful dinner. “So, Damon. Where’s Elena?” Time to change the subject from his brother’s killing sprees to something a little tamer.

“Flying in later with Bonnie.” Damon replies casually. “Which reminds me – I wanted to give you a heads up before they got here. “Me and Elena … didn’t quite work out the way we’d hoped.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We’ve decided to call it quits.”

Allison’s eyes widen a bit behind Damon, and Stefan’s quick to keep his reaction off his face, because there goes their plans for keeping this a calm family dinner. “I’m sorry to hear that, Damon.”

“You and me both, brother.”

There’s another beat, and Stefan’s eyes go from Damon to the bottle in Allison’s hands. “I think you better open that wine.”

“Yeah,” Allison nods as she steps past Damon to find the bottle opener. “Sounds like a good idea.”

Stefan nods and paints a thin smile on his face before turning his attention back to his brother. This was definitely going to be a very interesting Thanksgiving.

I love everything about this. Them trying to throw a Thanksgiving and keep things drama free -- like keeping Chris from staking Damon -- is such a great idea. Thank you so much for writing this for me!!

The evening had begun with Rebekah meeting Mozzie for the first time, and Mozzie being, well, Mozzie.

It’s not that he has anything personal against Rebekah – he’s terrible with new people in general – and given that she was in the very early stages of a relationship with Neal, Neal knows that he has trained himself to believe that no woman Neal Caffrey ever chooses is trustworthy and to approach with caution always. However, a few bottles of wine, a couple old stories and a few plates of good food later, Mozzie has settled quite comfortably into discussing one of his favorite subjects.

Embarrassing stories with Neal Caffrey.

“Now,” Mozzie grins as he reaches for his glass of wine again. “We were in Hungary together, looking to steal something valuable from the treasury. Neal was running point and me and a few other friends were going to break into the vault itself.”

“Oh, God, we’re not telling this story again, are we?” Neal makes a face as he leans back in his seat, one arm stretched across the back of the couch. “You’ve told it a million times.”

“Well, it will have to be a million and one, because I’ve never heard it.” Rebekah gives him a teasing look in return, before turning back to Mozzie. “Continue.”

“Thank you,” Mozzie nods, before grinning. “Now, part of running point was distracting a Hungarian noblewoman so that we could sneak in under her nose. Neal may have gotten a bit too into his role and gotten carried away in the process.”

“Carried away how, exactly?” she raises an eyebrow curiously, and Neal shrugs.

“She found me very charming.”

“Yes. We are all aware of your innate charm.” Mozzie rolls his eyes. “Now, we had gotten what we were looking for and were ready to get away clean, when one of the other members of the team happened to trip one of the hidden sensors on the way out and set off the alarms. Not only did we have to book it out of there, but Neal lost his window to finish charming the noblewoman and get out of there safely.”

“See, when the sensors go off, the first thing the guard is required to do is secure the royals. I, unfortunately, was not her designated escort for the evening, and we weren’t exactly in a state that was … favorable to being surprised by very armed guards.”

Rebekah was already fighting the urge to laugh – Neal could see the way it sparkled in her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure this ended very well.”

“The only escape Neal can make is out the window. He doesn’t even have time to get dressed, really. He just steals one of the sheets off the bed, makes his way to the window, and uses said sheet to gently descend down one of the power lines that happened to be anchored nearby.” Mozzie grins as Rebekah starts to laugh. “We’re trying to make it back to the getaway vehicle and all we see is Neal, descending through the air stark naked with nothing but a sheet to cover him.”

“I almost wish I had been there to see that,” Rebekah sighs, shaking her head. “It seems like you two have had some rather grand adventures.”

“We’ve had our fair share of laughs,” Neal agrees, and Mozzie nods in return before holding up a finger.

“Friendship is the only cement that will ever hold the world together.”

At that, however, Rebekah makes a face around her wine. “Ugh. Woodrow Wilson.” Mozzie looks at her curiously and she quickly recovers. “My brother, Elijah, he is … quite the history buff. Presidents are his favorite and he’s not exactly fond of our twenty-eighth president. Found him quite tedious.”

Mozzie considers, eyeing her carefully for a moment before shrugging. “I’m sure that’s fair. Political types do tend to have their tedious moments.”

Neal watches as Rebekah exhales, the lie not being caught, and with that they go back to embarrassing Neal again teasing each other back and forth with tales of things they’ve stolen. Before they know it, the bottle of wine is gone and Neal is putting Mozzie in a cab to send him home. As he returns to the loft again, Rebekah gives him a small smile.

“That was nice. I think I’ll enjoy meeting your friends.”

Neal smiles in agreement, before making his way closer and wrapping his arms around her from behind. “Well, they’re not all as fun as Mozzie. Peter can be a bit more of a stickler for the rules.”

“You mean he’ll be more likely to catch on that I actually knew Woodrow Wilson, rather than having listened to Elijah rant about him?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Neal gives a small shrug. “With him, it’s not as easy to blame that on the wine.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, before turning to give him a soft kiss. “And now that we are free of Mozzie for the evening, what do you think we should do with the rest of our evening?”

A mischievous grin stretches across his face as he leans in to kiss her again. “I think I have an indecent proposal or two.”

She laughs as she turns to face him more, arms sliding around his neck. “Hopefully you won’t have to go flying out the window this time around.”

He grins, before starting to back her towards the bed as he kisses her again. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

Sam sighs as he fills a cup of coffee on the table at the edge of the support group, before giving her a bit of a look in response. Convincing Lilah to help him with this – or leave the bunker at all, really – had been a challenge and a half, but now that they’re here, she’s still determined to make things difficult for him, which makes it seem like their temporary marriage of convenience isn’t really all that convenient at all. Not that he really had much of a choice in the matter.

“Would you have preferred being married to Dean?”

“I would have preferred not being married at all,” she fires back, before taking the cup of coffee offered and sipping it slowly. “You should have just brought Dean along. You two are certainly codependent enough.”

“I’m not going to pretend to be married to my brother.” He gives her a look at that because ew, Lilah. “Aside from the fact that it’s gross, and illegal, I don’t really think that this is the kind of support group that accepts people with an … alternative life style.”

“Yeah, well, gay marriage is legal now. They should get with the program.” Sam watches as her eyes shift to scan the rest of the room, all filled with grieving parents who have recently lost a child and are trying to cope with it somehow. Her eyes dart to each of the faces before shaking her head again. “This feels … wrong.”

“Really?” He turns so that he’s following her eye line, looking at each of the faces before looking back to her. “After all of these years, have I finally stumbled on you having actual scruples?”

There’s a glare at that, because how dare he accuse her of finding a line that she wouldn’t cross, but it doesn’t last long as she turns back to the rest of the group. “These people are supposed to be bearing their souls in a safe space. Hearing what they have to say isn’t going to be easy. Especially when we’re not actually going through it ourselves.”

“Yeah, but unfortunately it’s the only way to figure out who the spirit is going to be attacking next.” He pauses as he takes a sip of his coffee, before shrugging. “I try to think of it as us saving their lives rather than invading their privacy.”

“Does it work?”

Sam pauses for a moment as he considers, wanting to think that it does, half the time, but compassion has always been his weak point and Lilah knows it. It was always the thing that got him in trouble the most at Wolfram and Hart, and it hasn’t really changed when looking at things from a hunter’s perspective. He swallows hard before shrugging.

“Not really. But at least it helps me sleep at night when we succeed.

Lilah purses her lips for a moment, before shaking her head. “Trouble sleeping has never really been my problem.”

Sam smirks, before shaking his head. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me.”

There’s a soft laugh in response, but nothing more than that, straightening a bit as the leader of the therapy session walks into the room and takes his seat at the head of the circle. Sam takes another long sip on the cup of coffee before glancing back to her with a small, hesitant look.

“Ready to do this, Mrs. Jones?”

Lilah rolls her eyes. “Next time, you’re brother isn’t picking our aliases.”

“I’ve been saying that for years,” Sam replies as they go to take their seats. “Never really stopped him.”

I love this so much, especially showing a rare moment of humanity from lilah, it's always nice when those shine through. thank you <3

tenderness: Marvel (I leave pairings up to you)
widowhood: Elizabeth Burke (I told you it was awful)

There are different kinds of FBI widows.

Elizabeth Burke was fortunate enough to never consider herself one. Things were close once upon a time, before the baby and before they lost Neal, but Peter was always the kind of man who put his family first. He had a duty to the Bureau, and he was still one of the best agents they had, but with their son in his life, it was like Peter found a brand new calling. He let himself move up the ranks, took more desk jobs that kept him out of the field, and he was there for their son.

For El, that was all that mattered.

Peter was still Peter, though. When there was a case he couldn’t shake, he stuck it through to the end. El wasn’t necessarily happy about it, but she knew that Peter would be safe. That he would be careful. That he would come home.

Until the day he doesn’t.

She’d be lying if she says she hadn’t thought about it. Any FBI wife who says otherwise is a liar themselves. She hasn’t heard from Peter in a few hours and it isn’t like him, and when there’s a sharp knock on the door, everything in her blood runs cold.

“I’ll get it!” Neal shouts, his feet running through the house like a stampede and all El can do is listen, and hope that the person behind the door is here to deliver good news, not bad. “Hi, Agent Jones.”

“Hey, kiddo. Is your mom here?”

The tone isn’t right. The nickname usually comes with a lot more affection, and here there’s a twinge of sadness. Regret. Not the things you want to hear from your husband’s second in command. She quietly makes her way out of the kitchen, and the look on Jones’ face only confirms it before he even says a word. He meets her eyes and there’s a part of him that’s almost pleading for him not to have to tell her, even though they both know that he has to. That’s the only way it will become real.

“Neal, go upstairs and play.”

“But … ”

“Neal. Please. Agent Jones and I need to talk.”

Neal’s only six, but it’s enough for him to recognize that this is serious and he should do as she says. He glances between them uncertainly for a moment, before turning on his heel and darting upstairs. El waits until she hears the door to his bedroom close, before she turns back to Jones and gives him a small smile.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

El watches him for a moment, before nodding and turning to head back to the kitchen. “C’mon. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

He follows her obediently into the kitchen, and she fixes them both a cup, placing two mugs on the counter as she goes. “How are things going? There was a girl you were seeing, wasn’t there? Mary or Monica?”

“Mrs. Burke … ”

She ignores it, trying to delay the inevitable for as long as possible, because once he says it, it becomes real, not just a notion or an inference. It becomes fact, and that’s the thing she’s not ready for. “I met her at the Christmas party, didn’t? She seems like a lovely girl.”

“El.”

She stops with her back to him, her hands resting on the counter in front of the coffee maker. The coffee finishes percolating, and she exhales slowly, closing her eyes. “I know, Clinton. I know.”

“Then let me say it. Please.”

She swallows for a moment, before nodding. She pours the cups of coffee still, fixing the one for Jones the way her husband would drink it rather than him, and it’s not an oversight so much as habit, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter. Jones doesn’t even touch it after she places it on the counter across from her, just letting it sit there to allow her the semblance of them being two old friends talking, rather than a man here to deliver the worst news of her life.

“Okay.” She nods as she cups her own cup of coffee in her hands. “Okay, I’m ready.”

(She’s not. You’re never ready. But she can’t put off the inevitable forever, so it might as well be now.)

“We were pursuing a suspect downtown … ”

***

Diana, to her credit, doesn’t judge El for her reaction to her husband’s death – or more importantly, her lack thereof. It’s good, because El can’t really explain it herself. There’s a part of her that wants to cry, that wants to throw herself into the void of grief and never look back, but she can’t. It’s an emotion that isn’t coming, and in some way she can feel the judgement of those around her as she goes through the motions with the FBI, the whispers of how she doesn’t look like your typical grieving widow and the condemnation in it, but Elizabeth Burke doesn’t really care what they think. They don’t know her and they don’t know Peter.

Peter would understand.

“People handle grief differently,” Diana says as they sit in a park not far from the Burke home, watching the boys as they play. “It probably hasn’t even hit you yet, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Teddy is a year older than Neal, but the two boys have always been close, like brothers in some ways. El became a stand in nanny for Teddy while she was on maternity leave, and that friendship is something that has kept Neal from noticing the Peter shaped void that now fills his life. It’s a void that’s all too obvious in a young boy’s life when your father suddenly isn’t there anymore.

(Teddy is probably feeling it as well. Peter was as much a father to him as he was to Neal.)

“I know that,” El nods, rubbing her arm with one hand, her eyes not leaving the two boys as they run around the jungle gym. “The problem is, what happens when it does? What if … what if I can’t handle it?”

“You don’t have to handle it all by yourself.” Diana reaches over and places a hand on her shoulder gently. “You have us. We’re family, El. Peter being gone doesn’t change that.”

“Right.” The word doesn’t land right, even as she says it, that crushing reminder that Peter isn’t coming back tightening in her chest but not quite reaching her emotionally. “Of course not. I didn’t mean to imply … ”

“I know.” The hand on her shoulder rubs it gently, to soothe away some of the tension there, and El lets her. “Just reminding you. That’s all.”

It’s a reminder that she needs, not that she’ll admit it.

Her parents arrive that evening, and she’s never been happier to see them, but she still doesn’t break.

***

Her mother comes up to her room one day and announces that El’s “strange little friend” is here to see her, and it doesn’t register who that is right away. She makes her way downstairs and the sight of that particular friend brings a smile to her face, brighter than it probably had any right to be at the moment.

“Mozzie.”

He turns to her with a small smile, bottle of wine in hand, and greets her with his usual flair: “Mrs. Suit.”

Mozzie’s visits became less frequent after Neal’s “death.” It usually became a matter of visits of opportunity – finding him with his ice cream cart around the park where she took Neal or visiting a gala that she happened to be opening once she went back to work. She didn’t hold it against him at first – they were a reminder of a person that she was sure he was trying to let go of, but at the same time, she can’t help but think that he might have known already that Neal wasn’t really dead, and he was afraid of giving him away, almost as though he was worried that Peter wasn’t going to let him go.

She thinks, at times, he underestimated how much Peter cared for Neal. Or maybe he did know, but didn’t want to put Peter in that position. Whatever the case may be, El is glad he’s here now.

They wind up stretched out on her bed, laying side by side with a glass of wine siting on each of the nightstands. Half the bottle is gone before El speaks, content to let Mozzie ramble about his latest in the long list of numerous conspiracy theories that he deals with on a day-to-day basis.

“It’s so strange.” The words come off half-drunk, probably because she is, and she glances over to where Mozzie is resting on Peter’s side of the bed. “I spend most of my days still expecting him to be there. I wake up in the morning and his side of the bed is empty, but his clothes are still in the closet. It’s like my brain can’t be sure which is the lie and which is the truth.”

“Denial,” Mozzie replies simply. “It gets the best of a lot of us in situations like this.”

“I don’t know how to move past it.” She squints back up at the ceiling again, hands resting on her stomach gently as she does. “I know I have to, for Neal’s sake if nothing else, but I don’t know how to get there.”

“It’s not something you can force yourself past,” he says, mimicking her position with his own hands. “You’ll accept it eventually, one way or another. But it’s on your brain’s timetable. Not yours.”

El smirks, but there’s no real mirth to it. “Shouldn’t those be the same thing?”

“One would think,” he teases in return. “Another one of those mysteries of human psychology, I suppose.”

She accepts that answer for what it is for the moment, taking her glass of wine and lifting herself up just enough to take a contemplative sip, followed by a question she’s wanted to ask for a days, but not knowing who else would be able to answer it.

“Do you think he’ll come?”

“He who?”

“You know who.”

Mozzie at least does her the courtesy of not playing dumb with regards to who she means. Any other time it might have been cute and coy, part of a game of some kind, but right now she needs to know the truth, for better or for worse, and it’s not going to get them anywhere if they keep playing like the either doesn’t know that Neal is alive, somewhere.

Instead he’s just quiet for a moment, more because he’s choosing his words carefully than because he’s trying to craft a lie. “If he can be, he will.”

Shockingly, that’s far more of a comfort to her than anything anyone else has said to her so far. It’s like a weight is being released with the fact that she doesn’t have to do this alone anymore. She reaches over and places her hand over Mozzie’s giving it a small squeeze in return.

“Thank you.”

He smiles softly, before turning his hand over to squeeze it in return. “Anytime, Elizabeth.”

***

Sara arrives the day of the wake and goes straight there from the airport. She leaves her luggage in the back corner of the funeral home and hugs El a little too tightly in return, but El doesn’t really care about either. She’s simply grateful that she’s here, and not calling to give her condolences from London.

“What do you think I am, some kind of monster?” Sara says with a small smile as she keeps her close. El can feel the wetness from the tears on the other woman’s cheeks against her skin and she takes solace in that grief, that she’s expressing what El can’t seem to. “I wouldn’t not be here for anything. I’m just sorry I couldn’t come home sooner.”

That I couldn’t see him before he died is the silent meaning behind her words, but there’s nothing they can do about that now. She spends most of the wake flanked by her son on one side and Sara on the other, clutching El’s hand tightly in hers, almost as though she’s a tether to hold herself too, and El never once tells her to let go. Instead, she watches as face after face makes their way through the bereavement line, stopping by her side to give their condolences. From Hughes and all of the FBI agents that Peter had worked with, to June and Mozzie and Neal’s friends who had come to like Peter in their time together.

All the faces, except for the one face she needed to see.

She’s not surprised that he doesn’t come, but at the same time, she’s not quite happy about it either.

***

They had had tickets to the Yankees game that weekend. It’s Neal’s first baseball game, and it was all Peter had talked about for weeks. It had been something he had shared with his father, and in turn he wanted to share it with Neal. Instead, it’s simply another Peter-shaped vacuum that they have to fill, and El is starting to get sick of counting them. Thankfully, they have people who can fill in the gaps – her father takes her ticket and Jones takes Peter’s and they take Neal to the game because it’s what Peter would have wanted.

He would have wanted his son to grow up loving the sport that he loved, even if he wasn’t there to enjoy it with him himself.

Her mother had decided to go out and do a little sightseeing of her own, maybe even a little shopping, leaving El on her own for the first time in days. The silence in house is near deafening in the wake of how busy the place had been, full of people coming to pay their last respects to her and to the man who had changed their lives just by being in it. Now, it was just her and Satchmo, who had spent most of the past week avoiding the constant stream of visitors and waiting for Peter to come home.

Just like she was.

He’s lying in the hallway with his eyes focused on the door, head resting down on his paws while he waits. Six in the evening rolls around, and he lets out this low, pitiful whine when Peter doesn’t come through the door and she can’t take it anymore. She gets to her feet and grabs the leash from the door, patting her leg for the dog to come.

“C’mon Satchmo. Let’s go for a walk.”

Their walk somehow leads them to the cemetery, where she hasn’t been since the funeral. She leads the way to the headstone, ground still not completely settled from the burial a few days ago. She doesn’t care, however, and just kneels in the dirt, her dog sitting loyally at her side as she rubs his back and they both look at the headstone. Satchmo doesn’t understand what this means, or what this place is, but he seems to sense enough that Peter is a part of it and he shifts next to her, laying down next to her and stretching out with his head in his paws.

“I know, Satch,” she says softly, the first of her tears finally starting to fall as it all finally becomes real and the realization hits her that her husband is gone and he is never coming back. “I miss him too.”

They sit there in silence for a moment, until a shadow comes up behind them. She makes out the edges of the fedora he’s wearing before the hand comes down to rest against her shoulder gently, and her eyes close in relief. Finally, this is what she had been needing.

“You son of a bitch,” she says softly, with almost no venom to it. She turns and her eyes meet a pair of blue eyes that bear the same distress hers do, and she’s getting to her feet in an instant, throwing her arms around him and allowing him to squeeze her to him tightly. It’s about time Neal came home, and as she closes her eyes, she can’t help but tease him one more time.

“You’re late.”

I read this and then forgot to mention that I had read it but anyway.

THIS IS TERRIBLE. I love it. I could say more but all my other reactions involve mostly flaily handgestures.

IT'S OKAY I'M TERRIBLE FOR WRITING IT but yay I'm glad you love it. =D

The thing about Jane Foster is that once she gets a taste of something, she has an insatiable need to explore it until she’s learned absolutely everything she possibly can about it, and understands it completely. It’s an endearing kind of curiosity and adventurous nature and the thing that drew Thor to her in the first place, and once she has the Asgardian prince all to herself, she’s quick to pepper him with every question she’s ever had about the universe as a whole as well as his adventures and the places he’s seen along the way. It’s actually her first priority, because it’s the thing they’ve never really had time for when he was off saving the world.

(Well. Actually, it’s more like the second thing they do. The first is an entirely different kind of exploring that is very private and not relevant to this story, despite how much Darcy has nagged her for details.)

The point is, the universe has always been a place of infinite possibilities and infinite questions, the kind of thing where Jane would never have to worry about being wont for the next step in her research, because there’s always more to explore. The arrival of Asgardians and aliens on Earth have only further proved that there is so much more out there than humanity has ever considered, and while the military and others like it find the fact that Earth is behind the curve troublesome, Jane is just excited by the possibilities.

Thor, on the other hand, is mostly looking to understand Earth, in all of it’s nuances. Even on Asgard, he’s never lived a domestic life, being a prince and meant for greater things. He isn’t really meant for the domestic life on Earth either, what with the Avengers taking advantage of his continued presence by calling him away for missions here and there. It is on one of those missions that Thor returns, and states, matter-of-factly: “Clint Barton believes I would do well with a pet.”

The concept makes Jane blink – she can barely take care of herself, let alone another small dependent creature. It would be like having a child, and she isn’t ready for children. However, if Thor is interested in exploring the options, she’s hardly one to say no.

“ … Okay.”

“He claims there are shelters that house animals without homes – that that would be a good place to start.” There’s a pause as he settles on the couch next to her. “Perhaps for our outing this weekend, we might visit one?”

“ … Sure,” she says with a shrug. “Can’t hurt.”

“Excellent.” He smiles and it’s like the sun comes out, and that is most likely why she never entertained the idea of saying no. Just because they go to the shelter doesn’t mean they’ll come home with one, exactly. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she smiles. “Just make sure you keep up your end of the bargain.”

* * * * *

Their outings are an arrangement they came to early in Thor’s arrival on Earth, a compromise so that Thor can see more of the world, and Jane wouldn’t lose herself completely in her work. They are mostly mundane, and things that Jane is more than accustomed to, but things that Thor will have to get used to if he’s going to be settling on Earth permanently. While he explored the best Earth had to offer, Jane will ask him general questions about the places he’s visited and people he’s met. And, most importantly, the science.

This particular outing, however, immediately gets sidetracked the moment Thor is introduced to the animals. Whether it’s a largest of dogs or tiniest of kittens, Thor handles them with a remarkable amount of tenderness and care, almost as though he’s afraid of injuring them under his considerable strength. He particularly takes to a tiny striped tabby that seems content to climb him like a tree at any given opportunity, and Jane is both ridiculously endeared and grateful it isn’t a dog.

(Dogs require a lot more attention on her part when Thor is out of town. Cats are at least fairly self sufficient.)

“Are you sure this is alright?” he asks as they start to fill out the paperwork (under Jane’s name since it isn’t as though Thor has a true legal presence on Earth). He’s standing over her shoulder while the kitten plays with one of the braids in his long hair.

“It’s fine,” she says with a small smile. “It’s your home too. And as long as we keep her away from the equipment, then everything should be fine.” She pauses to sign her name on the paper and smiles. “That should do it. She’s all yours.”

He grins widely at her again, that smile like sunshine, and Jane knows that it’s quite possible she’s signed up for a lifetime of being pushed out of her comfort zone and routine.

Oddly enough, she can’t really say she minds.

Disagreement - Damon/Elena or Damon/Stefan...or all three.

Elena has been deceptively quiet throughout the entire car trip.

In fact, she has barely moved from her perch in the backseat, arms crossed in front of her chest and practically sulking. This isn’t the first time Damon has kidnapped her “for her own good” but it is the first time Stefan is complicit in it as well. She understands that they both love her and want to protect her, but that doesn’t mean they can play “Let’s Kidnap Elena” because she wants to stay and fight for herself. It makes her feel like a trophy more than a person and Stefan usually knows better.

Usually.

“Are you just going to sulk the entire way there?”

Damon’s eyes flash to hers in the rearview mirror and she hold his gaze determinedly for a moment, before glancing back out towards the window and seeing the sprawling desert landscape ahead of them. There’s no signs of civilization for miles, and she would almost rather be walking on the highway and dying of heatstroke than being stuck in the car with the two of them.

Stefan sighs and turns to face her from where he’s sitting in the passenger’s seat and gives her the sympathetic look that she’s sure is supposed to make her feel better, but she’s found it’s mostly missing the mark.

“You realize we’re doing this to protect you, right?”

“Funny,” she says, the first words she’s elected to say the entire trip. “I don’t really feel very protected.”

Stefan’s face falls some before he turns his attention back to the road, and they keep heading deeper and deeper into the desert. Eventually, Elena can’t keep up the silence any longer as her curiosity gets the better of her and she has to ask.

“Where are we going, exactly?”

“Oh. Now she wants to know.” Damon’s eyes are judging her through the rearview mirror again, and she rolls her eyes before waiting for him to answer the question. It takes a moment, because he’s being petulant, before he finally gets out the words: “We’re taking you to see one of our witch friends.”

“Why?”

“Because she might have a way of taking care of our current vampire problem,” Stefan replies, glancing back to her again. “She wanted us to come see her in person, just to be on the safe side.”

“And since you know more about the situation than anyone, we thought you might want to come with us, instead of trying to do this over the phone.”

Elena’s eyes widened and her hands flop out to her sides. “And you couldn’t just ask me if I wanted to come? You had to kidnap me instead?”

“Yes,” Damon replies before Stefan can get a word in. “Because while we’re gone, Bonnie is going to try Plan A.”

“Plan A being the plan that might get her killed?”

“Yes, and since we knew that you wouldn’t let her do it, we decided to take matters into our own hands.” He glances back up at her through the window again and meets her glare unflinchingly. “You’re welcome.”

“Stop the car, Damon.”

“Oh, come on, Elena. We’re almost there.”

“No, because I’m not going to just turn and run while my friends are fighting and dying.”

“That’s not what we’re doing. We’re making sure there’s a back up plan.”

“If that’s what we were doing, they wouldn’t be fighting while we were gone. We would be doing this together. And you would have asked me to come with you, rather than forcing me to.”

She stares at both of them for a long moment, before Stefan sighs heavily and turns back to Damon. “She’s right, man?”

“No. No, you are not allowed to back down on me now.” Damon turns and fixes his brother with a glare. “We agreed that we were in this together to protect Elena.”

Elena crosses her arms in front of her chest, pleased with the change in events and listens to the brothers argue for a moment, when she sees wisps of smoke start to curl up from under the hood of the car.

“Damon, stop the car.”

“No, Elena, we’re getting the rest of the way to this witch and that’s final.”

“No, your car is smoking!”

Damon turns at the accusation, before jerking the wheel to the side with a loud “Damnit!” and pulling over to the side of the road. When he finally makes it to a stop, the three of them sit in silence for a moment, while they all take an opportunity to calm down.

“So,” Elena begins, glancing between the two of them. “What do we do now?”

Yes!: Dean/Christine

“You’re nervous.”

Sam’s been watching his brother pace back and forth on the porch for the past ten minutes, hands idly brushing against the sides of his pants as he goes. While Dean is aware of the fact he looks like a neurotic mess, he doesn’t bother to confirm it, merely glances over to where his brother was sitting with the fresh lemonade his mother had made, and looks at him like he’s promptly sported two heads.

“What? No.” He shakes his head before continuing to pace. “I’m fine.”

“Dean, you’re wearing a rut on the porch. If our mother wasn’t getting ready for Miss Chapel’s arrival, she probably would have told you to sit herself.”

Dean pauses again in his steps, considering carefully before taking a deep breath and moving to sit next to his brother, shaking his head. “I’m not nervous.”

“You’re certainly something. I’ve never seen you like this when Christine is about to visit.”

Not for the first time, Dean is cursing his brother knowing him so well. Ever since they began courting each other in earnest, Dean’s always become easier to deal with when there’s an impending visit from his intended. But this visit is different – this visit means more – and he doesn’t know how to quite put it into words. Sam, however, is able to read between the lines, and his eyes widen when he realizes the implications of what it may mean.

“Dean, are you - ?”

“Be quiet,” he sighs, running a hand over his face. “I don’t want to jinx it.”

Sam eyes his brother skeptically for a moment, before smirking. “You think telling your brother about it will jinx it?”

“Yes, actually,” he sighs, leaning back against the porch. “I have no idea what she’s going to say.”

“I don’t think she’ll say no.”

“And what makes you such an expert? Did that law degree come with an expertise in love?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to see the way she looks at you, Dean,” his brother replies softly, before getting up and squeezing his shoulder as Christine’s carriage comes into view. “I think you’ll be fine.”

Dean swallows hard as Christine comes into view, all sunshine and smiles as she usually is, and he can’t help but smile as well in return. This is why he wants this, more than anything, and he takes a deep breath before getting to his feet and making his way down to greet her.

“Miss Chapel.”

“Mr. Winchester,” she replies, slipping her arm in his, as she pulls herself closer. “Your brother already confirmed he will take care of my things. Would you like to join me for a walk so that I may stretch my legs?”

There’s another deep breath, trying to keep the nerves at bay for now, before he nods in agreement and turns to head to the back of the property. “How can I say no to that?”

* * * * *

He quickly takes her through the new upgrades on the farm, telling her about all the work that’s being done and rambling a bit to cover his nerves, but eventually he relaxes more as he remembers how he’s supposed to act around her. Christine is always someone who’s made things like that easy, almost like knowing how to breathe, and he does his best not to take that for granted when he can help it.

Soon, the conversation flows to her life in Arkansas and working as a nurse, and somewhere in the middle, which he knows might not give much credence to the fact that he is listening (he was), he knows that if he doesn’t get it out now, he probably never will.

“Marry me, Christine.”

She falters for a moment, confused, and turns to face him for a moment. “What?”

He swallows hard before waving a hand. “You know I’m not all that good with words, and I had this whole … speech prepared, about how I know it’s not the fancy life you had when you were in New Orleans but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to provide for you, and how I know we’ll be happy, but … I don’t think any of that really matters, in the end.” He pauses for a second, before taking another step closer and takes her hand gently, giving it a small squeeze. “The things that matter are that I love you. And if I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with anyone, I want it to be you. So, if you feel the same way, will you marry me?”

She studies him for a moment, before a small smile crosses her face and she steps forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. “Yes,” she replies with a soft nod. “Always.”

He grins widely at her in return, before leaning in to kiss her softly as he does. Guess he had nothing to worry about after all.

Wrong account, but I love this! Thank you!

Yay! I'm glad you liked it! =D

well Lover's Quarrel speaks Buffy/Peter.

In the Name of Love can either be stiles doing something outrageous or Dawn asking Teen!Derek to do something outrageous.

Cherish? Totally regency Laura/Parrish

There’s something incredibly satisfying about having won something you actually want, rather than something you have to do out of duty. There’s such a difference in being happy, something Laura never thought she would be able to be again. But in the weeks that follow Daniel’s exit from her life and her wedding, she suddenly feels lighter. The smile comes easier, as does her laugh, and she has a future that she is looking forward to, regardless of everything she struggled through to get there.

She’s sure that her siblings (and Peter) are better for it. Unfortunately (or fortunately) none of them are actually there to see the progression.

It’s a slow thing, the kind that starts with waking up in her husband’s arms and being relieved that he isn’t Daniel Argent. That he’s a man who loves her, who cherishes her for more than a power and simply wants her, no strings attached. If she was a poor werewolf with no pack, she’s fairly certain he would want her just the same.

This morning, however, she awakens to an empty bed, with the sound of scraping on the side of the castle walls. One eye opens, confused for a moment, before she turns to the source of the sound and laughs as Parrish’s head comes over to the edge of her balcony.

“What are you doing?” she asks as she pushes herself into a sitting position, wrapping the sheets around her torso to protect her modesty just in case he isn’t alone.

“Leaving you a present,” he says with a grin as he pushes himself over the edge and back onto her balcony again. He retrieves the flowers from between his teeth before holding them up for her to see. “Just like old times.”

She laughs at that, before shaking her head. “You do know that as my husband, you are allowed to use the door now.”

“I’m aware,” he says as he bounds to his feet and makes his way back to bed, leaning in to kiss her as he hands her the flowers. “But I wanted to surprise you. I figured you’d be asleep a little while longer.”

“You underestimate how much of a light sleeper your wife is,” she says softly as she kisses him back. She takes the flowers, moving to place them on her bedside table as she’s distracted by his lips and hands. “I will always hear you coming.”

“Then I suppose I will have to learn to be sneakier,” he murmurs as he slides back into bed with her, shedding his shoes first before sneaking back under the covers so that he could pull her closer again. “So I can leave you more surprises in the future.”

“I suppose you will,” she sighs as she curls up against him, letting her head rest against his chest. “You know, I have never heard the castle this quiet.”

“Wonderful, isn’t it?” he grins. “We have the entire place to ourselves to do whatever we like.”

“We do,” she admits with a nod. “Though you will eventually have to attend to your duties, Lord of the Manor.”

“Must I?” he teases and she flashes him a look, which makes him laugh. “I don’t believe the people of your village will disparage me for enjoying my honeymoon and cherishing my time with my wife.” His hand comes up, curling under her chin so that she’ll look at him. “We have two more days before we wander into unacceptable territory. Let’s enjoy them for what they are.”

She sighs heavily, before nodding her agreement. “I suppose they can settle their own disputes for a few more days.”

“That’s the spirit,” he teases, before leaning in to kiss her again, his thumb coming up to brush against her cheek. “I love you, Laura.”

Words she never tires of hearing. He tells her every day, every opportunity he gets, but it always feels just as wonderful each time. “I love you too,” she murmurs into the kiss. He pauses only for a moment, letting the seriousness of it sink in before he pulls her further under the covers with a laugh, ready to start their morning with a much different ritual.

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP

The sound of the industrial strength punching bag getting hit repeatedly by the fists of one pissed off Slayer echoed through the empty area of the gym and drawing the attention of her gym buddy with a sigh. As much as Buffy knows that Derek doesn’t mind getting in some regularly scheduled sparring practice, she also knows that he doesn’t appreciate being the punching bag for emotions she should probably be pointing at someone else.

Like his uncle.

She hears him stepping into the room, and there’s a heavy sigh before he finally asks: “What did Peter do this time?”

“Nothing.” THUMP-THUMP “Nothing that can really be fixed by anyone but him anyway.”

Derek sighs again before making his way over so that he’s looking her in the eye and moves to steady the heavy bag for her before she punches it off its hinges. “And you’re punching the punching bag to not punch him.”

“I try not to use violence against my boyfriends unless they’re trying to kill me,” she quips, shifting her stance so that she can drive into the bag harder with a different combination. “Gives me Spike flashbacks otherwise, and trust me, Peter and I don’t really have that kind of relationship.”

“Have you tried actually talking to him about it?”

“Have you ever tried actually talking to Peter about anything?” Buffy raises her eyebrows. “He likes to talk, that’s for sure, but he never actually says anything.”

“Fair enough,” Derek sighs, wincing as the punching bag bounds back into his shoulder. “There has to be a more healthy way of dealing with this, though.”

“There probably is.” THUMP-THUMP “But if I get all my punchiness out now, I’ll be less likely to lose my temper later.”

“And how successful do you think that’s going to be?”

Buffy shrugs before she takes a step back and sighs. “I’d be okay if you wanted to cancel. I know I’m no fun to spar with when I’m angry.”

Derek considers before shaking his head. “No. If you’re level-headed enough to consider it, then I’ll probably be fine. Just … don’t break my nose this time?”

“I will do my best,” Buffy nods before moving to the mat to get back into a sparring position. “Let’s do this.”

They manage to get into a few good scrambles before they part ways and by the time Buffy returns to the loft, she’s a lot less tense than she was when she left. In return, the apartment smells far cleaner – not that it doesn’t always smell clean but she can pick up the scent of disinfectant in the air – and Peter is sitting on the couch, flipping lazily through a book that he isn’t actually reading. He doesn’t look up when he hears the door, but he does speak.

“Feeling better?”

“A little,” she sighs as she drops her work out bag off near the laundry before making her way closer. She showered at the gym, so she shouldn’t be doing any damage to his olfactory senses. “You?”

“There’s still a lot we have to discuss,” he replies as he turns to face her. “But we never manage to discuss anything, do we?”

“Not really. Our discussing voices tend to give away pretty quickly to our arguing voices.”

“Unfortunately.” Eventually he closes the book before turning to face her again, reaching forward and taking his hand in hers. “I don’t mean to fight with you, you know.”

“I know. I don’t mean to do it either. It’s both of our alpha personalities bumping heads.”

“We are eventually going to have to figure out what we’ll do about that.”

“Eventually.” She’ll take the hand that’s tucked in hers, before lifting it and turning so that she’s pressed against his side. “I’m sorry I pushed your buttons.”

He hums softly in agreement, before squeezing her gently around the middle. “Ready for dinner?”

She hums in return, before closing her eyes and shaking her head. “I think I’m gonna take a nap first. You can finish your book.”

She can feel the smile against the top of her head as he presses a kiss there, before she curls up and drifts quietly off to sleep.

“Why do you look like you’re dreading something?”

Cora pauses and blinks up at her sister in confusion as Thomas wobbles in the space between them. He’s been working on trying to figure out walking, and he’s currently got each aunt by the finger as he bounces and wiggles and stays standing but hasn’t entirely seem to have mastered the art of moving yet. As far as Cora’s concerned, it’s fine – he can take things one step at a time so that Cora doesn’t feel like she missed everything while she was gone. It makes it much easier to try and pick out why exactly Malia asked her that question of all questions.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re distracted, and you’re making that face like you have to eat something you don’t like.”

Cora frowns some more as she glances down at herself and then shrugs. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s nothing?”

Cora finally sighs. “It’s our anniversary coming up.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief pause as Malia considers. “Which anniversary? The anniversary of when you met or when you got back together again.”

Cora’s lips press together in a thin line, not wanting to be reminded of that year and change when she and Stiles were apart because that was one of the harder times in her life. “The first one.” They choose to ignore all the conflict that happened in between. “But Stiles, being Stiles, is planning something and I’m not sure I’m really feeling something that dramatic in the name of love.”

“So why don’t you just tell him that?”

“Because doing this kind of stuff makes him happy and usually I don’t mind, but this year … I don’t know, I just feel weird about it.”

Malia shrugs as Thomas finally gives up the ghost and leans a little too far to one side, preparing to tumble face first into her lap. Werewolf reflexes keep him from going too far before she picks him up and resettles the baby in her lap so that he’s facing Cora. “So tell him this year you’re not into it. Or volunteer to plan instead.”

“What if he’s already got everything ready?”

“Then he can cancel it,” Malia sighs, before shaking her head. “Look, Cora, he does this for you because he loves you and he wants to make you happy. If you’re not going to enjoy it, then what’s the point?”

Cora nods, because logically she does know that, but it’s not always as easy to put those things into words when she knows it means a lot to him. “Alright. I’ll talk to him.”

“Good.” Malia glances down at Thomas with a grin. “I think it’s time for puppy and park time. How does that sound, Tommy?”

The response is a happy squeal before he’s scooped up and carried away to the stroller.

* * * * *

A few hours later, after chasing dogs and toddler through the park until they were all thoroughly exhausted, Cora makes her way home and flops down onto the bed next to her boyfriend with a tired sigh.

“He’s not even walking and he still manages to wear me out.”

Stiles looks up from his computer with a grin, before leaning over to kiss her forehead gently. “I thought that’s what the dogs’re for,” he teases, and she sticks her tongue out at him, before shifting to prop herself up on her elbow.

“You have fun at work?”

“Well, it’s work, so I feel like the obligatory answer to that is no. Work is never fun. Ever.” He grins as he places the laptop to the side and turns to face her in return. “But it wasn’t as sucky as it could have been.”

“Good,” she says with a nod, before playing with the fingers of one hand for a moment, before she finally manages to get out the words. “So … about this weekend?”

“What about it?”

“I know you’ve probably been planning this for months, but … would it be okay if we just stayed in instead?” She knows that this is probably going to hurt his feelings somehow but as much as she wants to be with him, she doesn’t need the rest of the world there. “I’m not really feeling like making this a big thing, and I was thinking maybe we could drive me back up to Boston early and just … lock ourselves in the apartment.”

There is a brief flash of disappointment in his eyes as he listens before he snakes an arm around her waist to pull her closer. “All I want to do is be with you. And if that’s what you want to do, all you have to do is say so.”

“I know,” she sighs, before shrugging. “I just feel bad that you did all this planning and I’m coming in to smash it like a wrecking ball.”

“Oh, it wasn’t that big a deal,” he says, before smirking slightly. “It was just dinner. And a movie. And a giant flash mob to a song I wrote proclaiming my love for you – ”

“Stiles.”

“My point is, is that our anniversary is about us being together. And if you want to lock us in your apartment with a stack of pizza and a box of condoms, then I am all for it.”

Cora nods in agreement. “That sounds like the perfect anniversary to me.”

“Good,” he grins before leaning in to kiss her softly. “I love you.”

She smiles as she returns this kiss before nodding as well. “I love you too.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

table } { love bingo round 3

FINISHED FILLS

Final Word Count:24,630 words

no subject

all along i believed i would find you ~ haven ~ 1037 words

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i have spent all my years in believing you ~ throne of shadows ~ 1028 words

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i don't have to have these dreams no more ~ the vampire diaries/buffyverse ~ 1442 words

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i took my troubles down to madam ruth ~ supernatural/vampire: the masquerade ~ 1002 words

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but the boy has a bite better far than his bark ~ teen wolf/buffyverse ~ 1650 words

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there is one thing that remains forever true | white collar | 1,749 words

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but if they get their chance they'll end it for sure | everworld/heroes of olympus | 786 words

you know i'll never be lonely ~ knights of legend ~ 621 words

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i wanna taste the way that you bleed ~ riftverse ~ 1,336 words

or maybe we could stick around for just one more drink ~ beyond the rift ~ 974 words

careful the wish you make ~ riftverse ~ 806 words

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well i know this little chapel on the boulevard we can go ~ doctor who ~ 807 words

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just wanna try you on ~ faenanigans ~ 783 words

give me a long kiss goodnight and everything will be alright ~ faenanigans ~ 1,299 words

but this don't even feel like falling ~ the vampire diaries ~ 939 words

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oh i'm sorry, but i'm still mad at you ~ psl-land ~ 1,081 words

Re: oh i'm sorry, but i'm still mad at you ~ psl-land ~ 1,081 words

you got yourself into your own mess ~ psl-land ~ 918 words

maybe the problem's simply codependency ~ psl-land ~ 610 words

Re: maybe the problem's simply codependency ~ psl-land ~ 610 words

hello Morgan is too lazy to switch journals

for parting is not goodbye | white collar | 2,740 words

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there's some kind of blessing here ~ marvel cinematic universe ~ 832 words

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when i'm out on the road, i gotta be in control ~ the vampire diaries ~ 777 words

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please take my hand ~ civil war au ~ 829 words

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you're just like a dream ~ regency au ~ 702 words

a kick in the teeth is good for some ~ canon au ~ 702 words

i'd walk to you if i had no other way ~ new york wolves ~ 929 words

Final Word Count:
24,630 words