Alright, cool cats, it’s time to find your groove, and let the music lead the way.
For June, we’re trying something a little different… but don’t worry, the beat stays the same. There will still be an allocated prompt every day, only this time each prompt will be a song. The full setlist is below.
For anyone who feels a little uncertain, or doesn’t want the pressure of choosing where to start, we’ve also picked a line from each song to help narrow things down as a second option.
But for anyone feeling adventurous? You can absolutely choose another line from the song instead.
Your Scribble must contain at least one line from the song. It does not have to be the line we picked, and you’re welcome to use multiple lines if the music moves you.
We’ve also created a playlist so you can listen along with the full prompt list and really get into the June Jukebox mood.
The Goal: Write a Scribble of 300 words max, including the prompt/lyric line. We’d love people to try and stay as close to that as possible, but we’re here for the vibes, not to slap anyone with a ruler.
The Timing: You have until the end of the day in your own time zone to complete and submit each prompt.
The Swap-Outs: If a certain day’s song isn’t your jam, don’t stress. We’ve made sure there are options to swap out, so you can still keep the music playing.
Rules / Guidelines:
The final day for submissions is July 1st, end of the day in your own time zone. Please be aware that any entries submitted after this will not be added to the event masterlist.
For the event masterlist, we will link any users who have created their own Scribbles masterlist. For anyone who has not created a masterlist, we will link to their preferred profile instead. For example, if you have a sideblog, we will confirm this with you.
Please use the tag #JuneJukeboxScribbles (no spaces) so we can find your creations. Please do not use the tag after the event has ended. You’re also welcome to tag @societynsoelsscribbles if you wish.
Please use appropriate warnings for explicit content, non-con, triggers, etc.
Hard no content: No incest, underage, bestiality, or necrophilia.
Any 18+ entries must be posted by an 18+ listed blog to be included.
Here are no limits on the number of submissions for a prompt. Do as many as you like, just remember to use the #JuneJukeboxScribbles tag!
The target is 300 words, but should you go over, we will not scold, fine, or ban you… as long as you deliver (but please.. try)
The possibilities are endless. Any fandom, pairing, reader insert, OC, character, ship, tone, or genre is welcome; smut, fluff, angst, crack, horror, romance, heartbreak, whatever beat you hear.
Join as often or as little as you like. There is absolutely no pressure. Whether you drop one track or complete the whole album, we’re thrilled to have you playing along.
You can use our event header for your own entries or masterlist, but please credit Society.
So warm up the jukebox, spread the sound and get ready to jive to your own funk… Drum roll please!!!
Prompt list: (Playlist for all songs can be found here)
June 1st - Joy To The World - Three Dog Night / “I never understood a single word he said”
June 2nd - I Wanna Be Bad - Willa Ford / “No I can't promise that I won't do that”
June 3rd - Mack the Knife - Bobby Darin / “And he shows them pearly white”
June 4th - Right Place, Wrong Time - Dr. John / “But I'm having such a good time”
June 5th - Hey! Baby - Bruce Channel / “I'm gonna make her mine, all mine”
June 6th - Therefore I Am - Billie Eilish / “I don't think I caught your name”
June 7th - Jump (For My Love) - Pointer Sisters / “I know you like what you see”
June 8th - Living La Vida Loca - Ricky Martin / “I feel a premonition”
June 9th - Somebody That I Used To Know - Gotye / “Like when you said you felt so happy you could die”
June 10th - Pink Pony Club - Chappell Roan / “Every night's another reason why I left it all”
June 11th - Little Bitty Pretty One - Thurston Harris / “Tell you a story”
June 12th - Tainted Love - Soft Cell / “I cannot stand the way you tease”
June 13th - Town Without Pity - Gene Pitney / “Only those in love could know”
June 14th - Play That Funky Music - Wild Cherry / “Til you die?”
June 15th - Bad Habits - Ed Sheeran / “I got nothin' left to lose, or use, or do”
June 16th - Every Breath You Take - The Police / “Every smile you fake”
June 17th - Say Something - A Great Big World & Christina Aguilera / “It was over my head”
June 18th - Come and Get Your Love - Redbone / “What's the matter with you”
June 19th - Raise Your Glass - P!nk / “You can choose to let it go”
June 20th - All Shook Up - Elvis Presley / “Who do you thank when you have such luck?”
June 21st - Animal I Have Become - Three Days Grace / “I can't control myself”
June 22nd - Wonderwall - Oasis / “Because maybe”
June 23rd - I Believe In A Thing Called Love - The Darkness / “We'll be rocking till the sun goes down”
June 24th - Groove Is In The Heart - Deee-Lite / “No, I couldn't ask for another”
June 25th - Rude - MAGIC! / “I hate to do this, you leave no choice”
June 26th - Total Eclipse of the Heart - Bonnie Tyler / “There's nothing I can do”
June 27th - The Dark End of the Street - James Carr / “That's where we always meet”
June 28th - Northern Attitude - Noah Kahan (with Hozier) / “If I get too close”
June 29th - Mr. Brightside - The Killers / “But it's just the price I pay”
June 30th - Don’t Speak - No Doubt / “I know what you're thinkin'”
Swap-Out Tracks
Praying - Kesha / “I'm proud of who I am”
Don’t Stop Believing - Journey / “A smell of wine and cheap perfume”
Season of the Witch - Donovan / “When I look out my window”
Cry Me A River - Julie London / “Now you say you love me”
Daydream Believer - The Monkees / “You once thought of me”
Dancing Queen - ABBA / “Anybody could be that guy”
Summary: There’s a small pile of them just past the main door of the building, barely out of reach of the elements and the strays — human or otherwise. Each one addressed the same, the handwriting belonging to one person though it varies a little from one card to the next.
A/N: Written for the fandomwritingchallenge, July prompt: postcard
✉ Nasty hag attack here, looks almost as nasty as any of the Alphas. Had a pint of beer for you. S.
✉ Hi! Greetings from— wait, it says that on the front. I get why you guys were in New York before. It’s big. Wonder if I could get lost here. S.
✉ Couldn’t resist the wolf on the postcard. Had to happen on the first field case. Hope you’re well. S.
✉ This job means a fuckton of travel. Not a complaint, really. Just gets a bit lonely. S.
✉ Where do postcards go if they can’t be delivered? Hopefully this one will, Canadian wolves are savage, I’d love if you got to see the photo. S.
✉ ✉ ✉ ✉ ✉
There’s a small pile of them just past the main door of the building, barely out of reach of the elements and the strays — human or otherwise. Each one addressed the same, the handwriting belonging to one person though it varies a little from one card to the next. Some look scribbled on in a rush, a few even written with odd instruments — there’s one in crayon, another has fountain pen smudges.
Derek almost doesn’t spot them, but one of them glows in the dark, and when he arrives at the loft, it happens to be in the middle of the night. So — not without hesitation — he picks the pile up, and tosses it carelessly on the coffee table that’s covered with a layer of dust. It’s not surprising, because it’s been years since he was back, though he has managed to pay everything that he needed to in order to keep ownership of the building.
It’s another few days later before he sits down long enough to pick up the postcards again, and to give them a more thorough look. He’s since sorted out all the other post that was dumped there with the cards, so there are no distractions in the form of bills or anything else. Again, he only does pick them up because it’s late at night and the one that glows is peeking out from the middle of the pile.
They don’t seem connected, not when he first starts checking them, save for the same signature on every one of them. And that really wouldn’t tell anyone else enough, but it does tell him the important bit.
S.
None of them are signed with a full name, just the initial. The messy scrawl differs between the cards too — a few are neat and legible, obviously written with time to spare; the ones that are messier look like the sender barely had time to write them.
Derek wonders about that while he looks the cards over. He knows that Stiles — because it took barely a beat to realise who the postcards were from — went across country to study and to later join the FBI. When there’s a card from Washington and it’s one of the ones written nicely, Derek starts thinking about the order.
✉ It’s a whole different world out here. Hope wherever you are is just as distant from where this card is going. S.
The date stamps help him organise the postcards, and he puts them into a tidy pile on the coffee table before he picks up the Washington DC one again. The next few are all from the east of the country, and most of them have taken time to write judging by the handwriting. But there is one that’s scribbled clearly in a rush.
✉ If the cards stop coming, this case is to blame. Fucking wendigos. S.
Derek freezes at first, and then lets out a relieved breath when he realizes that it’s not the last postcard in the pile. The next one is written clearly, but he can see the way the handwriting it was weak and a little shaky.
✉ There are never postcards with hospitals on them. Guess it’d be too depressing. S. PS: I’m okay, just a flesh wound. Because wendigo.
When Derek finally reaches for the last card, it’s hours later and the sun is starting to come up and shine through the windows. He’s hesitant to read it, partly because there are no more and partly because he’s afraid to look at the date on it. The ones he already looked at were almost evenly spaced out over the past few years, but the card he just put down is from almost a year ago. His curiosity is stronger than his reluctance to finish reading through the pile.
He looks at the familiar image of the Golden Gate, and something in his stomach skips when he realises how close Stiles apparently was when he sent this. Then he very carefully flips the postcard, and his eyes fall immediately on the signature, which isn’t the same as on all the others.
Stiles.
Derek’s eyes widen, and he looks up at the text, and he reads over it fast, then again to make sure that he’s reading it right.
✉ It almost feels like home, but it’s not. Way less drama and way less you. Come see the city sometimes? Stiles.
An hour later, Derek is on the road, and driving to San Francisco. He doesn’t have an address, but the final postcard was from a month ago, and the scent was still strong. Almost like Stiles made sure it would be, no matter how much time has passed.
✉ ✉ ✉ ✉ ✉
He finds Stiles near the bridge, after a day of running circles around the city, tracking his scent.
“You knew I was here,” Derek says, almost accusingly.
Stiles smirks when he looks up from the bench.
“Supernatural division,” he says. “We know how to track people down.”
“Not as reassuring as you probably think it is,” Derek tells him as he sits down.
“Found you, didn’t I?”
“Did you know I was coming back to the loft?”
Stiles nods.
“I wasn’t sure, but there was intel that you were heading this way. I guessed that you’d at least stop by,” he says. “Everyone else thought you’d stay away from town, but… I took a chance.”
They sit in silence for a while, and Derek wonders what to do next. He knows he should probably worry about being tracked by Stiles’s division, but it’s not new information, Derek just hoped that he managed to stay off radar. It’s not surprising either that Stiles knew where he was.
As he thinks about it, Derek realises that he doesn’t see it as a bad thing. Quite the opposite, if he’s entirely honest with himself.
“So, are you here for long?”
Stiles looks at him with a soft smile.
“Division is setting up an office here,” he says. “Something about our Nemeton still being a draw for the supernatural. I’m sticking around to lead. Keeps me closer to Dad and Scott. I’ll still have field work, but for the most part, I’ll be around.”
“Want to get dinner sometime?” Derek asks, not thinking about it twice.
Stiles’s eyes widen in surprise, but the smile stays on as he nods.
“I’d love to. But to clarify, do you mean dinner to catch up?”
Derek pauses and thinks, then looks Stiles in the eyes.
“If that’s all that you want, yes. But if you’d be interested in a date, that’s okay too,” he tells him, and then he holds his breath for a beat.
“Oh fuck yes, date totally works for me,” Stiles says and he chuckles when Derek lets out a relieved breath. “Tonight work for you?”
Derek laughs and nods.
“Tonight is perfect. Now, do I need to track you down again, or can I have your number? None of your cards had it.”
Stiles grins.
“Now now, what kind of agent would I be if I let myself be tracked via postcards?”
Derek raises an eyebrow at him, hoping Stiles will realise that it’s a hint at how Derek did track him to the bridge.
“We don’t have protocol against your kind of tracking, humans don’t have super sniffers,” Stiles says. “Maybe we should stick to that.”
Derek knows he looks unimpressed when Stiles laughs out loud.
“Fine fine, do you even have a phone?” Stiles asks, and Derek rolls his eyes as he pulls it out of his pocket.
Stiles rattles off his phone number, and then he stands up.
“Okay, I have to head back in. See you later?”
Derek nods, and then he watches as Stiles walks away. It doesn’t feel like a goodbye this time, it feels like a new beginning. He had no plans to stick around California for too long, but with a date to look forward to, Derek knows that he has a reason to stay.
Warnings: angst, fluff, romantic, married!life, husband!Dean, daddy!Dean, memory lost
Summary: A witch took away the reader’s memory. Will Dean make her remember that she’s his wife or not?
Notes: This is the story I wrote for the Fandom Writing Challenge, my prompt was glow. This contest is such a great idea! Hope you like it, feedback is always appreciated :) Shoutout to crossieaus on IG, whose picture inspired me, thank you. P.s.: there’s a link for a song, I suggest you to listen to it, while reading the passage.
Dean woke up with a bad headache. He wasn’t even able to recognise his own room. There were pink sheets on the bed, a pair of shoes with high heels behind the door, some photographs on the table with a computer and a woman’s bag. Well, definitely it wasn’t his room. He also noticed that he was almost naked, except for the pair of boxers he was wearing. Damn, he got probably laid with a girl and now he was in her house. It wouldn’t have been the worst thing ever some years ago, but now it was.
So, he got dressed and then he went downstairs. There were plastic plates and glasses everywhere. He understood immediately that there was a party there, last night.
<< Where the hell am I? >> he asked himself, with hoarse voice.
<< Hey, stranger. >> a girl answered, appearing from the kitchen with a broom in her hands. Dean’s heart stopped, when he recognised her and a sense of loss hit him in his chest. << You’re in my house and we kind of have a moment, last night. If you know what I mean. >> she said, blinking.
Dean raised an eyebrow.
<< Since when you’re so coquettish? >>
<< Excuse me? >> she asked, a bit angry.
<< Nevermind. Where’s my brother? Did you see him? He’s very tall, good-looking, long hair… >>
<< I don’t know, there were a lot of people here yesterday night. >> she said. Then, she stopped to stare at him. There was something in the way he was clutching his jaw or in the faded spark in his green eyes, that reminded her of something. << I’m sorry, do we know each other? >>
Dean took a deep breath, before he could talk. Cas had warned him: he had to be very careful and very polite, if he wanted to tell her the truth. He only had one shot. He managed to control his voice, or it would have cracked down.
<< Yeah, Y/N, we do. >> he replied. She locked her eyes into his ones, so glossy, tired and a bit circled in red. Dean gulped, concerned. There was something about him that was slipping away from the tip of her tongue, like a memory that didn’t want to come up in her mind and it literally gave her the urge to scream. She had met him somewhere. << A witch took away your memories from you a couple of months ago, when we were on a hunt. I’ve been searching for you since then, because that dumb witch sent you away from me. >> he explained. He took a step forward, his hands were trembling. << I’m your husband. We even have a kid together, Bobby. He’s two years old and he’s with Jody, our friend, now. She’s taking care of him, don’t worry. >> he said. She seemed shocked, scared and astonished. He thought she could faint right now. << Look, I know that this is hard to believe, but it’s the truth. >> he continued. Her gaze was lost beyond the wall behind Dean. She didn’t move a muscle. It was like she felt paralyzed. Dean understood her, he really knew how hard was managing to take all the pieces together, but he had to bring her home, so she had to believe him. << Please, say something. >>
She took a deep breath, feeling like her heart could break all at once and there was nothing she could do to help herself. That was not possible. That’s what her mind was shouting, inside. The walls she had in her head were about to fall, but she couldn’t allow it. So, she bit her bottom lip, looking at him. She wanted to go away, to run from him, but there was this melancholy in his irises, that kept her standing still.
<< I think you’ve made a mistake. >> she whispered. She knew that it was stupid to say, because how could he be wrong about his wife? Anyway, she had said it and she had to follow it. She had to do what was the best for herself.
He shrugged his shoulders, sensing this huge burden on his chest, this feeling of losing. The only feeling you can taste in your mouth, beside the blood, when you’re about to die. Not for real, no. But he hoped, for a second, that the ground could swallow him alive.
<< No, listen… >>
<< Please, get out. >> she said, holding the broom tight, like it could take her on her feet. Dean remembered how she used to cling to him in the same way. It hurt somewhere between his stomach and his throat. << Please. >>
<< You’re gonna remember. >> he said, in a low and controlled voice. << You’re gonna remember me. I will remind you. I’m not giving up on you, ever. >> he promised, pointing a finger at her.
Then, he did what she told him and went out from the house. She looked at him walking, outside the window, before that she slipped against the wall, touched the floor and began to cry.
<< Are you sure that she lives here, now? >> Sam asked, closing the car’s door.
<< Hey, treat her well! >> Dean replied, after the car made a high sound. Sam rolled his eyes. << Anyway, yeah, I do. >>
The neighborhood seemed so quiet, except for the rumors that came from the house she was supposed to live. Dean opened the door and the loud music hit them in their bones. There was a party, that night. The rooms were full of people, talking, drinking, joking, kissing, girls walking in a bikini (turned out that Y/N had a swimming pool).
They decided to split up, in order to find her quickly. Dean went to the living room, where some guys were probably stoned, a couple was kissing and one was smoking. He raised an eyebrow. It was like the Y/N he knew was gone and been replaced by someone who liked parties and drinks, but she was the opposite, in reality. She was the kind of girl who liked to stay home with him cuddling on the couch, she barely drank a glass of wine at dinner. It seemed like the spell made her party animal’s behaviour to get out. Had she got it, in the first place? Dean was confused. And there, she was. Y/N was dancing, bare feet, on the table in front of the couch, a very short dress and without her usual glasses. She looked so beautiful and so free. He smiled, bitterly. That’s when he realized: she didn’t have that life, because she couldn’t. She always had to look after him or Sam or Bobby. She had responsabilities she couldn’t run from. She was doing it now. She was running away from them and from him.
He decided that it was enough, when a guy helped her to go down. He was looking at her like she was a piece of meat, but hell, she was still his wife, after all.
<< Hey, excuse me, excuse me, but I think that it is my turn. >> he said, moving in front of her.
She noticed his firm chest, his shoulders and his collarbones as first things that made her weak in the knees. Probably it was the fault of the four (or five?) beers she had drunk. Well, whatever, that guy was smokin’ hot.
<< Hey, handsome. Did we meet somewhere? >>
<< That’s a very lame pick up line, sweetheart. >> he replied, with an ambiguous smile.
She bit her bottom lip. That man was a challenge she was ready to accept.
<< Where have you been all my life, stranger? >>
He gulped, looking strangely hurt, but then he caressed her cheek and her heart skipped a beat.
<< Looking for you. >>
He went back to the bunker. He had to find something, anything, that could help her to remember. He called Sam, while he went to their bedroom to search for some stuff he could bring to her.
<< Dean, hey. >> Sam said, appearing behind him.
<< Sammy. Where were you? >> Dean asked, chechink the room out.
<< I got back here yesterday night. I thought you had everything under control. >> he coughed, blushing a little. Dean smirked.
<< Well, it was. This morning she basically kicked me out from the house. She doesn’t even recall that she had a family. >>
Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.
<< I’m sorry, brother. >>
He sighed, feeling so beaten even into his bones. He just hoped that she could hold the pieces together for a little longer.
<< You know that I hate chick - flick moments, right? Let’s get to work. We have to find something useful. >>
Sam tried to think, but it was difficult: they could have called Rowena, but he had read that forcing a person to remember their whole life all at once was dangerous. Dean’s plan was better. Still, what was enough powerful to bring back all of her memories?
<< Pictures. >>
<< What? >> Dean asked, searching in the drawers. << Could this be okay? >> he replied, showing Sam Y/N’s red underwear. Sam raised an eyebrow. << She wore it the night Bobby was… Nevermind. >>
Sam shaked his head.
<< Photographs, Dean. They could give her an input. >>
<< Yeah, good idea, Sammy. I’m gonna take a couple of them. >> Dean stated.
Dean moved to the desk in his old room and took a pair of framed photos: one of them at their first anniversary of marriage, in which they had a glass of Champagne in their hands, on the Miami beach; in the other one, he was holding Bobby for the first time ever, outside the hospital (she took the picture). But his gaze was caught by a piece of a thing that was getting out from the closet. He took it too, then he drove his car to her house again.
She blinked, taking his hand to bring him outside. Sam was nearby and he noticed them. She took off her dress and smiled at him, while the other guys were already in the pool.
<< Come on, mystery guy. Come and get me. >> she said, then she dived in the cold water. << Come on! >>
Dean smiled at Sam, then he undressed and dived in underwear like her. The water was really cold, he was scared to have a heart attack in the middle of the mission. But the temperature got hot instantly, when she approached him and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek. He closed his eyes. Hell, he had missed her so much, it felt unreal.
<< I don’t remember your name, mystery guy. >> she said. He quickly opened his eyes.
<< Dean. My name’s Dean. >>
She whacked her forehead for a second, but just for one.
<< I’m Y/N. We’re gonna have a lot of fun, tonight. >>
Dean made a thumb slip on her collarbone, looking at her lips.
<< I hope so. >> he said. Then he crushed his lips into hers and felt lost in the moment.
She felt every inch of her body burning up, when she heard a car stopping by. Her skin recognized him, even if he was still outside. She put her head between her hands, closing her eyes: it was like someone was playing with her mind. It was not funny at all. Here eyes were so tired of crying. She was tired of laying on the floor, waiting for a sign. A sign that could show her that maybe it was a damn dream and she was about to wake up.
<< Y/N! >> he called. What was his name? Dean. A little voice in her head echoed within the walls. That was his name. Sweet and familiar for some reason. << Please, babe, open up. >>
She hardly got up from the floor to open the door. He tried to talk, but her eyes were so red and so swollen, that he had to stop.
<< Y/N, you cried. Go wash your eyes with some water, we’re gonna wait for you here. >> Sam said, gently.
<< I’m sorry. >> she said, biting her bottom lip.
Dean’s heart contracted. He thought that it could be a stroke. Damn, looking at her like that because of a dumb witch, made him want to punch someone straight in the face. He had lost two months of his life without her, two months that could never come back and now, he also had to see her suffering. It was unfair. She hadn’t to pay so much.
<< For what? >> Sam demanded.
<< For not remembering. I can’t feel anything, when I look at you. >> she answered, referring to Dean. He clutched his jaw. << I don’t even remember giving birth to my own child! I don’t know who you are! And perhaps, you’re just messing with me! >> she shouted, frustrated.
Dean left all the stuff he had in a bag on the mat, then he took her hands into his ones and locked his eyes with hers.
<< Hey, look at me. Look at me. >> he said, softly. She barely could focus on him, but she did. << We’re not telling you lies. You are Y/N, you are a Winchester and you are my wife. This is Sam, my brother and your best friend. You used to talk about books and to joke on me, because I’m scared of flying. We also have an angel as friend, Castiel. He’s always so caring with you, because once you slapped him right in the face after he gave himself up to Lucifer and he learned not to make you angry. But this is another story. >> he explained, while her eyes were growing wide. << Listen, you’ll try to remember what it feels like to be you. You’ll try and if it fails… >> he was saying, but he had to stop for a second. He gulped. Saying that words, costed him a lot. << If it fails, you’ll never see us again. >>
Sam opened his mouth to object, but Dean shaked his head. That was the deal. He had decided.
She nodded.
<< Okay. >>
So, she accorded their visiting. She went to wash her face in the bathroom, then she went back to the living room and listened to Dean. He was nervous, she could tell. Somehow, he was like an open book to her. Maybe there was something in the past between them, for real and that’s why she felt so attracted to him the other night.
<< Well, let’s begin with something simple, alright? This is a picture of us during our first anniversary. >> he told, showing her the picture.
She stared at it. It was authentic, not photoshopped, because it was made in a very good way. She touched it, making her fingers slip on thei silhouettes. They seemed so… happy. It was hard to believe that they were hunters, that they fought everyday for our lives. That was what Dean told her, anyway.
<< Does it remind you of something, Y/N? >> Sam asked.
She shaked her head.
<< I’m sorry. >>
Dean gulped, looking anywhere but her.
<< It’s okay. It’s not easy. >> Sam replied, then he gave her the other photo to her. << Try with this. >>
She looked at it. The little boy was supposed to be his son, probably. Her fingertips caressed his cheek and for a moment, it felt like she was sensing his skin, soft and warm. He smelled like babies, a weird smell, but that she would have recognized everywhere, because he was her son. They were connected and they would have been linked for a lifetime.
Like Dean and herself.
Then why she couldn’t remember?
<< Do you feel anything? >> Sam’s voice reached her, but she was lost in her thoughts.
Yeah, she felt something.
She felt like she was separated from her own skin, divided by a dam from the past Y/N and the present Y/N.
She felt like she should remember her little boy, the day he was born at least, because he was her own blood, her own love.
She felt like Dean meant the world to her, once. He was her support, her partner, in crimes and in hunts, her best friend for life.
She felt a hole in her heart. That’s what she felt. A big, bad hole that threatened to swallow her alive, if only she could let it. But she couldn’t and she couldn’t tell them either.
So, she lied.
<< I feel nothing. >> she said and a tear went down on her left cheek.
Dean closed his eyes, blocking a sob that wanted to go up in his throat.
<< Y/N… >>
<< I respected my pact of the deal, Sam. Now, you’re gonna respect yours. >> she replied, getting up from the couch, determined.
<< We’re not giving up on you. >> Dean replied, fiercely.
<< You promised. >>
<< I promised to bring you back home! >> he shouted.
<< Get out! >> she exclaimed. << Get the hell out from my house or I swear, I’m gonna kick your ass out myself. >>
He stepped closer to her.
<< Try it. >>
Sam intruded in the discussion, before they could do anything. He took Dean for a shoulder and brought him outside. He was screaming that he couldn’t abandon her, floundering, but Sam didn’t let him go. She went behind the window to look at them.
<< You can’t tell me you don’t remember! >> he yelled, slamming the pictures on the glass. She held back the tears in her throat, without saying a word. << Who’s lying now Y/N, uh? >> he asked, with a pair of shadows unders his eyes. He almost scared her. << Who’s lying? >>
<< I’m sorry! >> she speaked.
Sam tried to take Dean, but he kept floundering.
<< Look at this. Look at his and tell me you know what this is. >> he said, taking a little thing from his pocket. She stared at it and something in her mind clicked. << Look more closely, Y/N. Look. >>
It was the 4th of July.
It happened to be Dean and Sam’s best memory of them together, but it also was the day Dean proposed to her, some years ago. He had bought some fireworks for the occasion and now she was looking at their glow. They were really beautiful and sparkling, that night, on the hill behind the bunker.
<< They’re glowing. >>
<< Nah, you are. >> he replied.
<< Oh, shush. >> she said, lying her head on his shoulder. << You do. You glow in the dark, babe. You’re the only light I can see at the end of the tunnel. >> Dean said. Then he kissed her palm. The sweetness in his eyes was the only relevant thing she could focus on, in that moment. << That’s why I would never forget about you. Even if we have our problems sometimes, I have always loved you. I really did. I still do. I forever will. >>
She smiled, biting her bottom lip.
<< I hope so, because you’re gonna be tied up to me forever. >>
<< We’re already married, babe. >> he replied.
<< But we’re gonna be parents, too. >> she said. Dean’s eyes grew wide and his smile with them. She laughed. << Looks like you’re gonna love someone more than me. >>
He caressed her cheek with a thumb, a spark in his eyes. They were literally glowing.
<< I’m gonna love both of you equally. Dean Winchester has a big heart. >>
<< Oh, I know. >> she replied, putting her arms around his neck to kiss him. << He seems to be a good guy. >>
She went out from the house immediately. Dean stood in the middle of the road, looking at her with his beautiful green eyes circled in red. All the memories, pieces and pieces, were coming back to her.
The first time she held Bobby into her arms.
The night Dean confessed his love to her.
The day that witch took away her memory.
Everything.
<< I know what it is. >>
Finally, she felt it too.
<< Babe… >>
<< I love you, Dean. >> she said, before she could burst into tears.
He ran to hug her, to hold her tight and never let her go again. They fell with their knees on the street.
<< You came back to me. >>
She let her head to rest on his chest, trying to mantain her breath normal.
Written for @fandomwritingchallenge‘s July prompts. Mine was ‘log cabin’.
[Also on AO3]
It had been a ridiculous idea to begin with, but Jace had still been able to see it for what it really was – an opportunity.
In fact, that was exactly what made it so appealing. Jace was sure that if they'd really tried, they would have avoided it somehow, but in the end of the day, neither him nor Alec had protested too much at the prospect of being sent out in the middle of nowhere on something that resembled a wild goose chase to truly be anything else.
Still, it had to be done and having Alec do it had seemed like the best option in Maryse's eyes. While Jace was sure that she had no plans of giving up her position as Head of the Institute any time soon, everyone knew that this was what Alec was being prepared for and Jace hadn't really been surprised that she'd seen this as a teaching opportunity. He’d had the sneaking suspicion that things would go this way the moment he'd heard that the newest mission involved some kind of a war for territory between two vampire clans just outside of the city and while Alec hadn't said anything on the matter, he knew that his parabatai had thought the same.
When Alec had agreed to the assigned mission, Jace had immediately requested to join him. It was a given that he couldn't go alone - not just because it was too dangerous but because he would need at least a little support in the face of only the Angel knew how many vampires - and who would be a better choice than his parabatai? His request had been granted without a second's thought and Jace had been almost smug when he'd packed his bags for their trip. Managing to slip under the Clave's radar - and, more importantly, under their constant surveillance - was quite a feat and he while he'd mentioned none of it to Alec, Jace knew that they could use the opportunity to have some time for themselves. They were both tired of sneaking around and constantly looking over their shoulders and finally, finally, they would be granted a moment of peace.
Jace's enthusiasm didn't wane during their final preparations - if anything, it had only been getting stronger ever since they'd actually left the city - and yet, as soon as he spotted the accommodations that the Institute had arranged for them, he could feel himself starting to doubt the success of the trip he'd envisioned.
"We have to blend in," Alec announced as he dug into his bottomless pockets for (Jace assumed) the key to the building in front of them. "If they can fix this conflict on their own, there might be no need for intervention, but in case there is, the more we can surprise them, the better. That way, if anyone's breaking the Law, we'd know." Alec threw him a look over his shoulder. "Vampires always get cautious with Shadowhunters around."
"They do," Jace replied faintly, eyes still locked on the log cabin - log cabin - they'd been provided with. "So you want us to pretend that we're tourists?"
"It'll take just a bit of glamour," Alec shrugged. "And it's better to be as close to the nearest vampire den as possible. The first hotel is almost ten miles from here."
"Are there any cameras?"
The door opened with a deafening creak once Alec pushed it hard enough and he stifled a cough as he stepped in. "No." His parabatai's voice sounded almost distant until he opened the nearest window. "It's not property of the Clave, if that's what you're asking. We just rented it for the occasion."
It was a reasonable decision and, as much as Jace hated to admit it, it was probably the best option they had. Even if they were far enough from the city for the Institute to not be able to reach the local CCTV, there was always the risk that someone would be able to do it if they put their mind to it. Here, they were quite literally in the middle of nowhere and if that was what it took to have a moment of peace with no one but Alec around, then Jace was going to make the most of it.
He decisively followed Alec in, picking up his own luggage and surveying their surroundings fully for the first time.
The heat they'd had to endure back in New York was mercifully absent in the forest they'd been sent to; the sparse trees drowning the cabin in shadows. It was a good place as any to start a dispute over if you were a vampire, Jace supposed; some of the children of the night preferred their peace and tended to look for it in places like this one rather than the big city. And he couldn't really blame them - the place was beautiful enough to compensate for its remoteness.
It couldn't compensate for what was waiting for him once he stepped over the threshold.
"Maryse really outdid herself this time," he said, dropping his bag on the floor. He regretted it almost immediately - while the furniture had clearly been meddled with in the past few days in preparation for their arrival, every other flat surface was covered in a fine layer of dust and the floor was no exception. "We could have just slept outside, you know."
"And left our weapons laying around? What if someone comes by and we don't wake up? Or the vampires find us while we're asleep?"
On second thought, maybe Maryse had nothing to do with this. Alec was perfectly capable of thinking of the worst possible scenarios for every situation all on his own. "Fine. Let's get settled, then."
They were standing in something resembling a living room and Jace headed for the nearest door to take a look at the bedroom. It was better than he'd expected even if it looked just as abandoned as the rest of the place and he motioned Alec to come over and see it too.
"A double bed," he noted and found it in himself to smile. "You really think of everything, huh?"
"I don't know what you mean." If he had been anyone else - anyone who didn't know Alec as well as he did - Jace was sure that he would have missed the change in Alec's voice; the clear boredom of the past several hours vanishing in favour of something that almost resembled mischief. "This place was the only option we had. And I was just about to offer that one of us should take the couch."
"Liar." It was an easy accusation to make when they were out here, so far away from anything and anyone they knew; far away enough to remind Jace that for the first time in a while, they truly were alone.
"It's true," Alec protested, still too busy surveying the room to pay attention to Jace's realisation. "It was the best place I could think of, and if you've got any other-"
Before he could even finish his offer, Jace kissed him.
It only occurred to him now how much he'd missed this. He spent a lot of his daily life by Alec's side and it wasn't like they could never afford anything more than a hug, but it was never anything like this. Unless they'd made the effort to excuse themselves from the Institute for one reason or another, they never dared to exchange anything more than a quick peck in public and even that - even their most personal moments - was loaded with the constant, underlying knowledge of the crime they were committing.
It made their kiss all the sweeter now and Jace relished in it while he could still have it. Alec, who had caught up quickly enough, pulled him closer into his embrace, hands settling in the small of Jace's back as if to keep him from drawing away. The happiness between them, mixed with desperation as it was, was almost enough to make Jace want to reassure him that there was no danger of separation, not right now, not right here, but he couldn't muster the strength to do it; not when he could let his body do the convincing instead.
Alec seemed more than happy to let him and Jace laughed into his kiss as his parabatai's arms tightened around him just a fraction before he was pushed onto the bed behind them.
o.O.o
"We won't be able to get anything done today." Alec noted later the same day as he kept wandering around the limited space of the cabin for any possible flaw in their security that they hadn't noticed. He'd been at it for a while and at some point, Jace had stopped participating - they'd checked everything and they knew enough to be sure that the place was hopeless against anything even remotely supernatural. "It's started raining."
Of course it had, Jace thought as he sorted through the food they'd brought with themselves. Rain was the last thing they needed if they wanted to get the job done quickly as it hindered any attempt they could make to be inconspicuous. No tourists in their right mind would come out for a walk during a thunderstorm and chances were the vampires wouldn't like it too much either. A storm like this was just a step away from a forest fire and the creatures of the night had far too many reasons to try and avoid that. The fact that there at least wouldn't be any trouble was a small comfort, but Jace welcomed it anyway.
"We can get started tomorrow morning," he said and approached Alec where he stood in the corner of the room examining the almost unnoticeable spot where the rain had dripped through the wood. "Alec, calm down. No one even knows we're here, least of all the local Downworld."
"We were supposed to get this done as quickly as possible." Even as he spoke, Alec let himself be led away from his corner and back to the table in the middle of the room. "I thought you wanted to get away from here."
"You did?" Jace's feigned surprise didn't last long under his parabatai's unimpressed stare and Jace laughed as he settled down on the sofa. The deafening crack of yet another thunder made them both flinch, their bodies always on alert for potential dangers even when they'd done their best to relax. Still, any possible danger was as far away as it could be and Jace leant over the table for a kiss; a wordless celebration of that fact. “The thought hasn’t even crossed my mind.”
A/N: A very me-infused fic. I tend to be okay socially, but I can get down about myself around others. I hope this provides some comfort and support to anyone who’s felt the same (always know that my ask/message is open). This definitely isn’t to say you need someone to come into your life to fix those things, but we all need a little support from time to time. Of course, FEEDBACK IS SOOOO APPRECIATED! EVEN A LIKE MEANS A LOT!
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“It was as if hope had appeared out of nowhere to settle beside her and it wasn't going anywhere, it wasn't going to desert her now.”
― Alice Hoffman
You watched the fire flicker to the sky mindlessly. Your face was close to the campfire, almost too close, as you rested your elbows on your knees, holding your head. You just felt so…heavy. You looked around at the smiling faces; everyone was so comfortable. How did they do it? Just communicate so seamlessly; whether it was your own insecurity or their misunderstanding, something always seemed to stand in the way of you enjoying yourself at social gatherings.
Marshmallows were brought out, it was time for smores. People were happy and laughing, all around you talking about their life and opening up to one another without hesitation. It was so much to swallow; you wanted to be a part of them, yet despised the idea of being like them. With a sigh, you grabbed a stick and a marshmallow, setting it just above the flames to brown. A friend of yours sat next to you, marshmallow and stick in hand.
“Hey, Y/n, how’re you?” they asked, entirely friendly.
“I’m doing good, yourself?”
“Good! Excited about smores.”
“Yeah, me too,” you nodded. And so it went; conversations about nothing, continuing into no friendship or deeper connection. It was exhausting, and not even for introverted reasons alone. You just wondered if you’d ever find that person who you could have real conversations with.
You ate your marshmallow, looking around at the other partygoers. They all were engaged with each other, not one person but you sitting silent. It felt wrong to be there, as though you were bringing down the harmony of the night. With a sad smile, you stood up.
“I think I’m gonna head home,” you announced softly, stretching to feign nonchalance.
“Aww, why?”
“It’s so early!”
“C’mon, Y/n, stay for a bit longer!”
You faked a laugh. “I would! But I have things to do tomorrow anyway, and I really need some sleep.”
With that, and a few more boos, you made your way home. It was hard to explain how you felt; they wanted you there, but no matter what you did, you couldn’t really be there. It was strange, but you felt best when you finally made it home. It was cold, so you turned up the heat. You put on the kettle and instantly put on some pajamas. Your hair was pulled back, your makeup off. You felt the most yourself you had all night.
Finally, you lied down in bed with some hot tea, closing your eyes in an attempt to calm yourself. You sipped your tea, reveling in the silence for a moment. Just as you set your tea on the night stand, you heard that ever-familiar whooshing sound. You looked up to discover Castiel standing there in all his glory, trench coat and all. You smiled softly.
“Hey, Cas. What’re you doing here?”
It was always good to see Cas. You had originally met when you had managed to inadvertently get yourself in the middle of a hunt. It wasn’t too traumatic, just a little shoving around by a demon that they were running after, but the black eyes still haunted you. As Sam and Dean continued after the demon, Cas stayed behind for a moment to check on you, heal all your wounds, and transport you to safety. He left once you were safe to join the boys, but checked on you continually since that day. Despite his many other distractions, he almost became your personal guardian angel, and you were always happy to see him. Though, you couldn’t say it was just for the safety that came with his presence; you weren’t shocked when he first explained his true form, he definitely looked angelic.
“I came to check on you earlier tonight,” he said gently. “I noticed you left your gathering abruptly; is everything alright?”
You nodded, curling your legs closer to your body so he had room to sit. Before he sat, he placed his coat on your vanity chair, an action you rarely saw him do. It was nice; maybe he was finally getting as comfortable around you as you were around him.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. No worries.” You smiled, but you could tell Cas saw right through it. Were you fine?
“Were the people being mean, Y/n?” Cas pressed, his tone continually gentle, as if he were afraid of breaking you. Tears came to your eyes, but you remained composed.
“No, no, no…that’s kind of the problem.”
Cas tilted his head in confusion, his eyes crinkling adorably. You shrugged, sighing softly.
“It’s hard to explain. It’s really not that big a deal, Cas,” you assured.
He shook his head. “Your comfort is always important, Y/n. Especially to me.”
You blushed at the sentiment, continuing reluctantly.
“Everyone was nice, I just get so caught up in my own head,” you expressed, looking down to your hands self-consciously. “I feel like I’m not funny enough or attractive enough or…just enough, and so I shouldn’t speak or even be there. I know it’s ridiculous. Everyone is usually so nice! That’s why I’m not asking for any sympathy, I know how silly this sounds.”
Tentatively, you looked back up at Cas after a moment of silence. He looked deep in thought as he stared at you intently. Your blush deepened. You reached up to push a piece of hair from your face, but Cas beat you to it, taking it and placing it softly behind your ear, still clearly pondering something.
“What?” you finally asked, anxiety building in your stomach at his questionable response.
“I’m trying to understand,” he admitted.
“I know, Cas, it really doesn’t make any sense-“
“Not for the reason you’ve stated.” Cas shakes his head. “If you’re feeling something, it is valid, there is no need to label it. I just can’t understand your reasoning.”
“For what?” You shook your head, now you becoming the befuddled one.
“Not funny? Not attractive? I just don’t understand how you’ve come to those conclusions. We’ve spent copious periods of time together, and not one word you’ve spoken has left me disappointed,” Cas spoke, practically to himself. You just started, feeling the pit in your stomach start to fill and ease.
“I-“ you began, but were quickly cut off once more.
“And you’re beautiful. Undeniably so. I know Sam and Dean agree.” Somehow, you managed to blush more; you doubted he was supposed to share that piece of information. “I suppose in order for me to help you, you must give me your reasoning for these feelings, because I see no evidence to lead you to these thoughts.”
Your mouth was open, forming into a large grin as you shook your head.
“Cas…I don’t know what to say.” You pushed the hair from your face once more, anything to keep your hands busy. All you wanted was to reach out to him. “Thank you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Have I helped? I still feel lost.”
You laughed, finally giving up your restraint and wrapping your arms around him.
“Oh Cas,” you murmured in his ear. “I’m so glad to have you. I needed to hear what you’ve said more than you know.”
Slowly, he lifted his arms to return the hug, resting his head in your shoulder.
“I’m just glad I could be of assistance,” he assured. “Anytime you need me Y/n, no matter how small the instance, pray for me and I will come to you. I’m here for you, and I always will be.”
You dabbed the tears from your cheek as the words came from his mouth, finally leaning back from the hug. You were surprised to find his face to be tear covered as well. He smiled sadly, wiping away some of yours with the back of his hand. He breathed deeply.
“I wish I could make you understand how wonderful I find you, how wonderful everybody finds you, but I can’t. So, you’re just going to have to trust me.” The sincerity in his voice was everything you needed; this was the conversation you had been yearning for.
“Cas?” you whispered, gathering his tear soaked hand in yours.
“Yes, Y/n?”
“Will you stay with me tonight? I don’t want to be alone; not anymore.”
He smiled softly. “I’m glad to hear that, because I don’t want to be either.”
Wordlessly, you pointed to your drawers, and Cas immediately followed your directions. He grabbed out one of your cozily large tees and stepped out of your bedroom for a moment, returning in nothing but the shirt and his underwear. You flushed, but kept your gaze always on his face. You flipped back the blankets beside you, and once more Cas obeyed your instruction. As he settled into bed, you grabbed your tea, placing one of his arms around you as you nestled your back closer to his chest. You closed your eyes, listening to the calming beat of his heart.
That night, you and Cas talked. It was the most you’d talked to someone in ages, but you couldn’t seem to stop. Being with him was addictive; it was all you’d ever wanted and more. He talked to you about history, telling stories in detail of your favorite historical figures and poets. He was gentle and kind and always loving, sometimes stroking your hair, or holding your hand, or just simply pulling you close. With Cas, talking wasn’t a struggle, but an easy flow. Your smile grew larger as the night wore on, and you talked until your tea was gone and your eyes were barely able to stay open. When you finally drifted to sleep, you were at the most peace you’d been in ages, knowing he’d be right there when you woke up.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Forever Tags, Michelle’s Cas Tags, Pond’s Cas Tags:
Title: Maple Red
Pairing: Cheryl Blossom x Reader
Fandom: Riverdale
Warnings: Implied smut.
Summary: A date night with Cheryl ends a lot better than you thought it would.
A/N: This is for the Fandom Writing Challenge. My prompt was Lipstick.
This probably isn’t my best work but I needed to write something. I hope this isn’t too bad, though.
As always feedback is greatly appreciated and I hope you all enjoy!
Word Count: 694
Tag List; @sunshine51879 @dempsey-mantle @emotional-wrek-hello @day-dreaming-nightmare @nafa1604 @aezthetically @theselfishllama @angstylittleteen
~~
As soon as Cheryl pulled into your driveway you noticed your parents’ car was gone and even from here you could see a piece of paper taped onto the front door. More than likely telling you that they would be back in a few days and that they’re gone on business, again.
Cheryl knew how much it bothered you and she offered you a reassuring smile. “Do you want some company?”
Usually you would have turned her down, saying that you needed to catch up on homework or something. But this time was different. You nodded, a appreciative smile on your lips. “Sure.”
You unlocked the door with your key and walked inside, holding the door open for Cheryl. She glanced around and you were shocked when she didn’t look disgusted by how quaint your house was compared to hers.
You tossed your keys on the doorside table and watched as Cheryl looked up the stair way. “Is this where your room is?”
You nodded. “It’s not much of a room. But I sleep in there so.” You chuckled lightly, watching as she began walking up the stairs.
“Where are you going?” You called up to her when she reached the top of the stairs.
She turned to look at you and had her signature smirk on her lips, shrugging. “Exploring.” Her voice was sing-songy and before you knew it she was heading for your room.
You laughed and followed her upstairs and to your room. You leaned against the doorframe, watching her look around. “See. I told you. It’s barely even a room.”
She looked at you and smiled. “I like it.”
“You like it?” You laughed at that, “Well, I’m glad. Do you want to trade bedrooms with me then?”
She sighed, rolling her eyes at you. “Oh, princess. Of course not.”
There was that blush again. You always blushed when she called you that. It was such an innocent nickname but it had the ability to do things to you. You quickly cleared your throat and stepped into your room. “You want to watch a movie or something?”
She but her lip in contemplation before nodding. “What movies do you have?”
You motioned towards the large stack of movies by your television and she looked up at you in surprise. “I didn’t take you as the type of girl to love film.”
“I’m full of surprises.” You replied.
She pulled The Craft out and gave you a look. “You own this movie?”
“Only because it is a classic and I love it.” You shot back in defense. It was true, you had a love for movies like that. You even remembered the first time you watched that movie like it was yesterday.
“Okay. Let’s watch this then.” She decided, already turning your T.V. on and your DVD played on.
You laughed but didn’t argue, nodding as you threw yourself down on your bed. “Why not?”
About halfway into the movie Cheryl cuddled up to you closer, her head on your chest as you ran your fingers through her beautiful red hair.
This is a side of her that you had only seen. People always asked what you saw in her and you would just smile to yourself.
Because she is perfect.
Cheryl glanced up at you when your fingers stopped running through her hair and pouted.
You chuckled softly and she crawled up to you so that your lips could meet hers comfortably.
You smiled into the kiss but it quickly faded as the kiss became more heated and passionate.
She moved so that she was straddling you and her lips began to move down your neck, causing a soft gasp to escape your lips.
You woke up the next morning with a soft smile on your lips, finding Cheryl sleeping peacefully beside you. You slowly got up and walked to your bathroom, noticing all the Maple Red lipstick stains that covered the marks she had left on your skin.
Fandom: James Bond
Pairing: James Bond/Q
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,398
Prompt: 3:28 AM
Warnings: mentions of injury, some angst?
It was 3:28 AM when Bond left.
The sudden lack of a warm body next to him, an unused to but calming weight on the other side of his otherwise pitifully empty bed, woke Q up.
He drowsily rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock at his bedside. Not wearing his glasses, he had to squint to see the damned green numbers. They were mocking him and his unbelievable naïvety. The blinking colon between the 3 and the 2 was laughing in his face, making him face the cold reality.
How could he possibly think that this—he—meant something to Bond? How could he be so fucking stupid? Bond has come home from a mission, and he was in need of a thorough shag. Q was there. He was convenient. Bond very well knew he liked him—had an impossible, heart-rending crush on him for years—so he exploited that situation and took him out for a drink. He was nice, he was actually fucking nice all evening, and a drink turned into five, and a takeaway meal, and hungry, drunken kissing in a side alley, and God the best sex Q has ever had. But that was what it was: a one-night stand that had messed with Q’s feelings more than both of them would expect.
Or perhaps Bond had done it on purpose? Was his sense of humour that cruelly bittersweet? Q sighed and rolled onto his back again. The sigh turned into a snort, and the snort then turned into a sob. His hand clutched at the rumpled sheets underneath his tired, naked form.
Q loved Bond. Bond used Q. The truth was agonisingly simple.
Bond did not even bother to say a word as his gorgeous arse stood up from the bed and collected the clothes scattered on the floor. He did not say a word when the door to Q’s flat clicked closed. He did not say a word that day at work when they passed each other in the hallways of Churchill’s bunkers.
Q pierced the ground with his eyes. His heart beat fast, knowing Bond was piercing his body with those blue glaciers of his. He did not want to look him in the eye. How could he?
How could he ever get over what happened at 3:28 AM that night?
It was 3:28 AM two weeks later when the comms went silent.
Q was reminded once again of the absurd lie of the land.
“007, can you hear me?” Q asked. His voice was firm, yet on the inside, his stomach twisted in fear, and he felt panic crawling up his chest. “007, can you hear me? 007, answer! Bond!”
No response.
Bond had hurt him as it is. But he could never forgive himself if something happened to him. He was his agent, and when he was in the field, he was his responsibility notwithstanding what happened between them out of active duty.
Q could hear the rustling noise of interference that followed those several terrifying gunshots, screams, and… sword fighting? that certainly had not been supposed to occur on such a simple mission.
It was hard to balls this one up. Bond had an unearthly talent for causing damage where least wanted, that for sure. Literally and figuratively.
(He hated him for that but also sort of liked the proclivity for the dangerous that he radiated.)
He did not respond. Bond went MIA. Again. And it was his fault, Q thought. He was the Quartermaster of MI6; he should be wiser than a heartbroken teenager. He was not, and now the object of his sorrows could be as good as dead.
The time ticking away in the right-hand corner of the screen mocked him again. The hour must be cursed.
By a very odd coincidence, it was 3:28 AM again when Bond’s hand twitched lightly under Q’s. His eyelids slowly opened, one millimetre at a time.
Q came alive with a jolt. He had fallen asleep in the armchair at Bond’s bedside, listening to the steady, peaceful beeping simulating the man’s heartbeat and thinking of all the mistakes that had led to this. Now, he was embarrassed.
He pulled the hand formerly holding Bond’s away before there were any conclusions to make. He blinked sleep away, too. He glanced at his watch—and had to shake his head in disbelief. That bloody time again.
He figured out he was asleep for little over two hours. Bond has been lying there for two days, with two broken ribs, three cracked ones, a bullet dangerously close to his left lung, and body so bruised it pained Q for him.
He’s been with him for the entire time, watching over him like a guardian angel who holds on to the person he ought to protect, notwithstanding all the bad they had done and how much they had hurt the angel. Because he still was worried. Because he still had feelings for him. It was impossible not to.
“Q,” was the first thing Bond said. His eyes found Q’s, but the man was looking away. He became more interested in his hands. “Q.”
He finally looked up, and the abysmal blueness of Bond’s eyes made his heart skip a beat. “Good morning, 007. I’m delighted to see both you and the very expensive equipment made it back in one piece.”
It was hard to remain emotionless.
Bond managed to conjure up a little smile on his torn lips. “Q,” he whispered again. If he does that again, Q is going to sink. “I couldn’t have known about the alliance with Chinese mafia. There were bloody ninjas.”
“Of course there were. And what else, Daleks?”
“It’s not my fault the CCTV was broken.”
“It is, 007. I heard you throw a piece of wood and whatnot at it.” Q looked at his hands again . He did not want to talk about what they were bound to talk about at some point. But they had to sort things out, eventually. He cleared his throat. “007, we need to talk.”
It was 3:21 AM when Bond left.
He rolled out of the very same bed and pulled his blue briefs on quickly. Without a word or sound, he got up and walked to the kitchen as quietly as he, the agent, could. It still woke Q up, though. He was always a light sleeper.
For a moment, his heart fell into his stomach. For a moment, he was worried history might repeat itself, worried he didn’t learn from his mistakes and made the same wrong choice again. He thought he was too damn stupid for a genius sometimes, regarding one particular blond agent.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Then he let his arms drop on the duvet and sighed listlessly. That was what he felt like: the essence of life being sucked out with every step James made, every breath Q made.
Time stopped. Q heard noises coming from the rest of his flat: more steps, the swishing of a T-shirt being pulled on, awoken cats pawing at the floor and kitchen cupboards, water being poured into a glass, later a flush of the toilet—but no signs of Bond finishing dressing up or leaving through the front door. Now, he was even more confused.
He lay down again, facing the crumpled duvet and sheets on the empty spot, breathing nervously, expectantly. It filled up the dark bedroom.
When Bond wasn’t coming back to him, he rolled over and looked at the sinister clock. 3:25. He closed his eyes; hope, desperation, longing, self-doubt bubbled in his stomach.
In the end, Q fell asleep—or he thought he did—so when the door creaked on its hinges, he winced.
James Bond’s smile shone in the moonlight, a smile that was just for him. He was wearing his solar system T-shirt. He intended to rejoin him. He was not escaping. Q looked at his lover, the feeling of warmth having conquered his mind. Then his gaze automatically fell at the green numbers on the clock.
It was 3:28 AM.
The hour, the minute, was cursed. But when the impossible man lay in the bed next to him, with a smile and a kiss to his hair, arms round his shoulders, he thought it may be blessed in a way, too.
The records are stacked, the header is live, and it’s time to officially spin the news:
June Jukebox Scribbles is coming!
We’re so excited to welcome you all to a month of rhythm, riffs, prompts and creativity as we dance our way through June one beat at a time.
Whether you’re here to write, read, cheer people on, or spread the sound far and wide, we hope you’ll find your groove and jive right along with us.
Badge Line-Up
Drop the Needle: for our writers/participants jumping in and making the music happen
Listening Along: for our readers & commenters keeping the vibe alive
Spreading the Vibes: for our rebloggers/signal boosters helping the sound travel
Complete Collector: for those who submit for every day of June Jukebox Scribbles
Prompt List Drop
The full prompt list will be going up this weekend at:
Here’s what that looks like in a few key time zones:
AEST (Melbourne/Sydney/Brisbane) – Sat 30 May, 10:00 PM
JST/KST – Sat 30 May, 9:00 PM
BST (UK) – Sat 30 May, 1:00 PM
CEST (Central Europe) - Sat 30 May, 2:00 PM
EDT (US East Coast) - Sat 30 May, 8:00 AM
CDT (US Central) - Sat 30 May, 7:00 AM
PDT (US West Coast) - Sat 30 May, 5:00 AM
NZST (New Zealand) - Sun 31 May, 12:00 AM
Reminders
A few house notes before we cue the band in (Full Rules will come with prompt list)
Jump in as much or as little as you like: one prompt, a handful, or the full set, it’s all welcome
All interpretations are encouraged: bring your own style, your own flavour, your own funky little sound
Stepping out of you box is encouraged: This is the time to experiment and try something new if you want!
Be kind, encouraging, and supportive: let’s make this a space full of good vibes and great noise
Reblogs, comments, and cheering each other on are deeply encouraged: every jukebox sounds better when the whole room is dancing!
Help Us Spread the Sound
Now’s the time to start making some noise, cats…. spread the word, share the post, and get people following this account so they don’t miss any updates, prompt drops or event announcements!
We’re hoping to see everyone ready to hit the beat, find their vibe, and jive to their own funky rhythm with this one.
So warm up those keyboards, tune your instruments, and tell your fellow music lovers to check back in.
