#6 Hours of The Glen

[viper-motorsports]

Slithering through the back stretches of this New York track, the N°91 Dodge SRT Viper GTS-R tackles the 2014 IMSA Sahlen’s Six Hours of the Glen where the SRT Motorsports entry finished sixth in class.

[shugthedug]

Twisters is such a good time at the movies if you’re a 90s kid who has spent hours of their life googling abnormal weather events (me)

[nityarawal]

3/23/23

Dear Courts-

This is my testimony for myself & Carol Lund with her husband Keith.

I was slumlorded out of Joan Grandizio's home at the "Freedom Farm," at 

59605 Grandon Road in Turweleger community of Anza, CA in January.

I started working with Joan on a referral from our handyman Ryan Wickoff. 

He said she fired him for no good reason. He was going to move in. 

So we hired Eddy Lyons - another kind handyman to investigate the trailer I was buying to tow to her farm in Sep. 

Eddy also still needs to be paid for that service! We both did this in good faith and spent a day in Pine Cove with the owner Oceana Cotton.

Eddy also witnessed this kind of abuse at Barbara Bradford's farm after her maintenance guy raped me! She stole most if my furniture and storage!

I was living at Kosh's airbnb in Pinyon at 69907 Averill Drive, Mountain Center, CA 92561 at the time. 

We found out Kosh's well water was polluted (and spreading giardia!)

I passed a parasite worm there for 1st time in life after 1000's of cleanses because of dozens of foul rentals & dirty hospitals/court violence!

Then I moved next door to Mary Schmitz's animal rescue Farm at:

62950 Pinyon Dr

Mountain Center CA 92561 

Moonrise Ranch ✨🐎🏕😊

To a dirty teepee she said was cleaned and 2 geckos crawled under stomach 1st night!

I cleaned her farm for months 24/7 (and it appeared deeply neglected for months.)

I told Mary we needed someone to tow trailer in October and she said her ex boyfriend Sean was going to steal it for himself! ): 

I asked her to advise him not to since she's a realtor and this was my verbal disclosure of my plan to buy it- because she said we could move it to her farm- and I only needed someone to tow it. 

I said it was mean and she drunkenly laughed it off. 

All her instruments were stolen too! (I have pictures of them so we can return them to rightful owners!)

She must be looting all her clients because she stole 3 guitars and all my roomful of assets since I took this job with Joan in January and won't let me go home! 

They also blocked me from water and home many times while I was at Elliots- locking me out late at night and in bad weather!

Oceana Cotton had promised to sell trailer to me or give it to Stevie and Joleen. 

Stevie now has cancer of dick & needs his home returned! (It was indeed stolen!)

Joan liked my handyman Eddy Lyons but fired him too for being friends with her "hated" tenants Carol & Keith and not obeying her "silencing" orders.

Finally, in January things were unbearable tending to Mary's 6 sick dogs while she battled alcoholism- she'd moved me to one of her 5 boyfriend's fathers home: Dan Elliot senior at:

61283 Chalet DR.

MOUNTAIN CENTER, CA

92561.

She promised he was sober- yet I had to ask him and friends not to do crystal meth in house because I'm really allergic and its illegal- cleaned needles up from whole property! I told him this condemned his house as a realtor, I'm allergic to Nazi drugs and don't want to ever see or smell it in a house! 

He was living in his Inherited Probate getting slumlorded by siblings in court stressed out of his head ill. Feds were terrorizing him too and Kosh on late payments with drone trespassing.

So I cooked, cleaned, provided food- gave him all my money and was his slave for months after being enslaved to Mary at her farm- and now Joan doxed my location to cops on brobes for months at her home & camping in snow.

I stayed one week at Dennis Sketchleys- a handyman that gave me a tick in my bed- when he slumlorded me from 54399 valleyview and tollgate/country club homes and beat me. I promised never to go on his property again but was desperate in snow! 

Then Dennis kicked me out after Mary's client Jessie was murdered at her airbnb tree house listing with Mike in Pine Cove. 

(I really need assets from Divorce Dissolution so I don't have to rent from ex-cons and field their abuse!)

Joan hired me to move to her Landers rescue with Glen; he's her 400 pound laborer that is ill from inhumane conditions- he can no longer walk- and rides machines around property hobbling to tend to animals.

There was no hot water or kitchen.

Joan offered me her "clean" Dome house. I got there after dark and took her word that it'd been cleaned for me. 

The bed was filthy and floors covered in dirt I saw in morning. 

Joan wanted me to take over Glen's job at her Lander's farm.

She said Glen was making: $400/mo at

$15/hour and she covered Phone payments, 2 days off, 25 hours a week for Morning feedings with Blankets on horses,

Checking on all cat & pippy Litters.

Puppies- are in-door & out-door with Double gates. Glen used Tractor to take

Manure to dumpster with Wheelbarrow.

She was marketing Earthen domes on camp websites. She said there was no

Kitchen which doesn't seem legal. 

I could see Glen wouldn't live long when I got there with such I'll health abd depression in substandard room even though he's my age! 

I worked for several days alongside them all training with him and encouraged Joan to keep him too. 

(He doesn't have anywhere to go and depends on his job and is very subservient and hard working despite Joan's demands. He nods as told to colleagues/tenants like obedient slave despite physical handicaps from her grossly neglected abd functionally obsolete animal shelters!)

Glen promised to put in hot water and a shower in a bathroom within a week since there was nowhere to clean up properly and it was very cold and windy. I was freaking out with no shower after 2 days of cleaning pig & horse / puppy/cat shit.

Joan asked me to come back to her Anz farm to work on contracts. 

She said I'd be doing the work exchange like Glen taking over his job. 

Joan gave me very detailed directions to her property. 

She said:

"10:30 a.m.

Come down mtn to Rancho Mirage

74 straight

10 west

Hwy 62

29 palms

Windmills

Yucca valley (call Joanne) 

Old women springs rd -Hwy 247- left (north)

20 miles to

Reche Rd. 

Curves to right - turn right

Pass

Landers post office - GPS

5-10 min away 

Left see Moose Lodge

Next White Building

Says Billfs Hall

Left on Gibraltar (if get to end of Gibralter - Gone too far- see back of property.)

1 block f/ end

About mile

Knox- ni-man - (right)

(Applegate way should say)

Pass abandoned house

Next property 

Will see 1 8th 1

(JOANS)

TELEPHONE POLE

58562

METAL EAGLE DANCER

CHURCH- JESUS SAVES

STORAGE"

So I think it's supposed to be:

58562 Applegate Way? 

Or Knox-ni-man? 

(Note: She failed to mention if it was Gibralter Ave or Dr. And they're side by side. How many have they tricked & trashed cars on tow? 

Please present my full letter!)

But the 2nd day I was there I came home one night from getting groceries and Must've passed Gibralter and took a second Gibralter on Left! 

Joan failed to mention there were two Gintralter roads parallel next to each other in my notes as you can see. 

So I end up at the end of this road with a deserted house in the sand. 

I looped around to see where I went wrong on directions and came back to dead end with abandoned house confused. 

I tried to circle out and got stuck in a sand driveway.

 I called Glen to get me and he said put car in reverse or neutral and slammed my car right into the back side of his truck! 

He promised his friend would fix it next day but failed to follow up. I've written them both many times!

I sent Joan the bill for over $3000 and she's shirking her responsibility to all employees that have worked for her.

She invited me back to Freedom Farm in Anza to shower and use her kitchen. 

She said everything was hers in refrigerator and insisted I help myself. 

She wanted to do the contract with me so I paid $40 to download a work exchange rental but she wouldnt sit down and focus on it for several days. She has added from parasites!

Her agenda was to wrongfully evict her tenants!

I told Joan I don't go to court or talk to police due to PTSD. 

She wanted me to go to the Courthouse with her to smear the tenants and I said I can't go to court. 

I asked her to drop me at a park or mall while I wait for her. 

She refused to drop me off and finally I had to get out at curb of Murietta Courthouse and wait for hours in the landfill across street. 

She had no sympathy for PTSD I have from domestic in-house terrorism of courts! 

Then she grilled me about my divorce and lack of settlements all day.

Since then I found out psychiatrist courts kidnapped me to Dr. Singh Was advertising my head for a Probate murder at Moreno Valley Hospital for Riverside Health. 

We feel Joan took bribes on all employee heads for court and is contentious.

Joan failed to sit and focus on contract all weekend because she was obsessed with wrongfully Evicting her tenants! 

I told her I can't Get involved- as my custody battle is priority of my life- and I don't have energy to deal with inhumane actions to people. 

For an animal rescue- we could all see she was being careless and cruel to all of us employees.

Joan told me her lawyer got ill visiting her and had to have his leg amputated when he was recently there and put me on a couch on the enclosed porch waiting room. She said Glen had slept there before me and didn't want me to open it into a bed. 

We feel Joan was intentionally spreading germ warfare. 

All the employees were traumatized by her lawyers diseased fate serving her and she never cleaned out his room. 

When I went into it I vomited and disease is rampant in her homes.

Joan instructed me to never speak to tenants Carol & Keith. 

She said she'd trained Glen just to nod at them. This is not my way but I was trying to be a loyal servant so followed orders. Carol & Keith were confused by my silence and scared having a stranger on property they weren't introduced to, so it put me in a uncomfortable, and compromised position.

One night I was in kitchen making tea and Joan called on speaker phone. 

Carol & Keith heard and were also in kitchen. 

Joan kept calling Carol "fatty" loudly on my phone and screaming other nasty names goading her on my speaker phone from Landers, meanwhile putting me in harms way with her upset and bullied tenants in THEIR kitchen! 

I also ate some potato salad and salami- because Joan said everything was hers- when in fact it was the tenants! That caused alot if drama! I paid Carol back $5 and decided to testify for her rather than Joan!

On Saturday- which was supposed to be my day off- Joan called and texted over a dozen times from morning to night about her tenant dispute harassing us. 

I told her I needed some rest from her drama. 

She wanted to call cops on tenants. 

I said if she needs to do that let me know- so I could leave.

 I have an extremely clean and prudent history despite many court contentious people like Joan trying to take bribes on head in ponzi scam against moms and lying in smear campaigns.

Joan knew I was just diagnosed with PTSD from officer rapes and foul play in September and I couldn't talk to them. 

She lied and said tenant called cops! 

Officer King came and tried to interrogate me and drag me in. 

I said I was just a guest- sat in my car- and refused his interrogation. 

Joan called and he wanted my phone to talk to her. 

I said "no" so he was pissed he had to use own phone and was rude to me rest of night. 

It was upsetting that Joan dragged me in anyways- and kept saying my name "Nitya" - which is very unusual and private. I texted her to never dox my location to a cop or my name again! 

I asked officer King for his card before he left and he was rude not to give it to me. 

I have sent videos of all the sarcastic, rude and nasty things he said to me to both Carol & Joan. 

It was extremely racist.

I told Joan I would leave if cops Terrorized us again and she led me to believe tenants had called- when it was her! She left a voice-mail confessing and then after lying about it.

Monday she wanted me to go to court with her again; I said "no" so she wanted me back in Landers and arranged for another laborer to come up. 

Monday morning I broke her rules -she said -by asking Carol for cops business card before I left. 

I also found out my x's atty died in a scuba diving accident last summer. 

It seemed preminiscious since I'd written a song about her called Barracuda Mamma. Sharkbait song unfolded that weekend and I was pleased with sequel I'd written and good news for my children's freedom from one atty in their pedophile sting.

I sent my new song to Joan and Carol as I was getting ready to drive to her Landers farm hours away.

Joan texted me to leave. 

It was very cold considering I'd worked 24/7 in slumming conditions for a week! She asked about my records and was looking to see if she could get me in trouble for court. 

I confessed dmv.org consulted with my ex husband and was withholding my registration even though IRS stole thousands of dollars of tax returns from 2016 divorce and also hired gay officer Enoch and Daniel Crabtree to steal my Lexus rental car on rape bribes from attys. I'd been caged by Dr. Singh 18 months of covid in shit filled rooms slumlorded out of over a dozen homes, all my assets stolen, and dmv refused to honor years where I couldn't even use Lexus Lemon while it was being serviced! Santa Monica Lexus dealership tried to steal my car while I was raped at hospitals and dmv.org refused to register it. I paid several hundred and they said that would suffice! 

They got several thousand from IRS yet they still fail to send registration sticker! Joan knew I was working for her to clean up that one thing from previous courts abuse!

I left within an hour when she said "bye," only to be greeted by officers Schmitt coming out of bushes hiding at gate. 

He cordially told me to have a good day.

 A block later Sheriff Curtis was coming down her dirt road and pulled me over. 

He said he was arresting me on registration and Cuffed and beat me into back of his car.

Carol said she was talking to officer Schmitt and he realized I lived and worked for Joan so came out and had Curtis release me. 

Curtis threatened to steal my car if he ever sees me again. 

Sargeant Protero raided my home and stole my phone & dog Blu I share with our handyman Eddy Lyons- in covid of 2020. 

Mountain Liquor say our Nazi Sheriff Brags about violence they've inflicted on me and say they wished they'd stolen my Lexus as well as my rental car when they had me raped with broken ribs in covid for 18 months of shit filled hospitals.

Mary Schmitz stole all my belongings from her boyfriend's dad's house where I was renting. 

We all feel both her and Joan doxed my location to have me murdered.

Joan wrote to say she was surprised I didn't go to jail! 

She asked me to wait all day while she sorted everything out. 

I sat in rain for 8+ hours- then she called to say she didn't want me back and laid her silencing trip on me.

I've been homeless since camping in snow. 

Mary Schmitz refuses to return assets and Joan just sends "cease & desist" messages to any reasonable communication.

We feel these animal rescues are a farce and they're actually abusing humans and animals.

I've seen 7 Dr's since with over 20 variants of parasites and bugs. 

Carol says Joan had covid and was taking parasite medication- but she failed to disclose Germ warfare! 

I need reimbursement on car damages, gas, health repercussions and a home for that week of hard work we all did. 

I need $50k in damages to cover unemployment for next year and would like to have my home back with tenants. 

We will bug bomb and disinfect it. Otherwise both her properties should be closed down and are condemned. 

We feel Joan has abused over 6 employees just since September spreading parasitic disease, gaslighting & abusive tactics; and she's not in her right mind to practice business. 

She never had a reasonable reason to fire all of us and it appears she's working for courts full time as a nazi soldier weaponizing motherhood. 

We feel 50k is a fair sum if she settles today so that we can heal at home in peace for remainder of year with kids & new puppies. 

Thankyou!

Blessings,

Nitya Rawal

Encinitasbeachhome.com

National Association of REALTORS 

Journalist @nityalakshmi108 - all docs and Grievances posted since September.

PS

More notes from Joan on Landers Job:

Ac

Porta potty

Joan Grandizio

Facebook 

3 or 4 hours a day

Dome house: 

Bigger Fridge

Table

Toaster oven ( which I bought at Anza Hardware & just returned- because I've been terrified Curtis & Nazi cops would steal my car & kill me with their hospital & court contentious bribed colleagues of atty Sharkbait circle!)

No water

Park in front of Dome

Walk

5 acres

2nd half sold

"Guanacasa" - Costarica

Transfer benefits to Costa

Start business 2-3 years

Buy a property that has a business

150k Ranchette 

Left on Gibraltar (if get to end of Gibralter - Gone too far- see back of property.)

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 7

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Yay we're finally back with our favorite BBF! This chapter was inspired by a photo of Glen at an amusement park that's been floating around recently. If anyone could convince me to step foot into a haunted house, it would be Jake.

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: Haunted house attraction with mild (fake) gore, swearing, SLOW BURN YOU'VE BEEN WARNED DON'T COME FOR ME XD

WC: 3000+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Masterlist

“I don’t do haunted houses,” you say when Jake makes the suggestion for the fourth time that afternoon.

He and Bradley have just returned from the river log ride completely soaked and stupidly giddy. Jake raises his eyebrows at you. “You’ll go on the tallest roller coaster in the park but you’re afraid of a couple of zombie clowns?”

You cringe. “What the fuck are zombie clowns?”

Jake shrugs. “Whatever they are. It’ll be fun.”

“You’re really selling it,” you respond dryly. “But I think I’ll stick to the funnel cake.” You nod toward the stand a few yards away.

“You already skipped out on the log ride,” Bradley complains.

You eye his still-dripping shorts with a grimace. “It’s barely 60 degrees,” you say, tugging up on the zipper of your hoodie for emphasis.

Jake plants himself across from you at the bistro table and leans into it to get your attention. “You don’t actually want to sit here by yourself for another hour, do you?”

You shrug, glancing around. “I don’t mind, actually,” you say, your gaze drifting with the crowd as you pick out the best looking males. “I got asked out twice while you two were gone.”

Jake makes a disgruntled sort of face like he’s getting impatient. “Who asked you out?” he says with a hint of distaste as though he already disapproves. He glances around at the crowd of passersby suspiciously.

“Well, they’re gone now.”

Jake lets out an irritable sigh and looks back at you. “Come on, you’re not a wimp, Bradshaw.”

You shake your head. “That’s not going to work.”

“Let’s just go, Jake,” Bradley says. “We can’t force her.”

Jake stares at Bradley. “Didn’t you hear her? She’s being approached by random men. We can’t just leave her here.”

Bradley snorts. “Why not?”

Jake appears uncomfortable, but only for a moment. He shifts his weight in the chair and turns back to you. “I distinctly remember all three of us at Castle Frankenstein like ten years ago.”

“Mm-hm,” you reply. “And, since then, I don’t do haunted houses.”

Jake grimaces. “Why not?”

You give him a flat look. “You don’t remember?”

Jake furrows his brows and shakes his head.

“Oh yeah!” Bradley exclaims. “Good times.”

You stare at your brother crossly and then roll your eyes.

Jake glances between the two of you inquisitively. “All I remember is getting hot dogs right after,” he says.

You sigh. “You two assholes told me it wouldn’t be scary and then, after luring me in, you took off laughing! You left me behind to do the whole thing by myself.”

Bradley is chuckling smugly, but Jake looks mildly horrified. “Wow, we were shitheads,” he says with a cringe.

“Dude, we’re still shitheads,” Bradley points out.

Jake looks up at his friend with a wince and then rubs his forehead guiltily. “Y/N,” he says. “I promise you that, if you come, we’re not gonna ditch you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bradley says with a playful grin.

Jake gives him a stern look before glancing back at you. “I promise I won’t ditch you.”

You watch him skeptically, your arms folded over your chest.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asks.

You purse your lips, trying not to be swayed by the slight squint of Jake’s eyes when he gives you a hopeful smile. You can’t help but daydream for a moment. You picture yourself being chased by zombie clowns with Jake by your side, holding your hand. And, if they’d get too close, maybe he would knock them out to keep you safe.

“Come on, sugar,” Jake says, interrupting your thoughts. He starts rising from him seat and holds out a hand for you. “We can use Bradley as a shield.”

You snort while Bradley shakes his head with a chuckle. “You can try,” he replies, starting for the haunted house.

You let out a sigh and take Jake’s hand, letting him drag you out of your chair. “I’m already regretting this decision,” you mutter.

Jake laughs. “This is gonna be fun!”

…

You gulp nervously as you step into the darkness. The moment the doors close behind you, your hand reaches out for one of the guys, making sure you're not alone. Somebody gives you a pat on the arm, silently reassuring as you advance. Suddenly, a loud bang to your right makes you jump, and you hear Jake's snicker right before he moves behind to lay a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Wicked,” you hear Bradley say as he travels slightly ahead of you. You follow your brother with Jake close behind, probably much closer than he would be in broad daylight, especially with Bradley just a few steps away.

“Remember,” Jake mutters from behind. “If you don’t run, they won’t chase you.”

You whimper. “Who won’t chase me?”

In the sparse, flashing lights, you see your brother take off down the hallway, setting off several animatronics as he goes. You slow your pace and Jake, who is still sopping wet, walks right into you. The sudden chill of his saturated clothes takes you by surprise and you yelp, springing away from him.

Jake leaps after you to grab your arm when you nearly trip over the cadaver that falls out of the wall and right into your path. “Having fun?” he asks facetiously as he helps you regain your balance, and you can sense the grin on his face without even seeing it.

“I hate you for making me do this,” you hiss.

Jake wraps an arm around your shoulders and gives them a squeeze. “You’re doin’ great, sweet cheeks.”

You wince at the cold seeping through your shirt and wriggle out of his grasp. “Seresin, you’re all wet!”

“Sorry,” he mutters sheepishly.

Just then, a large gust of air hits you from the side and you scream, flinging yourself right back into Jake’s arms. Jake pulls you in immediately and spins you away, blocking the air current with his back. But your relief is short-lived because, out of nowhere, two clowns with melting faces come barreling toward you with their arms outstretched.

You scream and, despite the sudden weakness in your limbs, start sprinting down the dimly lit corridor, completely forgetting Jake's instructions.

Jake catches up to you quickly and when the clowns all but overtake you, he curls his arm around your waist and practically lifts you off the ground as he runs.

When you finally round the bend and lose the clowns, Jake slows down and releases you, letting you catch your breath as he places his hands on his hips and takes a look around. “That was awesome,” he says with a huge smile.

You’re still gasping for air when you look up at him with a scowl. “You’re a lunatic if you enjoyed that.”

He claps you on the back. “Don’t worry, darlin’. We’re almost half-way through.”

“We’re not even half-way done?” you whine.

Jake chuckles. “Admit it, you’re having a blast,” he says.

You whimper quietly when he motions for you to follow him down another dark hallway. “I am never letting you talk me into this nonsense again,” you grumble, staying close behind him just in case another zombie clown pops out of the shadows.

But what you do not anticipate is the vibrating floor that makes you jerk backward, nor the fog that suddenly floods the corridor, nor the alarming screams that attack from all directions, making it impossible to communicate. You feel the floorboards shift underneath your feet and you hold out your arms to stabilize yourself. You stagger backward into a wall, and it rotates behind you, further disorienting you.

“Jake?” you cry, realizing that you’ve lost him in all the commotion. But your voice is drowned out by the continuous screaming still reverberating all around you.

In the flashes of light, you can see dozens of hands rattling a chain-link fence that looks like it won’t hold for very much longer. You try to push your way back through the wall – the way you came in – but it doesn't budge, meaning you’re stuck in this room until you find another way out.

“Jake!” you yell again, terror rooting you to the spot. The fence to your right finally rips open and gangly arms start stretching out toward you, making you jolt backward. You shriek, moving along the wall slowly because you’re too afraid to fall into another trap.

You reach the end of the chamber, which opens up to a tunnel, and whimper tragically. Going in will surely mean that you will have to complete the haunted maze without Jake, but the tunnel is probably the only way out of this room.

You only have a second to deliberate however, because at that moment, the fence behind you comes crashing down and a horde of zombies escapes. In the shadows, it looks like there might be more than half a dozen of them stumbling in your direction, tripping over one another to get to you.

If you don’t run, they won’t chase you. If you don’t run, they won’t chase you.

But the zombies are still coming, their hideous shrieks even more off-putting than their decaying faces.

You lunge into the tunnel and sprint faster and faster even as the passageway dips and winds and darkens. At a certain point, you are forced to stop running because it gets too dark to find your way without holding your hands out to feel the curve of the walls.

And then you hear his voice.

“Y/N!”

“Oh my god! Jake!” you screech.

“Y/N?” he yells back.

You start pushing on the solid wall before you because it sounds like he’s right on the other side. “Jake, where are you?” You can hear the zombies gaining on you further up the tunnel and you sob, “Jake, please get me out of here.”

Suddenly, a door creaks open to your right and you start, cowering from the blinking red light that filters into the pitch black passage. But then you see Jake’s broad-shouldered silhouette enter through the opening and, in your relief, you throw yourself right into him, burying your face into his chest as his arms close around your back. His grip tightens as you clutch onto the front of his soaked shirt, and you can feel his mouth over the top of your head. “I’ve got you,” he mutters into your hair. “I’ve got you.”

But before you can sink into the feeling of having Jake Seresin’s strong arms supporting your trembling frame, you hear the sound of footsteps as the zombies come hurtling through the tunnel. Without a word, Jake pulls you sideways, tucking you and himself behind the open door. He brings a finger to his lips when he sees that you’re about to cry out, and you hold your breath, watching the flashing lights illuminate the exhilaration in his eyes.

You close your own eyes as the zombies near, deciding that no amount of attention from Jake is worth participating in this traumatizing experience. And you promise yourself that you will never be swayed by his stupid, irresistible smile again.

That’s when you feel his body brush up against yours. You open your eyes to see his face hovering over your own, watching you intently as the zombies race by your hiding spot. His mouth curls into a smirk when it becomes apparent that his plan has worked as expected. You try your best to concentrate on the direct threat of flesh-eating zombies and not on his leg that’s pressed into your thigh, or his hand that you suddenly notice is gripping your hip, but it isn’t easy prioritizing escape when his eyes are dancing with delight only about three inches from your face.

You want him to kiss you. You want him to kiss you so badly. Right here in the darkness, concealed behind a heavy, wooden door, surrounded by a dense mist and a musty smell, with the added ambience of distant screams in the background. But, of course, you aren’t going to voice this desire. Because that would be more terrifying than getting eaten alive by a bunch of zombie clowns. So, instead, you say, “Get me the fuck out of here, Seresin.”

Jake nods, stepping away from you slowly, almost reluctantly. He holds his arm out to direct you out of the tunnel through the splintered door. He leads you past the holographic apparitions that float eerily along the walls, through the hall of warped mirrors that make your eyes hurt and your head spin, and over the various trap doors in the final stretch of your journey.

But he stops when you get to a dark, narrow split between two concrete walls. “This is the exit,” he says with a grimace. “Sorry,” he adds.

You shake your head. “I’m not going in there.”

“There’s no other way out.”

You stare at him in horror. “I’m claustrophobic.”

Jake drags a hand over his face. “That’s not good,” he says.

You feel yourself start to panic so you lash out by slapping him on the shoulder. “How could you not know that?”

Jake shrugs. “I forgot, I guess.”

Your breathing accelerates as your heart pounds painfully against your ribcage. “I hate your guts, Seresin,” you mutter. “You’re going to pay for this.”

In response, Jake gives you a very broad, very happy smile, as though you didn’t just tell him that you despise him.

“What?” you say heatedly.

Jake continues grinning. “You’re mad.”

“Yeah, I’m mad! Why are you so happy about it?”

He shakes his head. “No reason.”

You glare at him. “You should fear my wrath.”

He bites his lip, watching you affectionately. “It’s definitely the scariest part of this whole place.”

“I’m angry!” you yell, although you feel a fit of laughter start to bubble up in your chest.

Jake tries to keep a straight face. “Okay, but, could you be angry in there?” He nods at the chasm leading toward the exit, his eyes scanning the area behind you. “Because the zombies are coming.”

He ushers you into the fissure between the walls, keeping his hand on your back as you make your way forward. The only thing that makes up for this stressful conclusion to an already harrowing adventure is that his fingers seem to slip further down your back the farther you walk, trailing past the waistline of your jeans and stopping in the vicinity of your back pocket.

“See?” he says cheerily as the gap between the walls begins to narrow. “It’s not that bad.”

You try to concentrate on the light touch of his fingers as he hooks a couple of them into the back pocket of your jeans rather than the cracking walls rising up on either side of your body that seem to be closing in on you the deeper you go.

“Just so you know, there’s going to be a vibrating floor tile somewhere up ahead,” Jake says quietly, very close to your ear. “It’s coming up.”

You look over your shoulder sharply. “No,” you respond curtly, as if you could will this particular contraption away.

Jake squeezes himself in between your chest and the wall, his fingers regrettably slipping out of your pocket. The space is so tight that, no matter how much you press you backs into the walls, your bodies are still touching. “You can do this,” he says. “I’m right here.”

You frown at him, annoyed and love-sick all at once. Why did he insist on you coming? Why did he bring you along knowing he’d have to babysit you the entire time? Unless he doesn’t mind being with you. Perhaps it’s what he was hoping for.

Jake’s eyes skim worriedly over your face. “Are you okay?” he asks.

You draw in a wavering breath, content to let him fret for another several seconds over your wellbeing. Finally, you respond, “If we survive this hellhole, I’m going to murder you.”

Jake chuckles, placing his hands on your shoulders. “If we survive this hellhole, I’m getting you two funnel cakes.”

You let out a resolute sigh and nod. “Make it three. I want one of each flavor.”

Jake grins. “You got it.”

You bring your hands up to push at his chest, squirming in the compact space against his shirt. “How are you still wet?” you say irritably. “We’ve been in here for hours.”

Jake makes a face. “It’s been like six minutes, actually.”

You groan. “And this is why I don’t do haunted houses.”

…

Finally – finally ­– you step out into the cool, breezy sunshine with Jake on your heels. Bradley waves at the two of you from across the walkway, coming over to greet you.

“Took you a while,” Bradley remarks.

You grimace at him. “It’s only been like six minutes,” you retort sourly.

Jake looks like he might be trying to suppress a laugh.

“As if you took off again,” you reprimand your brother.

Bradley shrugs. “The trick is to race through these things and not stop to smell the rotting flesh.”

You shudder. “I need to sit down; my legs feel like jelly.”

“Log ride?” Bradley says to Jake. “While this one recuperates?” He nods toward you with a grin.

Jake pinches at his still soaking shirt and then wrinkles his nose. “I think I’ll sit this one out,” he says. “Promised your sister I’d get her funnel cake.”

“Three,” you remind him.

Jake graces you with an amused smirk. “I would love to see you try to get through three whole funnel cakes.”

As Bradley takes off in the direction of the log ride, you glance at Jake apprehensively. “You could go with him,” you say, cursing yourself for even suggesting it because all you want is to spend some time alone with Jake – not inside of a nuthouse.

Jake gives you a quick smile before starting for the funnel cake stand. “Don’t want to,” he responds.

You fall into step with him, wondering why he’d rather hang around you than his best friend. As he’s ordering the funnel cakes, you decide that you’re reading too much into things and he’s probably just hoping to dry off before going on the next ride, and that his decision to skip the log ride has nothing to do with you at all.

But then, as the two of you watch the mesmerizing creation of the world’s most delicious pastry through the glass window of the kitchen, Jake says this: “Heard you broke up with what’s-his-name.”

Your grip on the tray in your hands tightens but your eyes remain on the rapidly frying dough. It was a casual question, and Jake isn’t even looking at you, but his repeated interest in your dating life continues to give you hope where there probably isn’t any. He’s just making conversation. You shrug. “He was an asshole,” you say nonchalantly.

“Told you he would be,” Jake responds with an equally casual tone.

You bite your bottom lip aggressively, tired of the ambiguity behind his words. “That’s fine,” you retort. “I’ve got options.”

That’s when Jake turns to look at you with a troubled pair of eyes.

“Your words,” you remind him. “So, I took your advice.”

He narrows his eyes. “What advice would that be?”

“I told you someone asked out,” you say, setting the first of your funnel cakes down onto your tray.

“You said yes?” he gapes at you. “To a stranger?”

You watch him pensively for a moment. “You know, I think we’re going to need another tray,” you say, deciding to keep him in suspense for another minute.

Call it payback or something.

Read Part 8

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this installment of torturous pining. Don't forget to send in your ideas for these two in my ask box!

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[shellbilee]

Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 6

A Glen Powell RPF series

Thank you for all the love on this story! x

Glen

Glen is turning the heat on the stove down when he hears the doorbell ring, Brisket’s shrill bark ringing out throughout the house. He jogs down the hallway, scooping up Brisket on the way, aware that he’s already smiling even before he reaches the door. He lets out a breath and opens the door, feeling his whole body heat when he sees her standing there.

Billie.

She’s still dressed in her jeans and shirt from earlier, though her hair is now loose and flowing, framing her face in long soft waves. She looks beautiful.

Nugget is wagging his tail excitedly, happily panting from his spot at Billie’s legs, Brisket immediately scrambling in his arms to meet his new friend again.

“Hi again”

“Hey gorgeous” he says, loving the way Billie’s smile grows even bigger.

She steps inside and Brisket launches from his arms, Glen immediately reaching for Billie's waist and pressing his mouth to hers. He kisses her tenderly, his mouth firm but gentle against hers, her lips soft and plush and exactly as he remembers from only hours ago. His hands grab at her waist and her arms reach up to wrap around his neck, Glen only pulling away when he feels his lungs start to burn.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that again since the moment we left the restaurant” he whispers after a moment, smiling down at her breathlessly before bending and kissing her again.

It’s like he can’t get enough of her.

Billie bites her lip when they part - her perfect, plush lips, and Glen has to stop himself from groaning out loud, his grip on her waist momentarily tightening. 

“Me too” she replies with a shy smile, her cheeks now flushed a lovely pink, her fingers unclasping and sliding down his chest.

They smile at each other and eventually separate, Glen closing the door behind them as the dogs take off down the hallway.

“Your house is incredible” Billie breathes, looking around when they step into the expansive open plan living area, Glen watching as she scans the room around her, “This makes my place look like a studio apartment”.

She looks back up at him with a smile and Glen feels his chest tighten at the sight.

He chuckles, his hand brushing the small of her back.

“Drink?”

Billie raises one eyebrow and tilts her head as she looks at him, “Only if you’re having one?”

He smiles as he walks into the kitchen and sets about pouring them both a glass of pinot, Billie walking over and running her hand over the black marble benchtop.

“Smells amazing too. What’s for dinner?”

Glen winks conspiratorially. “It’s a surprise. My specialty”.

Billie grins adorably as she sets down her bag. “I’m excited”

He walks around the bench and hands her the glass of red, tapping his glass against her in a cheers. 

“Want a tour?”

Billie nods enthusiastically. 

“Of this mansion? With that view?” she says gesturing dramatically over to the glass doors that line the whole side of the house - the outdoor deck and luxury pool sit in view just outside, an expansive, stunning view of the Hollywood Hills just beyond it, “Absolutely I do”.

Glen laughs and takes her hand, leading her down the hallway to show her the rest of the house.

Ten minutes later, awe is etched all over Billie’s face. 

Glen is in awe too, except it’s got nothing to do with his house and absolutely everything to do with Billie.

How can anyone be so utterly adorable and so God damn sexy at the same time?

He can't think of anything he wants to do more than pull her to him and kiss her until his lips are sore, to feel her skin beneath his fingertips, to taste her on his tongue. 

The house tour is basically torture - it’s even worse than their workout this morning, something Glen would have previously believed was impossible until just now. He can’t stop his brain from picturing himself taking Billie on every available surface in his home.

The way she’d look bent over the back of his black leather couch, his hands running over every stunning curve of her naked body. 

Or the way she’d look lying spread open in the middle of his bed with her head thrown back, as he licked between her thighs like a man starved. 

Or the way she’d look pressed up against the stone wall of his luxury shower, water dripping down her luscious frame as he drove into her again and again and again.

Billie is all but oblivious to the sinful thoughts running through his brain, Glen struggling to listen and respond appropriately to her comments about each new room he takes her through.

Fuck.

Every part of him is already hoping she'll stay the night, but he knows he's being forward. After all, he's only known her for forty-eight hours.

But still.

The way her ass looks in those jeans? The way her ass would look out of those jeans and instead spread in his hands as he bent her over?

My God.

Glen manages to hold himself together and eventually they finish at his favourite spot in his house - the lounge on the outdoor deck that overlooks the pool and the rest of the expansive yard. 

Glen instructs Billie to take a seat while he goes to check on dinner, Brisket and Nugget full of seemingly boundless energy as they run chaotic laps of the grass chasing one another. 

When Glen returns outside minutes later, he can't help his smile at the sight he’s greeted with. Brisket is standing on Billie’s lap, his little tail wagging furiously as he looks down at Nugget in front of them, while Nugget stands on the floor barking at his tiny friend to come down and play. 

Before Glen can open his mouth to comment on the scene in front of him, Brisket launches himself from Billie’s lap and sprints down the deck, Nugget tearing off after him and giving chase onto the manicured lawns below.

“Dinner should be ready in about forty-five” Glen says when he walks over to Billie and sits down on the lounge beside her, stretching one arm out along the back of the couch. 

“Can I help in any way?”

Glen scoffs and Billie laughs and shakes her head, clearly knowing her answer without him even saying anything.

She shifts on the lounge to face Glen, tucking her now bare feet underneath herself, her phone slipping off her lap in the process.

It's then that Glen notices there’s a video playing on her phone, his brow furrowing as he picks it up and inspects the screen.

“I didn't know there was a game on today?” Glen comments, instantly recognising the video as a sports channel.

Billie laughs and shakes her head, reaching up to tuck one side of her long hair behind her ear.

“There isn’t. It’s Aussie rules, from back home” she explains, taking her phone from Glen and looking down at it almost wistfully, “Football. My team is playing”.

“Do you want to put it on the TV?” Glen asks, gesturing to the enormous TV mounted on the wall of the outdoor deck area.

Billie frowns and looks at him oddly, causing Glen to let out a laugh.

“I have every sports channel available Billie”.

Her face softens then, her teeth flashing in a gentle smile.

“Of course you do” she says with a chuckle, shaking her head in amusement, “But no, it’s ok, I don’t want to force you to watch a sport you know nothing about”.

Glen scoffs for the second time in two minutes. 

“Don’t be silly. I love sports” he says as he suddenly sits forward and reaches for his own phone, unlocking it and scrolling through to the TV app, “Besides, I wouldn’t say I know nothing about it. I got to stand on the Sydney stadium when I was in Australia. The SCG I think it was called?”.

Billie laughs as the TV starts up, Glen leaning over to double check the channel from the video on her phone, “I wouldn’t exactly call that knowledge of the game”.

Glen grins and shrugs, clearly unphased, putting his phone down on the coffee table in front of them when the game starts playing on the screen. He leans back on the couch and stretches his arm along the back, this time his hand finding Billie and pulling her back into him.

“You’ll just have to teach me the rules then”

She smiles gorgeously up at him - that same fucking smile that's blessed his nearly every thought for the last two days, and Glen feels himself melt.

“Thank you” Billie breathes, shifting beneath his arm, reaching up to cup his cheek and pulling his face down to hers in a gentle kiss.

He smiles when Billie cuddles into him, the sweet scent of her peachy perfume filling his nose, his arm draped across her front giving her a soft squeeze.

Billie's fingers wrap around his and Glen looks down at their intertwined hands, feeling a wave of contentment wash over him at the sight.

He lets out a silent sigh and relaxes back into the couch, holding Billie's body against his as they watch the screen together.

---

“He’s holding him!” Billie nearly screams at the TV, throwing her arms up into the air in exasperation, “How do you not call that umpire!?”

The play continues without intervention from the referee and Billie drops her arms dramatically, muttering curses under her breath and running her fingers through her hair.

Glen can't help the way he's grinning at Billie, loving how fired up and passionate she is about her team. She's exactly like he is with his Texas Longhorns. 

“Holding him?”

Billie turns back to look at Glen, her previously angered expression instantly softening. 

“You can't hold another player and block their attempt at getting the ball” she explains, making quotation mark signs with her fingers when she says hold, “So like if the ball was coming to you, I could try and bump and contest with you, but I couldn't say, hold your arm down and stop you from trying to mark the ball”.

Glen shakes his head and laughs.

“This sport has so many insane rules” he says, taking a drink of his wine, “And I still can't believe the players don't wear any protective gear”.

Billie laughs, sitting forward on the lounge and reaching for her own glass of wine on the coffee table.

“The tackles aren't nearly as rough as they are in NFL though”

“Are you kidding? That guy almost took that other guy's head off before”.

Billie chuckles and taps her fingers against her wine glass before taking a sip. “Yeah but that wasn't allowed either. I'd almost guarantee that he'll be written up for that and get at least a one week suspension from playing”.

“They should at least wear helmets to protect their heads”

“They can wear helmets, but they're not a full on one like the NFL players would wear. They're not hard, they're made of a moulded foam material so I'd call them more of a head guard than a helmet”.

“Crazy”

Billie laughs again. “They wear mouth guards though. Gotta protect the teeth you know”.

Glen shakes his head. “I swear you Australian’s are just on another level”.

Billie chuckles and slides back on the couch again, sitting back beside Glen. He wraps his arm around her as she does so, pulling her back into him and giving her waist a gentle squeeze.

“I wouldn't say another level” Billie replies with a soft chuckle that makes Glen's insides warm, “Perhaps just tough?”.

She grins and winks one gorgeous eye at him, Glen grinning back in response.

“My worst injury when I used to play, back when I was in my early twenties” Billie says suddenly, sitting up and turning to Glen, pulling aside the collar of her shirt and exposing her golden collarbone, “I got tackled by this girl and she just crunched me underneath her. Dislocated my shoulder and snapped my collarbone in half”.

She points at a long white spidery scar on her collarbone and Glen does his best to pay attention, trying his hardest not to notice that she's just given him a now near uninterrupted view of her cleavage. His brain almost short circuits as he eyes the swell of her left breast, the hand that was previously holding Billie now gripping at the soft material of the outdoor lounge.

“Part of it came through my skin. Honestly it was the most sickening sound, I still get shivers thinking about it” Billie explains, looking down at her shoulder and back at Glen.

“The sound? Not the pain?”.

Billie shrugs. “I remember it hurting, but the sound is what really haunts me”.

Glen just shakes his head.

“See? Another level”.

Billie drops her head back and laughs, her eyes crinkling and her cheeks bouncing in a way that Glen finds adorable. He smiles at her, his eyes dropping back to her scar.

He reaches out and runs his fingers over it, feeling the thickened, bumpy ridges that are still somehow soft beneath his touch. He swears he sees Billie shiver then, and all at once he has to fight the overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss along her scar, to run his tongue across her collarbone.

Before he can actually do it though, the beeping of the kitchen timer stirs him from his thoughts. His hand drops from Billie and she readjusts her shirt, Glen instead putting down his wine glass and hauling himself to his feet.

“Are you sure there's nothing I can do?”

Glen nods.

“I'm sure darlin’. You stay out here with the boys” he says looking down at Billie, gesturing to the lawn where Brisket and Nugget are still chaotically chasing one another.

“You can let me kiss you though” he adds with a mischievous smile, loving the way she grins back up at him.

“That I can definitely do”

His own grin grows and he bends to kiss her, cupping her cheek and pressing a gentle kiss to her waiting lips. He winks at her when he pulls away, making his way into the kitchen and leaving Billie outside with the dogs.

—

Billie

“You don’t need to help me with dishes Billie”.

Billie ignores his words and pushes past him in the expansive kitchen, earning a deep chuckle from Glen.

“You’re stubborn, you know that?”

Billie laughs this time, unable to help her grin.

“Nope, I’m just a good dinner guest” she fires back as she bends to put her plate in the dishwasher, looking up in time to see Glen’s face split into a wide grin.

They’d just finished dinner - an amazing dinner of Glen’s apparently famous Texan pulled pork tacos, sitting down outside on the outdoor lounges as the sun had set over the valley in front of them. Billie had been in love from her first bite, almost moaning out loud when the spicy smoky flavours hit her tongue, both Nugget and Brisket sitting close by on guard for any dropped pieces of food. 

She stands up and holds out her hand, Glen reluctantly passing her his empty plate for her to stack next, along with their dinner cutlery. He steps around her and moves to the sink, setting about cleaning the dirty stove pot. For a moment Billie can’t help but smile at the domestic-ness of the moment, of something as small and simple as doing the dishes together.

“On another note though, that was amazing” she says when she stands back up again, moving to lean against the marble bench, her front facing Glen beside her,  “You really are a man of many talents. Acting, running, cooking. Is there anything you can’t do?”.

Glen chuckles, his hands soapy with dishwater bubbles, the overhead lights of the kitchen highlighting the planes of his face covered in the smallest amount of stubble. For a second, Billie finds herself wondering how his face would feel beneath her fingertips. Beneath her fingertips, and against her skin.

God.

“I can’t touch my toes”

Billie can’t stop the bubble of laughter that escapes her throat then, covering her mouth with her hand to suppress the sound.

“Really?”

Glen nods his head earnestly. “Really”.

“I stand corrected then. Acting, running, cooking, but most definitely not a gymnast”.

They both laugh and Billie grins happily, looking up when Nugget and Brisket come bounding into the kitchen. She bends to pat Nugget, smiling at his goofy, golden smile, standing up again and turning to Glen as he rinses the pot and rests it on the drying rack beside the sink. She rests her hip against the marble bench top, folding her arms across her chest as she looks at him.

“Seriously though, dinner was incredible Glen. Thank you so much for inviting me tonight” Billie says, watching as dries his hands on the dish towel.

The smile he gives Billie then makes her want to melt into a puddle on the floor, right there on the luxurious kitchen tiles.

“You’re welcome Billie”.

Her name in his voice makes her stomach flip flop, just like his stupidly handsome smile. Never mind her heart rate that suddenly goes through the roof when Glen steps towards her, her breath catching in her throat when his hands find her waist.

Billie can’t help it when her eyes flicker to his lips, his stubble covered jawline, his soft, sandy hair that’s messily slicked back. She feels his eyes search her face, soft and pale green, the colour making her want to stare at them forever.

All at once her mind is empty except for how much she wants to lose herself in Glen, and then as if he can hear exactly what she's thinking, his hand is snaking up her back and coming to rest on the side of her jaw. His eyes move to her mouth and she feels herself exhale, and all of a sudden Glen's lips are on hers, tender and wanting, and delicately coaxing hers apart. 

Billie lets him take the lead, lets him deepen their kiss, feeling like putty in his hands as he all but steals the breath from her throat. His lips move against hers, a delicate dance of push and pull, his fingers moving to her hair and holding her head in place. She feels his free hand slide down her back and then finds leverage on her ass, her feet suddenly leaving the ground as she's lifted onto the bench.

The marble is cold against her thighs, even through the denim on her jeans, but she barely registers the feeling as Glen's tongue suddenly finds hers. She can't help the soft moan that falls from her then, the sound having a clear effect on Glen - his fingers tightening their hold and his hips pushing her legs apart so that his front is pressed against hers.

Billie feels herself slipping. She's losing herself, feeling almost entirely consumed by Glen and his mouth. His kiss feels like heaven, a delicious, intoxicating feeling that she just wants to drown in, his scent, his taste, his feel, completely overwhelming her. She can feel her heartbeat in her ears, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, her fingers gripping desperately at the nape of his neck as he kisses her over and over.

She can’t remember the last time she felt like this. And all they’d done is kiss.

Just when she thinks she can’t possibly slip any deeper, any further into the blurred fog of hedonistic want, Brisket’s shrill barking pierces her ears and she feels Glen’s lips suddenly slow. She’s instantly aware that her chest is heaving, lungs burning from being temporarily oxygen starved, Glen’s own breath heavy as he pulls away and rests his forehead against hers. 

Her lips tug into a smile at his tender action, her hands slipping down to cup his face. He smiles back at her with that soft, handsome grin that she’s quickly learning is classically Glen, bending and kissing her once more before pulling away and turning to look at Brisket at his feet.

He’s wagging his tail furiously, looking up at his owner standing beside him, letting out another high-pitched bark that’s almost insistent and tapping his two front paws.

Billie grins and raises one eyebrow, tilting her head as she looks at Glen, now standing with his hands on his hips and looking down at Brisket.

“I assume that means it’s dinner time?”.

Glen clicks his tongue, shaking his head in an almost annoyed amusement. 

“You’d assume right. God forbid it gets past seven-thirty and he hasn’t eaten yet”.

Billie laughs and jumps down off the bench, bending to pat Nugget - who’d since taken a seat beside Brisket, and was watching his new friend with curious interest.

“I suppose that means you’re hungry too then hey?” Billie asks, smiling when Nugget’s head snaps to face her at the word ‘hungry’. 

Billie grins down at her golden fur-child and chuckles. “C’mon bud”.

She walks over to her bag and pulls out the kibble mix she’d packed earlier, Nugget following happily behind her, drool already starting to form on his jowls.

“Another wine?” Glen asks when Billie’s walking back inside, having taken both the boys outside to feed them on the backyard deck.

She notes that there’s a soft country music song playing in the background now, a candle burning on the wooden coffee table in the centre of the room. The lights are dimmed, shadows thrown across the space and broken by a soft glow from the lamp in the corner.

Billie smiles, reaching up to run her fingers through her long hair. 

“I shouldn’t. I have to work tomorrow”.

Glen laughs. “That doesn’t sound like a no darlin’”.

She exhales heavily, grinning as she flops down onto Glen’s luxurious black leather living room couch.

“Okay but this has to be my last one or I won’t be able to drive home”.

Glen chuckles, low and deep, the sound making Billie’s muscles squeeze. She can’t help but think for the thousandth time how handsome he is, watching his muscles ripple beneath his tight shirt as he walks over to the couch, two red wines in his hand.

“Maybe that’s my plan”.

Billie shoves him playfully as he sits down beside her, causing Glen to chuckle again.

“You know you can stay if you want to” he adds, passing her a glass.

Billie shoots him a look and Glen lifts his hands innocently. “No no, not for that reason, I’m just saying, you’re welcome to stay”.

Billie smiles inwardly, taking a sip of red and feeling her chest flush. She wonders idly if it’s to do with the wine, or the fact that her brain suddenly can’t help but imagine what would undoubtedly happen if she stayed the night. Either way, she struggles to keep her thoughts in line for a moment.

She tips her head back against the couch and sighs softly, turning to look at Glen beside her. 

“As much as I’d love to, I know I have a crazy day tomorrow since I took Friday off for Rufus” she explains, swearing she can actually feel the fibres in her body protesting the moment she says that.

“Do you have a busy rest of week?” Glen asks, shifting closer to her on the couch and making Billie smile when he picks up her legs and drapes them over his lap.

She nods, explaining that she has a couple of athletes doing qualifiers this week, so it won’t necessarily be busy, but it will certainly be a full on week. She tells him about Hayley, one of her favourite clients, a seventeen year old junior getting back to her first gymnastics meet following a dislocated shoulder.

“Do you always go to their events?”

“It would be impossible for me to do it for all of them, but for the ones that I can, I try my best” Billie says, taking another sip of her wine, “ But I've been working with Hayley for the better part of a year, so I definitely don't want to miss hers”.

“When is it?”

“Thursday lunch-time” Billie explains, already looking forward to her late morning start.

She looks over at the dogs, the two apparently having run out of their seemingly endless energy, now snoozing peacefully on the grey living room rug.

“Do you have set hours at work or is it all over the place?” Glen asks, his free hand falling to Billie’s left knee.

She can’t answer him for a moment, too caught up in the way her skin is suddenly burning from his touch, even through the material of her jeans. She looks down at his hand and swallows, her brain conjuring the image of his hands on her skin without clothes and temporarily blanking her thoughts.

Fuck.

She clears her throat, gripping her wine glass tighter.

“Ah for the most part it's the same, but occasionally it's thrown around when there's games and events for me to go to” Billie answers, looking back at Glen and loving the way he’s watching her face so intently, “Generally Tuesdays and Fridays I start early and finish early, whereas Mondays and Wednesdays I start later and finish later. Thursday is usually my paperwork and mentoring day so they’re always a bit more low key”.

“What about you?” she asks after a beat, taking another sip of red, “I imagine you have absolutely no routine to your schedule and every week is different? I have no idea how you deal with that” she adds, shaking her head with a smile.

Glen laughs and says that he’s used to it after all this time, and that he has a relatively quiet week coming up - a couple of meetings with his agent and publicist, and a photo shoot later in the week. He adds that most of his projects have finished filming and that his next press tour isn’t for a few weeks yet.

It’s then that it dawns on Billie that this is the first time they’ve actually spoken about his work, and she can’t help but notice the gaping difference between their two lives.

“What project is the press tour for?”

“Twisters”

Billie tilts her head. “As in like Twister, the tornado movie from the nineties with Helen Hunt?”.

Glen nods, “That’s the one”.

“I used to love that movie. I didn't know they were re-making it” Billie says, eyebrows raised in surprise, looking down when Glen moves his hand to her foot.

“How’d you get this scar?” Glen asks suddenly, changing the subject, running his finger tip along her left ankle, “Another football injury?”.

Billie shakes her head and smirks. 

“Nope. Worse”

Glen looks back at her expectantly. “I'm not sure you can get worse than your collar bone coming through your skin darlin’”.

Billie chuckles, tilting her head as she looks back at him.

“Stung by a jellyfish when I was eight”.

Billie can't help the laugh that escapes her when Glen's eyebrows shoot up in shock.

“A jellyfish?”

“Specifically, a box jellyfish”

“Wait, can't you die from those?”

Billie laughs again. “You absolutely can”

Glen just stares for a moment, and Billie swears she can see his brain searching for an appropriate answer to say back to her.

Instead he just shakes his head and takes another sip of his wine, looking back at her with an expression that she can't help but grin at.

“Like I said earlier, you Australian’s are literally on another level”.

Billie just laughs and shrugs her shoulders, Glen looking back at her scar and running his fingers along the deep purple lines on her skin.

They settle into a comfortable silence then, the soft background music the only sounds in the room, and Billie realises how content she is. More content than she expects to be with a guy she's only known for forty-eight hours. A guy who happens to be absolutely gorgeous, and also just happens to be an A-list celebrity.

If someone had told her last week that she’d be on a couch with Glen Powell, drinking wine with her feet in his lap, she’d have flat out laughed in their face. Billie smiles to herself, letting out a silent breath, looking down at her almost empty wine glass.

“I suppose I should probably go. I need to get my ass into gear for tomorrow”

Glen bends forward to put his now-empty wine glass on the coffee table in front of them, turning to look at her with a gentle smile.

“Again, you know you are more than welcome to stay”

Billie chuckles. 

“As tempting as your offer is Mr Powell, respectfully, I must decline your sleepover proposal” she says, finishing her own wine and nodding her thanks when Glen takes her empty glass and puts it with his, “This time anyway”.

Glen looks at her with one eyebrow raised, the sudden mischievous glint in his sage green eyes nearly making her moan out loud.

“This time?”

Billie shrugs her shoulders innocently.

“This time” she answers quickly, offering her own mischievous grin and loving the way he looks back at her.

Billie swings her feet out of Glen’s lap and stands up from the couch, fully aware of the way he’s suddenly staring at her ass as she stands in front of him. She walks over to grab her bag, the movement stirring the dogs, Nugget suddenly standing and stretching out his front legs.

“So when can I see you again?” Glen asks when she’s finished putting on her shoes, his hands finding her waist and pulling her flush to him. 

For a split second Billie wonders if her breath will ever stop catching in her throat every time she feels his hands on her body.

She reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck, bending to press a quick kiss to his waiting lips.

“How about Wednesday? We can grab a drink? Or, you and Brisket can come to mine for dinner?” she suggests, her gaze flickering back to his lips when he wets them quickly with his tongue, “I finish a little later on Wednesday but… I don’t have to go in until midday the next day”.

She knows the insinuation hits Glen immediately, feeling his grip on her waist momentarily tighten. Her own muscles squeeze deliciously and suddenly she has no idea how she’s possibly going to wait until Wednesday.

“Wednesday’s perfect”

Glen grins down at Billie and for a second she forgets how to breathe, threading her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck as he bends down to kiss her. His mouth is insistent, his tongue quickly finding hers, their kiss tender and heated as if they both know what’s inevitable at their next meeting. 

Eventually they part, and Billie silently sucks air into now her starved lungs, feeling her chest heave as she gazes up at Glen. His lips are parted and his eyes are almost glossy as he looks down at her, and in that moment Billie's almost certain that his thoughts mirror her own.

She bites her lip, her fingers gripping tighter in his hair, the corner of her now swollen lips tugging into a salacious grin.

Wednesday cannot come quick enough. 

---

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TAGLIST:

@angclvings @auntiegigi @friedchips94 @memories-in-bw @maeleelee @jessicab1991 @bellaireland1981 @queenslandlover-93 @itsjustkhaos @kneelforloki @djs8891 @lovemesomevesey @entertainmentgirl80 @buckysteveloki-me @stankface

[svcredveins]

What a weekend! The absolutely perfect weekend ever…I miss Watkins Glen already! What a symphony…

Been so busy from early morning to 10 at night already feeling tired. Now I’m back home and I’m still on cloud nine! I went to Watkins Glen last year and it’s just so surreal going there in person after doing it on the sim. I went this past weekend and wow…can’t believe it’s been nearly three days since I was at the Glen. I miss my race cars, Porsche specifically! Hehe

But for real though, this was just once again so surreal. Seeing the cars up close and also meeting the drivers, it’s just an amazing, heavenly experience that made my little lady so happy!! Nothing ever beats this. The sheer adrenaline from it all makes my spine tingle. I need to be a Porsche factory driver! Like imagine just being a driver doing the 6 hours of the Glen? That would be just so perfect…so exhilarating…a dream!

Anyway, that was my weekend in New York at Watkins Glen. Will get back to recoding my files soon after I recover from a lot of sun and tiredness haha, but it was so worth it! 🫀

Hope nobody minds a kind of off topic post, but I can guarantee I am still here, it was just a busy, busy, busy two weeks in Ontario and then New York. My brain was hyper focused on other things but I’m back! I just cannot contain my excitement and happiness over the weekend. I’ve missed hearing the race cars up close and smelling the exhaust fumes (yes I’m weird but I like it haha). And Porsche? The best sounding car on track…of course! A gorgeous car with a beastly and gorgeous symphony that I can never get enough of…also, my favourite team, Porsche Penske Motorsport won the 6 hours of the Glen!! It’s the #7 red, white, and black pin stripe Porsche 963 (the fourth row) with the #6 in P3!!! They are absolutely unstoppable and Porsche never misses. Much love to them ❤️🖤🤍 makes my little lady race that’s for sure!

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of guns,, drug use,, threats,, mentions of affairs

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 21

Putting together the best musicians, sound and lighting technicians, costumers, and choreographers, he was taking no chances this time. He scoured the music scene for the top sidemen in the business. Auditions were held and he handpicked each player—names such as James Burton, John Wilkinson, Ronny Tutt, Glen D. Hardin, Jerry Scheff. He loved the sound of the Sweet Inspirations, backup group for Aretha Franklin, and he hired them on the spot as a warmup act and to sing backup vocals. He also hired his favorite gospel group, the Imperial Quartet.

Before leaving Los Angeles, Matt rehearsed at RCA Sound Studios for ten days and then polished the act for a full week prior to the opening. It was the event of the summer in Vegas. Colonel Parker brought the preopening publicity to fever pitch. Billboards were up all over town. On the third floor of the International, administrative offices bustled with activity. No other entertainer coming into Vegas had ever stimulated this kind of excitement. The hotel lobby was dominated by Matt paraphernalia—pictures, posters, T-shirts, stuffed animals, balloons, records, souvenir programs. You’d think Barnum and Bailey were coming to town.

Back home there was also excitement as we girls discussed what we’d wear to the opening. “I want you to look extra special, Baby,” Matt said. “This is a big night for all of us.” I hit every boutique in West L.A. before finding just the right outfit.

Though it had been nine years since Matt had given a live performance, you never would have known it from his opening. The audience cheered the moment he stepped onstage and never stopped the entire two hours as Matt sang, “All Shook Up,” “Blue Suede Shoes,” “In the Ghetto,” “Tiger Man,” and “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” He mixed the old with the new, the fast and hot with the lyrical and romantic. It was the first time I’d ever seen Matt perform live. Wanting to surprise me, he had kept me from rehearsals. I was astounded. At the end he left them still cheering and begging for more.

Cary Grant was among the stars who came backstage to congratulate him after the show. But the most touching moment was when Colonel William arrived with tears in his eyes, wanting to know where his boy was. Matt came out of the dressing room and the two men embraced. I believe everyone felt their emotion in that moment of triumph.

I don’t think we slept that night. Nate Doe brought in all the newspapers and we read the rave reviews declaring, “Matt was great” and “He never looked or sang better.” He shared credit for his new success with all of us.

“Well, we did it. It’s going to be a long thirty days, but it’s going to be worth it if we get the reception we got last night. I may have been a real tyrant, but it was well worth it.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” we all agreed, laughing. “You were a tyrant.”

The International Hotel was delirious over Matt’s performance and the box-office receipts. The following day they signed a fiveyear contract with the Colonel for Matt to appear twice a year, usually around the same time, January and August, at the then unheardof salary of one million dollars a year.

Matt literally took over Las Vegas for the entire month he was there, playing to a packed house every show as thousands more were turned away. No matter where we looked, all we could see was the name Matt—on television, newspapers, banners, and billboards. The King had returned.

Initially, Matt’s triumph in Las Vegas brought a new vitality to our marriage. He seemed a different person. Once again, he felt confident about himself as a performer and he continued to watch his weight and work out every day at karate.

It was also the first time that I felt we were functioning as a team. I made several trips to New York, trying to find unique accessories for him to wear onstage. I bought scarves, jewelry, and a black leather belt with chain links all around it that Bill Belew would later copy for the famous Matt jumpsuit belts.

I loved seeing him healthy and happy again, and I especially enjoyed our early days in Vegas. The International provided an elegant three-bedroom suite that we turned into our home away from home. During his show I always sat at the same table down front, never tiring of watching him perform. He was spontaneous and one never knew what to expect from him.

On occasion, after his midnight show, we’d catch lounge acts of other performers playing Vegas or we’d gamble until dawn. Other times we’d relax backstage, visiting with entertainers captivated by his performance. This was the first time I’d been with Matt at a high point in his career.

With the renewed fame came renewed dangers. Offstage he could be guarded by Sonny and Red. Onstage he was a walking target. One night that summer Nate and Sonny were tipped off that a woman in the audience was carrying a gun and had threatened to shoot Matt. A true professional, Matt insisted on going on. Additional precautions were taken and everyone was on the alert. Matt was instructed to stay downstage, making himself a smaller target, and Sonny and Jerry were poised to jump in front of him at the slightest sign of suspicious movement in the audience. Red was positioned in the audience with the FBI agents.

The show seemed to take an eternity. I glanced at Patsy apprehensively and she in turn grasped my hand as we comforted each other, longing for the night to end without incident. James remained backstage, never letting Matt out of his sight and praying, “Dear God, don’t let anything happen to my son.”

Because of this and other threats, extra security was arranged wherever Matt appeared. Entrances through backstages, kitchens, back elevators, and side exits became routine.

Matt had his own theory about assassinations, based on the murders of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., and Robert F. Kennedy. He felt that the assassins gloated over their “accomplishments,” and told his bodyguards that if any attempt were made on his life, they should get the killer—even before the police. He didn’t want anyone bragging to the media that they’d killed Matt Sturniolo.

Sonny and Red lived in so much tension these days that they were constantly frenzied. Suspicious in crowds of overzealous fans, they were quick to respond to any sign of danger. Compared to Sonny’s diplomacy, Red’s reputation was to act first and ask questions later. Eventually, numerous assault-and-battery charges started piling up against Matt. When James warned him about Sonny and Red’s aggressiveness, Matt said, “Goddamn, Red. I hired you to keep the sons of bitches away from me, not get me in any legal binds. Somehow you’re going to have to control that redheaded temper of yours.”

Although Matt would joke about the death threats—and there would be several more throughout the Vegas commitments—the fear and constant need for security heightened the pressure of nightly performing.

In the beginning when Matt began doing regular Vegas engagements, we girls visited frequently. We’d fly in over the weekend, sometimes bringing our children, spend three or four days, and then return home.

On the days we were apart I’d take hundreds of Polaroids and home movies of Charlotte. She was growing so rapidly I didn’t want him to miss out on her development. Daily he’d receive his “care packages,” as I’d refer to them, including tape recordings of me teaching Charlotte new words and Charlotte mimicking me. Each week, upon my arrival, I’d paste photos on the mirrors in his bedroom to remind him that he had a wife and child.

During his first couple of engagements he still seemed humbled by lingering doubts of whether the public was fully accepting him. At this point he had no interest in outside affairs or flirtations, his concentration on daily rehearsals and performances every evening excluding everything else.

Later he would become more cocky. The crowds’ admiration took him back to his triumphs in the early fifties and he found it hard to come down to earth after a month of nightly cheers. His name on the International’s huge marquee would be replaced by the next superstar. The offices on the third floor would be cleared out and incoming calls for reservations would stop.

Thriving on all the excitement, glamour, and hysteria, he found it difficult to go home and resume his role as father and husband. And for me the impossibility of replacing the crowd’s adoration became a real-life nightmare.

At home in Los Angeles, there was just the usual group around—strictly a family atmosphere. This abrupt change was too much for him and soon he developed the habit of lingering in Vegas for days, sometimes weeks, after a show. The boys were finding it increasingly difficult to resolve the conflict between working for Matt and maintaining a home life.

Crazed with inactivity and boredom, Matt became edgy and temperamental, a condition exacerbated by the Dexedrine he was again taking to control his weight.

Sometimes, to ease the transition home, Matt would insist we all pile into cars and head for Palm Springs. Since our marriage we had spent-many weekends there sunning and watching football games and late-night television, but after Charlotte was born, my needs changed. The Palm Springs heat was too much for her, the long drive boring, the idleness of resort life wearying. One weekend I suggested, “Matt, why don’t just you and the guys go down?”

From that time on, the guys developed their own lifestyle in our secluded desert home. Occasionally we wives would be invited to spend the weekend, but by and large, Matt now considered Palm Springs his private refuge.

He made it clear that this time away was good for him, giving him a chance to think, to hang out with the guys. In reality Matt was lost. He did not know what to do with himself after Vegas. He escaped in more powerful, unnecessary prescribed drugs to raise his spirits and ward off boredom.

After he had conquered Vegas, it was agreed that Matt should go back on the road. Colonel immediately began booking concert tours around the nation, starting with an impressive run of six sold-out shows in the Houston Astrodome, which earned over one million dollars in three nights.

The night I arrived in Texas to watch the performance, Amber, Judy, and I flew in on a private jet. I looked down on the Astrodome and found it hard to believe my eyes. The length of a football field—and already sold out. It made me nervous. I could imagine how Matt felt.

Matt too found the Astrodome overwhelming. “Goddamn,” he said when he first walked in. “They expect me to sell this son of a bitch out? It’s a goddamn ocean.”

However dwarfed he was by the giant facility, he electrified his audience. Houston was our first run-in with mass hysteria. The limousine was strategically parked by the stage door for Matt’s immediate getaway. Even so, screaming fans surrounded the car, frantically yelling out his name, presenting flowers, and trying to touch him.

If anything, Houston was an even greater victory than Vegas. The King of Rock and Roll was back on top. The strain of sustaining such a hype was just beginning and, for the moment, I could believe that everything would still be all right. I did not realize the extent to which Matt’s touring was going to separate us, that this in fact was the beginning of the end. After Houston Matt began crossing the country, making one-night stands, flying by day, trying to catch some sleep to maintain the high energy level demanded by his performances. From 1971 on, he toured more than any other artist—three weeks at a time with no days off and two shows on Saturdays and Sundays.

I missed him. We talked constantly of being together more, but he knew that if he let me join him, he couldn’t refuse the requests from regulars whose marriages were also feeling the strain of long separations. For a while a group of us would fly in from time to time, but this didn’t last long. Matt noticed that his employees were lax in discharging their duties to him when spouses were present, and he established a new policy: No wives on the road.

I didn’t really miss the one-night stands, a tedious routine at best: Jump off the plane, rush to the hotel, unpack as little as possible, since you had to check out the next day, go to the performance, then back to the hotel for a little rest before heading back to the airport. Everything was the same except for the name of the town.

It was the day Matt suggested I come to Vegas less often that I became really upset and suspicious. He’d decided that we wives would attend opening and closing nights only.

I knew then I’d have to fight for our relationship or accept the fact that we were now gradually going to grow apart as so many couples in show business do. As a couple, we’d never sat down to plan out a future. Matt, individually, was stretching as an artist, but as man and wife we needed a common reality.

The chances of our marriage surviving were slim indeed as long as he continued to live apart from Charlotte and me, and in bachelor quarters at that. It came down to how much longer I could stand the separation. Matt wanted to have his cake and eat it too. And now, as the tours and long engagements took him even further from his family, I realized that we might never reach my dreams of togetherness.

I had trouble believing that Matt was always faithful, and the more he kept us apart, the more my suspicions grew.

Now when we went to Vegas, I felt more comfortable at the openings. He was always preoccupied with the show and I felt he needed me then. On closing nights I always felt uneasy. Too many days had gone by, enough time for suspicions to poison my thoughts. The Vegas maître d’s invariably planted a bevy of beauties in the front rows for the entertainer to play to. Curious, I would scan their faces while watching Matt closely to see if he seemed to direct his songs to any girl in particular. Suspicious of everyone, my heart ached—but we were never able to talk about it. It was to be accepted as part of the job.

Backstage one night James was jokingly negotiating for a key that had been tossed to Matt. She was an attractive middle-aged blonde—James’s type. Matt said, “Dad, you’ve got enough problems at home with one blonde. You certainly don’t need two.”

“Well, okay,” James said. “You’re going to have problems of your own if your wife goes out in the street looking like that.” I had begun wearing skimpy knit dresses and see-through fabrics that were daringly revealing. Steven and Charlie whistled and gave wolfcalls, while Matt proudly showed me off.

The jokes I played on him were also efforts to get his attention. One night, after he’d left early for a show, I put on a black dress with a black hood and an exceptionally low-cut back. When it came time for Matt to give away kisses to the girls in the audience—a regular part of his show—I went up to the stage. Instead of kissing me, he kept on singing his song, leaving me to stand there. With my hair hiding the dress strap around my neck, I appeared from the back to be nude from the waist up. I could hear the “oooh”s and “ahhhh”s of the audience. They were under the impression that a topless girl had cornered Matt and that he couldn’t figure out what to do.

I kept whispering to him, “Kiss me, kiss me, so I can sit down,” but he decided to turn the joke on me, and made me wait in the spotlight for the duration of the song. Planting a big kiss on my lips, he surprisingly introduced me to the audience. I felt a bit embarrassed and made my way back to my seat.

Later in the show he’d strut back and forth onstage, tease his audience, talk to them, tell them stories, even confide in them. “You know,” he’d say, “some people in this town get a little greedy. I know you folks save a long time to come and hear me sing. I just want you to know, as far as I’m concerned, there won’t be any exorbitant raise in price when you come back. I’m here to entertain you and that’s all I care about.”

Matt was having an ongoing love affair with his audience and the next time I was home alone I knew I had no choice but to start more of a life of my own.

It was with that thought in mind that Amber, my sister Michelle, and I planned a short trip to Palm Springs. In the course of the weekend I opened the mailbox to check the mail and found a number of letters from girls who had obviously been to the house, one in particular signed “Lizard Tongue.” My immediate response was disbelief, followed by outrage. I dialed Vegas and demanded that Nate find Matt and bring him to the telephone. When Nate said Matt was sleeping, I told him about the letters and insisted I speak to Matt. Nate promised that he would have Matt call as soon as he woke up. He did, but it was clear that Nate had filled him in on the situation and Matt had his explanation ready. He was totally innocent, the girls were just fans, they were out of their minds if they said they’d ever come to the house, and besides, it was their word against his. As usual, in the end I apologized for putting him on the spot, but things at this point were becoming too obvious.

He said, “Get out and do things while I’m gone, because if you don’t, you’re going to start getting depressed.”

Although my choices were limited—he still objected to my taking a job or enrolling in classes at college—I continued my dancing and started taking private art instruction.

Matt was a born entertainer and although he tried to avoid crowds, disliked restaurants, and complained he “couldn’t get out like a normal person,” this life-style suited him. He handpicked the people he wanted to be around him—to work with and travel withand they adjusted to his routine and his hours and his temperament. It was a pretty close clan throughout the years. A few arguments erupted and a few couples left over some misunderstandings, but they usually returned in a week or two.

My view of life had been fashioned by Matt. I had entered his world as a young girl and he had provided absolute security. He distrusted any outside influences, which he saw as a threat to the relationship, fearing they would destroy his creation, his ideal. He could never have foreseen what was happening as the consequence of his prolonged absences from home. A major period in my growth was beginning. I still feared our separations but felt that our love had no boundaries, that I was his and if he wanted me to change, I would. For years nothing had existed in my world but him, and now that he was gone for long stretches of time, the inevitable happened. I was creating a life of my own, starting to achieve a sense of security in myself, and discovering there was a whole world outside our marriage.

Over the years of playing Vegas, other pressures began to mount. There were more death threats and lawsuits, including alleged paternity suits and assault-and-battery charges. Jealous husbands claimed they’d seen Matt flirting with their wives, and others continued to charge that Sonny and Red were manhandling them. Matt began to get bored with these nuisances as well as with the sameness of the show. Inevitably, he tried to change the format, but then he felt it just didn’t have the same pacing as the original. He’d add a few songs here and there but then revert to the original. Pointed suggestions that he make changes before the next Vegas date added to the pressure.

Bored and restless, he increased his dependence on chemicals. He thought speed helped him escape from destructive thinking, when in reality it gave him false confidence and unnatural aggressiveness. He started losing perspective on himself and others. To me he became increasingly unreachable.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - welll..🎀

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

‘Cause You’re a Sky Full of Stars (I’m Gonna Give You My Heart)

Part Two of Sometimes All You Need (A Getaway Car)

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: After your whirlwind meeting at the bar, you and Jake finally go on your first date.

Disclaimer: Insecurities on the part of Gorgeous Girl,

Warnings: afab!reader

Word Count: 4460

A/N: Hi! I'm back! This concept took over my brain and I had to write Jake and Gorgeous Girl's first date. Like the last installment, I listened to a song to get the creative juices flowing. So without further ado, this part is sponsored by Coldplay's A Sky Full of Stars and this picture of Glen Powell. Thanks to @bradshawsbaby for their service and for bringing that sinful image to my dash! Also I have a billion thanks to @roosterbruiser for proofreading and feedback as well!

AO3: Cross-posted here! My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

You wake up slowly, with your mouth fuzzy and eyes screwed shut. Your limbs feel heavy as you sit up, wrapped in a cocoon of your blankets. After detangling yourself, you shuffle into your bathroom and mechanically go about your morning routine. The sun is dipping through the slits in your blinds as you traipse downstairs and wait zombie-like, mug in hand, in front of your coffee maker as it finishes brewing your coffee. The first sip of the rich and dark brew reminds you of the whiskey you’d shared with Jake the night before. Flashes of the night before whirl through your mind as you contemplate whether 10 AM on a Saturday is too early to text him. To let him know that you’re thinking about him. At the very least, you can see if he’s texted you back after all, right?

“Text me, gorgeous girl!” His parting words from the night before sound even sweeter, ricocheting through your mind in the stark morning light as you stand barefoot, in your pajamas and bedhead, on your kitchen tile. Your toes curl unbidden as you think of the look in those green, green eyes as you said goodnight. The thought of those eyes has you unlocking your phone and navigating to your messages. His contact makes you grin. A tipsy, man-drunk you had picked the right choice, leaving 🤠💚 after his name. While the three messages you’d sent the night before are cringy, you’re half expecting there to be no response from Jake at all. But there they are, received at 6:30 in the morning.

You gawp unflatteringly at the screen in your hand. Did he say he dreamed? Of you? It’s official. Jake Seresin is terrible for your mental clarity and your sanity. His messages are giving you whiplash outright. You’re haunting his dreams in one second, and he’s bantering with you about Batman in the next.

You’re not expecting any more responses from him. Anyone awake at 6 AM on a Saturday is sure to have a busy day planned. You, yourself, have plans to meet your best friend for brunch in the city.  So you knock back the remains of your coffee and head back upstairs to get ready.

You see Jake’s response when you’re collecting your things with sunglasses perched on your face nearly an hour later. You’re fully dressed in a graphic t-shirt, cut-offs, and sneakers for brunch.

Butterflies run rampant in your stomach as you hook your phone up to your convertible’s sound system and blast music on the way to the restaurant you’d decided on with your friend for brunch. You meet her there promptly at 11:30, greeting her with hugs and laughter. It isn’t until you’re at the table and each holding a drink, fresh-squeezed orange juice and coffee for you and a mimosa for her, that the Spanish Inquisition begins. Callie, now back in San Diego permanently, broaches the topic of your date with James. She’d been the chief architect of your Tinder profile and your biggest cheerleader as you agonized over what to wear the night before.

“Sorry, Cal,” you grin at her, “James sucked!” At her glare, you spill the whole tale. Her glare softens into a wince as you mention all the things James said about his ex and his mother. It’s when you mention Jake that something changes. 

“Jake?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you’re smiling that giddy fond grin again, unable to make eye contact.

“And he's in the Navy?”

“Yeah.”

“A Naval Aviator?”

“That’s what he said, Cal.” There is a pause as you digest what she’s getting at. “Wait. Callie! You’re a Naval Aviator. Do you know him?”

You grasp your friend’s hands as you plead for more information. She carefully extricates herself from your grip, rotating her wrists, and primly pushes her sunglasses up her nose. She’s letting you stew in your realization, the bitch. If only she weren’t your best friend since you were twelve. As much as you hate her need for suspense at the moment, you also know you wouldn’t trade her for anyone else in the world. So you sip on your juice and wait. It isn’t until the food is on the table that she responds to your frantic questions.

“I know a Jake, who is a Naval Aviator. But a knight in shining armor, he is not. If I had to describe him, I’d describe him as a complete and total dick.” She lifts her hand at your falling face, gesturing at you to stop whatever your face is doing. “Do you remember a couple of months ago when I was back on North Island for that secret detachment mission?”

“Yeah, Cal, I do.”

“And do you remember that one night when we met for dinner at that place with the pitchers of spicy margaritas and the mouth-watering tacos? I was venting about this complete and utter asshole, callsign Hangman, who persisted in leaving everyone behind?”

You nod.

“That’s him. He’s changed over the past few months since the squadron was permanently assigned to North Island. But I’m still worried about what he’ll do to you. He goes through girls like he does those damned toothpicks he always has in his mouth. Sweet and gorgeous girls who want forever aren’t really his thing.”  She’s serious now. There isn’t a hint of the laughter usually on her face. “But, I also know you. He’s your type. He has been since we were giggling about boys for the first time. I’m not going to stop you from going out with him. You deserve to have someone who makes you smile like you were earlier. This is just a warning, and I want you to know I have your back. I will beat him up if he makes you cry. I also expect to be named your Maid of Honor if this relationship goes that far.”

You smile tremulously at your best friend and rock, grateful to have her support even if she isn’t happy about you seeing him again. The both of you begin to scarf down your meals in companionable silence.

When there’s barely any food left on the plates, you pick up the conversation again. “Cal, I should probably mention that he asked me out to dinner this morning. He’s picking me up at 6 at my place. Would you please, please, please help me pick out something to wear?” you beg, now, batting your best puppy dog eyes at your friend.

“Sure,” she grumbles, finishing the last of her mimosa. “What did he say was the dress code?”

You pull out your phone and check your messages.

You hand Callie your phone, letting her scroll through your messages with Jake. Her eyebrows climb as she scrolls through the messages.

“It looks like he’s trying to impress you by doing something on the beach. What do you think about heading to that boutique downtown? The one where I found that gorgeous sparkly blazer you love so much?” She asks as you split the bill. Both of you get into your car and drive into the city with the summer breeze ruffling through your hair and the sun shining brightly.

It had taken three hours for you and Callie to decide on an outfit for your date. You’d tried on what felt like hundreds of sundresses before ultimately picking out a green flowy dress and strappy sandals. Cute and casual but not sloppy. It felt like no time had passed between when you headed home and now as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You touch up your makeup and pursed your lips to apply lipstick in the same burgundy shade as the night before.

The doorbell rings, and the butterflies in your stomach decide to swarm up your esophagus. You open the front door to see Jake standing in front of you, wearing a pair of aviators and clutching a bouquet in his hand. He hands the bouquet to you with a heart-stopping grin. The arrangement is gorgeous, dark red carnations interspersed with sprigs of white baby’s breath.

“Hi Jake,” you grin, bringing the bouquet to your nose, inhaling deeply to get a whiff of the flowers’ delicate fragrance. “Please, come in. Let me put these in water, and then I’m ready to go.”

Jake steps in, and you close the door behind him. He’s wearing a soft sage-colored Henley t-shirt rolled up his forearms, a pair of worn jeans, and cowboy boots. You can hear him stomping behind you as you walk into the kitchen and grab a vase from a shelf. There is something different about seeing Jake Seresin in your house. He’s carefully examining everything, from the pictures on the walls to the books on your shelves. You finish up with the flowers and stand next to him in front of the bookshelf. He’s got your worn copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands.

“Have you ever read it?” you ask, curious.

“I have. It’s my twin sister’s favorite book.” His eyes are fond as he flips to the bookmark you left the last time you’d picked the book up, right at Darcy’s first confession of love to Elizabeth.

“My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. In declaring myself thus I'm fully aware that I will be going expressly against the wishes of my family, my friends, and, I hardly need add, my own better judgement.” His voice is perfect. He manages to portray every emotion in Darcy’s voice while staring deep into your eyes. The moment stretches into something tender and heavy. You’re barely breathing, cataloging the flecks of gold and brown swimming in his eyes. You nearly kick yourself for breaking his gaze when you gently grab the book from his hands, close it, and set it on the shelf.

“Dinner?” you ask, grabbing the last of your things and putting them in your bag.

“Dinner,” Jake murmurs back, voice soft. He’s the perfect gentleman, pulling the front door open for you, waiting at the bottom of the stairs while you lock the door, and helping you into his behemoth of a truck.

The windows are down again, with the radio still tuned to the same country station. Instead of heading towards downtown San Diego, Jake points the truck north, driving up I-5.

“Where are we going?” you ask, enjoying the evening breeze as you cruise effortlessly on the roads.

“La Jolla. There is this amazing Italian restaurant on the beach. I thought we’d eat dinner there and then walk along the beach?” There’s a pause, and then, “But if you don’t like Italian, I’m sure we can find other restaurants in the area.” He sounds flustered.

You shouldn’t be feeling amused, yet you can’t keep the smile from your voice as you place your hand over his and say, “Italian is perfect.” You glance over at him, seeing that his aviators are once again snugly perched on his nose. You can see the light nervous blush coloring his golden cheeks. As much as you’d like to see how far his blush goes, you change the subject instead, asking, “How was your day?”

He seems too eager to respond, mentioning running in the morning, eating brunch, hanging out with some squadron members, and playing dogfight football on the beach. You’re not quite sure what dogfight football entails. Callie has mentioned it before too. When you ask Jake, his explanation, which involves two footballs and keeping score while defending your team from the opposing team's football, sets your head spinning. Keeping track of the rules for American Football is already too much. He’s scandalized, green eyes peering at you from over the rim of his aviators when you tell him as much. The rest of your trip to the restaurant is spent with him trying and failing to portray the football field verbally and describe plays to you. You’re smiling uncontrollably, regardless, when the truck pulls into a spot in front of the restaurant. As promised, the restaurant is on the beachfront. The sun is setting in blossoms of red and gold that transition to violet in front of your eyes.

“It’s a stunning view, isn’t it.” You startle at the sound of his voice, a little surprised to see the driver’s seat empty and Jake standing next to you in the open truck door. “Ready for dinner?”

“I’m famished,” you grin as you take his hand and hop out of the truck. You conclude that Jake draws attention everywhere you go, especially when you hear the giggling from the hostess and your waitress as she leads you to your table. Your waitress’ eyes goggle when Jake pulls out your chair for you before folding gracefully into his own across from you.

"What can I get you, sir?" she simpers, pressing her arms together to get Jake's eyes on her bosom.

"Darlin', do you know what you'd like to drink?" Jake asks you instead, ignoring the display from your waitress in its entirety.

"I'm not sure. I'd love to order a glass of wine." You waver, second-hand embarrassment for your waitress' peacocking melting into your tone.

"Can we have a couple of glasses of your house red, please?" Jake asks your waitress, once again keeping his tone polite and eyes on her face and not her over-exposed assets.

Her downcast face and Jake's smug, mischievous grin nearly have you laughing at the table as she walks away. Behind Jake, you can see a desperate powwow as your waitress, hostess, and other waitresses desperately try to get a game plan together to attract his attention.

"Sweets.”

“Doll.” 

“Gorgeous?!" You snap back to Jake and your table with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," You’re grinning shyly as you respond, "our waitress, the hostess, and a few other waitresses all look like they're going to war behind you."

"War?" He drawls, eyes still looking right at you. "What exactly would they be going to war over?"

"You." You murmur, embarrassed to have brought it up. You continue at the sardonic tilt to his raised eyebrow, "They're going to wage war against me over you. I'm sure it's happened to you before. The waitstaff deciding that the girl you're having dinner with isn't as pretty as you deserve?"

There is an understanding look on his face now. You're unsure if you should say anything further, but save yourself the embarrassment and effort when your waitress returns with the wine. The next moments are full of Jake tasting the wine, deeming it acceptable, and your waitress pouring each of you a glass. You sip slowly at the rich, tart, sweet liquid and wait until your waitress has stepped away again.

This time, when Jake utters, "Gorgeous girl," in that Texan growl, your eyes are on him already. His hand is held upright, halfway across the table, fingers wiggling imperiously.

"Take my hand, beautiful?" You can't say no when asked like that and place your hand in his.

Satisfied, he continues, "I'm only going to say this once, so I hope you hear me and completely understand what I'm saying. Yes, it has happened before. But the waitstaff at a restaurant isn't who I'm having dinner with. When I'm out to dinner with a girl, all my attention is on her. I could care less if the sky is falling or elephants are roaming the restaurant and acting as the sommelier. My attention tonight is on you and only you." He punctuates that entire impassioned statement with a squeeze of your fingers.

You're flushed again, cheeks hot under his knowing gaze, and you evade his eyes by dipping your head to peer at your menu. Things are quiet as you order your entrée, something the menu says is lightly dressed in the house marinara sauce.

Once you're both alone at the table again, you murmur, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed anything. Just chalk it up to my rampant insecurities. I really like you. And I’m trying not to sabotage this, but I guess I just did.”

“Hey, sweets. It’s alright. You’re only human. And gorgeous. If I have to tell you that every day, I will.” He’s smiling now, a tender sweet curl to his lips. 

"Jake? I realized today that our worlds intersect far more closely than I thought they did. And I need to tell you this before we go any further."

"What do you mean?" He murmurs back with his voice pitched low to accommodate the serene environment in the restaurant.

"I mean, that I had brunch with my best friend today. Her name is Callie, Callie Bassett. I've known her since I was twelve years old. As I'm sure you know, she's a Naval Aviator, too. Her callsign is Halo, and she's on your squadron." His shoulders tense, hunching towards his ears as you continue. "She told me that I should be careful with you, that you aren't the type to look for forever in a girl. And I like you. I really like you, more than I thought I would, and probably far too much for how long we've known one another. But I want to give you and me a shot. I just need to know you're looking for the same thing."

“Gorgeous girl,” his voice is husky and a bit scratchy as he responds to your plea, "I know it may not look like it to my squadron, but I am looking for forever. The Navy has kept me moving all over the country and the world for years. It never felt right to look for forever when I knew that at a drop of a hat I could be sent anywhere in the world. How could I leave somebody to go through a life we built, all alone with me a million miles away? So I stuck to girls who weren’t looking for anything serious. And as my career grew, so did my reputation as a womanizer. Now, no matter how I look, I keep finding girls looking for one night, not forever. At least, I hope, until I ran into you in that bar last night."

His eyes are unbearably soft and sad as he sips his wine. You tug his hand forward and press a kiss on his knuckles, nuzzling at his hand just a little.

“Jake, I can’t say I have any experience in moving around the world and not being able to put down roots. But for now, all I have to say is, I hope we can build something good between us,” you murmur back. His eyes shine at your words.

Your entrées come out in a cloud of sweet tomato, garlic, and basil. After the serious conversation you had just had, the rest of the night is light. You compliment the food, share bites of each other's entrees, and chat about work, your families, about everything you can think of, including the likelihood that Jake is Batman. He pays for your meals despite your protests, leading you out onto the beach hand in hand. You both take your shoes off and walk barefoot through the sand, continuing to chat lightly.

You're about a quarter of a mile from the restaurant when Jake pulls you to a halt, tugging on your hand and pulling you towards him. His hair is windswept, as is yours, and he's smiling. You're both smiling, honestly, and have been for much of the night.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks. He reels you further into his embrace at your nod until your hand is splayed over his heart. He slowly brushes your hair aside and tips your head up. He carefully brushes his nose against yours and waits, letting you feel the lightest brush of his lips. 

"Gonna kiss you now," he groans before capturing your mouth with his. You melt in his arms, eyes fluttering closed as his tongue presses insistently against the seam of your lips until you part them. Your head is wholly occupied with Jake; his hands on you, his mouth on yours, his tongue, the taste of the wine you’d shared, the heady scent of his cologne, and the feeling of his muscular body holding you impossibly close.

Your breathing is ragged when he finally pulls away. You're desperately sucking in deep breaths of air because you're sure you forgot to breathe mid-kiss, your mind chanting Jake, Jake, Jake in a worshiping manner. When you glance at him, his lips are spit slicked and bitten red. He looks fantastic, and you nearly haul him back down for another kiss. You hold yourself back, though. Public indecency charges wouldn't look good on either of your records. He seems to be deliberating the same thing if the look in his eyes as he subtly adjusts the front of his jeans says anything. 

But rather than act on your mutual desire, he grasps your hand securely in his and leads you back to the truck. He'd nursed a single glass of wine all night, so you let him drive. He helps you up into the passenger seat, though this time, you stop him before he can close the door and tug him into another kiss. This one is softer, more chaste than the one you'd shared on the beach. As he finally pulls away and takes his place in the driver’s seat, you feel it will be impossible to keep your hands off him. Clearly, he's just as affected when he curls his palm over your knee, fingers tracing circles over your kneecap unconsciously.

The I-5 is quiet, for once. The roads are busy but not congested as Jake takes the exits toward San Diego. Instead of taking you home, though, Jake drives you towards North Island. The guard at the base gates greets him cheerfully and lets the truck through. Rather than go onto the base proper, Jake pulls the truck onto a small gravel-lined inlet that lets out on a small, deserted beach. 

"In Texas," he starts, nostalgia deep in his tone, "when we're out in the land surrounding the ranch, you can see the stars for miles. Since I left, I've been searching for a spot to see them. So every time I'm at a new duty station, I search for the perfect star-gazing spot. This is the one I found on North Island. I was hoping you weren't tired of me yet and that you wanted to stargaze with me for a while before I took you home?" He’s smiling as he tucks a toothpick into his mouth.

You grin back at him, murmuring. "Do you know any constellations? I've always wanted to be able to look up at the night sky and point out something. I don't think I can even point out the North Star."

“I know a few. My older brothers taught us how to point out the big ones. Things look a little different here than when we were in Texas, but I can teach you a few. I will make sure you can identify the North Star.” His eyes shine as he peers up to the sky, “It’s the perfect night for stargazing, clear without a cloud in the sky.”

“Is this why you wanted me to wear something I wouldn’t worry about getting sand on?” you ask, grinning at the wonder in his eyes.

“Partially,” he hums, getting out of the truck, helping you out of your seat, and walking you to the tailgate. 

“This,” he’s grinning again, toothpick grasped between his teeth, “is what I wanted you to wear something comfortable for.” You wait as Jake unlatches the tailgate and hoists himself up into the bed of his truck. He pulls out a couple of blankets from a steel crate behind the cab, unfolding one for the two of you to sit on and the other to place over your laps. He then hops off the truck bed and holds his hand to you.

You’re smiling again, laughing at the child-like wonder on his face at the thought of seeing the stars. You step closer, by-passing his outstretched hand, pluck the toothpick out of his mouth, and curl a hand around the back of his neck. His eyes flutter close at the gentle caress. You pet the short, spiky hairs at the base of his neck before dragging your hand down his throat. His eyes stay closed until you work his dog tags out from where they’d been lying against his skin. The metal is smooth and skin-warm in your hand. His name, call sign, and blood type are embossed on them. But you hadn’t gone for his dog tags to examine them. Nope. You wrap the chain in your fingers and tug, pulling his mouth, now smirking, down to yours. You peck his smiling lips, smattering soft kisses across his face as he hefts you easily onto the tailgate, his biceps bulging as he lifts you with hardly any effort. His hands stay on your hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles over you as you gaze into each other’s eyes. 

“Stargazing, sweets.” At your confused moue, he continues, voice gravelly, “I brought you here to show you the stars, not kiss your lipstick off. Can I take your shoes off?” 

You nod, watching as he slides his hands down your legs, undoes the straps of each sandal, and pulls them off. He sets them on the tailgate and hauls himself into the truck bed beside you before toeing his boots off. Jake crawls into the truck bed, sitting with his back against the cab. You join him. He pulls you to sit between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. 

You tip your head and imperiously order him to show you some stars. His laugh vibrates through you from your position nestled against his chest. Looking at the stars with Jake is an enlightening experience. He knows where the constellations are, even in San Diego instead of Texas. He even tells you some of the various myths about the constellations. The highlight of star-gazing with Jake is when you see a shooting star streak across the sky. 

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.” He rumbles out, “Make a wish.”

Make a wish? That you can do. For more enchanting nights with Jake. For more days and nights to get to know Jake. For a chance to show your friends and family the sweet nerd you’d seen underneath the muscle, the boy with stars in his eyes. It’s a thought that sticks with you even as you fall asleep alone that night.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@teacupsandtopgun 🚙 @jynxmirage 🚙 @cherrycola27 🚙 @desert-fern

Want to be added to the Taglist for this fic? Leave a comment on this masterlist or drop me a message in my inbox!

PLEASE INCLUDE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. I DO NOT ACCEPT TAG-LIST REQUESTS FROM BLANK OR AGELESS BLOGS. THIS IS AS MUCH FOR MY SAFETY AND LEGALITY ON THE INTERNET AS WELL AS YOURS.

[headlight-district]

Well 2 weekends ago, 2 events, some 4000 shots. Formula Drift in Englishtown, NJ on Friday and IMSA 6 Hours of the Glen on Sunday. Took a week to go through everything. Here are some shots from Englishtown.

I really tried to shoot a lot slower. I'm usually shooting 1/80 maybe 1/100 to make sure I get something I can use. This time I was going 1/60 and below. Which brought my hit rate way down. It was also very hot and I feel like that took my game down a notch. But, I feel like I got some decent stuff out of it.

[equallyloyalandlethal]

Can we know more about the "puppy pack motel" fic? Also, is the blind Theo au on ur AO3, or will it be at some point?

The Puppy Pack goes to the Glen Capri (ch 1 is on ao3)

Here's a snippet from ch 6 of 7

No sooner than Theo slid the truck to a stop in the lot, the passenger door swung open and his favorite McCall Pack beta vacated the vehicle with a vehemence he had not seen in a while. He turned the key, killing the engine, but made no other move to vacate his seat. The prickle of eyes on him, peeling back the layers of him and trying to dig icy picks into him, had him shaking out his shoulders and rubbing at his nape. Hypervigilance was the name of his game, and had been for a long time, but this was strange. Colder. 

Brett’s snarl as he opened his own door and threw himself out shook Theo loose from his head, jarring him back to reality. He twisted around, reaching for the spare hoodie he had tucked beneath the passenger seat and throwing it on before getting out as well. 

In far too level of a tone to be joking, Brett said, “Alec, I know you can hear me, I swear to god, if I smell anything in the car when I get back, I'm going to rip your fangs out one by one.”

More out of habit and instinct, Theo chuckled and added, loud enough for the wolf’s phone to pick it up, “I have the necessary experience to help with that if you want.” 

Hayden added something after him, but the hollow chill in his chest held too much of his focus for him to quite catch the words. 

Liam’s half-grumbled “Really? That's the one you've decided is your best friend?” should have pulled a smile onto his face. 

Maybe it was the drive. It had been a few months since he had done any driving longer than a couple of hours at a time. 

Regardless of what put him in the odd headspace, he pulled away from the group and made his way to the front desk. Checking in went smoothly. Apparently this was not the first time they have had guests from Beacon Hills and their little troop was not even the biggest group to ever stay from their quaint little hellhole.

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia! You said that you need another vacation after this vacation, so I am not sure, how puppy situation, even if it partual custudy, affecting you ( may be you in panic when he is there and then recovering when he is not, and then round and round? ), but really, If you need another vacation, I hope you know we will be here to support you for it!

It's been nearly 4 weeks now since we got Toby so I feel like I can talk about this with a bit of a clear head.

(Talk of like an actual PTSD meltdown beneath the read-more, including self-harm mention - nothing graphic. There's zero obligation for anyone to read this, especially for folks who don't think authors should ever be honest about being people with issues):

So, I've been kind of quiet about aspects of this, but I have like severe treatment-resistant PTSD and C-PTSD, and puppies specifically are one of my triggers (especially if I'm responsible for them). The reason for that is kind of awful, and I don't really want to talk about some of the things I've experienced/been through that led to that, so let's just move onto the next part. You're kind of right anon, there has been panic while he is here lol.

As a result, I had a severe meltdown the first time I tried to adopt a dog many years ago now. Could not last 24 hours, needed weeks/months to recover.

But I've always wanted to share my life with a dog and I've been in a somewhat better space over the past year or so, and I thought I could maybe handle it better. I told myself 'if I can just get through that 24 hours I'll realise it's okay and it will all work out.' Anon I cannot tell you where this thinking came from, but it was wrong. Idk why past me was kind of naive enough to think this way but here we are.

No, after that 24 hours, it got temporarily better, and then I slammed into consecutive meltdowns, each one worse than the next, until the people around me were afraid for my life. I am still recovering from some of the harm I inflicted on myself during the last three weeks and likely will be for some time to come. The combination of a really intense PTSD relapse, as well as not being able to handle (as an AuDHD person) intense changes to my schedule basically compounded and I broke.

I made the decision to rehome Toby, and first contacted the people around me. Glen's mum said she wanted a dog, and had been specifically looking into dogs like Toby anyway, and so we decided this would be best because then I could still be involved (I love Toby to pieces).

After getting some space, I finally started to adjust, and have gone back to having Toby about 4~ days a week, with a view to going to about 6 days, with one day spent with my mum, or Glen's mum.

Today is the first day I was able to handle having him on my own for around 9.5 hours. And I'm here and able to write about it, so that's progress. He'll be here all day Sunday, and then Tues-Weds-Thurs-Friday. And from there a decision will be made as to where I'm at with my mental health etc.

I'm a bit more hopeful now that I might be able to keep him, but my PTSD is still very very bad. I'm having some nights where I'm simply not sleeping until 7.30am (even if he's not here), and my hypervigilance is crazy. Like, I am having so many auditory flashbacks it's stupid. So this is why I've been saying this break hasn't been very restful or productive. Because my mental health tanked like I detonated a landmine inside myself.

I didn't actually plan the two week break for Toby! That was just a coincidence honestly.

Unfortunately I have a lot of health conditions that respond very poorly to stress, so I'm dealing with those now too. And then additionally, in all of this, I had a breast scan / mammogram / ultrasound that has confirmed a suspicious lump I found a couple of months ago (breast cancer runs in the family), and I suspect I'm going to need a biopsy. I'll find out on Monday if that's the case. That's been in the background and hasn't been helping.

There's some other stuff going on that's not really worth talking about because these are the main things, but that's a good picture I think. It turns out 'just getting through the first 24 hours' doesn't magically make a severe PTSD trigger go away. And that forced exposure is not 'exposure therapy' - that's just reinforcing a trigger.

Anyway! I feel like I'm through the worst of it, and I am seeing glimpses of how my life could be richer if I keep getting through this. But...that's why I think another break. *smiles tiredly.* I have to wait a bit now for the PTSD / C-PTSD symptoms to settle down, and I also need to see what's kind of worsened after this. Realistically, with a relapse to this degree, it could take between 3-6 months to really start recovering, or to at least get back to where I was before December.

I hope with all my heart I can get there with Toby by my side. I love him so much.

(I want to add that Toby has never ever been in a position of harm at any point, and in fact I probably put myself in harm's way for his sake, because I wanted to provide solid continuity of care - in case anyone was worried about that).

Er so yeah! But I've picked up my writing again this week and have been able to do some like...things I'd been neglecting, and I feel more human again, I just hope I get some sleep tonight

[viper-motorsports]

The summer rain that plagued the 2023 IMSA Sahlen’s Six Hours of the Glen failed to slow Vasser Sullivan’s N°14 Lexus RC F GT3 as they proceeded to top the GTD Pro class and secure their second victory of the young season.

[ourtearsofrain]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy Masterlist

When I first wrote Save a Horse, I didn't expect to make a part 2 let alone a whole universe expanding on Sam and Danny, as well as Jake and Josh with their respective OC partners, but here we are. The boys and my OC's are my babies, I hope you love them as much as I do. I hope to continue expanding their stories, thank you for reading :)

Updated: 6/30/24

Fluff- ♡ | Angst- ☾ | Smut- ⟡ | Hurt/Comfort- 𖤓 | Drabble- ☁︎

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

Sam and Danny

Save a Horse- (Danny x Sam)- ♡ 𖤓 ⟡ ☾

Danny convinces Sam to go to a new line dancing bar in town. A gay bar. On a steal night. When they’re both secretly head over heels in love with each other. What could go wrong?

Ride a Cowboy (Save a Horse pt. 2)- (Danny x Sam, background Josh x Austin, background Jake x Sebastian)- ♡ 𖤓 ⟡ ☾

Danny and Sam tell Jake and Josh they’re dating. Their reactions? That they need to see the line dancing bar where they finally confessed to each other. Lucky for them, there’s a partners night coming up where the newbies dance with local drag queens. What neither expected was to leave the bar with a man on each of their arms.

Paper Rings (D.R.W/S.F.K) ♡

When Danny wants to propose to Sam, he turns to his brothers for help, wanting the evening to be perfect.

Josh and Austin

Salty Dogs, Anyone? (J.M.K/O.C)- ♡ ☁︎

Continuation/offshoot of Ride a Cowboy; what happens between Josh and Austin that night.

All Of Me (J.M.K/O.C)- ♡ 𖤓 ⟡ ☾

As their relationship develops, Austin knows that he needs to tell Josh a key aspect of his identity; but every time he tries, his nerves take over, afraid of losing him. He’s finally “forced” into the perfect opportunity as Josh gets handsy after their date, pushing aside his fears to tell him.

Two (J.M.K/O.C)- ☾ 𖤓 ☁︎ ♡

Josh knows something has to be wrong when Austin’s late for movie night.

Apple Pancakes and Cider Syrup (J.M.K/O.C)- ♡ ☁︎

When Austin rises hours before Josh does, he decides to make his boyfriends’ favorite breakfast.

Jake and Sebastian

(Check out @leolep20’s art of them here!)

Mon Beau (J.T.K/O.C)- ♡ ☾ ☁︎

Continuation/offshoot of Ride a Cowboy; what happens between Sebastian and Jake that night.

Je Te Laisserai Des Mots (J.T.K/O.C)- ☾ 𖤓 ☁︎ ♡

Jake has a nightmare and turns to Sebastian for comfort.

Please (J.T.K/O.C)- ♡ ⟡

Jake only has to use his words for Sebastian to give him what he wants when he keeps begging for it.

All of them (not really focused on one pair specifically)

Even Broken Bells Will Ring- ☾ 𖤓 ☁︎

Josh has something important to tell Jake.

A Dangerous Duo

Sam and Josh try drag.

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

My recommended order to read in:

Even Broken Bells Will Ring

Save a Horse

Ride a Cowboy

Salty Dogs, Anyone?

Mon Beau

All Of Me

Two

Apple Pancakes and Cider Syrup

Je Te Laisserai Des Mots

A Dangerous Duo

Please

Paper Rings

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

Complete Song List:

Save a Horse:

Rhinestone Cowboy- Glen Campbell

Fast Car- Luke Combs

Nothing But You- Leaving Austin

Turn on the Radio- Reba McEntire

Cruise- Florida Georgia Line

Last Name- Carrie Underwood

Jolene- Dolly Parton

Save a Horse- Big & Rich

Ride a Cowboy:

Fancy- Reba McEntire

Cotton-Eye Joe- Rednex

Plastic Jesus- Tia Blake Ophelia- The Lumineers

A Bank Robber’s Nursery Rhyme- Goodnight, Texas

Our Song- Taylor Swift

Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)- Big & Rich

Girls- The Dare

Cleopatra- The Lumineers

Salty Dogs, Anyone?

Love Me Like You Used To- Lord Huron

Mon Beau

If Not For You- George Harrison

A Dangerous Duo

Girls- The Dare

Bad Blood- Taylor Swift ft. Kendrick Lamar

Teenage Dream- Katy Perry

Dog Days Are Over- Florence + the Machine

Woyaya- Osibisa

Paper Rings

Material Girl- Madonna

Rich Girl- Gwen Stefani

Money, Money, Money- Meryl Streep, Julie Walters & Christine Baranski

Partners in Crime- Set It Off

Paper Rings- Taylor Swift

Fast Car- Luke Combs

Cleopatra- The Lumineers

[nityarawal]

3/23/23

Dear Courts-

This is my testimony for myself & Carol Lund with her husband Keith.

I was slumlorded out of Joan Grandizio's home at the "Freedom Farm," at 

59605 Grandon Road in Turweleger community of Anza, CA in January.

I started working with Joan on a referral from our handyman Ryan Wickoff. 

He said she fired him for no good reason. He was going to move in. 

So we hired Eddy Lyons - another kind handyman to investigate the trailer I was buying to tow to her farm in Sep. 

Eddy also still needs to be paid for that service! We both did this in good faith and spent a day in Pine Cove with the owner Oceana Cotton.

Eddy also witnessed this kind of abuse at Barbara Bradford's farm after her maintenance guy raped me! She stole most if my furniture and storage!

I was living at Kosh's airbnb in Pinyon at 69907 Averill Drive, Mountain Center, CA 92561 at the time. 

We found out Kosh's well water was polluted (and spreading giardia!)

I passed a parasite worm there for 1st time in life after 1000's of cleanses because of dozens of foul rentals & dirty hospitals/court violence!

Then I moved next door to Mary Schmitz's animal rescue Farm at:

62950 Pinyon Dr

Mountain Center CA 92561 

Moonrise Ranch ✨🐎🏕😊

To a dirty teepee she said was cleaned and 2 geckos crawled under stomach 1st night!

I cleaned her farm for months 24/7 (and it appeared deeply neglected for months.)

I told Mary we needed someone to tow trailer in October and she said her ex boyfriend Sean was going to steal it for himself! ): 

I asked her to advise him not to since she's a realtor and this was my verbal disclosure of my plan to buy it- because she said we could move it to her farm- and I only needed someone to tow it. 

I said it was mean and she drunkenly laughed it off. 

All her instruments were stolen too! (I have pictures of them so we can return them to rightful owners!)

She must be looting all her clients because she stole 3 guitars and all my roomful of assets since I took this job with Joan in January and won't let me go home! 

They also blocked me from water and home many times while I was at Elliots- locking me out late at night and in bad weather!

Oceana Cotton had promised to sell trailer to me or give it to Stevie and Joleen. 

Stevie now has cancer of dick & needs his home returned! (It was indeed stolen!)

Joan liked my handyman Eddy Lyons but fired him too for being friends with her "hated" tenants Carol & Keith and not obeying her "silencing" orders.

Finally, in January things were unbearable tending to Mary's 6 sick dogs while she battled alcoholism- she'd moved me to one of her 5 boyfriend's fathers home: Dan Elliot senior at:

61283 Chalet DR.

MOUNTAIN CENTER, CA

92561.

She promised he was sober- yet I had to ask him and friends not to do crystal meth in house because I'm really allergic and its illegal- cleaned needles up from whole property! I told him this condemned his house as a realtor, I'm allergic to Nazi drugs and don't want to ever see or smell it in a house! 

He was living in his Inherited Probate getting slumlorded by siblings in court stressed out of his head ill. Feds were terrorizing him too and Kosh on late payments with drone trespassing.

So I cooked, cleaned, provided food- gave him all my money and was his slave for months after being enslaved to Mary at her farm- and now Joan doxed my location to cops on brobes for months at her home & camping in snow.

I stayed one week at Dennis Sketchleys- a handyman that gave me a tick in my bed- when he slumlorded me from 54399 valleyview and tollgate/country club homes and beat me. I promised never to go on his property again but was desperate in snow! 

Then Dennis kicked me out after Mary's client Jessie was murdered at her airbnb tree house listing with Mike in Pine Cove. 

(I really need assets from Divorce Dissolution so I don't have to rent from ex-cons and field their abuse!)

Joan hired me to move to her Landers rescue with Glen; he's her 400 pound laborer that is ill from inhumane conditions- he can no longer walk- and rides machines around property hobbling to tend to animals.

There was no hot water or kitchen.

Joan offered me her "clean" Dome house. I got there after dark and took her word that it'd been cleaned for me. 

The bed was filthy and floors covered in dirt I saw in morning. 

Joan wanted me to take over Glen's job at her Lander's farm.

She said Glen was making: $400/mo at

$15/hour and she covered Phone payments, 2 days off, 25 hours a week for Morning feedings with Blankets on horses,

Checking on all cat & pippy Litters.

Puppies- are in-door & out-door with Double gates. Glen used Tractor to take

Manure to dumpster with Wheelbarrow.

She was marketing Earthen domes on camp websites. She said there was no

Kitchen which doesn't seem legal. 

I could see Glen wouldn't live long when I got there with such I'll health abd depression in substandard room even though he's my age! 

I worked for several days alongside them all training with him and encouraged Joan to keep him too. 

(He doesn't have anywhere to go and depends on his job and is very subservient and hard working despite Joan's demands. He nods as told to colleagues/tenants like obedient slave despite physical handicaps from her grossly neglected abd functionally obsolete animal shelters!)

Glen promised to put in hot water and a shower in a bathroom within a week since there was nowhere to clean up properly and it was very cold and windy. I was freaking out with no shower after 2 days of cleaning pig & horse / puppy/cat shit.

Joan asked me to come back to her Anz farm to work on contracts. 

She said I'd be doing the work exchange like Glen taking over his job. 

Joan gave me very detailed directions to her property. 

She said:

"10:30 a.m.

Come down mtn to Rancho Mirage

74 straight

10 west

Hwy 62

29 palms

Windmills

Yucca valley (call Joanne) 

Old women springs rd -Hwy 247- left (north)

20 miles to

Reche Rd. 

Curves to right - turn right

Pass

Landers post office - GPS

5-10 min away 

Left see Moose Lodge

Next White Building

Says Billfs Hall

Left on Gibraltar (if get to end of Gibralter - Gone too far- see back of property.)

1 block f/ end

About mile

Knox- ni-man - (right)

(Applegate way should say)

Pass abandoned house

Next property 

Will see 1 8th 1

(JOANS)

TELEPHONE POLE

58562

METAL EAGLE DANCER

CHURCH- JESUS SAVES

STORAGE"

So I think it's supposed to be:

58562 Applegate Way? 

Or Knox-ni-man? 

(Note: She failed to mention if it was Gibralter Ave or Dr. And they're side by side. How many have they tricked & trashed cars on tow? 

Please present my full letter!)

But the 2nd day I was there I came home one night from getting groceries and Must've passed Gibralter and took a second Gibralter on Left! 

Joan failed to mention there were two Gintralter roads parallel next to each other in my notes as you can see. 

So I end up at the end of this road with a deserted house in the sand. 

I looped around to see where I went wrong on directions and came back to dead end with abandoned house confused. 

I tried to circle out and got stuck in a sand driveway.

 I called Glen to get me and he said put car in reverse or neutral and slammed my car right into the back side of his truck! 

He promised his friend would fix it next day but failed to follow up. I've written them both many times!

I sent Joan the bill for over $3000 and she's shirking her responsibility to all employees that have worked for her.

She invited me back to Freedom Farm in Anza to shower and use her kitchen. 

She said everything was hers in refrigerator and insisted I help myself. 

She wanted to do the contract with me so I paid $40 to download a work exchange rental but she wouldnt sit down and focus on it for several days. She has added from parasites!

Her agenda was to wrongfully evict her tenants!

I told Joan I don't go to court or talk to police due to PTSD. 

She wanted me to go to the Courthouse with her to smear the tenants and I said I can't go to court. 

I asked her to drop me at a park or mall while I wait for her. 

She refused to drop me off and finally I had to get out at curb of Murietta Courthouse and wait for hours in the landfill across street. 

She had no sympathy for PTSD I have from domestic in-house terrorism of courts! 

Then she grilled me about my divorce and lack of settlements all day.

Since then I found out psychiatrist courts kidnapped me to Dr. Singh Was advertising my head for a Probate murder at Moreno Valley Hospital for Riverside Health. 

We feel Joan took bribes on all employee heads for court and is contentious.

Joan failed to sit and focus on contract all weekend because she was obsessed with wrongfully Evicting her tenants! 

I told her I can't Get involved- as my custody battle is priority of my life- and I don't have energy to deal with inhumane actions to people. 

For an animal rescue- we could all see she was being careless and cruel to all of us employees.

Joan told me her lawyer got ill visiting her and had to have his leg amputated when he was recently there and put me on a couch on the enclosed porch waiting room. She said Glen had slept there before me and didn't want me to open it into a bed. 

We feel Joan was intentionally spreading germ warfare. 

All the employees were traumatized by her lawyers diseased fate serving her and she never cleaned out his room. 

When I went into it I vomited and disease is rampant in her homes.

Joan instructed me to never speak to tenants Carol & Keith. 

She said she'd trained Glen just to nod at them. This is not my way but I was trying to be a loyal servant so followed orders. Carol & Keith were confused by my silence and scared having a stranger on property they weren't introduced to, so it put me in a uncomfortable, and compromised position.

One night I was in kitchen making tea and Joan called on speaker phone. 

Carol & Keith heard and were also in kitchen. 

Joan kept calling Carol "fatty" loudly on my phone and screaming other nasty names goading her on my speaker phone from Landers, meanwhile putting me in harms way with her upset and bullied tenants in THEIR kitchen! 

I also ate some potato salad and salami- because Joan said everything was hers- when in fact it was the tenants! That caused alot if drama! I paid Carol back $5 and decided to testify for her rather than Joan!

On Saturday- which was supposed to be my day off- Joan called and texted over a dozen times from morning to night about her tenant dispute harassing us. 

I told her I needed some rest from her drama. 

She wanted to call cops on tenants. 

I said if she needs to do that let me know- so I could leave.

 I have an extremely clean and prudent history despite many court contentious people like Joan trying to take bribes on head in ponzi scam against moms and lying in smear campaigns.

Joan knew I was just diagnosed with PTSD from officer rapes and foul play in September and I couldn't talk to them. 

She lied and said tenant called cops! 

Officer King came and tried to interrogate me and drag me in. 

I said I was just a guest- sat in my car- and refused his interrogation. 

Joan called and he wanted my phone to talk to her. 

I said "no" so he was pissed he had to use own phone and was rude to me rest of night. 

It was upsetting that Joan dragged me in anyways- and kept saying my name "Nitya" - which is very unusual and private. I texted her to never dox my location to a cop or my name again! 

I asked officer King for his card before he left and he was rude not to give it to me. 

I have sent videos of all the sarcastic, rude and nasty things he said to me to both Carol & Joan. 

It was extremely racist.

I told Joan I would leave if cops Terrorized us again and she led me to believe tenants had called- when it was her! She left a voice-mail confessing and then after lying about it.

Monday she wanted me to go to court with her again; I said "no" so she wanted me back in Landers and arranged for another laborer to come up. 

Monday morning I broke her rules -she said -by asking Carol for cops business card before I left. 

I also found out my x's atty died in a scuba diving accident last summer. 

It seemed preminiscious since I'd written a song about her called Barracuda Mamma. Sharkbait song unfolded that weekend and I was pleased with sequel I'd written and good news for my children's freedom from one atty in their pedophile sting.

I sent my new song to Joan and Carol as I was getting ready to drive to her Landers farm hours away.

Joan texted me to leave. 

It was very cold considering I'd worked 24/7 in slumming conditions for a week! She asked about my records and was looking to see if she could get me in trouble for court. 

I confessed dmv.org consulted with my ex husband and was withholding my registration even though IRS stole thousands of dollars of tax returns from 2016 divorce and also hired gay officer Enoch and Daniel Crabtree to steal my Lexus rental car on rape bribes from attys. I'd been caged by Dr. Singh 18 months of covid in shit filled rooms slumlorded out of over a dozen homes, all my assets stolen, and dmv refused to honor years where I couldn't even use Lexus Lemon while it was being serviced! Santa Monica Lexus dealership tried to steal my car while I was raped at hospitals and dmv.org refused to register it. I paid several hundred and they said that would suffice! 

They got several thousand from IRS yet they still fail to send registration sticker! Joan knew I was working for her to clean up that one thing from previous courts abuse!

I left within an hour when she said "bye," only to be greeted by officers Schmitt coming out of bushes hiding at gate. 

He cordially told me to have a good day.

 A block later Sheriff Curtis was coming down her dirt road and pulled me over. 

He said he was arresting me on registration and Cuffed and beat me into back of his car.

Carol said she was talking to officer Schmitt and he realized I lived and worked for Joan so came out and had Curtis release me. 

Curtis threatened to steal my car if he ever sees me again. 

Sargeant Protero raided my home and stole my phone & dog Blu I share with our handyman Eddy Lyons- in covid of 2020. 

Mountain Liquor say our Nazi Sheriff Brags about violence they've inflicted on me and say they wished they'd stolen my Lexus as well as my rental car when they had me raped with broken ribs in covid for 18 months of shit filled hospitals.

Mary Schmitz stole all my belongings from her boyfriend's dad's house where I was renting. 

We all feel both her and Joan doxed my location to have me murdered.

Joan wrote to say she was surprised I didn't go to jail! 

She asked me to wait all day while she sorted everything out. 

I sat in rain for 8+ hours- then she called to say she didn't want me back and laid her silencing trip on me.

I've been homeless since camping in snow. 

Mary Schmitz refuses to return assets and Joan just sends "cease & desist" messages to any reasonable communication.

We feel these animal rescues are a farce and they're actually abusing humans and animals.

I've seen 7 Dr's since with over 20 variants of parasites and bugs. 

Carol says Joan had covid and was taking parasite medication- but she failed to disclose Germ warfare! 

I need reimbursement on car damages, gas, health repercussions and a home for that week of hard work we all did. 

I need $50k in damages to cover unemployment for next year and would like to have my home back with tenants. 

We will bug bomb and disinfect it. Otherwise both her properties should be closed down and are condemned. 

We feel Joan has abused over 6 employees just since September spreading parasitic disease, gaslighting & abusive tactics; and she's not in her right mind to practice business. 

She never had a reasonable reason to fire all of us and it appears she's working for courts full time as a nazi soldier weaponizing motherhood. 

We feel 50k is a fair sum if she settles today so that we can heal at home in peace for remainder of year with kids & new puppies. 

Thankyou!

Blessings,

Nitya Rawal

Encinitasbeachhome.com

National Association of REALTORS 

Journalist @nityalakshmi108 - all docs and Grievances posted since September.

PS

More notes from Joan on Landers Job:

Ac

Porta potty

Joan Grandizio

Facebook 

3 or 4 hours a day

Dome house: 

Bigger Fridge

Table

Toaster oven ( which I bought at Anza Hardware & just returned- because I've been terrified Curtis & Nazi cops would steal my car & kill me with their hospital & court contentious bribed colleagues of atty Sharkbait circle!)

No water

Park in front of Dome

Walk

5 acres

2nd half sold

"Guanacasa" - Costarica

Transfer benefits to Costa

Start business 2-3 years

Buy a property that has a business

150k Ranchette 

Left on Gibraltar (if get to end of Gibralter - Gone too far- see back of property.)

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU [6] HELICOPTER BOY

Summary: Glenn is finally back and he brings another person to the camp. The group faces another problem.

Warnings: idk, language probably

Song: Silly Girl chloe moriondo

DAYLIGHT ON WATTPAD

The first thing they heard was the loudest car alarm that you could think of. It was echoing through the mountains, and in a second Dale was on his feet - like everyone else- on top of his RV. He had his binoculars up and was looking around the area.

"Talk to me, Dale." said Shane.

"Nothing yet." he said, still looking around.

They were all prepared to fight in case someone wanted to harm them. It was difficult to determine the direction and source of the noise due to the mountains.

"Is it them? Are they back?"

"I'll be damned." Dale smiled lightly.

"What is it?" asked Amy who was very nervous.

"Stolen car is my guess," Dale replied.

Before Charlie had a chance to say something, Glenn pulled up in a red sports car. He had a big grin on his face and his posture said that he was relaxed. The car looked like one that Charlie was being driven in by all those guys she was dating. He looked excited, not like a person who was stuck and surrounded just hours ago.

"You need a ride, baby?" those were the first words she heard as an Asian boy left his car.

"Silly." she smiled and hugged him.

"Told you I will be back. And you have to say that it's the coolest way to come back," he said and put an arm around her shoulder.

"Holy crap, turn that damn thing off!" Dale shouted in annoyance.

"I don't know how!" Glenn said.

"Pop the hood please," said Shane, coming to the car.

"My sister Andrea..." Amy almost tackled Glenn.

"Pop the damn hood, please?" Shane said through gritted teeth. "Pop the damn hood please!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Okay!" Glen was trying to shout over Amy while sitting in the car to do what Shane wanted.

"Is she okay? Is she alright?" Amy asked.

"YES." screamed an Asian boy, who couldn't bear the tension. "Yeah, she's okay! She's okay."

"Is she coming back?"Amy asked him another question.

"Yes!" he nodded.

"Why isn't she with you? Where is she? She's okay?"

"Yes!" was all he said to her yet another question.

"Amy, just give him space to breathe." Lori interrupted. "Andrea will be back."

"Yeah, she's fine," Glenn said with a smile that faded from his lips. "Everybody is. Well, Merle not so much."

Charlie furrowed her eyebrows, but her friend just gave her a sign that he would tell her everything later.

"Are you crazy driving this wailing bastard up here? You trying to draw every walker for miles?" Shane said nervously, leaning on the opened mask of the car.

"I think we're okay," said Dale.

"You call being stupid okay?" Shane furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at the older man.

"Well, the alarm was echoing all over those hills. Hard to point the source," he said and when he saw angry eyes of a cop on him, he added. "I'm not arguing, I'm just saying." Then he turned to Glenn and furrowed his eyebrows. "It wouldn't hurt you to just think things through a little more carefully next time, would it?"

"Sorry." he nodded his head with remorse, but as soon as he turned to look at Charlie he smiled, excitement pouring through the pores of his skin."Got a cool car."

She chuckled, happy that he found another bright side to the end of the world.

Van pulled up just a second later. More people leaving a car and hugging with their loved ones. It was a good sight, but Charlie saw how Lori was hugging Carl closer to her. The boy was crying, clearly sad that it's not his dad that is back.

"Amy!"

"Andrea!"

"Oh thank God," Charlie whispered looking up, so Glenn shoved her in the arm with a smile.

"You're a welcome sight." smiled Dale. "I thought we'd lost you folks for sure."

"We left him on a roof. Merle." said quietly, Glenn. "The new guy handcuffed him there because he was gonna put us all in danger," explained Asian.

"New guy?"

"How'd you all get out of there anyway?" asked Shane.

"New guy," repeated Glenn. "He got us out."

"New guy?" Dale asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"Yeah." Morales replied."Crazy vato just got into town. Hey! Helicopter Boy, come say hello!" he yelled to someone who was still near a van and looked at Shane. "He's a cop, like you."

Suddenly, Carl ran past her and straight into the arms of the new guy. All they could hear were sobs and words of love. Charlie's heart swelled as she watched the man kneel with his son in his arms, holding him tightly. Lori seemed shocked and slowly made her way over to her husband, embracing him. They all cried tears of joy together. Meanwhile, Shane stood there looking lost and attempting to conceal his emotions. He appeared devastated and bewildered, struggling to believe what he was seeing. However, when Lori's husband looked at him, he smiled.

As everyone huddled around the fire, Rick shared his incredible story. It was hard to believe that someone could endure so much, waking up alone in a hospital bed with no knowledge of what was happening outside. His voice trembled with confusion, but his determination to find his family never wavered. The new guy seemed kind-hearted with gentle features and was quite handsome and well-built - not as much as Shane, but still impressive. Lori was incredibly lucky to have him by her side.

Suddenly, a crackling sound interrupted her thoughts. Ed Peletier had just thrown another log onto the fire, and Shane watched with anger as sparks flew into the night sky.

"Hey, Ed." he said, trying to be calm."You wanna rethink that log?"

"It's cold man." he just shrugged.

"Cold doesn't change the rules, does it?"

Rick was confused about the whole thing and looked at his wife."Rules?"

"Keep our fires low, just embers, so we can't be seen from a distance, right?" Shane got up to kind of show off, making it clear that he's the leader, he's the boss.

"I said it's cold. Why don't you mind your own business for once?" Ed said back, annoyed.

"Sure you wanna have this conversation, man?"

"Go on. Pull the damn thing out, go on." Ed mumbled under his nose.

When two men were fighting, Carol walked up to the fire and took out the log from it. When she placed it on the ground, Shane stepped on it to prevent the flame from spreading. Then he crouched next to a mother and her daughter.

"Hey Carol, Sophia how are y'all this evening?" he asked kindly, not to scare any of them.

"Fine." Carol answered quietly."Just fine."

"Okay."

"Sorry about the fire," she said so quickly it was almost a whisper.

"No, no." Shane said abruptly."No apology needed. Y'all have a good night, okay?" he said and as he was getting up he added. "I appreciate the cooperation."

When everyone was seated back in their places and silence became overwhelming, Dale decided to ask the crucial question. "Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind."

Daryl was still out on a hunt. He left again, soon after they came back from looking for berries and was gone till now. It was not unusual for the hunter to spend a night in the woods, so his absence went unnoticed. However, today everyone seemed relieved that Daryl was gone because that gave them time to come up with a plan, they could choose a poor person, who would break the news to him.

"I'll tell him." said T-Dog. "I dropped the key. It's on me."

"I cuffed him. That makes it mine." said Rick, while caressing hair of Carl, who was laying on his legs.

"Guys, it's not a competition." interrupted them Glenn. "I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy."

"I did what I did." T-Dog shrugged. "Hell if I'm gonna hide it from him." he added.

"We could lie." proposed Amy.

And that would be the best option. They would make up a story, that wouldn't make Daryl as angry as the truth would make him, and everyone would be just fine.

But...

Charlie thought about her brothers. If she was in a place like Daryl, she would like to know what really happened. Because that would give her hope. Hope that she will see them again, talk to them again, just be with them. Or confirm that they are dead. Charlie would give everything to know where were her brothers.

"Or tell the truth," she said right after Amy.

"Yeah. Merle was out of control. Something had to be done or he'd gotten us killed." said Andrea and looked at Lori. "Your husband did what was necessary. And if Merle got left behind, it's nobody's fault but Merle's," she added, sure of her opinion of course.

"And that's what we tell Daryl?" asked Dale skeptically. "I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you?" he looked at everyone's faces. He sighed and looked into the fire. "Word to the wise, we're going to have our hands full when he gets back from his hunt."

"I was scared and I ran," said T-Dog. "I'm not ashamed of it."

"We were all scared. We all ran. What's your point?" Andrea asked him.

"I stopped long enough to chain that door. The staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It's not enough to break through that. Not that chain. Not that padlock." he said. "My point: Dixon's alive. He's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us."

Charlie's heart fluttered with gratitude as she was lying in the tent, knowing that Glenn was back. The relief washed over her, knowing he was safe. Thoughts swirled in her mind about the newcomer, Rick Grimes, and what his presence might mean for their group. Would he bring trouble or much-needed assistance? It was already clear that his presence bothered Shane, who was an alpha in this camp - and had an affair with Rick's wife. His arrival might disrupt the delicate dynamics within the camp. Would he challenge their leadership? Bring conflicts they couldn't afford? Her mind raced with scenarios, each one more unsettling than the last. But those thoughts faded into the background as she heard the familiar footsteps of her friend Glenn entering the tent. She couldn't see him, only his dark silhouette in the darkness.

"Thank God, I'm here," he whispered, knowing she was awake.

"Yeah. I was worried," she answered. "I thought you died and I will never see you again," Charlie confessed.

Glenn turned in his sleeping bag, so they were facing each other. "I thought it was my last day today," he said. "I thought about you. I almost cried at the thought that Merle Dixon would be the last thing I see."

She chuckled.

"And then I saw this guy dressed in a uniform with a cowboy hat. Riding a horse through Atlanta. Probably every Walker in the city running after him. We saw him getting stuck in a trunk." he said. "I really didn't think much about helping him. I just did."

"You really are a hero Glenn," she said. "You sure you were pizza boy before? Not a Batman or something?"

He rolled his eyes, even though she couldn't see it, but he knew she knew he did it.

Silence fell between them. Both of them breathing calmly.

"What do you think, how will Daryl react?"

Charlie sighed. "I don't know," she said. "We don't know how we should even tell him that. We don't know who should do it. We know nothing."

This time Glen sighed.

"I feel sorry for him. He seems like a good guy."

"Daryl Dixon?"

"Yeah," Charlie said. "He helped me when you were gone. He has good eyes."

"You're like friends now?" asked Glenn.

"I'm not really sure he had any friends. I think Merle is the only one he has ever had." she shared her thoughts with her friend. "That makes this situation even more sad."

Glenn sat up a little, leaning on his elbows.

"You really are worried about Daryl." he more stated than asked.

"I also have brothers...well, had brothers," she said. "We were close like that, so I know what he might feel."

Rhee laid back.

"Then maybe you should tell him," he said before turning his back to her. "Night, Charlie."

"Mmm." She nodded and soon fell asleep.

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[its-the-pilot]

I was in New York this weekend and if I had been willing to stand outside for 6+ hours in the cold rain I might have had a chance to see Glen Powell at SNL!