#Season three is starting out at FULL SPEED

[jbk405]

There's something about kitschy, low-budget schlock being featured in a TV show that makes me want to watch kitschy, low-budget schlock.

You don't know what I'd give to watch an episode of GirlCop right now.

[writersblockiskillingme]

Russian Roulette | The Salesman

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!reader

Summary: After doing everything in your power to find the salesman who got you and Gi-hun into all this mess, he unexpectedly shows up in your motel room.

Warning/s: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!!, angst, unspoken feelings (until now), guns, playing Russian Roulette, threatening, mocking, blood, character death, cursing (maybe, idk), tears, talk about the games, tension, reader gives off femme fatale energy, also reader has longer hair to fit into a braid but if you don't just ignore it please, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I just watched the first few episodes, and for a little while, I got out of the writers block. NO SPOILERS, PLEASE!

Prequel to this fic here!

Rain was pouring down like crazy, wind blowing around as I drove my black car with full speed as I tried to get to the Pink Motel that Gi-hun and I co-owned as fast as I possibly could after today's events. Gun that was placed on the seat next to me was jumping slightly as I drow down the road every time I hit a bump or such. My left hand gripped the steering wheel til my knuckles turned pure white as my right hand gripped the phone to the same extent.

"I found bloodstains there!" I practically shouted into my phone as I came to a stop, the images of blood seeping down the trash bags and the knife thrown on the ground never really leaving my mind. "Gi-hun is still looking, I'm sure they didn't get far from that alley."

"What do we do, miss?"

"Check all the CCTV and dashcam footage you can collect from the area and keep asking around." I continued to practically shout for him to hear me over the rain on the street, my braid swinging over on my left shoulder as I got out of the car, running towards the entrance to the Pink Motel.

"I'll join you soon." And with that, I ended the call, quickly putting my phone in the left pocket of my jacket.

I roughly pulled loose threads of hair that fell on my eyes as I quickly took out the key. However, I came to a sudden stop. Something wasn't right. I found myself freezing as I slowly moved my head to look around. That's when I noticed. The sign of the Pink Motel was lit up.

Someone is here, and they want me to know that.

I stood there in the rain for a little while before I decided to take a deep breath before entering. I walked up all the way to the fourth floor before entering, the light going on as I did. I walked into my bedroom as quietly as I could. But even before I could prepare myself for what I was about to see, just as I walked to the end of the first corner, I saw him.

After three years of endlessly, tirelessly trying to find him, he was here. Right in front of me. He was standing in front of my wall, a shining black gun in his hand, looking at the calendar on which I crossed the dates with red marker every single day for three years. Next to in was a map of the underground, every single route mapped out, drawn on, and my handwriting shone on it to.

"It's been a long time, Miss."

For a while, I said nothing. I was just standing there, soaking wet, the rain that I took with me inside dripping on the floor. I was staking in his appearance for a moment. He was just as tall as I remember, standing there in his suit. For a moment, it seemed like he didn't change one bit, like nothing changed from the moment that I fist saw him on the train station three years ago.

But it did.

His hair was longer, I won the games alongside Gi-hun, we weren't on the train station, but in my Motel room, he wasn't holding a briefcase, he was holding a gun and I didn't.

But his voice was the same, he was still as tall as I remember, I suppose his smile was the same, too. And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the same feelings he did three years ago before I gained and lost it all.

I just sighed and moved towards the table I ate. There was a towel that I threw last night. I started to pat my hair, trying to dry it off as I looked around for some dry clothes.

"You should've gotten on that plane that day." He said, looking over at me as I paused.

"I changed my mind when I saw you there." I said before continuing to dry myself.

The moment of quiet continued as I put the towel away. He tapped the map with his gun before he started to speak again. I truly didn't know how to feel. After I wasted three years trying to find him, he just shows up at my motel room. Funny.

"It looks like you've been trying hard to find me, darling." I could just hear that ignorant smirk in his voice. Motherfucker.

"Don't let it get to your head." I told him slowly, my voice completely calm. "I just wanted to thank you." I said as I took off my wet jacket, throwing it in the corner.

"Thank me?" He asked as he sat down on one of the sofas by the table next to my bed. I turned to look at him slowly, a dry jacket in my hand. That's when I noticed blood on the collar of his suit and his face. Motherfucker.

"For inviting me to the game." I said as I approached him, his eyes on me as I sat down, opposite him. "I won and took a bloody fortune with me."

He kept quiet, listening to me, his dark eyes flickering all over my face as I spoke.

"So the decent thing of me to do would be to thank you for it."

"I'm just a messenger who delivers invitations." He smirked, but before he could say more, I continued, all off my anger resurfacing.

"And just who had you deliver those invitations, handsome?" I spoke, venom infecting my every word. "Let me meet him. I have something to say to him."

"Give me the message, and I'll pass it along." He continued, giving me a smile at the end. It appears that I was right. His smile is the same.

"Oh, dear." I mockingly pouted as I crossed my legs. "I'm afraid that it's not something I can discuss with an underling like you."

His smile quivered as he raised his eyebrow. Waiting on me to continue.

"You prey on people who are hanging by a thread and corner them at subway stations." I could feel myself slowly starting to shake from anger and despair. "Someone like you wouldn't be able to understand what I'm trying to say, of course."

For a while, there was silence yet again. We were just looking at each other. Our eyes never leaving each other's.

"You know what the funniest thing was?"

"What, miss?"

"For a moment, when I was hunting you down, I was just delusional enough to think that we could actually team up. You know? Take down the games and whoever was behind them. I liked you. And I liked to think that. But now I realize just how wrong I was." I whispered, turning away from him as I spoke. Yet I still felt his eyes on me. "And boy was I wrong. You will never change. You like the monstrous things that you are doing."

"How do you think I got to where I am now?"

"I don't fucking care." I spat at him as I turned to look at him again, his expression unreadable. "I don't care how you became their dog. I just want you to bring me your master."

He looked down, sighing as he cracked his neck, gun still in his hold. After a while he spoke again.

"I used to work in the games when I was younger. I removed and burned the bodies of countless people like you."

He was the pink guard once.

"'These things aren't human. They're just trash utterly useless in this world.' I kept telling myself that and worked hard for a few years." He spoke, suddenly smiling again. "Then they gave me a gun."

The triangle guard.

"It felt pretty good." He said as he lifted up his gun, examining it. "Like my existence was acknowledged for the first time in my life. I don't know which year it was, but one day, I was about to shoot a man who had lost a game. The guy seemed familiar. Guess who it was."

I kept quiet.

"My dad." He finally said. "My dad was suddenly standing in front of me. He was in tears, desperately begging me to spare his life."

He suddenly moved his hand, placing the gun in front of my forehead, but his suddenly, quick movement did not startle me one bit. I was used to it.

"I shot him right in the middle of his forehead, and realized, 'Ah. I'm cut out for this job.'"

He was looking straight at me, his dark eyes mad. I narrowed mine at him. Was I supposed to feel sorry for him? Maybe, but I didn't. Not only did he enjoy it, but he also has no idea how it was like for me. All the things Gi-hun and I went through. All of people we lost along the way... Ali... Sae-byeok... Sang-woo...

"Whether you shoot people in there or con them outside, it doesn't change anything." I said, slowly leaning over towards him. "You have always been nothing more than their dog."

He clicked his gun, putting his finger on the trigger, his expression darkening.

"Miss." He started, his hand shaking slightly as I kept completely still. "Do you think you're special because you won the game?"

I said nothing. My expectation still as I leaned forward just a bit more, pressing my forehead directly on his gun. His dark expression broke into one of shock.

"Someone like you could never know or understand how I made it out of there alive. And how it feels to play the games."

Suddenly, he pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. My expression barely changed, yet I could he on his face that my eyes old him every. Shock, disappointment and sadness.

He sighed before leaning over to me on the table that until now kept us at a distance. He was quiet for a while. I suppose he has always been that way.

"Let's play a game." He smiled at me.

I didn't say anything. He pulled out his phone and placed it on the table, letting a song play.

Time to say goodbye.

He leaned back against the seat as he lifted up his gun.

"I'm sure you've seen this in the movies." He started to explain, never breaking eye contact with me. "It's called Russian Roulette."

Motherfucker.

"Usually, you place one bullet in the gun, spin the cylinder, and pull the trigger." He said, clicking the gun in its place before pulling the trigger, explaining the game as he showed me what to do. "And before the next round, you spin the cylinder again. It rests the odds back to 1 in 6."

"I know." I mumbled and he smiled.

"But I'd like to make this game a little more serious." He smirked. "Because you're truly special, love."

"Cut to the chase." I glared at him and his stupid antics. He blinked at me and continued.

"We'll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over." He paused. "What do you say?"

"Spin the gun." I frowned.

He smirked before gently placing the gun on the table. This could end badly on both sides, but for a moment, I found myself being selfish. Maybe, just maybe, if I lost this game after everything I went through, I could die and find peace with the people I lost. I could join them and leave with the feelings I have for him, that he possibly realized, unsaid. I could finally end it all. The night terrors, the time I spent searching for him, my cigarette addiction, mourning what I lost and what I couldn't have, yet at the same time not enjoying the money I got form the games. Who could enjoy that? Who could possibly enjoy living the life that I live.

He spinned the gun, and its tip pointed at me. Without a second thought, I took the gun and placed it by the side of my head. A few seconds later, not looking away from him, I pulled the trigger. Noting happened. That chamber was empty.

I put the gun on the table. I barely had time to move my hand before he took the gun, placed it by his head just like I did and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He sighed in content as he placed the gun back on the table, smiling at me almost lovingly. I knew.

I took the gun and placed it by my head again, but before I could just pull the trigger he spoke up.

"I've always wondered how you made it out of there alive." He smiled before he laughed a little. "For, one thing, you were even terrible at ddakji."

I said nothing, glaring at him. I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened once again.

He looked at me, impressed by my luck so far. I looked him straight in the eyes as I threw the gun on the table. It slid over on the other side, right in front of me.

He took the gun after he took a moment to just look at me. Not breaking eye contact, he took the gun. Leaned over to me until he was basically touching me, pointing the gun at me. Then he did something that I did not expect at all. He put the gun in his mouth.

Motherfucker.

He pulled the trigger. I winced a little. Nothing again. He laughed at my expression as I tried my hardest to keep myself composed. He slowly took the gun out of his mouth before sitting back, putting the gun back on the table.

I took the gun and as I was about to place it by my head he spoke up again.

"What's the matter?" He asked me, raising his eyebrows. "Is your mind starting to race?"

I scoffed slightly.

Motherfucker.

"Now your odds of death are 1 in 2." He nodded. "That's pretty high indeed. I'm sure you're afraid, darling. Lots going through your mind."

I said nothing.

"Let me guess what you're thinking right now." Motherfucker. "'The gun is in my hand. Screw the rules. Pull the trigger once or twice, and I can blow his face off.' Isn't that right?"

I kept looking at him, glaring as I did. All while he spoke. "If you and Gi-hun want to meet the person you mentioned earlier, the key is in my pocket." At that I allowed my eyes to travel all over him. "You can simply shoot me with that gun and take it. But I'll have you admit one thing."

He took a moment to pause, my hand still holding the gun by my head. He leaned over once again.

"That you're a piece of trash, just like Gi-hun, just like everyone else that was in the games." He leaned over more closely, our lips practically touching as he spoke. "A piece of trash who got lucky and made it out of the dumpster."

He laughed as I pressed the gun against my head, our lips barely an inch away from each other's. This was it, I thought to myself. This round will determine if I live or die. I tightened the grip on the gun, my knuckles turning white again. I pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He looked at me, then at the gun and then back at me. I started to chuckle lowly, like a maniac. Perhaps I was one. I watched his face closely as I pulled the gun away from my head. The grip on the gun still tight as I pointed it at his chin before slowly opening up my palm, waiting on him to take the final, real shot.

His hand touched mine. I felt him and myself freeze at the contact as he took the gun from my hand. I pulled my hand away as he looked at the gun.

"What's the matter?" I taunted him, my face mirroring the smirk that he always wears. "Is your mind starting to race?"

He said nothing as I spoke to him.

"That's right. Screw the rules. Now, with a single pull of the trigger, you could kill me." He looked pale at my words. "But... before you leave me forever this time. I'll have you admit two things."

He looked at me as I brought my hand at his cheek, wiping a little bit of blood on his face.

"You put a mask on your face and do whatever your master says. You run, bark, and wave your tail for them. You're nothing more than their dog." I told him before my voice became gentle.

He waited on me, his eyes soft.

"And regarding this." I said as I waved my hand slightly between the two of us. "You really are a dog. A dog that loves me. And... perhaps I am a fool, too. Because I love a dog that could've made it all work out for us but was too much of a coward to do so."

I leaned over to him, my hand landing under his chin, holding him.

"Admit it." I whispered as we looked each other in the eyes. "Admit that you love me, that you did ever since you gave me that fucking card."

For a moment, there was silence. His tortured eyes, looking at me. I knew. I always did. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, for a moment. This would be the last time that I spoke to him, that I could look into his eyes.

"I love you." He whispered.

All of a sudden, there was a loud sound followed by blood spraying my face as his body fell backward.

I stood up and walked over to him. I don't know how long I stood there, but after a while, I felt a tear sliding down my cheek. My hand touched my cheek as I whipped it away.

Motherfucker.

[united-under-skyfall]

leverage is so fucking funny. man manages to find the most mentally ill and neurodivergent group of thieves on the market + an even more mentally ill guy whose literal job description was trying to chase all of them, and forces them into a found family speed-run by trying to blow them all up. they lowkey stage a full fucking country wide coup and are like eh 🤷 just another wednesday. this might be a fun place to vacation tho i guess. sophie shows up to her own funeral twice. they're so good at convincing people of their shit that they make a guy's body start reacting to an illness he doesn't have because it isn't real. go completely out on a limb and basically hand this one guy a new password for his computer so they can get into it and he goes with it. parker and hardison have straight up just "fake it 'till you make it"d into the fbi without even attempting to cover their tracks beyond just These Two Guys. half their clients never asked to be their clients and don't know they're their clients, and the other half are random people who find them who fuckin knows how, meanwhile no government agency can track them down without selling their soul to sterling. they make a point to have a dramatic scene w a Big Bad Shadowy Government Guy who doesn't actually get caught or brought to justice or anything telling them he's going to hunt them all down, and in any other show this would probably earn at least a minor arc later on but he literally never shows up again. an entire season finale hinged on a cake and a bunch of clams. they accidentally made eliot a celebrity not once, not twice, but three times. parker blew up her foster parents' house when she was like. nine. and it's hardly a footnote. hardison is just casually an artistic prodigy but it's only ever brought up for the most background of background gags. eliot's biggest beef with parker and hardison for like two and a half seasons is that they won't stop making weird food with lasers and refuse to realize they can't make a decent beer to save their lives. sophie's immediate response to being shot is to call her shooter a wanker. there's a character who has literally killed a man with a mop and they had the audacity to only put her in one episode.

[bloomzone]

2025 #8 The Power of 3: Divide Your Year, Reclaim Your Time

Happy New Year—it’s 1st January, and 2025 is finally here woooooaaaaah. A blank slate, full of possibility. But this isn’t about resolutions. This is about creating a system—a life strategy that works every single day, not just for a few weeks in January. (This is my mindset rn !)

✒️..That’s why today, we’re talking about the 3-3-3-3 Method. Your year isn’t one overwhelming block of time. It’s not a marathon you burn out on halfway through(trust me). It’s a cycle of seasons—each three months long—designed for you to grow, adjust, and conquer in stages.

[You don’t need to control 12 months at once. You need to master each quarter.]

Why 3-3-3-3 Works

The biggest mistake people make is thinking success is linear. It’s not . Life happens in phases. When you divide your year into 3-month blocks, you give yourself permission to focus, recalibrate, and restart four times a year.

[Three months is long enough to see results but short enough to stay motivated.]

Four separate quarters means you have four fresh starts. No wasted time, no excuses.This structure keeps you accountable, productive, and adaptable.

Breaking Down the Year

Let’s go quarter by quarter !!

Q1: The Groundwork (January-March)

This is your foundation. These three months are about clarity and direction. You’re building the systems and habits that will carry you through the rest of the year.

Set specific, actionable goals for Q1—just three.

Focus on discipline, not motivation. Build habits that align with your goals.

Start small, but be consistent. Every day you show up, you’re stacking bricks.

Your mantra for Q1? “Brick by brick, I’m building my future.”

Q2: Growth Season (April-June)

This is where the seeds you planted in Q1 start to sprout. Now it’s time to double down.

Push yourself harder. Challenge the systems you built.

Evaluate: Are your habits working? If not, adjust them.

Stay consistent—this is the quarter where most people quit.

Your mantra for Q2? “I don’t stop when I’m tired; I stop when I’m done.”

Q3: The Grind (July-September)

This is the toughest quarter—it’s hot, it’s long, and the novelty of the year has worn off. But this is also where champions are made.

Stay focused on execution. Don’t lose sight of your goals pleaaaase I know u can do it

Keep your pace steady. This isn’t about speed; it’s about endurance.

Reflect: What’s worked so far this year? What hasn’t? Cuz we are not perfect!!!

Your mantra for Q3? “I thrive in the grind. I grow in the struggle.”

Q4: The Finish Line (October-December)

This isn’t the time to coast. These last three months are your chance to finish strong.

Tie up loose ends. Complete what you started.

Celebrate your wins, but don’t get complacent.

Plan for the next year. Use what you’ve learned to set bigger goals for 2026.

Your mantra for Q4? “I finish what I start. I don’t quit—ever.”

Tasks (ideas) for Each Quarter

1. Q1: Build Your Base

Identify three goals.

Break them into daily and weekly tasks.

Track your progress daily.

2. Q2: Expand Your Reach

Push your comfort zone.

Evaluate and adjust your systems.

Focus on consistency, not perfection.

3. Q3: Commit to the Grind

Keep going, even when it feels tough.

Reflect monthly: What’s working? What isn’t?

Stay disciplined, no matter what.

4. Q4: Reflect and Rebuild

Finish strong—don’t leave anything undone.

Celebrate, but use failures as lessons. FAILURES ARE TEACHERS !

Set the stage for a powerful 2026.

1st January: it's a Now or Never

It’s easy to get caught up in the excitement of a new year. But here’s the truth: excitement fades. Discipline doesn’t. If you want this year to be different, you have to act differently.Today isn’t about January 1st being special. It’s about what you do with every day after this. Divide your year. Build your plan. And most importantly—execute.Because when December 31st comes around, and the world is reflecting on what they’ve lost or didn’t achieve, you’ll stand tall knowing you didn’t waste a single season. You didn’t just live through 2025—you mastered it.

one quarter at the tiiiiiime!!

@bloomzone 📇

[daintylovers]

imagine moving to beacon hills around season one. right around the same time, allison moves in. it's nice not being the only new girl, so you two quickly become friends.

imagine meeting lydia for the first time. it happens in your fourth class of the day, you two are assigned to be partners for the semester. albeit, at first she isn't thrilled, but once she gives you a chance, everything changes. she's found someone like-minded for once in this small town. someone as intelligent, yet fashionable as her. she thinks for a quick second, if she liked girls, she would love you.

imagine seeing stiles for the first time. seeing- not meeting, because the boy can only gawk at you from across the hall. it's definitely weird and a little unsettling at first, but it's nice to be admired? right?

imagine finally talking to the poor boy for the first time. it had to be you who spoke first, his brain going a mile a minute. it happens a few days later, when lab partners are assigned. stiles almost faints when he hears your names paired together. scott has to be the one to push him out of his seat. it feels kind of how you imagine bella felt when edward and her first meet, awkward and stiff. does he not like you? maybe that's why he was always staring, it wasn't in fantasy, but with disgust. not being one to dwell on whether someone likes you or not, you push through, introducing yourself with a raised out hand. stiles is quick to latch on, spewing out his full government name. then once he catches the confusion on your face, he tells you that you could call him stiles.

imagine going to lydias house party, that very night. running into all your newfound friends, dancing and drinking a little. then seeing your shy new lab partner chasing after his drunk friend. but also allison chasing after the drunk friend. whats his name again? shawn? smith? stiles? no- wait stiles is yours. scott! its scott. but by the time you have that revelation, the three are already outside. so you watch as allison gets into some random car and stiles stands are dumbfounded. scott has seemingly disappeared, and there's an unease building in your chest. who was that guy with allison? stiles, sensing someone behind him, turns around to face the one person he doesn't want to see at the moment. not because he doesn't like you, but because he is pretty sure his best friend is a freaking werewolf.

imagine asking him if he knew who allison got in the car with, and getting an unsavory response. great, your new friend might get murdered and tossed into the woods tonight. the alcohol is catching up to you rather quickly, and the worry is only increasing. stiles starts to make a move to his car, eager to see if scott went back home when you wrap a hand around his upper arm. it's not harsh or anything, so he doesn't flinch, but he is confused. you ask him if he will give you a ride to allisons, because you guys live close together and you want to make sure she gets home safe. stiles immediately says yes, but tells you he has to make a quick stop at scotts. something about possible alcohol poisoning or something, which makes your head spin. oh fuck, what if you have that?

imagine being told to wait in the car as stiles goes into scotts house. the boy is very persistent as you try to help him out. he offers to get you fries from the local drive-through if you just please stay in the car. that gets you to comply, so you're left staring out the window. it doesn't take long for stiles to come running out of the house and speeding down the street. you don't even have to ask because he tells you that allison went home with this guy derek who is very very evil. you never get those fries. but the good news is that allison is alive!

imagine stiles walking you to your door because you and allison really do live right next to each other. you guys don't say much, the adrenaline rush already crashing. you guys are about to part ways when you stop him and ask for his number. he seems like a nice guy and you joke about how you'll harass him until he gets you those fries. his heart does cartwheels as you exchange digits, and makes a mental note to kill scott. in a perfect world, you two would have managed to spend the whole night together, but scotts newfound supernatural abilities are already infiltrating stiles life.

imagine waking up the next morning with a pounding headache and a text from stiles telling you to get dressed cause he is coming over in fifteen minutes. it has you smiling like a child and it feels so goddamn good. maybe this kid will be cooler than you imagined. he pulls into your driveway and you open the door to see him with iced vanilla lattes and Mcdonald's french fries. this guy might just be an angel. you let him in and for the rest of the morning, you guys eat and talk about nothing while lounging around your room.

[formulaisa]

So I saw you were taking requests for Franco and i thought I would share my idea!

How about Mexican reader where she is like a fan of formula 1 and goes to one of the gp (any of them). And like she is there minding her business in the paddock (like asking drivers for photos and autographs) and Franco sees her and is like 😍😍😍 immediately and when reader goes to ask for a photo he starts like actually interacting with her (more than the polite thank you for being a fan talk) and idk you can take over from there.

Don’t feel pressured to write this! I just think is a cute idea and definitely not self protecting

The Signature | Franco Colapinto

Summary: Growing up watching Formula 1 with your dad made you dream of attending a Grand Prix, but you never imagined your first paddock experience would lead to catching a certain Argentinian rookie's attention.

Warnings: some spanish (with translations)

Author's note: Sorry for the inactivity! I've been busy with my family for the holidays. If you have any feedback or suggestions, I'd really appreciate it. I hope you enjoy! <3

F1 Masterlist / homepage / main masterlist

You had always dreamed of attending a Grand Prix. Ever since your dad introduced you to Formula 1 at a young age, you were hooked. The roar of the engines, the speed, the energy of the crowd—it all fascinated you. But the problem was, you lived far away from any Grand Prix, and the costs for tickets, travel, and hotels made this dream seem impossible.

That all changed when you went to college in the US. You were awarded a generous scholarship to a school in Texas, conveniently close to the US Grand Prix. Juggling a waitressing job and school, you worked hard and finally saved enough money to attend a race. To top it off, you earned enough to afford a paddock pass. There was only one thing that could make this experience even better: having your dad with you. Though he couldn't be there, you had a plan to make it up to him. You'd bought him a blank hat and set out to get as many driver autographs as possible for him.

It was a scorching Saturday in Austin. Qualifying was starting in just a few hours, so you arrived early, hoping to catch some drivers for autographs and photos. The paddock was already buzzing with activity—mechanics wheeling tires, engineers huddled over laptops, and the occasional flash of a driver's race suit disappearing into a garage.

By now, you'd been surprisingly lucky. You'd gotten photos and signatures from three drivers: Carlos, Yuki, and Nico. Their signatures decorated the pristine white hat, each one making you imagine your dad's face lighting up when he saw it. But you wouldn't be truly satisfied until you got signatures from your two favorites: Checo and Lewis.

The Texas heat was beginning to wear you down. Your outfit, a cute dress and cowboy boots, looked stylish but weren't exactly built for the sweltering weather. Sweat beaded at your temples, and you could feel your hair starting to stick to the back of your neck. You stopped by a kiosk to grab a water bottle, then took a quieter shortcut back to the main paddock area, hoping to bump into a driver.

Just as you rounded the corner, you spotted him. It was hard not to. Franco Colapinto was strutting through the paddock in his navy blue Williams polo, his trademark smirk on full display. The young Argentinian driver had been making waves in his rookie season, his natural talent and charismatic personality quickly making him a fan favorite. Now was your chance.

Suddenly, a small lump filled your throat. It was a strange sensation, one you hadn't felt with any of the other drivers today. Your hands felt clammy, and your heart began to race. You found yourself nervous in a way that had nothing to do with meeting a Formula 1 driver and everything to do with meeting him.

"Umm, hi, Franco?" you asked, your voice hesitant. "Could I get a picture?"

He paused and turned around, pulling an AirPod from his ear. His dark eyes met yours, and his smirk softened into a genuine smile that made your stomach do a little flip. "Yeah, of course," he said, his Argentine accent adding a musical quality to his words.

You pulled out your phone and went to take a selfie. As you did, you noticed Franco adjusting his hair in the camera, running his fingers through the dark waves with practiced ease.

"Sorry, it's just so hot here," he explained quickly, before leaning in and flashing a smile for the photo. As you snapped the picture, you caught him glancing down at you, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The subtle cologne he wore mixed with the mechanical scents of the paddock, creating an oddly intoxicating combination.

"I know. I feel like I'm melting," you said, tucking your phone back into your purse. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as if to emphasize your point.

Franco hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes sparkled with interest as he asked, "¿Hablas español?" [Do you speak Spanish?]

"Sí, sí," you replied with a small smile, pleasantly surprised by the question. [Yes, yes.]

"¿De dónde eres?" he asked, his signature smirk returning. [Where are you from?]

"México," you said, "pero voy a la universidad aquí." Your voice grew more confident as you spoke in Spanish, and you noticed how Franco's posture relaxed, his shoulders dropping slightly as he leaned in to hear you better. [Mexico, but I go to college here.]

“I could tell from your accent,” He nodded, clearly interested, still not in a rush to leave. The bustling paddock seemed to fade into the background as he focused his attention entirely on you. He glanced around the paddock, then asked, "Are you here by yourself?"

You sighed lightly and nodded. "Yeah, it's just me." The admission made you feel suddenly vulnerable, but there was something comforting about the way Franco listened, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Paddock pass all for yourself, huh?" His voice carried no judgment, just genuine curiosity.

"I saved up all my tips from work," you said, absently playing with the lanyard around your neck. "I originally wanted to surprise my dad with tickets for his birthday, but I couldn't afford a flight and hotel from Mexico, so it didn't work out."

He looked at you with understanding, his expression softening. "Where do you work?" he asked, genuine curiosity evident in his voice.

You shrugged slightly, a little embarrassed. "Just some restaurant... I'm a waitress." The words felt small compared to his profession, but his interested expression never wavered.

"What's it called?" he asked, taking a small step closer.

"Trust me. You wouldn't want to go there," you replied with a self-deprecating laugh, knowing Franco wouldn't be interested in the casual, country bar you worked at.

"Still, I’m curious," he asked, the same flirtatious tone in his voice. “Besides, I’m more interested in the service.”

"It's called Buck Wild," you said with a small laugh, watching his expression for any sign of judgment. “It’s a very Texan country bar.”

"I think I'd learn to like it," he teased with a smirk that made your heart skip a beat. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, you noticed. “When do you work there?”

"Tuesdays and Fridays," you answered, still smiling, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his continued interest.

He nodded, clearly thinking. "I leave on Thursday..." he muttered to himself, his voice soft and thoughtful as he created a mental plan. The words hung in the air between you, heavy with possibility.

Your heart began to race, and a warm blush crept up your neck. The way he was looking at you, the casual tone of his voice, the fact that he was even asking about your work schedule—it all pointed to something more than just a typical chat with a fan. You found yourself hyper-aware of every detail: the way his polo shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, how he kept shifting slightly closer to you, the warmth in his dark eyes.

Then, reality crashed back in as you remembered why you had actually approached him. The hat for your dad was still tucked away in your bag.

"I-I know you probably have to go soon, but before you leave, could you sign this for me?" you asked, pulling the hat out of your bag. Your fingers trembled slightly as you handed it to him.

He smiled warmly and took the sharpie and hat from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. "Wow, you've got quite a few signatures already, huh?" He examined the other drivers' signatures with interest.

Franco signed the hat, moving slowly, almost like he was savoring the moment, stretching out the conversation. His signature was deliberate and careful, unlike the rushed autographs you'd seen him give to other fans earlier.

You smiled and explained, "I'm trying to get Lewis and Checo too. They're my dad's favorite drivers." Your voice softened when you mentioned your father, and Franco seemed to notice.

"Ah, Good taste," he said, nodding. Then, his expression shifted slightly. He glanced at the hat, pausing. A look of realization and minor panic appears on his face. 

���Wait,” he gestures to the hat “This isn’t for you?” 

“No, it’s a gift for my dad,” you explain “Why?” 

You look down at the hat in his hands and see his scrawled out signature. Underneath you see something else he had started to write. “+54 2322…” 

Your eyes widened as you realized what he'd done. "Joder," he muttered under his breath, quickly scribbling over the numbers, a faint blush creeping up his neck. Despite his embarrassment, you noticed he didn't step away.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, a warm smile spreading across your face as you looked up at him. The moment felt surreal—here was Franco Colapinto, Formula 1 driver, getting flustered while trying to give you his phone number on what he thought was your hat.

"I can just give you mine," you said shyly, still flustered but charmed by his awkward attempt.

Franco pulled out his phone, opened a new contact, and handed it to you. His phone was warm from being in his pocket, and you noticed his lock screen was a picture of his dog. Just as you were typing in your name and number, his phone buzzed with a message: 'Where are you, mate? Meeting started ten minutes ago.'

Franco's eyes widened with panic, and you could tell he was starting to realize just how much time he'd spent talking to you instead of attending his meeting. The easy conversation had made you both lose track of time completely. You handed him back his phone, but before you could say anything, he quickly added, "Let me give you my number too."

You began fumbling through your purse for your phone, your fingers clumsy with nervous energy, but before you could find it, you were interrupted by a loud voice from the Williams garage.

"Franco! Stop flirting and get over here. You're late, and James is pissed!" the mechanic yelled, his voice cutting through the paddock's ambient noise.

Franco looked over, frustration and guilt crossing his face in quick succession. "Sorry," he muttered to you, grabbing the sharpie back from your hand and hastily scribbling his number on your arm. His touch was gentle despite his hurry, and you felt goosebumps rise on your skin.

Before you could even react, he gently handed you back the sharpie. "I'll see you around..." he said with a wink and a grin, before turning and jogging off toward the Williams garage. You watched him go, admiring how he somehow managed to make even a rushed exit look graceful.

You stood there for a moment, your heart racing, the cool sharpie mark on your arm tingling where his fingers had just been. The numbers were slightly smudged but still legible, and you couldn't help but trace them with your finger.  You smiled to yourself, looking forward to the next time you'd see him and happy with the most special signature you’d gotten that day.

✩₊˚.⋆ all work belongs to formulaisa. please don’t modify, translate, or share my writing, and don’t feed it to AI.

[fandoms--fluff]

Hello i know that i resquest so much but I love your work so can you do more of little Mikaelson baby sister with Hayley where yn is with her and baby hope Hayley treats yn like other daughters because she love her so much that she is sad when yn cry

If I Were Your Mother

Baby Mikaelson sister reader x Hayley Marshall (and everyone else)

Warnings: Mikael being an ass, death?

A/n: This is set during later season 2, we're gonna forget about Jackson and Hayley together. We're gonna pretend that everyone is happy and Klaus and Hayley don't fight about what's best for Hope or try to take her away from each other every other episode and are actually good together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mikael is back. Davina brought him back from the other side almost a year ago. You've seen Kol and Finn in their new bodies and were completely freaked out by Finn. He had tried to kill you. You wouldn't leave your brothers or Hayley's side no longer than five minutes for almost two weeks.

Mikael had boomed into the abattoir, white oak stake in his hand, ready to kill. He laid his eyes on you the moment you ran into the room where you heard a familiar man's voice yelling. You regretted it as soon as you saw your father. The same father who had been tracking you and your siblings down for the past millennia.

You had thought Nik had already killed him, he told you he had. Did he lie?

Mikael went straight to you. You loudly screamed and tried to vamp speed out of the way, but he was too fast for you. He had caught you in his arms and pressed the stake right at your tiny chest.

As soon as your loud scream pierced the walls of the old building, the room was immediately full of your older siblings; Bekah, Nik, and Lijah, as well as Marcel and Hayley, whom you'd grown really close with since she was pregnant in the early months.

"LET HER GO" Klaus bellowed, his eyes flash a striking amber. His anger is through the roof, no one touches his baby sister and lives, no one. He starts to stalk his way over, followed by Elijah.

"Don't come any closer, boys" Mikael spat at them. You whimpered loudly as tears ran down your reddened cheeks. All you want is your big brothers.

"No" You hit your father's shoulder and tried to pull away from him. All that does is make his grip on you tighten to a painful extent. Even with your vampire healing, it hurts tremendously.

Veins appear under Hayley's eyes, enraged at Mikael for even going near the poor little girl. She uses her hybrid strength and lunges at him. She knocks the white oak stake out of his hands and bites him on the shoulder opposite you. She takes you into her arms and quickly vamps you back over to Marcel before returning to Mikael, along with Elijah, Klaus, and Rebekah.

Your big sister grabbed the stake into her hand and vamped towards where Elijah and Klaus were pinning Mikael down each on one side and Hayley's arm was wrapped tightly around his neck. She shoved the stake right through Mikael's heart. Flames blaze across Mikael's body and clothing. His screams echoed through the whole compound.

They all backed away from the burning corpse of the vampire who hunts vampires, watching as he burned from the inside out.

Marcel had you tucked against his chest, hand on the back of your head so you didn't have to watch the fight going down. You sobbed into his shirt, scared out of your mind. You want, you want Hayley.

She was the one who took you from Mikael. You pull away once Marcel's grip slackens a bit after Mikael burns.

You outstretch your arms towards the hybrid. Hayley quickly comes over to you and brings you into her arms gently. She turns back around to the other three originals, Klaus has a hurt look on his face, clearly wishing you had wanted him.

Hayley feels guilty, mouthing 'I'm sorry' to him. Elijah nods in response to her before looking at his younger brother and Rebekah places a hand on his shoulder.

"She has no means to hurt you, Nik. Don't think about it too much. She loves all of us" Rebekah whispers to him. Klaus takes a deep breath before nodding in response to her. He knows he shouldn't hold it against you, you may be over 1000 years old, but you're 2 years old, with a mind and thoughts that come with it, even as a vampire. And he knows you love him, he shouldn't hold it against you.

He nods to Hayley, a smile twitching at his lips, before turning to the burnt to a crisp corpse.

"Well, we should tend to the trash, shall we, sister?" Klaus smirks towards Rebekah. "We shall" She smirks back to him.

Klaus walks over to your tiny, shaking body in Hayley's arms and places a hand on the back of your head before kissing your forehead. He then goes over to their father, putting his arms behind his back as he brainstorms what to do next.

Rebekah walks over to the two of you next and places a kiss on the crown of your head. "I love you, sweetie" She runs her hand through your soft hair before going over to where Nik and Elijah are.

Hayley walks towards the stairs, nodding at Marcel, to which he nods back before walking off to the room he was in before Mikael showed up.

She bounces you in her arms, trying to soothe and calm you down. "Oh, It's okay, Baby. He's gone. He's gone now" She holds you close. you lean into her warmth and grip your pudgy hands on her shirt.

"No need to cry no more," She says, starting to tear up herself. She walks into her room and opens the door to the nursery. She goes over to the crib where a baby Hope lays, eyes open, looking up at the mobile. And now her eyes land on her Mama and you.

You hear the tiny mewling sounds from Hope, and look up from Hayley's chest to the baby. you let go of her shirt with one hand and reach to Hope.

Hope sits up from where she was lying down, looking up at you. She has loved you from the start, even though she can't talk yet, but knows that love is returned back from you

"You want some time with Hope?" Hayley asks you. You've been obsessed with the baby girl since before she was born, you love her just as much as Hayley and Klaus. You immediately nod your head, "Hopey" you say and let out a grin even with the tear tracks on your face.

Hayley lowers you into the crib with her daughter and watches how you immediately get into a silent conversation with her. You both giggle and play together with the small toys scattered in the crib.

She watches as you both play, a smile on her face. If she could adopt you as her own daughter as well, she would have no second thoughts and do it in one fell swoop. But she knows that your family loves you a great deal.

If she were to be your mother, she would love you so much. She would give you the childhood and life you deserve. She would care for you as a mother like she has been for over a year. There's no way she can express just how much she loves you.

"I love you both so much," She tells you both, watching as you cuddle with each other into the soft blanket. Hope has two pacifiers in her hands. She hands one over to you the best she can and you take it in your tiny from her just as tiny hand.

Hope puts the other in her mouth, just as you put the one she handed you into yours. You both suck on the pacifiers, tiny suckling noises filling the room.

Hayley tries not to physically aww at the action. Both of her babies sucking on soothers. She knows you're older than a normal age of a 'baby', but you're just as a baby as Hope is in her eyes. And the same goes for the eyes of your big siblings.

Klaus walks into the bedroom not long after you and Hope doze off, curled into one another. He looks around the room, "Where's my baby sister?" He asks, worried about you after the event of earlier in the day.

"Shh" she holds a finger up to her lips before nodding down at the dark wooden crib.

He follows her instructions and looks down at the crib, his face softening right away. He watches as his two baby girls sleep, sucking on the pacifiers.

Hayley pulls him into the other room, closing the door so she doesn't wake you two up.

"Is Mikael dealt with? Gone for good?" She asks him. "Yes, he shall not return, never again. the look on her face, I- I froze, he was going to kill her. And it was my fault" His voice wavers.

"Hey, it's not your fault, and nothing happened. That asshole deserves what he got and everything that's coming his way in hell. You're her big brother, Y/n loves you so much" Hayley pulls the elder into a hug.

Klaus stiffens at first before melting into her arms, breathing in her scent. After ten more seconds, he backs away, looking into her eyes, vulnerability shining through them. He covers it back up before his eyebrows scrunch together and a glint in his eyes.

"Was Y/n using a pacifier?" a smile plays on his lips. "Yeah, our daughter thought she would want one and gave one to her.,. Obviously, she was right. I have a feeling they're not going to allow us to separate them for a while" Hayley chuckles lightly.

"I assume that's the same for you with her as well" He crosses his arms, eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Fair enough" Hayley smirks back to him.

You don't leave Hayley and Hope's side for a little while. You love it when you're all having a cuddle session with Hayley or Klaus, or both of them. The pacifier also is starting to seem like a constant. The only one to have a bad word against it is Elijah, saying that you don't need to develop a bad habit of always wanting one. But that's quickly stopped when Rebekah dragged him out of the room and nicely explained how their baby sister using a soother is at the bottom of the list of their concerns.

You love Hayley, Hope, and your siblings to the moon and back.

[allfryam]

the biggest team in the country

Coach Johnson sighed as he watched his football players practice. Their skinny bodies were struggling to keep up with the rest of the teams in the league. They were constantly getting tossed around the field when playing against a bigger team. Coach knew he had to do something if they wanted any chance of winning this year.

at the end of practice, coach rounded all the boys up and took a knee. “Y’all are clearly havin a tough time when playin against the other teams. I’m putting y’all on a new diet to try to enhance your performance.” The players looked around in confusion. The dining halls on campus have given each of y’all an unlimited food plan.” This got the players excited. “Now I want y’all to use this, alright? So I’m going to require y’all to eat at least 5,000 calories per day. No skipping meals. Any player that fails to meet these conditions will have to deal with a separate punishment.” The players had big grins on their faces. They couldn’t be more excited to eat as much as they wanted in the dining halls.

a month after coach started this experiment, he had each player weighed a week before their first game of the season. Matt G. - 155lbs to 169lbs

Jake R. - 143lbs to 160lbs

Steve B. - 151lbs to 164lbs

Jason K. - 149lbs to 170lbs

Mason L. - 154lbs to 171lbs

Dylan S. - 146lbs to 164lbs

Zach B. - 158lbs to 175lbs

Connor M. - 143lbs to 146lbs

coach was seriously impressed with how quickly his team was growing. All of them except Connor. He had only gained 3 pounds in a month? Coach knew he was going to have to give him the special punishment.

after the weigh ins, coach sent the rest of the team home and pulled Connor aside. “Hey Connor.” Coach sighed. “I’ve noticed you only put on 3 pounds this month. What the hell happened?!” Connor’s face got red. “I… umm…” he stuttered. Coach stopped him and told him to meet him at his house in an hour for his punishment.

Connor showed up to coach Johnson’s house extremely nervous. Coach sat him down in the kitchen and put a big bowl of pasta in front of him. “You ain’t leaving till you finish everything I serve you.” Coach growled. Connor shuddered and started eating the pasta. When he was finished with that, coach placed a large cup full of some kind of smoothie. Connor chugged it and his stomach started to look like it was about to burst. When Connor had finished the drink, coach put the final meal in front of him. It was an entire cake. “But I’m already so… full.” Connor moaned. “THATS TOO DAMN BAD!” Coach yelled. Connor reluctantly began eating the cake and about halfway through he started to cry. “WHAT THE HELL YOU CRYIN FOR BOY?! I GAVE YOU UNLIMITED FOOD AND ALL YOU COULD DO WAS GAIN THREE POUNDS?!” Connor cried his way through the rest of the cake until his stomach looked like it was about to explode. Coach sent Connor home and went to bed proud.

By the time the first game came around, Connor had gained a few more pounds because he was terrified of having to go back to coachs house. The boys did better than they ever have. They were becoming heavy enough to rival with the other teams. But it wasn’t enough. They still lost because the lighter teammates were still getting thrown around. Coach knew he had to speed this process up.

at practices he banned the boys from most cardio and stocked the locker room with lots of snacks. Coach continued taking the lightest player to his house to stuff them full of fattening food. Once the boys found out how bad the punishment was, it motivated them even more to be bigger than their teammates. Their uniforms began growing tight around their expanding bellies and thighs. Before the second game, coach took their weights again:

Matt G. - 169lbs to 183lbs

Jake R. - 160lbs to 179lbs

Steve B. - 164lbs to 185lbs

Jason K. - 170lbs to 190lbs

Mason L. - 171lbs to 178lbs

Dylan S. - 164lbs to 187lbs

Zach B. - 175lbs to 203lbs

Connor M. - 146lbs to 180lbs

coach was astonished. His team had really stepped it up, especially Zach, he was over 200lbs now! But looking closely, there was a clear outlier. Mason was the lightest on the team, which meant he was going to get coach’s special punishment.

Mason arrived with an appetite after Connor told him what happened. Coach started with an entire pizza. Mason gulped it down and unbuttoned his jeans to make more room. Coach gave him a carton of ice cream to eat next. As Mason ate, coach noticed his tight shirt start to rise due to his expanding gut. Mason had to take it off because it became so uncomfortable. Towards the end of the carton, Mason decided to drink the melted ice cream left at the bottom. Coach watched as he chugged the creamy liquid spilling a few drops onto his round stomach. Mason set the empty container down and leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his bloated belly and groaned. But coach wasn’t done. He gave Mason a Big Mac as his last meal. Mason could barely think as he slowly shoved the Big Mac into his mouth. His eyes were glazed over and his stomach was screaming in pain. He eventually finished and coach sent him on his way, knowing he learned his lesson.

The second game had finally rolled around and they actually won! The boys were becoming big enough to hold their own on the field. Even though they won, coach still wasn’t satisfied. The team they beat was still one of the smaller ones and some of the lighter boys were still struggling. Coach treated them to a buffet for their victory and made sure they all ate well.

the team continued winning against bigger and bigger teams and coach continued treating them to trips to the buffet. They were a month away from the championship and coach knew they were going to have to get a lot bigger if they wanted to win. He decided to weigh them again so he would have a month to get them as big as possible for the championship.

Matt G. - 183lbs to 218lbs

Jake R. - 179lbs to 208lbs

Steve B. - 185lbs to 230lbs

Jason K. - 190lbs to 236lbs

Mason L. - 178lbs to 227lbs

Dylan S. - 187lbs to 217lbs

Zach B. - 203lbs to 257lbs

Connor M. - 180lbs to 234lbs

coach liked the results he was seeing, especially with Zach, he was easily the heaviest on the team, and he put on weight like it was nothing. But once again, coach also noticed the lightest player, Jake.

Jake knew what he was in for when he arrived at coachs house. He sat at the table ready to eat the insane amount of food coach was about to feed him. Coach started with waffles. A stack of about 15 thick waffles dripping with butter and syrup. Jake tore through them one by one, not caring about the syrup dripping from his mouth onto his rounded belly. Coach brought out a cheesecake next, and Jake took off his tight shirt to make more room. He scarfed down the delicious food, moaning with pleasure. Coach was surprised. Nobody on the team ate as fast as Jake, and they definitely didn’t enjoy it as much as he was. When the cheesecake was gone, coach brought out the final meal, his homemade lasagna. Jake grinned as he began to eat it. Lasagna was his absolute favorite, and coach made a mean lasagna. Coach watched with awe as Jake’s belly grew and grew. Soon enough, the entire tray of lasagna was gone and Jake just let out a big burp and rubbed his bloated gut. “What else ya got coach? I still have some room for more.” Jake said between burps. Coach was stunned. There was no way this boy could still eat after all that food. Coach found a pie left in his fridge and watched Jake quickly get to work. Before coach knew it, the pie was gone and Jake was headed home with his bloated belly leading the way.

in the month leading up to the championship, coach Johnson was doing everything he could to keep his team growing. He mixed mass gainer into their water, treated them to the buffet after every practice, got the school to supply them electric scooters so they wouldn’t waste their energy walking to class, convinced the chefs at the dining hall to give the boys extra food when they ordered, bought snacks to supply their dorms for when the dining halls were closed, and finally bought them bigger uniforms so they had plenty of room to grow. He would constantly call them small and weak, and do his “punishment” with the lightest player every single night.

the night before the championship, coach weighed the players one last time.

Matt G. - 218lbs to 262lbs

Jake R. - 208lbs to 270lbs

Steve B. - 230lbs to 281lbs

Jason K. - 236lbs to 288lbs

Mason L. - 227lbs to 274lbs

Dylan S. - 217lbs to 264lbs

Zach B. - 257lbs to 312lbs

Connor M. - 234lbs to 290lbs

coach was proud. They had all ballooned in the last month with coach’s help. Their round bellies, thick thighs, massive arms, and broad shoulders made them quite the force to be reckoned with.

the day of the game, the team played great. They slammed the other team to the ground with their immense weight. Especially Zach. He had grown to over 300 pounds, and not a single person on the other team could move him. Their smallest player, Matt, (who wasn’t small at all) was the fastest. Zach would push through the team and pass the ball to Matt who would run straight to the end zone and score. Coach and the team celebrated their victory with one last trip to the buffet. Their massive bodies took up the entire booth, and all of their food covered the entire table. They never had leftovers though, if one boy got full, another player would volunteer and eat the rest. The boys cleared the table and revealed their massive new guts.

coach stood up and tapped his glass with a fork to make a toast. “Yall listen up. I’m so proud of yall for stickin with it this season and followin my orders. I know it wasn’t always easy to keep up… but some of you did that and then some. So I wanted to hand out a few awards.” Coach reached into his bag and pulled out a miniature trophy. It read, “most weight gained - Zach B.” The boys cheered and Zach claimed his trophy. The rest of the trophies included:

most “punishments” - Connor M.

biggest appetite - Jake R.

roundest belly - Dylan S.

biggest comeback - Connor M.

coach had created 8 big, heavy, and hungry football players, and he was excited to meet the new freshmen next year to see if they would do as well. ~

I’ve always really liked the idea of a coach fattening up his players. I’ll probably do a part 2 if you guys want it. I already have some ideas on how coach plans on fattening up the new freshmen. Anyways, love you guys! And remember you can always message me with story ideas or a picture you want me to write a story about and I’ll do it completely free.

[glimmeringwinchester]

𝐁𝐔𝐆𝐒

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — grace winchester remembers the very first night her father showed his true colors, and she’s confronted with the memories when she and her brothers take on a case in oklahoma

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) — implied/referenced child abuse, panic attacks, anxiety, canon-typical violence, dean winchester is an asshole but he does care about his little sister, sam winchester just wants dean to realize he was hurt too, oc au

Palm Springs, California. 1991. 

Rain came down heavy in Palm Springs, cold droplets splashing against asphalt and concrete with a rhythmic pattering that fought to quell festering anxiety. Tiny hands batted at the doors of a sleek black car, pleading to be let inside, to be allowed to escape the frigid rain and late summer mosquitos. Brown hair is drenched, weighed down by the rain shower that started just after sunrise. The wooded area still smells of flesh and gasoline, and salt residue gathers beneath untrimmed fingernails that are jagged and uneven. The smokes cleared, the fires burnt out, but John Winchester remains at the scene of the burning, his jaw set into a tight line as he watches his youngest child – his only daughter – pound against the windows, fear etched across her features as she stands out in the rain. Every couple of seconds she shrieks, slapping at her skin whenever a mosquito lands on her body, and sickeningly the father of three can only laugh as he watches her panic. 

“Daddy!” The little girl no older than five years old, though she’ll very proudly tell anybody who asks that she’s almost six, pleads with her father, having not yet learned that begging is futile. She doesn’t know what she did wrong. Maybe he’s angry that she slipped in the mud on the way to burn the bones of a pissed off spirit, maybe he’s finally punishing her for breaking Dean’s fishing pole that hardly ever got used anyways, or maybe he just feels like being mean. He’d felt like being mean a lot lately. She jumps away from the car when a spider crawls near her hand, the tiny insect fighting to find shelter from the storm, but no matter how innocent its presence was in the moment, Grace Winchester was not a fan of anything with more than four legs and two eyes, and she knows for a fact that spiders have eight eyes, they just learned about it in school. 

The rain continues to patter against the dense woods, and as the humidity in California increases, it only draws more mosquitos out of hiding. The little girl sobs when she realizes a spider is crawling up her arm, and she flails dramatically to get it off of her. She thinks it's never going to end – the storm; the assault of mosquitos – but then the doors click, and John begrudgingly inclines his head toward the backseat, the only indication that she’s allowed to escape the downpour. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t apologize for locking her out, doesn’t affirm that she’s safe from bugs now, merely huffs through his nose and speeds away, leaving the pile of charred bones behind him. 

Present  

Grace Winchester lays against the hood of the Impala, her eyes wide and full of wonder as she gazes up at the sky, an endless expanse of stars just out of reach above her head and speckled across the abyss of darkness like splattered paint. The air is twinged with something warm and inviting, Springtime in full swing across the states, though the temperature fluctuations with every border she and her brothers cross over.  She doesn’t mind the slight chill and promise of something warmer once the sun rises over the horizon, taking a minute to appreciate how the breeze feels as it brushes against her arms and legs. Unlike her brothers, who never seem to adjust their wardrobe for the seasons, Grace leans into the annual change of climate, and looks forward to the warmer months and the promise of lighter layers and bright colors. She’s a sore thumb standing between Dean and Sam, their dark and broody exteriors softened by the splashes of color and patterns on her clothing, but they’ve long since stopped trying to indoctrinate her into flannels and deep neutrals. Even if Dean’ll never admit to it, he doesn’t mind the cotton shorts and frilly tops that take up space in his trunk. It’s a refreshing sight when everything else in their lives is so heavy and serious. 

Sam leans against the hood, his broad frame accentuated by the jacket around his shoulders. He doesn’t know how Grace is unphased in only a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt, subconsciously shivering whenever the breeze rolls past him. Unlike the youngest Winchester, whose only priority is trying to locate the big dipper, he’s nose deep in the local paper, scouring for a case to work while Dean does whatever he intended to do inside of the bar he’d spontaneously pulled up to nearly an hour ago. Grace has a good idea of how their older brother is wasting time inside the dive bar, but she can’t bring herself to care about the nitty gritty details of his scamming as she loses herself to relaxation for the first time in a while. 

She turns her head to the side when footsteps draw near, her brothers laugh projected over the lively atmosphere of music and distant chatter. She rolls her eyes at the wad of money Dean holds up with evident pride, entirely missing the fact that in his other hand is a paper cup with a bendy straw that hasn’t yet been mended into an arch. Sam trails his gaze over to Dean seconds later, and his reaction is almost identical.

“You know, we could get day jobs every once in a while.” Sam scoffs, lowering the news paper that he’d been very intently skimming for leads. Grace sits up on the hood, pulling her knees into her chest as she looks at her eldest brother, analyzing the short lived exasperation that crosses his features at Sam’s comment. 

“Huntings our day job and the pay is crap.” Dean hands the cup to Grace, saying nothing about what it is, though the youngest Winchester has a pretty good idea and instantly perks up, reaching for the take-away cup that she only just noticed. She hums in satisfaction when creamy vanilla washes against her taste buds, the cup cold between her hands but she hardly bristles at the temperature, more than content to sip away at the milkshake like it's warmer than it really is. 

“Yeah, but hustling pool, credit card scams?” Sam drops the paper even more, his shoulder crashing into Grace’s shin as he adjusts his stance, “It’s not the most honest thing in the world, Dean.” 

“Well, let’s see, honest, fun and easy.” He holds out his hands, pretending to weigh the options that he’s never even really considered. Grace likes to think that in another life, he would’ve owned his own mechanic company, but Dean has never known freedom nor normalcy enough to even recognize that as something he’d be remotely interested in. “It’s no contest.” She can only scoff at his stupid expression, both of his eyebrows raised as he inclines his head to the side. “Besides, we’re good at it. It’s what we were raised to do.” 

Sam’s quick to rebuttal, the moonlight glistening against his eyes. “Yeah, well, how we were raised was jacked.” 

“Yeah, says you.” Dean doesn’t hear what’s actually being said, and his response comes quick and without thought. “We got a new gig or what?” 

“Maybe. Oasis Plains, Oklahoma. Not far from here. Gas company employee, Dustin Burwash supposedly died from Creutzfeldt-Jakob.” Sam slips off the hood with purpose, laying the paper down on the black surface, just barely skimming the words as he tells Dean about the potential case. Grace furrows her eyebrows at the medical term she doesn’t understand, but Dean makes a noise of confusion before she can swallow her mouthful of milkshake to ask herself. “Human mad cow disease.” He clarifies, his eyes flickering to Grace for a second. He can only laugh at the sight of her only half paying attention as she bends the striped straw into a loop. 

“Mad cow? Wasn’t that on Oprah?” Dean leans forward, hands bracing on the hood of the car as he inspects the paper for any details Sam left out, his interest peaked far more than Grace’s. 

“You watch Oprah?” Grace could only roll her eyes at what Sam chose to focus on, but a smirk of amusement pulled at the corners of her lips as she took another sip of the cold treat between her hands. 

As if he’s only just realized that he’s unintentionally outed himself, Dean bristles at the question for a second before he’s moving on, clearly wanting to avoid any further teasing. “So this guy eats a bad burger, why’s it our kind of thing?” 

“Mad cow disease causes massive brain degeneration. It takes months, even years for the damage to appear but this guy Dustin, sounds like his brain disintegrated in about an hour, maybe less.” Grace listens closely to what Sam rambles off, but she makes no indication of being interested in any way. Dean however, inclines his head, having to agree that the conditions around Dustin’s death seem strange enough without any further details to support the claim Sam initially presented. “Now it could be a disease or it could be something much nastier.” 

It takes no further convincing, and with a curt nod of acceptance, Dean stands, clapping his hands together before he reaches out to pat Grace’s ankle. “Alright, Oklahoma. Man, work, work, work. No time to spend my money.” 

Grace rolls her eyes, sliding off of the hood as she follows her brother's movements. She ducks under Sam’s arm when he opens the back passenger door for her before she has the chance, crawling into the backseat with a careful grip on her milkshake. She reaches for a blanket that's thrown onto the floor instinctively, pulling it up around her body as she snuggles into the door as Dean starts the car. It’s not even a full minute later that the Impala is peeling away from the parking lot, heading straight for Oklahoma. 

-

Hours later, the sky is bright with daylight, but the clouds that hang overhead keep the Springtime heat from fully settling over the small town. A sweatshirt is pulled over her body, but the hem of her pink shorts is visible as she climbs out of the car after Dean, eager to stretch her legs after falling asleep in a tight ball in the backseat. She pulls her hair up into a ponytail as they approach a man loading his truck outside of Oklahoma Gas and Power, smiling sadly at the man as Dean swings his keys into his palm, also playing up the act they’ve discussed in detail on the drive over. 

“Travis Weaver?” Sam questions as they approach, straightening out his jacket that had gotten bunched up from his position in the car. 

“Yeah, that’s right.” The man, Travis, answers, turning to look at the siblings that have the same light eyes in various shades of green. 

“Are you the Travis who worked with Uncle Dusty?” Dean asked, wanting to be sure they were talking to the right person while not-so-subtly dropping their connection to Dustin. It was almost disgusting to consider how good they had become at slipping into lives that weren’t their own, but that ability to disappear into someone else had come from years of practice and failure. Grace can’t remember the first time she’d been told to ‘just go with it’ but she can definitively assume she was more than a little skeptical. Now, she hardly bristles at the prospect of lying through her teeth. 

“Dustin never mentioned having nephews or a niece.” Travis frowned, taking in the appearance of the siblings, his eyes raking across Grace’s body as he took in the sight of her dressed so differently from the men on either side of her. 

“Really? Well, he sure mentioned you. He said you were the greatest.” Dean kept up the act, his smile entirely fake as he looked down at Travis. 

“Oh, he did? Huh.” Grace could’ve cringed at how flattered Travis looked if she wasn’t so focused on getting the information they needed. It was sickening to think that something so small could make someone stricken with grief so happy, and it was even more sickening to think that it was all a lie and most of the people they encountered never even knew. Maybe it gave them peace; Grace hopes that it does, otherwise she’d feel horrible. 

“Listen, we wanted to ask you, uh what exactly happened out there?” Grace’s lips trembled, her sad smile sinking into a grimace as she looked to Travis for information, hardly aware of how she played the part of a grieving niece almost too well. Sam had always been amazed at how naturally she could become somebody else, fitting whatever roll they wore like she was a trained expert. That was definitely an area where she far surpassed his level of expertise. 

Travis shook his eyes, his eyes twinged with pain that spoke volumes about his awareness of the situation; not that anyone could blame him for not immediately questioning the circumstances of Dustin’s death. The average person didn’t immediately consider that something supernatural had been at hand. “I’m not sure. He fell in the sinkhole. I went to the truck to get some rope, and, uh, by the time I got back…”

“What’d you see?” Grace allowed her voice to waver just slightly, desperation bleeding into her tone as she set her eyes on Travis firmly. Dean had to hide his amused smile behind a wrinkled grin of matching desperation, though his tone remained far more even than Grace’s. 

“Nothing. Just Dustin.” All of the siblings could tell that was far from the truth, but Travis didn’t seem to question the nature of the injuries he’d seen. They’d probably all been explained away by detectives and medical examiners who were always so desperate to find scientific evidence over logical reasoning. 

“Well, he was bleeding from his eyes and his ears and his nose, that’s it.” Travis shrugged, and Grace nodded gratefully, taking in the information and simultaneously trying to piece together what had happened with the information they already knew. 

Dean tilted his head to the side, his lips pressed into a thin line as he pressed for more. “So do you think it could be this whole mad cow thing?”

“I don’t know that’s what the doctors are saying.” Travis was hardly phased, having no reason to doubt the medical examination or the facts that the doctors had disclosed to him and the public. 

“But if it was, he would have acted strange beforehand like dementia, loss of motor control. You ever notice anything like that?” Sam pressed this time, but his tone was even, unassuming. 

Travis shook his head again, “Yeah, but then again, if it wasn’t some disease what the hell was it?” 

“That’s a good question.” Dean hummed his agreement. 

“You know, can you tell us where this happened?” Sam questioned, knowing that they’ve gotten everything out of Travis that they possibly could, and they’d need to do more digging elsewhere if they were going to learn anything of use. 

-

Oasis Plains Estates was exactly how Grace had pictured it would be, and as the engine revved, she glanced out of the back window, taking in the sights of large and lavish homes steadily being constructed by teams of men in orange hard hats. These were the kinds of neighborhoods she’d always been fascinated by, but there was something off-putting and eerie about knowing that a man had lost his life here – still, she thinks a neighborhood like this would be better than crappy motel rooms any day. 

She’d changed since they peeled away from the construction company’s headquarters, and as she climbed out of the car before Dean had even gotten the gear in park, she adjusted the waistband of her jeans, already annoyed by how thick denim cut into her hip bones. 

“Huh. What do you think?” Dean hummed as they crossed the street, approaching caution tape and the sinkhole that Dustin had fallen into. Nothing about the location in particular had her feeling any type of way, and so she only shrugged indifferently in Dean’s direction, brushing hair out of her face when the wind blew just enough to rustle her thin locks. 

“I don’t know, but if that guy Travis was right it happened pretty damn fast.” Sam noted, ducking beneath the caution tape with Dean, but he turned to hold it up for Grace, laughing quietly when Dean scoffed in annoyance about not receiving the same treatment. 

“So what? Some sort of creature chewed on his brain?” Grace grimaced at the visual, batting a hand against Dean’s bicep as she rolled her eyes at his unnecessarily vivid imagery. 

Sam wasn’t so phased, shaking his head as he peered into the sinkhole where roots grew and intertwined chaotically. “No, there’d be an entry wound. Sounds like this thing worked from the inside.

All three of the siblings squatted down, peering into the hole in the ground with equal disinterest. Sam’s nose wrinkled as he watched Dean shine a light on the sinkhole, and Dean, ever the observant individual, noted that there was only room for one of them down there. “You wanna flip a coin?” He questioned, ducking under the caution tape once again. 

“Oh yeah, let’s go down there when we have no idea what the hell happened to begin with.” Grace scoffed, shaking her head as she and Sam exchanged equally bewildered expressions before turning back to their older brother. 

“Alright, I’ll go if you’re scared.” Dean grabbed a hose from the ground, his tone laced with jesting arrogance that he knew would get under Sam’s skin. Grace wasn’t so easily roped into his shenanigans, and thus, entirely ignored the antagonizing comment. “You scared?” He only further egged Sam on. 

“Flip the damn coin.” Sam caved and Dean chuckled with amusement, reaching into his pocket for a coin upon the rebutted request. 

“Alright, call it in the air, chicken.” The coin toss was futile, because the second Dean flipped the nickel, Sam snatched it out of the air, declaring that he was going to be the one to go down. Despite not knowing what awaited him in the sinkhole, Grace wasn’t going to argue, just glad that she wasn’t being sacrificed with the bullshit excuse of ‘you’re smaller’. Dean, however, continued to tease, claiming that he said he would go down as if they all didn’t know he was bluffing just to do the opposite. 

Sam tied the hose around his waist, but his hands were quickly batted out of the way by Grace who stepped in to tie the knot the second she realized Sam had no idea what he was doing. She knew the second he bore any weight on the knot he originally created, it would’ve slipped right out and he would’ve fell however many feet it was to the bottom. She really did question if they’d still be alive without her constant supervision. 

“Don’t drop me.” Sam huffed, looking more toward Dean than Grace. Dean only rolled his eyes in response, gesturing for Sam to get on with it already, not wanting to draw any suspicion toward them when the up and coming development was crawling with construction workers still on the job. 

Sam lowered himself into the sinkhole, and Dean grabbed onto the hose, batting Grace away when she stepped up to help him. She rolled her eyes at him, but didn’t object, stepping away from the hole in the ground with the assurance that her brothers had it handled. Sam wasn’t down there for any more than thirty seconds before he was calling for Dean to pull him back up, one of his hands cradling something cautiously while the other clawed at the dirt around him. 

When he was on his own two feet again, he wiggled out of the hose, nodding toward the car without any further comment. Grace rolled her eyes, and Dean did the same, but the both of them followed Sam regardless of their attitudes towards his newfound silence. Once they were situated in the Impala, Sam opened his palm, revealing a very dead beetle with the most disgusting antennas at the top of its head. Grace flinched, shrinking into herself as she put as much distance between herself and the bug as she could manage. 

“So you found some beetles in a hole in the ground. That’s shocking, Sam.” Dean hummed not even three minutes later, his eyes glancing at the insect that Sam hadn’t stopped messing with before he refocused on the road ahead of him, one hand on the wheel while the other gripped the gear stick. 

Sam only shrugged, not giving into the sarcasm this time around, apparently able to pick and choose when he wanted to fall victim to Dean’s antagonizing. “There were no tunnels, no tracks, no evidence of any other kind of creature down there. You know, some beetles do eat meat. Now it’s usually dead meat, but–”

“How many did you find down there?” Dean cut him off, not interested in hearing all of the oddly specific beetle facts that Sam undoubtedly knew off the top of his head. Grace was more than glad about that, though she still shivered in disgust at the fact that her brother was holding onto a dead beetle somewhat protectively, poking and prodding at it like it wasn’t once a live insect that probably carried a few million diseases. 

“Ten.” Sam sounded proud of the development, meanwhile Grace scrunched her nose up in disgust, very glad that she hadn’t been the one to stumble upon ten beetles. 

“It would take a whole lot more than that to eat some dude’s brain.” Dean shook his head, rightfully skeptical about the premise of only ten beetles eating a man's brain in a matter of minutes. 

“Well, maybe there were more.” Sam rebutted, wrapping his fingers around the beetle as he tried to sway Dean’s opinion. Grace was just glad she couldn’t see the black insect anymore, still beyond disgusted that it was even in the car with her to begin with. 

“I don’t know. Sounds like a stretch to me.”

“Well, we need more information on the area, the neighborhood. Whether something like this has ever happened before.” Sam prattled on, but Dean’s attention was quickly misplaced as he analyzed red balloons on the side of the road, tied to a post just inches away from an open house sign. 

“I know a good place to start.” He commented smugly, his eyes scanning the surrounding area until they found yet another sign that advertised a community barbeque in a backyard. “Kind of hungry for a little barbeque. How about you?” Sam rolled his eyes, and Grace did the same, hardly surprised that Dean was interested in free food and conversing with townspeople. “What, we can’t talk to the locals?” 

“And the free food’s got nothing to do with it?” Sam teased, his smirk only growing when Grace laughed softly, bating at the back of Dean’s seat. 

“Of course not. I’m a professional.” 

“Swear to god, Dean. If you puke this time, I’m going to kick you.” Grace threatened as Dean pulled up to a house on the left hand side, her mind flashing back to the last barbeque they’d stumbled into somewhere deep in Ohio. He’d entered a hot dog eating contest like an asshole, and after losing (which he still won’t admit to, claiming the guy who won cheated by not eating the buns) he’d puked inches away from her brand new running shoes that hadn’t even acquired a spec of dirt yet. 

Dean only rolled his eyes at her comment, turning the engine off before he climbed out of the car, Sam and Grace following his lead begrudgingly. They glanced at the houses, taking in the large driveways and abstract roofs as they ventured down the sidewalk. “Growing up in a place like this would freak me out.” Dean commented, which had both Grace and Sma frowning in confusion. 

“Why?” Grace questioned, looking at the houses that were more or less finished. They weren’t exactly her style, a little too flashy and big for what she figured her taste was, but something about it still felt safe and oddly romanticized. This was the kind of neighborhood that threw block parties in the middle of the street, and where everybody knew everybody even if they secretly hated everything about the town and its community. 

“The manicured laws, how-was-your-day-honey? I’d blow my brains out.” Dean scoffed, still heavily critiquing the development. 

“I think it’d be nice. You’re just allergic to normal.” Grace commented, Sam nodding his head in agreement as he stepped toward the left, giving her more room to walk between them instead of lingering awkwardly behind their broad frames like she’d found herself doing. 

“I’d take our family over normal any day.” Dean scoffed, eyeing a sign in the front yard as they stumbled up the driveway. 

“Normal and our family don’t have to be antonyms, you know. We could be normal.” Grace hummed, already getting lost in the hypothetical image of growing up without crappy motel rooms and a dead mom that she can’t even remember. She knows that had they had white-picket fences and parent teacher conferences, they most likely wouldn’t have had the relationship that they do now, but she thinks she’d be okay with stereotypical annoying older brothers that have their own lives outside of her own instead of the trauma and constant fear that’s rooted in the reality they did actually grow up within. 

She pushes past Sam to be the one to knock on the door, a cheeky smile on her lips as she turns to tease him. Sam pushes her head away from his, but he laughs quietly beneath his breath regardless of the annoyed display he puts on. There are very few moments where he gets to see his sister for who she actually is, but as he watches her pound her fist against the textured glass, it’s clear as day that beneath the hunter exterior she always puts up, she’s just a twenty-year-old kid that still has so much joy tethered to her spirit. He wishes that she’d drop the act more often, she’d finally stopped putting it on at all in the last few months that they spent together at Stanford, but he knows what happens when she slips up, and he knows that despite their father not being around physically, she’s still terrified of word getting back to him that she was anything less than perfect. 

The door swings open seconds later, and Grace’s mask comes right back up. Her contagious excitement that had both Sam and Dean grinning was quickly shoved aside, replaced with a stoic expression that only conveyed what it absolutely needed to. “Welcome.” 

“This the barbeque?” Dean questioned, a smirk splaying across his lips as he inhaled the aroma of smoked meat and charcoal. 

“Yeah, not the best weather, but…” The man glanced at the sky, the overcast weather not uncommon for early Spring, but definitely a damper on his plans for a sunny-day barbeque. “I’m, uh, Larry Pike, the developer here, and you are?” 

“Dean, this is Sam, Grace.” Dean introduced them at the same time that Sam and Grace introduced themselves. Larry could only chuckle softly, his lips curving into a grin as he nodded. 

“Sam, Dean, Grace, good to meet you.” Larry exchanged formalities, “So you three are interested in Oasis Plains?” 

“Yes, sir.” Dean nodded his head, inclining his chin just slightly to the right as he agreed, but Grace could tell he was itching to be let inside and shown to the food. She had to stifle the scoff that threatened to fall off of her lips, the days she’d been spending with her brothers breaking all of the habits she’d spent decades perfectly curating to avoid her fathers rage. It was both liberating and terrifying, because she knew that they would find him eventually, and she’d have to deal with the repercussions of letting herself be comfortable in her own skin for a change.

“Let me just say, we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color or… sexual orientation.” Grace and Sam couldn’t contain their smirks of amusement, meanwhile Dean looked deeply distributed by the insinuation that his connection to either of them was anything more than familial. 

“These are my brothers.” Grace smiled politely, fighting back her giggles as Dean tried his best not to start rambling about how Larry's analysis of their relationship was beyond off and disturbing.

“Big brothers.” Dean clarified, and Grace could only roll her eyes, elbowing him in the ribs. 

“Our father is getting on in years and we’re just looking for a place for him.” Sam cut in before Dean could derail the conversation anymore than it already had been. 

Larry hardly even bristled at the wrong assumption, inclining his head like a stereotypical businessman solely seeking out successes in his career. “Great, great. Well, seniors are welcome to. Come on in.”

The siblings followed Larry through the house, looking around at the furniture choices and style as they were guided out to the backyard where more people gathered. Some had red solo cups in hand, while others simply mingled, lively chatter filling the space easily. 

“You said you were the developer?” Dean questioned as Larry stepped outside, a smile on his lips as he proudly showed off his accomplishments. 

“A few months ago I was walking this valley with my survey team. There was nothing here but scrub brush and squirrels. And you know what, we built such a nice place to live that I actually bought into it myself. This is our house. We’re the first family in Oasis Plains.” Larry walked backwards as he explained the last few months of his life and developments, a smile on his lips as he peered over his shoulder, approaching a woman in a baby pink blouse. “This is my wife, Joanie.” 

“Hi there.” Joanie smiled, shaking Dean’s hand before she shook Sam’s. Grace only smiled, Joanie nodding her head fondly at her. 

“Sam, Dean and Grace.” Larry introduced them, and Sam was quick to mention that he was Sam, not wanting to be confused for Dean which had Grace shaking her head just slightly as she stepped back to let her brothers guide the conversation. She had no interest in baseless conversations, and so far, there hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary that piqued her interest enough to pretend like she wanted to engage in a mindless conversation. 

“Tell them how much you love the place, honey. And lie if you have to because I need to sell some houses.” Larry faux whispered, and Grace had to fight the eye roll at his obnoxious attitude. She hated men that sought out nothing but personal gain, and while she could respect an honest hustle for business, something about Larry himself just rubbed her the wrong way. First impressions were hardly ever misleading, and so all she put her energy into was appearing polite enough. 

Her brothers, however, laughed in polite amusement, Sam’s lips curving into a smile as he nodded along.

“Boys, Grace, if you’ll excuse me.” Larry quickly saw himself out of the conversation, and Joanie was quick to step up, although Grace found her energy far more enticing than this. 

“Don’t let his salesman routine scare you.” Joanie brushed Larry off, more for Grace’s benefit than Sam or Dean, but still the men nodded anyway. “This really is a great place to live.”

“Hi, I’m Lynda Bloom, head of sales.” Another woman approached, and Joanie was quick to welcome her into the conversation, jutting a hand out in Lynda’s direction with a sweet smile on her lips as light refracted off of her necklace, something Grace was sure her brothers didn’t notice in the slightest, but she appreciated. 

“And Lynda was second to move in. She’s a very noisy neighbor though.” Grace found herself smirking at Joanie’s comment before the woman peeled away, leaving only Lynda to converse with. 

“She’s kidding, of course. I take it you three are interested in becoming homeowners.” The woman stepped the slightest bit closer, and instinctively, Grace stepped back, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Sam or Dean, though her brothers were hardly phased and thoroughly amused. They’d grown up with Grace rambling about how girls can read each other easily, and they’d always found it humorous, clearly that hadn’t changed as Dean’s hand jutted out to slap at her side. 

“Yeah, yeah, well..” Sam trailed off, but Lynda cut in before he could finish, not that he knew what to say in the slightest. 

“Well, let me just say that we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color or… sexual orientation.” Lynda gave the same rehearsed spiel, and this time neither Sam or Grace found it as funny as they did the first time, both fighting grimaces as they wondered why these people were so intent with analyzing their behavior beneath a romantic lens. In Grace’s opinion, they were basically the poster children for typical American siblings. 

“I’m gonna go talk to Larry, alright honey?” Dean played into it, and Grace honestly wasn’t sure whether he was addressing her or Sam, but that question was very quickly answered when he turned on his heels and began walking back toward the house, but not without reaching out to tap Sam’s butt on his way. 

Grace had to turn her face away to get her laughter under control, meanwhile Sam snapped his head back to glare at Dean’s retreating frame. It didn’t take any further prompting for Lynda to lead them over toward a tented area, talking their ears off about the customizations and amenities that Oasis Plains had to offer. Grace wanted to beat her head against the wooden fence, and every time she glanced over at Sam, she was certain that he was thinking the same thing, his eyes practically dead as he forced small smiles and head nods every few seconds just to appease Lynda. Grace was doing the same, but her boredom wasn’t so discreet as she drummed her fingers against the table to her right, wondering where the hell Dena had escaped to and inquiring about whether he was undergoing the same torment. She was only half paying attention when Sam stepped around Lynda and braced his hands on her shoulders, softly guiding her away from the table without any further explanation. Grace frowned curiously, but when her eyes followed his sharp motions, her breath caught in her throat as she realized a tarantula was mere centimeters away from where her hands had been. Immediately shivers crawled up her spine and she flinched in disgust, looking antsy as she glanced between Sam and the house. 

“I need to go wash my hands.” She announced quietly, making a quick b-line for the house, leaving Sam and the tarantula behind, although she was almost certain that she could feel it crawling up her arms despite not even actually touching her skin. She shivered in disgust at the thought of it brushing against her without her even realizing, suddenly desperate to scrub her hands until they were raw and bleeding. 

She stumbled into Dean on her haste to enter the house again, her shoulder bumping into his chest as she brushed through the crowd. She hadn’t even noticed him coming out of the house with Larry, but as she snapped her head to the left, she realized that he’d been one of the people she’d pushed past in an anxious hurry. Dean furrowed his eyebrows at her, a hand holding onto her wrist as he kept her in place. “What’s up?” He inquired, taking note of the unsettled gleam in her soft eyes. 

Grace shook her head, practically trembling as her voice came out rushed and whispered, “Fucking tarantula like an inch away from my hand. Oh my god, I think we need to cut my hands off. I can feel it crawling on me.” 

Dean rolled his eyes in fond exasperation, completely ignoring her dramatics as he pulled her along with him to Sam. “You’ll be fine.” He coaxed half-heartedly, accepting that her fear of bugs was very real, but not knowing the root, and therefore not recognizing the fact that she was seconds away from a panic attack – the memory of a late night in Palm Springs playing at the forefront of her mind despite all efforts to stay grounded in the present. His eyes fell onto her features when her fingers latched onto the sleeve of his jacket, and finally he took note of how her eyes were glazed over and far from the current moment, and the tough exterior he put on melted away quickly, replaced by soft understanding that he very rarely let show. “Hey, you’re okay, sweetheart. We’ll find Sammy and get out of here, yeah?” 

“Yeah. Yeah.” Grace agreed easily, but her grip on his sleeve didn’t falter, and although Dean was beyond confused, he didn’t push for anymore information, just continued on toward where Sam stood beneath a tent in front of a teenage boy. They got to him just as Larry began dragging the kid away, and Sam’s eyes lingered for a second before he looked to Dean and Grace. 

“Remind you of somebody?” Sam smirked, his eyes trailing over where Larry was not-so-subtly reprimanding his son beside the back door. Grace shivered, knowing exactly what Sam was referencing, but Dean remained unphased by the taunting, apparently not recognizing the similarities between Larry and John. “Dad?” 

“Dad never treated us like that.” Dean frowned, beyond confused. 

Sam scoffed, his eyes trailing over Grace who was hardly paying attention to the conversation at all, subconsciously picking at her cuticles with the hand that wasn’t tightly holding onto Dean’s leather sleeve. “Well, dad never treated you like that. You were perfect. He was all over my case.” 

John Winchester definitely had favorites, and very rarely (literally never) was Grace above her brothers. But, even though Sam was never thrown to the ground by his own hands, or locked outside of the car in a bug infested wooded area at five-years-old in the pouring rain, he didn’t avoid John’s gruff scrutiny so easily either. “You don’t remember?” Sam scoffed. 

“Well, maybe he had to raise his voice but sometimes you were out of line.” Dean wouldn't touch any conversation about Grace’s relationship with John with a ten foot pole, but he would touch Sam’s, and the frustration that the middle Winchester felt was only piling up by the day, incapable of comprehending how his brother could openly admit that John was a dick, while also being his biggest supporter. Grace could understand it, but she wasn’t in the mood to unpack the trauma response of surviving at whatever costs necessary. 

Sam rolled his eyes, not willing to abandon the topic just yet, despite how desperately Grace wished they’d stop talking about John all together. Her fingers twitched as she held onto Dean’s sleeve, but before he could react, she pulled her hands away entirely, intertwining her fingers in front of her body as she rocked on her feet. “Right. Right, like when I said I’d rather play soccer than learn bowhunting.” Sam rolled his eyes, his gaze trailing over Grace once more, but his sister still didn’t seem to be paying any more attention than she had been before, her eyes glazed over as she glanced back to where Larry and his son had once stood, but now both were gone. 

“Bowhuntings an important skill.” Dean rebutted, and if Grace wasn’t so dazed from lingering panic, she would’ve frowned at how normalized all of this was for Dean. She’d gotten the chance to spend almost an entire year out from beneath her fathers thumb, but Dean never had, and when she’d been healing, finding herself and establishing connections in the real world, he’d been subjected to it all alone. Maybe Dean had never been beaten until he passed out, maybe he’d never been taunted with cynical punishments, but he was just as equally manipulated by the mind games that John Winchester thrived on playing with his own children; he just hadn’t realized it yet. Grace could be patient, she could wait for him to realize how much of his life and adolescence had been tarnished by John’s attitude on his own terms. Sam however, didn't seem to be able to extend the same thoughtfulness. 

“Whatever.” Sam rolled his eyes, not in the mood to have his feelings belittled and trampled over. “How was your tour?” 

“Oh, it was excellent. I’m ready to buy.” Dean quipped, a sarcastic smile on his face before it fell, his tone dropping as he grew serious. “So you might be onto something. Looks like Dustin Burwash wasn’t the first strange death around here.” Grace frowned, looking up at Dean at the information, finally coming out of her own head enough to be fully engaged in the conversation at hand. 

“What happened?” She questioned, angling her body so that Larry couldn’t watch them talk, not that he’d be able to hear them from across the patio, but she didn’t want to take any chances and raise any more red flags than necessary. 

“About a year ago before they broke ground one of Larry’s surveyors dropped dead while on the job. Get this. Severe allergic reaction to bee stings.” 

“More bugs.” Sam concluded, and Dean nodded, repeating the realization. 

“Fucking great. Yippee.” Grace shivered, her brothers glancing down sympathetically, although amusement shone bright in both of their light eyes. If only they knew why she was so afraid, there wouldn’t be an ounce of amusement glistening through their green stares, but she wasn’t ready to disclose hidden moments of the past just yet, and they weren’t ready to hear it. 

-

Another handful of hours later, all three siblings were once again crammed into the car, although this time Sam was behind the wheel and Dean was nose deep in a book in the passenger seat. Grace was curled up in the backseat, forcing herself to go through a million different breathing exercises as her brothers discussed insects and creepy crawlies at distributing lengths. Her hair was dry, her clothes weren’t damp in the slightest, but she swore she could feel rain pelting her skin and turning her bones to frozen ice as she sat in the backseat, her mind half present and half far away in the first memory of her father being truly cruel and unforgiving. He’d raised his voice at her before that moment. He’d grabbed her wrist too hard, tied her braids too tight, but never had he done something like lock her out of the car in the middle of the woods. She can still remember the way her little heart had lept in her chest with overwhelming fear as spiders crawled over her clothes, and mosquitos leeched onto any part of her body that they could draw blood from. After that hunt, she’d been covered in at least thirty mosquito bites that had bled for weeks before they healed. Dean and Sam never knew how she got them, and John had made sure they never had the chance to ask. 

“You know, I’ve heard of killer bees, but killer beetles? What is it that could make different bugs attack?” Dean questioned, flipping to another page in the book, although Grace is certain that he’s already read the same pages three times over, but she doesn’t comment on it, more than content to let the boys take the lead on this case while she focuses on not succumbing to violent memories at the forefront of her mind. 

“Well, haunting sometimes includes bug manifestations.” Sam suggested, but Dean didn’t even let that sit in the air for a second before he was arguing its legitimacy, his eyes scanning the pages between his fingers intently. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t see any evidence of ghost activity.” He explained, and with pursed lips Sam agreed, effectively sending them both back to the drawing board. “Maybe they’re being controlled somehow you know, but something or someone.” 

Sam frowned, looking over at Dean, his eyes flickering to Grace for only a second before he was focusing back on the road, the Impala’s headlights shining bright in the expanse of darkness that surrounded them. “You mean like Willard?”

“Yeah. Bugs instead of rats.” Grace would be more than okay if it were rats that they were questioning right now, even if she desperately despised those creatures too. Nothing was worse than bugs. She’d been scared of them before that night in Palm Springs, but now all they do is stir wild anxiety in her belly. John Winchester hated her weaknesses, but he’d been the one to give her most of them. 

“There are cases of psychic connections between people and animals. Elementals, telepaths.” Sam explained away what he could, ideas bouncing off of Dean who took them in with only mild scrutiny. 

“Yeah, the whole Timmy-Lassie thing.” Dean hummed thoughtfully before he found a connection, his right hand jutting outward in a motion of understanding as he craned his head to glance at both Grace and Sam. “Larry’s kid. Got bugs for pets.” 

“Matt?” Sam questioned, nodding in agreement with Dean as he recalled the events of the barbeque. “He did try to scare Gracie and the realtor with a tarantula.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Grace shivered, grabbing at the silver chain around her neck instinctively, clutching the cold pendant between her warm palms, desperately trying to keep herself from overthinking how close the spider had been to her hand. Dean reaches back, patting her knee affectionately though he said nothing to ease her discomfort, not-so-subtly enjoying the way she squirmed in her seat like a terrified child. 

“Think he’s our Willard?” 

Sam sighed, both hands on the wheel now. “I don’t know. Anything’s possible, I guess.” 

Dean inclined his head in contemplation, but quickly pointed out a house on the side of the road, his finger tapping against the window as he directed Sam to slow down. “Oh, hey, pull over here.” 

Grace frowned in confusion, and Sam shared the same expression as he pulled into the driveway of the house. “What are we doing here?” He questioned, craning his head to glance out the window as Dean began to peel himself out of the car wordlessly. 

Grace crawled into the front seat when Dean reached for the garage door handle, “It’s too late to talk to anybody else.” His only defense as he began to pull the door open, revealing an empty garage. 

“We’re gonna squat in an empty house?” Sam called out in disbelief, but it wasn’t the most insane thing they’d done while seeking shelter on an active case, so Grace remained silent, emotionally drained from the long day behind her now. 

“I wanna try the steam shower. Come on.” Dean encouraged, but Sam remained unconvinced, simply staring at him through the open window. Grace, however, smiled in amusement, always the one to make the most out of whatever cards they were dealt, and spending a night in a bed of her own – a real bed, on top of everything else – well that didn’t seem so bad at all. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had her own space to sleep in, certain that if it had happened at all, it had been years ago. “Come on!” 

Grace batted her hand against Sam’s bicep, silently encouraging him to pull the car into the garage before anybody still lingering around the development could notice them. Sam rolled his eyes but obliged by the request, smirking in fond amusement when the side mirror crashed into Dean’s hand, their brother wincing in pain before he pulled the garage door down and into place, concealing the Impala for the night. 

She climbed out of the car eagerly, brushing strands of hair off of her shoulders before she was heading to the back of the car in search of her own duffle bag. Dean already had the trunk open, her navy blue duffle over his shoulder and his own black bag held up on the other one. Sam rolled his eyes when he realized that Dean had no intention of grabbing his bag, and shoved his older brother out of the way so that he could retrieve it himself. 

“Better sleep with one eye open, Gracie. Wouldn’t want any spiders in your bed, would you?” Dean taunted, his smirk electric and jesting, but it fell away quickly when Grace tensed at his side, her eyes widening with fear that was more than just irrational. Her breath caught, her lips beginning to tremble before teeth sank into soft skin, willing them to remain unmoving and neutral, though everything about her expression seeped genuine terror.  

Her eyes refused to meet Deans, but weakly she pleaded with him to ease up on the jokes. “Can you not? Please?” She grabbed her duffle off of his shoulder, stalking past both him and Sam before either one of them could say anything to either remedy the situation or make it worse. It wasn’t the first time Dean had threatened her with bugs, he was the stereotypical annoying older brother that exploited any lighthearted weakness his siblings expressed, but all of the times when he’d teased her about spiders in the past had been out of pocket. Now, there were actual bugs that were potentially killing people, and Grace was in no condition to just let the joke roll off of her shoulders like she’d always done before. 

Dean frowned in confusion as he watched her walk away and enter the house, Sam standing right beside him wearing the same expression of uncertainty. “She’s being weird, right?” 

“She’s scared of bugs, dude. I think she has every right to be a little on edge.” Sam defended, but even he was skeptical. 

Dean shook his head, and for a moment, Sam could see the genuine concern in his eyes that he tried so hard to hide at any given moment. “No. The way she held onto my sleeve at the barbeque… she’s not telling us something.” 

“Think it has to do with Dad?” Sam questioned as he closed the trunk, not without grabbing a blanket from the back that he knew Grace wouldn’t be able to sleep without. She was always cold at night, and he doubted that the house would have the best heat circulation – or any at all – with only the necessary furniture piled into it. 

“When doesn’t it with her?” Dean sighed sadly, nodding toward the door, desperate to leave the day behind and turn in for at least a couple hours of rest. Sam didn’t argue, following after his older brother and stepping past the threshold. For a moment, he wondered what their lives would’ve turned out to be if they’d never left Lawrence, but there was no point dwelling on what would never be known, so as quickly as he considered it, he moved on, just wanting to turn in for the night. 

-

The next morning, Grace was already up and ready for whatever challenges they faced while trying to uncover the mysteries of Oasis Plains. The sun had risen over the development, and with the birds chirping outside, all of the siblings were gathering themselves in preparation, although Dean had skewed priorities. 

Grace was sitting in the hallway, her back against the wall, and her knees pulled up to her chin as she waited around for her brothers to get a move on. She was in no rush to get back into bug infested territory, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t going restless. She’d never been good at keeping still, always in search of something to keep her mind alert and her hands busy, but there was absolutely nothing to do in a house that only had the basic necessities. The refrigerator wasn’t even plugged in downstairs, still covered in plastic that protected the stainless steel from scratches. 

Sam knocked on the bathroom door minutes later, annoyance set into his jaw as he heard the water still running. “You ever coming out of there?” He asked, only receiving a grumbled ‘What’ in response as Dean stayed beneath the stream of hot water. Grace had already showered, and her hair was still slightly damp as it fell over her left shoulder in a loose braid. “Dean, a police call came in on the scanner. Someone was found dead three blocks from here. Come on.” 

“More bugs?” Grace questioned from the floor, her light eyes revealing vulnerability that she just didn’t have the energy to conceal anymore. She’d hardly gotten even an hour of sleep, unable to move on from the phantom sensation of bugs crawling up her skin enough to actually rest, and that was evident in her dim eyes and timid demeanor. 

“Looks like it.” Sam smiled sympathetically, knowing that even if he suggested Grace stay here instead of join them out in the town and upcoming development, she’d never agree to those conditions. He wouldn’t either. Not when the both of them grew up being expected to perform under any conditions and restraints. 

The door cracked open, and Dean grinned widely. “This shower is awesome.” He concluded, a towel wrapped around his hair as steam slipped out from the crack in the door. Grace could only scoff her amusement, rolling her eyes at his fascination with simple pleasantries. 

“Come on.” Sam rolled his eyes, strutting away from the bathroom door in exasperation. Dean had an amusing way of always getting beneath his skin. He played the same tricks every time, but somehow Sam never learned to just ignore him. If Grace didn’t know any better, she’d suggest that Sam likes being annoyed by Dean. It certainly makes her day interesting. 

She stood up from her spot in the hallway, following Sam down the stairs. She’d already explored every inch of the house, but her eyes still scanned the layout as she descended the staircase, making note of all the subtle details and elements that further exonerated the vibe of the house. It wasn’t anything elaborate despite the size and favorable amenities, and she quite liked how nonchalant it felt to walk the halls in a pair of black leggings and a sweatshirt. It felt comfortable, easy. If she had been given the chance, she would’ve loved to grow up in a house like this.  

“Gracie?” Sam questioned as the youngest Wincheter came to stand in the kitchen. Grace hummed her attention, soft eyes trailing over Sam as she inspected his body for injuries. “Yesterday–” He began, trailing off as he scratched at his chin, unsure of how to broach the topic without upsetting his sister who notoriously wanted nothing to do with conversations about their fathers behavior. “You’re scared of bugs because of Dad, aren’t you?” He decided that blunt was the best option, but immediately regretted it when Grace reeled back like she’d been physically struck, her eyes widening for only a second before she masked the expression like she’d always had to do whenever John was around. 

“You don’t want to go there, Sammy. Just leave it alone.” That was answer enough, and Sam nodded, knowing that he wasn’t going to get anymore information out of Grace without further prying, and that wasn’t something he was interested in or ever wanted to do. Dean was the one who pushed them to open up, who fought to know every secret they kept close to their hearts. Sam and Grace, however, had the mutual understanding that they’d share when they were ready, and it was okay if they never were. 

“Right.” He hummed, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he accepted the end of the conversion; not that it had even started to begin with. He wasn’t trying to get more information out of her, more than willing to leave it alone, but Grace still softened at the sight of him so caught up in his head, and her shoulders deflated as she leaned against the granite countertop. 

“You were seven. I was five. We were in Palm Springs chasing that spirit that killed the two girls. Dad took me out to burn the bones, told you and Dean that we’d be back by sunrise with breakfast from that dumbass diner with the dinosaur in the parking lot. We came back soaked, and Dean was pissed off that Dad let me stand in the rain, because he got in trouble for going out during a storm the week before. Dad just agreed, let him think that I wanted to be out there with him, but he– god, that’s not even close to what happened. I tripped over a branch, fell in the mud. Dad was pissed that the new shirt I’d gotten from Bobby was already ruined. After he made me salt the bones, he told me to stay where I was, to make sure that the bones actually burned. He went back to the car, I thought he was coming back, but then he didn’t. It was the middle of spring, and humid, and it just started pouring out of nowhere. I came back covered in mosquito bites and you were mad that they kept bleeding onto the bed sheets. Dad told you I got bit while we burned the bones, and I mean, yeah I guess I probably did, but he didn’t tell you that he locked me out of the car for two hours as a punishment for ‘fucking things up like always’. At one point, there was a spider on me. I freaked out, I mean, I hated bugs to begin with, but being out in the rain, in the middle of the night, still able to smell the gasoline from the fire– I don’t know. It sounds stupid. Honestly, it is stupid. But that was when he really started to change. When the little comments he made turned into being backhanded, when any minor mistake was suddenly reason enough to hit me until I couldn’t get up without help. There is so much you don’t know, Sammy, and I’m not ready to talk about it. And, as much as you think you’re ready to hear it, you’re not. So yes, I’m scared of bugs because of Dad, but just… drop it, okay? I’ll be fine. I’ve always been fine.” Grace wasn’t even aware of the fact that she was rambling, anxiously pulling at her fingers as she disclosed the first night John Winchester had ever shown her his true colors. She’d idolized him at the time; been able to overlook the comments he made and the ways in which he treated her differently than the boys. She’d loved him, even afterwards, but now, now she’s not so sure whether she hates him with a burning passion, or still wants to try and impress him even slightly. 

Grace could see the gears turning in Sam’s head. She could see him piecing together snippets of the past that had made no sense at the time, but now had a different meaning. “You let Dean and I torment you with bugs for years…” He trailed off, an unspoken apology in his saddened eyes that Grace only shrugged off, harboring no hard feelings for her brother's actions. 

“You didn’t know, and I’m pretty sure most little girls hate bugs, Sammy. You were kids, acting like kids. It’s not your fault I was never allowed to be one too.” 

-

Despite the fear of bugs that came from that night out in Palm Springs, Grace Winchester still adored the rain, and how it gave whatever streets it fell upon a chance to start fresh when the clouds cleared. Droplets of cold rainwater pelted the ground beneath the Impala, the wipers working fast to clear away the drops that pattered against the windshield without a rhythm. She had stolen one of Dean’s sweatshirts for a change, wanting something heavier than her own clothes, and the material threatened to drown her frame as she shoved her hands into the front pocket, pulling at her fingers as she coached herself into bravery, wanting to prove to herself more than anyone else that she was capable of still doing her job even when fear ran down to the very center of her bones. 

Lights glimmered in the distance, an ambulance and squad cars pulled up to the house where Lynda Bloome had mysteriously died hours earlier. Sam was behind the wheel once again, Dean in the backseat for a change, not that he’d had any choice in the matter. Sam and Grace had already been in the car when he’d finally come out of the bathroom, and as if he could sense that something of importance had been discussed without him present, he’d slid into the backseat with only a huff of annoyance. Grace had craned her head to grin at him as Sam backed out of the garage, and all Dean had done was roll her eyes and mumble something about how she was a ‘princess’ beneath his breath. 

She stepped out of the car in time with Sam, pulling the hood of the sweatshirt over her hair and sticking close to Dean, not wanting to drag yet another umbrella out of the trunk. Dean didn’t mind, holding the pole just slightly at an angle, letting it cover her entirely. Rain pelted his shoulder, but if he cared, he didn’t even grimace as the leather of his jacket became slick with tracks. They walked up to Larry who was on the phone, an umbrella in his hands that was similar to their own. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he noticed them, shoving the phone into his pocket before giving over his attention. 

“Hello, you’re, uh, back early.” He commented, clearly frazzled by their unexpected appearance. At the end of the day, it wasn’t the death of Lynda that bothered him, it was the fact that he could lose business over it. Grace had to resist rolling her eyes at his attitude, wondering how somebody could become so detached from reality that they prioritized a sales deal over real relationships. Twenty years working a job like this, and even she still shed tears over the victims they couldn’t save. 

“Yeah, we, uh, just drove in. Wanted to take another look at the neighborhood.” Dean explained away their sudden appearance, his eyes scanning over the houses that filled the block. 

“What’s going on?” Sam questioned. 

Larry sighed, his eyes darting in the direction of the house that Lynda had passed within before they found the siblings again. He looked straight at Sam, hardly even acknowledging Grace. “You guys met, uh, Lynda Bloome at the barbecue?” He questioned, glancing at the body bag that was being placed into the back of an ambulance just a few feet away. 

“The realtor.” Sam nodded, establishing that the connection had been made. 

“Well, she, uh, passed away last night.” Larry explained, and for the first time, Grace saw a wrinkle of despair in his expression, proving that beneath the businessman persona, Larry did have a heart in some capacity. 

“What happened?” She asked softly, eyes saddened and understanding as she fit into her role of concerned young woman well. It wasn’t all a fabrication however, because at the end of the day, that was the true question that remained unanswered across all of their books. 

“I’m still trying to find out.” Larry shrugged, his voice wavering as he glanced back at the house for a third time. “Identified the body for the police. Look, I’m– I’m sorry. This isn’t a good time.” 

Grace shook her head, waving Larry’s apology off with a soft smile that conveyed her understanding. “It’s okay.” She assured, watching as he nodded before excusing himself, stalking up to the front door where an officer loomed, in the process of roping off the entry points. 

“You know what we have to do, right?” Dean questioned, turning to look at Sam. 

“Yeah, get in that house.” Sam sighed, already mapping out possible entry points that excluded the front door. Grace’s eyes lingered on the wooden fence, knowing that they’ve scaled more challenging fences in their past, and that it would certainly be easy enough if they could catch a minute without bustling crowds of law enforcement watching. 

“See if we got a bug problem.” Dean prattled off, his hand that wasn’t wrapped around the pole of the umbrella jutting out toward the center of Grace’s back. She nearly jumped out of her skin when his fingers crawled up her cotton covered body, her eyes wide and full of fear as she flinched away from the sensation. 

“Dean!” She hissed, her heart racing as she shivered involuntarily. She’d only just stopped feeling like there were beetles and spiders all over her body, but now that feeling was back tenfold, and her face flushed with anxiety as she tried to quell the brewing storm of memories as the rain seemed to splash harder against the ground beneath her feet. 

Sam shook his head, pulling Grace into his side, his arm slinking around her shoulders protectively as his fingers brushed against her comfortingly. “Not cool man.” He directed the comment at Dean, his jaw set as he watched Grace swim within her own head, her pupils dilated with fear that he now knew wasn’t as baseless and irrational as he’d previously thought. How many times had they triggered her without knowing? How many times had she brushed off and forgiven their jokes when it stirred nothing but panic and fear inside of her? Sam hated to think about what those answers would be if he asked. 

“It’s fine, Sammy.” She brushed it off, not wanting to dwell on the situation when Dean had no reason to think that his jokes were beyond insensitive and triggering. Her attempt to derail the conversation was futile though, because he’d already begun to figure that something was going on, and his jaw clenched with annoyance as he glanced between Grace and Sam. 

“What’s going on with you two?” He questioned, but Grace only brushed him off. 

“Nothing.” She excused. “Once some of these idiots leave, we can definitely scale that fence and go in through the window. Place like this, it’s definitely unlocked.” She explained, nodding toward the corner of the street. Sam agreed, saying nothing further, and for once, Dean let the topic drop without arguing. 

They retreated back toward the car, Grace climbing into the backseat without even acknowledging Dean, who was ready and willing to take that seat for himself again. She only smiled softly when he glanced back at her questioningly, and for a second, his eyes softened and he smiled back. “Figure these idiots’ll be out here for at least another hour. There’s a diner up the road, you hungry?” 

“I could eat.” Sam shrugged, leaving the decision up to Grace, who nodded in the affirmative. 

-

An hour later, all three siblings were standing outside of Lynda’s house with full bellies. Grace had ordered a mac n cheese from the kids menu after deciding she wasn’t hungry enough to finish anything bigger, and Dean hadn’t let her hear the end of it since the waiter served her her food on a small plate with a fond smile; equally amused herself. As they stood on the sidewalk, assessing the best plan of action for how they were going to get into the window, he was still snickering quietly to himself, and both Sam and Grace had had enough. 

“Shut up!” She groaned, slapping her palm against his head, rolling her eyes when he recoiled in mock offense. “Not everyone lives off of cheeseburgers, asshole. And don’t think I didn’t realize you stole I bite when I went to pee!” 

“I had to make sure you weren’t being poisoned!” Dean rebutted, his eyes glimmering with amusement that had Grace breaking into a smile as well, the anxiety that had gripped her in the earlier hours of the morning no longer so heavy and paralyzing. “Alright, Sammy goes in first. You follow, and I’ll be right behind you. Got it?” 

Both Sam and Grace nodded, accepting the game plan without complaint. Sam leapt up onto the fence, making it look far easier than it actually was as he shoved his foot into one of the holes and reached for the shutters on the side of the house, holding on with one hand while his other pried open the window. Grace, who’d temporarily been referred to as monkey when she was three and climbed anything in sight, had no trouble following his movements, even daring to laugh as she stumbled through the window and into Sam who steadied her with fond amusement etched across his green stare. 

“Remember that time you and Jess scaled the fire escape at that frat house?” Sam laughed, recalling a night that felt like years ago, but was really only a couple of months ago as they waited for Dean to climb up the fence and join them in the bathroom. 

“Oh my god, yeah!” Grace laughed softly, shaking her head at the memory she’d more or less buried since leaving Stanford behind, “She kept freaking out about falling. I was sure she was going to pass out.” She continued on, but her smile wilted as she and Sam connected eyes, both suddenly sobered up from their momentary bout of nostalgia as reality came crashing in on them once more. “I miss her too, you know.” 

“I know.” Sam sighed, patting Grace’s shoulder before he pulled away from the embrace looking toward the window as Dean stumbled in. Sam was quick to turn around and pull the window closed, all three of them focusing on the crime scene beneath their feet now. The black tape on the floor in the shape of an unconscious body was eerie, but a definite sign that they were in the right place. 

“This looks like the right place.” Dean affirmed what they’d already gathered, and began to lead the way into the bathroom, leaning down to pick up a rag that was crumpled on the floor. Grace stepped just over the threshold separating the bedroom and bathroom, moving just slightly to the side so that Sam could see as well, not willing to get any closer than she absolutely had to to what she desperately hoped wasn’t a pile of dead beetles. Her face paled when Dean picked the rag up and dead spiders fell onto the floor, their lifeless bodies shriveled up in odd positions that sent shivers down Grace’s spine. “Spiders. From spider boy?” Dean questioned, turning to look at Sam and Grace, the washcloth still between his grasp. 

“Matt.” Sam corrected, adamant that Dean refer to the kid by his name, but his efforts were beginning to prove that they only lead to even more taunting. “Maybe.” He reluctantly agreed, sighing heavily as he stared down at the pile of spiders, desperately wanting to be wrong about even considering Matt’s involvement. 

Grace had begun to slowly pull away from where Dean was crouched down on the blood stained tile, hardly noticing that she was stumbling backwards at all until her back hit the wall. Her breath hitched just slightly, eyes trained to the pile of arthropods that she could swear was moving toward her. She nearly jumped out of her skin when something thudded against her shoulder, and she definitely did when she glanced down, finding a spider just slightly caught within wild strands of her braid. 

“Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!” Her entire body was frozen in fear, eyes wide and pleading as they flickered between both of her brothers, although she wasn’t really seeing them at all. Her hands flailed frantically at her sides, breath hitching as she became hyper aware of every minor sensation happening against her skin, almost certain that she could feel something crawling up her calf despite her pants being tight around her ankles. 

Suddenly something was pressing against either side of her face, gentle but gruff against her skin that felt disgustingly clammy as the circulating air brushed through the room. Her unfocused eyes eventually focused again, becoming less glassy as she recognized Sam’s face in front of hers, blocking her sight from the spiders on the floor. His voice felt like it was years away, but she could make out the rushed words nonetheless.“Hey, hey. You’re good. It’s good. It’s gone. It’s gone.” 

Grace shoved him away from her panickedly, batting against his chest with her palm when he hardly even budged, looking down at her with concerned confusion. He eventually got the hint and backed out of her way, just in time for her hands to seek out the ledge of the sink and expel everything she’d managed to eat at lunch. She groaned after a minute, reaching for the faucet with trembling hands, letting the water run until the bowl cleared and she could reach in and cup a handful, bringing it to her mouth quickly. When she spat it out, she didn’t look up right away, keeping her head craned above the sink and her eyes pinched shut, forcing herself to remember that she wasn’t stranded in the woods, nor was John even around to see her break like this at all. 

When her chest didn’t feel so tight anymore, she stood up fully, reaching for the faucet and turning it off. She pulled Dean’s sleeve over her hand, wiping at her mouth. “You good?” Her eyes trailed to find Dean, his voice the one that had called out for her attention. His eyes were clouded with mixed emotions, his cluelessness conflicting with his natural response which was amusement. Grace could tell he was getting suspicious, connecting dots that had been in front of his face the entire time, but wasn’t entirely sure how the picture he had all the pieces to was supposed to look. 

“I really fucking hate spiders.” She groaned, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, attempting to relieve some of the pressure that was building at the front of her head. “I need to get out of here.” She didn’t wait for her brothers to agree, stepping past Sam and heading for the window without so much as a glance back. 

-

Grace woke up to someone tapping her shoulder with gentle urgency, and instinctively she leaned away from the disruption, her green eyes squinting open as she attempted to avoid the blinding brightness beyond the Impala’s backseat. She groaned quietly in exhaustion, but took in her surroundings just enough to recognize that the car was parked on a busy street corner directly beside a high school, and it was Dean who was standing in front of the car door, attempting to rouse her from sleep. 

She shrugged off his hand, straightening her posture as she furrowed her eyebrows. She’d fallen asleep shortly after climbing into the backseat back at Oasis Plains, but more than a few hours had passed since then and the dirt caked beneath Dean’s fingernails insinuated that something had happened whilst she was essentially dead to the world. In any other case, she would’ve been pissed that they didn’t wake her, but she wasn’t too perturbed about missing out on even more conversations about killer insects. 

“Hey, switch with me.” Dean inclined his head toward the high school, stepping out of the way so that Grace could climb out of the car. She didn’t question why he wanted to switch, figuring that whatever the reason was, it wasn’t a topic for others to overhear, let alone adolescent children getting out of school. 

She slid into the passenger seat, pulling it forward so he wasn’t as crammed, and only then did she notice that Sam was on the other side of the car, putting a box down on the leather seats beside Dean. Curiously, she leaned over to peak inside, immediately regretting that decision when she found a bunch of dirt covered skeletons and worms. She groaned, pulling her head away and instead focusing on the road in front of her, beyond ready to finish this case and get moving onto the next, even if that meant they were just one step closer to locating John. 

“Do I even want to know what I missed?” Grace questioned, pulling her legs together as she sat criss-cross applesauce in the passenger seat, something her brothers couldn’t even imagine being able to do. Even with the seat pushed up as far as it could be without Grace practically eating the dashboard, Dean’s knees hit the back of the chair and he shifted slightly in an attempt to find a comfortable position. 

“Uh, not really.” Sam grimaced as he closed the drivers side door, starting the engine and peeling away from the curb. “Moral of the story is we think these bones are what’s attracting all the bugs.” 

“And the kid? Matt?” Grace turned to look at Sam, having figured that they were at the high school he attended, and they’d most likely talked to him at some point. 

“Not connected. Smart, though. Figured out something was going on, just didn’t know what.” Grace hummed as she nodded, accepting that her brothers had a good grip on the case without her help. “You okay now?” Sam asked after a beat of silence, his eyes shining with concern that made Grace’s chest clench. She hates when she’s the reason they’re worried; hates that half of what they worry about isn’t even in her control at all. 

She nods her head, but the way she bites at her nails tells both of her brothers that she’s lying. “I mean, this case isn’t all sunshine and rainbows to begin with, Sammy. Given the circumstances, I’m as good as I can be.” 

“Yeah, and what are those circumstances?” Dean calls from the backseat, finally having had enough of the apparent secrecy that was happening between his two youngest siblings. Grace sighs softly, soft eyes flickering to Dean in the rearview mirror, but Sam’s jack locks, and he shakes his head. 

“Nothing, dude.” He defends, but Grace just shakes her head, knowing that Dean’s not going to relent until they tell him something believable. 

“No, it’s not nothing. You two have been weird all day. I mean, really, what’s going on?” There was an edge to Dean’s tone that had Grace inching closer to the passenger door, a thickness in the air between Sam and Dean that she didn’t want to be included in at all. She sighed again, green eyes falling shut as she drew in a deep breath. 

“Why can you never drop anything, dude?” Sam continues to try and go at Dean, but Grace puts her hand up, ending their arguing before it could really begin. 

“It’s fine, Sammy.” She shrugged off his glance, craning her head to look back at Dean who was sitting in the middle of the leather row, his jaw locked, impatience etched across his features. “You remember the hunt in Palm Springs something like fourteen years ago? The spirit that killed those two girls? Dad took me out to salt the bones for the first time?”  

“Yeah, and? What about it?” Dean questioned, evidently still annoyed as he barely even glanced at Grace. She bristled at the clip in his tone, sighing softly as she turned her gaze back to the road. The rain had stopped at some point, but the ground still glistened as the Impala’s headlights reflected off of puddles. 

“Why do you even care if you’re just going to be an asshole about it?” She huffed, sinking down into the seat, suddenly not so willing to share moments of her troubled past with him. Dean sighed regretfully, letting his shoulders drop as he glanced at Grace softly, but the damage had already been done. The woman in the front of the car had dealt with irrational anger being directed at her for the entirety of her life, and although she still had trouble asserting her own personal boundaries, she wasn’t about to deal with Dean’s anger when whatever his problem was had to do with Sam and not her. “Just forget it. Where are we going?” 

“Somehow, whatever’s happening here is connected to these bones. Figured we should probably find out where they came from.” Sam flicked the left blinker on, turning down a street that evidently led to a college campus if the swarms of young adults with backpacks walking around was any indication. 

“Right.” Grace hummed, climbing out of the car when Sam pulled over, pulling the keys out of the ignition without saying anything more. Dean caught her wrist before she could follow Sam, keeping her on the sidewalk as he basically pleaded with her to forgive his earlier attitude. “Not now.” She pulled her arm free from his grasp, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over her hands as she caught up with Sam. 

“So a bunch of skeletons in an unmarked grave, maybe it is a haunting?” Grace questioned as they trekked toward the anthropology department. “I mean, pissed off spirits, not a far fetch to say at least one of them has some unfinished business.” 

“Yeah, maybe. Question is, why bugs?” Sam nodded at the suggestion, fixing his jacket over the box, not wanting to draw attention to the bones he carted around with effortless nonchalance like they were only a collection of old textbooks. “And why now?” 

“Uh, that’s two questions.” Dean muttered, something clearly on his mind as he matched Grace and Sam’s pace but contributed nothing to their back and forth. “Hey, so with that kid back there how could you tell him to just ditch his family like that?” 

“Just, uh, I know what the kid’s going through.” Sam explained, not seeing where Dean was going with his line of questioning, although Grace figured that they’d already butted heads about the topic while she’d been asleep in the car. Dean’s aggravation made a lot more sense now, but she still didn’t feel like divulging pieces of her past even if his temperament was called for. He’d burned that bridge and she didn’t know when she’d ever be ready to rebuild it. 

“How about telling him to respect his old man? How’s that for advice?” Dean kept pushing, kept trying to make his opinion of Sam’s decision known, though it wasn’t like neither he nor Grace ever even had a chance to forget about his feelings toward Stanford when almost every conversation led back to the topic in some capacity. Grace understood both of their perspectives, probably more than either of her brothers realized, but Dean’s unwilting loyalty to John was even too much for her to be okay with. She’d give him her patience, allow him to unmake every memory of childhood at his own pace, but pushing his own experiences onto Sam was far more than she could tolerate. One day, Dean would have to accept and understand that all three of them were treated differently by John, and for that they were each entitled to their own feelings about him. 

“Dean, come on. This isn’t about his old man. You think I didn’t respect dad. That’s what this is about.” Sam fought, stopping right in front of the department building, his jaw tight as he glanced down at their older brother. 

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “Just forget it, okay? Sorry I brought it up.” 

“I respected him. Even when he beat the shit out of Gracie. Even when he bailed on us for a fight he wasn’t even sure he could win. But no matter what I did, it was never good enough.” Grace hates that she respected him too, hates that maybe she still does. He was the first person to show her how cruel the world could be to someone smaller, weaker, kinder, but he’s also the man that raised her. The man that raised her brothers, and despite everything, kept a rough over their heads; even if it was an ever changing one. She hates that after everything, the smallest part of her heart still yearns to win over his pride. 

“So what are you saying, that dad was disappointed in you?” Dean asks, stopping a few feet ahead. 

“Was?” Sam scoffs, a perturbed smile crossing his lips as he shakes his head. “Is. Always has been.” 

“Why would you think that?” He genuinely doesn’t understand where Sam’s coming from, because even if he hates John Winchester for how he treated his only daughter, just like Grace, there are pieces of him that only want to remember the good. And, there was good. Not for Grace, never for her, but for him and Sam, there had been undeniable good mixed into the unavoidable bad. 

“Because I didn’t wanna bowhunt or hustle pool because I wanted to go to school and live my life which, to our whacked-out family, made me the freak.” Sam defended, his palm slapping against his thigh as he tried to keep his frustration at bay, but with each quip from Dean, his reserve was breaking more and more. 

“Yeah, you were kind of like that blonde chick in The Munsters.” Dean’s smile only further annoys Sam, and Grace can only roll her eyes at her eldest brother's inability to ever have a serious conversation about Sam’s very real resentment towards John. There was only black and white in Dean’s world, but Sam had long ago discovered that life was more gray than anything else. 

“Dean, you know what most dads are when their kids score a full ride? Proud.” Sam sighs, his voice softening as he begins to break, not possessing the energy to keep having the same conversation over and over again with little to no understanding from their brother. Grace frowns, knowing how much it had hurt Sam that John couldn’t have cared less about his scholarship. She’d been proud, unbelievably so, but she understands that her pride would never be enough to fill the hole in his heart that John had left empty. “Most dads don’t toss their kids out of the house.”

“I remember that fight. In fact, I seem to recall a few choice phrases coming out of your mouth.” Dean rebutted, and Grace wanted to facepalm at that moment. Dean’s perception of family dynamics was so beyond tainted that even years later, he couldn’t even begin to recognize that it wasn’t Sam’s job to keep the peace between himself and John. She couldn’t blame Dean, he’d never known anything other than this life and surviving by whatever means necessary, but she wouldn’t agree with him either. 

“You know, truth is, when we finally do find dad I don’t know if he’s even gonna want to see me.” Sam admits, and Grace has to refrain from drawing in a heavy breath at the mention of reconnecting with John. Ultimately, that was the goal, the reason they were even working this case – or any case – at all, but it was easy to forget about the pending reunion when every lead they followed came back empty. She didn’t know if she’d make it out alive once she was back beneath his thumb, but that wasn’t what she needed to put her energy into right now. 

Dean bristles, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Grace, who frowns at his conflicted expression. Where she could see both of her brothers' sides in the argument, neither of them could ever seem to meet eyes on their own opinions; both of them too stubborn and fueled by trauma to recognize that all they’d ever been trying to do was survive by whatever means necessary, with whatever cards they were given. Grace knew that Dean had it harder than Sam, she recognized that, but Sam just couldn’t grasp how much Dean had sacrificed to practically raise them on his own whenever John was working a case. He followed orders because it kept them safe. He defended Dad because he desperately wanted them to feel like their lives weren’t so unorthodox and out of control. He didn’t know how to stop fighting the battle because the battle was all he’d ever known.  “Sam, dad was never disappointed in you. Never.” Dean shook his head, and Grace could hear the sincerity in his tone, but Sam couldn’t – he didn’t want to, not yet anyways. That was the problem with them. Everything had to be at their own pace, in their own time. “He was scared,”

Sam scoffed, shaking his head as he cut Dean off, who for once was being painfully genuine and transparent. “What are you talking about?” 

“He’s afraid of what could’ve happened to you if he wasn’t around.” Dean filled in the blanks, and Grace’s heart thumped in her chest. “But even when you two weren’t talking he used to swing by Stanford whenever he could. Keep an eye on you. Make sure you were safe.” 

“What?” Grace froze, eyes wide as she looked at Dean for answers. Nausea pools in her belly, her chest tightening as she realizes that she had never fully been out from beneath her fathers thumb. She’d been with Sam for almost a year. It had taken her months to feel like she could be whoever she wanted without word traveling back to John, but now she was confronted with the fact that he’d always been there, always lurking, watching. Maybe he was there for Sam, maybe he never hid within the shadows to check up on her specifically, but he’d still been there. He’d still been there as she did all of the things he’d always told her she couldn’t do. Would he be pissed off when they found him? Would he punish her tenfold because not only had she left him behind in the middle of the night, but she’d gone and made a mockery of their family name? Her mind flashes to moments when she’d been less than perfect. When Jessica had dared her to do shots at a party, and she’d ended up so drunk that she puked in the bushes on the walk back to the apartment. When Sam had dragged her out to the fountain in the middle of the night, and they’d jumped in still in their clothes, claiming that it was a rite of passage at Stanford. Had he been there in those moments? Had he watched as she shed layers of scar tissue to instead embrace freedom and comfortability? Was she ever going to fully be free of his presence, or was she cursed to always be looking over her shoulder? 

“Why didn’t he tell me any of that?” Sam craned his head, eyes flickering to Grace for only a moment before his attention fell back to Dean, needing to know why John had never tried to reach out to him when he was apparently worried enough to drive out to Stanford. 

“Well, it’s a two way street dude. You could have picked up the phone.” Dean answered, and Grace wanted to scoff at the excuse, but she was frozen in fear, her mind racing a million miles an hour as she overanalyzed all of the times when she’d felt like somebody was watching her but had chalked it up to (valid) paranoia. They may be adults now, but it was never going to be their job to fix the relationships they had with John. “Come on, we're going to be late to our appointment.” He inclined his head toward the doors, stepping forward to keep moving, but Grace remained frozen, her eyes blurred with tears that stung and threatened to fall as she blinked. “Gracie, come on.” 

“Um, I’ll, uh, meet you at the car. I need– I’m gonna go find food.”  Grace could barely get the words past her lips, but by the time that she had constructed the sentence, she was turning on her heels, putting distance between herself and her brothers without even waiting to see their responses. 

She’d spent eleven months and seven days – yes, she counted every last one – at Stanford with Sam. It had taken her a month to even leave the apartment for the first time after showing up on his doorstep in tears, and three months to stop looking over her shoulder every time she did. She’d put in the effort to reinvent herself however felt authentic and right, and there had been something sacred built on the promise that John Winchester would never know who she had become without his influence and restrictions. She’d never had a lot of things in life, but she’d at least had the chance to live her own way. But, now she was finding out that it wasn’t really her own at all. The nights she’d walked home from the part time job she’d gotten at the diner in town, and she’d clutched her bag tighter out of instinct when it had felt like eyes watched her closely. The days when she’d be out with Jessica, laughing and talking like her spirit had never been weighed down by fear, only to shrink into herself when the memories came back and learned instincts took over. Wherever she went, John Winchester followed her. She’d known that, but Sam had promised she was free of his control. She doubted that, but she’d trusted him anyway. Sam was wrong. She was naive. No matter how far she ran. No matter how hidden she made herself. She would never be unpinned. 

Her chest tightened as she glanced around the campus square. Was he here now? Had it become something of a game to him? How were they to know if he lurked in the shadows? Suddenly Grace couldn’t breath, and she stumbled her way to a bench across from the department building. Her body crumbled onto the wooden boards, feeling heavy and tense as her vision blurred. For a moment, the sounds around her faded, but then they all came rushing back seemingly louder than they’d been before. She wheezed, blunt nails digging into the wood beneath her, clawing at any chance of finding solid ground to focus on. 

Minutes later, the bench shifted beneath additional weight, and Grace’s gaze snapped to the right. She half expected to see her father glaring back at her, but instead, she met the eyes of a student who was probably her age, if not just a few years older. His face was kind, but tired, and his shoulders slumped to accommodate the heavy weight of his backpack. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle ya.” He apologized, having clearly noticed the way her grip tightened on the wooden boards beneath her thighs. 

“No, you’re okay. Just got lost for a minute there.” She brushed him off weakly, her voice hoarse as a result of the emotions that had accumulated in her chest within such a short span of time. 

“What classes are you taking?” The student questioned, expecting Grace’s stress to be related to coursework, which wasn’t the farthest fetched conclusion given they were in the heart of a lively campus. 

“Oh, I’m not a student here. I’m not even from Oklahoma.” She laughed softly, the tightness in her chest ebbing away as she focused her energy on the casual conversation at hand, glad to be talking about something mindless and surface level for a change. She was getting really tired of long emotionally demanding conversations. 

“Okay, I’ll bite. Where are you from?” Grace hadn’t meant for her earlier remark to come across any kind of way, but she can’t help but smile regardless. Something tells her the boy beside her knows a thing or two about fishing for conversations, and she can’t say she minds using him as a distraction. 

“Kansas. But, I’ve lived practically everywhere. New York’s probably my favorite.” She doesn’t remember the last time she’s gotten to talk about something like this; probably months ago when Jessica was still around, but the sentiment remains. There was no need to have these conversations with her brothers, they’d all been there when moments happened, they all knew each other enough to just know these things based on body language, but it was nice to feel like someone was seeing her for a change. It got to be draining when all you ever were to anybody was a brush of wind in the night. Their lives were meaningful, she knew that, but that didn’t mean it was easy never having anyone around that cared about who you were as a person, not just an asset or an ally. 

She doesn’t know how much time elapsed on that bench, but she knows that Sam and Dean came back far too quickly for her liking. She stood when Sam came into her line of sight, offering Weston an apologetic smile as she pulled at the hem of her hoodie, preparing to join the boys at the car. Weston, who had turned out to be a third year communications major from a town not even twenty minutes north, waved as she turned to leave, laughing beneath his breath when she stumbled over her untied laces and tried to play the entire thing off with nonchalance. 

She gave him one last glance before she dunked into the backseat, sighing softly as she closed the door behind her, not even getting the chance to consider putting her seatbelt on before she sped away. 

“Gracie–” Dean started, but she shook her head. 

“If it’s about Dad, or a bullshit apology for being an asshole earlier, I really don’t care. What did you find out?” She questioned, not in the mood to have another conversation tethered to their father in some capacity. This case was enough without Dean’s remarks. 

“The bones are Native American. There’s a Euchee tribe in Sapulpa that might know more.” He sighed, backing down from what was originally going to be his point of conversation. Grace nodded, saying nothing more as she crossed her legs, looking out the window as the scenery blurred together. 

-

They walked into the diner after asking around, and immediately Dean led the way toward a man at a table, laying out playing cards. “Joe Whitetree?” He asked, receiving the slightest nod of confirmation from the long haired man. 

“We’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright?” Sam tucked his hands into his pockets, keeping his voice even and unarmed as he approached. Grace stood between them, a kind and welcoming expression on her face despite how utterly done with the case she was. She wanted something different, something that was more guns blazing and literature. She hated when all there was to do was flounder around until they found something that stuck. And, she especially hated that everything they stumbled upon related back to their father as if the very premise of the case wasn’t enough for her wounded heart. 

“We’re students from the university.” Dean began, but Joe was quick to dismantle that lie. Dean bristled at the confrontation, beginning again with another lie he’d thought up, but Joe didn’t take the bait for even a second. 

“You know who starts sentence with truth is? Liars.” Grace couldn’t help but smirk a little at the man’s persistence for the truth, and instinctively she stepped out from behind Dean, facing Joe with a soft smile. 

“Mr. Whitetree, have you heard of Oasis Plains?” She asked softly, glancing down at his playing cards for only a second before she was searching his eyes again. “It’s a housing development near the Atoka Valley.” 

Whitetree’s eyes met hers with fondness, and his lips curved into a jesting smirk as he flicked his gaze to Dean’s. “I like her. She’s not a liar.” Grace only smiled more, a soft laugh falling off of her lips as she glanced at Dean to see him pull a palm down his face, clearly exasperated. “I know the area.” 

“Is there anything you can tell us about the history there?” She asked cautiously, preparing for this to be dangerous water with the older man, but he only inclined his head curiously. 

“Why do you want to know?” He fired back at her, though there was no defensiveness in his tone, and for that Grace was grateful. She couldn’t handle another hostile man on this case. 

“Somethings happening there, and well, I think it might have something to do with some old bones we found down there.” She answered, being honest with the man, but still keeping the full truth closer to their inner circle. “The bones… they’re Native American.” 

“I’ll tell you what my grandfather told me, what his grandfather told him. Two hundred years ago a band of my ancestors lived in that valley. One day, the American cavalry came to relocate them. They were resistant. Cavalry, impatient. As my grandfather put it, on a night the moon and the sun shared the sky as equals the cavalry first raided our village. They murdered, raped. The next day, the cavalry came again and the next and the next. And on the sixth night, the cavalry came one last time and by the time the sun rose every man, woman and child still in the village was dead.” Grace didn’t break her stare with Whitetree, but she was highly aware of her brothers connecting eyes behind her, and with their attention diverted, she tried not to draw attention to the way her body tightened at the details of the retelling of events. Enough secrets had slipped into the air already, there were just some that didn’t need to see the light of day along with the others. “They say on the sixth night as the chief of the village lay dying he whispered to the heavens that no white man would ever tarnish this land again. Nature would rise up and protect the valley and it would bring as many days of misery and death to the white man as the cavalry had brought upon his people.” 

“Insects. Sounds like nature to me.” Dean muttered to Sam, before looking back at Whitetree, who had finally allowed his gaze to leave Grace’s. “Six days?” He double checked, earning a nod from Joe. 

“And on the night of the sixth day none would survive.” Joe reaffirmed what he’d already mentioned, and the siblings nodded acceptingly. 

“Thank you, Mr. Whitetree.” Grace smiled appreciatively before she followed her brothers out of the small diner, their minds reeling as they pieced together the information they’d just learned and what they already knew. 

“When did the gas company man die?” Sam questioned as they stepped outside, heading back to the Impala to hopefully finish all of this once and for all. 

“Friday.” Grace hummed, not even having to think about it. She was good with dates, she always had been. It was one of the few strengths that John Winchester saw in her. 

“March 20th. That’s the Spring Equinox.” Sam pieced together the information that had been staring them in the face since the start. Grace wanted to bash her head into the wall for not considering the connection beforehand. 

“The night the sun and the moon share the sky as equals.” Dean hummed, and Sam nodded, confirming that he was correct. 

“So every year about this time anybody in Oasis Plains is in danger. Larry built this neighborhood on cursed land.” 

“Uh, the sixth night would be tonight.” Grace piped up, looking at Sam with evident concern in her eyes. 

“If we don’t do something, Larry's family will be dead by sunrise. So how do we break the curse?” Sam questioned, standing at the passenger side door of the Impala, not in the mood to be the one to drive. Grace didn’t even try to claim the position, just following him along to the left side of the car, waiting for Dean to unlock the latches so that she could slip into the backseat. 

“You don’t break a curse. You get out of its way.” Dean shook his head, unlocking the car and beginning to sink into the driver's seat, but not without voicing the urgency that they all knew they faced. “We gotta get those people out now.” 

-

Hours later, they were still on the way back to Oasis Plains, but Dean wasn’t taking his chances with the family. As headlights reflected off of damp roads, he held his phone up to his ear. “Yes Mr. Pike there’s a gas leak in your neighborhood.” He explained, but without the call being switched to speaker phone, neither Grace nor Sam could hear what Larry was saying on the other end. They simply waited with baited breath to hear Dean’s responses, desperately hoping that Larry didn’t prove hard to convince. “Well, it’s fairly extensive. I don’t wanna alarm you, but, uh, we need your family out of the vicinity for at least twelve hours or so just to be safe.” By the way Dean was answering questions, Grace knew that they weren’t going to stand a chance with convincing Larry to leave Oasis Plains behind. “Travis Weaver. I work for Oklahoma Gas and Power.” There was a beat of silence before Dean stuttered, pulling the device away from his ear and flipping it closed in frustration. 

Grace sank back against the backseat, sighing in exasperation for headstrong men that didn’t know how to help themselves any. She watched as Sam reached for the phone next, hurriedly typing numbers into the keypad. “Matt, it’s Sam. Matt, just listen, you have to get your family out of that house right now, okay?” There was undeniable urgency in Sam’s tone, and Grace could only hope that it didn’t freak the teenager out to a point where he became less than helpful. “Because something’s coming.” 

Grace looked out the window, watching the world pass by in the form of blurred together hues and shades. Dean was going as fast as he could, but even that was proving to not be enough as the night dragged on later and later and there was still distance to cover before they got to the Pike’s residence. 

“You gotta make him listen, okay?” Sam stressed, but that wasn’t enough for Dean, who reached for the device, pulling it up to his ear as his voice hardened. 

“Matt, under no circumstances are you to tell the truth. He’ll just think you’re nuts. Tell him you have a sharp pain in your right side and you gotta go to the hospital, okay?” Dean barked his orders sharply, and for a minute, all Grace saw was John telling her and the boys how to weasel their way into a case as children and young teenagers. Once they’d been embraced into the hunting world, John had no shame in using his children as bait. She couldn’t even recall how many times he’d told her to approach random strangers and get them talking, nor how many times he disregarded her safety to pull information out of a case. She knew Dean had good intentions, knew that this was for Matt’s benefit, but she couldn’t help but think that all of this had started for them as little white lies constructed by their father. 

Evidently, Matt agreed because Dean slapped the phone closed for a second time and turned his attention to Sam. “Make him listen? What are you thinking?” 

Grace rolled her eyes, not bothering to tune into their bickering. She’d had enough of the squabbling for a day, and so instead of paying attention to the way Sam clapped back defensively, she pressed her head against the window, watching the trees blur together as they passed. 

When they eventually pulled up to Oasis Plains, making a sharp left before they approached the Pike household, all three of them sighed at the front lights turned on and cars still in the driveway. “Damn it, they’re still here. Come on.” They got out of the car with efficiency, and for the first time ever, Grace desperately wished that this was one of those hunts that could be handled with a gun. She was a near perfect shot, but that wouldn’t do her any good against what they were facing, and she felt entirely too vulnerable going in with only her senses. 

As they approached the front door, Larry came storming out, his finger jutted out in their direction threateningly. “Get off my property before I call the cops!” He demanded. 

“Mr. Pike, listen.” 

“Dad, they’re just trying to help.” Matt interjected from the front porch, but Larry swung to address him quickly, his tone still raised and sharp as he turned his wagging finger to his song. 

“Get in the house!” He demanded, and Grace couldn’t help but bristle at the sharpness of his order, her chin dropping to her chest as she recalled the many times John had yelled that same command at her before she’d been met with a world of pain from his bare hands. 

“S-Sorry. I told him the truth.” The kid said apologetically, and suddenly Larry’s anger made a lot more sense. Grace sighed, but she couldn’t blame him either. Dean had been asking a lot of him and hadn’t even considered how Matt would feel about lying to the person that only ever saw his worst assets. 

“We had a plan, Matt. What happened to the plan?” Dean snapped, his frustration bubbling over and being directed at the first person it could be. Unfortunately, that was Matt. Grace smiled softly at the boy, hoping that she could ease the guilt pooling in his stomach even slightly with the simple expression. 

“Look, it’s twelve am. They are coming any minute now. You need to get your family and go before it’s too late.” Sam continued to try and plead, but Larry wanted to hear none of it. Grace hated that she couldn’t blame him for being defensive and critical, but it was in moments like this where she wished people had more blind faith in others. 

“Oh, yeah, you mean before the biblical swarm.” The man rolled his eyes, and Dean had finally had enough. 

“Larry, what do you think really happened to that realtor, huh? And the gas company guy? You don’t think something weird's going on around here?” He laid out the facts as blandly as he could, not having the time to stand there and hold Larry’s hand as he fought to prove the legitimacy of their claims. 

“Look, I don’t know who you are but you’re crazy. You come near my boy or my family again, we’re gonna have a problem.” The man threatened, but it wasn’t anything that the siblings hadn’t heard a few hundred times already when they were working cases that involved real people and families. 

“Well, I hate to be a downer, but we got a problem right now.” Dean fought back, his tone level as he tried to break through the man's strong reserve. 

“Dad, they’re right. We’re in danger.” Matt tried again, persistent in his efforts to sway Larry’s decision to remain in Oasis Plains. Grace could only appreciate his courage, especially when Larry turned to yell at him again, and he didn’t even bristle in the face of confrontation. She knows that she would’ve backed down and scampered away the second John so much as turned his head to look at her. She could face monsters and things that went bump in the night, but put her in a room with her father and she was nothing more than a terrified little girl just wanting to avoid any additional pain and torment. “Why won’t you listen to me?” His voice raised, trembling as he finally broke, not able to act like Larry’s constant shoving aside and berating didn’t bother him. 

“Because this is crazy! It doesn’t make any sense!” 

“Look, this land is cursed! People have died here! Now are you gonna really take that risk with your family?” Sam raised his voice, but Grace wasn’t focused on the fight at hand, rather the distinct buzzing that was happening on all sides of her. Her chest tightened as she realized they were too late; that the insects were already here. 

“Wait!” She called out, voice trembling despite every nerve in her body screaming to keep it together. “Do you hear it?” 

Larry snapped his head toward the bug catcher on the porch, his eyes squinting as he took in the sound of audible buzzing, noticing that the electric trap zapped more frequently than it had been all night. “What the hell.” He commented, reality finally beginning to sink in as he snapped his gaze back to the siblings.

“Alright, it’s time to go. Larry, get your wife. Sam.” Dean turned to address his siblings, but he was cut off by Matt calling for their attention, his head craned toward the sky as they watched a swarm of insects rise over the treetops and make their way toward the house.

Grace felt her chest tightened even more, her hands beginning to shake at her sides as she realized that she was out in the open, vulnerable to whatever assault would come. For a moment she was frozen, her gaze turned toward the sky as her breathing became uneven and labored, but then something was grabbing her hand, and before she could really recognize what was happening, she was being dragged up the porch steps and into the house. 

“No, no, no.” She mumbled on a loop, her hands tangling into her hair as she pulled at the roots, pacing back and forth as commotion ensued around her. She didn’t pay it any attention, she couldn’t, not with the way her mind was going blank and all she could think of was that night in Palm Springs when everything had changed. She wished she could go back to then, to hours before she’d ever gotten in the car with her father and headed off toward the woods. Things hadn’t been good, but they hadn’t been terrible either. That day in 1991 was the last time that Grace Winchester had ever really been a kid, and she could feel herself slipping into the vulnerable defenselessness that she felt then as she forced herself to remember that there was nothing they could do about the fate they’d found themselves tangled into. All that there was to do was wait and hope for the best, but the best had never found her easily or at all. 

“Gracie, hey! Hey, come on! Now’s not the time, okay, sweetheart? I need you with me right now. I need you here.” Dean held her face in his hands tenderly, but unrelentingly. He pulled her hands away from her hair, his eyes filled with determined urgency that only just barely managed to sober her up from her state of panic. Adrenaline rushed through her veins as she nodded, breathless as she raced alongside him to where Larry and Joanie kept their spare towels and linens. 

She grabbed a towel from his hands with numb fingers, forcing it beneath the gap in the front door as efficiently as she could with the trembling in her knuckles that just wouldn't stop. Her body was moving, but there weren’t any thoughts in her head besides survival. She knew that the Pikes were yelling, that frantic conversations were being had, but it was all static noise in her head as she tried to keep her breathing even and her senses as alert as they could be. She didn’t even register the fact that Sam had come downstairs or that Dean had grabbed a can of bug spray from the kitchen until there was an incessant rattling coming from the fireplace and in seconds a swarm of bees rushed in. Every breathing exercise that she’d even known failed her in that moment, and the composure she’d managed to grab onto left within seconds. She whimpered pathetically, stuttering over soft cries as she panicked, right back in those California woods.  

“Come on, Gracie! Come on!” Sam grabbed her hand, dragging her up the stairs with efficiency. She could follow him, that was what she could do, but her feet thudded on the steps as she climbed them and her chest only tightened as she tried to draw in even a single breath. 

Somehow she made it up into the attic, and the second Sam’s hand left hers, she was falling to the floor with a thud, scooting back until her back hit a wall. She curled up into herself, her head between her knees as she rocked back and forth, muttering desperate pleas and frantic apologies beneath her breath that were drowned out by the frantic yelling of the Pikes. Somewhere between the first swarm of termites chewing through the wood and the second, she’d passed out, slumping against the boards of the house in a useless pile on the floor. In a single moment of distraction, Sam shrugged his jacket off, throwing it over her exposed face before he went back to trying to find a solution with Dean. Every instinct in his body told him to go over and check on her, rouse her back to consciousness, but that wouldn’t do any good if they were dead by morning anyways. Instead, all he could do was hope that the insects had a harder time getting to exposed inches of her vulnerable body. 

It was minutes later when she roused, and the swarm of termites was still attempting to cleanse the land of their presence. She glanced to her left, scrambling into the corner of the attic where her brothers were crouched desperately. She threw herself at whoever was closest, letting out heartbreaking and raspy sobs as she dug her face into their neck, the hood of the hood pulled over her face just enough to keep the bugs from bouncing off of her skin, but she could still feel the thud of their dense bodies hit the fabric on her body. And then, it stopped. She didn’t move, didn’t loosen her hold, but eventually it became clear that the swarm had left, and her chin was guided upward by gruff hands that she knew to be Deans. 

“You’re okay, Gracie. It’s okay.” Dean coaxed softly, holding the back of her head as he analyzed her face for any bites or injuries. He frowned softly when he noticed three red blotches on her cheek and another on her forehead, but considering the circumstances, she’d come out relatively unscathed. “It’s over. It's done.” 

-

The very next morning, when the Impala pulled up to the Pike residence, there was a moving truck parked at the curb and Larry was standing beside the bed, packing up the little belongings that they’d moved into the house. She climbed out of the car with her brothers, walking up to where he stood in casual attire as opposed to the suits she’d typically seen him wearing during the daytime.  

“What? No goodbye?” Dean called out sarcastically, catching Larry’s attention. 

“Good timing. Another hour and we’d have been gone.” Larry hummed, reaching out to shake Dean’s hand in silent thanks. 

“For good?” Sam questioned, shaking Larry’s hand next. Grace could only offer a small smile, still reeling from the events from the early morning hours. Her chest still ached, her breathing was still wheezy, and every time she closed her eyes she constructed a scene of Palm Springs that looked eerily similar to the night's endeavors. 

“Yeah. The, uh, developments been put on hold while the government investigates those bones you found. But I’m gonna make damn sure no one lives here again.” Larry explained, and the Winchesters nodded understandingly. 

“You don’t seem too upset about it.” Sam noted. 

“Well, this has been the biggest financial disaster of my career, but…somehow…I really don’t care.” Larry’s gaze flickered to Matt, and Grace couldn’t help the weak smile that pulled at the corners of her lips as she watched him finally recognize what was most important in life. 

She laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder, nodding toward the car. “I’m gonna go wait in the car.” She explained, her voice hoarse and quiet, hardly louder than a whisper and she honestly couldn’t say if it was a result of her sobbing, or a learned instinct after years of forcing herself to be invisible. Either way, she tried not to think too much about the weakness she was showing in front of Larry and her brothers. “Don’t take too long. Please.” 

Dean nodded, patting her back as she passed him. Whatever happens next, all he hopes is that Grace could finally catch a break.

[silentscrying]

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter SIX.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, mentions of smoking, absurdly cute dogs. || sfw. 2.6k words.

PRACTICE IS IN full swing at Jujutsu Arena two days later when a girl walks through the back doors with two massive dogs.

The sounds of thumping basketballs and squeaking shoes and shouts echo down the hall from the gym, the doors wide open, and you wonder if Yaga will be mad that there are dogs in here.

You don’t really care—you’re chiefly concerned with the fact that these dogs are so fucking cute and you are sprinting over to pet them before she’s halfway down the hall. They’re the same size, definitely the same breed, maybe some kind of husky mix—one is jet black and the other pure white.

“Hello!” you coo, sinking to your knees as the white one licks your face. The girl laughs and tries to pull them back, but they’re too excited. “Yes, hi! Who are you, cuties?”

“Sorry! They’re very friendly.”

The girl holding the leashes has long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail, two strands loose and curling at her chin. She looks up as you hear footsteps behind you, and the dogs pull free of the girl’s grip to jump on Megumi. “Hi!” he laughs. “Miss me?”

“Hello, my favorite sister, thank you for watching my dogs again, how are you?” the girl says flatly, hands on her hips. “Oh, great, thank you for asking!”

Megumi is fully on the ground now, the dogs wagging their tails at the speed of light and climbing all over him. He grins up at her through their fur. “Thank you,” he relents.

Ah. This must be Tsumiki.

“They’re yours?” You sink your fingers into soft white fur. “Why have you never brought them before? I will literally cuddle with them every practice—”

“That’s why,” he says, raising a brow. “You know you wouldn’t get anything done if they were around.”

“Excuse you.” You make a face, but he’s very right. You’re already fully prepared to sacrifice your entire workday to pet them.

“This is Shiro,” Megumi tells you as the white dog jumps up to lick your face, “and this is Kuro—hey, down! Shiro. Down. Good girl.” He laughs and pats Shiro on the head as she flops onto the ground.

Megumi isn’t cleared to play for two more days, but he’s been coming to practice to watch and talk strategy with Kusakabe. This is the most animated you’ve seen him since the concussion—actually, this might be the most animated you’ve seen him ever. You’ve never seen him this soft before, this affectionate. The love he has for these dogs is palpable.

“Oi.” Tsumiki walks over and yanks Megumi to his feet, standing on her tiptoes and holding his face in her hands. She glares at him. “Next time you get concussed on national television, answer your phone, Gumi.”

“Sorry, Miki,” he mumbles, heat rising to his cheeks when he realizes he’s getting chewed out by his sister in front of you. He’s significantly taller than her, but you know immediately that he’ll do anything she asks of him. The older sister aura is undeniable.

“You’re lucky Yuji called me or I would’ve flown up there myself to slap you.”

Megumi rolls his eyes and Tsumiki releases him from her hold. The dogs crowd around his legs, butting their heads up against him until he pets them. “C’mon,” Megumi says. “They’re practicing. Gojo will want to say hi.”

You initially think Yaga might be pissed about the dogs being in the gym, but he’s got a soft spot for them—they trot in ahead of Megumi, and he can’t even reprimand them. They even get Kusakabe to smile. They’re well-behaved, not venturing onto the court, just hovering around Megumi obediently.

Notably less well-behaved, Gojo drops a ball the second he sees Tsumiki and abandons whatever drill he’s running, bounding over to the side of the court. “Tsumiki!” he yells, and scoops her up in a hug.

“Satoru—ew, you’re sweaty! Stop, I have class!”

As soon as Gojo is off the court the dogs are all over him. They love him, and are obviously very familiar with him. Kuro tries to chew on his headband, and Gojo is fully rolling around the floor in a two-on-one wrestling match within seconds.

“Okay, okay,” Yaga interrupts eventually. “Back to work.” Gojo sighs dramatically and nudges the dogs in your direction.

“I’m being evicted,” he tells them sadly. “Go to Team Mom. She’ll take care of you.” You roll your eyes but immediately let Shiro sprawl across your lap. She’s too big to be a lapdog, but she doesn’t seem to know or care, which is fine by you.

You were planning to head out earlier today, but you wind up leaned against Kuro with Shiro nestled across your lap for the duration of the practice. You balance your laptop on top of Shiro. She doesn’t seem to mind.

Tsumiki’s settled in beside you, killing time before she has to leave.

“You’re the default dogsitter, then?”

She laughs, ruffling Shiro’s fur. “Yeah, when the team’s away. It’s the only form of payment he’ll take for helping me pay for grad school.” She rolls her eyes. “Even though I’d do it either way. I couldn’t drop them off tonight because I have class, and since Gumi’s not cleared to drive I figured I’d just swing by here before.” You smile at the nickname, remembering his name in Gojo’s contacts.

“What are you in grad school for?”

“Social work,” she says. “Gumi’s been really supportive about it, which is sweet. Satoru too.”

Right. Gojo considers both of them family. “That’s really cool,” you say truthfully. “Why social work?”

Tsumiki sighs, watching Megumi bent over a tablet with Kusakabe, deep in conversation. “We didn’t have the best home situation growing up,” she admits. “I honestly wasn’t sure we were gonna make it, at least before Satoru showed up. I want to make sure that kind of stuff doesn’t happen to other kids.”

Her voice is soft as she runs a hand along Kuro’s back, and she tears her gaze away from Megumi to look at you. “You can ask,” she says, smiling. “Really, it’s okay.”

You feel the heat on your cheeks, feeling caught. You are curious. So curious. You take a moment to choose the right words. “Gojo told me he met you guys when Megumi was still in high school,” you say finally. “And Megumi didn’t think he could play D1.”

“Ah,” Tsumiki says. “He didn’t think he could go to college at all, really, even though I told him to. I was… really sick, around the time he was being scouted. At that point, he was all I had. I was all he had. He was going to work full-time to pay the medical bills.”

She doesn’t have to say it, for you to put two and two together. I did him a favor.

“He paid them,” you realize aloud, looking for him on the court without realizing it. “Gojo paid your medical bills. So Megumi could go D1.”

You slam your mouth shut as soon as you say it, feeling like you’ve overstepped, jumped to conclusions. But Tsumiki’s just got that same warm smile on her face, nodding. “Yeah. He really… I don’t know where we’d be without him. Where I’d be, without both of them.”

She seems to register the range of emotions on your face, the way you’re fumbling for words, and mercifully takes the conversation in a new direction. “Which is why I’m very grateful to you,” she says, “for keeping them on track.”

You laugh, startled. “Well, they certainly make it easier than the last place I came from.”

Tsumiki hums, like she knows what you mean. “Megumi likes you,” she says. “The last manager they had here wasn’t nearly as good, he said.”

The heat rises to your cheeks and you look down, fighting off a surprised smile. Megumi isn’t the most vocal—you’ve never had the impression that he doesn’t like you, but you also never expected to actually be praised by him.

“Says you keep Satoru in check,” Tsumiki says, “which is quite the feat.”

You chuckle. “Nobody can keep him in check. Not really.” Tsumiki just shakes her head and smiles.

“But you recognize that,” she says, “and that makes you different.”

You’re not sure what to do with her quiet observation, and for a while the two of you watch practice in companionable silence, interrupted only by the thumping of dog tails and the sounds of the gym.

She heads out after about fifteen minutes, waving to Gojo and forcing Megumi into a hug.

“I’ll pick them up the night before you fly out,” she promises, and kisses both of the dogs goodbye.

“So are they your dogs now or can I have them back?” Megumi asks as practice winds down, arms folded as he looks down at you. You smile up at him, thinking about what Tsumiki said. Megumi likes you. It means a lot to you, you realize, that he thinks you’re good at your job. Something warm blooms in your chest at the sentiment.

“They are my best friends now and forever,” you announce. “I will die for them.” Kuro’s tail thumps happily beside you.

Yuji plops down beside you and Kuro sits up, licking the sweat off his face. “Hi, cutie!” he says. “Hi! Yeah, who’s a good boy? You’re the best boy. Yes you are. I love you, yep, sure do. Goooood boy.”

Megumi rolls his eyes. “You ready to go?” He throws a set of car keys at Yuji and he catches them in one hand, the other still scratching Kuro behind the ears.

“You ready?” Yuji asks the dog. “You ready to go? Yeah? Let’s go!” He must be giving Megumi a ride since he’s not cleared to drive yet.

“Bye, little buddies,” you coo, booping each of their noses in turn. Shiro licks your face and Kuro butts his head against the heel of your hand, and then they’re following Megumi down the hall.

“Met the sister, huh?” Gojo says as you stand, brushing the dog fur off your pants unsuccessfully. “Man, I love those dogs.”

“She’s cool,” you say. “I like her. And I love them. I’ve never seen Fushiguro that soft.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s an absolute sap for them,” Gojo laughs. You watch the expression on his face like you can uncover something there. He’s softer when he talks about Megumi, about Tsumiki, a relaxed curve to his lips and a warm look in his eyes. You feel like there’s an entire person in Satoru Gojo, one wholly separate from the NBA star, who you haven’t really gotten to know.

Things have started to click into place now, filled in by Tsumiki’s side of the story. It makes sense that Gojo would be so worried about Megumi getting hurt. If he isn’t able to play, he isn’t able to help Tsumiki pay for grad school. Gojo would offer to pay, and Megumi and Tsumiki wouldn’t let him—they still feel like they owe Gojo as it is.

Gojo knows all of this, and on top of it, considers the Fushiguros family. He knows Megumi would run himself ragged trying to support Tsumiki on whatever income he could. He wouldn’t let her drop out. And it makes sense, too, that he didn’t feel it was his place to say anything—you’re glad that you heard about Tsumiki’s medical issues from Tsumiki herself, even if you’re surprised she was so forthcoming about them despite barely knowing you.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Gojo asks, tapping you on the temple. You pull back and swat his hand away, snapping out of your reverie.

“I’m thinking of all the ways Utahime and I can make fun of you.”

“How dare you,” he gasps, clutching his chest. “You wound me.” He grins and tosses Kento a ball as he goes around collecting them, shoving them into a mesh bag. “Well, I’ve got a Fushiguro to annoy. See you tomorrow, Alley Cat.”

You roll your eyes and wave him off, and he whistles as he disappears from view.

—

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. Megumi returns to practice, Yaga drills the team until they drop, and you're spending every waking hour prepping for Baltimore.

The thing is, you are worried. Worried about making it past round two of the playoffs, worried about playing a second seed on their home court.

But the Sorcerers win.

And then they win again.

And again.

You hardly have any time to yourself in the whirlwind of the next two weeks. It's a fast-paced cycle of flying and emailing and calling, arguing with Gojo over whether pineapple belongs on pizza (he says it does), and crashing in hotels after midnight with Ieiri either smoking or snoring on the other side of the room. Press requests are coming in even more than usual because of the upset. The headlines are flooding your inbox.

WOLVERINES FALL TO SORCERERS ON HOME COURT

SECOND-ROUND EASTERN CONFERENCE UPSET HAS WOLVERINES FANS ON EDGE

THIRD SEED SORCERERS ON THEIR WAY TO UNEXPECTED SWEEP?

It's too good to be true, and at the fourth game Baltimore manages to get a win over your team. Yuji's uncle Sukuna gets kicked out of Jujutsu Arena again in a rage, and the loss jars your team—Gojo tries to give them a pep talk, but it mostly centers around the idea that they're better than everyone else, and Ino seems to be the only one really listening.

It's a tough loss, but you're still 3-1. And when you fly back up to Baltimore, you have a feeling it'll be for the last time this season.

You practically fall into Nobara in relief when Ino slams the last shot in just before the buzzer, solidifying the Sorcerers' place in the conference finals. Kento grins, actually grins, and tries to give Ino a high-five that Ino immediately turns into a full-fledged hug.

A series of texts from the Samurai's manager comes in only moments later.

nitta: SEE YOU ON THE 17 !!!! nitta: utahime's so mad nitta: i'm thrilled. we can get sushi

Gojo plucks your phone from your hand and holds it up above you so you can't reach it, and you scowl and briefly consider kneeing him in the nuts in front of the entire stadium.

"Don't text and manage," he says, and you roll your eyes.

"I'm trying to set up conference finals, but if you don't want to go, that's fine," you lie. You were reading Nitta's texts; close enough. Gojo grins and drops the phone back into your hands.

"Conference finals!" he whoops, practically singing as he bounces on the balls of his feet. "Oh, I can't wait to see Utahime."

"She can wait to see you," you say, but Nobara's already pulling Gojo off to the side, camera in hand. You watch as she shoves a clip mic at him and starts barraging him with questions. He takes them in stride, answering animatedly and at one point pulling Megumi into the frame against his will.

You've actually missed talking to him the past week. It's been a hectic few days, and though you've had your share of meaningless arguments and snarky comments and eye rolls, you haven't had a real conversation with Satoru since New York. Now that you know about Tsumiki, there's a part of you that desperately wants to ask him about Geto, about why he was so against Megumi being drafted, about the conflict you can't seem to figure out.

Because despite everything, you do know Geto. And you know it wasn't mere jealousy or insecurity that had him pulling a move like that.

It jars you, shakes you, makes you question the last several years and every interaction you've ever had with him, but when Gojo catches your eye over Nobara's shoulder and smiles, you realize something.

You can't remember why you ever hated him.

directory. || prev. || next.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan

shoutout to @reactwithjan for saying that gojo would order pineapple on pizza bc he would and he does.

[crescencestudio]

๋࣭⭑ Devlog #41 | 5.28.24 ๋࣭⭑

It's hot girl (/gender neutral) summer season

HAPPY MAY!!

Hope you're all doing well <3 We're already getting into summer, which is a little crazy to me. The year is flying by! Before I get into what we actually did this month, it wouldn't be a May devlog without our annual Mermay celebration!

Look at those locks. His Ariel/Rapunzel era fr

Since I already had updated Mermay pieces for the Alaris LIs, I decided to do one for our beloved Van this year ^^ Hope you all like it!

For writing this month, I spent a lot of it catching up on Etza edits. Being totally transparent, I wasn't Completely Happy with their route when their draft was finished. But now that I've started the editing process with Wudgey, I'm really excited to see how their route is shaping up!!! We've been fleshing a lot of little interactions out with their route, and I can already see Etza's character really starting to shine with these edits ^^

I've also been chipping away at Kuna'a's route! While it's nowhere near finished, I'm hopeful that this upcoming month will be the month of Kuna'a now that I don't have a bunch of releases I'm trying to balance. His route is also one of the ones whose outline is more fleshed out (Druk and Etza I would say were the least fleshed out, which might be why they also took a bit longer). So I'd love to see Kuna'a's first draft complete/almost complete by the next devlog!

This month, I had to dust off my art skills tbh LMFAOIJSDF. It's been.... a WHILE since I've made CGs since I've been in the writing and coding dungeon for so long. So most of this month's art updates are me getting tilted from redrawing an ugly sketch over and over.

I DID manage to get the Van Mermay piece out. And I also was able to sketch out Kayn's Tragic End CG; that leaves only one CG that has to be sketched out! Currently, six of their CGs are finished, two need to be rendered, and one needs to be drawn still.

And since Kayn's CGs are mostly done, I've started drawing Fenir's. I was actually able to finish one because I basically Locked In when I made it, so here is a sneak peek!

Kisses his little pink nose

You might notice there's not toooo many updates on this month's devlog. The reason for that is because this month, I spent a lot of it recovering both mentally and physically. April shenanigans and those back-to-back releases took a lot out of me, and after going full speed basically since this year started, I learned I REALLY needed a break. That coupled with the concussion I got made it so that most of this month was focused on recovering and then getting back into the groove of things.

Another thing I tried to focus on this month was finding a balance in my workflow. Going into this month, I felt like I was on the verge of a mental breakdown almost every day, in large part because I have a lot of big things I'm trying to accomplish this year. Between finishing my dissertation, Alaris, and a personal big event that I have to plan, I have a lot on my plate this year, and it's made it easy to get overwhelmed as the months pass by. So I wanted to find a balance between all three that didn't make me feel like I was also falling into insanity. After talking to beloved Wudgey of @herotome fame, I've started adopting a schedule that gives me enough structure and flexibility to feel like I'm making progress without going crazy and getting lost in the sauce.

While it's still early in the process, I'm really happy with the balance I've hit, and I'm feeling much more like myself now compared to a month ago!

I caught up on quite a few things in my backlog this month, which made me happy ^^ I always like to learn from and support other devs, so finally being able to return to that helped with the recovery process <3

I don't have any actual fanart pieces, but there are a couple of games I'd like to highlight!

First of all, of course I must talk about our hot girl (/gender neutral) summer cross-promo. If you haven't checked out these games, I can't recommend them enough!!

Links to each game can be found on the Alaris Game page under the magic and mystery otome section!

Specifically, Save the Villainess, The Good People, and Thorn for the Villain are amazing games if you're into thriller/political games layered with mystery

The Silent Kingdom (which I played recently and is AMAZING) and Dual Chroma (Otojam 2023 ALLY) have added mechanics of RPG for exciting action-adventure fantasy stories

Lost in Limbo, Obscura, and Snow White Ashes are BEAUTIFUL dark fantasy games. I've played all three of these and they have some of the most beautiful writing and visuals... BIG FAN OF ALL OF THEM.

Mask Beyond Lies and Sigh of the Abyss have that epic fantasy adventure appeal to them, in a way that I think is similar to Alaris! And Pearlglow Cafe (another Otojam 2023 ALLY) is a very lighthearted and charming game for those of you who like the comfy vibe that most of my stories have!!

Some other games that I played are Favor (@favorvn) by beloved @concreteparasite which is SOOOOO stylish. If you've played Binary Star Hero by Connie, you can expect that same stylish, dark, sultry vibe from Favor. If you haven't checked out either of those games by Connie, I can't recommend them enough, especially if you like yanderes. There is so much aesthetic and atmosphere to them!

I also played Where Winter Crows Go by @prikarin who is a VERY talented developer (and one I'm sure many are familiar with). I had a lot of fun romancing Crowe and both the MC and him have such strong personalities, it was so fun seeing their dynamic!!!! The CGs were also made by anta, who is the dev behind Thorn for the Villain, and they're BEAUTIFULLLLL. Each one has so much style and rly has a professional look to them. Can't recommend enough if you haven't played already ((heads up that it is another yandere game for those who can't do yandere!))

Okay I've yapped enough. If you've made it this far, you are god's strongest soldier LFMASLDIFJ. See you all next month with hopefully some exciting progress!

[leclucklerc]

Hard Carry CL16 - 03. Brocedes Esque

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x driver!reader

Summary: It's a one sided fight for the throne. And yet, y/n will still go all out.

Word Count: 5k

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Drive to Survive season 1 episode 1

All to Play For

The screen was black before it changed into a clip of 2017 driver championship. A narrator could be heard on the background, narrating an overview of Formula One. The most expensive sport, a brilliant combination of technology and man-made skills. It’s the pinnacle of motorsport, a true show of speed and adrenaline.

Will Buxton appeared, “This is a sport only for those who wants to win,” he said. “No one is more competitive than all of these drivers.”

“They trained like a jet pilot,” said Christian Horner as he appeared on the screen. “Formula one is a show of how mighty a collaboration between technology and what pure manmade skill can do.”

The sound of whirring engine as Formula One cars passed by the screen, leaving nothing but blurs and shocked gasps. The sound of screeching tires as cars after cars fight against each other. It is a spectacle. An exclusive sport only those who has enough privilege can enjoy. Cheers could be heard, and a crowd of spectators could be seen watching the race.

And then, someone back could be seen. The camera is shooting from behind and it looks like it was a normal race suit. At least, until long cascading hair appeared on the screen.

“Formula one changed,” said Will and a montage of the celebration of 2017’s championship could be seen. Of Lewis Hamilton, Sebastian Vettel, and y/n l/n fierce rivalry for the title championship.

In a sport that is not known for its diversity, a female managed to become one of the best drivers on the grid. In a sport that is not known for its diversity, y/n l/n proved that anyone could do anything if they want. A show full of determination and fighting spirit. A show full of desperation and fights for her voice to be heard.

Silver, red, and black. Three cars that dominated the season. Each desperately trying to gain a place in front of another.

Silver, red, and black.

The scene change, showing Daniel Ricciardo in the interview room. Daniel could be seen looking around, a bit awkward and yet, there’s still a huge grin plastered across his face. “Are we ready?” he asked, tone full of humor.

“Do you think you can win against y/n l/n if you have the same car?” asked the producer on the background.

Daniel eyes shook, as he looked as if he was thinking about the question for a bit. Though, when he answered, he sounds so sure and without the slightest hesitance. “Yes,” answered the man.

“Yes,” answered Fernando Alonso as the scene changed to him.

“Yes,” answered Max Verstappen as the scene too changed to him.

“Yeah,” answered Pierre Gasly and after that, a speed up montage of the entire grid appeared. All of them are saying yes, confirming their confidence about beating the current world champion.

It’s not a bad attitude to have. After all, Formula One drivers are confident. They’re confident of their skill, of their talent, and of their potential. To drive in Formula One, they have to believe that they’re the best driver on the grid. Having that kind of confidence on your ability, is the very essential to be a Formula One driver.

Shortly after that, the scene changed. This time showing a woman with perfectly styled hair and colored lips. The dark team polo that she’s wearing oddly look like a designer brand, despite it being a uniform that everyone on the team wears.

For this woman, the question was altered a bit.

“If all of you have the same car,” started the producer. “Do you think you can still become a world champion?”

That question made her let out a bark of laugh, as if it was the funniest thing that someone had ever said to her. And maybe it is because it’s been a while since she heard something so ridiculous. Her eyes crinkled and her painted lips are set in a wide grin, showing all of them how amused she is at the question.

“Babe,” she started, amusement clear on her face.” I can certainly beat them even if the rest of the grid is using Porsche and me in a Williams.” 

It’s a statement that is full of arrogance.

It’s a statement, that fully show how confident she in in her abilities.

Y/n l/n, three-time world champion.

The opening of drive to survive starts playing.

2013

Y/n first notice something became a bit weird after she won her first world champion.

Back then, she had thought that everything was going great. Porsche is a great team with a great car. She’s getting many attentions, outside and inside of Formula One. She had performed incredibly, managing to snag a championship only on her second year.

The sensational driver. One of the biggest name in Formula One.

Yes, she had thought that everything had been going on great.

That is, until her teammate terminates his contract with Porsche. 

It was a bit shocking, considering that he had another year in Porsche. Besides that, they’ve been getting along great. They may not be the best of friends, but she had thought that they’re teamwork had been amicable. They both shared dinners here and there, even went to the gym together. So, hearing that he was leaving the team so abruptly had been a bit of a shock to her.

“Hey,” she called out, catching the attention of the male. “You… do you not like Formula One anymore?” 

They may have not been the best of friends, but they’ve been friends alright. The both of them had spent two years together as a teammate. It’s only normal for her to see what is going on and why did he decide to leave the team so suddenly.

She had asked Herman, questioning his decision to leave the team. Oddly, the man had closed his mouth. Refusing to say anything more than that it was his decision to leave Porsche.

Staring at her, the male let out a scoff. “Fuck,” he hissed out. “It’s not funny to hear that from you.”

The female raised an eyebrow, a bit shocked at the sudden show of hostility directed towards her. “What’s your problem?” she asked, moving away to stand in front of him. Blocking his path from the door. “I was just asking why you are leaving the team so suddenly.”

Something in that statement sounds funny to him because he lets out a bark of laugh. His shoulder shook as if what she just said was the funniest thing on earth. It annoyed her a bit. Though considering his bad mood, she doesn’t call him out.

“Really?” he finally said after his laughter lessened. “Really, y/n?”

“What?” y/n asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why are you acting as if I should know the reason, you’re leaving the team?”

“Shit, knowing that you don’t even realize only make all of these worse,” he said, slinging his bag on his back. “Assholes.”

She bristled at that. “It’s clear that you have a problem with me,” said the female. “You wanna tell it to my face?”

The male stared at her. Dark orbs meeting her own as a tense silence fell between them. The tension is thick, not wanting to back off.

“I’m tired,” he finally said. “I’m tired being the second fiddle.”

Y/n blinked, “What?” she asked. “What second fiddle?” 

“Second fiddle in fucking Porsche,” replied the male, shoving past her.

She stumbled at that, though y/n quickly regained his footing as she quickly followed the male across the grid. It’s late at night but the place is still full of life. She could see a lot of eyes – drivers, engineers, mechanics – following both of their figure as they shared a heated whispering feat between each other.

“What second fiddle in Porsche!?” she hissed out. “You were fourth in the drivers ranking!”

“And you were number one!” he whispers shouted, glaring at her. “It’s obvious that Porsche will favor you more after this! I don’t want to be treated like that-“

“What favor!?” said y/n, a bit too heated. “I tried my best and-“

“I know you fucking tried your best!” said the male as the both of them stopped just near the exit gate. “I know, but with the way you’re performing right now- I don’t want to be stuck as a second driver in the team.”

Y/n grabbed her collar, dragging his face forward. “So, what if you’re the second driver!? Many drivers would kill for an opportunity to just drive for Porsche in Formula One!”

“There’s nothing wrong being a second driver,” scoffed the male as he yanked back his collar. “That is, if you’re in any other team. Being the second driver in Porsche is worst.”

“What are you even talking about- “

“Think,” cut off the male. “Think y/n, remember these past months and how Porsche is fucking treating you compared to me.”

“There’s nothing different! I- “

She stopped. Y/n stopped because there’s a rush of memories appearing inside of her head. Moments, that had happened even during her rookie season last year.

The way the team had prepared her favorite foods for their catering at the start of the season, despite its being a rare cuisine on the country they’re racing in. The way during the off season she had declined a practice session in the factory due to a photoshoot and Herman had allowed it while her teammate was forced to come despite living in a different country.

How the team had issued a team order to let her pass, raising her ranking while decreasing his. How Herman and the team had always celebrated every victory and podiums of hers, while her teammate watch from the side.

How, the mechanics – even his teammate’s mechanics – are the people that she has a close relationship with. People, that she’s comfortable with. How the race engineers are the people that she regularly have dinner with. Something, she had never seen her teammate’s do.

In Porsche, everyone is someone that y/n is close with.

A team, that was built for her.

Her very own personal Formula One team.

The moment she had her realization must’ve showed clearly on her face because her teammate let out a scoff as he yanked out of her grip. “Realize it yet, princess?” he sneered out before he marched out, leaving her standing there in silence.

That was the last time she ever saw him.

And it was the start of Porsche’s almost yearly change of their second driver.

2017

“You should be careful,” said Lewis in the middle of the 2017 season. It was just announced that her teammate of the year will not be extending his contract with Porsche. She’s not even surprised at this point. “I know teammates can be an ass, but it’s best to not antagonize them.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow at that.

It was really funny to hear that from Lewis, considering all the drama that happened back in 2016. After all, the feud between Lewis and Nico had been entertaining and yet painful to watch. Something worthy of a soap opera and certainly must be Toto’s worst nightmare. To see two men who used to be the best of friends tearing each other apart as teammates.

She knows that the tension in that team has been unbearable. At least in Porsche, they never let the tension to remain that long considering how they change their second driver every year. With Mercedes though?

When Mercedes paired the both of them, they probably didn’t expect the sheer rivalry that they both had with each other. How they despised the mere thought of losing against each other. How everything has to be a competition between them, no matter how small. Maybe that’s why they used to get along so well. Considering how much they loved racing and how competitive they are. 

“You’re really saying that?” asked y/n, amusement clear on her tone. “You?”

Lewis rolled his eyes at that. “I know it’s hypocrite of me,” he started off. “But believe me, I know firsthand how awful it is to have your teammate as an enemy.”

The female laughed at that. Obviously, he would know. “I never antagonize my teammate,” unlike you, remain unsaid. “They just feel threatened.”

He hummed, leaning back on the sofa. “They just got embarrassed at the thought of losing from you. A female.”

Y/n snorted at that. “Well, Formula One it’s not a sport that is known for its diversity,” she said pointedly towards the male.

He let out a laugh. She doesn’t know if he found some kind of sick amusement in that statement or if he just thought what she said is the truth. Probably the second one.

“Indeed,” said Lewis, a faraway look on his face. “Yeah, indeed.”

2018

That certain conversation had always been at the back of her mind. 

It rang inside of her head as she won her third championship and saw her teammate staring up at her not from the podium. It rang inside of her head as her teammate terminate their contract from Porsche. It rang inside of her head as Herman introduced Henry to her.

It certainly rang inside of her head as Henry crashed his car into her.

The loud screeching sound that appeared inside of her ear as she could feel her car spin towards the barrier is making her head ache. Truthfully, the impact is not that big, and she certainly had had a worst crash before. Though what made this one a bit special is the pitch-black car that also laid across the gravel in front of her.

Ah, she thought, trying to lessen her anger. Retire. The both of us.

Herman will be so fucking pissed.

Even when her race engineer asked her if she’s okay, y/n really doesn’t have the energy to reply. She merely answered with a short hum, not saying anything besides that. After all, she felt that if she answers more than that, her anger will leak through. Shattering the perfectly crafted image that she had crafted over the years.

Perfect y/n who always smiles.

Charming y/n who is a different driver from her rookie season.

Beautiful y/n who is always laughing-

It seems, all of her effort to lessen her anger became futile when she saw Henry climbing out of his car. She doesn’t know what sets her off. Maybe it’s because Henry doesn’t even look guilty or maybe it’s the fierce glare that he directed towards her from behind his helmet as if she’s the problem.

She really doesn’t know what set her off but almost immediately, her anger surged forward.

Fuck, thought the female as she climbed out of her car.

Fucking hell, thought the female as she took off her helmet.

Y/n turned around, staring at her car that had hit the wall. Y/n turned towards the track, hearing the sound of other cars making their laps.

DNF.

Fucking DNF.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck-

Y/n almost throw his helmet to the floor as she marched back towards Porsche garage. Her hair is a mess and the way her race suit is sticking to her body uncomfortably does not help her temper the slightest. Around her, she could faintly see the wary glances that people gave her. No doubt, a bit fearful at the angry woman.

She doesn’t really care, and she’s also sure that Herman doesn’t care. After all, he has a more pressing issue to tackle. Namely, the two DNF that Porsche suffered during the Spanish Grand Prix.

It’s a tight fight for the constructor championship with Mercedes after all. Having to retire both cars is not helpful at all. The way both cars retired is a bit embarrassing. No, scratch that. It’s so fucking embarrassing and the mere thought of that incident made her had headache.

During the race, Henry who was ahead of the woman after y/n’s pitstop, was asked to let her overtake. Which make sense because y/n got a new set of tires and faster. It was projected that she could pass Lewis and Bottas who was leading the race at 1-2. Porsche needed the team points anyway and y/n is gunning for her fourth driver title.

But of course not. 

It’s the damn disease that every Formula One drivers seem to have. Aka, their far too big pride.

Henry – the little shit – decided that he doesn’t want to do that. She doesn’t know what’s his problem or what kind of mental ego that he’s battling with himself, during the race, he decided that he’s not going to let her pass.

Fucking asshole.

The guy is not even a contender for the driver’s title! He should’ve been satisfied to manage to be in the top 6 drivers during his rookie season! But of course not. He decided that he wants to be some kind of hero or some kind of historic driver.

Maybe he wants to be known as someone that finished ahead of y/n. Or maybe he just wants people to know that he’s here in Porsche to be the number one driver. Not the driver that have to stay behind y/n.

Fucking asshole. Rookie little shit. 

It’s no brainer that she will try to overtake Henry. It’s no brainer that she’s aiming to win the championship. But no. The little shit decided that he wants to kill the both of them and made them crash against each other, officially retiring both Porsche from the race.

She could still hear the dramatic narration that the announcer made as they crashed against each other. Y/n could almost see her fourth championship slipping from her finger because this is the last thing that she needs. After all, Lewis and Sebastian are tough opponents. They’re not going to let her win the championship without a fight. And don’t get her started with Red Bull growing dominance and Max’s overwhelming talent.

DNF, is something that she doesn’t fucking need at this point.

“Deep breathes,” muttered Luca as he takes her helmet inside of her driver’s room. His tone calm, as he desperately tries to calm the raging inferno inside the female. “Y/n, remember it’s important to stay calm during this kind of situation.”

The female is known as a charming woman. One of the friendliest people on the paddock. She can make friends with anyone she set her eyes on. Always welcoming every person with a perfectly shaped smile and a friendly aura.

Though in the end, y/n is still a world champion. To be a world champion, you need to be some kind of an asshole. An asshole, on the track and on the garage.

“Fuck,” she lets out, taking a deep breath as she leaned back on the chair. “Fucking asshole, he was going to kill us.”

Luca winced a bit at that because yes, the crash was pretty bad. The mechanics needs to stay up all night to make sure that the car will be ready for Monaco. No thanks for Henry.

“Herman will want to have a team meeting after this,” said the man as he handed her a drink. “Obviously to talk about what just happened.”

“They can blame all of it to Henry,” she seethed out, gripping the drink with too much strength. “Asshole didn’t obey team orders! What right does he have to do that!?”

“I know, I know,” said Luca as he patted her back in order to placate her for a bit. “I understand that you’re frustrated, you can tell everyone all about it during the meeting, no?”

“Henry better listens well during that,” said y/n. 

The meeting takes place when the race had long finished in the meeting room inside of their motorhome. Y/n had given Lewis a congratulation about his win and Max about his podium before she was ushered inside.

Herman’s face looks scary and the stillness inside of the meeting room too, was deafening. Y/n’s silent anger as well as brooding face also doesn’t help the growing coldness. It’s a bit jarring to see the usually friendly woman looks so emotionless. 

On the other hand, Henry clearly looks nervous. It’s clear that the male is a bit scared at how tense the meeting room is. The atmosphere is clearly different from how the team is usually. Y/n really wants to shake his head, because this situation is clearly his fault.

Seriously fuck Henry and his fragile ego.

“What happened today,” started Herman, breaking the silence between all of them. “Is something that shouldn’t happen again.”

There’s a round of agreement across the room. She could feel the eyes that’s staring at her, no doubt searching for a flicker of emotion or a reaction from her. Y/n ignored all of them, pointedly starting at Henry who was sitting in front of her and at the same time, avoiding her gaze.

“Our goal for every championship is to win,” said the team principal, fixing his glasses as he stared around the room. “And Formula One, no matter how it looks, is a team sport. We need to work as a team to achieve that.”

A beat passed, before people voiced their agreement at that.

“Whoever was faster, will have to let the other one to pass,” continue Herman. “If the both of you are at 1-2, the one on the second place should defend from the third place. I don’t care about all of your ego and pride; I want all of you to work as a professional and not be a fucking child.”

Y/n let out a snort at that.

The way Herman said it, it was as if the team doesn’t have a favorite. As if, Porsche doesn’t care which one of them finished first or second as long as they’re using the Porsche car to win. Though, both y/n and everyone – including Henry – knows the hidden meaning behind the statement.

It means to let y/n pass every time. It means that Henry has to defend y/n from the car behind them. It means, that no matter how hard he tried, y/n will always come first.

First driver and second driver. An almost public secret to everyone on the grid.

Y/n is the first driver and Henry is the second driver.

She raised her eyebrows as she could see how Henry clenched his fist tightly. No doubt wanting to refute the order from Herman. Though alas, he also knows that it’s going to be useless. After all, he’s the rookie driver. He’s not the three-time world champion. He’s not the driver that had been in Porsche since the start.

He also doesn’t have a dad who is a major investor in Porsche.

“Everyone understand?” asked Herman after silence descend upon the room. “I don’t want to see this kind of mistake anymore.”

“Yes,” replied y/n, eyes still boring towards the younger driver in front of her.

Henry too, let out a strained smile at that. “Yes, I understand,” he said.

It was a shame, she thought. After all, just like the previous drivers, this is the final nail of the coffin. The realization that there is no hope for them in Porsche as long as y/n is still in the team. To know, that clearly your team have a favorite and it’s not you.

This is the point in time for them to be more or less, annoying.

Veiled insults, ignorance over team orders, blatant manipulation. It’s the same thing over and over again. If she’s someone with a better personality, she would try and discuss with the team on how to make a fairer working environment. She would try to mediate between Porsche and the second driver on how to improve their situation.

But no, y/n is not someone with a better personality.

Many like to praise how different she is compared to her rookie season. That the brash and highly competitive girl in 2012 is now replaced by a friendly and charming woman. A hotheaded rookie now known as the most beloved driver on the grid.

Many likes to say that she’s someone better now. That adulthood had ceased down all of her childishness.

What they didn’t know is, y/n never changed. She only learnt how to put up a persona that will be beloved by everyone. To wear a mask, to hide herself from the prying eyes from the media. 

Y/n, is still the loud and abrasive rookie driver.

She’s still hotheaded and can throw a massive tantrum.

Y/n, is still an asshole and Porsche, is hers.

She’s not going to let a rookie to take it from her.

Despite all the drama that happened today, meeting Charles Leclerc is the last thing that she expected.

When Herman had ordered the team to go home for the day, she really didn’t expect to see the guy loitering around Porsche’s motorhome. If it’s anyone else, y/n would’ve thought that they’re doing some kind of company espionage towards them.

But it’s Charles. A rookie driver with big eyes and emotions clear on his face. Emotions, that clearly shows how worried he is right now.

“Y/n!” he called out the moment he spotted her exiting the building.

“Charles?” she asked, approaching the younger driver. “What are you doing here?”

He looks a bit nervous, “I- uh I saw the crash earlier,” he started. “I was just wondering if you’re, okay?”

Y/n blinked. A bit startled at the question, because isn’t that a bit sweet? After all, they hardly know each other. The only time that even had a real conversation was during their first meeting. Besides that, it was only short pleasantries with each other. He didn't even contacted her after she gave him her number, giving her the impression that he's not that interested in her.

Turns out Charles is a good guy after all.

It’s hard to see someone this nice. Especially in Formula One where everyone has a far too big egos and pride – y/n included.

She can’t suppress the grin that’s tugging her mouth. “Well, as you can see, I’m in one piece,” said the female, gesturing towards her body as the two of them began to walk. “Thank you for worrying though.”

“It’s no problem,” he said, almost too quick. “I just wanna make sure that you’re okay, sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” she shrugged off. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to after a shitty day like this.”

“I’m glad then,” replied the male as they walk through the paddock. There are a lot of people, but mostly people from the constructor work who is on their way to tear down each team motorhome.Most of team members already went home at this hour. From the backpack that he’s carrying, it seems that he’s also on his way back to the hotel. “I’m glad that I can help you, even if it’s only a little.”

How nice.

Y/n let out a laugh at that. “Don’t change, Charles,” she said. “It’s rare to see a driver this nice.”

Charles merely shrugged. “If you asked Max, I’m an asshole though.”

“Ah,” said the female. “Yeah, I saw the video, cute kids certainly. The both of you.”

He flushed at that. "It's a bit embarrassing that everyone knows about that now." 

"Why?" asked y/n, amusement clear on her eyes. "It's a good story, no? Fated rival and stuff."

"If you put it like that it is a bit nice," said the male, scratching his cheek. "I just don't like being compared to him."

She laughed. "Deal with it, Leclerc," she said as she sling an arm around his shoulder, tugging him down a bit. "The media will always compare you with someone, I guess they want to make the headline a bit spicy considering how boring most of the drivers are."

What she said about the comparison is the truth. For y/n, she had been compared to Lewis and Sebastian ever since she won her first championship. When she first debuted, she was compared against Sebastian a lot. Claiming them as two young talents that had arrived to take over Formula One. Even back when Max first entered the sport, he was compared to her most of the times.

"I guess so," muttered Charles. "It's only my rookie season, after all."

"Precisely," she grinned. "Wait for another season and they will be talking all about your achievements. That is if you able to stay for another season," teased the female a bit.

"I will be," answered Charles lightheartedly. "It's my dream to drive for Ferrari after all."

Y/n nodded, "Good dream, Ferrari is a pretty good team." She knows that Charles is projected to be the red car future driver, but she doesn't know when will that happen considering their current driver lineup. Seb and Kimi is a good pair after all.

But knowing Ferrari?

Anything can really happen.

They continue talking as they made their walk towards the parking lot. It’s surprisingly easy talking to him, as if she’s talking with an old friend. Charles is an animated talker, slipping into French here and there - which she doesn't mind. I sounds cute and she did grew up in France. Somehow, it's easy for her to find a conversation topic. From things like racing to mundane topics like the catering on their team.

Maybe it’s how expressive he is, or maybe it’s because he’s someone that put his heart on his sleeve, making it easy for her to read on his emotions. It was a bit cute and endearing. Y/n thought that if she has a little brother, maybe it’s almost like this.

Their conversation was cut short when it’s time for them to go to their own cars.

"Guess this is it," she said, giving him a cheeky grin. "It was nice talking to you."

"Yeah," agreed the male. "I hope we can do this again."

She laughed at that. "I did gave you my number, Leclerc," said the female, giving him a friendly shove. "You can always text me for a chat. Or maybe a call."

His eyes widened, clearly not expecting that. "I-" he stopped. "I'll text you!"

"You better be," she said, giving him a sidehug, she said, “Text me later!” to him before she climbed into the car.

Her day became a bit lighter.

Charles thinks he's dreaming.

Text me later?

Text me later!?

Fuck, he hopes he didn’t fumble. Did he say yes? He didn’t remember saying yes. But he also didn’t remember saying no. Shit- what if she thought that he’s being rude!? Did he even confirmed that yes, obviously he’s going to text her after this-

If Pierre was here, he’s going to laugh so hard.

Really, Charles doesn’t know what possessed him that it made him thought visiting y/n was a good idea. He didn’t even got the courage to visit her during good days. What made him thought that visiting her after a bad race is a good idea!? After all, she had a DNF back in the race. A double DNF for Porsche to add salt into the wound. Everyone would have been in a bad mood if that happened to them.

He was half expecting to be ignored or to be met with short answers. But no, y/n was so nice that she had actually entertained his silly attempt of small conversation. He doesn’t even know what they’re talking about throughout their walk because he’s just way too nervous to make sure that the conversation kept going. 

Charles had been way too distracted by the smiles and grins that she had directed towards him to even make sure that his brain is working.

Because fuckk.

Whoever said never meet your idols must be delusional because his idol – y/n – is just so fucking perfect.

She’s just like what he imagined her to be. An amazing driver. An amazing woman. An amazing human in general.

And she said to text her!?

Like- like text, text her!?

He’s not going to lie and say that the thought had never passed inside his mind. After all, ever since he first got her number all those weeks ago, he had opened up the messaging up countless of times, fingers hovering on top of the keyboards as he pondered about texting her. It’s a bit embarrassing how often he did that, but-

But it’s y/n! He can’t just randomly text her! She’s busy and-

And yet she told him to text her.

During the start of the season Pierre had told him that it was a dumb move to try to shoot his shot towards y/n - Formula One superstar, a fucking icon, the it girl - but isn't this clearly a sign!? She did told him to contact her!

Eat shit, Pierre.

“Charles?” 

Snapping his head towards where his manager is, he mumbled. “Y-yeah?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Were you talking with l/n earlier?” he asked as they both climbed into the car.

He nodded. “I ran into her when I was leaving.”

“I see,” mumbled the man. There’s a certain look inside his eyes, as if he wants to say something to him but at the same time, he’s hesitant. It made Charles a bit confused.

“Is there anything wrong with that?”

“No,” said his manager, a bit too quick. “No, it’s… okay.”

He didn’t probe further.

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Not A Verstappen: A New World {2}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Unexpected allies and strange changes are happening both on and off the track. Warnings: 18+ only, mature content, we got another period WC: 2.4k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three

Round One - Bahrain 2023 “Nice work out there,” Lance said as he clapped you on the back as you began your return to the motorhome smelling like champagne. 

“You too, not a bad start at all,” you said with a grin. It was the first race and already you had scored a podium for Aston Martin, albeit behind both Red Bulls. 

“Not sure your boyfriends would agree. Have you seen them yet?”

You sighed and shook your head. Charles had out-qualified you, both Ferrari’s starting a row ahead, but in the end he hadn’t been able to finish the race. Lando wasn’t much better, coming in last with who remained in the race. 

“I’ll hunt them down after I find my mum. She’s probably lost and confused by now.” 

“She’ll get used to the paddock soon enough. It must be good to have her finally come to your races.”

“I’m not sure she would say the same thing,” you chuckled. “Did you see how nervous she was at testing last week? Thought she was going to have an aneurysm when she heard my top speed.”

“Dad was like that when I started too.” Lance opened the door for you to the Aston Martin motorhome and grinned at the cheer that erupted. The race had only finished an hour ago and already the motorhome was being dismantled to move on to the next destination.

“One more race like that and we’ll already have more points than we had all of last year,” Lawrence said as he threw his arms around both you and his son. “Sensational! That’ll show the bastards at Red Bull they have a competition on their hands this year.”

“Can’t wait,” you smirked at the idea.

Lawrence squeezed your shoulder. “Show them what a mistake they made, alright?”

“With pleasure. Thank you for giving me the chance.”

Lawrence sighed and took a seat at an empty table, pointing you to the one opposite and he sent Lance off to get changed. “You’re a great driver, there’s no disputing that, so I’m happy to have you on the team - especially if you keep performing like you did out there. You could have an entire harem for all I care.”

“I’m happy with two, thanks,” you said with a laugh. “It does suck not being able to go out and celebrate though.” 

You had received a warning letter before the season began with an outline on which countries you would be arrested in for showing any PDA, same with Lando and Charles. Bahrain was one and the next stop in Saudi Arabia was another. Lewis had tried to speak up but his influence couldn't change the laws that were going to be upheld and there would be no leniency. 

“I’d rather not have to bail you out of jail so early in the season.”

“I can cover bail, just don’t rip up my contract,” you joked. “Please.”

“That wasn’t right. I have a daughter so I know full well the different treatment you ladies get no matter what you do.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice as he jutted a thumb over his shoulder, “They don’t even seem to remember Checo’s scandal in Monaco last year. It just goes to show that it wasn't because their ‘core values’ were breached. Red Bull is led by misogynists. End of.”

“Well don’t hold back, Mr Stroll.” You grinned at your boss and sat back in your seat feeling even more comfortable with your choice in employer. You had offers from Williams and Alfa Romeo, as well as a reserve driver for Mercedes, but you were glad you took the Aston Martin seat, even if green wasn’t your best colour. “I feel like I should set you up on a soap box outside their garage.”

“I’ve found they don’t pay much attention to words, we’ll just have to beat them instead,” he said as he rose from the table and wrapped his knuckles on the wooden top. “Have yourself a good evening.”

“You too, boss.”

After showering and searching the motorhome and failing to find your mum, you went in search through the paddock, finally locating her in McLaren’s hospitality. 

“One race and you ditched me already,” you said to her as you stole one of their bottles of water from the fridge. 

“I knew you were fine, so I thought I would check in on sweet Lando,” she said with a sad smile. “He’s not too happy with his result.”

You snorted a laugh and she slapped your arm as she shhh’d you. “What? No one jumps for joy at last place. It’s kind of obvious.”

“Just go and check on him okay? I’ll see you all for dinner later.”

You watched her navigate her way out and trusted that she could find her way back to Astin Martin. Kristian was staying in the same hotel so she was going to get a ride back with him while you rode with Lando and Charles after finishing the debrief and interviews. She had the endless patience of a saint, except when it came to the media.

You rapped your knuckles on the door before opening it and found Lando pacing the narrow space, his phone to his ear. “-least yours was a mechanical failure, my car is just shit. Oh, she just got here. We’ll see you soon. Love you.”

He tossed his phone onto the table and opened his arms, welcoming a warm embrace after the terrible performance he had endured. His chest was still damp from the shower and he smelt edible like a key lime pie when you kissed his collar bone. 

“Proud of you,” he murmured into your neck where he buried his face and inhaled your body wash too. 

“Proud of you too.” 

He pulled back and shook his head like he didn’t believe you and you caught his face in your hands, forcing him to face you. “I am proud of you, baby. What you did today was much harder than me…the fact you still finished the race and held your head high shows how resilient you are. I probably would have done a Kimi and just fucked off mid-race.”

His chest bounced with a small laugh because you both knew it was true. 

“You are going to be a world champion one day, I know it,” you swore as you pressed your forehead to his and felt him shake his head. “You don’t have to believe me, Lando. I believe in you. You deserve it, you have the raw talent - and one day you will have the car to match. Then you will be unstoppable.”

The door swung open as Charles let himself in and you delighted in the way his face lit up upon seeing you both opening your arms for him to join. “Mmmm,” he sighed as he closed his eyes and tipped his head onto Lando’s shoulder. “What a fucking day…Can we go home yet?”

Round Four - Baku 2023 You were a shoo-in for a podium place. It was in reach for the fourth race in a row, until the pain began. Sudden and strong, you nearly missed the corner as the ache in your abdomen grew to a point you couldn’t ignore it. You felt even bump in the road, every force of the turns, the pressure from your harness.

“Fuck,” you growled through gritted teeth. “How many laps left?”

“Five, why? Woah, your heart rate is through the roof,” Chris exclaimed, not nearly as calm as Nicholas would have been.

“Yeah, kind of happens when I’m in pain,” you retorted as you thought you could probably handle five more laps. There wasn’t another option anyway. 

By the penultimate lap Charles had overtaken you and you saw his helmet turn your way ever so slightly, like time slowed as he passed. There was no way to see under his visor but you knew there would have been a look of concern on his face.

“Try to at least maintain your pace, Sainz is currently gaining.”

“I’m fucking trying alright.”

You managed to remain in fourth position as you crossed the finish line and then returned to the pits to see Charles’ Ferrari taking the last podium parking spot. You would have liked to have parked there but if it had to go to someone else you were glad it was him. 

“Where’s Lando?”

“Ninth.”

You laughed happily at the news that he had also made it to the points again and turned off your engine to start unstrapping yourself. You reached between your legs for the buckle and swore under your breath as you felt the sticky residue on your race suit that was definitely not sweat.

Charles had been celebrating with his team before the final weigh in but when he returned to take a drink of water he noticed you still hadn’t climbed out of yours. He could see Lando’s car a few behind as he arrived but even he was touching down on the tarmac and pushing his steering console back into place.

“Charles, you’re up,” Max interrupted the step he took towards you. “What’s she doing? She’s not crying because she lost, right?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered half distracted before realising what Max had said and rolled his eyes. “She’s not crying.”

He seemed proven wrong when you pulled your helmet off your head and he saw tears streaming down your face. Max turned to Sergio and pointed to the interviewer waiting by the Sky News cameras. “Mate, can you go first?” They didn’t wait for an answer as your face contorted with pain and your head fell forward. 

“Baby, you alright?” Lando asked as he reached you first, reaching in and taking your steering wheel out for you as you shook your head. “Here, let me help you out.”

“I can’t get out of the car,” you admitted as tears of embarrassment wet your hot cheeks. 

“That's okay, I can carry you,” he murmured as he reached for you but you slapped his hands away. 

“I can’t get out of the fucking car!” you snapped, immediately getting the attention of Charles and Max who had arrived too, only increasing the anxiety that you were feeling. “Please, just get my pit crew to jack up the car and wheel me to the garage.”

“Why?” Max asked as he crossed his arms, but then they dropped as he barked a laugh. “Did you pee in the car?”

“Fuck off, twat,” you grunted as Charles hit him on the shoulder with a, “Mate, it happens, leave her alone.”

You hunched over and clutched your abdomen as a cramp wracked your body and a pained groan slipped out. “Oh, oh shit,” Lando reacted first, knowing exactly what was happening after surviving three of your menstrual cycles over the winter break. 

“Charles, Max, interview time.” 

They both glared at the FIA official but Lando nodded his head. “Go, I’ll take care of her.”

Three Days Later Your knee nervously bounced as you sat in the doctor's room. “I never get periods during the racing season, something must be wrong.”

“Well, your test results were all normal.” She pushed her glasses back up her nose as she changed the folders she was looking at. “Are you feeling stressed?”

You pondered the question for a moment, not really having realised how different life was in Aston Martin and not having to hide your relationship. “Not really, no.”

“But you used to be,” she noted as she read through her past comments on your file. “Stress, as you know, can upset your hormonal balance quite significantly.”

“So I’m getting my period again because I’m not as stressed? That’s inconvenient.”

“It’s how your body should function.”

“I need it to stop.”

Reaching into her drawer, she grabbed a few pamphlets and laid them across her desk. “There’s certainly options, but they could have other side effects.”

You left the office with a prescription in hand but you weren’t sure how your boyfriends were going to take the news. They were always concerned about your health and wellbeing that it could go one of two ways.

“I thought the hormones would mess with you,” Lando said as he shook the box and heard the rattle of the foil trays inside.

“They are messing with me now.” You dropped down onto the couch as he passed the box over to Charles to read. “Who knew Red Bull could be so stressful?” you mused.

“Pierre, Albono, Kvyat,” Lando listed with a smirk. 

“I think you should take them, if you think it will help,” Charles decided as he placed the box back in your hand.

“There’s only one way to find out,” you shrugged, cracking the foil seal on the first tablet. “Plus, we’ll save a fortune not having to buy condoms.”

“Wait, what?” Lando’s face lit up like a kid at Christmas. “I thought this was to stop your period.”

“I mean, it stops them, as well as having babies, like a two-for-one deal.”

“I could get on board that.” His lips curled up into a sexy smirk as he dropped into the space beside you and draped his arm across your shoulders. His body was already stirring at the idea and he looked up at Charles who had gone to get a glass of water for you. “Tell me you haven’t dreamt of this day.”

Charles rolled his eyes but didn’t refute him as he handed the glass over and watched you swallow the little pill. “Of course I have, mon cher.”

“Sorry, boys, it takes seven days to work. You’ll still have to wrap it if you want to tap it.”

It was mean but you took some pleasure in the collective groan they made.

“Block out your calendar,” Charles chuckled as he bent down and kissed you. “Seven days and we plan to absolutely ruin you.”

You squirmed at the thought, imagining the feel of their cum dripping from you after they filled you and it drove you feral. You grabbed Charles and pulled him onto the couch as he laughed at the sudden urge you had to feel his body on yours. 

“Tell us what you need, chérie,” he teased while Lando’s lips found your racing pulse.

Your core clenched and reminded you of the emptiness within. “You,” you begged as your hands disappeared up their shirts and felt the hard muscles beneath your palms. “I need you to ruin me.”

Click here for part three.

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[goldenempyrean]

Close Your Eyes

〚 Notes - We haven't had a collab in a while, have we? I joined with the amazing @mapis-putellas on this so hopefully you enjoy! 〛

〚 Pairing - Supercorp 〛

〚 Summary - Lena is stubbornly working when she shouldn't be. Kara comes to bring her home. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2,380 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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Kara had assumed it was nothing. In fact, she’d hoped desperately it was nothing. It wasn't like Lena hadn't woken up a little stuffy before. A little grouchy and clingy wanting to be held just that bit little longer than normal. If truth be told, it was quiet a common occurrence - especially during allergy season when all of that pollen was in the air.  

However today it seemed as though Lena had wanted nothing more than to stay in bed. Kara’s gentle hand grazed softly over the bare skin of her back as she'd burrowed herself against her chest.  

For a second, Kara had assumed she'd fallen back to sleep. This wasn’t like ger at all. No matter what, she was always up and out of bed before the clock could even strike seven.  God forbid, a Luthor stay in bed idle while the day passed them by. 

That morning Lena had seemed a little more subdued than normal as she sipped her tea and forced down some breakfast, but Kara again had thought nothing of it and simply put it down to simply allergies and the fact she’d just woken up. She had no reason not to believe it. 

After a quick shower, Lena left for work, as usual. The only difference being was she hadn't kissed Kara goodbye before she'd left. Now that wasn't normal.  Kara’s brow furrowed a little as she watched the door close behind her, her distinct crinkle forming at the bridge of her nose. Something seemed off. 

There wasn’t much she could do now except finishing getting herself ready for the day. Lena was constantly in the back of her mind however. Kara had a habit of zoning in to Lena's heartbeat periodically throughout the day despite her duties as super girl. It wasn’t spying or anything malicious, it was just that hearing that rhythmic beating was comforting and reminded her about all the good in the world, especially after a rough fight or incident. However, each time today that she'd listened in, Kara had heard said heartbeat speed up for several seconds before returning to normal.  

Now, the blonde may had been a little naive sometimes, but she definitely wasn't dumb. She knew full well that they were sneezes. Sneezes of which Lena was trying, and apparently failing, to stifle.  Now she really knew something was wrong. 

Lena never sneezed. Not really. They'd been together for over two years and Kara hadn’t seen Lena had only sneeze in her company more than 3 times. She'd passed that record by triple today already, and it hadn't even been two hours since they'd departed for their respective jobs.  

Her suspicions only grew from there and she just about managed to refrain from flying over to L-Corp and demand Lena go home. Kara knew that that wouldn't go down too well. Especially when her girlfriend was a little more...cranky than usual.  

It was no secret that Lena was a workaholic. In fact, she'd told Kara just that not too long after they'd first started dating - almost as though she was trying to warn Kara away.  

It hadn't worked, obviously, and slowly but surely Kara had gotten used to spending most days by herself. She'd visit L-Corp most days with lunch, - because Lena was nortotrious for forgetting the fact that humans need do indeed need food to function, and after they'd eaten, Kara would manage to coax Lena into her arms for a few minutes of snuggles, and then back to work it was.  

It was pretty much routine now. Their normal. And whilst Kara did sometimes wish they'd spend more time together, she'd gotten used to the fact that it was an uncommon occurrence. The last time they'd spend the entire day together was during her last solar flare just three short months ago.  

Lena had pretty much waited on her hand and foot, and had attended to every single one of her needs without question. She'd held Kara for hours on end, Kara's head on her chest and Kara's arms beneath her shirt, hands tenderly grazing over her bare sides. There had been lots of kisses too. Forehead. Nose. Cheeks, and lips.  

It was glorious, and despite the pain she was in, Kara had never wanted the day to end.  

Of course it had though.   

But apparently now, it was Lena's turn to be sick, which Kara was about 98.7% certain Lena was. The neglected 1.3% doubt was later confirmed when she'd gotten the phone call from Lena's assistant, Jess, pleading with Kara to come and get her girlfriend before she inevitably passed out.  

It had taken Kara mere seconds to make it to L-Corp, and with a deep sigh, - because she already knew Lena wasn't going to let herself be brought home without a fight, she pushed open the balcony door and slipped into Lena's office, meeting her girlfriends surprised look with a soft, yet hopeful smile.  

"Kara?" The sound of her voice alone has Kara's heart aching. It was so hoarse that it sounded painful.  

"Hi baby," She greeted her, walking over and crouching down. Lena turns in her chair to face her, and Kara automatically placed a hand on each of her thighs and gave them a soft squeeze. 

Lena sniffled wetly - a sound Kara decides to ignore, at least for now - before resting her hands atop of Kara's own. "What are you doing here?" She asked as she tilted her head to the side, and Kara had to physically refrain herself from awh’ing out loud as she interlaced her fingers with Lena's slightly smaller ones.  

"Jess called," was all she said, and that was all it takes for Lena's seemingly good mood to drop. She pulled her hands out of Kara's own and attempted to swivel herself out of Kara's personal space with a disgruntled look on her flushed face.  

Expecting this, Kara doesn't let this deter her and placed both hands on the arms of the chair preventing Lena from moving. Lena was visibly upset at this, eyebrows furrowing and lips falling into a small pout. Making it clear she wasn’t going to leave this, Kara reached to cup her chin and was met with Lena swatting her hand away and attempting to stand up. 

"Hey hey, no." Kara lightly chastised her, gently taking both of Lena's hands into her own. "You need to sit back down. I may be strong but I don’t think it’d look good if Jess walked in on me picking you up from the floor." She attempted to joke to ease the tension, and much to her relief, Lena's lips quirk up ever so slightly at the corners. 

"Jess called me," The blonde continued from earlier, doing her best to ignore the pleading look currently being sent her way. She hated confrontation. Especially with those she loved and Lena was the person she loved most in this world with the exception of Alex.  

She wanted so badly to leave Lena to her day because she hated seeing her girlfriend so upset, but she just couldn't bring herself to do so. She'd never forgive herself if she knowingly let Lena work herself to exhaustion like this. 

So, she took a deep breath and forced herself to continue, "She called me and told me you were sick. And baby, you look it. You shouldn’t have even come in today.” 

Lena sniffled again; her green eyes considerably shiny with the onslaught of tears. "Kara..." she trailed off pleadingly, her voice breaking. By now, she was becoming considerably flushed in the face, her brow damp with sweat, telling Kara it may be best to hurry up and finish with this conversation so she could take her home.  

"I must admit I was suspicious from the second you woke up this morning," The pad of Kara’s thumb softly began grazing over her feverish skin. "I should’ve said something then but I decided to let you trust your own judgment, which I realised now may not have been the best decision."  

Lena, despite her obvious inner turmoil, leaned into Kara's soft touch, telling Kara all she needed to know. "Let's go home, okay?" She rises to her feet and holds out her hands.  

Lena frowns, "Kara, no. I have to work. You know that. I can't-" 

Okay. Attempt two it was.  

"Can't what? Be sick? Leave your job for one measly day so I can take care of you?" She wasn't opposed to getting a little defensive herself if it meant Lena would actually listen to her.  

Lena frowned at her, "That's not fair. You know how much this job means to me. I can't just-" she abruptly cut herself off, and for a second, Kara was concerned and watches as Lena's nose twitched and lips quivered. Seconds later, Lena pitched forward into her seat and sneezes both loudly and wetly into her hands.  

"Hts'choo!"  

Kara let out a quiet sigh as she grabbed two tissues from the almost empty box on Lena's desk and once again crouched down in front of her. She offered them out without a word as her hand comes to rest on the small of Lena's back, and the woman shyly took them from her with a somewhat embarrassed look on her face before softly blowing her nose.  

Kara waited patiently as Lena disposed of said tissue before she squirted some sanitiser onto her hands. She knew it may be best to give her a few moments to gather herself because the next time she attempted this conversation, she wouldn't be asking. 

In the meantime, Lena sniffled again and leant back in her chair as she looked up at Kara through tired, glassy eyes. Kara knew it was time for her to go home. Staying here would only do more harm than good and she knew that secretly, Lena would also much prefer to be cuddled up in bed rather than sitting uncomfortably at her desk. 

So this time she tried a different approach, “As L-Corp’s CEO, it’s your responsibility to make sure your company performs at its best, right?”Kara began, and waited for Lena to nod in acknowledgment before she continued, “You’re sick and quite clearly it’s contagious from the way the security guard I passed was sniffling. As CEO, It’s your responsibility to make sure your staff are doing the best job they can do and well, they can’t do that if they’re also coming down with whatever nasty bug you’re fighting, can they?” 

“So, it’s not only in the best interest of yourself but also your company if you be brave, admit you’re not feeling the best today and let me take you back home.” Kara finished. Her logic was irrefutable, even Lena could understand that. 

The ravenette seemed to fight herself on what to do before after a few long seconds, finally giving into the smallest of nods. That was more than enough for Kara. She reached down and helped Lena up, pulling her waist up and towards her into a hug. She could feel Lena hold her breath as she rested her head onto her shoulder, seemingly trying to stop herself from breathing heavily or sniffling. 

“You’re okay love, just relax.” Kara whispered as she rubbed her back as Lena let out a long shaky exhale, “You’ll be okay, I promise. A nice hot bath and some snuggles on the sofa is just what you need. Thank you for letting me taking you home.” 

“M’sorry I’m so stubborn, I know it’s difficult-” Lena began but was cut off by Kara shushing her gently, her hand reaching down to take it into her own as she led her towards the door. 

She pushed open the door and held it as Lena walked through, “I knew what I was signing up for. Yes, you’re as stubborn as anything and it can be a real pain in the... anyway, regardless of that I still wouldn’t change you for the world. You’re my Lena Luthor and I love you.” Kara finished by kissing her softly, making up for the one she lost this morning. The two stayed like that for a minute until Lena had to inevitably break away to breathe. 

Kara smiled softly as Lena took a deep breath, the strain still visible on her flushed face. “Come on, let’s start getting you home.” She said quietly, wrapping an arm around her girlfriend’s waist as they headed towards the elevator. She could feel Lena leaning more of her weight against her, a clear sign of just how exhausted she was.  

The ride down to the lobby was quiet, save for the occasional sniffle or cough from Lena. Some curious people glanced at them curiously as they passed by, but no one dared say a word. Jess stood by the front desk, looking relieved as they approached. She gave her an appreciative nod, a gesture she knew Jess understood. She made a mental note to buy her some flowers or a small gift at a later date. 

In the meantime, Kara continued to guide Lena out of the building and into her waiting car. She helped her settle into the passenger seat, buckling her in with careful hands. “Just relax, okay?” she murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair away from Lena’s face. 

The driver looked at her curiously, “Where to Miss Danvers?” He asked as Kara climbed in the backseat at the other side. She thought for a moment as Lena scooted over a little to lean against her side, letting her head drop onto her shoulder. 

The blonde couldn’t resist cooing quietly at how clingy her previously stubborn and crank girlfriend had become, “Pharmacy first please then back to our apartment. Thank you.” She turned to Lena, letting her hand come to the back of her hair to gently undo the tight ponytail she’d had it pulled up into. Instantly she could feel Lena’s expression soften slightly as the pressure in her head relieved just a little, “Just close your eyes and sleep love. I’ll get everything we need and when you wake up, we’ll be back home, okay?” 

The Luthor sighed softly and nodded, her eyes fluttering closed as she quietly whispered, “Thanks Kara.” 

“You’re welcome sweetheart.” 

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[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

As mosquito season is starting, how about the skeletons with an S/O with bad reactions to mosquitoes, yet mosquitoes love them. 🥲

The skellie sees their S/O covered in big bandages on their hands and arms and such, and the S/O has to explain that it’s to cover mosquito bites so they don’t absentmindedly scratch at them. They try incense, mosquito repellent, and a screen over the window but they still somehow get into their room. If they take the bandages off there’s these big swollen red spots all over their skin.

Undertale Sans - He starts digging into his science book to create a formula that will kill these nasty creatures. And somehow, it works. Sans just invented the best mosquito repulsive ever, and you told him that the world would probably want to know that, but, eh, that's too much work. You're in disbelief lol. He could do so many good things for the world if he actually tried to. That's frustrating.

Undertale Papyrus - It's his new obsession. He becomes a ninja and slaps mosquitoes passing by at the speed of light. But also in the middle of the night. It's surprising the first time he goes from deep asleep to jumping on the bed in three seconds.

Underswap Sans - He tries his best to keep the windows closed and even bought a mosquito net to hang above the bed to prevent being bitten. He's sad he can't help more, but it's actually helping so far.

Underswap Papyrus - Well... Welcome in his personal hell. Honey is badly allergic to bug bites as well, so at least you're suffering together. He even mimics you with the bandages now.

Underfell Sans - He's laughing at your misery honestly. That's why he's only bones and that you don't grow a flesh coat. It's not his fault humans are the worst at evolving. Maybe you'll learn a thing or two when you'll mutate in 2000 years or so. You're not sure how to tell him you won't be here in 2000 years.

Underfell Papyrus - He's your knight in shining armor and will protect you from all harm with his mighty fly swat. He's training hard to kill all these nasty beats and even more. Ok, sometimes he gets so invested he actually slaps the thing on your arms, legs, or face at full force, but it's working, right?

Horrortale Sans - He's growling at the mosquitoes like it's supposed to do something. At least, it's warning you there's a mosquito in the room somewhere. But he's not giving more indications of where to find it, so it's actually not really helping. But he's trying.

Horrortale Papyrus - He has a spray against mosquitoes in his pocket for emergencies. Except he often forgets you're smaller than him and sometimes, it happens he sprays you in the face with the mosquito, leaving your eyes burning for hours. He swears he's trying to be careful, and he's so sorry every time it happens. But it still happens though.

Swapfell Sans - Every time you have a button, he's staring at you like some alien laid an egg in your arm or something. He's very suspicious. And he doesn't like it. What if it's contagious? What if you start laying mosquito eggs in his bones? He knows science-fiction and you won't fool him. If a giant mosquito comes out from your stomach, you're on your own, he's not helping.

Swapfell Papyrus - He thought it would be funny to hide mini speakers everywhere in the house playing mosquito noises. You're now paranoid, living in constant fear and your whole body is scratching either you got bitten or not. He's an asshole, but at least he's a entertained asshole.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He can't stop the mosquitoes but he can for sure prevent you from scratching your bites. He slaps your hand every time you're touching the bandages, and if he's too far in the room, he straight-throws his shoes at you. And he has a very good aim. In the most extreme cases, he handcuffs you if you keep touching your arms. He has no limits.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He doesn't like this and seeing you scratching your arms all the time is contagious. Now he's scratching his arms too when you're scratching because he feels ghost bug bites. He knows it's impossible since he's made of literal bones, but still, he can't stop his brain from thinking he's under attack too.

[cheriladycl01]

Better than me - Charles Leclerc x Reader Part 2

Plot: You are a rookie in your first f1 season, adding to the ever-growing amount of Brits performing in the grid.

“Radio check” Dan says to you.

“Loud and clear” you voice back, you pull out of the pits behind Alex, pulling into the P11 grid spot.

“Immediately go for the attack when those lights go, try get past Alonso” you hear him again. You stay silent trying to quiet the worries going around your mind, just have it blank, only driving.

You wait and the minute those 5 red lights go out, you put you foot down.

"And we've had an amazing start for Audi in their first race at Sakhir, Albon has managed to overtake the Ferrari of Carlo Sainz and is now closing in on Perez, while his teammate Y/L/N a little further down the grid starting in P11 not only has she taken over Alonso in the Aston Martin but she's pulled past Piastri as he slows down into turn one. I have to say if she is amazing at one other thing, other than her driving its got to be her ability to learn from her mistakes quickly" the commentator says.

"Leclerc is still leading, you've got Norris ahead, 1.9second gap. You will catch him in Sector 2 if you keep at this speed" your engineer admits to you. You take that as a sign to speed up along the straight and go break later into turn four. In a breeze you pass the next three turns, your tires warming up from the motion.

"Your closing that gap with Norris, outside on the hairpin turn and push" your engineer advises.

"Y/L/N is closing that gap on Lando Norris and he can feel the pressure as she is chasing after him, relentlessly round turns 5,6 and 7. She's going for the outer overtake on the hairpin turn and does she get it? OH so close, Lando sped up at the last minute making her back off to avoid their wheels clipping. Her pace into faltering however and its inevitable she will catch him on the straight in Sector 2, if she goes into turn 10 the same we she annihilated turn 8" the commentator says, watching you from his box.

"Okay, you can overtake on the straight, then keep holding him off. Don't think about George for now"

"Copy that" you say, as you come out of the hairpin turn, Lando clipped the curb, his car spinning a little from the lack of control giving you the advantage to overtake on the outside of the turn and full throttle it down the straight in sector 2.

"Yellow flag, Verstappen and Alex have crashed, i repeat Yellow Flag Alex and Verstappen have crashed. Reports of debris along turn 14" Dan says.

"Are they both okay?" you ask, slowing your speed, seeing George ahead of you. You come up down the straight seeing the Red Bull and Audi spun off at turn 14.

"Hold"

"Both drivers are okay, looking at whose fault it was now. Yellow flag is down and Russel is 2 seconds ahead. You are currently P6"

After 29 laps, you needed to pit. Lando, Leclerc, Piastri and Alonso had already pitted so you came out behind Lando and Alonso. You were practically on his tail as you'd come out of the pits and managed to overtake him.

"Amazing you are currently P7"

"Thanks for the quick pit stop. Need to get these tires warm before i can catch Lando" you advise.

"Lando is currently P5, its George ahead of you now, 2 seconds"

"Copy" you say.

You pit once more, you had heard that there had been some tension up ahead with Leclerc and Hamilton, meaning Leclerc was now P2 and the Mercedes was now leading. You were now on laps 54 out of 57.

You closed in on George getting up to P6, however that didn't last for long as he re-overtook you, on turn 8. However again at turn 9, you made a risky move that ended up making you prevail.

"And what is this we are seeing here? Russell and Y/L/N are dancing around each other from the track. This is an amazing show of not only her level of driving as George has been here for 6 seasons now and is the more experienced driver, but it also shows how well the Audi is competing against cars like the Mercedes. What's this we are coming up to sector 3 and Y/N has just floored it on the straight! Can she catch up to Norris in the last two laps AND hold of Russell behind her. She created a significant gap between her and Russell but he's being told to push by his engineer"

Russell Radio Engineer: She's just ahead of you, 1.6 second gap and she's picking up the pace. You're going to have to pick it up George George: Yeah I'm trying mate but she's fucking quick.

"Oh, and up ahead Charles Leclerc has pulled up beside Hamilton and they are fighting for the pole position, both are on a podium but who will be in first place... AND ITS CHARLES LECLERC WINNER OF THE BAHRAIN GRAN PRIX 2026. Lewis Hamilton only points of a second behind him, comes in 2nd, and Sainz having snuck up on Perez in that 52nd lap and was able to take home a double podium finish for Ferrari. Perez in 4th, Lando Norris in 5th and an amazing start to her debut into F1 having started at P11 now in P6 we have Audi's only finish of today Y/N"

"Phenomenal driving today Y/N that P6 i repeat that's P6" Dan lets you know over the radio,

You pull up, jumping out the car and immediately are greeted by your team, you take the wheel out handing it to Dan before your team all pull you into a hug, jumping up and down with you. You can feel the camera crew with you filming the moment. You take your helmet of, going in for a single hug with Alex who has a proud look on his face.

"You've been asked to go to a post race panel!" Alex exclaims, he takes you over to your PR Manager Vesper, she tells you that where its your first time and it went so well, the questions shouldn't be derogatory.

You watch the podium, seeing Charles, Carlo and Hamilton all up there spraying each other with the champagne. It only then that you realize you'd just completed your first race with some of your idols. Tears well up in your eyes as you watch the three elated men muck around on the podium.

After you head to the conference room, and walked in with the three podium winners, Alex, Max, Lando and George.

"So our next question goes to Y/N" the interviewing from Sky Sports says and you look up pulling the mic closer to you.

"Well i just want to congratulate you and Audi on a great start to your season. But we did see some tears outside with the Podium were you not happy with your result?" he asks and you chuckle a little bit.

"Erm, ah god this is so embarrassing" you laugh, a slight grunt coming from the back of your throat.

"The team and I were both extremely happy with the result, P6 was more than we were hoping for. Erm and as for the tears, arghh how do i even start this" you say glancing to Charles and Lewis who were sat next to you looking at you with concern and worry in there eyes.

"Please don't look at me like that" you laugh looking down.

"Sorry, erm the reason for the tears was because for the first time i was looking up at some of my idols in the sport having been the one just racing with them. And that moment, that moment meant way more to me than the points I gained today" you admit a massive cheesy grin that rivaled Ricciardo's made its way onto your face.

The interviews finished up and you managed to get talking to the member afterwards.

"So, we are your... what was the word you used... idols?" Charles asks looking at you with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Mmmm not you. Lewis has been an idol of mine for as long as i can remember" you admit and he pulls you in for a hug.

"Well, not that you need them, but if you ever want any tips... you know where to find me" Lewis smiles. You all continue to talk for a little bit longer until it's just you and Charles left.

"You did really well today, I recon you might dare i say it be better than me" he admits making you laugh.

"No way. I'm no where near your level of driving" you admit.

"Mmmm no belle maybe not now, but your ahead of where i was in my rookie season" and he was right, your first race and you'd already got Audi, 8 points on the first race of the year.

"We are having a party tonight, would you like to come?" he asks you a smile coming into your face.

"Yeah, I'd love that!"