#and all she cuts is hair only ladies over 70+ so when I’d walk in as a teen with a sketch she’d be elated figuring out how to make it work

[insomnianoctem]

I want to cut my hair so baaaaaad

But it looks so cuuuuuute

But I unfortunately read online that bacteria clings easily to hair and I have germaphobia so if I leave my house or enter a bathroom that isn’t my own personal bathroom and I want to tear it out by the roots or grab some scissors and just start chopping

So I go to book my haircut and I’m caught between “my hair looks cute long and the loss of baby fat really makes me eyes pop” and “hey this is a sneaky way to try out a boy-ish haircut or the Ramona Flowers” because I got bangs a few months ago and didn’t realize just how much it would limit SHORT hairstyles .-.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

An Officer and a Gentleman

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, anal, cheating (sort of), name-calling.

This is dark!(silverfox)Lee Bodecker x (married)reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your after hours work gets in the way of your day job.

Note: I had the first half sitting around and finished it so here ya go. It takes place in the 70s so Lee is older and it was inspired by an article I read about the creation phone sex lines by a housewife in the 70s (which now of course I can’t flippin find). But anyway, here you go.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The sheriff sat down in his usual spot as you wiped your hands on the rag tucked into your apron. He set his hat on the table and tidied his greying hair. Even at his age, his locks were thick and looked soft. Strands of brown lined the shining silver and shone under the diner lights.

He came in at the same time every day, only an hour into your shift. You approached and flipped the cup on its saucer before you filled it. He took only sugar, no cream 

or milk. You smiled as you watched him read over the menu, he never ordered anything but the waffles.

“Good morning, sheriff,” you said as you held the carafe aloft. “Lookin’ to try something new?”

“‘Dols Leck’?” Lee Bodecker mispronounced the French words, “What’s that?”

“Dolce Leche,” you corrected, “It’s caramel.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed his ruddy cheek and reached for his mug. He drank and held out the menu. “Waffles with strawberry.”

“Extra cream,” you finished for him. He nodded and had another gulp as you walked away.

You put in his ticket after you replaced the coffee pot on the burner. You checked on the few other customers along the counter and wiped down the empty tables. The bell rang and you went to grab the sheriff’s breakfast from the window. You set the plate down before him as he folded the newspaper and replaced it in the little holder at the end of the table.

“How’s Eugene?” He asked as he unwrapped his cutlery. “And the boy?”

“Gene’s still on nights.” You lamented and subconsciously touched your stomach. “Little Ezra’s almost a year now.”

Your boy was buxom and buoyant. You smiled as you thought of his round cheeks and warm brown eyes. You only wished his father was around more to take him off your hip as you cooked and cleaned in your spare hours after work. Eugene was asleep as much as he was at the factory. You saw each other in passing as you scraped for ends meet.

Ezra was with Eugene’s mother during the day. You’d pick him up and take him home to wait for your husband to wake. If you were lucky, you got a kiss before he grabbed his lunch pail and headed out for his twelve hours. You hadn’t gotten more than that since before Ezra came. Neither of you had the time or energy, though the want was there.

“And you sheriff? How are you doing these days?” You asked before you could get lost in your self-pity.

“Ah, you know. The same old. Patrol’s ain’t too exciting.” He cut into the stack and licked his lips. He was a man with a sweet tooth, a substitute for his former alcoholic habit.

“Well, you enjoy, sheriff, you know how to get my attention.” You left him and did a round of refills for those eating and greeted the new arrivals.

Lee was always alone when he came in. He never brought any of his cadets or officers, he just sat, read the newspaper, and ate his waffles. He wasn’t married and had no children. Nearly fifty years on his back but he seemed content on his own. You almost envied him as you struggled with your small family.

🚔

You laid Ezra down carefully in his crib. He was getting big. You tickled his forehead and watched him for a moment before you left the room. It was late. Eugene was gone and the phone would ring soon. You had to prepare yourself for your night time duties.

It started small. An idea found in the pages of one of those feminist magazines, the very ones your husband called good kindling. A woman lost her job, still hard-fought for the domestic sex, and found herself in a similar way as yourself. Money was always needed and harder to come about. So she started her own service for the lonely men. A phone line with illicit intentions.

You read about it in the late stages of your pregnancy and laughed at the idea. It was so stupid. So scandalous. But once you were back to work and Eugene was on the late shift, you grew lonely and your checkbook was harder to open.

You hand wrote the little cards after a visit to the phone company. Eugene didn’t know about the second line. The number redirected to your main line and was active for only three hours a night, after your husband was gone. It was registered as a commercial line so each incoming call was billed to the dialer and a percentage was refunded on your own invoice.

You left the number around town, certain not to be seen as you dropped the cards in the car shop and the bar. At least, you hoped you hadn’t been seen.

The first night had you addled and sleepless until your shift began at the diner. It was hard to keep up the sultry voice and the lies. Difficult to act like the whole thing didn’t make you cringe. The men called and said their dirty words as you encouraged them with moans and little prods. “Oh yes, baby.” or “Tell me more.” It felt like you were cheating on your husband but it kept his plate full and the house warm.

The phone didn’t ring right away that night. Later in the week, you got more calls but one or two was better than none. The real profit was keeping them on the line as long as you could, but there were times you had to end abruptly to see to your wailing child.

You were half-asleep when the first call came in. You fumbled with the receiver and batted away your fatigue with your lashes. You held in a yawn and your sleepiness added to the allure of your put-on voice.

“Hello, mister, what are you longing for tonight?” You laid back on your pillow and played with the spiral cord.

“Well, I…” You blinked and held the phone against your ear. He sounded familiar, as many of the men did, but his timbre made your ears prick sharply. “I don’t know. I never did nothing like this before.”

You squinted and thought. You knew him but you couldn’t place the twinge in your head.

“I can start for you, darling,” you offered. “Mmm, tell you what I would do to you?”

He cleared his throat and you heard movement. He was nervous. So many of the men sounded the same. Most of them were afraid of being caught by their wives or uncertain about their desires. At first, you had the same fears but had since grown indifferent. It was human nature, as natural as one’s instinct to quench their thirst for water.

“How do you like it, darling? You like it when a lady bends over? I like it like that. Or maybe you want to start with me on my back.”

He groaned and you heard the receiver scratch. He let out a strained breath and moved the phone to his other hand.

“I want to use your mouth.” He said at last. His voice was low and gristly. “I want to push your head down in my lap as I choke you with my cock.”

You stared at the ceiling as you reclined and hummed. “Oh yeah.”

“Shut up.” He snarled. “I don’t want to hear your voice, I just want your mouth on me until you can’t fucking breathe. I want to hear you struggle. I was your tears streaming down your face and salting the taste of me on my tongue. I want to hold you down and cum until it’s deep in your belly.”

You parted your lips and raised your brows. You were still focused on trying to recognize the voice. His tone made you quiver. He was more forceful than most men. A lot of them just talked about sucking on your tits or went straight to fucking.

“I’d love that, darling.” You lied and bent one leg over the other as you swayed your foot.

“I said shut up!” He hissed. “I want to hold you down with my hands around your neck. I want to fuck you until your screaming. I’ll fuck you until you bleed. Until you beg for me to cum again.”

His breath was furious and you heard something else. The phone was moving against his chin as he moaned and you were certain you could hear his hand somewhere else; lower. It set your cheeks on fire and you sat up. His voice, his breath, the sheer anger and lust laced in his rasps. Your throat tightened as if he was truly choking you.

“But I want to cum in your ass. I want to make it hurt. I want you to cry as I tear you apart from the inside.” He growled and coughed as his voice fizzled out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He stroked himself furiously and the receiver dropped with a thump and you flinched. “Fucking bitch, yeah, you want my cock deep in your ass. Fucking whore.”

Your fingers hurt as you gripped the phone tightly and listened. His curses streamed steadily until the line clicked and died suddenly. You lowered the receiver and stairs at the little whole clustered together on the mouthpiece. You set it in the cradle and turned to sit on the edge of the bed.

It was unlike any call you’d had. It was terrifying and made your blood curdle. You felt as if it had actually happened as your chest was heavy and your heart raced. You blew out a shaky breath and reached to silence the ringer. 

That was enough for the night.

🚔

The next day at the diner, you couldn’t stop yawning. You hadn’t slept much as the call replayed in your head over and over. The man’s voice was so clear in your mind and every time you started to drift off, he spoke in your ear. You dragged the rag over the top of the counter as Amelia spoke with the elderly couple in that corner.

The door chimed and you looked up. Sheriff Bodecker took off his hat as he entered and nodded at you. With the coffee pot in hand, you went to his table, already set for his arrival. You wished him a good morning and filled his cup. His voice was thick as he muttered his response and picked up the menu. He looked as tired as you felt.

“Strawberry, sheriff?” You prompted.

“Hmm,” he scratched his chin, stubbly from a missed shave. “This Dolsay Leckay. I’ll try that today.” He held out his menu. “I’m trying new things this week.”

You took the menu stiffly and nodded. “Waffles with dolce leche sauce. Right away, sheriff.” 

You turned and walked off to write out his ticket. You returned the coffee pot to its place and set down the menu as you took out your pad and pen. Your hand shook as you scribbled out the order. You stuck it in the window and leaned on the counter.

It couldn’t be him. You were crazy. You didn’t get enough sleep and you were wanting to hear that voice everywhere. Your reassurances were weak and only made you shiver as you righted yourself and continued wiping down the tables.

You angled yourself to look at the sheriff as he squinted down at the newspaper. He stuck his tongue out as he read to poke his top lip and tilted his head coyly. He cleared his throat and coughed as his order rang in the window. 

You went to grab the plate and struggled not to fumble it. It was him. The way he coughed, the gravelly scratch of his throat, the deep and firm undertone. You couldn’t deny it was him. You were stunned you hadn’t recognized him at once.

“There you are, sheriff,” you said as you set down his plate. “Enjoy.”

“I think I will,” he rubbed his hands together. “I’m starving this morning.”

“If you need anything,” you made your usual offer.

He looked at you and smiled. You noticed how his eyes strayed to your name tag and the buttons of your blue dress. He turned to his waffles and took out the knife and fork.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said as he ran the tines of the fork through the dark caramel. “I think I’m just fine.”

You left him to eat and straightened your apron. You were confident you’d changed your voice enough that he didn’t have the same epiphany. Even so, everything about him was different. At least in your head. He was no longer the desolate sheriff, he was desperate and demanding. He wasn’t who you thought he was. He was a man with a lot of power and a hunger to use it.

🚔

It was several days before you dared to leave the ringer on after Eugene’s departure. Your husband was loving but almost entirely absent. Since Ezra was born, he’d only grown more distant and work could not excuse him completely. When you ate dinner late with him, he barely heard you as he kept the radio on and those nights he didn’t work, he didn’t touch you.

You felt worse for your own misdeeds. The phone line made you shy and sullen with him. You should tell him but you didn’t know how and truly, you couldn’t. You knew he wouldn’t take it well and even if he was barely there, you couldn’t lose him. You were already painfully alone.

That night, he volunteered for overtime and so you hardly saw him before he headed out. He said you needed the money but your books were well balanced from your own after hours work. You’d done it to take the burden off of him but he still took the extra time, even as you argued that your bills were in good standing. 

Was it you? When had it all grown so cold?

Ezra ate his mashed peas and you set him down for the night. You heard him cooing still but you kept to your schedule even when he was wide awake. He always tired himself out and never fussed very long.

You sat on your bed and read. You checked the time. The phone would start soon and that night you couldn’t leave it off. You needed the money and you couldn’t be picky about where it came from. The month would be over and there would be a whole new batch of debts to account for.

You jumped as it rang. You kept the volume low so it didn’t carry through the whole house and you answered after several rings. You gave your usual greeting and breathed a sigh of relief when it was one of your regulars. You closed your book and picked your nails as you went along with his routine.

When he finished, you wished him a good night. You were dead tired but one more call wouldn’t hurt. You waited and grabbed the receiver on the first ring.

“Hello, mister, what are you looking for tonight?” You made your voice higher and breathier.

“Shhhh.” The long hush chills your veins. “Don’t talk.”

You quivered. It was him. You looked at the phone cradle.

“Don’t hang up.” He said as if he could read your mind. “You want it, don’t you? You want to feel me inside you. Down your throat, fucking the whore out of you.”

“I…” you uttered.

“I said be quiet.” He barked. “I want my cock so far down your throat I can feel it as I choke you. I want your spit all over me, I want you gasping and gulping until you pass out and I’m fucking your mouth lifeless.”

Your eyes widened and you listened in disgust. He growled and his hand slapped off his thigh as he pleasured himself. You sit paralysed as fear bubbled in your chest and you felt as if he could see you. You crossed your legs and huddled down over the receiver.

“I want to fuck your cunt until it hurts to sit down. I want to hear my body slam into yours, I want you to beg me to stop and keep going at the same time. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t make a noise, until all you can hear is my cock pounding inside of you.”

“Please…” You wanted him to stop. You wanted to hang up and yet you were terrified to move.

“And I know you want it too, whore. I know you need it. Not these words, not these calls, but you need me,” he shuddered “and I need it just as bad.”

He grunted and the line grew still. He hissed and cursed. 

“I’m a fucking mess,” he sneered. Another silence and you think he hung up. His voice startled you when he spoke again. “Who’re ya?”

“Wh-what?”

“I ain’t stupid. You’re some lady in the county. Maybe some lonely housewife. Ain’t sound like no prostitute I ever knew.” He sniffed and let out a groan. “Maybe you some dumb teenager playin’ games on the telephone, huh?”

“I don’t-- No. I--” You hung up. 

You stood and pulled the line out of the phone and dropped down heavily. You put your head in your hands and shook it. Fuck!

🚔

The next morning at the diner, you served the sheriff with a false smile. Every time he spoke, you heard the words he said to you on the phone. Although his tone was placid, his fervour played over and over in your ears. And when you overpoured his coffee, you apologized only to have him assure you it was alright and let you mop up the mess with your rag.

He left you his usual tip and you cleared his table. The newspaper was tinged from your spill and you dumped it on his plate. As you did, a card slipped out onto the table and your handwriting stared back at you from the carefully cut rectangle. You hid it quickly in the newspaper and rushed to toss it all in the trash and drop the plate in the bin.

It must have been a mistake, you assured yourself and excused yourself for a breath of air. The chef, Carson, was already by the kitchen doors and you said yes to a smoke from his pack. You lit it after the third try and inhaled the tobacco deep into your chest. You would go to the phone company tomorrow on your day off and shut down the second line. Your lesson was learned. It wasn’t worth the spare pennies.

Your day dragged by as all you could think of was the line. When you got to the phone company, you were jittery with worry. It was easy enough to shut it down but the fee cost you your tips for the day. You checked the clock before you left, bound to be a few minutes late picking up Ezra.

As you came out onto the street, your open jacket flapped in the wind over your uniform and your mary janes clacked on the pavement as you rushed to get to Enid’s and pick up your son. When you stopped at the corner to wait for traffic to pass, a flash and a honk made you jump.

Sheriff Bodecker pulled up to the curb and rolled down his window. He waved and leaned his arm on the door as he peered out at you.

“You needa ride?” He asked.

You smiled awkwardly and clutched the handles of your weathered purse.

“Sheriff, no thank you, I’m not goin’ too far,” you waved him off.

“Nonsense, you on your feet all day. It’s the least I can do.”

“You must be busy.”

“Radio ain’t goin’ off,” he slapped the door, “now come on.” He reached down and opened the door, stepping out with a groan, “Get in. You always are so nice down at the diner.”

You swallowed and your lips quivered as you tried to hold your smile. You followed him around the other side of the car as he opened the door for you. You got into the vintage cruiser and crossed your legs as you cradled your purse on your lap. He closed the door and dropped in on the other side.

He shifted into gear and pulled off. You thanked him and fiddled with clasp of your purse.

“No problem, but uh, I just needa know where you’re goin’,” he chuckled as he slowed at the next four way.

“Oh, I gotta get Ezra from his gramma’s,” you explained, “She lives just down Carsbee.”

“Not far at all,” he commented as he turned the wheel, “So, how was the rest of your day then?”

“Not so bad,” you said breathily as he looked at you in his mirror and you focused on the pedestrians on the street, “and yours, sheriff?”

“You can call me Lee if ya like,” he offered, “And wasn’t so bad either. Which number is it, sweetheart?”

You sniffed at the pet name, he was usually so formal at the diner with his ma’ams.

“21B,” you answered as you wiggled your foot nervously, “you can just drop me off. It’s not too far to home.”

“Don’t be silly, I wanna meet your boy,” he intoned, “you talk about him so much.”

“Oh, uh, of course,” you murmured as he pulled up along the front of your mother-in-law’s, “I just gotta go get him then.”

You hooked your purse over your elbow and slid over the seat. The sheriff kept you from opening the door as he bid you stay and got out quickly as he rushed around the front of the car. He opened the door like a gentleman and removed his hat. 

“I’m old but I haven’t forgot my manners,” he nodded and waited for you to step out.

You got to your feet and thanked him again before you strolled up the crooked walk to the front door. You knocked and let yourself in like you always did. You could hear Ezra babbling as he played with wooden toy cars. Enid sat in her usual spot and rocked as she watched him.

“How was he today?” You asked as you grabbed the bag you always left with him and packed up the loose ends beside it.

“Loud,” Enid muttered, “hyper.”

“Well, he’s at that age,” you grasped your purse and Ezra’s bag in one hand and picked him up from the floor as he reached out for you. “Alright, Ez, say buh bye to grammy.”

He waved and cooed as you held him on your hip. Enid said buy in her grumpy way and got up to see you to the door. You came down the single step as Lee waited by his cruiser. Ezra buried his face in your shoulder as he turned away from the sheriff.

“Don’t be shy, Ezra, this is the sheriff, Mr. Bodecker,” you tried to shake him upright but he clung to you and hid.

“Ah, don’t worry, I’m used to that,” Lee laughed and opened the door, “people see the badge and they’re not so friendly.”

“He just goin’ through a phase,” you assured as you sat with Ezra in your lap.

As Lee shut the door, you let the bags lean against it and the car dipped as he got in the other side. He turned the engine and you gave him your own address as your son squirmed in your lap. At the first corner, Ezra found the courage to look at the sheriff and the officer looked back and stuck out his tongue.

“He looks like you,” Lee said as he pushed down on the pedal, “real cute.”

You accepted the compliment and hugged Ezra tighter. You could barely process the sheriff’s words as your mind returned to those he spoke the night before. Every time he spoke, you heard him, hissing and cussing at you.

You were relieved when he came up to your house and you turned to grab your bags. You felt a tug on your elbow as you balanced Ezra and your things. You looked back at Lee as he held your arm.

“I’ll get the door,” he said, “you just stay put.”

You waited as he let you go and once more, opened the door for you. He took the bags as you climbed out and you protested that you were fine. His hand settled on your shoulder as he pulled you to face him.

“Well, sweetheart, you gonna invite me in for some coffee?”

You were shocked by his boldness and couldn’t hide it. You blanched and looked at Ezra as he tugged at your jacket. You laughed awkwardly.

“Eugene’s still sleepin’ for his shift, I don’t--”

“We got some things to discuss and I think the least you can do after I was so kind as to drive you home is a coffee.”

You squinted at him in confusion. “Maybe another time, sheriff, I’d really hate to wake--” you reached for your bags and he stopped you with his grip firm on your wrist.

“Does he know?” Lee asked in a gristly voice.

“Know what?”

“Know you a whore?” Lee sneered.

You reeled and tried to twist from his grasp. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You can’t say them words on the phone and not mean ‘em,” he leaned in close, “Now I think you know what I want to talk with you about so you invite me in and I’ll be real nice about it but if you keep me out here, I can’t promise your neighbours won’t get a show.”

You pouted and rocked Ezra as he began to fidget, sensing your discomfort. “Please, I got Ezra--”

“You put him in the next room so we can discuss,” Lee insisted.

He let go of you and you nodded dumbly. You watched him wearily as you turned and led him up the walk. You unlocked the front door and he followed you inside. He hung his hat on the rack with his leather jacket and you hurried into the bedroom to set Ezra down in his crib. You distracted him with his stuffed rabbit and left him. He was usually due for a nap around then anyway.

When you got back to the front room, Lee sat on your couch and you went to the kitchen to start the coffee. You waited for the water to boil and filled the percolator as you dreaded what would come next. You poured a mug and set it out on the coffee table with the sugar dish. 

Lee leaned forward and spooned the sweet powder into his mug as you stood and wrung your hands. How had he figured it all out? How long had he known? Was he going to tell Eugene?

“Sit,” he said as he inhaled the savoury scent and took a cautious sip. His mug made a deafening clink as he set it down and you sat. “I s’pose you went by the phone company to end your little game.”

You sucked your lip in nervously and nodded as you looked down guiltily.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, “you know I was down there a few days ago and they just hand the records over if I say I got a warrant. They ain’t look close enough to realise it’s just a receipt.”

You gulped and kept your head down. You ran your tongue against your lip and blinked away the moisture in your eyes.

“How long you been doin’ all that?” he asked.

“Couple months,” you admitted, “I just needed some extra money. Ever since Ezra was born…”

“But you could get another job.”

“I gotta be home for the boy. Eugene never is.”

“Now a woman don’t be talkin’ like that if she happy. If she not alone.”

“Stop, please. It was a mistake. I’m sorry if you feel like I--”

“Sorry?” he interrupted, “you’re sorry? You think Gene would accept that?”

You sat in silence and picked at the button on your jacket. You hadn’t even bothered to take it off. “You gonna tell him?”

He let out a heavy breath and took another drink of coffee. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

You looked at him and furrowed your brow in confusion. You shook your head as he smirked.

“I will if you make me but if you want me to stay quiet--”

“Sheriff--”

“Shhhh,” he raised a finger, “now, you want me keep my mouth shut, you be waitin’ for me tonight after he goes.”

You stared at him in terror as your heart threatened to jump up your throat.

“And then we’re done talkin’. Then you do all those things we spoke about.”

“You can’t-- I got a son.”

“And a husband but you still be talkin’ to strange men about your pretty little pussy, don’t you?”

You blew a shaky breath between your trembling lips and sank down in the chair in shame. “I thought you were a good man, sheriff.”

“I am, don’t mean I’m not lonely.”

He drained the rest of the mug and coughed. He stood and adjusted his belt, his hand lingering on his belt. You watched his finger trace the barrel and your eyes crept up to his face.

“I’d hate to wake your husband, sweetheart, so I’ll be on my way.” he retreated around the couch and paused by the door, “but I’ll be around.”

🚔

The night went by faster than any. You never felt like you got much time with your husband but it was almost as if he was gone as soon as he woke. He left you with a peck on your forehead and dread in your chest. You thought of telling him, you wanted to confess and fix everything that had broken, but you couldn’t. You were too ashamed.

So when he was gone, you put Ezra down for the night and hoped the Sheriff was just trying to scare you. He couldn’t be serious, could he? You’d known him for years and he was only every sweet at the diner. He was a solitary man but was never unkind. That afternoon, he had been an entirely different man.

You sat on the couch, no radio, no nothing, and picked at the lines of your hand. You were certain you would sit up all night and laugh at yourself in the morning. He was just making sure you stopped, that had to be it.

But then the knock came and your whole body went rigid. You waited until it sounded again, harder, louder. You got up and went to the door. You didn’t need to look out to know who it was. You opened up and Lee watched you with his menacing blue eyes. They were no longer the gentle gems you knew from the diner.

“Sweetheart,” he drawled as he stepped inside and you backed away from him.

He closed the door and locked it then he removed his hat and jacket, just as he had earlier. He bent to ease off his boots and stood as he cleared his throat. He peered behind you and looked around your small house.

“I’m just in time, huh?” he mused as he touched your side and let it slip down to your hip. “What you shakin’ for?”

“I thought…” you rasped. “Sheriff, you know me. I’m not a bad woman.”

“You ain’t?” he snickered. “I do know you. I’m the only one in the county who knows the real you.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doin’ this,” you whined.

“I’m old but not decrepit,” he took your hand and raised it, “and you’re a beautiful woman. I daresay,” he kissed the back of your hand, “motherhood did make you even sweeter.”

“Please,” you begged.

“You get in that bedroom before I lose the last of my will,” he bit his lip as he looked you up and down and released your hand.

You shivered and backed away from him. You went blindly to the bedroom and stopped in the doorway. You couldn’t, not in the bed you shared with your husband. Lee came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle.  His hot breath tickled your ear as he leaned into you.

“I wanna see what you hide under that dress,” he purred, “now don’t make me ruin it.”

You gasped and drew away from him. You neared the foot of the bed and unbuttoned the top of your dress. Your fingers were ungainly as you struggled and you pushed the sleeves down your arms with a stifled sob. You shoved the fabric past your waist and hips and his growl made you stand upright with a snap.

Your stockings were held up by fraying garters and your old underwear added to your shame. Your brasserie was pointed and too tight. You hung your head and balled your hands into fists.

“Turn around, I wanna see you,” he said.

You reluctantly obeyed and stared at the floor. He hummed and his thumb ran over his belt buckle. A sudden cry made your blood cold and he scowled. Ezra was awake.

You moved to go to him and the sheriff blocked the door.

“I gotta go to him. He must’ve had a bad dream.”

“I’ll take care of the boy. You just be waitin’ when I get back.” he ran his tongue under his teeth, “naked.”

He pointed to the bed and didn’t leave until you took several steps back. You listened as he went to the small room attached to the master. You worried he might hurt the boy but his coaxing voice surprised you. 

“Shhh,” you heard the distant tone, “it’s okay, son, it’s okay.”

You reached to unhook your bra and sat to roll your stockings off. You needed this man gone. If you abided him, he would be away sooner. You dropped the last of your clothing to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. Your nails dug into the blankets and you closed your eyes.

It was over a year since you’d been touched. That alone made you shy but that man made you terrified. You heard him enter but didn’t look up at him. “You get up on all fours and ready that mouth for me.” he ordered as you heard his buckle tink, “yeah, I wanna start there.”

You swallowed and did as he said. You felt like some lowly animal as you stared at the floor. You heard the flutter of fabric as he stripped and when he came close, you shut your eyes. He grabbed your hand and jerked you to the edge. He tapped the tip of his cock along your lips.

“Now, open up, sweetheart,” he snarled, “I know you remember every word I said.”

You parted your lips and he forced his way into your mouth. He poked at the back of your throat but didn’t relent. You gagged as he sank down your throat and your entire body twitched. His hand went to your neck as he drew back and pushed back in. He felt himself as he invaded your throat over and over.

“Ah, yes, that’s it,” he uttered, “you can’t tell me you’re not a whore. You take me like one.”

You tried to swallow around him and breath and it made him groan. He kept fucking your face as his hand squeezed your throat. Your spit spilled out and smeared across your face and his pelvis. He kept your head bobbing until you were dizzy and dazed.

He stopped, deep down your throat, and grunted. He let out a shuddery breath and pushed you off of him. You slipped down onto your stomach and gasped over the side of the bed.

“Hoo, I almost blew,” he huffed, “oh, you bad, bad girl.” He trailed his hand down your back and slapped your ass, “turn around and get back up.”

You whimpered and lifted yourself back to your knees. You moved stiffly around and wiped your mouth as the taste of him stained your tongue. He grabbed your hips and pulled you back. He kneaded your ass with hungry growls and pinched your thigh. He felt along your cunt and tutted.

“You wet for me,” he taunted, “just from a taste, sweetheart.”

You dropped your head and he moved closer. He pressed the head of his dick against your folds and ran it up and down as you slickened. He lined up with your entrance and his large hand gripped your hip. He slid into you with a sigh and you let out a startled cry. Maybe it was because it was so long but he felt massive. You quivered around him and clenched your teeth.

“Oh, fuck, you want it just as bad as me, don’t ya?” He bucked his hips and you exclaimed, “how am I suppose to hold back with you squeezin’ me like that?”

He didn’t hold back as he caught his stride. He hammered into you as your flesh slapped loudly. You feared the noise would wake your son again, or worse, be heard by the neighbours. He groaned and grunted as he rammed into you and your thighs quaked. Ripples rolled over your spine and multiplied down your legs.

He stretched his hand over your back and slid them up to your shoulders. He bent over you as he forced your arms to fold beneath you and pushed your head into the mattress. He stilled and wiggled his hips until you moaned. He pulled one hand away from your shoulder as the other spread over your neck.

He slid out of your cunt and spread your juices up and down. He guided his dick between your cheeks and leaned into to pant in your ear. “I didn’t forget about your ass.”

He pushed against your hole and you tensed. His hand tightened on your neck and he poked harder. 

“You relax or it’ll hurt more,” he coaxed, “come on, almost…”

He pushed past your ring and you both gasped. Your eyes filled with tears and you sniffed as he urged himself deeper past your resistance. He let out a long breath as he advanced inch by inch. He drew back each time before adding more and when he was at his limit, you sobbed and clawed at the mattress.

“Oh, oh, fuck, oh, shit,” he swore as he rocked his hips, “you know, urgh, I wanted to do this for so long. Even ‘fore I called.”

He growled and built a steady pace as he stretched you. Your tears seeped into the blanket as his grip threatened to break your neck. His belly bounced against the top of your ass as he rutted without restraint.

“I always thought ‘bout you over that table. Always thought-- Always thought you deserved better than that husband,” he rasped out, “but I never thought you’d feel so good.”

He slammed into you harder than before. Your legs fell out from beneath you and he was quick to descend over you, covering you with his body as he bent his arm across the back of your head. He fucked you into the mattress as your head began to spin and your body reacted to his.

You’d never felt anything so intense as the maelstrom of pain and pleasure building inside you. You moaned and muttered until the sudden tide swept you up and had you murmuring like a fool, drooling onto the bed as he kept on.

He planted his hand on either side of you and lifted himself. He dropped his hips down into your ass over and over. The symphony of flesh filled your mind and you succumbed to the afterglow of tortured delight. He sank as far as he could and spasmed.

“Shit, oh, sweetheart, sweetheart,” he slowed and lowered his sweaty body onto you. You suffocated beneath him as his heart beat against your back. “Oh, you made me… made me blow.” He tilted his hips. “You feel how I filled your ass?”

You let out shallow breaths and turned your face into the blanket. He grunted and raised himself off of you, his cock slipping out easily and his cum trickling down after. He fell onto his back beside you and tried to catch his breath. He reached over blindly and let his fingertips dance along your ass.

“Really it ain’t your fault,” he said as his fingers crawled along the top of your thigh, “a man must be crazy to leave you all alone at night.”

[apocalypseornaw]

Love Finds You

For the square "Arranged Marriage" on @girl-next-door-writes bingo

Mafia (ish) AU. Warnings are cursing, angst, John trying to kill the reader, Dean killing John

Word Count: 5,343

You walked through the quiet halls hearing the echo of your boots reverberate to your own ears. Something big was happening for this place to be this quiet. It was like a tomb where normally there was a solid bustle of movement. You stopped just shy of the entrance to your uncle’s study. You felt an uneasiness but pushed it down before knocking on the heavy door. “Come in” you heard his voice carry out and knew he wasn’t alone.

You straightened your jacket before pushing the door open and wasn’t at all surprised to see none other than John Winchester sitting in front of your uncle Joseph’s desk. Your eyes narrowed at the presence of the other man and you unconsciously reached to touch the gun riding at your hip and saw Joseph give the barest shake of his head “Y/N I believe you know our guest” John held his hand out but you didn’t care about the pretense of politeness you’d earned your reputation and with it had come the right to act as you saw fit so you simply folded your arms “The man whose wife was killed when his kids were young so he’s done everything in his power to stay as far away from those kids and be the poorest excuse for a father even this line of work has ever seen?” 

Joseph looked taken aback but John on the other hand had the nerve to laugh “Yeah I heard she was something and she does not disappoint” you turned your eyes to your uncle “What’s all this cloak and dagger bullshit? Why is the head of the only other family in the world that comes close to your empire sitting in your office?” “As you just said dear. The Winchesters are the only other family that comes close to ours. What better way to solidify our footing than a union between the two?” you laughed harshly, the sound sharp enough to slice through the air “I know you didn’t call me here with the nerve to propose that I have anything to do with him?” “Actually my oldest son Dean has agreed to do whatever necessary to help the family succeed” John cut in so you spun around on him “So you abandon your kids bad enough to get a reputation for it, then come here to basically plot with Joseph to sell your son off like a prize stud while I’m what? The old mare you’re breeding him to? Make a whole new crop?”

“Y/N that is enough young lady!” Joseph spoke harshly, his voice filling the area as he stood to his full height. You didn’t back down catching the look of amusement John had as you stood your ground “If you expect to marry me off to solidify an empire then I am here to tell you I expect everything to be signed over to me the moment I say I do. If I’m to agree to an arranged marriage then I’m going to fucking profit from it”  Joseph nodded “I’ve been wanting to retire as is” you turned your attention from him to John “I want to meet your son before the week’s end. My future husband and I need to have a long talk. My dear uncle has my number” He nodded “Yes ma’am” you spun around on your heel and marched out the office being sure to slam the door shut behind you.

You held up the pretense until you made it down to your car and only once you were pulling away from the curb did you break tears flowing freely. You knew your life would never truly be your own but now you didn’t even get a chance to try to fall in love, you were being forced to marry someone you’d never meant just to hold onto what your father had built and what you’d bled to keep intact.

It was three days later before your phone rang with a number you didn’t recognize. When you answered it you groaned inwardly at hearing John’s voice “Y/N? Dean wants to know if you’d like to meet today” “Name a time and place” you responded coldly. He reiterated the location and time so you agreed before hanging up. You stared at the phone then clicked the number you had saved on the speed dial. A woman didn’t get as far as you had without having people she could trust. The Banes twins were your right hand man and woman. You’d take them with you to the meeting along with Abaddon who was a bit of a loose cannon but she was loyal to you.

------

A few hours later you were riding in the passenger seat of Abaddon’s range rover with Alicia and Max sitting in the backseat going over a weapon’s check. “So let me get this right, you marry Winchester and your uncle’s part of the business is yours?” Max asked and you nodded. “Do we all get promotions?” Abaddon asked, her red hair gleaming in the sunlight and a barely restrained laugh pulling at her bright red lips.   “Oh you all will be my team that stays in the main house with me” you replied with a sharp laugh.

When she pulled the car to a stop at the iron gate you glanced up to look into the security cameras while she spoke to the monitor that she was your security detail. A few seconds later the gate swung open so she pulled in.

The property was nice, sprawling out in front of you. The garage was open and the inside looked like a classic car collection. Just from a glance you spotted a 65 Shelby, a 70 Coronet and a drop down gorgeous 67 impala. “Please tell me those belong to Dean” you muttered without meaning to earning a laugh from the interior of your vehicle.

She drove around to the front entrance and parked where a guy motioned for her to. You clocked the gun at his side before ever getting out. It was fair enough, you were carrying same as Abaddon and Alicia while Max had more blades on him than you would’ve thought possible before meeting him. “You must be Y/N” the guy greeted you the moment your feet stepped outside the range rover.

You extended your hand with a business smile “That I am. Normally I like to know who I’m talking to?” an easy smile slipped onto his face and you got the sense he was getting a feel for you even before he said “Name’s Benjamin Lafitte ma’am. Feel free to call me Benny, Dean does” You nodded and motioned to everyone in your party in turn “This is Abaddon, Alicia and Max” they all greeted each other then Benny motioned to the door “He’s waiting in the back garden. From what we’ve heard about you formal meetings isn’t really your thing” Abaddon cut her eyes at you so you rolled your eyes before saying “I appreciate a good impression being attempted”

You followed Benny through the main house admiring some of the artwork adorning the walls. It was a nice place. When he stepped to the side to open the doors leading into the back garden a redheaded woman was standing on the other side. With a nod to her Benny made the introductions. Her name was Charlie and it earned Dean a point in your book to learn he had a few women on his team. She joined your little group as Benny led the way past two fountains, a large swimming pool and what looked to be a firing range.

Three men were standing looking out over the property at the edge of the garden. Two were clearly John’s sons while the other looked to maybe be an uncle to them. Benny whistled out and the three turned to face all of you. 

While both of the younger men were good looking your eyes were glued to the shorter of the two. He had bright green eyes that were watching you curiously and just the way he held himself was an underlying sense of control to him at all times. He was gorgeous and the smirk that slipped onto his face from your attention told you that he was well aware of that fact “You must be Y/N. I’m Dean” “Nice to meet you considering we’ll be married in a couple months” you replied with a sharp laugh. The smirk on Dean’s face spread into a grin “I’ve heard a few things about you” “Good or bad?” you asked and he shrugged “Depends on the point of view”

He introduced you to the two men standing with him. One was his younger brother Sam, the other was Bobby Singer the man who’d practically taken over raising him and Sam. Once everyone knew each other’s names Dean nodded to Benny “Call inside for some drinks for our guests while me and Y/N speak in private” his eyes had never left yours but you refused to break eye contact first.

He motioned towards a trail you saw cut through the wooded area around the property “Care to take a walk?” you cut your eyes back towards Alicia, Max and Abaddon. “Yeah those three aren’t letting me out of their sight that easily” he nodded then said “Pick someone to walk with us but you’re not in any danger here. That’s why we had no problem letting you keep your weapons” you raised an eyebrow then motioned to Max “Care to take a walk with us?” he nodded and fell in step a few feet behind you and Dean giving the privacy the two of you needed but not being too far that he couldn’t be to your side quickly if needed.

The two of you walked in silence for a few moments before you broke it by asking “Dean do you even want to marry me? I mean you clearly would have plenty of options” he scoffed and cut his eyes at you “Like you’d have trouble warming your bed up there sweetheart?” you didn’t blush easily and times like this you were glad. He continued by saying “This life is all I’ve known. Between our families no one would dare step out of line and we both have morals we stand by. Innocent people don’t get hurt by us. If marrying a beautiful woman with one hell of a reputation is the cross I must bear then I believe I have fared pretty well” You laughed in earnest at that “Dean Winchester are you trying to sweet talk me?” he grinned and christ it made your stomach flip “Maybe, is it working?” you shook your head with a grin.

He stopped walking and turned to face you with all humor gone from his eyes “I just want to say even after we’re married I won’t lay a finger on you unless you want me to. I know this isn’t ideal but I’d like to think of myself as a good man and I’d like to think I could be a good husband even in this circumstance” You tilted your head slightly as you studied him. After a moment of your silence he scratched at the scruff covering his jaw “Are you gonna say anything in return or just stare at me?” you smiled and replied “Just thinking that you really are not what I expected but in the best of ways” he nodded then glanced back where Max was twirling a knife between his fingers “Think our people are playing nice?” you nodded then said “They’ve got to get used to each other”

John and Joseph alike both had plans for announcing the engagement. Meaning that between them both they had practically planned a damn ball just for a bunch of suits to get together in one room so they could flaunt that their families would be becoming one to the rest of the world. You hated the idea of being trotted around like a show horse.

“Alicia is this damned thing straight?” you asked, turning in front of the mirror. The dress had been designed for you. The color and cut was flattering, it had a slit giving you access to the knife at your thigh not that you’d need it considering Abaddon and Max would both be wearing designer suits decked out with their weapons on display and Alicia like you had a few blades hidden under her dress as well. “Will you stop fidgeting? You look beautiful” she smiled, smoothing the dress under her hands. You spared a smile in the mirror “So you do! I love that red dress” she winked “Thank you”

A knock on the door drew both of your attention so you called out “Yes?” and heard Max ask if the two of you were ready to go downstairs. You took Alicia’s arm then opened the door. Max let out a low whistle “Well you two look amazing” “Thanks Max” you smiled and ran your fingers across the lapel of his suit “You clean up pretty well too” He grinned “Abaddon is already downstairs. Y/N your in-laws were arriving so she sent me up to retrieve you” you rolled your eyes but let him lead the way downstairs.

------

You stopped at the bottom of the stairs and spotted Dean speaking to Joseph but he trailed off mid sentence when he saw you and that smile slid onto his face. Joseph said something to him so he nodded then made his way through the crowd.

When he got in front of you and Alicia he stopped. She kissed your cheek then grabbed her brother’s arm “Come on Max let’s mingle. Y/N we’ll be close enough” you watched her go then turned to Dean with a smile “So how do I look?” he let his eyes trail over your body and you felt heat rush to your face before he finally said “You look like everyone here is going to be cussing me under their breath when they find out we’re engaged” you laughed and shook your head “There’s that sweet talking streak again” he held his hand out and when you took it he asked “Is it working yet?” you rolled your eyes playfully “No but I’ll be sure to let you know when it does”

------

For the next few hours you were close to Dean’s side. You danced with him and Sam, even Bobby asked you for a dance. Abaddon was chatting with Charlie and you spotted Max and Alicia talking with Benny and another of Dean’s people. He was a pretty decent guy, easy on the eyes and easy to be around. You could’ve gotten stuck with a lot worse.

When it got close to midnight you watched as John and Joseph walked onto the stage together. Joseph took the mic first “As most of you are aware John and myself are here to announce something” he handed the mic to John who pointed where you and Dean stood so a spotlight followed “My Oldest son Dean is engaged to marry Joseph’s niece Y/N. We couldn’t be happier and wish the kids the best in the world” Dean wrapped his arm around your waist as would be expected and whispered in your ear “Like they didn’t push us into this” you laughed lightly but to anyone else it would appear just lovers whispering sweet nothings.

For the next while you clung to Dean’s arm as group after group stopped to congratulate the two of you. You found an opening and pulled him after you towards the back exit of the hall. He waved off Benny and Abaddon following you step for step. 

When you finally crashed into the cool night air a nervous laugh fell from your lips “Y/N are you ok?” you nodded then said “I guess it’s just I never saw myself getting married even in this life knowing this was a possibility and honestly I don’t know what it is about you but I’m not as mad as I was” “I hope maybe one day we can love each other Y/N. Even if our life starts like this it doesn’t have to stay like this. Our marriage may have been their idea but I plan to wine and dine you even after you say I do” he replied and you raised an eyebrow “Is it a challenge or making the best of the situation?” you asked so he shrugged “Maybe I just like you”

The two of you sat down on a bench just outside watching the night sky. A shooting star went over head so you bumped Dean’s arm “Make a wish Winchester” he turned to face you and the close proximity made your heart flip again as he said “I could think of a wish or two” you smiled and leaned forward to let your lips gently brush against his. He returned the kiss fully and when you pulled away to catch your breath you whispered “Me too” before he pulled you into another kiss.

Weeks passed after the ball announcing your engagement and during that time a day didn’t go by that you and Dean didn’t speak or spend time together. The more you learned of him the more you started to realize that while you hadn’t picked him it was as if you had he was nearly a perfect match for you. The only thing was he wanted desperately to have his father’s approval but he was twice the man John was. You just wished he’d see it.

You’d also started to spend some time getting to know Sam since he would be your brother-in-law and learned he actually had been enrolled in college to be a lawyer but when his girlfriend had been killed he ended up rejoining the family. He was now seeing a woman named Eileen but didn’t want it to be public knowledge simply because he didn’t want John around her. Knowing John you didn’t blame him and offered any assistance you could in helping him spend time with her.

------

Time rolled around for your final dress fitting so you, Abaddon, Alicia and Charlie were in the private suite of the bridal shop. The dress had been made for you so it fit perfectly. You stepped up to show them and they all clapped. “You look gorgeous and that’s with just a ponytail in your hair” Charlie offered with a grin. You smiled and twirled “Think Dean will like it?” Abaddon who had wandered off to the lingerie section held up a piece and winked “I think he’d prefer you in this” . You covered your face with both hands and Alicia cracked up laughing “Twenty years! I have known you for twenty years and I have never seen you blush!” 

“Have you slept with him?” Charlie asked bluntly and you nearly choked on the wine you were drinking. “I haven’t done more than kissed him” “Oh my god!” Abaddon groaned, flopping dramatically into the nearest chair “Why?” you shrugged “We’ve been getting to know each other!” Alicia raised an eyebrow “You have real feelings for him” when you didn’t respond she gasped “You’ve actually fallen in love with him haven’t you!” your eyes flew to Charlie who sipped her wine quietly. “Charlie” Abaddon spoke more as a question than as her name.

Charlie looked up from her glass “Ok so maybe he’s fallen for you too?” the three of them piled into one chair then looked back at you expectedly “So are you going to admit it?” Alicia finally asked and you shook your head “Not to either of you three”

Two weeks before you and Dean were to be married you were at your condo in the city finishing packing up. The plan was for you and him to move into a property that was between Joseph’s  and the Winchesters. It was large enough that you could both have those you wanted close but have privacy also. God help you had gone from horrified at the idea of this marriage to excited for it.

It was around two in the morning but you couldn’t sleep so you had music playing while you went through some of your older clothes and waited for Abaddon to get there. You heard a window break in your bedroom and grabbed your gun off the coffee table. You didn’t expect the pipe bomb that blew the front door off the hinges and threw you across the room.

You were barely conscious when you heard a voice say “With Joseph out the way we need her dead. We need to make Dean believe rivals killed her. That boy is so in love he’ll rip through them all. Grab her and we’ll keep alive long enough he’ll kill anyone when he finally gets her body” you tried to push yourself up but a black boot came into view. You followed that boot up to look into John’s eyes. He shrugged “Nothing personal sweetheart” then kicked you hard across the face.

------

When news made it to Dean that Joseph was dead and you were missing he felt his blood run cold. “What do you mean she’s missing? I thought you three had her back!” he nearly growled at Abaddon who was standing with Max and Alicia outside of Joseph’s estate where Dean had ended up going with Benny, Charlie and Sam at his side.

“We did! God dammit, I went to get her chinese takeout! I came back and her place was a wreck and these two were calling about the alarm going off at the main house!” Abaddon didn’t back down. She realized that Dean had a right to rage. He was in love with you but you’d been her charge and friend for many years. She’d die for you and wasn’t about to let him act like her and the twins didn’t care. “Well what now?” Benny asked and Charlie raised her hand “Has anyone checked cameras leading from her place?” Sam pointed at her “Good idea. Start there backtrack if possible. Dean we will find her”

------

How long had it been since you’d been taken? Did Dean think you were dead? Was he mourning you? Was John using him as a blunt instrument in his grief?

You were leaned back against a concrete wall curled into a tight ball. Your left eye was swollen shut, the right side of your head was sore to the touch from a blow that had needed staples but the swelling had finally stopped the bleeding. You were certain you had a few cracked ribs and more than likely some internal damage. 

They’d showed you Joseph’s body and while he hadn’t been your favorite he’d still had taken care of you. John had stupidly expected you to die easily. You refused to stop fighting. You owed it to everyone you cared about to stay alive as long as possible. 

You heard boots coming and forced your head up. John was right outside the small cell they’d shoved you into watching you closely. “Really I hate this because you’re a perfect match for Dean but I can’t have your morals fucking up my business. Right now Dean doesn’t like innocent people getting hurt but after I kill you then track down Sam’s new girl. The two of them? Well my boys will be ready to take down anyone I put in front of them” he smiled cruelly and you laughed despite the pain it caused “What’s so funny?”

You waved your hand showing the large slices they’d cut into your arms “You still think they’re anything like you or your dead wife? Those two? They’re good they’ll never follow your lead you bastard” he smiled humorlessly “We’ll see after your body gets delivered to Dean tomorrow” “So you’re here to kill me?” you asked and he pulled his gun out in response “Sure am”

You forced yourself to your feet biting down on your tongue to squash the noises of pain wanting to creep out of your lips. You refused to die on your knees. If you were going down it would be on your feet “Then do it you son of a bitch”

You held his gaze as a shot rang out but to your surprise you didn’t feel the pain of a gunshot instead John crumpled to the ground. You collapsed to your knees rather from pain or shock you weren’t sure but when you saw Dean standing there with a gun staring at his father’s body you began to sob.

You could hear familiar voices. Abaddon,Benny, Max but blocked them out. Thanks to you, the man you loved had been forced to kill his father.

You were curled into yourself when you felt strong hands on your shoulders “Y/N come on baby” you finally looked up to see Dean kneeling next to you. “I’m sorry” you choked out and he looked confused for a second then glanced back “It’s not your fault. I love you and if I had to kill him ten times over to save you I will” he gently pressed his lips to yours, careful of your wounds, then pulled you into his lap.

When the rest of the rescue team found you Dean barely wanted anyone else to lay a hand on you. He finally let Charlie and Bobby get close enough to look over your wounds “Nothing life threatening but she needs a hospital son. Your girl’s a fighter” Bobby said with a kind smile to you. Dean’s eyes were glued to yours as he said “My soon to be wife if she’ll still have me” you nodded crying again “Of course Dean”

“It’s taken a lot to get here but I am proud to say I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride” Bobby announced and Dean pulled you into a deep kiss.

The wedding was a lot smaller than anything Joseph or John had planned. There were barely thirty people in the garden of Joseph’s or well now your estate. It suited you and Dean a lot better. When Dean pulled back he smiled down at you “I love you Y/N” “I love you too Dean”

After the reception instead of throwing your bouquet you walked over and handed it to Eileen then winked at Sam “You’re next brother in law” Dean laughed and slid an arm around your waist “You heard my wife Sammy”

@girl-next-door-writes

[morkleemelon]

Jet Lag✈️

1) you and Mark are both idols and you're on video call from different countries and you miss each other. You surprise Mark secretly visiting Korea and you then surprise him in his room and you guys cuddle and stuff ^~^

@smolninja thank you for your request! I hope it’s everything you wanted! I’m sorry for the delay, I had so many issues with Tumblr and accidentally deleted it when I was like 70% done it was so sad. Nonetheless, I really liked writing it! Enjoy :)

Warnings: mild swearing

Word Count: 3k

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Fem Idol!reader x Mark Lee

The set up: you’re in a 7 member kpop group called Girl Trouble and you’ve just finished the first concert of your Japanese tour. We’re pretending corona doesn’t exist :) The general public does not know that you are dating Mark Lee

-----

You feel the van come to a stop as flashing lights bloom from outside the tinted windows, waking you from your much needed sleep.

“We’re at the hotel y/n,” your bandmate, Yeeun, informs, fixing her hair in her phone camera to make sure she was ready to be photographed.

The excited cheers coming from the street bring you out of your sleepy stupor and you stretch your arms above you in a big yawn.

“How do I look?” you ask Nayoo, your best friend in the group who’s sitting next to you, touching up her concealer.

“Perfect as always y/n, duh,” she replied, playfully winking as she put her stuff away.

“Ok I’m opening the door!” you warn as you grab the handle and take a deep breath, putting on your best smile.

Swinging the door open, you’re met with an uproar of fans calling out your name and a storm of camera flashes eager to capture your latest look. It was your group’s first time in Japan so the fans were especially excited to finally have the chance to see you.

*Click click click click*

You stepped out of the car as gracefully as you could, smile never faltering as you showed off your pearly white teeth and prize-winning dimples. Brushing your hair back slightly as you walk, you tease your new gold earrings as a subtle endorsement to the brand. Your members following suit, you wave to the crowd and make your way to the entrance, nodding at a few fansites you recognized.

- - -

Throwing yourself onto the bed, your freshly showered hair promptly soaks through the comforter but you couldn’t care less.

“Ugh...,” you sighed, melting into the plush goodness of the hotel mattress, “I’m so goddamn tired.”

If only he were here with you...

“Oh!” you gasp, head shooting up from your now wet pillow, “I promised I’d call!”. You rolled off the bed and scrambled to find your phone in your bag, suddenly wide awake.

“You’re calling loverrr boyyyy?” Nayoo teased, dragging out the letters because she knew how much you hated it.

“Stopppp!” you whined, throwing your soggy pillow at her and trying to hide the growing blush on your cheeks.

Frantically unlocking your phone, you scroll through your contacts to find your boyfriend, heart racing with anticipation. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen Mark and you know it’ll be a few more until you have the chance. You promised each other to call whenever you could, but with NCT dream having a new comeback and Girl Trouble was starting to be really popular, there was only so much you could do. On top of that, it was stressful trying to keep your relationship a secret with all of the prying eyes around you and Mark’s intense fan base. Nevertheless, you’ve been going strong for about 8 months now you know that everything, every struggle, is worth it because of how much you truly love him.

Calling: Baby💕💋🦁...

You don’t bother to fix your makeup-less face and frizzy hair because you know that he’ll say you’re beautiful.

You smile at the thought of him as the FaceTime chimes ring.

*whoom*

“Marky!” you whisper cry, heart racing with excitement as you see his face for the first time in days.

“Baby!” Mark squeals back in the same tone, losing himself to giggles as you both giddily recover from the excitement of getting to see each other. You can hear the sound of voices mocking him in the background and Chenle’s piercing scream cuts through the audio.

“How have you been, baby?” you ask adoringly, ignoring the dreamies and look longingly at the boy in round glasses and his favorite grey hoodie.

“Shut up guys! I’m trying to talk to y/n!” he yells back at them, met with only more mocking and screaming. Sighing and giving up, he turns back to the camera, “Ah you know, I’ve been alright. We’ve been pretty busy with practice. I’m actually at practice right now if you can’t tell”. He pans the camera to the other members of dream who are clearly only taking a break because Mark made them stop for this phone call.

Guilt grips at you as you realize how you were probably inconveniencing them. After all, it was getting late and they all have to stay even later now because of you.

“Oh... if now’s not a good time we can always try tomorrow,” you offer, smiling slightly but not enough to hide your disappointment and guilt.

“Aw baby I’m sorry,” Mark soothes, “don’t worry about us I didn’t mean it like that. I missed you so much and these guys can spare a few minutes it’s fine”.

“I wish you were here, Mark. Or I was there,” you whisper, lying down on your bed once again. Placing your phone in front of you, it’s almost, almost, as if he were there lying with you.

Mark wears a pensive expression as he looks down, using his free hand to fiddle with his hoodie strings.

“Yeah. Me too”.

His voice is strained as he thinks about the nights you’ve snuck out together and the secret dates you shared. He misses the way you feel in his arms and the way your soft hair felt when it tickled him awake in the morning. He misses your terrible dad jokes and your night cooking. It was really frustrating how you were both so young and so in love, but everything else in life had to get in the way. Mark really missed you.

You reach out instinctively to stroke his hair but instead of comforting the boy you loved, your hands are met with only the cold surface of your screen.

The two of you talked for a few more minutes, trying to make the most of the time before he had to go. You could tell by the way his voice strained that he was really exhausted.

When he finally hung up, you couldn’t shake the empty feeling off; not being next to him, being able to touch him, to comfort him, to be with him was the worst feeling in the world.

And before you could stop yourself, warm tears began to fall as your shoulders shook with your heartbroken sobs. Video calls were supposed to make you miss each other less, not more. You loved him so much that you’d miss him even if he was right there with you. Being apart was devastating.

“Oh, honey…,” Nayoo coos, crawling into your bed to give you a much needed hug, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Let it out”.

Wrapping your arms around your best friend, you let the tears fall onto your already soaked pillow and spilling out the feelings you’ve kept buried inside for so long. 

“I just miss him so much,” you gasp, squeezing your fists around the fabric of Nayoo’s sweatshirt. 

“Oh I know y/n, I know,” she comforted, “remember back when we were trainees and you just started dating Mark? And I was always there to distract Manager Kim when you snuck out to meet him?”.

You let out a small laugh at her attempt to lighten the mood. Nayoo was truly a good friend and she always had your back. You were really lucky to have her in your life.

“I do, Nayoo. I never thanked you enough for that”

“You know I love you. I’d do it again now if you wanted to sneak out and meet him. Actually I bet you could pull it off since our next show isn’t for another 4 days”

“Wait…”

Both of you sat up at the same time, looking at each other with wide eyes. 

------

“I can’t believe we’re doing this”

“Shush! We already bought the tickets there’s no backing out now”

“What if someone notices me?”

“They won’t. Look at you”

You looked in the mirror of the lobby bathroom you were hiding in. You were dressed in plain, unbranded clothes, your hair tucked in a low, messy bun. The majority of your face was covered by a mask and a baseball hat, making you look nearly unidentifiable to anyone looking. 

“I guess,” you sighed, still nervous, “let’s just go over the plan again”.

“Alright sheesh,” Nayoo groaned, “as if I am not a wizard of distracting our manager. You’ll get into the Uber we just called and go to Japan Airport. Your flight is at 2:30am and you’ll arrive in Korea at about 4:00am. Then you’ll go to Mark’s dorm and make out with him yadda yadda-”.

You punched her in the arm.

“Okay! Did I lie though? Anyways, you’ll be on your return flight the next day at the same time so you better savor your time. MY job is to tell Manager Kim that you are having lady problems and you can’t make it to practice today. He hates when we talk about periods so this is fool proof seriously. Plus we know that you will do fine on stage without one day of practice”.

“Okay…,” you chewed your lip nervously, half dreading the thought of being caught and half thrilled at the thought of being in Mark’s arms in a few hours. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you looked at the notification.

*your Uber driver Ayako is here! Look for license plate A29&Q on a black Honda Pilot*

Hugging Nayoo goodbye, you rush out of the hotel and into the cab, adjusting your cap and mask to make sure it covers your face. 

Each second that passed, you became more excited about seeing your boyfriend and less nervous about the consequences. 

Mark, I’m here for you. I’m coming, just wait a little bit longer. 

Your hands itched to call him and tell him what you were doing but you knew that he was catching up on some much needed sleep by now. 

When you arrived at the Japan Airport, you thanked the driver and walked briskly through the airport. You had nothing except a small backpack and your plane ticket so getting through security was quick. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people there at 2 in the morning so you began to relax. 

Successfully making it through security, you finally board the plane and claim your seat at the very back. 

Looking out the window to the dark, starry skies, the lights of the airplane wings illuminate the drops of rain that began to fall. 

-----

You jolt awake as the plane lands at the South Korea Airport with a rumbling thud. Your hands dart to your face to make sure your mask and hat are still there, sighing in relief when they remain unmoved. 

Grabbing your bag, you walk down the aisle of the half-empty plane, each step bringing you closer to Mark. 

Rushing out of the airport, your steps gain traction as you feel your heart racing in excitement at the thought of seeing your boyfriend so soon. The cold night air greets you familiarly as you call the nearest cab over. Telling the driver the address of Mark’s dorm building, you watch as the streetlights pass by and you near the boy you’ve been dying to see for weeks. 

At last, you arrive at the steps of the apartment complex. Thanking the driver, you rush into the building and attack the elevator button going up. Your breathing is shallow with excitement knowing that he’s there right now. He’s there and you’re going to be with him. 

Every second in the elevator feels like hours and you kick yourself for not taking the stairs. The floors seem like they’re all a mile away from the last and you tap your foot impatiently on the carpeted floor. 

8...9...10

*Ding*

You speed out of the elevator and find your way expertly to the infamous 10th floor dorm room. Feeling around the crevices of the carpet floor for the spare key, you feel a slight twinge of nerves because you’re technically breaking into their home. But, as soon as you enter the familiar room, any guilt you have washes away and the only thing you can feel is the rapid beating of your heart filled with love and anticipation.

Making your way silently through the dark common room, you stop at the oh-so-familiar door. When your hand touches the cold metal of the doorknob, you swear that the beating of your heart was loud enough to wake the entire building.

Taking a deep breath, you open the door and you see him. Your breath hitches at your throat and you fight back the urge to cry right then and there. Mark was lying on his bed, snuggled under the covers with his arms and legs wrapped around a pillow like he always does when he sleeps. His soft breathing was rhythmic and calming, the warm scent of his room inviting you in. 

Without wasting another second away from him, you drop your bag on the messy floor and walk up to his bed. Carefully, you pull at the pillow in his embrace and replace it with your own body. Mark shifts slightly and you freeze, not wanting to wake him up from his rare sleep. His eyes remain closed and his arms instinctively tighten around you. You can see through the darkness that his eyebrows furrow slightly and his lips part, and you wonder if he knew you were there. 

“Finally,” you thought to yourself, reaching up slowly to caress his hair, “we’re finally together”. It didn’t feel real. You couldn’t believe that you were finally here in his arms. His body was so warm and felt like home to you. 

You can feel Mark’s fingers autonomously rub circles into your back. As if his body realized what was happening, Mark’s eyes opened slowly and he peered into your face, blinking slowly to process this new information. 

“I’m here, Mark,” you whisper as softly as you can.

Without any hesitation, Mark leans forward and presses a deep kiss onto your lips, conveying ten thousand words with his actions that could only be interpreted as “I missed you so much”. 

You kiss him back, fingers gripping onto his shirt with raw emotion in an “I missed you too”. You breathe in deeply, not wanting to forsake any aspect of him, taking in all of his scent and drinking it all like a flower with no water.

He pulls away with a sigh and presses his forehead against yours. Mumbling incoherent words, you notice that he seems to have fallen back asleep.

Your own eyelids feel heavy and they flutter closed as you succumb to the warm welcome of sleep, your heart whole with love.

----- 

Dull beams of sun fell slanted through the curtains as you drifted awake the next morning. You felt a hand playing with your hair and you opened your eyes slowly, temporarily forgetting what you had done the night before. Memories flooded back and your attention narrowed in at the smiling boy in front of you. 

“You’re really here,” Mark whispered, “how are you here?”.

“It’s a long story,” you whispered back, voice still hoarse from sleep. 

He pulled you in closer to his chest and you gladly snuggled into his warm body, nuzzling at his favorite hoodie, the one you got him for Christmas. 

“I thought it was all a dream when I saw you last night,” he admitted.

“Stay with me today?,” you ask, worried that your time together would be short. If he had to go to practice, you could hardly see him at all and you’d go back to missing him a thousand miles away.

“I’m not going anywhere today,” Mark replies, kissing the top of your head, “my wishes have finally come true and you magically appeared in my bed. I’d be an idiot to leave”.

You giggled at his words, working your fingers to draw shapes into his back. 

You start to tell him what happened after you called him the night before and how devastated you were when you weren’t with him. Mark’s arms tightened around you as you told him you cried when you saw how tired he was and you weren’t there to cheer him up. You told him about how you put on a disguise and snuck around Manager Kim who thought you were dying right now. His body shook with laughter at the crazy night you had and you both agreed that this was the wildest thing you had ever done.

“How long are you gonna stay here?”

“My flight back to Japan is at 2:30am tomorrow morning. What time is it now?”

Mark shifts to unlock his phone on the nightstand. 

“It’s 10:49am”

You sighed and buried your face deeper into his chest, trying to get impossibly closer to the love of your life and make the most of your hard-earned time together. 

“Let’s do everything today,” you heard him say.

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your chin up to look at him, pressing a small his to his jaw. 

“Let’s just do everything we always wanted to do. Let’s get ramen from the convenience store together and then go on a walk at the park. Let’s get matching sweaters from the mall and then full sugar boba tea. You’ll drink half of mine and I’ll let you because I’m a good boyfriend”. Mark giggles at his imagination and peppers kisses across your face. 

You laugh at the ticklish sensation and your heart swells with love for the Canadian boy. 

Your whole body tingled, the feel of his body around yours and his lips on yours sending your head spinning. Rubbing your nose adoringly against his in an eskimo kiss, you vow that you would be strong for him from now on. You might be apart for work a lot, but the love you share is inseparable and undeniable. Nothing could ever come between you. You were his and he was yours. 

“Let’s do it, Everything”

[piermanwalter]

I had a dream that my boyfriend took me on vacation to an island on the Marseille coast as an inheritance scheme. His aunts were extremely rich and lived on their own private island, and although he wasn’t very close with them, he felt like if he made amends early, he had a real chance to inherit the island after they died, since they didn’t have kids of their own. I thought this was a scummy thing to do, but I went along anyway for the free vacation.

Although the island was pretty far from shore, they didn’t own a motorboat because they were good friends with the coast guard and could ask them for a lift whenever they needed. That was how we got to the island. As soon as my boyfriend and I stepped off the bus to Marseille, we were surrounded by coast guards and I thought we were getting arrested.

The island was about half a mile long, shaped like a teardrop with a beach circling the fattest end and the pointy end tapering into a cliff. The mansion was built near the pointy end on the tallest spot on the island, looming hundreds of feet over the beach, which had a little pier on it with a couple of row and sail boats. There was technically an herb garden, but the Mediterranean sun caused the plants to grow out of control into a dense wild wall of rosemary, orange trees, myrtle, nasturtiums, lavender, and lots of other smelly things that perfumed the air around the island. 

It was awkward being there because I couldn’t speak French, and early on my boyfriend had to translate everything, but later we realised we could all sort of speak Spanish and things were a lot easier.

I found out the reason she was so reticent about leaving money and property to the rest of the family was because they collectively disowned her in the 70s after she refused to break up with her now wife, but she was starting to warm up to my boyfriend and I because we weren’t born then.

My boyfriend’s aunt belonged to a rich family, but after they cut her off, she got even richer off real estate on her own. She had red hair fading to grey and was pretty strong due to her insistence of doing all home repairs and boat maintenance on the island herself. Her wife was bedridden from an autoimmune disease that gave her severe arthritis. She mostly spent her time sorting the herbs my boyfriend’s aunt picked from the garden while watching Antonio Banderas movies, especially The Mambo Kings and Shrek. Every day her wife would wheel her down to the beach until the water came up to her ankles and they would watch the sunset together. Another thing she did was ask me to dress up in her old clothes and I would catwalk back and forth across the room while she commentated. My boyfriend’s aunt said she was jealous because her old clothes didn’t fit me and when she asked my boyfriend to model, he wouldn’t do it. Although her wife was in constant pain from arthritis, she never complained and would sometimes clap when I put together a particularly great outfit even though it hurt her hands. She said she felt great, but relied on painkillers to sleep.

The mansion had a generator, but electricity could only be used to power lights, the single wall phone, TV, fridge, some medical devices, and DVD player. The only way to charge our phones and laptops was to unplug the medical devices, which we agreed was morally unconscionable so we didn’t do it. Nothing important was out of reach of someone in a wheelchair. There was a bed in every room and peppers would be drying on top of the TV and bras would be hanging on the entrance doorway. It was obvious that the mansion was suited to the needs of two specific people, and we had to figure out how to live around this structure without disrupting it. 

Only five or six rooms, all on the ground floor, were regularly used, and the rest were a maze of racks of beautiful vintage clothes and stacks of cabinets of the outrageously tacky and opulent knickknacks old ladies like. One time I was digging around in a pile of faded beaded clutch purses because the aunts asked me to get a pair of kitchen scissors left there by accident and I opened one of them. Inside were many long flat rectangular lace-covered objects covered with little mirrors. I first thought they were folding fans, but I squeezed one and a digital display appeared in the mirrors. They were thermometers. I found a ridiculously flashy black alligator belt with a gold buckle that had ambers and onyxes set in it, and my boyfriend’s aunt’s wife said I could keep it because it went so well with my bikini. 

We spent most of the time taking the boats out, swimming on the beach, and helping around the house by doing dishes and laundry by hand and attempting to stop the herb garden from consuming the entire mansion. The food was always amazing because of the aforementioned herb garden and also because we could get mussels off the rocks whenever we felt like and if we ever got bored of that, my boyfriend’s aunt would put out a few lobster pots and octopus pots and mullet lines. Since we were always going in and out of the water, it was a hassle to change all the time, and I eventually got used to wearing a black and yellow bikini around the house, which was fine because everyone else was doing the same thing.

We were only supposed to stay for one week, but dangerously high waves and stormy weather stopped all civilian boat activity for longer than expected. This trip started out as an inheritance scheme, but my boyfriend and his aunts started genuinely liking each other.

Although the island was a fantastic place to live, some days thunderstorms confined us all inside and we were running out of food. We weren’t going to starve, but we were running out of regular processed things like wine, chocolate, and ham. More worryingly, my boyfriend’s aunt’s wife was running out of painkillers, but she said taking them during the day made her too tired to tell the difference between Seville and sweet oranges so she started cutting pills in half. She said she would be fine because she had plenty of immune and arthritis medicines.

One time when the weather was slightly better we went swimming far into the ocean and the coast guard came to check on us, yelled at my boyfriend for wearing a rival soccer team’s jersey, and then left to tell his aunts we were ok. I was upset because they just left us there. I could swim back fine on my own, but it’s the thought that counts.

Even the days spend inside weren’t too bad, since there were Antonio Banderas movies, with the added benefit of increasing our Spanish skills, and troves of vintage clothes and accessories to look through. 

His aunts said if we got married, we could live in a different luxury house in Europe every year for the rest of our lives and I threw a sock at him and said I’d only marry him if we played a different Mario game every year for the rest of our lives. This is an inside joke because he is extremely into Super Mario 3D World speedrunning and keeps trying to drag me into it. 

The weather got worse. Two weeks later, I was walking to the bathroom in the middle of the night when I heard my boyfriend’s aunt’s wife sputtering through the door. The painkillers must have worn off. I went inside to check on her and she grabbed my hand with crushing force, and when I asked if she was ok, she kept trying to apologise, and wouldn’t let go or calm down until she told me about something that happened 50 years ago. 

When she and her wife were the same age as my boyfriend and I, they were walking in the water along a beach on the Marseille coast when she saw a black and yellow sea snake and screamed. After they ran out of the water, her then-girlfriend kept running until she reached a beach house, took an oar, ran back into the water, flung the sea snake out of the water with the oar, and beat it to death. Her girlfriend’s family saw it all and it was the breaking point that made them demand her to break up.

She said I frightened her, but she didn’t know that her wife would kill me because of it. She said if I came to kill her in return, she would forgive me. It was obvious she was panicking and delusional, but I went along with it and said I didn’t mind getting killed if it meant being reborn as a human, and I didn’t want to kill her because she was so nice to me. She still felt she had to atone, so she asked me to bite her like I must have wanted. I refused, but she started panicking again, so I bit the back of her hand, not hard enough to leave indentations, and then she calmed down. 

After that, I left the room and woke everyone else up. I decided not to tell anyone about the snake story. After her wife got her to take another half pill, we all went to sleep. The next day, she didn’t seem to remember what happened.

Ten days later, she died when the sun went down as her wife wheeled her down into the water. Her family washed her body in the sea and wrapped her in sheets while I waited in the house. She called the coast guard and they said it would take them two days to prepare a boat big enough to safely transport all of us and a dead body off the island in bad weather. We coped by trying to do our daily routines as if she was still here, collecting plants from the garden for her to sort and not charging our phones because that would mean unplugging medical devices and changing out DVDs when the credits started. Antonio Banderas movies playing to a pile of herbs and flowers on a corpse. 

My boyfriend’s aunt was mired in grief and started treating me worse and worse. It started with petty things like opening a box of chocolates and saying her wife would have loved the chocolates I had eaten, and talking about the time so many unexpected guests showed up at a house party that her wife got sick after cooking for all of them. This was understandable, but then she found the alligator belt in my clothes. She was initially furious because she thought I was stealing, but when I got up from the bed where I was crying, she whipped me in the face with it and said a snake would always show its true colors. She said she bashed my brains into the sand once before and her regret was not being able to save her wife from me a second time. 

My boyfriend was able to shut the situation down and the dinner that night was nerve shredding. My boyfriend’s aunt only spoke French and glared at him whenever he tried to translate. Throughout the meal, she would say something and his face would flash a look of pure terror before he fake laughed to cover it up. He was sweating like mad. 

After dinner, he told me his aunt said how nice it was for her wife to see her clothes on someone who looked like her when she was young, and the closest thing she had to that was him. Then she told him about the snake and said she would protect him no matter what. Then out of nowhere he confessed he was trans and I was like, “I’m so glad you trust me enough to say this, and this doesn’t change how I feel about you at all, but your aunt wants to kill me because she thinks I’m a sea snake who killed her wife. This is not important right now.” Then he said it is important because when he came out and started transitioning, the whole family supported him, and she resented him for being accepted while she got disowned. He might be in as much danger as I am. 

We came up with a plot to recharge a phone on one of the medical device outlets, call the coast guard to say his aunt was unstable and we felt like we were in danger while leaving out everything about the sea snake, sneak out tomorrow when the coast guard were supposed to arrive, steal a sailboat, let all the other boats loose, and hang around off the island where we might drown before the coast guard rescues us, but we won’t get murdered.

My boyfriend’s aunt checked on him in the morning, so he stayed inside and called the coast guard while I changed into my bikini and went to the beach before making my way to the pier. I left all my clothes and phone and passport, to be less suspicious, but took the alligator belt because fuck her and also in memory of her wife. I waited for my boyfriend to finish calling and leave the house, but he didn’t. 

I got worried and went back to the house, but halfway there, his aunt calmly walked out of the front door holding a kitchen knife in one hand and an oar in the other, and said if I ran for the boats, my boyfriend would die in my place to atone for leading me to the island so I could kill her wife, so I ran towards the other side of the island.

If I tried to fight I might kill her but then I’d be a murderer. If I tried to stall until the coast guard arrived I’d definitely get killed. If I tried to swim away, I might look dead from a distance and survive. I took a running jump off the cliff on the tapered end of the island into the ocean and died. 

When the coast guard arrived, they found my boyfriend’s aunt on the beach, dead facedown in the shallows, and my boyfriend locked and barricaded on the second floor facing the cliff. 

Later autopsy reports showed my boyfriend’s aunt and her wife both died of sea snake venom, likely from snakes who were forced towards the land from bad weather. My body was never recovered. 

After an atrocious court case where half the family thought he killed everyone and the other half were elbowing their way in for a piece of the inheritance, it was eventually ruled that my boyfriend was innocent and got everything including the island, which was our initial goal but kind of a hollow victory considering his aunt died, and then he had to watch helplessly as his other aunt also died after forcing his girlfriend to commit suicide, who may or may not have been a vengeful reincarnated sea snake. 

I’m not sure what prompted this dream, since this guy isn’t my boyfriend in real life, nor is he trans or has rich French aunts, as far as I know. Also there’s no sea snakes in the Mediterranean.

[kacxa-fan]

Costume Party

Request from @rorylum about Kacxa dressed as Big Barda and Mr. Miracle for a costume party!

___

Summary: Typically the two weren't ones for parties, especially those considered loud and flashy, but for the sake of pleasing their friends who kept insisting them to "take a break", they did so.

___

"But you have to! C'mon Acxa, it's just for one night! It'll be a good chance to clear your mind, then you can go back to stressing yourself out." Whined the pleading voice from across the line.

"Hmm, alright. Inform me of the whereabouts and time it would be most appropriate to visit."

"Wow, really? Awesome! Okay, so the party's at James's place around uh 9 p.m., got it?"

"Got it." Acxa responded, quickly jotting it down just in case she forgets due to all the clutter kept in her busy mind.

"Oh- How could I forget? It's also a costume party! So be sure to prep yourself up, k? Can't wait to see you~!"

"Wait. What is a-" the phone call ended "Oh Veronica..." she groaned.

Acxa avoided recalling her friend, deciding it be best to ask her significant other. She walked down the stairs and met him sitting on the couch, Kosmo lazily splayed about his lap. She took whatever was left of space on the furniture.

"Hey, got your work done yet?" Keith glanced over at her before returning his gaze to the TV as he switched through the channels.

"Not quite. I've decided to put work aside for a bit since Veronica asked me to come join her to a 'costume party'... Whatever that is."

"Huh? That's a surprise, but hey, it's nice to get out and destress. Also, a costume party?" He paused and tilted his head over to fully face her.

"If you will, please explain to me what the customs of this type of party are?"

Keith muted the TV, turning his full attention to her.

"Well, a costume party is basically a party where the guests dress up as whatever they'd like. Examples say being uhhh a monster or character from a show. Stuff like that."

"Like a disguise?"

"Yeah, like a disguise, but you don't really gotta fool anyone."

Acxa nodded, her hand reaching it's way over to Kosmo's ear.

"Very well, but what should we dress up as?"

"We?"

"Oh, I forgot to ask. It's just that I thought you'd like to join..."

"Or you'd feel a lot more comfortable if I joined you, huh?"

"Perhaps, that too..."

Keith chuckled, scooting closer to Acxa. He wrapped his arm around her waist and placed a kiss on her blushing cheek.

"I'm in!"

"Thank you, Keith."

"Mhm. Okay so costumes, uh we could be hmmm... Oh! I grew up really liking Batman, and I guess you could say Catwoman was his girlfriend? You'd rock a Catwoman, not gonna lie."

He pulled out his phone to search the duo up.

"Here, look. See?"

"Ah, how um interesting. As much as I'd like to say that she looks quite flattering, I can't help but notice how uncomfortable her outfit seems. Leather, is it?" She looked down the image "And high heeled boots?"

Acxa unconsciously took his phone from his hand, scrolling through the various images of the peculiar lady.

"Oh my, this is... suggestive?"

"Hahaaa, yeaaah." Keith muttered in slight embarrassment, scratching the back of his neck.

"Is that a whip? Her weapon?"

"Okayyy! That's enough lookin' her up. Let's say we think of another couple, if you're not sure about this one, k?"

The two huddled closer as Keith offered various other options. Somehow Acxa always seemed to pick at one or the other, more so fascinated and weirded out by the outfit. Time ticked by as Keith grew tired. They ended up with few ideas.

He blew out a puff of air, "Uhm welp here's these two. Superheroes. Named Big Barda and Mr. Miracle?"

Acxa, again, took the phone. Her eyes dilating at the bright colors.

"Guess it's a no too?"

She shook her head, "No, I actually find it suitable. Considering that I am the tallest out of us both. Also, we are running out of time, no?"

Keith rolled his eyes playfully, although their height difference was never much of a bother for them.

"My only complaint is the bold colors. Other than that, it looks to be comfortable enough. Don't you think?"

"As long as you're sure, I'll settle for it."

What Acxa wasn't aware of is that Keith was not necessarily looking forward to wearing such a thing, as it was not his sort of style. In fact, this duo's fit was nothing of their style, but nonetheless they agreed to it.

---

"Here we are. Ready to show off?"

"Just a moment. I think my cape got tangled."

Keith and Acxa exited their car, pinkies hooking and having nervous talk about their suits. They entered the apartment complex, scanning the numbers of each door.

"Here it is! Ready?"

"What other choice is there..."

Keith knocked, and low and behold, James answered.

"HEY! ACXA AND... KEITH? NO WAY! THAT'S PRETTY FUNNY SEEING YOU TWO HERE. ESPECIALLY WEARING THOSE!" He shouted as the commotion of the dark yet colorfully lit room dazed the visitors viewing it. The brunette took his time looking the deadpanned couple up, incapable of holding his growing amusement.

"WELL, COME ON IN! THE GANG'S JUST RIGHT OVER AT THE POOL TABLE."

Keith took the lead, holding a hand out for Acxa to follow. Acxa examined the area, taking notice to the strange figures, assuming that some were not human at all, but actual aliens to Earth such as herself. She heard the booming and perked her ears, worried that a fight involving weaponry was taking place. Hesitantly, she took his hand and stepped foot into the strange presence. They walked behind James as cautiously as they could, with the few bumps here and there from strangers in all sorts of display.

"KEITH, IS THIS WHAT ALL PARTIES ARE LIKE? GOODNESS WH- OH, FORGIVE ME!" Acxa hollered.

"NOT ALL, BUT WHEN IT'S RUN BY PEOPLE LIKE JAMES, THEN YEAH. PRETTY MUCH."

Finally straying away from the crowd and their noise, the trio were reintroduced to their friends.

"Aw Acxa, and Keith~! Glad you actually came. I was beginning to think you'd bail out on us and this fun!" Veronica hugged her confused friend.

"Why yes, I would never do such a thing. Although, I would have to disagree with you on how this could be 'fun'." Acxa responded, massaging her ears.

"Oh there you go again blurting out your opinion without a care. Typical Acxa-"

"Our Acxa!" Veronica consoled James by patting his back playfully.

The rest of the MFE group exchanged their greetings.

"So, Acxa. You think this ain't at all fun? I'll make it my mission to prove ya wrong!" Nadia spun back to the others, "Right guys? Everyone come on and join us!"

"Sure, sounds fine by me." Said Veronica.

"I mean, I'm kinda busy on keeping check who's at the door cause this is my place-"

"Don't worry about it, Jamesy! Someone else can take care of that stuff. Spend time with us and quit looking around for a girl to dance with and hopefully date~"

Veronica and Nadia shared a smug smirk towards the now heated boy. Ina simply shook her head in shame.

"If you'd like, may I offer you all to a game of cards?" Ina asked.

"Cards?" Acxa tilted her head.

"What kind of ga-"" Keith was cut off.

"CARDS?! Inaaa sweetie, again?" The blue haired, hyper girl whined.

"Shush Nadia, there's nothing wrong with playing some more. Plus, I think it's a great way to show Acxa how a party can be fun!" Veronica stated, pulling Acxa and Keith to the table as the rest soon followed in.

After this "boring" and time consuming game, Nadia was sure to introduce her alien friend to a whole variety of other party activities.

Some not so appropriate to her friend's taste, that is.

___

Hours passed, around four. At least, that's what Acxa assumed. It was quite dark afterall.

Clumsily, she walked, or rather stumbled, her way back to the snack table. Her eyes dilating as her gaze lingered from item to item, looking for that deliciously red-colored juice. To be honest, she didn't really think it to be that good, terrible actually, but nonetheless she had the urge to engulf her system with some more. This beverage was making her feel... happy anyways.

"Acxa? Acxa-" Keith trotted to his girlfriend. He rested his hand on the small of her back, looking over to see her pouting face. How cute.

"...Ac-?"

"No, nooo, nooooo! There's no more *hiccup* juiceee!" Acxa aimed to pound her hand onto the table, but instead missed and hit Keith's stomach area. She turned around at the sudden sound.

"Ow. Acxa are you-"

He felt her cold finger poke his lips. She giggled childishly. Her toothy smile making the man blush almost uncomfortably. She looked so happy, and he knew well that it was not exactly in her control.

"You're... I think you look very handsome~! Do I *hiccup* know you... from somewhere?"

"Yes, yes you do. I'm your boyfriend, remember? Keith." He couldn't help but chuckle.

She looked up and stared at nothing in particular, thinking.

"Keith. Oh yes! I remember you, I think."

"I sure hope so. It'll suck if you don't and I lose my beautiful girlfriend."

"Aw, you're too kind, sir." Acxa bashfully covered part of her smiley face with her hand. So cute.

"Really looks like Nadia did her job, huh? How much did you drink?"

"Hmmm, I estimate around 57 *hiccup* cups? No wait, maybe it was 70..."

Keith was shocked. Then again, he was dating a 6 foot something to 7 foot girl from another planet. He should've been surprised more at the fact that Earth alcohol even had an affect on her.

"Wow, ahaha! That's enough for you then. Let's say we go back home and go to sleep. I'm beat and this party is getting crazier by the minute." He took her hand and tugged her to, again, follow him.

"Waaait~! Not yet! I wanna say bye to my *hiccup* friendsss!" Acxa protested and limped herself back.

Keith sighed, "Ina told me to say goodbye for her to you a while ago. Veronica went out earlier too. Nadia's passed out black on the couch. And James is... eh whatever who gives a damn."

"Nadia? Passed out! Is she okay? She's not okay! I need to help her- Let me go help!"

Great.

"Woah woah calm down, baby. Nadia's okay. She's with a few other girls watching over her. Trust me?" Keith wrapped his arms around her frantic self.

"Always have, always will." She puffed.

"Good. Thanks for that. Now, ready to go?"

"M'kayyy~!"

___

AN: Gee, look who's back. 🤡

[brywrites]

Omg you made me so happy with that story of Eliza, now I know this is a stretch but can we get a update on Halloween where you left off with them going trick or treating with everyone🥺🙈 ?

Ask and you shall receive, anon! I really never get tired of writing Spencer and Bianca, and I really didn’t give myself the space to explore what their lives as parents would look like so it was fun to to take that a little further with this one! Here’s just some pure domestic Halloween fluff.

----

They arrived at JJ’s house just as the sun was beginning to paint the autumn sky golden. Before the door had even opened, they could hear Henry shout, “Mom! They’re here!” Seconds later it swung open, and Henry, dressed in red, white, and blue, greeted them with a grin. “Hi Uncle Spence! Hi Aunt Bianca!” He gave each of them a quick hug. “Wow, you brought a tiger!”

“It’s me!” Eliza said, giggling. Henry pretended to be shocked as she threw her arms around them.

“Let me guess… Captain America, right?” Spencer asked as they stepped inside.

“Yeah, he’s my favorite superhero!” Henry’s excitement faltered for a moment and he straightened up a little taller. “I mean, I know I’m kind of old to go trick-or-treating, but I promised Michael I’d come.”

“Henry, if I have taught you anything you should know by now that you’re never too old for Halloween,” Spencer replied.

His words brought a smile back to Henry’s face and he said, “Wait till you see my shield! I painted it all by myself!”

The inside of the LaMontagne-Jareau househould was already bustling. JJ, dressed as Black Widow, was finishing Michael’s Hulk-green face paint. Hotch and Jack had moved back to the DC area two years earlier, and Garcia was excitedly talking to Jack and his girlfriend Mabel. The two teens had donned the costumes of Ben Solo and Rey from Star Wars, while the BAU’s former tech wizard wore a bright pink dress and golden crown as Princess Peach. Hotch and Beth, masquerading as Han Solo and Princess Leia, were being regaled by one of Rossi’s stories while Krystall laughed. Rossi’s suit and tie didn’t quite make sense as a costume until Bianca realized that Krystall’s white dress and curled hair made her Marilyn Monroe, and Rossi must have been JFK.

“It’s about time you showed up Pretty Boy!” Morgan quickly cut through the room to make his way to them, ruffling Spencer’s hair. “And my favorite little lady,” he said, embracing Bianca. Then squatting down to Eliza’s height, “And littlest lady, too, Miss Eliza Lou!”

He lifted Elizabeth up into his arms. “Why do you have hair Uncle Derek?” she asked, pointing to Morgan’s head.

“Because zombie Michael Jackson has hair in the “Thriller” music video,” he replied, as though that context meant anything to a five year old. “And that’s who I’m dressed as for Halloween.”

“You look funny with hair,” the little girl replied.

Morgan put his free hand over his chest, and feigned melodramatic offense. “Oh, ouch! You wound me, Eliza Lou!” Eliza giggled as her godfather set her back on the ground. “Now what exactly are you two supposed to be?” he asked, gesturing between Spencer and Bianca.

Spencer wore a red zippered sweater with a tie and blue Converse, while Bianca had on a floral pink 70’s style prairie dress. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood,” Spencer replied.

When Morgan just raised an eyebrow, Bianca said, “Mr. Rogers and Lady Aberlin, from Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood!”

“You see,” Reid explained, “Elizabeth had her heart set on being a tiger, so we tried to come up with costumes that could go along with it. And Fred Rogers used a number of puppets on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood to help act out situations of learning and vulnerability in healthy ways, one of which was Daniel Striped Tiger who was the most recognizable from the show. It’s actually funny, the tiger puppet was a gift to Mr. Rogers the night before the very first episode was s-”

“I get it,” Morgan said, holding up a hand. “I’ll read the Wikipedia article later, I promise.”

“Oh come on now, babe, I think it’s cute.” Savannah appeared beside her husband, linking her arm with his. “It’s good to see you two.” She still wore nurse’s scrubs and had a stethoscope around her neck.

“Did you just come from work?” Bianca asked. Savannah and Morgan’s daughter, Ainslie, had just turned one and Savannah had gone back to full-time shifts at the hospital.

Savannah laughed, shaking her head. “Thank god, no. Hank wanted to be a zombie, so Derek came up with the idea of going as “Thriller” MJ to match. I figured if it’s the zombie apocalypse in our household, I might as well be the nurse on the frontlines trying to fight them off.”

“Uh oh,” Morgan said. “I don’t know how long you’ll last out there. The zombies are pretty handsome, I hear.” He kissed her cheek as she rolled her eyes. Turning back to the Reids, he asked, “So are we ready to take on trick or treating?”

Bianca winked. “Well Spencer here was born ready, and I think that after seven Halloweens together I’ve learned a thing or two.” The four of them had been chosen as the designated chaperones for the kid’s festivities while the rest of the adults finished up a Halloween feast at the house. Once all the kids were accounted for and everyone had a pillowcase in hand, they set out into the DC streets in search of spooks and sweets.

Spencer’s boundless enthusiasm was contagious, spreading even to Jack who seemed torn between being excited about Halloween and trying to look cool in front of Mabel. But once it became clear Mabel was into the scary stories Spencer told while they walked, Hotch’s son visibly relaxed. It was a good group of kids – at every house Henry, Jack, and Mabel made sure that Michael, Hank, and Eliza got candy first, and a chorus of thank you!s followed them from doorstep to doorstep.

Spencer’s delight for the present was carrying over to the future. “When she’s a little older,” he was saying, “we can go to a haunted house or two. Maybe even a haunted corn maze. And we can watch a midnight scary movie screening and she’ll be able to carve her own pumpkins!” Bianca laughed and he glanced her way, bashful. “What?”

“I just love seeing you excited about this,” she said. His eyes always lit up in a way that made her heart skip a beat after all this time. “And thinking about all the holidays we’re going to have together and how we’ll get to make all these new traditions as she grows up.”

Spencer stopped suddenly on the sidewalk and before she could react he was hugging her close. The fabric of his sweater was soft against her cheek. “What was that for?” she asked him, looking up, her arms still wrapped around his waist.

“I wouldn’t be doing any of this without you,” he said. “I would probably still be at the BAU. I wouldn’t have anything worth leaving for. I wouldn’t have someone I get excited about growing old with. But I have a home because I have you. I have a home and someone who will plan obscure Halloween costumes with me and I have a daughter and it’s all because I fell in love with you. Because you loved me.”

“And because you loved me,” she echoed. She wouldn’t have wanted it with anyone else. He was the only person who made her feel safe enough to trust him with every part of her. He made her feel brave enough to take on the world and to start a family. When nothing else made sense, he was there to anchor her with a warm embrace and all the words she needed to hear and promises to stay. He knew her better than she knew herself. Bianca stood on her toes to kiss him sweetly, not caring that there were people all around them.

“When you two are done being all lovey-dovey,” Morgan called, “we’ve still got one more block to hit.”

“Lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey!” Eliza sang, skipping beside them. Spencer smiled and kissed Bianca’s forehead as he interlaced his fingers through hers with one hand and reached down to hold their daughter’s hand with the other. When the final houses had been visited, they descended upon the LaMontagne-Jareau household once more, with pillowcases full of candy.

During their absence, more familiar faces had appeared at the house. Prentiss and Mendoza were drinking wine with Rossi in the living room and Luke, dressed as Mario, had his arm around Penelope while they talked with three of the newer BAU members.

“Aunt Alex!” Eliza’s bag of candy was temporarily forgotten as she ran to hug Alex Blake who was at the kitchen table with JJ, Will, and her husband James.

“Why Elizabeth,” she said, “aren’t you the most ferocious tiger I’ve ever seen?”

“I’ve been practicing!” Eliza replied. She furrowed her eyebrows and held her hands up by her face like claws. “Rarr!” Her godmother gave her around of applause for her performance, happily doting on her while everyone gathered around the table for dinner.

It was warm and inviting in the living room, feeling every bit like a cheerful Thanksgiving dinner except for the costumes and the spooky decorations. There was plenty to be discussed, whether it was Emily’s new position as Director of the Bureau or the book Rossi and Matt had just published. The Simmons clan were the only ones absent, their children having made plans already to spend Halloween with their friends in their own neighborhood. Bianca felt right at home among the people who had come to feel as much her family as they were Spencer’s. She swapped stories of international travels with Alex and James and was delighted to talk to Tara and her girlfriend, Elena. The two women were dressed as Cinderella and Prince Charming, and she had to admit that Tara could certainly pull off a suit. When Penelope begged Morgan for a chance to babysit Hank and Ainslie soon and Rossi said, “You know you could just have some of your own,” she and Luke both turned red.

“Hey now,” Luke said. “We’re just trying to get through the wedding first, okay?”

“Yeah, you never know, I could still change my mind,” Garcia teased, elbowing her fiancé.

“You say that at least once a month,” Luke laughed. “But I don’t think we can get our deposit back on the venue at this point, so it looks like you’re stuck with me.”

There was enough food and to go around, and a generous amount of libations courtesy of David Rossi. Bianca’s contribution was an array of desserts – pumpkin cheesecake, salted caramel brownies, and chocolate cupcakes with vampire fangs and raspberry filling – that were immediate hits, and Spencer’s contribution was agreeing not to consume them before the party. After dinner the kids went down to the basement to watch Hocus Pocus, Jack and Henry promising they’d look after everyone, while the adults settled into the living room.

“Eliza,” Bianca called. “How about you pick out a few pieces of candy for now, and we’ll keep the rest up here so you can have some later, okay?” The little girl was about to follow her cousins downstairs with her whole bag of sugary treasures. “If you eat too much candy at once you’ll get a bellyache.”

Eliza considered this, then nodded. “Okay, mama.” She dug through the pillowcase, choosing a few treats, then handed the bag back to her mother asking, “But how come daddy gets to?” She pointed to Spencer who sat on the floor of the living room, gorging himself on a plate of sweets. He looked up sheepishly, caught red-handed about to take a bite of oversized brownie.

“It’s because I’m old enough to anticipate the consequences of my actions,” he said. “I know when to stop before I feel sick.”

“You go have fun with your cousins, okay?” Bianca said, giving her daughter a quick hug before watching the tail of the tiger costume vanish the stairs. She sat down next to Spencer, shaking her head. “You’re such a bad liar,” she laughed. “You’ll be complaining all night that you feel awful.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I just can’t help myself around something sweet.” Spencer put his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap, leaning in to kiss her. “See?”

She smiled. “You’re lucky, Mr. Rogers, that I like you just the way you are. Insatiable sweet tooth and all.”

Spencer grinned. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.” Mimicking the song from the old children’s show, he sang, “Would you be mine? Could you be mine?”

“You know what my answer is,” she said. She let her head fall against his shoulder. Nestled close in his embrace, she sat listening to the BAU recount stories of the glory days and valiant acts of the past. Spencer traced circles on the back of her hand, resting his cheek against the top of her head with a sigh of contentment, and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was – that there was a relief in knowing that the monsters were in only in their yesterdays and nightmares. That there was no danger waiting around the corner for him anymore. Nothing to steal him away too soon. There were endless tomorrows stretching out ahead of them, but for now they could reminisce with the family that had been built by that shared past. And Bianca could think of few sweeter treats than that.

[abusybuzzingbee]

Pilot | Supernatural Season 1 Episode 1 Rewrite | Dean x Reader

A/N:::: Hello!! I am a royal dumbass and just accidentally deleted my whole tumblr. I was trying to get rid of my main account and accidentally got rid of it all!! So, this is bee from @abusybuzzingbee coming back at you with reuploads of my supernatural rewrites. So sorry to all of my supporters for my tomfoolery.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Major Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester

Warnings: Canon violence, language, Dean and the reader being assholes to each other, this is going to be the slowest burn that ever did burn, so buckle up!

Word Count: 7,643

Summary: The reader is a lonely young hunter on the road to Jericho, California where she bumps into two boys on the search for their father.

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Season 1 Masterlist

It was an early morning yesterday

I was up before the dawn.’

‘Funny how the sun’s just rising,’ you thought.

‘And I really have enjoyed my stay

But I must be moving on.’

The sound of the familiar tune of “Goodbye Stranger” coming from the radio of your new hijacked wheels-- a 2002 Toyota Camry, to be exact-- put a smile on your face.

‘Like a king without a castle

Like a queen without a throne

I’m an early morning lover

And I must be moving on.’

As you drove along a remote highway on the way to Jericho, California, you threw a glance to the wind lightly rustling the leaves of the trees outside of your driver’s side mirror.

‘Now I believe in what you say

Is the undisputed truth.’

Scenes such as this have always calmed you. The first beams of light stretching up from over the horizon, the vivid colors of the tree leaves, the hum of the radio of your newest car, and the sound of your tires gliding over the pavement. 

‘But I have to have things my own way

To keep me in my youth.’

These road trips in between hunts were the only taste you had ever had of a normal life. Not that you wanted a normal life, you think you would be too bored in the suburbs. However, it is comforting to have a small break from monsters while driving from place to place to relax.

‘Like a ship without an anchor

Like a slave without a chain

Just a thought of those sweet ladies

Sends a shiver through my veins.’

The latest case you had picked up on was the disappearance of several men on Centennial Highway in Jericho. 

‘And I will go on shining

Shining like brand new

I’ll never look behind me

My troubles will be few.’

The last disappearance had been some kid named Troy. Poor bastard.

You had very little knowledge of what you were walking into. You decided that you would head to the scene of the crime to try and get a better idea of what you were dealing with.

‘Goodbye stranger

It’s been nice

Hope you find your paradise

Tried to see your point of view

Hope your dreams will all come true.’

Just a few more hours and you’d be there.

‘Goodbye Mary, goodbye Jane--’

You turned the music up just a bit as you picked up your speed on the highway and thought about my last successful hunt in Alexandria, Louisiana. 

‘Will we ever meet again?’

You were proud of how you did on that hunt, but it was freeing to leave towns you had previously hunted in in your rearview mirror.

‘Feel no sorrow, feel no shame--’

It wasn’t a matter of feeling guilty about what you had done while you were in that town; you had nothing to feel guilty about. It just always hurt you to think of the sad faces of the people who had already lost family members before you got there to do your job.

‘Come tomorrow, feel no pain--’

There would always be that little bit of trauma that you carried with you because of all you had seen on hunts, but c’est la vie.

‘Sweet devotion (Goodbye, Mary)

It’s not for me (Goodbye, Jane).’

You let your mind go blank and get completely absorbed in the music as you continued to drive along.

‘Just give me motion (Will we ever)

To set me free (Meet again?)’

Music was the one constant in your life that kept you grounded. It was so powerful. Music could express so many feelings and bring those same emotions out of its listeners.

‘In the land and the ocean (Feel no sorrow)

Far away (Feel no shame)--’

You loved oldies music. From ‘70′s hippie music to ‘80′s rock, all the way back to Edith Piaf in the 1940′s. 

‘It’s the life I’ve chosen (Come tomorrow)

Every day (Feel no pain)’

You wished you had the time to sit down for long enough to learn to play an instrument. There was a whole list of things you wanted to learn to play including piano, guitar, ukelele, and drums. 

‘Maybe one day,’ you thought.

‘So goodbye, Mary (Goodbye, Mary)

Goodbye, Jane (Goodbye, Jane)

Will we ever (Will we ever)

Meet again? (Meet again?)’

**** 

A few hours later, you were parked on Sylvania Bridge in Jericho. You had stopped a few miles back at a gas station to change into an outfit that looked a little more professional than a pair of baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt and opted for one of the many police uniforms you carried around with you. This one was a federal marshal suit. Included the khakis, shirt with a little police badge on the pocket, and a belt with your fake badge on it. It was your mom’s. She threw herself into the many roles she played on the job and made sure she had the costumes to fit the part. Once she passed, you just couldn’t let them go.

You hopped out of the car and walked over to the scene of the crime. You noticed two boys that looked about my age talking to one of the deputies on site. You watched them flash badges to the deputy, but neither was in uniform. 

‘Oh, boy.’

"You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?” you heard the deputy remark as you walked up to them. 

“Thanks, that’s awfully kind of you,” the shorter guy laughed. 

'That’s my cue,’ you thought.

“Hiya, fellas,” you smiled brightly, glancing between the three of them.

The two guys turned back to look at you. The shorter one pointed at himself with a questioning look on his face directed at you. You eyed him, attempting to tell him to just go with it. 

“Why aren’t you two in uniform?” you asked, standing next to the taller boy and glancing between the two of them. You looked at the deputy. “Sorry to have them bothering you. New hires,” you lied, rolling your eyes. “I’m supposed to oversee how they handle this case.”

“Mm-hmm...” the deputy said, squinting at you. He was clearly suspicious.

I extended my right hand to the deputy and reached for my badge with the other. “I’m Agent Nicks, nice to meet you.” I showed him my badge.

“Deputy Jaffe.” He shook my hand and nodded at my badge.

“Man, you guys can’t catch a break. You just had another killing like this, right?” I nodded my head at Troy’s car at the center of the crime scene as I spoke. 

“Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that,” the deputy spoke as I walked over to the car, the two boys trailing behind me.

“So, this victim, you knew him?” The taller boy questioned.

The deputy nodded. “Town like this, everybody knows everybody.”

The shorter boy circled the car once and stopped between the taller boy and I. “Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?” he asked.

“No,” Jaffe answered, “Not so far as we can tell.”

“So what's the theory?” The taller guy asked.

“Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?”

“Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys,” the shorter guy quipped.

Your eyes widened as you watched the deputy’s incredulous expression. You didn’t like this kid already. You bit back a snicker when the dude who was with him stomped on his foot.

“Thank you for your time. Gentlemen,” the tall guy nodded.

You turned to follow your two “colleagues” away from the crime scene. The shorter guy smacked the taller one on the back of the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” 

“Why'd you have to step on my foot?”

“Why do you have to talk to the police like that?”

The two men realized you were following them and turned to look at you.

“Uh, can we help you?” the shorter one asked.

“No,” you replied. “I’ll be out of your hair in a second. I just think it’d be a little weird if I left the scene of the crime without regrouping with my ‘proteges’ first.”

The taller one nodded. It became clear to you he was the sensible one of the two.

“About that--” the shorter one came back, implying that you should explain yourself.

“Yeah, sorry for stepping all over your hunt.”

The two seemed in disbelief that you had figured out their secret.

“Takes one to know one,” You snickered. “I had to get the same information you two did, and it’d look really weird if two rounds of federal marshals came through for one case. I’m (Y/N), by the way.” You stuck out your hand for the two of them to shake.

The taller one took it first. “I’m Sam,” he smiled, “that’s my brother, Dean.” 

You shook Dean’s hand after Sam’s.

“You shake hands?” Dean asked.

You shrugged with a tilt of your head to the side.

“Weird.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well,” you sighed, “I got this hunt under control if you boys wanna hit the road.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, lady,” Dean started, “We were here first.”

“Geez, sorry. I thought I was doing you guys a favor by letting you hit the road.”

“Sorry,” Sam spoke for his brother, “We’re looking for our dad. The only information we have on where he could be is here, so we’ve got this covered.”

You nodded. “I hope you find him soon. Good meeting you two.” You turned to leave.

“Wait,” Sam called after you. “Three heads are better than two. We could use your help.”

Dean was quick to cut in. “No, no we do not--”

“What?” you asked, smirking. “You don’t like me Dean-o?”

He opened his mouth to respond, obviously trying to think of something to say. He came up blank after a few seconds.

You chuckled. “I’m down to help.”

Sam smiled brightly at you. “Great!” 

You glanced over Sam’s shoulder and your jaw clenched. Sam turned to follow your gaze.

The sheriff was talking to two FBI agents. He looked at you three pointedly. “Can I help you kids?”

“No, sir, we were just leaving,” Dean told him. He then nodded at the FBI agents as they walked past your trio. “Agent Mulder. Agent Scully.”

The three of you headed past the sheriff, whose gaze you could feel piercing through your back.

You noticed the 1967 Impala parked a little farther back than your car, wondering how you could have missed it when you pulled up to the scene.

“Aw, cool!” you exclaimed, quickly walking over to it. “Sweet ride.”  You ran your hand over the hood.

“Hey,” Dean called, “Hands off my baby.”

“You dating a car, Grumpy?” you smirked. 

He rolled his eyes at you. 

“Those your wheels over there?” Sam asked. He nodded towards your Camry.

“Unfortunately. Had to jack that car a few states back,” you responded.

Sam nodded. “You can catch a ride back with us if you want.”

Dean tossed a look at his brother.

“Cool, thanks,” you answered, smiling. “Let me just pull it off the road into some trees or something.”

***

"Who are we looking for again?” you asked the boys as you strolled around town. You had ditched your federal marshal getup and left it along with the rest of your stuff in the back of Dean’s car. 

Dean scoffed at your question.

“Hey, you didn’t answer the first time I asked, so I had to do it again,” you threw back.

“Troy’s girlfriend,” Sam answered.

“Thank you, Sam.” You threw a pointed look at Dean. He just turned his face away from you.

A few paces down from your pack, a young girl with brown hair was putting missing posters up with Troy’s face on them. 

"I'll bet you that's her,” Dean pointed out.

“Yeah,” Sam affirmed.

Your group walked up to her as Dean spoke, “You must be Amy.”

“Yeah,” she answered plainly.

“Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean, this is Sammy.”

“And who’s that?” Amy glanced at you.

“I’m (Y/N). A friend of theirs.”

Amy nodded, looking back to Sam and Dean. “He never mentioned you to me.” She began to walk away with her posters.

Dean was quick to follow her. “Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto.”

“So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around,” Sam continued for Dean.

A friend of Amy’s came up to her and asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

Once Amy responded with a simple, “Yeah,” her friend stayed with her.

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?” I asked Amy.

***

You, Amy’s friend, Rachel, and Amy were packed into one side of a diner booth while Sam and Dean sat opposite you.  

Amy spoke about what happened the night Troy went “missing.” “I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did.”

“He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?” Sam asked.

Amy shook her head. “No. Nothing I can remember.”

You glanced at the pentagram pendant she was wearing. “I like your necklace.”

“Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents with all that devil stuff,” Amy laughed. 

You smiled. “Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.” 

“Okay,” Dean cut in. “Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries.”

You rolled your eyes at him while he took his arm off of the back of Sam’s seat and leaned forward on his elbows. “Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything...” he trailed off, waiting for them to answer.

Amy and Rachel glanced between each other. 

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“Well, it's just,” Rachel began, “I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk."

“About?” You questioned turning a bit more inward to Rachel. 

“It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago,” Rachel stated.

You watched Rachel attentively, nodding.

“Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

You glanced at the boys with a quirked eyebrow.

***

Dean typed away on the library computer on the archive search page for the Jericho Herald. He had the words “Female Murder Hitchhiking" typed into the search bar. When he pressed enter, nothing came up. Dean replaced “Hitchhiking” with “Centennial Highway,” and once again, crickets. 

“Wait a minute,” Sam started, “So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied as if it was obvious.

“Well, maybe it’s not murder,” Sam stated.

“Ohhh,” you started, “I’m pickin’ up what you’re puttin’ down.” You knew Sam was thinking suicide.

Sam smiled at you.

“Let me try,” Sam told Dean.

“I got it,” Dean came back.

Sam shoved Dean out of the chair and took over.

“Dude!” Dean hit Sam on the shoulder. “You're such a control freak.”

You laughed at their banter.

“Can it, (Y/N),” Dean told you.

“So, what I can’t laugh?”

“No, no, you can’t.”

“I literally just met you and I’ve had it up to here--” you flattened your hand and put it up by your eyebrow, “--with you already--”

“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart,” Dean cut you off. 

“You two wanna stop?” Sam asked. “Come look at this.”

Just as you thought, Sam had put “suicide” in place of “murder” in the search bar.

Sam snapped you out of your thoughts by saying, “This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river.”

“Does it say why she did it?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” you started, leaning over Sam’s shoulder to get a better look at the screen, “An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently, her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die.”

Something about the situation did not sit right with you; it sounded familiar. 

Sam continued reading. “‘ 'Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch.’”

“The bridge look familiar to you?” Dean pointed out, looking at a picture of a man-- presumably Constance’s husband-- crying standing next to Sylvania Bridge.

“Well, we know where we’re headed,” you commented, walking toward the exit of the library. You could feel Dean’s eyes on you as you left.

***

By the time you finally got to Sylvania Bridge, it was late at night. You and the boys had stopped for a bite to eat before going back to the bridge. Troy’s car had long since been removed, the crime scene completely cleared out. 

Dean looked out over the edge of the bridge, standing next to you and Sam. “So this is where Constance took the swan dive.”

“So you think Dad would have been here?” Sam looked over at his brother.

"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him.” Dean continued down the bridge, the taller boy trailing behind him.

“Okay, so now what?”

“Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while.”

Sam stopped. “Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—”

The brunet stopped, turning around. “Monday. Right. The interview.” Aggravation was clear in his tone.

“Yeah.”

You thought it best to take a step back while they had this discussion.

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?” Dean’s tone got a bit more of an edge to it.

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam pushed back.

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?”

Sam stepped closer to Dean. “No, and she's not ever going to know.”

The older boy did not back down. “Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” He turned around and kept walking.

Sam followed him, his arms out in question. “And who's that?”

“You're one of us.” Dean gestured to himself and back to you staying several paces back,

Sam hurried to get in front of his brother. “No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

“You have a responsibility to—”

“To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.”

When Dean grabbed his brother by the collar and shoved him against the bridge, you jumped into action.

“Hey, knock it off, Dean.”

“(Y/N)--” Dean warned, giving you a sideways glare. He looked back at Sam. “Don't talk about her like that.” He let Sam go and walked away from him.

You hurried over to Sam. “You okay?” You put your hand on his shoulder and met his hazel eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Guys,” Dean called.

You looked to Dean who stared down to the railing at the edge of the bridge.

“Constance,” you let out, coming to stand next to Dean.

Constance looked back at your group before stepping off of the railing.

The three of you ran to the railing. 

“Where'd she go?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know, wanna jump down there and find out?” you sassed.

Dean glared at you as the sound of the Impala’s engine roared behind you.

The older Winchester flipped around. “What the—” 

Sam wheeled around, too. “Who's driving your car?” 

Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket and jingled them, his green eyes never leaving the Impala.

The car jerked into motion, barrelling over the bridge straight toward you and the Winchesters.

“Go! Go!” you yelled, turning and sprinting away.

Dean and Sam sped ahead of you, and you noticed the car gaining on you. Your heart raced and your breathing was labored. The car was way too close for comfort and left you with just one option.

You threw yourself over the railing, just barely managing to hang onto the edge of the bridge.

You heard the car engine stop just as something-- or someone-- hit the water.

You pulled yourself back over the railing and noticed Sam sitting on the railing calling for Dean.

You rushed over to Sam, leaning over the railing to try to find Dean.

He popped up a second later, his usually spikey hair flattened to his head with mud. In fact, his whole body was covered in mud.

“You okay?” You called down to him.

Dean sarcastically held up a thumb and pursed his lips. 

“Hey, I’m just checking on you, don’t be an ass,” you yelled back, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Fuck off,” he grunted, annoyed.

Sam laughed and got back onto the bridge.

You headed over to the Impala and checked it over, grabbing a towel out of your bag.

Dean had managed to climb back onto the bridge and made his way over to his baby. He opened the car’s hood and poked around to see if Constance had damaged it at all. After a moment, he shut the hood and leaned on it.

“Your car all right?” you heard Sam ask are you walked over to Dean with the towel.

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now. That Constance chick, what a bitch!” He yelled at the spirit. 

You put the towel on Dean’s head and started to dry his hair off when he jerked away from you.

“What are you doing?”

You were quick to put the towel back on his head. “Helping.”

The dirty blond ripped the towel out of your hands. “I got it.”

“Fine.” You raised your hands up in surrender. You leaned against the car next to Dean. “You know, I been thinkin’.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Shut up, Dean. I’m serious.” You paused, taking in a breath. “Constance is a woman in white.”

Sam pursed his lips, shrugging. “Makes sense. I mean, the dead kids, suicide, killing unfaithful men.”

“Maybe.” The older Winchester’s monotone voice was followed by silence. A silence that was broken a few moments later by Sam.

“You smell like a toilet.”

You scrunched up your nose and giggled. 

“Can it, (Y/N).”

***

“You guys having a reunion or something?” the clerk asked, looking at the credit card Dean had placed on the motel’s front desk.

Sam cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month.”

Dean looked over to his brother briefly and then turns his head back to the clerk. “What room’s he in?”

“Listen, kid, I can’t go around giving out people’s room numbers.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

You stepped out from behind the two boys. “Oh, please sir? He’s family, and we haven’t seen him in a while.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.”

***

“That how you get all the guys?”

“What?” you asked, not bothering to face Dean to answer his question. The two of you were stationed outside of John Winchester's room playing lookout while Sam picked the lock on the door.

“You know what I mean. I saw you makin’ eyes at the clerk.”

“Yeah, to get a room number.” You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. It worked real well.” He turned to face you.

“You know, you don’t have to be such a dick all the time. I met you yesterday and have given you no reason not to like me. What’s your deal?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, my plate is kind of full. I’m trying to figure out what the hell happened to my dad. I have no idea whether he’s alive, dead, or captured, and he’s the only parent I have left. And my little brother is solely concerned about getting back to fucking Stanford, and I’m not even sure he cares about what happened to our dad. And now, enter (Y/N) trying to take over a hunt that is the only tie I have to my dad.” Dean’s face was incredibly close to yours.

Sam had long since gone into the room and decided to leave the two of you alone to hash out your frustrations.

You held your ground, but your voice took on less of an angry tone. You were strictly playing defense at this point. “But I wasn’t trying to take it over to be mean, and as soon as you got so defensive about the hunt, I backed down and just offered to help--”

“Yeah, and I didn't want your help. Sam was the one who let you in, probably hoping that if you were here he could shag ass back to Stanford. So forgive me if I’m a little on edge.” He pulled his face away from yours, wheeling around to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“Well, I’m sorry for being such an inconvenience. Perhaps you’ve forgotten the fact that I’ve helped you guys more than I’ve hurt you. I pulled your asses out of a crack when you were talking to the police. I was the one who figured out what kind of a spook we’re dealing with here. I want you to find your dad. I really do. But I also want you to stop being so awful to me. And it’s just me specifically!” You threw your arms up in the air. At some point during the first part of your rant, Dean had looked back at you over his shoulder. “You’re so nice to Sam--I mean, about as nice as brothers are to each other-- and I can tell you care about him. I can tell you have a good heart. So why choose to be an ass?”

When Dean didn’t answer, you shook your head. “Whatever. I’m leaving.” You clutched your duffel bag strap on your shoulder tightly, your knuckles turning white.

“To go where?”

“Away. You win. Ya got what you wanted.”

“Wait, (Y/N)--”

“Tell Sam I said ‘bye.’”

***

The heat of midday had your baby hairs stuck to your head with sweat. You had been walking for a while now, just trying to find somewhere remote enough that you could steal a car without getting seen. 

You hiked along a highway surrounded by dense trees, the rustling sound of the green leaves filling your head. You took a deep breath, allowing peace to wash over you. You never had to see Dean Winchester again, although you would miss Sam. He was the closest thing to a friend you’ve had in a while. 

A familiar engine roar overpowered the sound of the rustling you had been hearing. The car pulled off of the highway just behind you, coming to a stop. 

You took your bottom lip in your mouth under your top one, closing your eyes and stopping your walk.

You heard the opening and closing of the car’s door as you turned around, a small smile on your lips.

“You know,” Sam started, walking toward you, “It’s kind of rude to leave without saying ‘goodbye.’“ 

You let out a laugh. “Hey, Sam.”

He pulled you into a quick hug. “Hey. I heard what happened.”

You looked down at the mixture of grass and gravel below your combat boots. “Yeah.”

“And I know you probably never wanna see Dean’s face again, but we need your help. I do, and he does, whether he wants to admit it or not. We can all get out of here a lot quicker if we work together. You can get away from Dean, I can get back to Stanford, and Dean can find our dad.”

“Where is Dean?”

“Arrested.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, nodding.  “Okay.” You put on a smile. “What now?”

***

Much later in the day, after going to visit Joseph Welch, you and Sam were sitting in a diner grabbing a bite to eat. The both of you were brainstorming what to do to get Dean out of jail and what to do about that Constance bitch. The conversation had shifted from those two topics once you had a solid plan to simply small talk between friends.

“So what’s your story?” you asked, taking a bite out of one of your fries.

“What?”

“I picked up from conversations between you and Dean over the past two days and the very loud conversation I had with your brother earlier that you left hunting to go to Stanford. What happened there?”

Sam chuckled, looking down. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. I crossed a line,” you told him sincerely. You stared at your ketchup. 

“No, no,” he responded. He took in a sharp breath. “My dad and I had a big blowout fight before I left for college. He told me if I left for college to never come back. Haven’t talked to him in two years.” He took a bite of his salad after he finished talking.

“Oh,” you said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

You decided to change the subject. “Alright, we’ve let Dean rot long enough. I’m gonna go call the police.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll get the check.” 

You walked outside of the diner, heading to the payphone you spotted at the entrance of the parking lot. You picked it up and dialed ‘9-1-1.’

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

You made your voice frantic, forcing tears to well up in your eyes. “My-My husband! He’s been shot!”

“Ma’am, calm down for me, okay? Where are you?”

You screamed. “He- He just shot another guy! Oh, my god!”

“Ma’am, where are you?”

“I’m on Whiteford Road,” you said. “Please, please, please hurry!”

“Okay, okay, um, w-we’re sending a unit out to you now. Can you stay on the line for me?”

“No, no! Please!” you cried. “Plea--” You cut yourself off and hung up the phone. 

You noticed Sam standing next to you using one of his forearms to hold the door open as he leaned on the door frame. 

“What?”

“That was damn good acting,” he noted.

“Thanks,” you chuckled. “I actually wanted to be an actress growing up.”

“Hunting got in the way,” Sam figured.

“Exactly. But, acting is kind of part of the job. Gotta be real good at lying and pretending to be feds,” you shrugged, making light of the situation.

A comfortable silence blanketed you and Sam as you lamented over what life could’ve been for you. You sucked in a breath and said, “We better get going. To Constance!”

***

Sam’s phone ringing pulled the two of you out of a conversation about his girlfriend, Jess, and his life at Stanford. 

Sam looked at the caller ID, shrugging at you when he didn’t recognize it.

“Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal,” you could hear Dean jest through the phone.

The brunet grinned. “It was (Y/N), actually.”

He paused. “(Y/N)? She’s with you?”

You took Sam’s phone out of his hands and said, “Yup. Hi, Dean,” into the receiver. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You gave the phone back to Sam. 

The older Winchester changed the topic from you to something else. “Listen, we gotta talk.” 

“Tell me about it,” Sam jumped in. “So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop--”

His brother tried to cut him off. “Sammy, would you shut up for a second?”

“--I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet.”

“Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho.”

Sam threw a look to you before glancing back to the road. “What? How do you know?”

“I've got his journal,” you heard the dirty blond explain.

“He doesn't go anywhere without that thing.”

“Yeah, well, he did this time.”

“What's it say?”

“Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going.”

‘Ex-Marine crap?’ you thought to yourself.

Sam noticed your puzzled expression and directed toward you, “Coordinates.” He spoke his following words to Dean. “Where to?”

“I'm not sure yet.”

You propped your head up on your elbow on the passenger’s side door, legs tossed in an ‘L’ shape on the seat beside you. You stared out of the window into the dark night, taking in the gloomy appearance of the dead trees and fallen leaves. 

The younger Winchester shook his head. “I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job?”

A figure in the road caught your eye, causing you to squint and look out the windshield. 

Sam was still rambling to his brother. “Dean, what the hell is going on?”

You registered that Constance was in the road. “Sam, look out!” you shrieked.

Sam looked up, dropping the phone and slamming the brakes hard. You had to brace yourself on the dashboard in front of you, your body jerking forward and backward in your seat. 

Constance was gone, and you and Sam tried to catch your breaths. 

“Sam? Sam!” Dean’s voice came through the phone.

You picked up the phone from under the glove box. Dean had hung up before you got the chance to tell him Sam was alright.

You turned to the brunet, who swallowed hard and looked into the backseat through the rearview mirror.

You whirled around to look in the backseat, and there Constance was. “Take me home,” she ordered. She looked directly at you. “Take me home!”

“No,” you stated firmly, holding her gaze. 

Constance glared back at you as you heard the doors of the car lock. You wheel around in your seat and try to reopen them. Suddenly, your body was thrust back into the seat as the car began to drive. 

“Sam?” you yelled over the roar of the engine.

“That’s not me!” He tried to grab the steering wheel to drive, but Constance wouldn’t let him. 

You continued to struggle with the doors until the two-- well, three, counting Constance-- of you pulled up to an abandoned house, presumably the Welches’ old house. The windows on both of the two floors had been covered with boards, the paint was peeling off of the wood slats, and the screen door had been ripped. The house looked like it was falling apart more and more with every passing day. It had the stereotypical appearance of a horror movie house.

The engine of the Impala shut off.

“Don't do this,” the younger Winchester pleaded.

Constance flickered in the backseat. “I can never go home,” she moaned, her voice sad.

As if a switch had been flipped in your brain, your face shifted from scared to enlightened. “You're scared to go home.” You turned to look in the back seat, but Constance was gone. As soon as you turned back around, you noticed Constance in between you and Sam on the leather bench seat. 

You jumped, back pressed against the passenger’s side door. Constance climbed on Sam’s lap, shoving him back against the seat hard enough to tilt it backward. 

You tried to lunge for Constance, but she shoved you against the Impala’s door hard enough with a flick of her wrist to send the door flying open and you sailing through the air.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Sam yell.

You skidded to a halt on the rocky gravel surrounding the house, feeling your arms and legs get cut up. The wind was knocked out of you, and your head bounced against the small rocks. 

“Ow,” you groaned, trying to get up. You saw Constance had closed the passenger’s side door once more, and through the window could see her kissing Sam as he reached for the keys.

Another thing you saw was a figure appearing on the other side of the car through the driver’s side window. You hoped to god it was Dean.

You heard whoever it was fire a shot as Sam screamed in what seemed to be pain, so you immediately ducked. A few more shots were fired and you felt safe enough to raise your head.

You scrambled to your feet when you saw the Impala go careening through the porch and into the old Welch house. You ran into the house, being as careful as you could to avoid any of the broken pieces of wood and furniture the car had left in its path.

Dean was quick to follow you, calling out to his younger brother. “You okay?”

Sam groaned. “I think...”

“Can you move?” you asked, leaning through the passenger’s window. You looked him over for serious injury.

“Yeah,” he told you. He reached a hand out to his brother. “Help me?”

You stepped to the side as Dean pulled Sam out through the rolled-down window. 

You noticed Constance picking up a picture frame of her and her children that had fallen to the ground. 

She turned her attention from the picture to you and met your eyes.

She pinned you and the boys against the Impala with a bureau. It hit the boys in their pelvis but nailed you right in the stomach. You groaned in pain, desperately trying to push it off of you. 

You stopped your struggle when a sound caught your ear. It sounded like liquid trickling and watched as a stream of water just thick enough to cover each step cascaded to the ground.  You followed the stream to the top of the stairs to see the dark silhouettes of a little girl and a little boy holding hands.

“You've come home to us, Mommy,” they spoke in chorus.

Constance looked distraught as she got closer to the stairs. They were suddenly gone from the stairs and appeared behind her, hugging her and looking up at her with warm yet slightly disturbing smiles. 

Constance screamed, and she and her children melted to the floor flickering between apparitions of skinless and skeletal forms of humans. They melted into a puddle of an electric purple goo that seeped through the floorboards as the ringing in your ears from Constance’s shrieks subsided. 

You and the Winchesters shoved the bureau over, and you dusted off your hands as Dean spoke.

“So this is where she drowned her kids.”

“That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them,” Sam told you and his brother.

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” Dean slapped him on the chest where holes had been burned through his shirt that you were assumed were the products of Constance. Sam groaned out in pain but laughed nonetheless.

“Actually, it was all (Y/N). I’m just the jackass who drove your car through the side of a house,” Sam smiled, jutting his thumb back at you.

Dean hummed as he continued to walk away, clearly disinterested but making an effort to sound impressed. He leaned on the open window of the passenger’s side door, looking over his baby. “Speaking of that, if you screwed up my car--” he paused, looking back at Sam, “--I’ll kill you.”

“Aw, shame,” you cut in, “Sam’s my favorite Winchester.”

Dean glared at you. “Can it, (Y/N).”

***

You lip-synced the words to AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” which boomed through the speakers of the Impala. You were sat in the backseat, leaning on the front seat between the two Winchesters with your forearms atop their bench seat. You looked over Sam’s shoulder as he opened up a giant map and opened his dad’s journal. He went to tuck a flashlight under his chin so he could actually see what he was doing, but you stopped him.

“I can hold that for you.”

“Thanks,” was his short reply as he handed off the flashlight to you, his eyes never leaving the things on his lap. You clicked the flashlight on and held it over his shoulder as he scanned the map for the coordinates “35-111″ as was written in his dad’s journal.

Sam tapped the spot on the map once he found it. “Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.”

“Charming,” you quipped.

“How far?” came Dean’s question.

“About six hundred miles,” the younger Winchester told his brother.

“Hey, if we shag ass after we drop (Y/N) off in the next town over we could make it by morning,” Dean suggested, looking over at Sam. 

‘This guy is so ready to get rid of me,’ you thought, shaking your head.

Sam cocked his head to the side and looked to his brother. “Dean--”

Dean stared back to the road, his pitch dropping lower and his disappointment apparent. “You're not going.”

“The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there,” Sam reminded him.

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home.”

You clicked the flashlight off, sinking back into the backseat. 

‘Awkward.’

***

Dean’s face was still set in a frown as the Impala pulled up to Sam’s apartment complex. You jumped out of the car as Sam did, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” you told him, squeezing him harder with your eyes shut. You were genuinely disappointed. Sam was so nice and the two of you had become great friends very quickly.

“Hey, you have my number. Call me.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same.” You pulled away from him. “Say ‘hi’ to Jess for me.”

The brunet chuckled. “I will.” He leaned down into the open window of Dean’s car. “Call me if you find him?”

Dean nodded. 

“And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?”

“Yeah, all right.”

Sam clearly did not know how to end the conversation from there, so he simply patted the inside of the car door twice and turned away. Dean leaned toward the passenger door, calling out to Sam in one last attempt to get him to come with him. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there.” 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, which was clearly not the reaction Dean was expecting. He just sighed and waited for you to get back in the car. You had barely shut the door before Dean shoved off. 

You jerked around in your seat. “Easy, tiger. Jesus.” You slumped down in your seat after getting no response from Dean. You crossed your arms and looked out of your window. 

The familiar smells of coconut and tobacco filled your nose, and you immediately straightened up. 

“Turn around,” you told Dean, your eyes wide.

“What? No,” he snorted. “Why?”

“Just do it!”

Your exclamation caught Dean off guard. “Jesus, fine.”

He put the car in reverse and headed back up the street. 

Dean hadn’t even stopped in front of Sam’s apartment complex before you threw the car door open and sprinted toward the apartment as fast as you could.

“Whoa, crazy lady, where are you going?” Dean caught up to you and grabbed your arm, spinning you around. 

“Sam’s apartment. Which one is it?!” You asked in a panic. 

“Uh--” He glanced away from you, still puzzled as to why you were a basketcase at the present moment.

“Dean!”

He looked back at you, shaking his head, but he ran up the stairs and led you to Sam and Jess’s shared apartment. 

He stopped in front of the door, turning back to face you. “Now, why--”

Before he could finish his statement, you used all your might to kick the wooden door in, yelling Sam’s name in concern.

“No!” you heard him yell from another room.

Dean jumped into action, sprinting through the apartment with you hot on his heels. The two of you got to the younger Winchester’s bedroom just in time to see a woman in a white nightgown stained red at her belly from bleeding with blonde hair on the ceiling burst into flames. 

“Jess!” Sam yelled, paralyzed on his bed in shock. He quickly moved one arm to shield his face as the flames got closer to him. “No!”

‘Oh, shit. His girlfriend...’

You shook your thoughts away from you and helped Dean lug a screaming Sam out of the door and out of the apartment complex. You fished through your bag in Dean’s car for your phone and called the fire department as Dean tried to hold Sam back from going back in for his charred girlfriend.

***

Flashes of red and blue broke through the black of night, emanating from police cars and firetrucks all around you. You walked through the chaotic scene of police and firemen holding back onlookers and firemen dousing the remaining embers of the fire in water. Black, charred wood stuck out from the turquoise exterior of the complex, and you could see into the apartment through giant holes that had been burnt out of the wall. 

You walked back over to the boys who stood by the Impala. Sam was fooling with weapons concealed within the hollowed-out bottom of the trunk, and Dean stood next to him, watching his brother’s face. As you got to them, you put a hand on Sam’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He looked up at you, his normally soft and cheery expression suppressed by a look of both desperation and anger. He shut the trunk with a hard slam.

“We got work to do.”

Tags are open and feedback is always appreciated!

Series Rewrite Tags:

@rach5ive​ @ppeachygemss​

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1975

Under the cut.

Elton John – “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” -- January 4, 1975

He slowed it down. Of course he did. And he's singing it like every word must be perfectly enunciated so that you can understand how incredibly deep it is. Awful, terrible, ugh. William Shatner's version is actually preferable.

Barry Manilow – “Mandy” -- January 18, 1975

Barry Manilow got a lot of hate when I was a kid in the 80s, and I didn't understand from any first-hand experience because the only song I knew of his was "Copacabana." Now, listening -- he's not bad. Yeah, he's 70s light rock. But he sings with emotion that doesn't sound fake and this song has a beat. I'm not saying I like this song, in which the singer regrets sending away the woman he loves, but it's fine. I find it far more tolerable than any Elton John song on this list.

The Carpenters – “Please Mr. Postman” -- January 25, 1975

The Carpenters' asset was Karen Carpenter's amazing singing. This song does not showcase it. They'd have done better to cover "Will You Love Me Tomorrow" or "One Fine Day." Also the way they redid the music makes it sound more like a light 50s pop song than early Motown. Blech.

Neil Sedaka – “Laughter In The Rain” -- February 1, 1975

This song is about taking walks in the rain with his wife/girlfriend. There's something fake about his singing, and also he doesn't hit the high notes (which aren't that high) right. I'd actually like to hear what Barry Manilow would do with this. It's not terrible, but meh.

Ohio Players – “Fire” -- February 8, 1975

Putting sirens in a pop song is kinda dickish, because you're gonna get people driving in their cars to try to suddenly swerve off the road. Anyway, besides that, this is an Ohio Players song, so it's funk. I don't really know what else to say about it. Maybe it could have been a little faster? I'm a bit bored, and that should never happen with funk.

Linda Ronstadt – “You’re No Good” -- February 15, 1975

There are sure a lot of covers this year. Boomer nostalgia. But Linda Ronstadt put a hell of a lot of effort into this one, unlike the people who did the previous two covers. The song's also a really good one, with an interesting lyrical twist; not only is the singer telling the man who broke her heart that he's no good, but "I broke a heart that’s gentle and true/ Well, I broke a heart over someone like you.” That's some vinegar in the wound. And musically, it's really good rock -- not an ounce of schmaltz anywhere. Excellent song, and I went back to listen to it on repeat when I was done writing for the night.

Average White Band – “Pick Up The Pieces” -- February 22, 1975

It's a funk instrumental. I think this has been on a lot of soundtracks. I find it repetitive and kinda boring.

Eagles – “Best Of My Love” -- March 1, 1975

They're still in love but their marriage is falling apart. The divorce rate in the 70s was very high. People often claim those 70s statistics are the same today, but they very much are not. Anyway, it's not too whiny and he doesn't blame her, but the song is too slow and too light. You could replace the words with a straightforward love song without changing the music, so long as the love song was boring. Yawn.

Olivia Newton-John – “Have You Never Been Mellow” -- March 8, 1975

Wow, shut up Olivia. I can identify with being sick of someone who is wound up like an E string and wanting to tell them to just chill. Hell, I'm that tightly-wound person pretty often, and I do much better when I remember to be mellow when I can. But this song is condescending and superior. "Have you never tried to find a comfort from inside you?" Toxic positivity.

The Doobie Brothers – “Black Water” -- March 15, 1975

I saw the song title and the chorus immediately started up in my brain. This is a song about the Mississippi by people who may never have been east of Las Vegas. "I ain't got no worries/ Cuz I ain't in a hurry at all." Pfft right. But the music of this song is so catchy and fun, that even though I'm not fond of the lyrics, I like the song.

Frankie Valli – “My Eyes Adored You” -- March 22, 1975

This guy used to lead The Four Seasons, but thankfully he doesn't do that horrible falsetto in this one. Ostensibly this song is about how he's thinking about his first crush. I think that's a metaphor, though. I think it's a song worshiping nostalgia and missing childhood. Yuck.

LaBelle – “Lady Marmalade” -- March 29, 1975

Patti LaBelle claimed she didn't know what this song was about. Yeah right. It's about a guy who spent some time with a sex worker on his trip to New Orleans. There's no judgment. It's just a sort of funky, sort of disco-ey, definitely belted song and it’s great.

Minnie Riperton – “Lovin’ You” -- April 5, 1975

Turn it off turn it off turn it off. I hate this song. It's one of the first songs I knew I hated musically, rather than only lyrically. The lyrics are whatever, a 70s love song, but the music -- I can't handle it. It's like sandpaper on my brain.

Elton John – “Philadelphia Freedom” -- April 12, 1975

Elton John's ode to Philly soul. It doesn't work. It's too slow, it's repetitive, and Elton John's no soul singer. He's so boring.

B. J. Thomas – “(Hey Won’t You Play) Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song” -- April 26, 1975

Hey won't you not play that please. It's too slow, and it's without guts or grit. The Muppets sped it up and made it a multi-Muppet honky tonk singalong, which improved it a lot. Also I think Bo Burnham took the idea for "Y'all dumb motherfuckers want a key change?" from Rowlf's "Up a key!" line in the Muppet version.

Tony Orlando & Dawn – “He Don’t Love You (Like I Love You)” -- May 3, 1975

Another cover of a 60s song. Linda Rondstadt is still the only one to do it right. The song itself, when sung by others, is a good one. Not when sung by Tony Orlando. It's like he bleached it. Also I expect him to tell me the slot machines are available all night when he's done.

Earth, Wind & Fire – “Shining Star” -- May 24, 1975

This song is absolutely awesome. It's disco-funk, and yet it's sort of a sermon about self-actualization too. "You’re a shining star, no matter who you are / Shining bright to see what you could truly be.” Compare and contrast with the condescending "Have You Never Been Mellow." This is how you inspire people.

Freddy Fender – “Before The Next Teardrop Falls” -- May 31, 1975

This song is in both English and Spanish. Musically, it sounds like it comes from way before 1975, but that's not a bad thing. The singer is losing his woman to another man, but he tells her if the new man ever hurts her, he'll be there before the next teardrop falls. It's a solid country song.

John Denver – “Thank God I’m A Country Boy” -- June 7, 1975

How much money did John Denver have by this point? He sounds like the typical rich conservative talking about how he's a good ol' down home boy while he's got a condo in New York, a mansion in California, and keeps an official residence in Oklahoma for tax purposes that he never visits. "A-raisin’ me a family and working on the farm / My days are all filled with an easy country charm." Total and absolute bullshit -- farm work is phenomenally hard, not "easy country charm." This song is offensively bad.

America – “Sister Golden Hair” -- June 14, 1975

The singer isn't ready for commitment but can't stop thinking about the woman he's singing to. So he's trying to keep her hangin' on. There's one line that I hate: "Will you love me just a little, just enough to show you care?" How about you show her you care first, you entitled brat? The music's pretty good, but the lyrics bug me.

The Captain & Tennille – “Love Will Keep Us Together” -- June 21, 1975

It has a beat and some bounce at least. She sings about how some girl may come along to try to take him away -- seriously? This silly hat-wearing doof? Okay, that's a problem. Another problem is that she sounds perfectly chipper throughout. She's not worried, but who would be? I think this song struck a chord because of the divorce rate in the 70s. That, along with it having an actual beat of some kind unlike so many other hits of the era, is my theory as to how it got big.

Wings – “Listen To What The Man Said” -- July 19, 1975

There is, of course, nothing wrong with silly love songs. But some of them are not good songs. I usually love to hear a saxophone on a pop song, but this one sounds like it belongs in background music on a TV show. The main melody line is boring. I think it's another song about divorce anxiety: "No matter what the man said/ And love is fine for all we know/ For all we know, our love will grow." Very true. But did you have to be so boring when imparting this message, Paul?

Van McCoy & The Soul City Symphony – “The Hustle” -- July 26, 1975

Doo doo doo da doo doo doo da doo. My dad actually knew how to do the two-person hustle. I think. Anyway, how he showed me to dance is the way the couples are dancing in the Hustle video here. Minus that leg kick. There are almost no words to this song. Just "Do the Hustle" and "The Hustle. Do it." And -- okay! It is an irresistible dance song. I like it, though the piccolo (I think it's a piccolo) gets hard to listen to after a while.

Eagles – “One Of These Nights” -- August 2, 1975

Tom Breihan, whose Stereogum articles I've been using to track these songs, doesn't like the Eagles when they turned to a bit more of a rock direction with this song. This is one of many examples of how he's wrong. Okay, okay, an example of how my taste differs from his, which is one thing that pushed me to do this list. But yes, I really like this song a lot. The guitars are great. The narrator of this song is looking for a girlfriend. Or maybe a friend with benefits. The lyrics are all pretty good, if hardly Stevie Nicks level, but one line stands out: "Oh, loneliness will blind you in between the wrong and the right." It will.

The Bee Gees – “Jive Talkin'” -- August 9, 1975

I made a weird noise that scared my cat when I saw this was the next one. But thankfully, I have a little more time before Barry Gibb's horrible falsetto pierces my brain. This is nonetheless a Bee Gees disco song, which means my butt is firmly planted in my seat and I have no desire to dance whatsoever. It isn't ear-bleeding like their later songs, as the falsetto is absent, but it is terribly boring.

Hamilton, Joe Frank And Reynolds – “Fallin’ In Love” -- August 23, 1975

He's fallin' in love with you again. Or maybe fallin' more in love with you. I dunno. I'm falling asleep.

KC & The Sunshine Band – “Get Down Tonight” -- August 30, 1975

Some dance songs are good listening songs. This one is not. The narrator wants to do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight. And if you are not there to get down, the song is not for you. Especially how repetitive it gets in the second half. It serves its purpose as a dance song well, though.

Glen Campbell – “Rhinestone Cowboy” -- September 6, 1975

I really like rhinestones. I like sparkly stuff. The narrator of this song does too. He's been trying to get somewhere for a long time and has had it. He's eager to sell out thoroughly at this point. I get it. Oh boy do I get it. And being a rhinestone cowboy doesn't hurt anyone. If I could churn out huge amounts of disposable fiction with a "load of compromising" to make a lot of money, I'd do it in a heartbeat. My 20-year old self would be shocked. But life's hard, and "cringe" isn't harm. Rhinestone Cowboy's good in my book.

David Bowie – “Fame” -- September 20, 1975

And here's a song about how chasing celebrity is maybe not such a great idea. A really bad idea, actually.  "It drives you to crime," for one thing. Yet this is musically not a dour song at all. It's angry but upbeat at the same time. Also brilliant musically, which from David Bowie is "of course." Most excellent.

John Denver – “I’m Sorry” -- September 27, 1975

The narrator is sorry about a breakup. He says he's also "sorry for the way things are in China." That one line makes me side-eye the entire song. Saying that they're sorry for huge things that have nothing to do with them is something abusive people sometimes do. The rest of the song sounds sincere enough though. And boring. Oh, so very boring.

Neil Sedaka – “Bad Blood” -- October 11, 1975

The narrator is telling a guy that the woman he's with is bad and is going to mess him up. And he's angry about it -- not at the woman, but at the guy. I think the narrator wanted the woman and is now calling her an evil bitch to try to turn his supposed friend against her. There's this happy flute in the background that sounds really odd with this deeply nasty song. Also, nastiness should be more interesting than this. It's both mean and boring.

Elton John – “Island Girl” -- November 1, 1975

Did Elton John start all his songs with the same chords? I feel like he did. This doesn't sound like an island song. It sounds like an ad jingle. A racist, sexist ad jingle. Ha-ha isn't it funny that a woman is tall and dark-skinned. The song calls her a "well-worn tire." So, so bad.

KC & The Sunshine Band – “That’s The Way (I Like It)” -- November 22, 1975

I have never understood any lyrics to this song but the chorus, or been curious enough to look them up. I just did. There are very few lyrics in this song besides the chorus, but yep, it's about sex. It's another KC & The Sunshine Band dance song that's great for dancing, and not really meant for anything else.

Silver Convention – “Fly, Robin, Fly” -- November 29, 1975

"Fly, robin, fly/ Up up to the sky" are the lyrics to this song. Over and over again. It's plastic Euro-disco and it is bad. Not danceable, no reason to listen to it, no reason for it to exist. I can only think that large amounts of cocaine were involved in this becoming a hit.

The Staple Singers – “Let’s Do It Again” -- December 27, 1975

It's another sleepy sex song, but this one is by a band with three sisters and their father. Their father sings on this track too. Apparently he didn't want to, and I wish he'd stuck by that, because ew.

BEST OF 1975 -- "Lady Marmalade" by LaBelle and "Shining Star" by Earth, Wind and Fire WORST OF 1975 -- "Island Girl" by Elton John

[willow-salix]

Another Isolation Island fic I thought I'd share just for @gumnut-logic you can read the rest here.

Day 50 of isolation on Tracy Island and Gordon was either the first to notice or the only one with a death wish.

He leant over the back of the couch and ruffled his fingers through my hair. 

Awww, he's being sweet, I thought, leaning my head closer and turning to give his cheek a kiss. He's so cute. 

He did it again, but this time less affection and more monkey searching out a flea. Then he opened his mouth. 

"So THAT'S your real hair colour!" 

I clamped my hands down onto top of my head in shock. "What? No! How dare you!" 

"It's almost the same colour as mine, maybe a touch darker, more of a very light brown," he mused. 

"Lies!" I hissed and grabbed my phone, using the camera as a mirror to inspect the damage. Yep, he was right, while they were getting shaggy up top, I was gaining roots that would do a tree proud. 

"Hey, Virg, what colour would you say that is?" 

"I need to go shopping! Who's taking me?" 

"I thought we were only supposed to go out for essentials," Virgil asked innocently.

"This is an essential!" I yelled. "I'll get all the food and stuff we need too, just make me a list, but I need to go right now! JOHN!" 

They all scrambled for paper and pens to make their lists. 

"JOHHHHHNNNNN! I HAVE TO GO SHOPPING, RIGHT NOW!" 

"Did someone say shopping?" Grandma popped up like she'd been summoned from a lamp. 

"Where's John?" 

She pointed up. 

"Dammit! Scott, you know I love you…"

"Nope, not gonna happen."

"Pffft, fine." I looked around helplessly, giving them all sad eyes and pouty bottom lip. It didn't work. I turned my attention to Virgil, narrowing my eyes. “I don’t have any dye left at all.”

Virgil's eyes grew wider as he caught my meaning, jumping to his feet. "Come on then." 

"Yes! Thank you!" I jumped up and skipped after him as Grandma gathered the lists of the things they deemed essential. Not that I was going to moan, essential is relative in a time like this. 

Soon we were aboard the big green flying machine and I've never seen Virgil happier, he hadn't had nearly enough time with his baby lately. 

"Virgil? Is everything OK?" John popped up in holographic form above the control panel, ever vigilant, or nosy depending on who you asked. "We haven't had any emergency calls." 

Virgil pointed a thumb over his shoulder to where Grandma and I sat in the back. We waved. 

"What's going on?" 

"I need to go shopping because Gordon was mean to me."

John's arms crossed in a gesture we've all seen a million times before from him. I'm pretty much immune now. 

"He was mean and shopping is the answer?" he didn't look like he believed me. 

I nodded, then pointed to my head. "I'm hideous."

"And overdramatic," Virgil muttered to himself. 

"You are not hideous," John assured me. 

"I am until I get some hair dye. Don't look at me!" I slid down inside Scott's stolen hoodie like a goblin. 

"Is that all? You've had outgrowth for two weeks."

My mouth dropped open in horror and I poked my head back out. 

"You did not just say that…"

"John, it's best you shut up, a woman can be very sensitive about her hair, " Grandma intervened. 

"I've seen her teenage pictures, lighter wasn't that bad. " No one ever said John was sensible when it came to women, I'm proof of that. 

"You've seen my blonde stage?" I moaned in utter despair. How had he… "Where did you see those?"

"Your mother."

“Oh that's it, she's off the christmas card list.”

He snorted.

“I’ve seen your blonde stage too, Bud!” I reminded him.

"You know that was Gordon's fault."

"And you retaliated with red, we know," Virgil cut in. "Let's not do this now. I'm just going to take the ladies shopping, pick up some essentials and we'll be home before you are."

"Are you sure? You don't need backup?" 

"Situation is under control."

"You're braver than I am, big brother." John cut off before I could yell at him some more and Virgil could change his mind.

“Wimp,” I muttered. “You see if I bring him anything nice back from shopping.”

Once at the store we each took part of the list and prepared for battle.

“We're just here for essentials,” Virgil reminded us, though he knew it was futile, we weren't listening. “Remember the social distancing, use your sanitizer and don't-”

“Enough,” Grandma interrupted him, “we’ll be fine.”

I know she said it would be fine but I couldn't help being a little on edge, it was weird being out in the world with people after so long with just the family and I held my sanitizing spray a little tighter, just in case someone tried to steal it from my hands (I'd heard a lot of stories recently) . The world needed my boys and I was not prepared to risk any of them.

We hadn't gotten more than four feet inside when a member of staff stepped out in front of Grandma.

“Back!” I yelled, acting on pure instinct, spritzing him in the face. “She’s over 70. She’s vulnerable!”

“I’m old, not an idiot,” Grandma huffed, pushing past me. “I don’t need babysitting, I can tell people to shove off on my own.”

Just to prove her point she practically sprinted down the aisle and vanished. I looked at Virgil, who shrugged and left to get his own items. 

I quickly located the precious, grabbing a few extra boxes just in case we couldn't make another trip any time soon, then got down to tracking down my list items. 

Mine were relatively easy and I was done in less than half an hour. Grandma though, had become a little distracted and, after meeting up with the big guy, we tracked her down. 

"OK… I don't… I mean…I'm not sure what to do," I stuttered to Virgil upon turning down an aisle and finding Grandma staging a sit in on top of a pallet of cereal. 

"No! I saw them first!" she insisted to a very harassed looking woman. "Wait until my Grandson- there he is!" 

Virgil didn't say a word, he just waited until Grandma slid down, hoisted the entire thing onto our trolley and walked away. Grandma gave the woman a haughty 'told you so' look and sailed after him like the queen she is. 

After that it didn't take us too long to complete our mission and soon we were packing all the bags and boxes into the belly of Two and heading back.

We dumped the bags in the lounge so everyone could pick up their orders, Virgil tossing me the dye boxes.

“Need help again?” he asked as I headed to the bathroom and I nodded, well versed in the cover up. 

It amazed me that no one else had noticed that there was more than one of us with very black hair that had been in need of a touch up… 

[ofaylin]

⌠ BAHAR SAHIN, 19 CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, AYLIN KALELI! according to their records, they’re a SECOND year, specializing in LINGUISTICS, CULTURE, & ASSIMILATION; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (hair pulled back with a chanel ribbon, lycra boots with razor blades in the heel, champagne and french macarons in a bubble bath, wiping your tears with a $100 bill). when it’s the (leo)’s birthday on 8/3/00 they always request their FRENCH FRIES from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. 

hi, hello, i’ve been sitting on this idea for a while and i was going to wait until june but with all these new characters i just got too excited ?! so, fuck it, i’m here now, i can’t help myself. for plots, feel free to message me here on tumblr or hmu on discord @ #kati7600, but check out her intro below the cut ! // ty @gallagherintro​

INSPIRATION.

bex baxter – gallagher girls

carmen cortez – spy kids

blair waldorf – gossip girl

cher horowitz – clueless

torrance shipman – bring it on

jackie burkhart – that 70s show

BACKGROUND.

both of her parents work for the national intelligence organization of turkey, they’re big shots and they make a lot of money! she has two older sisters and she’s born into a world of wealth and expectations. it won’t take her long to learn more languages than years she has lived, and waking up early to run drills and do obstacle courses with her sisters is routine.

picture perfect on the outside, the household within goes through turmoil. her mother is promoted to the director of the NIO and it puts a strain on her parent’s relationship. her father starts taking more business trips, and aylin and her sisters spend nights sitting on the top of the stairs, listening in on phone conversations. aylin’s the youngest, so she doesn’t really understand what’s going on and needs to have it broken down. 

aylin had always LOVED her parent’s love story – they met on a mission and they were partners for years, it’s all very romantic. so the divorce leaves her confused. how could you stop loving someone? how could you just give up?

both of her parents are an active part of her life, the divorce is...fairly amicable and they share custody. the only thing aylin doesn’t like is her father’s new girlfriend, young and totally uninvolved in the world of espionage. the girl could be her sister. aylin spends her time split between two houses, half-belonging to each, but her parents feel GUILTY so aylin quickly learns how to use that guilt to get what she wants, whether it’s freedom or material goods. 

she’s a little spoiled, but it doesn’t satisfy her. nothing really does, it just makes her feel sort of empty, so she works harder, filling time with books and training with her older sisters who tell her cool stories from their spy prep schools and teach aylin things they’ve learned when they come home for breaks. aylin long for the day when she’s not splitting your time between other people’s homes and she’s in a place that she can really call her own.

she goes to the same spy prep school that her older sisters did in london. she’s competitive from the get-go because she’s a kelali and people already expect things from her to begin with. she smiles when people call her by her sister’s name or mention her mother, but inside she’s seething, eager to prove that she’s good because she works hard, not because she’s someone’s sister or daughter.

it’d be a lie to say that aylin didn’t step on a few toes, and the way she skyrocket to valedictorian is a little less than savory – she reports her competition for illicit activities, and...perhaps she planted something in their locker idk!!! 

she has her pick of spy prep colleges across the nation, but her mom really encourages her to choose gallagher. why? that’s weird, her mom never went there and neither does the rest of her family! but aylin really likes the idea of a place that’s all hers and she’s always wanted to see america, so she chooses it. she’s a bit smug about being ahead of others because she’s been reading books on espionage since age 4, and if you don’t know sixteen languages, stay out of her way. 

PERSONALITY:

PROUD. aylin is a very proud person, she grew up in an affluent household with important parents. when faced with a challenge, it’s her pride that tends to motivate her to be the best because she feels like she has something to prove, and she’ll turn her nose up at you until she gets it. this also makes her stubborn.

INTELLIGENT. aylin was raised in an environment where she was being trained since her childhood, knowing about espionage since she could speak, but she also has an iq of 122, so not quite genius level but she’s getting there. she’s the head cheerleader type that you’d be surprised is actually really good at math.

HARD-WORKING. queen of taking on too many extracurriculars at all times! honestly she tends to overexert herself until she burns out, but she wants it all – the exciting social life, the straight As, the meaningful connections, the parties, when does she sleep? maybe never.

SNOBBISH. honestly, she doesn’t mean to come off as a snob but she definitely does because she hasn’t really known anything other than crystal dishware and fancy clothes. she doesn’t even comprehend that other people don’t come from the same place of privilege that she has.

FUN-LOVING. the girl you want to party with! just because she’s a good student, she wouldn’t want you to think that she doesn’t know how to have a good time. aylin operates in extremes, so she parties just as hard as she studies and has a tendency to get carried away, but let it be known that she’s doing this for herself and not for anyone else’s attention.

MANIPULATIVE. aylin will step on toes to get what she wants, and she’s not scared to fight dirty. she tends to stay in the lines of what’s legal of course, but if she sees a window into getting what she wants, she’ll say what she needs to in order to get it. honestly, she can be a bit callous with the way she uses people and doesn’t always understand the effects of her actions. she would tell you that the ends justify the means. yikes.

INDEPENDENT. doesn’t need you or anyone else and wants you to know it. her confidence is genuine and real, and she doesn’t attribute any of her accomplishments to her family name – she’s not insecure about it, she knows that she’s good at what she does.  

HEADCANONS.

started school early, so she’s a bit young for her grade by a year. she sees this as a positive thing and will brag to you about how she’s younger AND smarter. annoying.

acts like she really likes healthy food and eats a salad in public ( will tell you that’s her favorite food ) but she’s weak for things that are greasy and fried and will be pigging out in secret. her favorite food is french fries but you probably wouldn’t guess that about her ! 

languages she knows: english, french, turkish, arabic, german, kurmanji, italian, dutch, spanish, mandarin, japanese, latin, hindustani, malay, russian, bengali. some are better than others and some she reads more than she can really speak. 

taught herself to skateboard since coming to america since it seemed like the thing to do based on watching american films. she will ride her little penny board in high heels and loves it ! and you thought i couldn’t make her more annoying !

tons of expensive lingerie but u can look but don’t touch. 

bisexual but still not interested in you. 

leo with a virgo rising and cancer moon. i am so SORRY ! 

WANTED CONNECTIONS. 

SERENA TO HER BLAIR. literally her best friend ever, but they probably have a sort of on-off friendship because they’re strong personalities and get in each other’s business. however, when it comes down to it, they’ll always put the other first and they love each other immensely, would kill a man for the other. but they’re also pretty competitive too. 

GIRL SQUAD. i just want her to have a couple close girl friends that are all close...you know. i would love if one of them was more subdued and totally chill about everything, maybe a wallflower type, and then another that’s kind of nerdy ? but also cool, you know. i’m just dreaming. 

EX/BESTIE. aylin and this person used to date like forever ago, but mutually decided that they made better friends than romantic partners. they care about each other a lot, and they probably make jokes about how they USED to date. a healthy ex connection basically !

ON/OFF THING. because for every healthy ex i also want something kind of toxic. essentially it’s not good for either of them and they just keep going back to each other because, well, it’s a place of comfort or whatever. they drive each other fucking crazy though and no one can keep up with whether they hate each other’s guts today or if they’re all heart eyes.

SWORN ENEMY. but for a justified reason, like aylin probably screwed them over for something academic or even in a campus club or something. if your character went to a spy prep school, maybe they’re the person that aylin screwed out of the valedictorian role ? might submit a WC for that cause. fun.  

PROJECT. like my fair lady, be aylin’s eliza doolittle, let her she’s the man you, whatever. essentially, your character might by shy, nervous, or new to the spy world and aylin wants to give them a metaphoric ( or maybe even physical ! ) makeover and help them get acclimated, teach them the ways of the world. i’m also picturing that pic of the lesbians, u know what i mean. i can’t find it, but i google searched “girl doing the other girls makeup, gay” 

FORBIDDEN FRIENDSHIPS/LOVE. idk something totally not allowed. if this was sooner i’d want her ass to have a crush on a witness protection kid. however, her parents work for the turkish NIO, so perhaps your muse’s parents or family have been involved in something rivaling that so they’re not supposed to get along. 

MARRIED COUPLE FRIENDS. these are friends that are so close that they’re practically a married couple?? i’d love to do a platonic m/f thing with this, where they fight and get on to each other like they’re married but love each other like it too. lil grandparents of their friend group.

CRUSHER. someone who has a crush on her, probably because they’re fascinated with the idea of her and not her true problematic self. she’d probably be kinda rude to them and i’d love to plot this out long enough for that crush to turn to dislike once they recognize the selfish parts of her or notice she’s been making fun of them. maybe a flipped scenario.

ONE NIGHT STAND. maybe after a few too many drinks, they hooked up. something recent so we can make it super awkward and potentially funny. 

SET-UP. your character’s parents are close friend’s with aylin’s and they’re trying to set aylin up with your character. aylin and your character are NOT compatible at all and it’s hilarious. 

OVERSEAS. they met while they were both abroad together one summer, and they accidentally got into some trouble with international police maybe just for being too drunk on the streets or acting stupid, climbing stuff. aylin considers your character a liability and has avoided them since, disregarding the fun times they had.

RIVALS/ENEMIES WITH SEXUAL TENSION.

EXISTING CONNECTIONS.

NAZ FARHI. her cousin. the two of them don’t NOT get along...but aylin really thought she would come to a school and be the only one of her family members there and then naz showed up ! determined to make it clear that she’s the best. 

JO TRAN. rival/dislike. took one of the upper-level courses because she could and her attitude got on jo’s nerves because what doesn’t get on jo’s nerves. aylin’s just the epitome of everything that pisses jo off. 

KASSANDRA SUTTON. bad friend to. one of those friendships where one person takes more than they give, and it’s not ON PURPOSE, but kass is really just so easy to take advantage of, aylin’s ALWAYS running to her when she needs a favor. 

[paige-from-my-book]

For whatever reason, I'm having issues posting the next chapter of Rescued (have tried it 3 different times and it does take time and tedious effort to adjust the format to fit on here, so I'm done trying for today). So! trying something else here. Here's the introduction chapter for Blade of a Traitor, which will probably be my next story to fully post on here, since it's almost done! Being from Mideval times, violence will be a pretty conisitent trigger warning for this story. This story also contains frequent flashbacks, so the text that's in a different font is what those are. And for better context: the knight Elane's physical appearance is based off of Cara Dune from the Mandalorian. This story started off just supposing to be smut, but I had too much fun writing the back stories, so it'll clock in between 70-80 pages.

"Our swords clanged together. This knight was better than the rest. His lean armor seemed to protect him less, but that meant he was able to move around more easily. While I was sure I was leaving cuts and injuries, he never showed it. His short sword came down hard on my helmet, leaving my ears ringing and causing spots to form in my vision. I could barely avoid his next jab, swiping his sword with mine to aid my dodge. 

That movement distracted me from his elbow, though, and he gave me a swift uppercut with it, sending my helmet flying off. My head hit the ground as light blinded me. A cloud of dust rose around me as my back settled against the arena floor.  I blinked rapidly up at the clouds, trying to get the strength to stand. But I was so tired. I’d already fought five other opponents today. My muscles burned. My head spun. I tried to ignore all of the cuts and bruises on me as I clenched my sword and sat up, ready to take any swing that came my way.

But the knight just stood there, sword in both hands, staring at me. He was still ready to fight, but looked like he was waiting for me to get up. I realized that my bright hair had fallen down. Schite, I thought. Everyone was quiet. No one thought a knight without a lord could get this far, especially a woman. I hadn’t wanted that to be revealed quite yet, though. I’d had a plan to present myself in front of the lord’s daughter, not with my fiery red hair down, but pulled up to look like a man’s. Or maybe cut.

The knight in front of me let down his sword and strode up to me. I hopped up from my feet, still ready to fight. 

“Halt,” a commanding voice came down from the royal box. 

I looked up to see the lord staring, no glaring, at me. He knew which house I belonged to. I turned back to my opponent, who was also looking back and forth from me to the man whose daughter I was fighting for. When I looked back up, the lady was muttering something in the lord’s ear. He listened intently and then nodded. 

“Knight, you have proven to be exceptional. You have made it to the champion round, but we are not looking for a knight of your stature. We were looking for a man to beat our champion to win my daughter’s hand,” he said, gesturing towards the knight that was still standing in front of me.

At his gesture, the knight took off his helmet. Then I realized why the armor was smaller. Her black hair flowed out as she took it off and she brushed it aside to stare into me with her caramel eyes. I was mesmerized by them. Her cheeks hugged her wide, square face tightly and her nose pointed sharply, but was slightly crooked, as if a previous fight had injured it. There was also a scar along her eyebrow, causing it to be missing a few hairs.

“My lord, it seems your daughter is destined to marry a woman,” my opponent joked as she turned back to the royal box. Her crooked smile was charming to say the least. I couldn’t help but stare at her.

“Tell me, knight,” the lord said, getting my attention. I tore my gaze away from her to look at him. I could feel my cheeks turning red at having been caught staring. “What was your plan here? How did you intentend to wed my daughter and provide heirs?” 

The arena chuckled with the lord. His gaze seemed light-hearted, but I knew better than to possibly offend royalty. 

“I meant no disrespect, my lord,” I explained, kneeling. “I only wished to prove myself worthy of knighthood.” I didn’t tell him I wasn’t sure how long I would let the charade go on.

The lord nodded. “And that you have. Tell me, what is your name?”

My name. Sard. I stood again to answer, even though my legs screamed against it. “Morgan, sir.”

“Of what house, Sir Morgan?” he asked, even though I was sure he knew. Not just anyone had hair like mine.

The words caught in my throat. My tongue felt too big in my mouth.

“The lord has asked you a question,” the knight across from me said, gripping her sword more tightly.

My gaze shifted to the ground. “House… House Larimier.”

There was an audible gasp among the crowd. At this point, I knew in which lordship I was. Even if this lord had never fought in a battle against my king, the two kingdoms were at war, and had been for years.

“Princess Morgan?” the knight asked. She immediately dropped to one knee and placed her sword pointing down to the ground in front of her, bowing her head.

“What brings you here to fight for my daughter’s hand?” the lord asked coldly.  The words seemed joking, but his tone was not.

“The king cares not for his people, nor his family, nor his kingdom. I’ve… I’ve come to fight him.”

More gasps went up around the crowd. The shock of a girl fighting her own uncle caused the knight to look up at me again.

“It’s not what I want to do, but it is what I feel I must,” I added. I purposefully left out the part of how it hadn’t been my choice to run away, though I knew it probably would have needed to happen sooner or later. Just another reason to fight him.

“You’ve traveled a great deal and fought a good fight today. Perhaps you’d like some rest and food?” the lord suggested. His tone made me uneasy.

I eyed him warily.

As the clanging of the metal dungeon door closing sounded behind me, I knew I should have at least tried to lie.  I was too tired to take my armor off, so though it was uncomfortable, I left it on and slumped down onto the hard stone bench and stared at the wall, going over the last fight again in my head. Her moves had been so fluid and fast. How could she fight so freely and agily?

I awoke with a start. It took me a while to figure out what had woken me up. Another shake to my shoulders and a candle showed me it was my mother’s servant. She looked scared. It could only mean one thing. They’d found out.

“Wake up, your majesty! Princess Quilla demands you leave at once,” she says frantically.

I hurried out of my bed and started packing a bag.

“There’s no time!” the servant grabbed my arm to push clothes into my grip. “Your armor is in the stables by your horse. Don’t let anyone see your hair!”

I rushed to put on the tunic that she’d gotten for me. Peasant’s clothing. Once I’d put on the outer clothing, she pulled my hair up, tied it to stay, and shoved a hat over my head.

“Quickly! Go to your horse! He’s already been saddled,” the elderly woman said, pushing me towards the door.

I ran out of my bed chambers and down the hall as fast as I could, securing my belt so I could easily attach my sword in the stables. I stuck to the shadows to avoid being seen. It was a good thing the cold night air was biting at my face, keeping me awake. I’d need to ride all through the night.

“Your majesty.” After what seemed like hours, my thoughts were interrupted by a guard, leading the knight I’d fought in the champion round. She had a tray of food in her hands. Now instead of armor, she was wearing a tunic that fit her snugly. It brought out her chest and the curves of her stomach and hips the way any dress would and it took all of my self control not to stare. Her dark, straight hair was down and flowed past her shoulders, framing her neck-God her neck. The muscles outlined her throat perfectly and flowed down into her collarbone, showing off just how muscular she was.

“Leave us,” the knight commanded. Her voice was low and had a slight rasp to it. It was commanding, but gentle. The guard nodded and marched off down the cold hallway. She took out keys and opened the door, walking in and sitting on the bench next to me after giving a brief bow. 

“How did you become a knight?” I asked. In my kingdom, it was impossible for a woman to be a knight. The moment you were discovered for it, execution was the only option. The only reason I knew how to handle a sword and had armor was because I was the king’s niece and needed to be able to defend myself.

“I trained. I went up against the lord’s champion for his daughter’s hand. I won. When the lord found out, he was so impressed that he kept me on. Obviously not for his daughter, although we are good friends.” Good friends?

“Who trained you?”

The knight smiled at me and passed the tray to me. “This isn’t exactly what they eat at the royal table here, but it is better than most the prisoners get. I do apologize for giving you knight’s food, your majesty.”

“Morgan.”

My opponent searched my eyes, narrowing hers slightly. “Elane.”

“Sir Elane, what is a noble warrior like you bringing food to a prisoner?”

“I’m trying to gauge your true motives for being here.”

“I’ve already stated my motives.”

“The lord doesn’t believe you. He thinks you’re a spy.”

“And what do you think?” I asked.

“It’s not my place,” she answered simply and continued searching my face. Her scarred eyebrow rose slightly.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint. I’ve revoked my name. Or more, my uncle has. My mother caught wind of the plans my uncle had for me, so I was able to get out with just this armor and my horse. I’ve been on the run ever since.”

“What did you do to make your uncle turn against you?” Elane asked, eyebrows furrowed.

I turned away, embarrassed. It had been a moment of weakness. I was already on my uncle’s bad side, but when his son’s wife came to me, it was too tempting. He’d been laying with another woman, as all the men of the court did. She was a mess and wanted to feel loved. And she was so beautiful.

“The more you give me, the faster we can get you out of here,” Elane murmured.

I looked at her again curiously. “You’re trying to get me out?”

“I’ve seen glimpses of the court of Larimier. Your red hair gives it away, so I know you’re not lying about that. I’m just trying to figure out what else is the truth.” If she’d seen glimpses, that meant she’d had to have been in our territory. What was she doing here?

“All of it,” I said in exasperation. “I’m not a spy. I… helped his son’s wife cheat.”

“You were the lookout?” Sure that works.

“Not a very good one, obviously.”

Elane chuckled a little.  “Were you… Otherwise occupied while you were supposed to be looking out?”

I raised an eyebrow at her. Her eyes widened and she cleared her throat.

“Forgive me, your majesty. That was out of line.” Her gaze shot to the floor of the dungeon.

I realized the tray of food was in my lap, untouched. “Where did you get this food?” 

“I believe it came from the kitchen, your grace,” she answered, still avoiding my look.  The way she fidgeted made me think she was uncomfortable with the question. She had said this was knight’s food...

“Sir Elane, is this plate meant to be yours?” I asked.

Elane’s jaw clenched, outlining her perfect jawline and neck. Now that I looked closer, I could see a couple scars on her face. How she got them had me worried, as they were so close to vulnerable spots on her body. I looked down at what little bit of her arms were showing and saw that the scars were even more numerous there.

“You seem to have seen your fair share of fighting,” I said while I absentmindedly traced the scars on her arm with my fingers.

“One doesn’t become a knight by sitting in the castle all day,” she replied with a shrug, her arm falling out of reach of my fingers. “Your food is getting cold, your majesty.”

She started to get up but I grabbed her arm. “Morgan. And may I ask of you one more favor?”

She turned to look at me again. Her light brown eyes bore into my icy blue eyes.

“I’m not accustomed to eating alone. Will you join me?”

“There’s not enough for two,” she pointed out.

“My appetite is quite small from being on the road.”

She sighed and sat back down. “You’re too kind, your grace.”

“Morgan,” I repeated. I’d lost count at how many times I’d told her.

Her eyes met mine once more. “Morgan.”

I was slouching. My horse could barely put one foot in front of the other. I looked around the woods we were going through. I doubted his men could have followed me this far. I didn’t even know where I was. All I knew is that I was headed west. It had been two and a half days since I’d left the palace. I was watching my third sunset on horseback.

I heard the trickle of a small creek to our right. I’d kept us with it for the last day. I didn’t know what creek it was, but I knew water was safe. I steered my horse in the direction and let him drink as I dismounted and took his saddle off to let him cool. He drank deeply from the stream as I looked around. My provisions had been minor, to say the least. I was coming up on my last figs. I prayed there was a civilization soon. I was able to grab a sack of gold coins on the way out, so I knew I could buy provisions. But for now, I would rest. I’d let my horse rest. Just for a few hours.

Someone was crying out. I tried not to think about it. That could be me. Why wasn’t that me?

A guard was walking by, checking on all the prisoners and making sure no one was making trouble. 

“Sir?” I stopped him. He looked at me with an annoyed face, but clearly feared Elane enough to humor me. I’d noticed the guards being more polite to me than the other prisoners, and couldn’t help but think my opponent had something to do with that.  “That man that’s been screaming, what were his crimes?”

“That’s none of your business,” he replied in a snarl. But a knight in armor trailing him took a few steps forward and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. At the touch the guard flinched and his jaw clenched. “He was caught having relations with…. With a knight’s son.”

“Such relations are discouraged here?” I verified. It didn’t surprise me. In my kingdom, if anyone was caught in bed with anyone other than the opposite sex, the consequences were fatal.

“Only between an adult and a child,” the knight answered in a tenor voice. I finally looked at him. He was blonde with a beard that was a step beyond scruff. He stood tall above the guard in front of him and his cleft chin stuck out hard.

“So the issue was not that it was between two males?” I clarified.

“That’s right. The lord knows the benefits in letting his subjects be with who they want. Why start wars where none are needed?” the knight answered as the guard continued his route.

I nodded. That made sense. If only my uncle had understood that concept.

“Princess Morgan. Forgive me, I didn’t know you weren’t at the party,” my cousin’s wife said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“I often grow bored at parties. I’d rather be training or assisting in governing,” I replied as I joined her at the window overlooking our courtyard. Her reddened cheeks gave away her sorrow, even if she tried, but failed to smile at me. I felt so bad for her.

Princess Ada forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Perhaps you’re in the wrong court. It seems women can’t assist much in governing here.”

I smiled back. “Perhaps. I noticed your husband’s absence at the party, I thought he’d be with you.”

“It’s possible you didn’t also notice my servant is also missing from the party.”

“It is possible,” I said, not letting her know that I had. I’d hoped it’d only been a coincidence for her sake.

“But not probable,” she said, reading my face.

I shook my head. Her brown hair was in a braid and cascaded down around her shoulder, stopping just below where her dress exposed the crown of her breasts. I tried not to look, but I know she’d seen me catching glances from time to time. I’d caught her looking at me and sometimes even smiling shyly after she’d seen me looking.

“I just wanted to check on you. Well, I should get back to the party,” I broke the silence after clearing my throat.

“Princess Morgan,” Ada stopped me, grabbing my arm. I felt her fingers specifically dig into my long sleeve where my bicep was, feeling the curves of my muscle from sparring.

As I turned back to look at her, she pressed her lips to mine. Once the distance was closed, it was hard to think. Hard to make decisions. Hard to be responsible. But not impossible.

After indulging myself for a few moments I gently pulled back.

“Forgive me, your grace,” I murmured, meeting her glacial blue eyes with my own. I still didn’t pull away so much that we weren’t touching. I knew I was being foolish, but she felt so good being so close.

“Morgan, please. I need to feel loved. I need to be touched. I need someone to spend the night with me,” she begged. “I’ve seen your glances. I can read it on your face. You want to give me all that I need.” She took a deep breath. “As your future queen, I’m requesting it of you.”

Her breath was hot on my face. Her skin was soft. So soft.

“Come to my chambers in thirty minutes,” I muttered, stepping away. “Make sure you’re not followed. I’ll be there in an hour.” With that I strode back to the party.

[zen3to5]

J/H 4-09: Donna’s Story

Season 4's been a tougher nut to crack for this project than the back half of Season 3 was; a lot goes on in this season, Hyde's in the background for most of it, Jackie and Kelso have their issues, and finding openings to throw in some Zen without taking away from other characters' development hasn't been easy. This was one of the few easy spots to pick, but rewriting it in a way that didn't shortchange Fez and Kelso, or go way over the length limit for a 22-minute episode, was tough. For all it took to pull off, I hope you enjoy it.

(Following production order, we assume that episodes 4-07 and 4-08, "Uncomfortable Ball Stuff" and "The Forgotten Son," remain the same in this timeline.)

(And, housekeeping note: this has been my primary writing outlet for over a month now, and I'm pretty much finished with everything through Season 5. So I've decided to change the release schedule to every Monday and Thursday.)

FF.Net AO3

---

We open on a unique title card: “Ye Olde ‘70s Show,” printed across a book. It opens, and we cut to:   EXT. MOORS – NIGHT   A bleak English moor, a long time ago. In the midst of the fog and the rocks stand ERIC and DONNA in a passionate embrace, looking out over the moor. Only not Eric and Donna; Eric has the outfit and mutton chops of a Byronic hero, while Donna is in the garb of a scullery maid. These are DEREK and WANDA.   DEREK: Oh, Wanda.   WANDA: Oh, Derek.   DEREK: Oh, Wanda.   WANDA: Yes, Derek?   DEREK: You’re not just my next-door neighbor. You’re also the love of my life.   WANDA: Derek, I, too, have strong feelings of love for you. But I have to give back this promise ball and chain.   She breaks their embrace and hands Derek a shackle, chain, and iron ball.   WANDA (cont’d): I must leave Point Upon the Place and explore the world with my trusty cat named Sir Bonkers.   She begins to walk away, but Derek pulls her back into his arms.   DEREK: No. I’ll never let you go.   Wanda pulls away as lightning flashes and thunder crashes.   WANDA: You can’t make me stay.   She moves to slap him, but Derek catches her wrist.   DEREK: Oh, no? Well, what if I told you that I’ve run over the cat named Sir Bonkers and the cat names Sir Bonkers is no more? Now submit and be my wife!   WANDA: Derek, once you were a kind, peaceful man. But love has made you wicked.   DEREK: Oh, I am wicked. And until you agree to be my wife, I will scour the earth in search of cats named Sir Bonkers, and I will kill them all, or at very least, spray them with water, which everyone knows they hate.   He being to laugh, lowly at first but building to a mad crescendo as we crane back.   CUT TO:   EXT. SCHOOL PARKING LOT - DAY   School has just let out. The real Eric and FEZ lean against the hood of the Vista Cruiser, reading the school newspaper. Eric, for one, is greatly offended.   ERIC: I can’t believe Donna would publish this in the school paper.   FEZ: I know. This could be in Reader’s Digest. It’s that good.   ERIC: Oh, this is the worst short story by an ex-girlfriend in the school newspaper ever.   He folds the paper up and pouts.

MAIN CREDITS   BUMPER   EXT. SCHOOL PARKING LOT - DAY   Moments later. Eric and Fez are still on the hood of the Vista Cruiser as HYDE comes out from school and makes a beeline for them.   HYDE: (to Eric) Well, if it isn’t Playboy reading, panty-loving, cat-killing Derek.   ERIC: I know. How could Donna write this?   FEZ: (to Eric) Why are you upset? It’s this Derek guy who really gets the shaft.   ERIC: Fez, I am Derek.   FEZ: Everything always has to be about you.   HYDE: Fez, man, think about it. Eric killed Donna’s cat. Derek killed Wanda’s cat. Donna found panties in Eric’s Vista Cruiser. Wanda found a chastity belt in Derek’s Vista Carriage.   DONNA comes out from the school, joins them by the Vista Cruiser. Eric stands up straight to meet her.   ERIC: Oh, well, if it isn’t the wielder of the poison pen.   DONNA: Didn’t you like my story?   ERIC: No. No, I didn’t. That’s why I said “poison pen,” not... “marshmallow pen.”   DONNA: (laughing) What?   ERIC: This story is about us.   DONNA: No, it’s not.   ERIC: You took stuff from our life and put them in your story. Like the time you found those Playboys under my bed.   Donna considers this, and we cut back to:   EXT. MOOR – NIGHT   DONNA’S STORY. Derek, boasting a massive drinking tankard, tosses his grog over his shoulder. We hear a cat shriek, and Derek grins.   DEREK: (chuckling) Begone, Sir Bonkers.   Wanda enters, a roll of parchment clutched in her fist.   WANDA: Derek, look what I found under your bed. Lewd renderings of naked serving wenches. Did you commission these?   DEREK: So what if I did? I have needs, woman. Now, ready thyself. On this night, we fornicate.   CUT TO:   EXT. SCHOOL PARKING LOT – DAY   Donna gives Eric a conceding nod.   DONNA: Okay, well, maybe there are some similarities. But that’s what writers do. I mean, we take stuff from our lives.   ERIC: Yeah, but you made me mean all the time and that’s mean.   DONNA: Okay, maybe I exaggerate some stuff. ‘Cause, you know, I’m writing this for stupid high school girls.   The school doors open, and out flies JACKIE, a copy of the school newspaper in hand.   JACKIE: (to Donna) Oh, my God! Great story!   Donna grins, indicates Jackie to an unconvinced Eric.   BUMPER   MUSIC NOTE: “I Gotcha” by Joe Tex.   INT. HUB – DAY   One drive later to a modest afternoon at the Hub. “I Gotcha” plays on the jukebox. The gang, minus Eric and Kelso, are at the wall table. Donna and Fez sit in the chairs, while Hyde and Jackie share the booth seat. Everyone but Jackie has food in front of them.   DONNA: Jackie, you’re not eating?   JACKIE: No, I left my checkbook at home and I’m out of cash. My dad cut my allowance back to 50 dollars a month, and Michael borrowed it to buy me a dress.   DONNA: Why’d your dad cut your allowance?   JACKIE: Oh, he’s mad because he let me use his credit card on our weekend in Milwaukee. I maxed it out on the Gloria Vanderbilt collection.   KELSO enters, heads straight for their table.   KELSO: Hey, guys, who’s up for pinball?   He indicates the pinball machine in the corner.   HYDE: Nah, man, I’m done with pinball.   KELSO: Done with it or ready for more?   HYDE: Done with it.   KELSO: Or ready for more?   When no one moves to play, he groans.   KELSO (cont’d): Come on, guys. I bought a half stake in this machine, so I need people to play so I can make some money.   DONNA: You bought a half stake? How much was that?   KELSO: Fifty bucks.   Jackie’s head snaps up.   JACKIE: And where did you get the fifty dollars, Michael?   KELSO: From -   He cuts himself off; he knows he’s been caught.   JACKIE: You spent my fifty dollars on that stupid machine? Michael, you lied to me!   KELSO: Jackie, listen. There’s an old saying: you buy a girl a dress, and she looks pretty for one night. But you buy her boyfriend a pinball machine, and she looks pretty for life.   Jackie opens her mouth to protest, but stops: Hyde is watching her. Seeing this, she closes her mouth, folds her hands in her lap, and turns her nose up at Kelso.   JACKIE: Fine, Michael.   KELSO: (beat) Wait, really? All right, I got off pretty easy on that one! Let’s celebrate with a round of pinball! Come on!   He gives a hearty wave toward the pinball machine as Jackie pouts, Hyde thinks, and Donna and Fez laugh.   CUT TO:   EXT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY – DAY   Later that afternoon. RED and KITTY exit from the house and start across the drive.   KITTY: Come on, Red. Bob really wants us to meet his new lady friend.   RED: (stops) Now, think about it, Kitty. She likes Bob. I have a hard time believing this woman even exists. We’re gonna get over there, Bob’s gonna be sitting in a rocker with a lady’s wig on. (looks to his left) “You look lovely tonight, Bob.” (looks to his right) “So do you. Bob.”   KITTY: (frowns) You’ve been working on that all day, haven’t you.   RED: (smiles) Yeah.   And off they go.   CUT TO:   EXT. PINCIOTTI BACKYARD - DAY   Later that afternoon. BOB and JOANNE tend to the set-up in the yard – grill, meat, lawn chairs, table.   Kitty and Red come around the house. Kitty is leading a clearly reluctant Red by the arm. Bob smiles as they approach.   BOB:  Red, Kitty, I’d like you to meet a very special lady: Joanne.   Joanne offers a hand, and Kitty shakes it.   KITTY:  Well, Joanne, it is so nice to meet you. Right, Red?   RED: We can’t stay long.   JOANNE: Ah, Red. Bob warned me you can be a pain in the ass.   She, Bob, and Kitty laugh; Red scowls.   JOANNE: Well, I’ll tell you what. We’ll just have dinner, and if it turns out you don’t like me, we’ll never invite you over again.   RED: Really? I like you already. Well, let’s get this barbecue started. Bob, grab that meat.   He gestures to the chicken on the table and makes for the grill, but it’s Joanne who picks up the chicken.   JOANNE: Oh, I got it, Red. Why don’t you fellas make a salad?   RED: (laughs) Salad. (beat) Oh, you’re serious. No. See, Bob and I do the grilling.   JOANNE: Not this time. Kitty, you wanna give me a hand?   KITTY/RED: Well, I’d love to./Oh, I don’t think that -   They cut each other off and look to one another.   RED: But, Kitty, you might... set your lovely hair on fire.   KITTY: Well, it can’t be that hard. You do it.   She and Joanne laugh and head to the grill with the meat. Bob shrugs and crosses to the table, Red following.   RED:  Bob, what the hell’s going on here?   BOB: Look, Red, I really like this woman. So please, for today, just shut it.   RED: “Shut it?” Good God, Bob! Is she teaching you to stand up for yourself?   BOB: (beat) Yes.   RED: Well, cut it out!   They stare each other down, Bob for once having the upper hand.   BUMPER   MUSIC NOTE: “Light Up by Styx.   INT. HUB – DAY   A little later still in the day. “Light Up” by Styx plays on the jukebox. Eric has joined the gang, and they’ve moved to a table closer to the pinball machine. Kelso, Hyde, and Fez cluster around it while Eric and Jackie sit at the table. Eric’s nose is back in the school newspaper while Jackie glares at Kelso.   JACKIE: God, I cannot believe Michael. No one plays that pinball game anymore. He’s never going to get that money back. And that means I’m never going to get that money back!   ERIC: (reading) “And lo, Derek did then proceed to confer with his simple-minded drinking companions whether ‘twould be appropriate for his and Wanda’s first fornication to be in the back of the bumpkin Milo’s wagon.”   JACKIE: Eric, you’re not even listening to me.   ERIC: (looks up) What’d you expect?   Jackie scowls, slaps him in the shoulder. Eric points over to Hyde.   ERIC (cont’d): Jackie, I’m having a hard time with this Derek and Wanda thing, and Hyde’s right there, so...   JACKIE: No, I can’t talk to Steven about Michael anymore.   ERIC: (beat) What? Of course you can. That’s like – that’s part of the group dynamic. When Kelso goes too far or too stupid, you get help from Hyde. It’s like Looney Tunes. Hyde’s that big Marc Anthony dog and you’re the bitchy little kitten that claws onto his back.   JACKIE: Look, when I told Steven I wanted to get back together with Michael, he got really upset and told me that if I ever had another problem with Michael, I should go to someone else. He’s so damaged on trust, and with everything Michael and I have been through, I think he was disappointed in me.   ERIC: (under his breath) Yeah, that was it. (to Jackie) But he got you and Kelso back together. He’s gotta be over that by now. And, if he’s not - he said “someone else,” he didn’t say me.   Jackie slaps his shoulder again.   Over at the pinball, Kelso looks around the Hub, searching for players.   FEZ: (to Kelso) So how does this 50-dollar investment in pinball work?   KELSO: Well, I bought a half stake, so for every quarter that goes in, I get half. So, the more people play, the more half-quarters I get until I’ve got a buttload of half-quarters. I start putting those half-quarters together, and I’m rollin’ in it!   Fez looks the machine over, nods.   FEZ: I would like to buy a half stake.   KELSO: No, that’s a bad idea, Fez. Remember, you’re a foreigner. You’re not used to our capitalist system. We’re dealing with quarters here, not frogs or chickens.   FEZ: (beat) Well, I’m not going to dignify that with a response. Because I can’t think of one. But when I do, a good day to you.   KELSO: All right, Fez -   FEZ: I said, kiss my ass!   He turns away, fuming. Hyde pats him on the back.   Donna enters. Eric stands to meet her.   DONNA: So, you still mad?   ERIC: No. No reason to be mad. Your story is just a pathetic attempt to rewrite history, make yourself look good. I’m pretty sure everyone’s gonna know who the dill-hole is here.   DONNA: Eric, it’s just a story. No one’s gonna think anybody’s a dill-hole.   Two girls, a BLONDE and BRUNETTE, stomp over and glare at Eric.   BLONDE: Cat killer.   BRUNETTE: Bastard.   BLONDE: Porn freak.   They scoff and disappear into the bathroom.   DONNA: (beat) Okay, they could be talking about anybody.   Hyde crosses over from the pinball, takes Eric’s vacant seat at the table.   HYDE: Hey, we’re all porn-freak bastards, but he’s the only one who killed a cat.   ERIC: Okay, okay. This school obviously needs to hear the Eric Forman version of things, a.k.a. the truth. So I’m gonna write my own story. (to Donna) Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. I’m throwing down the gauntlet, baby.   DONNA: Really? Okay, smarty, what’s a gauntlet?   ERIC: (scoffs) A gauntlet? What’s a gauntlet? (beat) What’s a gauntlet? (beat) I don’t know, but it’s down, lady!   He storms out of the Hub. Donna laughs, shakes her head, and sits down by Jackie.   CUT TO:   EXT. PINCIOTTI BACKYARD – EVENING   The adults are sat down to an outdoor dinner – with a salad. Everyone but Red is enjoying the meal.   BOB: (to Joanne) Boy, this chicken’s delish. What a chef.   KITTY: You really know your way around a grill, Joanne.   She and Joanne chuckle.   RED: Mine’s dry.   KITTY: (to Red) No it isn’t. It’s tender and delicious.   RED: (to Joanne) Maybe if I chewed it with some water.   JOANNE: Well, there’s the hose.   She nods to it, chuckles, and she and Bob enter the house.   RED: (to Kitty) I don’t like her anymore.   KITTY: Well, I do.   RED: Kitty, I’m chopping vegetables, Bob’s telling me to shut it, you’re over there grilling with Susan B. Damn Anthony.   KITTY: Well, fine, Red. If it bothers you, we can invite them over, and you can do the grilling. But for now, I’d really appreciate it if you’d just shut it.   RED: If one more person tells me to shut it -   KITTY: What? You might actually shut it?   They glare at each other across the table.   CUT TO:   EXT. MOORS – NIGHT   Another story excerpt – but not from Donna’s this time. Derek is tied to a large wooden stake stuck into the moor as Wanda, in a witch’s robe and hat, stirs a cauldron.   DEREK: Please, Wanda, you don’t have to boil me alive. Killing your cat was just a horrible accident.   WANDA: I know, but I’m a witch.   Cue the lightning and thunder.   DEREK: Dear God, why is a nice, sensitive guy like me dating a lying, manipulative witch like you?   WANDA: Well, maybe it’s because even witches have itches.   She whips her hat off and shrugs out of her robe, revealing a sexy red lingerie with black lace.   DEREK: All is forgiven!   Wanda dances her way over to Derek as bad porno music plays, and they begin to kiss.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – NIGHT   Eric and Fez sit on the couch. Eric tears the page he was working on from his notebook and crumbles it up.   ERIC: God, why do all my stories end like that?   FEZ: Don’t stop. I like where you were going.   Eric shrugs and resumes writing.   FADE TO BLACK   COMMERCIAL   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY   The next day, afternoon. Hyde is in his chair, Fez is on one end of the couch, and Eric sits on the armrest of the other. He hands a stack of papers to Hyde.   ERIC: So, guys, check out my story. I passed out a bunch of copies at lunch today.   HYDE: Oh, Forman, this kind of thing always blows up in your face. Don’t ever stop doing it.   The basement door opens and Donna storms in, stack of papers in hand.   DONNA: What the hell is this?   ERIC: Oh, you didn’t like my story?   DONNA: Oh, yeah, I loved it. Especially this part.   She flips a few pages, and we cut to:   EXT. MOORS – NIGHT   ERIC’S STORY. Derek sits on a rock, next to Wanda in an ornate armchair.   DEREK: Wanda, I have performed every task thou hath asketh of me. Please, can we finally consummate our love? I beseech you.   He places a hand on her cheek.   WANDA: Well, I said I would – so I won’t.   She slaps his hand away.   DEREK: But I beseeched you.   WANDA: Okay, let’s consummate.   DEREK: Really?   WANDA: No.   DEREK: Please. I beseech you.   WANDA: Okay!   DEREK: Really?   WANDA: No. Now, rub my enormous feet.   A footrest has conveniently appeared before her chair, and she puts up two feet the size of her torso.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY   Donna looks up from the story to glare at Eric. Fez and Hyde, who have been reading along, look up as well.   FEZ: Um, guys? I don’t understand. What does “consummate” mean?   HYDE: It means to have sex.   FEZ: Really? Now I have two words for that.   DONNA: Eric, you just wrote this to hurt me.   ERIC: What? I did not. And – hey, so did you.   DONNA: Look, when I wrote my story, I just sat down and that’s what came out. I didn’t, like, plan it or anything. And besides – no, you know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you.   She turns and exits.   FEZ:  Okay, I’d like someone to explain it to me.   HYDE: Well, that’s easy, Fez. See, Donna, as an artist, wrote her story to get some perspective on her life. Forman, as a vindictive ass, wrote his story to be a vindictive ass.   FEZ: Oof, Eric. I think you just consummated yourself.   He and Hyde crack up as Eric thinks on that.   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - EVENING   Kitty’s suggestion put into action: Bob and Joanne are over for dinner. They sit with Kitty at the table as Red enters from outside and sits down.   RED: Well, steaks are a-cookin’. What should we have to go with dinner? (to Joanne) Oh, I know. How about a salad? Say, Joanne, why don’t you make the salad?   JOANNE: (beat) No thanks.   RED: Aww... make the salad. Unless you don’t like to do lady jobs.   Kitty grabs a roll and holds it in front of Red.   KITTY: Red, put this in your mouth.   BOB: Okay, you know what? I’ll make the salad.   He stands.   RED & JOANNE: Sit down, Bob.   He sits.   JOANNE: (to Red) I’d love to make a salad.   RED: Great!   JOANNE: As soon as Red admits he’s not asking me to make a salad, he’s trying to put me in my place.   RED: (beat) You are woman. I hear you roar.   JOANNE: (shakes her head) I can’t believe you’re so threatened by something as trivial as me grilling chicken.   RED: It’s not trivial. Men grill. It’s been that way since the first caveman bonked a wooly mammoth on the head and threw it on the barbecue. And his cave wife made the salad!   Bob sniffs the air.   BOB: I smell something burning.   RED: Oh!   He scrambles out of his chair and bolts to the patio door.   JUMP CUT:   Moments later. Red sets down a pile of burned steaks. Refusing to concede defeat, Red takes one and sets it on his plate.   RED: (to Joanne) Well, if you didn’t want it well-done, you should have said something.   Alone, he starts to eat.   CUT TO:   INT. HUB - DAY   The next day, afternoon again. The Hub is packed, and it’s easy to see why: a new arcade game is in the building, SPACE INVADERS. And it just so happens to be in the spot where the pinball used to be.   Kelso and Jackie make their way through the crowd gathered around the game to see Fez going at it.   KELSO: What the hell? Where’s my pinball machine?   Fez turns around and smiles at Kelso.   FEZ: Oh, where, indeed? Oh, I remember – I convinced the owner that pinball was out and Space Invaders was in. Oh, and did I mention...   He pauses as the OWNER, a portly fellow, stops by long enough to press a thick wad of bills into Fez’s hands. Fez, very deliberately, waves the bills under his nose.   FEZ (cont’d): I bought a half stake in the machine.   KELSO: (gasps) What? But – but the deal on my half stake was that if the owner ever sold the pinball machine, I’d get my half back.   FEZ: Yes, unless someone and his partner bought out your half stake and invested it in the new Space Invaders.   KELSO: You? (Fez nods) But who’s your partner?   Hyde, who has been by the counter this whole time, passes through the crowd to Fez’s side. He puts his arm around Fez’s shoulders as Fez passes half the wad of bills into Hyde’s free hand.   KELSO (cont’d): Guys, why would you stab me in the back like this?   FEZ: Well, rest assured, Kelso, your “frogs and chickens” comment had nothing to do with it.   HYDE: (shrugs) I just couldn’t pass up this nice of a burn.   Kelso gasps again and looks to Jackie for sympathy. She has none.   JACKIE: You know, Michael, there’s an old saying: you’re dumb as dirt.   He pouts and storms off. Jackie shakes her head and crosses to the booth seat. Hyde follows and sits next to her. Checking that Fez is preoccupied with Space Invaders, he counts out some bills and throws them on the table in front of Jackie.   HYDE: Here.   Jackie looks from him to the bills.   JACKIE: What’s this?   HYDE: Just –   He gestures for her to take the money. Slowly, she picks it up and counts it.   JACKIE: Steven, this is 50 dollars. (beat) Did you go in with Fez on that game to get my money back?   HYDE: Hey, don’t start getting gushy about this. You’re only getting that so I can shut Forman up. It’s bad enough I gotta listen to all the crap with him and Donna, now I gotta hear what’s going on with you through him? Babbling about group dynamics and Looney Tunes? If I wanna hear about your little cheerleader problems, I’ll get it from you.   He crosses his arms and turns his back to her. She keeps looking at him anyway; slowly, she realizes what he’s really saying.   JACKIE: Okay. Well, then, I’m not paying for lunch to say “thank you.” I’m doing it because this Space Invaders business is the first time in your life that you’ve had real money, and you probably don’t know what to do with it.   HYDE: Ah, bite me.   JACKIE: (smiling) You’re welcome.   Hyde turns around and gives her a small smirk back. They stand together and cross to the counter.   Eric enters. The blonde and brunette from earlier, who are reading school newspapers near the door, move to meet him.   BLONDE: Hey, Eric. We’re sorry we called you a cat-killer bastard porn-freak.   ERIC: Oh. So, you read my story, huh?   BRUNETTE: No, we read Part Two of Donna’s story. The ending is so beautiful.   The blonde gives Eric her copy, and they walk off.   ERIC: Part... huh? Beauti... what?   Jackie and Hyde, now each carrying a basket with a hot dog, cross to Eric as he looks down at the paper.   ERIC: (reading) “And as Wanda walked away, she knew in her heart she would never stop loving Derek.”   HYDE: Wow, that’s good writing. It’s emotional and it screws you.   He and Jackie head back to their seat as Eric beings to read Part Two from the beginning.   BUMPER   INT. PINCIOTTI KITCHEN – DAY   A short time later. Donna is at the kitchen island, making a sandwich. Eric enters from outside.   ERIC: Hey. Hey, so, uh, funny thing. Um, your story had a second part, huh?   DONNA: Yeah. The paper broke it in half because it was too long.   ERIC: Oh. (beat) Well, uh, you know – maybe my story has a second part, too.   DONNA: Eric, your story ended with “and he never saw that crazy bitch again.”   She crosses to the fridge for peanut butter.   ERIC: Well, you know, that was just a... prequel. To a story entitled, uh, “he did see that crazy bitch again, and she was a delight.” (beat) Okay, I was... I was pretty mad when I wrote that.   DONNA: Eric, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. But, I mean, I guess I was mad when I wrote mine too. At least when I started. But once I got all that stuff off my chest... I mean, I felt better about us. More like the second half of my story.   She crosses back to the island.   ERIC: So, uh, so what happens to Derek and Wanda?   DONNA: Well, in the story, they went off on their own adventures.   ERIC: Yeah. Yeah, I mean, that’s probably good for them.   DONNA: Yeah. It’s probably time they moved on.   ERIC: Sure. Derek’s gonna be fine. He’s a smart guy. The wenches love him.   DONNA: Yeah, well, Wanda’s gonna do great too.   ERIC: Oh, yeah, sure. And she’ll get all the wenches she wants. Oh, my God, Donna, there’s your story: “Wanda and the Dirty Wenches.”   DONNA: (laughing) Shut up.   ERIC: I know, I know.   Donna gathers her sandwich, and they both sit at the kitchen table.   ERIC (cont’d): That’s a movie.   He smiles, and Donna cracks up again.   FADE TO BLACK   CREDITS   INT. HUB - DAY   A (seemingly) empty Hub, except for Donna at the jukebox and Jackie at a table. When the door opens, and Fez enters, they rush to embrace him.   DONNA: Oh, Fez! I can’t hold my feelings inside any longer.   JACKIE: Yes, we must finally tell you how much we desire you! And it’s not just us, Fez.   The blonde and brunette who confronted Eric before sweep in and embrace Fez from the front and back. Fez smiles up at the ceiling in ecstasy.   FEZ: Oh, I knew it all along. Now – let’s consummate me!   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY   Fez sits alone on the couch, a pen and notebook in hand. He looks up at the ceiling with the same sort of joyous face as he had in his story.   FEZ: Ah, old boy, this is the best story ever!   And with that, he goes back to work.   END.

[chiseler]

Lost in the Blues: The Search for Dyin’ Dog

In June of this year, an unidentified seller posted a Jewel Records promo single on eBay. The asking price was $20. The simple accompanying description read:

“DJ PROMO RECORD 45 rpm  70s blues/R&B . Condition is Used. Bought this puppy at an estate sale for the late, great Stan Lewis. The artist is Dyin' Dog; I never heard of him but it's a pretty good record. I picked up two of them and thought I'd see what it's worth. It's a hand cut acetate DJ promo so I figure it must be pretty rare. Date on the label is 1975.”

This was only the second time I had seen proof of the physical existence of a Dyin’ Dog recording. I immediately contacted the seller, who informed me the single was “Bury My Bone” b/w “River Runs Dry,” but he was unable to tell me anything more.

It’s not surprising the seller, or anyone else, doesn’t remember raucous Louisiana blues singer Dyin’ Dog, as he never officially released any records, and never performed in public.

My own search for Dyin’ Dog, whose real name, I’ve since learned, may or may not have been Alvin Snow, began back in 2008, after stumbling across another Jewel promo 45 at a record fair in Jersey City, NJ. Like the seller on eBay, I had never heard of Dyin’ Dog, but the fact I hadn’t heard of him piqued my interest, along with the fact it had been a Jewel release. The seller, who was from Arkansas and specialized in rare indie label blues and R&B singles from the Sixties and Seventies, could tell me nothing about the artist, and couldn’t even remember how he’d come across the promo in the first place.

I brought the record home and put it on the turntable. As rough and minimalist as the production was, I could tell immediately this was unlike any other standard blues being produced in the mid-Seventies, or any other time. In spite of the modern instrumentation, it was raw and primitive, the song structure more akin to the American proto blues coming out of the rural South  of the Twenties than the more urbane sounds coming out of the New Orleans or Chicago scenes in later decades.

Overpowering the band was Dyin’ Dog himself, a voice that shrieked and roared a howl of the most abject anguish from the lower depths of some personal hell we hope we never know. The Howlin’ Wolf influence was clear, but Dying Dog, whoever he was, had taken what Howlin’ Wolf wrought and dragged it with heavy iron chains into much darker, much more horrifying territory, some barren landscape where redemption is not possible.

After all my years of researching the mostly forgotten corners of blues history, how was it I never heard of him? I went to the bookshelf and pilled down all the standard reference works—Kunstler, of course,The Cambridge Guide to Blues and Gospel, Nothing But the Blues, several years worth of the journal American Music and a few others—but search as I might there was absolutely no mention anywhere of any performer who went under the name “Dyin’ Dog.” I did an Internet search, and not only were there no recordings posted anywhere, there was no mention of this character. Had I heard a ghost on that record? Maybe more likely a demon.

The next obvious step was to contact Stan Lewis.

In 1948, Lewis opened Stan’s Record Store in Shreveport, Louisiana. Within a few years the store had expanded into a minor regional chain, and by the end of the Fifties Stan’s Record Store, with it’s huge selection of titles across every popular genre you can imagine, had become the largest mail-order music shop in the American South.

Deciding to expand the operation, in 1964 Lewis founded Jewel Records (joined soon thereafter by the subsidiary labels Ronn and Paula). Lewis signed hundreds of acts—country, R&B, jazz, blues, gospel, rock’nroll, whatever sold—and his stable of artists included, among others, The Blind Boys of Alabama, Memphis slim and John Lee Hooker.

After a successful twenty-year run, Lewis was forced to declare bankruptcy in 1983. In the late Nineties all of Jewel’s master tapes were obtained by the online company eMusic, and at present the rights to the entire Jewel catalog are held by a New York-based holding company, Fuel 2000. Lewis himself passed away in July of 2018 at age 91, which explains the above-mentioned estate sale.

I had the opportunity to speak with Lewis two or three times in the Nineties while researching other Jewel acts. He’d always been friendly and willing to offer as much as he could, so I reached out again in 2009 to see what he could tell me about Dyin’ Dog.

When I’d spoken with him earlier, Lewis could not only share entertaining anecdotes about any act I was curious about, he could cite contract details and sales numbers from memory. But when I mentioned Dyin’ Dog he drew a complete blank. He had no memory of him whatsoever. I even played the single over the phone hoping that might spark something, some kind of memory, but while he admitted he was clearly impressed with the performance, the name rang no bells. He did, however, invite me to pore through the Jewel archives in Shreveport to see what I could find.

The voice I’d heard on that record, guttural, unearthly, scraped to the sinew, continued to haunt me. I couldn’t even tell if Dyin’ Dog was black or white. I had to find out who was behind that sound, and how he got there.

I was able to schedule a trip to Louisiana two months later, and after a week of digging through cardboard boxes overflowing with contracts, press releases and sales reports, I at last came across my first solid lead. In a brief series of correspondence dated early 1975, a young musician named Roland Sheehan sang the praises of a wild new blues singer he was working with. The description sounded decidedly like Dyin’ Dog, though the name Sheehan used was “Alvin Snow.” More exciting still, another note from Sheehan made reference to some demos recorded by Snow and a small band headed by Sheehan on keyboards. He mentioned a few titles—“The Dog’s Dream,” “Pass for White”—which made me even more excited. In his encouraging response, Lewis, who was clearly acquainted with Sheehan, tentatively agreed to put Jewel behind Snow, adding, “But need to do something about the name. And the cursing. He curses too much.”

That was it. There was no further correspondence, no evidence the records were ever released. No press releases, no sales reports, nothing at all. Just those tantalizing hints Dyin’ Dog/Alvin Snow was real.

The next step was to contact Sheehan. He was not hard to find. He was still alive and living in Ruston, Louisiana. With no important business pulling me back to New Jersey, I rented a car in Shreveport and drove seventy miles to the north, to a small town near the Louisiana Tech campus. It was a typically sultry Louisiana afternoon in late July when I knocked on Sheehan’s door. He invited me in and offered me a beer.

Unlike Lewis, Sheehan, a burly man of 58 at the time with the unmistakable accent of a native, could remember Snow well, and was eager to talk about him.

“”Yeah, Alvin and Dyin’ Dog were the same,” Sheehan confirmed. “But Dyin’ Dog came along later. Close to the end. That was Stan’s idea. He thought Alvin needed a bluesier name, so we were Dyin’ Dog and the Mongrels.”

He said he first encountered Snow on the street in Ruston around 1974. Sheehan was in his early twenties and had been playing keyboards for a local blues rock band called The Alliance. He recalls that when he first saw Snow, he mistook him for Johnny Winter.

“He was hard to miss,” Sheehan said. “Ruston’s an itty-bitty town, and you don’t see many albinos just walking down the street here.”

I nearly did a spit take. Dyin’ Dog was an albino?

“Yeah,” Sheehan nodded. “White hair, chalky white skin, everything. Except he had these real pale blue eyes, not pink.”

What really caught his attention, he said, was less Snow being an albino than the song he was singing.

“Just belting it out as he was walking down the street. Screaming it almost. But he was good, like nothing I’d heard.”

So Sheehan stopped him, and the two started talking about music.

“I never really learned that much about him. His personal life or past or anything. He told me once he was raised in an orphanage, but that was it. I think he may have mentioned that his mom was black and his dad was white, or maybe the other way around, I’m not sure. I do remember his birthday was January thirteenth. Always liked to say he was born on Friday the thirteenth. I think it was 1938 or ’39, but I could be wrong. He was living with this nice older lady who had some money. We all just knew her as Miss Lillian. She really loved him. And he had this little dog. Chester, after Chester Burnet. I think someone had abandoned it or something. Its back legs were crippled, so Alvin made it this little cart or chariot or whatever. A thing with wheels so it could pull itself around. Ugliest little thing you ever seen, but Alvin was crazy about it.”

The picture that was coming together of Dyin’ Dog/Alvin Snow in no way corresponded with the picture I’d imagined after hearing that single, but that shouldn’t have surprised me.

Snow, Sheehan said, had a headful of songs, but didn’t know how to read or write music and couldn’t play any instruments, so the two of them would get together and Snow would hum or sing and Sheehan would transcribe the music.

“It was really wild stuff, really not like anything else. And if you’ve heard his voice you know. I mean he worshipped Howlin’’ Wolf. Really almost literally worshipped the guy, but I think he was doing something different.”

Sheehan pulled together a small backup band and they began rehearsing.

“Everything was coming together. We recorded ten or twelve demos at little studios in Shreveport, places Stan liked to use. I had Stan interested. And then I set up this show. It was going to be kind of a showcase with Dyin’ Dog and The Mongrels opening for my band The Alliance. That was gonna be in January of ’76. The thirteenth, Alvin’s birthday. But then he vanished just a couple days before. No word, nothing. E just vanished.”

Sheehan says a number of things happened in the weeks before Snow disappeared. His beloved dog died in an accident. Then Miss Lillian, the older woman he was living with, passed away on January tenth, three days before his first live show. And though it may be nothing but a strange coincidence, Howlin’ Wolf/Chester Burnett died the same day as Miss Lillian.

“To Alvin, that must’ve been like hearing God Almighty himself had up and died,” Sheehan commented.

Sheehan never saw or heard from Snow again. He also claimed to have no knowledge of what became of the master tapes of those first and only demos.

The ten years following my research trip to Louisiana witnessed enough detours, dead ends, red herrings and smashed hopes to fill a very long and frustrating book. Even with what I presume was his real name and his date of birth, record searches yielded nothing. I can find no information at all about Snow dating either before or after his time in Ruston, ca. 1974-’75.  You would think there would be at least some mention somewhere of an albino named Alvin Snow, whether or not he was still singing, but it was like he had emerged from that barren landscape I heard on that first record, then returned there again.

But now with the emergence of a second promo recording, it’s clear the story isn’t over yet. Someday, I’m confident, we may know what he did those first three and a half decades before he materialized singing on a Louisiana street, and what became of him afterward. Or maybe he’ll join the enigmatic ranks of Emmet Miller and Henry Thomas, and these two remarkable singles will remain the only record we’ll ever have.

by Paul Lyllyde

[squipsheere]

Guess who wrote more Cassarian angst!!

(It's the big battle against Zhan Tiri, and I was going for a self-sacrificing-Varian kinda thing. He's 18 heere don't worry)

   "As someone who loves you I have every right to tell you how stupid that idea is." Cass yelled over her shoulder, a smile playing on her lips as she punched in the face of an advancing solider. The man crashed to the ground, already out cold. From behind her rang out the shattering of glass, followed by an explosion caused by the vials Varian was throwing. Varian, whom was back to back with her as they fought together.

   She grabbed Varian's wrist without glancing at him, scanning the battlefield for places to hide, as well as any approaching enemies. While she didn't want to leave the battlefield she had to talk some sense in him, and that would be difficult here. There, she saw it; a mostly intact wall well enough out of the way.

   "Hey, Cassie! I thi-hey!" Varian tried to protest, but was interrupted by Cass dragging him behind her. Her unseeming strength never ceased to amaze him, evident from his look of surprise.

   Cass pulled him behind the ruins of a once homely cottage, shielding the two from the battlefield for the time being.

   "Listen up," she growled. Now that she knew exactly what he was planning she was going to do everything in her power to change his mind. A difficult task, but Cass was up for the challenge. "I know you want to do the noble thing and sacrifice yourself to help everyone. Believe me, I know you well enough.  But you have to listen to me when I say that it's too dangerous for you." Cass pleaded in an angry tone. Varian began to question how that was even possible, then shrugged it off. There were more important matters at the moment, he chided himself.

   "Cassie, I-" he interjected before Cass sileced him with a death glare. They were her speciality, usually reserved for Eugene. But this was a special case.

   "No. No you don't know what you're doing. Look, that machine is dangerous and we don't know near enough about it. Last time we used it, yea it worked, it saved the kingdom, but it also released the minions of Zhan Tiri and led us to this. We don't know what could happen this time, and I'm not so sure we want to. Maybe I'm being overly cautious, but I don't want to see my nerd hurt or dead because of something neither of us could protect you from."

   She was unknowingly gripping both of his wrists like they were the only thing supporting her, keeping her standing. Varian looked down to her, a soft smile on his face. 'My nerd, how endearing' he thought, almost saying it out loud. That was the first time he's heard that, and hearing it filled him with an unexplainable joy.

   "Yes, it's dangerous but I have to do it. No one else can figure out how to work the innards of the Demanitus Device. And Cassie? I'm terrified, for myself, for you, for everyone. I don't know what will happen if I do this, but I know what'll happen if I don't. The Princess and most of the forces are busy fighting Zhan Tiri himself, Eugene and Lance are leading everyone one else against his forces. And we're losing Cassie. More of our men are falling than his, and I'm not going to see you be one of them, not when I can do something to prevent it. You're right, we don't know what will happen to me because of it but I know it's the only thing I can do."

   Varian pulled Cass into a hug as he spoke, and looked down in surprise as she let him, no resistance whatsoever. She held on to him tight, afraid to let go, afraid he would be gone after this.

    "Wait for me." He finally said, pulling away from the hug. "I'll come back to you, just, just please wait for me Cassie." Cass looked up to him, nodding silently, not saying to speak. She felt vulnerable, showing an of these emotions, and on the battlefield no less.

   He turned to walk away from her, bracing himself for her to do something, anything to stop him. So it came as no surprise to him when she grabbed his arm and turned him back to her. What he hadn't been expecting was the kiss that followed, long and speaking lengths of Cass'love for him. It told him the things that she could never figure out how to say.

   "I'll wait, just please come back to me." She whispered as she finally pulled away from Varian. Before he had a chance to answer she was gone, gone charging back into the battle alongside Eugene. She hoped he hadn't seen the tear that began to make it's way down her cheek.

   Taking his cue Varian strode off towards the Demanitus Device's underground cave, willing himself to not look back.

~•∆•~~•∆•~~•∆•~~•∆•~~•∆•~~•∆•~~•∆•~~•∆•~~•∆•~

   "Oh goodie, the viper lady! You feel like taking some guys out?" Eugene greeted, fighting off three soliders and maintaining an effortless look.

"Why not!" Cass shouted back over the clang of swords hitting each other. She easily swept out the feet of one man and slammed the hilt of her sword into the back of the other's head. With the other two gone Eugene took down the third and final man in seconds.

   "That's right fellas, nobody survives the wrath of the viper lady. Except moi, of course. It's not easy, let me tell you-" Eugene's boasting was cut off by a punch to the shoulder from Cassandra.

   "Can't you be serious for once in your life, Fitzher-jerk?" She crossed her arms, giving him her death glare. Although she would never admit it out loud, especially not to Eugene of all people, she was glad to see him keeping up his aloof personality. It was refreshing in the battle

   "Oh come on Cassandra, have some fun for once. We're in a battle, isn't that the one thing you love? Give that cold black heart of yours something to warm it up." As Eugene went on Cass saw another soldier heading their way, and turned to face him. Eugene's words caught her ear, and her mind thought back to Varian, her fears returning. She had no idea where he was, if he was alive or dead. It was terrifying.

   The ground shook and she stumbled, nearly falling over. She righted herself at the last second and stood back up to feel a blade cutting into her arm. The pain was searing, she switched sword hands, ready to retaliate.

   Instead, the man pitched forward and crashed to the ground. Eugene stood behind him, a pan in his hand and a smirk on his face. He whistled, impressed with his performance.

   Eugene opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted before he could utter a word. An explosion that came out of nowhere rocked the world, the force of it pushing people to the ground.

   "Where did that come from?" Cass asked as she sat up, groaning from the feeling it being thrown to the ground, a hand on her head.

   "Oh, judging from the smoke I'd say the cave where the Demanitus Device is in. Although I'd say it's not there now, huh Cassandra?" Eugene replied, laughing to himself at his own joke.

   "No." Cass whispered, shooting to her feet, paling more than she already was. "No, it, it can't be, Varian's in there!" She took off running towards the black cloud of smoke, hee heart and mind racing. 'He has to be alive. Please let him be alive.' She drilled the thought into her head, each word matching with the push of her feet against the ground.

   There, she saw the rubble. It was a charred, smoking mess with nothing left standing. Cass rushed into the rubble without a second thought, searching for a bright blue steak.

   And there is was. He was half buried, and unmoving. Cass was at his side in a second, already working on digging him out. Her brain left out how still Varian was, never reacting to the shifting heap he was on

   "Cassandra, Cassandra, Cass! Listen to me, look at the kid, I'm not sure there's anything you can do for him." Eugene says lamely, tears welling up in his eyes as he shook Cass' shoulders to pull her attention away from Varian.

   She turned to fire off a retort, but she was interrupted by a weak cough. She looked back to Varian, and he coughed again. He was alive. She didn't know how well he was, but he was alive.

   She threw her arms around him carefully, letting tears stream freely down her face. She couldn't bring herself to care about the tears just now, there were more important things. Eugene let out a sigh of relief from behind her.

   "I, I think that I may have blown up the Demanitus Device." Varian muttered, cracking his eyes open. He squinted, trying to look at the scene around him. His body shook with a coughing fit.

   "Varian! I thought you were dead!" Cass said, breaking away from the hug.

   "Cass-Cassie? Yea, so did I. But I, I told you I'd come back. Although I'm pretty sure I got hit in the head with a rock or something. I'm not sure if what I did even managed to stop Zhan Tiri. Sorry about that." Varian moved to sit up but Cass stopped him pushing him back down.

   "You need to stay still, Var. We don't need you to make things worse for yourself. You're alive, you're here, that's what matters right now." She felt the back of his head, a huge bump evident, and she decided to keep it propped up. Eugene whistled low as he saw it.

   "Wow kid, you got hit pretty hard." He commented, sinking to the ground next to him. He looked to the gathering crowd, any fighting seemingly gone with the explosion. He scanned the crowd, but saw no head of 70 feet of golden hair. He was worried about her, unsure of where she could be right now; she should have let him fight by her side. For now he prayed that whatever Varian had done had garuntee Blondie's victory.

   "Eugene, is that you? Cassie why is it so dark here? Where, where are we?" Varian asked quietly, squinting in the direction he thought he'd heard Eugene's voice come from.

   "What do you mean? Varian, it's the middle of the day, it's brighter than a carnival out here." Cass was beginning to worry.

   "I can't see a thing. You don't think that when I got hit in the head it affected my eyes, do you? I mean that would make sense, it's only a matter of how severe it is. I have a chance is being able to see again, but we won't know until it actually happens." Varian began to ramble, trying to hide his fears that were beginning to grow.

   Cass took his hand and held it tight cradling his head in her lap, being careful of the bump. She looked up to the darkness rolling in to the sky, with green lighting shooting through the sky. The storm that followed Zhan Tiri was coming. Whatever Varian did to the Demanitus Device hadn't been enough.

   "Cassie? Is that you?" Varian asked weakly, straining to see her. Even just a glimpse would be fine. But all he saw was a suffocating darkness all around him, cutting him off from the world.

   "It's me. I'm here for you. I'm not leaving you." She assured him, stroking his hair.

    Varian smiled, his last though before slipping into oblivion being 'my Cassie'.

[eightmakar]

A Summer At Stark / One / P.P.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Original Character

Summary: Cameron Murphy is a Georgia girl working in the Big Apple over the summer with Stark Industries and their “most promising employee” Peter Parker.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: ENDGAME SPOILERS

A/N: I know i was supposed to post this yesterday but hey tumblr is a piece of shit and deleted the whole ass post when i tried to schedule it. so here it is instead! the Tag List is open so shoot me an ask! shoutout to @the-claire-bitch-project for beta reading!

Cameron placed her box down on the couch of her tiny new Queens apartment. She tugged her tank top down and her running shorts up again; her shirt always seemed to creep up her tummy while her shorts slid down her butt, especially when she carried things.

She was dripping with sweat. When she accepted this summer job in Queens, she expected it to be cooler than the Atlanta summers she’d grown up with. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and wiped the sweat off onto her shorts. Her hair was sticking to her throat and neck and she could feel it frizzing up. Why had she come up north away from the humidity just to have her hair frizz up wildly while she was moving in?

She pulled her hair down from and flipped her head over, combing through her thin, blonde-kissed brown curls and forming them back into their ponytail. She bound them with her hair tie, making sure she got as many of the flyaways as she could.  She fanned at herself for a moment, trying to cool off before she had to trek back downstairs and outside to her car. Only a few boxes left, she thought to herself.

Cam took a deep breath and placed her hands on her hips. She bit the inside of her lip, tugging on it as she looked around the shoebox. She wished her parents had been able to come up and help her move, but they didn’t have the work time off since they’d taken time off to go on vacation together with her sister.

She finally walked out of the door of her apartment and padded down the hall to the elevator. Her building had just been renovated by Stark Industries, Cam’s new employer. She was working a summer internship with them that she hoped would turn into a job someday. She’d been told by the hiring manager she’d be working on some sort of “special” project with Stark’s “most promising team member.”

She wished this promising team member could’ve helped her move her stuff in. Cam nearly cried in joy as she realized she just had one box and her backpack left to move in. She swung her backpack on her shoulders and trudged to her trunk to lift up the box. She placed it gently on the ground as she shut her trunk door and locked her car with the remote on her key. She leaned back down with a groan, grabbed the far corners of the box, and headed back inside her apartment building.

She waited for the elevator patiently, thankful she’d left the lightest box for last. The elevator doors opened with a ding and she stepped in.

The doors began to close and Cam heard a small call of “wait!” She groaned and stuck her foot in the door to prevent it from closing as a boy came running into the elevator with you. He was on the smaller side, just a few inches taller than Cam. He shoved his unruly brown hair out of his face as he grinned.

“Thanks,” he said breathlessly. “What floor?”

“Um, seven,” she said, pressing her lips together. She was still sweating, still horribly sticky, and didn’t have the energy to be talkative.

“Sure thing,” the boy said. He pressed the “7” button and only the seven button. He bounced up and down, full of energy for some reason. Maybe he enjoyed the god-awful heat. “I’m on seven, too.”

Cam just looked at him, lips still pressed together over her teeth, and nodded.

“You, uh, just moving in?” he asked. He turned to press his back against the opposite side of the elevator, grabbing the handrail.

“Yep,” Cam said. “I’ll be here all summer.”

The boy opened his mouth to speak again, perhaps to introduce himself or welcome her, but the door dinged open again. Cam mumbled a quick “bye” and hurried off the elevator, walking quickly to her apartment.

She plopped the box down and sighed, tugging her backpack off her back and letting it gently drop to the floor. Cam kicked her flip-flops off and padded to the thermostat. It was set on 70, but she felt like she was melting, so she reset it to 62. She would set it to probably 65 later, but for right then, she needed to cool off.

Cam ripped her shirt off and stood in the middle of the room in her sports bra. She looked down at her tummy, turning her nose up a tiny bit at the purple stretch marks that decorated her stomach. She shrugged, then laid down on the floor. She was surprised at how much cooler it was.

Cameron laid for a few moments before forcing herself to get up again. She found her box labeled “BEDROOM” in her sister’s handwriting and carried it into her room with her. She dropped it on her Queen-sized bed, then sighed when she remembered she left her pocket knife in her backpack. She padded back into the living room and grabbed her backpack, dragging it into her bedroom and lifting it up on the bed with the box. She dug through the small front pocket until she felt her knife.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, pulling it out and tugging the blade out of its cover. She cut the tape on the box, pushed the blade back in, then tossed her closed knife on the bed. She ripped open the box and was greeted with a framed picture of her, her sister, and her best friend, Maggie. She grinned at it, pulling the frame out of the box and immediately placing it on her bedside table.

She unpacked for a while, making her new place feel like home. She kept a list in a note on her phone of what all she needed. Her new landlord had left her a welcome basket with things like toilet paper and paper towels and soap, which was wonderful. She did, however, have to order pizza, since she had no food in the house, but she wasn’t complaining about buying New York pizza.

Cam arrived extra early at the Stark Industries in the morning. It was situated near Prospect Park, a quick Subway ride from her Queens apartment over to Brooklyn. She walked into the enormous building, nervously feeling the gel fingernail polish that adorned her nails. She was excited nervous, but still scared her new employer or this promising recruit she would be working with would somehow deny her a job.

The secretary at the front desk directed her to the elevator and told her to go to the 45th floor. She thanked the secretary and walked nervously to the elevator. Cam’s eyes went wide as she looked at the directory next to the elevator button. 45TH FLOOR: MS. PEPPER POTTS, CEO, it read. The CEO? Why was she meeting the CEO?

Nevertheless, she stepped onto the elevator and hit the button. The doors began to close when she heard a small call of, “Hold the door!”

Cam stuck her hand between the elevator doors to force them to open again. Standing in front of the open doors was none other than the chirpy, brunette boy she’d met the day before in the apartment elevator.

He looked confused as he stepped onto the elevator. “Is this, like, a glitch in the Matrix or something? Didn’t we meet yesterday on an elevator?”

Cam pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yep, we did. Are you, like, following me or something?”

The boy shook his head. “Oh, no no no, I work here.” He pointed to an extremely obvious Stark Industries badge hanging directly in front of Cam. “I’m Peter Parker.” He stuck out his hand.

“Cam Murphy,” she replied, shaking his hand.

“What floor?” he asked, turning to look at the buttons. He paused, about to reach for the “45” button when he realized it had already been pressed. “Oh, are you the summer intern?” He asked.

“I mean, I’m a summer intern,” she said, awkwardly.

“We only hired one intern this summer,” Peter said. “I could only convince Pepper to give me one helper.” He chuckled, then took a sip of a coffee he had in his hand.

“Oh,” Cam said, thinking. “So you’re this ‘up and comer’ I keep hearing about?”

Peter spluttered on his coffee. “‘Up and comer?’” he repeated. “I don’t know about that.”

“I was told I’d be working with the “most promising employee” here,” Cam explained.

“Oh.” Peter was shocked and stared at the wall ahead of him before puffing his chest up proudly.

“What do you do here?” Cam asked, turning to look at him.

“I do, uh, research,” he stuttered.

“On?”

“Um, have you heard of Spider-Man?”

Cam snorted. “The spandex-wearing dumbass that swings around the city? Yeah, I’ve heard of him.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed. “Um, yeah, that guy, he, um, he works here, kinda, I guess. But the webbing, um, stuff that he uses is super cool and I do research on it.”

Oh, so he’s Spider-Man, Cam thought. But he doesn’t want me to know. Wait. He’s Spider-Man. He, like, regularly gets in fights? And swings around the city with webs and shit? What the fuck? Why this guy? He’s so… tiny? Why spiders? Is he one of those weird bug guys? What the fuck?

“What’s so special about it?” Cam asked aloud, hiding her confusion. She examined him, looking for some enlightenment on why this guy specifically had become a worldwide phenomenon. He just seemed like a normal guy. A normal guy who liked to talk.

Peter’s face brightened. “It’s like, crazy strong, right? It’s got all kinds of qualities that could be used for other things, like in medicine, so we’re being contracted by a bunch of different agencies to see what other things it can do!”

Cam smiled. He was so passionate about this web stuff that her suspicion was immediately confirmed. He was, one hundred percent, Spider-Man. But why spiders? What was his deal with spiders? She had so many questions for him.

The elevator dinged and the doors swung open. Peter held his arm out, motioning for Cam to step out before he did.

“Ladies first,” he said.

She stepped out of the elevator and gazed around. It was incredible. Windows were everywhere, so it felt bright and warm in the room. Peter stepped out next to her, then ushered her to the front desk.

“Hi, can I help you?” the secretary asked. “Good morning, Peter.”

“Morning, Ashley!” Peter chirped happily.

“My name is Cameron Murphy, I’m the new intern,” Cam said. “I’m guessing I need a badge?”

“Welcome to Stark!” Ashley said. She fumbled in her desk for a moment before she pulled out a badge that read GUEST. “I’ll take your picture later and get you a permanent badge made, but for now, this will be yours! Peter can take you back to meet with Ms. Potts, and since you’ll be working with him, he’ll also show you your work station! If you need anything, let me know!”

Cam pinned the badge on the hem of her shirt. “Thanks!”

Peter pointed to a hallway behind him as Ashley went back to typing on her computer. “This way, madam,” he said.

Cam paused, curtsied at Peter, tugging her flower-print dress out, then continued into the hallway.

Peter laughed, and Cam felt a small surge of pride. She didn’t know why; maybe it was because Peter’s happiness was infectious, or maybe it was because she didn’t know a single soul in New York and he had been kind to her from the moment he met her. Either way, she walked down the hall, Peter hot on her tail, until she saw a sign on the door she was looking for.

“That’s it on your left,” Peter said from behind her.

Cam gasped dramatically. “No, really? I thought I was looking for the door that didn’t say ‘Pepper Potts, CEO.’”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Ha ha,” he said. “Very funny.”

Cam smirked and shrugged. “I try.”

Peter walked up to the door and just went inside, to Cam’s surprise. She looked at him incredulously as he held the door open for her, motioning her inside. “Why didn’t you knock?” she asked quietly as she walked inside.

“Because he doesn’t need to,” a strong woman’s voice said. Cam looked to the desk in the middle of the room to see none other than Pepper Potts, the CEO of Stark Industries and the widow of Tony Stark.

“Hi,” Cam squeaked. Pepper was one of her idols, so she couldn’t believe she was here.

“Hi, Cameron,” Pepper replied, coming around to the front of her desk to shake Cam’s hand. “We’re so excited to have you as part of the team.”

“I go by ‘Cam,’” she managed to get out.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t,” Cam started, “don’t worry about it! I’m very excited to be here.”

“I see you’ve already met Peter,” Pepper said as she walked back behind her desk. “Have a seat, please!”

Peter sat down in one of the two chairs in front of Pepper’s desk. He leaned back, looking at Cam as he put his hands behind his head.

Cam saw movement underneath Pepper’s desk, but as soon as she realized what was happening, there was a loud cry of, “BOO!”

Peter fell backwards out of his chair, landing face first but immediately jumping up perched forward on one hand with the other behind him. It was a pose Cam had seen Spider-Man do on the news, so she added that to another mental note under “Evidence Peter Parker is Spider-Man.”

A little girl, probably 7 or 8 years old, clambered to her feet, giggling. “Gotcha!” she said proudly.

Peter breathed deeply and looked at the ground, smiling and shaking his head. “You sure did, almost scared me to death!”

She giggled again, then ran towards Peter, who scooped her up in his arms, set his chair back up, and sat back down. Cam followed suit, sitting down in the chair next to him.

“This is our new friend, Cam,” Pepper said. “Morgan, can you say hi to Cam?”

The little girl turned her head and rested it on Peter. She waved at Cam. “Hi Cam,” she said softly.

“Hi,” Cam said back. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“This is my daughter, Morgan,” Pepper said. “She insists on coming to work with me during the summer.”

“It’s my company,” Morgan explained to Cam. “I’m going to be the CPO one day!”

“CEO, Morg,” Peter said softly.

Morgan pulled her head off his shoulder and glared at him. “That’s what I said.”

Peter laughed. “Sorry, Squirt, just wanted to make sure I heard you right.”

“You will,” Cam said to Morgan. She leaned in really close to her, then whispered: “Can I be your Vice President? When you’re the CPO?”

Morgan thought for a moment. “Yep. I’ll need someone with your, um, qual-i-fi-ca-tions.” She looked proudly at her mom after slowly pronouncing each syllable with precise annunciation.

Pepper shook her head, laughing. “Cam is definitely qualified.”

Morgan looked triumphantly at Cam. “You’re hired.”

Cam laughed. “I look forward to working with you, Miss Morgan.”

Peter chuckled, ruffling Morgan’s hair. “We gotta talk to your mom now, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Morgan said, then laid her head back down on Peter’s shoulder.

“Alright,” Pepper said, folding her hands and putting them on the desk in front of her. “So, like I said, you’ll be working with Peter here doing some research for us. As I’m sure you know, Stark Industries has kind of become a, um, home for ‘superheroes,’ if you will, and we’ve begun research on one of these people’s item of choice.”

“Spider-Man’s web stuff, right?” Cam asked.

Pepper nodded. “Peter tell you in the elevator?”

“Sure did.”

“That’s exactly right. A lot of people are very interested in it, and—.”

“Excuse me? Mommy?” Morgan interrupted.

“Yes ma’am?” Pepper looked at Morgan.

“May I be excused to go potty?”

“Yes, you may, thanks for asking! Peter, will you take her?”

Morgan slid off Peter’s lap and Peter stood up. “I would be honored!” he cried. He took Morgan’s hand, then the two walked out of the room together.

Cam shifted in her chair. “So, um, Peter’s Spider-Man, right?”

Pepper pressed her lips together. “He told you too much in the elevator, huh?”

“Yes ma’am, he sure did.”

Pepper sighed. “He thinks he’s subtle about it, but he’s just excited. Please don’t tell him you know, at least not until he tells you. And act surprised when he tells you.”

“How many people know?” Cam asked.

“Um, probably everyone that works in the building. It’s a miracle he’s not all over the papers.”

“I’ll keep it to myself,” Cam laughed. “But it’s his web stuff we’re researching?”

“Yes. He created it himself, which is incredible to me. He’s a good kid, and he needs something to keep him occupied and safe during the summer, so I promised him and his aunt that he could work here. It’s been a rough few years for him,” Pepper said sadly. “He was very close with my husband.”

Cam nodded. Everyone knew what happened to Tony Stark.

“So just help him with what he needs,” Pepper continued. “He’s got a good little set up just down the hall. He’s essentially your boss, to be honest. It’s his project and we’re happy to fund it. If something happens, you come straight to me, okay?”

Cam nodded again. “Yes ma’am.”

The door swung open and Peter came running in with Morgan on his back, squealing in delight. He ran around the room a few times before he let her down and rejoined Cam and Pepper at the desk. Morgan ran back to her mom and crawled into Pepper’s lap.

“Alright,” Pepper said, hugging Morgan. “That’s all I have for now, Cam, unless you have any questions for me. We’ll send the chief administrator to do paperwork with you in a little bit. Otherwise, it’s all you, Peter!”

Peter grinned. “Lab time?”

Pepper smiled softly and nodded in response. Peter’s grin brightened, if it were possible.

Morgan looked up at her mom. “Mommy, can I go with Peter?”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, Peter’s going to work on his special project,” Pepper explained.

“And only grown-ups are allowed in Peter’s lab,” Morgan recited, as if she’d heard it a million times before. “I can’t wait to be a grown-up so I can help Peter, too!”

Pepper kissed Morgan’s head. “He’d love that, sweetheart.”

“I sure would,” Peter agreed. “But I’ll see you for our dinner date, okay Squirt?”

“Okay!” Morgan cheered. She slid off Pepper’s lap, then skipped to the corner of the room where a myriad of toys lay on the floor.

“We’ll see ya later, Pepper!” Peter claimed, standing up and walking towards the door. Cameron quickly stood up and scurried after Peter, wondering, how does he move so goddamn fast?

She was a little out of breath when she and Peter reached the lab. Peter Parker moved far quicker than he should have, and she wondered if it was because of all that Spider-Man shit. What even was the story on that?

“So here it is!” Peter proudly sang. “This is where the magic happens.”

Cam gave him a look, unamused.

Peter giggled, unphased. “So, until you get your keycard, I’ll have to key you in,” he began, swiping his badge and opening the door. The lights of the lab automatically came on, illuminating the various equipment strewn about the room. Cam gazed around, taking in everything.

Peter was grinning from ear to ear. “It’s um, pretty sick, right?” he asked, puffing his chest up a little. “I designed the whole thing myself.”

Cam started walking around the perimeter of the room, looking in jars, reading labels, checking out the equipment. It was an impressive set up; Peter had all the latest tech in his little lab, to no one’s surprise.

“This is some pretty impressive shit, Parker,” Cam said, leaning against a counter and crossing her arms. “What do you need me here for?”

“I mean, what’s not to like about a physics and electrical engineering double major from Georgia Tech?” Peter spouted. “I didn’t even know they let you double major in those.”

“I mean,” Cam began, “they usually don’t. I had to petition them hard to let me do it. They told me, ‘If I wanted to do that I should’ve gone to MIT.’”

“What’s so bad about MIT?” Peter asked, mimicking Cam’s stance and smirking.

“It’s in the north, that’s what’s so bad about MIT. I’m a Southern girl, through and through.”

“But you’re in the north right now, aren’t you?”

“For the summer, yeah,” Cam countered. “I hate snow. I could never live up here full-time.”

Peter gaped. “You hate snow? Why?”

“It’s cold and wet and makes everything else cold and wet.” Cam shuddered at the thought of the winter in New York.

Peter continued to stare. “Wow.”

“Bet you couldn’t survive a day in a Georgia summer,” Cam challenged with a grin.

“Oh really?” Peter countered. “How so?”

“Well, y’all don’t know anything about humidity up here. At home in the middle of July, good God you can’t leave the house for a second without sweat pouring down your whole body,” Cam explained. “It can get up to 90 degrees plus one hundred percent humidity.”

“Whoa, what?” Peter was taken aback. “How is that possible?”

Cam shrugged. “Wish I knew, Parker, wish I knew. So, are we gonna, like, work?”

“Oh,” Peter said, a little disappointed.

The feeling is mutual, Cam thought. Peter Parker was a really cool dude.

“Oh, my god!” Peter laughed, walking Cameron down the street to his favorite cafe. “People in the south really say that?”

“Oh yeah,” Cam replied. “I can’t tell you how many goddamn racist comments I hear every day. It’s so blatant it’s crazy. Once, my great-grandfather met a friend of mine from upstate New York, and when I told him where she was from, he looked at her and deadass say, ‘Oh you’re a Yankee? Well I’m a rebel!’ And cackled about it.”

“Yikes,” Peter said.

“He also told me that if I brought home a black guy he’d disown me, so that was pretty cool too,” Cam said nonchalantly.

Peter’s eyes bulged. “Excuse me?”

“Yep, you heard me exactly right. He uses the n-word with a hard ‘-er’ at the end, too, and sees nothing wrong with it. I had half a thought to bring home a black girl as a fake girlfriend just to see his reaction.”

“Wow.” Peter was blown away.

Cam shrugged. “It’s fine, he’s ninety-nine years old and we’re just waiting for him to die.”

“Cameron!” Peter gasped.

Cam didn’t regret it. It was true; her great-grandfather had lived a long, full life and he himself would tell you he’d been ready to die for thirty years.

But she also rather liked the way Peter said her full name, even though she’d never gone by ‘Cameron.’ Her parents decided she was ‘Cam’ when she was five days old. She didn’t really associate herself with the name ‘Cameron,’ but if that’s what Peter Parker wanted to call her, then she wasn’t going to stop him.

“I mean, he’s been ready to die since he turned seventy,” Cam explained.

“That’s horrible, Cam!” Peter said, holding back a laugh.

“He’s a racist old man, Peter!” Cam said in the same tone. “The south created him that way, and it’s unfortunate. The south creates a lot of people that way.”

“It didn’t create you that way,” Peter said softly.

“Well, yeah, my dad is from the north and my mom is from the south, so I had the best of both worlds. I practically grew up in Philly.”

Peter opened the cafe door for Cam and she stepped inside. “Where’s your mom from?” he asked, letting the door close behind him.

“Tuscaloosa,” she replied, heading towards a small booth in the back corner. “Her parents were Alabama graduates. She went to Georgia Tech, met my dad, stayed in Georgia.”

“Interesting,” Peter said, trailing after her. “Why’d your dad go to Tech?”

“Engineering. He’s a computer engineer, Mom’s a mechanical engineer. They make a great team.” Cam slide into the booth.

“Oh shit,” Peter said softly, sliding in across from Cam. “That’s a lot of money.”

“My parents are minimalists. We spend the money on experiences, not stuff. We understand we’re very lucky and we do what we can to help people that aren’t as lucky as we are,” she explained.

Cam and her family had personally gone on mission trips to different countries every summer since she was eight. Her mom had started an anonymous charity to bring low-cost, long-lived technology to third world countries, and when they could, the Murphy family personally took their technology to the people that needed it. In high school, Cam designed a solar-powered wheelchair specifically for rural communities. She called it “The Off-roader,” and she went with her mom to deliver it all over the world. She adored their summers abroad helping people. She always wished she could stay longer and help more.

She wanted to improve people’s lives with her degrees by making technology more accessible for the people she met on her trips. She knew about Tony Stark’s reach into renewable, sustainable energy, like his arc reactor, and she was hoping that she could utilize some of Stark’s tech and apply it to the work she’d been doing with her parents all her life. She hoped that maybe Stark Industries --and, by extension, Peter Parker-- would share her desire to help make life better for people who weren’t as lucky as she was.  

“Oh,” Peter squeaked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—.”

“It’s cool,” Cam said. “A lot of people think I’m just some entitled white girl, so I’m quick to defend myself.”

“I, um,” Peter stuttered, “I don’t come from a lot of money. My parents died when I was little, so I live with my aunt. My uncle died a few years back, and since then my aunt has been doing her best to keep us afloat. Until Mr. Stark,” Peter’s voice cracked, “gave me this internship, we didn’t have much. Pepper’s made sure we did okay, too, but, um, yeah. I’m rambling, yeah, but, uh, that’s why I said that.”

“You’re fine, Peter,” Cam said, smiling softly. He was such a sweetheart, she could barely stand it. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Don’t be, I understand exactly where you’re coming from. I’ve been working at Stark for so long that people assume things about me, too, and I’d do the same thing.” Peter smiled back.

“You’re a pretty cool guy, Parker,” Cam said as a waiter came up to them. “This is gonna be a fun summer.”

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