#come and get it sammy lane

[sacredjake]

happy one month to when i died!😀

[kokabeeeel]

"do you remember our first kiss?" sam asks one day; the two of them curled up together on one of the reading chairs in the library.

he doesn't expect dean to remember his first kiss, but theirs must mean something at least.

"sure i do." and sam hates the way that he's surprised; hates that after all this time he still finds things to doubt his brother on.

he plays it smoothly: tightening his grip on dean's hip - the good one even though he will pinch dean's bad one when he's getting on everyones nerves - and pressing his head further into his shoulder. "that's cool."

"did you really think i wouldn't?"

sam knows every part of dean; all his mannerisms and quirks, how there is no fooling him because dean knows sam just the same.

sam still shrugs his shoulders though.

"sammy." he can't find himself to look dean in the eye, even when dean tilts his chin to face him, he closes his eyes. "look at me, please baby."

he caves, because he always caves when it comes to dean. he's weak.

"it was the middle of summer in 'nighty-nine; you had been sixteen for two months." it was; he had been, it had all felt like a late birthday present. "dad was working some case, so you and i were stuck in some motel in hermann missouri."

sam scrunched his nose up as he recalled the mysterious stain on one of the beds, and the way the entire town stunk of sausage twenty-four seven.

"it was pretty bad, wasn't it?" he's glad that dean feels the same way about that small town. thinking about it, sam doesn't think they've ever gone back there.

"we were sitting on one of the beds, you were complaining about how your bed was the one with the stain, how we should swap - which then turned into how we should share." dean shakes his head but sam can see the fond smile on his face. "you were so dramatic; throwing yourself onto my lap, hands over your eyes, kicking your legs-"

"i was not kicking my legs!"

"oh, yes- yes you were, sammy, almost hand to grab them to keep you steady." sam groans, because yes whilst he was being dramatic and throwing a tantrum only a teenager can throw, he certainly wasn't doing that. "oh, i'm sorry, i thought we were going down memory lane."

he feels the kiss dean leaves in his hair; tiny fourteen-year-old sam who just discovered his feelings for his brother swears to never wash his hair again. "you can skip that part."

"fine, fine, princess." we warms with the nickname. "as i was saying, you had thrown yourself onto my lap, and although your hands were over your eyes, i could've sworn you had started to cry." he had been.

"i felt bad, you know, felt as if i wasn't doing a good job at being an older brother."

"you called me annoying."

he felt dean chuckle before he heard it. "well, if the shoe fits, sammy."

"just carry on with the story, jerk."

"you interrupted me, bitch." and sam supposes dean has a point. "can i continue, or are there other points that need correcting?"

"you were skipping details, de, i thought you said you remembered it." sam can tell by dean's hold on him tightening that he knows sam's being a tease.

"i'll show you remembering."

sam stops him before their lips can meet. "i was promised a story, de." it almost gives sam whiplash how much it reminds him of being five and begging dean to read him to sleep.

"tease." dean whispers against his lips and sam only smiles. "blah blah, thought you were crying, yada yada yada, i pulled your hands away from your eyes and i just- i can't explain it, sammy, but it was like all those moments in romance movies where: time slows, the people around them begin to blur until it's just the two lovers, that filter comes into play... it was all that and so much more, squashed into one feeling."

sam recalls the butterflies that entered his stomach as he peered up at his brother, only to see him looking down at him.

eye contact.

"i called out to you, i said: 'sammy' and you nodded." dean's voice had been so soft back then. "you nodded and then i asked you-"

"have you kissed anyone before."

dean nodded his head. "and when you said no, i asked: 'would you mind if i was your first?' and you just smiled at me."

"well, i had been in love with you for two years at that point." because he had been; at least two years he had been conscious of that love.

"i didn't know that, though, so i asked you again- i kept asking you."

"until i pulled you down by your collar and shut you up."

"yeah, yeah you did."

"the fact i still have to do that."

"now hang on a min-"

gripping dean by his collar, sam turned his head so he could connect their lips.

feeling dean smile, sam returned it; it made it hard to kiss but there were plenty of other times they could get hot and heavy, this was just a simple trip down memory lane.

[gatheringbones]

[“To Larraine, putting something on layaway was saving. “I can’t leave money in my bank,” she said. “When you’re on SSI you can only have so much money in the bank, and it’s got to be less than a thousand dollars. Because if it’s more…they cut your payments until that money is spent.”

Larraine was talking about SSI’s “resource limit.” She was allowed to have up to $2,000 in the bank, not $1,000 like she thought, but anything more than that could result in her losing benefits. Larraine saw this rule as a clear disincentive to save. “If I can’t keep my money in the bank, then I might as well buy something worthwhile…because I know once I pay on it, it’s mine, and no one can take it from me, just like my jewelry.” Well, no one except Eagle Moving.

Before her eviction, Beaker had asked Larraine why she didn’t just sell her jewelry and pay Tobin. “Of course I’m not going to do that,” she said. “I worked way too hard for me to sell my jewelry….I’m not going to sell my life savings because I’m homeless or I got evicted.” It wasn’t like she had just stumbled into a pit and would soon climb out. Larraine imagined she would be poor and rent-strapped forever. And if that was to be her lot in life, she might as well have a little jewelry to show for it.

(…) When Larraine spent money or food stamps on nonessentials, it baffled and frustrated people around her, including her niece, Sammy, Susan and Lane’s daughter. “My aunt Larraine is one of those people who will see some two-hundred-dollar beauty cream that removes her wrinkles and will go and buy it instead of paying the rent,” said Sammy, a hairstylist with her own shop in Cudahy. “I don’t know why she just doesn’t stick to a budget.” Pastor Daryl felt the same way, saying that Larraine was careless with her money because she operated under a “poverty mentality.”

To Sammy, Pastor Daryl, and others, Larraine was poor because she threw money away. But the reverse was more true. Larraine threw money away because she was poor.

Before she was evicted, Larraine had $164 left over after paying the rent. She could have put some of that away, shunning cable and Walmart. If Larraine somehow managed to save $50 a month, nearly one-third of her after-rent income, by the end of the year she would have $600 to show for it—enough to cover a single month’s rent. And that would have come at considerable sacrifice, since she would sometimes have had to forgo things like hot water and clothes. Larraine could have at least saved what she spent on cable. But to an older woman who lived in a trailer park isolated from the rest of the city, who had no car, who didn’t know how to use the Internet, who only sometimes had a phone, who no longer worked, and who sometimes was seized with fibromyalgia attacks and cluster migraines—cable was a valued friend.

People like Larraine lived with so many compounded limitations that it was difficult to imagine the amount of good behavior or self-control that would allow them to lift themselves out of poverty. The distance between grinding poverty and even stable poverty could be so vast that those at the bottom had little hope of climbing out even if they pinched every penny. So they chose not to. Instead, they tried to survive in color, to season the suffering with pleasure. They would get a little high or have a drink or do a bit of gambling or acquire a television. They might buy lobster on food stamps. If Larraine spent her money unwisely, it was not because her benefits left her with so much but because they left her with so little. She paid the price for her lobster dinner. She had to eat pantry food the rest of the month. Some days, she simply went hungry. It was worth it. “I’m satisfied with what I had,” she said. “And I’m willing to eat noodles for the rest of the month because of it.”

Larraine learned a long time ago not to apologize for her existence. “People will begrudge you for anything,” she said. She didn’t care that the checkout clerk looked at her funny. She got the same looks when she bought the $14 tart balsamic vinegar or ribs or on-sale steak or chicken. Larraine loved to cook. “I have a right to live, and I have a right to live like I want to live,” she said. “People don’t realize that even poor people get tired of the same old taste. Like, I literally hate hot dogs, but I was brought up on them. So you think, ‘When I get older, I will have steak.’ So now I’m older. And I do.”]

matthew desmond, from evicted: poverty and profit in the american city, 2016

[according2thelore]

hi hello do you think it's plausible that dean's obsession with the magic fingers is even more hindbrain than he or sam ever could've guessed, and is based strictly on the very very early days post-fire when john would put his two fussy children in the middle of the bed and feed the meter so that it would vibrate them to sleep, just like a car ride on a gravel road would, so that he could leave and not worry about them waking up? 'cause I do...

👋👋 😈🎉 cilla/mdbp 💜

HI CILLA

WHY YES NOW I AM 800% thinking about this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

everyone take a moment to love and appreciate @majordemonblockparty 's gigantic brain <3

this makes so much sense i'm going to WEEP because dean never really gets this again!!!!!

dean grew up with his head buzzing, feeling the rattle in his teeth, and knowing that they were safe. if they were moving, then monsters couldn't get to sammy or daddy or him. daddy only saw monsters when they stopped, so as long as they were moving, dean was safe.

sleeping felt tenuous if he wasn't falling asleep in the impala, because sometimes dad would shake him awake, snapping at him to get sammy's stuff together because they had to be out of town in five minutes.

and you're so right!!!!! john would set them in the middle of the bed, dean curled around sam with jealous six-year-old hands, and slip a few quarters--some of the only money he could scrounge together--because it was the only thing that relaxed dean like a switch had been flipped. it was the only thing that got sam to stop fussing, and they would sleep through the whole night if the bed was rattling like a almost 20-year-old car's suspension over a back road. he could sit outside without dean asking him where he was going or demanding he come back inside and just sit in complete silence, looking out at the parking lot and wondering what the fuck he was going to do.

and dean doesn't know why, but he sleeps best when dad's driving, all the way up to 2005 when he disappears. he sleeps okay, he supposes, the rest of the time, but it's not until he finally lets sam drive them the rest of the way through texas on their way to see bobby that he falls asleep so immediately and deeply that he wakes up 10 hours later blinking sun out of his eyes and in nebraska.

(for this reason, sam apologizes one time by asking if he can drive them the rest of the way to oregon because dean is so strung out and exhausted. dean snaps at him, but lets him do it, and dean sleeps for fourteen hours.)

it's that sense of safety, of home, that knocks dean out completely. he doesn't even notice, of course, he just chalks it up to baby's uncanny ability to know exactly what he needs at all times.

the closest things he can get to it on solid ground, he chases.

one time, he walks back out of a motel lobby and leaves sam floundering after him when the receptionist tells him that no, they took out the magic fingers years ago.

with his music in his ears and the rocking back and forth, the swoosh of metal and vibrating in the back of dean's brain, the buzz all the way down to his fingers, that's safety.

sam scoffs and rolls his eyes because he found home in other things. magic fingers annoy him more than anything, because dean always took him on smoother highways and switched lanes to avoid potholes when he was driving. sleep for him was the sound of dean's quiet breaths or the smell of cheap toothpaste or starch-scratchy motel sheets. (sam stands in a pharmacy for hours smelling all of the deodorants until he finds the closet one to dean's and rubs it on the inside of his pillowcase in order to sleep at stanford, but that's neither here nor there.)

for dean, it's magic fingers. or the closest he can get.

dean always volunteers for laundry duty on those dirty stop-over between hunts when they roll into a town for less than 12 hours to sleep and take a shower on the way to somewhere else.

sammy's already conked out on the bed, jeans and shoes and drowner guts still stuck to his neck with penny-tang lake water and sweat. dad just shrugs, eying the couch with the hungry eyes of a man that drove for sixteen uninterrupted hours to get them the hell out of dodge before the local feds showed up.

dean knows he won't sleep, even though he's so fucking exhausted, because while sam slept in the backseat, dean was pinching holes into his thigh to stay awake in case dad needed a relief driver.

so he guts his own duffle in the corner and fills it with their dirty laundry.

it's only when he's leaning against the washing machines with his back and can feel the rattle in his gums does he finally feel safe and at home enough doze off, the bored attendant at the front half-asleep themself.

the buzz of the laundry machine wakes him up, and now he gets to lean against the dryer, the artificial machine warmth feeling more like a mother than anything dean can consciously remember, so familiar to the low-humming of the impala that he curls up against it like a child.

they start phasing magic fingers out of motels to make way for wood composite bed frames and bare bulbs or slowly stop repairing them, and dean never really gets a good night of sleep again.

one night in the bunker, after a rough hunt where they can't save a young kid, dean slips out of his bedroom in the middle of the night, starts an empty load of laundry, and falls asleep with his cheek pressed against the warm metal, so tired he can't even cry.

cilla--mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah--you are so right all the TIMEEEE <3

-lizzy

[noxemma]

Super late start, but here's the first chapter of a fic for @winchester-reload's Hot Summer Art challenge (better late than never, right?)

Tags, Rating, Word Count, AO3 link, etc. at the bottom

Beside Your Side

Fic Summary: Dean convinces Sam to look into a potential case where people are going missing from a New Jersey beach town. Of course, they have to bring Cas and Eileen along, just in case it's not a monster. Dean is excited to get the case over quickly and enjoy a well-earned vacation with the people he loves the most. Nothing ever seems to go the way Dean plans it though, and this case is no exception.

Chapter 1: Down to the Seaside

Dean

“Dude, really?” Sam quirks a brow and gives Dean a look that would make him feel guilty if he was actually bullshitting. But, for once, he’s not and he can’t stop how giddy it makes him.

“I’m serious, Sammy! Over the last couple of weeks, five people have gone missing and then a day or two later, a mysterious sand sculpture shows up on the beach looking just like them! Tell me that doesn’t sound like our kind of thing.”

“I mean, it does, but-” Sam hedges.

“But what?” Dean tries not to whine or pout or let on just how excited he really is. “We can’t take a case because it’s on a beach? Can’t go because, God forbid, if it does end up being nothing, we might take a day or two and enjoy a vacation for once? C’mon, Sam. Haven’t we earned it?”

“Geez, fine! We’ll check it out,” Sam huffs. He maintains his stern expression for a few seconds before a twinkle lights his eyes and a small smile starts to form. “But I’m inviting Eileen. Just in case it is, you know, nothing.”

“Deal, but then we have to invite Cas too. It’s only fair he gets to join in if you’re bringing Eileen,” Dean blurts excitedly, already daydreaming about spending time in the sand and sun with the people he loves most. It takes a few too many beats for his brain to catch the slip and he quickly adds, “It’s not like I have a girlfriend, so it’s only fair I get to invite my best friend. Plus, you know, with his grace thing, some R&R might do him good. And if not, then at least a case will take his mind off it.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Of course, Cas should come.” Sam makes a funny face and looks like he wants to say more, but mercifully stays silent.

“It’s settled then, we’re headed seaside. I love New Jersey!” Dean whoops as he hustles to his room to dig out swim trunks while Sam lets out a groan.

---

“Ughhh! I hate New Jersey!” Dean growls as Baby inches another few feet forward before stopping again. This vacation case is not going at all how he planned, and they haven’t even made it to the beach yet. He tries to tell himself that he’s only frustrated because of the standstill traffic they’re caught in, but he knows it has more to do with the angel in his passenger seat who’s been silent for nearly the entire trip. Normally he doesn’t mind the silence with Cas.

That’s probably because, normally, it feels peaceful. Not this odd tension. I don’t even know why he’s being weird. People are usually happy to be invited on vacation, Dean stews, gritting his teeth as the truck in front of him bursts forward a few hundred feet only to grind to a halt as another car cuts it off trying to merge into the marginally faster moving lane.

“Jesus! If everyone could stop being an asshole, we could all get where we’re going sometime this year!” Dean shouts, funneling his mounting frustration into road rage.

“I told you the traffic was going to get bad,” Sam huffs over the phone. “It’s your fault you spent so long grocery shopping.”

“Whatever, you’ll thank me when you see how expensive everything is on the island!” Dean can practically hear Sam’s eye roll and hopes Sam can hear his responding one. “Anyway, you guys are probably almost there, right?”

“Yeah, we should be just a few miles away-”

“There’s the bridge!” Eileen excited shout drowns out whatever his brother had been about to say. “I’m so excited; it’s been at least three or four years since I’ve been to a beach.”

“Wow, you really did make good time. Okay so the key should be under the mat if you want to go in and start getting settled. Don’t expect too much though. It’s pretty small and Mom’s friend said it hadn’t really been updated since we were there last, which is at over two decades so...”

“Dean, I’m sure it will be fine. I still can’t believe that Mom and Dad actually took us on vacation here. What was I anyway, like a month old?”

Dean grins as he recalls nearly faded memories of the four of them. Snippets of sand, waves, boardwalk lights, sticky fingers, toothy grins, and a huge umbrella covering his mom and baby Sam flash through his mind. Some are so strong like his father lifting him over the waves and some are so faded they are more feelings than tangible memory, but they’re all still precious.

“We came late July, so you were almost three months, smartass. But yeah, what are the odds and that Dad still had the contact info in his journal and it would still be available to rent on short notice? Anyway, given the rate we’re going, which is zero, we’ll probably be an hour or so behind you.”

“Okay, well, we'll see you when you get here, jerk,” Sam initiates their standard farewell, and Dean silently curses him for it.

“See you when we get there, bitch,” Dean responds reluctantly. The line goes dead, and he heaves a frustrated sigh now that the conversation with his brother isn’t distracting him from the traffic or the blue gaze he’d felt swing his way partway through the conversation.

Another twenty minutes of mind-numbing traffic goes by before Dean’s skin starts to itch. He swaps tapes then switches to the radio, but nothing helps quell his mounting awareness of the solemn, blue-eyed angel in his periphery.

“Dean?” Cas says so abruptly that Dean nearly jerks his foot off the brake. “Something’s been bothering me.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Dean tries to tease but an exasperated edge sneaks in.

Cas frowns, but goes on, “Why am I coming with you?”

“Why wouldn’t you? You’re part of the team and we’ve got a potential case,” Dean quickly delivers the line he definitely did not practice.

“Dean.”

Dean makes the mistake of meeting Cas’ gaze, and he gulps at the intensity of it.

“Sam and Eileen are a couple, not to mention seasoned hunters,” Cas states before his words soften. “I’m effectively human again. How did you put it? A baby in a trench coat.”

Dean cringes at having those words flung back at him. Cas’ shoulders slump and he sounds like he really believes he has no place on this trip simply because he can’t access his grace, which is unacceptable.

“Cas, I should have never said that. So, you might not be able to do your normal angel stuff but-” Dean starts.

“Then why-?”

Dean cuts Cas off with a growl and a smack to the steering wheel.

“You’d know if you’d let me finish. Christ, you’re here because I want you here! I want to finish up this case quickly then relax on a beach with my family like we deserve after everything we’ve been through. I want to hang out with my best friend when Sam and Eileen go off on dates instead of being left alone like the sad schmuck I am!”

Like what you read? You can find the rest of the chapter here on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1/? (hopefully 9 😂)

Chapter Word Count: ~6,000

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Case Fic, Established Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Beach Case, Cannon when convenient, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (Dean and background characters), Non-Consensual Touching (Not between Dean and Cas), Hurt/Comfort, I promise it's not as dark as it sounds, Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, clueless Sam Winchester, Chick-Flick Moments, Cannon typical misunderstandings, Angst?, One day I'll learn how to tag, WIP, JackieDeeArt's Hot Summer Art 2024 (Supernatural), Hot Summer Art, Greek Mythology if you Squint, No Beta, Everyone is bad with words, Except Eileen who is the only emotionally stable person for miles, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Angel Grace Dysfunction

[joshsindigostreak]

O, Pioneers

Prologue

“Resist much, obey little.” - Walt Whitman

Sam Kiszka x F!OC

Authors note: Welcome Sam lane!!! This is the official start to Sam’s journey in the ISHIYE universe. This one starts around the same time ISHIYE started, so we’ll basically see what Sam has been up to this whole time. I will say that O, Pioneers along with every other spin off will make the most sense if ISHIYE is read beforehand. It’s all an interconnected universe and all the fics will reference each other to varying degrees. Every chapter besides this one will include a flashback to his Uni days. I hope you guys love this and I want to make Sammy Nation proud! I also hope you love my OC Natasha, as she just jumped into my head one day and hasn’t shut up since. Danny will also be heavily featured, it his actual story will be its own titled, “Running Through the Garden.” This is relatively short, but it’s a good little preview of what’s to come! Enjoy!

Word Count: 2060

Warnings: None for this chapter other than sweating!

It started with an email. One, stupid, email. One, professional, email. An email from one academic to another. Natasha just needed an extra source. Specifically, she needed to get her hands on a very specific journal. A journal that contained anatomical drawings and first hand accounts of the Lake Leelanau Creature. Colloquially it is referred to as the Leelanau Lake Monster, but the use of the word “monster” is frowned upon in Supernatural and Academic circles. Annoyingly, she only knew of one person who would be in possession of said journal. The one person whom she was perfectly fine never speaking to again: Sam Kiszka. He had built up quite the reputation in recent years with rumors of his immense archives and collection of particular artifacts. 

Natasha wrinkled her nose and adjusted her glasses as the cursor blinked on the screen. She could write emails like this in her sleep but the thought of asking him for something? Giving him the satisfaction that she needed his help? She’d rather be hit by a bus. However, she needed this information for an upcoming presentation and she had gathered almost all of her resources except this one. Adjusting her cat-eye frames one more time, she began typing.

From: nedelaney@lakewooduniversity.edu 

To: sfkiszka@stardustarchives.com

CC:

Subject: Lake Leelanau Journal

Dear Sam,

I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to you for a request for some scans from a book I know you possess and are familiar with: the Gautheir journal. Currently I am in the middle of a research project involving North American Sea Serpents and I need the pages with the anatomical drawings in particular, as well as any other pages pertaining to the first sighting of the Creature. Any contributions beyond that would be most appreciated. 

Kind Regards, 

Natasha E. Delaney 

States away, in eastern Michigan, a young scholar was startled by the sudden ding on his laptop, alerting him of a new email. With an arched brow he opened his inbox, and seeing the email address in the top bar brought back hoards of memories. 

Natasha. Fucking. Delaney. The only person to ever score higher on tests than him, to easily skate past him in grades, keep up with him during lectures, and narrowly beat out his GPA for the top of their graduating glass. He hadn’t spoken to her since graduation almost three years ago, but he couldn’t help being amused at the fact that she needed his help. He could just imagine that icy blonde hair of hers sitting on top of her head in a bun, those obnoxious cat-eye glasses resting on her nose while she bites the bullet and asks for his help. With a smirk on his face, he clicked on the reply button and began typing.

From: sfkiszka@stardustarchives.com

To: nedelaney@lakewooduniversity.edu 

CC:

Attachments: Secondary Leelanau sources.pdf

Subject: Re: Lake Leelanau Journal

Dear Natasha, 

Unfortunately your email did not find me well, as I am in the middle of several projects myself. Here at Stardust Archives™ the stream of knowledge never stops, and neither shall I. I also regret to inform you that scanning said journal for those particular pages will be impossible, as that journal is much too fragile to be handled in such a way. I do however have a few recommendations for similar sources, which I have attached to this email. I am so sorry I was not able to assist you further. 

Good luck on your endeavors, 

Sam F. Kiszka 

He sat back as he clicked send, knowing that most of it was horse shit. He hadn’t been in an actual project in nearly a month, but she didn’t know that. But he wasn’t lying about the journal being too fragile for scanning. Theoretically it would be ok with current technology, but he didn’t want to risk it as it was a trusted family heirloom that was given to him in confidence. In this business, keeping contacts happy was nearly half the job. Word of mouth was crucial, and if you couldn’t be trusted to handle things with respect and care, what good were you? Satisfied, he stood up from his desk to go back to the new shipment of books he was sorting. 

“That mother fucker,” she seethed. Natasha read his email again, mocking the ‘here at Stardust Archives™…’ line to herself while scrunching up her face. She knew for a fact that while that journal was old, it wasn’t that old. The librarian who had recommended that particular volume to her in the first place even said that it shouldn’t be any trouble to get scans of the pages. To make it worse, those ‘resources’ he had sent weren’t helpful at all, and didn't even go into detail of the anatomy of the Creature, which was what she truly needed. Rolling her eyes, her fingers began tapping out her rebuttal. 

From: nedelaney@lakewooduniversity.edu

To: sfkiszka@stardustarchives.com 

CC:

Attachments: Secondary Leelanau sources.pdf

Subject: Re: Re: Lake Leelanau Journal

Sam,

I’m so sorry to hear how busy you are. However I was told specifically that the Gauthier journal was preserved enough that scans wouldn’t be a problem at all. Has something changed? Has it been damaged in any way since it was last made public? I hope such an integral part to your own state's history would be treated with the utmost care. If I remember correctly from that class we both took, with Professor Andrews, paper from that time period would still be stable if exposed to light or a scanning device. In fact I remember he said once, “as long as you’re not mashing it down on a decrepit photo copier from 1993…”. Surely you have a better scanner than that? If you could get those scans to me as soon as you’re able, that would be wonderful. 

Regards, 

Natasha

The ding from Sam’s laptop alerted him again, and his smile quickly faded when he opened the mail program and saw Natasha’s response. On one hand, she had the right idea, but on the other hand, whatever project she needed it for was not worth the risk in his eyes. His mouth hung open in offense with her questioning his integrity to Michigan history. Artifacts from his home state were always given top priority, and to have her imply that he was being careless with any of them made his entire body tense. Instinctively, he wanted to just send back a simple, ‘no,’ but he knew that would only make her more relentless. 

From: sfkiszka@stardustarchives.com

To: nedelaney@lakewooduniversity.edu 

CC:

Attachments: Secondary Leelanau sources.pdf

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Lake Leelanau Journal

Nat,

You aren’t entirely wrong about it being possible, however the family who entrusted it to me made me promise -in writing- to keep it as well preserved as I possibly could. As such, any form of scanning or sudden exposure to light is just not an option.  I hope that the other resources I sent you were enough to suffice. I know whatever project you’re needing them for will manifest in the most riveting way. 

Godspeed, 

Sam F. Kiszka

Natasha tilted her head and cracked her neck when she saw the shortened form of her first name. She hated being called Nat. It was too close to the word for those annoying bugs. Worst of all, it was what her older sisters called her just to get under her skin. All three of them would repeat it over and over again when she was little and laughed when she got upset. Her oldest sister would even take it a step further and call her ‘Natty’ on occasion. She hated how it sounded, how it looked, and she much preferred the nickname ‘Tasha’ if she had a choice. Most of her fellow students called her Tasha, as well as her close friends. Even on blind dates she’d introduce herself as Tasha before anything else. 

From: nedelaney@lakewooduniversity.edu

To: sfkiszka@stardustarchives.com 

CC:

Attachments: Secondary Leelanau sources.pdf

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Lake Leelanau Journal

Samuel,

I appreciate your passion for the preservation of critical documents, it’s truly inspiring, Professor Andrews would be proud. But I think you’re being rather difficult here. If not unreasonable. And no, those other resources did not help as they are not relevant to my ongoing project. I appreciate your confidence in my work, but what would truly help me be on my way would be your cooperation. 

Impatiently, 

Tasha

Sam stared at the screen. She really wasn’t going to let up, was she? He thought for a moment, and something in his brain wanted to physically hear her ask for his help. Maybe it was his ego, maybe it wasn’t, but he was impulsive enough to go out on a limb to satiate it. 

From: sfkiszka@stardustarchives.com

To: nedelaney@lakewooduniversity.edu 

CC:

Attachments: Secondary Leelanau sources.pdf

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Lake Leelanau Journal

‘Tasha’,

Unfortunately, I must be away from my desk at this time due to other projects and meetings. However, if you would like to continue our correspondence, I will happily provide you my number for your convenience. 

(248) 555-9423

In eternal anticipation, 

‘Muel’

Natasha stared at the phone number on her screen. That little shit. He wanted to hear her ask. It didn’t take a genius to figure that part out. Maybe he wanted her to beg? He was arrogant enough to want such a thing. She wasn’t going to give in that easily. She wanted his arrogance in writing. If he couldn’t be professional and stick to emails, he was going to have her in his pocket at all times, constantly making his phone go off. Quickly she added his number as a new contact, and typed out her first ever text to Sam F. Kiszka. 

Natasha: Ok cut the shit, Kiszka why are you being difficult? 

Sam: Who is this?

Natasha: I swear to god, Sam

Sam: Ok ok, fine. Do you really want to see this journal that badly? 

Natasha: I have wasted an entire afternoon emailing you about it, so yes. 

Sam: Well as I said I can’t scan the pages. But if you would like to view them in person for your research, that can easily be arranged. 

Natasha: In person?

Sam: Yes, that's when people meet face to face. 

Natasha: I’m going to ignore that for my sanity, but don’t you live in Michigan?

Sam: Yes.

Natasha: You do know that I’m in Lakewood for my Masters right?

Sam: Yes, what is the issue?

Natasha: So you want to travel all the way to Vermont just because you are refusing to scan the pages? 

Sam: Oh I wouldn’t bring an artifact that fragile on a plane, you know that. You can simply come here. I know there’s a break coming up, if I remember our old schedule correctly. 

Natasha nearly threw her phone, but she wasn’t going to give up. Before she could fully type out a response she got another text.

Sam: And don’t worry about needing a hotel there’s plenty of room upstairs for you. My parents are in Canada on business and my brothers are off doing god knows what. 

Natasha: I’m sure I can find a hotel I don’t want to put you out

Sam: It's really no trouble, we have a separate guest room anyway that barely gets used 

She mulled it over for a few minutes. 

Natasha: Well I’ve never been to Michigan.

Sam: It’s much better than Vermont.

She sighed.

Natasha: Fine. I’ll talk to my professors and get it sorted out. The break starts in two days. 

Sam smirked at his phone and leaned back in his chair,  he was right.

Sam: Excellent. I’ll go dust the window sills and pick out the fanciest chocolate for your pillow.

Natasha: I’ll text you my flight details. 

Sam: Can’t wait, Nat ;)

Not wanting him to know that he bothered her, Natasha set her phone down and opened up another webpage to look up flights. By the weekend she was going to not only be in Sam Kiszka’s presence for the first time since graduation, but staying at his fucking house. 

What the fuck did she just agree to? 

To be continued...

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden  , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne , @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @sadiechar , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky ,

[waywardxwords]

5. No Time

Chapter 5 of Little Secrets

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 3,312

Warnings: Case, talks of family death *this chapter and case is based on the episode "Red Sky at Morning"*

MASTERLIST

The case in Cicero was exhausting once the trio realized it involved the safety of the town’s children. Dean was concerned about Lisa and her son, Ben. Meanwhile, Sam and Y/N had done whatever they could to get to the bottom of the situation with the victims’ families. It had felt like forever, but the case was solved and taken care of within three days. This was the first instance of Changelings any of them had seen, but John’s journal had certainly come in handy while solving it.

“So, I don’t know about you but I could use a long weekend in Vegas,” Dean piped up from the front seat as a playful grin graced his lips. Y/N managed a small smile, and Sam had one to match from his spot on the passenger’s seat.

“Dean, Vegas? Really?” Sam laughed, his tone full of sleep. Y/N knew they had only gotten about three hours of rest the night before, if that. There was no reason to waste a day in Indiana; once the case was closed, they were back on the road. It was always like clockwork.

Dean seemed to be the only one content with just a few hours of sleep. That, or he was really good at faking it for the sake of the two other people in the car. 

“Deanie, if we’re taking a long weekend then I just wanna sleep,” Y/N groaned from the backseat. She leaned her head against the cool glass of the Impala’s back passenger window and closed her eyes for added measure. “So take me wherever the hell you want, but please God, let there be a bed.”

Dean chuckled. “See what it’s like playing in the Major Leagues, Y/N?” His eyes gleamed back at her in the rearview mirror as he managed a wink. Y/N’s eyes opened as she narrowed in on him with a scowl.

“Alright, alright,” Sam laughed, playing referee yet again as his eyes glanced over a few different newspapers he held on his lap. They always picked up the major papers from stops along the way to keep an eye on anything strange happening in the world–specifically supernatural strange. “Dean, it looks like there’s some weird stuff happening in Washington.”

“Ah, come on, Sammy. Things in the northwest are always a little weird. Doesn’t mean we have to chase every cat that barks,” Dean groaned. Dean rarely complained about the lifestyle, as far as Y/N could tell. In all honesty, she never really met a hunter who complained. It was the way things were; they had a job to do and they knew it wouldn’t get done if they didn’t do it. But every person needed a vacation every once in a while.

“We just chased after a fall on a power saw because you wanted to get laid,” Y/N laughed from the backseat. “What’s in Washington, Sam?” It was unavoidable; her tone had softened when she directed the conversation back to the youngest Winchester. She hoped Dean hadn’t picked up on it. She truly felt like if she and Sam could keep this from everyone around them (over-protective big brothers included), that maybe–just maybe–they would have a shot at making this work. Whatever this was, exactly.

“There have been three cases so far of people drowning,” Sam began as he turned his attention back to the newspaper in his hands. Before he could continue, Dean cut in with a grunt.

“Oh yeah, because drowning just screams our kinda job.”

Sam eyed him with his eyebrows raised. “Even drowning in the shower?”

Dean didn’t have a response. Y/N pulled her lips between her teeth to keep the laugh bubbling up her throat at bay. “Sounds like our kinda game…” 

Sam glanced back at his brother. Dean leaned his head back and groaned. “One day off, is that too much to ask for?” He asked no one in particular as he switched lanes. Sam laughed and smiled back at Y/N. He managed a subtle wink before he turned back to face the road.

X

Y/N smoothed down her black pencil skirt as the trio approached the modest, yet beautiful home in the suburbs of town. She felt for her fake police badge nestled in the inner pocket of her blazer jacket and took in a deep breath of the cool, autumn air. The air was brisk against her lungs, but she loved the chill it brought–it was refreshing.

“Alright, so Sam is my partner and you’re an intern, Y/N,” Dean explained as they walked along the sidewalk path leading to the stairs of the front porch.

Y/N looked at him incredulously. “An intern?” She snorted and shook her head. “Nuh uh, nice try, Deanie. I’m your supervisor, tagging along on the case for investigation purposes.” She planted her feet on the sidewalk and folded her arms over her chest to show her refusal to move until he agreed.

Dean laughed loudly and stopped to pivot back towards her. “Yeah, okay,” he said sarcastically. “That would mean the department was undermining mine and Sam’s–”

Sam interrupted Dean before he could finish his thought. “Okay, okay,” he held up his hands. Y/N looked at him, her eyebrows cocked in a manner that asked him: Well, referee?

Sam glanced between his brother and his newfound romantic interest–his eyes were wide and his mouth was suddenly very dry. “Uh…” he tried to think it over for a moment. “Okay, so Dean and I are partners and Y/N is tagging along because she’s investigating a similar case. Deal?” He glanced between the two of them.

A smug smile stretched across Y/N’s face, completely satisfied. Her black pumps clicked upon the cement sidewalk as she moved past the pair towards the porch once more. Dean looked at Sam in shock.

“Seriously?!” Dean’s frustration was evident in his tone. “Whatever happened to bros before hoes, Sammy?” Sam knew Dean wasn’t insinuating that he knew something was going on between him and Y/N, but it still made his cheeks flush red.

“Just…let’s go,” Sam sighed as they followed Y/N’s steps towards the home.

She had already rung the doorbell, so there was no room to argue any longer. Before long, an older woman–probably in her early 70s–opened the dark wooden door with a smile upon her lips.

“Hello, can I help you?” She asked sweetly as she eyed the three people in business-attire before her.

“Hi, Mrs. Case,” Y/N began with a kind smile. “We’re sorry to bother you, but my name is Y/N L/N, and these are two of my fellow detectives, Sam Angus and Dean Young.” The three of them flashed their badges for the woman to look at. “We’re here to assist in the investigation involving your niece, Sheila.”

The older woman’s smile fell slowly as her eyes traveled towards the ground, signaling for the three of them to stash their badges back in their suit jackets. “Oh good, I’m glad to see those good-for-nothing officers decided to send detectives after all. Please, come in,” she held the door open and stood back. Y/N smiled at the boys and walked ahead of them past Gertrude Case into the living room.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Dean flipped the switch for his infamous Dean Winchester charm and it was game on. The elderly woman eyed him with a wink.

“Oh, please call me Gert,” she beamed flirtatiously. Y/N and Sam both had to bite the inside of their bottom lips from laughing. Dean seemed slightly disturbed but cleared his throat and managed a smile.

“Gert, can I ask you something?” This was Y/N’s tactic and the boys loved her for it–especially when it came to women they were questioning. Gert seemed interested and nodded. “Why are you so open to us doing an investigation when your niece’s death was ruled a drowning?”

It was a valid question; they had all wondered how Gertrude would react to having three investigators going over the details of her niece’s death once more when the autopsy had ruled it to be accidental.

Gert managed a small smile. “My niece was not suicidal, and she was a fantastic swimmer,” she explained. ��And even so, have you ever heard of someone drowning in the shower before?” She glanced between the three hunters. They all shook their heads ‘no’. “Exactly. Bathtub, maybe. But in the shower? Standing up? Even if she passed out and fell on her back, it would be nearly impossible. I know there’s something more here…” she trailed off.

Y/N watched her inquisitively. There was something she wasn’t saying. “What do you think happened?”

The boys seemed confused by her question. The fact that this woman believed in the supernatural was highly unlikely. But Y/N asked, or prompted her, anyway.

After studying the understanding expressions of the three people in front of her, she continued. “Have you ever heard of a ghost ship before?”

Y/N hadn’t, and neither had Dean by the shake of his head. Sam glanced between the three of them and then back to Gert before nodding tentatively. “Like the Flying Dutchman.”

Gert’s eyes almost managed to light up. “Exactly!” She exclaimed. “Are you sure you’re associated with the officials?” Her question made Y/N’s throat run dry–was she about to have them made? “No one has even listened to me so far. They all look at me like I’m crazy.”

“Well, we’re listening,” Dean leaned forward with a smile. “Trust us, we know crazy.”

Gert seemed hesitant at first, but heaved a sigh before continuing. “Well, there’s this tale of a ship that sailed in the 1800s, a merchant sailing vessel. It was called Espirito Santo. In 1859, one of their sailors was accused of treason and hanged.”

To any other person, it wouldn’t seem like much to go off of. Even to Y/N, she was a bit confused. In her mind–the man who had been hanged could be a spirit, but wouldn’t he just haunt the vessel he was on? What would bring him to Sheila Case’s bathroom?

“Sheila had said she spotted the ship off the coast on her run one evening just a few nights ago along the port,” Gert seemed skeptical about the information she was providing them, but anything could help.

“So, you believe in all this? The ghost ship?” Dean asked curiously after she finished.

“Is there a better explanation?” Gert asked, exasperated. “I know my niece didn’t drown in the shower. I know she was spooked by a ship she thought she saw a few days before. I don’t know what to believe in, exactly.”

Y/N glanced at the boys. “Thanks for all the information, Gert,” Sam offered the elderly woman a friendly smile.

“Oh, my pleasure,” she beamed, winking at Dean as they all stood so the three of them could leave. “Please, if there’s anything else I can do…”

Dean cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. The thought made Y/N want to laugh; Dean Winchester? Uncomfortable because of a woman’s advances? She never thought she’d see the day.

“Thank you, Gert, “Y/N grinned. “We appreciate it–and we’re sorry for your loss.”

They said their goodbyes and headed out the front door, back down the sidewalk path. As soon as the door had closed and they knew Gert was no longer in ear shot, Sam and Y/N let out the laughter they had both been holding in.

Dean grimaced, a small pout over his lips. “God, I feel dirty.”

Unfortunately for him, this only made his brother and hunting friend laugh harder.

X

There was another victim’s sibling who had come forward to the police department requesting an investigation, but still so many newspaper clippings to attend to. Y/N headed to the home of the vic’s family to question them while Sam and Dean headed back to the abandoned shack they had decided to squat in to try and find a motive. The victims had to have a common denominator somewhere. They just weren’t quite sure where yet.

Y/N mulled over the conversation she had just had with the victim’s family. There had to be a connection somewhere, but why couldn’t she figure it out? As she walked along the bridge overlooking the water back towards Baby (she was still surprised, herself, that Dean had trusted her with his most prized possession), she heard a low rumble of thunder in the distance.

Her eyes pulled from the wooden bridge below her feet and up towards the sky. It had become bleak and gray, puffy fog-like clouds had rolled in and covered the sun that had only been there moments before. Another low grumble sounded from the sky and Y/N’s eyebrows knitted together. That’s when her eyes saw it; it was clear as day.

On the horizon where the dark blue water met the now gray sky, a ship sailed forward. Lightning crashed against the gray of the sails that whipped in the wind of the oncoming storm. Y/N’s throat ran dry and her eyes widened in fear. Maybe this wasn’t the ship everyone had spoken of; maybe this was different.

But almost as soon as she had seen it, the ship suddenly vanished, taking the looming storm with it as the sky suddenly cleared and the thunder rolled out to sea.

Her heart pounded against her chest. She tried to swallow past the lump that had formed in her throat. Her mind played games with her; had she really seen it? Or maybe she was imagining things from lack of sleep and her involvement in the case. She had nightmares about cases sometimes; maybe that was happening.

She fumbled with the car keys in her hand and hurried to the Impala. Y/N knew what she had seen, and she needed to get back to Sam and Dean now more than anything.

She barely knew what she was doing as she was driving. Her mind took over and her foot practically pressed through the gas pedal as she floored the Impala all the way back to the shack. If Dean could see her now, he would kill her.

She screeched the brakes and threw the car into park. She clambered out of Baby and took hurried, wobbly steps towards the shack. Her hands found the white door as she knocked three times hurriedly, and then three more times when no one answered.

Y/N heard the lock click and the door handle move and stepped back. Without realizing, her breathing had become heavy and her eyes had filled with tears. Sam stood behind the opened door, his face broke into concern when he noticed how upset she was.

He reached out to touch her arm, “Y/N, you okay?”

She hurried past him into the room where Dean stood, his brow also knitted together with worry and confusion. “What happened?”

“I-I…” she couldn’t get the words out and her throat ran dry again. “I saw it.” Her eyes darted between the two brothers. They still seemed confused. “The ship. I saw the ship.”

Sam’s jaw tightened and his eyes moved quickly to Dean. “Wait, you saw it? Like you actually saw it?” Dean seemed angry.

“Yes, I saw it and then it disappeared,” Y/N responded hesitantly. She was terrified. She knew they would be terrified now, too. Everyone else who had seen the ship had died. Her fate was now on the line.

Dean eyed Sam closely, but Sam remained just as tense as he had moments before. “Son of a bitch,” Dean breathed as he ran his hand over his face. “Y/N, we love you but we have to ask you something.” He seemed nervous approaching whatever he was about to ask.

Y/N looked between both of them quickly. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. All she could think about was that damn ship, what could they possibly need to ask her?

Sam pulled Y/N gently to sit down on the end of one of the beds in the room. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and watched him closely, her eyes still full of uncertainty and questions. “We…we found what the spirit’s motive is.” He started carefully. She looked back at Dean who now stood before her with his arms folded across his chest.

“And?” She urged him to continue, the pause in his voice almost unbearable as she tried to process why he sounded so cautious. A bundle of nerves tangled in the pit of her stomach; she had no idea what they were about to say or what it would potentially mean.

“The sailor who died,” Dean began, his eyes now on Sam before glancing back at Y/N. “He was hanged for treason.”

“Right, we knew that already,” Y/N looked between them once more. “Guys, I can’t take it anymore. What are you getting at?”

“He was hanged by his brother,” Sam quickly said as his eyes bore into hers with sympathy and compassion. “We’ve realized that the spirit is targeting people who have been involved with the death of one of their family members.”

There was a silence in the air that felt suffocating; Y/N suddenly found it nearly impossible to breathe. Her eyes pooled with tears of hurt and frustration. Her mind was filled with flashbacks to a time she never wanted to remember.

“Hey,” Sam whispered delicately, his hand suddenly on her hand. “It’s okay. Just talk to us, alright? We’ll figure this out.”

Y/N begged the tears not to fall. Once the lump in her throat felt under control, she found that both brothers were watching her intently. They needed her to explain.

“The brothers killed their dad for his inheritance,” Dean explained while she stole a few more moments to gather her thoughts. “So yeah, that was pretty screwed up. But Sheila–Sheila’s cousin was killed in a car accident. The accident was her fault, but it was still an accident. It doesn’t mean Sheila deserved to die.”

Y/N nodded with a grim smile at their attempt to make her feel better and took in a shaky breath. “It happened when the vamp nest raided my family’s home. It was after I had been hunting with Jeff and Lily, a vamp escaped when they raided my roommate’s nest–the one I was telling you about,” she looked at Sam. He nodded, urging her to continue. “Lily, Jeff and I got to my parents’ house as soon as we could. But they had already had enough time to attack my family. They…they turned…” her voice dropped off at the end as tears threatened to fall.

“It’s okay,” Sam rubbed her arm soothingly. Y/N brought her hand to her cheek to wipe away a tear that had slipped.

“They turned my dad,” she cracked. She officially broke and didn’t even try to fight it anymore. “There was nothing we could do; it was too late. I…I had to kill my own father.” Her body shook with sobs as her head fell into her hands. Sam instinctively pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her tightly, as if holding her so close would keep her body from shaking so badly.

Dean reached out to rub her back in a pacifying gesture. The boys exchanged a look over her head; they had one option, considering the body had been cremated after the sailor’s death. Without any other remains that they knew of, they had to move quickly with the only possible solution Sam had–to resurrect the sailor’s brother who murdered him and hope that would end things. There was little to go off on, but they had no time.

[hailthegodsong]

OUR LOVE IS BORN

Masterlist

Chapter 2 ~ Awestruck

Content Warnings: Nightmares, descriptions/memories of car accidents, anxiety, self-doubt, overstimulation, (trauma response/ PTSD if you squint) teenagers being annoying, angst, fluff.

The car was speeding up, plowing down the city street and swerving through lanes, past all traffic and towards the crossroads.

I wasn't in the car, but I could see it. It was like a vision, I could feel it coming towards me. We were moving slowly, plodding down our residential street.

I could see it again. The car was black. It looked angry. Demanding. Sweat coated the back of my neck and my hands gripped the seat I was on.

The car was getting closer, it wasn't slowing down.

I squeezed my eyes shut, I knew what was coming, but the driver didn't and it was too late to stop him. Nearer and nearer we drove, and the crossroads were in view now.

I could feel my heart pounding in my ears as fear creeped through my nerves and settled in my stomach.

I could see their headlights now, as they pummelled down to the intersection. Faster and faster. Any second now.

Gasping for air, I ripped my eyes open, my arms flying out to grip the sheets of my bed. I stared up at the dark roof above me, panting like I'd just ran a marathon. I reached the back of my hand up to my forehead, wiping a layer of sheen sweat from my skin, before sitting up and taking in my surroundings.

The nightmares weren't uncommon, but waking me up with such a start wasn't as normal. Taking a deep breath, I looked over at the time on my phone, which read 4:32am. Knowing I wouldn't be getting any more sleep for the night, I ripped off my bed covers and let my feet land on the plush soft carpet below me.

Today was the first day of school, and I couldn't be any more nervous. It was abundantly clear that I stuck out like a sore thumb in America, and being such a small town, there was slim chance I would go about unnoticed.

I had spent the last few days leading up to schools start with Josh, Sam, Jake and Danny, mostly messing around in their garage and taking trips to the store to splurge on processed sugar foods. I quickly saw the boys as my friends rather than neighbours and it comforted me deeply to think they might feel the same.

I flew through my morning mindlessly, showering, changing, packing a bag and eating, before plopping myself onto the couch and scrolling through my phone to pass the lengthly amount of time I had left over, thanks to my nervous start.

Luckily, Josh and Jake recently passed their drivers tests, so they vigilantly offered to drive me to school along with Sammy and Danny who I learnt were only a few years younger than us.

After pacing around the room and double checking my bag had everything I needed for the eighth time, I heard a light knock on my front door. Mum had left for work hours ago, and Dad was still in bed as I lightly padded over to the front door, swinging it open to reveal Josh with an excited smile on his face.

Dark bags gloomed under his eyes, likely from the unfamiliarity of waking up so early, but it was nothing compared to his lively and upbeat energy.

"Morning sunshine!" He practically shouted, and I winced, "Ready for your first day?" I gingerly swept my bag over my shoulder and shut the front door behind me, the cold nipping at the tip of my nose.

I had decided I wasn't going to hold anyone back today, not let them worry or coddle, and brave it on my own. I was sick of bearing my parents down, and if I could do this with no help, then maybe I could stop being such a burden on everyones life.

"Yep" I said popping the 'P', "Very excited," I strained the most genuine smile I could muster, Josh smiling back at me kindly.

I then stood dumbfounded as he reached his thumb and pointer finger out towards my face, before quickly pinching the tip of my nose, momentarily flooding it with heat. "Cold?" He asked.

My whole face flushed the same red as my nose, but I was spared by the loud and impatient beeps coming from their car on my driveway. Through the tinted glass, you could see Sam awkwardly bent over form the backseat and smashing the heel of his palm on the steering wheel, urging us to hurry up.

Josh sighed and hopped down my porch steps, me following shortly behind him. I pulled open the backdoor to see Jake, Sam and Danny crammed into the backseats together, all smiling brightly at me. I frowned and turned to Josh who had the passenger door held open for me, a hand in front of him to help my climb into the car as he said "M'lady."

It was kind of them to offer me the passenger seat, especially due to the fact that none of them knew how much I hated sitting in the back seat. They were making me feel genuinely happy. Genuinely cared for.

Looking back at the boys bashfully, I mouthed a sorry, took Josh's hand, and climbed into the car, waiting for Josh to hurry round and clamber into his seat. Sam's nimble fingers tapped my shoulders, and I turned to look at him in the back seat.

He raised his eyebrows at me, "Have the nerves kicked in yet?"

"A little bit.. how many people are in our year again?" I asked looking towards Jake.

He reached his fingers to his chin, "ehhh probably about 80, not too many." I sucked in a tight breath and smoothed my sweaty palm out flat on my jeans.

Josh peeked at me from the corner of his eye before clearing his throat and switching on the engine. Josh howled as the engine roared, clapping his hands and shimmying his shoulders.

"Fuckin' love this car," he grumbled through his teeth, before, to my utter surprise, leaning over me to reach into the passenger door pocket. His head hovered dangerously close to my chest as he fiddled around with a few CD's that sat in the small space. 

The tight curls of his hair ticked my chin and his smell invaded my senses. Finally, he chose a CD and withdrew from my side of the car, smiling at me cheesily before opening the case and sliding it into the receiver.

After a short pause, the familiar buzz of a guitar played through the speakers, One of these days by Ten Years After started on the stereo and I couldn't contain my grin.

I only looked at him, to find him already glancing at me side on, pride written all over his face. Facing back to the road ahead, he began to move off. The boys in the back started chatting loudly between themselves, leaving Josh and I to talk amongst ourselves.

I laughed, "I love this album."

"Have you listened to their self titled album too?"

The talk of music lasted the rest of the drive to school, which wasn't longer than 10 minutes due to the size of the small town. Josh pulled into an empty space at the school before yanking on the hand break, putting the gears into neutral and twisting the keys, cutting off the persistent hum of the engine.

I opened my passenger door, and slid out carefully, in attempt to save the car next to us from Josh's wonky parking. I swung my bag over my shoulder before shutting the door and walking to the back of the car where the boys had all conjugated.

Teenagers surrounded the parking space, some walking into the building, while others meandered around the car park. A few people looked our way, but none outwardly stared. I let out a sigh of relief. 

My mind had been manifesting a scenario of fear and anxiety for my first day, expecting attention, too much attention. But to my delight, nobody seemed to care.

"Shit parking, Josh," Danny commented, gesturing towards the car which sat out of place between the white park lines. Josh only smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders.

"At least I got you guys here in one piece," he joked, before joining his brothers in sauntering off towards the front doors. Swallowing heavily and trying my hardest to not think too deep into his comment, I followed in suit, through the front doors and into the building.

There were two long corridors separated by a row of lockers, leading to a large window, where the isles branched off to the sides. Some teens stood by their lockers, taking out books and stationary, and others filed past us towards classroom doors.

Kindly, Josh offered to take me to administrations office to get my timetable, where he would then show me to my classroom. I couldn't describe my gratitude for him, knowing that if he wasn't there to help me, I probably would have chickened out and gone home by now.

After a short walk, we reached the office, a comfortable room with couches and a coffee table in front of the large desk at the end of the room. The heat of the room mothered the ache in the tips of my icy fingers. Two office ladies sat at the desk, looking down at papers and scribbling furiously.

I walked up to the front desk nervously. "Hello I'm new here, my name is Layla... I was wondering if I could get my timetable?" I chirped politely, my voice coming out an octave higher than I'd anticipated.

The lady, who had to be no older than 50, peered down at me above her spectacles, "Last name?"

"King," I replied, shifting on my feet, which were getting sore from my tip-toe position.

Without another word, she turned to her computer, the clicking of her acrylics against the keys being the only sound in the room. Josh, who stood beside me, stifled a laugh at the akwardness.

"Hmm," she drawled out. "Wait here." I watched as she waddled off to an extension room and out of sight.

Giving my feet a rest, I dropped them flat onto the floor and turned to Josh. "What if we don't have any classes together?" I asked nervously.

"I'm sure you'll be fine. Plus, Jake and I have barely any classes together so you're likely to be put in his if not mine," he reassured.

I watched a muscle in his jaw tick, before he turned back to the desk where the receptionist was emerging, holding a folded piece of paper. She only spent a moment explaining the abbreviations and room numbers to me before handing it to me and returning to her work.

"Thank you!" I said before walking out of the room, Josh close behind.

We spent the next few moments in the hallway, reading and matching each others timetables to see which classes we had together. It turned out I had three out of six classes with Josh, one with Jake, and the remaining two by myself. We had history together first, so Josh showed me the way to our classroom.

"Mr. Marmos is kind of a dick, so don't take anything too personally," Josh warned me, as we turned the corner into the empty classroom. 

We took two seats across from each other near the middle edge of the classroom, and I anxiously took out a notebook and pen. Josh plodded a textbook on my desk too which I thanked him for, while watching the rest of the class file in through the front door.

Eventually, a man in his mid-fourties wandered into the class, placing his briefcase on his desk and addressed the class.

"Welcome back everyone, how was your winter break?" He asked. There was a hum of responses while he opened his briefcase and took out a few essentials, squinting and readjusting his glasses as he looked at one paper in particular.

"It seems we have a new student joining us from Australia today," he said scanning the room. My heart thrummed in my chest. The last thing I wanted was to be put on the spot. The class erupted in whispers and murmurs as everyones eyes landed on me.

"Welcome to Frankenmuth, Layla, it's nice to meet you," Mr. Marmos said to me politely with a curt smile on his lips.

"Thank you," I said, letting my hair fall over the sides of my face in an attempt to conceal it from prying eyes.

"What part of Australia are you from?" He asked. I took a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to get on with the lesson.

"I'm from Sydney, in um New South Wales," I replied shyly.

One of the boys in front of me, who was twisted in his seat to look at me laughed obnoxiously, "G'Day mate." His friends all laughed loudly too, adding other embarrassing comments, "Yeah, can you say shrimp on the barbie?"

The only humerus part of their antics was the ridiculous sound of their Michigan accents saying typically Australian sayings. "Aussie, Aussie, Aussie," another boy yelled out. My face burned and my nails dug into my palms as I tried to distract myself, willing the colour to leave my face to not further my embarrassment.

I literally wanted to curl into the smallest ball and decompose into the earth below me. I wanted to be sucked into a black hole and taken to the depths of the universe. Anything. Anything if it meant getting out of this horrendously embarrassing interaction.

I knew that coming to another country would not only be strange for me, but for the locals, however as kind as their intentions may be, their jokes were mortifying.

I sat quietly a tight lipped smile on my face, peeking at Josh who looked at me with concern.

"Alright, alright thats enough," Mr. Marmos called out, effectively silencing the class. The boy in front of me shot a cocky wink my way before twisting back in his seat and listening to the teacher.

"Australias' involvement in the First World War is very interesting actually, the ANZAC's..." Mr. Marmos started.

As the rest of the lesson droned on, I shook out my aching hand, momentarily breaking from my furious note taking. We had covered World War One back home already, but there were case studies and specifics that I was positively lost on. I sighed, knowing I was going to have a lot of homework to do.

The bell rang throughout the classroom, and I copied as students clambered their things together, and rose from my seat. Josh joined my side as we walked towards the classroom door, "Thanks Sir!" I called out before exiting.

"Very polite of you," Josh said, looking at me funnily. 

I furrowed my eyebrows "Oh, is that not normal?" I asked nervously.

He chuckled, "No, not really.. but I'm sure he appreciated it." I took a deep breath and shook my shoulders out. "So, what did you think? How was your first lesson? You sure are popular already," he joked, nudging my side as we walked own the corridor towards the lunch hall.

I ran a hand own the side of my face, "Yeah, it was alright, I've just got a lot of stuff to do when I get home... and that whole thing at the start of the lesson was soo embarrassing," I said nudging him back with a little bit more force. He stumbled to the side a bit, smiling widely at me.

"You might have to get used to it, New Girl," he nudged me harder and I stumbled to the side, tripping into a taller girl who looked about our age. The books and papers she had cradled to her chest went flying onto the floor on impact and I immediately dropped to my knees to help pick them up.

"I'm so, so sorry, are you okay?" I asked, looking up at her. Her thick, dark fringe was framed by her wavy bangs, locks of hair falling around her tanned shoulders. She was a very pretty girl, and she smiled when she looked up at me.

"No you're okay, I'm fine! I haven't seen you around, are you new here?" She asked, gathering her things into a pile in her hands.

"Yeah I am, it's nice to meet you, I'm Layla," I said smiling brightly. It was probably very obvious to Josh, who was hovering next to us, that I was trying very hard to make a friend.

"I'm Aanya," she replied, "I'll see you around, Layla." Next thing I knew, she was wandering off down the halls again. Looking back at Josh, he smiled and threw his arm over my shoulders, leaning in close to my ear.

"Very popular," he drawled out. His voice sparked a twist of feeling in my stomach momentarily, before I shook it off and followed his lead to the food hall.

The rest of the day played out exactly as I'd assumed. Each class started with some recognition of my nationality, before everyone lost interest and I was bombarded with far too much work to catch up on. 

Piles upon piles of past papers were given to me by teachers, along with strict instructions of how much of each syllabus point I needed to catch up on. My bag weighed a ton, and I had almost 6 textbooks cradled in my arms as I went about my day.

Thankfully Josh met me after every class to walk me to my next one, including those that we didn't have together, and the one time he wasn't there, Jake was instead. I appreciated the support immensely.

By the end of the day, I was positively burnt out. My feet dragged as I slumbered out of the building towards Josh's car. All four boys were already there, waiting for me as I climbed into the passenger seat.

Pain radiated through my left thigh, which only got worse throughout the day as my bag got heavier and classes got longer.

Exhaustion from socialising and the mental stress of schoolwork hit me as I buckled my seatbelt, wanting nothing more than to go home and sleep for the rest of the year.

"Long day?" Jake asked, his head leaned so far forward, it was practically on my shoulder. I couldn't even find it in me to be surprised at his proximity. I only groaned and slumped further in my seat, rubbing my thigh with my thumb in attempt to ease the tension in the area, but I knew the ache was so deep that I could never aid it without some kind of pain relief.

"So tired," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes with my other hand. Paired with the overwhelming day, getting up as early as I did in the morning from a nightmare did not help.

I heard Josh get into the drivers seat beside me. "I'm sorry, I'll come over to give you my notes tonight, hopefully that helps... And if you, uh, need any more help...with anything, you can just text me and I'll come over," his voice sincere.

There was a beat of silence, broken by someone clearing their throat in the backseat. I peeled my eyes open and watched as Josh started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Thank you," I said. He looked over at me and I could have sworn that the smile he wore looked slightly pained.

Josh walked me to my door once we stopped at my house, and wrapped me in a bone crushing hug, swaying side to side at the threshold of my front door.

I felt mildly embarrassed. It must have been blatantly obvious how exhausted I was.

"Have some rest, I'll see you later tonight to give you my notes from last year," he said letting go and smoothing down some hair on the side of my head.

That familiar feeling returned in my stomach, "Thanks, Josh, you really helped me today," I said, offering him a quick, sincere smile. "See you in a bit."

Returning the smile, he wandered back down the steps and into the car to drive a measly 10 metres down the road.

I stepped into the house, shrugging off my coat and shoes by the threshold, before walking down to the living room, where the back of Dads head was visible over the couch.

"Hi Dad."

"Hey sweetie, how was your first day?" He asked twisting towards me.

I contemplated my response for a few moments, "Yeah it was great, lots of...fun" I cringed slightly, hoping my lies weren't noticeable.

"I'm glad," he replied, turning back to his phone, and I took that as my cue to head upstairs.

I took a long, warm, comfortable shower, before climbing into my warmest pyjamas. The weight in my limbs was unbearable, and I had little to no memory of unpacking my bag, switching off the light and climbing into bed.

A long day. Thats what it felt like. That's all it was. Nothing inherently went wrong to make it a 'bad day' but it was just long. I missed home. I wanted to go home.

The taste of salt on my lips was the first indication of my silent tears, which I hadn’t even feel fall. And as I lay there, cradling my sore leg, I allowed myself a moment of selfish pity and released the flood gates, sobbing silently into my pillow.

I was an absolute wreck. An awestruck wreck.

I had never responded to a girl this way. I mean, yes, I'd had silly crushes and things but I'd never felt so strongly for anyone.

Her laugh was like the music I yearned for, sweet and melodic, and every inch of me wanted to write it as a song. The song of her voice and her mind. So beautiful.

Every time our hands touched, tingles, like a pleasant version of pins and needles erupted in my palm. I couldn't tell what was weirder, finding small ways to touch and hold her hands, if even for a moment, or my quick retraction when I caught my own impulsivity.

My mind was running in circles and it was killing me. I couldn't stop thinking about her. I thought of her when I woke, when I ate breakfast, when I wrote and played music, and she was always the last thing on my mind before I slept.

Not that I had been getting much sleep anyway, I was up nearly all night, every night, looking for the words to an unwritten song. Her song.

Rushing into my room, I spared no words to my family and began rummaging through my desk for all my past papers and notebooks. After attaining a large pile, I skimmed through the pages, cringing at my messy handwriting and comparing it to her neat ones I saw in class today. It would have to do.

I knew she was tired and most definitely burnt out. It was the only way I knew how to lesson her load.

I peeked out my bedroom window through to hers and was met with the usual warm glow emanating from her thin, white curtains. I eagerly hopped down the stairs and sauntered to the front door.

"Josh honey! Where are you going, you just got back?" Mums voice cut me short.

I held up the notebooks and waved them in the air, "Dropping off some school stuff at Layla's."

She eyed me suspiciously, a smirk playing on her face, before raising her eyebrows, "Okay...tell Layla I say ‘hello’..."

I rolled my eyes, sighing as I cocked my head to the left, "Mum, please."

She feigned a look of shock and offence, putting her hand flat to her chest, "I didn't say anything!"

Huffing, I walked out the front door, hugging my jumper closer to me in reaction to the cold bite of fresh air. It was particularly cold this winter, and I had researched the weather in Sydney after Layla left the day I met her; I didn’t think I'd ever know how she managed to change such dramatic climates so quickly.

The sun had began to set, leaving the sky a greyish blue with a purple hue. Usually it would take much longer to get dark, but being winter, it felt like you could only blink after waking in the morning, and it was night again.

Once I'd made my way up the short path to her house, I rapped my knuckles on the front door three times and waited patiently for a response.

The door swung open to reveal Layla's Dad, a tall, stocky man. He had stubble coating his jaw, a bit of a beer belly, though he was still a very kind man. But, I could tell that if he wanted to, he could beat the crap out of you.

"Hi Mr. King, I'm just here to drop off some notes for Layla, she should be expecting me."

He scoffed, "Call me David please, you make me feel like an old grump with that Mr blah blah." He shook his head, clearing his throat, "But yeah she should be in her room." I smiled politely, waiting for him to make way for me to head to her room, but he hesitated.

We stood there, face to face for another moment before he spoke. "Thank you Josh, for being there for her and.. helping her like this. I don't think you understand how much it means to have someone there for her.. thats not, you know, her Dad," he let out a short laugh.

Relief flooded through me at his words, "Of course. Layla is amazing, you raised a great woman," I replied. He smiled warmly at me, pride overtaking his attitude before opening the door wider and stepping aside. I gave him one more smile before stepping into the house and looking up the dark stairway .

I hugged the books closer to my chest with my left hand, my right clinging onto the railing in the dark. As I clambered up the steps, the second level came into view, and consistently, no lights were on there either. Only a small warm glow from inside Layla's room.

Expecting another step and tripping slightly at the feeling of flat round, I regained my composure and began making my way down the dark hallway, following the illuminated doorway to her room.

Once I was at her bedroom door, the sight I beheld stopped me in my tracks. A few boxes still littered her bedroom floor, but otherwise, her room was practically set up. In the corner, Layla lay on her plush white bedsheets in a deep red sweater and a blanket tucked up to her waist. Her whole body was wrapped around a single pillow, cradling it tightly and fast asleep.

Soft purrs left her lips in her slumber, as my eyes immediately narrowed down on the tear stains marked on her cheeks. My eyebrows furrowed at the sight and I felt my heart ache painfully. We had only been back from school for 20 odd minutes. Did something happen?

I gingerly stepped towards her vanity, painfully aware of the noises my jacket was making with every twist my body took, until I slowly lowered the books down onto her desk.

On my right, Layla sniffled and my head whipped towards her, the rest of my body going deathly still. I watched, strained as she pursed her lips and shuffled in her spot, melting into her pillows. The left side of her body hung out of the sheets and I could see the faint trickle of goosebumps on her wrist where her sweater had rolled up.

I stretched my empty palms out beside my and sighed deeply, reaching over to her bed to stretch the duvet cover over he body completely. I made sure it was snug against her sides and there were no gaps, before wrapping another fluffy blanket that she had piled at the bottom of her bed over her too.

Pulling away, I fiddled for the switch of her bedside lamp before feeling the plastic in between my fingers and switching off the light.

Finally, I made my way to her bedroom door, looking back at her one last time, her face now only seen by the glow of the moonlight outside. So beautiful. I felt my stomach churn and I cringed at the thought of her crying. Crying herself to sleep. Alone.

Blowing out a breath, I stepped out of the room and pulled her door closed, not bothering with clicking it the full way in fear of waking her.

As I bid my thanks and goodbye to Layla's Dad and made my short walk home, a caravel of worries and thoughts flooded my mind; I knew what I needed to do.

[worm-brainzz]

"My name is Regina George Wilbur, and in case you're keeping score, Cady Candyyz may have won the battle but I will win the war."

-Taylor Louderman, Mean Girls Original Broadway Cast Recording, "World Burn".

Hello!! I'm will! Heres an intro post to get to know me :D

basic stuff:

names: xander/wilbur/crow/icarus (and any nickname you come up w/

pronouns: he/they/it/meow/vamp/star/angel/silly/heart/kitty

gender: vampcatgender, angelstar, sillygender, angeliwhore, mikucharic, argoscharic, mrplantcharic, heartfloweric, starrycattic, guitarvampic, crazymusicgender (MANY MANY XENOS. HOUGH BOY.)

sexuality: achillean

age: 13 hourgh

i have generalised anxiety disorder and autism. please be nice. im begging.

i also have the worst spine problems known to man (exaggeration)

DNI: CREEPS (P3D0S, MAPS/MAP SUPPORTERS AND Z00PHIL3S/Z00 SUPPORTERS), AND ANYONE PART OF A HATE GROUP. HATRED TOWARDS COMMUNITIES SUCH AS THE POC, LGBTQIA+ AND MANY OTHERS WILL NOT BE TOLERATED ON MY BLOG. WHETHER THAT BE MAIN OR SIDEBLOGS. PRINCE DNI TOO BTW.

(EDIT: i took starry, divine and pax out cuz i wanna stop worrying abt the situation. happy emoji)

(EDIT 2 FOR TODAY HOLY.: added prince to the dni list cuz of personal stuff :3)

accounts:

discord: worm.brainzz

wattpad: mercuryheartss

insta: p0is0n.appl3 (wont let me change it)

bandlab: mxrcuryheartss

medibang/art street: worm.brainzz

youtube: worm.brainzz

fandoms/interests:

ashur gharavi cinematic universe

vocaloid

project sekai

project diva

hazbin hotel

lacey flash games

village roadshow themeparks

doki doki literature club

nyan neko sugar girls

aussie world (theme park)

psas

pretty dresses hehe (as in like. princess shit. yk.)

sammy j and randy on ricketts lane

music taste:

muse

franz ferdinand

kikuo

maretu

ghost & pals

utsu-p

babymetal

whiteflame/kurousaP

pinocchioP

deco*27

tally hall

rishie-p

I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU. GET HIT BY MY LOVE AND APPRECIATION BEAM.🧡🧡🧡

@cloudxxiii @bi-squirrel @poisoned-sugar11 @aroace-polysho @devilish-parrot @statictelevision @reinagony @m0nst3rgunxz @voidbeau @machathecat @ang31ey3s-d3mons3edz. ACK /POS.

blogs/tags:

blogs:

active: @worm-brainzz @ask-angel-argos, @wormbrainzz-reblogs

inactive: @v0idbr34d, @larva-heartzz

tags:

#explosion_sound_effect.mp3: txt

#worm making theories??? rare occurence???: one of the only times i will ever make theories

#mega worm brainrot: talking abt stuff that wont get out of my head

#queue could be my unintended choice to live my life extended: queue

#will's inbox: my asks

WILL UPDATE IF IM WILLING TO PUT NEW INFO IN.

[no-see-um-incorrect]

My exact thoughts while watching the summit 

Without context 

Spoilers obviously ⚠️

-What is it with Asher and losing his shoes? 

-David&Milo giving me big brother vibes rn

-“Jesus Christ hold still I’ll grab you one of mine” something about this line made my heart do a little flip 

-Vincent honey you’re doing your best and the best you can do is good enough ❤️

-got ghosted by daddy again!?!?

-The music 💀 Vincent I dare you 

-why can’t these to get married already? 🙄

-ngl I thought he was about to propose 

-a CROWN! Omfg i’m gonna start crying 

-“beautiful” OK. there it is. I guess I’m crying now 

-samsamsamsamsam

-Love kissing my cowboy 🥰

-me at every Thanksgiving dinner ever 

-how could the house be on fire? Asher is not even there yet

-me at Thanksgiving Pt2

-I am so gay for this Southern Man 

-“butter pecan what else” OOOOO! That sounds good. I could fuck with that 

-HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP LIKE THAT!

-“it’ll be our reward for making it through this in one piece” remember what happens when you assume Sam 

-Vincent handled this so well 

-Porter Absolute asshole..PORTER YOU FUCKER!

-gaslight gatekeep Girlboss-porter solaire 

-“actually, the circumstances of my birth well unfortunate were perfectly legitimate”  I can’t with this man. (this is something I would say)

-am I the only one who didn’t know that people just have meetings at fancy parties like this? and it’s like completely normal?

-so they have racist tendencies but they’re not racist…. yeah that tracks. 

-why did I not think there was gonna be food at this party? 

-Asher and Milo 🤣(also poor Vincent)

-Asher what did you do?!???

-Alexander and Christopher Bennett….why do I feel like these two are gonna be important

-last time I heard someone say that it ended up being a funeral 

-oh Christopher is just a dick 

-Who would’ve guessed the dick and the Ass are buddy buddy  fan fucking tastic 

-you did not just diss my boys eyeliner 

-Alexis? already? I was not expecting her appearance to be this early 

-oh. Oh she’s exactly like I expected her to be. Oh oh, I don’t think I could hate being right more than I do in this exact moment 

-I Am gunna fuck her up

-and YOU have never fought ME  Stay in your lane pussycat before you get hurt 

-“you should hope you never do” this is probably foreshadowing 

-you child!?!?? Grow up!?!???! Has she met her self !??

-let’s just completely forget what you did to Sam  because that surely wasn’t very “adult” of you Alexis 

-“because I wanted him” she is asking for it. *Googles how much a hitman costs*

-“fixed him” out of everything she said why does this line hit  worse than all the others? 

-given my track record I probably would have met him even if he was a Dilf healer

-oh the feeling is more than mutual honey 

-oh she’s a Cunt. I hate her. I hate her so so much.

-PORTER  THANK FUCK

-burn her Porter RECK HER

-“apologize to Sam yet” the enemy to the enemy is my friend 

-“as if I have a gag reflex” (i’m dead)

-also. go choke on a dick Alexis 

-thanks for checking in I was just about to commit a homicide

-hold on she’s only half a century old! I CAN TAKE HER (talking all that shit and she can’t even back it up)

-A blend of self-assured and insecure (sounds like high school ngl)

-🎼everyone thinks that were perfect🎼Please don’t let them look through the curtain🎼

-SAM! Hubby come help me before I commit multiple crimes 

-“my mate” never get old damn🥰

-how did I not know that vampires could track people? 

- “are you-” gonna go help my husband that’s what I’m doing  adios Captain Jack sparbitch

-I know this guy isn’t saying anything wrong  directly but I feel like this conversation is wrong in someway (it very well could be the autism)

-FUCK QUINN 

-honestly. Willy same  

-can’t excuse the Alexis part though 

-pretty please tell me that that line isn’t foreshadowing 

-Sammy angry (pop off boy it’s hot 😍)

-“if there’s any shred of you left that still remembers caring about me” OH FUCK THAT LINE OHHH FUCK

-The waiver in his voice. I can’t  i’m barely holding it together 

-“roll around with dogs” i’m about to cuss this hoe out 

-hey only Sam is allowed to call me that!

-ash has the same culinary standards as me (the quiz was right)

-Porter where the fuck did you come from? 

-did Sam teach you that? 

-Asher and Milo is me and my sister fr

-OoOooO say yo name again Milo. it made my brain happy

-Damn straight. One of the best in the department💅

-how did he know?!

-Asher honey. shut up 

-why can’t anybody else hear us? All these vampires are as old as dirt they probably can hear a pin drop of mile away

-Little bear? WHO? 

-Seriously what is with these meetings

- sweetheart is Batman confirmed?!?!??

Part two tomorrow because this is TOOOOO LONG

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Hair Trigger

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Superfam, YJ98

Summary: A junior at Gotham University, Jason finds it difficult to conceal his worsening mental health from his family and his friend, Jon Lane Kent. Family secrets are revealed and boundaries are pushed as Jason and Laney struggle to navigate through school, their romantic feelings, and their trauma. Could the reintroduction of Laney Kent be more trouble than it's worth, or is it just what Jason needed to confront the demons of his past?

I will also do trigger warnings for chapters and if there is smut I have the chapter(s) tagged so you don't have to worry about nsfw in the fic if you're just here for the story itself.

Chapters: 7/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Jonathan Lane Kent, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Natalia Knight, Jonathan Samuel Kent, Cassie Sandsmark, Chris Kent, Bart Allen, Original Character(s)

Relationships: JayLaney, Clois, TimKon

Additional Tags: University AU, No Powers AU, Sharing A Bed, Romance, Angst

Chapter Seven: The Babysitter

Jason offered to watch Sammy and Chris while Lois checked on Laney in the hospital, and Lois dropped both boys off. Sammy introduced himself and shook Jason's hand. "You were just a baby the last time I saw you," Jason smiled, "And you must be Christopher... Or do you prefer Chris?"

Chris didn't say anything. His eyes were puffy and red as if he'd cried the whole night before. Lois crouched down and whispered something to him before pressing a kiss to his cheek, and she turned to Sammy and gave him a hug. "I'll be back in a little while, and Conner'll come to pick you up if I'm gone too long," Lois whispered, "Thank you, Jason. I really appreciate this."

"Don't worry about it. I already made dinner," Jason replied.

Lois waved at her sons before leaving the apartment. As soon as the door shut, Sammy asked, "Is Laney in your class?"

"Oh, no. Our majors are different," Jason replied. He noticed that Chris stared at him, but he didn't make a big deal of it.

"I think Laney had a picture of you in our room. He said you took it with him at the fair," Chris mumbled. Jason smiled.

"Yeah, I remember that. Laney made fun of me for not being tall enough to ride the Enterprise, and he ended up getting sick on the ride," Jason chuckled. Sammy laughed too.

"Is Laney really sick?" Chris asked. Jason shook his head.

"Well... Um, Lane was cracking jokes as usual, but he is a little bit sick. His doctors know what's wrong, and they're going to do their best to fix things... You guys can get comfortable," Jason replied. Chris swallowed hard as Jason walked over to the kitchen to take their dinner out of the oven.

Sammy sat down on the couch and turned on the tv, and he whispered something to Chris. Jason made the boys' plates, and he poured them something to drink. Jason sat their plates on the table, and he sat at the table with them, getting ready to eat. The three of them stared at the tv as they ate, and Sammy ate his vegetables with his fingers. Chris ate quietly, remembering that Lois told them to be on their best behavior. "Do you like Laney, or do you like-like Laney?" Sammy asked.

"Sammy, don't be rude," Chris whispered and put his fork down.

Jason put his fork down. "Why would you ask that?" Jason replied.

"Because people who take photobooth pictures together are usually a couple," Sammy replied, "Are you and Laney dating?"

"No, we're not dating," Jason whispered as he went back to eating. "We were just really close."

"Like brothers?" Chris asked. Jason shook his head.

"No, it was different," Jason whispered. After they finished eating, Chris curled up on one side of Jason's couch and fell asleep.

Sammy stayed awake, waiting for their parents to return.

"It's getting dark," Sammy whispered. Jason checked the time on his phone. "Is my mom gonna come?"

"I think she might. If not, I know your brother, Conner's gonna come pick you guys up," Jason answered. Sammy wiped his eyes, and Jason could tell that something was keeping Sammy from going to sleep. "What's wrong?"

"Does Laney look sick?" Sammy asked. Jason shook his head. "Really?"

"Really, he's doing just fine. I mean, he's still annoying, but I don't think the doctors can do much about that," Jason joked. Sammy smiled. "Between you and me, though, does Laney like-like me? Like, has he said anything about it?"

"I don't think I can tell you that," Sammy whispered, "Laney'd be pretty mad if I told you something like that." Jason nodded.

"That's fair. I guess I'll have to ask Laney later on," Jason whispered.

"Why'd you lie earlier when I asked if you liked Laney?" Jon asked.

"I didn't lie. I just chose not to answer your question. There's a difference," Jason answered, "I waited until you asked a question I wanted to answer, and I answered that, but I never lied to you."

"So you tricked me?" Sammy asked.

"Twice," Jason smiled. He was actually a little proud of himself. Someone knocked on the door, and Jason checked the peephole and let Conner in to pick the boys up.

"Hey, Jason... Christopher, hey buddy?" Conner whispered. He tapped on Chris's nose. "It's time to go." Chris didn't stir. "Fine." Conner picked him up and asked if Jason would follow them to the car.

"Did you see Laney?" Sammy asked. Conner nodded as he carried Chris out the door.

"Yeah, he was tired. He had to drink a lot of water because his stomach was upset, but he's okay," Conner whispered. Chris yawned and opened his eyes.

"Are Mama and Dad still with Laney?" Chris asked. Conner put him down.

"Mhm, the doctors are taking great care of him, but he's exhausted. I think Mom is gonna stay the night with him tonight, and Dad's gonna come to the hotel in a little bit," Conner explained, and he unlocked the car door.

"What did the doctors do?" Chris asked. Conner gestured for the boys to get in the car.

"Nothing too crazy. Don't worry about that," Conner replied, "I'm gonna talk to Jason for a second." He closed the door after the boys got in the car.

"He really as okay as you said?" Jason asked.

"Of course not. I told Chris and Sam that because I didn't want them to freak out. His temperature went up right after the procedure, and then they told my mom something," Conner looked back at the car and smiled at his brothers, "And she flipped out and started yelling at the doctor... Then, my dad left me with Laney to calm Mom down, and Laney kept telling me he was thirsty and the nurses weren't coming. It was a fucking mess."

"I should go up there tomorrow—."

"I don't think they're gonna let anyone see him until his fever goes back down," Conner replied, "Wanna ride with us to the hotel? I kind of have to stop and talk to somebody after I drop them off." Jason nodded.

"Why didn't you just call and ask me to take them to the hotel?" Jason asked.

"Because they would've freaked out if none of us showed up to come and get them. Especially Sammy," Conner whispered. Jason nodded and got in the passenger's seat.

Sammy buckled his seatbelt, and Chris kicked his shoes off. "Your car smells like french fries," Sammy mumbled.

"Hey, I'm gonna drop you guys off at the hotel, and you're gonna get ready for bed. You're not gonna give Jason a hard time about it, and you're gonna share the bed by the couch," Conner commanded.

The car ride was quiet on the way to the hotel, and Conner led the three of them up to the hotel room. Sammy took his backpack off of the bed and went straight to the bathroom. Chris tapped Conner on the shoulder. "Can I call Dad?" Chris asked. Conner nodded and gave Chris his phone.

Jason sat on the couch bed and turned the tv on. Chris sat on the bed and kicked his feet. "Hey, Dad... No, I know..." Chris continued talking on the phone, and Conner kissed the top of Chris's head, and Chris swat him away. "Stop it," Chris whispered.

Sammy came out of the bathroom in his pajamas and hopped on the bed next to Chris. "Can I talk to Dad next?" Sammy asked. Chris nodded and gave him the phone.

"Hi... Uh-huh..." Sammy made a face, and then he started to tear up. "Why not?"

Chris grabbed Sammy's hand and pulled the phone away, and they both listened in on what Clark had to say. Chris started to cry. "But that's not what Mama said—."

"Okay," both boys answered, and they hung up. Conner took his phone back and sort of frowned. Both Sammy and Chris wept, and Conner opened his arms and embraced them.

"I'm gonna be back tonight, and tomorrow we're gonna go get pizza and go to one of those trampoline houses," Conner promised, "Okay? And then I'm gonna let you eat pop rocks and donuts and pop rocks on donuts." He messed up their hair.

The boys couldn't stop crying, and Jason kicked his shoes off and put his feet on the couch.

Jason pulled a pillow over his face, and he allowed himself to crumble for a minute or so, and he collected himself. "Hey, Conner, it's alright. I've got them," Jason mumbled. Conner nodded and let go of them, and made his way out the door.

Jason looked to see which of the two was more visibly upset, and he asked, "What's wrong?"

"I shouldn't have said I didn't want to see Laney, but I was scared," Sammy cried.

"When did you say that?" Chris asked, wiping his tears away.

"I didn't say it out loud, but I thought it," Sammy cried.

"That's not why Laney isn't feeling good," Chris reassured him. Jason let out a little breath of air after realizing that the boys would comfort each other. Jason lay on the couch, and the boys continued to talk to each other.

After a while, Chris got up and changed into his pajamas, and Sammy climbed into bed. "Do you like your brothers?" Sammy asked.

"We don't always get along, but yeah. I do like my brothers and my sister," Jason whispered.

"Laney's not always a good big brother... But maybe I'm not a good little brother all the time—."

"No one is, Sammy. I can be terrible to my siblings sometimes. It doesn't mean I don't love them. It's just that if you know someone long enough, you're bound to fall out a few times... Take my sister Cass and me, for example. She's so easy to get along with, but we still argue over the stupidest things sometimes," Jason explained. Sammy turned to him.

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like when I'm tired or upset, I get mad at the way she eats... Or how she would borrow things from me without letting me know. Stupid stuff like that," Jason answered.

"Do you ever apologize?" Sammy asked. Jason nodded.

"Only when I'm so wrong, it warrants an apology. Most of the time, though, we hangout and call it even... Laney doesn't hold grudges. He's never been that way," Jason whispered, "I should know."

"Did you and Laney fight a lot?" Sammy asked.

"All the time. Once, Laney made me so mad that I punched him, and instead of hitting me back, do you know what he did? He told me he wouldn't tell anybody I hit him," Jason whispered.

"Why'd you hit him?" Sammy asked.

"Because he kept bumping into me on purpose, and then he said I was too nice to do anything about it. Laney can be a real jerk sometimes, but he can be sweet. I bet you know that just as well as anyone," Jason whispered. Sammy yawned and nodded.

Chris came out of the bathroom in his pajamas and climbed into bed. "Goodnight," Chris whispered.

"Goodnight," Jason and Sammy replied, but none of them slept. Instead, they all lay there pretending that they weren't worried about Laney until Clark came. He turned the light on low and checked on his sons first.

"Christopher, Sammy, what are you two boys still doing up?" Clark whispered. They almost fell on each other as they rushed to embrace their father. Clark held them tight and kissed the tops of their heads. "It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

One of the boys mumbled something, and Clark smiled. "He's the only one of you that went to bed on time. He's fast asleep," Clark whispered.

Jason got up to leave, and Clark held up a finger asking him to wait a moment. After Clark put his sons to sleep, he stepped outside of the room with Jason to speak to him. "What happened at Christmas?" Clark asked. Jason shook his head. "Jason, I'm not asking because I'm upset. I'm asking because he wanted to talk to you and apologize for what happened," Clark explained.

Jason shook his head. "Nothing happened on Christmas," Jason lied, "Look, Mr. Kent, let me know if anything changes with Laney... And tell him that I'll come to see him as soon as they let me." Jason left in a hurry without another word to Clark without realizing he was nearly an hour's walk from home. Once he got to the end of the street, the adrenaline wore off, and he realized that Laney was no longer going to allow him to pretend what happened never happened. He wondered why Laney would want to torment him like that.

Tears filled his eyes as he walked, and he couldn't see the street clearly. He furiously wiped the tears from his eyes as he walked down the sidewalk. Jason wondered if Laney took Bruce's offer to spend time with him just so he could remind Jason of that night. He was hysterical and panicked as he breathlessly walked down the street. Jason wished he was home where he could fall apart in peace, but instead, he was crossing the street blindly in the middle of the night, crying his eyes out.

His phone rang, and he answered, not looking at who was calling because there was no one in the world he could imagine talking to at that moment. "Clark just called me and said you were trying to walk home—."

"Why did he call you and not Bruce?" Jason asked.

"Don't be like that. Tim's gonna come get you. Where are you right now—."

"I don't need a ride. I want to walk home. I need to clear my head—."

"Jason, don't be childish. Where are you? Clark doesn't have to call Dad, but I will," Dick threatened.

"I don't want a ride home," Jason raised his voice.

"What's the matter with you?" Dick asked. "Are you worried about Laney?"

"Yes, I'm worried about him... But it's not that," Jason cried, "Why does he want to talk about Christmas?"

"I have a better question: Why are you so afraid to talk about Christmas?" Dick asked.

"Because it was a fucking disaster. I feel like part of Laney wants me to relive that humiliation—."

"What happened? I saw him run out of your room, but you never told me what happened that night—."

"I kissed him, and it was the stupidest, most humiliating experience of my entire life..."

"Because he ran off? But isn't that kind of why you guys are friends now?" Dick asked.

"Well, yeah..." Jason sniffed and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Well, take a second to pull yourself together and try to think about why he would actually want to bring that up... And tell me where you are so I can tell Tim where to pick you up," Dick commanded. Jason nodded to himself and told Dick where he was.

"Mr. Kent did say Laney wanted to apologize to me for Christmas," Jason whispered.

"Uh-huh. Tim said he's on that street. Stay with him and his friends tonight, and get some sleep. Maybe it'll be nice for you to chill over there for the night," Dick replied.

"Maybe..." Jason mumbled.

Tim pulled up and rolled the passenger window down. "Get in, loser, we're going-. Oh shit, are you crying?" Tim asked.

Jason shook his head. Dick hung up, and Jason got in the car. "I'm fine," Jason replied.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tim asked.

"No," Jason replied. Tim shrugged. Jason took a deep breath and dried his face.

"Fine... I heard you went home today," Tim replied.

"And what a shitshow that was. How are you?" Jason asked. Tim shrugged.

"Conner and I got into an argument this morning about laundry, and he said he was gonna spend the night at Lane's. Then Lane had to go to the hospital, and Conner came over to tell me, and we made up... Bart got his head stuck in the stair railing, and we had to call the fire department," Tim listed.

"Is he okay?" Jason asked.

"Oh yeah, he's fine. It was super embarrassing having to explain that to our neighbors, though," Tim replied, "Nice to see you, by the way."

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

Summary (request from @thesassywallflower​ for @spnfanficpond​ Secret Santa): Donna is horrified to learn that the boys have never had a proper Christmas, so she invites them to her house for the holiday.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Warnings/tags: explicit (eventually), fluff (? Idk), angst (? light), domestic (can’t get much more domestic)

Chapter WC: 2000

Author’s notes: There will be multiple chapters to this -- at least three, and they will all be written in 3rd person POV, shifting perspective in each section.

Many thanks and love to my dear friend and the very best beta ever @brrose-apothecary​.  Text divider by @talesmaniac89​.

________________________________________________________________

“That’s it,” Donna exclaims, after wiping down her machete and carefully replacing it in its secure case in the bed of her truck. “You two’re comin’ home with me.”

She’s hyper-aware that the Winchesters didn’t have the most conventional upbringing, but, dangit, how many more times will they break her heart with stories about never going to a Christmas party or experiencing the joy of opening gifts on Christmas morning?

“C- coming home with you?” Dean wonders aloud as if he’s testing the words in his mouth. As if she uttered the invitation in Old Norse.

“Yes, Dean. To Stillwater.” Donna turns to face the brothers who both eerily resemble that deer she missed by a hair’s breadth on Highway 95 last week. “Jody and the girls’ll be there, and all’s you need’re the clothes on your backs. We can stop at the dollar store down the street for you two to pick up a couple white elephant gifts.”

“Dollar store?” Dean asks, looking thoroughly bereft of understanding.

“Dean, stop repeating everything that comes out of my mouth. And close yours while you’re at it; you look like a drowning guppy.”

Donna rounds the side of her pickup to stride toward the driver’s side door. The brothers shuffle after her like a couple of 10-year-olds who’d rather be playing Super Mario than endure whatever perceived Hell she’s invited them to.

“Donna...” Sam lets his words hang in the air while both brothers huff and puff condensation into the frigid night air and fidget after her. “We’ve never been to a Christmas party or anything like that.” 

“That’s why you’re coming to mine. No excuses.” She spins on her heel and stares them down as they exchange looks and unspoken words.

Dean’s the one who breaks first. He swings his narrowed gaze back to her.

“Will there be mistletoe?” he asks pointedly.

Donna tries not to think about Dean and mistletoe at the same time. Not that she’s never imagined kissing him, but now is not the time.

She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Of course! What kinda Christmas party would it be without mistletoe?”

Dean grins before slapping his brother on the back. “Well, Sammy, looks like we’re gonna have Christmas after all. Ya know, one without a Wood Nymph.”

“Huh?” Donna furrows her brow in question.

Sam shakes his head. “Never mind, long story,” he mutters. “I guess we’ll follow you?”

Donna claps her hands together as she nods, bouncing on her toes. “You betcha!”

“Can’t believe we almost passed this up,” Dean mutters to Sam as they unpack their bags, making a load of laundry. They each showered in Donna’s guest bathroom and she gave them some old clean sweatpants and t-shirts of her dad’s to wear for the night.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Sam agrees quietly, tossing his last pair of underwear to the floor. He’s pleased that Dean sees the value here in Donna’s home.

Ever since they defeated Chuck, Sam has tried a dozen different ways to get Dean out of the bunker and into a real house and real jobs. Dean seems frozen in time, though, like he can’t see that they can do just about anything they want now. They’re regular hunters — no angels or demons to battle (Jack and Rowena have seen to that). In fact, most of the monster world has quieted and stays in their own lanes.

“Imagine having this on the regular.” Sam tests the waters. “A washer and dryer from this century?” he chuckles, scooping up the dirty clothes and shaking his damp hair out of his face.

“Yeah, well, I doubt Donna wants a couple salty old hunters camped out in her guest room for the rest of her life.” Dean turns down the covers of his borrowed bed and inspects the pillow. “‘Sides, I like havin’ my own room.”

Sam watches Dean smooth his hands over the bedding, wondering...

He knows how Dean feels about Donna, even though his brother’s never put those feelings into words. Sam’s seen the way Dean looks at her, the way he touches her like she’s made of glass, and the tone of his voice when he says her name. Dean adores Donna, but even more than that, he wants her.

“What if...” Sam starts then pauses, shifting his weight. When Dean turns to face him with a questioning brow and wistful smile, he forges ahead. “What if you could share it with someone like Donna?”

Dean almost rolls his eyes as he slowly straightens his stance. His soft smile twists as he meets his brother’s gaze. Sam worries that he’s pushed Dean too far.

“And now we’re back to Donna deservin’ a lot better than...” Dean shakes his head and motions between himself and his duffle bag.

“Heya,” the woman in question sing-songs as she pokes her head around the door. “How ya doin’ in here? Need anything?”

Dean’s edge immediately smooths at the sight of the sheriff.

“Hey,” he answers with a quick, practiced grin. “We’re good. Better than. Just, uhh...” He reaches for the bundle in Sam’s arms. “Gonna throw this stuff in your washer if that’s okay?”

Sam notices the tiniest flush in Dean’s cheeks, and the sight squeezes his heart in his rib cage. Dean doesn’t think he deserves a life like this.

“Yep,” Donna replies, a bright smile gracing her freshly scrubbed and freckle-dusted face. “Right down the hall.”

“Alrighty then. Lead the way,” Dean says, following Donna to her laundry room.

Sam heaves a sigh before wandering to the small bookshelf in the corner for something to read.

Dean has nightmares almost every time he closes his eyes. Last night, he had a different kind of dream.

Donna was there, her soft blonde waves were piled on top of her head. Her fingers were floured and her big flannel shirt was dusted just the same. She laughed at his jokes and hummed through her smile when he wrapped his arms around her from behind. She smelled like butter and vanilla.

When he wakes, Sam’s already up and out of the room. A low light sneaks through the curtains, and Dean smells coffee. He rolls out of bed, runs his fingers through his hair, and makes his way to the bathroom across the hall.

“Dean, hey.”

Dean cocks his head and squints because it’s too damn early for pleasantries. It’s Kaia, though, and Dean owes that girl a lot of pleasant.

“Hey, kid. When’d you get in?” He turns toward her and she steps into his arms for a hug.

“‘Bout an hour ago,” she replies. “Claire’s in the kitchen.”

“‘Kay,” Dean answers pulling out of the hug with a lopsided smile. “Be there in a minute.”

Kaia nods and shuffles past him. “There’s coffee and french toast.”

“Nice,” Dean grunts, pushing through the bathroom door and switching the light on. When he sees his reflection, he groans. “Christ.”

His eyes are puffy and his hair’s sticking out in nine different directions. He shakes his head and sighs before taking care of business. Dean definitely puts the seat back down, washes his hands, and splashes his face and hair with water.

Before heading to the kitchen, he makes his bed and changes into his own clothes. As he shrugs into his flannel, he realizes it’s the one from his dream. The one Donna was wearing — his shirt and nothing else.

He could feel every dip and curve in his hands. She was so warm and soft. Dean’s thought about a hundred different ways to make her say his name the way she did in his dream. He can still hear her breathy voice in his head as he walks the length of the hallway toward the bright kitchen.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Donna greets him first, and his skin flushes with heat.

Before he can focus too much on it, Claire sacks him without a word.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, holding her close. He isn’t exactly the picture of emotional growth, but since Cas… well, he’s trying to be more present.

Dean closes his eyes and buries his nose in her messy hair. She’s been smoking, and probably drinking by the looks of it. “Takin’ care of yourself?” He pulls back, gripping her shoulders and looking her in the eyes.

Her smile is crooked, and her blue eyes are shot red and rimmed with black, but she’s still the strong little girl from Illinois whose daddy loved God enough to leave her.

Claire shrugs. “More’r less.”

Dean huffs a wry laugh, squeezing her shoulders before releasing her. “Sounds about right.”

“Heeeyyy.” Jody and Alex round the island to greet him with hugs and Patience isn’t far behind.

“Coffee?” Jody asks.

“Absolutely. I also heard there was french toast. Or did I miss it?” He turns to find Donna extending a plate heaped with carbs, and a steaming cup of joe. “Awesome.”

He accepts the proffered items from Donna with a hearty thanks.

Jody and the girls retreat to the dining room where Sam sits, doing a crossword puzzle. He looks up and Dean nods a good morning to him before sliding onto a stool at the island.

“So, uhh, dollar store, huh?” He digs into his breakfast, trying not to ogle Donna’s ass in her cute little red and white snowflake leggings. The phrase ‘thick thighs save lives’ will be stuck in his head for the rest of his stay here and he isn’t mad about it.

Donna nods as she turns to face him with her own cup of coffee. “And if I give you a list, can you pick up some wine?”

Dean bobs his head as he chews and his eyes roll back. “Oh, yeah... Yes, anything. Holy shit, this is good.” He’s momentarily distracted from objectifying his hostess by the un-fucking-believable french toast.

Donna chuckles, jutting a hip against the island. “Family recipe. Just like the smorgasbord for tonight.” She sips her coffee and watches him devour the rest of the meal in silence but for Dean’s moans and groans of satisfaction.

How many times has Donna thought about this? About Dean Winchester sitting at her kitchen island eating a breakfast and coffee that she made? About him enjoying it?

Experts say that good food and good sex share neural pathways. That a person’s reaction to good food is similar to their reactions to good sex. That theory takes on a whole new level of wow when applied to Dean.

Dean drains his mug and wipes his mouth.

“More... anything?” Donna asks innocently -- or so she thinks.

Until Dean’s gaze flicks to hers for a hot minute. She could write his hesitation off as morning brain, but then he drops his gaze to her mouth. He licks his bottom lip into his mouth then slowly drags it through his teeth.

Donna’s breath catches in her chest and her insides flip.

“Hey, so, we should hit that dollar store, and I think Donna wants us to grab a few bottles of wine, right?”

Sam realizes a beat too late that he’s walked in on something; Dean looks ready to attack and Donna’s cheeks are fuchsia. The younger Winchester’s gaze bounces around the tension between Dean and Donna before he clears his throat.

Dean blinks a couple of times and shakes his head. “Yeah... yeah, uhh...” He draws a deep breath and looks back up at Donna. “Got that list?”

Donna gnaws at the corner of her anxious grin. “Oh, yeah. I’ll text it to ya.”

Dean nods and pushes out of his barstool. The brothers find their boots and coats in the front closet. As they walk out the door, Donna calls from the kitchen.

“Oh, and Dean? When you get back, you need to help me find that mistletoe.”

The screen door slams shut behind them, and Sam laughs.

Chapter Two

Please don’t leave without telling me what you think!

[chrissy-kaos]

How do you feel about Sammie interacting with all these girls on tumblr?. Being flirtatious and such. Your relationship ending is still pretty fresh I imagine. It's got to be tough.

Honestly, I'm really trying to care less about it. Does it hurt sure. Just like it probably hurts her to see my post and my interactions. Tho im not sure how much, if at all. It is what it is.. but I know what kind of person she is, and i thought she was different. Come to find out she's not. Do i still love her.. yes.. I gave her every single bit of me and more. But i know better now. I don't have enough time in my life left to waste. She used up what i had. I'll never get that back. I'm extremely bitter about it. So I'm not going to waste the remaining time worrying about what she's doing. I'm trying not to care. I'm going to stay in my own lane and do me. Hell, I don't even follow her anymore. That's how much I'm trying. Is it working not really but still....

[according2thelore]

MOMMY DEAN MONDAY!!!!!

YES YOU ARE SO CORRECT!!!!!!

today i am thinking of sammy in elementary school in the week leading up to mother’s day. his teacher has gotten all the card supplies out with the fun-cut scissors and crayons and foam stickers. they take the last hour of school to make cards for their mothers, and all the other kids are drawing stick figures with long hair and big smiles and putting foam hearts all over the construction paper.

and sammy just kind of sits there at first because he doesn’t have a mommy. he has a daddy (and that's not all it's cracked up to be). but, he realizes, as the other kids chatter about how annoying their moms are for making sure they bathe every night and how their mom makes the best mac and cheese in the world that — wait, maybe he does have a mommy?

he draws a lopsided stick figure in bright green crayon, with spots all over its face, and a smaller one in brown crayon, holding its hand. the green one is taller but not as tall as the other mommies in the pictures.

the teacher comes over and notices the figure on sam’s card has big blue pants and short hair. she watches as sam flips open the card and looks back and forth from the blackboard so he can write “happy mother’s day” perfectly. then “den” underneath it.

“oh sweetie, mom is spelled m-o-m.”

“i know that,” sam says, annoyed at being talked down to. “how do you spell dean?”

“d-e-a-n?”

sam starts scribbling furiously, putting a big X through den and writing it properly this time.

he gives it to dean when dean walks over after school to pick him up, blushing and looking away when he shoves it into his hands.

"what's this?" dean asks, flipping the card open and freezing because sam has stuck foam stickers all around the words, with a crudely drawn bowl of mac and cheese and dean running behind sam on a bike without training wheels on the other panel. "we have a mom," dean says, part knee-jerk-furious and part sick-weird-warm.

"oh." sam says, wilted. he got it wrong. moms must do something that dean doesn't do, but sam's not sure what that thing is. maybe have long hair? he doesn't see dean put the card in his backpack.

and i’m also thinking about sam going through dean’s things after the hellhounds, after his brother is stiff and cold in a box under freshly tilled earth, sam's fingers still dark with dirt, and finding—tucked under the lining, crinkled, and faded with time—a construction paper card. the edges are worn soft. happy mother’s day, den. and sam goes out and gets blackout drunk, swerving into the oncoming lane when he drives home, completely numb and not caring and pulsing raw like a nerve, but he gets home safe.

because angels are watching over him. his mom told him that.

-lizzy

(sorry for the late reply anon, i wanted to schedule for the day of)

[angelofrainfrogs]

Going Back: Ch. 7

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Things are looking up for Gregory. After putting the soul of a formerly-immortal killer to rest, he and his new family can finally begin their lives anew. Sure, Gregory might have been cursed with mysterious Remnant in exchange for being involved in this mess—not to mention his caretakers consist of sentient robots and ghosts… But there’s no doubt that the bond they share is unbreakable. They love him, and he in turn. 

All in all, life is finally starting to go right for once. 

…Unfortunately, true peace is a hard-won battle. There are other things to contend with besides William’s decrepit soul, and Gregory will learn that his role in the lives of the Aftons and Emilys is far greater than anyone could’ve imagined. 

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Down in Bonnie Bowl, the hare himself lined up a winning shot. The strike sailed straight and true down the lane, causing Bonnie to fist-pump the air when the pins fell aside.

“Righteous!” he exclaimed, ecstatic to play again after all this time away.

“Bon-Bon!” shouted Sam from the entry doors. “Come meet everyone!”

Looking over his shoulder, the lanky lagomorph sent a smile to the group of humans. They even had a kid with them this time!

An… Oddly familiar kid.

But a scan to the group from afar would indicate the only person he met prior besides Sam was Michael—descendant of his own original creator and a pretty solid mechanic.

“Hey, y’all!” the bunny called, springing towards the group with a happy-go-lucky stride. “You folks trying to play a few games with me?”

Freddy's face had fallen ever-so-slightly at Bonnie's lack of acknowledgement, though he was quick to cover up this speck of disappointment. Of course Bonnie wouldn't recognize him... he didn't exactly look like Freddy anymore.

“Hey, Bon; yeah, we're here to hang out for a bit!” Michael confirmed with a wave.

Whereas the other animatronics were aware that something had gone down over the weekend, Mike still wasn't entirely sure what Bonnie remembered. As Sammy said, they'd had to pull his AI from an old save file dated before recent events—around the time Bonnie had officially been declared “replaced” instead of just “missing.” Without any sort of context for why Freddy would make such a drastic change, there was no telling how easily Bonnie would process his friend's transformation.

“Let's do some introductions,” Michael continued. “Obviously you know me and Sam. This cute little monster is Gregory—” Here Mike would pinch the boy's cheek, much to his dismay, then move on to clap Charlie on the arm. “—and this is Charlie; she's an old, old friend of ours. And this, if you can believe it...”

Placing a hand on Freddy's back, he gently pushed the redhead forward a few steps. “This is your old pal, Freddy.”

“Hello again, Bonnie,” Freddy greeted, still wearing that huge, infectious grin. He'd never wanted to reach out and hug the rabbit as much as he did in this very moment, but felt he deserved a tad more explanation first. “Despite how this may look, I am in fact still a robot—my AI was transferred to this body for reasons that will take a bit too long to explain at the moment. However, it is still me! It is so good to see you, old friend.” 

Bonnie looked highly confused at the declaration that this random human was Freddy Fazbear. He certainly didn’t look like him… but when the guy spoke, Bonnie was very inclined to believe him. Oh, the urge to tackle his friend was far too real! One could see the excitement grow inside Bonnie before Freddy was scooped up and tossed gently in the air. Bonnie was quick to catch him in a hug, messing up Freddy’s hair with an oversized paw.

“Ol’ sport!” that twangy southern accent drawled, nuzzling the side of his face against Freddy’s affectionately. “You thought you could hide from me in that little people costume? Sooorry, Fredbear! You can’t get rid of this bunny so easily.” 

The others could only stand and witness the rabbit maul Freddy with affection. While Bonnie had an idea of how long he'd been decommissioned for, he had no frame of reference for why. All he was sure of was that he’d severely missed his animatronic pals—and the bear earned a selfishly tight hug as Bonnie swayed with his friend to and fro.

Only when the excitable rabbit finally eased up did Freddy reach up to playfully rub the top of Bonnie's head—a gesture which made his expressive ears flop every which way. Freddy's smile only widened, having almost forgotten how wonderful it was to see his best friend's smiling face not just on a poster or in his memory banks.

“I missed you so much, you silly rabbit,” the ursine man said, giving him one more squeeze. He then looked towards the ground briefly before meeting Bonnie's bright gaze. “Although, I will need to be set down one of these days, if you do not mind. You must meet the others!”

“So—you got a haircut, right?” Bonnie teased, gathering so far that Freddy’s new form had to be an animatronic of some type. Coming to stand beside Freddy was the small kid—Gregory, as the young Afton introduced. Bonnie squatted with a curious tilt of his head to be more on his level.

“Oh, and you’re Gregory!” he cooed, reaching for Gregory’s hand to shake heartily. “I am the one, the only, Bonnie Bunny!”

From his squat position the eccentric rabbit took Charlie’s hand as she too approached, crossing his arms over his chest to reach both her and Gregory at once. “Charlie! Such a neat name; I love it!”

Whatever prior hesitation Gregory and Charlie may have had, there was no doubt that Bonnie in his true form was nothing short of charming. Now that he and Freddy were together again, it was almost like watching the old TV show. Gregory could see the familiarity with how Bonnie acted to how he was in the original Fredbear and Friends.

“Another surprise for you, Bon-Bon—" Mike chimed in, garnering the rabbit's attention. "—you know how your scan of me kept registering weird? Like I said, it's not a malfunction; Freddy, Charlie, and I are all robots! Close your eyes, Gregory.”

When the boy did so, Michael reached up to pull back the flap of skin on his neck revealing his access port. He moved over so the astounded bunny could examine it closer before hiding it away again.

“Henry Emily created these bodies,” Freddy added, pointedly not including the timeframe for these technological marvels. Later he could sit down with Bonnie and explain all the sordid details. For now, he just wanted to focus on the happy reunion. “Over the years he moved on from creating animals and strove to make lifelike androids—this is the result! And would you like to know something amazing? The other day, I was able to eat a hamburger... without it clogging up all of my systems!”

Michael couldn't stop a snort from escaping at this proclamation. The way Freddy described consuming a burger was like he'd discovered the eighth wonder of the world. Although, to robotic AIs who never thought they'd get a chance to do such a thing, he reasoned the feeling was probably similar. He just hoped Bonnie didn't get jealous and want a body of his own anytime soon.

With fists resting over his hips, Bonnie popped up animatedly to stare at Freddy with intrigue and amazement. “Hold up—the Henry Emily? Goodness gracious, what I’d give to meet my creator! You’re lucky, Fredbear!”

He’d pay his kudos to Freddy, happy for him regardless of whether or not Bonnie would ever get his own human form. Though it would be nice, walking around like all the people do…

“Oh man… I want to eat a burger! How’d it taste? What’s tasting even like? Haha!” the jolly old rabbit inquired, laughing at the absurdity of Freddy’s new life. 

Gregory was sort of blindsided by how Bonnie moved. It was mesmerizing in the way Sun or Moon moved, every movement fluid like a nimble dancers. It was certainly more human than Roxy or Monty’s animation cycles. Then Gregory remembered that the same thing happened to Freddy when exposed to human souls… Gregory chose not to dwell on this as Bonnie came over and inspected the nearly undetectable slit in the back of Michael’s neck, looking at him and Charlie with awe.

“Well aren’t y’all a couple of technological marvels! That’s really something…,” he murmured.

“You know I would only do such a drastic thing as move bodies for a good reason,” Freddy said, his tone a bit softer than before as he placed a hand on Bonnie’s arm and squeezed. He too could sense the subtle changes in the bunny’s movement and emotional capacity.

Like Freddy, Bonnie was still clearly himself at his core—thank god William Afton’s murderous personality hadn’t rubbed off on him—but he just seemed… more. More expressive, more fluid, more alive.

“Yeah, so… I told Bonnie that a lot went down while he was out,” Michael piggybacked on Freddy’s comment with an exhausted grin. “I figured we’d let Freddy spill all the details later, but I’ll just tell you, Bon—your friend is quite literally one of the kindest souls we’ve ever met.”

Freddy chuckled softly, and if his cheeks reddened slightly with joyful embarrassment, who was to say? He lifted Gregory into his arms, setting the boy on his hip to face their latest animatronic companion.

“A detailed explanation will be provided in time, yes,” Freddy began, then pressed the briefest kiss to the top of Gregory’s head before looking up at Bonnie with the utmost pride a papa bear could muster. “But all you need to know for the moment is that Gregory is my boy, and I have taken on this form to care for him as best I can.” 

Gregory slung an arm around his dad, looking up to the bunny. Bonnie’s head was tilted as Freddy explained, and Gregory witnessed as he processed the information faster than a falling anvil.

Bonnie felt something weird. It was an odd emotion he’d never experienced before, or was designed to at all really. It was the sharp knife of what Bonnie could only assume to be... jealousy? As fast as that odd, stabbing metaphorical pain was, it left even faster. The emotion never registered on the animatronic’s face. But when sanity hit Bonnie he reminded himself that being jealous of a 12 year old was… Pretty silly.

Bonnie would quickly chalk this weird glitch to the suddenness of it all. Coming back online after so long with things being so different… This was probably a normal feeling to have in the current situation. 

“Shucks, Freddy—the little guy must mean a lot to you!” To Gregory’s relief and happiness, Bonnie reached out to pat Gregory’s head without any violent or weird intent. “Anyone who’s got Fred that wrapped around their finger is a friend of mine! And that means y’all are gonna visit me whenever you can, ya hear?”

He’d not take no for an answer; the family would be dropping by as often as they could.

“Of course!” Freddy replied, grinning from ear to ear. Now that Bonnie was back online and functional, it would be a monumental task to keep the pair away from each other. Looking to the rest of his companions, Freddy posed the question: “Well, since we are already here... how about a round of bowling?”

“Oh, you're on, Fazbear!” Michael exclaimed, glad for the chance to do something besides stand around talking. He'd been still and focused for most of the day with Bonnie's repairs, and while he was glad the rabbit was up and running again he was admittedly tired of staring at him. Looking too long at those red eyes reminded Michael of who used to be inside... which was a topic he didn't want to think about.

Besides, Bonnie—the real Bonnie—was the kind of guy you just loved to hang out with, and Michael wasn't going to give up that chance.

“Gregory, you and me are going to smoke your dad,” Michael said when Gregory was set on the floor, meeting the boy's gaze determinately. Whether they played individually or added up their scores in teams, Michael knew Gregory was the best “human” player they had. Putting up a bet against the bowling alley's namesake was a lost cause, but maybe they could beat Freddy with Gregory's new skills... 

Gregory stood separated from his father now, running to high-five Michael.

“We're totally smokin' them!” he agreed. Bonnie cracked his knuckles at that.

“Did you hear that, Fred? I think these fella’s don’t even know what they’re in for.” The duo were naturals at the game, and Bonnie’s winning streak began anew starting tonight. He’d make a show of stretching, as if working out his joints to limber himself up for their game. Sending a wink to Samuel, he told the man: “Boss, you’ll be on our team. Right?”

Sam chuckled nervously. He wasn’t the best at bowling, but with Freddy and Bonnie’s skill, he might be able to skate by with letting the two of them take the helm of the game.

“Sure! Why the heck not?” he agreed, somewhat bashful as the group made their way for the lanes.

“Excellent. They do not stand a chance,” Freddy said with a grin, mirroring Bonnie's attempts to stretch out his limbs. When they settled at the lanes Freddy turned his wide smile on the opposing team, wishing them a simple: “Good luck—you will certainly need it.”

“Oh—you've got sass now, Fredbear. Okay.” Michael sneered back, hands on his hips. “Don't get too ahead of yourselves... you might be surprised at our amazing skills.”

It didn't take long for the teams to devolve mostly into smack talk, all in jest as they continued to playfully poke fun at each other too much to finish a proper game. At one point it was less of a bowling competition and more of a demonstration for Sam, with both Charlie and Freddy instructing him on the proper way to hold his wrist, and with Bonnie telling Gregory the worst knock-knock jokes either he or Michael ever heard. The group would simply have to find out who the true bowling champions of the Pizzaplex were another time.

“Hey, Gregory—what do you say you and I take a field trip?” Michael asked, sidling closer as Bonnie was called over to judge Sammy's latest attempt at a strike. “As thrilling as Bonnie's jokes are, I think if I hear one more 'knock knock' come out of his mouth I'm going to knock myself out. Besides—” He grinned, raising a questioning eyebrow. “—I think it's time we give Evan and Lizzie a little tour of the Pizzaplex. How about it?”

Michael looked over at the quartet by the lane and let out a snort. “Or, I guess I should ask—do you think you can convince your dad to let you out of his sight for more than five minutes?"

Mike had charismatically convinced Gregory to split from the group with the promise of seeing his friends again—and Gregory did promise them he’d be back to hang out for longer tonight. Besides, he hadn't even seen the other kids in a few nights. Without much of a fight on his part, Gregory nodded and ran to Freddy’s side.

“Dad! Dad—” Gregory said, having to repeat himself. Normally Freddy was fairly attentive, but now that he was distracted by his best friend, it took two tries to get his father to glance at him.

“—Dad,” he said a third time, followed by the pressing question: “Michael and I wanna go see the others downstairs. That's cool, right?”

“The others?” Freddy repeated, looking to Michael as he stepped over.

“Yeah, I thought I could take Gregory down to see them,” Michael clarified. “It'll give you guys a chance to catch up too, while we're at it.”

“Well, I suppose that would be alright—I am sure they miss your company, superstar.” Freddy smiled down at his son, smoothing out his hair. With a little exclamation of pleasant surprise, Freddy patted his front pocket. “Now that we all have cell phones, it will be easy for us to keep in touch! Please call me when you are on the way back so we know when to expect you.”

“You got it, big guy.” Michael gave Freddy a salute, then called to the others. “Hey, Gregory and I are heading out for a little bit—see you guys later!”

“Don't do anything stupid!” Charlie laughed after them, watching her brother throw an easy gutter ball that nearly had her into stitches from the disappointed look on Sam's face.

Gregory would argue… except she kind of had a point. He and Mike found themselves in stupid scenarios all the time, though it seemed more or less that stupidity followed them rather than them seeking it out actively. With a roll of his eyes and a spring in his step, Gregory called to Charlie in a sarcastic manner that only further served to fuel her laughter. “Don't worry, we probably will anyway!”

“Take it easy, youngsters!” Bonnie waved, taking his place again by Freddy's side with unabashed interest as they caught up on life.

***

Now that the path to the basement was a familiar one, the trek downstairs seemed shorter each time. Before they knew it Michael and Gregory were at the door to Henry's workshop, which was cracked open invitingly. As a courtesy, Mike knocked before entering. “Uncle Henry? You in there?”

“Michael!” Henry's tone was surprised, and there was a hurried bit of shuffling papers and slamming drawers before the door was pulled fully open. The pair were greeted by Henry's smiling face and his hands moved to rest casually on his hips. “What brings you guys to the depths?”

“We're looking for Evan and Lizzie,” Michael explained, peering around the room suspiciously. For all he knew, they could be waiting to ambush him somewhere; he hadn't forgotten Liz's threat from the last time they'd seen each other. Upon finding no sign of plotting siblings, Michael turned his gaze back to Henry. “Any chance you've seen them?”

“Hmm... can't say that I have.” Henry gave a shrug, although from the mirthful light in his eyes it seemed like he knew more than he was letting on.

For a moment Gregory was worried. Where could they have possibly gone?

Little known to him that their friends were waiting to prank Michael so hard, he'd double-die of embarrassment. That's what Lizzie would proclaim anyway. After having Cassidy steal a fair amount of whipped cream from the bakery, Liz and Evan were sitting out of sight with the canisters at the ready.

“Oh man—come on, Mike. I think I know where they're at.” Gregory said knowingly, starting into the darkness of what Henry so lovingly referred to as the depths. “They're inside the dinner.”

“Alright, I'm following your lead” Michael replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. They walked even farther down towards the diner, which sat quiet and empty.

Well, at least it looked to be empty. The silent, shoulder-shaking laughter of the youngest Aftons would say otherwise. Evan and Lizzie hid just around the corner of the front doors, lying in wait for their prey to walk through. There was one sibling on either side, positioned for maximum pranking. Right on que Michael stepped past the entryway, not even getting a chance to call out before he was met with a sudden attack from both sides. He let out a rather high-pitched shriek and tried to cover his face, but unfortunately for him Evan was able to float and together with Lizzie they were able to completely cover their brother in sticky sweetness in no time flat.

“Aw, for—you got it in my hair, man!” Michael griped once the cans had been emptied and discarded on the floor. He wore a sour expression as he listened to surround-sound giggles, huffing a put-out: “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up...”

Even Gregory pointed and jeered. At first the ambush had shaken him due to the amount of times he’d been scared in the dark. Realizing the attack was on Michael for a change, he was able to see the smiling, happy faces of Elizabeth and Evan Afton proudly accosting their brother with four cans of aerosol dairy. With hands braced over his knees, Gregory was struggling to catch his breath as he laughed heartily with the little prank they played. This would serve Michael right for messing his hair up with all the noogies...

“Oh NO—your face, Michael!—” Liz tried to explain, wiping away a tear from the stress of laughing.

“His face?” Gregory asked, finally able to suck in a breath as he moved to help clean the whipped cream off Michael’s shirt. “His voice! Bro, tell me how you got your voice that high!”

Michael grumbled something unintelligible as he desperately tried to shake the whipped cream out of his hair. Even if he was annoyed, he had to admit they got him good.

“Even you, Evan?” Michael lamented when he felt tiny hands combing through the back of his head. There was only one of his siblings that could get that high, and sure enough Evan was floating just to the left of his face. Michael sighed dramatically, running a hand through his brown locks and grimacing when it came away full of dairy. “My own little brother, turning against me...”

“It's payback,” Evan responded simply, though payback for what would be something no one but him could answer. In response, Michael's forlorn expression flashed to a wicked grin and he suddenly shook his head like a wet dog, flinging whipped cream all over the diner floor and, more importantly, all of his siblings.

“So was that!” he responded, laughing at their shocked expressions.

The children had to raise their arms to block the barrage of foam flying through the air. It proved to be unhelpful as the kids were covered in the specs of froth in no time flat. Elizabeth growled, though no real anger was in her tone of voice when she said: “Quick! Do plan B!”

“What was plan B?!” Gregory asked, concerned and confused as he wasn't even told about this supposed back-up plan.

Crouched and poised for attack, Elizabeth told Gregory to: “Tackle him!”

What a betrayal, being attacked so ruthlessly by your own family members. As predicted, Gregory and Liz went for the legs as Evan had the highest vantage point to latch onto Michael and knock him off-balance.

Mike went down immediately, arms pin-wheeling for balance as he fell back onto the dusty floor. While Gregory and Lizzie tackled his legs, Evan went right for his chest, pushing against it with a round of uproarious laughter. As soon as Michael was down for the count Evan perched on top of him, grinning down at him with unbridled satisfaction.

The whole event ended up with the quartet in a messy pile on the floor, their fading laughter stilted as they tried to catch their breath. Eventually Michael turned his head to take stock of the aftermath, lifting up one of Lizzie’s strawberry-blonde curls and letting it fall back against her cheek with a gross splat! Michael snorted in amusement, satisfied his siblings got pulled into their own prank. “Serves you all right, thinking you can one-up me. Amateurs…”

Far before they’d gotten cruel, Michael’s pranks had been infamous in their little hometown. He could pull them off by himself just fine, though sometimes he’d rope Charlie or Sam into it… if they weren’t the intended victims. Evan and Lizzie picked up their skills through long-term exposure and osmosis of watching Michael work. 

After all this time, Mike still hadn't lost his edge. Still as rambunctious and cunning as he was when they were children, Liz would grimace as her perfectly coiffed curls saturated with heavy whipping cream. It reminded her of the breakfast in bed fiasco on Father's Day... Her and their mother spent hours cleaning the resulting mess out of their clothes and the entirety of the kitchen.

“Liz,” Gregory said, pulling her from the now bittersweet memory—and thankfully so. “Your prank sucked.” This earned him a handful of whipped cream smushed across his nose.

“Silence, dork,” Elizabeth chirped back. “Besides, it was Cassidy that gave Evan the idea...”

“Hey! You’re the one that was all excited to get Mikey back for the other day!” Evan deflected, then blew a raspberry at her when she rolled her eyes. 

“Alright… I hate being the grown up here and say it’s time to move on, but since clearly none of you are up for it I guess I have to,” Michael remarked, sitting up with a heavy sigh. Evan was shifted into his lap, upon which the ghost wrapped his arms around Michael’s torso and squeezed.

“Okaaaaay… Whatever you say, Mike,” Evan relented, gazing up at his brother with the most innocent eyes and smile as his tight hug forced some lukewarm whipped cream to completely soak through Michael’s shirt.

“Little shit!” the man gasped. As he pried his brother off, he couldn’t be too mad—Evan learned from the best, after all. Once free of clinging siblings, Michael looked down at himself with a grimace. “Okay, well, Gregory and I were going to bust you guys out of here and show you the Pizzaplex, but I think we need to take a detour to the Gift Shop first… and the bathroom.”

Evan might be able to “reset” his ghostly form and rid himself of dairy remnants, but the others needed to wash up and change before the stuff had a chance to fester. Gregory stiffened up at the mention of entering the public bathroom to wash up.

“Psh. I'm fine. I don't need to clean up.” He would brush it off, like being covered in diary wasn't going to be an issue after a half an hour when it starts to warm. Liz looked at him, a glimmer of amusement in her jeweled eyes.

“Oh yeah? You like smelling of curdled milk, then?” her posh tone inquired facetiously, earning her a sharp glare. He wanted her to let it be, yet something told Gregory that Liz wasn't the type to easily back down or take back the things she says.

“Yes,” Gregory stated firmly. “I love it. That's my favorite smell.” It was said so straight Liz might believe the lie, were it not so ridiculous.

Michael instantly realized his mistake, and mentally smacked himself for putting Gregory in an awkward position. Of course the kid would be terrified of public bathrooms after what happened last time he’d gone in one…

“You know what? Change of plans—we go to the Gift Shop, grab some new clothes, then head to the Daycare,” Michael said, getting to his feet and trying to brush off as much excess whipped cream as he could. Hopefully Henry wouldn’t mind the mess in the diner until Mike could come back and clean it up. “This stuff’s gnarly, but as long as we get it off soon I think it’d be fine if we don’t immediately take a sink shower. I guarantee Sun has a stockpile of stuff to clean up after the kids.”

“Oh, I think Puppet’s there! She’s got some new friends,” Evan piped up, following along behind as Mike started the walk back to the surface. With a quick full-body shake, Evan returned to his original dairy-free self. Not for the first time, he was glad he’d chosen to forgo his android in deference to his ghostly form. 

Gregory looked to Evan with controlled jealousy. Gregory hadn't been positive, but he was sure that night in the bathroom had killed him... Only he was forced to stay in this body, and not given an incorporeal form like Evan. It still tethered him to this world and the messes he created within in. Still, Gregory would count his blessings that his heart restarted eventually. Trading that for having a mess-free life wasn't the best idea anyway.

“Yup—” Gregory agreed. “—Sun and Ennard are becoming fast friends with her.”

Liz's smile grew tight. So that was where that petty amalgamation went to. She wasn't fine to hang out with, but the spooky Puppet and the creepy old Daycare attendant were?

“Reeeally now? You don't say,” Liz asked through grated teeth. After clapping her hands together in one enthusiastic motion, she forced a grin. “Let's go visit! We need to clean up anyway. Why not?”

Michael smirked at Lizzie’s tone. Any opportunity to keep the amalgamation away was just fine with him. On their way out they stopped by the workshop to let Henry know the Afton’s were going upstairs for a while. Henry was all for it, and Michael couldn’t help but notice his poorly-contained laughter at the state of them. Apparently the old ghost had more knowledge of the plan than he let on.

With an eye roll and a sarcastic, “Thanks for the heads up, Henry,” Michael ushered the kids up to the surface. The back passageways they emerged into weren’t of great interest, but when they reached the main atrium Evan and Lizzie stopped dead in their tracks. Evan floated up next to Michael’s shoulder, gazing in awe at the flashing neon lights and signs.

“Welcome to the Mega Pizzaplex,” Mike said with a grin, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture.

“Whoa…,” was all Evan could get out, deep brown eyes reflecting the rainbow of colors around him. 

Elizabeth was holding onto Evan's arm like a lifeline, her own eyes catching the neons. It was like a mall—but so much larger. All of the strip malls in the 80s were puny compared to the vision that Samuel had in mind. It was clear to Liz that despite all the time that had passed, sweet Sammy Emily was still very much a kid at heart. He knew what would captivate and amaze the masses to the point of returning again and again.

“No way...,” Liz chimed in softly. It wasn't long before she felt a tug, Gregory gently pulling the two kids forward and further into the atrium.

“Come oooon!” Gregory beckoned playfully. “There's so much to see! Let's go!”

Evan barely registered as he was moved, too entranced by the sheer size of this place and the loving nods to Sammy’s childhood. The heavy 80s theme created a weird dichotomy in Evan’s mind. He knew many, many years had passed since ‘83—though admittedly he’d stopped counting long ago—and being surrounded by such familiar colors and patterns brought him right back to the malls of his youth. Yet when he looked closer everything had a sort of sleek, technological feel to it like nothing the ghost had ever seen before.

“Hey, uh… what year is it anyway?” Evan asked, his voice small as if afraid of the answer.

“It’s 2023,” Michael replied with a soft, understanding smile. Evan’s jaw dropped, expecting the response but still not ready for it.

“Al… Almost 40 years…,” he whispered, expression twisting as he tried to process the information. He wasn’t necessarily upset about the lost time—at least, not too much—he was just shocked that things seemed to have both changed and remained the same. Although, he figured the Fazbear franchise was probably an exception to the passing of normal time. It always was. 

“It looks like Back to The Future in here,” Liz compared with wide eyes. Did Evan ever watch that movie? Probably not. She only remembered watching it once when Michael was finally in a better mood. She supposed it was for the best that things looked this way. Anything beyond her comprehension would only serve to throw Elizabeth into a panic. This place—these sounds... They tightened something in her chest, winding it up and strangling what she thought was her heart.

She missed so much. How could Dad do this to her?

She, Michael, and Evan should be old together. They should be experiencing this through the eyes of nostalgic adults—yet Liz only felt like she was truly coming home for the first time after a long, stressful road trip. That was the only way she could comprehend it, by comparing it to a movie that hardly fit the description of the retro-aesthetic technological marvels she saw around them.

Gregory weaved his hand into Liz's. She had a long stare that made Gregory uncomfortable with the road she appeared to be slipping down. Even then she nearly didn't notice the kind gesture until he squeezed her hand hard.

“Yeah—but Back to the Future doesn't have pizza slushees," he remarked, earning a disgusted look from Liz.

“Oh, that’s foul!” she gasped, seeming completely serious until a smile finally broke through to show her pearly white teeth. “Where can I get one?”

“The bowling alley, but that’s our last stop because all the boring adults are hanging out there with Charlie,” Michael informed them, completely ignoring the fact that technically he too was a boring adult. 

“There’s a bowling alley in here?!” Evan piped up, and it was Mike’s turn to grasp his hand and be his earthly tether. It seemed that the more excited he got, the higher he was apt to float.

“And a go-kart arena, and a mini golf course, and laser tag—not to mention a billion arcades,” Michael added with a grin. He took Lizzie’s other hand and pulled her along as well, not wanting them to get too distracted from their current destination. “Don’t worry, we’ll check everything out after we get cleaned up. You guys are going to be blown away with all the merch this place has!”

With that Michael managed to get his little group to the Gift Shop with only a few more pauses to point out interesting things. He released his sibling’s hands when they walked through the doorway, telling them: “Have at it! There’s changing rooms near the clothes. You might as well use whatever you’re wearing to squeeze what you can out of your hair—everything needs to be washed anyway…” 

It took a lot to get Liz and Evan to focus. Right now the two kids were all riled up and eager to see the playground that Samuel had concocted. He always said that when his dad finally let him work at the locations, he had big plans for the place. Lizzie never quite understood everything that Sam would rattle on about, but his passion for it made her listen intently every time he spoke of his dreams. It was one of the things to admire about the Emilys. They were quiet people from afar, but get them talking about something they loved and you could watch them go on for hours...

As Liz wandered around the shop, she found accessories and trinkets that caught her eye and pocketed them for later. She had only needed a shirt, as miraculously the skirt that Henry fitted this android with was otherwise pristine. Everything stayed true to the old merchandise that once sat by the crate full in their garage, though the quality was much better than the cheap things her father made as their first round of toys and shirts. It wasn't too long before Liz found a pink shirt. With the cutest Chica logo she’d ever seen, how could she refuse?

Gregory decided to go for a shirt he had seen earlier—a muscle tee that came tumbled and “worn” in appearance. When he reached for the garment, he was surprised to find another, similar hand attempting to tug it off the rack as well.

“Oh! Good choice!” Evan laughed when he realized who he was having a mini tug of war with. Evan didn't need the shirt, but that didn't mean he couldn't admire it. Maybe he could pick one up later—he still technically had an android if he ever got tired of floating around, and he'd certainly need a variety of outfits. It was like his own soul-powered dress-up doll. He released the fabric in deferment to Gregory, grinning widely. “This stuff's so rad! Not like what they sold before—this is like... the good stuff!”

Meanwhile, Michael had swiped a similar muscle tee off the adult size rack, along with a pair of dark wash jeans with iron-ons of all the Glamrock's grinning faces down one leg. Bonnie was noticeably absent, which wasn't unexpected, although now that he was friendly again Mike wondered if he could find a loose patch that he could add himself... For now though, he rushed into a changing room and preformed the fastest quick-change the world had ever seen, not wanting to take his eyes off his siblings for a second. He emerged in his new attire, using the back of his old shirt to soak up whipped cream remnants from his hair. Lizzie's shoes could be seen in the crack under the next changing room door, so Michael focused his attention on the lookalikes.

“Find anything good?” he asked, bumping Gregory with his hip as he sidled up next to them.

Gregory teetered with the bump, but laughed it off while gesturing to Evan. “We were going to grab the same shirt—apparently the stuff here is better than it used to be.”

With the changing rooms close by, Gregory quickly slipped into the one that Michael just came from.

“No, you don't even know—” Lizzie snorted from the stall next to him, remembering when their father nearly had a nervous breakdown to find a shipment of plushies with their faced printed on the butts of all the dolls. “—Evan, remember when Dad cried because of the butt-faces?”

“The butt-faces!” Evan and Michael exclaimed in unison. They glanced side-long at each other, then simultaneously burst into laughter.

“He was yelling at that guy for hours!” Evan reminisced through giggles, vividly recalling how he'd peeked into his father's office only to find William screaming into the phone, clearly having a major communication issue with the poor soul on the other end.

At that time, William's anger hadn't been scary—no more than a typical stressed-out father's wrath was apt to get. Will had caught Evan peering around the corner with wide, terrified eyes, and only then was he able to regain his composure. After telling the man in not so kind words that he didn't think they were getting anywhere and to expect a call from his business partner tomorrow, William had moved to Evan's side and taken him out for an apology ice cream for clearly freaking the kid out. This trip had been extra special in Evan's mind, for it was one of the rare times he actually got to spend some quality time with his dad without at least one other kid hanging off his other side.

“Evan? Hey, buddy?” Michael's voice broke through the ghost's reverie. Evan came to with a start only to realize everyone was staring at him, Gregory and Lizzie having long-since emerged from the dressing rooms. To his surprise, Evan felt cold tear streaks running down his face.

“O-Oh...,” he murmured, then gave a big sniffle and wiped his face. Why did even the happy memories make him cry? He shifted his gaze to the floor, the pallor of his pale cheeks darkening the smallest bit in embarrassment. “Sorry... I'm okay, I promise. Can... Can we go to the Daycare now?” 

It was so easy to be lost in the better memories, a time when things made sense and their dad had been more present. Gregory wouldn't push it, or even point out that Evan was crying—instead he slung his arm around Evan's shoulders with an encouraging grin.

“The Daycare is ridiculously fun. I don't even care if it's made for toddlers, it's like a giant playground!” he said, trying to hype Evan up now for what was likely going to be a fun time in Sun and Moon's little kingdom. “And you get to see how Puppet's doing!”

Where Gregory saw the Puppet as a guardian and friend, Liz had mixed feelings on the doll. It wasn't the Marionette's fault for not getting to Charlie in time, but for a while Lizzie resented the animatronic and wouldn't even visit the ticket counter anymore due to the secondhand shame and anger she felt when looking at it. Little did she know that if she’d just visited once, she would be visiting Charlie as well...

“Yeah! Let's go!” Evan urged, his mouth flipping into a little smile as he slipped an arm around Gregory's back, walking with his “twin” side-by-side.

Michael watched them for a moment, his face pinching with regret the second Evan's back was turned. Someday they'd sit down and have a long talk about things—about what happened in '83 and how Evan existed from then until now, unpacking decades of hurt and anger. However, at the moment they were headed to the Daycare, which was sure to perk up their spirits with its bright colors and even brighter attendant.

“We can't let those two out of our sights, Liz,” Michael murmured, slipping his hand into his sister's and gently tugging her along. “I bet they're already plotting something...”

It really was such a good feeling being able to hold hands with a family member you haven't seen in a while. It was so easy to fall back into old customs and rituals, too. Liz could almost hear their mother now, asking that Michael hold her sister's hand while they were out in public. When Mike asked why, their father would chime in to say that people would want to kidnap Elizabeth—but no one wanted to steal him. He either was too annoying or not cute enough. The joke now was supremely less funny than it was forty years ago, but the memory of being happy fueled Lizzie’s will to become happy again. So, in the spirit of celebrating how good things used to be, Liz swung their arms a little in their gait.

“I don't know—can’t say I trust new Evan,” Liz begun to scheme, thinking out loud as the boys in front seemed to get on like a house on fire while the actual dangerous combination plotted the twins’ downfall right behind their backs. “We need to strike preemptively.”

“Agreed,” Michael replied with a nod, then leaned down to whisper a suggestion in Liz's ear that had her nearly choking as she tried to hold back her laughter.

The group continued in their happy pairs, following Gregory's lead to the Daycare. The upstairs pick-up area greeted them with bright overhead lights, letting them know that Sun was currently out and about. Michael peered through the netting and caught sight of the Daycare attendant on the opposite end of the play area, seated on one of the foam blocks and gesturing wildly as he recounted stories of the little sunbeams placed under his care. Puppet and Ennard were lingering nearby, watching Sun attentively and seeming entranced by his over-exuberant way of speaking with his entire body to make up for his lack of facial expressions.

“Hey, Sun! You've got visitors!” Michael called, and Sun whipped his head in a 180 so fast it was a wonder his neck didn't snap. Mike glanced down at Lizzie, then made a split-second decision to lift her under the arms and swing her feet-first into the wide opening of the slide before she had a chance to protest.

“Be a good sis and chase Ennard away, will you?” he murmured, knowing she didn't need a bribe for such a fun opportunity. With that he gave her a little push, sending her plummeting into the darkness of the plastic tube.

“WAH!” Liz didn't expect to be thrown fast down slide. With gravity increasing her speed, Liz shot out of the tube at the other end squealing half from adrenaline and half from fun. Gosh, when was the last time she could say she'd gone down a slide right into a massive ball pit?

When she surfaced again, who else would she make direct eye contact with but the elusive Ennard themselves? Without warning, Ennard let out a high pitched and garbled shriek. Their voice positively pierced the sound barrier, its fear-soaked tone the interlude for Ennard’s escape. They flipped their body, turning all the way around to scale the wall and run for Sun's room for cover. It wholly confused both the Marionette and her newest friend. In fact, the odd-frequency Ennard emitted had her jump from her seat to cling to Sun as they watched them escape.

“Oh, that wasn't hard at all!” Liz would laugh to herself, regaining her composure and breath from the exhilaration. It wasn't long before Evan and Gregory fell in behind her. Evan would technically be the first to enter before Gregory, but the other boy was clinging to Evan's back so they could argue that they fell into the pit at the same time.

“I so made it first!” Evan exclaimed with a giddy laugh, disentangling himself from Gregory so he could wade through the ball pit, enjoying the satisfying click of the plastic.

“My goodness!” Sun exclaimed, his tone a mixture of surprise and concern as his head swiveled from the children in the ball pit, to his little room Ennard disappeared into, then to the wooden door as Michael pushed it open. “What just happened?! Our new friend's never acted like that before!”

“Oh, don't you know? Ennard's a total scaredy-cat,” Michael said with a nonchalant shrug, unable to resist the jab. Now that the amalgamation was temporarily out of the picture, he could actually enjoy some time without constant metallic breathing over his shoulder. Mike reached out for Puppet as he neared the Daycare attendant, allowing her to slither around his shoulders in greeting. “Anyway! Sun, I've got two new kids for you to play with—meet Lizzie and Evan.”

As always, Sun's attention was quickly pulled to the children in his Daycare. With a loud gasp, he pressed his palms against the sides of his face.

“Gregory, I didn't know you had a twin! What a cutie you are!” Long arms reached forward to scoop Evan up. They grasped him under the shoulders and began to lift, when suddenly—the boy was nowhere to be found. Sun stared at his empty hands, tilting his head in utter confusion. “Um... hmm. Where did you go, sunshine?”

“I... think you freaked him out,” Michael muttered, looking around as well. He should've warned Evan about Sun—or better yet, told the Daycare attendant that the kid probably wouldn't appreciate an animatronic going for his face, no matter how friendly they may be.

“I'm okay!” Evan's soft voice piped up from a completely different location, and everyone glanced down to see the little ghost fade into existence behind Mike, clinging to his leg as a shield against the touchy Sun. Despite his words, he stared at the animatronic with a wary expression.

“I'm sorry, little one—I didn't mean to scare you!” Sun apologized, deciding it best not to ask how the child had teleported at the moment. Instead he turned his attention to Lizzie, asking her tentatively: “Do you like being picked up?”

“If you try, she'll probably yell at you,” Evan added helpfully, still half-hidden behind his brother's leg, then let out a little giggle. “Or bite you. You never know with her.”

What was the point in even correcting Sun? Evan and Gregory were practically twins at this point. There was no denying it. To Gregory, it would be a little bit funny that Evan would choose to run away. He and Liz were far scarier than anything left in the Pizzeria, being actual honest ghosts.

Laughing, Gregory filed in to Michael's side, patting Evan's shoulder reassure the poor kid. It was amazing how ghosts still kept their self-preservation skills even when they had nothing left to preserve...

Elizabeth eyed the jester somewhat skeptically at first, though the rapport he had with her brother put her at ease. She would hold up her hand, symbolizing that she was willing to touch his palm in a high five as greeting for now.

“I think it might hurt my teeth if I bite him, Evan,” Liz giggled, happily touching her hand to the Sun's. “Gregory told us you love to play games!”

“Oh yes, yes!” Sun exclaimed, happy to receive positive affection from at least one of the new kids. His static grin seemed to widen as he stood up to full height, pressing long fingertips against his chest. “Games are my specialty, after all! Well, that and arts and crafts—but I love both of them equally! Do you all want to play a game?!”

“...Hide and seek?” Evan ventured, no longer cowering thanks to Gregory's reassurance. He was still a tiny bit wary simply due to the sheer size of this thing, but the attendant really did seem nothing but nice.

“Of course!” Sun agreed with a vigorous nod. “Hide and seek it is! Who wants to be the seeker first?”

“Doesn't matter to me, as long as Evan doesn't use those invisibility powers—or the teleporting,” Mike said, looking down at his brother with a raised eyebrow. “That would totally be cheating.”

“I won't!” Evan replied in a sing-song tone, hands clasped behind his back and staring at Michael with the innocent grin of an angel. Only Gregory could see the fingers crossed behind Evan's back as he made the promise.

Gregory was both equally impressed and thoroughly surprised at Evan's mischievous streak. All the Aftons had one, which meant that Gregory fit in perfectly with the rowdy bunch of kids. Gregory would keep this secret, as Evan may be kind enough to share some of that cheater’s magic with him later on.

Much to their surprise, the Puppet waved from the top of Michael's shoulders. After garnering their collective attention, she pointed to herself—since she happened to be the last one to be found last night, she would get her turn as seeker over tonight! Besides, the Puppet was very meticulous. She could find a razorblade in a grosser’s dozen of cupcakes.

“Oh no!” Liz laughed, knowing this fact to be true. “No way! You'll find us all so quickly, Puppet! I'll seek first.”

“Technically Puppet won last night,” Michael piped up with a shrug, lifting the Marionette up and down with the motion. “We were never able to find her hiding spot, so... she should seek first.”

“I can count down for her!” Sun offered with a little wave of his own. “Just give me ten extra seconds after I finish to find my own hiding spot, okay?” At the Puppet's agreeing nod, Sun clapped his hands together before reaching out to take her from Michael's shoulders. “Alright, everyone—to the count of thirty! One... two...”

And just like that, the game began. Michael didn't even have time to wish his siblings good luck before they shot off like rockets to various corners of the play area. Not wanting the mortification of being the first one found Mike did likewise, mentally grumbling at the fewer choices he had with his larger frame compared to that of the kids'. Hopefully he could find a good spot that even the Puppet would take a while to locate...

Those kids were faster than lightning. Gregory followed Evan; rules said they couldn’t hide in the same place. Carefully, Gregory would stack a large pile of those play cans that rested in towers around the Daycare. He did this as quickly as he could and with time to spare, locking himself inside a little prison of colorful stacking cans. He’d do his best to keep still, and hopefully Puppet wouldn’t notice the freshly made tower and decide to knock it down. Inside his tiny fortress, Gregory watched as Elizabeth made her way slowly and carefully into the ball pit. Her outfit was so colorful it might as well serve her as camouflage.

Lowering herself below the threshold of the pool side, Liz would slip under and wait patiently under the surface. She was happy to do so—this pit was a lot cleaner than the old Fazbear diner’s ball pit. Maybe it was awful to keep thinking of him, but Liz could almost hear her father telling her, “Sweet pea, no; it’s filthy in there. Go play elsewhere,” before being gently pulled from her excellent hiding spot.

But her father wasn’t here anymore, and wouldn’t be ever again…

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to be alone right now. So far, Elizabeth hadn’t had a moment to herself to process everything that'd happened just a few days ago. Quietly, Liz wrapped her arms around her legs and hugged, self-soothing as she remained by her lonesome for now.

Ten seconds after Sun stopped his counting, an eerie silence fell over the Daycare.

It was not something Liz had noticed, depersonalizing where she was in the moment. Gregory sure had, though. The Puppet moved so quietly there was no way to tell where she was unless crawling in plain sight. However, it was clear that she wanted to surprise them when Gregory caught her sneaking and scaling up the sides of the jungle gym. 

Michael managed to wedge himself in one of the plastic tubes at the last second. It was admittedly tight fit—he wasn’t nearly as flexible as Sun. Thank god he didn’t have a human body, or his back would certainly be sore tomorrow from being so twisted.

Meanwhile, Evan used the rare moment of not being watched to do a little exploring. He hadn’t explicitly been told that Sun’s room was off-limits… Besides, if anyone would be able to find him no matter where he roamed, it would be Puppet. Evan also had a second reason for his chosen hiding spot—he wanted to finally get a look at the mysterious Ennard that was obsessed with one of his siblings, yet terrified of the other.

He knew what Ennard and Liz had done to Michael. His sister told him the whole sordid truth during one of those dark, horrible nights they’d still been trapped in animatronic shells. Lizzie hadn’t wanted Evan near the unstable amalgamation, using its fear of her to shield her brother from its presence. And while he hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Michael about that incident, it was understandably clear he hated Ennard, too.

Still… Evan was an Afton, notoriously curious despite his timid nature. He knew of Ennard’s help in stopping their father, and their willingness to protect not only Mike but Gregory and Charlie as well (even if it was only at Michael’s request). Plus, Puppet liked them! Surely they couldn’t be that bad, right?

The recent escape from Sun’s clutches gave Evan a little burst of confidence—just enough for him to float up to the little stage when no one was looking and peek into the room behind. The area warmly lit by string lights was quite organized and clean, though notably empty of animatronics. However, the faintest shuffling let Evan know Ennard was still around, likely keeping tabs on the Daycare situation. Steeling his nerve, Evan clenched his little fists by his sides and whispered: 

“Ennard? Hey, my siblings are gonna be SUPER mad if they know I’m here, but I wanted to say hi…”

***

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[gretavanlace]

(too afraid to post my own shit so i'm gonna keep leaving blurbs here.. sincerely backstage sammy, unannounced sammy, roommate jake anon)

sam kiszka would be heavily into overstimulation. he could get off on the sounds of you whimpering and whining in pain and pleasure alone (and he has).

he'd tell you to sit on his face, he'd work his absolute wonders with his tongue, making orgasm after orgasm ripple through your body until you can barely hold yourself up anymore.

he'd lift you lightly, just enough to speak, "just one more, yeah? you think you can do one more?"

you'd nod as your fingers ran through his hair, tugging slightly in anticipation. your body was strung out, exhausted, but his mouth was like a drug at this point and you needed more, more, more.

one hand pulling at his hair, the other holding the headboard to keep you steady as his tongue worked it's magic on you. the slight groan of his own pleasure vibrating throughout your body with the feeling of his stubble rough and scratchy against your most sensitive part. god, you could soak in this feeling forever.

and then all of a sudden, as you began to reach your final climax, he stopped, eliciting a groan to involuntarily fall from your lips.

he lifted you ever so slightly so he could speak again. "can you finish yourself for me?" his voice laced with an innocence.

he knew you wouldn't be able to, you could barely hold yourself up at this point, but he loved to see you squirm against him.

"my tongues getting tired babe," he mock whined. "unless you wanna just.. not cum, i suggest you do something about it."

bitch.

you rolled your eyes and looked down at him. you lowered yourself back down on his tongue, your stomach doing a flip when you felt him against your swollen, overstimulated clit.

"you're sick, you know that?" you said shakily.

he only smiled in response, and the change in the shape of his mouth drove you insane.

you rocked your hips against his face, riding his tongue until your whole body began to burn from exhaustion and you felt your final orgasm ripple through your entire body.

the sounds that filled the room were nothing short of pornographic, but you couldn't hold back. your hand in his hair tugged until you heard a whimper come from his lips, if you weren't already cumming this would've sent you over the edge.

he placed gentle kisses to your aching clit as you came down from your high, working you down from it.

your chest rose and fell heavily with every breath, and he waited patiently for you to catch your breath before tapping you thigh to ask if you were ready to move. you nodded and slowly got up from his face, gripping the headboard with both of your hands to steady yourself as you slumped down next to him.

as sober as you were, you felt high, and you just stared over at him with a sleepy smile, leaning over to kiss him. you could taste yourself on his lips, something that would've seemed so vulgar had you cared more.

you laid in his arms, completely exhausted, the feeling of his fingers tracing circles on your back made you fall even further into your slumber.

"see? that wasn't so hard was it?"

-🐚

Sammy lane, bring your plates to the table, you’re about to be fed