#gonna probably at least start putting the season number as a tag so people who care will likely have it muted but idk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anasticep · 4 years ago

Text

Why Julie and the Phantoms is a masterpiece of a show. Part 2. Heroes and Villains or Let that foil shine

NOTE: Thanks again for your kind response to Part 1. I never expected that. It being my first tumblr post and a first meta in quite a long time I was blown away. I read all the tags, some were really hilarious. About having more than one brain cell xDDD I laughed so hard. It means a lot.

NOTE2: Please remember that the gifs are made by me, so don't crop, edit or give as yours.

Part 1.

Before diving into meta, I have to mention that the Villain of the story is actually one of the best in the decade. He’s cool, evil from the start, we understand his motives and we certainly are not supposed to love and make excuses for him. The writers made sure of that. So back to the main topic.

A foil is a character who contrasts with another character; typically, a character who contrasts with the protagonist, in order to better highlight or differentiate certain qualities of the protagonist

Foils in literature are not necessarily antagonists. A friend can be a foil or sometimes even a thing, a song. Whatever can make a good and real contrast to the protagonist. But it’s not very simple to use this author’s device and not fall down a deep hole. Because you have to make sure you did just the right amount of work to make it understandable for a reader, the things you want to contrast are definitely there and still you don't waste a character. On TV it can be even harder given limited air time. And, well, I don’t come across this device being used in full very often nowadays. It’s usually good and evil fighting for the plot. That’s why I personally appreciate JaTP so much.

Caleb is clearly a foil to Luke. As much as I’d love to say that Julie also has one, that’s not entirely true, at least not this season. Carrie is not her foil though it may seem so, and I really think that’s cool as Julie’s journey is being presented through her own demons and I'm going to cover that next. That being said, of course Caleb doubles as an antagonist plotwise, but I personally consider him being written more as a contract to Luke so we could see and appreciate his character and journey better.

1. Origins

Caleb and Luke have extremely similar backgrounds. They are both natural performers. They know how to deliver, because c’mon, “Now or Never” is something and so is “The other side of Hollywood”. Stage is their natural habitat, their element, power. Although they channel this power from completely different places.

Let’s start with our little ball of energy. It’s emphasized TWICE that he doesn’t care about the money aka the physical side of art.

All Luke wants is to make music. Connect with people. He is so happy just to be heard despite him loving to perform. Making music is what makes him feel alive and basically that’s enough. I think if there was no “hologram” magic at all, Luke would have still been extremely happy to make music with and for Julie. Because that’s the way he is.

But Caleb doesn’t know that. He knows, and I’m standing by that, right away that Luke is the one to aim at. Because we always feel the similarity in people. If Luke said yes, Reggie and Alex would have followed. So Caleb recognizes the passion and shoots at them what he thinks is appealing. And, oh boy, he delivers.

“The Other Side of Hollywood” is a perfect song to emphasize Luke and Caleb being foils for each other. Follow me here:

But these lines come from very different places. For Caleb the only thing that matters is himself. He owns the show, he IS the show. It’s about being famous, drowning in applause, admiration. Look at how he performs. Confident, yes, but still very much in control. He must keep his perfect face. No flaws, no real emotions, no real connection (Did you miss ME? I did too // This band is back). Whereas Luke is simply living the best time of his life each time he performs. Is it just jamming? Bring it on. Doing fun riffs? He’s all for it. He doesn’t care how he looks (though who could deny gorgeous sweaty Luke), he owns the show just because he is a natural.

So back to the business. Caleb immediately puts the boys in his own shoes:

On the other side we live like kings // Your soulprint on the walk of fame on the boulevard of your wildest dreams // I got your glamour, got your gold, got all you’ll ever need

And, I mean, he is not that wrong. You can see the appeal on the boys’ faces. They are young, passionate, handsome, talented musicians. Of course they wouldn’t deny fame. Of course they would want all that to some extent. And Caleb is very sure he pulled the right strings.

Watch me make a move, I’m your number one choice

Also I have to mention, as we are talking about TOSOH (IKEA name again) and it being a foil for Luke, thy lyrics still don’t forget about what is important for Reggie and Alex (we’ll talk about that just a bit later):

Welcome to the brotherhood -> Reggie

Where you won’t be misunderstood -> Alex

Then again, lots of foreshadowing in the song, if you listen carefully the lyrics are stressing the true colors of the offer:

A tomb with a view

Man, what a metaphor. I would have run out of there the minute I heard this line. But our boys share one brain cell (I can’t get over how funny this is) and it’s currently taken by Julie, so I don’t blame them.

Disappointment is huge. Caleb read it all wrong. So we are moving to the next point in our Heroes and Villains essay.

2. Recruitment

It’s very cool that Caleb offers the boys to join his band right after Luke offers Julie to join Sunset Curve. They both are going out of their ways to get that (although have different budgets apparently. But look, they live in a garage). Luke made a hit with a bunch of Julie’s not very well structured lines (I love Flying Solo with all my heart as a song, but as a poem it just looks weird to me) to impress her, and we all saw the show Caleb had thrown to impress the boys. Plus food. And fancy dancing. But here is where contrast comes again.

Caleb offers to join the band, yes, but only as backup singers. It’s his show, remember? It’s only about him. He doesn’t care if they are even good. He wants their magic under control.

Share the spotlight with ME / How do you like MY new band?!

Luke offering Julie a spot in the band is a completely different story. He saw what she is capable of. He instantly knows she must be the key to a new sound, a new level. And he, a natural performer, frontman, lead guitarist, steps back and gives the spotlight to Julie. To think about it, he could have just got her magic under control by giving her simple lines, incorporating piano in the songs and that’s all. They would be visible, he would still be a center of attention, and Julie herself wouldn't mind that much. But that’s not who Luke is. Yes, there is a funny scene of “Hey, I’m your lead singer” and “you don’t have to be mean”, but it’s just messing around. Because right after that he finishes Flying Solo, writes several other songs with Julie, seeks her approval of Sunset Curve songs and basically follows her around like an adorable excited puppy.

Moving on and back to the rejection. Again the writers are mirroring them. Julie quits the band & the boys decline the offer. What does Luke do? Well, he tries the way he knows: books a gig, makes Reggie and Alex sing in perfect harmonies and does his puppy eyes thing. And it doesn’t work. And Luke goes to reflect and then probably try to come up with a plan. But something tells me he would not have haunted Julie until she joined them.

What does Caleb do after the initial rejection? Puts a cursed stamp that leaves them no choice but to join HGC. You don’t need to say more.

But in fact the more I think about it, the more I suspect Caleb also not possessing enough mental capacity for a human being. Like, if it wasn’t for Willie, how would they even know? Has Caleb planned to simply show up one day and casually explain? Look, foils in everything.

“You’re in a tough spot… So, you wanna join the band?” | “Looked like it hurt… you know where to find me”

But we sidestepped a bit.

3. Pulling the strings

After the song Caleb comes out to consolidate his success. What he does is clever and, btw, that’s the only time he becomes Julie’s foil. They are stating basically the same thing.

Again, Julie is concerned about the band and the boys, while Caleb is only concerned about having them under control. But they both are pulling basically the right strings.

What is interesting, Caleb actually impressed the wrong person (and that person is our sweet Reggie). Luke follows the string Julie pulled. Although the offer is tempting, he insists twice that they are in a band already directly to Caleb and then in Eats&Beats he says "It's like Julie said, we have a new band, a new sound». No matter what Caleb promised, Luke is not affected at all although Caleb’s offer is a very-very safe choice.

Speaking about using friends as foils, Alex and Reggie also serve as contrast characters for Luke at some points. Luke’s indifference to money is first stressed through Alex who is clearly the chief accountant for the band. His lines about not getting tips, living in a garage and «it’s a little bit about the money» are waved aside by Luke. Reggie is clearly the most affected by the whole Bobbie thing. His lines «I don’t care what Julie said, I’m glad we scared Bobbie», «So we’re gonna forget about getting back at Trevor?» are getting a clear contrast by Luke’s «It’s what Julie said, we have a new band, a new sound» and «He has to live with that guilt».

While editing the article I realised a very cool thing I haven't noticed before. How badly Luke wants to go on tour. And again that's another thing Caleb offers as if reading his mind. That's actually brilliant, to think about it.

Caleb is a VERY good reader. He tests the waters with a speech about disappearing from stage and going around the world and all dreams coming true. Still he doesn’t know the boys and especially Luke, so his phrase “no real connection” doesn’t register that much.

But he learns. Remember the lines I’ve marked before?

Reggie is afraid they will not be together after they cross over. He is in desperate need of a family. So wouldn’t it be nice to spend the rest of your afterlife with your brothers? (Reggie's main insecurity is loneliness, feel of a broken family. That's why he is the most concerned about crossing over. Will his family stay intact?)

Alex is insecure, and not being understood by the people closest to him will always hit hard. So welcome to a place where you won’t be misunderstood. And actually we know there is a guy you like and find comfort in. (Alex's insecurity is growing up in times when he could not truly be himself even with his family and for sure not believing he would ever be able to find someone meant just for him)

That mirrors the whole Luke’s beach speech perfectly. Only comparing them we can truly appreciate why Luke is the leader. He shuts down his own demons to make Alex and Reggie remember that they are not alone (“and I believe in you”. sorry. Olicity fan).

Caleb makes them suffer to get what he wants. But this time he is careful with the words aimed at Luke. Yes, he repeats his words about vanishing and applauses BUT he makes sure that his words about CONNECTION are the key words for Luke. Intense look, calming voice, touching - these are all elements of hypnosis. And Luke is in a daze. (Continuing the parents' thing, for Luke the main insecurity is not managing to connect with his mom. Maybe that's such a big thing for him: through all these people he wanted to find that connection with her)

4. The Hero’s journey

That’s the best part actually but I won’t be saying anything new or that you don’t know. Luke is made of lyrics and music. That’s his soul, heart, that’s the feeling running through his veins. He doesn’t need anything other than that in his life. Playing for eternity is “a gift no musician would ever turn down”. But he actually does turn it down. As well as his dream to go see the world with his band (is there covid in jatp universe?). He is the one who resists the hardest to the pull. Luke, who always has a guitar in his hands, doesn't want to play. Because it’s not only about the music now. He has this amazing girl in his afterlife who was willing to accept them for who they were, helped Luke battle his own demons, eased his pain and made him open up. And it doesn’t make sense any longer without her anymore. “And you’re a part of me now till eternity”.

Caleb, being Luke’s foil, completely misses the whole point of connection. It’s not in his nature. His house band are just recruits (Just so happens you’re in luck we’ve got a vacancy). For Luke his band is his family (We are the only family we ever gonna need). The Connection theme is one of the main in the show. And it’s so cool to show it focused through Luke whose best way of interaction is a touch. But not being able to touch Julie Luke has to find other ways, although it’s not that simple for him. And Julie backs that up: We connect in so many other ways. They literally touched each other's souls. Without knowing she put a stamp of her own on Luke, Alex and Reggie. They’ve never felt loved enough, appreciated enough, supported enough. They’ve only had each other. And Julie’s stamp is love. And for Luke (as well as Reggie and Alex) from now on this girl is worth dying for all over again.

_______

So yeah. I hope you enjoyed it, as I for sure enjoyed writing. There is gonna be a part 3 about Julie and a few honorable mentions of parallels of the Pilot and the Finale (I hope at least to do all that). I’ve also figured very very cool connections in the songs and I can’t wait to share.

Also as I was heavily speaking about The Other side of Hollywood, @catty-words has a wonderful meta on rain metaphors here (sorry for tagging, if you don't want to be tagged), check it out if you somehow missed it. It's super clever.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #alex mercer #jatp meta #jatp analysis #my gifs #my edits #don't crop #please be nice #caleb covington #ana's meta #am i smart? i am #having more brain cells then sunset curve

91 notes · View notes

justlistenuniverse · 4 years ago

Text

Chad x Ryan Headcanon

So, I rewatched the High School Musical movies, and my brain won't shut up about Ryan and all the possibilities. I mean, the movies don't really show a lot of the characters outside of Troy and maybe Gabriella, but I have a lot of ideas. Since I can't be bothered writing a fanfiction right now, these little plot points should do it. (There's a little Chad/Ryan in there and a lot of me ignoring canon)

Sharpay and Ryan are really close, even though she keeps using him, and he knows it, but he hasn't had friends outside of his sister for a long time, and he kind of profits from her reign of terror, so he lets her do it.

When she ditches him in the summer, Ryan starts realizing how lonely he really is. He loves his school, and his classmates are fine, but thanks to Sharpay's attitude and him tagging along, all he gets from them is a sneer and people calling him Sharpay's lapdog (which is really not fair, she has Boi)

He spends a lot of the time he now has alone, walking around the Lava Springs grounds, maybe booking one of the rooms for a small dance rehearsal.

Then Gabriella invites her along to the game, and Ryan is suspicious, but he also doesn't have anything better to do, so he tags along and lets Taylor and Gabriella tell him all about the game. It's the first one this summer, but there's another one planned, and they are hoping Troy might make it to that one, even though Chad is their best player.

He loves playing Baseball. He forgot how fun it was, ho he used to get so excited for practice, and his games before he decided that Theater would be a more realistic career choice for someone like him and dropped out of the team. Sharpay dragging him along and commanding all his time might have weighted into that decision, too. He tries hard not to think about him leaving Baseball behind, which also meant him leaving his friends behind (but he can't help some memories playing in his head as he watches the boys warming up on the pitch)

Gabriella offering him up as a choreographer, shouldn't feel this good, but he's always loved dancing and coming up with choreographies for his favorite musical numbers. There could be worse things than training the Wildcats for the Star Dazzle Award.

He hadn't been planning on playing, not really, but he does, and the game is the most fun he had in weeks. His muscles apparently remember his Baseball games just fine, and he feels a little bit of hope growing inside of him. Maybe he won't have to be alone all summer long.

When his team loses the game, all that hope is gone. The past hours will probably be the only fun ones he'll have this summer. He won't be training the Wildcats, and he definitely won't make some friends now. But then Chad tells him he will at least try to dance, and everyone gets really excited about the prospect of taking part in the talent show, so Ryan allows the hope back in.

They invite him for post-game fries, and hanging out with all of them makes him realize how starved he really is for social interactions after years of just Sharpay. Gabriella drags him along to her house, where they all watch a movie, but it all feels so unreal that Ryan is sure he'll wake up all alone tomorrow.

Even when Chad and Gabriella and some of the others program their numbers into his phone, that feeling won't leave him.

He does not wake up without friends, though

There are a couple of texts from Gabriella, and a picture of an article about Ryan and his Little League Team Chad dug up on the internet and might be freaking out about (Ryan did remember that article. It had praised him as a rising talent of the Baseball league. His mom still has it framed in her office).

Ryan skips breakfast and instead goes and books his favorite rehearsal room after he steals/consults his new possible friend's working hours to find a convenient time for rehearsal.

He tries out a couple of ideas by himself and then finds Kelsi to ask about the Song she wrote. They make a surprisingly good team once she stops being afraid of him.

Gabriella finds him on her lunch break, and the two of them talk over Sandwiches. Taylor eventually joins them. They find out all of them have the same favorite TV Show and make plans for a joined binging of season one at Gabriella's place since she owns the box set.

Talking with them is so easy, some of the anxiety in Ryan calms down. He even waves at Chad and Zeke when they come in for their afternoon shift, and they smile and wave back.

The anxiety gets even better when all of the Wildcats turn up for their first rehearsal, eager to learn the dance moves Ryan came up with

There's a lot of laughter, something that rarely happened once Sharpay and him started rehearsing for school plays. Ryan loves it.

Chad is a surprisingly good dancer when he puts his mind into it. Jason is a hopeless case, but he's weirdly enthusiastic, and Ryan offers him extra training after work.

He gets a text from Zeke the next morning, inviting him for breakfast in the kitchen. He gets cookies, and Martha shows him that she already memorized most of the chores, which is truly amazing. He relaxes enough around them to make sarcastic comments and tease Chad.

Rehearsing is a lot of fun with them. It's also chaotic and loud, but Ryan really doesn't mind. Even Jason gets into it after a while.

They keep inviting Ryan to hang out with them after work or when they are on break. Eventually, it becomes a common occurrence for him to come walk into the kitchen. Common enough that Mr. Fulton doesn't blink anymore whenever he tries to be awful to them but can't because Ryan will quietly glare at him (He wouldn't need too. Mr. Fulton likes him, but he's slightly scared of Sharpay and follows her every word)

Taylor and Martha join him for his yoga classes.

Gabriella, Taylor, and he have that binging night. The next day, Taylor needs a triple shot espresso to function, and Gabriella nearly falls asleep on the job. Ryan walks into a wall; he's so tired, but it was definitely worth it.

His mom notices the difference in him. Sharpay doesn't. It stings.

Chad asks him once why he doesn't play Baseball at school. "We could use someone like you on the team," Ryan tells him that he wants to concentrate on acting and dancing as much as possible. He doesn't tell him that he never really noticed how much he missed the sport.

Chad nudges him and laughs. They keep throwing a Baseball back and forth.

Ryan does get dragged into the second employee Baseball game as well as a couple of smaller ones. He's always playing against Chad because both are super competitive, and it makes for a good match.

Chad and Zeke try t teach him Basketball, but he doesn't really get it. Jason offers him one on one lessons for his extra dance training.

It takes a while for Ryan to notice how happy he is now that he has so many people to talk too.

He also noticed how hurt everyone is because of Troy's behavior, Chad and Gabi most of all. He tries to apologize to them for his sister, but they wave him off. "You are not your sister, Ryan. You shouldn't be taking the blame on you." (He nearly tears up)

Then, Sharpay manages to exclude them from the talent show, and Ryan feels like his world is crumbling around him. Gabi texts him that she broke up with Troy. Chad calls him later that night, and they talk about how weird this summer is. "But honestly, I am glad we are friends now, Ry. You are kind of awesome."

Hatching a plan to get back at Sharpay is easy once Kelsi comes rushing into the kitchen, telling them how Troy turned Sharpay down. Taylor immediately calls Gabriella, and the four of them come up with a plan. Ryan is an expert on everything Lava Springs and Sharpay, Chad and Gabriella know Troy better than anyone else, and Taylor is a fucking genius. The others love the plan.

He finds himself driving Kelsi over to Gabriella's house for a song rehearsal, and he stays to watch her sing, She looks less perky than usual, more exhausted. But she still has that spirit that keeps pulling everyone in, and when she smiles at him, he knows she'll be okay again. He is happy about that.

Ryan feels guilty about playing Sharpay like this, but he still has her voice in his head, degrading him in every way possible without telling him he sucks. Kelsi tells him it's gonna be okay.

When the big evening ends with Troy and Gabi back together, and the award in Ryan's hand like the exaggerated apology it is, Ryan thinks he's dreaming.

For a short moment, Ryan thinks the team will ditch him now that they got Troy back, but they don't. They introduce him to Troy like he's the second-best thing that ever happened to them, and Troy makes an effort to get to know him. There are no rehearsals anymore, but basketball games, lazy baseball practice, impromptu dance battles with Martha, and more text conversations than Ryan's phone has ever handled.

Sharpay starts making amends, She comes knocking on his door, and they talk. She writes apologies to Troy and Gabriella and Kelsi and delivers them personally. She grumbles all the way through writing them, but she smiles when they accept.

They invite her to hang out with them, too, and she fits the group well. There's a blush on her face when Zeke presents her with cinnamon buns, and she starts holding his hand. Ryan just smiles, glad his sister might admit her crush on the boy now.

Work at Lava Springs becomes more relaxed for the Wildcats after Fulton calms down. They get treated like everyone else, and while he's still strict on their break times, he lets them have more fun now.

The end-of-summer-party Sharpay organizes is a hit. She plans to make it a standing event for employees from now on, no matter who they are.

Then their Senior Year starts. Everything is the same, but also kind of different. Ryan grew a lot over the summer, and his friends helped him be more self-confident in a less arrogant way.

Sharpay mellowed out a bit, too. It's partly because of the Wildcats accepting her into their group, partly due to her affection for Ryan and also because of Zeke spending a lot of time with her. Ryan might have caught them in the Evan's private kitchen once, both of them giggling as Zeke showed her how to make the cookies she loved so much. He didn't tell anyone.

But then, Sharpay starts to fall back into her old ways some weeks into the school year. She snaps at Ryan, ignores Zeke, flirts with Troy, and tries to make Theater all about her again.

Ryan doesn't know what's happening, and neither does anyone else. Zeke is a sad puppy all the time, and Jason spends a lot of time trying to cheer him up.

However, Ryan is still quite settled. He visits all of Chad's games, Basketball and Baseball, and cheers his friends on. He tells Martha to audition for the cheerleaders and is her biggest fan once she gets in. Martha, Taylor, and he still do Yoga together twice a week with an instructor Ryan pays. When his dance class takes part in a competition, he gets cheered on by his friends. He and Gabriella have a standing movie night once a month, with brownies and whatever TV Shows they love. He and Kelsi still work great together, writing and choreographing the graduation musical, and they love to hang out outside of the show, too. There's not one day he doesn't get hundreds of text messages.

His favorite text convos are the late-night ones with Chad and Gabi. They eventually morph into late-night-dinner-visits. Sometimes, Troy or someone else will join them. The Diner staff has a booth for them, and they have usual orders.

Sharpay gets a PA. Ryan doesn't like Tiara. She makes him feel like he's worthless all over again, and there's a cold aura around her despite her playing nice. Gabriella tells him to keep an eye on her if she keeps making him feel that way. Taylor says he's far from worthless.

Chad tells him about how scared he is once it becomes clear that Troy might not be as set on the U of A as everyone thought. They met when they were five, and they did everything together since. The only difference would be Baseball and Golf, and that's why the summer was so hard for Chad. He can't imagine himself without Troy by his side. He doesn't know who he is when he's not Troy Bolton's best friend. Ryan isn't sure what to say, but he holds Chad when he starts to cry, and he promises him to help him figure out who he is.

Ryan is the third person Gabriella tells about the program at Stanford. Her mom and Taylor both think she's acting childish, and she needs someone else to help her make a decision. Ryan holds her hand and carefully tells her that h thinks she needs to talk to Troy. He also tells her not to worry about the show, because that's not a problem she should concern herself with right now. Her future is calling, with an incredible opportunity, and he doesn't want her to regret missing out on it.

Sharpay finds out about the program and tells Troy about it before Gabriella can. Ryan gets so angry, he yells at her. He doesn't understand why she's trying to ruin everyone's Senior Year. She hisses at him to grow up and leaves the house.

Gabriella invites all of her friends to her house and tells them she'll graduate early and leave. She clutches Troy's hand so tightly her knuckles turn white, but he lets her. And then she's the center of a huge group hug. Jason grabs Chad, and they drive off to get them drinks and snacks, turning the whole meeting into a little goodbye party.

At one point, Ryan finds himself standing next to Zeke on the balcony. Zeke confesses that he had been planning on asking Sharpay to be his prom date, but she broke up with him before the first posters popped up. Ryan has seen a lot of heartbreak lately, and Zeke might just be the worst. He can't do anything but listen, though, and Zeke gives him a sad little smile when Ryan drops him off at his house.

Sharpay tries to win him for whatever plan she has, but he refuses. He's busy with school and the show and sad about Gabriella leaving, and he won't betray his friends.

Kelsi tells him she's gay one morning when they sit at the piano in one of the music rooms and figure out the words for a song. She only told her parents and Jason so far. Ryan offers to take her to prom as friends because he hadn't planned on going with a romantic date anyway.

He wonders when he became the person people trusted in, but it feels good to have them trust him, and he knows he can tell them everything, too.

Rehearsals are less fun now. They still want to do the show, and they work their asses off, but Gabriella was more critical for the group dynamic than anyone had realized. They miss her like crazy, and seeing Troy act like a heartbroken puppy gets frustrating. They also have to deal with a sad Zeke, who has to watch Sharpay throw herself at Troy at any possible time. It's not easy.

Late-night-diner-visits are just Ryan and Chad now. They are both comfortable in the presence of each other, but Gabriella is missing even here. When she tells them she won't be coming for prom and the show, they all get even more depressed, even when Gabi says she will be back for the graduation celebration.

Troy leaves to get Gabriella back. He doesn't tell anyone until he's left the state, only sending a group message when there's no way of getting him back. His dad calls Chad and then Troy, ranting about how he should have said something so he could've gotten his parent's car, which would've been much safer for a trip like that. Nobody is surprised at Troy's actions, though.

Prom without Troy and Gabriella is a little weird, but still lots of fun. Ryan dances with Kelsi and Martha and Taylor, and even Chad. Sharpay doesn't show, which makes Ryan worry. When he comes home late at night, he finds her curled up in his bed, fast asleep. He slips under the blanket and pulls her close, falling asleep with his sister in his arms.

Sharpay is already awake when he opens his eyes the next morning, sitting on the bed in an old pair of pink sweatpants and one of Zeke's shirts. She's always well dressed, and the fact that she isn't right now tells Ryan that this is serious. He waits for her to speak first.

She tells him about the Julliard chatroom she's been frequenting nearly every day since the summer. How she chatted with lots of people on there, all of them having the same dream. How she started to panic once she read some of their resumes and realized that her own resume had a lot of leading roles but also that understudy part of the spring musical from a year ago. She doesn't have a plan B, Julliard was always her first choice, and she can't let that go. So she started to push them all away and focused on getting herself a more significant role in the show. Flirting with Troy had already been a habit, Zeke would have held her back. Ryan is her twin, but it's only one scholarship, and while neither of them needs it, this scholarship is tied to the last free spot at Julliard. She tells him how she had never felt so alone, and that she's missing hanging out with them. She even misses Gabriella, and she doesn't like Tiara. "Nobody is that nice all the time, Ryan! Even Gabriella had her bad moments when she was around me."

Ryan hugs her tight and makes her Pancakes and smoothies. Then he texts Zeke.

Zeke turns up on their doorstep twenty minutes later, still in his PJs. Sharpay all but jumps into his arms, crying into his shoulder as he holds her. Ryan leaves them be and retires to his room to text Chad and Gabriella, only coming out when it becomes clear that they have to leave for the show.

He gets to drive Sharpay's car for the first time ever because his sister refuses to let Zeke's hand go. He accepted her apology, and while he told her he would need some time to fully forgive her, he did kiss her softly. The two of them look a bit ridiculous with Zeke in his PJs and Sharpay having changed into a hot pink tracksuit, but Ryan's happy for them.

Gabriella texts him that her mom is driving her and Troy back to East High, and to please get her a ticket. He promises her he'll put her mom on the guestlist.

East High is pretty empty. It's a Saturday, and the show won't be starting until much later. The time before is for making sure everything is okay, going through the whole thing once, warming up their voices and muscles, and trying to get rid of any complications they might get. Sharpay apologizes to all of them and explains her behavior, which leads to Ms. Darbus telling her how she should have just said something, and Kelsi would have written her a different storyline, something more substantial. Chad tells her he'll make her life a living hell if she treats Ryan like that ever again, but then he hugs Sharpay, and she smiles and lets him.

Ryan quietly admits that he send applications for Sharpay to some other schools where she can study acting. Sharpay kisses him on the cheek and says he should've told her.

Troy texts Chad that he isn't sure if he'll make it in time, so Kelsi pulls Rocket aside to help him go over the Song again.

Sharpay finds Tiara in her wardrobe, showing her real face. The conversation unsettles her much after the whole emotional morning, and it takes Ryan a little while to calm her down again.

The show is chaotic but good. Ryan enjoys every single minute of it. To everyone's relief, Troy and Gabriella make it in time for their first Song, which allows Sharpay to kick Tiara of the show, and the rest of them to breathe easy.

He never doubted Kelsi would receive the scholarship, but hearing that they decided to take him on, too, is surreal and incredible, and he doesn't think Sharpay hugged him so hard in years.

They throw an After Party right there in the Auditorium. There are music and drinks, and their parents stay to mingle. His mom tells Ryan that she already got a two-room-flat in New York, and he asks Kelsi to be his roommate so she won't have to worry about housing.

Chad is still a bit upset about Troy's choice, but he tells him he'll be okay as long as Troy keeps in contact with him, and Troy swears Chad'll be annoyed with him by the end of the first term.

Gabriella has to go back to Standford the next day, but this time around, it's okay. Troy still mops about, but now that he choose a University that won't be all that far away from her he's better.

The rest of the school year goes by in a rush of exams and presentations. Ryan spends a lot of time on the living room floor, surrounded by notes and Sharpay, maybe even Zeke.

Graduation day is fantastic and awful at once. Ryan cries. Everyone cries. They take more pictures together than is probably healthy, and Ryan is already picking out frames for his favorite ones mentally.

Most of them still have a few weeks before they'll have to leave, but Taylor has to leave early, and so do Ryan and Kelsi. Gabriella will be staying a bit longer since her Semester won't be starting until Troy's does.

Ryan's last night is spent at the diner with Chad, Gabi, and Sharpay. Sharpay offers Chad to room with her since her parents had gotten her a flat near Campus, and she knows that Chad would just have stayed at the dorms for the first year. It's a surprise, but Chad accepts happily, and Ryan feels they will work well.

All of their friends gather to see Kelsi and Ryan off. Ryan gets hugged so much he starts to believe he won't be able to stand up without a pair of arms around his body. Gabriella makes him promise to text her as often as possible, Sharpay cries and says she'll be visiting him a lot, and Chad hugs him tightly enough to bruise a rip.

Ryan loves Julliard. It's competitive and loud, but it's also passionated and flashy. He's surrounded by people who are just as taken with the showbusiness as he is, and while it's a bit hard to make genuine friends, he manages.

Kelsi gets a girlfriend, and the three of them have movie nights at their apartment.

Sharpay does visit them quite a lot. She brings Chad with her once, and Ryan spends the whole weekend showing his friend the city. Chad absolutely loves New York, and Ryan invites him for an extended stay during their next break.

It's in his second year at Julliard that Ryan finally accepts the fact that he is gay. He thought he might be bisexual, but after a couple of make-out sessions with cute guys and no attraction whatsoever for any girl in his classes, he nods and sighs. There are no tears or break-downs. Instead, Kelsi gets him his favorite Milkshake, and they celebrate.

Telling his family is easy. His parents have never been judgemental about sexuality, and Sharpay just shrugs and tells him not to steal her boyfriend. Ryan laughs and tells her Zeke would never leave her on his own free will. When he calls Gabriella, she says she'll love him anyway, and Troy teases him about crushing on cute actors. (Turns out Troy himself has a crush on Jensen Ackles, which they bond over).

He tells Chad in person when he visits him at Chad's Uni. Chad is silent for a while, and then he nods and admits that he thinks he is bisexual himself. They get drunk and have a long discussion about sexuality.

Ryan visits all the games of Troy and Chad in New York. They always get him tickets, and he will cheer them on loudly.

His third year is so stressful, he nearly misses one of Chad's games. He's landed a leading role in a Julliard production while choreographing a smaller show on the side and is swapped with course work. He barely has time to sleep and eat. Kelsi's the same, their apartment filling with dirty dishes and clothes. But he finds Taylor standing at their door an hour before the game starts, and she presents both of them with tickets.

Despite constantly texting, they have a lot to talk about. Taylor and Chad broke up shortly into their first year of University, but they are still close to each other, and Ryan kind of admires them for it. She tells him all about her new boyfriend and gushes with Kelsi about a movie they had watched recently.

The four decide to go out for Pizza after Chad finds them, freshly showered and grinning brightly from winning the game. He looks incredibly handsome and relaxed, and Ryan finds himself staring at him more than once.

It takes one more visit for Chad and Ryan to finally kiss. It's January, and they are sitting on the roof of Ryan's apartment building. Wrapped in blankets, and with warm cocoa, watching the sky. Later, neither can tell if one of them started it or both leaned in at the same time, but it doesn't really matter. All that matters are their lips meeting softly, Ryan's hands in Chad's hair, and Chad's fingers searching for warm skin. It's slow and sweet, and it goes on forever.

Long-distance is easier for them than they expected. They've been friends for nearly five years at this point, and they spent three of those apart. Now, they call and text more, and visits get a bit more frequent, but both are willing to work hard. Kelsi says it shows.

Telling their friends and families isn't a big deal. Gabriella squeals so loudly, Ryan is sure he'll get tinnitus. Troy calls him to say he'll hurt him if he hurts Chad, but also to call him if Chad's an asshole. Sharpay hugs them both, and threatens Chad with detailed revenge plans should he hurt her brother. Their parents invite the pair for dinner.

Graduating from Julliard feels as unreal as leaving High School, but Ryan has already secured his first job as a choreographer for a dance show, and he's happy.

Sharpay moves to New York and brings Zeke with her, who landed a fancy bakery job and still dreams about opening his own one in the future. He starts a YouTube channel, and Sharpay gets cast for a Broadway production.

The invitations for Troy's and Gabriella's wedding don't surprise anyone. Chad is Troy's best man, and Gabi asks Ryan to be the ring bearer. It's a beautiful wedding. Ryan cries.

Chad moves to New York two years after graduating college, signing with the Knicks and asking Ryan to move in with him. They made it work so far, and while both their schedules are packed, they also make it work when living together.

The ten-years-reunion of their class takes place in Lava Springs. They kept in contact with most of their friends from High School, so nothing is really a surprise. Some of the other people are surprised at seeing Chad and Ryan kiss, but Nobody says anything.

Bonus:

Kelsi wins a Tony for her very first musical. She works with Ryan on another stage production, and both of them get an award.

Chad stays with the knicks, and Ryan keeps cheering him one while wearing his High School Trikot. Tumblr loves them, and they get listed as one of the Top 15 Power-Couples, even though none of them are sure why.

Zeke and Sharpay break up two more times before she proposes to him. He never opens a bakery, because his YouTube channel picks up so much he doesn't need too. They move into a place with a bigger kitchen.

I have no idea what Troy does, but whatever it is, he's happy.

Lava Springs somehow gets to be where their whole group meets up once a year for a weekend. Mr. and Mrs. Evans are glad to welcome them, and Mr. Fulton likes to tease them about the Star Dazzle Award.

Chad proposes to Ryan a year after gay marriage becomes legal in all fifty states.

Ryan loves it when Chad kisses his temple, while Chad practically melts whenever Ryan plays with his hair

423 notes · View notes

echo-bleu · 4 years ago

Note

hello! I saw one of your previous asks and I was wondering if I could ask you for some writing help too! I have an autistic character that i love, but I'm not sure how to convey that this character is autistic in a way that feel aunthentic and organic instead of stereotyped, specially since she's a girl and I haven't seen many (accurate) representations of autistic girls in the media. I've seen videos about autistic people and they've been very helpful on what not to do, but + I would still love

to get some of the 'do's' what i have so far is that she has a Fixation on the sea, she has a hard time reading sarcasm and/or emotions in others, and she has an overall seemingly 'detached' personality (even if I wouldn't call her that, since she cares about the people she loves, she's just bad at putting it into words). I jsut want to make sure i'm on the right path! thank you so much for listening and I hope this is not a bother!

Hi Anon! I’m not bothered at all and I’m happy to answer this kind of ask. As always, I can only speak for myself, but I’ll try to give you a few pointers. (The previous ask mentioned is this one.)

First, it’s lovely to hear about an autistic girl! I’m not sure if you’re speaking about an adult or a child/teenager, but either way, it can be interesting to read about how autism can look a bit different in women. The gender distinction that has often been made is something I don’t agree with because I feel that it’s an unnecessary shortcut, but a number of autistic people, in majority women and people socially perceived as female, learn to “adapt” more to neurotypical standards by masking their autistic traits a lot, and might not be detected as autistic until adulthood. Masking takes a lot of energy, which can translate as feeling “socially exhausted” all the time and lead to burnout. This article list traits that can be found that are less common and obvious. It is far from perfect imo, but it can give you new ideas!

You didn’t really say if your character is a main or a side character (which changes the amount of detail you’ll want to go into) but so far to me you seem to be on the right track! Having a hard time reading people is something a lot of us struggle with. It might not just be sarcasm, btw, understanding metaphors and jokes can also be hard. That doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have a sense of humor: it’s entirely possible to be able to use sarcasm and struggle with noticing it when it comes from other people, and a lot of autistic people have a very developed and specific sense of humor that can be seen as odd.

The “detached” personality is something you may have to handle with care because lack of empathy is a harmful stereotype. Maybe look up the difference between cognitive and affective empathy. Some of us do struggle with empathy, many of us struggle with expressing it in a way that’s comprehensible to neurotypicals, but it doesn’t mean that we lack it. It’s fine for your character to struggle with it, but be careful that she doesn’t end up seeming cold/robotic if she’s not the POV character.

Now for some “do’s”: I’m only going to talk about autistic traits here and assume that you’ve fleshed her out with an actual personality outside of her autism, just like you would any other character.

- I agree that it has to come up organically, but it would be a lot better in terms of representation to make her explicitly autistic, ie use the word autistic. It doesn’t have to be at the beginning of the story. If you’re in a fantasy setting or for some other reason you can’t use the actual word, then describing something like neurodiversity would be a good way to make it explicit. In fanfic, I personally think that tagging “autistic [character]” is enough if the fic is short(ish) and the word isn’t used in the story but the character’s autism is fairly clear, but in an original story, you don’t really have that possibility.

- Something I like to do when coming up with original autistic characters is to choose a few specific stims from them, that regularly come back in my descriptions. It falls under the same umbrella as choosing mannerisms, it gives characters their own specific flavor. You can choose a happy stim, a nervous stim and a bored stim, for example. Autistics stim a lot and in a lot of ways, but I think most of us have a few stims that come back often. It can be things like chewing on a toy/finger, flapping in a specific way, rocking on their heels, twirling hair, fidgeting with a toy or jewelry.

- Sensory differences. It’s also something that you can choose for your character: maybe she likes to listen to music very loudly, and often speak a little too loudly, or on the contrary she’s hyperacusic. She might wear sunglasses outside, or need lights on all the time. She might need subtitles to understand a movie, or be super distracted by sparkly things. She might not make eye contact, or make it too much, or seem to make it by looking somewhere close to the person’s eyes. She might find touch painful or difficult, or seek it constantly, or both (can depend on the moment, how tired she is, or if she trusts the person).

- Like I’ve said before, meltdowns/shutdowns are a delicate thing to portray if you’re not autistic yourself, but overloading can and does happen without going all the way to either of them. It’s actually fairly frequent, and happens when there is too much sensory (or emotional) stimuli at the same time or a too long day or something. From the inside, it can look like struggling to think, feeling like your skin is crawling, feeling like everything is too much, and struggling to initiate actions/figure out the steps to do something. From the outside, it can look like the person is rejecting touch, needs to isolate themself, is irritated, might struggle to speak/be very quiet. As long as the character isn’t mocked for their behavior, I think it’s something you can portray without too much risk.

- A specific interest about the sea is a nice idea! The sea is a very large subject, though, so she’ll probably have a predilection for some things. Is it water currents? Fish species? Underwater plants? Beaches? There’s a lot of options to choose from here.

- Maybe think about co-occuring conditions, because most of us have at least one. Some are very hard to distinguish from autism itself, like dyspraxia or ADHD, because they’re linked or similar to autistic traits. A lot of us are also disabled in some other way: for example there’s a clear (though unexplained) link between autism and hyperflexibility, which can lead to joint pain, gut issues and chronic illnesses like EDS. Many of us have mental illnesses, growing up autistic in this world is honestly traumatizing and it’s hard to find autistics without some kind of C-PTSD or anxiety (on that subject, this post points out that the current diagnostic criteria can probably only diagnose traumatized autistic people anyway).

- A pretty good portrayal of an autistic girl (and to my knowledge the only one where the actor is also autistic) is Matilda in Everything’s Gonna be Okay. I didn’t actually watch until the end and I’ve been told the last episode isn’t great, but the start was pretty good. She’s a teenager, and at one point gets a girlfriend who is also autistic and has a service dog. In Elementary, while Sherlock is only autistic-coded, there is at one point (season 4 I believe) a recurring character named Fiona who I thought was a pretty good portrayal as well. She’s an adult, and she’s stereotypical in some ways but it’s better than most portrayals I’ve seen or read.

I would advise you to have a look through the blog @cripplecharacters. They answer asks about disabled characters, and I know they have answered a number of questions about autism and have at least one autistic mod. Their answers are usually very interesting!

#Anonymous #asks #autism #actually autistic #autistic characters #writing resources #disabled characters

116 notes · View notes

haus-seeblick · 3 years ago

Text

Suptober Day 6: “Who Brings a Gun to a Cemetery?”

For Day 6: Cemetery Boys

Rating: General Audiences; Ship: Pre-Destiel; WC: 3,219

POV Outsider (Original Male Character); full tags on AO3 or below the cut.

Summary: Jerry Wallace has seen a lot of satanic rituals. A lot. Candles and daggers, pentagrams, hoods and chanting; you name it, he’s seen it. As the head of security — and only guard — of Sullivan Cemetery, he’s bound to have run into the occasional devil worshipper. It doesn’t even faze him anymore. There’s not much Jerry Wallace hasn’t seen.

In which: Jerry Wallace encounters Dean Winchester, supposed Satanist.

On AO3 Here (or read under the cut!)

Full Tags: POV Outsider, This poor cemetery guard doesn't know what to do about Dean Winchester, Dean seems insane, BAMF Castiel, Early Seasons Dean and Cas, Pre-Relationship Dean and Cas, Pre-Friendship Dean and Cas, somehow they still manage to flirt though, POV Character is briefly threatened by Dean Winchester but it all ends OK,Humor

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

Jerry Wallace has seen a lot of satanic rituals. A Iot. Candles and daggers, pentagrams, hoods and chanting; you name it, he’s seen it. As the head of security — and only guard — of Sullivan Cemetery, he’s bound to have run into the occasional devil worshipper (and worse. People dig up graves for really unsavory reasons). It doesn’t even faze him anymore. There’s not much Jerry Wallace hasn’t seen.

But tonight, as he sweeps his flashlight back and forth across the dewy grass, making his rounds and sipping on his steaming coffee, something stops him short. He narrows his eyes and cocks his head to listen. There’s a scuffling sound up ahead, from just outside the Bennett mausoleum. It sounds too big to be any of the usual animals. Humans, then. Jerry sighs. He was hoping for a quiet night, so he could make himself comfortable under the lamp at the cemetery entrance and read the book his teenage son, Andrew, had lent him. Cemetery Boys, it’s called. Jerry finds it fitting.

A man’s rough voice rings out from around the corner of the mausoleum. “Dammit, Sam, you can’t give me any hints?”

Jerry blinks at the audacity. Who sneaks into a cemetery at night and doesn’t even try to be quiet about it? He decides to give these particular satanists a little scare, just to teach them a lesson. He switches off his flashlight and gently sets his precious cup of coffee on top of the nearest headstone. Time to have some fun.

He sneaks on silent feet across the grass, clutching his flashlight tight in hand and deciding which tactic he wants to use. The reliable old jump scare? Flashlight beam to the face and an earsplitting yell — it’s worked well on thrill-seeking teenagers in the past. Or the more tricky option, creeping around and making ghostly sounds to unnerve the trespassers so thoroughly that they leave? More time investment, but also more amusing in the long run — Jerry decides on Option Two.

The wall of the mausoleum gives him excellent cover to start his performance. He sidles up along it, to the very edge. The intruders are just around the corner, and it sounds like one of them’s rummaging around in a bag of some sort. Jerry rolls his eyes. Probably some weirdos with spray paint, here to deface the walls of the mausoleum with symbols that take ages to wash off. Jerry opens his mouth and is about to emit his first long, ghostly moan, when the same voice as before pipes up again.

“Picking the lock didn’t work, Sam, I’m telling you, it’s gonna take longer. You gotta hold her off.”

The other person — Sam — doesn’t reply, though. Jerry furrows his brow. Who’s being held off? He decides to get a better picture of the scene before initiating his plan. Very slowly, he pokes just the right side of his face around the corner. The front of the small white building is washed in moonlight, the nearest lamp a ways down the path.

There’s a man crouched outside the mausoleum, maybe in his late twenties, from what Jerry can tell in the low light. He’s wearing an oversized leather jacket over a patterned shirt, with jeans and sturdy-looking boots. His short hair is spiked a bit in the front.

He doesn’t look like a satanist. Jerry stays very still, breathing shallowly and watching.

The man has both hands in a medium-sized duffel bag, rooting around. The contents of the bag are clanging and thudding. With a triumphant exhale, the man stands up, crowbar in hand. Jerry balks. This is already a step beyond chanting and spray paint. Again, nothing he hasn’t seen before, though.

What Jerry couldn’t see while the man was crouched, that now makes itself clear, is that he has a mobile phone pressed between his shoulder and ear. As the man advances on the door with the crowbar, he barks into the phone, “Update, Sammy. You still kicking?”

Jerry can’t make out Sam’s muffled response, but it obviously displeases the man, because he whacks the crowbar against the mausoleum door with a frustrated growl. “Watch your back. Figure out what the hell I’m supposed to burn!” He flips the phone shut and stuffs it into his jacket pocket.

This is getting stranger and stranger. Jerry watches as the man goes to town on the mausoleum door, an offense that Jerry would usually be more inclined to stop from happening. Something about this man, though, about the way he carries himself and the way he talks, is holding Jerry back.

He’s very glad about his decision to stay put about ten seconds later, when the man drops the crowbar to the ground with a clang and pulls a gun out of his jacket. Jerry doesn’t even carry a gun. His heart starts beating and his palms prickle with sweat. He didn’t sign up for this. Who brings a gun to a cemetery?

The man steps back a couple feet, points the handgun at the lock, hunches his shoulders, and fires. Jerry barely has the wherewithal to throw himself back around the corner and press his hands over his ears before the shot goes off. He feels it reverberate through the wall, twice, as the man fires again. Fully out of sight now, Jerry gingerly lowers the zipper on his jacket and reaches into his chest pocket for his radio. He needs to call this in. This is way above his pay grade.

“Dammit!” the man yells. The gun must’ve been ineffective. Jerry mentally pats himself on the shoulder. He requested upgrades to all mausoleum locks after a series of break ins last year, and it looks like the security company came through.

Jerry hears the keypad of the mobile phone beeping as the man punches in a number, then there’s muffled ringing. Jerry uses the sound as cover to pull his radio out and to inch his face around the corner again so he has a visual of the scene.

The man’s phone rings and rings. With another frustrated yell, the man slaps it shut and paces back and forth in front of the door, one hand running through his hair, the other still holding his gun. After a few moments, he stops in his tracks. He’s facing Jerry’s direction, silvery moonlight throwing his cheekbones in sharp relief. He looks like a respectable young man, really. Jerry wonders where he lost his way.

There’s a set of complicated emotions working their way across the man’s face. His eyebrows are pinched in concentration, eyes squeezed shut, lips moving as if he’s talking to himself. This lasts about ten seconds before he throws up his hands and glares at the sky.

“Oh, come on!” he shouts. “Get your harp-toting ass down here! Castiel!”

Jerry, who prides himself on never swearing, thinks: What the fuck.

The man is obviously disturbed. He needs a doctor. Jerry glances down at the radio in his hand, and presses the emergency button. He can’t afford a conversation with dispatch; the man will overhear. This will at least get someone out here.

When Jerry looks back up, he twitches. There are now two men in front of the mausoleum. The newcomer is wearing a long trenchcoat and standing stiffly. He’s facing away from Jerry, looking at the gunman, sensible shoes planted hip-width apart. His messy dark hair blends into the shadows.

Where on earth did he come from? Jerry darts his eyes around. The mausoleum is on a slightly raised part of the cemetery, visibility clear in all directions. Even if the trenchcoat man had approached from the opposite side of the building, Jerry would have seen him.

“Cas,” the gunman says, voice heavy with something like — relief, perhaps? His tense posture relaxes slightly and he claps the trenchcoat man on the shoulder. “You took your time,” he accuses. “Can you open those doors?”

The trenchcoat man, Cas — is this Castiel? Jerry cannot keep up — turns slightly to regard the doors.

“This is why you prayed to me?” Cas’ voice is deeper than the gunman’s, rougher. He speaks like a robot. “Heaven is at war, Dean. You call me to help you break down a door?”

Jerry’s brain is spinning. Are these… actors? Cosplayers? He learned about cosplayers from Andrew. Some of them do have very elaborate costumes. Jerry squints at Cas’ back. This doesn’t look like a costume, though. Cas looks like a tax accountant. Like he should be at home with his family at this time of night.

“Sam’s in trouble,” Dean’s saying, an ever-so-slight pleading edge to the words. “I gotta get in here, Cas, or he’s gonna meet a real bad end. I know you’ve got the mojo, come on!”

“I do not exist to do your bidding,” Cas replies. He strides over to the doors, though, trenchcoat flapping around his calves. “I do not serve you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re a warrior.” Dean’s hovering at Cas’ shoulder. “Can you blast ‘em?”

Cas lays a hand on the doors, long fingers splayed against the metal. Jerry glances down at his radio again. The red button is flashing, indicating that he’d called for help, but he can’t hear any sirens yet. He hopes they send enough officers for two grave-desecrating weirdos.

“Stand back,” Cas says. “And tell the man behind the wall to stand back, too.”

“What?” Dean’s head whips around.

Jerry hastily pulls his head out of sight, heart racing. Oh, no. He’s seen enough. He can ID these two for the cops later. He doesn’t need to be on the scene.

He turns heel to run, but makes it only two steps before a hand grabs his collar and yanks him back. The air is knocked out of him and he yelps, feet scrabbling on the pavement as a strong arm drags him around the corner. He lands on his butt in front of the doors, palms scraping on the ground. He quickly raises one over his head in surrender.

“Please— please, I have a family!” He keeps his eyes averted. Dean’s boots are inches away from his legs. “Don’t hurt me, I won’t say a word, I promise!”

“You the guard?” Dean crouches down in front of him. Oh, lord, the gun is trained on Jerry’s face. He whimpers and nods.

“Great. Give me the keys to the doors. Stat.” A palm appears in front of Jerry’s chest, held out in expectation. He hesitates. Isn’t that aiding and abetting?

No way. He’s at gunpoint. He nods again, fervently, and fumbles in his pocket for his ring of keys. His hand shakes violently as he drops them onto Dean’s outstretched palm. He sneaks a peek up at the men.

“Cas,” Dean says, tossing the keys to the trenchcoat man. “Figure out which one it is. I’ll deal with him.”

Cas catches the keys. “So, you do not want me to break the doors?”

“No— just—” Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, lips pressed together. “Just unlock them.” Cas scowls, but begins slotting the various keys into the mausoleum lock.

Dean turns back to Jerry and waves a hand in front of his face. “Hey,” he snaps. Jerry meets his eyes, conscious that he must look utterly terrified. He hopes it’ll appeal to any sense of humanity in this gun-toting lunatic.

“Whatever you think I am, I’m not,” Dean says, quickly and gruffly. “I’m not some pervert tryin’ to get my rocks off with Sleeping Beauty in there. I haven’t got time to ease you in slow, so here it is: ghosts are real. There’s one after my brother. I can gank it, but I gotta burn some hair or somethin’, something keepin’ it here. That’s all. Once Cas opens the doors, I’ll be in and out. We don’t have to get nasty. I’m even saving your doors from gettin’ blasted, as a favor. ”

Jerry picks and chooses what to process of that. “You have a gun pointed at me.”

Dean glances at the gun, like he’s just now realizing he still has it trained on Jerry. He lowers it. “Sorry. Had to let you know I’m serious. You gonna let me do my thing, or we gonna have a problem?”

The police will be here soon, Jerry thinks. It’s not my responsibility to stop this maniac.

“No problem,” he says. Dean nods once, satisfied, and in that moment, the lock clicks. The doors swing open heavily. Dean springs to his feet and races toward the mausoleum.

“Awesome, Cas!” he shouts, slapping a palm against Cas’ chest as he passes. Cas looks after him, a bemused expression on his face.

“I don’t know what to burn!” Dean hollers from inside.

Jerry is so far past trying to understand any of this. He nurses his scraped palms, huddling on the cold pavement and thinking of the book Andrew gave him. He wanted to finish a few chapters tonight so they could talk about them over breakfast tomorrow. He hopes he gets the chance.

Jerry is tough, but his eyes sting a little as he thinks about it.

“Dean is a good man,” Cas suddenly says, in that mechanical way of his. “Righteous. He won’t harm a human.”

Jerry stares at him in disbelief. There’s nothing he can say to that, beyond “Okay.” Cas just nods, and turns to gaze into the darkness of the mausoleum. There’s a lot of scraping and clattering echoing from the room inside, as if Dean is dismantling the place. He probably is, Jerry thinks miserably as the sound of breaking glass reaches his ears.

Dean comes storming back out of the room, assorted items piled in his arms. Jerry recognizes the doll that’s usually propped up behind the glass of the Bennett daughter’s crypt, and a locket that hangs behind the mother’s. A whole array of other personal effects that Jerry spends his nights guarding also end up on the pavement at Dean’s feet. Dean dives into his duffel bag, pulling out a can of gasoline. He douses the whole pile in the acrid-smelling stuff — Jerry’s nostrils sting and he coughs, scrabbling a little farther away. Dean pulls a lighter out of pocket and flicks it several times, cursing when it doesn’t ignite.

“Allow me,” Cas says, stepping forward. He pauses. “Close your eyes.”

Jerry throws an arm over his eyes without a second thought, just catching sight of Dean doing the same. His jacket sleeve does very little, though, to shield his eyes from the brilliant blue-white light that rips through the darkness. It feels like a bonfire, there one moment and gone the next, leaving the tips of Jerry’s hair singed. He cowers, eyes pressed shut, heaving huge breaths.

“Damn, Cas,” Dean says, voice tinged with awe. “Thanks for the assist.”

Jerry lowers his (slightly smoking) arm and peers at where the pile of belongings once lay. It’s completely gone, reduced to ash, just smoldering dust on the pavement. How on Earth—

In that moment, Dean’s mobile phone rings. He frantically plunges a hand into his jacket and rips it out, flipping it open.

“Sammy?” he asks sharply, pressing the phone to his ear. The voice on the other end mumbles something and Dean sags in relief, dragging a hand over his face. “Close call, huh? Yeah, glad it worked.”

Jerry tunes out the rest of Dean and Sam’s conversation. His eyes travel from the smoking pile of dust, to Cas (who’s standing motionless, staring at Dean), to the open mausoleum door, to his own hands, trembling in his lap. A light catches his eye off to the side and he follows it, realizing it’s his radio, abandoned on the pavement, red emergency light still blinking steadily. He gazes at it like a lifeline.

“Is that— Did you—” Dean’s voice is suddenly closer, right next to Jerry, and he quickly looks up. Dean’s looking at the radio, too. His phone is closed in his hand; he must be done talking to his brother.

“The cops coming?” Dean demands, gesturing at the radio. Jerry doesn’t want to let on, he doesn’t, but faced with this strange, complicated, definitely violent person, he can’t hold out. He nods.

“Dammit,” Dean mutters. Just then, the first siren wails in the distance, growing louder by the second.

Finally.

Dean groans and rushes over to his duffel bag, throwing the can of gasoline back in and grabbing the crowbar off the ground to toss that in, too. “Leave the keys, Cas,” he snaps at the trenchcoat man, who still has Jerry’s key ring dangling from his fingers. Cas drops the keys on the ground.

“Can you zap me to my car?” Dean hoists the duffel over his shoulder and faces Cas. “I won’t make it if I run.”

Cas steps closer to Dean, until he’s right in front of him. Their noses are just a few inches apart. Jerry, with nothing else to do but wait for his rescuers, watches them. Dean takes what looks like a shaky breath. His eyes flick down to Cas’ mouth. “You gonna stare, or you gonna help?” he asks, but it comes out small, a weak attempt at bravado.

Cas reaches out and places his hand over Dean’s left shoulder. “I’ll go with you,” he says, deep and measured, and in the next second, they’re gone. Just gone.

Jerry could swear he heard the flapping of wings. He sits there, numb, staring at the spot where they vanished.

Eventually, the yellow beams of flashlights dart across the front of the mausoleum and voices break through the fog in Jerry’s brain. A hand lands on his shoulder. “Sir, are you all right?”

He’s saved.

There’s a lot of questions from the responding officers, a lot of Jerry having to recount what he saw, picking and choosing details — which of course renders his story utterly implausible — and a lot of nobody believing him; there’s a breathalizer test — humiliating — that of course comes back clean (whether that’s better or worse for him, Jerry’s not so sure), and a round of paperwork, and finally, finally, Jerry is allowed to go.

He stumbles down the cemetery path in a daze, passing his long-cold cup of coffee, still perched on its headstone. He snags it and throws it away in the trash can at the cemetery gates. The officers said they would lock the mausoleum and the security station; Jerry was supposed to go home. He stops briefly at his station, though, to grab Andrew’s book.

He’s not quite ready to go home yet. He’s not sure what to say.

Jerry makes himself comfortable in the front seat of his car, overhead light on, and cracks open his book. He starts to read.

#suptober21 #this was fun to write #have some silliness #i enjoy imagining what regular citizens think of the winchesters #poor jerry #he's just doing his job #early seasons destiel #pre-destiel #fanfic #ficlet

19 notes · View notes

spideyswifey · 4 years ago

Text

Power Couple: FootballStar!Thomas X Cheerleader!Reader Chapter 1: Practice and Parties

Okay so... this is my first x reader fic and I’m nervous on how this turns out 😬 I just had this idea of Thomas as a high school football star and the reader the cheer captain and they’re just a power couple! Also this was suppose to be like a little imagine, but ya girl ended up writing so much that this is now definitely going to be a series. Anyway without further ado I give you; Power Couple Chapter 1!!!

P.S I was inspired by @daveeddiggsit Wideout series for this. Y’all should go check her out if you haven’t already because her writing is AMAZING! And because of her I have become a simp for a football star thom! 🥺

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairing: FootballStarThom! X CheerCaptain!Reader

Warnings: None for now, as far as I know, but if you see some let me know!

Summary: For Y/N, being the freshman cheer captain definitely had its perks, a cute uniform, a badass squad that’s always got your back, and getting the attention of a certain freshman football team captain. And one day, Thomas Jefferson decides to approach her after practice.

“5, 6, 7, and 8! Whoo! Good job everyone!” Y/N exclaimed to her team as they just finished the last steps of their routine. Their coach nodded in approval, “Yes, now go ahead and rest up for the weekend! I’ll see you all on Monday!” A chorus of “Okays” and “See you coach!” could be heard by the rest of the team.

Y/n had knelt down on the track putting her stuff away in her gym bag, along with a few of her teammates/ friends. Her friends were excitedly chatting about the first football game of the season next Friday. She shared a smile, excited for their first time to cheer in front of a crowd at the freshman game.

“I just hope we get a pretty good turnout,” one of her best friends, Peggy piped up beside her, “Not a lot of people really come to the freshman games.” “Well they will this year once they see the amazing freshman cheer team led by the best captain ever!” Her other best friend, Lafayette, had proclaimed while he nudged her, giving her a cheeky grin. Y/n playfully rolled her eyes at her foreign friend, “C’mon Laf, you give me way to much credit!”

“Nah, he’s right Y/n! You’ve worked your ass off for the captains spot and you’ve earned it, you’ve gotta give yourself some credit at least!” Peggy declared, disagreeing with her friends previous statement. “Ok ok I’ll admit,” Y/n sighed contentedly “It is pretty rewarding to be where I am after practicing till my legs felt like they would fall off!” They all laughed together at her comment, finally standing up to leave the track.

“Speaking of rewards,” Peggy spoke up, a smirk suddenly appearing on her face, “It looks like a certain someone has also noticed your hard work.” Y/n followed Peggys stare, leading her to none other than the freshman football team captain, Thomas Jefferson; who had been caught, not so subtly staring at the three.

Thomas quickly looked away, hurriedly putting the rest of his stuff away, as he had just finished practice himself. He couldn’t help but look at her tho, she exuded confidence in a way that made him attracted to her. The way she smiled while performing a cheer, the way her ponytail bounced while she moved in step, everything about her was captivating to him and he knew right away that he had to at least talk to her, and then hopefully date her. Thomas then zipped up his bag, said a brief goodbye to his teammates, and decided to head over to Y/n’s group.

“No way!” Y/n scoffed, “We were probably just laughing too loud and annoyed him.” It was her friends’ turn to scoff, “Y/n,” Peggy started, “You’re hot girl! Why wouldn’t he be looking at you?” “I agree mom amie, you are a ray of sunshine who’s beauty over flows! Any guy would be foolish not to be attracted to you!” Lafayette concurred with Peggy.

Y/n began to blush at her friends praise, trying to hide the smile growing on her face. “Thanks guys.” Just as they were about to reach the exit, a figure jogging toward them caught Peggys eye. “Oh and look! Thomas Jefferson sure ain’t a fool since he’s coming right over here!” She tried to contain her squeal of excitement. Y/n’s head shot in the direction of Peggys excited gaze. Suddenly she could feel her heartbeat speed up and her hands begin to sweat. Thomas Jefferson was approaching her!

“And I think that’s our cue to go Peggy, Good luck mon amie!” Laf shot her a wink as he and Peggy hurry to leave so they can give Y/n some time alone with Thomas. “I want details later!” Peggy harshly whispered, seeing as Thomas was now in earshot, and quickly left giggling with Lafayette about their best friend.

Thomas stopped right in front of her, quickly doing a once over of her practice outfit. “Uh, hi! It’s Y/n right?” Her eyes widened at the way her name left his lips. “Oh, Yeah hi! Thomas?” She mentally facepalmed, you already know his name idiot!

“Yeah” Thomas gave her a small smile, “Uh, I hope I don’t come off as creepy but, I couldn’t help but notice you practicing.” “Oh?” She questioned, a smirk now appearing on her face, now that he had admitted to watching her, a certain confidence started to ease her nerves. “Uh, yeah. Your moves are pretty good!” Thomas sheepishly complimented her while mentally scolding himself. Dude what is wrong with you? You’re never this nervous!

“Oh, thanks!” She grinned happily, “You’ve got some pretty good moves yourself captain!” She winked. “Oh really?” Thomas asked, “You’ve been watching my moves?” It was now his turn to smirk. Y/n looked down timidly, biting her lip quickly before responding. “Well, I’ve gotta keep tabs on who’s gonna possibly lead us to victory on our first game next Friday, you gonna prove me right?” She challenged. “Oh absolutely!” Thomas beamed. “And when I’m doing so, I hope the cheer squad is able to pump us all up!” He winked. “Oh trust me! We’re more than ready!” Y/n exclaimed. They both shared a laugh, the nerves leaving both of them as they bantered and started walking towards the front of the school together.

“So, listen,” Thomas started, “I’m not sure if you heard, but there’s gonna be a party at my house after the game on Friday, regardless if we win or not, and um I’d like it if you could come.” He looked at her with hope in his eyes. She was just so infatuating and he couldn’t get enough. “Oh, um ok!” She replied bashfully, that blush coming back to her cheeks. “Um my squad can come too right?” “No yeah of course, um everyone’s invited, especially the cheer captain.” He smirked.

Y/n was about to respond when a honk caught her off guard. They both looked in the direction of the sound and saw her older brother Zack, waiting for her in the drivers side. “That’s my ride,” she sighed, not wanting their conversation to end. Thomas nodded defeatedly. “I’ll see you around then?” He asked, hoping this wasn’t the last time they’d get to interact. Y/n smiled, “Definitely!” And with one last burst of conifidence, she took her phone out of her gym bag and placed it in Thomas’s hand. He glanced at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“How else am I gonna get directions to the captains party, hm?” She answered his puzzled gaze with a small giggle. Thomas chuckled and put his number in her phone, then gave her his so she could do the same. They exchanged gleeful glances as y/n started to walk towards her brothers car. Just before she opened the door, she turned to give Thomas one last line, “See you around, Captain!” Thomas chuckled shaking his head, his curls bouncing. “You too, Captain!”

With that Y/n entered the vehicle , hardly containing her smile. “So, who was that?” Her brother eyed her as she sat in the front seat with a goofy grin on her face. “No one.” She replied while trying to hide the smile growing on her face. “Mhm, ok” her brother quipped, deciding to ignore it for now and interrogate her later. Y/n paid no mind to her brother, looking out the window as he drove off towards their house. The alert of a text from her phone brought her out of her daze as she checked to see who it was.

From: Football Captain Thomas 🏈🔥😉

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that it was nice talking to you. 😅 Here’s the address for the party! Hope to see you there, cheer captain 😉

Y/n bit her lip while typing a reply.

Thomas watched as the car took off, the smile never leaving his face. He quickly pulled out his phone to text the girl that has him charmed, while walking towards his moms car as she just pulled up. His mom made small conversation as he sat himself in the front seat. He then felt his phone vibrate.

From: Cheer Captain Y/n 📣😍🔥

It was nice talking to you too! Bring us a victory and we’ll see 😜 Don’t let me down football captain 😉

Thomas beamed as he read the message. If there was any more motivation he needed to win this game, he knew this was it. He was gonna do it so the beautiful captain of the freshman cheer squad would go to his party. And Y/n herself knew either way she would go, if it meant more time with the freshman football captain, she would definitely go to this party.

Looks like being the captain of the team definitely has its perks.

I hope you all liked it! I didn’t even think it would be this long and yet, here we are! 😅 Also what do y’all think about male cheerleader Laf?!? I just had the idea and it wouldn’t go away and honestly I love it!!! Also if you want to be tagged in upcoming chapters just let me know and I’d be more than happy to do so! 😘 Anyway let me know what y’all think! 🥺♥️

-With Love,

Spidey’s Wifey 🕷♥️🖤

#daveed diggs #james madison #thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson fic #thomas jefferson imagine #thomas jefferson #daveed x reader #daveed diggs x reader #daveed imagine #aaron burr #peggy schuyler #lafayatte #power couple

109 notes · View notes

shadlad24 · 4 years ago

Text

More Funny Little Moments #1: Season 1, Episodes 1-12

So, I decided to do this post after all. Halp. LOL Because I apparently LOVE giving myself a bunch of unnecessary work, I decided to choose two to three extra moments, per episode! SUPER halp! X’D Anyway, these are moments that didn’t make the cut for my FFLM series because: my sense of humor is a little weird, they were gonna be too much work (LOL/Siiigh), I like to highlight patterns, and I don’t like a lot of repetition. [Links to each FFLM along the bottom of the post. :)]

Let’s start with something I originally agreed with other fans on but have since changed my mind. A lot of people didn’t like this part of “Chariots of War” because it seems so ludicrous that Xena would forget her chakram anywhere. Well, let me tell you! This lady has left her weapons behind most episodes thus far. I didn’t note it every time here (and especially didn’t bother with her whip) because that’d really overrun the post buuuuut… You’ll see. XD

1.01 Sins of the Past

Xena’s shift being so much dirtier than the little boy’s clothes though she’s high up off the ground, and he lives in smoked-out rubble.

Yup. Xena forgot her sword (and later, her main saddlebag) at her mother’s tavern. Pft.

Sorry these were kinda lame, but I didn’t want to re-use any more of the original fifteen points I made about this episode... Ah well. Moving on! (heh)

1.02 Chariots of War

Xena loses her sword after the chariot crash, taking up and discarding Sphaerus’s but walking off without her own. (See her front and back and both of Argo’s sides.)

Gabrielle chewing Xena out, Xena being bummed about it, and Argo being surprised. X’D

1.03 Dreamworker

This got me good. Gabrielle does Xena’s war cry so well here that I really thought it was Xena for a few seconds. Realizing it was GabbyWabs only made me chuckle more because she apparently can’t do it when it really counts in “The Greater Good.”

Argo NOT being on Team Gabrielle. XD (Their feud is a little funny to me.)

1.04 Cradle of Hope

Xena tossing aside her sword after killing Nemos. Extras even dance and celebrate right on top of it! Wut thuh?

I decided to avoid mentioning Hope in the FFLM because Xena’s quote here is more ironic than comedic, and Gabrielle’s little face is just so sad, but I didn’t want to let it pass by entirely unremarked upon. At least GW gets to show off her oracle skills again? :’)

1.05 The Path Not Taken

So, Xena and Gabrielle walk into a bar… Heh. No, but really, they enter this tavern for the first time ever, yet the bartender not only knows what they want, he knows that they’re coming and has their drinks waiting for them too. All Xena has to do is knock on the counter and nod to get her fire-breath alcohol/oil, and Gabrielle barely has the word “cider” out of her mouth before the guy hands it to her. Xena, like me, is duly amazed.

Lucy, through Xena, making another timely anti-peanut statement. I just didn’t want to do the same thing twice back-to-back in the FFLM. X)

1.06 The Reckoning

Gabrielle thinking along the same lines Xena and I did about this poor excuse for a judge.

Me not being well-versed in ancient Greek heroes and picturing the fool who Draco killed so handily in the first episode. heh

1.07 The Titans

I’ll let Xena explain this one. …Mostly. I can’t believe Gabrielle not only sassed the Titans such that she unashamedly put Xena and Phyleus in danger too, but also kinda got this (admittedly awful) town demolished and didn’t lift a finger to actually help anyone in the temple. Tsk tsk. XP

So… Hyperion here can smash homes and businesses that were probably well-built and reinforced and all, but he can’t get his hand out of a stocks-cuff that was made in a single evening with scraps from those destroyed buildings. He also, inexplicably, has no use of his left hand or the power-breath that he used to knock Gabrielle over. Okie. XD

1.08 Prometheus

Is this really a thing? I was giggling quite a bit in disbelief that severed windpipes can heal. Like, perforated is one thing; completely bisected? Yeah, I don’t think so.

Gabrielle being incredulous upon learning that Xena has other friends, realizing what the warrior princess means, and then wondering if that could be her one day.

1.09 Death in Chains

Gabrielle enjoying watching Xena kill someone for the first time, then quickly realizing that fact. Whoops.

I found this moment really odd and then kind of hilarious. This poor dying old woman begs for water and goes ignored not only by the hospice workers, but also Talus and Gabrielle. Then Talus decides to be helpful. Gabrielle goes to the woman and lets her talk a lot (undoubtedly drying her mouth and throat even more), hears that Xena might be in danger, and then just… leaves. Talus goes with her, not having gotten water from the well after all. What a couple of jerks! XD

1.10 Hooves & Harlots

I really don’t know why Gabrielle kept making this face as Terreis died, but it tickled my funny bone too. So, I provided alternate subs to go with it. [Did you notice how she kind of cringes when Terreis tries to hold her hand and then just lets the Amazon flop once she’s died, flinging her hand aside like, “Ew, get it off me!”? What was that all about? X”) Hm… maybe she has an aversion to dying people, and that’s why she abandoned the old lady last episode?]

Gabrielle being a smart aleck, just like me, because Phantes’s complaint here is so ludicrous. But then you see the close-up of little hoofies in cuffs too, and, if you’re anything like me too, kinda just topple over laughing. The poor actual horse they did this to, though, man! What even?

Gosh, this episode was chockfull of hilarity, eh? Why did this happen? Gabby, take it away!

1.11 The Black Wolf

I laughed at this too. But now I wonder. Is Xerxes related to Caesar and/or connected to Rome or something? Because Xena does this twice around them too. In “When in Rome,” she jokes that the two guards lost playing tag with her, and in “A Good Day” she informs Pompey that if there were more guards hiding around their meeting space, then she would have had more helmets. heh Oh, Xenie. I think I know why Gabrielle’s turning out to be such a little punk ...or vice versa? Is Gabrielle actually a bit of a bad influence on Xena? XP

So, this fight just struck me as really odd. Xena passes her sword to Flora though she (Xena) needs to battle the big boss of the episode, and… actually, is totally right. The king throws a single wide-ass punch, waits while Xena kicks the guy behind her a few times, lets himself get kicked in the face a couple of times, and then comes at her with a little piece of chain, presumably from the restraints that were intended to keep Flora in place during her execution. Sir, you have a sword! A giant sword, right there on your hip! What are you doing? Then, when Xena kicks him a final time and sends him flying, his (supposed-to-be) metal armor is no match for the splintered wood of the axe she broke earlier. …Okie. XD XD XD *gif below*

Xena once again leaves her chakram somewhere. …And I am now imagining this being part of Gabrielle’s maid duties: the poor kid has to go find Xena’s weapons each night and bring them back to her. I’m especially imaging the fluffball hilariously, adorably struggling to get the chakram out of things like this wall, as she did with Xena’s sword in the tree stump in “Dreamworker,” but more parallel to the floor. Cuuuute! XD

This plus this

*pic + GIF below*:

1.12 Beware Greeks Bearing Gifts

This scene too really made me wonder, though amused as well. Why is Gabrielle so surprised that the only city nearby, that they were headed to, is the one they find? Is she really being that loud? Is Xena goofing around with the bootlaces question? Why startle Gabrielle and then yank her into enemy territory screaming, when what you want is quiet? What’s with the trapdoor-spider soldiers? Xena’s pose throwing the chakram. XD Gabrielle mostly featherlight dance-y moves through the battlefield. XD XD XD Why is it that when Xena tells Gabrielle to stick right behind her, Gabrielle disappears? And what was with the bucket-sitting soldier? Gabrielle is like, “Oh; no, thank you!” when she sees him and turns tail. Then Xena ...follows her. “We’re goin’ this way! Now we’re goin’ that way!” But they still end up dead-ahead from where they burst out of the bushes. XD That was ridiculous and nonsensical, and I’m very confused but had lots of fun. heheheh *gif below* [ETA: Darn! The original file was too big, so I had to remake the GIF and cut quite a few things out. :( Sorry]

Xena’s outta-nowhere crusade to emasculate Deiphobus coming full-circle. What was that all about?

Welp, I hope you had as much fun as I originally and then later did. Not so much in the middle with the collage-and-GIF-making and editing and redoing, but; y’know. XD Wouldn’t trade it for …Hm… Nevermind. LOL

If you missed any of the FFLMs, then please click on the corresponding number-links below. :D

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #7 #8 #9 #10 #11 #12

#xwp #xena #xena warrior princess #gabrielle #xena and gabrielle #fflm #funny #comedy #season 1 #forgetful #magic #shenanigans #argo #chakram #sword

22 notes · View notes

prayerith · 4 years ago

Text

it’s beginning to look a lot like checkout

summary: Joey is trying to survive working as a cashier during the holiday season. When a cute customer manages to turn around his entire day, he doesn't think he'll ever see the guy again. But when he keeps turning up, will Joey manage to form a relationship with him?

howdy! yes, i’m posting a multi-chapter fic for once. you can also read it on ao3 here <3 hope y’all enjoy!

Not for the first time today, Joey eyed the speaker embedded in the ceiling above his cash register and wondered how difficult it would be to smash it from the ground. Sure, it was a few feet up, but if he threw something hard enough at it, he could probably damage it, right? The stapler at his register wasn’t too heavy, but it was solid enough that it might fritz it out. Then again, he would almost certainly be fired, but he would take that if it meant that the speaker was at least non-functional. Anything to stop being forced to listen to that damn Christmas music.

Normally, he couldn’t really hear the music pumped through the hardware store at which he was (regrettably) employed, being too quiet to hear over the general din of a retail environment. The only exceptions were with songs he knew, which he was able to pick out easier, or when there was hardly anyone in the store making noise to drown out the speakers overhead. However, that all changed when Thanksgiving ended. Once that happened, corporate switched their generally palatable 70’s playlist to Christmas music, and Joey’s annual nightmare began.

That’s not to say he didn’t like Christmas; he wasn’t religious, so he didn’t really celebrate it except in the most bare-bones sense of getting his dad and sister a present on the day, but he thought the holiday season in general was fine. It was listening to the same damn songs for hours on end that was driving him up the wall. While he might hear a repeat or two on the standard playlist if he had a long shift, when Christmas rolled around, it was very possible to hear the same song three different times in only a few hours. If Joey ever met the person that designed this playlist and told their store to play it, he would give them a piece of his mind—and a piece of his fist besides.

Damn brain, he thought, resting his chin on his elbows, which were crossed on the counter. Can’t pay attention to somebody when they’re talking to me, but I can’t stop paying attention to Christmas music. Figures.

Furtively, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time: 3:15 pm. Only forty-five minutes until he got to clock out, but he knew this would be the longest part of his shift. It was after lunch but before most people got off work, meaning that business had slowed to a crawl. Normally, he was grateful for any downtime at work, especially later in his shift, but as “Silver Bells” started up for the fourth time that day, Joey was actively wishing someone would come to his register, just so he would be able to tune out the music.

The irritation from the music just added to everything else miserable about working in retail; Joey’s knees were killing him from having to stand all day on a concrete floor, and he was in that half-bored, half-stressed state that came with a slow moment at the register. He wanted to zone out, think about what he would make for dinner or come up with something fun to do with Serenity over her school break, but he couldn’t risk getting interrupted by a customer. So, he was stuck, unable to sit and rest his knees and forced to pay attention to his surroundings. Which, unfortunately, included the music.

The tell-tale beeping of a register being activated was a welcome distraction, and he picked his chin off his elbows to look in the direction of the noise. It wasn’t especially eventful; just his coworker, Ryou, being forced into scanning some lady’s entire basket, despite the fact that she was at a clearly labeled self-checkout register. Joey felt bad for him; Ryou was a sweet guy, which meant that he often got roped into doing way more than he should. He did, however, have more than a passing interest in the occult, which he weaponized against customers that pissed him off, so he was helpful to have around when dealing with someone annoying. He was a real wild card; Joey appreciated that about him.

“Hello? Can I check out here?”

God damn it.

“Yeah, sure thing!” Joey said, putting on his best Customer Service Voice. He whipped his head back around, coming face-to-face with the customer who had managed to sneak up on him, despite his earlier promises to not zone out. Immediately, however, Joey forgot everything about work, his mind going blank except for one thought: this guy was cute.

At first, Joey had made eye contact with his hair, rather than his face, given that the customer was pretty short and his hair was pretty tall. After a stray thought as to how much gel someone had to use to get it to stay that way, his eyes dropped to his actual face; that was when his brain had really started to short-circuit. How was he supposed to focus on making this guy pay for his stuff when he had such clear, violet eyes, such a friendly smile? Joey was only human, after all. The glimpse of a leather choker underneath the scarf the customer wore only made things worse.

“Is everything alright?” Fuck, the customer must have asked him a question. Not only that, but all his stuff was on the counter, and he was looking at Joey with an expectant, if confused, expression.

“Uh, yeah, just zoned out for a second.” It wasn’t a lie; he had zoned out, but he wasn’t going to tell the customer why. He grabbed the customer’s first item—a string of white Christmas lights—and scanned it as quick as he could, hoping to make up for lost time. “Did you, uh, find everything okay?”

“Yes, I did, thanks,” the customer responded, sounding just as friendly as he did when he first asked to check out. “I’m glad you still had some white lights! I really needed them, and they were sold out at the first two stores I checked.”

“Oh yeah? I’m glad we could provide, then.” Joey continued scanning his items, noting that they were all Christmas decorations. He found it odd that the only lights the customer wanted to buy were white and blue, but maybe he was going for an unconventional Christmas tree design. Joey wasn’t here to judge people’s purchases, only make sure they happen. “Alright, your total is $32.64, cash or card?”

The customer held up a debit card in response, and Joey indicated the card reader in front of him. He finished paying in relative silence, leaving Joey to almost-zone-out at least a dozen more times, getting stuck on different aspects of the customer’s appearance. How much work is it for him to dye his hair three different colors? His nose scrunches up when he concentrates, that’s cute. Would it be too weird to ask for his number?

Too quickly, however, the card reader beeped, prompting the customer to remove his card. “Thanks so much!” he said, with a smile that was too charming for Joey’s poor, flustered heart to take.

“No problem,” he managed to say, despite being sure that he was going to ascend out of his body at any moment. He grabbed the customer’s receipt from the printer and handed to its owner; if he held it in a way to where he ensured that their fingers didn’t brush, well, that was self-preservation. “Thanks, and have a nice day.”

“Thanks, uh, Joey,” the customer said, peering at his name tag, “and happy holidays!” He waved goodbye with the hand not holding his bags, still with that blinding smile on his face, and turned to leave. Joey propped his chin back on his hand and watched him walk to the exit door, smiling at the way he pulled his scarf up over his nose before facing the cold.

“Fall in love with a customer, Joey?”

Joey yelled, losing his balance and nearly smashing his chin onto the counter, before he caught himself and spun around to face the person who had just spoken. “Ryou, what the fuck? You can’t just sneak up on me like that, you’re gonna get me killed.”

Ryou giggled, his elbows on the low wall that separated self-checkout from Joey’s register. There wasn’t a customer in sight—which meant that Joey was now fair game for ridicule. “Not my fault you were distracted. He’s cute though, did you get his number?”

“No, I don’t even know his name,” Joey grumbled. That made him remember that the customer had said his name, though, which made his face heat up. Didn’t think my name could sound that nice. He peeled open a new plastic bag, just for the sake of having something to do that meant he didn’t have to look Ryou in the eyes. “Besides, I can’t just ask a customer for his number! What if he thinks I’m weird, and writes me up, and gets me fired?”

“You have a point.” Ryou hummed, tapping his finger on his chin. “But what if he thought you were also cute?”

“It’s not like I’ll ever find out.” Joey sighed, putting his head in his hands. “He said he went to other stores for white lights before he found them here, which means he probably doesn’t live around here, which means I’ll probably never see him again. Better to just forget about it.”

Ryou made a sympathetic sound, and Joey didn’t have to see his face to know he was looking at him with pity. “I suppose,” he said slowly. “Still, you seemed happy when you were talking to him. You never smile like that when you’re working, it was a nice change.”

Joey just sighed again, before the clearing of a stranger’s throat made him look up to realize that someone was ready to check out—right as the strains of “Blue Christmas” reached his ears from the damned speaker above him. Right, he had work to do, and on-the-nose Christmas music to endure. He plastered on his Work Smile, ready to greet his customer with all the fake friendliness a retail employee could muster.

Ryou was right; while talking to that cute customer, he had been genuinely happy. Unfortunately, it made his return to dismal reality all the sadder.

#yugioh #yugi mutou #jounouchi katsuya #joey wheeler #wishshipping #*eyes emoji* anyway i'll just leave this here

27 notes · View notes

plaidbooks · 4 years ago

Text

Everyone Deserves Love - Chapter 13

A/N: This takes place after “Community Policing” (season 17, episode 5), when Rafael indicts the 3 cops. I mention he starts getting threats, but it’s not the one from the show, not yet. But boy oh boy, do you think Devon’s gonna be happy about that?

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: nightmares, mentions of death, trafficking, smut, oral (male receiving)

Words: 4k+

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @dianilaws

Apartment of Brittany Gomez

Thursday, July 24th. 2:05am

Devon was in the courtroom, sitting in the witness box, confused as to why she was there. She whipped her head around, taking in the empty room. She stood to leave, to get some fresh air outside.

“Sit down, Miss Motely,” a stern voice ordered. She turned to see a judge sitting in his seat, glaring down at her; she sat quickly, heart hammering. She heard murmurs and looked at the gallery, now full of people. The prosecutor was making his way around his table, staring daggers at her.

“So, it was at this point that you murdered both your parents,” he started.

“No, that’s not how it—” Devon started before the judge slammed his gavel, the sound reverberating throughout the room.

“Do not speak out of turn, you murderer,” he spat. Devon looked between the two of them, stuck, shutting her mouth. Her hands started shaking violently as the prosecutor started again.

“You murdered them in cold blood, didn’t you? Just like you murdered all those other people, and why, to ‘save’ someone else? Just justifying murder,” the prosecutor shook his head in disgust.

“I’m not a murderer!” Devon yelled, tears running down her cheeks. “I did save those people!”

“That’s it! Bailiff, take her away!” the judge ordered. A towering man, face in shadows, came and hauled Devon out of the witness box, pinning her arms behind her. She struggled but it was futile; his hands held her wrists in a vice. She screamed, her throat burning, raw from the force of it. She slammed her eyes shut as they went through the door.

Silence. The bailiff’s iron-like grip was gone, though she could still feel where he grabbed her. Devon opened her eyes into the empty corridor. She turned, in slow motion, back towards the courtroom. But behind her was the elevator doors, with Marco Sorrel holding a gun to Barba’s head. Devon felt the cold metal of her glock in her hand, rose it to aim at Marco. But her arm was moving slowly, like it was covered in molasses.

“Help me,” Barba murmured, voice barely above a whisper, but in the silence, it was deafening. His bright green eyes were full of fear. “Please.” There was a gunshot, but it was Marco who shot, red exploding out of the side of Barba’s head.

Devon shot up in bed, panting, gasping for breath. She reached over to the other side of the bed, searching for Barba’s warm, sleeping form. But she found nothing. Panicked, she glanced around the room. It took her a few moments for her still-asleep brain to catch up; she was undercover right now, she wasn’t home. Barba wasn’t there.

Sighing, she looked at the clock, groaning at the time. Devon picked up her phone. Well, technically, it was Brittany Gomez’s phone; Devon’s phone was left at Barba’s—their place. Though, she still knew his number by heart, she couldn’t bring herself to wake him in the middle of the night for something as silly as a nightmare. Even if it was a mixture of an old, reoccurring one and a new hell added on. Instead, she took the phone case off, pulling out the folded photo tucked away there. She unfolded the already-worn picture, gazing down at it lovely. It was a picture of Barba and Devon in Central Park, Barba with both arms around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Devon was all smiles in the picture, obviously incredibly in love. Wiping away a tear, she put the picture back in the phone case before laying back in the bed, hoping for at least a little bit of a peaceful rest.

Big G’s Place

Friday, July 25th. 11:30pm

Devon moved her way through the other Johns and Janes, trying not to stare at anyone’s face for too long, but long enough that the camera in her glasses picked up their facial recognition in the FBI database. She finally found a girl—probably no older than 13—that was being manhandled by some drunken John. Devon moved up to the girl, giving her a seductive smile.

“Come on, honey. I can treat you better than this stiff,” she purred. In some part of her brain, a part that was heavily under lock and key, she shuddered at her own actions. But Brittany Gomez liked young girls, especially the ones that were developing early. So, she took this young girl’s hand and pulled her away from the John, who was way too drunk to even notice—he seemed like he had actually passed out on the sofa during this interaction.

Devon collapsed back into an armchair, dragging the girl into her lap. The girl fell against Devon’s shoulder, her head leaning against the chair slightly above hers. Devon kept a hand on her hip, holding her there, but otherwise didn’t touch her, instead taking this time to look around at the partygoers, praying that her team would raid the place, and soon. They were simply waiting for the main pimp to show up, that way they could pick everyone up in one fell swoop. Devon had already seen at least three off-duty cops, all carrying their guns; she wanted to make sure those three were taken care of in case things got ugly. Phones weren’t allowed at this party, but her and her team had their own code when it came to UC’s like this, and Devon had already green-lit the armed partygoers. But Devon was unarmed, one of her least favorite feelings. Which was why she picked out the most miserable girl she could find, to maybe help at least someone.

Just then, a big, white man came bursting in like he owned the place, gold chains hanging off his neck, leather jacket open, gun displayed proudly in his waistband.

Looks like Big G is here, Devon thought, unconsciously tightening her grip on the girl in her lap. The girl squirmed and Devon loosened her grip. “Sorry, baby,” she murmured, keeping as much desire in her voice as she could, but eyes never leaving the new threat in the room.

The FBI waited until he had moved into the center of the room before bursting in through every entrance, blocking the escape routes. Devon grabbed the girl protectively and flipped over the arm of the chair, landing on top of the girl on the ground in a defensive position.

“Stay down,” she ordered, all business. The girl nodded as the commotion around them ended just as quickly as it started, no shots fired. Devon slowly stood, hands up until the team’s leader came over to her.

“Great work, Motely,” she said. Devon nodded in acknowledgement before lending a hand to the girl who was still prone on the floor.

“You—you’re a cop?” the girl ground out.

“FBI actually. Don’t worry; you’re safe now,” Devon replied, helping her up.

Apartment of Brittany Gomez

Saturday, July 26th. 1:30am

Devon threw herself down on the bed, skimpy clothes and makeup still on. This was the 5th bust as many cities in the past two weeks, and she was exhausted. Sure, she was glad to be doing her job, to be helping these kids that they were picking up from these parties. But it was tiring, pretending that she was interested in children, the stress of being caught or uncovered at any moment, the rush of adrenaline leading up to and during the raids. Plus, she missed Barba every moment of every day, unable to talk to him, of even reaching out. And her nightmares were getting more frequent; sometimes Marco would kill Barba, sometimes she would kill Marco and have to deal with Barba’s wrath, and once, she had killed Barba. That last one had shaken her to her core, and she didn’t sleep the rest of that night or the next, afraid of what she might see when she closed her eyes.

The only thing she had to keep her sane was the photo of them from their first date, and even that was wearing quickly, the creases in the material causing the color to fade, the paper tearing in some spots. She was careful handling the picture, afraid it would rip, and then she’d have nothing of him to look at, to have and to hold throughout this raid-fest. And there was no end in sight to these parties. It was almost as if Jenkins were testing her abilities, making sure that she could still work to her fullest, dating or not. And she was determined not to fail.

Devon got up, dragging herself to the bathroom to strip off her makeup before attempting to sleep. Even on the nights that she didn’t have nightmares, her dreams came in random clips, hardly memorable in the morning. But she usually woke up more exhausted than when she went to bed. She sighed; at least she didn’t have another party to attend for three days. Just enough time to move apartments, establish herself, and gain an invite. She sighed heavily as she scrubbed the eyeshadow off.

Apartment of Brittany Gomez

Sunday, September 3rd. 2:15am

Devon packed; she was exhausted, another week meant another three raids. But she was also excited. The raid she just got back from was the last one, and now, she was going home. Just the thought of being back in NYC, of being back in the apartment she shared with Barba, of curling up against him, his warm breath on her neck—it was enough to make it so that she knew she wouldn’t sleep. So, instead, she busied herself with packing, grabbing her meager amount of things—mostly clothes and a few toiletries. The rest of her “belongings” were really the department’s; the FBI would take care of it. She looked to her car keys, innocently laying on the nightstand, debating snatching them up and driving back tonight. But it was an eight-hour drive from West Virginia back to New York, and Devon was afraid that she’d fall asleep on the drive, excited to be home or not.

So, she finished packing, then forced herself to lay down, hoping to get some sleep before the long drive home. Her eyes had barely closed when she received a text. Groaning, she rolled over to look at it; no one should be able to message her except her boss. And sure enough, it was a message from Jenkins. Though, he was passing a message on from a “Detective Carisi.” Sonny? Devon thought, opening the text. She read it, then read it again. A third time.

Wide awake now, adrenaline pumping through her veins, Devon grabbed her things, hurrying to her rental car. She shot a quick text to Barba, asking if he was awake. He wrote back instantly, and she called him while she pulled onto the highway.

“You’re being threatened by police?” Devon blurted out as soon as he answered.

Barba sighed. “Fucking SVU…” he muttered under his breath before explaining, “three cops gunned down an unarmed black man. I indicted them, and then the threats started coming in. Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about? Rafael, what the fuck?” Devon’s mind was going a mile a minute. She realized dimly that she was speeding, her foot pressing on the gas in her panic. She eased off, putting on cruise control once she was at the speed limit.

Barba was quiet for a long time before he spoke again. “I missed your voice.”

All of the tension and adrenaline was sucked out of her. Devon felt herself deflate under his voice. They hadn’t seen each other, much less spoke, in over a month, and the first time they talk, she’s freaking out.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered back. Tears started to form, but she blinked them away. She wasn’t even sure why they had appeared in the first place; she just missed him that much. And now, he was potentially in danger.

“Are you okay to drive? It’s late.” He was changing the subject, trying to distract her, and she knew it. But she also really, really, didn’t want to fight him about this. Especially after they haven’t spoken in so long, nor over the damn phone.

She smiled softly. “I’m fine. I just want…I need to be there. I need to be home, with you.”

“Caller ID said you were calling from West Virginia. That’s a…long drive. Pull over and sleep if you need to; I’ll still be here when you get home,” he promised.

“I will, baby. But I’m pretty awake right now.”

He chuckled darkly at that. “You sound like it.”

Devon stuck her tongue out, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “Sleep, Rafa. Don’t wait up for me. Like you said, it’s late.”

“I’ll sleep better when you’re here.” It was an innocent statement, but there was a layer of something else underneath it. Something that sounded a lot like sadness. She felt it too; she always slept better curled against him.

“Soon, babe. I promise. I love you,” Devon said, wishing beyond anything that she could just magically teleport home.

She could hear his grin when he replied. “I love you, too. Drive safe, please. Come home safely.”

Apartment of Rafael Barba and Devon Motely

Sunday, September 3rd. 10:42am

Devon knew that she was supposed to go to the Bureau first, to return the rental car and to debrief with Jenkins, but she couldn’t force herself; she had to see Barba first, to make sure he was alright, that he was safe. The rational side of her knew that she would know if he wasn’t, that someone from SVU would’ve told her, but she didn’t care; she was going to make sure.

The elevator ride seemed to take forever. When it dinged, signifying that she was on their floor, she forced the doors open before running down the hallway. Barba must’ve heard her footsteps, because he opened the door to their loft, sticking his head into the hallway, face breaking into a huge smile when he saw Devon. He came out of the loft, and Devon threw herself into his arms, hugging him close. He wrapped his arms around her back, chuckling as he held her.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered into the crook of his neck. She pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes, before she peppered his face with kisses, lips brushing everywhere.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he laughed lightly. “I’m glad you’re safe. I was worried.” They finally released each other, though, Barba interlaced his fingers with hers as he pulled her inside their home.

“I should be saying the same to you; I can’t believe you got NYPD threatening you now,” Devon replied, collapsing onto the love seat. Now that she was home and positive that Barba was safe, her exhaustion slammed into her.

Barba disappeared into the kitchen and then came back, steaming mug of coffee in his hands. He passed it to her, and she took a grateful sip, letting it warm her. He took a seat next to her, pulling her legs over his own, hands mindlessly squeezing, massaging her calves.

“I’m fine, Cariño. They won’t do anything,” he gave her a look, as if the whole thing were ridiculous.

“But they can get someone to do something. I hate not being here; I mean what happens if someone confronts you, and I’m in Jersey?”

“Dev, you can’t be around me 24/7,”—she smirked at him, raising an eyebrow—“that was a special circumstance. You can’t do it every time someone threatens me; you’d never not be there.”

Devon gave him a hard stare over her mug. “Oh? Has someone already threatened you? Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

Barba chuckled, pinching the skin above her knee. “No, no. Nothing more than the normal amount.”

“Rafael Barba, has someone threatened your life?”

He realized quickly that Devon had gone from playful to serious; she was actually worried about him now. He gave her a reassuring smile. “None that should be taken seriously.” When she glared at him, he continued, “it comes with the job, Hermosa. You think the Aces were the first to ever threaten me? They were just the first that were stupid enough to try anything. I get threats monthly…if it makes you feel better, people threaten you, too, but you don’t see me getting up in arms about it. If I thought any of them had any real weight behind it, I’d take precautions.”

“And your precautions would be to tell me, right?” Barba didn’t answer right away, and Devon took her legs back from him, sitting up straight. “Right, Rafael?”

He smiled sheepishly under her intense gaze. “Si mi amor…unless, of course, you were undercover or otherwise—”

She threw the hand not holding coffee into the air. “So, that’s why I had to hear it from Sonny? No, fuck that, you tell me first,” she reiterated. “I don’t care what I’m doing for the Bureau. I’m not letting anything, or anyone, hurt you dammit. Not if I can stop it.” He sighed, knowing that this was not a fight he was going to win.

Office of Devon Motely

FBI Headquarters

Monday, September 18th. 3:08pm

Devon smiled, hitting “send” on her last email. She double checked everything, making sure all of her paperwork and other, small assignments were done. She wanted to surprise Barba, bring him dinner; she knew he was supposed to be working late tonight, so she thought she’d stop by his office. It had been weeks since the last threat from the NYPD, and even that one, Devon had to admit, was pretty weak. She still asked Olivia to post extra surveillance around him, since Devon had been too busy to be there every day; though, she had been in his office on her days off, shooting death glares at every cop who so much as coughed in Barba’s direction. She was in the process of bargaining time off from Jenkins, first claiming that it was a family emergency, then saying that dating Barba wasn’t “interfering with her work,”—doing 24/7 protection was something she had done for SVU before she was dating Barba. Though Barba was quick to remind her that nothing had happened, she wasn’t quite willing to wait until something did.

Devon confirmed Barba’s late night again, shooting him a text about dinner; he replied with a “get anything you want, don’t wait up for me, I’ll eat in my office tonight.” Knowing him, he wouldn’t order until way too late, so she had plenty of time to make it there. She was kind of shocked no one commented on her outfit at work; she had a simple sundress on rather than her normal jeans and shirt.

As she left the Bureau, she called in a takeout order from his favorite Cuban place—the food was almost as good as his Mamí’s…almost—before heading to the small flower shop in between the restaurant and her work. Devon knew Barba loved giving her gifts, but she liked to reciprocate, too. And she knew that he secretly loved carnations. She had planned this well in advance; she had called the flower shop weeks ago to place an order for two dozen carnations, all different colors. She picked the flowers up, smiling at how pretty they were, and then grabbed the food.

Office of Rafael Barba

1 Hogan Place

Monday, September 18th. 5:07pm

The elevator dinged and Devon stepped off, heading towards her boyfriend’s office. She ran into Carmen as the latter was standing up to leave for the day.

“Those are beautiful, Devon,” Carmen commented, a soft smile spreading across her lips.

Devon grinned back. “Just don’t tell anyone that Rafael likes carnations,” she winked, and Carmen giggled. Devon didn’t think there was anything wrong with men liking flowers, but Barba was sometimes too macho for his own good. Carmen moved around Devon, opening the door for her.

“Delivery for a Mr. Barba,” Devon announced, coming into the office. She heard Carmen chuckle as she closed the door, leaving the two of them alone.

Barba looked up from his desk, eyes widening at the sight of Devon standing there, food in one hand, a vase and carnations in the other. He smirked, standing.

“For me?” He came over, taking the flowers from her and placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

“No, the other Mr. Barba,” she smirked, moving to place the food on his desk, careful not to put it on top of any papers.

“Smartass,” he murmured hugging her, pulling her in for a kiss. She hummed happily, fingers going to the nape of his neck, playing with the soft hairs there.

Devon pulled back, smiling at him. “Have you eaten lunch today?” Before he could answer, his stomach grumbled loudly. “I thought not. Come, let’s eat.” She gave him a playful shove towards the couch while she plucked the bag of food from his desk.

“I’ve got so much work left,” he complained. But still, he went to the couch, sitting down hard.

“And it can wait until you eat,” she replied. She couldn’t fault him too much; she often forgot to eat when working.

She passed him his food, and he groaned as he opened the box, the smell of the food quickly filling the room. “God, what would I do without you?”

“Starve to death, apparently,” Devon said simply, making him chuckle.

They started eating in silence, enjoying each other’s presence. Finally, Barba put his box down, and asked, voice losing its playful tone, “but seriously, what would I do without you?”

Devon glanced at him, seeing how his green eyes were staring into hers, eyes sparkling in that way they did when he was thinking too quickly. She swallowed her food hard, squirming under the intense gaze. “I’m not sure; I’d like to think you’d still be here, working your way towards becoming a judge….”

Barba chuckled; he was going to have to spell it out for her, wasn’t he? But how to go about it…? “I know we’ve talked about it before, on this very couch, but it was so long ago, and things have changed. So, I’d like to ask again; have you ever thought about getting married?”

Realization washed over Devon, her eyes brightening in clarity. Oh…. “I…yes, I have, actually.” Her face flushed at the admission. “But I don’t think I’m ready; not yet. I just…with work and—and everything else—”

“No, it’s fine. I’m not, uh, proposing right now,” he laughed nervously. “I just wanted to know how you felt about it…test the waters, so to speak….”

“Don’t get me wrong; I’d love to marry you, Rafi. I’m just…I don’t know how it’d work with how little we already see each other. Maybe…maybe if I get a transfer in the Bureau? Switch to a desk job or something….”

Barba scoffed, “you’d hate that, though; you’re a field agent through and through. Look, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. But—I’m just happy to know that you feel the same way I do.”

Devon smiled, moving closer to him on the couch, leaning against his arm. “Of course, I do. I love you so damn much; it hurts whenever I’m not with you.”

He moved his arm to wrap around her, bringing her into his side. “I know, but it’s nice to hear you say it.” He turned his head to kiss her cheek. She grinned evilly, taking this time to throw her leg over his, straddling him, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

“I’ll tell you how much I love you as many times as you want me too. But I’d also like to show you,” she murmured against his lips, grinding her hips against his. He groaned, hands dropping to her hips. She reached behind him, dragging her nails down his clothed back in the way she knew he liked, causing his breathing to hitch. She could feel him hardening against her.

“You know my rule against office sex,” he grunted, breath hot against her neck. It was true; the first time she tried to relieve some of his stress during a late night at work, he declined, citing that this office needed less scandals. Not that he didn’t want to bend her over the desk and fuck her until she screamed. But even this late at night, someone else could come walking into his office at any time.

“What if I only used my mouth? I’m sure you could keep quiet,” she whispered into his ear, dragging her nails down his back again. Fuck, she knew how to push him. She grinded against his now rock-hard cock, his fingertips leaving bruises in the skin of her hips. Barba couldn’t think past the bulge in his pants, the woman kissing his neck, the nails trailing down his back. Fuck it, he thought.

“F-fine, but be quick about it,” he ordered. Devon got up and locked the door, quickly coming back to Barba, dropping to her knees instantly. She used her palm to rub him through his pants, and he tilted his head back at the friction. She undid his belt, unzipped his pants, but left his boxers untouched. Grinning, she leaned forward, mouthing him through the fabric.

“Dammit, Dev, I said quick!” he said, his hips unconsciously rutting forward towards her hot mouth. She innocently looked up at him through her eyelashes, giving him a wink, before pulling him free of his boxers, the cool air of the office against his hot skin making him hiss.

Devon licked her lips before leaning forward, licking around the tip. She used her tongue to follow the prominent vein all the way to the base before coming back, spreading the pre-cum along his shaft. She gripped his base with one hand before taking him in slowly, pushing him deeper, inch by inch, until he hit the back of her throat. She hummed in satisfaction, the vibrations working their way through him.

“F-fuck, Hermosa,” he groaned, eyes fluttering closed. He put a hand on the back of her hand, but more to steady himself than to move her. She pulled him back out to the tip, then took him back in, sucking hard, hollowing her cheeks, and stroking what she couldn’t fit. She did this a couple more times before Barba could no longer control himself, beginning to thrust into her mouth. Devon gagged at first, but relaxed her throat, taking him further and further in. With her free hand, she started massaging his balls gently.

“God, you’re so beautiful, taking my whole cock,” he grunted, starting to pull on her head, fucking her face fully now, chasing his release. She hummed in approval, gripping his thigh, her sign for him to cum. It took him a couple more thrusts before he was cumming deep in her throat, groaning her name into the empty office space. She milked him for everything he had, swallowing all of it. Once he began softening in her mouth, she released him, wiping her mouth with her fingers, sucking the rest of him off her digits.

“Holy fuck, Cariño,” he murmured, watching her with lust-blown eyes.

Devon smirked at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to try office sex?” He quickly tucked himself back into his pants, redoing his belt, before she could see him hardening again at the thought.

“I’m sure. Just wait until I get home tonight,” he replied, pulling her in for a deep kiss. He released her, giving her a sad look, “but I really do have a lot of work to do.”

She chuckled. “I know, baby. I’ll wait up for you.” Then, while making eye contact with him, she reached under her dress, pulling off her drenched panties, and handed them to him. “Just something to remember me by.” She gave him another wink as she unlocked the door, smirking as his eyes darkened, and left.

#rafael barba x oc #everyone deserves love #edl #everyone deserves love chapter 13 #edl ch 13 #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing

11 notes · View notes

procrastinatorproject · 4 years ago

Text

First Line Tag Game

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Thanks so much to @aini-nufire for tagging me! I do not have your self-restraint at all (and am also a very slow writer with a very small back-catalogue), so I’m going to put in some teasers of things I’m working on at the moment.

Okay, let’s see.

1. Passengers: “Absolutely not!”

2. Game Night: The cool semi-darkness of ship’s night seemed to amplify the ambient hum of the warp drive as it reverberated around the empty corridors

3. Preparations: Cris finished typing in the sequence and hit ‘Execute’.

4. A Night at the Opera: “I’m fine, really, there’s no need for this!”

5. Corset of Thorns: She had gotten her MD at the almost-record-breaking age of 18 years and 3 months (curse you, Balamurali Ambati!).

6. IKEA Intergalactic: Sasha yawned heartily and put down her hammer.

7. And a Barrel of Gagh: “ The first thing Cris noticed when he woke up was the hum of a badly calibrated impulse engine reverberating painfully through his head.”

8. CMO’s Log: This one is tricky since it’s essentially a collection of entirely dialogue-based short stories, though they all open with a version of: [Automated audio transcript, file EMH-23990916-3.]

And thus we reach the end of my tragically puny catalogue of published fic. Let me see if I can find some other interesting things floating around my various projects.

9. Star Trek: La Sirena, ep. 2 (follow-up to Passengers): A persistent chime called him out of his stupor.

10. Mornings in Mess Hall (Interlude between Passengers and ep. 2): Sophie read through her abstract for the third time, her frown deepening with every sentence.

11. Another interlude, a short scene between Emmet, Emil, and Ayame, one of the passengers, set after episode 2: The metallic clang of clashing bat’leths echoed through the small room, accompanied by the sound of scuffling feet and the occasional strained grunt.

12. As of yet unnamed Raffi whump that is growing to epic proportions: “Wow, you look like shit!”

13. Cosmic Detours (a collection of short Enoch-centric stories): Dear Xyr, I hope this message finds you well and you’re enjoying your well-earned holiday.

14. The very first Sirena-centric story I ever wrote, first serious story I wrote in almost 10 years, and first bit of my own writing I shared with someone in at least 15: Alex half supported half dragged the delirious captain towards the docking ring. (This is actually the incident that Emmet cryptically alludes to in the latest chapter of the the CMO’s Log)

15. Latest post on Mapping La Sirena: I realized today that although I’ve had the screenshots for a couple of months now, I never actually sat down to stitch together and upload the set plans and design images from the Picard Season 1 Blu-Ray featurette Set Me Up.

I think I’m gonna stop here XD Do I notice any patterns? Hmmm.... I like to start on dialogue, though apparently I don’t open as many stories with it as I thought (a good number of scenes and chapters open on dialogue, though). And my opening sentences are a lot shorter than I would have feared. The Mapping post gives you an idea of how long a sentence of mine would commonly be :D

Do I have a favourite one? I like a lot of them, though I find it extremely hard to separate my feelings about the sentences themselves from the feelings about the fics. If I have to choose, I’m probably gonna go with 5, Corset of Thornes. I really like that funny little aside there and am still very happy I did enough research to be able to make that joke.

I have completely lost track of who has already done this, so if I’m tagging you even though you already posted one of these, I read yours, I enjoyed it quite a bit, and then I forgot again because my brain is a horrible sieve at the moment. So absolutely no pressure, but if this is something you might enjoy, go for it! @regionalpancake, @thelaithlyworm, @jazzfic, @spinifex-ao3, @highfunctioningflailgirl, @notajoinerofthings and whoever else might feel inspired! (I probably forgot a bunch of important people, but again: sieve.)

#tag game #writing #star trek: picard #(yes that is the only fandom i have written for in the last year. I HAVE NO REGRETS!!!)#aramis in space #lili's writing adventures

3 notes · View notes

polyamorous-selfinserts · 4 years ago

Text

case #0091104 - almost dead

trigger warnings: mentions of death, drowning, suicide, cutting, explosions, fire, depression

jon finds a tape in the archives that looks familiar...what will he learn about the archive’s resident teenager?

tagging @astralshipper @shippin-in-the-rain @grimms-heart @ghostlyvenus cause i’m super proud of this!

this takes place during season two, but there’s not any major spoilers. just jon being paranoid, plus mentions of michael becoming the distortion.

Recorder clicks on

Jon: Found this tape under a box in the archives. It’s, uh, it looks like one of Gertrude’s tapes, but the handwriting....that’s Charlie’s I think. I guess I knew sh- they were here before I was, but…

Jon: Could they have killed Gertrude? I suppose it's possible. They would’ve been, what? Thirteen, fourteen?

Jon: I found this about a week ago, and I’ve been watching them. They spend a lot of time in the archives. I don’t think they go home. Come to think of it, I don’t even know where they live. I tried asking Elias - I couldn’t find the information in any of our records - but apparently they don’t work at the Institute. Which is, uh, alarming, to say the least.

Long exhale

Jon: God, I…

Recorder clicks off

Tape player clicks on

A low voice with an American accent. Probably 16-25, female?

Voice: Uh, hello? This is Charlie Finn. I uh...well I guess I’m kind of an archival assistant? Not officially though. Over my dead body, Elias.

Exhale, snort of laughter

Charlie: I’m uh, I’m making a statement, I guess? I think I’m already in more of these than Ger- uh - Gerard, but uh, I’ve never actually made one so…

Rustling of papers

Charlie: Statement of Charlie Finn, regarding...um, their life, almost-death, and subsequent paranormal existence.

Deep inhale

Charlie: So, uh, I uh, I tried to kill myself when I was eleven. Jumped into the Thames tied to a cinder block. Guess I should’ve tied the rope tighter, or maybe skipped swim team, cause the knot came undone. It was cold. Late February. When you’re drowning, you go into a panic - but there’s this point, at the end, where it’s so peaceful...you can almost see it - the end. I don’t remember not dying. I had almost reached that point, where I just...wouldn’t be. And then I was breaking the surface of the water. I - I tried again. Tied the rope tighter. But my hands were shaking so much. I couldn’t tie it fast enough, and dawn was coming. People had started to wake up - I guess one of them saw me jump in this time.

They take a shaky breath

Charlie: I could barely see - the edges of my vision were going - but I fought against his hands. He was an EMT, going in for the early shift. White guy, college age. When he pulled me to the bank of the river, I realized he’d - uh - (humorously) he’d pulled the cinderblock up with him. Couldn’t get the knot undone, I guess, so he just pulled me out, and the block came with it. I think he gave me CPR - not sure, I was kinda out of it. There was a crowd around me when I came to - of course there was, but, uh, they looked so concerned - (huff of laughter) - the ambulance arrived, and they asked all the questions - finally it came to the one I was dreading - my parents.

Charlie: I guess I should back up a bit. Some background info. That’s how these usually start. Um, so my parents are both teachers - we had moved to London when I was maybe ten? Not long before this happened. I hated changing schools, but my parents got really good jobs at some schools - my mom was offered the principal position at a private school - and my dad was offered a position as a child psychologist at some elementary schools. My sister was too young to really get it, but I hated my new school. All the kids were rich - and honestly, I preferred American homophobia. Anyway, this school was maybe five blocks from the Magnus Institute. Or, is. (humorously) It’s not like it’s just gone and disappeared, now is it.

Charlie: Peter Lukas doesn’t like me that much.

Charlie: So, um, yeah. My relationship with my parents has never been great. My mom’s downright emotionally abusive, and my dad...well he just… he doesn’t really have a backbone. My mom’s always been high strung, and I know she wants the best for me, but...the best to her isn’t something I can do. My dad tried his best to defend me against my mom’s criticism, but, I mean, he had his own critique for me.

Charlie: I’ve uh….I’ve never been the skinniest of people. And I’ve got narcolepsy - which means I sleep a lot. My dad - he’s one of those people who, just, well. He doesn’t understand disabilities. Like, I mean, he understands them, obviously, but he doesn’t really get that sometimes, I just can’t do stuff. So he pressured me a lot into exercising and not eating a ton.

They take a shaky breath

Charlie: So, I um, I was depressed, obviously. And therapy in central London isn’t exactly easy to come by. I was cutting, but that was - that wasn’t because I wanted to die. It was more for control. I could control that. (inhale) I um, I made the decision when my friend, um - I had a crush on him. His name was Nathaniel. He um, he stopped talking to me, just after my birthday. He just...never texted me back.

Charlie: I somehow got it into my mind that he - um, that I’d like, done something? To make him leave me. Which, I mean, I think that’s dumb. Sometimes people just leave, but my brain decided it must be my fault. So I, um. I jumped into the Thames.

Charlie: So yeah. Um, the ambulance people asked for my parents phone number and I just - I couldn’t deal with that right now. I just - (humorless laugh) - I told them my parents were dead. They didn’t know how to respond for a second, but they asked if I had someone else to contact. At this point, I’d visited the Institute a few times and met Gertrude. I was doing a school project on, like, local businesses, and I thought it would be cool to do the Institute. Gertrude had helped with a bit of the project - she was head Archivist after all. Looking back on it, I think she probably did it cause she has this sixth-sense about people who’ve been marked. I probably walked in that first day marked up to the wazoo for the End, and she took an interest in me.

Charlie: Whatever it was, I knew she would at least cover for me. So I told the ambulance staff to call the Institute, ask Rosie for Gertrude Robinson. They looked alarmed, but maybe half an hour later, I was sitting in a hospital room, Gertrude Robinson acting like she was my grandma.

(laugh)

Charlie: She’s rather convincing, when she needs to be - had a whole act about being a kind old lady. She was all (imitating an old woman) ‘my sweet little Charlie’ (laugh) Knowing what she’s done now, I’m not sure if I should’ve been impressed or afraid…

Charlie: Probably afraid.

Charlie: Anyway, she got me out of there real quick. Since we were in Chelsea - and my parents lived and worked in central London - I wasn’t much afraid of them finding out. It wasn’t in the news - (sarcastically) lucky me - and as far as I know, they never found out. Gertrude walked me home, which was...nice? I don’t know why she did it. Maybe she was actually worried for me. Probably not though.

Charlie: I stopped really going home after that. Or to school. I told my parents I’d got a job, and I was living with a friend. Both sort of true. I emailed my teachers, told them I was in a ward and I would pick up the work I needed to do at the beginning of the week and drop it off on Fridays. People aren’t exactly keen to pry into that sort of stuff, and as long as I got the work in, no one really cared. So I effectively moved into the attic of the Magnus Institute. Elias said it was fine, as long as I wasn’t disruptive. I became a sort of assistant - I took statements, filed them - I was one of the only ones who could understand Gertrude’s system - and looked into some cases for Gertrude. But my real job was in artefact storage.

Charlie: I know people don’t love it there, but I’ve always been interested in them. Gerard says it’s stupid teenage curiosity, but...he’s not my mom. Even if he was, I wouldn’t listen to him. Anyways, my job was to look into the objects that really messed people up. Not gonna go into super specific detail, cause the really bad ones are technically, like, classified or something, but lets just say there’s a reason I hate bugs.

Charlie: This was all fine, and I kind of fell into a routine for a few months. But I started to notice something. When people came in to give statements, I could, kind of, feel something about them. Like they were still going somewhere. The statements I took were always unfinished somehow.

Charlie: It got to a point where Mikey had to stop an interview because I wouldn't stop asking the woman if she was sure that was everything. I didn’t know what was going on, until one day I was walking home from the store - there’s no real food in the Institute fridge so I lived off of microwaved meals mostly - and I felt this pull. It wasn’t, like a literal pull. More like - (sigh) - you know when you’re walking back to bed in the dark and you feel like something’s about to get you, so you, like, throw yourself into bed and pull your covers up. Yeah, well, it felt kinda like that, except...except I was the thing in the dark. I don’t know how long I walked for, but it was after midnight by the time I came to an apartment complex.

Charlie: The women before, who I had been interviewing. She said there was something wrong with her gas pipes, but whenever she asked the landlord to check it out, they said there was nothing wrong. But she kept smelling gas. I could certainly smell it, as I walked up the stairs in a daze. I came to a door, 407. The door was locked, and when I put my hand on it, it burned. But I didn’t flinch - instead I turned the nob and I could hear the lock snap.

Charlie: Inside the apartment looked normal. I walked into a side room and the woman was asleep in her bed. She looked terrified. She asked me why I was here, was I going to kill her?

Charlie: I shook my head. No. I wasn’t going to kill her. But she was going to die. And -

Charlie: And the building, it exploded.

Charlie: I don’t know why I didn’t die, but she certainly did.

Charlie: (laugh) Jude was pretty pissed about that. Said I ‘took’ her sacrifice. Like everything doesn’t already belong to death.

Charlie: It doesn’t happen a lot, anymore, but I could tell when it would happen. I don’t know why the deaths are important. It didn’t happen when (shaky) when Gertrude left Mikey. Though I suppose he’s not really dead...is he.

Charlie: I don’t know. There’s a couple statements that mention me, but I don’t like to read them. It makes me feel guilty. I guess it’s not really my fault - they would’ve died anyway, but…

Charlie: Yeah, so. Um. Statement ends.

Tape player clicks off.

Recorder clicks on

Long, shaky exhale

Jon: Well, that’s, enlightening. I’m going to be honest though, I have more questions than answe -

Door opening

Charlie: Jon! Hey, I’ve got a question about this case, I think you might’ve misfiled it cause Martin said -

Jon: Um, actually I was -

Charlie: Oh, are you recording right now, sorry! What’s this statement about?

Footsteps, sounds of shuffling papers. Charlie’s voice is much closer to the recorder now.

Charlie: Is that a tape? One of Gertrude’s? I thought the police had taken them all?

Jon: (fumbling) No, um, it’s -

Charlie: Wait, is...is that my tape Jon?

Jon: I mean - well - yes - but I - oh god - I just, I didn’t think -

Charlie: (cruelly) No, you didn’t think, did you Jon. (voice breaking) I hope you’re happy, now you know. I defended you, you know. Tim’s been so pissy and I - (voice cracks) I wanted to believe you weren’t that type of person but…

Jon: Charlie--

Charlie: No. I’m… don’t talk to me Jon. I don’t want to hear it.

Loud footsteps, door slams

Jon: Shit.

Recorder clicks off.

#tma spoilers #tma statement #self insert #self shipping #self ships #you're dead and i'm punching eldritch gods #jonathan sims #the magnus archives #what i hath wrought upon thine eyes

12 notes · View notes

noladyme · 4 years ago

Text

Skip To My Lou, My Darling - Chapter 5, Bloody Demons II

The road so far…

Lulu is reunited with Dean, when he, Sam and Castiel needs the journal Bobby left her. She lets Dean know that this will be the last time she will see him, as being in his presence hurts her too much. When a phone call from what she thinks is a friend in need, brings her face to face with The King of Hell himself, will she finally have a chance to break her bond with Dean?

Our story continues in season 8

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added)

@edonaspanca @wonderlandfandomkingdom

I made it to Pittsburg in a little over two hours. The bar I’d agreed to meet Tamara at was bustling with people; and I found my friend at the bar, wearing a very skintight dress and leather jacket; and fisting a pint of Guinness. “Drinking on the job, Tamara?”, I grinned. “Not like you!”. She turned around to face me, and her smile was broader than I’d ever seen it. “Lulu! You came!”, she smiled. “Told you I would”, I laughed, and gave her a hug. “So, what’s the deal here? Are we hunting, or drinking?”. “Bit of both, love”, she said. She leaned in close. “Vamps have been picking up girls from this place for a while”. I narrowed my eyes. “So we’re here to…”. “Pick up dates!”, Tamara grinned.

I groaned internally. The last thing I wanted was to play the part of wanton woman on the prowl for man-meat. Tamara caught darkness ghosting my face. “What’s wrong, Lulu?”, she asked. “Nothing… I’m just…”. I couldn’t finish the sentence. “On the rebound?”, she smirked. “Only one cure for that. Drinks!”. She ordered a round of shots, and I took a deep breath; downing the vile – and probably very cheap – tequila in one go.

“Let’s just get this over with”, I sighed. Tamara’s eyes lit up. “Oh! I almost forgot. Brought you something…”. She took my hand, and dragged me towards the restrooms. Once inside, she handed me a piece of flimsy fabric. “What’s this?”, I asked. “A dress…”, Tamara smirked.

I held up the garment in front of me. It looked more like a tank top with a little length to it. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”, I muttered. She raised a brow at me. “You look like a lumberjack”, she said. “Just put it on. Live a little”. I shook my head. “This is supposed to be a job…”. “These bloodsuckers have been going for the easy prey. Girls asking for it”. I winced at her words. The Tamara I knew was strong headed and feminist. “Asking for it?”, I grunted. She shrugged. “Sorry. It’s the alcohol talking”, she smiled. “But you know what I mean. Now come on!”. I slipped in to a booth, and shed my layers; before pulling the dress over my head. “I’m not changing my shoes”, I called out. “Fine, whatever. Combat boots it is”, Tamara laughed. “It’ll give you a rock star quality”.

Stepping back outside of the booth, I put my own clothes into my new bag. Tamara looked over my shoulder. “New equipment?”, she muttered. “Yeah”, I said. “Guess I have a guardian angel”. “Huh…”, she said. “Set me up with one of those, will you?”. I chuckled. “I’m not sure you’d like angels any more than demons”, I said, and closed my backpack; looking at her. Something dark ghosted her face. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to bring up…”. “Forget it, love”, she smiled.

I went to look in the mirror. I looked the part of a woman in desperate need of attention. My breasts were on display, and a small slit on the side of the red “dress”, made it so I could at least walk; in spite of the constricting fabric. “How am I supposed to hide a machete in this?”, I complained. Tamara lifted my hair, and put it in a knot on my head, with a hairband. “You’re not”, she smiled; and opened her jacket to reveal a large knife. “You’re the decoy”. I rolled my eyes. “Great. Thanks for the learning experience, Tammy!”, I sneered.

Tamara pulled out a red lipstick, and turned me to face her; so she could apply it to my lips. “It’ll be just like Ohio. Walk before you can run, love”, she said, wiped a stray smudge of lipstick from the side of my lip. She turned me to face the mirror again. “There we go!”.

The woman looking back at me reminded me of someone I hadn’t seen in a long time. She was myself, before the maren; before countess Erzebet – before hunting. I’d missed her, I admitted to myself.

“What’s this?”, Tamara asked, running a finger down my shoulder blade. I twisted my torso, and looked at where she was pointing. “My tattoo?”, I smiled. “Would have thought you had one… it’s an anti-possession tattoo”. Tamara pulled her hand away from the symbol. “Oh… yeah, I should think about getting one of those”, she smiled. “Let’s go! Leave your bag in here”. I put my phone and the car keys into my bra – along with Sam’s number, for reasons I wasn’t sure of yet. It just felt right. We left the restrooms, and went to sit down by the bar. “Now?”, I muttered. “Now, we wait”, Tamara said; scanning the room.

A short man wearing way too much cologne came sauntering over to us. “Hey…”, he smirked, bobbing his head to the song coming from the speakers. “I’m…”. “Not interested”, Tamara said. I sent her a look. She shook her head. I looked at the guy. “What she said”, I shrugged. He walked away, tail between his legs. “Can you tell me what I’m supposed to look for?”, I said. “Someone colder”, my friend said. “Vamps are usually paler, and don’t smell like the cheap aisles of a drugstore”. “Okie dokie”, I muttered.

We sat for a while longer, before suddenly, Tamara pushed me between my shoulders. “Plump up the puppies”, she muttered. “We got one”. A tall, dark man had stepped into the bar. If ever I’d seen a vampire tv-show; this guy looked like he’d stepped right out of the screen. Tamara pushed at me. “Go chat him up!”, she hissed. “Tammy!”, I almost whimpered. “I’m not gonna…”. She patted my bottom. “Yes you are. Go!”.

I took a deep breath, and began walking towards the man. His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be scanning the room; before his eyes fell on me. His lip twitched into a sly smile, and – swallowing hard – I returned the gesture. He walked over to me, and grabbed my hand. “Hi…”, he said with a deep voice. “What’s your name?”. “Uhm… whatever you wanna call me”, I tweeted. He leaned in close, to whisper in my ear. “Guess I’ll call you Honey then. How does that sound?”. I felt bile rise in my throat. “That sounds… hot”, I smiled. “What’s your name?”

The stranger pulled me out onto the floor, and slipped his hand behind my back; holding me against him, and swaying back and forth. His hand was so cold; and I shivered when it touched the bare skin on my back. “Does it matter?”, he smirked. “I like to know who I’m dancing with”, I said. I looked back at Tamara, who was giving me the thumbs up. She grabbed her phone from her pocket, and called up a number. She hadn’t told me we’d have partners, but at the moment, I was very happy we wouldn’t be alone. This guy gave me all sorts of creepy feelings. “Call me… Patrick”, he said, and dipped me. “Swayze?”, I fake giggled. He pulled me back up. “Sure”, he smirked.

We swayed back and forth a while longer, until suddenly the song changed. God, please not this one, I thought; when a sad guitar began playing. “Lying on your arms, so close together. Didn’t know just what I had…”. I cleared my throat. “I really hate this song”, I croaked. Patrick leant down again, and put his mouth dangerously close to my neck. “Do you want to get out of here?”, he said. “Sure?”, I said; my voice breaking. “I should probably tell my friend I’m leaving”. He looked into my eyes. “Go ahead, honey”, he smirked.

Prying myself from his grasp, I walked back to Tamara. “He wants me to leave with him”, I said. “Good!”, she smiled. “Go on. I’ll be right behind you”. “What? Are you crazy? I’m not leaving with him without my weapons!”. Tamara grabbed my shoulders. “You’re doing great, Lulu. I’ve got you, ok? Trust me!”. I blew out a deep breath. “If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you!”, I sneered. She rolled her eyes, and pushed me back towards Patrick.

Hooking my arm into his, we left the bar. Once outside, the chilly air hit me; and I shivered. “You cold, honey?”, Patrick asked. “A bit”, I said. “Should we take my car?”. “Sure”, he winked at me, and I led him over to the rusty Dodge. I got behind the wheel, and Patrick entered beside me. “I got a place a few miles out”, he said; his face suddenly dark. “Ok”, I said.

I looked out the rearview mirror, and saw Tamara exiting the bar, and halting to speak with a man I hadn’t noticed before. He was only a little taller than her, and seemed a bit to well dressed for a hunter. Tamara seemed perfectly at peace with his appearance though, and simply smiled in my direction; pointing at my car. The well-dressed man looked towards me; and his lips drew back in a large grin.

“Let’s go, honey”, Patrick said; and I started the car, driving us off the lot, and down the street.

---

We made it to a house a way outside town. The windows where dark; and when I stopped the car, my hands where shaking. “You look good enough to eat”, Patrick smirked. His hand found my knee, and squeezed it. “We should… go inside”, I said; and quickly got out of the car.

Where are you, Tamara?, I thought to myself. Patrick put his hands on my hips, and led my up to the front door. He turned the knob, and we stepped inside. In an instant, I was pressed against the wall, and Patrick slammed the door shut. He nuzzled my neck with his nose. “Smell so good”, he growled. “That’s nice”, I croaked; regretting every move I’d made since the moment I stepped out of bed the morning before.

Grabbing my arm, Patrick pulled me into what seemed to be a living room; though decked out like a ridiculous boudoir. I looked around, desperate for anything I could use as a weapon. Patrick smiled menacingly at me; before his lips drew back, and he revealed a second set of teeth. “Oh, crap”, I choked.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Tamara came running in. “Lulu!”, she yelled. Patrick was distracted by the sudden change in his plans, and as he looked at her, I kicked him in the groin; making him topple over. “Kill him!”, I yelped. “Not yet!”, she said. “Where are your friends?”, she hissed at the groaning vampire.

There was a slamming of doors, and the sound of feet running throughout the house, and suddenly we were surrounded by five more hissing vampires. “All part of the plan?”, I snarled at Tamara; as we took a stance, back to back. “Please tell me you brought my stuff!”.

“She brought something better”, a gravelly voice said. The well-dressed man stepped into the room. He looked at the vampires. “One, two, three, four, five… six. Perfect!”, he counted, and clapped his hands together. He snapped his fingers, and what looked like black smoke filled the room – separating into six parts, and entering the mouths of the vampires.

The vamps all shook themselves, and Patrick got up from the floor. “What’s happening?”, I muttered. “What’s happening, is my best invention to date!”, the man laughed. “Vampire-demons. I can’t believe I never thought of this before… Thank you, Tamara”. I turned around, and looked at my friend. Her eyes where charcoal black. “You’re welcome, my lord”, she smiled.

I took a step back; falling into the arms of Patrick. “Tsk, pet. Where are you going?”, the man said. “We’re not done here”. Patrick pulled my head back, and leaned towards my neck. “Hungry…”, he hissed against my exposed skin. He was much to strong for me to get away from; and I was sure this was the end. “Hold up, Pat”, the man said. “I’ll serve you a nice dinner later. For now, me and this lovely lady need to have a conversation”. Patrick pushed me forward with a snarl, making me jump.

“Who are you?”, I croaked. “What are you?”. “Right… you’ve never actually faced one of us before”, the man said. “Name is Crowley. I am a demon”. I swallowed hard. “What did you do to Tamara?”. Crowley stroked my friend’s cheek. “Tamara is still in there. Struggling something fierce”. He slapped her hard, but Tamara didn’t wince. “I had one of my favorites possess her”. “She’s too strong for that”, I croaked. “Fight it, Tamara!”. “Cute”, Crowley smiled. “Not convincing”.

I slowly walked towards Tamara, and stroked her cheek. Her black eyes widened, and she grinned at me. “Oh, that feels nice, love. Keep going”. I sighed deeply, and let my lips tremble, as if I was about to cry. Demon-Tamara tilted her head and pouted – distracted just long enough for me to grab the knife from the inside of her jacket. “What do you think you’re going to do with that, pet?”, Crowley asked. I elbowed Tamara in the face; and shoved the knife into his chest; taking a step back, when he didn’t even flinch. “Rude!”, he growled. “This is Armani!”. He pulled the knife out. “You can have this back, when you behave”.

“What do you want with me?”, I asked, my heart in my throat. He smiled again. “It’s nothing, really. A mere trifle”, he said. “The Winchester’s have something of mine. I want it back”. I sighed. “Let me guess; you’re gonna use me to get to them”. Crowley laughed. “Sounds like you’ve been here before, hmm? I’ve heard they have a tendency to drop everything and come running, whenever you have a hangnail. What does Dean see in you?”. He gave me a once over, pausing at my chest. “Right… that”. He met my eyes with a slight smirk.

I decided to play his game, and rolled my eyes. “Ok. Tie me up, poke me with something sharp; whatever it is you guys do”, I said. “Well, you’re no fun”, Crowley frowned. “Couldn’t you at least… scream a little? Plead for your life? I mean, I made all these vampire-demons...”. I shook my head. “Too much effort”, I said. “I mean, I’m shaking in my boots, don’t get me wrong – but I know how this ends”. “And how is that?”. “Well, you torture me for a while – then Dean and Sam show up and fight you…”.

Crowley laughed. “It’s like you read my mind!”, he said. “Ok, let’s call them”, I croaked. “Just like that?”, the demon asked. “No Please Mr. Crowley, don’t kill my sweetheart?”. I swallowed hard, and looked down. “No? You two aren’t…?”. “It’s not like that”, I whispered. Crowley raised his brows. “Well, if I had a heart, it’d be breaking for you right now… What happened? Really, tell your uncle Crowley, pet…”. My façade broke, and I slapped him across the face. Crowley simply raised a brow at me. “That tickled”.

Suddenly I was on the ground, Crowley’s hand on my throat – squeezing hard. The demon-vampires all looked down at me; baring their extra set of teeth. “Now, you call Moose and Squirrel, and tell them to bring back my tablet; or I’ll snap this pretty neck faster than they can say where’s my flannel”. I nodded as fiercely as I could under his grasp, and reached slowly for my phone, and the note with Sam’s number. I dialed it up.

“Sam’s phone. Who’s this?”. It was Dean’s voice. “Dean…”, I rasped. “Lulu… What’s wrong?”, he demanded. I almost laughed. “Take a wild guess…”, I said. Crowley was starring into my eyes intently. “You’re in trouble”, Dean growled. “Surprise…”, I muttered. “What is it?”, he said. I looked at Crowley. “Hi, Dean!”, he said cheerily. “You’re friggin’ kidding me!” “You have my tablet. I have your girlfriend. Let’s make a deal”. “Now you listen to me, you son of a…”. “He’s not on speaker”, I said. “Too busy strangling me… and possibly serving up as dinner for a group of vampires”. I heard things being thrown around. Dean was pissed. “This isn’t the time for jokes! You’ve got the King of Hell with his hands around your neck!”. My jaw dropped. “The crossroads demon?”, I whispered. My eyes began flickering. Crossroad demons made deals.

Crowley’s eyes widened, and his lips drew back in a wide grin. He snatched the phone from my hand, and got off me. “Hello, Dean…? Yes, yes, I’m a son of a bitch, I know. I’ve met my mother. Now listen… No… Stop talking. I’ve reconsidered. Kevin, the tablet; I’ll have those soon enough. I have something much more fun in mind for now… Yes, exactly… Why? Because it’ll piss you off!”. I stood up from the floor, and began backing away. Patrick grabbed a hold of me again; putting his teeth to my neck. “Hold that thought”, he said into the phone, before putting it to his chest. “Lulu, love. Don’t go anywhere. We’re not done”. He lifted the phone to his ear again. “Yes, I’m still here… No. She’s fine. She’ll stay fine. At least the next 10 years. Don’t worry… Yes, you can have her back”. He handed me the phone. “His voice is so deep when he’s angry”, he winked at me.

I put the phone to my ear. “Lou, don’t do this”, Dean pleaded. “I don’t… Maybe he can end it”, I croaked. The teeth of the vampire were scratching at my skin. “He can’t!”. “If he can’t, the deal will be off. I’ll be fine”. I looked at Crowley, who nodded in agreement. “This isn’t the way. We’ll figure it out. Please!”. Dean was almost whimpering. I blew out a deep breath. “When this is done, you won’t care if I did it”, I said. “I won’t matter to you anymore”. Crowley narrowed his eyes at me. “I can’t live like this”, I whispered. Crowley pouted in mock sympathy. “Where are you?”, Dean asked. “I’m… I’ll see you soon”. I hung up.

Crowley clapped his hands together. “Right! What is it?”, he asked. “Pat, let the lady go. She’s not a meal… yet”. Patrick pushed me forward with a growl. “An std? A few more inches for Squirrel…?”. I frowned. “Oh, is he impotent?”, the demon said, grimacing. “No…”, I said. “I want…”. “Yes, yes, come on. I don’t have all day!”, Crowley sneered. “I want you to break our bond”, I said. Crowley looked confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”. I swallowed hard. “I was made for Dean… To be his. Angels put me on earth for him”.

The demon suddenly let out a roaring laugh. “You think you were put on this planet to be with Dean?”. “Yes…?”, I whispered. “It’s too… perfect. I’m his perfect companion. Our feelings aren’t real”. Crowley rolled his eyes. “Well you are perfect for him. You’re just as daft as he is! Give me that…”. He stepped over to me, and snatched the phone from my hand; hitting redial.

“Come one, come on… Yes, Deano! It’s Crowley again… Could you stop cursing and turn down your car radio, I can hardly hear my own thoughts… Right, deal’s off. She asked. Can’t help. Get me my stuff, or I’ll kill her… Pittsburg… Yes, exactly… Toodles!”. He hung up, and handed me back my phone. “Now, we wait”.

---

I was tied to a chair. Tamara was filing her nails on a couch against the wall; and the vampires were spread throughout the house – waiting for Sam and Dean to show up. Crowley paced the floor in front of me; taking phone calls from who I guessed were his minions.

Suddenly the door flew open, and the brothers ran inside; guns at the ready. Dean’s face was locked in rage; but when he stepped into the room, he wasn’t looking at Crowley with said expression – he was looking at me. Tamara sprang from her seat. “Hi lads!”, she grinned. “Long time, no see”. “She’s a demon”, I croaked. “Still alive inside”.

“Let them go!”, Dean roared. “No”, Crowley said; hanging up on yet another bloody wanker. He put a hand on my shoulder. “First; my things”. “You think we’d bring it here?”, Sam said. “Well, it’s simple. Then I kill the girl”, the demon said, and put a hand on the top of my head, and the other on my chin; as if to break my neck. My heart jumped into my throat. “Crowley!”, Dean snarled. Crowley leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Almost makes my knickers slide right off when he uses that voice”, he smirked. “Now, where is my tablet?”, he roared.

Patrick and his friends entered the room, and surrounded us. “I’m done waiting, boys. And so are my lads here”. The vampires bared their teeth, and let their eyes turn black. “What the hell is this?”, Sam yelled. “My best idea yet!”, Crowley snickered; letting go of me. “Vampire-demons! Aren’t they just the cutest thing…”.

The Winchesters both looked flabbergasted. “Oh, come on!”, Dean growled. “Vamp-demons?”. Crowley almost giggled. “I know. Sometimes my wit even surprises myself”, he said. “Now… my tablet. Give it over, and I’ll let it be quick”.

I knew I’d be dead within seconds if I didn’t act. “I know where it is”, I said. Dean narrowed his eyes at me. “It’s in a bunker”. Crowley let go of me. “Atta girl! Where’s this bunker?” “Lou!”, Dean growled. I shook my head. “It’s over, Dean”, I said. “I’m not dying for your cause”.

Crowley went to stand in front of me, narrowing his eyes. “Where, pet?”. “I’ll take you. But you have to promise to let me go afterwards”, I croaked. “You have my solemn word as a gentleman… or, whatever”, Crowley said. “Patrick. Untie her”. Patrick loosened my restraints, and I stood up. “There’s a good girl”, Crowley smiled. “Lads, you hold down the fort here. But no dinner until I return. I want to watch”. “We’ll take my car”, I muttered.

Dean’s eyes met mine. His gaze was pained. “You can’t do this, Lulu”, Sam said. “Sam… don’t. This is my decision”. “Please, Lou…”, Dean pleaded. I looked at him with hard eyes. “I have to let him get in that driver’s seat”. It was a strange sentence, but I hoped Dean would let it lie. He looked at me questioningly. “Bye, boys”, Crowley called over his shoulder.

Once outside, I opened the door to the driver’s seat for Crowley, and he got in front of the wheel. “Ugh, I hate driving lefty… Keys?”. I took a step back. “I have them”, I said. “Well, get in and give them to me”, the demon demanded. “No…”, I responded. “No…? What are you talking about? Get in the bloody car, or I’ll drag…”. He tried to step out of the car again, but couldn’t. I crouched, and pointed at the ceiling of the Dodge. The devils trap I’d made with a marker over the driver’s seat, was still there. “I hope you know how to hotwire a car; because that’s the only way you’re getting anywhere…”, I said; and closed the door on the cursing Crowley. Grabbing a bottle of water from the trunk, I went back to the house. Crowley was banging the window; the demonic seal apparently making him unable to break it.

I went back into the house, and into the living room. Sam and Dean where in the process of being tied up by the vamp-demons. Tamara looked at me. “What?”, she snarled. “Crowley wants you to come”, I said quietly; sending Dean a look. He narrowed his eyes at me. Tamara rolled her black eyes, and followed me to the porch.

“That’s a really ugly car”, she grunted, and began walking down the steps from the porch. I opened the bottle of water; and poured it over her. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te”, I said as quickly as I could, and black smoke left Tamara’s body; making her slump to the ground. I crouched over her, patting her cheek. “Please, Tammy. I need your help. Wake up!”, I whispered.

Tamara’s eyes blinked, and she looked at me. “Is it gone?”, she rasped. I let out a relieved sigh, and pulled her into my arms, hugging her tightly. “It’s gone”, I croaked. “But we’re gonna have to fight. Are you up for it?”. Tamara’s lips drew back in a snarl. “Hell yeah!”, she said. “Weapons?”. My eyes searched the area; and I smiled, when I saw a black Chevy Impala parked a little way down the road. “I know where to get some…”.

We ran to the Impala, and I opened the trunk, lifting the false bottom. “Bloody jackpot!”, Tamara smiled. We each grabbed a machete along with some bottles of water. I picked up a knife as well. “What’s that for?”, Tamara asked. “You’ll see”, I muttered. She grimaced in confusion.

I walked back to the Dodge, and opened the door to the driver’s seat. “Let me out of here you sodding… Ow!”, Crowley snarled, as I stabbed him again; before pulling the knife back out. “What was that for?”. I looked at the bloody blade. “Your vessel. He’s dead, right?”, I asked. “Of course he is!”, Crowley hissed. “Great. Bye, your majesty”. I slammed the door in his face. “Let’s go”.

We snuck back to the door. “Remember the exorcism I used?”, I whispered. “I taught it to you, love”, Tamara smirked. “On three…”. I put my hand on the doorknob. “One… two… three!”. We sprang into the house, threw water at the monsters holding the Winchesters captive; and chanted in unison.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te!”

Black smoke poured out of the vampires. The beasts all looked confusedly at each other, before snapping their necks in Tamara’s and my direction. “Dinnertime, boys”, Patrick yelled.

One of the vampires sprang at me, and I slashed the machete across his torso. He instantly toppled over, rattling in pain; and I cut his head off. Narrowly escaping being taken down by another vamp, I threw myself towards Sam and Dean. “Lou, what are you doing?”, Dean yelled. “Saving your ass!”, I snarled, and cut the ropes holding him to the chair. “Here”. I handed him the knife, and slashed at another vampire trying to get me from behind. He grabbed my ankle, and pulled me to the ground; but Tamara cut his head clean off – spraying me with blood in the process. “Thanks”, I gasped. Dean cut Sam free, and they joined us in our fight. “Get out of here!”, Dean growled. “Hell no!”, I yelled, and got on my feet.

“Four left!”, Tamara yelled. One of the vamps was heading for the door, but I made it over to him just in time to cut the back of his knee; making him fall to the ground. The last thing he saw, was my face as I hacked his head off. “That’s two for me”, I grinned. “Leave some for me, Lulu! I only got the one”, Tamara laughed. I heard a crash as Sam pushed one of the vamps to the ground. He held the snarling monster down. “A little help?”, Sam yelled. “All yours”, I said to Tamara; who ran over, and cut the thing’s head off. Dean snatched the machete from Tamara, and quickly decapitated a vamp coming at him from a dark corner.

The house was silent. I looked around. “There was six of them”, I said. Dean looked at me; his eyes suddenly widening. “Lou, behind you!”. I twirled around; only to be caught by the neck, by none other than Patrick. “Hi, honey”, he smirked; before pulling me into his arms, and biting into my neck. The pain was excruciating, and I yelped out in pain - dropping my machete on the floor.

“No!”, Dean roared, and ran towards us. Patrick pulled his head back, and turned me around to face my friends. “Don’t!”, he snarled; my blood dripping from his mouth. “I’ll kill her”, he warned. Tamara went to step forward; but Sam held her back. I looked at the knife in Dean’s hand, and then at Tamara. She nodded, and snatched it from him – throwing it into the air. I caught it by the blade – feeling it cut into my stitched-up hand – before pushing it into Patrick’s side. The vampire laughed. “That won’t kill me, honey”, he said. “No, but the dead man’s blood on it will”, I rasped.

Patrick began letting out choking sounds, and loosened his grasp on me. I put my hand on my bleeding neck, and stumbled forward – Dean catching me in his arms. Sam walked up to Patrick, and cut his head off.

I let out a deep breath. “Ok… It’s over”. Dean gave me an angry look. “Try that again…”. I looked down, and pulled myself from his arms.

“Are you ok, Lulu?”, Tamara asked; and came over to examine my wound. “You did great, love!”. I smiled blushingly. “Thanks… I guess my vampire cherry is popped”. “Sure is”, she smiled. She looked up at the brothers. “Good to see you two again”. “Thanks for the rescue, Tamara”, Sam half smiled. Dean nodded at her with an insincere smile. “Yeah. Thanks for that, Tamara”. He made a point of shoving the brit his gratitude – not me. “Let’s get out of here”.

We went back outside. I was exhausted, and almost stumbled down the stairs. The door to the Dodge was open, and the seal on the ceiling of it was scratched at. Somehow, Crowley had gotten away. “Crap”, I muttered. Sam crouched down, and looked into the car. “Good thinking, though”. “Sam!”, Dean growled. “Lulu, get in the car”. I sighed, and went for the front seat of the Dodge. “Not that car”.

Tamara frowned at him. “Who do you think you’re talking to, Winchester? This girl just killed three vampires on her first hunt for those bloodsucking buggers!”. “I’m talking to the girl who almost sold her soul to the king of Hell!”, Dean snarled. “Stay out of it”. Tamara laughed sarcastically, and began rolling up the sleeves of her jacket. “Oh, I should…”. “It’s fine, Tammy”, I sighed. “I can fight my own battles… but thanks”. “You’re gonna let some boy talk to you like that?”, she sneered. I shook my head. “No, I’m not. But he has something of mine, and I want it back”, I said. “I’ll tear him a new one afterwards”. “If you don’t, I will”, she snapped.

I pulled her in for a hug. “I need to go back with them”, I muttered. “Thanks. For everything”. “No, thank you! Call me”, Tamara said. I handed her the keys to the Dodge. “Thanks. Might even make it back to my own car in it. The thing looks like it’s falling apart”. I kissed her cheek, and she got into the driver’s seat; turning on the engine, and driving away.

---

“What the hell were you thinking?”, Dean roared at me. “Demon vampires?”, Sam snarled. “You’re lucky Tamara was there!”. “She was a demon too, remember?”, I muttered. “I saved her ass, just like I did yours”.

The whole drive back had been quiet; and I felt like a teenager who’d missed curfew. We’d gone by the bar, and Sam has slipped into the ladies room to grab my bag for me; as I was covered in blood, and might freak people out. I was now seated – freshly showered, and once again stitched up and bandaged – in the library in the bunker; getting a verbal ass-whooping from both the Winchesters; while Castiel stood in the archway – sending me chiding eyes.

“You could have died!”, Sam yelled. “Worse; you could have gone to Hell!”, Dean growled. “Your soul, Lou? Do you have any idea…?”. “It’s my soul to do with as I want”, I said. Dean looked at me with enraged eyes. Sam’s gaze softened. “Lulu, you’re family… This wouldn’t just affect you”. “I’m sorry…”, I whispered. Sam sighed. “I’m gonna get back to Bobby’s journal; so you can get it back”, he said; and disappeared down a hallway.

I sighed, and shook my head. “I just wanted…”, I began “To get rid of me?”, Dean croaked. “Do you really hate me that much?”. “You know I don’t… that’s the problem”, I said quietly. “You know what? Cut the crap, Lou!”, Dean snapped. “This thing between us, angelic intervention or… whatever! You don’t make deals with demons”.

“What do you mean, angelic intervention?”, Castiel interrupted. I looked at him indignantly. “Cass, you know what we’re talking about”, I said. “This bond between Dean and me. It’s crap!”.

I stood up, and went to leave the room. “I’m gonna go get some rest. Let you finish your research”. Dean grabbed my shoulders, and held me in place. His eyes were welling up, and I felt my own tears approaching. “Listen… I’m letting you go”, he croaked. “Even though everything inside me is screaming for me, to hold on to you; because you’re mine. I’m letting you walk, because that’s what you want…”. “It’s not!”, I whispered. “I want to be here. I want to stay with you… But it’s not real!”.

Castiel walked over to us. “I don’t understand why you both keep saying that”, he smiled. Dean looked over his shoulder at the angel. “Stay out of this, Cass. You already said you couldn’t help, so just… don’t. Your kind has done enough to mess up this thing”. Castiel sighed. “I can’t help; because what’s between you has nothing to do with angels. I don’t even think a cupid hit you”. I looked at him, my breath bated. “W-what do you mean?”, I stammered. Cass raised his brows. “I didn’t understand before just now… You think Lulu was created for you”. Dean let go of me, and turned around. “She was… wasn’t she?”. I heard the angel chuckle. “Angels didn’t put you two together, Dean”, Castiel said. “Happenstance and probably lust did that. Maybe even love”. “So you’re telling me what we had… was real?”, Dean asked. “I think what you have is real”, Cass responded.

A jolt went through my body, and I suddenly felt cold. Dean turned to look at me; his eyes wide. “It’s real”, he breathed. I stumbled backwards, and ran out of the room, and down the hall. “Lou!”, Dean called after me.

My heart was beating so hard, I was convinced I could see my chest jump. It was real. All this time, I’d wasted it. This was why Crowley wouldn’t make a deal with me. “Lou, please, stop!”. I turned to face Dean’s pained face. “I’m… This is my fault… All this time…”. I shook my head. “Dean, I can’t…”, I whispered; tears streaming from my eyes. “Please… I did this to you. To us. I filled your head with lies that I made up myself, because I was arrogant…”. He let out a defeated breath. “I’m so, so sorry, baby…”.

“Years…”, I whimpered. “I wasted years I could have had, being happy…”. “Without me in your head, having a real life. I know”, Dean croaked. “No”, I shook my head. “With you, Dean”. I took a step forward. “I wanted you, all along. And it was real”. “You shouldn’t…”, he began. “But I do. Me – my own decisions, no manipulation – I want you”. Dean looked down; and my heart fell into my stomach. “But… You don’t want…”. Dean almost ran over to me. “I do, baby. I do”, he said; and his arms were around me.

I began sobbing for real. “Please, Lou. Don’t leave me. Don’t walk out of my life again”, Dean whispered into my ear. I turned my head, and looked into his eyes. “Give me a reason to stay…”, I said.

Suddenly, Dean’s lips were on mine. All that pent-up emotion – those intense feelings – they were all ok to have, because they were my own. And I let go; allowed myself to feel them, as my lips parted, and I breathed in the man in front of me. The scent of him overtook me, and my knees almost gave in, when Dean suckled at my lower lip. He tore himself from our kiss, and looked at me with pleading eyes. “Can I please take you to my room, now?”. I couldn’t answer; so I just nodded.

Dean grabbed my hand, and led me down the hall, to room 11. As soon as we were inside, he slammed the door closed; and his lips were on mine again. “God, I’ve missed you”, he breathed against my mouth. He shed his shirt, and I stepped backwards; suddenly strangely self-aware. Dean was about to lift the hem of his t-shirt, but stopped himself, when he saw my face. “I… We don’t have to”. “No. I’m just…”. I swallowed hard. “What if I’m not that girl you first met anymore? I’m different, now…”. “So am I”, he smiled softly. “Hell. Purgatory… all that crap. It changed me. I think the thought of you was part of what pulled me through…”.

I sat down at the foot of the bed. “That’s just it”, I said. “You’ve been remembering that first-grade teacher, who danced on a table to the Ramones. Who didn’t know anything about vampires or ghosts… And who didn’t hunt”. Dean blew out a deep breath. “I’m… I know things are different for you”, he said. “And that’s my fault. I got you into all of this stuff”. “No… I’m in this life, because I want it. You’re so dead set on me living a normal life”, I sighed. “That’s the girl you want. But this is the woman I am”. I gestured towards the bandage on my neck, covering the wound from the vampire’s bite.

Dean stood for a while, seemingly having an internal conversation with himself. “Well, I guess that’s the woman I’m going to have to get to know”, he concluded. “But that amazing girl, who sassed me even when she thought I was a fed… The one who got drunk, poked my ass, and called it firm”, he chuckled. “The girl who danced with me to a song that’s become kind of a guilty pleasure to me… That’s still you as well. And I think the woman is just an improvement on her”.

I blushed, and looked down. “Well, it was firm. Your jeans were tighter then, so I don’t know about now”. Dean laughed. “And there’s that smart-ass mouth again. She’s still there”. I stood back up, and walked over to him; putting my hand on his cheek. I narrowed my eyes, and looked into his. “And you still have nice eyes”, I whispered; before getting on my toes, and putting my lips to his again. Deans arm slid around me; holding me flush against him. I ran my hand up his chest, and relished in the shivers I could feel going through his body.

With a firm hand on my hip, Dean backed me towards the bed; and as it hit the back of my knees, I fell backwards. Dean leaned over me; but before our lips could meet, I tugged at his t-shirt – wanting it off. Dean obliged with a smile. His body was more toned than I remembered it being. Years of hunting and fighting had made Dean leaner – with sharper edges, and more scars – but no less gorgeous.

Sitting up on the bed – my feet still on the floor – I let my fingers trace over a slight scar down Dean’s abdomen. “Lamia”, he muttered. I traced another, down his forearm. “A friend… in Purgatory”. I pulled myself backwards on the bed; and Dean followed. With a knee between my legs, he was once again over me, kissing my lips softly; and pulling at my tank-top. I lifted my arms, and let him take it off. His eyes glinted from the sight of my mostly bare torso; up until he saw the tulpa scar again.

Dean ran his thumb down the mark; and while I was delighting in the sensation of him touching me again, I saw darkness ghost his face. “I’m ok”, I smiled. “I hate that you go out there unprepared… You don’t know what you’re doing”, he grunted. “Tell that to the three vampires I killed last night…”, I said. “Now, do you want to fight, or do you wanna take my pants off?”. Dean couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, that’s an offer I can’t refuse…”, he muttered.

Running his hand from my ribs, to the waistline of my jeans; he opened the button, and pulled down the zipper – instantly sending electricity through my warmth from his mere proximity to it. I let out a short breath, as his fingers hooked into the fabric, and he pulled my pants down – stopping, when he realized I was still wearing boots. I laughed as I kicked them off; and Dean smilingly completed his task – getting rid of my socks while he was at it. Then his face darkened again.

“What’s that?”, he said, and gestured towards a ragged scar on my thigh. “The leviathan…”, I muttered. His eyes widened. “The Pete leviathan?”, he almost growled. “He did this to you?”. “Yeah, right before I cut his head off”, I whispered; feeling a bit exposed in my undress, with an angry looking hunter towering over me. “Dean, you’re starring… and not in a way that makes me feel very sexy…”. His gaze softened. “Sorry”, he muttered, and sat down on the bed next to me. “How did you get out of that alive?”. I smirked. “Dumb luck”, I said. “I was washing the floors of the bar, when Pete came in; asking me to come back to Kansas with him… Then, his feet started melting, and I ran up the stairs, for my sword. When he finally came up after me, his feet were halfway gone, and he wasn’t moving very fast – so I just slashed, and his head came off… Adrenaline, I guess”. Dean grunted. “But he still got you”, he said. “Just the one cut”, I smiled. “I had a local vet stitch it up”. Dean let his index finger graze the mark. “They did a bum ass job out of it”, he muttered. I rolled my eyes. “Considering getting a tattoo to cover it up”, I said. “Yeah, you need one of these”, Dean retorted, and pointed towards his own anti possession tattoo. I grinned, and turned around – showing him the small tattoo just next to my bra strap. “This one?”, I jeered. Dean ran a hand down his face, and shook his head in defeat. “You’re something else”, he smiled.

I grabbed his hand, and pulled him down to lay with me. Dean put his one thigh between mine; and the friction between his jeans clad leg against my core, made me gasp slightly. He smirked at my reaction, and grabbed my thigh gently; pulling it around his hip – and pressed against me. I whimpered softly, and put my hand behind Deans head, to pull him in for another kiss. I ran my tongue over his upper lip, while he suckled at my lower one. I felt Deans beginning erection press against my thigh, under his jeans; and slid my hand down his back – over his taught muscles – and hooked my thumb into his waistband; pushing down. Dean got the message, and lifted himself off me; opening his jeans, and taking them off.

Hooking my leg around Deans, I invited him back between my thighs; and he returned to his former position – pressing his thigh against my core. With his face in the crook of my neck, he began nibbling at my neck on the opposite side of the bite-wound – probably leaving hickeys. “Marking your territory? What are you, 16?”, I giggled. “You taste nice”, Dean breathed against my neck. “And that vamp got to bite you. Why shouldn’t I?” He grinded his thigh against me, and I whimpered again. He let his lips, teeth and tongue travel down my neck, and across my collarbone. I swayed my hips to rub against his leg, and he chuckled softly. “I like that I can still do this to you”, he muttered. “And I love that it’s because you really want to”, I breathed; and pulled his face up to kiss him again.

Our almost naked bodies entangled in this manner, was heavenly. Deans soft skin covering his firm muscles, so close to mine – it was as if we were built specifically to lay like this, together. But we weren’t built for it; which just made it so much better. It was just perfect all on its own.

Kissing Dean deeply; my tongue demanded access to his. Dean didn’t take much convincing, and with a stifled moan, he brushed it against mine. I tried to pull him all the way on top of me, but Dean shook his head – continuing to press his thigh against my covered folds. It was as if he knew something I didn’t. Putting his hand on my breast, he squeezed it for a moment, before pulling down the cup under it – giving him access to my nipple. He rolled it gently between two fingers, sending shivers down my spine, and pulsating jolts straight from it, to my core.

I used all my strength to move my one leg, so that Dean would be all the way on top of me, between my thighs; but once again, he shook his head – and tweezed my nipple a little harder. “Please…”, I pleaded against Dean’s lips. He used his free hand to hold my leg in place. “Not yet”, he breathed. “Like this. I wanna see you…”.

He pressed is flexed thigh even harder against me; and began moving back and forth. He wanted me to come undone on his leg – without any skin to skin contact on my folds. The sensation was frustrating, and yet amazingly pleasurable. I wanted to feel him inside me, but all I got was this rubbing; this intense and hot friction.

Dean’s lips left mine, and he looked at me intently, as my breath grew ragged; and the warmth in my vagina grew into a pulsating fire. He put one hand around my back – grabbing on to my shoulder to keep me from pulling away from his leg – and the other dug into my thigh; forcing it to stay around his hip. “Move, baby. Don’t stop”, he demanded in a soft voice. I ground my hips back and forth, desperately – and suddenly the coil in my lower abdomen snapped; and I came against his thigh, with breathy moans and squeals.

Coming down from my high, my whole body almost shivering from the orgasm along with the frustration of not feeling like I actually finished properly; I looked pleadingly at Dean. “That wasn’t fair…”, I whimpered. He looked at me confusedly. “You didn’t…?”. I was still shaking. “Obviously, I did… But I wanted you inside”, I said quietly. Dean chuckled. “Baby, you think I’m done with you? I’m making up for lost time, here”, he smirked. “That was just prep-work…”.

I attacked his lips with a fervor, pushing him to lay on his back. Straddling his waist, I opened my bra, and took it off – throwing it over my shoulder – and earning a pleased smile from the man between my legs. “Touch me”, I breathed. Deans eyes widened, and his hands found my breasts – pushing them together, and massaging them. He looked at me like I was a delicious piece of pie he couldn’t wait to chow down on. As he ran his thumbs over my nipples, I carefully moved my bottom backwards; and felt his hardness against me again.

Dean drew in a short breath, when I began moving my hips back and forth on top of him – grinding against his penis, over his boxers. He moved his hands down to my hips, and tried to get me off him, so he could take off his underwear; but I just smirked, and shook my head. “Not so fun, when the tables are turned, is it?”, I said. “Lou…”, Dean said warningly, as he raised a brow at me. “You’re playing with fire here…”. “Am I? I thought I was playing with your…”.

Suddenly I was on my back again; and Dean pulled off my panties, and his own boxers. He laid down between my legs, and looked at me intently. “I don’t wanna play anymore. I just want you”, he breathed. I smiled, and nodded.

With a hand around his member, he positioned himself against my entrance; and pushed himself inside me with a muffled moan. For a moment we just laid there; looking into each other’s eyes. “Can I say it now?”, Dean breathed. I swallowed hard. “Only if you mean it”, I croaked. His brows furrowed, and he put his hand on my cheek, stroking my cheekbone with his thumb.

“I love you”, he said. My breath hitched. “I love you too”, I whispered; and our lips met in a soft kiss.

---

#dean winchester #dean winchester x oc #dean x oc #dean winchester fic #sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fic #dean winchester smut

6 notes · View notes

stilinskishit · 4 years ago

Text

Too Long (Teen Wolf Rewrite) - Chapter 19

**First couple of posts have a different title but I changed it because I didn’t like it :)**

Summary: Teen Wolf with a female main character alongside Scott and Stiles? Here it is. Ramie McCall is Scott’s twin sister and best friends with both her twin and Stiles. The trio’s friendship means the world to all three of them, so what happens when there are more than friend type of feelings present?

Tags: @multi-madison @purple286 @multifandxm353 @bralessandflawless @5secondsofmoxley @thesailbells @perrytheplatypus11

https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/

A/N: Sorry this chapter took me so long, but Motel California is my favorite episode and I really wanted to make this one good, I hope you enjoy!

You can read on Wattpad or AO3 if you prefer, so you know :) (I love reading your comments so feel free to comment here, on AO3 or Wattpad)

MASTERLIST

Chapter 19 - Motel California

Season 3, Episode 6

“I’ve seen worse,” Scott shrugged as Ramie hopped off the bus behind him. She looked up at the motel Coach had found for them to stay at overnight.

“Where could you have possibly seen worse?” Ramie scoffed, making a disgusted face towards the sketchy motel in front of them.

“Listen up,” Coach blew his whistle to get everyone’s attention. “This was the closest motel with the most amount of vacancies and the least amount of good judgement when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourself. You’re pairing up, choose wisely.”

He held up a handful of keys and pairs started moving forward, grabbing a key from him.

“And I’ll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants,” Coach continued as the keys got plucked from his hand. “Got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves.”

“Hear that Ramona?” Stiles said loudly, a smirk clear on his face while grabbing a key from Coach. “You’re gonna have to resist the temptation to put your hands all over me.”

Ramie made a loud gagging sound and looked at Coach, who had an expression on his face that she couldn’t read. She hoped it was dark enough that no one could notice the blush that was definitely evident on her cheeks.

“Oh, are you two hooligans finally together?” Coach asked, with something that looked like it could be a smile on his face.

“No!” Ramie said quickly, shaking her head. She could hear Scott chuckling behind her. “Stiles was just joking, I’m staying with Allison and Lydia.”

Coach looked between Ramie and Stiles, Ramie trying to look innocent and Stiles trying not to laugh at himself. Coach simply sighed and shook his head, handing the last key to Ramie, who brought it over to where Lydia and Allison were standing, still near the bus. She turned back to see Stiles grinning at her, still laughing at himself. She made a slicing motion across her throat at him, which just made him laugh harder. She turned her back to him so he couldn’t see her smile.

“Lyds, you coming?” Ramie asked as Allison walked towards her, but Lydia stood frozen, staring up at the motel.

“I don’t like this place,” Lydia muttered, an almost scared look in her eyes.

“I don’t think anyone in their right mind does,” Ramie scoffed.

“It’s just one night,” Allison reassured her. “It’ll be alright.”

Ramie turned, walking towards the motel and Allison followed, the sound of Lydia’s heels clicking behind them coming a second later. Their room was right next to Scott and Stiles’, who had left their door cracked open, probably to let some fresh air in, as the girls did the same, considering the rooms smelled like no one had been in there for years.

“I’m gonna go see if Scott has some extra sweatpants I can borrow,” Ramie told Lydia and Allison as the two sat down on the beds.

Allison said she was planning on showering and Lydia had gotten up, inspecting the room, so Ramie left them to go next door. She entered the room to find Scott and Stiles each laying on a bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“So I have four,” Stiles was saying.

“Four suspects?” Scott asked, propping himself up on his elbows to give a quick nod to Ramie as she entered the room.

“There were nine before,” Ramie said, sitting down on the bed next to Stiles, who was still laying back.

“Ten,” Stiles corrected, glancing over at Ramie as she crossed her legs underneath her.

“You had Derek on there twice, that doesn’t count,” Ramie shook her head. Stiles opened his mouth to argue but Scott cut him off.

“So who’s number one, Harris?”

“Just because he’s missing doesn’t mean he’s dead,” Stiles defended his choice.

“So if he’s not dead, our chemistry teacher is out secretly committing human sacrifices,” Scott said slowly, clearly not believing the theory.

“Yeah, I guess it sounded way better in my head,” Stiles shrugged.

“I told you,” Ramie said quietly, earning a sideways glare from Stiles.

“Well what if it’s someone else from the school?” Scott asked, narrowing his eyes at the ceiling in thought. “Remember Matt, we didn’t know he was killing people for awhile.”

“Excuse me, what?” Stiles said, sitting up from the bed and standing to look down at Scott. Ramie rolled her eyes, knowing exactly where this was going. “I… yes we did. I called that from day one, actually.”

“Yeah but we never seriously thought it was Matt,” Scott pushed up on his elbows again to look at Stiles.

“I was serious, I was quite serious,” Stiles said, glancing to Ramie and holding his hands out. “I was serious, wasn’t I Ramie?”

“He was serious,” Ramie confirmed, nodding at Scott.

“Who are the other three?” Scott asked, bringing the conversation back to where it started.

“Derek’s sister, Cora,” Stiles started.

“It’s not Cora,” Ramie insisted, which she had already told him on the bus.

“Listen,” Stiles put his hands up in frustration and looked towards Ramie. “Just because you have a weird crush on her doesn’t mean she isn’t the Darach.”

“You have a crush on Cora?” Scott’s eyes widened.

“No!” Ramie exclaimed, feeling her cheeks heat up. “I just defended her on the bus and Stiles now thinks I’m in love with her or something."

Scott laughed, shaking his head and Stiles shot glares at both of them.

“She is really pretty though,” Ramie said thoughtfully, looking up into the air. Scott let out a snort and Stiles let out a loud sigh.

“She’s Derek’s sister and no one knows anything about her, she’s a decent suspect,” Stiles continued, ignoring Ramie’s comment. “Next, your boss.”

“My boss?” Scott sat up fully, narrowing his eyes at Stiles.

“He doesn’t have a valid reason,” Ramie mumbled.

“I do have a valid reason,” Stiles shot a look at Ramie before continuing. “I don’t like the whole Obi-Wan thing he has going on, you know? It freaks me out.”

Scott gave Stiles a confused look.

“Oh god here we go,” Ramie muttered as Stiles’ eyes narrowed at Scott.

“Ohmygod, have you still not seen Star Wars?” Stiles looked at Scott in shock, who shrugged.

“I swear if we make it back alive I will watch the movie.”

“It just, it makes me crazy,” Stiles mumbled, rubbing his chin and sighing. Ramie let out a breath of air through her nose, which caused Scott to send her a small smile.

“Who’s left,” Scott interrupted Stiles’ angry mutters. Stiles was quiet for a second.

“Lydia,” he finally said, sitting back down on the bed next to Ramie.

“Lydia?” Ramie gave Stiles a shocked look. He hadn’t told her this theory on the bus.

“She was totally controlled by Peter and she had no idea,” Stiles said, defending his theory. Ramie opened her mouth to defend her friend, but she realized she had no good explanation as to why the Darach couldn’t be Lydia. Weird things had been happening around Lydia that no one could really explain, and Lydia seemed to act anything but completely normal lately. Ramie let out a big sigh, laying back on the bed. She heard two more sighs from Scott and Stiles, who fell back as well, Stiles arm flush to Ramie’s.

“Well I’m hungry,” Stiles said after a few minutes of silence. “I’m gonna go find a vending machine, anyone wanna come?”

Scott shook his head as Ramie got off the bed, following suit of Stiles.

“I should get back to Allison and Lydia,” Ramie said. “Scott do you have some extra sweatpants or a shirt I could wear to bed?”

“I didn’t bring any extra clothes,” Scott shrugged sheepishly.

“Amateur,” Stiles shook his head, walking over to the desk, where his bag had been placed on top. He dug through it a bit before chucking two items over his shoulder at Ramie, who thankfully, caught them both. She wasn’t sure she’d want to wear them after they touched the floor of this place. “I’m always prepared.”

“Thanks Stilinski,” Ramie gave Stiles a grin and left the room, nearly crashing into Lydia in the hallway.

“I’m going to get more towels, wanna come?” Lydia asked, as Ramie fell into step with her. As they climbed down the stairs Ramie saw Stiles leave he and Scott’s room and head towards the other set of stairs, which below had a vending machine.

“Get some clothes?” Lydia asked, eyeing the pile Ramie had in her arms. She snatched the sweatshirt before Ramie could even think, holding it up as they walked towards the motel office. It was one of Stiles’ lacrosse sweatshirts, with his name and number across the back.

“This doesn’t look like Scott’s,” Lydia raised an eyebrow at Ramie, who grabbed it back out of Lydia’s hands.

“Scott didn’t bring extra clothes,” Ramie countered, which earned a not so subtle eye roll from Lydia. They had made it to the office and Lydia asked the woman inside for three new towels while Ramie shivered, pulling Stiles’ sweatshirt over her head as a cold breeze passed by.

“What’s that?” Ramie heard Lydia ask the old woman. Ramie followed Lydia’s eyes to a number hanging on the wall of the office. 198.

“It’s kinda of… an inside thing for the motel. My husband insists on keeping it up,” the woman explained.

“What do you mean?” Lydia pressed on. Ramie kicked Lydia’s leg subtly in hopes she would drop the topic, because Ramie thought the old lady, and the whole motel was pretty creepy. Lydia ignored her.

“It’s a little bit morbid, to be honest,” the woman shrugged. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Tell me,” Lydia said, at the same time Ramie shook her head.

“We’re not going to make the top of anyone’s list when it comes to customer satisfaction,” the woman said.

“Obviously,” Ramie mumbled, turning her back to the woman and leaning against the counter, looking out over the parking lot.

“But we are number one in California when it comes to one disturbing little detail. Since opening, more than any other motel in California, we have the most guest suicides.”

Ramie whipped her head back around, looking at the woman, who was just nodding.

“198?” Lydia mumbled.

“And counting.”

When Ramie and Lydia got back to their room, they explained what they learned to Allison, who was already freaked out. She said that Scott had come into their room and was acting really strange, then left suddenly once it seemed like he snapped out of some weird trance. Then suddenly, things got even weirder. Lydia then swore she heard two people committing suicide in the room next door, but when the three checked the room, it was empty, it looked like it was being renovated. Allison suggested they go ask the woman in the office, but she was nowhere to be found when they went back down. However, the number on the wall had changed, from 198 to 201.

“So does that mean there have been three more suicides?” Allison asked at they got back up to their room.

“Or three more are about to happen,” Lydia said, a terrified look on her face.

All three of them jumped when there was a loud banging on their door, someone knocking forcefully. Ramie held a finger up to her lips and crept over to the door, looking through the peep hole. She sighed loudly when she saw Stiles pacing back and forth, reaching up to knock again.

“What’s up,” Ramie asked as she opened the door. Stiles pushed past her and grabbed her arm, using his other hand to close the door behind her.

“Somethings wrong,” he said quickly, standing in front of her. Ramie’s back was to the door and she could see Lydia and Allison eyeing the two of them over Stiles’ shoulder. “Scotts acting strange and I just watched Boyd put his fist through a vending machine. I don’t like it here at all, we should leave.”

Stiles now had both hands on either side of Ramie’s arms, looking at her with a concerned look on his face. The way he was holding her felt strangely intimate, but Ramie pushed those thoughts away. Lydia cleared her throat and Stiles jumped, whipping around to face Lydia and Allison.

“Jesus,” he put a hand over his chest. “I didn’t know you guys were here.”

“Clearly,” Lydia smirked as Stiles took a few steps away from Ramie, straightening the zip up he was wearing. Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, a habit Ramie knew he did when he felt uncomfortable.

“Scott was weird with Allison also,” Ramie said, changing the topic back to what it had been.

“It’s the motel,” Lydia said immediately.

“They keep count of how many suicides they have here and put the number on the wall in the office,” Ramie told Stiles, whose face scrunched up in disgust.

“That’s fucked up,” he sat down in the desk chair, running a hand through his hair. Ramie pushed herself up onto the desk, sitting on it and dangling her legs down next to where Stiles sat.

“I’d say,” Ramie nodded. “And get this, when me and Lydia went down there earlier the number was 198. But just now when we went down it was 201."

“I don’t know what’s going on, but someone needs to learn how to do an exorcism before the werewolves go crazy and kill us,” Lydia said frantically, pulling a bible out of the drawer in the nightstand between the beds.

“Okay, hold on,” Stiles held up his hands, trying to relax Lydia. “What if it’s not just the hotel? The number in the office went up by 3 right?”

“You mean like three sacrifices,” Allison said, putting it together. Stiles nodded.

“Three werewolves?” Ramie asked.

“Scott, Isaac and Boyd,” Stiles confirmed. “Maybe we were meant to come here.”

“Exactly!” Lydia exclaimed. “So can we get the hell out of here now?”

“Hang on,” Stiles stood up, grabbing the Bible out of Lydia’s hand. He opened it up and pulled out something, it looked like a cut out newspaper clipping. Ramie got up, reading over his shoulder.

“Twenty-eight year old man hangs himself at the infamous Glen Capri Motel,” she read aloud. Stiles shook the bible over the bed and more newspaper clippings fell.

“All the clippings say room 217,” Lydia said. “That’s this room.”

“So if every room has a bible,” Allison said.

“There could be clippings in every room,” Lydia finished.

“That’s a beautiful thing, most places leave a mint on the pillow, this place leaves a record of all the horrible deaths that have occurred,” Stiles said. Ramie smacked his arm at his sarcasm.

“What if the room next door has one about the couple I heard,” Lydia said. All four of them looked towards the room next door. Stiles suddenly took off, running at the door, the three girls following behind him. When they reached the hallway Stiles was already at the door, pulling on the handle.

“It was not locked before,” Lydia said.

“We need to get Scott, Isaac and Boyd out of here,” Ramie said, as Stiles took off towards the stairs. However, everyone froze when the sound of a saw rang through the quiet night air. Stiles spun on his heel, a terrified look on his face.

“I’m not the only one hearing that am I?” Lydia asked, looking at the locked door.

“It sounds like someone turned the handsaw on,” Allison said.

“Handsaw?” Stiles asked, suddenly next to them again. “Move.”

The three girls backed up as Stiles did, who then ran forward, slamming into the door, hard, which thankfully wasn’t too reliable, since it swung open. Ethan stood in the middle of the room, handsaw above his head, and began slowly bringing it down towards his stomach.

“Hey, Ethan, don’t!” Stiles yelled, running forward. He grabbed the saw, trying to pull it away from Ethan.

“Stiles!” Ramie shrieked, as the saw got dangerously close to him while he struggled with Ethan. She felt frozen, watching Stiles try to get the saw away from Ethan, while also not getting hurt himself. Suddenly the saw turned off and Ramie glanced over to Lydia, who had pulled the plug out from the wall, just as Stiles fell to the ground, his face landing inches away from the saw. Ethan stood up straight, putting out his claws. He immediately went for his stomach, trying to slice himself open. Ramie and Stiles both ran forward, attempting to pull Ethan’s arms away from his torso. Eventually Ethan fell sideways, his hand making contact with a space heater, which seemed to burn him back to reality.

“What the hell just happened,” Ethan stood up from the ground, looking confused and holding his hand where it was burnt. No one answered immediately and Ethan took off, out the door.

“Ethan, wait,” Stiles called, following him outside.

“I don’t know what happened, okay,” Ethan said as Stiles, Ramie, Allison and Lydia followed him down the stairs. “I don’t know how I got there or what I was doing.”

“You know you could be a bit more helpful,” Stiles stopped at the end of the stairs, the rest stopping behind him as Ethan turned to look at the other boy from a few feet away. “We just saved your life.”

“You probably shouldn’t have,” Ethan said, before turning and going back to his room.

“What the hell do we do now,” Lydia asked, throwing her hands up in defeat.

“Let’s go find Scott,” Allison said, nodding to Ramie. “You guys go find Boyd and Isaac, all we can do at this point is get them all out of here.”

Ramie and Allison first went to Scott and Stiles’ room, where Scott should’ve been, but couldn’t find him. They knocked on doors down the hallway, seeing if he was in anyone else’s room, and he was nowhere to be found. They accidentally knocked on Coach’s door as well, which turned into a ten minute lecture on them being out of bed and how they need to get to sleep. Thankfully, Lydia yelling to Ramie from a room on the other side of the motel got them away from Coach, since they promised to make sure everyone quieted down.

“What’s going on,” Ramie panted as she slowed from a run, meeting Lydia as she held the door open to Boyd and Isaac’s room. Allison had agreed to continue looking for Scott while Ramie checked to see what Lydia needed. Boyd stood in the middle of the room, soaking wet, next to Stiles, both of whom were staring at one of the beds.

“I tried to drown myself,” Boyd grimaced, gesturing to his soaking wet clothes. “These two saved me.”

“Heat snaps them out of it,” Stiles explained. “Ethan touched that heater, we used this flare to get Boyd out of the bath.”

“Isaac’s under the bed, which is why I called you here,” Lydia said.

“Under the bed?” Ramie questioned, and Lydia held up a hand, silencing her.

“He’s going through something weird too, but he’s hiding under the bed, terrified,” she explained. “We can’t get him to come out and we thought maybe you could.”

“His Dad,” Ramie murmured. Isaac was freaked out because of the abuse he endured from his Dad. Everyone in the room just stared at Ramie, unsure of what to say. She walked over to the bed, kneeling down in front of it.

“Be careful,” Stiles said, but Ramie waved him away. She leaned her head down, pulling up the bed skirt. Isaac was curled up under the bed, breathing heavily and visibly shaking. It looked like he was having a panic attack.

“I,” Ramie said, using her nickname for him in a quiet voice. “Isaac, are you okay?”

Isaac’s head whipped towards her, making eye contact only for a second before scooting backwards more, closer to the wall.

“It’s okay,” Ramie continued. “Everything’s alright, it’s just me, Ramie. Can you come out?”

Isaac stopped whimpering and looked Ramie in the eyes. For a second, she thought she had gotten through to him. Then suddenly, before anyone could even comprehend what was happening, Isaac shot forward, moving from under the bed and tackling Ramie, teeth bared. Ramie couldn’t process what was going on around her, she simply closed her eyes in fear. She trusted Isaac, basically with her life, for so long, and suddenly she was sure she was going to die at his hand. She heard commotion around her and suddenly Isaac wasn’t pining her down, but someone was trying to pull her up off the ground.

She opened her eyes to see Boyd pining Isaac to the wall across the room, Isaac holding a hand to his arm where Ramie assumed Boyd had put the flare to his skin, snapping him out of the trance. Ramie glanced up to see Lydia with her arms around her, looking her over to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

“I’m okay Lyds,” Ramie squeaked out. She didn’t expect her voice to sound so terrified. “It’s not his fault.”

Lydia started to say something but Ramie couldn’t hear a word, because Stiles began to yell.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He walked forward, pushing Boyd off of Isaac and holding Isaac against the wall himself. “You could’ve fucking killed her, you know that?”

“Stiles,” Ramie yelled, standing up quickly despite Lydia’s words of protest. Stiles either didn’t hear, or ignored her.

“You could’ve killed her!” Stiles repeated, still screaming in Isaac’s face. “If you ever come near her like that again I swear to god I’ll-“

“Stiles!” Ramie yelled again, louder this time. She grabbed his arm, puling him back from Isaac, who looked like he was about to burst into tears. “It’s not his fault.”

“He could’ve killed you,” Stiles said as tried to step towards Isaac again, but Ramie moved in front of him, putting herself between the two boys. She put both hands on either side of Stiles at his biceps. She waited until he looked at her, making eye contact. “I’m okay, Isaac didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”

Stiles nodded, but his jaw was clenched in a way that Ramie knew he was still extremely angry. Stiles and Isaac never really got along the best to begin with, and this definitely made things worse.

“Ramie, I’m sorry,” Isaac said quietly from behind her, and she watched as anger flashed over Stiles’ eyes again. She put a hand on his chest, holding him in place as she turned to Isaac.

“We’ll talk later,” Ramie gave the curly haired boy a small smile. He nodded glumly, looking between Ramie and Stiles. Ramie grabbed Stiles wrist, dragging him to the other side of the room with her. When she dropped his hand his arms immediately crossed over his chest, a glare never leaving his face as he stared at Isaac across the room.

“Pack up your things,” Ramie pointed at Boyd and Isaac. “We’re sleeping on the bus tonight, all of us.”

She was cut off by Allison suddenly running into the room.

“I still can’t find Scott anywhere,” she panted, looking worried. Lydia nodded, like she was thinking.

“Okay, we’ll go look for him, you two pack up and meet us at the bus in half an hour, if we haven’t found Scott by then you’ll have to help us look,” she told Isaac and Boyd, who nodded. Ramie grabbed Stiles’ hand, tugging him out of the room and away from Isaac before he had the chance to say or do anything else.

“It must be happening to him too,” Ramie said as she, Stiles, Lydia and Allison made their way down the stairs. Ramie realized she was still holding Stiles’ hand as she walked in front of Lydia and Allison, and quickly dropped it. She watched as Stiles’ eyes flicked to hers, then quickly looked away.

“There’s another flare on the bus, right?” Lydia asked as they made it to the bottom of the stairs. Ramie heard Stiles reply but didn’t comprehend anything he said. She was frozen at the bottom of the stairs, being the first to turn the corner and look out over the parking lot. She had found Scott, but it wasn’t good. The smell of gasoline filled the air as Scott stood in the middle of the lot, soaking wet, and holding the last flare in his hand. It sizzled in the quiet night air. Ramie was snapped out of her shock when Stiles slammed into the back of her, not seeing Scott.

“Raim, what are you,” Stiles started, but then followed her gaze. Scott was back to them, seeming to be staring at the ground, frozen in place.

“Scott,” Allison said, her voice cracking. She walked around to the front of him, the rest following her. Ramie felt like her throat was going to close up. She grabbed Stiles’ hand again, this time lacing her fingers through his. He glanced over at her before squeezing her hand.

“There’s no hope,” Scott croaked out, his voice sounding almost robotic. Ramie tried to say something but no words would come out. She noticed a can of gasoline a few feet away, confirming her thought that Scott was covered head to toe in the flammable liquid. She could feel her body begin to shake in panic, tears already falling down her cheeks.

“What do you mean Scott,” Allison said, tears falling down her face too. “There’s always hope.”

“Not for me,” Scott replied, not looking up at any of them. “Not for Derek.”

“Derek wasn’t your fault,” Ramie said, finally able to get words to come out of her mouth. “You know that Scott. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Every time I fight back it just gets worse, people keep getting hurt, people keep getting killed.”

“Scott, listen to me,” Stiles cut him off, stepping forward. His hand slowly dropped from Ramie’s as he moved closer to his friend. “This isn’t you. This is someone inside your head telling you to do this.”

“What if, what if it is just me,” Scott stammered. “What if doing this is actually the best thing I could do for everyone else?”

“Scott,” Ramie stepped forward too, not sure what to say.

“It all started that night,” Scott cut her off. “The night I got bitten. You guys remember the way it was before that? The three of us?”

Stiles and Ramie both nodded. Ramie looked to Stiles to try and figure out what they could do, but his eyes were locked on Scott, a tear falling down his cheek.

“We were nothing,” Scott said quietly. “We weren’t popular, we weren’t good at lacrosse. We never had boyfriends or girlfriends. We weren’t important. We were no one. Maybe I should just be no one again. No one at all.”

Ramie sucked in a breath as Scott slowly turned his hand to the side, moving it in a way that if he let go of the flare it would drop straight into the puddle of gasoline he was standing in.

“Scott just listen to me okay,” Stiles said, stepping forward. Ramie tried to grab at his arm and pull him back, but he was out of her reach. “You’re not no one, okay? You’re someone. Scott you’re my best friend, okay, and I need you.”

“I need you too,” Ramie said, nearly sobbing through her words as she stepped next to Stiles.

“Scott, you’re my brother, alright,” Stiles continued. He glanced at Ramie and down at the puddle of gasoline, and she immediately understood what Stiles was going to do. As he stepped forward, putting himself in the puddle of gasoline with Scott, Ramie sucked in a breath, biting her lip so hard that she could taste blood. Stiles slowly put a hand up, wrapping it around Scott’s hand that held the flare. “If you’re gonna do this then I think you’re going to just have to take me with you.”

Ramie let out a sob, putting a hand over her mouth. Lydia instantly moved closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. The three girls watched as Stiles slowly pulled the flare out of Scott’s hand, then chucked it behind him quickly, before Scott had the chance to do anything else. Ramie let out a sigh of relief, immediately running forward to tackle Scott in a hug. Before she got the chance, Lydia shrieked, running towards them as Stiles grabbed Scott and Ramie, pulling them both to the ground and out of the gasoline, just in time for the flare to be blown by the wind into the puddle, igniting it immediately.

“The darach,” Lydia yelled through the roar of the fire. Ramie sat up, scooting backwards with the her friends as Lydia yelled. When they made it a safe distance away from the fire they turned to Lydia, with a confused look. “The darach did this to you guys. I saw it.”

Isaac and Boyd met them at the bus just minutes after the fire died down. Allison and Lydia decided to go pack up all of their’s and Ramie’s stuff while Scott showered in their room, since Ramie didn’t want him being left alone again, but she wanted to talk to Isaac before Stiles had the chance to attempt to beat him up again. Stiles and Boyd got on the bus together to get ready to sleep while Ramie and Isaac stood outside, looking over the parking lot.

“Ramie, I cannot tell you how sorry I am,” Isaac said as soon as the bus door closed behind Stiles. Ramie held up her hand to quiet him.

“It’s okay Isaac, I’m not mad,” she said.

“Stiles is,” Isaac nodded towards the bus.

“He’s just… protective,” Ramie said, trying to find the right word.

“He cares about you a lot,” Isaac said sincerely. “Like I think he would actually kill me if I hurt you.”

“No he wouldn’t,” Ramie scoffed.

“I don’t know,” Isaac shrugged. “People do crazy things for the people they love.”

Ramie’s head whipped towards his, probably too fast. Her eyes were wide when his met hers, and a small smirk was on his mouth.

“What do you mean,” she said quickly, her eyes narrowing at the taller boy.

“I just mean he’s your best friend and he cares about you a lot,” Isaac shrugged, the small smile not leaving his face.

“Right,” Ramie nodded. “Yeah.”

Isaac let out a small noise that sounded like it could be a chuckle, and they were both quiet for minute.

“Isaac,” Ramie said quietly, getting his attention back. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I think you need to find a new anchor.”

Isaac’s eyes met hers and he nodded slightly, like he knew this was where the conversation was going.

“You will always have a place in my heart, and you know that,” Ramie said, grabbing his hand. “But you need to be able to control yourself without me there.”

“I know,” Isaac said quietly. “I’ve been trying.”

“Good,” Ramie nodded, squeezing his hand. “You’re stronger than you know.”

Isaac stepped forward, wrapping Ramie in a hug.

“Thank you,” he said.

Without speaking, Ramie knew that there was an understanding between the two of them. It sort of felt like a goodbye hug, like they were letting go of their past relationship, but also, it was the two of them moving into new territory. Friendship, but nothing more. Ramie knew she’d always have a soft spot for him, but not in the same way that she once had.

As she pulled away from the hug she looked up to see Stiles sending a glare at the two of them from the bus window. Ramie rolled her eyes and stepped back from Isaac, seeing Scott, Allison and Lydia making their way over.

“Guess it’s bedtime,” Isaac said, glancing up at Stiles in the window, who whipped his head around to pretend he wasn’t staring at the two of them. Ramie snorted, walking over to the bus and climbing in, moving towards the back and sliding in the seat next to Stiles.

“You know we stayed outside so we could have some privacy,” Ramie said quietly to Stiles as everyone else got on the bus, Allison tossing Ramie her purse as everyone tried to settle into a bus seat comfortably.

“I was making sure he didn’t try and kill you again,” Stiles put his hand up defensively.

“Sure,” Ramie nodded, getting up to move into the seat in front of Stiles so they could both lay down in their own seat.

“Wait,” Stiles grabbed her arm, pulling her back down. “Can we talk theories?”

“Stiles, I’m tired,” Ramie whined, trying to get up again. Stiles pulled her back down.

“You can lay down and I’ll play with your hair, like you used to make me,” Stiles gave her a soft smile. “You don’t have to talk, you can just listen.”

When they were younger, Ramie used to force Stiles to play with her hair, or scratch her back whenever they had sleepovers. She told him it was the only way she could fall asleep away from home, but really she just found it comforting. The habit turned into a regular thing that Stiles would do, usually when they had sleepovers, but as they got older he would sometimes run a hand through her hair as they watched a movie, or draw shapes on her back when she was napping in his room. A few times when Stiles was sick Ramie did the same thing for him. They never spoke about it, it was just something they would do. There were a lot of things like that between them.

Ramie sighed, slouching sideways and putting her head on the seat next to Stiles’ leg, stretching out to rest her feet on the seat on the other side of the aisle

“That can’t be comfortable,” Stiles looked at her contorted body, scrunching his nose. He patted a hand on his thigh and Ramie looked up, meeting his eyes. Part of her expected him to burst out laughing, like he was joking about her laying her head in his lap. But he simply smiled, patting his leg again. Ramie scooted up, putting her head onto Stiles lap and rearranged her body so she was laying sideways, the back of her head against his stomach. His hand immediately threaded through her hair, lightly pulling through small knots as he began to whisper all his theories on who the Darach was and what the alpha pack was up to. Ramie fell asleep so quickly she regretted it the next morning, because she would’ve done anything to stay awake all night with Stiles’s hands running through her hair and lightly across her back, drawing words she couldn’t comprehend.

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski fanfic #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski one shot #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski x OC #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf one shot #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf #motel california #03x06 #isaac lahey #scott mccall #lydia martin

16 notes · View notes