#i am so confused writing for the west coast

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Jock x fem! Reader

OKAY SO, I accidentally published the draft I was writing for 🌼 Anon's ask, and in panic, I deleted it. So the ask got deleted too. I am--

This was the reason the ask got delayed in being published 😭

Anyways, 🌼 Anon asked for a:

WHAT IF: Reader is not an honor student, but a black belter in Martial Arts?

I noticed there was also a specification for the reader's gender this time, so the reader is for the fem girlies!

This is gonna be interesting :3

For those who hasn't read Damon's main fic, I suggest to read it first to understand his character more.

Damon, as a jock whose apparent only one braincell ticks around for sports, he never needed a tutor or a mentor or something like that.

He naturally doesn't need any kind of training when doing any kinds of physical activities. He's naturally gifted that way.

But how did y/n and Damon met this time around when y/n is not going to tutor Damon in academics?

⚽⚾🏀🏐🏉

"Damon! Do you think you could join us in the martial arts club?" One person appeared beside Damon, who just got from his basketball practice. At first, he was irritated but calmed himself down and reminded himself that he's supposed to be s nice guy.

"There's a martial arts club? That's so cool!" Damon excitedly said, his smile wide. 'Tch. What do they mean martial arts club? That's too broad.'

As Damon gave a fake, excited smile, the person faltered from how excited Damon is and fumbled through their bag, picking up a flyer.

"H-here! We just recently got recognized so, please give us a try." The person said, their voice high pitched and nervous before bowing and running away.

Damon made sure the coast is clear before dropping his himbo persona and scowling at the paper he's holding.

"West Street, the Physical Education building." Damon read the location.

Should he?

He pocketed the flyer and started walking towards West Street, looking to kill time.

He never tried Martial Arts. Maybe this would be a good activity to add to the roster.

Once Damon found the PE building, he saw some people loitering outside with the same flyer in their active wear. Some also wore various martial arts uniforms. Confused as to what martial arts are included in the club.

Damon rolled his eyes. Surely it couldn't take a handful of taps on the keyboard to include the martial arts they were housing?

Damon shook his head and slapped his cheeks, before sporting a boyish smile he knows all too well.

"What's up?!" Damon greeted his 'friends' from the different sports club he was forced to join. The people jumped at his loud voice before smiling.

"Hey Damon! Nice, you're here also?"

"Heyya Dam! Interested in Martial Arts?"

"Another sports to your experience? Wait, is martial arts a sport?"

"is it?"

Damon laughed and slung his arms over them.

"Yep, I'm really excited. This one looks fun." Damon mused, genuine this time.

Before they were about to talk once more though, a whistle silenced the whole group of loitering people.

A man, probably the head of the club, cleared his throat.

"welcome to Martial Arts club! Here, we give opportunities for artists to Excel in their field! May it be escrima, Taekwondo, Karate, Muay Thai, even those Arts that aren't as well known! We will support you all the way!" The man said, a naive and enthusiastic tone on his voice.

Damon frowned. As if a club can support such a diverse and broad reach.

The man cleared his throat once more and explained the audition process. Damon couldn't give a damn though, and looked around the facility while humming. He licked his lips, dried and a bit cracked.

He was bored. He needed something to stimulate his senses.

Then, he flinched when he heard another whistle.

The people started segregating to different lines. the person in front the line had signs up of different popular martial arts and then one at the end with "Others". Damon pursed his lips at the blatant disregard of the other arts and the unpreparedness.

He decided to go in line in the taekwondo line.

He licked his lips more, now slightly wet and moisturized.

As the line slowly dwindled, his big frame met with yours.

Significantly smaller (also he was a very tall man), at first, he didn't pay attention to you. He only grabbed the pen you offered and signed his name on the clipboard.

Then, the people who signed up went to a separate room in the PE building, where there are mats laid out on the ground.

There are people wearing doboks with different colored belts that Damon doesn't know the meaning, but he knows the black belt was the highest.

"Okay, let's see how you guys fare in fighting our players! In this case, we will allow you to pick a player to fight with." The head announced, making the auditionees whisper to themselves.

Damon pouted and tilted his head to the side while looking bored.

Well, he is an amazing man with an amazing physique. Very gifted in different sports too.

So martial arts shouldn't be that difficult.

People started to trickle in inside the ring with their chosen player. Majority chose a purple belter. Some going green, the occasional blue, the rare brown. None chose the red belters, the ones with black stripes, or the singular black belter.

Damon smirked as he eyed up your form. His eyes sweeping down your dobok which was a bit skewed and clumsily put together. You look bored too, seemingly rushed to wear your uniform.

Damon smirked and licked his lips again. The cracks now gone.

"Yo, sensei!" Damon said once it was his turn to bout.

"That's Japanese."

"So I have to pick who to fight huh?"

"It's called a spar."

"Hmm, I don't know, who should I pick?"

"Aren't you confident."

Damon glared at you, who kept making side comments at his words. His himbo facade cracking a bit.

He walked up to you and looked down.

"Well." Damon gave a big smile. "I choose you!"

"I'm not a pokemon." You frowned and tied your hair up. "Alright. If that's what you want."

Damon smirked and got the spare dobok from the hands of a player, thanking them before slipping them on.

It's a bit tight, but it works out anyways.

After he finished wearing his dobok, he got on the mat and faced you.

You bowed to him, and Damon clumsily followed before following your lead and also bowing to the instructors.

Damon's body tensed up as you assumed position, your eyes suddenly sharpening as you swiftly approached and performed an Ap Chagi, or a snap kick, to his chest.

This took Damon aback who stumbled back a bit.

'I didn't saw her move!' Damon yelled at himself as he took a stance once more and tried kicking you also, but you blocked it and did a Yeop Chagi (side kick) to his waist.

Damon trembled at the shockwave of pain sent to his body as he doubled over, holding his waist. His eyes shook as he looked up.

Your left leg raised up high, ankle facing the top of his back.

An Axe kick straight to the center of both of his shoulder blades, and he fell down face first to the mat.

Everyone who knew Damon trembled.

That easy?

The Damon?

They all shook in fear as you cracked your neck and glared at Damon who also shook in place.

"You got too arrogant and fought a black belter." You whispered, crouching at his height. "How about starting at a white belter, huh? It seems that, that's the only belter you can defeat."

Damon flushed from embarrassment as rage flowed in his veins.

His eyes found yours, hatred seeping through but he bit his tongue when he finally saw your face up close.

'pretty...' he thought to himself, words choking him as he admired your sharp eyes.

And as you scoffed, a deep shiver ran down his spine down to his core.

Oh, he's gonna enjoy going to this club.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Damon panted, the sunset light filtering through the window and onto his body.

He rolled over, his tongue sweeping over his lips. Cracked open with blood tinting it.

He trembled as he tried sitting up, a flush on his face. Bruises decorated his body as he looked up at you, triumphant and belittling him.

He bit back a moan.

He's now a purple belter, after months of trying to catch up to you. It was really quick, considering the fact that he was a newbie.

But, he's also Damon, the man who people thought that his brain just revolves in Physical activities.

But it also involved you, his master.

"Sensei... That was amazing!" Damon laughed, his voice breathy as he tried to hide the twitching excitement down there in his pants. His eyes wide with arousal and obsession, he giggled to himself. "One more!"

Unaware of his thoughts, you rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Again, that's Japanese, you dingus."

You took off your belt and slung it over your shoulder. "Sorry, but I got to go somewhere. You go freshen and heal up."

He frowned. Are you going on a date? With whom?

Fickle jealous thoughts infiltrated his mind.

"Where to, sensei?" "Again, that's Japanese"

"Well, I'm gonna have my black belt 1st dan promotion." You told him while getting your bag. "So practice by yourself."

Without any more words, you left him aching on the mat.

"Aw... But I love that about you, leaving me like that." Damon facepalmed, his grin wide. "Ah fuck... I'm so far gone."

He heard his phone beep. An application told him that you're too far from him.

Your location was being tracked by him.

"But seriously..." He whispered, irritation welling up inside him. "Ah, i'm so envious. Is there sparring in the dan promotion? If so..."

He imagined your beautiful, strong and toned legs hitting, bruising somebody other than him and irrational jealousy filled him.

He took off his top and shivered, a shaky sigh leaving his lips.

He looked at the mirror and saw himself and his torso being decorated with bruises that you inflicted on him.

To him, you were marking your place on his body.

It may not be permanent, but he knew it was enough.

For now.

His member twitched again, imagining you putting him back in his place once more.

He looked around and locked the door before excitably letting his imagination run wild.

And, as he pleased himself in the sanctuary of the PE building, in a room which only you and him use, he knew he have to have you.

His precious sensei.

He hears your voice once more correcting him.

"Ah... Hah... Hmmf..."

He bit his lip, tasting the dried blood. His face flushed and sweaty.

"Mine..."

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean

Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam is haunted by a vision of a woman trapped in his childhood house

Warning: cannon violence, tension/ minor flirting, slight angst and comfort, mentions of death, mentions of a dead parent, the use of witchcraft that isn't exactly apart of Supernatural lore but does have ties to many folklore's interpretations of a witches capability from European Folklore to Appalachian Folk Magic and many more (i used a mix of different lore to create my own interpretation) this took so long to research, l also was testing things out in my apartment so i'd be able to write it properly- literally rearranging furniture for it

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld ,

@okayiamkassandra, @fablerose , @ada--44

Word Count: 12,947

Home

(Master list, Previous Ch., Next Ch.)

I stumble into the boys motel room, stifling a yawn from passing through my lips. Did I wake up two hours ago and refuse to get out of the stiff motel bed instead of coming to meet my lovely friends in their room?

Yes!

“Good morning my little stabby hunters” I greet cheerfully, closing and locking the door behind me. Sam mumbles some incoherent version of a greeting from where he sat on his bed while Dean looks up from Sam’s laptop, “Mornin’ sweetheart”

I walk up to each boy individually giving their hair a nice ruffle before shuffling my way to sit criss-cross applesauce on the unoccupied bed. “You had perfect timing ‘cause I think I found a few candidates for our next gig.”

“Oooh how fun” I half sarcastically say, “read ‘em out!”

“Alright we got a fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali” I nod pretending to know what a ‘trawler’ is, “ –-its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.” Dean lists out looking up every now and then for a reaction, “Hey. Sammy.” He calls out to his brother who’s sat drawing something on a little notepad.

Sam looks up, giving Dean an annoyed look waiting for what he has to say. Dean leans back in his chair, “Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”

“No. I’m listening. Keep going.” Sam declares, going right back to his drawing. He was in fact not paying attention.

“And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times.” He stops speaking again, waving his hand in the air intended to get his brother's attention, “Any of these things blowin’ up your skirt, pal?”

Sam suddenly sits up fully, “Wait. I’ve seen this.”

“Seen what?” I ask, Dean and I sharing a confused look. But Sam doesn't answer, he just crosses the room towards his duffel bag, searching for something. “What are you doing?” Dean asks. Again Sam doesn't answer, finally finding whatever he was looking for he pauses studying the two things in his hands, he swiftly turns around “I know where we have to go next.”

“Where?” Dean muses, asking the question were both thinking.

“Back home –- back to Kansas” Sam breathes, a hint of panic in his eyes.

“Okay, random. Where’d that come from?”

Sam shows the thing he took out of his bag, a photo, to his brother, I get up to view it too. “All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?” Sam asks, looking between the sort of family photo taken in front of their house and his brother.

“Yeah.” Dean answers plainly.

“And it didn’t burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?” Sam asks further.

“Yeah it took ‘em a while to, I think it was mostly out of respect because no one ever moved in after you either, as far as I know.” I answer only knowing because I lived in town even after they moved away.

“Okay, well, someone lives there now…and, I, uh, look, this is gonna sound crazy but….the people who live in our old house –- I think they might be in danger.” Sam stammers

“Why would you think that?” Dean asks the obvious question. “Uh…it’s just, um….look, just trust me on this, okay?” He starts to walk away to the other side of the room, Dean following suit, “Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?”

The fighting begins, I think to myself as I chew on the inside of my cheek. I knew Dean would probably act harsher then he meant to, his mom—his old house being a very rough topic for him.

Now it’s Sam’s turn to answer simply, “Yeah.”

“Come on, man, that’s weak. You gotta give me a little bit more than that.” Dean raises his voice slightly.

“I can’t really explain it is all” Sam says looking around the room instead of making eye contact.

“Well, tough. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you do” Dean crosses his arms waiting expectantly.

Sam sighs, “I have these nightmares.”

“I’ve noticed” Dean says while nodding and I want to step in and lecture him for coming off so mean, but I bite my tongue.

“And sometimes…” Sam pauses for a while before continuing, “…they come true.” This time I don’t bite my tongue, the word slipping out of my lips out of pure shock, “Sam” I gasp. “Come again?” Dean says almost at the same time as my gasp.

“Look….I dreamt about Jessica’s death –- for days before it happened.” Sam tries to explain further, nearly getting cut off by his brother, “Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” I know Dean doesn't want to believe it, I know he’s scared of what this could mean. But I can’t help but feel this is like the argument Dean had started on my twelfth birthday, all those years ago. It felt especially silly to feel this way now, not when I never held a grudge against him because of it. Maybe I should have but I could never find it within myself to do so.

Dean sits down on one of the beds and it’s clear he doesn't know what to do with himself. Sam begins to explain himself more, which I hate the fact he has to, “No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it. And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”

“I don’t know.” Dean huffs out. It’s clear he’s overwhelmed, which is a significantly better reaction than what I got to his whole realization of what I really was—a witch—despite the fact he already knew that. I want to respect their relationship and not speak when it’s not my right to, and yet if it comes down to it I know I will. I won’t let their relationship fall apart because of this, I won’t let a hatred form between them. Let alone like how Dean had hated me for months and I had hated myself too.

“I-it can mean something. There's a lot of cultures that believe that dreams are capable of showing the future as a guidance or even as a warning. Egyptians, Romans, and Greeks, they all believed in this; it's,um, called oneiromancy.” I pipe in quietly as if scared that saying it too loud would shatter the delicate atmosphere. Sam was looking at me with big eyes like he was hanging on to each word I spoke, nodding along.

“All right, just slow down, would ya?” Dean stands abruptly beginning to pace the carpeted floor, “I mean, first you tell me that you’ve got the Shining? And then you tell me that I’ve gotta go back home? Especially when….”

“When what?” Sam asks carefully.

Dean sounds on the verge of tears, probably the most vulnerable he’s been in a long time, “When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?” The air, the atmosphere itself, felt fragile then too as if something so palpable had to be careful of where it stood

Sam begins softly, his eyes scrunched in a mix of worry and sympathy, “Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure.”

“I know we do.” Dean nods, his head hung low.

The Impala pulls up in front of the old Winchester house, the cute little two story green house standing there simply. I can’t help but wonder if in a hundred years these people who lived in Lawrence would know what happened here? The family that was lost here? Maybe not physically but you can trace everything back to this simple house, where these boys lost a piece of themselves no matter how young they were. You can still feel it in the air now, in this car with Dean's head hung low as he peers up at his old house, the only and last house he’s ever had.

“You gonna be all right, man?” Sam asks, trying to catch his brother's eyes. Dean swallow’s thickly, “Let me get back to you on that.” We exit the safety of the car and with each step forward the weight of this settles on our shoulders, the realness of this all. I know this isn’t about me, but if I let my mind stop focusing on the task at hand I know that it will wisp away to my old house. Just on the other side of town, to every moment I spent wandering the streets with no where particular in mind-

A sharp knocking on the front door snaps me out of my mind. A pretty blonde opens the door, her eyebrows scrunched in what seems like stress, “Yes?” she answers.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal—“ Dean begins his lie getting cut off by his brother, “I’m Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Dean, and our friend Y/N. My brother and I, uh, we used to live here. You know, we were just drivin’ by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.”

“Winchester. Yeah, that’s so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night.” She laughs lightly. Dean's face drops a little, a mix of curiosity and longing on his face that if I hadn’t seen it before, hadn’t known him so well I wouldn’t have recognized it. “You did?” he asks, and I'd have to think it was a look of longing for his life back then, before he lost his mom, to a life that was so simple and child-like because that might have been the only time he really was a child.

She nods and steps aside, “Come on in.” The inside of the house wasn’t so much different from what I’ve been told about it, she shuts and locks the door behind us and we wait for her to lead us further in before moving. “I’m Jenny by the way” she says moving past us. She leads us into the big kitchen, a young girl doing homework at the table while an adorable jumpy toddler bounces in his little playpen, I can’t help the smile that creeps up on my face at the sight.

“Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!” The toddler chants, bouncing as he speaks.

“That’s Ritchie. He’s kind of a juice junkie.” She introduces going over to the fridge, taking out a sippy cup and handing it to the bouncy baby. “He has good taste” I laugh, the kid being just so freaking adorable.

Jenny walks over to her daughter, “Sari, this is Sam and Dean, they used to live here. And that’s their friend Y/n.” I smile at the girl who greets us with a small “Hi.” Dean for some reason waved awkwardly at the child, as if he doesn't know how to act around kids when that’s so far from the truth.

“Hey, Sari.” Sam smiles before allowing her to get back to her homework.

“So, you just moved in?” Dean asks, jumping right to it. “Yeah, from Wichita.” Jenny answers, referring to a different part of Kansas.

“You got family here, or….?” Dean continues to ask, and honestly it’s kind of a creepy question. She answers a little hesitantly, “No. I just, uh….needed a fresh start, that’s all. So, new town, new job –- I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.”

“Do you like it here?” I ask genuinely. “Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home” She starts looking at the boys as she speaks, “…I mean, I’m sure you had lots of happy memories here…but this place has its issues.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks almost a little too quickly.

Jenny sighs, “Well, it’s just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly.”

“I think that’s an easy fix” I try to remain hopeful, it’s not like we can just tell her ‘oh yeah that’s ‘cause your house is probably haunted by a demon or something.’ And under the assumption that it was just faulty wiring, I really wasn’t sure if it was an easy fix. I mean I am no electrician.

“Anything else?” Dean adds in.

“Um…sink’s backed up, there’s rats in the basement.” She lists off before pausing for a beat, looking between us nervously, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.” Dean looks a little taken back by this concern, because what was written on his face was far from offense, “No. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?”

“It’s just the scratching, actually.” She answers.

“Mom?” Sari calls out lightly, Jenny kneels down to her daughter waiting for her to continue, “Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”

“What, Sari?” Sam asks, confused.

“The thing in my closet.” She answers weakly, and I swear my heart broke a little at the way in which she said it.

“Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets.” Jenny answers softly, reminding me of my mothers soft tone when she spoke to us. Jenny looks up at the boys, “Right?”

Sam stumbles over his words as he answers, “Right. No, no, of course not.”

“She had a nightmare the other night.” Jenny explains, a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

Sari shakes her head, “I wasn’t dreaming. It came into my bedroom –- and it was on fire.”

Uh oh.

~~~~~~~~

“You hear that? A figure on fire.” Sam whisper-shouts, mainly to his brother who was walking a little too quickly then necessary to his car. The man in question turns around swiftly, “And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?”

“Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit.” Sam bites back.

“Yeah, well, I’m just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin’ true.” Dean snaps.

Sam’s eyes were wide with panic, “Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it’s the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?”

“I don’t know!” Dean snaps.

Back and forth they fight like two dogs having a barking match from just over the fence. “Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?” Sam starts again.

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely, Sam, we don’t know yet.”

“Well, those people are in danger, Dean. We have to get ‘em out of that house.”

“And we will.”

“No, I mean now.”

“And how you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she’s gonna believe?”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“Both of you, stop!” I nearly shout, both boys going quiet, “Look” I sigh. “I get this is scary and all but you two bickering isn’t going to get us anywhere! And if we want to help that nice family we have to think logically. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, maybe it’s something else or maybe we have to prepare ourselves for the fact that it is that monster.

Either way we can’t just run into this with assumptions or lead on feeling alone, okay? ‘Cause that’s how we mess up and wind up dead and I don’t know ‘bout you boys but i’m not quite craving the taste of death just yet.” I take a deep breath before continuing, “So, let’s pretend this is any ol’ case, any other hunt. What do we do first?”

“Research” Dean mumbles as if he was a kid who got caught doing something wrong, which arguably isn’t so far from the truth.

“Check our bases, dig into the history” Sam adds.

“Exactly” I smile, “Good job”

Dean opens the driver seat door, getting in as he speaks, “Except this time, we already know what happened.”

Sam and I followed suit, “Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?” he asks. Dean looks around a little uncomfortable, “About that night, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Not much. I remember the fire…the heat.” He pauses, “And then I carried you out the front door.”

“You did?” Sam asks surprised.

Dean scuffs, starting the car and pulling out of the spot, “Yeah, what, you never knew that?”

Sam shakes his head, “No.”

Dean continues, “And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do. Mom was….was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?” Sam questions further, and up until now I didn’t realize how much he was kept in the dark about such a significant moment in his life.

Dean shrugs, “If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.” Sam starts again, “Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s goin’ on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing.”

Dean again looks around uncomfortably, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, “Yeah. We’ll talk to Dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

Sam notices this obvious movement like I did and pauses for a moment, you could see the gears turning in his head, “Does this feel like just another job to you?” Dean clears his throat, suddenly jerking the car off to the left side of the road right up to the curb, the car poorly parked, “I’ll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom.” The second he finishes his sentence he’s out of the car and walking away into some local business that I couldn’t quite see the name of.

“I- I don’t understand him” Sam suddenly says as he watches his brother leave, turning in the passenger seat to talk to me properly, “It would be so much easier if he just…” He sighs, “talked to me.”

“I… don’t want to excuse his actions because you are right, but at the same time you know he was never taught how to be vulnerable.” I try to explain, carefully choosing my words knowing there were eggshells surrounding our feet. He then mumbles something incoherently about their childhood, he looks back up at me, “you know, you don’t really talk about your childhood either.”

“Maybe it’s just something about Kansas” I joke, he laughs lowly, “But I ,uh, I would like to tell you about it…someday…” I offer shyly, trying to offer him something in a moment where he has nothing

“I’d like that, at least I could get closer to one of you” Sam smiles, sadly.

“Hey and maybe it will open the door to encourage Dean to speak up” I say.

“Yeah you know that’s not gonna happen” He scuffs.

“Well, I was trying to be a little optimistic.”

When Dean came back to the car he was dead quiet, his eyes were glossy but he refused to talk. It wasn’t uncommon for him, not one bit.

Sitting in the back of the Impala, I watched the buildings and trees pass by. All blocks I was familiar with even if it was far from where I had actually lived, but when you're lonely you tend to find walking for an eternity isn’t so bad. Funnily enough, sitting in the back of this car felt eerily similar to when I was a child, my dad as quiet as an owl, a then changed man having lost his world. Only, he had forgotten my brother and I had lost her too, and that we were still around to begin with.

Dean stared at the road like my dad had all those years ago, so deeply as if they were to look away it would disappear right beneath them. Then Sam sat in the passenger seat looking between his brother and out the window not knowing what to say, like my brother always did. And I of course still played the same role because some things never change, some feelings never do fully leave.

Dean suddenly clears his throat, “Alright, up ahead is an old pal of dads.” Just as suddenly as he said it, he also hadn’t given us time to say anything before pulling over once more, this time in front of a mechanic's place. A sign reading “Guenther’s Auto Repair” in big red letters hung above a large garage unit. The smell of metal and grease breeze by my nose as I exit the car, following after the two taller men with what I thought was a forgotten sadness now back. I can’t imagine how they must feel, how Dean must feel.

They effortlessly found and began a discussion with the owner, easily lying about being cops which felt especially wrong today. It felt wrong to lie to anyone from the town I pretty much grew up in, even if I never knew any of them.

“So you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?” Dean asks the older man. I knew their father was a mechanic but hadn’t known he had his own garage and partner.

“Yeah, we used to, a long time ago. Matter of fact, it must be, uh…twenty years since John disappeared. So why the cops interested all of a sudden?” He says, whipping his dirty hands on a rag stained with car grease.

“Oh, we’re re-opening some of our unsolved cases, and the Winchester disappearance is one of ‘em.” Dean answers smoothly, and I guess it isn’t technically a lie either. He accepts the answer with no further, visible, speculation, “Oh, well, what do you wanna know about John?”

“Well, whatever you remember, you know, whatever sticks out in your mind.” Dean suggests.

“Well…he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that.” He laughs. “And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It’s that whole Marine thing. But, oh, he sure loved Mary. And he doted on those kids.” To that I have to stop myself from reacting, for some reason I can’t picture John being anything less of what he is now, in terms of strictness and toughness.

“But that was before the fire?” Sam points out.

He nods, “That’s right.”

“He ever talk about that night?” Sam adds. He seems to think for a moment, “No, not at first. I think he was in shock.”

“Right. But eventually? What did he say about it?” Sam clarifies.

“Oh, he wasn’t thinkin’ straight. He said somethin’ caused that fire and killed Mary.”

“He ever say what did it?” Dean asks this time.

“Nothin’ did it. It was an accident –- an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or somethin’. I begged him to get some help, but….” He explains.

“But what?”

“Oh, he just got worse and worse.” He answered, sympathy written all over his face.

“How?” Dean asks carefully.

“He started readin’ these strange ol’ books. He started goin’ to see this palm reader in town.” He says, suddenly catching my attention, an air of familiarity surrounding it.

“Palm reader? Uh, do you have a name?” Dean questions. I scrunch my eyebrows together trying to remember why this was familiar.

He responds at the same time it suddenly hits me, “No” he scuffs.

The name leaves my mouth in quiet thought, “Missouri Moseley.”

All three of them look at me strangely, before Dean grabs hold of my upper arm, throwing the man a smile and a “Excuse us.” He begins pulling me away from the garage and back to the car, his brother following after us after he had thanked the man.

“Where’d you get that name from?” Dean asks me sternly, looking down at me with sharp curious eyes, his grip on my arm never faulting.

I look up at him, his green eyes piercing mine, expectantly, but I find myself at a loss for words. Each syllable ready to be spoken but dying on my tongue, all in the fault of once more feeling like my younger self. Sam reaches for his brother's shoulder, almost pulling him away from me, “Ease up, Dean.” He shakes his brother off, but listens, releasing my arm and swallowing thickly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay” I cut him off quickly. I wasn’t scared of him at that moment, but of the past and I knew he was too. We all were.

“I remember your dad came over and mentioned that name, along with her being the real deal. I just don’t remember what the conversation was about, I mean it had to be years ago…” I feel my eyebrows scrunch together again as I try to recall more, glimpses of the memory popping up. Our dads sitting on the long vintage couches my mom had bought for the house while me and my brother ran outside to play, “It was at the original house, m-maybe a year before we moved to Kansas.”

“So three years after mom died” Sam nods.

“Yeah that seems about right, but I’m not sure if that encounter was like right after your dad met this Missouri or some time after.” I add

“It sounds familiar. '' Dean breathed out before rounding the car to the trunk, digging through it before pulling out the journal. “In Dad’s journal…here, look at this.” He flips it open, handing it off to his brother, “First page, first sentence, read that.”

Sam takes the book, reading the sentence out loud, “I went to Missouri and I learned the truth.”

“I always thought he meant the state.” Deans shrugs.

Missouri’s house was a cute little two story place. I admire the light brown wood paneling and stained glass windows, something I knew my mom would have loved. Dean and Sam sat squished together on a small couch, all of us waiting for her to be finished with her client. I choose to stand, not only to see them both quietly fight to sit on the couch but also to slightly look around the place without wandering around.

A round faced, warm brown skinned lady with big curly hair tied back in a ponytail escorts a man out of her house, “All right, there. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.” She tells him, her voice a natural soft and sweet tone, accompanied with a southern accent.

She closes the front door behind him, turning to face us, “Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.” Her sweet voice does nothing to soften her blunt statement, my eyes go wide with the comment.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Dean asks her,

“People don’t come here for the truth. They come for good news.” She answers simply, causing the room to fall quiet for a beat, “Well? Y/n, Sam and Dean, come on already, I ain’t got all day.” She leaves the room, I follow after her only pausing when I realize the boys weren’t following. I turn back towards them waving them over, they share a look before getting up and following.

“Well, lemme look at ya.” She laughs, “Oh, you boys grew up handsome.” She points a finger at Dean, “And you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.” A burst of laughter slips through my lips before I can control myself, his face falls and he glares at her.

Her gaze turns to me, my laughter dying out but a permanent smile left on my face, “Oh, you never lost your beauty” She smiles.

“You knew me when I was younger?” I ask, confused.

“Well of course, I knew your mother. Bless her soul” She answers, only leaving me more confused ‘cause my mom never mentioned her and I would sure remember such a sweet and funny woman.

“We helped each other out back then”, she explains, “She would always show me pictures of you and your brother. You were always a smiley girl, it’s good to see you didn’t lose that. Your mother would be glad too.” A warmth blossoms in my heart at that, my smile softens with me and it was like something I didn’t even know was within was fulfilled. It was hard to find new memories of my mom when I really didn’t know anyone who had known her, other than our family, to ask. Missouri hadn’t given me a full in depth memory and yet, it was enough. Enough to know someone else clearly adored my mom and had seen her in the same light I did. I don’t know why my mom never told us about her, but for some reason I didn’t feel the need to ask.

She gives me one last smile before giving her attention to Sam, she grabs his hand, her face falling, “Oh, honey…I’m sorry about your girlfriend.” A wave of shock clearly passes over the boys face, “And your father –- he’s missin’?” she continued.

“How’d you know all that?” Sam asks, clearly forgetting she is a psychic.

“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now.” She explains.

“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean rapidly spews out.

She half shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know? Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?” He snaps back, far too hostile.

She gives him a weird look, “Boy, you see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air.” A laugh passes through my lips before I could stop myself, I nudge Dean's shoulder who glares sharply at me before turning that look to Missouri, only furthering my spits of giggles that I try to bite back.

Her demeanor changes back to gentle, “Sit, please.” We listen to her, I took a seat beside Sam so that I wasn’t squished between both boys. Missouri suddenly snaps at Dean, “Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon!”

“I didn’t do anything.” Dean argues, his voice seemingly an octave higher- like a child.

“But you were thinkin’ about it.” She answers.

“Oh, I like you” I say through my laughter, it was quite the breath of fresh air to see someone put gruff ‘macho man’ Dean in his place.

Sam gets back on topic, whipping the smile that formed on his face, “Okay. So, our dad –- when did you first meet him?”

“He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say…I drew back the curtains for him.” She responds.

“What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?” Dean asks.

“A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin’ I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing” She explains.

“And could you?” Sam asks

She shakes her head, “I…”

“What was it?”

She answers softly, “I don’t know. Oh, but it was evil.”, She pauses for a beat, “So…you think somethin’ is back in that house?”

“Definitely” Sam breathes.

She shakes her head again, “I don’t understand.”

“What?” Sam asks.

“I haven’t been back inside, but I’ve been keepin’ an eye on the place, and it’s been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin’ up now?” She explains.

“I don’t know. But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once –- it just feels like something’s starting.” Sam says, eyebrows scrunched in worry.

“That’s a comforting thought.” Dean mumbles.

~~~~~~~~~

The ride back to the Winchesters house was the light in this complex time. The entire ride Missouri lectured Dean on his driving saying he was just a little too reckless and was gonna get us all killed despite it being a generally short one. They bickered back and forth a while until Dean gave up grumbling something below his breath, causing another snap response from the woman herself.

When we finally arrived Dean quickly got out of the car before anyone else could even register being parked, I genuinely don’t think I've ever seen him happy to be out of Baby. He had very obviously, and purposefully, positioned himself so that he was standing next to me away from Missouri, in fact two people away as she stood on the other side of Sammy. I searched for Dean's hand, my fingers brushed against his larger rougher hand. I clasped it gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze to hopefully ease his tension, caused by the beef he had with the nice lady that was helping us to begin with, even though I most definitely found the whole thing hilarious. Just as Sam knocked on the door I released Dean's hand, bringing both my hands to clasp in front of me. A peak of nervousness rests in my gut as I feel his gaze on me, I ignore it, focusing my eyes forward while I rock on the balls of my feet.

Jenny answers the door, her blond hair messy and clear stress present in the crinkled corner of her eyes and worry etched into her pupils. She holds her baby, Ritchie, close to her chest, “Sam, Dean, Y/N. What are you doing here?”

Sam smiles at the blond, “Hey, Jenny. This is our friend, Missouri.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house. You know, for old time’s sake” Dean chimes in.

She scrunches her nose, “You know, this isn’t a good time. I’m kind of busy.”

“Listen, Jenny, it’s important.” Dean tries to explain before Missouri smacks him hard on the back of the head, far harder than I ever do, “Ow!” He yelps, turning around swiftly towards the shorter woman, “How did you-!” He nearly yells holding the back of his head. He looks at her with big wild eyes, his yelling coming from the fact she was able to quietly get behind Sam and I to hit him.

Missouri cuts him off, “Give the poor girl a break, can’t you see she’s upset?” She then turns to Jenny, “Forgive this boy, he means well, he’s just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out.” Dean looks further stunned.

“About what?” Jenny asks, adjusting her hold on her kid.

“About this house.” Missouri answers.

“What are you talking about?” Jenny looks between us all, nervously.

“I think you know what I’m talking about. You think there’s something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?” Missouri says.

“Who are you?” Jenny asks just above a whisper.

“We’re people who can help, who can stop this thing. But you’re gonna have to trust us, just a little.” Missouri smiles comfortingly but even so Jenny looks unsure.

She seems to go over it in her head before finally sighing, “Alright.”

The four of us stand in Sari’s bedroom, Jenny having given us room to do what we need to while she waits downstairs with her kids. Sari’s room was a dark blue, a contrast to her pink and white furniture and toys.

“If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it.” Missouri states, looking around the room carefully from where she stood.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.” She answers, looking around the room. Dean pulls out his DIY EMF from the inside of his coat pocket, “That an EMF?” Missouri asks.

“Yeah.” Dean smiles smugly.

“Amateur.” Missouri says lowly, I don’t know why she was targeting Dean specifically but his reaction to her was too amusing to really ponder it.

The EMF beeps frantically, “I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain’t the thing that took your mom.” Missouri announces.

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam asks frantically, getting a confident nod, “How do you know?”

“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s somethin’ different.” She answers, pausing for a beat before adding, “Can you feel it Y/N?”

My eyes widened in shock, “I’m sorry what?”

“You still got a lot to learn ‘bout your abilities'' She responds waving me over, “c’mere, you might be able to sense the energy.”

I hesitantly place my bag down before slowly walking over to her, she either senses my nervousness or reads my mind because she explains what she means, “Witches tend to have the best intuition and connection to the natural world, you should be able to sense energies especially spiritual ones with a second sight.”

She situates me in front of her with my back towards her, her hands clasp my arms tightly as they rest at my side. “Close your eyes, and just like meditation let everythin’ else fall away.”

I follow her instructions, my eyes fluttering shut reluctantly. I feel incredibly silly as I take a deep breath, the sage-y perfume of the woman behind me filling my nose. I breathe out slowly, forcing my mind to shut out the real world, which isn’t as hard as it should be with the quiet room and my nearly regular meditating. Complete darkness surrounds me as if the room itself had fallen away with all the people in it too, just me floating in an abyss.

I focused more closely on the house itself, extending my awareness far out to the block and then as if a dark fog hugged it I zeroed in on the house. Using my conscious self I pictured what it was like to walk through the house this time with a deep focus and new eyes.

With each step I ventured further into the house cautiously, a buzzing feeling rang through the house like when two strong magnets fight for equilibrium with a clatter. But despite the buzzing a physical warm glow emitted from the home's edges and like a hand reaching out it tried to conquer more of the house, yet it couldn’t. A force I couldn't quite tell held it back. The hair on the back of my neck stood tall, a cold chill running down my spine, I shrugged it off as I walked back up the stairs and down the hall to my physical self.

My foot only breached the doorway when a dreadful feeling filled the halls as if rooted beneath the wallpaper, a twinge of fear made its home in my stomach. I had never done this before, never went into my mind to feel the very things I hunt. I have no experience here, this is not my domain. They must know that as hushed murmurs fluttered around me with voices I couldn’t detect but knew they didn’t belong to anyone in the room. They wouldn’t be able to talk to me here so normally, maybe Missouri but certainly not Sam or Dean.

The murmurs became louder, each whisper jumbled over the next, talking over each other to the point of no recognition. My back hits the hard archway of the door's entrance, the sheer loudness of combined voices knocking me off balance. I braced myself against the door, nails biting into wood, my eyes shut tightly in effort to focus even further.

An unfamiliar cold hand brushes my forearm dragging its fingers up to my elbow as if standing beside me, I swiftly turn around backing up a few feet to see nothing near me. Another brush touches me, this time the back of my neck accompanied by a hot breath fanning by my ear. I don’t move away. this is not my domain, but it will be, and I will not show fear now. Latin spews from its mouth flowing right into my ear, a simple teasing statement, “Another toy.”

My eyes shoot open, pupils blown wide as my eyes adjust to the lighting as well as my mind being back in focus of the physical realm. My heart beats harshly against my chest, my lungs heaving with adrenaline.

A large hand clasps around my upper arm tightly, I nearly stumble back a step before my mind finally catches up with the present. “What is it?” Dean spews out quickly, his green eyes nearly crazed with worry.

I open my mouth to answer only to have Missouri answer for me instead, “You saw them.”

“F-felt more like” I stammer the feeling of its touch still lingering.

“What are they doing here?” Dean asks, looking between Missouri and I for answers, his hand still on my arm. Thing is I don’t have an answer, all that creepy spirit touching and I still don’t know everything.

But of course Missouri does, “They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected.”

“This house buzzes with energy, literally you can feel it attracting paranormal energy. There’s two here right now…ones in the room. My head turns towards the closet, “A poltergeist. I’m not sure if it sees it as a game or what but I think it wants Jenny and her kids dead.” I know I’m right when Missouri nods her head.

“You both said there was more than one spirit.”

“There is. I just can’t quite make out the second one.” Missouri answers before adding, “You pick up anythin’”

“Only that it felt…good, if that makes sense. It was very different from the other. It was like this warmth trying to consume the house or really rid the house of its evil.” I answer by trying to make sense of everything that I have experienced.

“You’re sure of this?” Dean asks me, gaining my attention again by squeezing my arm before finally letting go.

“Yes.” I breathe simply, failing to explain that my only other hunch was the fact that it hadn’t been bothering me or I suppose terrorizing me like the poltergeist had with its touching.

A hard determined look sharpens on Dean's face, “Well, one thing’s for damn sure –- nobody’s dyin’ in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

“We’re gonna cleanse the house” Missouri answers simply, “Y/N, what you have in that bag of yours?”

A devilish smirk stretches itself on my face, “You wanna do purifying bags?” I ask back instead of answering. I walk back over to my discarded bag picking it up and swinging it over my shoulder, “Let’s do this downstairs, don’t want to make a mess in the kids room” Missouri says, answering my question without really answering it.

“Copy” I smile, taking the lead as we exit the room. With a sudden need for my specialty I found a new pep in my step as I quickly descended the stairs beelining for the nearest table. I carefully placed my bag down on the dining room table, pulling out my spell book marked and written in along with small corked glass bottles of different roots and herbs I carry. “When did you put all of this in your bag?” Sam asks, picking up a vial of crossroad dirt.

“Before I left with Dean to come get you, ‘cause you never know when you're gonna have to put together a spell or a potion of sorts” I answer, pulling out a couple empty small brown pouches.

“So you’ve been carrying this ‘round with you this whole time?” Dean asks this time.

“Mhm” I hum as I sit getting right to work.

With a little bag in front of me I put in each ‘ingredient’, for lack of a better word, not needing to look at my book for the right amount in each.

“Well don’t be lazy, help the girl!” Missouri lectures hitting Dean on the back of the head again. He grumbles no longer snapping back with something, he sits down next to me looking for direction.

With the feeling of his gaze on the side of my face I swirl my finger towards my spell book, a purple haze floating through the air turning the pages of my book to the right section for him to follow without me having to stop my work. He doesn't say anything as he takes off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, putting his forearms on display as he picks up bits of root, unfortunately catching my attention enough to pause my work and stare at him.

His eyes move from my book to the bag he was working on, his eyes sharp and focus as it passes across the words on the page. He moves his hand to the book using a finger to drag across the page underneath each word, the veins in his hand bulging as he does so. His eyebrows scrunch and his jaw ticks as he asks, “What is this stuff anyway?”

“That’s angelica root your holding” I mentioned first, referring to the fuzzy green plant in his hand. “And that’s van van oil, crossroad dirt, sage” I point to each bottle, naming off each ingredient we’re using.

He nods as I speak, his eyes still holding the same level of focus. From his listening to the gentle touch he used as he handled each bottle, all I could feel was pure endearment. The sudden quietness in the room made me painfully aware of the fact that we were the only ones left in said room and that Missouri along with Sam had left at some point, most likely to talk to Jenny.

“What are we supposed to do with it?” Dean questioned, knocking his knee into mine to get my attention once more. A bashful smile breaks its way onto my face at his touch, “We put them inside the walls of each corner of each floor of the house, north, south, east, west.”

“We’ll be punchin’ holes in the dry wall. Jenny’s gonna love that.” Dean points out.

My lips formed a tight line, cringing, “Yeah…this is just how this goes but to be fair some holes in the walls are better than evil spirits.”

He huffed a laugh, “And this will destroy the spirits?”

“It should, it's supposed to purify the house completely, we’ll probably each take a floor but we do have to work quickly because when they catch on to what we’re doing, they get seriously pissed.” I answered

“Won’t they catch on with us doing it here?”

“You would think that but spirits don’t always know until it’s actually happening like when we make the holes then it’s a big deal.” I inform, tying off another bag.

“Huh” He replies as he continues to work.

Soon silence falls upon us while we work, our arms brushing against each other every now and then.

“Are holes in drywall a hard fix?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence, worried that the spirits won’t be the only pissed ones.

A deep chuckle passes through his lips, “That depends, sweetheart, but it should be.” He went on to explain the logistics of it, and while it wasn’t something I really cared to know about I didn’t stop him from explaining.

By the time his explanation of spackles and walls was over our purifying bags were done too.

Missouri and Sam walk back into the room, the floor creaking slightly underneath them. “You guys almost done?” Sam asked

“Yup” I hummed, “The bags are all done just gotta finish cleaning up”

“Good. Jenny and her kids just left, they’ll be back in an hour or two” Sam explained, placing a bunch of heavy items on the table. “I brought these in from the car, take your pick.”

I look up at the heavy mass, a hammer, a small ax, and two crowbars lay on the table. Though it is an odd collection of weapons as long as it is capable of making a hole in the wall it doesn't really matter, Sam picks up the hammer testing the weight of it in his hand.

With every part of the plan settled I throw the rest of the vials and leftover bags in my bag worrying about organization later, gently tucking my thick spell book into my bag I turn swiftly around, “Let’s get it done.”

“I’ll take this floor” Dean says, picking up his four bags, “Sammy you take upstairs, and you two can take the basement.”

“And remember you need to put a bag in each corner, north, south, east, west.” I order as everyone has the right amount of bags and a weapon of choice.

A collective nod was all we needed to spring into action, with the cold heavy crowbar in my hand I took the lead down the basement Missouri following closely after me. Without any words needed, we split up her heading to the west side of the floor and me to the east.

A chill runs up my spine, an uncomfortable feeling floating in the air, I roll my shoulders trying to rid myself of the feeling. My knees hit the floor, the coldness seeping through my pants. I knock on the wall in an attempt to hear a hollow part, Dean having mentioned before that would be the easiest way to make a hole. My knuckles hit the wall in at least ten separate spots before it no longer sounds solid. I stand back up for better leverage before changing my hold on the crowbar to be horizontal, bashing the end of it into the wall repeatedly until it cracks.

A heavy sliding noise shuffles behind me, I snap my head to the sound of a large dark table moving across the floor right into Missouri. My mouth opens to scream her name in warning but just as the first syllable leaves my mouth a nail comes flying at my face. Out of reflex alone I send the nail flying to the left, the invisible force of my power altering its trajectory. My eyes follow where the nail came from, an open red tool box, more nails come flying my way and each time I knock them away. Knowing it wouldn’t stop I gripped the crowbar harder using only a glimpse back at the wall to know where I was aiming for. While I used one hand and half my focus on changing the direction of the nails I used my other to slam the crowbars end into the already cracked wall but only when it sounded like it broke through enough did I glimpse back again. With another look forward at the coming nails, only one more left, I waited until it got closer, the old nail zooming toward my eye. Just as it got but an inch away I dropped to the floor, turning my body as I went, throwing the purification bag in.

I got up quickly, dropping my crowbar, almost tripping over my other foot as I ran to Missouri, pushing the table away from her, throwing another bag into the hole she had already made before she got attacked. She breathes heavily, a hand on her chest. “You okay?” I ask, putting a hand on her shoulder and leading her away from the table. She nods her head, handing me her two bags, wordlessly telling me to finish the floor.

I grip the bags in one hand as I pick up my discarded crowbar, seeing the nails that flew at me sticking out of the walls. I head over to the undisturbed wall slamming the crowbar into the wall, not even attempting to do the knocking at this point. While I threw in the third bag, worry consumed me at the realization that the spirits must be attacking the boys too. Without wasting any more time I go to the last undisturbed wall, again slamming the crowbar into it. Call it paranoia or instinct that made me turn so that my shoulder was facing the wall instead of my face to see if another attack would be coming. Either way it was that alone that saved me from the poltergeist throwing a wooden chair at my head. I duck again just in time for the chair to smash into pieces above me, wood undoubtedly falling into my hair.

“Stop throwing stuff!” I yell at the air itself or really the incredibly annoying poltergeist. With a huff I throw in the last bag, all the activity silencing on this floor. I get up walking over to Missouri as I pick out chunks of wood from my hair, as soon as I get close enough she reaches up and takes a particularly large piece of chair out of my hair showing it to me with a laugh before tossing it somewhere on the floor.

“Y/N!” A voice yells with a strain, clearly coming from a distance away. Right away I recognize the voice, Deans, I go running climbing up the stairs two at a time. Forget about my hair, forget about leaving Missouri behind (no offense).

The ground floor is practically untouched other than the clear mess that is peeking out from the kitchen, I look around quickly and see no one, “Dean?!” I shout back evident fear in my voice, getting an immediate “Up here.” Slight relief hits me as I again sprint up the stairs, twirling around the banister the second I reach the second floor seeing the closest open door. Forgetting about precautions I immediately approach the door, my hand on the archway when I see Dean on the floor cradling a hurt-limp Sam.

“Wha-“ I begin saying only to lose my train of thought.

“Let’s get him up” Missouri suddenly says from behind me, very calmly. She nudges past me heading straight for the boys, but neither of them move. She leans down beside Sam pressing two fingers to the side of his neck, “He’s still alive, he’ll be just fine.”

He gives her a curt nod before leaning back on his feet and standing, dragging his brother up with him, just as he does so Sam comes to. His eyes fluttering open and close, “It’s okay Sammy, just gonna bring you downstairs” Dean tells him, putting his brother's arm around his shoulder.

Carefully he walks his brother downstairs, Sam grumbling something halfway through before going limp again. Finally they reach the living room, Dean carefully lays his brother on the couch then moves to sit on the coffee table right across from him.

“He’ll be alright” I say softly, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder.

“I know” he replies.

“Were you able to finish the floor?” I ask even though maybe it wasn’t the proper time to.

“No. I was hurled with knives the second I made the hole, then I heard something upstairs and ran to see if Sammy was okay…I don’t think he finished either” He explains, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“It’s okay, i’ll go finish it and you guys can stay here, watch over him” I say, giving his shoulder a little squeeze before moving my hand away.

“Are you crazy?! That’s dangerous. Did you not just see what happened to Sam?!” Dean shoots back, not quite yelling but his voice is definitely louder than needed.

I smiled at him sweetly knowing this was coming from a place of worry and not an incompetent sort of deal, “Don’t worry I can take care of myself just fine, I did so down stairs when we finished up. Got some nails thrown at me, a chair and a table, you know just the usual playing house with the ghost.”

“That’s not the point. I’m coming with you.” He stands up abruptly and I swear I saw his jaw tick.

“Okay. I’m not gonna argue with you” I respond with humor in my voice. “But. If you did want to stay behind to watch your brother I wouldn't fault you for it either.”

He looks at me strangely with those beautiful green eyes before diverting them just past me, “I’m coming with you.”

“Right.” I smile “‘You got the bags?”

He answers by shuffling through his jacket pockets and pulling out a bag from each, he holds them up in an almost teasing way. I take a half step forward, grabbing a bag right out of his hand, only then realizing how close my small step puts us, having to lean my head back far enough to look up at him comfortably. But I don’t move away as I ask him, “What about your axe?”

He tilts his head down slightly towards me, his breathe hot on my face, “Dropped it in the kitchen”

“Good.” I say, nearly and pathetically getting distracted by our closeness…and his eyes… and his lips. “ ‘Cause I have no idea where I left that crowbar”

He laughs and steps away, his shoulder brushing mine as he walks away to the kitchen. Before I can turn to follow him Missouri meets my eyes, giving me a pointed-knowing look about what just happened. ‘Shut up’ I playfully mouth.

Finally I turn around following after the man in question. He comes out of the kitchen holding the small axe but just behind him is a mess. The kitchen looks like a tornado went through it with draws and cabinets open, utensils on the floor, broken dishes scattered around, the table turned over with knives sticking out of it (a tornado could not do that but the point of the mess still stands.) I look back at Dean then behind him repeatedly, “Did you have fun?” I remark sarcastically.

“Oh, not as much fun as you had” He replies gruffly, reaching up to my hair, his fingers sinking in as he ruffles out small chips of wood. My cheeks feel warm at the small contact and even more so when he pulls away and gives me that smirk. Then he walks away towards the back of the house with a cocky look in his eye like he knew exactly what he had done. I take a short deep breath before following him.

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

A few hours later every purifying bag is put in place and Sammy is conscious and now we stand in the disaster that is the kitchen, broken cabinets and chair bits on the floor as well as a collection of utensils, all just to see the bunt of the fight.

“‘You sure this is over?” Sam questions, his voice a little rough.

“I’m sure. Why? Why do you ask?” Missouri answers.

“Never mind.” He sighs, “It’s nothin’, I guess.”

The front door opens followed by footsteps, “Hello? We’re home.” Jenny calls out before finding us in the kitchen pure shock written on her face, “What happened?”

“Hi, sorry. Um, we’ll pay for all of this.” Sam word vomits, the words spilling out quickly and anxiously. Both Dean and I’s heads snap towards him, I seriously want to ask him ‘with what money???’ But before anyone can fathom a word Missouri beat us to it, “Don’t you worry. Dean’s gonna clean up this mess.” Again with her (maybe) uncalled targeting I have to bite back a smirk, meanwhile Dean stands unmoving his eyebrows scrunched looking at the shorter woman with a total bewildered expression.

“Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop.” She adds, and I don’t know how she has this much power but he listens and begins to walk away or really shuffle away, “And don’t cuss at me!” She lectures.

Laughter slips through my lips as he mutters under his breath, Sam joining in on the hilarious nature that is his brother being bossed around.

Wiping a tear out of the corner of my eye I touch Sam’s shoulder, “I’m gonna go get him and fix this up…” I twirl my finger slightly to signal I mean magically, “Bring Jenny inside somewhere.” He nods, “Okay but you should really let him suffer”

I laugh again, rolling my eyes as I move away.

I find Dean standing in front of a broom closet trying to balance several cleaning objects in his hands at once. I admire his effort but there’s just no way anyone could clean that kitchen when it’s quite literally just destroyed. I grabbed a broom from him that was seconds away from falling, “Not to ruin your fun but I figured it would be easier to use magic on the kitchen than a mop.”

“Thank god” He sighs, shoving everything back in the closet including the broom I held.

Back in the kitchen I try not to get stressed at just how bad it is. Taking a calming breath I walk over to the kitchen counters, closing my eyes, I feel my hair move around me slightly from a small drift in the room, my body stands completely still as I let my hands feel the cool counter below me and the steadiness of it all. As my body relaxes and my shoulders drop, relieving its tension I become a conduit for magic, a dance of ethereal threads weaving through me. The energy flowed from my core to my fingertips, the flow gracefully extending to every nook and cranny. As if tracing an intricate pattern, it embraced the room, coaxing broken shards and scattered pieces back into harmony. The air felt electric with the essence of restoration, and the kitchen hummed with the soothing melody of enchantment.

When I open my eyes again, I feel a gaze on me. I turn my whole body, so that I was standing sideways, to it and of course it’s Dean, he meets my eyes, his mouth just slightly agape and I can only imagine what the swirling of purple energy around the room fixing items must have looked like. His green eyes are slightly glossy with what is maybe curiousity or amazement, either way it was a weird look. Before I could question him I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a tall familiar figure. Sam stands by the kitchen archway waving his hand, signaling it was time to go.

Hours later darkness consumes the Impala. After dropping Missouri back home Sam insisted we came back to the house for a stakeout. It was hard to argue with someone who had a bad feeling over something that is quite literally life or death, so we stayed. We’d been in here so long in fact that I’d taken to lying down flat in the backseat, my legs propped up on the seats (shoes off so Dean wouldn’t complain but at least I got to showcase my cute dragonfly socks).

I stare up at the beige-ish interior roof, my hands laying across my chest. I breathe in and out evenly, but with the prospect of being bored, memories of my life here swarm my head and suddenly I miss my mom more than I've had in a long time. If I focus hard enough on the roof I can still hear the remnants of her laughter and I could see her smile, the one I inherited, on her soft face. That old longing, that old sadness that I thought I was over fills my heart, its hands creep up on it clasping it tightly. It’s been years. So many years since she’s been gone and yet still this feeling—this rawness in my chest, this endless longing is home in my body just as it was the first time around.

I miss my mom.

I want to cry and I want her back, tears threaten my eyes and that stupid tightness in my throat prevails almost like it’s choking me, a tightness that’s so painful I want to rip my throat out. I swallow forcefully, I hate this feeling and I hate death and I hate that I'm feeling this in the back of the car with my best friends just right up front. It’s too vulnerable, it’s too open, too close to home…I want to go home.

I want to go home.

I shut my eyes tightly trying to erase these feelings to move them back in the dusty box they had sat in. But it isn’t that easy and I know it isn’t so instead I breathe deeply and choose to listen to Dean and Sam talk, focusing on the up and down of their words and the softness of each syllable.

“All right, so, tell me again, what are we still doin’ here?” Dean asks, impatience clear on his tongue.

“I don’t know. I just…” Sam sighs, “…still have a bad feeling.”

“Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.” Dean explains.

“Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that’s all.” Sam answers.

“Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now.” Dean responds and I hear him slide down his seat, probably closing his eyes in the process, “Like Y/N back there” he adds, softer, and even with my eyes closed a smile produces itself on my face. The small warmth that spreads in my chest fends off the grief, at least enough for it not to be at the forefront of my mind.

The quiet peace that falls over the Impala is short lived, Sam suddenly yelling, “Guys. Look” My eyes shoot open, “Dean!” He hits his brother's shoulder.

I sit up quickly catching a glimpse of Jenny yelling by her window, with nothing more to be said- we jump out of the car. I shuffled to the car door, leaving my shoes behind, the second I’m out and the door is slammed shut I run after the boys who were only two paces ahead. “You two grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny.” Dean commands as Sam tries the door which of course is locked. Dean pushes him slightly to the side, he takes a step back lifting his leg and kicking in the door. Broken pieces of wood stick out from the side of it.

The dark wooden floors are cold beneath my sock-covered feet, each step up the staircase seems far too long even as we reach the top. At the top Dean stops at a door close to the stairs but I don’t use any more focus to take anything else as Sam and I run down the hall, “Get Sari! I’ll get the baby!” I yell after him. Stopping at the closest door I swing it open only to reveal a bathroom, I curse underneath my breath before spinning around to the door right across the hall. Once more I swing it open, this time revealing a baby room with a white crib in the middle of it. I rush over only slowing to not scare Richie as I approach, somehow he’s still asleep wrapped up in his little blanket.

Carefully I reach in the crib scooping him up from underneath his upper back, my other arm going for his legs. Once in my arms I rearrange him so my dominant hand rests on his lower back while the crook of my other arm cradles his little head, just like holding a baby doll except this one is way cuter and also very alive. Standing back at my full height I fix his blanket around him before exiting the room. I know Sam can handle himself so I head towards the stairs, the baby had to be the priority right now. I quickly descend the stairs, only half way down when I feel Sam close behind, a relief hitting me.

My feet only just hit the ground level when Sam calls my name, swiftly I turn towards him Sari in his arms.

“Y/N, you need to take the kids and go outside.” He orders, placing Sari on the floor.

“Okay, what about you aren’t you coming?” I rushed out, cradling Richie in one arm so I could take hold of Sari’s hand.

Panic is written all over his face and something else lies in his eyes, “Take them. Don’t look back” And before I can argue any further he’s nudging me forward, reluctantly I go only because I know I can’t help with two kids in my arms. I run towards the door at this point, pulling Sari along with me, just behind me I hear a slam to the floor and I know it’s Sam- relief gone. But even so I rush forward.

The chill breeze of the night hits me hard. Jenny and Dean stand on the edge of the grass line. Only a few paces from them Sari lets go of my hand and runs to her mom, Jenny leaning down to catch her and hold her tightly. “Sam’s inside you have to go now” I speak quickly, my words jumbling over itself. Dean's eyes widen and pure fear fills them, on top of being scared guilt fills me now too. He runs to the front door and I hear it slam loudly. I hand Richie back over to his mom who is very obviously relieved to have him again.

Dean runs back to the Impala pulling out a shotgun and an ax, going right back to the door. I know I could open the door for him, it would be easy and I wouldn’t even break a sweat. Yet, my feet remain planted to the grown, the chaos of it all—the guilt. My purifying bags didn’t work, it nearly got a whole family killed and Sam’s now in trouble too. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.

My feet won’t move, my body won’t react, I can't even redeem myself. I don’t want to lose anyone else, I don’t want to. I can’t.

Move.

Move. Please move, I beg myself— my very being to do something anything but be helpless. I hate being helpless and yet I’m here doing nothing, anxiety and fear encasing me to this spot. I hear Dean hacking away at the door, faint grunts leaving his mouth as he does so but still I can’t move. Sari begins to cry latching on to her moms legs only waking up Ritchie in the process who then begins to cry too. The loud crying rings in my ears, only making my heart beat faster.

Jenny, visibly overwhelmed, wrestles with the challenge of consoling both kids, her distress mirrored in her eyes. Without conscious thought, my arms extend, offering to hold Ritchie. To my surprise, she entrusts the baby to me, planting a tender kiss on his forehead before gathering Sari into her embrace. Sari's legs encircle her mother's waist, a protective hand cradling the back of her head.

Richie moving in my arms breaks me out of my panic, if only because someone in need was right there, someone who surely couldn’t help themselves. I begin to rock him, moving my weight from one foot to another but my stress and worry is still there and he must feel it too because it does barely anything to help. I look back up, Dean is still hacking away at the door, not enough progress has been made. I rearrange the baby, using my free arm I lift up a hand my palm facing towards the direction of the door, with barely any thought needed the door slams open. Dean looks back at me for only a second before running in.

Richie's cries persist as I rock him, murmuring reassurances, "It's okay, everything will be okay." I desperately rack my mind for any calming measures, when I suddenly recall my mother singing me lullabies. But still I struggle to remember any of them, the memory too distant to be anything more than a hymn, instead I decide to softly sing "A Lullaby" by Dear Nora ��� even though it came out way after my mothers passing it always reminded me of her. And I had always kept a small hope that one day if I were to have kids that I would sing it to them too.

As I move a strand of hair from Richie's face, he begins to settle. My voice trembles with fear, but it seems to have a soothing effect anyways. Richie stops crying, and I meet Jenny's gaze. She offers a sad smile while holding her daughter close.

Both boys came out of that house. Relief had hit me like a ton of bricks, my knees felt wobbly with it. At first they could barely speak, shocked at what they saw but then the police and firefighters came and it was all the usual.

It was hours later until everything was resolved, and it wasn’t until Missouri came over that they actually spilt what happened. Their mom was there, she was the good spirit that I had felt, the one that was fighting off the evil and she did exactly that when it had attacked Sam. Somehow, she was still at the house after all these years protecting it. She had used the last of her abilities to say…sorry.

It’s morning now, Missouri cleared the house for real this time no spirit was left in there. The kids were sleeping still, Jenny was giving the photos she found to Dean and Sam sat with Missouri on the steps talking.

I had nothing to say to anyone in particular so I sat in the Impala, my legs outside the car, digging through my bag, when I finally pulled out my spell book I turned to the purifying page, I looked it over again trying to see if we did something wrong and messed up the amounts. But no. We did it right, but for some reason it didn’t work—it didn’t work and people could have died. Holding the book on my lap I reach up to the top of it, my hand holding the single page ready to tear it out when it’s suddenly taken from my grasp “Hey, what are you doing?!” Dean yells, holding it out of reach.

“It didn’t work. It needs to go, please give it back.” I answered, my jaw clenched.

“This was your moms, you’d hate yourself if you ripped it up.” Dean lectures.

“No I wouldn't, give it back. I need to make sure this never happens again.” I shoot up from my seat reaching up to grab it back but his arm shoots down behind his back.

“Yeah, you would. Sorry to break it to you sweetheart but I know you pretty damn well.”

I don’t care if he’s right. I don’t. That page needs to go, I can’t make this mistake again. I won’t. I reach for it again behind his back but again he moves it, “Dean. I’m not joking around give it back.” I don’t often get angry, but I am.

He looks down at me, his eyes scrunched in confusion and concern, “What’s going on with you?”

I huff, frustrated, “What’s going on is I messed up. Badly. They could have died and don’t try to say I don’t know that for sure because I do. And I know you do too, so I don’t need any comforting lies”

"We screw up, sweetheart. It's part of the gig. But we fixed it. They're alive and kickin', okay?" His words carried that gruff reassurance he always had, even when he was being a bit of a hypocrite. Book at his side, guard lowered just a bit, it was my chance to snag it back. "Not this," I jabbed a finger at the book. "I'm good at this. I don't mess up on this."

"I don't care that you're all emotional right now. You're not trashing your spell book." Arms crossed in front of his chest, he held his ground.

My chest heaved, my eyes scrunched in frustration as I looked up at him, my free hand in a tight fist my nails digging into my palm. “But, it needs to—“ I say back, weakly, already my fight was crumbling, being replaced with something else. Suddenly his arms were around me and my face was buried in his chest. His arms held my upper back tightly, his hands going up to cup my head, his fingers entangled into my hair a little while his chin rested on top of my head. With each breath I took, inhaling his smell of something woody and some sort of spice mixed into one, any resolve I had left was gone.

I wanted to keep fighting, I wanted to tell him he was wrong but he held me so close and so gentle that I couldn’t. If that in itself had made me weak then so be it. I wrap my arms around his center, even with my book in my hand. It had to be seconds later when he must have felt the tension leaving my shoulders when he pulled away, his hands dropped down to the crook of my arm holding me a short distance away. His green eyes locked with mine in a silent agreement.

I pull away fully when Sam and Missouri approach, quickly whipping my eyes just in case and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. We each exchange hugs with her, even Dean who surprisingly gets no comment this time.

Missouri smiles, “Don’t you be strangers.”

“We won’t.” Dean nods as he rounds the car.

[dreamlikevening]

Advice, Tips, Insights From Your Spiritual Team 🌀🪻📔

Pick a Song Lyric 🎶

please pick as you wish ♡

group 1 - “anything that may delay you might just save you.”

group 2 - “dance, dance, dance!”

group 3 - “words that hide greed are strange.”

hello! thank you so much for joining me on this reading 🤍 i wanted to take the time to let you all know i have started a youtube channel for my tarot readings! please feel free to check it out if you’re called to it, i will be a tad more active on there than here.

group 1

🐶🌀🎇

hello, group 1! thank you for being here. let’s begin with the intuitive messages i wrote down. (can work as extra confirmation)

strawberries, blueberries, yogurt, clean lifestyle, “neat”, organization, instrument, tanning, “party animal”, NYC, cherries, 2000s

your messages - i am sensing that you may have recently experienced some sort of “slowing down” in your life perhaps you expected a certain outcome and instead received the unexpected i am hearing “you don’t know it yet, but this is so good. don’t even think twice about it.” group one, have you ever noticed how some situations seem so much better in retrospect than how you perceived them in the moment? take note on times like that. most likely your body was not very grounded to have captured the beauty lying in the present moment, but you have the wondrous ability to train yourself step-by-step on how to turn rocks into diamonds. the pressure is needed!

here are your tips: i am getting a strong feeling about this— your primary tip is to instead of sharing your every thought with others, you are recommended by your spirit team to Share Things With YOURSELF. write down what insides you pick up, things that light you up, great ideas you get, anything that feels significant to you, and make time to go back and read those things. recognize how special your own thoughts are, and be more discerning about actions you’re taking to validate yourself. are you expecting a loved one to constantly lift you up? to always be there for you to their own avail? asking a stranger to give you an idea of who you are? or are you looking within, proving yourself only to past you. improving for your own health and joy.

final words from your spirit team ♥️ **came out in a letter kind of format**

“Love, devote yourself only to what feels right. Goodness towards yourself does not mean badness towards others. We are all human, each walking our own ways. Some confused and lost, some brave and tall, some a little bit of everything. Whoever is around you and near you, isn’t you. Whatever they have said about you isn’t you. You decide, who are you? I am sending you so much courage for your journey. Just turned to me in times of perceived defeat. You and I, we’ll pick you up together. Much love, your guides.”

i hope you connected to your reading, group 1. thanks so much for being here! wishing you the best. ^_^ feel called to say if you were called to another group, feel free to check it out :D

ps. your song was “Destroy Everything You Touch” by Ladytron

group 2

🌂🧥🦉🪻

hello lovely group 2, thank you for joining ^_^ welcome, welcome. i’ll begin with the intuitive messages / extra confirmation portion (use as needed).

foreign language, south america, antioxidants, collagen, mindfulness books, color orange, west coast, poppies, writing, sunflower

your reading:

relief after a decision has been made, especially in regards to something you’re passionate about. like a “wow i’m so glad I did that“, something like a close call. knowing you made the right move. i think you are already intuitively recognize this, but your guides want to offer further information! let’s see what they want to say.

your guides seem to be advising you to consider sharing your decision with a specific person. one person i’m getting. someone you really trust. it seems you should not do this thing entirely alone. you can be in charge and responsible for the parts that you are naturally skilled and interested in, and they can take care of the rest. seems very particular, but you can figure it out. not much is being disclosed to me because i sense your spiritual team wanting you to “use your muscle“ – meaning, to create your own approach towards understanding/learning this thing. it’s a bit difficult to put into words, but basically they want you to connect the dots yourself. maybe like creating a plan or action on your own, then sending the guidelines to someone. you’ll know what this is referring to! trust in that!

thx for being here ♥︎ wishing you the best, always!

(this is as relevant as you make it to be, especially if you’d like to read the lyrics!) but your song was “THANXX” by ATEEZ

group 3

🪴🦜🍉🪀🐢

hello group #3!!! welcome to your reading :) i will begin with the intuitive confirmation messages i was receiving!

3:33 right as i started with your group hehe, any repeating number sequences with the number #3, leo placements, confidence, self-expression, standing by your beliefs, trusting yourself deeply, self-improvement

(note: these are all quite significant and growth-oriented concepts so there is definitely an amplified aspect to the importance of your reading as well as the strength of you and your guides!)

main message:

firstly would like to say that your spirit team is so proud of you. you have overcome so much. been through the thick and thin. they are smiling and in awe of you. you are so much more than anyone could ever imagine you being. let’s say you have a secret admirer, that person may view you as a 10/10, but really you are a 333/10 haha. you hold so much within you. a beautiful, strong soul. humble too. you probably have no idea how many people look up to you. your guides would like to congratulate you on something. freeing yourself of relying on societal expectations, your ego’s expectations. that voice that tells you you should be doing what others are doing instead of delving into the uniqueness and value of your own approach. you seem to be dismissing that which tries to hold you back, no matter how “irrational”. you know your best. You know your “unsuitable” (that is, what is unsuitable to you). your discernment is a great gift.

insights for you! ♥︎

whenever you take the time to weigh your options, sit down and take things into consideration, reflect, pursue something in your very own way, this is a very very strong form of sending love to your soul. cherishing your being. feeding your spirit with that which you know is meaningful and radiant to you. they (your guides) just want you to see that. they couldn’t be prouder, you do things the way you are meant to. you follow your heart and instinct so honestly. your guides would simply like to thank you 💓

this was quite lovely to hear, group three. thank for you reading, i hope you have a wonderful rest of your days and i send a lot of love your way!

ps. your song was FEARLESS by LE SSERAFIM, feel free to listen & read the lyrics if you want :)

[joelalorian]

WIP wednesday thursday friday

Imma bout to just call it WIP day. Thank you so much for the tag, my dear @burntheedges!

Being the phasical (is that even a word? idek) person that I am, I've been struggling to write much and my attention turned to playing Tom Clancy's The Division 2 for way too many hours. I'm finally getting bored with that game (again), so it's back to writing :) I have two things - one is a story that I'm 5 chapters into already and the other is just an idea so far:

Untitled stepdad!Dave York x f!reader - still rough draft form, so forgive any glaring mistakes, please. This one will likely launch around the new year.

“Sure, honey. You can come stay for a while,” your mom assured you. She sounded excited even though it wasn’t a call you wanted to make, not at this point in your life, but what other options did you have? “You can see the house and meet your new stepdad!”

Dead air. It took you a moment to process her words. “My new WHAT?” your voice rose toward the end in utter confusion. You didn’t even know your mom was dating anyone, let alone someone serious enough to fucking marry! “Oh, honey, his name is Dave and you’re just gonna love him,” she replied with a lovesick simper. You’d never heard her voice do that. She must be really into the guy. Enough to marry him without even inviting you to the god damn wedding? She’s still chatting away, explaining how they met – at work – and how it was such a whirlwind romance that they got carried away on a work trip to Vegas and decided to just tie the knot without telling anyone. Okay. That, actually, didn’t surprise you. Your mom was super smart but could be a total a flake sometimes, leaving you to wonder who the adult was on more than one occasion while growing up. She had you really young and never quite matured. “That’s great, Mom. I can’t wait to meet him,” you finally replied after twenty minutes of listening to her gush over this Dave guy. “But I’m not calling him Dad.” She laughed. “Of course not, honey. He’s too young to really be your dad anyway.”

2. Suddenly Snowbound - Joel Miller x f!reader holiday fic inspired by the Hallmark movie Love You Like Christmas. Coming December 2024.

Joel owns a ranch and sells the finest Christmas trees in the state during the holiday season. On a road trip to find a fresh start on the west coast, a blizzard leaves you stranded in the small town near Joel's ranch. Calamity and, dare I say, love ensue.

NPTs - always late to the party, apologies to anyone who's already been tagged/done this and i missed it - @baronessvonglitter @kyberblade @sirowsky-stories

@grogusmum @thundermartini @pedges-world @thesummerpetrichor @aurorawritestoescape

[aprillikesthings]

Ahahah so much for not writing this until I had more done on my other fic

But if you're seeing this in the tags: It's 1967. Catra and Adora just graduated high school and they're both 18. They were both raised by single moms who were shitty but in different ways.

As always: this scene is subject to possible heavy editing later. It's about 750 words as of right now.

Bow parks a little ways down the street. Adora climbs out of the back of the Volkswagen Beetle. The light is on in Catra's window. She throws a penny at it, like she did as a kid.

Please God, let her be home. 

Sure enough, the window gets yanked open and Catra’s head pops out. 

She looks surprised, then confused. 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Adora shout-whispers. “We’re going to Monterey Pop Festival. Come with us!”

“What?!” 

“Is your mom home? Can you come out and talk?” 

Catra looks out at the street and her eyes narrow. “Is that your fancy new friends?”

“If you mean, is it Glimmer and Bow, yeah it is. It’s Bow’s car. Anyway, come down and talk to me.”

Catra nearly says something, then stops herself and presses her lips together for a second. “Fine.” The window is slammed shut. 

A moment later and the front door opens and closes, and Catra is leaning on it, arms crossed. She’s apparently stopped straightening her hair, and she has on beat-up jeans and a dark red peasant top. (And no bra. Don’t stare–) She looks good. And far more like a flower child than Adora does.

Catra has a cigarette in her hand, and she lights it and puts the lighter in her pocket, before blowing a cloud of smoke nearly into Adora’s face. 

“So, what are you idiots doing?” 

Adora startles a little. Right.

“There’s a music festival this weekend in Monterey near San Francisco, and we’re going. And then we’re staying with Glimmer’s Aunt Casta until we go to college this fall. Do you want to come with us?” 

“Like, right now?”

“Yeah.”

She takes another drag off her cigarette and blows it out through her nose. “Does your mom know you’re going?”

Adora rolls her eyes. “No, I snuck out. I left her a note, though.”

“Aww. You’re literally that cheesy song on Sgt. Pepper.”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughs. 

Catra stops smiling. “Adora. Let me get this straight. You’ve barely spoken to me for six months–”

“--you know that’s not my fault!”

Catra doesn’t acknowledge that. “--and you show up on my front porch at ten o’clock at night to ask me to join you and your little friends on a road trip all the way on the west coast in that tin can and then live with all of you in a stranger’s house for three months?”

“...Yeah.” It sounds dumb when Catra puts it that way.

“Why?”

“Because...I mean. Jefferson Airplane will be at Monterey Pop.”

“That’s not enough for me to crammed in that tiny car with all of you for that long.”

“And, um.” Adora’s face heats. “Because. I want you to come with us.” She takes a deep breath. “With me. I've missed you.”

Catra looks wide-eyed for a split second at that, soft in a way she hasn’t in years. But it’s gone just as fast, and her cigarette is in her mouth again.

“With what money, Adora.”

“I can pay for you. My.” She clears her throat. “When I turned 18 I was able to access my trust fund.”

“That’s your college money from your dead dad.”

“I know.” 

Catra looks past her. Adora turns around. Glimmer and Bow got out of the car at some point and are leaning on the other side of it, facing away from Catra and Adora. They’re talking quietly and smoking.

Adora turns back. Catra’s eyes are narrowed. 

“I’m not your charity case.” 

“I never said you were. But. You don’t have to be stuck here with your mom all summer. You can come with us.”

“I don't need you to save me. I've been doing just fine on my own.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t.”

There’s a long silence. Catra keeps smoking.

Adora takes a deep breath to try one more time. “You don't have to let your mom treat you like shit anymore. You can leave just like I am.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Catra’s face hardens in fury and she steps forward into Adora’s space, making her scramble back. “Oh, because I need to follow you everywhere you go?!” she hisses.

“I didn't mean it that way!”

“I don't. Want. To leave. What don't you understand about that? I'm not afraid of my mom anymore, I’m an adult and she doesn’t control me.” Catra flicks her cigarette butt onto the sidewalk. “I don’t want you to come back, Adora. Have fun in San Francisco.”

And then Catra’s gone, and the front door slams shut in Adora’s face.

[luthordamnvers]

8 & 18 & 19 & 24 & 30

👀❤️

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

A sequel itself, I think I would love to explore medieval AU fic. I have no idea what about, but I loved that little world. Also, 23'sSupercorptober, also same thing. I could keep writing on that world, I'm just not sure what about 😂 ALSO ALSO, for mayhem fic @snowydragonscave and I had to actively stop ourselves because we could have kept writing and adding details, but we felt that we were running out of time.

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

This was from mayhem's fic, I did include part of it (i think, it's a blur) but think I rewrote it. I don't tend to keep many deleted scenes. This was my first draft of the start of the fic, but it felt confusing and disjointed, so back to the chalkboard i went, lol. She loves a routine. She wakes up at 6:10 AM, takes a quick shower and hits the building’s gym. She stretches and uses the treadmill for 10 minutes, before hitting the rowing machine for 20 minutes, in 1-minute intervals training, and then she does some stretches to cool down. She returns to her own penthouse, to take a more relaxing shower, painstakingly apply makeup over her body and face, and dresses herself for the day. Sometimes, she even has a quick breakfast; most of the time, she drinks a cup of espresso, and runs towards the door. It works for her. Once upon a time, she would do some extra squats and deadlifts at the gym, to keep up with her fencing training, but that was when she was a too young college kid and didn’t have a company to run. Now she can dedicate no more than 35-minutes daily to her workout, to make it to the office before 8:00 AM.  She’s still getting used to her new routine, after years of avoiding LuthorCorp, now it’s been almost a year since she had to face the reality of taking over the company. In all honesty, no one was happy about it. Not the board, not Lex, definitively not her, but the Luthors have majority Lillian just put her name forward, for only God knows what reason, when Lex was arrested.  Everything just piled up and was what made her take the decision to move an entire company to the other side of the country. Because her brother went into a murderous spree, to kill one single being. Her first move as acting CEO was to move headquarters. The next one was to rename the company, separate it from the Luthor name, maybe it could survive whatever sentence Lex was about to get. The move has been in the works for almost a year, and Lena has been traveling to and fro the west-coast since the decision had been made and she assumed the charge of her family’s company.

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

I really liked the research about witchcraft, actually. it was very superficial, of course, but all the meaning of flowers and intention was really fun. I do really superficial research, tbh, especially when I realized that I was doing pretty deep research and never using it, or it was like A LINE in the fic, and that took so much time that I figured I just needed to check if I could get away with it 😂

24. how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative?

In all honesty, part of my brain is always thinking about creating something, it's not something i can turn off, but, when i'm in no writing mode, I read fics, watch movies and tv. Go for a drive. Lowkey always watching youtube. Recently i've been trying to draw more, tho, i think that counts as a creative thing???

30. share a fic you’re especially proud of

Will forever be proud of my first one [D.E.B.S. AU]

Thank you for asking, darling 💜

[Ask Game]

[bunnylouisegrimes]

Fans of American Psycho and/or The Purge, either one of you, might be confused why I often write and draw about these two so much or why you might see them both in the respective tags every now and then when I write about Patbun and Politebun together. What's the corelation? Why am I attracted to one or the other?

If you're a slasherfucker/horror fan in general, the answer might be easier to see, and you've probably seen both these movies already. However, if you haven't seen one or the other, here's a list of their similarities, which is why they both tickle that part of my brain that, for whatever reason, likes this breed of fictional man...

They're both spoiled, greedy, and elitist white rich preppy/yuppie men (one from the East coast and one from the West Coast) in their 20s with slicked back hair who commit the same crimes (namely murder, especially of the homeless variety, and (even more unfortunately) rape (canonically Patrick does especially in the book, and although we don't see it, the Polite Leader probably would and does on Purge night, especially with what he says about the daughter in the movie being saved for him)).

They both look like popular livestreamer Jerma985. Goofy, but to the point 😝

Christian Bale is British/Welsh, and Rhys Wakefield is Australian. But both pull off amazing American accents, you wouldn't even know.

Their weapons have an overlap: both have a shotgun and pistol (Patrick has a Remington he keeps in his kitchen cabinet he never ends up using in the movie, while the Leader has his Mossberg, Patrick has a Glock, and the Leader has a Beretta). For melee: Patrick uses an ax or knives, and the Leader has his machete.

Both were also probably inspired by real-life killers. Patrick mentions Ted Bundy by name, and the Polite Leader and his gang were inspired by the Manson Murderers (since the director has had a lifelong fascination with them. Makes some sense why he would think history would repeat itself in the Purge verse and another psycho group would break into a wealthy house in LA).

I've even seen several articles or people in forums online comparing the Polite Leader to Patrick by name. This leads me to think Rhys Wakefield was inspired by Bale's performance 13 years later and used his behavior as inspiration. Screenshots of evidence:

In conclusion: Patrick would take the Polite Leader under his wing and treat him as a younger brother (more than he does Sean), and these two would cause much chaos together. The Leader would try to convince Patrick that one night a year should be enough to quench his thrist, but Patrick couldn't handle it lmao.

[bluesylveon2]

I am DEEPLY enjoying this event. #41 with Rook Hunt please (bonus points if MC is a singer)

This was lowkey kinda fun to write because it made me think about one specific tiktok. I hope that you enjoy!

Word Count: 958

Notes: modern au and chaos

Warning: not beta read and possible ooc characters

Being at the gym at night was Yuu's dream. No one was there since it was late and it was quiet. There was barely anyone there, and Yuu could count how many with one hand. 

One of Yuu's favorite things was hopping in the shower and singing like she was a pop star. There were barely any women there, often leaving Yuu to sing as long as she wanted. It's not like the poor guy working up front cared anyway. 

Yuu happily hummed the newest song released by her favorite artist as she made her way to her designated stall with her stuff. Despite no one there at the time, Yuu liked to go in one specific shower because it was far enough from the entrance to give her privacy. The girl continued her humming as her body automatically moved to her shower. She opened Magicfy on her phone, and music filled the empty stall as she placed it back in the caddy. 

I know a place

Where the grass is really greener

Warm, wet n' wild

There must be something in the water

Yuu got lost in the song and loudly sang as she cleaned herself. No one was there or listening, so Yuu did not care. Little did she know about the other presence entering the shower room.

"Now, what do we have here…" A man, who was also naked, said aloud. 

California girls

We're undeniable

Fine, fresh, fierce

We got it on lock

West coast represent

Now put your hands up

"Ooh, oh ooh."

"Ooh oh ooh," A male voice sang along, causing Yuu to freeze. The music played, and the male sang in the background as Yuu slowly turned to face the frosted glass door. 

"Why are you on the female's side?!" Yuu yelled out, causing the male to stop singing.

"Female? Non you got it all wrong, mademoiselle. This is the male's side."

"No, it's not. I can prove it to you," Yuu said, stepping towards the door.

"Wait! I'm-" The door opened, causing the man to stumble from how close he was standing. To regain his balance, he reached out to something, which happened to be Yuu, and fell.

"What happened?" Yuu placed her hands down on something hard and pushed herself up. She froze when her eyes landed on her hands resting on a toned chest, blonde hair splayed out on the floor, a handsome face and a very naked man under her looking at her in shock. She did not even want to look down to see what was down there. 

Wait…

"AHHH!" Yuu screamed as she struggled to stand up and jump away from the blonde like he was on fire. She immediately grabbed her towel to wrap around herself and her shower caddy. 

“Je suis désolé, mademoiselle!” He attempted to go to her, but Yuu moved away. "I tried to warn you earlier-"

"That was my fault! I should have looked where I was going! I'm so sorry about that!" Yuu yelled and made a beeline to the door, leaving a confused but blushing man behind.

---

It had been a week since "the incident," and Yuu wanted nothing more than to not see that man again. She had decided to burn and hide that memory in a deep part of her brain where no one, except herself and a divine being, could see it. 

Yuu stepped inside of the cafe and took a deep breath. According to her friend, Trey, Rook, his coworker, was very eccentric. Rook had moved from France to work in Crewel Research, one of the best-known research laboratories in the world. Yuu tapped her fingers against the table while waiting for her date with Rook. Trey had insisted that Rook would be a good fit for her as they shared common interests like science (not to the extreme like Trey and Rook) and the arts. Yuu thought Rook was interesting enough to meet as he is known for seeing beauty in everything. 

The sound of a bell jingling caused Yuu to look up. Her smile immediately faded as her eyes landed on the same blonde male she had been trying to forget for a week. 

What is he doing here?? Yuu thought as she was coming up with her escape plan. She was considering just running out when the man met her eyes. His eyes lit up, and he smiled as he headed toward her. 

"Mayday! Mayday! ABORT MISSION! ABORT!" Yuu's mind screamed at her, but her body refused to move. 

Yuus heart pounded against her chest as The man stopped beside the empty seat. “Bonjour, you are Yuu, non?”

Yuu opened her mouth to say no when she realized something. "How do you know my name?"

The man chuckled and held a hand out to the empty chair, looking at Yuu expectantly. Yuu hesitantly nodded and let the man sit. "Trey mentioned you a lot at work, and you are as beautiful as I imagined."

Yuu's eyes widen, and her mouth opens in an "o." The world must be laughing at her now because the man she was trying to forget was sitting in front of her right now, and that means-

"Wait…are you Rook? Trey's coworker?"

Rook smiled and held a hand out to Yuu, His green eyes gleaming. "Oui. We started on an interesting note before, so let me introduce myself properly. I am Rook Hunt, and you are?"

"Yuu Crowley, Yuu replied and shook her hand with his.

Rook smiled as he brought Yuu's hand up and lightly kissed her knuckles, causing the girl to blush. "What a beautiful name, Yuu. I look forward to our date."

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

©: This story belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-23. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.

[snycock]

Weekly chat reminder

Please join us for the weekly TS chat on Saturday, March 9th, at 7 pm Greenwich Mean Time (GMT)/19:00 UTC. That could be as early as 11 am if you’re on the west coast of North America, or 2 pm if you’re on the east coast, or 7 pm in the UK, or early Sunday morning in Australia or New Zealand.

We’re in the usual place: http://us25.chatzy.com/81935648447483. There’s nothing to download or install, just choose a name and a color and click on “join chat.”

Curious as to what chat is all about? Read Chat 101 below!

We’ve been meeting weekly (more or less) since 2006 to chat about all things Sentinel. We tried a couple of different days and times before settling on Saturdays at 7 pm Greenwich Mean Time (GMT)/19:00 Universal Time Coordinated (UTC). While it’s not ideal for every time zone – it’s very early in the morning in Australia, Japan, and China – it’s the best fit for most, including fans across the International Date Line.

We stay on Greenwich Mean Time/UTC all the time, which means that the time of chat shifts when Daylight Savings Time starts and again when it ends. If we tied it to any other specific time zone, fans in the opposite hemisphere would experience a two-hour shift in start time. It can make things a little confusing, especially when DST has started or ended in some places but not others, but a quick check of a time zone converter will set you straight – just remember that we are ALWAYS at 7 pm GMT, and you can find out when that is where you are.

We meet on Chatzy.com and the link is above. One of the nice things about Chatzy is that the chat remains even after we all leave. If you’d like to come and check things out outside of the regular chat day and time, feel free! But do beware – we get bots coming in and leaving links, usually to porn. I try to clean those up before chat starts, but if you are popping in at an irregular time, you may catch some of them.

We’re usually around for two to three hours, so feel free to drop in at any time and stay as long as you can. Chime in with the conversation or just lurk, anything goes. And we are always happy to revisit a conversation: if we said something interesting twenty minutes previously that you want to follow up on, say something!

Our schedule is as follows:

First Saturday of the month: we watch an episode together. Chatzy has a built-in video program that allows us to watch and chat at the same time. Currently we’re watching the episodes in order; we started with Switchman 63 months ago, and in May we’re going to be finishing up with The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg. In a total coincidence, that’s going to be the 25th anniversary of when that episode aired on UPN, so we’ve got some special plans for that watch.

Second Saturday of the month: we trade off between reading a fic and discussing it one month, and doing concrit the next. For concrit we usually have a prompt, and folks who want to participate write a piece of no more than 1000 words. We upload them to a Google Drive folder and then give feedback during the chat.

Third and Fourth Saturdays of the month: we have various discussion topics. These can range from Jim’s backstory to favorite tropes to Shaman!Blair to what would have happened in a fifth season. They’re meant to start discussion, not limit it, so we don’t adhere to them rigidly, and in fact we often stray. Fic recs are always welcome!

Fifth Saturday of the month: on the rare occasions that we have a fifth Saturday we do Pimp Your Fandom, which is where people talk about what they have been reading or watching recently and why Sentinel fans would enjoy it.

So that’s the 411 on chat! Any questions, feel free to let me know. I hope we see you there!

[whereareroo]

LAST DAY ON THE TRAIL

WF UPDATE (10/10/24).

I’m writing this from a bus that’s filled with 32 wet, smelly, cyclists. We’re leaving Titusville on Florida’s east coast and heading back to St. Pete on the west coast. We’ve completed the C2C trail!

We did 50 miles today. For the first 7 miles, we biked suburban roads. Then we hit the rail trail. The next 43 miles were a straight shot to Titusville. You can move much faster on an uninterrupted rail trail.

As we left our hotel this morning at 8:30 a.m. (delayed start because the fancy breakfast place at the hotel opens late), we were given strict orders to be at the 32 mile food stop before 2:00 p.m. Anyone arriving after 2:00 p.m. would be pulled off the course (and put on vans) because they wouldn’t complete the final 18 miles to Titusville by 3:30 p.m. We were told that- -UNDER ALL CIRCUMSTANCES- -the bus would leave Titusville at 3:30 p.m. The threats worked. We all made it to Titusville early. The bus was able to depart at 3:00 p.m. I’m told that the ride takes 3.5 hours. The stench might kill us before we get there.

There are two reasons for the stench:

1. We’re a pack of wet dogs. For about half of the day, we biked in heavy rain. Really heavy rain. There wasn’t any lightning, but it was a big Florida storm. The rain was accompanied by big winds. We’re all throughly soaked. I’m not complaining about the rain. We’ve done dozens of outdoor adventures over the years, and this is only the second time that we had to deal with ferocious rain for multiple hours. I am complaining about the stench.

2. In Titusville, bikers normally use the bathrooms at the visitor center to wash up and change into dry clothes. For unknown reasons, the visitor center was closed today. A few people were able to use the single restroom at the local bakery. The rest of us just changed shirts in the parking lot. I went behind a building and changed into dry undershorts. We all smell, and we’re sitting in a bus.

To distract herself from the rain, Mrs. Wetbikinglady nicknamed another rider today. She named him “Adam Ant.” That’s another cartoon character from the 1960s. Even though he’s tiny, the guy has long arms and legs. He wears a great big bike helmet that looks like an astronaut’s helmet. He does look like Adam Ant.

We made it to the 32 mile food stop at about 11:20 a.m. Luckily, it wasn’t raining at that time. To celebrate our final food stop, in addition to the normal stuff, they were serving “Root Beer Shots.” It’s a Dixie Cup of vanilla ice cream topped with root beer. Yummy.

The worst part of the rain hit during the final 18 miles. It was ugly.

Long distance biking changes your perspective about distance and time:

1. When we left the 32 mile food stop to do the final 18 miles, we were surprised that the final leg was so “short.” After biking almost 200 miles over a few days, 18 miles becomes “short.”

2. Normally, 30 minutes is not a long time. When you’re biking the last bit of a 200 mile ride and the rain is torrential, 30 minutes becomes a very long time.

We got to Titusville at 1:30 p.m. Until we boarded the bus at 2:45, we stood around under the awning of the closed visitor center and cheered as the others arrived. It was an unceremonious end to the trip.

We’re glad that we did the C2C trail. We crossed Florida! It’s not the prettiest trail that we’ve done. Because there are so many road sections between rail trails, it’s not easy to navigate. Leaving the navigation to a group leader is probably worth the inconvenience of being stuck in a group. We all finished the ride. There were only 2 flat tires in the group. Nobody got hurt. It was good to see a group enjoying the great outdoors.

I’m still confused about the overall distance. My odometer says that we covered 204 miles. Some books say that the distance is 225 miles. Others say it’s 250 miles. Did the authors ever ride the trail? I’m going to ask the tour director for a discount. Apparently we didn’t ride the whole trail. If my reimbursement request is successful, I’ll share the windfall with all of you.

Thanks for riding with us. I’m dreading the return to reality. Did I hear something about an election? I might have to focus on that when we get home. Stay tuned.

[commander-damneron]

Okay, this threw up so many red flag that I'm having to make an actual reblog since I don't want to write an entire fucking essay over about 20 replies.

First off, I grew up in that same community. Or at least, I'm assuming it's the same one, since no one, to my knowledge, has ever called it "the Irish Catholic community of Scotland". Most people just consider it the Scottish Catholic community. Which usually acknowledges that there's a lot of Irish influence and the vast majority of Scottish Catholics are of Irish immigrant descent, and when I say "descent" I mean within the past few generations. For context, when I was growing up, I was considered to be reeeaaally Scottish by the other Catholic kids because my last fully Irish ancestors were about 4 generations back. There's a lot of Irish grandparents and great-grandparents among Scottish Catholics my age. So I suppose the way she describes it isn't wrong, it's just deeply fuckin weird. I guess we can't blame her for twisting her words around like that though, I get that she doesn't want to lump herself in with us filthy Scots.

Which does bring me to the other thing this flagged up in my brain. Because describing Scottish Catholics like that conveniently cuts out the parts of the community that aren't Irish or of Irish descent. I know I just said a lot of Scottish Catholics I grew up with are, but that's because at the time I started primary school, the majority were. My mum went to high school with a lot of other parents of kids in my P1 Catholic primary school class. While I never went to that high school, by the time I stopped going to church at around 13, that ubiquitous Scots/Irish landscape had changed, because Scotland had a large influx of Polish Catholics immigrants.

To be clear, I am in no way saying that's a bad thing. I sat through my fair share of my grandparents complaining about all these Polish coming in to church and now they're even having a separate Polish mass some weeks and all the usual xenophobia, and going from confused (I was 8 and thought they were very nice) to angry (I was 13 and my grandparents were full of shit). The Polish priest who was the first to start holding mass in Polish in our church, and who I was an altar server for for about 4 years, was the loveliest wee man you could ever meet.

What I am saying is that it it's suspicious to me use a term to describe Catholics in Scotland that so clearly excludes that large part of the community, especially as someone on the east coast, which I'm assuming Laura is, given that she's apparently shortlisted for Livingston. To be clear, this matters because of Scottish Catholicism's Irish roots and also because Scottish Catholicism is a bit weird. They majority of Irish immigrants settled on the west coast, since that's where they arrived, and is why Catholics on the west coast and especially in Glasgow are so... let's say loud and leave it at that. That's where my grandparents are from and where my mum spent her early years. Over time, some of them moved east with their families, as did my grandparents, and they've been here ever since, up to and including me being born here. The most common pattern among kids in my P1 class was "Irish great-grandparents/grandparents moved to Glasgow, Glaswegian grandparents/parents moved here". Similarly, as far as I personally witnessed, Polish immigrants did something similar, in that they often settled near to where they arrived. The ferry arrived in Rosyth, back when we still had passenger ferries between Scotland and mainland Europe. A lot of flights landed in Edinburgh. By the time I left the church, there was a huge Polish community on the east coast of Scotland, which was also notably larger than its west coast counterpart.

All this is to say that I fully do not believe that Laura McConnell can be a Catholic living on the east coast of Scotland and only be familiar with Scots/Irish Catholics. She just can't. I grew up a half hours drive from the constituency she's running for, and, again, we had such a large and thriving Polish community that we ran mass in Polish. So I can't help but find it suspicious that she notably excludes them here, especially because it'd be very easy to use them to throw other Scots under the bus. I've already spoken about the xenophobia against them in my own family, and they weren't the only ones with those opinions in our church, I imagine the rest of the country was at peast similar. I'm not saying outright that this was an active choice in how she phrased an already ridiculous tweet, but I am saying that if one of her political stances is somewhere in the realm of "hard on (EU) immigration", I wouldn't exactly be surprised

Labour candidate Laura McConnell is unionist because apparently the UK has long been a defender of Irish Catholics???

And she doesn’t trust those nasty Scots from Scotland (where she is a candidate).

[jaspersummerbummer]

Free Write 8/17/23

I remember sitting by the shimmering waters, watching them dip up and downwards as the wave pushed them around. It’s the type of body of water that you can’t tell connects out into the vastness of the ocean. It appears so small standing beside the docks, behind me a viewing tower. Concrete steps, graffiti painted walls. I remember the way you looked at me, a hollowness behind your eyes that could only recount apathetic annoyance. This was my mistake, because no matter how cliche or cruel your emotions may have become. I fell for your trap. 

Double meanings aside; it was all honey coated foot catcher, bit rough onto my ankles. Twisting and turning only caused the blood to gush from my ankles, splattering my feet in a bruise red hue. The kind that formed on my side, from a fist laced heavily in a night of hearty drinking. Like vikings we fought until the sun came up, fists clattering into my body and me crumbling underneath your authority. Like a patriarch stood tall in front of the bean bag in the corner of my room, you took off your shirt trying to make yourself seem small with hunched shoulders that only extended your worst qualities. In truth you were not that king, no crown atop your head because you lacked such a legacy. This made you insecure. 

You sometimes told me stories of your father, all of which seem impossible to exist concurrently. He was a sailor, taking the occasional stop in from port to drink and sleep with women. You were a creation of a single night of passion and your life seemingly a stuant rejection of this seemed trapped in small town depression. Held in the arms of older men with precious kisses to your forehead. Another tale spun from your web coated fingers was that of the assassin, the least likely of your myths. Your father was a killer for hire, moving throughout the country and picking up money where he could. He fell for your mother after a brief yet passionate evening, sending her occasional letters but wishing to stay away from his son. Out of a perplexing fear that he would follow in his fathers blood soaked boot prints. 

My memory of these events is too hazy to recall sometimes, our rum stained minds treated us to wobbling as if on a deck of a sinking ship. I would watch you walk the plank as we went down, I imagine you would swan dive into the water, smiling the entirety way down. However you would not dive, instead you would likely sit cross legged on the floor complaining about how wet the room had become. How am I supposed to get this water off my shoes? I can’t keep handling these breakdowns. There is no way we are really sinking, this ship was built of too sturdy wood. 

Airport bar, missed flight, California sun. Lover boys entangled under swaying plastic trees. I hope you found love. 

Car radio, gas station stop, you’d look prettier if you smiled. Hair dull and lifeless, bags under the eyes. I knew I couldn't live like this. 

I doubt you understand, not the you of my poetic (in a bad way) recollections. Instead the you who reads with an air of confusion. Believe me that each sentence has meaning to those who were there, or those merely with the gift of my sobbing rants. Screeching and snot bubbles formed for one who had more fun hurting than they ever could helping. If the sun sets the same on the west coast why can I not visualize it? 

The moon is my guide as I walk by the shore. Sand caught in my shoes, ducking under my socks as the itch and ick rises from my feet to my heart. It's simple to imagine you alone, with your CDs littered across the floor and your headphones glued to your ears. Laying on your bed, sheets coming off the corners and a slithering feeling of pained longing, but no tears. There are no tears for men made of stone, who strike when the iron is vulnerable. Worst of all when I dared to write about you it felt like wilted marigolds, because even then I knew what you had against you. Wandering eyes and loose lips, are all of those which sink ships. 

[victimhood]

Millenial throwback time: 2010/2011 as experienced by Yusuf for the restaurant!AU

This is a consequence of last night’s spam chat with @rhipidurafan, on modern AU Joe, who exudes major West Coast Cali Bay Area vibes. It appears that I am very inclined towards the concept of squeezing in hyperspecific details just because it satisfies me. Maybe all my fics are just barely strung together hyperspecific factoids.

Joe Kaysani, or “Yusuf Al-Kaysani” as it is spelled on his birth certificate issued in the year 1989 by the State of California, or more specifically the County of Alameda, is almost a walking stereotype of the product of overachieving first-gen migrant parents.

As a reflection of his zip code, 44560, most of his friends are from similar backgrounds, though you wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance. With their skin colors ranging from off-white to deep brown, they are a racially diverse group, almost a mini United Nations in one small corner of the East Bay, and yet they are as infuriatingly indistinguishable as the bland houses in their comfortably middle class suburb.

Joe Kaysani: hobbyist baker, amateur piano player, 2006 International Chemistry Olympiad medalist, captain and centerback of the Mission San Jose High School boys’ soccer team, and, for a time, a chemical engineering major at the University of California, Berkeley.

Outside of school, you know him as the guy who runs the campus radio show from 2am to 5am, Habibi Wave, where he introduces listeners to jazz from North Africa and the Middle East. If that doesn’t ring a bell, maybe you’ve seen him around campus wearing thick-framed black glasses and the Threadless tee that says “I listen to bands that don't even exist yet”, grandstanding about Pitchfork ratings.

He would have been starting junior year, but he basically crashed and burned. He lied to his parents, telling them that he deferred the semester to take up an internship with Dow Chemicals on the East Coast.

The truth is, he is on a flight to Europe. All he has in his bank account are the accumulated savings from years of after-school jobs: mentoring students on getting into their first choice colleges, a tutor for math and chemistry remedial classes, the occasional soccer coaching gig at his cousin’s club. Oh yeah, and under the table payments for the Joe Kaysani Private Dining Experience™️ in the Clark Kerr Campus.

The plan is to couchsurf. He has friends doing semesters abroad, friends he can swear to secrecy. He’s also signed up for culinary school. See, if there’s anything that Joe loves with his full heart, that feels a world away from home and yet so comforting, it’s food, but more specifically, sweet food. Pastries. Desserts. He built a reputation in freshman year as the guy who can make incredible, sculptural pieces of edible art and yet he feels like he’s just not there in terms of technical culinary skills. He’s been experimenting, yes, but no one in his immediate family really cooks. For most of his childhood, his parents were far too busy with their high-powered jobs to care about cuisine, and his siblings love eating but can’t be bothered to make food. 

Anyway, that’s the plan. He’s in Florence, and he has a friend from the university art club who’s doing a semester here.

...to be continued!

[clockwayswrites]

I didn’t write two parts this week or anything. Nope.

But apparently you all have been very good/bad/tired/enby and deserve to be spoiled. Who am I to deny that?

Master List: Start of ‘Thirst Trap Lessons‘ wc 1220

Danny jolted up, going out of frame on the video call. "I have to seduce Red Hood."

"...dude," Tucker said after a moment. "He already likes you."

"As Jason."

"You just said they're the same person," Sam pointed out.

"That’s not important, not if they're pretending they're not. He's not, I mean. If I want to date Jason I have to convince Red Hood to let me and the easiest way to do that is to get with Red Hood too."

"Just pointing out that, again, he already likes you, my dude."

"As Jason. How is this confusing you?"

Sam sighed in that soul weary way that only someone who had been friends with Danny for years could sigh. "You're the one being weird. They're one person."

"With totally different lives.” How were they not getting this. They had been friends with him during his Phantom era. They had to understand the vigi life a little. Just because Jason and Red Hood were the ‘same person’ it didn’t mean they had the same needs or wants or even personality. “Nope. Need to seduce Red Hood."

"Danny, no." Two voices chimed back at the same time.

"Danny yes," he said, his smirk visible for a moment as he ducked down and ended the call.

He set his laptop aside and dug out his phone from between the couch cushions. It took him a moment to find the right number in his contact list.

"Danny?" The confusion in the voice was warranted. While they had all left Amity Park on surprisingly good terms, it was weird for him to outright call someone who wasn’t Sam or Tucker. Still, she was his best bet.

"Paulina,”Danny said. He knew that his grin was obvious in his voice and didn’t try to hold it back. “I need you to teach me how to be a lowkey thirst trap so I can seduce my accidental sugar daddy's boyfriend and date them both."

Silence hung heavy on the line. And then Paulina answered, "...oh we are so going shopping."

-

After some back and forth, Danny ended up going to Paulina in Metropolis. Paulina did demand to visit Gotham sometime, but pointed out she knew the stores in Metropolis already so shopping there would be way easier. This was especially true since she was in Metropolis to go to school for Fashion Merchandising.

Danny was pretty proud of her for that.

It was the two of them who had scattered to the East coast after graduation. A few had made it to the West coast, one down to somewhere in Texas, and the bulk had stayed in the Midwest. They weren’t all close, not by any means, but they tended to check in with each other in a sporadic group chat. Mostly it was talking about how freakishly normal everywhere else was.

Not that Danny could claim that about Gotham. (He thought the others might be sorta jealous of that.)

Still, even if it wasn’t a busy chat, it was a nice tether to have. It was a reminder that the insanity of their childhood had been real, but that they had made it out (mostly) alive despite it all. It was also a way to check in if they were being a little too weird— if the rest of the world really was that dulled.

“So,” Paulina started, smacking Danny’s hand away from where he was poking at his face mask again.

Apparently Thirst Trap Lessons started with a spa day.

“So?” Danny repeated, just to be an ass.

Paulina didn’t disappoint him and rolled her eyes. “So, now that we’re settled and soaking and alone, tell me about these people you’re trying to seduce.”

“Okay, well. Right. So this is a secret, which I won’t ask if you can keep because we’re Amity Parkers.” Danny said. He gave her the obligatory fist bump at that.

They had really come together as a class once the fact he was Phantom had become an open secret among the other students. None of them ever turned him in to the GIW or his parents. He liked to think it was more care than the fact that he had been revealed saving them all from being pulled into a realm of unending torture along with the school.

Amity Parkers knew how to keep secrets, they had proven that.

“They’re both the same person? Secret identity stuff. Just no one seems to know that.”

Paulina hummed. “Any people think they’re dating?”

“Apparently. One of them is Jason—”

“Sugar Daddy or boyfriend?”

“Sugar Daddy. Jason is… well, I’m pretty sure he’s rich? Even if he lives in Crime Alley.”

“Oh, so really a Sugar Daddy.”

Danny blushed red under his face mask. “I guess? Except I don’t think he knows he’s doing it! I sure didn’t. He just likes to help. He’s involved in a lot of charity stuff. But I’m pretty sure the money is his? Or his family’s? I don’t think it’s Red Hood’s.”

Paulina’s head let her head fall to the side so she could give Danny A Look at that. “Red Hood.”

“His other side. Sorta, um… anti-hero, vigilante, crime lord?” Danny said quickly in a squeak.

“Danny Fenton! What are you doing getting mixed up with vigilantism again!” She shouted, leaning over the edge of her tub to slap at his arm. “You were supposed to be—” Slap. “—done—” Slap. “—with—” Slap. “—that!”

“I am! Stop slapping me! I am done with it. I don’t help out or anything! I didn’t even know about the Red Hood part until Jason insisted I get some self-defense training because he was worried about me. And then I show up and bam— he’s also Red Hood!”

“And no one knows?”

“Not that I’ve met.”

Paulina was glaring at him again. “And just how did you notice?”

“He, um, might sorta be a Revenant?”

Slap. “Danny!”

“Come on Paulina, he’s amazing! He’s kind and confident and you should see his thighs,” Danny defended himself. “And… and since he’s died before maybe if this actually goes somewhere it means that he won’t…”

“Oh Danny,” Paulina said in a much softer tone.

Danny smiled a sad, lopsided little thing. “Don’t say my name like that. It’s something I have to think about. That’s just being realistic.”

Danny squirmed under Paulina’s gaze for a long minute before she finally looked away. “So one persona is a rich do gooder and the other a vigilante and everyone thinks they’re dating.”

“I know, wild how everyone just assumes that. They’re never even in the same room!”

“Not really,” Paulina said with a shrug. “Before we knew you were, you know, you, the whole school totally thought that Danny-you and Phantom-you were dating.”

Danny chocked on air. “What?!?”

“Like, I mean, so, you were always defending his name and Sam and Tucker would ask you if he was alright after ghost attacks and you got, like, all protective whenever the GIW was in town,” Paulina said. “So we thought you were dating you. I was totally jealous too.”

“Oh Ancients. Is that why everyone was asking me things like if Phantom felt cold to the touch?” Danny squeaked.

Paulina just laughed at him as Danny slid further down into his mud bath.

-----

AN: Ailithnight’s reply here was spot on that Danny was treating Jason and Red Hood like they had two separate needs even knowing they were one person, so I felt motivated to go off and finish up this scene that goes into his thought process for it. Please ignore that it really doesn’t have a start. I just really like the idea of Danny getting that it’s different in and out of the suit and while it’s not like it’s actually two personalities, there still are two very different needs and he has to step up and date both. It’s also nice that he can be more Phantom around Red Hood (Danny misses him a little).

I don’t know if I got Paulina’s Voice right, but I tried! I just find this concept hilarious, and I also think she’d understand masking, from a social side, maybe too well. Hope you all enjoyed being spoiled today and say delightful, darlings!

Good Squad, as you’ve named yourselves:

@addie-lover-of-stories​ @bathildaburp​ @d4ydr34min9​ @sometimesthingsfallapart​  @vythika96​ @worthlesswall​ @aroranorth-west​ @chrysanthemum9484​ @ver-444​ @impulsiveasshole​ @meira-3919​ @lazy-bouqet​ @cryinginthevoid​ @thegatorsgoose​ @cutelittlebeanie​ @blankliferain​ @ramblingkat​ @screamingtofillthevoid​ @themirrorghost​ @skulld3mort-1fan​ @may-rbi​ @nixthenerd​ @moonlupine​ @olivethetreebitch​ @overtherose​ @roseinbloom02​ @v-inari​ @nappinginhell​ @imchildish8775​ @leftmiraclechaos​ @mimilikey​ @mygood-bitch99​ @ailithnight​ @busterkeel​ @avelnfear​ @ravenshadow17​ @demigraceling-blog​ @maskygirl55​ @sroomheaddoc​ @undead-essence​ @desertbogwitch​ @addie-lover-of-stories​ @magic-pincushion​ @phantom-dc​ @lazy-bouqet​ @gin2212​ @meira-3919​ @apointlessbox​  @hollowgast1​ @cutelittlebeanie​ @friends-fam-fiends-hellothere​ @serasvictoria02​ @dulceringo​ @moonlupine​ @mushroom-jack​ @icedbluesoul​ @lumosfeather18581​ @impulsiveasshole​ @coruscateselene​ @escelia​ @firegirl108​ @roseinbloom02​ @crystalqueertea​ @booberrylizard​ @phoenixdemonqueen​ @shorterthanadverage​ @pyramaniac​ @seraphinedemort​ @fallenangle67​ @chaoticchange​ @soren1830​ @trippingovermyfeet​ @nutcase8691​ @themirrorghost​ @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff​ @a-salty-sal​ @guardianrex​ @dsabian​ @crystalqueertea​ @v-inari​ @8-29pm​ @consouling​ @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair​​

[rxgueone]

DRIFT

Pairing: Austin Butler x OC

Word count: 11,887

Summary: Just a group of friends spending their free time together at the town fair.

Warnings: angst, drugs, violence, smoking, cursing, fluff (?), smut is implied (oral), toxic relationships, bout all I can think of.

Tags: none.

Note: It is currently 3:33 AM as I am writing this, I have been listening to Rebel Radio in GTA 5 on loop since 11PM, I have a doctors appointment in a few hours due to the fact I need surgery for something, my inspiration actually sucks dick, spare me. The part with the Vette is based off of something I’ve been through. I’m over 6’3” and I sat in the back of a C7 Corvette with 4 other people, and it sucked balls I won’t even lie. I hated it. And sorry for how long this chapter is, couldn’t stop writing ig.

MASTERLIST — WEST COAST

—

Lana slid her hands in her pockets, she had been wearing the flannel that Austin gave her about a week ago since the drug deal. It smelled like fruit loops so she often wore it since it smelt nice. She hadn’t seen him at school either for the whole week, for some reason. Although from what she was told, he wasn’t missing any school, so he was probably just hiding. For what? God knows, and God only cared. Not like she was going to ask.

She was heading towards Tori’s place, she had been at home, got bored, and left so she could go hang out with one of her friends. She figured Tori would entertain her a good deal, so she dropped by her place. Plus, the town fair was tonight, maybe they could’ve went together. When she had headed to the driveway, she could see the black 1985 C4 Corvette parked by the sidewalk. Which told her that Austin was with Tori. In the driveway, was Tori’s firebird, and her father’s work truck. Which a Ford F150 crew cab. The garage door was left open, and she could see that there was a tool box with some motor oil on the top of it. With a pan beside it, meaning that one of the vehicles were having an oil change. Considering how Austin told Lana that he would often come to Tori’s place to fix the work truck, she assumed that Austin was changing the oil of the Ford.

She raised her brows curiously, and when she approached the front door. She gave three hard knocks, then stepped back, her hands behind her back. She could hear shouting from the inside. “Could you please get that?!” It sounded like Tori.

“Yeah no problem, Sanchez.” A hoarse voice answered, then she heard the door unlock, and with the twist. The door as pulled back, her suspicion was confirmed. There was Austin, wearing a white tank top that was stained with grease, the tank top was tucked in with the denim jeans he was wearing.

“Austin-“ Lana blinked.

“Hey,” he tilted his head as if he were a Labrador, confused as to why Lana was there. Lana could see Tori walk to Austin, and her brows raised when she saw Lana. Austin stepped to the side for Tori so she could stand beside him. Lana’s eyes were as big as eggs. She was taking in the image of both of them. Tori stood to Austin’s elbow, she was tiny.

Tori was wearing heavy makeup, but she looked beautiful. Her wings were sharp, and on point as always. And they were purple, which was her favorite color. She was wearing a purple crop top that looked like a sports bra, with purple sweatpants that were slightly sagged on the right side. It showed her panty line, which appeared to be purple laced panties.

They both had messy hair though. Austin was sweating, and Tori looked like she was sweating a bit too. What wasn’t helping was the fact that Lana could see Tori’s panties with ease. Not to mention, Austin’s lips looked red and raw, as if he had been just making out with someone.

Honestly, if Lana didn’t know any better. She would’ve assumed that Tori and Austin were hooking up. But she knew this wasn’t the case. Tori was dating Ashton, too dedicated and too loyal, for some reason. Austin, well- she didn’t know, he was just the mechanic.

“Hey Lana,” Tori smiled, “what’re you doing here?”

“Oh- I was just, bored at home y’know? Wanted to go out and hang.” She shrugged, her hands still in her pockets. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Hm?” Austin tilted his head. Lana pointed her index finger towards the Ford F150 that was out in the driveway. “Mr. Sanchez wanted an oil change, Tori called me over to help out with it.” He explained.

“We can hang out after Austin has changed the oil though.” Tori said excitedly.

“Are you gonna bring Ashton?” Lana asked.

“Nah, we got into a fight again.” Tori shook her head, waving it off.

“Shocker, huh.” Austin shrugged before wiping his lips, leaving a bit of grease on his face. Tori elbowed Austin before inviting Lana to come in, and she smiled, walking in the house. Austin shut the door, then left to go to the garage without saying a word to them.

Lana watched him enter the garage, looked over at Tori. “He comes here often right?” She asked, recalling how Austin told her he’d come by pretty much every day.

“Oh yeah, every day.” Tori laughed as the two of them walked over to the couch to sit down. “Sometimes sleeps here too.”

“Really? Doesn’t your mother or father mind?”

“No, they both like him.” She looked down at her hands, fiddling with her nails that looked like talons. Lana always wondered how women could always have those long fake nails. She was curious how they could do anything. They couldn’t even close their hand into a fist, or pick out their cards in those card readers at the gas station.

When Tori would take Lana with her to the gas station to obviously get gas for the Firebird. Lana would sit on the passengers side and watch Tori struggling to get the card out of the card reader due to her long nails, so Lana would have to get out of the car and get the card for Tori. Then Tori would do the rest while Lana would sit and watched, intrigued.

Lana was curious about Tori’s parents relationship with Ashton. “Do they like Ashton?”

“Obviously not.” Tori answered without any hesitation, but there was a smile on her face. A friendly smile, and Lana nodded her head. “They think Aus is a better man. My dad says he’s the best, but then again, I don’t listen to my dad since he never does shit around the house.”

Lana shrugged, leaning back on the couch. She half turned to look at Tori fully. “Tori, I ain’t gonna lie to you.” She began. “But Austin looked like he just made out with you, when he opened the door.”

“He was playing with my lipstick.” She said on the dime. “See,” reaching into the pocket of her sweatpants, she held out some lipstick. Took the cap off and the wax on the lipstick looked completely fucked, like someone had just eaten it for the shits and giggles. Her face distorted into a face of amusement, as if she was recalling the events, “Austin put it on, then ate it, for shits and giggles.”

“That doesn’t sound like him.” Lana murmured. Austin was always so serious. At the drug deal, he barely even said a word. When Alice was doing heroin beside him, he didn’t even protest, simply looked up, trying to ignore it. Austin just never fucked around, it seemed completely out of character for him to randomly eat lipstick for shits and giggles. But then again, he also slammed a bottle of vodka against Ashton’s head randomly. And also ate ice cream and drank milk and milkshakes even though he was lactose intolerant. So, maybe it wasn’t.

“Anyways, I was wondering.” Tori put the lipstick back in her pocket. “We should go to Jade and Jules house.” She suggested.

Jade and Jules were twins. Jules’ full name was actually Juliette, and Lana knew Jade well, but not Jules all that well in comparison. Lana would talk to Jules occasionally in the girls bathroom at school, whenever Lana would walk in on her smoking a cigarette. Usually Jules would be in the bathroom for a good five minutes, then throw the cigarette away and go back to class.

Jules was dating a football player named Randy, who was good friends with Ashton. He owned a Honda Civic, a 2022 Honda Civic to be exact. His mother or father bought it for him or something, Lana didn’t care much to find out. But what Lana did know, was that Randy’s car smelled nice as hell. Then again, the smell of a new car was heavenly, at least to Lana it was.

Jules and Randy were sex craved as well from what Lana knew. She caught the pair doing the old devil’s tango at a party, didn’t even say a word. Just opened the door to the bathroom, saw them both doing the deed, then shut the door and went to go pee in a bush. Why? Cause she was not going to pee with those two doing the deed, nor was she going to wait outside the bathroom for the both of them. Plus, Lana was high out of her mind when she walked in on the pair.

Jade, was the opposite. Lana had known Jade since she was a child actually. Lana wouldn’t call Jade her best friend, but they were close friends. Lana and Jade would roller-skate together for fun a lot, and would always go to each other’s birthdays. When Jade had found out about Lana’s overdose, she had cried for two days, Jules cried too, but not as much as Jade did.

Jade worried over Lana a lot, like- a lot a lot. But that was fine with Lana. Jade would often nag Lana as well about if she was doing any drugs or whatever, and Lana didn’t mind that as well. She knew Jade was doing it because she cared.

Jade was a quiet girl, real quiet, she was more of an observer. The way she handled things was different than Jules. Jules, in spite of her way, was never single, she felt lonely, craved love and attention. Jade however, would prefer to be alone, loved the feeling of not being loved, and loved not having attention on her, made her feel free.

Jade, due to her clean ways, would also make fun of the group quite a bit when she had the chance. Lana, Tori, Beth, and Alex didn’t mind. They all thought she had a point, she made a good point to make fun of them for taking drugs. Lana could remember full well when Jade had stood there eating ice cream while Lana was rolling around on the ground at a park, yelling about how she was a unicorn, then proceeded to eat shit by running straight into a pole and falling over. So yeah, Jade had the right to make fun of them.

Lana figured, she missed both of them. “Yeah, sure, we could go see them after Austin fixes the truck.”

“Cool! I heard there’s a theme park, Ashton’s gonna be there so…”

Lana thinned her lips into a bitter a line. She knew what Tori was hinting at. Hated the idea, but in spite of that, she had been wanting to go to the city fair, so she agreed. “Yeah sure, I’ll go.” She got off the couch after, wanting to go see what Austin was doing to the truck. Tori got up after her.

When Lana had walked in the garage, she was greeted with the image of Austin laying underneath the F150. There as a torque wrench laying beside him with an oil pan, and then she saw him grab the filter wrench. She watched as he screwed the oil filter off, groaned in annoyance when some of the oil go onto his face. But got the torque wrench again, grabbed the pan, then screwed off the oil screw.

She watched him adjust the oil pan underneath quickly. He crawled out from underneath the truck, looking up to see Tori and Lana both staring down at him with curious eyes. His eyes fluttered obliviously, before he sat up to put the old oil filter of the truck away. “What the hell are you guys doing here.” He asked, grabbing a rag from the ground to wipe the oil off his face.

“Watching you,” Tori answered with a kindhearted smile on her face, “you’re interesting.” Austin got up as she spoke those words, and stood in front of Tori. He leaned down, his face a few inches away from hers. Lana stood in the middle of them, looking back and forth between them.

Austin smirked. “You are too.” He pulled his face away from hers, walking back in the garage to get the new oil filter. Lana stood there, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed while Tori kept a mischievous smile on her face when she watched Austin get the box for the new oil filter, ripping it open.

Was that just me or was that awkward…? Lana asked herself, before shaking her head. “Well, anyways,” she changed the subject, not wanting to focus or think about what just happened, “Tori says she wants to go to Jade and Jules’ house when you’re done with everything.”

“Who’s Jade and Jules?” Austin asked when he got the filter out, walking back to them.

Right, Austin was still new to town. He hadn’t made many friends. In spite of his looks, being a heartthrob and everything, the dude still didn’t know jack shit. “Right- you don’t know them. They’re our good friends, twins actually.” Tori explained. “Jules’ real name is Juliette… y’know Jade Stravinsky and Juliette Stravinsky.” Tori figured she had to tell Austin their last names, since he usually called people by their last names. She wondered how that would work for twins.

Lana already knew that Austin wouldn’t call Jade or Jules by their last names since they were twins. Since Dal and Tray were twins, he didn’t call them by their last names either. Austin perked up a brow, leaning on the F150 as he looked at the pair. “What’s their middle names. I can’t go by last since they’re twins.” He grabbed the rag off the ground to wipe his hands again, which seemed to get greasier the more he rubbed.

Tori looked over at Lana. “Jade’s is Wulfheim.” Then Lana paused, bringing her hand up to her jawline to think to herself. She had tilted her head to the side, thinking about Jules. “Juliette’s is… Spencer, I believe. Jade Wulfheim Stravinsky, Juliette Spencer Stravinsky.”

“Those are some fancy names.” Austin answered without missing a beat.

“Austin Butler sounds even fancier.” Tori commented, and Austin shot her a glare before laying back down on the ground. “I’m just sayin’ it sounds pretty fancy.”

“Butler is just a fancy word, I think.” Lana said, siding with Tori.

“Oh yeah, for sure.” She agreed, nodding her head with Lana. Austin smirked, rolling his eyes before half of his body was hidden underneath the truck. Tori and Lana both watched him and all they could see was his body moving as he reached for the torque wrench, screwing something in.

“Yeah well, say that to my parents.” He said to the both of them.

“What happened to them anyways? There’s no way that your mom kicked you out for arguing with her boyfriend.” Tori sounded unconvinced. Practically everyone in town knew that Austin got kicked out of his mom’s house for that petty reason. He never hid it from anyone, didn’t bother to.

“Ever since my mom divorced my dad, she got petty as hell.” He started. “My mom is a notorious sleeper, y’know.” Lana and Tori could hear him laugh. His laugh was high pitched and giddy, which was odd considering how he sounded like a 50 year old man half the time. The other half he sounded like a man who smoked 3 packs of cigarettes a day.

“How so?” Lana crouched down and hugged her knees close to her chest. Austin always told interesting stories, since he was such an honest guy. Never hid anything, never filtered his words. Tori did the same, intrigued now.

They watched as he put the torque wrench down, grabbing the oil pan. “My mom has always brought guys over to the house, whenever my father was out at work.” He explained for her, crawling out from the truck, then leaned down to grab the oil pan to drag out. “I never told my dad, because I thought he’d never believe me. But, my mother brought guys over, so often that my siblings and I would always bet the days she would bring a guy over to the guest house.” Huffing, he sat in front of the duo with a pan in front of him.

Lana and Tori were silent now, completely invested in the story of his life.

“Alan, my older brother would always guess correctly.” He chuckled to himself, looking down at his hands. He was quiet for a few moments, his eyes narrowed towards his hands, as if he was frustrated. “My dad was absent most of my life, never had a good relationship with him… my mother was never really a mother. If anything the maid was more of a mother to me than my actual biological mother.”

“Oh?” Lana tilted her head.

“Yeah,” Austin smirked, “so if you ever meet Ms. Randle, and you lot are mean to her, I’ll beat your ass.” He warned, walking past them to open the hood of the truck. They both watched him get the oil.

“So, she raised you?” Tori asked.

“My siblings and I yeah.” He unscrewed the bottle, standing in front of the hood as Lana and Tori remained sitting. “She was there at my brothers funeral.” Leaning forward to pour the oil in the truck. “She and my sister are all I got.”

“Your mom slept with a lot of people before the divorce right? So, why did the divorce happen?” Lana asked.

“The yoga instructor was hot.” He shrugged, grabbing the other bottle of oil to pour it into the truck. “Bout it.”

Both Lana and Tori were silent for a few heartbeats, trying to process what they had just heard. They rarely ever heard of a woman leaving their really rich husband for a yoga instructor. For a lawyer or whatever, sure, but for a yoga instructor? For Lana that was cringe worthy. “Your mom’s boyfriend… is her yoga instructor?” Lana asked him, invested into the plot now.

“Yeah, he’s twenty-one or whatever.”

“And your mom is…”

“Forty-six.”

“Oh shit.” Tori blinked, and Lana felt herself cringe even more when she realized the age difference.

“He proposed to her and I argued with him about it, thought it was stupid, and yeah, got kicked out.” He chuckled when he finished pouring the oil in. “Ever since the divorce, my mom got a new boob job, got a new nose, new lips, new everything y’know? My dad gave her most of his money, and I hate it cause she doesn’t deserve it.”

“I can tell.” Lana murmured. “Her rack is fake?” She asked, focusing on the irrelevant stuff.

“Please,” Austin scoffed, “her rack is faker than a stripper telling you that you’re their best customer.”

“That’s oddly specific.” Lana couldn’t help but smile at how specific it was. She was trying her best to hold back her laughter, but even Tori let out a little giggle from how specific Austin was being.

Austin had finished giving the F150 an oil change, and took it out for a quick test drive to make sure he hadn’t fucked anything up. When he was finished, he was paid 400 bucks by Tori’s dad. Who had been sitting on the recliner the entire time drinking his days away. Lana hadn’t even noticed him the until Austin was paid.

Lana and Tori were waiting for Austin by the front door of the house. Tori was leaning on Lana’s shoulder as Austin was standing in front of the recliner. “You’re gonna be taking my daughter out boy?” Tori’s father spoke.

“Yes sir, I am.” He nodded his head, keeping his arms clasped in front of him. He stood stiff, in a manner that made him look like a bouncer.

“Well I trust you boy, but you better not do anythin’ to her, you hear?”



“Yes sir, I hear.” He nodded once more.

“Alright, get.” With a wave of his hand, Austin was dismissed. He walked back over to the pair, opening the door for them. Tori was the first to walk out, then Lana.

Lana was sitting in the back of the Corvette, she was completely squished. Tori wanted to sit in the front and Lana didn’t bother to put up an argument. The problem was, was that Lana was 5’10” or 5’11” one of those two heights, she didn’t know. While Tori was small as shits, she was 5’3” for fucks sakes. Lana could barely fit in the back of the Corvette.

Austin was 6’1” and the dude already looked squished as is in the drivers seat, let alone a chic who was almost his height in the back seat of a C4 1980s Corvette. But, even though she was squished in the back of the Corvette. Austin’s taste in music was questionable. Not that it was bad or anything, but it was just odd that he was listening to the music he was listening to.

The guy was blaring country songs from the 90s and below. Lana recognized some of the songs too. The song that was currently playing was Johnny Paycheck - I’ll Be Hating You, which talked about a man who dedicated his whole entire life to his girl, started hating himself, and knew it wouldn’t be long till he started hating her either. Lana had to admit, it was a damn good song even in spite of it being country.

When Austin had stopped by a red light, a white Integra had pulled up beside Austin. Tori immediately recognized who it was, and panicked. “Oh my god that’s Ashton- fuck if he sees me with you Austin, I’m dead.”

“I don’t think he’ll see you, Sanchez.” He muttered, looking over at her as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “What- what are you doing-“ his eyes widened when he saw her get up. “Aye- Sanchez!”

“Switch, switch with me Lana, c’mon!” She ordered as she stepped on the car seat.

“Don’t put your damn shoes on the car seats, Sanchez! You’ll ruin the leather!” He exclaimed in annoyance.

Lana leaned away from Tori, “Tori- I’m too big-“ Tori grabbed Lana’s shoulders to shove her over the glovebox of the car. “Aye god dammit Tori, I’m too fuckin’ big!” Lana felt her head slam into the seat of the Corvette.

While all of this was happening, the radio was blasting Achy Breaky Heart by Billy Ray Cyrus, which seemed ironic. Since Tori was trying to hide so she wouldn’t break Ashton’s heart in case they were spotted.

“What the fuck are you doing, Sanchez?!” Austin watched her.

“Oh my god Lana just switch.” Tori whined, shoving Lana out of the way again so she could sit in the back of the Corvette.

“Okay okay, fuck dude-“ Lana quickly unbuckled her seatbelt then the two of them switched places. Lana yelped when her head hit the window of the car, and she felt the car lurch forward when Austin shifted into first gear and slammed on the gas. She had rolled over and her head hit the bottom of the car, her shoes in Austin’s face now.

“Move your shoes, god dammit!” He pushed her legs away from his face.

“Shit Austin, I’d love to but as you can see, I’m upside down!” Lana said in an overly enthusiastic tone. Tori watched the chaos that she had created with a small smile on her face, amused. She could see Austin look out the window, exchanging a quick glance with Ashton who was sitting in the Integra. Tori could see Austin downshift into second gear, then suddenly slammed on the gas which caused the car to shoot forward.

The car was filled with the sound of the exhaust screaming for its life, and Tori poked her head out a bit. She could see the white Integra falling behind Austin’s car, gapping Ashton’s Integra. Lana was still struggling to even sit up right. A cop car which had been resting inside an empty parking lot had been spotted, causing Austin to slam on the breaks. As a result, Lana who still wasn’t upright had lurched out of her seat, her head once again hitting the ground. “God dammit, Austin!”

—

Tori hopped out of the Corvette, and Austin closed the door for her. Lana had crawled out of the Corvette, she had managed to sit upright after a good solid ten minutes of struggling. The whole struggle made her hair become a mess, but that was fine cause it was usually a mess.

Austin said nothing as Lana and Tori both walked to the front door of Jade and Jules place, knocking on the door. The trio waited in silence, with Austin standing behind Tori, she was leaning back against his chest, comfortable with his presence. While he kept his hands in his pockets, and Lana was zoning out while staring at the door.

At least 30 seconds later, the door opened up, and Lana was greeted with Jade. “It’s Tori and Lana!” Jade yelled, and she smiled at the both of them. “Hey,” she looked at Austin, her eyes widening.

“Tori wants to hang out. Go to the town fair.” Lana said calmly.

“Yeah sure, Jules and I were just about to go.” Jade responded, “just come in, let me get changed.” She flicked her head inside, opening the door wider so the three of them could walk in. Austin flashed a charming smile across his face before following Tori to the living room.

“Lana!” Lana could hear a familiar voice call her name, it was Juliette. When she had turned around, she saw Jules jump up and hug her tightly. Lana embraced her, patting her back awkwardly before Jules pulled away, then looked at Tori excitedly, hugging her as well. “Hey Tori!”

“Hey.” Tori smiled, looking back Austin who had been standing in front of Jade and Jules’ mother, introducing himself. Jade and Jules’ mother was a woman who was kind, very kind, in fact too kind in Lana’s mind. Jade and Jules’ mother had always been intimidated by others, she had a weak personality, could be pushed around easily, which Jules or Jade didn’t like. And quite often, their mother would break down crying. But at the same time their mother was unpredictable as hell.

This was also due to the fact that she was a drunk, would always be drinking a can of beer. She had maybe 18 DUIs or something. What didn’t help was that their father was also an addict, a heroin addict. Lana never knew what happened to their father, neither did Jade or Jules, but, it was whatever.

“Jack wrote to me. He wanted to tell you girls hi.” Jules started, seeming to not notice Austin.

Jack, or Jackal, was Jade and Jules’ older brother who was currently in the Marines. Lana could always remember his full name because to her it always seemed so cool and unique, which was Jackal Leonard Stravinsky. Which to others sounded weird as well, cause who named their child after a dog? But aye, to Lana it sounded dope as hell.

Jules, unlike Jade, already looked dressed to go out. Jules was wearing a baby blue hoodie with some gray shorts, she had her makeup done, which was very little. Her blonde hair was curled up a bit to make it look slightly wavy, and her mascara complimented her doe eyes. Lana couldn’t deny that Jules was indeed a beautiful girl.

“I haven’t seen you around here, you must be new.” Lana heard their mother say.

“Ah, yes Ms. Stravinsky, I’m new.” Austin smiled, before shaking her hand.

“Oh well, don’t do anything inappropriate to them.”

“No ma’am, of course not.” He assured Ms. Stravinsky, before looking back at Tori, Jules, and Lana. His eyes fell towards Jules, and he was silent, seeming enthralled with her. And honestly, if he was enthralled with her, Lana couldn’t blame him. If Lana was gay, she would for sure go after Jules, no doubt. But, Jules was too busy talking with Tori. The both of them were holding each others hands, talking to each other excitedly.

Which made sense to Lana, they were both apart of the cheerleading team or whatever. From what Lana remembered, Tori was the captain, and Jules was… well… whatever she was.

Jade came walking down the stairs during the commotion. She dressed similarly to Jules, but in spite of them being twins, they didn’t share the same beauty. No doubt Jade was also a pretty girl, however she was never noticed much. Usually brushed to the side, while Jules got most of the attention.

Jade had dark orange hair, it actually kind of looked crimson at times. But it was dark orange no doubt, and she had brown doe eyes, while Jules had blue doe eyes. Jade’s hair was tied back in a bun, she wore a baggy unzipped jacket with some joggers, finished with a pair of Converse. But, she also wore no makeup, unlike Jules.

“Yeah! Jade and I were just about to go to the fair with Randy!” Lana diverted her attention towards Austin to see how he’d react once he heard Randy. She expected him to look away, and he did. His eyes went to the ground, and his expression which showed curiosity was now blank, unreadable. “He’s on his way to pick us up right now.” Jules finished, her hands behind her back as she was standing in front of Tori, who had an excited look upon her face.

“Oh? No way, you can probably ride with us if you like! We’re taking Austin’s car.” Tori offered.

Austin shook his head in disagreement, knowing full well that the Corvette didn’t have any space. Lana did a motion of sweeping her hand around her throat, shaking her head to tell Jules not to agree.

Jules let out a kind hearted laugh, waving her hand. “No thank you, I’m gonna take a ride with Randy.” She smiled at Tori. “I mean, maybe Jade wants to take a ride with you guys?” She looked over at Jade, who had remained quiet while watching them banter.

Jade stood there quietly for a few moments before looking at Austin. Who had a blank expression, his hands in his pockets, waiting for the girls to make up their minds. “Sure.” Jade came to the conclusion. She didn’t want to be with Jules and Randy, she knew that the couple would be all over each other, and she was not willing to deal with that.

Jules reached into her back pocket and held out her phone. “Oh, Randy’s here.” She read the notification that she got, then looked at all of them. “I gotta go, cya.” She opened the door quickly, and just as she was about to leave, Ms. Stravinsky got up to walk after Jules.

A crowd formed behind Ms. Stravinsky, where Austin stood all the way in the back. Leaning against the door, while Jade stood beside Lana, and Tori was to Lana’s left. As they watched Jules approach Randy’s Honda, they saw the windows roll down. “Randy!!” Ms. Stravinsky called to the jock, and his attention which was on Jules was now on Ms. Stravinsky.

“Yes Helen?” He replied.

“You better not do anything inappropriate with her!” Ms. Stravinsky warned, and the moment she said that. Tori, Jade, and Lana all started to make gestures from behind Ms. Stravinsky. With Lana putting two fingers towards her mouth, sticking her tongue out. Tori being the bold one and making the gesture of Jules deep throating by stroking the air, and Jade aggressively pointing her index finger towards the circle that she made with her other hand. All three of them mouthing the words, ‘USE PROTECTION!’

Jules saw all of that and couldn’t help but scoff at how immature the three girls were being before entering Randy’s car. Randy, who kept staring at Ms. Stravinsky was trying his best to hold his tongue. He didn’t want to randomly bust a lung while talking to her. “I won’t do anything to her Helen! I promise!” He crossed his heart before rolling the window up.

“And if you do, please wear protection.” Ms. Stravinsky murmured underneath her breath, turning around to look at the group who had fallen completely still. Then she turned back around to watch Randy drive off with Jules in the car. Ms. Stravinsky looked at her driveway, noticing the black 1985 C4 Corvette that was parked beside her car, which was an Acura. “Is that your car blonde?” She asked, looking back at Austin.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Do you guys have anyone else to pick up or is Jade the last one?” She asked.

“Beth and Alex.” Tori answered for Austin, who blinked in confusion. Not like he would protest though, whatever Tori wanted, he’d do.

Ms. Stravinsky scoffed as she looked back at the blacked out Corvette. Without any hesitation, she came up with a sly remark. “Good luck fitting in that, Jade.”

Good luck fitting in that, Jade. Definitely the best words. By this time, Lana had been completely squished up against the Corvette. The girl was struggling to breathe, with Jade sitting by her side, and Beth sitting on the far left. Alex was able to squeeze herself between Beth and Jade, but this caused Lana to be squished against the small sliver of a window that the Corvette had.

Lana who was struggling to breathe, knew damn well that Jade was most likely wishing she had taken the Civic. Enduring Jules cheesy banter with Randy was far better than this, at least to Lana it was. “Jesus Christ, this Corvette is cramped as hell.” Beth gasped for air, and Alex, who was squished was breathing heavily as well.

“Bradley, why don’t you just sit on someones lap?” Austin asked, glancing back Alex who kept gasping for air.

“There’s no fuckin’ space, god dammit!” Alex snapped at Austin. “If I sit on Jade’s lap, my head will hit the ceiling and then I’ll be in an awkward position.” She explained.

“Alright, fine.” When Austin saw the light turn green, he shifted into first gear, merged into the right lane, then slowly pulled over. Shifting in neutral, and he looked back at all four of them. “Sanchez, you’re five three, right?”

“Yeah.”



“Clark, you’re five ten?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Lana murmured against the glass.

“Okay, here’s the plan then, all of you get out.” He opened the door of the Corvette, then pulled his seat back. As if it was an opening for freedom, Alex desperately crawled out, pushing Lana’s face against the glass again, then Lana followed behind, Jade, then Beth. Tori as well got out from the passengers side, and all five of them stared up at Austin, who was glaring at them.

“As God is my witness, I hate your Corvette.” Alex complained, wiping sweat off her brow. It became hot as hell in the Vette because of how cramped it was in the back seats. Beth was sitting on the side walk, with Jade standing beside her arms crossed, Tori had her hands on her hips, Lana had hers in her pockets.

“Yeah, cause Corvette’s aren’t meant for six people.” Austin remarked as he stared at all of them blankly. “Listen, Sanchez, you’re the shortest so you’re gonna be sitting on my lap.”

“What?!” She exclaimed.

Before she could protest, Austin continued. “You don’t have a choice, you’re short, you can fit on my lap plus your head won’t hit the ceiling. Clark, you’ll get the passenger seat since you’re the second tallest. Wulfheim, Bradley, and Williams, you’ll sit in the back. You three are about the same height, so you three should be fine.”

“Bet you’d wish you took that offer with Jules huh, Jade?” Lana looked over at her friend.

“No,” Jade shook her head confidently, “I like Austin, the way he does things is entertaining. Everything is chaotic as hell, more entertaining than Jules and Randy being lovey dovey.” She smiled.

“Oh,” Lana blinked, “I stand corrected then…” She looked away before looking back at Austin who opened the doors.

Lana was the first to enter the car, sitting on the passengers side, then shut the door. Austin kept the seat of the Corvette rolled forward, Alex, Beth, and Jade all dove into the car. After maybe two minutes, they were able to get comfortable. Alex was 5’5” the shortest, so she sat in the middle. Even in spite of her height, she was hugging her knees close to her chest. Jade and Beth were both 5’7”-5’8” so they sat on the sides for more leg room.

When Austin finally made the seat roll backwards, he hopped in on his seat, then looked up at Tori who stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m not sitting on your lap, Austin.”

“That’s fine.” He shrugged. “Do you want to sit on Clark’s?”

“No.”

“Cool. So shut the fuck up and get on my lap.” He ordered, glaring up at her. Alex, Beth, and Jade all poked their heads out from behind the seats, watching.

“I-“

“Come here, Tori!” Grabbing her by the waist, he pulled her down onto his thigh, then close to his chest. Slammed the door shut, and leaned back against the seat to make some room for her. “See? It’s not that hard. Why can’t you just be listen to me.” He growled in annoyance, shifting the car back into first gear, then flicked the turn signal to show he was going to merge back into traffic.

Alex, Beth, Jade, and Lana all sat in silence, amazed by Austin. “Woah.” Lana thought outloud as she watched them. “Tori, you’re a difficult lady.”

“Oh shut up, Lana!”

By the time they had arrived to the town fair, it was already 8PM. All of them had to get home by 11PM, except for Austin, who didn’t have a curfew because he lived with Dal and Tray.

Dal and Tray were at the fair as well, they were in a food truck selling crepes, and inside the crepes had baggies of cocaine or some sort of acid, just some hardcore drug. Dal would be the one who was out in the park, handing out these photo cards that had a smiley face on it. If someone had gotten one of those photo cards, that meant that they talked with Dal, and could get one of those said drugs that they were selling.

However, to get those photo cards, they’d have to pay Dal maybe 5 or 10 bucks, it depended on the drug that the person wanted. But, if someone didn’t have said photo card, then they’d just get a regular crepe with no drugs, no nothing.

Austin knew the whole plan and told the girls about it in case they wanted to get high, he also knew that if they did get high, he’d have to drive them home. In fact, he’d probably have to drive all of them home, which was something he was dreading the most.

The group had split up, Tori was with Alex and Beth. Jade was with Austin and Lana. They had planned to meet up at the time of 10:30PM in the parking lot so he could drive them back home on time.

Austin had parked in an area where the drift cars parked, why? Because apparently he knew how to drift, and had bought tickets to go out and drift in the track at the fair. But before parking there, he had to kick everyone out of Corvette first so it could be inspected. Which led to the group splitting up in the first place since they didn’t want to wait for Austin to get back, and just go on the rides, have fun, and do whatever.

Lana and Jade were willing to wait though. While walking from the parking lot to the fair, Beth had asked Tori how it felt to sit on Austin’s lap. Her answer? She simply said that he was comfortable, which led to all the other girls being curious.

Tori didn’t even sit on Ashton’s lap because she found him to be uncomfortable. If Tori wasn’t willing to sit on her own boyfriends lap because it was uncomfortable, but said her friends lap was comfortable, that must’ve meant something. At least- that’s what Beth said.

Lana and Jade had been sitting on the bleachers at the track, watching down below to see if Austin was going to appear in his Corvette. But, he didn’t. He did appear, but his Corvette wasn’t with him. Lana noticed that he wasn’t wearing his white grease stained tank top, he seemed to have changed into a black button up. He was ruffling up his messy blonde hair, leaned down towards someone to say something to them. To which they pointed to another car that was out in the track.

The car was a black and pink BRZ, and the person handed Austin the keys to the car plus the steering wheel. Austin gave a nod, then pointed to the bleachers towards Lana and Jade, saying something to the person while leaned down. He looked at the person for an answer, and they nodded their head. “Aye Clark! Wulfheim! C’mere!” He called to them. Lana and Jade both gave each other a bemused look.

Tori could see Ashton in the crowd, he was buying cotton candy, and he looked to be alone. She looked at Alex and Beth, then at Ashton, finally glancing at Alex and Beth once more. “Hey, I’m gonna go get cotton candy.” She said eagerly, they gave her a nod, telling her they’d wait before she left the duo.

When she went to go get the cotton candy, of course Ashton had noticed her, he walked to her side. “What the hell are you doing here?” Was the first thing he said as she gave two tickets to get a bag of cotton candy.

“What’s it look like, Ash? I’m getting cotton candy.” She smiled up at him, carefully opening the bag.

He stood still, staring down at her. His eyes checked her out, looking at the outfit she wore. “You look like a slut.” He said, glaring at her. “Looked like you just got fucked senseless by someone else.” His head flicked towards her laced panties.

“Maybe I did.” She kept that same snarky smile on her face.

“Why you-“ and without any hesitation he grabbed her wrist, dragging her away from the crowd.

Alex and Beth had been watching from a distance before seeing Tori and Ashton both disappeared into the crowd of people. “Cool, she ditched us for Ashton.” Alex grumbled in annoyance.

“Does that mean he’s taking her home?” Beth asked, looking at Alex.

Jade and Lana had walked down the bleachers towards Austin, who had a smile on his face. He grabbed another full face helmet and held it out to them. “Which one of you wants to go drift with me first?” He asked, and Lana looked at Jade. Who snatched the helmet without any hesitation. There was a gleeful smile on her face, showing her excitement for what was to come. Austin looked at Lana. “Your turn is next Clark, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I’m not. Jade can be a test subject.” She shrugged, brushing it off as she went back to the first row of the bleachers to watch. She could see Jade and Austin walk side by side. When they both reached the BRZ, Austin was leaning down to help Jade put the helmet on, the steering wheel on the roof of the car. He gently pressed his hand against the bottom of her chin to lift her face up so he could help her with the D strap that came with the helmet. When he helped her with that, he put his hand on top of her head, aggressively shaking it to make sure the helmet was secure. Nodded his head, handed her a pair of 100% gloves, which she gladly took.

Jade looked up at Austin. “Y’know, you’re actually way nicer than I anticipated.” She complimented, watching him slide his Icon Variant on with ease. “I thought you’d be some sort of dickhead like Randy or Ashton, but you’re actually super nice.”

“Oh?” Austin chuckled when he did the D strap to his own helmet. “Thanks, Wulfheim.” Sliding his gloves on, he leaned down to grab the door of the BRZ, opening it for Jade. “The BRZ has a roll cage, so lift up your leg, and duck your head when getting in, alright darling?” His voice was gentle, as if he was talking to a small child.

“Yessir.” She nodded her head, doing as she was told, Ducking her head, then lifting up her leg, she was able to get into the BRZ. She looked up, seeing Austin shut the door for her. She looked at the interior of the BRZ. It was pretty much empty, but the car had a hand break, something to adjust the nitro, a microphone, a fire extinguisher, a net window, no steering wheel, but it also had race seats. That tucked the person in to make sure when they crashed, the person wouldn’t go flying. She also noticed how the car still had cup holders, which she found cute.

Even in spite of the cars color schemes, which was black and pink, the inside wasn’t that pinkish. She heard the drivers side door open, and saw Austin holding the steering wheel. She watched as he was able to easily get into the car, grabbed the steering wheel off the roof, and with ease, clipped it onto the holder. There was a pink line in the middle of the wheel to show if it was in center. “You ready darling?” He asked in a gentle voice, slipping the key inside the ignition.

“Yep!” Her smile was audible.

Lana kept watching curiously, then she heard the car roar to life. The car was loud, and she could hear it quickly shift into first gear. It shot forward onto the track, its wheels spinning from underneath as if the car was trying to adjust to its own torque and speed. Lana watched the black and pink BRZ that was covered in sponsorships race down the track.

The exhaust roaring loudly, Lana saw the tires lock up, which caused car to go crooked. The car tires spun against the asphalt, smoke flying behind it, with the squeals of tires filling her ears. Lana could faintly hear a, “HOLY SHIT!” From the inside of the car due to the fact that it had net windows.

Lana was impressed, she thought Austin was bluffing when he said he knew how to drift, but he wasn’t. The dude knew how, and he was completely legit.

Ashton dragged Tori around until he finally reached the end of the fair, where the portapotties were. He grabbed her throat, tightly squeezing it to prevent her from breathing as he turned his body. Throwing her to the side of the portapotty. He slammed her so hard against the portapotty that it had moved a bit when she hit it.

“You really wanna be a bitch to me, right now?” He asked, glaring down at her. “Randy told me, about your little adventure with Butler.” He murmured, his nose was pressed against hers. Her hand weakly clawed at his, but he kept the same firm grip. “We got into a fight and you’re already out with another guy?!” He slapped the right side of her face, and she yelped from fear.

“Ashton, I didn’t hook up with him.” She mewled out weakly, her eyes stinging with tears.

“Oh? Then what the hell were you doing hanging out with him? Randy told me he drove you here. You weren’t hooking up with them then what? What?!” He demanded.

“My dad likes him, and asked him to change the trucks oil, that’s all.” She cried out, sobbing now. Ashton gently let go of her neck, stepping away from her. His hands were balled up into fists, and his brown eyes were glaring down at her, focused.

“Is that the truth?”



“Yes, it is. You can even ask my dad, Ashton.” She sucked in some air to calm herself down, her hands were trembling already. She was use to this type of treatment but for some reason she always had the same reaction to it.

Ashton kept staring at her, frowning when he realized how badly he hurt her. He walked towards the bench that was sat right next to the portapotty, turned to her with his hand held out. “Come here Tori, come here.” His voice was gentle, and she was quiet for a few moments. Hesitant, but she accepted his hand. She felt him gently pull him towards her, embracing her, he had wrapped his arms around her hips. Digging his head into her chest, her cupped his head, fingers fiddling with his hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, Tori. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She leaned down to kiss his head softly. “Just don’t hurt me again, please.”

“I won’t, I promise.” He murmured against her chest. But like every promise, Ashton would break this one as well.

Alex and Beth had met Veronica at the fair. She was telling them about Dal, while the pair was telling Veronica about how they were cramped in Austin’s C4 Corvette. Veronica found the situation hysterical and laughed about it with them, then she had told them where to find Dal and Tray. Although, Alex and Beth didn’t want to leave Veronica alone, they had known that she was high. Alex decided to stay with Veronica, and Beth would go off to go get some drugs from Dal and Tray. At least, that was what they agreed upon.

But, before they could even go get the drugs. Veronica had revealed to them that she was already with a group, but she got lost in the mirror maze, because of that she was alone. Which was fine, so the duo decided to just forget about the drugs and hang out with Veronica. They knew about Austin having to most likely take them home even if they weren’t high, and didn’t want him to deal with them being high.

Veronica told the duo that she had given some 20 year old head in the mirror maze. Alex found that to be weird, the image of a girl giving some college kid head in the middle of maze was just downright weird to her. Veronica begged to differ, she said that it was amazing seeing herself give this random guy that she had just met 15 seconds ago head in 50 different angles. Veronica had been able to see how deep his dick could go in her throat, due to this, she was able to confirm that she could indeed deep throat.

“You gave some dude head in a mirror maze to see if you could deep throat?” Alex asked, her jaw dropped.

“Well yeah,” Veronica giggled, “I’ve always been told I give good head, and with a mirror? I can finally see why.” She said with an excited smile on her face.

“You seem proud of it, and y’know what, if you are. Good for you, dude.” Alex smiled at Veronica.

“Yeah honestly good for you.” Beth agreed, and Veronica squealed in happiness, she was happy that the pair wasn’t judgmental over it.

“I think he ate cotton candy, his cum tasted like it-“

“Okay, that we don’t need to know, Onica.” Alex held up her hand, not wanting to know anymore of the details.

Beth blinked in confusion, tilting her head. “Wait, what you eat, your cum tastes like?” And Alex shot her a glare, wanting her to shut up.

“Yeah!” Veronica answered excitedly. “That’s why people say when you eat pineapple, your cum tastes better. If you eat cotton candy your cum tastes like cotton candy. If you eat strawberries your cum will taste like that.” She answered, nodding her head as she was thinking to herself. “I’ve given enough head to know.” She proclaimed.

“How much head?” Beth asked, eating the caramel apple that Alex bought for her.

“Ten… twenty… thirty, I dunno, I lost count!” Veronica laughed, clapping her hands.

“Cool.” Alex bobbed her head.

Lana had put her full face helmet on, and was sitting in the same spot that Jade had just been sitting in. She could hear the snap of the wheel against the holder, looking at Austin. “You ready?” He asked her.

“For sure.”

“Make sure to record!” Jade reminded Lana.

“Oh yeah.” Pulling out her phone from her pocket, she held it out in landscape mode, leaned back in her chair, then gave Austin a thumbs up. She could see him turn the car on, and the BRZ roared loudly. Austin shifted into first gear, launching forward. The wheels spun from underneath as the BRZ was accelerating quickly.

Austin slammed on the foot break, pulled back on the hand break quickly. He kept a foot on the gas pedal, a cloud of smoke surrounded both of them and Lana couldn’t help but scream from the adrenaline rush that hit her like a rocket. Her body lunged to the side with the car, then Austin made the car straighten out again.

Jade sat in the bleachers wide eyed, holding her phone out to record the whole situation. Knowing how Lana was, in spite of the girl recording, it was probably filmed in the messiest way possible. As Jade watched, she could see the BRZ spinning in a circle with a cloud of smoke enveloping the car. Lana’s voice, which was usually deep, was now sounding that of a 2 year.

Austin kept the steering wheel pointed to the left, making the car spin and spin. Lana had kept her eyes opened the whole time, tucked against the race seat. She couldn’t stop laughing like a child who had just seen the greatest movie of all time, she was genuinely excited. Never in her life had she been in a car with such an erratic driver. All she could see was smoke surrounding her, the smell of burning tires filled her head. The car then straightened out again, growling loudly as it rolled out of the smoke, dropping down a gear, only for it to slowly start zig zagging across the track, the tires screeching from underneath, before it was launched forward again.

Lana’s head slammed against the head seat of the car. She wasn’t ready for the sudden torque to kick in as hard as it did. Austin was laughing like a school boy, then slammed on the break, which made Lana’s head hit the dash of the car. She shook her head before looking at Austin, who lifted up the visor of his helmet. He looked over at her, one hand on the wheel, a smile visible on his face. “How was that, Clark?” His tone was filled with adrenaline and excitement.

“Fuckin’ crazy.” Lana laughed, looking at Austin with a wide grin plastered on her face. “Where the hell did you even learn how to do that?” She asked, leaning back in the seat.

“Oh y’know,” he shrugged, “I lived in the West Coast.”

Dal was leaning on the wall, a cigarette popped into his mouth. He inhaled deeply, exhaling from his nostrils and mouth. He looked up from the ground, seeing Jules in front of him. He raised a brow, confused as to what she was doing. He assumed she came to the fair with Randy, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found.

Jules had gotten into an argument with Randy. Something about how she considered flirting with another girl to be cheating. While Randy disagreed and said that it wasn’t cheating. The topic only came up because when Jules left Randy alone, she had saw him flirting with some other girl, and had heard a bit of their conversation. Randy had left her alone after that, deciding that arguing with her was a waste of time.

Dal frowned when he listened to Jules complaining to him. But he knew why she was there, she was seeking drugs. He had given her a ticket then a photo card, telling her it was alright and that Tray will treat her fair when she asks for the drugs. She was happy when she got the photo card, thanked Dal for being understanding, then dipped. Dal too, would get high whenever he felt down, but then again- Dal never took hardcore drugs. He’d usually just smoke some pot when he felt down. But, everyone had different ways of coping.

When Jules had left, about a good ten minutes later, Lana, Jade, and Austin had appeared. They didn’t want to get any drugs, but in fact had gotten Dal some cotton candy. Actually, Austin was the one who got Dal the cotton candy. When they met, Dal could smell the scent of burning tires. “Were you by the track causing all that ruckus?” Dal asked, taking a deep drag from his cigarette, his eyes focused on Austin who handed him the cotton candy bag.

“Yeah, why?” Austin asked when Dal dropped the cigarette on the ground. Squeezing it underneath his Vans, he looked up at Austin lazily.

Blinking his dazed eyes, he smiled fondly as his friend. “Nothin’ it was just some damn good driving.”

Tray had leaned over the counter when he saw Jules outside, handing him the photo card Dal had given her. Tray noticed that Jules’ face was puffy, swollen, and red, as if she had just been crying her eyes out. Even her mascara was all ruined, and Tray felt a wad of sympathy for her. So, he gave her three crepes in total, but only one bag of acid. The bag had two pills inside, that were stamped with smiley faces.

Tray knew she was alone, and when a pretty girl like Jules was out alone, high? A man could take advantage of her. So Tray had given her the weakest drug he could, it would affect her no doubt, but not so much where she could be taken advantage of- or, so Tray hoped. “Thanks Tray!” Jules grinned up at him.

“No problem twig.” He shook his head. Twig was Jules’ nickname that Tray had given her. He called her twig because she was thin. Real thin. “You gonna go anywhere?” He asked her gently.

“Yeah, maybe to the mirror maze. Wanna see how it feels when you’re tripping balls.” She said in a giddy tone, excited for what was to come.

Tray frowned sadly. “You ought to be careful.” He said in a brotherly like tone.

“I know, I know.” She stepped away from him, glancing back. “Oh yeah- Jack says hi!” And with that, she had left Tray alone.

Dal was looking at the trio. “Why isn’t Jules with you?” He asked, looking at Jade.

“What? She’s with Randy.” Jade answered in a puzzled tone, she was confused as to why Dal was concerned about Jules.

“She didn’t tell you?” Dal blinked. “Randy and her got into a fight and he left her alone.” His eyes glanced over all three of them, Jade was wide eyed, Austin looked worried, while Lana was enjoying the cotton candy that was being shared. Worry had washed over Jade like those waves at the beaches that take those little kids from beneath.

Jade gulped her worry down, “Do- do you know where she went?” She stammered, not doing a good job at hiding her worry.

“If she went to see you, she’s with Tray right?” Lana piped up, finished the cotton candy.

“Yeah, he’s at the food truck.”

“Thanks.” Jade gave him two bucks for tips, and when she was about to leave, Austin had already been ahead of them. He was heading for the food truck.

When they went to the food truck, Tray told them that Jules was at the mirror maze, she wanted to go there and trip balls. Thought it would help her, and they thanked him. While they were walking towards the maze, Austin had began talking. “Listen,” he started, “I should probably get her.” He looked over at Jade.

“You barely even know her!” Jade protested, disagreeing with the idea. Lana agreed though, the fact that Austin barely knew Jules was actually a huge benefit. This was due to the fact that Jules had a habit of retaliating with her family members every time they tried to help her, or so… Jade told Lana.

“Yeah but she knows that I’m the reason you’re here right? Plus, she has no ride.” Austin countered, half turning to Jade.

“Actually, considering how Jules is. I think it’d be great if Austin went in.” Lana piped up from behind Austin. Jade glared at Lana, who had simply shrugged then grabbed some cotton candy from the bag Austin was holding to eat.

“You better not hurt her.” Jade threatened, and Austin smirked in response. He saluted to Jade jokingly, before handing in 4 tickets to go into the mirror maze.

“You don’t gotta worry, Jade.” Lana began, leaning down when she saw a can of Orange Fanta that was spilled on the ground. She picked it up, and took a sip out of it. “Austin wouldn’t hurt a fly if his life depended on it.” And Jade groaned, slightly annoyed with Lana. “Want some? It’ll cheer you up.” She held out the Fanta to Jade.

“Dude.” She sneered in disgust. “I am not going to drink that off the floor.”

“Aye man, as long as it has flavor, I think it’s still good.” Lana shrugged it off, taking another sip from the Fanta.

Jade squinted her eyes at Lana. She’s not even high and she’s acting like this. She thought to herself, looking back in the maze.

Austin had been staring down at the ground, which was also made of mirrors. But the difference was that he knew where he was stepping, and that there were lines and shoe prints the mirrors, which had basically showed him a trail so he wouldn’t get confused.

He could hear crying echoing throughout the maze as he kept walking, and he figured it was Jules. He kept his calm, listening to her sobbing in the maze. He couldn’t lie to himself, he was slightly excited to meet Jules. He didn’t say much to her, but she was rather beautiful. She looked sweet and cute. “Randy’s one lucky dude.” He whispered to himself, as he continued to carefully walk on the mirrors.

Before he had known that he even reached the center, he could finally hear the cries die down. Which caused him to look up, and he saw her. Juliette. She was standing in the middle of the maze of mirrors. Her face was covered in smudged mascara, face red, eyes swollen from crying too much. She noticed Austin walking in the maze, he had been staring at the ground the whole time, clearly having no trouble walking towards her.

Austin stood still, staring at her. He looked entranced, and for some reason this made Jules giggle at him since he looked a bit clueless. He looked like he had just seen the most beautiful woman, he looked starstruck, like his heart was stolen. He was in awe. Trying to process what he was looking at.

Jules could see that his arms looked dirty, as if he had been messing with yet another car. Tori had told her about how he would fix cars often, which was why he always looked so dirty. “What’re are you doing here?” She asked, breaking the silence.

“Your sister wanted me to come get you.” He said, walking towards her. He had his hands in his pockets when he stopped in front of her. Leaning down close to her face to examine her, without thinking he gently grabbed her chin. Took out a napkin from the depths of his pockets to wipe the mascara that was smudged all over her face. It was awkward, at least to Jules. But Austin seemed to focus on wiping her face clean to even notice. When he was finished, he put the napkin away, then walked passed her cooly. “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

“But—“ She began, whining already. He stopped walking to look back at her, then took her hand in his. Their fingers intertwining, without even saying a word to her, he led her towards the exit.

“Is Randy going to take you home?” He asked without looking at her.

“Nuh uh,” she replied like a toddler.

“Then I will.”

—

The ride back home was cramped, a little Corvette with 7 people was not at all ideal. In fact, Austin had gotten into a bickering session with Tori. Who had inherently refused to sit on his lap, more or less look at him, which made him grow frustrated.

“Listen Sanchez, I gotta take you, Bradley, Williams, Wulfheim, Spencer, Clark, and my ass back home! I understand that the driving conditions aren’t really ideal but we don’t really have a god damn choice now do we?!” He snapped in a tone that showed his annoyance. “Unless you wanna get Ash-“


“No!” She shouted at him, almost looking up at Austin but then looked down at his boots.

He sighed, then leaned down. His voice was as gentle as the morning dew. “Can you please just work with me here? Please?” He murmured, pleading with her. She looked at him now, their eyes locked. “If you’re not gonna come, I will leave you here. I have to take Clark home.” He flicked his head towards Lana, who had been staring up at a light pole, watching the moths fly towards the light.

Jade and Jules were standing side by side, watching Lana with a sneer on their faces. They were genuinely confused with what Lana was even doing. She looked high, truly, and utterly high. “That girl has one short attention span…” Jules murmured as they both watched.

“You said it…” Jade agreed, nodding her head slowly.

Alex slowly approached Lana, poking her on the shoulder. “Huh?” She turned around to face Alex.

“Get in the car, Austin and Tori have came to an agreement.” She ordered, and Lana gave a nod. She opened the passenger side, sat down and kept the door open in case someone would need to sit on her lap. With Austin pushing the seat down, Beth was the first to come in, then Jade, and lastly Jules. Just like Lana had predicted, someone would have to sit on her lap, and that someone was Alex. When Austin sat down in the drivers side, Tori had sat on his lap.

“It’s really cramped in this car…” Beth murmured with her head pressed against the glass.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Alex agreed, her head was tilted to the side because of how big she was. Her cheek was practically pressing against the ceiling of the Corvette.

“I’m gonna sell this god damn car and get a motorcycle if I keep hearing you guys complain.” Austin growled from underneath his breath. He was annoyed, mainly because there was 7 people in a car that was basically meant for only 2 people. Not only that but everyone was staining the seats as well.

Austin had dropped almost everyone off, except for Tori. The reason was because she asked him if he could stay over at her place, which he gladly agreed to. He hadn’t noticed the bruise that formed on her neck when Ashton had choked her at the fair. It was too dark in the Corvette and outside to even notice.

When Tori got home with Austin behind her, she had told him to change into a tank top and shorts after he got out of the shower. He obliged, nodding his head along to her words before he disappeared in the bathroom. Once she heard the shower head turn on, she looked in the mirror, staring at herself.

The bruise was of a crimson color, the handprint that belonged to Ashton. Austin was sure to see it, and she knew he’d freak out when he did. She didn’t know how Austin felt for her exactly, but she knew he felt somewhat protective over her. When Austin was finished with the shower, Tori braced herself in case he freaked out, but he didn’t.

Austin approached Tori quietly, looming over her. He had his hands in his pockets, staring at her figure in the mirror, before his eyes went to her neck. Tori noticed how his face slowly distorted into a glare. “Ashton?” He asked, grabbing her shoulders to turn her around so Tori could face him.

“Yeah,” she looked up at him, seeing him lean down to bring his hand to her neck. His finger traced the outline of Ashton’s hand.

“Damn him.” He said in a hushed tone underneath his breath. “I could kill him you know.” Looking at her eyes, he pulled away.

“No, don’t, I don’t want you to hurt him. I love him.” Like usual, Tori was defending Ashton for his behavior. Austin gave a her a solemn nod, telling her that he wouldn’t hurt Ashton, or even snitch him out. Turning his back on her, he walked over to her bed, laying down underneath the blankets. Tori was quietly for a few moments, noticing how he hadn’t said anything to her. “You won’t hurt him right Aus?” She asked, crawling into bed with him.

“No, I ain’t gonna hurt him, you don’t want me to right?”

“Yes, I don’t. I don’t want you saying a word either.” She murmured, seeing his arm stretch out for her to use as a pillow.

“Then I won’t.” His voice was soft, reassuring her that he would listen to her, and she laid her head on his chest, her arm around his chest. With his arm lazily wrapped around her torso, he let out an annoyed sigh. “I won’t do shit.”

[mrsmaybank]

Honey - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and the reader were very much in love during Reid’s brief stint in Pasadena. When he has to see her again on a case, he is super nervous. 

a/n: first section is inspired by such great heights 

C/W: Swearing

PASADENA - 2002 

A note from the love of your life is a lovely way to wake up. 

------

When you can understand everything but yourself, finding somebody who does is like seeing a comet; disappointingly rare. My shaky hands can only be stilled by the smile of my most incandescent--in every connotation--creature, and that is you. The universe always seems to know what it is doing even if humanity does not. The stars align and move in patterns we as it’s audience do not fully understand. I think we have watched the stars so much the universe has aligned us as a favor to our poor, overestimated souls. I am so grateful!  Tolstoy noted that "We are asleep until we fall in love!” And I thank you for waking me up.

However I thought it best the favor not be returned this particular morning. You were up late last night, and looked too cute to disrupt. Do not kill me, I am getting coffee. 

I love you and do not leave the bed.  

-Spencer

------

Only Spencer Reid would write that on a sticky note, and only for you would he do so. 

You heard the rattling of keys and a door being opened and shut as Spencer made his way back to your bedroom. The smile you saw on his face was the start of a story that ended on the upturn of your lips, revealing the two protagonists in a mad frenzy of love. As soon as he reached you, your lips pressed to his in a desperation to be impossibly closer. 

“Hi.” he said. 

I am thinking it's a sign

That the freckles in our eyes

Are mirror images

And when we kiss they're perfectly aligned

“Hey love.” you tucked a loose brown hair back behind his ear for a closer look at the face you adored. “Please get back in bed.” 

He sighed but crawled in next to you, big nimble hands making their way across your torso to diminish the space in between you two. You nuzzled into his chest. 

“Your note was beautiful.” you whispered into his ear.

A big, goofy grin spread along his face.

“I meant every word.” his voice so sweet, it sounded dipped in honey. 

Honey is incredibly sticky. 

-----

There had to have been a world where it all worked out. 

In this world, my things never got old, and the ice cubes in my coffee never melted. I could listen to that song over and over again without draining the life out of it and I could like my hair style for more than three months. 

Spencer had read to me the greatest works of the world. Words of the greatest thinkers, authors, and minds. He had an appreciation for them greater than those of the average passerby and I adored that, because so did I. Truly, our similarities are what connected us. Our minds were correlated perfectly when it came to subjectivity. 

In accordance to human nature however, certain matters were never agreed upon. In particular, we argued about the future. The canyon of discrepancy so vast it tore us and our love in two. I didn’t think that was possible.

I wanted to write the book and watch the film as I lived my life and he and his arrogant over-practically thought that impossible. He thought himself an oneirocritic, but my dreams were not looking for critiques. 

Like I said, Spencer read to me the greatest works of the world. And years would pass and the heartbreak and sorrow would fade, but I would always find it ironic how the last thing I ever heard in that honey soaked voice was a work of Confucius.  “Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.”

Spencer chose to go to Washington. He took his heart and a piece of mine with him.

-----

BAU JET - 2011

Seaver must’ve noticed my flinch when the sound of her name resonated through the jet. I’d never liked going to California, but this...this had never happened.  “That name mean something to you Reid?” She smiled, “You look kind of horrified.” 

I ran my hands through my hair in a futile attempt to ground myself. “No. I just...I used to know her.” 

In between the fine lines of love and hate, fell a blurry midsection where feelings came before logic and screams and whispers sounded the same. She ruled over this midsection of chaotic emotional fury. 

Morgan spoke, and I quickly realized I might be falling into a conversation I really did not want to be having. “How the hell d’you know her pretty boy?” 

There was no point in lying on a plane completely occupied by profilers. My best option was to clumsily dodge any direct questions about just how well I knew her.

“I’m from the West coast.” 

“So are over 50 million people. You mean to tell me you know all of them?” he laughed.

“The exact estimation is actually 53,492,270. And no, I’m not saying I know all of them, Morgan. I lived in Pasadena for a year after I graduated from Caltech.”

“Okay?” Morgan questioned my previous statements relevancy. 

“She went to USC. We were in the same social circle.” 

Morgan laughed again, “You had a social circle?” 

Emily, next to us, was presumably combing through her file.

“You, ultimate three doctorate dorky dork, were in the same circle as a film major?” she asked. “

What the hell is ‘doctorate dorky dork’ supposed to mean?

“She double majored actually. Film and political science.”

Emily double checked the file, “And Reid’s right. Per usual.” 

“Reid and Prentiss, Y/L/N has agreed to talk to us in her home. She lives in the Hills. When we land, you guys go talk to her.” Hotch stated. 

“Why?” I said before I could stop myself. The team sat in confused silence in reaction to my bluntness, but Hotch, like always, was not having it. 

“Because we have a serial killer that is reenacting the murders in her movie, Reid.” his tone was stern and swift, with a patronizing sarcasm I supposed I deserved. 

“Sorry,” I got out, “I guess I just meant..why me?” 

“Well, you know her don’t you?” Rossi asked. 

I was not ready to divulge the personal details between me and this girl to my entire team, so I just pursed my lips and nodded. 

“Right. Sorry.” 

----

Life is not a spectacle or a feast; it is a predicament. George Santayana. I was in the biggest fucking predicament I’d ever encountered in my life. 

Nothing could slow the incessant, double time pounding in my chest. I was showing symptoms of the beginning of a heart attack. Hopefully I would die and never have to face this.

Fuck, don’t think that.

Have the seats in these cars always been this uncomfortable? God, is California always this hot?

I looked at Emily for half a second, and instantly recognized that keeping quiet from her was proving to be dysfunctional. I could feel her eyes burning into my brain with every profiling skill she knew.

“What are you not saying Reid?” 

I sighed. “Do I have to tell you?” 

“Yeah. Unless you want me to just find out on my own. It’ll be a lot less delicate.” 

Here goes nothing. 

“I dated her. For two years. I was very much in love with her. It ended....abruptly. I haven’t spoken to her since, and now, nine years later, I am on my way to her house. I might have a heart attack.” 

Emily's eyes widened, “Shit..” She laughed a little, “Reunited at last?.” 

I answered with a glare. Hard no.

“Fine, sorry.” She said, masking a giggle with a cough.

I shifted in my seat and I could practically see the gears in Emily’s profiler cerebrum spin. She knew exactly the question to ask. “Is it nerves?”  

I nodded my head, “I was a very different person back then.” 

“Nothing like time and the bureau can change somebody.” she said. “But, hey..”She smiled again and my eyes widened when I realized what I’d revealed. “I asked you if you were nervous. I didn’t-” 

“Emily..” I started. 

“Are you nervous she won’t like you now? Do you still like her?” her mouth hung open, “Oh my god Reid!” 

I shook my head, “No, I don’t still like her! I don’t even know her anymore! I just..I’d never loved somebody the way I loved her.” 

Emily had figured me out at the same time I had. “And you still haven’t.” 

Fuck.

“Correct.” 

The car pulled into her driveway, and conversations from all those years ago started to replay in my head. 

“When we get a house, can we paint our front door bright blue?” 

“I want a lemon tree in the front yard.” 

“Windows. Huge windows. It’s a must.” 

All these things I’d promised her in our future home she’d gotten for herself. Good. 

Fontaine said “Sadness flies away on the wings of time”, but the pain I felt from the loss of her was as prominent as ever. 

Here goes nothing. 

---

Thank you for reading!

a/n2 :  this is completely unedited so if its sucks dick i am sorry :/ i just wanted to post it lol

A/n 3: the typos oh my fuck. I wanna Kick myself for letting this cute fic  be up in that state for so long. Anyway, fixed! :)