#it's so far away from home (and yes i know texas is too and no i wasn't feeling all that great about that either)

[the-music-keeper]

Objective #8 is done, and I honestly don't think I'm going to find an American advisor whose research interests better match my own than Dr. Clark. I'm going to acquire the books I think are most relevant and skim through them, but in the last five years he's worked on several projects related to flamenco. He also has a clear interest in Granados and what looks like a particular affinity for compiling biographies.

[covetyou]

ghosted

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: sex toys (satisfyer "glowing ghost"), unprotected P in V, creampie, oral (f receiving), reader loves floor time (so does Joel), angst (but we fix it), some anxiety/depression adjacent things. word count: 5751 summary: As spring moves into summer, the only thing you're wishing for is to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on. But, by the time the end of May is on the horizon, the time between still isn't enough - You haven't forgotten, and you haven't moved on.

A/N: thank you to everyone still sticking with this sporadic-installment-series-that-was-never-meant-to-be-a-series. our next visit to these two will be 4th July in stars and stripes, but until then, enjoy 💛

(and yes I know I am technically later than planned with this for non Americas folk - I couldn't get the ending to my liking until suddenly I could, and now its gone midnight. whoops!)

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If it was true that time flies when you're having fun, it was safe to say the opposite was true too.

You weren't having fun, and time was well and truly crawling by at a snails pace.

That wasn't for lack of trying. In recent weeks you'd spent more time out of the house than you ever had - lunch with friends, drinks with colleagues, solo trips to bookstores and farmers markets. There was barely a moment of time you hadn't filled with something.

It was probably a shitty coping mechanism, all things considered, but it was the best you had. You couldn't quite bring yourself to confide in anyone your secret shame of letting a stranger into your house and touch you like he belonged there. The even bigger shame of living in a place for so very long and not knowing how the door worked, not knowing the stranger was your neighbor, being so very consumed in your own life - woe is you - that you didn't bother paying attention to the lives of the people around you. So, you kept on willing the passage of time, and filling every moment you could with distractions.

It wasn't that you were usually one for wishing time away. A slow, warm spring before the blazing heat of summer consumed everything would usually be a good thing - even better now that you'd lived and experienced your first Texas summer and were soon to have your second.

What you were really wishing for was to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on.

As it was, by the time the end of May was on the horizon, the time between still wasn't enough. Almost two months to the day, and it still ached and burned in you just as much as it always had, if not more. The embarrassment and shame of not knowing how to work a fucking lock was one thing, the fear of the danger you'd put yourself in was another. Then there was the sadness, the loss, the unexpected emptiness at losing something you weren't even sure you had to begin with. And then, in more recent weeks, was the longing.

And you didn't want to feel any of it.

When Memorial Day Weekend eventually rolls around, the blossoming heat of summer keeping you indoors, you lie there on your living room floor, a fan blowing not quite cool enough air across your sweaty body until a knock at the door disturbs the patterns your eyes were tracing on the ceiling.

The dimness in your vision doesn't go away, even as you blink away the dust and try to get your eyes to adjust. The sun had set, apparently. It wasn't completely dark just yet, but dark enough to cast the lower level of your home in shadow, and you hadn't even noticed. You technically had plans today - plans that had now gone to shit, much like everything else.

Hauling yourself from the ground, you unlock your door, no thought or care of who could be on the other side of it, because one thing was certain - it wouldn't be Joel. You'd lost hope of that weeks ago. Each time you opened it with a fools hope in your mind, you were instead handed a delivery and told to have a good day as you stared out into the street, disappointed that it was only a clitty-blaster-3000, or a new blender, and not Joel.

You mindlessly pull open the door, expecting to be handed a package you hadn't ordered, or to even see a friendly face coming to pull you out for plans you agreed to but didn't really want to do.

But there he is. Two months later - but not too late, you don't think - and entirely out of the blue. Nervous hands are thrust into his pockets with his thumbs twitching on the outside of his jeans, standing there like he didn't belong here at all, when everything in your body was screaming he's home.

This was far from the first time you'd seen him since March. The first time was barely three days after you pushed him away. April Fools' Day, of all days. Fitting, you thought, given how much of a fucking fool you felt whenever you remembered everything you'd done, and said, and felt. It turns out he was the owner of the truck you'd seen parked in a drive a little way down the street, father to the little girl you'd seen bounding out of that house so many times before. Neither thing made the hurt in your chest any less, and you'd driven past with a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes.

The same happens now, but you fight them back so you can see more clearly as his mouth twitches into a small smile, making you freeze on the spot. Your mind was already blank, but that freezes too, and you stare at him dumbstruck for a moment so long you're certain a flicker of concern dances across his eyes.

And you could close the door in his face, push him out and away just like you did on that day over two months ago, but you don't. As you come back around, finally letting your brain reconnect with the rest of your body, the only thing you can feel is relief and total utter joy at getting to see him up close again.

There's still shame too. That's been simmering low and mellow in you for so long now that it's fused with your bones - you're not sure you'll ever shake it - but it's the least important thing right now as you stand and look at him, more awkward and uncertain than you've ever seen him.

"Hi."

You're surprised it's you who speaks first, given how dry your mouth is all of a sudden, seeing him up close again and looking as good as, if not better, than he ever has.

"Hey," he says, before clearing his throat. "S'good to see you."

It's a voice you didn't want to forget, but apparently damn near almost had, given the way your body reacts to it. Deep and rumbling, with the slow southern drawl trickling down your spine like honey and settling between your thighs - though in all honesty that might just be sweat. It really is hot in here, worse now that you're standing, and the fan is doing absolutely nothing to help. You look a mess too - your hair, your clothes, your life - but he doesn't seem to mind, and you're grateful, because right now this is as good as you've got.

"Wanted to see how you were doin'. Figured we should talk," he says with another soft smile.

Stepping aside, you give him a small nod as you silently invite him into your home for the first time. Which should be funny, given the unknown number of times he's been through this door, but you're not ready to laugh about any of it just yet.

When the door closes behind him, it's soft and gentle, barely audible over the fan blasting warm air at you, and you wonder if it's always like that. If he's always quiet as a mouse, and you always too oblivious to notice - between the two of you, you didn't stand a hope in hell in figuring it all out until it was too late and blew up in your face. Now, here you are, egg on your face, the heat in the room not helping the heat in your cheeks, trying desperately not to send him away when you've just invited him in.

It would be easier if it all still felt like a dream, but it didn't. That had changed.

Joel had never been much of a normal man in your mind. He was more of a fantasy come to life. A fantasy that was slowly building into something more and more real with each encounter. Even now, stood in normal shoes, wearing a normal t-shirt, and even more normal jeans - just Some Guy by anybodies standard - he looks as beautiful and fantastic as ever.

"Wanted to talk to you sooner. Wanted to leave it up to you given - y'know. Everythin'. Didn't want you to think I was just bargin' in all the time when it was convenient for me," he says, this very normal man already making you feel both silly and elated that he was waiting for you as much as you were waiting for him. Obviously you could have gone to him first. You just couldn't do it. You almost had so many times, but the twist of your key in the door would twist something in the pit of your stomach too, and you'd stop before you even made it out the house.

You knew why. It was always the same thing. You didn't want to talk - not ever. You just wanted things to be okay, or not, and go on with your life. It was one of those childish things you had your mom to thank for - she wasn't great at talking about the important thing either.

The difference now was Joel. You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to work out everything with him rather than alone in your head. But prior to the door incident, that wasn't what this was and after - well, fuck - after, it seemed that it could have been like that all along but you were too damn late to do anything about it.

"Know you were angry with me - maybe still are - and I -"

"I wasn't angry with you," you blurt out, already aware of the lie the moment it leaves your lips. Joel is too, and he raises an eyebrow at you. "Okay. Yes. It pissed me off - you pissed me off. Happy?"

"No. Never wanted to piss you off, darlin'," he murmurs in return, and you can see that he means it by the way all of him softens, drooping in defeat at your admission.

"I... You embarrassed me, Joel. I feel embarrassed, okay? I feel like a stupid idiot, and I -"

You can already feel it all coming back. The swirling in your head, and the heat creeping up your chest and down your arms, not helped by this sweltering fucking house. It's like fainting, but instead of blacking out, a white hot rage is ready to ignite in you. And of everything, it's the thing you most never want to feel again. You'd take all the sadness, loss, emptiness, and longing of the last two months a million times over if it means you never have to feel this again.

" - and it makes me angry. And I hate feeling like that, like this, and I just couldn't come talk to you because I feel so stupid."

"Woah, darlin', c'mon now, we both know you ain't stupid."

"I don't know how to work a fucking door, Joel. Do you know how long people have had doors?"

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes before starting up again, hoping Joel will take the lead and talk for you first, but he doesn't.

"And I thought we were on the same page. That we were both doing the same silly thing, and it was okay that it was silly and fun, because we were both in on the joke. And... I liked seeing you. I liked it when you were here and it just - it just feels like it was a lie, and what I got out of it isn't what you got out of it. And that's okay, but it still feels stupid. I feel like an idiot, and an asshole, and knowing that you knew so much more about me than I knew about you, I just-"

"Do you want to?" he asks. "Do you wanna get to know me? Just gotta say, and it's done. I want you to know about me - I never meant to hide anythin' from you like that. And I don't want you to be mad, and I don't want you to feel embarrassed, cause the way I see it, we both got shit to be embarrassed about. I was breakin' into your house for months, thinkin' I was invited."

You wince a little, and he just smiles, shrugging his broad shoulders that what's done is done, nonchalance easing your anxiety for the first time ever rather than making it worse.

"I used to stand out there in front of your door and talk to your doorbell like you'd talk back to me any minute," Joel says with a laugh. "Course, now I get that you probably ain't got it hooked up. Never did hear the fuckin' thing ring."

Fuck. Right. Yeah, he's got you there. You'd bought it when you moved in, at your mom's insistence, and never got around to connecting it to anything. You figured it just being there would be deterrent enough and, other than visits from Joel, it had been.

He laughs again at your poorly masked grimace, and any other time you'd maybe be infuriated by him finding humor in something you'd been hurting over for weeks. It's not until you meet his eye and see the silliness in it all too - neither of you really did have any hope.

"Right? It's dumb. Not you, not me, it's just dumb. I even used to tell you when I'd be over next, let you know when to expect me. Leave out a key or put the door on the latch if it's okay for me to come by. I thought I was bein' invited in, but I was breakin' in. Shit. You're embarrassed, and I'm a criminal, I guess we're both losers."

Any anger you had is gone in a flash as laughter ripples through your belly and out your throat. In a way, it's all true. Joel was just as fucked as you, had just as much to be embarrassed and fearful about as you. Unknowingly leaving your home vulnerable to intruders is one thing, but being an accidental criminal for months is another.

"I liked it. I... I never knew when you were coming."

"Hey, if that's what gets your rocks off," he says with a wink, and you laugh again. "I ain't one to judge, but we can explore that in safer ways than keepin' a door unlocked day and night."

You both realize what he said the second the word left his lips.

We.

As in us.

As in together.

And you think he might take it back as quick as he said it, but he doesn't. He just looks at you, half fearful that he said the wrong thing, half hopeful that he said the right thing.

"Okay."

With one word he brightens, and you can feel it in you too. Whatever it is is mutual. Has been since the red velvet coat, since the wings, since the bunny ears, and all the spaces in between.

"Yeah? Cause I'd like to start over, if that's okay with you."

"Well, that sounds like a terrible idea," you say bluntly, because honestly you cannot think of anything worse. Joel's slow steps towards you falter for a second as he tries not to let the disappointment in his face show, but you're already smiling. "You can pry Santa, Cupid, and Flopsy from my cold, dead hands."

And his laugh is glorious, cracking open the remnants of the walls you'd put around yourself and letting your bones soak in the warmth of him, just as his arms come to wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. He smells so familiar - that's one thing you know about him. You might not know about his favorite color, or what he likes to eat, or even his daughters name just yet. But you know what he smells like, how his smile lights up his eyes, and how his hands feel on you, anchoring you in place even as you send yourself dizzy breathing him in.

He's going to kiss you too. You know that, and you welcome it, but before he can, you pull back.

"There's so much I want to know, I don't know how I missed so much."

"You get one question before I'm kissin' you."

You think for just a second before looking down to where your fingers curl into his shirt - an old Fleetwood Mac tee, so washed and worn it's like butter beneath your fingers.

With a wry smile, you look up at him from beneath your lashes, unable to hold back the laughter in your voice. "What are you dressed as today? Don't think I know this one, you're usually on theme."

"This? I'm just your plain ol' friendly neighborhood Joel Miller."

His lips are on yours then, pressing a soft kiss into the curve of your mouth, eyes searching yours for one, two, three seconds, before he dives back in, kissing you in earnest, making up for all the in betweens you'd been wishing away.

You wrap yourself around him, clinging to him, damn near wanting to climb up him, as you make out like teenagers in the middle of your living room. His hands wander across your shoulders, down your spine, grasping at any softness he can find along the way until his hands settle - one on your ass, and one gently cupping the back of your neck.

And as you kiss, holding each other close like you were long lost lovers and not whatever this thing between you was, you can't help but think that Joel Miller may just be your favorite Joel yet.

"Now, I got a question for you," he mumbles into your mouth, each word chased by your kisses. You've never wanted to seem desperate before, but right now you don't care, and by the way he's holding you, Joel doesn't mind either.

"Why the fuck do you have a nightlight?"

Shooting him an inquisitive look, you follow his gaze over your shoulder.

There on your counter, little light blinking away, is your very own clitty-blaster-3000, a luminous ghost with its mouth set in a permanent O, glowing brightly in the darkness. Shit. You'd brought it down this morning to charge, needing to keep a watchful eye on it and its janky magnetic charger to make sure it charged fully. You'd totally forgotten about it, and now here it was, glowing like a beacon after being out in the sun all day.

You try to pull away from Joel, but with his arms locked around your body, and his mouth pressing soft whiskered kisses to your neck, you don't have the strength, or the inclination, to move.

"It's not a nightlight, I can go put it away, if you just gimme-"

He tucks you behind him, swatting away your arms as you feebly try to reach around and grab it from him. Truthfully, you quite like the idea of him holding it, using it, but you feel bad that he might not know what it is.

"Not a nightlight, huh?" He says, grabbing the toy from the counter, said charger immediately popping off and clattering to the ground. He inspects it, turning it over in his hands, bringing it so close to his face it casts shadows across his features with its glow. "Oh, I know what this is."

"What is it then, smartass."

"Other than Pac-Man's worst nightmare? It's one of them clitty-blaster-3000 things."

Eyes wide, you double over, cackling and holding desperately onto yourself so you don't totally fall apart in front of him. He laughs with you, though maybe it's a little bit at you too, but you don't mind.

"What?!" he says smiling as he watches you fight to right yourself, gripping his forearm with laugh weakened fingers.

"That's what I call it!"

"Yeah? It good?"

His eyes are burning into yours. You know where this is going, and there's a brief thought that maybe you should stop it, slow things down. But you don't. Instead, you bite your lip and nod, making a noise of confirmation as Joel fiddles with the buttons on the toy.

A second later, it whirrs to life, a gentle throbbing buzz meeting your ears.

Joel puts his thumb over the hole, the suction gently hammering away at his finger tip as he clicks up and up through the intensity until he's well past a level you can use it at.

"Shit, yeah. Can see how that'd feel good."

"I, uhm, like to tease myself with it."

"Yeah?" he says as it clicks back down through the settings and rests on the softest one again. "Is that how you use it? Just to tease yourself?"

"No," you say, gasping a little when he raises the toy to your neck, pressing the mouth of the ghost to you as if pressing a kiss to your skin. "I - I just kinda stick it on there, to be honest. But I go slow with the - with the settings."

Joel clicks up one setting, the gentle thrumming at your neck intensifying a little.

"Yeah? You take your time? Give her what she deserves?"

You forgot what this was like - how easy and good it was to give in to wanting him, and how easy it was to let yourself have him too.

"Mhm."

"Good. Can't say I ain't jealous though. Missed comin' here. Seein' you. Thought about you, thought about comin' to see you but -"

"Thought about you too."

"When you were usin' this?"

You nod, tilting your head to the side and sighing as he glides the tip of the toy across your pulse point, behind your ear, down the column of your throat.

"Can I use it on you?"

You damn near want to tell him he can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, but the words are lost when you nod again and he captures your mouth in another kiss, brutal in its softness as he guides you back to your couch and all the plush cushions you have stacked there. Since Christmas, your home décor skills have definitely improved. Things look a little less bare, the place looks a little more lived in. There's still pictures to hang and empty spaces on shelves to fill, but you know those things will come in time. For now, you're grateful for the comfy place you've made on your sofa as Joel sits you down, guiding you down with strong hands.

Your shorts are quickly pulled off, the toy pulled from your neck so Joel can kiss his own better trail across your flesh. You hold him to you, anchor him into your bosom like he might drift off like a spectre in the night if you don't, but he's as latched to you as you are to him.

And then he's on his knees for you, jeans straining as his cock swells, hands gripping your thighs then pushing your shirt up, exposing you for him. Panties soon follow your shorts, yanked down your legs in a joint effort by your left hand and his right as he can't resist lapping at your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours.

He's everything you tried to forget, and some of the things you did. He's strong, and broad. He's gentle too, and soft - his eyes, mostly, but some other parts of him too. He's silly, and playful, smiling into your mouth and nipping at you, the hand by your thigh teasing the buzzing toy over the delicate skin there and delighting in your shudder.

As he moves it closer, the sounds of the suction against your skin making you both giggle, he moves down, burying his face into your neck and breathing in. You already know that it's never been like this before - that this is something new, just like every other time before had been something new.

"So you just stick it on, huh?"

"Lube. With lube."

His face is between your legs in an instant, licking messily around your clit, not really trying to get you off, just aiming to get you wet. When he pulls back, toy in hand, he raises the glowing toy mouth to his own and licks, smiling at the sound of it suctioning to his tongue.

"That good enough?"

And you nod, giving in to his kisses again before he breathlessly spreads you apart with both hands, looking at your cunt like if he blinks it'll all fade away.

"You know I ain't seen this for three months?"

"You been counting?"

"I missed you," he repeats with a breathless kiss to your thigh. "Missed this."

He lights his way with the glow of the toy rumbling in his hand, pulling back your clit for just one second, barely holding in a groan, before he gently holds the mouth of the ghost to you, pressing until the obscene slurp is muffled by full suction on your clit.

And it's divine, just like it always is, but somehow made even better by the man doing it to you. Fascinated eyes don't stop watching as it hammers air lightly at your clit in a constant rhythm, and the sight alone makes you drip. You're grateful for the heat now, and the sheet you'd covered your velvet sofa with, saving you an undoubtedly messy clean up later.

The toy slips when Joel climbs back off his knees to press his mouth to yours, and the air splutters and ripples past your skin again, as Joel laughs into your mouth.

"The sound of this thing, jesus fuckin' christ. Sounds like you're -"

"Don't. Don't make me laugh, you'll distract me."

"I like it when you laugh," but he's already pressing it flush to your skin again, stopping the sound and sending the ripples directly back to your clit.

"Ohh, f- "

"That's it," he says, watching as your hips rock ever so slightly into the throbbing toy sucking away on your clit. "Fuck, that's it. Lettin' me get you off with this thing."

"Think I can get some fingers in and keep this right where you need it?"

"Mm."

"Yeah?" he says, swiping at your entrance with his middle fingers, carefully holding the toy in place with his palm. "Just like that. There we go. Right in there. Fuck, I missed this. Missed bein' in here."

"Fuck."

"That's it. You come on 'em. Wanna feel it."

"Joel, down. Move it down. Ple- ah."

"There?"

"Right there," you sigh, panting and barely making it through the words before your eyes snap shut.

And then Joel is in your ear, his breath fanning against you, cooling you for a second even as his fingers stoke the fire raging in your core.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he murmurs, and you just know he's looking down at you, the picture of a perfect mess. A sheen of sweat on your skin, lips swollen and parted as you gasp, thighs spread wide, hips rocking into Joel's illuminated palm, t-shirt rucked high over your hips, hands on your tits, nipples pinched between your own fingers, moaning, panting, coming.

You twitch in his arms, burying your head in his neck and breathing deep. Something about the position you're in can keep it going longer, can keep that thrumming pressure on your clit right where it is, past your usual limit, dragging your orgasm on and on until you're gasping Joel's name.

He gingerly pulls the glowing toy off of you - its brightness dimmed only slightly since you lost sight of it between your legs - fiddling with buttons until he gives in and throws it to the side to run his hands over you.

With a light kisses to your parted lips, he apologizes, giving you softly muttered sorrys for ever upsetting you, for taking so long to come talk to you, and before you can return the sentiment, he sends you laughing again.

"And I'm sorry for breakin' into your house. Accidentally."

Your laughter makes him shift, and his face contorts as he gasps in discomfort.

"Fuckin' jeans. Pinchin'," is all he says, as he tries to adjust himself. You can see his zipper strain with the weight of his cock, stiff and unattended, behind the thick fabric.

"Take 'em off."

"Came here for you, not me."

"And if I want you to come for me?"

Joel blinks.

"Then I'm takin' my damn pants off," he says, taking his pants off. He sighs in relief when the pressure on his cock is released, groans when your hand palms him over the damp fabric, gasps into your mouth when you slip your fingers beneath his waistband, finding his cock slick and wet with precum, curses into your hair when you lick the salty taste of him from your fingers.

Tugging his boxers down a little more, his cock springs free, slapping his wet tip against his belly. In a blink you're on him, pulling off his shirt as you go to suck wet kisses into his neck, his chest, and letting your fingers toy with his nipples and the other feel down past his boxers, cupping his balls and rolling your thumb across the sensitive flesh before he pushes up into you.

He's solid. You're surprised he didn't come in his pants with how firm he feels slipping against your cunt. You meet his thrust, grinding down into his solid length, trying to hold your own shirt up so you can see the tip of his cock as he ruts against you.

"Does that feel good?"

"Fu - yeah. Y'always feel good."

"Y'know what would feel better," you whisper, scratching gently down his chest and watching goosebumps prickle his skin. With a shift of your hips, his next thrust pushes in, just slightly, before popping out and grinding into your clit again. His next thrust - slower, firmer - notches against your entrance and pushes in, Joel's hands on your ass dragging you down, until you're seated to the root of him.

It's a stretch. It always was. But over three months, and a decline in solo sessions, made it even more so.

Still, even through the stretch, you rock against him, looking into the eyes of Joel Miller, the normal, every day guy who lives down your street, and smile at it all, and the look on his face that says he couldn't be luckier.

"Said I wanted you to come, didn't I?"

And you meant it. You show him how much you mean it as you start to ride him, lifting higher and higher off of him before pushing back down. Your thighs clap against his, wet with sweat and slipping together with each movement, echoing around your living room.

It doesn't last long. It can't. It's too fucking hot, and you're woefully out of practice as the stretch in your pussy turns into a burn in your legs. You can see Joel's face start to pinch and contort, looking between your face, your bouncing tits, and the slip of his cock in and out of you, barely visible in the shadows.

But you can't keep going. You'll pass out if you do. Joel's hands register what you're doing before his face does, gripping tighter and holding you down on him, before his mouth opens in a gasp, his head falling back after losing something he was so close to getting.

You barely pull in a breath of warm air before Joel is dragging you down, flipping you unceremoniously onto your back on the floor.

It's cooler down here, even with Joel's body over yours. It's why you were on the floor to begin with, before he came back, before you let him back in. Joel fumbles against you, the sweat on your body acting more like a full body lube at this point, before he slides back in, knocking the air out of you as he fills you all over again.

Even though his knees will be bruised in the morning and your back will ache, he pounds into you, gripping your shirt and pulling you down with each thrust.

And it's just so fucking good you can't help but practically scream as he fucks you, moaning loudly into his ear as he groans and pants and swears into yours. Your fingers can't find purchase against his back, even as you desperately claw at him. There's too much sweat - it's too fucking hot in here - but you wouldn't change any of the desperate mess that you find yourselves in here on the floor.

He's growling, balls slapping against you, fucking you so hard you have to throw a hand out to hold onto the couch.

"I'm gonna - fuck - look at me. Look. Fuck. Fuck."

He presses in then, spurting deep in you, stealing the air from your mouth, and you from his, as you gasp and groan with each shallow thrust of his hips.

When he pulls out, hands going from bruising grip to gentle strokes, he rolls off of you, his back slapping wetly against the ground just as your pussy makes its own equally wet sound. And you laugh, because it's silly, just like it always has been, with or without a costume or a name that's not quite his own to go with it. Joel chuckles along with you, content and dozy from his orgasm, the evidence of it trickling out of you and making a mess of your floor as your stomach contracts with laughter.

The house cools down in the darkness - not much, but enough. Your hands find each other again too, and you each dance small patterns across each others skin until words come back to you.

You talk there on the floor, sweat drying on your skin, until the rumble of your stomach becomes too distracting to continue. You learn his favorite color, what he does for a living, his daughters name. You even learn the exact make and model of his truck, something you immediately forget.

And when he tries to excuse himself, too frightened of overstaying his welcome, you invite him to stay, and Joel Miller, the best Joel you've ever met, says yes.

next part

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[cheriladycl01]

Hi! Loved your Toto fic… could I request Toto x wife!reader where they both have demanding jobs, reader is deployed in army or navy etc occupation (I know it’s out there 😂) and she’s away while he’s working a race weekend, not being able to concentrate fully only wanting his wife home, safe and sound. Thank you.

The Fight for Entertainment - Toto x MilitaryWife! Reader

Plot: Both you and Toto knew they’d be struggles in your relationship with how busy both of you were. However one weekend … seems a little too much than then rest.

Credit to mythos-writes for the GIF

Your relationship with Toto didn’t start bad. You had just come home from being deployed for the last 8 months. You hadn’t seen any family and all you wanted to was to spend two weeks in the peace of your family home rather than at base.

And for the first 3 days it was perfect. You grazed on the sofa looking after your nieces and nephews who were more than happy to see you and get hugs from their favourite auntie.

But then they wanted to go out to restaurants and then they wanted to drive 2 hours to the nearest beach and spend the whole day there.

The worst was when sport changed from lounging around in the sofa to your dad somehow having acquired some tickets. College football, then his favourite which was the NBA Basketball game you all attended.

But towards the end of what was supposed to be time relaxing your mum won your dad tickets to a Grand Prix at one of the most iconic circuits in North America.

You guys made the flight to Texas, landing in Austin in the early hours of the morning and going straight to the track for FP1 and the F2 practices that were being held there.

It was a pretty exhausting day but that is where you caught the eye of media personal and other security officers. As far as the military went you were pretty high ranking especially after all the news articles around your last deployment.

So it wasn’t a surprise when you got invited for a tour around the Mercedes Paddock. A very nice man, you remember him as he still worked there, Stephen who showed you round the whole day.

You met Toto and at first he didn’t pay too much attention to you. A small hello, before rushing off to do whatever team principles did.

It wasn’t until the end of the weekend, Lewis having won that you actually started talking to Toto.

And then you spent the rest of your time with him, until you were deployed again. He understood and it wasn’t like you guys were serious or anything.

But when he saw you for the first time in 2 months he realised just how much he’d missed you. Work was a beautiful distraction, one where he didn’t think on you being gone much as his full concentration was needed on the races he’d be travelling too.

But as you guys became more serious, the more he struggled to focus at work worried about where you were and what risks you were currently posing. But with the rank you were in, you were actually relatively safe, no longer on the front lines like you had been as a rookie when your first joined.

But you worked around how much you were both apart from one another especially after you guys agreed to marry, you would give him as many updates as humanly possible and would make time for him, whenever you had free time.

Which actually meant you started attending a lot more races, which your dad definitely wasn’t complaining about as he got free tickets every time.

However, a letter that both you and Toto dreaded came through, only 1 week after your last deployment.

“Baby” you say softly, holding the letter behind you, trying to hide the tears in your eyes.

“Yes? What it is Schatz?” He asks taking a seat on the sofa and patting next to it for you to come and take a seat.

“W-we need to talk” you breathe out knowing neither one of you will like the conversation that’s about to follow.

“What is it?” He asks, and you place the letter in front of him on his lap. He tenses seeing the government stamp on it, it being an all too familiar and hated letter in the household.

“Do you want to read it alone? Or with me here?” You ask and he shakes his head, grabbing into your hand as a means to ask you to stay with him.

He read the letter detailing that you’d be going to the frontlines of a war torn country under a protection treaty from the US Military. Something about your exceptional negotiation skills being needed.

You hadn’t been on the front lines in a while, not since you and Toto had become serious and as he’s reading it you can tell from his expressions that he’s fully taking it in.

A little wiggle of his brow in frustration, a sharp intake of breath as he presumably sees where you’ll be going.

“Baby - I��� he starts and you just lean into him, pulling him into a hug and nuzzling into the side of his neck as he holds you close, trying not to let any tears fall out of his own eyes.

“You know you don’t need to do this anymore, I provide more than enough for the both of us” he exclaims looking over your face to see if you had any objections.

“You know I can’t do that, regardless of the risk I love my job and I love helping people” you smiled softly.

So that’s where today let you both, you were somewhere in a country fighting for the freedoms of thousands while Toto was providing entertainment for thousands in Miami.

But all he was thinking of was you, he hadn’t heard from you in around 2 weeks and he was starting to worry, he knew this time you’d be busy and more of the grid than he’d ever experienced in your lengthy partnership.

He’d have expected a letter or one of the media personnel to have sent a text on your behalf but there was that fear in the back of his mind that you were coming home too him.

Everyone Toto spoke to that weekend could tell something was wrong, and that it had to do with the absence of his wife as he shut people off whenever they had brought her into conversation.

Media day on Thursday was the most dismal, it wasn’t a bright day in Miami actually brining in some unexpected rain which brought the already down mood in Mercedes even lower.

George and Lewis refused to answer any questions unless they were purely racing related and the affect Toto had on his team was obvious. The rigramole that was where you currently were and why Toto was seemingly affecting the whole team with his bad mood.

The FP1 and FP2 results on Friday also reflected the lack of energy the team seemed to have, having slow practice pit stops, both drivers making rookie mistakes and Toto being angrier than usual.

However by the time Saturday came around things were looking brighter. The usual Miami sun had returned and a few of the Mercedes team members had found a certain rumour of interest that brightened their mood.

So when Sunday came around and they were listening to the anthem, the few that knew what was about ti happen were bouncing on the balls of their feet, anticipated to see their bosses reaction.

You, you were there holding the flag for your country as it was a states race. You’d be asked seeing as you were dismissed early from your deployment for such a good job, and having only had a small break since your last deployment.

So there you were, coming out of the helicopter down a rope as you walk the flag as the National anthem sounds on the speakers.

You pull your helmet fully off and your looking for any sign of Toto.

First you look eyes with some of the mechanics that were aware of this trying to remain respectful for the anthem but being excited that maybe this weekend would turn out better than they had thought at the start of the long weekend.

Then it drifts to the drivers and your immediately looking for the two British drivers in the black race suit and eventually you find the shocked look of Lewis and George, before smiles crown their faces.

“And presenting the flag for us today, Sargent Y/L/N” is spoke just as the anthem ends and you raise the flag up the pole.

Toto watches on with tears in his eyes only having just noticed it was you. He was so confused as to why you were there so early but he wasn’t going to complain.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you as you pulled up the flag to its full glory.

He waits, waits for permission to come see you and stand by you. You were called here on purpose right, it was for him? So he could see you?

He waited to get the nod off approval to come and pull you into a hug.

He stopped at arms length looking over you, he loved seeing you in your uniform, in his mind it was the most attractive you looked.

“Schatz?” He asks in disbelief. He pulls you into a hug and kisses all over your face, bending down due to his tall frame.

“Thought I’d surprise you! I missed you” you grin happily and he just keeps a hold of you.

“You happier now boss? Can we go racing?” One of the mechanics teases from the side.

“Yeah, jeez get your team together man” Lewis adds.

“Now that Y/N’s here it’s going to be a great weekend” George exclaims happily and you smile at the team as they continue to tease Toto.

And what a weekend it ended up being. Not only did they have Lewis as race winner, but George in P3 making it a double Mercedes podium.

And it’s safe to say, that you weren’t deployed for a while after that race which your husband was more than happy about.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Jake Seresin And The Unfortunate Hat Situation

jake seresin x fem!reader 3k words

summary: You’re visiting Jake’s family in Texas for the first time and so far, it’s been going well. Just that Jake may have forgotten to mention the hat rule. 

another cowboy fic because i fucking can

disclaimer: strong allusions to smut. im not kidding. this is basically straight up dirty talk all the way through

a/n: i’m warning you once about all the inaccuracies in here and thats it. read at your own risk. i have literally no clue whatsoever about texas and/or cowboys and did not have it in me to research cowboy history for hours on end, like- i tried, okay? i really did try. i know facts about cowboy hats now that i never felt the need to know (though “dont sleep with your cowboy hat on”, um... yeah? thanks? i totally would have done that otherwise) but i still do not have the information to back this shit up lmao

top gun masterlist

(yes i did have to use an everybody wants some gif. during the past week ive rewatched this film more times than i can count and i will take every opportunity i get to talk about it)

“Enlighten me”, you chuckled, spreading your arms, a bottle of beer in your right hand. “Why are none of the cowboys wearing cowboy hats? Isn’t that kind of their thing?”

You were visiting Texas for the first time - a week off of work, away from the Navy and the Dagger Squad for a bit, to meet Jake’s friends and family back home. You’d talked to most every one of them over the phone whenever he had found the time to call, but you’d never actually met them in person before this. So it had been an adventure from the start: getting on a plane in San Diego to take you to Texas where Jake had grown up, being picked up at the airport by his mother, driving two hours to the farm they owned (”You grew up on a farm?”, you’d asked when he’d told you, wheezing at the mental image of teenage Jake herding sheep), meeting his dad, being surprised by both his sisters, getting to see his childhood bedroom. 

And then, to top it off: the sound of his alarm at the crack of dawn this morning to go teach you how to ride a horse. 

Needless to say that you’d been buzzing with nervous energy for the past few days. Not that you weren’t happy - it was just all a bit much at once. 

After lunch he’d taken you into the city and you’d gone shopping for some real cowboy boots. He’d planned to take you to a bar in the evening, to introduce you to some friends. After all you only had a week here and neither of you felt like missing out on something. 

When you’d wanted to try cowboy hats in the store too, Jake had snatched them from you and grabbed your hands, pulling you close to him, telling you that you’d get one when you’d become a real cowgirl. Since you doubted that would ever happen, you’d pouted and tried to convince him with kisses and, when that hadn’t worked, half-hearted threats, but he wouldn’t be persuaded even the slightest. He’d only looked down at you with raised eyebrows until you’d caved and satisfied yourself with cursing under your breath. 

So here you were: Cowboy boots, jeans shorts and a button-up and no cowboy hat in sight. 

Actually, there was one in sight. Jake was wearing his, in all his Texan glory, laughing with some of his friends at the bar. The thing was, he was the only guy wearing his hat. There were some cowboys strutting about with them on their heads, but most of them didn’t have one - hat hair, yes, but no hat. Hence your initial question: “Why are none of the cowboys wearing cowboy hats?” 

“Shit, Jake didn’t tell you?”, Kendra - one of Jake’s only female friends here, who’d immediately decided she liked you and pulled you to one of the tables for some girl talk - let out a laugh. “No wonder it’s still on his head. We were getting worried already.” 

It was pretty clear to everyone that you weren’t from around here, so you saw no reason to hide your confusion.

“Now you’ve lost me entirely. What?”, you asked, masking your frown with a laugh. You’d been here for hardly two days and you didn’t think you’d felt as embarrassed ever before. You knew about literally nothing. At least you’d done somewhat well at horseback riding, which could’ve been because of Jake’s arms around you and his hands over yours as you - he - held the reins, but either way you were proud of yourself for not falling off and landing on your ass. 

“It’s like this: Ladies didn’t wear hats for a really long time. Cowboys wore the hats. So when you saw a lady with a cowboy hat on - that was her man’s. A sign that she belonged to him. Property shit and all.” She waved it off as if dismissing the concept. “Changed over the past few decades, of course. Better that way too. Ladies can wear whatever they want now. But the thought kind of stuck. You see a guy without a hat, he’s probably taken. You see a girl with a hat, that’s probably her man’s. And before you ever steal a hat, you should know the hat rule.” 

You raised your eyebrows. Your stomach did weird little flips as she talked. Jake hadn’t explained any of this to you. 

“The hat rule?”, you asked. Kendra grinned and leaned in, pretending to let out some big secret. 

“You wear the hat”, she said and paused for a second for dramatic effect, “You wear the cowboy.” 

You breathed out. 

“Oh.” 

Oh my ass, you thought. 

Jake hadn’t let you buy your own hat for a reason. And then he’d gone ahead and not given you that reason. What the actual fuck. 

You would’ve loved to wear his hat. You would’ve loved the thought of him claiming you like that, letting you wear his hat, showing everyone that yeah, you were Jake Seresin’s girl. But no. He’d left you completely in the dark, hadn’t let a single word slip. And he was still wearing that goddamn hat himself. 

Like a single fucking guy, not a man in a loving relationship.

Somehow, now that you knew, you were more annoyed by the fact that he was wearing it than that he just hadn’t told you at all. God, he could’ve left it at home. He could’ve taken it off. He could’ve just put it on your head without telling you why if he didn’t want to. 

And right there, that was the part you just didn’t understand. Why hadn’t he told you? He should have known you well enough by now to realise that you would absolutely adore wearing that hat. Not only because you wanted to wear a hat (which you did) but also because you wanted to wear his hat (which you did even more). After all, it wasn’t only him claiming you - it was you claiming him as well. And as horrible as the history of that hat rule was, in this present day you felt like it would only have been fair of him to tell you. You wanted to have that chance of showing him off. Of him showing you off, which he did so happily back in San Diego. 

“Hey”, Kendra said, her expression a bit more serious as she put a hand to your arm and pulled you from your thoughts. “I’m sure Jake didn’t mean to hurt you. He may seem like a bastard, but he’s actually a real sweetheart.” 

You snorted at her, nodding along. 

“He is”, you agreed. “Which is kind of why it hurts even more. I don’t get why he wouldn’t just tell me. It’s not like he’s ever been scared I’d say no to him or something.”

Kendra smiled and squeezed your arm reassuringly. 

“Try not to worry about it too much. Just ask him when you get home later, yeah? Communication is key.” Her smile turned into a grin. She winked at you. “And hey, you can always wear my hat if you’d like.” 

You forced yourself to smile as well as you took a sip of your beer. “If I actually were single, I’d definitely take you up on that offer, but I’m not, and I don’t think Jake would like it much.” 

Her grin only deepened. She had dimples, you realised, and the hat on her head matched her eye colour. You were glad to have her here with you. She was someone you were sure you could become good friends with over time. 

“That makes it even better”, she said conspicuously. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her ankles over the edge of the table as she tipped her hat back. “He never told you about the hats. You don’t know anything in his eyes, honey. Use it against him.” 

There was a twinkle in her gaze that told you she was looking for nothing short of mischief and you had the distinct feeling that she’d been the ‘bad influence’ on Jake in high school that he’d talked about so often. She seemed like a troublemaker. But she also seemed genuine. And she was right - in Jake’s eyes, you were getting to know one of his friends, talking about some girly stuff (which he probably assumed was himself), having a nice night. Not learning about cowboy customs that he’d just so forgotten to mention. 

Jake usually didn’t get jealous. He trusted you the same way you trusted him. But he got possessive nonetheless - always with a hand on your back when you were talking to someone he thought was flirting with you, kissing you at the most inappropriate times, making sure that everyone knew you were his. Now he’d had the goddamn chance and hadn’t taken it. And you didn’t fucking know why. 

But you were damn determined to find out. 

Kendra slid the hat off her head and offered it to you. You took one deep breath before you reached for it. 

You let your fingertips skip over the rim for a moment. Were you really about to do this? Then you put it on your head. 

Alright. If Jake wasn’t going to tell you about the way this worked on his own accord, you’d make him tell you. 

Kendra emptied her beer and you followed suit before the both of you got up. She grabbed both bottles in one hand, turning to you to send you another of those winks. 

“I’ll bring these back to the bar and get us new ones. The dancefloor’s all yours.” 

With a nervous smile, you adjusted your newly aqcuired hat and made your way onto the dancefloor. There was soft music playing in the background - country, of course, loud but not loud enough to disturb conversation. It wasn’t late enough for that just yet. Which was honestly a relief, since you had zero clue whatsoever about line dancing or whatever it was they did down here. This way there were only a few couples twirling each other back and forth and some people moving to the beat all on their own. You let out a breath and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to really feel the music: the guitar, the steady drums, the vocals. 

Slowly, you started swaying - from one side to the other, turning, twirling, one step, then the next, heels here, toes there. A grin was making its way onto your face. The music grew, not as much in volume as in pace, and you didn’t know just when you had started to forget about everything except your movements (like the people watching, for example), but then the song changed and you gasped as you realised you knew it. Eyes fluttering open, hands coming together to clap, lips twisting into an actual laugh as you sang along, catching Kendra’s gaze and waving her over. 

She joined you with a laugh, grabbed your hand to twirl you around, and god, her voice was heavenly. For just a split second you wondered how Jake hadn’t ended up falling for her. You certainly would have. 

And speaking - more like thinking, but whatever - of the devil, you felt an all too familiar hand on your shoulder. You turned at the same time that Kendra let go of you, allowing you to admire your boyfriend in all his furious glory. 

Not that he actually looked furious. Not to anyone but you, not with that facade he wore whenever anyone got under his skin. But you, well... You’d been with him long enough to understand that twitch of his jaw, that tension in his shoulders, that flicker in his eyes. And yet - the cowboy hat still sat on his head. 

“I got it from here, Kendra”, he said, eyes fixed on yours, as you held your breath. She snorted, but still made to move away, muttering something under her breath that you didn’t catch. Then Jake spoke again. “Take your hat, Kendra.” 

He grabbed it from where it rested on your head and threw it at her without looking away from you. She sucked in a breath. 

“If you throw my hat again, I’ll kick your ass, Seresin”, she said and you could tell that even though they were friends, she wasn’t kidding. Shit, the people here were really fucking serious about their hats. Another reason why you were mad at Jake for not telling you about any of it. 

“Next time, don’t set it on my girl’s head”, he growled - growled, really, you didn’t know what else to call it. She scoffed and walked off. 

“How could she know I was your girl?”, you whispered, challenging him even though he already looked like you’d crossed some line that he’d drawn without telling you. “How could anyone?” 

For a few moments, he kept quiet. You defiantly stared up at him. Should he think whatever he fucking wanted to, this was entirely his fault. 

Then something changed in his expression. 

“You found out about the hat rule”, he said, “And the first thing you did was go and put on somebody else’s.” 

“Well if my boyfriend doesn’t want to have me wear his hat-” 

You couldn’t react as quickly as Jake had gripped you by the waist and pulled you close to him, forcing you to tip your head back to keep looking at him. He was, in fact, so close now that you could just kiss him and honestly, you were tempted. Just as tempted as you’d been when he’d come out of the bathroom looking like that, just as tempted as you’d been when you’d left the house, just as tempted as you’d been in his truck. But you were also stubborn. And you had good reasons not to kiss him right now (even though they were getting harder and harder to remember by the second).

“Darling, I’d go wild for you with my hat on.” 

You swallowed. Hard. 

“So why am I not wearing it?”, you asked through gritted teeth. You couldn’t quite believe just how easily this whole situation was getting under your skin. But it seriously hurt your ego - and not just that. The fact that Jake hadn’t told you about something so important in his hometown, some, as ridiculous as it may be, piece of culture, something that would so clearly show everyone that you were dating him, really, actually, seriously dating him, stung more than you wanted to admit. It was like someone had asked him outright if he was taken and he’d said no. 

“‘Cause I told you to wait”, he drawled, “Didn’t I? Wait ‘til you’re a real cowgirl.” 

Curiosity and frustration were mixing in your stomach, a weird, dangerous combo. You grabbed for his collar, pulling on it just a bit too hard - nothing he couldn’t stand his ground against. You were feeling insulted by all this and you found that you should let him know. 

“What’s a girl like me gotta do to become one in your eyes, hm, Hangman?” 

Hangman. You only called him that when you meant business. It was like a mother using her child’s full name whenever it got in serious trouble. Jake stiffened, fingers digging into your hips so firmly that you were sure you’d be able to see the marks in the mirror later on. You’d hit a nerve. Always did when you called him by his callsign. No more Jake, no more baby, none of that. 

“Behave”, he said, eyes fixed on yours, that one word carrying so much more meaning. You didn’t care. For once, you really didn’t fucking care. You wanted him riled up, wanted him furious, wanted him right at this breaking point. So you smiled.  

“Like a dog?” 

He’d smashed his lips on yours before you could react. 

All teeth and tongue, decisive, possessive, angry. You didn’t want to give in as quickly as you did. But he hardly left you a choice - he was everywhere, arms wrapped so tightly around you, chest pressed so firmly against yours, not giving you the option to escape, to duck away, to tease him any further. So instead of doing that, instead of making him run after you more, you let him have the control. All of it. Instead of turning, instead of making him chase you, you pulled him close to you by his collar with all the force you could manage, pulled him into you, pulled him with you as you stumbled backwards from the sudden change of weight, put your entire trust in him to keep you upright. You couldn’t breathe. You didn’t want to if that meant letting go. 

Not with how much emotion you were putting into this fucking kiss. 

Jake was the one to break away first. Pupils blown, cheeks reddened (you were sure you looked even worse), panting. You loosened your grip on his collar and ran a hand through your hair instead. 

Somewhere in the back of your head, you remembered that you were still in a bar, still in the middle of the dancefloor, still under the watchful eyes of his friends. A different part was screaming at you to fuck it and fuck him right here, right now. 

“Shit”, he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. His hat let a shadow fall over both your faces. “You’re gon’ be the death of me someday.” 

“Hopefully not too soon”, you teased, a smile playing on your lips as he pulled back just a bit. “I still gotta find out how to become a cowgirl after all.” 

The corner of his mouth quirked up as well. He raised his eyebrows, examining you for a second. 

“You really wanna know, sweetheart?” 

You let out a laugh. “Fuck yeah.” 

He leaned in close, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, and you had to swallow. This felt intimate, somehow. 

“You’re gon’ be a cowgirl once you rode your cowboy.” 

Your breath caught in your throat. He pulled back with a grin. Smug, you realised. He was so fucking proud of himself for this - for having caught you off guard like that. You couldn’t let him win that easily. Not with that already inflated ego. 

“All of this just to get me into your bed?”, you chuckled. “Damn, Seresin. Lotta work for no reason, hm? I’m in it at the end of every day anyway.” 

He shrugged - as best as he could with his hands still on your waist. 

“What can I say? I aim to please.” 

You couldn’t help but grin too. The angry, sizzling tension had dissolved into something much more pleasant, much more dizzying. Something that set your skin ablaze and your mind on fire. You grabbed one of his hands from your waist and intertwined your fingers with his. 

“Want to get out of here?”, you asked. He leaned in and kissed you with a smile - slow and steady and sensual, wholly different from before. 

When he pulled back, you were breathless again. 

“Always.” 

[riddles-n-games]

Sunburn

Pairing: Lyra and Grayson Summary: It's summertime in Texas and Lyra is at the Hawthorne House spending time with her new beau, Grayson Hawthorne. He loves to swim and she loves being outside by the pool with a book in hand but often disregards one important rule: applying sunscreen. Lucky for her, she has one very concerned boyfriend to remind her of this. Length: Moderate Story Type: One Shot

"Didn't I tell you to put sunscreen on?"

Lyra snapped out of her thoughts. Grayson was getting out of the pool and approaching her, sopping wet as she blinked against the glare of the sun. Sunglasses only could do so much.

“And didn’t I tell you to dye your hair so you don’t reflect the sun onto me every time you look my way, Goldilocks?”

He narrowed his eyes at the nickname but let a half smile slip. “Even more reason for you to apply it then.” She rolled her eyes. After retrieving his towel, he sat on the lounge chair across from her and started to towel dry his hair.

They were by the pool at the Hawthorne House, his home. Lyra had only been a handful of times and she still wasn’t sure what to make of it. The manor was stunning but it was unsettlingly huge; she dared not ever going through the maze of endless halls without Gray or any of his family to lead her.

Jameson was usually the best guide but Xander knew of the unconventional interesting spots. According to him, he got lost in the passageways during his grandfather’s Saturday games and sometimes gave up to explore the uncharted territory. It made her wary of him at first but soon after he became one of her most loyal and trusted friends. Interesting where life got her after the Grandest Game when Grayson Hawthorne turned it upside down.

Xander called it the Hawthorne Effect and the theory wasn’t exactly far fetched. Who better to testify than the Hawthorne heiress herself? Alongside her sister and best friend, they secured relationships with three of the Hawthorne brothers in a short interval. And now, the last single brother was Lyra's. Or stolen, as the internet put it; those fangirls were no joke. Lucky her. But Grayson was a dedicated boyfriend and he put those worries to rest with a fierceness that made her confident he was the one.

"What are you thinking about?" She blinked. She'd done it again; her thoughts got carried away and the Hawthornes were in the center of it all and- and it was just overthinking again, wasn't it? Lyra looked down and closed her book, sighing in exasperation before she sliding to the edge of her chair and taking his hand in hers. Grayson's eyebrows were furrowed with concern but he stayed quiet as he watched her trace his hand when she spoke up.

"I'm just... Just overthinking, I guess. Your family, your house, everything about you guys; it's a lot, ok? I know you know that and I'm not trying to put you down. Please don't take it to heart. It's just overwhelming to take in and sometimes I can't deal with my thoughts. But you don’t need to worry, I’m working on it and I believe I’m getting better.”

He smiled gently at her. “That’s fine. I know what it’s like, too. Not in the same way, of course, but there are times when being part of this family also overwhelm me. I just coped by hiding it and now I am unlearning that behaviour or trying at least. You could call it-”

“-Failing miserably?”

“Yes. But I’m only admitting that to you and even that’s risky because the walls here have ears.” He gave her a look that said you know who. She smiled knowingly and nodded. Xander. “So just know that if you ever bring it up, I will deny it in public.”

“Of course.” Lyra winked conspiratorially. He smiled back and brought up the hand entangled with hers to his lips, pressing a kiss to her wrist. Then he lowered their hands and brought his free one into her thick locks, threading through them slowly to get the tangles. She closed her eyes in contentment.

It was one of the challenges for her to deal with during the summer but her and Xander often did haircare together and Gray was all too happy to help brush through her hair with his fingers after. And he was also pretty darn good at giving scalp massages; she was truly gifted with a man of all professions.

"You still haven't put on sunscreen." She opened her eyes and gave him an exasperated look.

“I don’t burn that easy.”

“Maybe not but your nose does and skin cancer is a thing, so humor me.” Rolling her eyes, she settled herself closer to him and leaned forward on her hands as he took the sunblock and took a dollop of cream, smearing it across her cheeks and forehead. He took his sweet time massaging it into her skin and she was pretty sure he was just doing that on purpose to prove his point.

"You know I'm pretty sure you wiped it off with how thorough you're being."

"I'm doing it this way to make sure I feel the barrier form evenly on your face."

"Now you just sound like I do when I'm talking to my little brother."

"Well, now you know how I feel. And I'm pretty sure you also explained the importance of sunscreen to him when you're at the pool but he kept running away. Am I right?"

She rolled her eyes again. "Just for that, I'm going to add triple the amount on your arms. But I still haven't done your nose so I must take care of that before I move on."

"You know, I used to think you were intimidating and very closed off but the fact you're now being this cliché, I'm not sure I recognize Grayson Hawthorne anymore."

"Well, I'm a man who wears many hats."

"That sounded like a very Jameson thing to say." He raised a brow at that and she laughed.

"I'm going to ignore what you just said and let that insult be the one off. I was also going to say that it's all due to my therapist suggesting I put the mushy feelings-yes, that's how she put it-out on display."

"So you're implying I can totally make fun of you for it."

"When did I say that? Nobody gets away with such a thing. Not even Xander."

"Hmm, then what was that thing that him and Jameson were trying to tell me about an atonement night? Something about leather pants."

"Those two are going to die tonight, that's all you have to know."

"Aww, don't be like that. Now I have to know."

"Nope, not a word. That's been redacted from recorded history so it technically doesn't exist and never happened. You are most certainly not allowed to know anything more or less than that. I forbid it."

Her arched brows, wide eyes, and amused grin were very telling of her growing curiosity but Grayson wouldn't budge. He was tightlipped and refused to say anything more on the matter. "Stop trying. You're just making yourself look stupid and I don't want that for you. Now stay still so I can get your nose."

"Maybe that's exactly what I've been doing this whole time; distracting you so you can let go of the sunscreen obsession. Think it's now permanently in my skin." Her nose scrunched in disgust at the thought.

"Good, that way you'll be protected year round and I won't have to worry when I take you skiing at the lodge." In response, she stuck her tongue out but he didn't let that slide. He retaliated with a bigger dollop that he plopped on the bridge of her nose and with a light finger, started making lines all around as if he was going to do her makeup. Then, he started making horizontal stripes. "Are you making a grid? Is this tic tac toe on my nose but you have the advantage because I can't see?"

"Shh. I'm making art." She snorted but Grayson didn't lose focus. Instead, he just patted her cheek in consolation before fixing his grip on her jaw to make her stop fidgeting. With careful precision that made no sense to her, he rubbed in the sunscreen on her nose. "There we go."

Lyra shook her head and sighed. Her boyfriend was a piece of work, not that she minded all the time. Even he could be a dork sometimes and it was cute. Not that he needed to know.

"Oh wait, I forgot one more thing."

"What could you have forg-" Before she could finish, Grayson cupped her cheeks, leaning in and kissing the tip of her nose. She gasped in surprise and went still. He pulled away with a smug smirk. "Now it's all good."

Lyra gave him a long incredulous stare before looking away, finding the plants in the neighboring garden suddenly more interesting. "You're lucky I like you."

"I know you do, that's why you let me do this." He placed a finger on the side of her jaw and redirected her to face him before pulling her in for a kiss. Lyra's eyes widened but she quickly closed her eyes and cupped the back of his head, running her fingers through the semi dry locks. Grayson proceeded to deepen the kiss and slid his hands around her back and under her knees, lifting her from her spot on the chair and placed her on his lap.

She held tight to him and relaxed when he repositioned his arms around her lower back, his hand sliding up and down reassuringly. But soon after that, she had to break away for air and she placed her hands on his bare chest, breathing in hard. He wasn't much better and for a moment, only their shallow pants were the only noise aside from the distant roar of a lawnmower.

When their breathing slowed, Lyra smiled mischievously at Gray.

"So about those leather pants." He scowled. She laughed. His heart soared; maybe those mushy feelings weren't so bad after all.

[allbark-no-bite]

past the texas line.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 2.4k)

summary: the past comes back to haunt him when Jake gets word that your ex boyfriend is back in town. he makes a trip back home to ensure it stays buried.

warnings: mentions of death and blood, swearing

author’s note: this is a little different than what I usually write, but I was feeling inspired by Zach Bryan’s “Crooked Teeth”. definitely recommend giving it a listen before reading!

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He doesn't remember it being so hot.

Jake wipes his perspiring hand off on the back of his jeans after handing a crumbled wad of bills over to the cashier. Sweat rolls down his neck and causes his cotton shirt to stick to his back as he waits for her to unstick them from each other. Her expression says she's got better things to do than count out his damp dollar bills. He wants to tell her that it's more than enough and she can keep the change, that he pocketed just enough cash for two fill-ups and a motel stay to make the drive.

He keeps his head down, hat covering his eyes when he makes it out of the store, boots treading heavy in the dust. The bell chimes out after him, as though chastising him for leaving in such a hurry. Jake doesn't glance back, afraid that if he does, door of the beat up patrol car parked permanently out front will open and the sheriff will stare at him through his dark sunglasses and say, "Don't I know you, son?"

"Where you headed, son?"

Normally in this kind of situation, Jake would lay on the proper southern manners his mama taught him, answer him with a "Yes sir, I grew up a few mile form here" and then,  "No sir, I ain't been drinkin'," and then shake his hand and leave him with a "Thank you, sir. Have a good night." But not tonight.

Jake turns his head away, green eyes squinting as though to avoid the beam of the flashlight—he purposely dips his head down so that the shadow of his hat conceals most of his face. No one comes this far out of town without a reason. By openly showing his face around here, Jake might as well hand him a wanted poster with his name on it.

The tarp in his truck bed flaps persistently in the wind. Jake inconspicuously eyes it through his dusty side view mirror. He can make out nothing but blackness underneath it.

"Camping out by the river for a night."

The sheriff's face remains stoic. He's still shining the flashlight into the truck. "The river?" he asks, sounding suspect about the answer. "Come an awful long away out of town to camp, huh son?"

"Used to go up there with my old man," Jake supplies. It's a another lie. He's only come this way once before and only ever seen the river in passing. He doesn't have to have been to know why people go through the trouble of making the trip out there—why there's nothing alive out there for miles.

Its current is strong enough to drown a man and deep enough to swallow a herd of crossing cattle under its muddy surface, never to be seen again. No one's going to bother to check for a body, not when there's an all too likely possibility of finding more than one.

The deputy sizes up Jake for another moment before seemingly deciding there's not much else he can do to harass him. The kid's license had checked out, there was nothing outstanding on his record, not even a damn speeding ticket—he wasn't surprised to find that he was enlisted in the service, his type usually was.

"Well son," he begins patronizingly. Jake fights the urge to roll his eyes. He's getting the sense that this guy is hankering for a reason to write him a citation. "I don't wanna see you back around here. Understand?"

"Yessir." This time he means it. He has no intention to come back.

Body rigid, hair standing up on the back of his neck, Jake slams the door shut on his pickup and jams the key in, twisting hard as the engine roars to life. He doesn't look back until just before the cruiser fades into the dust in his rear view mirror.

It takes him two days to get down past the Texas line. Jake knows the state like the back of his hand, it's home after all, but crossing back into no man's land causes something dark to settle into his bones. He had buried this place and it's memory a long time ago.

Of course, Jake is smarter than to think that burying something will make it cease to exist. Literally, yes, but figuratively, no. It's only a temporary fix to a problem—a problem that was now coming back to haunt him.

"Buxton's back in town."

The statement had sent him in a cold sweat from across the bar.

He pauses mid conversation, lowering his second beer of the night from his lips. The music is loud and the patrons of the Hard Deck louder, but the men aren't exactly speaking quietly either.

"You sure it was him? Thought he got into some trouble and skipped town?"

"Got into some trouble alright. Can't hardly tell what part of him to look at, he's so fucked up. Looks like someone finally laid into him."

Jake's breathing halts, and although it goes unnoticed by the people around him, his body stills.

"You think so?"

"Dunno, he won't say."

He's straining to hear the exchange between to two men, so lost in the conversation that he doesn't notice you looking at him in concern. "Jake?" Your hand ghosts up his knee to squeeze his muscular thigh.

The sight of your face, delicate brows furrowed in worry, eyes searching—always searching—reminds him to breathe. "Hmm?" he hums, rough hands tugging you into his lap to cover up his pervious distraction. You see right through him—you always do.

"You're distracted," you point out, but the resolve has left your voice now that he's holding you close, lips pressed to your temple. Jake's large hands smooth over your waist, holding you securely to his lap so that he can nuzzle into your neck.

"Distracted by you," he replies while closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath of your scent—safe is the best way he can describe it, home if you asked him to be more specific.

"Jake Michael," you warn, but make no move to stop him. Maybe if your friends had been watching you would have, but they've moved across the bar to watch Phoenix school Rooster at the pool table.

Jake just smiles warmly, relived that you have let the previous conversation drop. He's already planning a way to slip off to Texas for a few days, but for now, he sits back and indulges in the remainder of the evening knowing that you're safe in his arms.

It's strange seeing the land in the daylight. Jake remembers the way all the same. He does suppose that not much change happens to a desert in ten years.

He's been staring at the barren desert horizon through his windshield for close to two hours, watching the heat waves melt off the hood of his truck. He'd seen a mangey looking coyote trot across the road a few miles back, but for the most part there was nothing alive for miles.

Jake pulls off of the desolate road and slows his truck to a stop half a mile from the river. On the off chance that someone finds it, they'll assume it's broke down and pass it by. Stepping out of his truck, he fixes his hat on his head and starts walking.

Every step feels like deja vu.

The heat is almost unbearable, even in the evening. He had hoped by the time he made it this far, the sun would be low enough in the sky for the coolness of night to begin setting in.

San Diego was a culture shock when he was first stationed. He had been terribly homesick and had every intention to move back home eventually. That was until he met you. You and your love for the coast, and an even stronger love for your friends. The Dagger Squad was like family, and Jake came to appreciate your unwillingness to move away from them.

Jake knew he was going to marry you when he met you that first night at Hard Deck, but you didn't always see things that way. It wasn't that you didn't like Jake, really it was the exact opposite. The two of you were attached at the hip—thick as thieves—which is why you never even considered that Jake was interested in something far more than just being friends.

Jake hated your boyfriend. He hated him from the moment he met him, all thick mustache and slick, no-good, easy grin. The devil dressed in a polo and khakis. And he was right to hate him. Jake can count on two fingers the number of times he's seen you cry; both are because of your boyfriend.

The first time he calls you a bitch. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't have even blinked at the name. Maybe you would have even laughed in his face. The insult in and of itself means nothing to you. After fighting your way into the Top Gun program, you practically brandished the name with brusque pride. This was more than just an insult.

Jake didn't catch the whole exchange, and you refused to tell him what had happened to lead up to the situation, but he knows that you hadn't wanted him to witness it in the first place.

"Hey, what's going on here?"

Your head jerks towards the sound of Jake's voice, and you abruptly step forward as to shoulder past your boyfriend, who shifts reluctantly to let you away from the wall. Your eyes are red, and while he can tell that you're trying not to let it show, your voice is shaking.

"Nothing," you say all too quickly, hardly meeting his eye as you step around both of them. Your boyfriend stands there silently, watching the exchange with a self satisfied look on his smug face, as if daring you to say anything to Jake.

Jake ignores him and instead focuses his attention on you. "Hey—[y/n]," he tries, reaching out to stop you, but you dodge his outstretched hand.

"Let it go, Jake," you order, fixing him with a look that means business; you've always been too good at taking care of yourself. And then you walk off to join the rest of your friends at the bar, rubbing away the wounded look away from your eyes as you go.

The second time is after you've broken up with him. It's actually months after you've broken up with him. You had finally come to your senses after realizing that it was causing a rift between you and your friends.

He grabbed you one night at Hard Deck, wrapped his hand around your bicep hard enough to bruise and whispered something filthy into you ear. Jake knew because of the way your eyes darkened with disgust and your lip curled. He had to fight the urge to spring to your rescue—you were a big girl and could take care of yourself. To your credit, you stood your ground, kept it together until he released you and you could turn away, tears burning in the back of your eyes.

There is no third time.

Jake's standing up from the bar before he even knows what he's doing. Doesn't really know what his intentions are as he follows your boyfriend out of the door—ex boyfriend. But his head is clear as his boots carry him out to the parking lot, crunching the gravel underfoot as he passes his pickup parked out front.

The image of your face, red and splotchy with tears flashes through his mind. He grabs a metal fencepost out of the truck bed. The parking lot is silent besides the heavy crunch on his boots on the gravel and the blood roaring in his ears.

He finds the bastard leaning drunkenly against the side of his truck, the glass of a smashed beer bottle at his feet and another in his hand. He's too buzzed to hear Jake heading towards him. Without stopping to consider his options, Jake lifts the metal rod and swings like he's up to bat and the bases are loaded.

A crack echos through the parking lot.

The fence post catches him in the jaw and sends him sprawling to the floor.

Jake doesn't remember much after that, just that there was a lot of blood—on his clothes, in the parking lot, in his truck. The rest of the night was a frantic blur of adrenaline spurred moment.

A gathered flock of buzzards caw at him with an surprising amount of gall as he approaches the river bank, flapping their black wings powerfully. They scatter only out of irritation before making a brave advance back towards their original post.

Jake takes a wide berth around them. The deeper you get into Texas, the scarier the wildlife becomes. He would rather not know what they're feeding on. He has a feeling they might start eyeing him next if he disturbs them again.

The spot he is looking for is a couple yards past. Thistles are growing up around the fence post. If he hadn't marked the spot, he probably would have walked right past it. It had been pitch black the last time, but as he stands looking over the area, it starts to come back all too clearly to him.

He remembers the sweat rolling down his body despite the chill of the night, the ache in his shoulders from digging—with no moisture to soften the ground, it was like chipping away at concrete. He doesn't remember being scared, not like when his engines failed and his parachute didn't open, just angry and fueled by adrenaline.

Jake looks over his shoulder, back at the road where his truck is parked, then back to the river. The fence post stands there, overgrown by thistles and time.

He's still not scared.

"You're back," comes the barley audible mumble as Jake crawls into bed, curling his body around yours. The bedsheets are cool and your barley clothed body is radiating warmth. After you both resettle, legs intertwined, Jake’s nose tucked into the crevice of your neck, you lapse into comfortable silence. For a moment, Jake thinks you’ve already fallen back asleep.

“Where’d you go?” comes your quite voice.

His sigh is heavy. You don’t press him.

Staring into the darkness of the bedroom, Jake considers lying to you. Isn’t that what he’s been doing all this time? He’s sure you have your assumptions. You’re too smart not to. He pulls you closer into his body, his large hand coming to rest on your heart.

“Texas.”

[underground-secret]

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.

[hyun-xxe]

It started on an Airplane (Slight!Yan!TXT X F! Reader)

summary: There is always a .00000001% chance you meet a celebrity on an average day, its even more rare that you run into them on the plane, however its even more rarer when you just so happen to sit next to them. You caught their attention and they're hooked.

warnings: slight yandere tendencies, txt are lowkey OOC bc idek, obsession, they don't go too far, might be a part 2

You never really believed in fated chances growing up, it all seemed so childish to you. How could it be possible that something ever so rare could even come true? Where was the science in this?

However, maybe it does exist to those who never really thought it was true since this was karmas way of saying "Ha dumb Bitch it is real!" because somehow, your ticket to your way back home got mixed up in the midst of things which is where you are at right now.

You were in Korea with some friends for about 3 weeks just for the vacation of it after graduating from High School. It was a nice retreat away from everything and you would honestly consider visiting again. However, now coming back home and hearing that only your ticket out of your four friends somehow got misplaced made you nervous and annoyed.

"We are really sorry about that maam." the worker explained, bowing to a 90 degree angle.

You sighed as you shook your head- since you dont understand Korean, the conversation was going a lot longer than you hoped for and you didn't want to sound like an asshole asking for someone who speaks English.

Bringing out your phone, you typed in what you are going to say, "It's alright, I understand how busy you are. However, I was wondering if there is anyone here that speaks english as I am not the best with korean."

The lady nodded her head in understanding and walked off to get the manager. You turned to your friends who sent you apologetic looks your way, "Well, at least this happened at the end and not the beginning, right?" you tried laughing it off.

Cherry, your friend, walked up to give you a tight hug, "I'm sorry Y/N, this trip was your gift and somehow this happens to you." she says as she releases you, "Are you sure you don't want to trade tickets? None of us mind at all."

You shook your head, "Thanks for the offer, but that wouldn't sit right with me. You guys go ahead and head to your gate, I don't want to make y'all late." you usher them off, sending them smiles. but once they left your smile changed.

"Hello maam, I heard what happened and I just wanted to apologize on behalf of our ignorance, we didn't realize this was going to happen at all." he bowed.

Turning around, you notice he was slightly younger, maybe aorund his mid twenties. He also looked nowhere near a regular employee, but you didn't feel like questioning him, after all, he was the only one you could understand.

"Thanks for apologizing, but I just really want to know how you guys can resolve this? I really need to head home today." you say.

He walks up to a computer and types something up, "Ok, and where are you heading to?" he asked, peering over the top of the computer.

"Calistoga, California." you answer.

Typing in your response, he hums as he searches through, "Ok, I am seeing some planes that leave to Dallas Texas, then to LA, then after that to your home town. Would that be alright?"

You thought for a moment, while it wasnt the same overlay as your friends, you decided to take it quickly before someone else does. You were running low on money and couldn't really afford staying another night, "Yes! That's perfect!"

The manager smiles and types some more, "Since it was a mess up on our end, there is no need to worry about the cost, it is covered completely as well as any hotels you need to stay at in Dallas or LA." a ticket prints up and he hands it over to you, "Your plane leaves in 30 minutes and we have upgraded you to business class."

Taking the ticket, you couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. Hearing "free" and "upgrade" in one sentence made you instantly forget about being angry.

"Thank you so much, this means a lot to me!" you say and pick up your carry on. As you walked through the crowd, you made sure to hold onto that ticket as tightly as you could, praying that it doesn't somehow slip from your fingers.

When you ended up in front of your gate, you plopped down on the seat and texted your friends that the manager found a plane for you, but that you were going to be in a different overlay than them.

it didn't really matter since all of you were ending up in the same town anyways and they promised to pick you up from the airport if they land first. You were happy when your group was called as all the worry and stress you were facing is finally gone and done away with - you were finally heading home to see your family and boy did you have stories to tell them.

Since you were so lost in mind, the bright light flashing around you almost turned your fight or flight senses on. You thought it was by mistake and opened your eyes, only to get blinded once again multiple times. "What the fuck is happening?" you whispered and squinted your eyes to get a better look.

Across from you, standing behind a red rope, were many people screaming and jumping, while a lot of other people had huge cameras taking bright ass pictures. It was obvious a celebrity was here, but you didn't know who nor care to know - all you wanted was away from these bright lights!

You placed on your hat and sunglasses as you walked up to the terminal to show the people your ticket. when they approved it, you quickly walked through to get away from all that yelling. Since they were speaking Korean, you couldn't understand what they were yelling for but once you find that celebrity, you were going to give them a mean look for disturbing your peace.

When you boarded the plane, you looked for your seat number and saw that the two other seats next to yours were completely empty and that made you happy when you realized that maybe you wouldn't have anyone annoying around you.

Placing your bag under your seat, you stretched and brought out your neck pillow to start your nap. It was just so that before you dozed off, you felt the presence of two people near you, whispering amongst each other.

You sighed but stayed silent, not wanting to answer any of their questions. If they had any, they can gladly ask an attendant and leave you the fuck alone.

But, usually not many good things happen all at once, as you felt a hand on your shoulder, "excuse me," the voice rang out, "We were wondering something."

Not bothering to look up, you just answer, "Yes?"

The man cleared his throat and you can tell he was nervous, "Can my friend have the aisle? He gets easily plane sick so having the aisle seat gives him better access to the toilet."

All you needed to hear was sickness and toilet so you grabbed your bag and scooted down to the window. They can gladly have that seat if you didn't have to be near the vomitting maddness.

When the plane took off, you tried your best to sleep in every head positions you can imagine, but the feeling of a stranger next to you made it difficult to do so.

You brought out your phone to pick out a movie and thats when you felt another hand on your shoulder. Cursing in your head, you turned around, but your eyes were closed shut so you didn't have to deal with seeing their face.

"Yes? Is there anything wrong?" you asked.

"S-sorry," he says, "I just noticed your phone case and saw the PC in the back. You're a fan of them?"

Thats when things started to awake in your mind, the man was speaking good english which didn't register in your mind until now, but also they immediately noticed your phone case. during the entire duration of your trip, you never had your PC in your phone as you were scared people were going to think you were a Koreaboo, but you done messed up now.

"Uh," you nervously say, "Yeah ahaha, I do like their music a lot." you trace the picture, then turn to look at them, "Do you like their mu-"

You immediately shut up and just stared at the person in front of you who was smiling ear to ear at your reaction. Taking off your sunglasses, you thought you were going crazy, until your eyes actually focused.

"Holy shit, you're Yeonjun." you whisper, eyes still wide open from the shock you're currently experiencing. After saying his name, you look around to make sure no one heard you.

"Holy shit, you're fucking Yeonjun and yet we are on the same flight??"

The man, Yeonjun, laughed whole heartily, and nodded his head, "Yes, I am Choi Yeonjun. However, I am sad I'm not the one on your phone case, what a bummer. What does Taehyun have that I don't?"

You can clearly hear the playfulness dripping from his tongue but it still made you jump a bit. Scratching the back of your neck, you shrugged your shoulders, "What can I say, it just so happened to be." you look anywhere but him, "I'm really sorry that I took this seat, was another member suppose to sit here?"

He shakes his head, "No, we knew we were gonna be sitting seperately, so there is no need."

That put you a little at ease, but you still felt bad and couldn't help but overthink, "If you're uncomfortable, you can be honest and I can sit somewhere else."

Yeonjun waves off your worry, "No need for that either! Look, if it wasn't ok, I would've called to have us switch before the plane took off. So, its ok."

As he finishes his sentence, another man comes up and sits in the aisle seat, making your cheeks heat up in realization that the fucking Taehyun was sitting in your aisle.

"ooo, guess what Taehyun!" Yeonjun taps his shoulder in excitement and points at you, "Shes a MOA!" he says.

You feel Taehyun's eyes bore into yours and you never felt so vulnerable except in that moment. His eyes went everywhere from your eyes, to your hair, nose, lips, and even chest. Was he- no Y/N you can't think that, thats delusion right there.

"No way! Its nice meeting fans here! Whats your name?" He asks, staring intensely into your eyes.

You swear you felt your heart drop to your lungs as you answer, "Y/N." you say, plain and simple.

They both smile to each other then to you, "What a beautiful name you have." Yeonjun exclaims, "Obviously you already know our name." he chuckles.

A part of you wanted to lavish in this moment, but another part wanted to switch seats so bad. You would be happy meeting a celebrity you look up to, but why was your gut feeling say otherwise?

Oh shut up Y/N, how could you possibly even go that route when they are insanely nice to everyone they meet?

However, the words of your father nagged in your head, "You don't truly no someone unless they are behind closed doors. To others, they are the sweetest. To some, they are the devil in disguise."

You wanted to laugh at that thought, why were you suddenly thinking of that right now? Yeah, you didn't know them personally, but there wasn't any scandals going on with them, so what is there to worry about?

"Hello? Are you ok?" Taehyun asked, finally bringing you back to reality.

Finally sensing that you were spacing out, you apologized. "I'm sorry! I didn't realize I was spacing out, it just happens here and there." you chuckle, sitting back in your seat a bit more.

They both laugh at your response, "No worries, we all do that. Anyways, we were just asking where you're from."

That question surprised you - why were they curious about you? A part of you initially thought you three would exchange greetings and you would go back to sitting awkwardly next to Yeonjun while you watched a movie. But, thinking about it more and making excuses, they could just be acting nice in case you were going to post about this.

"I am from california." you answer with a smile.

Yeonjun perked up at your response, "Really? Which city?" he questioned.

You don't know why it took you a while to answer or why you hesitated, but you responded, "Calistoga."

Taehyun hummed as he was in thought, "Yeah, I never heard of that city, understandable since I dont live here." he says.

You let out an awkward chuckle, "Yeah, we aren't known that much there, but its really beautiful."

Yeonjun turned to his member, "We should try and set a tour date there, wouldn't that be sick!?"

That made you weirded out a bit, but not enough to ask some questions. Yeah, your gut feeling was saying that something was up, but a bigger part of you (your heart) was saying otherwise. It was a harmless question and there was no need for you to get skeptical.

"You do know we are going on tour, right?" Yeonjun asks you, leaning in a little closer than last time.

You kind of lean back a little, creating some space between you both, "Yeah I heard! It sounds exciting!" you say, smiling at the both of them.

"Did you get tickets yet?"

Sighing, you shake your head, "Sadly not, I don't really have much money since I chose to travel to Korea." you say.

Yeonjun leaned even closer, gasping in your face, "What!?? No tickets at all!???! You have to go though!" he whines, full lips doing a cute pout.

"I know I really wanted to," you answer, carefully leaning back a little so to not make it obvious, "but I have bills to pay so it just didn't work out. Maybe next time though!" you do a little dance with your hands, hoping to make them see your point and understand, but they didn't.

Taehyun stood up and walked off without saying a word and it weirded you out for a moment but you dropped it. When he came back, he had something in hand.

"Here, have these." he hands it to you.

Taking it, your eyes widened once again as you realized what it was. VIP tickets to early access and backstage. You couldn't believe what you were seeing and it made your inner MOA scream with joy. However, there was still some sense in you.

"I feel bad taking these," you say shyly and tried handing it back, "You should give these to a MOA that hasn't attended yet, this would make their day!"

Taehyun refused to take it back and crossed his arms, "Yes, and that MOA is you. Please, just show up! It'll be so much fun!"

You still hesitated as you looked over the ticket. This was one of the expensive ones while you didn't want to seem ungrateful, you also didn't want to seem greedy.

"Come on," Yeonjun butts in, wrapping his arm around your shoulder which made you jump in surprise, "Just give in already. He's your bias after all, how can you say no?"

Taehyun perked up at the mention of him being your bias.

"Really?" he points to himself, "I am your bias?"

Your cheeks burn at the mention and you nodded your head, mentally wanting to shove Yeonjun for mentioning it.

"See, that should make you want to go even more." he winks at you, now also leaning towards your body.

Everything felt so weird and wrong at the same time. A celebrity that everyone adored and loved was invading a girls personal space even after you backed up constantly. Maybe it was by accident? You dont know how many times you can make excuses for them, but they are nice enough to give you free tickets.

"You're right, thank you!" you smile while getting out of Yeonjun's grasp to put the ticket in your bag. When you looked back up, you could've sworn you saw Yeonjun give an annoyed look but you were probably overthinking.

"Uhm, sorry I need to use the bathroom." You say, standing up from your seat.

Taehyun stood up to let you out and you were waiting for Yeonjun, but he just sat still, not moving a muscle. Not wanting to be annoying, you walked sideways out of the aisle.

It felt awkward since you didn't want to invade his space, but when you felt something grazed your butt, you jumped. Looking back, you see Yeonjun give you a sly smile before turning on his phone.

Did he just-

"Be safe!" Taehyun smiles as he sits back down, still looking intently at you.

You could only feel your head nod as you made your way to the bathrooms. Everything was happening so fast and you couldn't tell whats real and whats not. All you need right now is to use the bathroom and unwind.

As you finished your business, a part of you wanted to remain in the bathroom during the entire duration of the flight, but you had three hours left and it just wouldn't be very comfortable in here.

Don't over think Y/N, it was probably on accident. Why would they be interested in you? You're just a regular person while they can get any girl they want

Exiting the bathroom with thoughts swirling around, you didn't notice someone standing right next to the door, eagerly waiting for you to get out.

"There she is!" he said loudly, walking up to your form.

Your head whipped up as you notice another member of the group standing before you in all his glory- Beomgyu. His black hair bouncing and eyes sparkling as they ranked over your body.

"You're the girl Taehyun told me about!" he smiles, his accent thick as he spoke, "Sorry, I still am learning English, but I can conversate with you as much as I can!"

He seemed so happy and energetic, you would feel horrible if you listened to your gut feeling and cut the conversation short.

"Oh, he talked about me?" you asked, confusion clear on your face, "I didn't know that! It's nice to meet you as well!"

Beomgyu took a moment to register what you said, trying his best to translate it. "He says you're really funny and calm, especially since they're bother you a lot," he chuckles, "I told him we should just keep you and take you with us everywhere!"

You titled your head, trying to understand the last part he said in Korean and you wanted to ask, but you felt bad since he was learning English.

"Yeah, well I try to be funny I guess, but I should head back to my seat, I don't want to block the door for others." you smile, walking away from him, but instead of going back to his seat, he takes your hand and drags you along with him.

On instinct, you swatted his hand away and it shocked both of you and it made you feel really guilty, "I- I'm sorry! It was just a reflex, I didn't mean to hit you." the words left your mouth as you closed your eyes and pleaded with him.

He just laughs and holds your hand once again, "Don't say sorry! It's ok, I sorry, ok?" Beomgyu says, cursing himself as he realized he messed up on his English. "Follow me!"

You allowed him to lead you to his seat where you spotted the last two remaining members who were conversing with each other. Once they noticed your presence, they stopped and turned around.

Never in your life have you met this many hot guys in one moment and it reminded you to thank God for this privilege.

"Guys, this is the pretty girl they were telling us about! Isn't she gorgeous?" Beomgyu turns and gives you a hungry look, "She's also very fiesty! I told Taehyun we should keep her, but he didn't give us the green light!"

Soobin sighed and hit his forehead, "Did you just say that out loud? Beomgyu, others can hear!"

Kai waves off Soobin's worry, "don't be scared, I heard she doesn't understand Korean, besides everyone here in first class works for us, they don't question anything."

It felt awkward for you to be there since you couldn't understand what they were saying. You felt like you were intruding in on their conversation.

"It's nice to finally meet you!" Kai smiles, flashing his bright teeth, "You're even prettier in person." he stands up and walks toward you.

Before, it was obvious that Kai was a pretty tall dude, but in person and standing in front of you, it made you feel like inferior in his presence.

"Oh, thank you." you smile and look around you, hoping he wouldn't see the blush that was forming on your cheeks (if your skin is darker, then the sentence would be changed to "you smile and look around you, hoping to ease the heat forming on your cheeks")

Soobin also stood up and thats when you really felt short - that man was insanely tall and intimidating, even though you've seen him act adorable over edits and their shows, it was still very surprising. He didn't say much and instead just looked you up and down, as if he didn't have any shame.

"Nice to meet you." he says, smiling from ear to ear.

His smile could light up a goddamn room and it made you almost bias him instead. However, seeing that you didn't know what to say, you started walking backwards and wave them goodbye.

"Well I should really return to my seat, but it was really nice talking to you guys!"

With that, you were expecting them to say goodbye as well, but when Kai walked up and take your hand, you were shocked.

Whats with them always touching me? you thought to yourself, looking down at his hand clasp over yours, soft but firm enough to keep you still.

"Don't go yet! We barely talked! Its our turn to talk to you now. Taehyun said how amazing you smelled and oh my its making me go crazy." Kai mutters the last part, even though he said it in Korean, he didnt want the others to overhear and snatch her from him.

"W-well, I think we are in the way of others, I - I feel pretty bad." you stutter, eyes still stuck on his hand holding yours.

He holds it tighter and pulls you closer, causing you to back your face away from his. Even though you really liked the group, it doesn't give them the right to invade your personal space like this.

"No worries!" he exclaims, "They dont mind, if they did they can talk to our managers!"

The way he explains thing had a tone to it, a tone you didn't really like and now that you really thought of it, the way they all were made you weird. The constant stares with their eyes ranking over your body, the unwanted touches and dragging from place to place - it was all too much.

Yeah, you were lucky enough to meet them - just about anyone would kill to be in your position, but this entire thing made you really uncomfortable, no matter how much excuses you give to them.

Slowly, but nicely, you took your hand out of his grasp and gave them an awkward smile. "I understand, but I should really get back to my seat." you say, "Nice meeting you all!"

As you turned around, you wish you could've saw the way their faces fell from excitement, to annoyance. It wasn't the fact that you're walking away from them, it was the fact that you're going back on the other side of the plane, away from them.

Making your way, you tried not to turn and look at them again, you just wanted to keep your head up high and imagine yourself meeting your friends again at the airport. You would finally be away from them and that thought made you happy.

However, that excitement didn't last long as you felt yourself being pulled away into an unknown room. A scream was trying to leave your mouth, but a hand covered it in time. You struggled for a bit before they released and turned you to face them.

There, in front of you smiling, was Yeonjun. It was as if he didnt even feel bad for scaring you like this and it made you mad and you couldn't take it.

"Ok, I had it!" you yell out of frustration, "I am grateful I met you guys, I love your music and everything, but I am tired of this. Everything about this - the way you all look at me, the little touches and the ranking of your eyes over my body makes me uncomfortable!" You pointed a finger at him, "I especially don't appreciate you dragging me away without asking, I am tired of it! All of you guys need to leave me alone or I will call security."

You went to open the door, but felt a force prevent you from doing so. Feeling your heart drop in your stomach and breath fasten, you tried your hardest jiggling the handle, yet nothing happened. "P-please, open the door! This is not appropriate."

Yeonjun kept silent and just walked up to your shaking figure, eyes ranking over your body again. He lowered down to your level and carassed your cheeks. "You're right, you should be grateful." he whispers, "We don't usually give any of our fans this special attention, yet here you are. I don't know what you did, but once you catch our attention, its not fair to let it go as if it was nothing.:

His lips were dangerously close to your face as you felt his hot breath fan over you. "As much as I appreciate honesty, I don't like the sass and disrespect. If we want to touch you," his hand goes to your hips, "We can touch you. If I want to kiss you, I am allowed to."

Suddenly, and without warning, his lips met yours in a surprise attack. Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening - you were being kissed against your will.

You kicked up your legs and failed your hands around to get him away. Not caring if others can hear, you tried gripping his hair hard enough to make him yelp, but that did the complete opposite.

A moan escaped his lips as he gripped your hips tighter and closer, "Yeah, just like that baby, that felt amazing." he moaned again and kissed your lips.

The feeling of disgust entered your body as you stopped holding his hair and tried pushing him away. However you knew nothing would work, he is way taller than you and had more muscles than you could ever imagine.

When he stopped kissing you, he held your wrist and buried his head in your neck, "Gosh how I can go longer kissing and touching you, but people are gonna get suspicious. We should head back."

You were still frozen in place as no words could escape your mouth. Everything stopped in place and you refused to believe you were taken advantage of. When you arrived home, you were going to burn the clothes off your body and scrub your lips until you had no feeling in them.

Right now, however, you need to play your cards right so you could get out of there. The time on your watch indicated that you were gonna land in an hour, so that gives you enough time to think of an escape route.

A knock sounded throughout the room and the door opened which caused hope to rise in you as you thought of a plan to immediately ask the person for help. But, the person who popped their head in was going to be no help as it was their other member Taehyun.

"Hey uhm-" he looks around to both of you, "Is it my turn with her now? We only have an hour until we land and the others want their turn as well."

You should've moved seats when you had the chance.

[deluweil]

I know ya'll are like this is proof of buddie canon,

And as someone who's been here from the beginning, I will believe it when I see it, not before.

There are four ways Eddie little pointless adventure can go,

1. He moves to El Paso, Christopher does not want to see him, his parents put as many obstacles as possible, Buck joins him in a true copying of Station 19 where at the end of the season Vic leaves and Travis meets her at the airport telling her his home is wherever she is and they leave together.

Prompting the spin off of Buck and Eddie together in El Paso. With an angsty backstory in the background and stuff.

2. Eddie and Buck go canon while they're looking for a house for Eddie, Buck asks Eddie not to move, kisses him they have some angsty back and forward in which Eddie goes to see the house up close, misses Buck and decides he doesn't want this, he convinces Christopher to go home with him and comes back to a delighted Buck.

3. Both of them go to see the house, Eddie loves it but it doesn't feel the right kind of happy, they both confess their feelings in El Paso and come back to LA hopefully after Eddie grows a backbone with his emotional support Buck, and tells his parents to go fuck themselves and his son that he can be mad at him all he wants at home in LA, but they can't work this out while they're in two different states so far apart from each other.

Christopher will probably come around either when he hears that, Thank God, no more poor substitutes for mothers will come through their door because he finally gets his Buck and Eddie together.

Or he's still sullen and teenager-y until Eddie’s next nde and then he'll come around, after crying to Buck that he doesn't want his dad to die thinking he hates him.

It will probably be the second option.

4. Eddie moves, Buck misses him like a missing limb, he goes to visit after one FaceTime too many and they end up together, either doing this long distance, or Buck moves to el paso, or they are both along with Christopher comes back to LA.

Some people are mad that I'm holding Christopher accountable for his behavior, and I will probably at some point make a long post about it, but the thing is, that unlike Buck's small family, Christopher had so many people and family to choose from to separate himself from his dad, but he chose the one pair of people that he knows will keep Eddie away at all cost, will let him get away with whatever just so that he stays with them.

And will give Eddie a pause before he will finally decide to get over his guilt over his one mistake of a stalker showing up against his will in his house, and stirring up painful shit for him and his son, and will come get him much later than he would have otherwise.

Because Eddie is sure he doesn't deserve to be redeemed, he actually thought up until his conversation with Father Brian that he didn't even deserve to drink juice, ok?

That's how bad the guilt is. Does Eddie have a lot of self work to do after TM erased all his progress cause he's a vindictive little bitch? Yes.

Is Christopher, which went through so much with his father and even at one point asked Eddie if he is the one making him sad, is the most ooc he's ever been written so far? Yes.

Can he be held accountable for his actions? At the moment of the ghost Shannon reveal, not entirely.

But six months later? Absolutely.

At this point, he's enjoying himself too much to go back to Eddie and his school and his duties, and he doesn't even discuss with Eddie his plans for the future.

Just hints that say, 'No, I barely want to talk to you and send me the autograph to my room on Texas as a reward for giving you half a breadcrumb every time you call'.

I am mad at Christopher for choosing the one pair of people he knew would do as much damage as possible and would take him away and keep him in a heartbeat.

Because, make no mistakes children are not stupid, they learn patterns of behavior, they see and hear everything, Christopher knows how hard it is for Eddie to deal with his parents and he is taking full advantage of it.

I am mad at Eddie for not putting his foot down and that he didn't send his parents packing the moment they showed up at his doorstep.

And I am mad at the Diaz parents for being the narcissistic assholes who want a second chance at raising their son's kid by taking him away from his father and rubbing it in on top of it.

This whole storyline is just one big cluster fuck, and I get that buddie canon is a potentially exciting future, but with Eddie’s storyline in shambles, which as an Eddie girl is the only thing I care about right now, I find it hard to be excited.

Also we've been here before, this is the same game plan as S5 5x10 and S5b which fox and the showrunner chickened out of last time.

So, yes, buddie may happen, but I ain't getting excited before they actually do. This show has given me trust issues, plain and simple.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨 (the more emojis the faster we get out of the covid season right? RIGHT? /lh) 🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 i continue to be so invested in this i need to see buck/shannon besties growth their dynamic is fascinating 💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐 i love lesbians 🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮 cranberry my beloved (also see above about getting through the pandemic times) ➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰ TIME LOOP YES fantastic i'll take 14 of them

Hellllooo!

We are out of covid season now for switcheroo!

30 for 🚨:

---

Eddie knows he made the right call staying home from Texas, based on how much Christopher misses Buck. It’s not exactly surprising. He and Buck are obviously really close, and Buck has been involved in one way or another since Eddie and Chris even met. They were all separated for a long time during lockdown, and Chris is just getting used to them all being back together. So, again, it makes sense that Buck leaving for special deployment to fight wildfires upsets him. Eddie just didn’t realize how profoundly he would miss him. 

“When is he coming home?” 

“How much longer?”

“Can I call him?”

The questions are frequent. Whiny. Insistent. Eddie tries to be as patient and understanding as he can with all of them. 

“Buddy, you know he’s working really hard right now. He’ll call you as soon as he can.”

Buck does call, as much as he can. He can’t speak for long when he does, and most of that time is spent speaking to Christopher. Eddie tries not to be frustrated with the monopolization of his boyfriend, with the understanding that Chris is clearly going through some anxiety about him being gone. 

Eddie figures out why one day while he’s off work, and overhears Chris speaking during online class. It’s been a bit of a rocky start to the school year. Christopher’s one teacher left to take a principal position at another school at the last minute, meaning they needed a new teacher a few weeks into the term. The new teacher is, apparently, making them all go around and introduce themselves with a brief explanation about them. When Eddie realizes this, he can’t help but pause outside his son’s door, curious to listen to what he will say. 

“Okay, Christopher,” he hears the teacher prompt. “You’re next.” 

“Okay,” Christopher says, happy to be speaking. Eddie would be nervous to talk in front of the class at that age. He’d be worried about saying something stupid. He loves that Chris is bold. “I’m Chris."

---

27 for 🔼:

Thank you! I am really excited to write them a dynamic from scratch pretty much!

---

“And the fact that I haven’t talked about any of this at all really. So, sorry you had to be first.”

Buck is quiet for a moment. 

“Uh, you don’t have anyone to talk to about all this?” He asks after a moment. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What is happening to her internal filter? The last thing she wants is Eddie angry with her because she’s complaining about her choices and their personal business to his friends. 

“Not really,” she answers. “But, hey. Forget I said anything, okay? I’m really not trying to dump on you.”

Buck shakes his head. “Seriously, Shannon, it’s fine.”

Before she can embarrass herself any further, the receptionist calls Buck for his appointment. Or, not Buck. Evan Buckley. His full name, she supposes. Maybe she spent long enough in Texas that she just assumed Buck was the whole deal. 

“Talk to you next time,” Buck smiles at her, kindly. He’s far too kind. 

“Yeah,” she nods. “Good luck in there.”

“You, too.”

She’s never been so relieved to watch someone walk away.

---

27 for 💐:

---

Mainly, though, she is caught off guard by the small bouquet of flowers in April’s hand. A delicate, sweet collection of daisies and other precious little blossoms. May’s heart stutters a little. 

“Did you bring me flowers?” May asks, breathless. 

“Yeah, of course,” April smiles. “What’s the saying?”

“What saying?” May raises an eyebrow.

“April showers bring May flowers,” April recites.

May laughs. “You are so corny.”

April shrugs, smirking. 

“Are you a rainstorm?” May asks. 

“Mm, I’m a Cancer sun,” April offers. “So, close enough?”

May laughs brightly.

“Do you like them?” April asks.

May reaches forward to take the flowers. “They’re beautiful. Thank you. Do we have a vase?”

April’s expression falls. “I didn’t even consider that.”

“Let’s look at our options,” May chuckles.

---

27 for 🦮:

---

“How soon?” Buck asks. “How soon can you come home?”

“Well, that’s the thing… Twenty seconds?” 

“What?” Buck gasps.

“I was kind of hoping to be here when Chris wakes up?” Eddie says. “I’m in the driveway.” 

“I’m in the backyard,” Buck tells him. “With Cran.”

Buck hears the sounds of Eddie getting out of the truck, shutting the door behind him. He hears it over the phone, and in the distance. Oh, shit. It’s real. He’s really here. 

“Be right there,” Eddie says.

Buck walks towards the back gate, Cranberry trotting alongside him. He sees the lock on the gate click open. His heart rate begins to soar. The gate pushes open and in steps Eddie. Eddie, dressed in jeans and an LAFD tee shirt, looking just as gorgeous as always. Except, maybe even more, because of the brilliant smile on his face. 

“Hey,” Buck exhales. 

“Hey,” Eddie replies, eyes fucking glittering.

Buck steps towards Eddie, hands shaking, unsure what he gets to do now that he can actually reach out and touch him.

---

42 for ➰:

---

“Mm, but it doesn’t really match,” Buck responds. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I think you might be too worried about a clock, Buck.”

“I’m not worried about it. It just doesn’t make sense.”

He likes things to make sense, even if only in his own logic. 

“Okay, well, we can figure out the clock or we can enjoy our day,” Eddie says. “Starting with a big breakfast?”

Buck smirks. “You sure know how to get through to me.”

➰

Half an hour later, they’re sitting on a big patio eating a complimentary hotel breakfast. Chris looks mildly zombified, like he can’t believe he’s awake this early. Nevermind the fact he wakes up way earlier than this for school. Eddie is indulging in a very big breakfast - more than he’d normally go for, Buck thinks. He’s practically dumping sugar in his coffee. 

“You’re not going to sleep tonight,” Buck warns him. Eddie is usually a black coffee type guy, or very minimal sugar. He always complains too much of it gives him insomnia. 

“It’ll be fine,” Eddie shrugs. 

Buck eats waffles contentedly. The hotel has an insanely gorgeous view of the ocean. The early morning light only makes it all the more fantastic. Buck could stare at it forever. It’s beyond what they have in L.A.

“We should come back here again,” Buck says. “Some other time. A long weekend wasn’t enough.”

Eddie smiles warmly at him. 

“Anytime you want,” he says. 

Buck feels a pang of giddiness ripple through him. Eddie has been so much more hopeful and open lately. Buck knows it’s not all about their relationship. Therapy and mending things with Christopher are also a huge part of that. But it’s impossible to deny that being together has made each of them a bit… Lighter? Freer? Buck certainly feels a lot more settled. 

“I guess we’re never going back to work, then,” Buck winks. 

Eddie chuckles. 

“Can you guys stop while I’m eating?” Chris begs. 

“We didn’t do anything!” Buck protests.

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 26

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 4.1k

IMPORTANT a/n: Hi... I said that if the Celtics won I'd post tonight so ya know! Here it is hehe. LETS GO CELTICS

Finally used the scene in Season 1 episode 5 of Narcos of Javi and Murphy in the car. There's a lot of perspective change in this one, this section will be like this most the time just because are characters are so far apart!

Ok bye enjoy

New Orleans 1988

“Do you remember being sixteen?”

You cackle, playing with the golden bee at your lobe, looking up at your student Chiron. He had been eating his lunch in your classroom for about two months since, the cafeterias ac is shit, his words. You dig into the cake your students bought you, they thought you would cancel their monday practice quiz with a little birthday celebration. They were greatly mistaken. 

Today you're twenty-four. Everytime you think of it your brain freezes.

 You remember being sixteen like it’s yesterday. You nod, washing down the store bought dry red velvety mess with water. “Yes. It sucked.”

Chiron laughs just the same, opening the pink milk box on his tray. “When were you sixteen? In 1950?”

You stare at him with your most deadpan look, shaking your head. “I turned sixteen in 1980. I was living in Laredo, Texas and I spent my birthday alone. I received flowers from my… friend and my mom took me dress shopping two days later. What was yours like?” 

You and Chiron talk every day. You know he lives in a group home, you know he gets excited when he gets asked about his own life and even more excited when someone shares stories about theirs. He reminds you everyday that you want to have a son one day, you guess you’ll tell him when he's older. Hopefully then you could introduce your son to him and have a laugh about it. 

Teaching has given you a purpose. Being away from home has given you a purpose. Knowing no one has given you a purpose. You tell him stories all the time, you’re going to sob when he walks across that stage in May. 

“I went to the arcade with Teresa.” Teresa has been his girlfriend since the ninth grade, she went to St. Mary’s. They met doing community service and Chiron knows that they're going to be married. “She bought me this chain with her paycheck from Rouses. Are you doing anything for your birthday?”

You look at the picture of your little sister and niece sat up on her desk. Little three year old Sol holding Frankies babygirl Annie. “I still don’t know anyone out here but my coworkers so I’ll probably order in, watch Dirty Dancing and wait for a call from my brother.” You think of Javier for a moment, wondering if he knows today's your birthday. 

You wonder if you have crossed his mind. 

You saw him in the paper when you went home for christmas, you didn't visit your mother. 

You went home to simply spoil the babies at Frankie's house. You drove right back to your third floor apartment in Nola. Cried into your pillow until you slept and did it all over again for three more nights. Chiron nods, you have told him small stories about your life because he loves to listen. You’re weary of sharing too much, only offering bits you know will make him feel seen. You let him cry when he said he tried to meet his father during Christmas break and he didn’t show. That's when you decided to tell him about your first trip to New Orleans. 

Chiron frowns and sips his milk. He just got a haircut, flat top style, he had been growing his hair out the whole year for it. “Do you think Javier will call you?”

You smile at Chiron. He had been trying to pry information about your former lover for weeks. It all started after Christmas break when he cried about his father. You told him that family can be found anywhere, that your only family for a bit was your best friend who happened to be your boyfriend. 

“Do you live with Javier now?”

You shook your head, “He moved away for work.” Nearly a lie, you didn’t feel it was appropriate to tell your seventeen year old student the painful details of your life. 

Chiron went quiet for a few seconds, his face going inward. Eyes shy and sad, it happens every time he’s asked about his parents.

“So who is your family now?”

Andrea drops her keys on her kitchen counter being greeted by tiny tweets. She grins from ear to ear, placing her purse down on the couch. Walking to her cage, the two birds chirped.

 “Are you singing Happy Birthday to me?” She gets on her tiptoes, offering her fingers to the babies, they take the chance. “Thank you, mommy’s going to watch Dirty Dancing because she’s lonely. Okay?”

She brings Jewel to her face in a phantom kiss while Harvey finds sanctuary on her shoulder. 

She always wanted pets but her mother never allowed it. The second Andrea put down her deposit for her apartment, she hopped in her car and bought two blue budgies. They nipped and scurried away from her each time she approached them but after two months of persistence they finally warmed up to her. They’re now her best friends. She’s become a crazy bird lady. Just in September she left a date abruptly because she realized she hadn't fed them in a day and a half. Its safe to say she didn’t get a call back from Mr. Henning.

She sits on her couch after loading the VHS and yawning. Her birdies flying back to their cage. 

That was the summer of 1963 - when everybody called me Baby, and it didn't occur to me to mind.

At 6pm she receives a call. Her heart sinks and for a moment she thinks, maybe.

But ultimately she knows not to be so silly, she knows she needs to be angry with him but she doesn’t have it in her anymore. She unravels herself from the nest she’s made on her couch and tip toes on the hardwood floor to her home phone. 

She spoke to Genie this morning, receiving a happy birthday song from her brother and their baby’s incoherent babbles. They say little Annie is upset that Tia Andrea lives so far. 

“Hello?” Andrea shushes her birds, they love to chirp when she’s on the phone. 

“Happy Birthday Andrea,”

 And she knows Don Chuchos voice anywhere. 

Andrea closes her eyes at the sound. She knew she couldn’t avoid him forever and she’s riddled with grief at the sound of his voice after nearly two years. 

“Thank you Chucho.” Andrea remembers the way he looked at her when she sat in the blistering heat on Javier’s wedding day. He looked at her knowingly, he could see that beyond the made up face she was on the brink of a breakdown. “How’s everything back home?” 

“You would know if you stopped by to see me last month.”

She winces. When Andrea came home for Christmas she made it her business to be seen by no one. Especially anyone who knew anything about Javi. 

She was finally feeling better. 

Everything was out in the open now, everyone knew their business. The scandal blew through town, she had to leave.

“I know, I'm sorry. I’m just still working through everything that happened. I knew if I stopped by your house it would bring up old memories.” Since Andrea moved to New Orleans she has gone back to Laredo five times. Two of the times she visited her mother, every other time was a straight shot to Frankie’s home. Calling him to make sure he takes Sol for the day so Andrea could see her too. She would spend two lovely nights on their plush couch and drive home the next day. 

Through the crackle of the receiver Chucho hums in understanding. 

In a twisted way Andrea always wanted him to be her father. She loved the idea of marrying Javier for more reasons than one. She wanted to officially be a part of his tiny family she loved so deeply. 

“Would this be a bad time to talk about him?” 

Andrea, the despondent girl. A girl alone, leaning against her lonely walls, a girl belonging to no one. Is a girl who cannot resist hearing about the one she loved. 

Loves. 

“Yes.” She allows it. He complies because she knows he must have no one to talk to about this. 

“He told me last week that he’s seeing a specialist—therapist, once a week.”

She smiles. She remembers the last time they had sex they talked about reaching out for help. She supposes it’s her turn. 

“That’s- I'm relieved to hear that. Is he doing okay out there?” 

Andrea has a reoccurring nightmare. She’s walking to work, the heat is brutal and her hands are full of groceries. In her nightmare, one of the bags rip open, fruit falling on the concrete. Every time, she follows an apple that rolls until it hits a news stand. And there—there she sees his face. There she reads his public obituary, the slain American agent. There she dissolves to nothing and wakes up crying harder than she ever has. She cried until she felt like dissolving into nothing. 

“He spares me details that would send me into a stroke but you know. It’s very dangerous work but he’ll make it back home in one piece. He’s too stubborn to die young.” 

Her eyes flicker to the ground and her chin quivers at his words. “Do you miss him?” Is all she can mutter. She cannot be alone in this feeling. She doesn’t like to feel this way. She liked to believe that she gets along without him well, but sometimes the wind blows and it reminds her of summer nights in his bed and she isn’t sure she could go on lying to herself.

Chucho sighs, “He misses you.” He doesn’t answer your question. He knows what you wanted to ask. “He doesn’t tell me because he’s afraid, but every conversation I can hear it in his voice. He is still grieving being away from you, still grieving being deceived. I know you are too. But I wanted to call to tell you that he is okay. I want you to be okay too, Andrea.”

January 1988 Bogota, Colombia

There isn't much work being done. Scoping out for a sicario in a hundred degree weather wasn't ideal but it left some time for beers and ramblings. Murphy dug his hand into the cup holder for another sip of Club Colombiano. “So what year was this?” Murphy looks over to Javi. It had been almost a week since he last saw Hertz. His next session is in two days. He found himself walking with less weight. He even finally told Murphy the name of the girl whose picture is taped on the corner of his desk.

“1986” Javier rasps. “I was driving to the church. I was with my buddy Frankie. He was my best man.” He nearly whispers the last bit. “We were late. It was fucking blazing, 110 degrees. The whole bridal party was there sweating their balls off I’m sure. Frankie is shaking like a leaf next to me, like he’s fucking getting married. Looking for a lighter for a joint he rolled. Mind you, we're been in my bride's car since she arrived in a limousine.”

“Don’t tell me you left her at the altar.”

Javier deadpans, “Let me finish my story.” Murphy chuckles, pressing the cold beer to his neck. “He opens the glove compartment and some papers fall into his lap. And boom, we hit a traffic jam. Frankie, my best man, being the nosy fuck he his opens up the papers. He goes, three months pregnant as of June 6th, can't believe we’re both having kids. I swear to god–”

“No!” Murphy gasps.

“Yeah, Lorraine, the bride, and I hadn’t had sex since February of that year. She was showing a lot, I never thought twice when she told me she was five months along.” Murphy is staring at him like this was the juiciest television worthy story ever told. Javier looks blankly into the rolling hills of Colombia wondering why this happened to him. “I had dropped everything in my life to rush into a loveless marriage for the convenience of a family that wasn't even mine.” His eyes cast low and he feels sick. “So I turned the car around. And Andrea was there waiting to watch me marry someone else. In the heat.”

Murphy rarely knew who Andrea was other than the pretty ex-girlfriend whose picture is taped on his desk; he didn’t tell him too much. The story is enticing, he supposes. Exhilarating from the outside.

Murphy grins, “Well, you saved her a lifetime of hell.” 

He knows it’s true, his inner monologue being spat right back in his face yet he can’t seem to swallow that reality. He's a weak man, he hoped that Murphy would tell him he was wrong, that he needed to get up on a plane this instant and find his girl.

He’s silent for a moment. “Yeah, she never spoke to me again, Andrea I mean. She’ll probably be married to a-a stock broker or some shit when I come home.” If I come home, he intends to say but decides maybe this wasn’t the moment. “Trust me, she’s better off.”

“I told my partner, Steve Murphy, about the wedding.”

“That's amazing, Javier.” She sits back down in her brown leather chair, sipping her tea from her small yellow thermo. “How did you feel afterward?” Javier went home to drink himself to sleep. He decides to keep that detail to himself, before reaching forward to sip water instead of fulfilling his urge to light up.

“I felt like I’ve taken some sort of step forward. Then I remembered how it was telling Andrea. Then I felt like I regressed once again, I didn't wake up for work the next morning. This Tuesday I mean.” She’s taking it all in, yet something i n her twinkles. He sees her satisfaction, she knows this is a shy way of telling her he’s ready to talk about it again. Things are changing for him so quickly.

“We were cut for time last week.”

“We were.”

“So,”

“So.” Javier's eyes jet to the plush rug below him. “I walked to her house the night I agreed to marry Lorraine.”

June 18th 1986

He stopped by The Tap before strolling his way into your neighborhood. Sitting on a barstool like he would do back in High School, eyes peeled to the door wondering if his mother would miraculously walk in. This time he doesn’t drink so much, he pushes three beers back and feels sad enough to see you. Sad enough to break your heart. Liquid courage? Is that what they call it? He feels a buzz in his spine.

Somehow he ends up at your door. 

 “Javi, are you alright? It's late.” You whisper, closing the front door behind you. It reminds him of the time he walked to your house after getting wasted. Catching you in Cabaret makeup, you turning bright red under white paint. 

This time you’re bare faced and so much more of a woman. Javier studies you in a buzzed haze, you’re concerned and it’s pissing him off. There you are, barefoot on your porch. Caught off guard and still the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. You step down one step. He wants to drop to his knees and apologize. 

You sense his sorrow so you step back up to be near to his height, placing your hands on his face. Holding his face, “Baby, are you okay?” He knows your worried little face, he knows that somehow in that brain of yours—you’re conspiring what you could have done wrong. Yet it’s never you, it’s always him. You’ve never done wrong.

“Hey…” You whisper, attempting to soothe his quivering chin with a kiss. 

He looks away. Looking into your eyes will kill him. Rejecting your kiss all together. “I’m sorry.” Javier’s voice breaks, and he isn’t embarrassed but he wants to die. He wants it to end because he feels your body go cold without even having to look at you. He’s crying and hiding his face, holding you close and hard. Sobbing into your chest, staining your gray shirt like you did his when he left the first time. “I’m so sorry—I knew I wouldn’t be right for you—Querida, I’m sorry.”

----

He crushes your body with his. He’s muttering words about a wedding, a pregnancy and you’re being crushed. You’re losing air and you hope he squeezes you tighter, hope your eyes fog and you fall. 

Hope to wake up in a cold sweat, and it's all a bad dream. Hope to call him to hang out at the lake.  

He’s crying, and its the worst sound you’ve ever heard. Saying he didn’t mean to become a father. He doesn’t mean to hurt you. He doesn’t know why he hurts you. He says he doesn’t want to be married to her. Calling you sweet names and cursing his own. 

You tell him over and over that it’s okay. Yet you hope he crushes you until you disappear.

 “It’s okay—Javi please, it’s okay— I understand.” You run a hand through his hair and lower your bodies to sit on the steps. It’s 2 am. He’s drunk and unable to give you details without crying in your lap now but you know all that you need to know.

When you saw her—Lorraine. When you saw her wide nose and round little belly you felt fear running through your veins. And you slept with that panic, you dismissed it but your bones felt it. Your intuition told you that the two of you will never be the same. You saw him stare at her belly for a second too long and there—right there— you knew you were in the way of something. 

Eventually he feels okay enough to sit up straight. He still can’t look at you and you miss him in your lap when he does. You miss being able to hide yourself from him. You miss being able to shut your eyes in agony at each word of consolation. Now he can see you, even if he doesn’t look you in the eye he can see you. 

You’re able to understand that she’s five months, that they gave him a choice. To never see her and his child, child— his child— or get married. Through it all you tell him it’s okay. 

“I don’t think I have another choice— I can’t be.-“

“A deadbeat.” You finish for him and he doesn’t respond. The two of you have a million unspoken words between the two of you. 

Look at me, look at what happens when you abandon your child. Look what girls like me put up with. Look at me, you hurt me and I'm still thinking of ways to make it work in my broken little brain. 

He knows what his mother did, how could he ever? How? So you could never find it in you to be angry. 

“I’m sorry— I just can’t.” 

You shut your eyes and lean back into the steps of your home. The sky was bright that night, you couldn’t understand why the universe still presented its beauty during such a moment. 

“When will you get married?” You suppose maybe you like to hurt yourself. 

“They said two weeks.” 

You drop your head into your hands and let out a sob. Heart slamming against your ribs, drowning in it. You fear that you’ll become one with earth, a puddle seeping into the grass ahead of you. You feel his panic next to you. He’s whispering your name, and tearing against the back of your head. Your shoulders wrack and you try to speak.

But you decide silence is all you can handle.

So you stay like this for a few minutes.

“Will you sleep with me tonight?” You ask finally, pathetically. 

And he’s quick to nod, “Yes—please.” His deep voice sends a vibration down your spine. And the two of you walk into your home, without fear—no room for such a silly feeling. 

He undresses and you do too. 

He faces the ceiling and you fear neither of you will catch any hours tonight. You still curl into his chest, for the last time. Feeling his warm tan skin below your ear. You count his heartbeats for minutes at a time. You count your own, attempting to make it stop on your own. Your stomach hurts so badly, you may cry just from that. But you think that you’re a twenty two year old woman who is somehow all cried out. You think of the sun coming up and him getting up to leave, you wonder what the next two weeks will look like. 

You’re sure that if you could you’d stay just like this, together and avoidant until it’s time. Just like you planned a week ago when your only fear was him leaving to Colombia. 

You know he’d do the same because the two of you love pain like no other. You stay in your inferno of a brain for nearly an hour. You know he can’t sleep. 

“What are we going to do?” He asks and you frown. 

“Go our separate ways.”

“I don’t want to.” He’s quick to respond, angry.

“I know.”

“Do you want to?”

“No. But I have to. You have to.” 

“As long as I know you, I'll want you, Andrea.”

You shut your eyes and breathe. You hope he forgets you. You hope you can. You suppose you have to try. 

“After the wedding, I don’t think I’ll ever want to speak to you again.”

You feel him intake a shaky breath. Your heart breaks again. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

His chest rises, “It’s okay. I understand.” You nod, the post of the earrings he bought you scraping his skin. “We probably shouldn’t see each other after today.” He admits and you know he’s right.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think I could be a bridesmaid?” You attempt to joke and he doesn’t laugh. You can’t tell what he does but he shivers. 

“Not funny.” 

“I’m sorry.” You exhale. And there the two of you are pensive. Already missing each other. 

He sighs and it's silent once more. “I really love you.”

You sigh just the same and you love him more. You decide you couldn’t say it out loud this time.

Colombia 1988

His elbow is rested on the arm of the chair and his mouth is pressed to a fist. Eyes closed for a few moments. He thinks of the silence of that night, how he hasn't heard you say I love you since. The words that kept him going, but fuck it, he didn’t feel like he deserved it. He made their life such a mess, over and over again. Again his brain regresses to that of a child, of his own head when he was eleven, when he tore up his mothers room and stained her poetry with his tears. 

He has spent two years suffering, he knows there will be no winning. He lost you. He came here prematurely hoping to win in some way. To bring some good, save some people but he realized there's no winning here either. Just suffering and corruption. The longer he watches people die he swears his faith chips slowly with it.

So he looks over his shoulder once or twice when he leaves his session. There were very few words spoken by Dr. Hertz but what can you do when his story silences so many?

He wishes it could silence his own thoughts but instead it festers and crowds his brain in the most crucial moments. Like when he led a raid in a bar in Medellin and swore the woman who sat at the bar with a gun to her head was you. In genuine panic he freezes, the casualties raised from 24 to 25 at that moment. All because of you—him—all because of his thoughts of you, plaguing him.

And he thinks of you in the most insignificant moments. Insignificant like burying himself deep in the cunt of a woman who’s being paid. He thinks of you and can't keep it up from the guilt. What a curse it is to feel so deeply about someone. 

He remembers once, you lie beside him half asleep and mumbling like you did after sex. You said that sometimes love scares you so much that for a time you wished to never feel it. He thought of you so crazy, he fears he understands you now. 

[bellaireland1981]

Starting Over | 3

Summary: You come home to work to find your husband of three years in bed with your supposed best friend. It’s the wake up call you finally needed to take your two year old daughter and get the hell out of Texas. With nowhere to go you head to your big brother in San Diego. The sagger squad takes you under their wings, and shows you what having a family means. You get a fresh start… will you find your happily ever after?

Characters: Jake “hangman” Seresin x Sister! Reader, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Seresin! Reader (Eventually), Hangman x Phoenix (eventually) , Adorable OC Gracie!   The Dagger squad

Word Count: 5313

Warnings: Angst, cheating husband, emotional abuse, eventual fluff, smut in later chapters, Sweet uncle Jake, Adorable Rooster with a toddler… if I miss any please let me know.

A/N:  I don’t own the characters or storyline for Top Gun Maverick. All OC’s are mine. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR ANYONE TO COPY OR REPOST MY WORK TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM! DON’T STEAL! Reblogs, likes and comments ALWAYS welcomed. THANK YOU @waywardodysseys​ as always for reading over my work and helping me flush out ideas!!

Taglist is open!  If I missed anyone who asked to be tagged, please let me know! I tried to keep track! 

CH 1  CH 2 

“You definitely have enough of a case with the text messages and voicemails alone to be given a fairly cut and dry divorce on grounds of emotional and mental abuse, Y/N.” Lauren Kennedy said, the next day. Jake had once again worked his brotherly magic and arranged for Penny to watch Gracie while you had the appointment.  “I have to tell you, even given the fact that he is in Texas, the nature of these texts and voicemails becoming increasingly hostile and threatening, I would recommend requesting an order of protection as well for both you and Gracie. With that said, I’m assuming you want complete custody of the child?”

“If there is a way to make sure he has absolutely no rights to her, that is what I want.” You said. “I don’t want or need child support from him. He’s admitted to never wanting her, does that count in our favor?”

“It does.” She said, “Would the protection order be something you would be willing to pursue?”

“He’s never physically laid a hand on me. Would a judge even order it without him physically harming me?” You asked

“With the escalating calls and texts, I would say the probable cause for him to become physical is not too far fetched.” She said gently, “I’m assuming you haven’t listened to the more recent calls or the messages he has sent your brother?”

“No.” You admitted, “It became too much and Jake just got me a new phone and number so I wouldn’t have to. If you think it’s for the best and necessary then yes, I am willing to request the order of protection.”

“I think it’s always better to be safe than sorry,” She said, “especially when a child is involved.”

“I will do anything to protect Gracie.” You said. “I have to be honest with you Ms. Kennedy, I don’t have a lot of money. I have a credit card I was able to get without Trent knowing, but he never let me have access to our accounts.”

“I’m willing to take you on as a client at a very low rate.” She said, “I was you, Y/N. My story is almost identical to yours. I was able to get out because I had people helping me. Now, I get to do the same thing for other women. There is a whole amazing life waiting for you. I’m going to help you grab it with both hands.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” You said, wiping away the tears that were streaming down your face. “Thank you… It doesn’t seem like enough… but thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” She smiled, “I’ll get started on the paperwork and get it all filed ASAP. I’ll just need to know if there is any personal property you’re wanting me to include in the papers?”

“No, I got most of Gracie’s stuff before I left and I don’t care about any of my stuff.” You replied, “I’d honestly be shocked if any of it was still there anyway. I just want to be done with him and to move on…and I want my maiden name back.”

“That’s an easy enough fix once the divorce is finalized, I can walk you through that process.” She smiled, knowingly. “I’d say we should be able to petition the court for a name change for Gracie too.”

“That would be amazing.” You replied, “I want to cut him from my daughter’s life completely so she never knows the pain of a piece of shit father.”

“I will get this ball rolling and keep you in the loop on where things are at all times.” She promised, “I have to caution you that he may escalate in behavior once he’s served with papers. I urge you to keep up what you’ve been doing and not engage with communication. All communication can go through myself and a lawyer of his choosing if he hires one.”

“Trust me, I’m more than happy to not have to talk to him.” You answered, “It’ll make Jake happy too. He’s definitely not a fan of Trent’s.”

After leaving the lawyer’s office you sent a quick text to Jake to let him know it had gone well. You stopped off at the grocery store to pick up the stuff you’d need to make dinner. You decided to use your credit card instead of the card Jake had given you. You mentally added finding a job to your to do list though.  Once you had everything you needed for the dinner you loaded the car with the groceries and headed back to the house.

“Thank you so much for watching her, Penny.” You said once you were inside and set the bags down on the counter. “I hope she was well behaved for you.”

“She was an absolute angel.” she replied, smiling, “It’s no trouble at all, Y/N. Honestly, I’m happy to help whenever I can.”

“I’m blown away by the amazing group of people my brother’s surrounded himself with.” You said, “It’s definitely not something we were used to having growing up.”

“I gathered as much.” She said, smiling gently. “I’ve had a soft spot for your brother since he first got to Top Gun as a new recruit. Saw right through the tough guy, cocky aviator act.”

“I’m glad he’s gotten better at letting people in.” You smiled, “He’s one of the best men I know. I might be biased because he’s my big brother and practically raised me himself, even though he was just a kid, but they don’t come better than Jakey.”

“You know,” Penny said, “I know you’re going through one hell of a tough spot right now, and it might seem a little hopeless, but as someone who’s been in your shoes, Sweetheart, I want you to know… you’ll find happiness after all of the dust settles.”

“I think one I’m free of Trent, I just want to focus on being a good mom to Gracie and building a new life for us here… one where Jake doesn’t have to support us, preferably.” You replied, “Maybe I’m just meant to be single. It’s not like men will be lining up at the door to date a single mom…an unemployed one at that.”

“Well the unemployment part I can help with.” Penny said, “I could use some help at the bar during the day. Keeping track of the ordering and the paperwork side of the bar is not my favorite. If you’re interested, I’d happily throw that stuff your way. It’s part time for now, but it might help get you back on your feet.”

“I don’t have anywhere for Gracie to go while I work right now.” You replied, “I’d love to accept the job…can I have a few days to try to find a sitter?”

“Of course.” Penny replied, “Let me know if you need any help. Once school is out for the summer, I’m sure Amelia would love to babysit too if you need it.”

“Thank you, Penny.” You said, “For everything.”

“Of course.” She replied, smiling, “You’re family now, Y/N. I know you’ve heard it a lot since getting here but it’s true.”

“I’m starting to think coming here was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You smiled, tears once more forming in your eyes.

“It’s your fresh start.” She said, “Now’s your chance to make the life you want…for yourself and Gracie.”

“I was actually talking to Jake about maybe going back to school.” You admitted, “I need to get through the divorce first and find some semblance of a new ‘normal’ for Gracie and me, but then… maybe.”  

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Penny said. “And don’t close yourself off to other possibilities either. You deserve a shot at happiness after this is over.”

“So I’ve heard.” You replied, “I just highly doubt men are lining up to take on a 26 year old divorcee with a toddler.”

“I can name one, that from what I saw when we were here helping get Gracie’s room set up, would be more than happy to be at the front of that line and be given a shot.” Penny said, “I don’t know how Jake would feel about it, but I for one can and will vouch for him.”

“Who?” You replied, shocked. You hadn’t noticed anyone paying any more attention than the others.

“Rooster.” She smiled, like the cat that caught the canary. “He was lookin’ pretty smitten with you and he definitely fell head over heels for that little girl.”

“Bradley?” You asked, eyes wide, still reeling from this tidbit of information. “I think he was just being nice. He’s really good with Gracie, but all of Jake’s friends were.”

“Just my observation.” She said, not wanting to spook you, “Just don’t count yourself out from finding a good man. Trent is the exception, not the norm. Real men, secure men…they don’t treat women like that.”

With those words of wisdom, Penny said goodbye and told you to call her about the job. Once she’d left you turned on music quietly in the kitchen and got to work preparing dinner for your brother. He had sent a text earlier to let you know the whole squad had jumped at the chance at a home cooked meal. You seasoned the pork roast and started it cooking so you could add the bbq and shred it later. The chicken you were frying so you needed to wait until closer to dinner. You got the ribs ready to start cooking before adding them to the oven. You planned on putting them out on the grill when it got closer. Once you had the meat sorted, you set to work whipping up a batch of the honey cornbread that Jake loved, opting to bake them into muffins for the safe of ease. Once those were in the oven baking, you set to work mixing up some bbq sauce. You hated to have to cheat and use store bought as your base, but you quickly added everything you needed to make it better. By the time you were cleaning the kitchen up from your first round of cooking, Gracie was waking up.

You wiped your hands to dry them and headed back to her room to change her diaper before bringing her out. She was starting to show signs of being ready to potty train so you made a mental note to pick up pull ups and a toddler potty next trip to the store.

“Hi, Gracie girl!” You said, walking into her room. She was sitting in the middle of the bed, surrounded by pillows, looking very much like the princess Jake called her. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Mommy!” She said, her little voice still sounding sleepy, “You back!”

“I’m back, Sweetheart.” You smiled, reaching out to pick her up. She happily stood and toddled to the edge for you to pick her up. “Let’s change your diaper then you can play while mommy makes you a snack ok?”

“Otay, Mommy.” She said, “Nanas?”

“Absolutely you can have a banana.” You agreed, “Did you have fun with Miss Penny?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed, happily, “Penny pway!”

“Penny played with you?” You asked as you changed her diaper.

“Yes!” She confirmed, “Mommy, Unko Jakey home?”

“Not yet, Sweetie but he’ll be home soon.” You assured her. “Uncle Jakey’s friends are coming over tonight too.”

“Woosta?” She asked, her eyes getting big. “Pwease, Mommy?”

“Rooster will be here too.” You promised, your mind quickly drifting to the last part of the conversation with Penny. You knew for certain that Gracie was taken with Bradley. She’d latched onto him almost from the instant they met. It made you wish her own father was as attentive and sweet with her as Bradley was.

You set Gracie down on the floor by her toys and went to cut up a banana for her. You put the banana into a bowl and then set it at the table by her Booster chair and got her a cup of milk in her sippy cup. Before you had a chance to go collect her though, the front door opened and you heard her squeal in delight.

You stepped into the living room in time to see Jake drop his flight bag and swoop Gracie into his arms, grinning ear to ear…both of them. He moved away from the door, kicking it closed with his foot, as he smothered Gracie with kisses, earning himself full on belly laughs from his niece.

“You’re home early.” You noticed, “I figured you’d be home closer to dinner time.”

“Mav had us knock off early.” Jake replied, laughing with Gracie. “We were in the air all morning and then went over next week’s plan for the new recruits. Wrapped up early so he dismissed us. Everyone was in a hurry to get out of there and get cleaned up. I think they’ll be descending on us here soon.”

“Home cooked food is really that much of a draw?” You asked, surprised, “Don’t any of them know how to cook?”

“Some better than others.” He replied, “But a home cooked meal they don’t have to prepare themselves is definitely a draw.”

“Well, then I guess we are going to make this a weekly event.” You declared, “I can’t have them starving from their own cooking. They’ll get at least one good meal a week.”

“I’m sure they won’t say ‘no’ to that, Tulip.” He grinned, “Thank you, by the way. I know your ulterior motives behind this dinner….and the weekly dinners you’re proposing.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Bubs.” You winked, knowing he was right. You were doing this on purpose. You wanted to give his friends, Phoenix specifically, a chance to see the real Jake more often. “Go shower, you smell like jet fuel. Then you can help me by keeping Gracie occupied while I cook.”

“Deal!” He said, handing Gracie to you and picking up his bag from where he’d dropped it, “Be right back Princess G, then we’ll play! Uncle Jakey will take you outside.”

You managed to get Gracie strapped into her booster seat to eat her banana while you got out everything you needed to get the sides going for dinner. You checked the meat, pulling the ribs from the oven and letting the cornbread muffins continue to bake.  By the time you were ready to start getting the ingredients out to coat the chicken with before frying, Jake was walking into the kitchen in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt.

“Brave to wear white when around Gracie.” You teased, “And barbecue sauce.”

“I love living on the edge,” He laughed, “What can I say?”

“While you’re outside, can you start the grill?” You asked, “The ribs need to go on to finish cooking.”

“Sure thing.” He replied, “Anything else I can do to help?”

“Just keeping Gracie entertained is a huge help.” You said, “Besides, this is your ‘thank you’ dinner. I’m not letting you help.”

He laughed, dropping a kiss on your head and getting Gracie from the booster. “Come on, Princess G. You can help me start the grill and we’ll play outside while Mommy works her magic in the kitchen.”

“Pway!!” She clapped, “Byebye Mommy!”

“Have fun, Sweetie.” You laughed, “Listen to Uncle Jakey.”

The two of them left the kitchen and you returned your attention to getting dinner ready. Once the muffins were done you set them to cool. You decided to add loaded smashed potatoes to the menu for the night, so you set potatoes on the stove to boil. Once they were done, you’d smash them onto a cooking sheet before loading them with cheese, bacon bits and chives and would bake them until the cheese melted. They were also one of Jake’s favorites. The two of you had done most of the cooking growing up. He’d loved it when you’d learned to cook, and had happily turned that task over to you.

“Hello?” You heard a voice from the front room.

“In here!” You called, continuing to move around the kitchen, preparing the dinner. You figured Jake’s friends knew to just come on in.

“Damn, it smells amazing in here.” Bradley said, stepping into the kitchen, holding a small bouquet of flowers. You felt warmth creep over your face and it had nothing to do with the stove being on.

“Hopefully it all tastes just as good.” You replied, smiling.

“I’m sure it will.” He said, then remembering the flowers, he blushed slightly, holding them out to you. “I brought these for you.”

“They’re beautiful, Bradley.” You replied, smiling as you gently took to flowers, “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome” He said, smiling back, “Didn’t want to come empty handed when you were gracious enough to invite us all for dinner. Thank you for saving me from my own cooking.”

“Jake said some of you cooked better than others.” You laughed, cutting the stems and placing the flowers into a pitcher as a makeshift vase. “I’m happy to cook for you all. You’ve been a huge help since I showed up on Jake’s doorstep, this is the least I can do. I also told him I’m making this a weekly thing, so whoever is available can come over and I’ll feed everyone.”

“You’re a goddess.” He declared, winking, “You should know that strays, when fed…keep coming back.”

“It’s a good thing then that I don’t mind picking up strays.” You laughed, opening the fridge. “Do you want a beer?”

“I’d love one, Y/N.” He replied, “Thank you.”

You handed him the beer, reaching back in to grab one for yourself. You popped the cap off the bottle and took a drink before setting it down on the counter.

“Can you do me a favor and run these out to Jake?”  You asked, picking up the platter of ribs, “They need to go on the grill.”

“Absolutely.” He replied, taking the platter and his beer and heading out to the backyard.

You took a deep breath, finding yourself smiling as you continued to prepare dinner.

Everyone started arriving after Bradley got there, including Mav who had graciously accepted the offer to not eat his own cooking as well. You’d managed to get the rest of the food prepared and set out on the counter so they could come through buffet style and pile food on their plates. You plated some of the food you knew Gracie would like and be able to eat on her plate, getting her set up at the table. Bob, Phoenix, Bradley, Jake and Mav sat around the table. Coyote, Fanboy and Payback sitting at the kitchen island with their food.

You sat down between Gracie and Bradley once everyone had their food and were settled.

“This. is. AMAZING, Y/N.” Coyote groaned in delight, digging into his meal. “I’ve died and gone to Heaven.”

“I will definitely have to run extra miles tomorrow,” Fanboy added, “Extra time in the gym for sure once I fill up on all of this.”

“Thank you for feeding me.” Bob said, “This is the best meal I’ve had since I was home last year for Christmas.”

“I’m glad you like it.” You smiled, heat creeping over your face at the praise. You weren’t really used to people complimenting your cooking. Trent had always complained it wasn’t good enough.

“I told y’all you were in for a treat.” Jake said, beaming at you, “Y/N offered to feed you heathens once a week. Dagger squad weekly dinner?”

“I am so here.” Phoenix said, “But Y/N, you are not cooking every week. That’s not fair to you.”

“I honestly don’t mind.” You shrugged, “I like cooking.”

“Well, we’ll at least help.” Bradley added, “Or order takeout occasionally to give you a break.”

“Ordering takeout defeats the purpose of a home cooked dinner night.” You laughed.

“OK then occasionally you let us grill or something so you’re not doing it all.” Bradley suggested, “I mean, we can pretty much all grill at least.”

“I suppose,” You acquiesced, “But only occasionally.”

“We’ll negotiate the frequency later.” Jake added, knowing how stubborn his little sister was. “Who’s up for the zoo tomorrow?”

“Zoo!” Gracie cheered, “Aminals?”

“Princess G has spoken.” Jake laughed, “Yea, baby girl, we’ll go see animals!”

“I’m in!” Bradley said, winking at Gracie, “Wanna see some lions and tigers, Princess?”

“Wions! Woaw!” Gracie clapped, giggling.

Everyone laughed at her imitation of a lion. You brushed her hair back from her face, dropping a kiss on her head. It made you heart melt to see your little girl happy and surrounded by people who loved her.  Jake, catching your gaze, offered a smile and a wink. He knew this was all still really new to you.

“I’d love to see some animals!” Bob added, “Can I come too, Gracie?”

“Yes!” Gracie said, causing everyone to laugh.

“Alright, then!” Jake said, “Dagger squad field trip to the zoo!”

After dinner you’re clearing away the leftovers, placing everything into containers and putting it in the fridge when Phoenix comes into the kitchen with Jake. You picked up a dishcloth and dunked it into the soapy dishwater to start the dishes.

“Put down the rag and step away from the dishes” Jake ordered, “Get yourself a drink and go sit down. Relax.”

“You cooked,” Phoenix said, “That means no kitchen clean up.”

“No arguments, Tulip.” Jake said, seeing you were about to protest. “Drink and go relax.”

“Yes, Sir.” You mock saluted him, then tossed a smile at Phoenix as you grabbed a beer and left the kitchen.

You walked into the living room to see Payback, Coyote, and Fanboy on the couch and floor playing a video game on the TV. Bradley, Mav and Bob were entertaining Gracie with all of her toys in the corner of the living room. You smiled as you watched the three grown men playing dolls with your toddler. You quickly pulled out your phone, snapping a picture before you made your way over to them.

“Mommy, pway too?” Gracie said, looking up from her toys. Bradley looked up, smiling at you, scotting over to give you room to join them all.

“Mommy would love to play, Gracie.” You replied, setting your beer down on the cabinet before dropping down to the floor to join the baby doll party.  “In the interest of full disclosure, I definitely snapped a picture of you three playing dolls with Gracie. I fully plan to add it to a picture show at her wedding someday.”

“Wow.” Mav laughed, “She’s already getting blackmail photos.”

“I for one am happy to contribute to happy memories for this cute little Princess.” Bob said, handing Gracie a princess doll.

“I will happily embarrass myself if it makes the two of you smile.” Bradley agreed, reaching over to ruffle Gracie’s hair.

“She is an amazing little girl, Y/N.” Mav said, “You’ve done a wonderful job with her. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, suddenly choked up. “You have no idea how much it means to hear that.”

Bradley reached over, gently squeezing your shoulder in comfort, offering a gentle smile.  

You let Gracie continue to play for a few more minutes until Jake and Phoenix were done in the kitchen. You smiled watching them laugh together over something as they walked into the living room to join the rest of the rest of the group.

Bradley leaned over so he could whisper, “I see your game plan, Little Seresin. Count me in.” He winked when you shot him a guilty smirk.

“Gracie girl, it’s bath time!” You told your daughter. “Tell everyone thank you for playing with you.”

She toddled over, hugging them one by one. When she got to Bradley, flashed him a big toothy grin. Your daughter had good taste in men, you had to admit. She was clearly taken with him. He hugged her tightly and dropped a kiss on her head before releasing her.

“Have fun, Princess.” He said, “Get squeaky clean!”

“Otay, Woosta!” She agreed, letting you lead her away.

“I’ll tuck you in and read you a book when you’re all clean, Princess G!” Jake promised his niece.

“Otay, Unco Jakey!” She said happily.

You got her into the bath, washing her hair and body before letting her play for a bit. She loved the water and bath time so you always hated to rush her.

While watching her scoop water with her toys, someone knocked on the door.

“It’s open!” You called. Phoenix poked her head in, smiling.

“Mind if I come in?” She asked

“Join the party!” You invited her. She opened the door further, stepping in.

“Thanks again for having us all over for dinner.” She said, “And for offering to put up with us all once a week to feed us.”

“It’s really no trouble at all” You promised, “I’m happy to have you all here. So is Jake. He might not admit it often or freely, but you all mean the world to him. He loves having you all here.”

“It’s nice to see him with Gracie…and with you.” She said, “He’s softer.”

“I hate to ruin his street cred but Jake’s always been a softy” You said, “He just had to develop a harder shell because of our parents.”

“I like the softer Jake….” She admitted, “Maybe too much. It’ll only end up complicating things.”

“I have a feeling it’s a whole lot less complicated than you think.” You said, “And for the record, I’m pretty positive that Jake likes you too.”

“Mommy, me done.” Gracie said, standing up in the tub.

“Ok, Sweet girl,” You said, “Let’s get you out and ready for bed.”

“I’m gonna head out, but I’ll see you tomorrow for the zoo.” Phoenix said, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

“Night!” Gracie said, smiling at her.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.” She said.

“Goodnight, Nat.” You smiled. You got Gracie out, wrapping her in a towel and carrying her to her room. You got her into her PJs and combed her hair, drying it as best you could with the towel. Tomorrow would be a pigtail day for sure.

You were getting her settled into her bed when Jake appeared in the room.

“My girl ready for me?” He asked.

“She’s all yours, Uncle Jakey.” You smiled. Before leaving the room you bent over and gave her baby girl a kiss, “Goodnight my little Angel. I love you. Sweet Dreams.”

“Wuv you Mommy.” She smiled back sweetly.

You picked up the wet towel and took it back to the bathroom, hanging it over the shower to dry before making your way back out the living room.  Everyone had left except for Bradley who was picking up the toys and placing them all back into the toybox in the corner.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You said, smiling as you popped down onto the oversized stuffed chair next to the couch. “Thank you, though.”

“It’s not a problem at all.” He replied, “It was just a few dolls and their accessories.”

“For someone so small, Gracie is a single toddler tornado some days.” You laughed, “Keeping up with her is a full time job in and of itself.”

“I can only imagine.” He replied, offering a smile as he lowered himself down onto the couch. “She’s great though. She naturally pulls you in. I swear she can make anyone fall in love with her in 5 seconds flat.”

“Apparently not her father.” You replied, sighing, “But pretty much everyone else yeah. She’s my whole world.”

“He’s a worthless bastard with no spine.” Bradley said, his voice taking on an angry edge to it. “He doesn’t deserve Gracie. Or you for that matter. He sure as fuck doesn’t deserve the title of ‘father’.”

“You’re very sweet, Bradley.” You smiled, “I’m kinda hoping that soon, he won’t be anything to either of us.”

“I hope so too.” He agreed. “You both deserve so much more, Y/N.”  

You felt butterflies take flight in your stomach at his words. It had been a long time since you’d felt those.

“Can I get you a drink?” You asked, trying to keep from being awkward, “There’s leftover dessert too if you would like some of that.”

“I should actually get going, but thank you.” He said, flashing a sincere smile your way, “Dinner really was amazing and I’m already looking forward to next week.”

“Let me know if you ever have any special requests.” You offered, “I’m always game to make new things.”

“I just might take you up on that.” He replied, “I’ll see you tomorrow for the zoo. Make sure to lock the door behind me, ok?”

“Be ready to chase after Gracie.” You teased, “She’s a handful. And I’ll lock it behind you.”

Jake came in shortly after Bradley had left. You were on the chair again, your head laid back on the cushion.

“She’s out.” He said, sitting on the end of the couch closest to you. “Thanks for tonight, Tulip. It was really nice having everyone over.”

“You’re welcome Jakey.” You replied, rolling your head to face him, too tired to pick it up off the back of the chair. “They’re a lot of fun. I like them.”

“You’ve definitely secured yourself a squad full of best friends now.” Jake chuckled, “How did it go with the lawyer? We haven’t had a chance to talk since I got home.”

“It went really well.” You reported, “She’s going to take the case and said she’d charge at a very discounted rate. She thinks I should file an order of protection too to be on the safe side and that any contact with him will go through her.”

“That’s amazing, Tulip!” He said , his whole face lighting up with a smile. “Did she give a timeline?”

“Not really. She’s going to get papers started to serve him.” You said, “She said he might start calling more or escalate once he’s served, which is also why she wants me to file an order of protection.”

“I fully support that.” Jake said, “I also wouldn’t put it past him to come out here, Tulip. We need to make sure you and Gracie are safe.”

“I don’t think he’d come all the way out here, Jakey.” You said, “His pride will be hurt but really I’m giving him what he wanted… to be free of my and Gracie.”

“Don’t underestimate him, Y/N.” Jake insisted, “I’ve heard the messages he’s left you and for me. I’ll feel better if we take precautions to keep you both safe.”

“I’ll be careful.” You promised, “I’m mostly with you anyway except for when you’re on base. Penny offered me a job today too. She said she needs someone to help with paperwork and the inventory side of things…I told her I need to work out childcare but I’d get back to her.”

“I can ask on base for recommendations for a sitter or daycare.” Jake offered, “Someone’s got to have good reliable sitters.”

“They can’t cost an arm and a leg though either.” You said, “Working just to pay daycare defeats the purpose.”

“I’ll ask around.” Jake said, “In the meantime, you are well past exhausted. Go get some sleep, Tulip. We’ve got a big day at the zoo ahead of us.”

“You’re right.” You replied, stretching as you got up. “Goodnight Jakey. I love you.”

“I love you too, Tulip.” He answered, “Sweet dreams.”

After you headed to your room, Jake checked all of the doors, making sure they were locked, before he turned out the lights and found his way to his own bed.

A/N:  Hoping you all are liking this series so far! Please let me know your thoughts! 

Taglist: @gracespicybradshaw​ @awesomebooklover17, @bethabear12, @krismdavis, @mygyn, @ayniebop, @hisredheadedgoddess28, @jstarr86, @cherrycola27, @harrysgothicbitch @caidi-paris 

[anavatazes]

Learn to be a Texas Southern, From Austin.

Ok. First of all, I love you all. I truly do. I adore my fan fic writers, especially if you write my Joel crack... um, stories. *cough* The man keeps me in a bear hug and refuses to let go. Not that I am complaining ;).

BUT, for the LOVE of all that is holy and good and Joel, STOP using any American TV show or movie for reference to how things are in Texas as far as the food, the way they talk, the way the weather is, how and what a BBQ is, and I swear if I see another one with snow...

Like I said, I love you all. Yes, fan fiction is fantasy. You can write what you want. How you want. That's what is so great and wonderful about it. Get creative, get wild. Go crazy! But don't sit there and act like you do your research and are an accurate little miss that can do no wrong. Nuh-uh. I will find a slew of little old ladies that will Bless Your Hearts from here to Oblivion if you call Ribs with BBQ sauce proper BBQ in Texas. Believe you me. Every State in the Union has their own form of BBQ, and in the Southern States, it's a fucking religion akin to College Football and Jesus.

American TV and movies are pretty generic when it comes to the accuracy of our own culture and will take great liberties when trying to pass off one area for another. This includes accents, ways people speak, and how the areas they are in truly are. I touched on this briefly when I went over the whole Bless Your Heart phrase and how it does not mean what you think it means and it can get pretty offensive quick. American TV likes to go for the shock value, and the drama more than it likes to go for the accuracy and really doesn't care who it offends in the process. And older shows, like Dallas, Southerners don't talk like that anymore. Except maybe a few left in Kentucky... Maybe. Watch play-throughs of the games if you want a feel for how Joel speaks. Especially the first one. Stay away from the second one if you are trying to avoid season 2 spoilers for the show.

No Outbreak!/Pre-Outbreak!Joel will spend Saturday mornings with Sarah hiking. And there are next to no hills (unless man-made) in Austin. It's all flatland. No mountains. A few rivers, and Lake Travis isn't far away. A lot of trails all around Austin from 1999 to 2013, depending on when you wanted to have Outbreak Day if you wanted it at all. They'd probably go to one of a trillion restaurants in Austin for lunch, depending on their taste. It is canon that Joel can't cook. Tommy, Ellie, AND Sarah all bring it up in Pt. 1 and Pt. 2, if you know where to look. I would say one of their favorite places would be Home Slice for some great pizza. Or maybe even Torchies for a wide variety of tasty Tex-Mex food. Maybe even pick up some Brisket (Texas BBQ) to take home to get ready for an afternoon spent watching the University of Texas football game on the TV, if we're in August to January. Honestly, May through the beginning of October, they probably aren't doing too much hiking. The temperature of 100° plus (in Fahrenheit) is all the rage at this time. And you might have high humidity one day, with non-stop thunderstorms that might seem like a hurricane, and can spawn a tornado, but really isn't a hurricane. Then the next day, be the dryest heat that you've ever experienced in your life. Though, from what I've heard, the latter rarely happens now. More humid days are common now.

Texas BBQ.

If you are ever in the Southern United States, do yourself a favor, and just do not call anything related to the grill BBQ, ok. You will be better off and have a nicer visit, and life overall. If you like to live dangerously, go ahead and call the grill a BBQ. Call a cookout a BBQ. Go ahead. I'll wait. I'll have the tissues ready and waiting for the passive-aggressive politeness from the ladies and the open hostility from the not-so-gentlemen. You have a Cookout, or you Grill out. A BBQ is a way of life and means something different in each state (and will start a war in North Carolina because they are so special, they have two kinds of BBQ). Most everyone in (at least the South) can agree that BBQ food is some sort of slow cooked meat. In Texas, almost 99% of the population agrees it's Brisket, and the rest are wrong. (That's another Southern thing, they are right, and everyone else is just wrong. Drives me nuts when they use it in an argument). Now, they will have different ways of preparing it, and they will have fights over it (have witnessed several), but they all agree on Brisket.

Being close to the Mexican border and Texas' history as a part of Mexico once upon a time means that there is a heavy Mexican influence in Austin. As much as Texas likes to claim to be white bread, it really isn't. From the food to the people to the names of streets, cities, etc, there is a heavy Mexican influence. The idea that, somewhere, that Joel and Tommy have Latino blood is not far-fetched. Especially on the show. At the very least they would have a basic understanding of Spanish. That is being from Austin, regardless if they share any Mexican heritage or not.

Politeness and the True Southern Gentlemen.

I hate to break it to you, but there is no such thing as the great Southern Politeness and Hospitality. In fact, if a guy comes up to me and says he's a True Southern Gentleman, I'm running the other way. That "Gentleman" is 9/10 times a walking sexual assault case. This is not to say there are no nic+e and polite people in the South, but it is no different from any other place in the US. But, I will tell you, from the upper middle class on up, they can be some of the most passive-aggressive mother fuckers you will ever meet. From the Mid-Middle Class on down, the more hospitable they will be, and they fit the stereotype the upper class has somehow gotten. It's a mess.

Religion

Not everyone in the South is Christian, or devout, but will say a phrase that will make you think they are. I touched on this in my Bless Your Heart post. As God as my Witness, Good Lord Willin', Christ Almighty, and others are common phrases you will hear in the South. It DOES NOT mean the speaker is religious by any means. Trust me.

That's all I have for now. I could go on, as there is more. And please remember, fan fiction is fantasy, it's creative. Write what you want. This is just to help out those who are looking for more accuracy. And as it has been a while since Austin for me, and you are from Texas, and more specifically Austin, and you wish to add more info, and/or correct anything, feel free, please. There are a lot of differences among the Southern States, and it can be a pain to keep it all straight. So I have no problem in receiving help to keep in all in line :).

[autistic-writer-angel]

OCtober Day 1

Prompt: Voyage

Words: 455

Canon to my other stories: Yes

Additional notes: This one takes place before Angel meets the Octonauts.

Credit to @apromptingwewillgo for the prompts.

The Voyage of the Damned.

The phrase sprang into Angel’s mind randomly. Where had she heard it before?

Oh, that was right! It was the name of a Doctor Who episode. Her dad and older siblings watched Doctor Who all the time. She’d watched it too for a little while, but she hadn’t seen this particular episode. She just remembered the title.

The phrase sure was appropriate, though.

*****

The boat pulled away from the dock, in the suburbs of Melbourne, Australia.

“We’re off, guys!” Angel’s mother, Sally, announced. “To the South Pacific!”

Angel and her three siblings watched as the dock and the town behind it get smaller and smaller. They smiled and waved to the people on land, even though they didn’t know any of them. Some people returned the gesture.

“Just smile and wave, boys”, Angel’s eleven-year-old brother, Benji, quoted Madagascar. “Smile and wave!”

“Are we there yet?” Angel joked the second they were out of the dock.

Sally laughed. “It’s going to be a long trip, but we’ll see some amazing things. In Australia and maybe a few other countries too.”

That sounded very cool to Angel. She had always wanted to travel the world. So far, she’d only been to England, Australia and the United States (Florida, to be specific).

In fact, she’d done the least travelling of any member of her family: Grace had also been to France and Portugal; Benji had had an additional trip to America (to Texas) and Skylar had also been to Germany. Although, her dad had made it up to her by taking her to London for the day (and at least she remembered that; Benji didn’t remember Texas and Skylar didn’t remember Germany). She was excited to add some more countries to her tally.

Just two days ago, she had opened up a fortune cookie that had told her she would go on a long trip to exotic places. That sounded promising! (She’d already known about this trip, but took that fortune as a sign that they would definitely cross international borders!)

“I can’t wait, Mum!” the ten-year-old declared sincerely.

Sally beamed, thinking that this was a refreshing change. Angel had been less than enthusiastic about their previous family holiday: a road trip to Sydney and Canberra.

Angel had wondered why they couldn’t fly to Sydney, instead of drive, but her parents had wanted the chance to see Australia.

Now, she still would have preferred to fly, but the boat would be almost as good. Plus, this way, she didn’t have to miss her home and her bed.

This is going to be the best holiday ever! the ten-year-old thought excitedly as they set out on their voyage.

But oh, how wrong she was!

[gremlins-hotel]

After driving about 8-9 hours yesterday, man I had some thoughts.

Do you ever look at the names on the billboards and highway signs you pass by? The people of the small blink-and-you-miss towns that in the mind of a driver only seem to serve the purpose of breaking up the monotony of the road. Names that if you were to search them would most likely bring up no results except for an obituary and a grave marker. Who were they to those towns, who were they to their families and the people around them that wrote about them, what made them so beloved so as to rename the streets or have a sign made in their honor?

And as your tires eat away at the miles and the minutes do you ever gaze out at the roadside and wonder how it came to look that way? I can sit and know and tell myself that yes, Texas was once part of the seabed of the Western Interior Seaway, which split North America in two, and that is why we have so much limestone and why our elevation is so low. Why we have the Edwards Aquifer as we were molded into a bed of karst at the tail end of the Great Plains. But what specific current made it so that we were perfectly hilly as you reach the Edwards Plateau? And how goofy must we look as you go from the tall, straight pines and forests of the Eastern Woodlands to the yawning deserts several hours west, having to cross through every biome in between. What winds and rivers and floods and storms shaped my seabed home into the geographical crossroads that it now occupies?

Do you ever think too much on how that influenced the way people lived when they came to live in those places? In all of Texas’ rivers it brings the alluvial floodplains that would later feed crops, then commercial farms as the course of history took. The draws formed by rains and that were used to hunt bison that would also one day break hooves and ankles in the age of the cattle trails. Who knew mesquite had so many uses? And though so many of them lay still and dormant half the time, the fact that we have enough wind for people to sport the great twisting turbines in an effort to try and be green.

I know I’ve never gotten to really travel outside the United States but honestly I wonder how I could answer these same questions if I did. What would I find if I looked long and far? And even driving through my home country, they still stand. What of the ontogeny of the Appalachians? The windward caress of the Rockies that made the Pacific Northwest? The evidential meteor that may have influenced the Chesapeake?

[exhuastedpigeon]

Han's far too long "I got covid for the first time and haven't felt the house in 6 days Buddie fic rec list"

This rec list is a combo of fics I read for the first time in the last week & fics I reread because they're wonderful and I needed comfort through my fever.

Break Glass in Case of Emergency by Beforeastorm 2,894 words || teen

Eddie’s mind wandered to the red folder, tucked high up in the back of his closet. He recalled back to a conversation he had with Buck, almost a year ago at this point: “It’s an insurance policy; a break glass in case of emergency. A trump card.” “One I really hope we’ll never have to use.” “But if we have to, we’ll be really glad we did this.” When hospital policy doesn't allow Chris, as an unrelated minor, to visit a comatose post-lightning strike Buck in the ICU, Eddie has a solution. Unfortunately, that involves sharing some pretty personal information in a waiting room filled with the 118.

Relationship Advice from Complete Strangers Online by HMSLusitania 3,964 words || Teen

When he gets home for the night, Buck turns to the one source of information that’s never let him down: the internet. He gets as far as opening his laptop and pulling up a web browser, and then he stalls. His homepage, for years now, has been Wikipedia. He doesn’t know how exactly he’s supposed to wiki-search “Is my best friend into me.” It’s not like he really does social media, either. Ever since he bailed on dating apps, he’s sort of tried to avoid other people online. He likes people in real spaces so much more. But where does one go for relationship advice from complete strangers online? Which is how, ten minutes later, he finds himself on Reddit with a shiny new account and username. It takes him a while after that to craft his question for r/Relationships, but he thinks he’s got it pretty accurately conveyed before he hits post. Hi, I’ve never made a Reddit post before and I’m not 100% sure what I’m doing but I need advice and can’t ask anyone in my real life. So, I [30M] have this best friend [34M]…

i got all my sisters with me by ipretendtobesane 6,766 words || teen This fic is so fucking soft and sweet. It quickly joined the ranks of my favourite Buddie fics I've ever read.

Soph to Eddie Hate Club: Hey guys! This is Alex, Sophia’s been a little out of it since Nina was born (she’s doing great, just in some pain and y’all know how weirdly woozy she gets on medicine). Combine that with a lack of sleep, and…well Y’all get it. Anyway, Soph and I wanted to host you guys next weekend. Adriana to Eddie Hate Club: YES I’m packing my bags right now Eddie to Eddie Hate Club: Are Buck and Chris invited? Soph to Eddie Hate Club: I will take any excuse to see that man up close and personal “Hey, Buck?” “Hmm.” “What do you say about a trip to Texas?” (or, eddie's sister has a baby, buck meets the diaz girls, and they're sickeningly in love for nearly seven thousand words)

knock on your door, just like before by rowan_wood 7,513 words || teen

“Here,” Buck had said, practically shoving his phone at Eddie once Eddie had said hello to both Buck and Chris and settled into a chair at the dining table, “I wrote down everything so I wouldn’t forget.” Eddie looked curiously at the screen to find Buck’s note app open to a long, long list of messages. There was a grocery list of things he needed at the top, but it soon devolved into any thing or thought that Buck had while Eddie was gone that he, apparently, wanted to tell him.  or: whenever Eddie's away, Buck writes him a new note, and Eddie pines.

you can start a family who will always show you love by fleetinghearts 8,185 words || Teen

“Yeah, yeah, he’s—he’s my kid, he’s my kid,” Buck tells her, tripping over his words in the effort to get this whole process to hurry the fuck up so he can see Chris. There’s the sound of something hitting the floor from behind him, followed by what might be plastic bouncing off the shiny hospital tiles. The person at the desk looks up in surprise, over Buck’s shoulder, and he turns to look too. Eddie’s standing there, Styrofoam cup rolling at his feet, coffee splattered all down the bottom of his faded blue jeans. The plastic lid of the cup skitters over the tile before coming to a stop a few feet away. He looks like someone punched him in the gut, absolutely shellshocked, something Buck can’t quite read behind the startled expression on his face. or, buck's looking for something, and the diazes let him know he already has it

still by brewrosemilk 9,368 words || teen This fic actually ruined me. I full on sobbed reading it.

For the first time, Buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. Dirt to dig at. A door to break through. Something. There’s nothing. “Your guess was correct, Diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “You’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. Don’t shift. When you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it."  Inspired by Castle, S05E22: Still

brick by spqr 10,154 words || explicit 

The first thing Buck noticed when he walked through the door was the smell of plaster and wet paint. There was a white spot on the wall in the living room, primered but without any color yet, about the size of a man’s fist. Eddie looked sheepish. His knuckles were still bruised, scabbed over but healing. “You were in a coma,” was all he said. “Yeah,” Buck agreed. He knew the feeling.

things you don't say reach me somehow anyway by sibylsleaves 14,279 words || Teen

He writes CHRISTOPHER at the top of the page in capital letters. Underneath it goes BUCK. Then PEPA, CARLA, CHIM, HEN and so on until he has fifteen names listed out. Fifteen people to show his appreciation for. He starts with the easiest name first. or, Eddie tells the family he chose how much they mean to him. All of them except one.

let's build this house (into a home, baby) by withmeornotatall 24,478 words || explicit 

This fic is so good. Different first meeting, but the same wonderful friendship. Christopher is a national treasure. It's a prefect fic.

"Hey, buddy!" he calls out with a grin. "Did you know that octopuses actually is the correct plural form of octopus not octopi?" "Cool." Chris smiles, but it fades just as soon as it appears. Buck dog-ears his page and sets his book down. "Everything okay?" he asks carefully, crossing to the fence. "Yeah, I'm just hungry." Christopher sighs. "Dad burnt dinner. Again." Buck glances through his open back door to the dining table with three mismatched chairs, and bites his lip. He's got no excuse today, the evening sun leaving him lethargic but not exhausted, the hour reasonable. "Hey, I've got an idea." Buck winks at Christopher. "Stay there, okay?" Buck grabs his beer, book and folding chair, setting them just inside the entrance. He makes his way to the front door, stopping at the hallway mirror to fix his curls into something a little more presentable, and walks the few yards down their adjoined porch to Christopher's door. With a deep breath, he raises his hand and knocks. The door swings open a few seconds later, and Buck's mouth goes dry at the sight that greets him (OR: the buddie neighbours au no one asked for)

i see you in my sheets (i see you in my sleep) by elless 24,981 words || explicit 

Eddie kisses him in the kitchen. Bright morning sunshine spills in the window over the sink, picking out the golden flecks in Eddie’s eyes. He cradles Buck’s jaw with one warm palm, and Buck freezes for a moment, startled, before surging against Eddie. He’s still holding a hot mug of coffee that he barely fumbles onto the counter without dropping or spilling all over his shirt. He rakes his fingers into Eddie’s hair and reels him in closer, Eddie’s firm thigh slotted between his. “Eddie,” he pants as Eddie scrapes his teeth down his throat and sucks on the spot over his racing pulse. Eddie hums as he rucks Buck’ve done just about everything else two people can do together; maybe this was always inevitable. OR Buck and Eddie are FWB, act like boyfriends, and are suuuuper dumb and oblivious about everything.

in the night we trust by glorious_spoon 29,220 words || teen

It feels new, and good, and not just because it’s been so damn long since anyone has touched Eddie like this. It’s just—it’s Buck. Of course this is something they know how to do together. They’ve done just about everything else two people can do together; maybe this was always inevitable. - Or: Eddie and Buck start sleeping together when they're all stuck at Buck's place during lockdown. It still takes them almost three years to notice that they're in love.

The Heart Opening Sequence by Leslie_Knope 34,035 words || mature

Eddie’s handsome, that’s obvious, Buck clocked that the second he met him. Part of him still can’t really believe that the guy he was so threatened by at first ended up as his closest friend, which is why these weird twinges are so unsettling. Buck isn’t sure if they’re real, for one, these odd flashes of what it would be like to lean over and kiss Eddie while they’re watching a movie or brush a hand over his back while they’re in the kitchen. And for two, it’s so far out of the realm of possibility that it’s barely worth thinking about.

must be some kind of twist, I could get used to this by soyxunxperdedor 38,753 words || explicit  THIS FIC!!! Accidentally married in vegas??? SIGN ME UP

He doesn’t remember much from last night, even less after the fourth or fifth tequila shot. So he certainly doesn’t remember bringing someone back to his room. He steels himself for the lancing pain and cracks his eyes open. Oh. Oh no. This is either really bad or… Well, not really good, but just. Not really bad, and that’s probably all Buck can ask for it to be. Because Eddie is in his bed, Eddie’s arm is wrapped around his waist, Eddie’s legs are tangled with his. And he has no idea why.

let the world have its way with you by fleetinghearts 54,477 words || explicit  This is the best post lightening strike long form fic I've read. It doesn't gloss over Buck dying/feeling different and instead shows Eddie (and Chris) helping Buck embrace his feelings and grow together. 15/10

“It’s just that—I died,” Buck continues, voice unsteady enough that Eddie wonders if this is the first time he’s acknowledged that out loud. “I died, and there’s so much more. There’s so much more I want to do, things I don’t even know I want to do yet, and I almost had the chance to have and live them taken away. I don’t want to die and regret missing out on everything else, Eddie.” “So let’s make a list,” Eddie says. “Let’s do them.” or, a bucket list that’s really about buck needing to make a change and an eddie who’s ready to do anything to see him fall in love with life again. it takes some crossing off for eddie to realise—the thing at the top of the list in his own heart? it’s been right here all along

a body, a knife, hold steady by bvckandeddie (zukkababey) 67,425 words || mature I'm a slut for a Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU and this one is one of the best I've read.

Bogotá wasn’t Buck’s first international mission—Peru held that title—but it changed just about everything. Because Bogotá was where he met Eddie. Or, Buck and Eddie meet, fall in love, build a life together, and discover they're rival assassins—exactly in that order.

wishing to be the friction by ipretendtobesane 97,200 words || explicit 

Buck and Eddie are straight best friends who start having no strings attached sex. Eddie has a hard time having sex with someone he doesn't trust, and Buck's tired of hookups after being with Abby. Besides, they're both comfortable with their sexuality, and there's nothing wrong with giving your friend a hand. What's surprising is how long it took them to fall into bed together, really. What's entirely unsurprising is how quickly strings start getting attached. or; the straight eddie friends with benefits fic