#she hangs up after I tell her and sends a text accusing me of prank calling her and that I should’ve ‘at least made my number private’

[sunny-daysss]

Why are people so mean for no reason :/

[spnirwin]

#14 with Buck or Eddie please!!!

Prompt request: #14 - “They’re so cute when they’re asleep.”

Pairing: Buck x reader

Word Count: 1,949

Warnings: Mild language

A/N: Most of you will probably read the prompt and think kids, but that is NOT the direction I took this in. Enjoy! Requests are open!

—

You had a terrible habit of rubbing your face as soon as you woke up. Clearly Buck knew that very well, for you currently found yourself with your face and both hands covered in whipped cream. You had unknowingly rubbed whipped cream all over your face and boy, were you mad.

“Evan Buckley!” you shouted.

“Yes darling?” Buck’s head appeared in the doorway of your shared bedroom. “Oh dear. You seem to have something on your face.”

He faked confusion as you glared daggers at him. “You are so going to pay for this.”

He couldn’t hold a straight face any longer and dissolved into laughter. “Oh, I look forward to it.”

He tossed a towel at you, still laughing. As you wiped your face you let him laugh, knowing he was completely unaware that there was a surprise waiting for him in the kitchen. You had swapped all the sugar in the jar for salt. His coffee would have a very different taste that morning.

You and Buck were currently locked in an intense prank war, one that didn’t look like it would be ending anytime soon. It had all begun a few days prior when Buck had decided to try one of those Tik Tok pranks on you. You had been sitting on the couch watching TV when he sat down beside you, post workout, drinking a bottle of water. He began asking you the sounds that a bunch of different animals make while he took sips from the bottle. Puzzled, you answered all of his questions until he asked you the sound that a whale makes. Before you even had a chance to respond he had spit water in your face, effectively soaking you. From that moment on you were battling each other, the pranks getting worse each time.

“What the hell?!” You heard the exclamation from the kitchen and smiled to yourself. Salt in his coffee was the least of Buck’s worries with all the pranks you had planned for him.

—

The next few days passed in a blur of pranks, fake anger, and laughter. You and Buck were having way too much fun with your prank war and it seemed there was no end in sight.

After the coffee incident, Buck had twisted a hair tie around the sprayer in the kitchen sink so that when you turned on the faucet you got a face full of water. You had retaliated by replacing the filling in a bunch of Oreos with toothpaste. Seeing the look on Buck’s face when he bit into his favorite snack and found that it had been tampered with had practically left you on the floor in a fit of laughter.

When you walked out of your bedroom one morning you found Buck slipping out of your office. You were fortunate enough to work from home, but Buck rarely ever went into your office without you there and you were immediately suspicious. After sending him off to work you spent 20 minutes searching but didn’t find anything that indicated a prank. Relaxing, you decided to begin your workday. As soon as you sat down in your chair you realized what Buck had been doing in there. You shot up immediately at the sound of the air horn blasting underneath you. To say it scared you was an understatement, and you knew you had entered a whole new league of pranks.

Unbeknownst to you, over at the 118 Buck was howling with laughter. He had rigged up a camera in your office that was live-streaming to his phone so he saw the exact moment you sat down in your chair.

“Eddie, you have to watch this!” He ran across the apparatus floor to where Eddie was hitting the punching bag.

Buck replayed the video and Eddie started laughing at your reaction to the air horn. “I’m so glad it worked. That was next level, man.” They high fived, both still laughing.

“Does Y/N know who the true mastermind behind these pranks is?” Hen asked, passing by.

“Nope,” Buck replied. “And there’s no reason she needs to find out.”

He and Eddie exchanged a secretive look and Hen sighed, shaking her head as she walked away.

—

Buck’s scream echoed throughout the apartment, and you were almost positive it could be heard at the café across the street. You leaned against the bathroom door for support as you hysterically laughed at the bewildered look on Buck’s face. He was clutching his chest and staring at the toilet seat, mouth hanging open.

“What just happened?” he asked, breathless.

Trying to catch your own breath, you walked over and lifted the toilet seat. Hidden underneath were six little poppers that had gone off like fireworks when he sat down on the toilet.

He shook his head at you, clearly impressed. “Okay, I’ll admit, that was a good one. You really got me.”

“You should’ve seen your face! You looked like you had just died and come back to life.” You giggled at him and he smiled.

“You should feel how fast my heart is beating, I think I just had a heart attack.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics but reached out and placed your hand on his chest anyway, his heart beating a mile a minute underneath your fingers. He pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you.

“When are we going to call this quits?” he whispered.

“Dunno,” you replied. “Depends on when you give up.” You looked up at him to find him already smiling down at you.

He shook his head at you again. “Sometimes you’re too stubborn for your own good.”

You raised your eyebrows as you pulled away from him. “Yeah, and you cheat.”

“What are you talking about?” He was trying desperately to keep his voice innocent and it wasn’t working.

“You aren’t a very quiet whisperer, nor are you good at making sneaky phone calls,” you laughed. “Tell Eddie I’m coming for him next.” You turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving Buck alone again.

He stared at the empty doorway for a minute before sending a hasty text to Eddie.

—

You snuck into the 118 through a side door, almost tripping over an unseen object in the darkness. It was 1:30 AM and you were about to pull off your grandest prank yet.

“Hen?” you whispered.

“You know, you didn’t have to sneak in here like a thief.” The light above you flicked on and you saw Hen standing in front of you. “They’re both asleep. Come on.”

She opened the door behind her and you stepped onto the apparatus floor. You quickly followed her up the stairs where you found Chimney and Bobby sitting on the couch waiting for you. Setting your bag down, you greeted both of them quickly.

“Thanks for helping me out with this, guys.”

“No problem,” Bobby replied. “Just tell us where you want us.”

“Yeah, they’ve done you dirty the past week, girl,” Hen said. “It’s the least we can do.”

Chimney stood and rubbed his hands together. “I’m just excited to actually see them scared for once.”

You laughed and began pulling objects out of your duffle bag. “Do you have the PVC pipes?” you asked Chimney.

“Sure do!” He motioned towards the closet off of the kitchen.

“Perfect.” You began directing the three of them on how to construct the idea you had planned for Buck and Eddie. When you finished everyone began moving, fitting pieces of pipe together in an intricate shape.

“Are you sure they won’t wake up?” Bobby paused his work, a concerned look on his face.

“Oh no, Buck sleeps like he’s dead. The only thing that wakes him up is the sound of the station getting a call or me whacking him. And I happen to have insider information that Eddie is pretty much the same way.”

Bobby nodded his head before continuing his work. Before long the four of you were carrying pieces of PVC pipe down the stairs and into the bunk room. Quietly, you began erecting the pipes into a maze above and throughout Buck and Eddie’s cube. The gaps between the pieces of PVC were just large enough for them to be able to squeeze through if they were determined enough.

When you were finished the four of you stood back and admired your handiwork. Hen patted you on the back and Chimney once again rubbed his hands together with glee.

“They’re so cute when they’re asleep,” you sighed quietly. “I almost feel bad.”

“Don’t,” Chimney whispered in response.

Bobby raised his eyebrows at you and you nodded back at him in response. He turned slightly away and, like magic, the station alarm went off signaling a should be call.

Both Buck and Eddie shot up in bed, slipped their feet in their shoes, and stood up in one swift motion. The act of standing put pressure on the poppers you had taped to the bottom of their shoes and you were greeted with the loud sound of them exploding for the second time that day. Eddie stumbled backwards and Buck fell directly back onto his bed in response.

You watched as both men shook their sleepiness off and quickly realized what was happening. They looked around in bewilderment at the giant PVC pipe maze you had constructed around them. Buck turned and met your eyes, a look of disbelief on his face. Eddie was already analyzing the maze, trying to figure out an escape plan.

“Good luck boys!” You waved at them before turning and walking out of the bunk room.

Ten minutes later Hen, Chimney, and Bobby joined you on the couch upstairs. All three of them were laughing and Hen held out her phone for you to take.

“You have to watch the video I took of those two idiots. Your boyfriend almost got himself stuck on his head. Eddie had to pull him backwards by his legs.”

You took her phone and watched the video, dissolving into a laughing fit at the way they were attempting to escape from the maze.

“So, bets on how long it takes them?” Chimney asked. Everyone threw out their guesses of time, the answers varying wildly from one another.

42 minutes later Buck and Eddie trudged up the last steps into the kitchen, clearly exhausted. They collapsed into the closest chairs.

Eddie pointed an accusing finger at you and narrowed his eyes. “You’re an evil mastermind.”

“How did you even pull that off?” Buck asked.

“I had some assistance.” You gestured around you to the other three people in the room. “I figured you had help, why shouldn’t I employ some too?”

“Well, you all suck.” Buck said, half heartedly.

You stood and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Aw, don’t pout. Just admit that I won.” You shot him a small smile and he nodded his head.

“Oh, I’ll definitely admit defeat after that one.”

“Me too,” Eddie piped up from beside you.

“So, no more pranks?” You raised your eyebrows at them in slight disbelief.

“No more pranks,” Buck agreed.

“Good, I can’t wait for life to go back to normal. This is exhausting.”

“You’re telling me.” Buck huffed out a laugh.

You smiled at him again and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I started it after all.” He lifted your arm up in the air in a gesture of victory. “All hail the prank queen!” he shouted. Everyone echoed him with shouts of their own and you beamed, prouder of yourself than you had been in a long time.

—

[spn-safeandsound]

12. Long Distance

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x17; Hell House

Word Count: 7,182

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, sisterly antics

Author’s Note: Enjoy! Let me know what you think! Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlink in Pinned Post!

Julia anxiously watched the printer in Beth and Taylor's study, her lips quirking into a smile as the professional cursive was inked onto the expensive paper that Beth insist she get for her diploma. She had finally graduated from Stanford and, although she didn't get to attend graduation, she was very proud of herself. Her double major in Religion and Linguistics had been received simply because she was too meticulous and stubborn to let her education go waste.

But now that education was over and she couldn't lie and say she wasn't happy about it.  Sixteen years in school was a long time—even though she went two years less than other people she graduated with—and she was glad that part of her life was over. She just wished that her mom and Levi were still here to witness this. Still, she knew they were watching up in Heaven and that was the best she was going to get.

Once the printer spit out her diploma, she carefully set it on Beth's desk so the ink could dry without any smudges. She was just taking a seat in the desk chair where her open laptop was sitting so she could continue working on the case she found for Sam and Dean down in Texas when her cellphone rang.

She wasn't surprised that it was Dean; he had been calling her every couple of hours to check up on her. He wasn't happy that she didn't want to hit the road just yet after Levi's death but he understood and was supportive anyway. He just made sure she knew that he and Sam would check up on her and the rest of the Petersen family. That was sweet and everything and Julia appreciated how supportive the Winchester brothers were being but sometimes there was such a thing as too many calls. She couldn't believe that Dean accused her of talking too much.

Beth and Abby thought it was the cutest thing ever when she'd have to leave the room to talk to Sam and Dean—though it was mostly Dean as she and Sam communicated through a text thread—and not return for a half-hour. Beth and Abby weren't the ones who had to assure a very worried Dean every couple of minutes that they were safe and feeling a little bit better. Usually Julia was the mother-hen but, apparently, in her absence, Dean took up the title.

Julia sighed and flipped her phone open. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Dean."

"Yeah, I know," Julia rolled her eyes, glad that he couldn't see the obvious look on her face. "What's up?"

"Well, Sam just woke up with a spoon in his mouth," Dean chuckled, sounding satisfied with himself. "and I took a picture to send to you."

"Yeah, it's real funny, Dean," Sam grumbled.

Julia shook her head in amusement; Sam and Dean's prank wars were always a hit with Dean, even if Sam didn't enjoy them as much as his older brother.

"Where are you guys?"

"A few hours outside of Richardson," Dean answered her. "Give me the low down on this case you found."

"Okay," Julia pressed the space button on her laptop, waking it up, and clicked on the folder of information she collected. "About two months ago, a group of kids went poking around a local haunted house."

"Haunted by what?" Sam wondered.

"A misogynistic spirit, I guess. Like we need any more of those in the world," she hummed in disapproval; Sam chuckled in agreement. "Anyway, the legend goes that it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters."

"Okay, so what happened with this group of kids?" Dean said, getting her back on track.

"They saw a dead girl hanging in the cellar."

"Anybody ID the corpse?"

"The body was gone by the time the cops got there," Julia clicked on the police report in the file. "The police think that the kids were playing a joke on them."

"Maybe the cops were right," Sam suggested.

"They could be but I've read some of the first-hand accounts from the kids involved," Julia sighed. "They seemed pretty sincere about the whole thing."

Dean sounded skeptical when he spoke next. "And where did you read these accounts, Junior?"

Julia took a beat, glad that he couldn't see the flush rising in her face. "I might have surfed through some local paranormal websites."

"Mmhm," she could hear Dean's disapproval even though he hummed. "and what's it called?"

Julia sighed as she read the website from the file, "Hell hounds lair dot-com," she heard Sam laugh. "Hey, it could be legit!"

"Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit them in the ass, Julia," Dean sighed.

"Hey, you wanted a case, I delivered," Julia defended herself. "If it's nothing, that's fine, but it doesn't hurt to check it out."

"Especially since we let Dad and Luke take off," Sam backed up Julia.

Julia frowned, still bitter about that. She wasn't mad at Dean and Sam by any means. No, she was angry with her dad. He didn't come when Julia was dying or when Levi actually died but he was fine following John Winchester to Chicago just to see the failed trap the girl who killed Levi set up for them.

It wasn't like his daughters were only a half-hour away, mourning the loss of their older brother or anything. It wasn't like his only son was killed.

"Fine," Dean gave in when he heard Julia's silence. He had been the one to tell her that they saw Luke with their dad and it was heartbreaking to see the expression on her face. He hoped he'd never let her down like Luke did. "We'll check it out. How have you been doing, shortcake?"

"I'm fine," Julia twisted her lips. "I got my diploma today."

"Wait, are you serious?" Sam exclaimed. "That's great, J! Congratulations!"

"I'm proud of you, Julia," Dean added sincerely.

"Thanks, guys," Julia's chest swelled with love. She was so glad that Sam and Dean Winchester were in her life.

"Send me a picture."

"I will," she agreed to Sam's request. "Well, I'll let you go—"

"Wait, wait," Dean stopped her from hanging up. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Dean..."

"I mean, you can talk to us."

Julia quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't do chick-flick moments?"

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, well..." he changed the subject. "How many times have you watched Dirty Dancing since we left?"

Julia hesitated; Dirty Dancing was her go-to movie to watch whenever she was sad. It was her mother's favorite movie and Julia grew up watching it a lot. She absolutely adored Patrick Swayze, the dancing, the music, and the love story that made up the film. It made her happier.

"Jules?"

"I've watched it every night, okay?" she confessed. "Leave me alone, I'm delicate."

"All right, all right," Dean gave in; Julia could tell that he was worried about her and that was sweet but watching that movie was her coping mechanism and it hadn't let her down so far. "We'll talk later, shortcake. Stay safe."

"I will," she promised. "You guys be safe, too. Love you."

"Love ya, too, J," Sam called. "Bye."

"Bye."

Julia closed her phone and set it down on the desk beside her laptop. She pulled up her internet browser and started doing more research for the case, hoping that any information she pulled would help the brothers out.

-

Dean and Sam walked into the record shop, looking around for the guy that the witnesses said sent them to the house where they saw the dead girl. As they passed by the first table full of records, a worker came out from the back with his hands full of more merchandise to put away.

"Gentlemen, can I help you with anything?" he asked them.

"Yeah, are you Craig Thurston?" Sam asked him politely.

"I am," the worker confirmed as he put a record in place.

"Well, we're reporters with the Dallas Morning News," Dean told him. "I'm Dean and this is Sam."

"No way," Craig's face lit up. "I'm a writer, too. I write for my school's lit magazine."

"Ah, good for you, Morrison," Dean chuckled as he began to look through the crate of records in front of him. He completely missed the confused look that Craig gave him but Sam noticed and cleared his throat.

"Um, we're doing an article on local hauntings and rumor has it you might know of one," Sam smiled at Craig, wishing that Julia was here to get the information out of him—she was much better with the guys than he was.

"You mean the Hell House?" Craig asked.

Dean nodded, looking up from the records. "That's the one."

"I didn't think there was anything to the story," Craig said avoidantly.

"Why don't you tell us the story."

"Well, supposedly, back in the thirties, this farmer named Mordechai Murdoch used to live in this house with his six daughters," Craig told them after a moment of hesitation. "It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, and he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So, I guess that's when he went off the deep end."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "How?"

"Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick rather than starve to death, so he attacked them," Craig stated. "They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung them up, one after the other. And, when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now, they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside."

Dean pressed his lips together; the story Craig was telling sounded just like that. A story. His words were something out of a dramatic novel, not a true story. And what parent would just kill their kids instead of trying to do whatever it took to make sure they lived?

"Where'd you hear all of this?" he asked Craig.

"My cousin, Dana, told me. I don't know where she heard it from. You gotta realize, I didn't believe this for a second."

"But now you do," Sam assumed.

"I don't know what the hell to think, man," Craig shrugged. "You guys, I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again."

Dean shared a look with Sam and then nodded at Craig. "Thanks."

A half-hour later, Sam and Dean were walking through mud to get to the so-called Hell House. It was creepy looking, they had to admit, but not anything less creepy than the things they saw everyday during their job. It was just a little run-down house, not much else.

"I can't say I blame the kid," Sam sighed, his eyes searching the grounds around the house.

"Yeah," Dean agreed as they got closer to the house. "so much for curb appeal."

Sam took a look around the perimeter of the house while Dean pulled out the EMF meter. It whirled like it usually did when there was anything unusual around but the way it started up as soon as he pressed it on, made him think that something was off.

He tapped the device, frustrated, as Sam came back over to him.

"You got something?"

"Yeah, the EMF's no good," Dean looked around, the powerlines above the house catching his eye.

"Why?"

Dean nodded at the power lines. "I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings."

Sam sighed heavily. "Yeah, that'd do it."

"Come on, let's go."

They entered the house, finding that it was unlocked in its abandoned state. They started in the front room and then moved onto the living room where a fireplace lined with various candles was. The walls were covered in spray paint, a bunch of different symbols that didn't really even go together scattered randomly around the room.

Dean whistled sarcastically. "Looks like old man Murdoch was a bit of a tagger in his time."

"And after his time, too," Sam muttered, eyeing a symbol of an encircled cross. "That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries but this sigil of Sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the sixties."

Dean gave Sam a long took, wrinkling his nose. "How do you know that?"

"I listen to Julia when she talks about this kind of stuff," Sam said pointedly, knowing that Dean checked out whenever something that required a little brain power was brought up.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shuddup," he walked across the room, looking at more of the symbols on the walls. He stopped in front of one that looked like an upside-down question mark with two little lines on either side. It looked kind of familiar. "Hey, what about this one? Have you seen this one before?"

Sam studied the symbol and took a picture of it with his phone. "No."

"I have...Somewhere," he couldn't place it, though.

Sam cautiously reached toward the symbol, rubbing it with his fingertips. "It's paint," he studied the slight stain that it left. "Seems pretty fresh, too."

Dean sighed and turned away from the symbol. "I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind but the cops may be right about this one."

"Yeah, maybe—"

A loud noise cut off Sam's agreement. The brothers instantly went on alert and followed the noise to a door that led to another room. They stood on either side of it; when Sam nodded, Dean whipped open the door and stepped into the room.

He was immediately attacked by bright beams of lights right in his eyes and two groans of horror. When the flashlights flitted away, he could see that there were two guys in front of them, around his age with camera gear.

The brunette groaned. "Oh, cut. It's just a couple of humans," he told his companion, who shut the camera off. "What are you guys doing here?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Dean countered.

"Uh, we belong here," the ginger guy with the camera drawled. "We're professionals."

"Professional what?"

"Paranormal investigators," the ginger reached into his pocket and pulled out a card to give to them. "Here you go, take a look at that, boys."

Dean took the card and read it. He groaned in realization, "Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

"Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler? Hellhoundslair.com," Sam read over his shoulder. "You guys run that website?"

Ed, who was the ginger with the camera, nodded. "Yeah."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, we're huge fans," Dean said sarcastically as he passed Ed and Harry to check out more of the kitchen.

"And we know who you guys are, too," Ed said.

Dean and Sam turned to face him sharply. "Oh, yeah?"

"Amateurs," as soon as the words were out of Ed's mouth, Dean pursed his lips and turned away once again. "looking for ghosts and cheap thrills."

"Yep," the other guy, Harry, agreed. "So, if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here."

"Yeah?" Dean noticed a gadget that they must have brought with them on the counter; he picked it up to inspect it. "What do you have so far?"

"Harry, why don't you tell them about EMF?" Ed prompted his friend.

Harry hesitated. "Well..."

"EMF?" Sam played dumb and Dean saw that he was trying not to smile.

"Electromagnetic field," Harry told him as though he was an expert. "Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector," he pulled a EMF reader out of his canvas vest. "Like this bad boy right here."

He turned on the EMF, causing it to whirl angrily. "Woah, woah," he exchanged an excited look with Ed while Dean smirked at Sam. "It's two-point-eight MG."

"Two-point-eight," Ed repeated excitedly. "It's hot in here."

Dean whistled mockingly while Sam tried not to laugh. "Wow."

"Huh," Dean clicked his tongue. "So, have you guys ever really seen a ghost before?"

"Once," Ed looked back to where Dean was standing by the counters. "We were, uh, we were investigation this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table."

"By itself," Harry added needlessly.

"Well, we didn't actually see it, we heard it," Ed corrected himself but grew serious again. "And something like that...it, uh, it changes you."

"Yeah, I think I get the picture," Dean crossed his arms over his chest and walked over to Sam. "We should go, let them get back to work."

"Yeah, you should."

Dean nodded at his brother and then the door. "Sam."

Sam followed him out of the kitchen and they left the house, not wanting to deal with the kids who wanted to enter the big leagues.

-

Julia kneaded the sugar cookie dough on the counter in front of her, humming along to whatever Disney song that the radio that was playing throughout the kitchen. Lizzie was on her side of the island, cutting out cookies with a heart-shaped cookie cutter while Beth and Abby were on the other side, decorating some of the finished cookies with colorful icing.

Once that song was finished, a familiar one started, making her smile.

"Oh, I love this song!" Abby exclaimed while concentrating on the flower cookie she was creating. "Let's get down to business to defeat the Huns!"

"Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?" Beth joined in.

Julia sang next. "You're the saddest bunch I ever met but you can bet before we're through..."

"Mister, I'll make a man out of you!" Lizzie finished loudly, making Julia, Beth, and Abby laugh.

They continued singing along to the best song that Mulan produced while making cookies. When Lizzie was finished with the rest of the heart batch, Julia slid the tray into the oven. Once she set the timer, she gave Lizzie the last batch of dough, allowing her to cut out some dinosaurs.

"I'm done with the dinosaurs, Momma!" Lizzie announced once the dough was gone.

"Good job, cutie," Beth smiled. "Why don't you go wash your hands?"

"Okay!" Lizzie climbed off the stool she was standing on and ran out of the kitchen to the nearest bathroom.

"Use soap!" Beth called after her; once she was sure her daughter couldn't overhear her, she turned to Julia. "So..."

Julia pursed her lips, knowing what was coming. Since Dean and Sam left four days before, Beth had been waiting to talk to her about something. She had that look in her eyes where she wanted girl talk and it also occurred every time Dean called her. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

Julia sighed and started wiping the excess flour from the counter. "So what?"

Beth smiled coyly and Abby shook her head impatiently. "She wants to know about you and Dean."

"What about me and Dean?"

There was no her and Dean, no matter how much Julia wanted that. She had moments recently when she and Dean spoke—especially when Sam wasn't joining the conversations—where she thought Dean might have the same romantic feelings that she had but she wasn't sure. Dean cared about his family and he considered her and the rest of the Petersen family his family. It wasn't like he was pining after her the same way she was pining after him.

"Oh, stop deflecting, Julia Ruth," Beth scolded her. "There's something going on with you and Dean and I—" Abby cleared her throat and Beth corrected herself, "—we want to know."

Julia scoffed and threw her washcloth into the sink. "There is nothing going on. Trust me."

Beth and Abby exchanged skeptical looks. "But you want there to be, don't you?" Beth guessed; she gasped loudly when she saw Julia scratch her cheek. "Oh, my God, you do!"

"No, I don't!"

"You scratched your cheek, you liar," Abby pointed out with a laugh. Julia scowled at her. "We're sisters, Jules. Sisters talk about this stuff."

"I've never talked to you about my boyfriends before," Julia protested.

"That's because by the time you had an actual boyfriend you were at Stanford," Beth reminded her. "and you did use to talk to me about boys. Remember that guy you liked when you were in high school?"

"Ugh, don't remind me," Julia groaned; Abby and Beth gave her expectant looks. "Fine, I like Dean. Happy?"

"Extremely," Abby smirked. "He sucked you back in, huh? How old were you when your crush on him finally went away?"

Julia blushed. "Fourteen."

Abby snorted in amusement. "Yeah, now I remember."

Julia sent her a glare while Beth slapped her arm. "Abby, stop," she scolded her before turning back to Julia. "Ignore her, Jules. It were cute."

"A fourteen-year-old crushing on a guy who was twenty? Yeah right," Julia scoffed. "And that's the problem, isn't it? He's almost seven years older than me. He doesn't see me as anything but a little sister."

Abby calmed her laughter. "Jules, Dean doesn't look at you like a sister," she told her baby sister. "He looks at me and Beth as sisters. He looks at you like you're sex on legs."

It was Beth's turn to giggle as Julia's cheeks darkened further and she ducked her head.

"And Sam says that he always checks you out," Abby added.

Julia looked up sharply. "He did?" Abby nodded. "Since when do you talk to Sam?"

"Since he grew up to be a hottie with a body."

Julia rolled her eyes so heavily that it hurt. "No one actually says that, Ab."

"Since when were we talking about me?" Abby protested as Beth laughed again. "my point it that Dean wants to fuck you."

"Okay, the five-year-old is going to be back any second so let's not use that language," Beth smothered her laughter as they heard the faucet cut off in the bathroom. "But, seriously, Julia, he likes you."

"What we're going from sex to feelings now?" Julia asked incredulously. "Sex, I get. I'm hot and Dean loves sex but feelings? Are we talking about the same Dean Winchesters, here?"

"I wanna talk about Uncle Dean!" Lizzie chirped as she ran back into the kitchen. She climbed back onto her stool and looked eagerly at her mom and aunts. "Are you talking about the crush he has on Auntie Jules?"

Julia gaped at her while Abby pointed enthusiastically. "See? Lizzie sees it too."

"That's because Beth's poisoning her mind."

"No," Lizzie protested innocently. "I heard Uncle Sammy and Auntie Abby talking about it."

"Well, I'm so glad that my love life is so interesting to you guys," Julia huffed with warm cheeks. She glanced at the oven, wishing the timer for the cookies would go off so they could change the subject.

"Look," Beth sighed. "Dean calls you multiple times a day, every day just to see how you're doing. Do you think he does that to anyone else who isn't Sam?"

"He's checking up on me."

"Don't give us that sh—crap," Abby shook her head, correcting herself before she could cuss in front of Lizzie. "You're scared that you'll put yourself out there and get rejected."

"Because it's Dean!" Julia exclaimed, frustrated. "Dean, who doesn't do relationships. So what if I want to protect myself? That's good."

"It's good to protect yourself," Beth agreed and grabbed Julia's clenched fists. "but you and Dean...you should see each other. You look at him when he's not looking, he looks at you when you're not looking. You move even an inch and he's shifting toward you. The way I see it, is this isn't a passing fancy."

"You're together every day, you fight along side each other, you protect one another," Abby continued. "You trust each other and that's rare in our profession, Jules. Even I can see that you guys have something special."

Julia wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. It was nice hearing her sisters say these things but she couldn't tell Dean about her less than platonic feelings for him. He was too important to her and she didn't want to lose him, even if it meant she had to get over her feelings. Dean didn't do relationships and she had tried the one-night stand thing and it didn't go well for her. Maybe it wasn't meant to be.

As if the universe was disagreeing with her, her phone rang from the counter by the fridge. Lizzie eagerly climbed off her stool again and raced toward the phone, flipping it open.

"Hi, this is Lizzie!" she chirped before gasping excitedly. "Uncle Dean, we were just talking about you!"

"Lizzie!" Julia lunged toward her niece, ignoring her flour-covered hands to grab the phone from her. She pressed it against her ear. "Uh, hey, Dean."

"Hi there, shortcake," Dean's voice was coy. "Heard that you girls were talking about me. Are there gonna be pillow fights next because, if you want, you could—"

"Okay," Julia hurried interrupted him, waving frantically at her sisters as they laughed at the mortified expression on her face. "We were, um, we're making cookies actually, so...yeah."

"And I just so happen to come up in the conversation?" she could practically hear the smirk on his lips.

"Uh, yeah, because," she walked out of the kitchen and into the bathroom next door, shutting the door firmly behind her. "I was telling Lizzie that you liked pie instead of cookies."

Dean perked up. "You guys are making pie?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Julia agreed even though they hadn't really planned on it. "So, what's going on down there?"

"Eh, we got some more information," Dean sighed, becoming serious again. "Some kid told us that a guy named Mordechai Murdoch killed his six daughters during the Depression but what Sam found didn't quite match up."

Julia frowned. "Well, what did he find?"

"That the guy's name was actually Martin and he had two sons instead of six daughters," Dean informed her. "There's nothing to say he ever killed anyone."

"Huh," Julia wrinkled her nose. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, I talked to the police and there's no missing persons, either," Dean paused for a second. "Jules, we dug like you wanted but we don't think there's anything here."

"Well, that's good, then," Julia said. "No spirit, no dead people, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, on your way back, you can stop in Houston," she suggested. "I, um, I got that NASA tour for Levi, remember?"

"Jules, we can't—"

"Yeah, you can," Julia insisted. "I don't want it to go to waste and you love that kind of stuff, Dean. You and Sam deserve some fun once in a while, you know?"

Dean was quiet for a few seconds. "All right. We'll check it out."

"Good," she smiled. "I'll email Sam the information about the tour and hotel."

"Thanks, shortcake," Dean's voice cheered up a little. "I'll call you later when we head out, okay?"

"Okay, talk later. Bye, Dean."

"Bye."

Julia snapped the phone shut and sighed, pressing it to her chest. She was glad that she got to the phone before Lizzie could spill on what they were really talking about. Dean was already insufferable when he knew they were talking about him but if he knew that they were talking about feelings and sex and all that, his ego wouldn't be able to fit in the Hancock building.

She slipped her flour-covered phone into her apron pocket and quickly washed her hands before heading back to the kitchen.

-

Before Sam and Dean could even leave town, they got a call from the detective Dean spoke with the day before. The sun was still setting when he called, telling them to get to the Hell House as soon as possible. When they arrived on scene, a body bag was being carted to the coroner's van. The detective informed them that a girl had hung herself in the house, which sounded just like the Mordechai story went.

They went back to the Hell House around midnight and dodged the cops when those nerds, Ed and Harry showed up. Mordechai ended up attacking with an ax and was immune to rock salt, which led them to more research.

Dean sat on his bed, drawing that familiar symbol on the notepad that the motel provided. "What the hell is this symbol? It's bugging the hell out of me," he looked up at Sam, who was researching at the table. "This whole fucking job is bugging me. I thought the legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks."

"It does," Sam said distractedly, focusing on his laptop.

"All right, well, that explains why he went after you but why me?"

"Hilarious," Sam looked away from the screen to scowl at him. "The legend also says he hung himself but did you see those slit wrists?"

"Yeah."

"What's up with that?" Sam shook his head. "And the ax, too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over again?"

Dean nodded. "This dick keeps changing."

"Exactly. I'm telling you, the way the story goes..." Sam typed in Ed and Harry's website and pressed enter, waiting as it loaded. His eyes widened when he saw a new article about the Hell House. "Wait a minute."

Dean looked up from his notepad. "What?"

"Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site," Sam informed him. "Listen to this: They say Mordechai Murdoch was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now, he's imprisoned in the house for eternity."

Dean sat up as he stared at the symbol he had drawn, finally recognizing it.

"Where the hell is this going?"

"I don't know but I think I might have just figured out where it all started," Dean rolled off his bed. "Come on, we gotta go to the record store."

They entered the record store not long after, spotting Craig at the cash register.

"Hey, Craig," Dean called to him over the loud rock music playing through the store. "Remember us?"

Craig sighed. "Guys, look, I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions, okay?"

"Oh, don't worry," Dean waved him off as he stopped in front of the record crate marked with the second letter of the alphabet. "We're just here to buy an album, that's all."

He quickly flicked through the records in the crate and pressed his lips together when he found the one he was looking for. On the back of a Blue Oyster Cult record, he saw the symbol he had recognized at the Hell House.

He grabbed it and slowly walked over to Craig with Sam on his heels.

"You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was and then I realized that it doesn't mean anything," Dean told Sam conversationally, his voice hardening toward the end. "It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult. Tell me, Craig, you into BOC or just scaring the hell out of people?"

When Craig turned around to face him and Sam, he handed the Blue Oyster Cult album to him. He took it and flipped it over, eyes flitting over the cover art, which included the symbol that was spray painted at the Hell House.

"Why don't you tell us about that house," Dean suggested. "Without lying through your ass this time."

Craig looked up at Dean for a moment. "All right," he sighed heavily. "My cousin Dana was on a break from TCU. I guess we were just bored and looking for something to do. So, I showered her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted so we painted symbols on the walls, some from albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks."

"Then, we found out this guy, Murdoch, used to live there so we made up some story to go along with that," he continued. "They told people, who told other people, and then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took a life of its own."

Dean blinked at him; something about what he said was familiar.

"I mean, I thought it was funny at first, but..." Craig shook his head sadly. "That girl's dead. It was just a joke, you know? I mean, none of it was real. We just made the whole thing up, I swear!"

Sam nodded. "All right."

As they turned away from Craig to leave the record store, Dean muttered to Sam, "If none of it was real, how the fuck do you explain Mordechai?"

-

Dean was trying so hard not to smirk as he watched Sam wiggle around in his seat, trying not to scratch at his crotch. While his brother was in the shower, he had sprinkled itching powder into Sam's underwear and now he was able to watch the whole thing unfold right in front of him.

If only shortcake was here, too, he sighed mentally.

Sam was in the middle of talking to Julia on the phone, telling her his thoughts about Mordechai being a tulpa when Dean interrupted him, "Dude, what's your problem?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," Sam said avoidantly.

"What's going on?" Julia's voice came from the speaker.

"Nothing," Sam assured her. "So, these tulpas...There was this incident in Tibet in 1915. A group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard that they brought the thing to life out of thin air."

"Okay, well, there are thousands of people on the internet," Julia said thoughtfully.

"Exactly," Sam nodded, wincing as he picked at his itchy jeans. "I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai and then it spreads and goes online where countless people believe in the bastard."

"Wait a second," Dean spoke up. "People believe in Santa Claus so how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?"

"Cause you're a bad person," Sam opened his laptop, still squirming, and pulled up a photo of the sigil that brought tulpas to life. He showed it to Dean. "And because of this. That's a Tibetan spirit sigil on the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this, not even knowing what it was."

On the phone, they could hear a thump of a book and then pages being flipped. "Okay, this book says that the sigil has been used to centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So, people who are on the Hell Hounds website, staring at the symbol and thinking about Mordechai...would that be enough to bring a tulpa to life?"

"It would explain why he keeps changing," Dean answered her.

"Right," Sam adjusted his jeans and added, "as the legend changes, people think different things so the legend itself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work."

"Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit," Dean stated, choking back his laughter as Sam started wiggling more than he had. "So, why don't we get this spirit sigil thing-y off the wall and off the website?"

"I don't think it's that simple," Julia sighed as they heard more pages being turned. "Once a tulpa is created, they take on a life of their own."

"Great," Dean grumped. "So, if he really is a thought form how the fuck are we supposed to kill an idea?"

"Well, that's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us," Sam showed him the video Ed and Harry put up on their website. "Since they posted the footage, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone."

"Huh," Dean clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "I've got an idea but we have to find a copy store."

"What are you thinking?" Julia wondered.

"We're gonna give these boys a story and change the legend," Dean told her as Sam forcefully stood up and did a weird walk to relieve himself. "Dude, what the hell?"

"I think I'm allergic to our soap or something."

Dean snickered as Julia spoke up, "What? We use hypoallergenic soap, Sam."

Dean's laughter increased as Sam did a weird lunge in the middle of the motel room. Sam immediately stood up to his full height and glowered at his older brother.

"You did this?!"

Dean couldn't talk, he was laughing so hard.

"You're a fucking jackass!"

Dean continued to laugh, standing up from his chair to dodge the attack coming his way.

As Sam chased Dean around the room, they didn't notice as Julia sighed, "All right, I'm gonna hang up now."

-

After Dean and Sam told Ed and Harry about this new legend that they found—in which Mordechai would be killed with a pistol and wrought-iron bullets—and a little prank Sam pulled on Dean—where he superglued his beer bottle to the palm of his hand—they headed back to the Hell House to kill the tulpa once and for wall.

They entered the house with their firearms drawn and slowly walked their way around, looking for any sign of Mordechai.

Dean winced as he tightened his hand around his gun. "I barely have any skin left on my palm."

Sam snickered. "I'm not touching that line with a ten-foot pole."

Dean pressed his lips together, irritated, and flashed his light straight into Sam's eyes until he flinched. Once he was satisfied that he got some sort of revenge on his little brother, he continued on through the living room and into the kitchen. "So, do you think old Mordechai's home?"

"I don't know," Sam pointed his gun at the door that led to the basement.

"Me either."

Sam and Dean whipped around at the new voice, pointing their pistols in Ed and Harry's faces.

"Woah, woah!" Ed shouted while Harry lifted his hands in the air to show he meant no harm.

Sam raised his gun away from them. "What are you trying to do, get yourselves killed?"

"We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, okay?"

Before either of the irritated brothers could say another word, a crash came from the basement door. They instantly went back on alert, aiming their guns back at the door.

"Oh, shit," Ed muttered from behind them, focusing his camera on the action. "Hey, guys, do you wanna—you wanna open that door for us?"

"Why don't you?" Dean dared him.

None of them even stepped closer to the basement door as Mordechai burst through, growling at them while waving his ax in the air. Dean and Sam immediately took their shots but Mordechai didn't falter. It was only after full rounds that he disappeared but not in the way they wanted him too.

Sam and Dean immediately left the kitchen to check the other rooms on the first floor.

"Wait a minute?" Ed said breathlessly. "He's gone? He's gone."

"Did you get him?" Harry asked him urgently.

"Yeah, they got him."

"No," Harry shook his head. "On camera. Did you get him on camera?"

Ed faltered. "Well, I..."

Harry grabbed the camera from him. "Let me see it, let me see it."

He flipped open the little screen but was pushed to the floor as Mordechai appeared, smashing the camera with his ax. Dean ran back into the room after hearing some loud noises and glared at them.

"Hey, didn't you guys post that bullshit story we gave you?" he barked at them.

"Of course we did," Harry answered, getting to his feet as Sam came back into the room. "But then our server crashed."

Ed nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

"So, it didn't take?" Ed and Harry shook their heads at Dean's question. "These guns don't work?"

"No."

"No."

"Great," Dean sighed and turned to his brother. "Sam, any ideas?"

Sam shrugged; no ideas. None whatsoever.

"We're getting out of here," Harry spoke up.

"Yeah," Ed agreed quickly. "Great idea."

They left the kitchen, only to run into Mordechai again. They screamed and ran for the front door but it was locked and they were unable to get out. They turned to see Mordechai and followed them to the front door and was slowly advancing toward them, raising his ax.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

"The power of Christ compels you!" Ed shouted at the tulpa. "The power of Christ compels. THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU."

Any other time, what Ed was saying would make Dean laugh so hard. But, alas, now was not the time for amusement. Sam ran up to the front door and shouted at Mordechai, getting his attention.

"Hey! Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch!"

While Sam and Mordechai fought and Ed and Harry ran out of harm's way, Dean found some lighter fluid in the kitchen. He quickly sprayed it all over the floor and onto the cupboards before heading into the living room to spray it there, too.

"DEAN!"

Hearing Sam's shout of help, Dean quickly grabbed a bottle of spray paint and pulled his lighter out of his pocket before running toward his brother and Mordechai.

"Hey!" he shouted at the tulpa before lighting his lighter and spraying the paint at the same time, creating a homemade blow torch.

Mordechai let Sam go and disappeared; Dean grabbed Sam and helped him run back into the living room.

"Mordechai can't leave the house and we can't kill him? We improvise."

He showed Sam his lighter and clicked it out before throwing it onto the floor. The old wooden beams lit up immediately and Sam and Dean took off, knocking down the front door and jumping off the porch.

As they ran into the trees, Sam turned to Dean incredulously. "That's your solution?" he pointed at the flaming house. "Burn the whole damn place to the ground?"

"Well, nobody will go in anymore," Dean shrugged. "I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty but it works."

"Well, what if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?"

"Well, then, we'll just have to come back."

Sam sighed at Dean's nonchalant answer and turned back to the house. "Kind of makes you wonder," he said. "Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just because people believed in them."

Dean didn't answer but he thought about what Sam said as he continued to watch the house burn. It did kind of make him wonder but he couldn't really consider that. No matter if a supernatural was real just because someone believed in them, they were still killing them and saving people.

It was the family business, after all.

(Gif is not mine)

[bbyboybrock--archived]

Serendipity (C.B) | Chapter 6

Summary: Serendipity: (n) the chance occurrence of events in a beneficial way

Popular youtuber Isabella Hart, known as Bella to her audience, bends over backwards to separate her youtube life from her private life. Known for her overall clean content and her bubbly attitude, Isabella has a wild side to her that only those inside the youtube community know about. When Bella meets Colby during one of the trap house parties she finally meets someone she can be her genuine self with. When trouble arises after their meeting, will Bella be able to hand the pressure or will she destroy her relationship with Colby as well as herself in the process. [This starts in 2018]

Written: 2019

Word Count: 2,292

Warnings: swearing

Serendipity Masterlist

We're all laying on the couch in the living room at the trap house. Devyn and the guys decided to have a kickback barbecue with a few friends. It was hot earlier today so we spent most of the time in the backyard eating, swimming, and drinking. When it started to get cold we move the small party inside. Everyone else who didn't live here left already. I planned to spend the night with Colby so I didn't have to worry about how I was getting home.

All of us are spread out across the couch. Jake sits at one end while I sit at the other. My head is resting on the couch arm and my legs are across Colby's lap. Everyone else is in on the couch. Sam and Devyn sit talking on the couch and pay attention every few seconds to the game. Kat went to Sam's room to check on something a few seconds ago.

Even though Jake and I are in the same room we're playing against each other on our phones and occasionally send memes. Colby watches Corey and Aaron play rocket league. The whole time he sips his drink and rarely looks at me. Colby pushes my legs off him and walks to the kitchen. I close my phone and follow him into the kitchen. I walk in as Colby pours another cup of Jack Daniels for himself.

"Hey babe, maybe we should switch to water," I suggest as I place a bottle on the counter between us.

"You're actually paying attention to me now?" He doesn't look at me. His face is turned away.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I stare in disbelief.

"Nothing. Just go back to flirting with Jake."

"Woah, what?"

"I said what I said."

"Can we go talk about this somewhere else?" Colby finally looks up at me and nods. He starts heading upstairs and I follow him. We walk into his room and I close the door. I sit on the couch and Colby continues to stand. He still has his cup with him.

"What makes you think I'm flirting with Jake?" I ask plainly.

"You're giving off flirty vibes with him. You're always hanging out with him and texting him. Jake always used to leave his phone in a random room and be a bad text but he's always on it talking to you."

"Jake and I are just friends. You of all people should understand that. I hang out with all your roommates and their girlfriends. Isn't this what you wanted? For me to be friends with your friends?"

"You hang out with Jake the most! You're in his videos all the time and eating out together. Who knows what happens off camera."

"Excuse me? Are you now accusing me of cheating on you?" I stand up now. I'm not going to continue to sit with Colby acting like this.

"Of fucking course I am! We both know you were before we met. You probably can't handle the idea of being with only one person!"

"Lower your voice." I hiss as I stand up.

"Why? You don't want everyone to know that YOU'RE A SLUT? Maybe they should know just HOW MUCH OF A WHORE YOU REALLY ARE!" I fight back tears that are threatening to fall.

"You know what? I can't do this with you right now." I go behind Colby and grab my overnight bag. When I turn around it's like someone flipped the switch on Colby's emotions. He's sad and I could tell that he was about to cry.

"Izzy, please don't leave me. I didn't mean it. I'm just paranoid. I'm so in l—"

"Don't. Don't say what I think you're going to say. Not now. Not while you're intoxicated and said what you said to me... I'm going back to my apartment. I'll be back on the morning to talk to sober Colby."

"Isabella. Please, don't leave." His voice is calmer and looks like he's about to cry.

"I need to go. It's the best option right now. Go to sleep babe. I'll be here in the morning." I drag Colby to his bed and tuck him in. I take out a water bottle out of his mini fridge and place it on the coffee table with an aspirin and a note to take it in the morning. If he's this drunk now, I can only imagine how big his hangover is going to be tomorrow. Before leaving I kiss Colby on the cheek.

"Please don't break up with me. I just don't want you hanging out with Jake anymore." He says as he softly grabs my hand.

"We'll talk tomorrow." I pull my hand away and leave Colby's room. I close the door gently and walk over to the top of the stairs. I sit and put my head in my lap. I couldn't hold back my tears anymore.

I sit for a few minutes and let out my tears. I try to be as quiet as I can as I cry, I don't need everyone else getting involved and stressing them out. I feel a hand touch my back and I lift my head up expecting to see Colby behind me. I wipe my tears and turn around to find Kat.

"Sorry, I'm just... really drunk. I don't even know why I'm crying." I continue to wipe my face and try to play it off.

"You don't have to lie, Iz. I heard everything— I wasn't purposefully eavesdropping. I was in Sam's room and I heard you arguing but I didn't know if Colby's door was closed or not and I didn't want to make things weird. Are you okay?" Kat sits down next to me and has her arm around me.

"Yes...No...I'm not sure. I just want to go to sleep and not thinking about this. I need to call an Uber." I pat my pockets and realize that I left my phone downstairs.

Kat and I walk down together and I grab my phone from the kitchen counter. When I walk back into the living room it's painstakingly obvious that everyone heard our fight. Hopefully, if I act like I don't know that they know all should be well.

"Hey, so I'm not feeling well and neither is Colbs so I'm just going to Uber home. Sam, can I talk to you for a sec." Sam looks between both Kat and me and walks over.

"What's up?" Sam tries not to look at me for too long. I forgot that he could look at me and see that I had been crying. Luckily for me, Sam doesn't mention it.

"So Colby is really drunk right now. If you don't mind, can you guys check on him every once in a while? And keep Jake away from him."

"Yeah, sure. We'll take care of Colby. What about you? You okay? Do you want Kat and ai to take you home? We could talk."

"I don't want to be a hassle. I'll just take an Uber."

"You're our friend too. You look like you need to talk to someone. We're here." After a bit of hesitation, I agree to go with them.

*Colby's POV*

I'm woken up by something cold and wet. Either I've been put into the pool again or I spilled something. Given the fact that I can feel how wet my bedsheets are, I'll go with the second possible outcome. I open my eyes to see Sam, Corey, and Aaron standing over my bed. My head hurts so much that I can only squint at them.

"What the fuck...?" I would ask if it was a prank but I can tell by their expressions that they mean business.

"Good morning sunshine!" Corey yells as loud as humanly possible.

"Dude, can you like turn your volume down?" I ask clutching my head. Another cold glass of water hits my face.

"No, he can't," Aaron says calmly.

"What's your problem?" I stood up before any more water could be thrown and grabbed a towel from the couch.

"We don't have a problem, you do. Do you even remember what happened last night?" I think back to yesterday but most of it is foggy. I can vaguely remember Izzy and I in here talking.

"Where's Isabella?" She was supposed to spend the night.

"Kat and I took her home after the shit you pulled," Sam said.

"What did I do?" I sit down on the couch not even caring about my headache anymore.

"There was something about you yelling that she was a slut and a whore. You were so loud that we heard you from downstairs." Corey explained.

"We didn't hear what the fight was about but Kat did you were a complete jackass to the nicest, most caring and loving girl that you have even been interested in. You made her cry, Cole!" Sam throws the last cup of water in my face.

"Fuck. Fuck! What do I do?" I stand up and panic.

"Our job was just to wake you up. She's coming over to pick up her car and talk to you. It looks like she left something for you over there." Aaron says before he and Corey leave. I walk over to my coffee table and see a water bottle and an aspirin. Even when I made her upset she takes care of me.

"You better fix this bro. I know I'm your best friend and all but if this goes south I'm on her side." I don't even turn around to look at Sam to know that he left. I take the pill and drink the water that Izzy left me and began getting ready and cleaning my room.

****

I managed to get the couch and my bed dry while waiting. Every time I walked around the house Corey, Aaron and Sam would give me looks. Devyn was out with Kat and honestly, I'm glad because I don't think I could handle them being mad at me too. Jake is the only one who seems like he doesn't know what's going on.

I'm pacing around my room when I hear the front door open. I wait a few seconds until I hear Isabella's voice. She's downstairs talking to everyone. I hear my name being mentioned and some mumbling. I stop pacing when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs Isabella appears in the doorway holding a brown paper bag. I go in for a hug but she shoves the bag in my direction instead.

"I figured that you'd still be a little hung over so I brought you the greasiest breakfast burrito to help you." I can tell that she didn't get much sleep last night.

She tried covering up how tired and upset she was with makeup but I can still tell. He hair is a little messy and her face is a bit puffy. Her eyes give away how tired and upset she is. It pains me to know that I caused this.

"Iz, I'm sorry about everything I said. I was drunk and—" Isabella pushes herself off of the door frame and closes the door. She gestures for me to sit so I do.

*Isabella's POV*

"No, Colby, you did a lot of talking last night so it's my turn. We can't just kiss and make up. You said some really hurtful and offensive things to me last night and that's not okay. When I told you about... how I was before we met, I was taking a chance and trusting you for 2 reasons. One, because I thought it would be better for you to hear it from me. And two, I genuinely was beginning to like you and I didn't want to ruin my chances by having this huge secret. I was in a dark place when all I did was go to parties to get drunk and sleep around. Hell, I still am in that dark place. But for you to take what I told you and throw it back at me the way you did hurts so much—" I'm cut off by Colby wrapping his arms around me. I hadn't noticed that I was crying until now. I felt a single tear a while ago but I thought that was it.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Colby strokes my hair to calm me down.

"Y-you can't just say sorry and expect everything to be fixed, Colbs. You accused me of cheating. Not in the physical sense but emotional. I wouldn't do that to you. Ever. This whole 'hurt them before they hurt you' thing isn't going to work." I allow myself to melt into Colby's warm embrace.

"I'm working on it. I was just scared of being hurt and losing you. How do I fix this? How do I make this better?" Colby and I finally detach and he's looking me in my eyes. His eyes are sad but hopeful.

"We fix this by going back to how things were before. It's going to be weird at first but hopefully, everything will go back to normal. And Colby? I'm not going to hurt you. And you're not going to lose me."

"Ditto. You're stuck with me for a long time." Colby cups my face and kisses me gently. Just to let me feel better but also to reassure me that all will be well.

We sit on the couch and talk a bit more. We talk about him not kissing fans on the cheek and how I need to speak up when I don't like something going on in our relationship. We talked until I yawned and Colby forced me to take a nap in his bed.

[hotcocosharing]

No Means No (Disclaimer: Rape Culture)

Fandom: Kissed By The Baddest Bidders Category: Character: Baba / Ota / Mamoru Notes: NO, I don’t think any Voltage canons are rapists but rape culture is literally everywhere.

Even my fav boys- Jensen and Jared from SPN made a freaking rape joke last month! They meant to mock Bill Cosby but that kind of joke was still contributing to rape culture.

Also it’s the ATTITUDE towards women, a general underlying belief about our place / value in society. Same scenario plays out in sex, like in many others things, except in the case of sex its rape / assault / abuse.

So NO MEANS NO- whether it’s men or women, we should all respect that. Trust me, no Mr. Nice Guy or Nice Girl would ever IGNORE your no and do something against your wishes. NOT EVER! PERIOD!

Again, these are just examples- I am not implying our voltage men as villains, the point here isn’t them if that’s not obvious. 

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The Mr. Nice kind of prince charming

Finger tapping on the glass table, you ask yourself again just why on earth have you agreed to a freaking blind date. You aren’t desperate and you are happy with where you’re at. Single, available and free. Going wherever and doing whatever without rules or reporting to a so called boyfriend.

Being single isn’t so bad, you never feel the negativity or down sides even after a list of breakdown from your girl friends. You are certain they mean well, society has somehow taught us that being single at the age of 29 is fearful. Soon getting too old to be married, to have kids, to build a life with a significant other because the man who supposedly spends the rest of his life with you isn’t going to lay eyes on you if you are over certain age?!

Letting out an exhausted sigh, a gentle chuckle comes from behind. “You’re not thinking of bailing, are you my lady?”

It takes every ounce of energy in your body not to roll your eyes at his words, the man in red takes his fedora off and lifts your hand up. “Mitsunari Baba, it’s lovely to meet you, princess.” Testing your limits, your date of the night plants a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

“Just call me _______ is fine. Let’s skip the princess thing.” You almost say through clenched teeth, praying for the night to be over soon.

Small talks aren’t as bad as you imagine, he’s funny and easy going though you couldn’t shake the feeling of him not revealing his true self but then again who shows people that on the first date anyway. Dinner has gone well with all things considered till he pulls your chair and walks you home. He has toned down with the whole name callings but a huge question mark is hanging over the man’s head. You don’t feel like explaining though, a topic that could easily lead to a thesis.

After saying goodbye politely, Mr. Baba opens his arms and offers a goodbye hug. “It’s okay, I really don’t feel like a hug.” One look at him and you are internally screaming with endless nos, wishing that he wouldn’t ruin the good impressions.

But no, the man closes the gap between you. “Come on, it’s just a hug.”

“No, I don’t want a hug.”

His arms are wrapped around your back and you feel your blood boiling.

“See, you’re okay. It’s just a harmless little hug.”

For the sake of your friends and neighbors, you haven’t caused a scene. You rush upstairs and text your friends to leave your dating life alone.

“But why? He’s such a nice guy.”

You groan, banging your head on the wall. Typing furiously on the phone but never press the send button, a text your friends would never receive or frankly, comprehend.

“No, he is not a nice guy! I said no and he ignored me anyway! That’s fucking rape culture 101!!! I said no! And he had the gut to tell me it’s no big deal, it’s just a hug! I don’t care if it was a handshake, no means no! Any guy who fails to take no for an answer is not a nice guy!”

A joke is a joke

You’ve looked forward to this night, just beer and friends in a familiar bar. After months after months of stressful nights at work, you’d finally have your life back.

Everything’s fine until a guy who tags along starts joking about how “men pretend not to hear girl’s preferences in sex” and when you tell him that consent issue is no joking matter, the pretty blonde immediately gets defensive.

“Girls always say the opposite, their nos actually mean yes.”

“How is that not rape?” Some of the girls join the conversation.

“Because when I ask if they like being fucked like that they say yes!”

With your arms crossed and head shaking, you glare at the young man.

“According to your logic, then their yes actually mean no!”

The smirk on his face quickly disappears as he insists that it’s all a joke and everyone should chill.

“Well, Ota. None of us sitting at this table find any of it funny, disrespecting women isn’t funny. Sexual preference is one thing but ignoring it is another.”

Drowning your drinking in one go, you leave a 20 dollars note and head home. There’s no other place you would rather be in, home- where it’s safe and asshole free.

Are you sure?

It isn’t easy, you’ve thought about it for weeks. Pacing like a maniac every time you walk by but you’re sick and tired of feeling the shame. You are the victim, this shouldn’t be how you feel.

Once you set foot inside, few pairs of eyes are set on you and soon be seated in a private room.

“Are you sure?”

Your mind goes blank, unsure of what it truly means. Why wouldn’t you be sure? How does one ever mistaken something like that?

“What were you wearing?”

You chew your lips, hard. You shouldn’t have come, they must think you are a fool or pulling some sort of prank because the rest of the questions only get crazier.

“What time was it?”

“Did you drink?”

“But how was it possible?”

“Do you understand what you’re accusing of?”

Yes, yes, yes- the same word is on repeat but the tone of your voice escalates from your uncontrollable anger. The stinking room begins to suffocate you and the shock just keeps coming.

“Real men can’t get raped, Mr. Sato. She’s a woman, how’d she rape you?”

Eyes widen with your clenched fists banging on the desk, you snap. “It’s fucking possible, Detective Kishi! She drugged me, tied me up and did it against my will. I said no, she ignored it. How was that not rape? If a woman comes telling you the same thing, would you believe her?”

You’re on fire, yelling from the top of your lungs, taking it out on the cop. “It didn’t matter what we wear or what time it was or whether one drinks or not. No means no! Both men and women can be raped, people like you who blame and doubt the victims, making rape jokes like no big deal, you are just as guilty!”

No one EVER deserved it, no one EVER asked for it. Respect each other and let us remind ourselves that (men and) women are not sex object, we are human beings.

[j-hyvn]

Reaction to You Getting a Text About Another Guy. . .

Anonymous said: How would bts react to you getting a text from a friend asking what you thought of another guy, and he sees it and you're dating bys? Sorry if that's confusing Eonni, I love your blog!! Best around!

Reaction to You Getting a Text About Another Guy. . .

A/N sorry it has taken so long, the SHINee reaction is being made, but it’s a little longer, so it’s taking some time. so please wait a little longer. thank you for the support!

Key: Y/F/N = Your Friend’s Name

Kai Eonni ~

Namjoon. . .

You were in the shower when your phone chimed with a text message. Namjoon isn’t the kind of boyfriend to invade your personal stuff there was enough trust between you two, as you would let him play games on your phone while not in the room, however at that moment he was playing a game on your phone and you just so happened to get a text from your friend who asked you what you thought about the boy she had brought along on your most recent outing. 

From: Y/F/N

Message: [so? what’d you think about him?? cute huh? he was eyeing you the whole time, i practically felt like a third wheel lol]

At this, Namjoon would just be confused. He would try to reason, practically making excuses for you, but they would all seem a rather far reach, and so he would come to the conclusion that you were looking for another man, either to cheat on him with or to replace him with, he wasn’t sure. Instead of being furious, he was more upset and incredibly hurt. He wouldn’t bring it up to you for a while and would want to see your response to your friend himself and then act from there. He’d wait a couple of days, seeming a little off towards you, but not suspicious enough for you to ask questions. Then Namjoon would ask to play the game on your phone again, but really would look through your messages to your friend. When Namjoon see’s that you defend the relationship you have with him (i’mma make you good girls and not crappy cheaters, aight? - you’re welcome), he’d feel an incredible amount of pride about both you and the relationship you two have. He wouldn’t tell you he saw, but he’d suddenly -- after seeming distant for those couple of days -- seem cuddly and more affectionate towards you, causing you to question him, but like I said, he wouldn’t tell you because he’d feel bad for doubting you and it would injure his pride. damn boys and their pride.

Jin. . .

Your phone would be sitting on the kitchen table, Jin in the kitchen cooking a nice dinner for you both while you were somewhere else in the house doing god-knows-what. Out of nowhere a message would pop up on your screen and Jin would call out to you, telling you your phone received a message. Again, this would be a trusting relationship between you two, no secrets or lies told between you two. So when you call back to Jin asking him to read it for you, you wouldn’t expect your friend to make it sound like you had been cheating on Jin.

From: Y/F/N

Message: [omg! he was so cute! you’re so lucky he was so interested in you Y/N! Did he make your night more enjoyable?? tell me everything! ASAP]

“Wow, sounds like you had a good night last night.” Would be all that Jin says as you rush into the kitchen to quickly clear up any misleading thoughts that must be occurring in your boyfriends head at the moment. He wouldn’t want to believe that you were cheating, he had tremendous faith in you, but this message brought up some doubt, after all, he was gone so often that he honestly wouldn’t blame you if you found another man to care for you when he couldn’t. Though after you clear everything up and call your friend to explain to Jin what she meant all doubts were erased as if they weren’t even there in the first place. And he would apologize -- even though he really has nothing to apologize for -- just because he’s Jin.

Yoongi. . .

I feel like the only way Yoongi would hear about this would be if you told him/complained to him about your friend. He would understand the rules of boundaries, and therefore wouldn’t touch your phone and in return he would expect the same from you. So you would sitting on the couch texting your friend when she send that one misleading text. You would groan at your friends rashness, she knows you have a boyfriend, so why would she send such a risky text? “What?” Yoongi would ask in response to your groan as he texts away on his own phone next to you. You would silently show him the text;

From: Y/F/N

Message: [you two look really good together. what do you think of him? would you like to meet ONE ON ONE.... if you catch my drift *wink wink nudge nudge* lol]

Yoongi would simply raise an eyebrow at you after reading the text. “Nothing happened, she knows I have a boyfriend... She’s just such a spazz sometimes it’s hard to keep up.” You would mumble as you return to texting her. “Well maybe try to find friends who don’t try to hook you up with other guys when they know you’re already dating.” Though he wouldn’t admit it, there is some jealousy bubbling inside of him, and you would easily be able to tell from the way he speaks and suddenly seems pouty. He knows you wouldn’t cheat, but he still doesn’t like the thought of you meeting random guys through your friend, he’d ask you to be more cautious and if you can, decline hanging out with these guys your friend is bringing around you.

J-Hope. . .

This would be something that he just happens across, like hacking your photo album with ridiculous selfies of himself when your friend sends in the text. When he sees the text he would try to shrug it off. When he gives your phone back he would still seems the same smiley Hoseok you’re used to, saying with a smile, “You got a text Jagi.” When you see the text, you’d know that this had bothered him, as it would have bothered you if you had seen it on his phone.

From: Y/F/N

Message: [god i envy you Y/N... he’s so cute and so obviously interested in you! you guys looked good together too! do you think you’ll meet up with him alone next time??]

“Hoseok, this doesn’t mean anything. Y/F/N just likes to make things a big deal when they really aren’t.” You would explain everything about that night, how your friend is looking fora new guy and brought him along. Quickly Hoseok would be reassured, as he didn’t like to think negatively about your relationship when he’s so happy with you and knows what a kind and considerate person you are -- those traits being something that caused him to fall for you in the first place.

Jimin. . .

He would be another that would play games on your phone or hack your phone to take funny selfies in your photo album for you to find later. So when your friend sends in a text about the guy you met with her, his whole aura would change from light and cheery to dark and jealous. He’d be aggressively defensive of his pride, and so because of this he would snap at you, throwing accusations and snarky remarks. When you read the text that your friend had sent you, you’d quickly connect the dots as to why he’s like this.

From: Y/F/N

Massage: [last night was so fun, thanks for coming out with me, though i do have to say, when you started ignoring me for him, i felt somewhat like a third wheel, so, you’re gunna need to make that up to me somehow lol]

Once you clear up all confusion, Jimin would apologize profusely for jumping to accusations. He’d want affection so he knows you’re not mad at him while aslo reassuring his heart that you’re still his and aren’t leaving him for another man. Something that Jimin worries about often due to him always being gone. This would also make him more affectionate in general to make up for always being gone.

Taehyung. . .

He’d always be over your shoulder, whether you’re texting another person or taking selfies or playing games. So he’d see the text pop up on the top of your phone and would immediately ask who that friend is and what she’s referring to, as it was a very suggestive message.

From: Y/F/N

Message: [lol he’s asking about you now. what would you like me to say? that you’ll meet up with him LATER.ALONE.]

You sigh and go into the whole story about how she’s just playing with you when she brought her cousin. Taehyung wouldn’t think much of it, he trusts you, and you also didn’t seem worried when he say the text, so he would rationalize that that means you have nothing to hide from him. He’d probably actually find it funny and would prank text your friend back just for laughs. Prank texting your friends and his team members would now become the next big hobby between you two, much to your friends and the rest of BTS’ expense and annoyance.

Jungkook. . .

He’d occasionally look at your phone or look over your shoulder when you text your friends just because he’s still young and insecure about leaving you alone for long periods of time, thinking you’ll find another man who can always be there for you. This would be a common argument between you two as well. So when he see’s the text from your friend when he’s looking through your phone he’d shut down. You’d notice this and would ask him what’s wrong, in response he’d tell you to look at your most recent text.

From: Y/F/N

Message: [you should try going out one-on-one with him from last night. i think he’d really take a liking to you ;)]

After you explain, he’d feel really embarrassed about thinking such things before talking to you and also showing you how insecure he is, he only ever wants to show you his ‘manly’ side. He wouldn’t want affection afterwards, he’d just want to forget about what happened and what he thought you were doing behind his back and move on. Though he would learn from this and try to talk to you first whenever he feels insecure, though he’s still young and will sometimes slip up.

[beyondforks]

Book Review: One of Us Is Lying by Karen M. McManus

One of Us Is Lying by Karen M. McManus 

Genre: Young Adult (Contemporary Mystery) Date Published: May 30, 2017 Publisher: Delacorte Press

The Breakfast Club meets Pretty Little Liars, One of Us Is Lying is the story of what happens when five strangers walk into detention and only four walk out alive. Everyone is a suspect, and everyone has something to hide. 

Pay close attention and you might solve this.

On Monday afternoon, five students at Bayview High walk into detention.

Bronwyn, the brain, is Yale-bound and never breaks a rule. 

Addy, the beauty, is the picture-perfect homecoming princess. 

Nate, the criminal, is already on probation for dealing.

Cooper, the athlete, is the all-star baseball pitcher.

And Simon, the outcast, is the creator of Bayview High's notorious gossip app.

Only, Simon never makes it out of that classroom. Before the end of detention, Simon's dead. And according to investigators, his death wasn't an accident. On Monday, he died. But on Tuesday, he'd planned to post juicy reveals about all four of his high-profile classmates, which makes all four of them suspects in his murder. Or are they the perfect patsies for a killer who's still on the loose? 

Everyone has secrets, right? What really matters is how far you would go to protect them."

One of Us is Lying by Karen M. McManus definitely feels like the Breakfast Club in the beginning, and it kind of keeps that essence through he whole story as these people from different cliques get to know each other through unfortunate circumstances. I thought I knew who the killer was from the beginning, but it wasn't until about half way through that I figured it out. Of course, I still wasn't 100% sure, because you just never know, but it was the only thing that made sense to me. 

Guilty or not guilty, I liked how the characters interacted and coordinated amongst themselves. It felt believable to me. This story was interesting and kept my attention all the way through.

Chapter One Bronwyn Monday, September 24, 2:55 p.m. A sex tape. A pregnancy scare. Two cheating scandals. And that’s just this week’s update. If all you knew of Bayview High was Simon Kelleher’s gossip app, you’d wonder how anyone found time to go to class. “Old news, Bronwyn,” says a voice over my shoulder. “Wait till you see tomorrow’s post.” Damn. I hate getting caught reading About That, especially by its creator. I lower my phone and slam my locker shut. “Whose lives are you ruining next, Simon?” Simon falls into step beside me as I move against the flow of students heading for the exit. “It’s a public service,” he says with a dismissive wave. “You tutor Reggie Crawley, don’t you? Wouldn’t you rather know he has a camera in his bedroom?” I don’t bother answering. Me getting anywhere near the bedroom of perpetual stoner Reggie Crawley is about as likely as Simon growing a conscience. “Anyway, they bring it on themselves. If people didn’t lie and cheat, I’d be out of business.” Simon’s cold blue eyes take in my lengthening strides. “Where are you rushing off to? Covering yourself in extracurricular glory?” I wish. As if to taunt me, an alert crosses my phone: Mathlete practice, 3 p.m., Epoch Coffee. Followed by a text from one of my teammates: Evan’s here. Of course he is. The cute Mathlete--less of an oxymoron than you might think--seems to only ever show up when I can’t. “Not exactly,” I say. As a general rule, and especially lately, I try to give Simon as little information as possible. We push through green metal doors to the back stairwell, a dividing line between the dinginess of the original Bayview High and its bright, airy new wing. Every year more wealthy families get priced out of San Diego and come fifteen miles east to Bayview, expecting that their tax dollars will buy them a nicer school experience than popcorn ceilings and scarred linoleum. Simon’s still on my heels when I reach Mr. Avery’s lab on the third floor, and I half turn with my arms crossed. “Don’t you have someplace to be?” “Yeah. Detention,” Simon says, and waits for me to keep walking. When I grasp the knob instead, he bursts out laughing. “You’re kidding me. You too? What’s your crime?” “I’m wrongfully accused,” I mutter, and yank the door open. Three other students are already seated, and I pause to take them in. Not the group I would have predicted. Except one. Nate Macauley tips his chair back and smirks at me. “You make a wrong turn? This is detention, not student council.” He should know. Nate’s been in trouble since fifth grade, which is right around the time we last spoke. The gossip mill tells me he’s on probation with Bayview’s finest for . . . something. It might be a DUI; it might be drug dealing. He’s a notorious supplier, but my knowledge is purely theoretical. “Save the commentary.” Mr. Avery checks something off on a clipboard and closes the door behind Simon. High arched windows lining the back wall send triangles of afternoon sun splashing across the floor, and faint sounds of football practice float from the field behind the parking lot below. I take a seat as Cooper Clay, who’s palming a crumpled piece of paper like a baseball, whispers “Heads up, Addy” and tosses it toward the girl across from him. Addy Prentiss blinks, smiles uncertainly, and lets the ball drop to the floor. The classroom clock inches toward three, and I follow its progress with a helpless feeling of injustice. I shouldn’t even be here. I should be at Epoch Coffee, flirting awkwardly with Evan Neiman over differential equations. Mr. Avery is a give-detention-first, ask-questions-never kind of guy, but maybe there’s still time to change his mind. I clear my throat and start to raise my hand until I notice Nate’s smirk broadening. “Mr. Avery, that wasn’t my phone you found. I don’t know how it got into my bag. This is mine,” I say, brandishing my iPhone in its melon-striped case. Honestly, you’d have to be clueless to bring a phone to Mr. Avery’s lab. He has a strict no-phone policy and spends the first ten minutes of every class rooting through backpacks like he’s head of airline security and we’re all on the watch list. My phone was in my locker, like always. “You too?” Addy turns to me so quickly, her blond shampoo-ad hair swirls around her shoulders. She must have been surgically removed from her boyfriend in order to show up alone. “That wasn’t my phone either.” “Me three,” Cooper chimes in. His Southern accent makes it sound like thray. He and Addy exchange surprised looks, and I wonder how this is news to them when they’re part of the same clique. Maybe überpopular people have better things to talk about than unfair detentions. “Somebody punked us!” Simon leans forward with his elbows on the desk, looking spring-loaded and ready to pounce on fresh gossip. His gaze darts over all four of us, clustered in the middle of the otherwise empty classroom, before settling on Nate. “Why would anybody want to trap a bunch of students with mostly spotless records in detention? Seems like the sort of thing that, oh, I don’t know, a guy who’s here all the time might do for fun.” I look at Nate, but can’t picture it. Rigging detention sounds like work, and everything about Nate--from his messy dark hair to his ratty leather jacket--screams Can’t be bothered. Or yawns it, maybe. He meets my eyes but doesn’t say a word, just tips his chair back even farther. Another millimeter and he’ll fall right over. Cooper sits up straighter, a frown crossing his Captain America face. “Hang on. I thought this was just a mix-up, but if the same thing happened to all of us, it’s somebody’s stupid idea of a prank. And I’m missing baseball practice because of it.” He says it like he’s a heart surgeon being detained from a lifesaving operation. Mr. Avery rolls his eyes. “Save the conspiracy theories for another teacher. I’m not buying it. You all know the rules against bringing phones to class, and you broke them.” He gives Simon an especially sour glance. Teachers know About That exists, but there’s not much they can do to stop it. Simon only uses initials to identify people and never talks openly about school. “Now listen up. You’re here until four. I want each of you to write a five-hundred-word essay on how technology is ruining American high schools. Anyone who can’t follow the rules gets another detention tomorrow.” “What do we write with?” Addy asks. “There aren’t any computers here.” Most classrooms have Chromebooks, but Mr. Avery, who looks like he should have retired a decade ago, is a holdout. Mr. Avery crosses to Addy’s desk and taps the corner of a lined yellow notepad. We all have one. “Explore the magic of longhand writing. It’s a lost art.” Addy’s pretty, heart-shaped face is a mask of confusion. “But how do we know when we’ve reached five hundred words?” “Count,” Mr. Avery replies. His eyes drop to the phone I’m still holding. “And hand that over, Miss Rojas.” “Doesn’t the fact that you’re confiscating my phone twice give you pause? Who has two phones?” I ask. Nate grins, so quick I almost miss it. “Seriously, Mr. Avery, somebody was playing a joke on us.” Mr. Avery’s snowy mustache twitches in annoyance, and he extends his hand with a beckoning motion. “Phone, Miss Rojas. Unless you want a return visit.” I give it over with a sigh as he looks disapprovingly at the others. “The phones I took from the rest of you earlier are in my desk. You’ll get them back after detention.” Addy and Cooper exchange amused glances, probably because their actual phones are safe in their backpacks. Mr. Avery tosses my phone into a drawer and sits behind the teacher’s desk, opening a book as he prepares to ignore us for the next hour. I pull out a pen, tap it against my yellow notepad, and contemplate the assignment. Does Mr. Avery really believe technology is ruining schools? That’s a pretty sweeping statement to make over a few contraband phones. Maybe it’s a trap and he’s looking for us to contradict him instead of agree. I glance at Nate, who’s bent over his notepad writing computers suck over and over in block letters. It’s possible I’m overthinking this. Cooper Monday, September 24, 3:05 p.m. My hand hurts within minutes. It’s pathetic, I guess, but I can’t remember the last time I wrote anything longhand. Plus I’m using my right hand, which never feels natural no matter how many years I’ve done it. My father insisted I learn to write right-handed in second grade after he first saw me pitch. Your left arm’s gold, he told me. Don’t waste it on crap that don’t matter. Which is anything but pitching as far as he’s concerned. That was when he started calling me Cooperstown, like the baseball hall of fame. Nothing like putting a little pressure on an eight-year-old. Simon reaches for his backpack and roots around, unzipping every section. He hoists it onto his lap and peers inside. “Where the hell’s my water bottle?” “No talking, Mr. Kelleher,” Mr. Avery says without looking up. “I know, but--my water bottle’s missing. And I’m thirsty.” Mr. Avery points toward the sink at the back of the room, its counter crowded with beakers and petri dishes. “Get yourself a drink. Quietly.” Simon gets up and grabs a cup from a stack on the counter, filling it with water from the tap. He heads back to his seat and puts the cup on his desk, but seems distracted by Nate’s methodical writing. “Dude,” he says, kicking his sneaker against the leg of Nate’s desk. “Seriously. Did you put those phones in our backpacks to mess with us?” Now Mr. Avery looks up, frowning. “I said quietly, Mr. Kelleher.” Nate leans back and crosses his arms. “Why would I do that?” Simon shrugs. “Why do you do anything? So you’ll have company for whatever your screw-up of the day was?” “One more word out of either of you and it’s detention tomorrow,” Mr. Avery warns. Simon opens his mouth anyway, but before he can speak there’s the sound of tires squealing and then the crash of two cars hitting each other. Addy gasps and I brace myself against my desk like somebody just rear-ended me. Nate, who looks glad for the interruption, is the first on his feet toward the window. “Who gets into a fender bender in the school parking lot?” he asks. Bronwyn looks at Mr. Avery like she’s asking for permission, and when he gets up from his desk she heads for the window as well. Addy follows her, and I finally unfold myself from my seat. Might as well see what’s going on. I lean against the ledge to look outside, and Simon comes up beside me with a disparaging laugh as he surveys the scene below. Two cars, an old red one and a nondescript gray one, are smashed into each other at a right angle. We all stare at them in silence until Mr. Avery lets out an exasperated sigh. “I’d better make sure no one was hurt.” He runs his eyes over all of us and zeroes in on Bronwyn as the most responsible of the bunch. “Miss Rojas, keep this room contained until I get back.” “Okay,” Bronwyn says, casting a nervous glance toward Nate. We stay at the window, watching the scene below, but before Mr. Avery or another teacher appears outside, both cars start their engines and drive out of the parking lot. “Well, that was anticlimactic,” Simon says. He heads back to his desk and picks up his cup, but instead of sitting he wanders to the front of the room and scans the periodic table of elements poster. He leans out into the hallway like he’s about to leave, but then he turns and raises his cup like he’s toasting us. “Anyone else want some water?” “I do,” Addy says, slipping into her chair. “Get it yourself, princess.” Simon smirks. Addy rolls her eyes and stays put while Simon leans against Mr. Avery’s desk. “Literally, huh? What’ll you do with yourself now that homecoming’s over? Big gap between now and senior prom.” Addy looks at me without answering. I don’t blame her. ­Simon’s train of thought almost never goes anywhere good when it comes to our friends. He acts like he’s above caring whether he’s popular, but he was pretty smug when he wound up on the junior prom court last spring. I’m still not sure how he pulled that off, unless he traded keeping secrets for votes. Simon was nowhere to be found on homecoming court last week, though. I was voted king, so maybe I’m next on his list to harass, or whatever the hell he’s doing. “What’s your point, Simon?” I ask, taking a seat next to Addy. Addy and I aren’t close, exactly, but I kind of feel protective of her. She’s been dating my best friend since freshman year, and she’s a sweet girl. Also not the kind of person who knows how to stand up to a guy like Simon who just won’t quit. “She’s a princess and you’re a jock,” he says. He thrusts his chin toward Bronwyn, then at Nate. “And you’re a brain. And you’re a criminal. You’re all walking teen-movie stereotypes.” “What about you?” Bronwyn asks. She’s been hovering near the window, but now goes to her desk and perches on top of it. She crosses her legs and pulls her dark ponytail over one shoulder. Something about her is cuter this year. New glasses, maybe? Longer hair? All of a sudden, she’s kind of working this sexy-nerd thing. “I’m the omniscient narrator,” Simon says. Bronwyn’s brows rise above her black frames. “There’s no such thing in teen movies.” “Ah, but Bronwyn.” Simon winks and chugs his water in one long gulp. “There is such a thing in life.” He says it like a threat, and I wonder if he’s got something on Bronwyn for that stupid app of his. I hate that thing. Almost all my friends have been on it at one point or another, and sometimes it causes real problems. My buddy Luis and his girlfriend broke up because of something Simon wrote. Though it was a true story about Luis hooking up with his girlfriend’s cousin. But still. That stuff doesn’t have to be published. Hallway gossip is bad enough. And if I’m being honest, I’m pretty freaked at what Simon could write about me if he put his mind to it. Simon holds his cup up, grimacing. “This tastes like crap.” He drops the cup, and I roll my eyes at his attempt at drama. Even when he falls to the floor, I still think he’s messing around. But then the wheezing starts.

Karen M. McManus is the New York Times bestselling author of the young adult thriller One of Us Is Lying, which has been translated into 37 languages worldwide. Her second book, Two Can Keep a Secret, will be released in January 2019. Karen lives in Massachusetts with her son. She holds a master's degree in Journalism from Northeastern University, which she mostly uses to draft fake news stories for her novels. To learn more about Karen M. McManus and her books, visit her website.You can also find her on Goodreads, Instagram, and Twitter.