#spent the afternoon cleaning my parents’ garage

[simplyghosting]

Were I not nerfed (lower disk injury), I would be spending my days doing manual labor and enjoying it

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 1

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 5393

Warnings: Angst, Past Trauma.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers. Not sure when this one will be up and available to read yet. Just getting the chapter list started for it.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 1

You grew up hearing about soulmates, but since you were raised by your Aunt Ellen, it was something you weren’t sure was even true. She’d shown you the mark that had shown up on her hip, your uncle’s name, when she’d turned sixteen. Soulmates clearly were a thing, but you were skeptical, even as a child.

“Hey, you gonna take care of the customers or just stand there daydreamin?” Ellen asked you.

“Sorry,” you quickly apologized, tending to the men at the bar.

How did I end up working here, of all places?

Your mind constantly drifted these days, and it started a month ago. Your twenty-fifth birthday was only three months away. Jo continually teased you when she found you off in your head during work hours. Then there was your Aunt Ellen, who was getting more worried about you as the days passed.

The music from the jukebox sounded far away, almost muffled as you absentmindedly took care of the tasks of cleaning tables, the bar, restocking bottles, and filling drinks. Guys would flirt with you, but you’d only give them that fake smile and move on.

It was the birthday you’d been waiting for, even if you hadn’t wanted to admit it to anyone. You were turning sixteen, and you’d finally see the name of your soulmate. Thanks to your aunt, you had gotten your hopes up.

But the day came and went, and nothing appeared. You had checked everywhere, even behind your ears. There was nothing. It took months to pull out of that depression, especially when those close to you asked about it. You also felt like some sort of freak. In all the research you’d done, you couldn’t find anything about not getting the mark when you turned sixteen.

“Geeze, Y/N. You’re really out of it today. What’s wrong, sweetie?” Ellen asked you, pulling you from your memories.

“Sorry. My mind seems to have a mind of its own today,” you sighed, glancing around the bar for a moment.

“You still bummed about the soulmate thing?” she asked you sincerely, in the way she did when she was gently trying to get you to talk.

You just shrugged your shoulders before taking off your apron, “I have to go help Bobby at the garage again.” 

“Is it that time already?” Ellen asked, glancing at the clock, then sighed. “Alright. Tell the old grump I said hi, and don’t let him work you too hard.” That made you chuckle, “He never does, and I’ll let him know.”

Again, your mind drifted as you drove down the semi-busy streets to Bobby’s garage. He and your Aunt had been friends for a long time, so he was practically family, as was his wife, Jodi. Growing up, you’d spent half your time in the garage, helping Bobby fix cars.

Sioux Falls wasn’t a big town, but wasn’t tiny either. You knew most of the people who lived there, and they knew you. It was more like more of them knew of you, the girl with no soulmate. You sighed as you drove your 71’ Pontiac Firebird Formula 400, a gift from Bobby you had to fix up, down the lonely road leading to his garage. 

“Got something for ya, kid, but you gotta fix her up,” Bobby told you when you showed up for your shift that hot summer afternoon.

“I told you. You don’t have to get me a present this year,” you groaned.

A year ago, you began hating your birthdays, and you didn’t want to celebrate this one. You begrudgingly followed him to his garage, then to the side of it, where you noticed the tarp over something.

Bobby walked over and pulled the tarp off, revealing the shell of a 71’ Pontiac Firebird Formula 400. You had fallen in love with muscle cars as a kid, watching The Dukes of Hazzard. Your jaw hit the floor as you ran over to her like a kid on Christmas.

He was smiling from ear to ear as he watched you look over everything, “She’s all yours, but you gotta do the work. You can’t let any other mechanic touch her. I’ll answer any questions, but I ain’t helpin' either.”

“Are you serious, Uncle Bobby?” you asked excitedly, popping the hood of the beat-up frame.

A small smile crossed your expression with that memory as you pulled into the driveway of Bobby’s garage and parked in the back. It seemed like so long ago, but it was one of your fondest memories that had made your birthday not so bad.

“I’m here,” you hollered, heading over to the car you’d been working on for almost a week at this point. 

“How was the bar?” he asked, joining you in the garage.

“I was a space cadet, and Aunt Ellen is worried about me,” you replied, sliding back under the car to finish it up.

“You’re not a space cadet. I just think you can’t focus around all those people anymore. Come work at the garage, full-time,” he told you, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

“I’ll think about it,” you answered, tightening down a few more bolts.

“Besides, Jodi misses you being around more often,” Bobby added in an attempt to persuade your decision.

“I miss her too. Oh! Ellen said hi. I don’t know why she doesn’t text you more often,” you replied, sliding out from under the car, looking for yet another tool for yet another size bolt.

When you were in the garage, you always seemed to be able to focus. You knew Bobby had a point, and you’d been considering it for almost a month, but you weren’t about to tell him that. You wanted to let him think it was his idea.

Yeah, your mind drifted, but it was nothing like at the bar. Here, they were little snippets of memories: kids teasing you in high school, adults looking at you like you had two heads, and then there had been attempts to find a job but getting turned down everywhere due to not having the name of your soulmate on your body somewhere. 

By the time your shift ended, you had the car completely finished. Looking down at the car, you stood there, covered with blotches of grease but beaming with pride. 

“I’ll let the owner know she’s ready,” Bobby smiled, now standing next to you. “Think about it, though, okay?”

“I will,” you replied, giving him a hug before you headed home for the night since you’d already cleaned up the tools you’d used.

You lived in a cute little house not far from Bobby’s garage. It was the only thing that you had from your parents, along with a handful of pictures. You’d lost both of them to a car crash when you were only two, having no real memories of them. 

Since you were two when you had lost them, you never asked Jodi what had happened or if anyone else was involved. You honestly didn’t want to know. 

Dropping the things from your pockets on the table, you locked your door and headed to the bathroom. Your thoughts drifted again as you did your typical night routine.

“I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time finding work, sweetie. You can’t work here till you’re at least eighteen. I can’t break that law for you,” Ellen sighed.

You crossed your arms and went back outside to your car. You knew why no one in town would hire you, and it was a stupid reason. However, being a teenager still, you were all hormones and now needed to go blow off some steam.

You peeled out of the parking lot and down the road to your parent's place, which would be yours in less than a year. The drive was short due to the speed you’d chosen to go, and a cloud of dust rolled over your car when you parked out back of the house.

Between the punching bag, the target practice, and throwing your knives till your arm was sore, you had finally calmed down some. You made a call to Ellen and told her you were going to sleep at your ‘almost’ house. She didn’t like it but didn’t argue either.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, curled up in the soft bed that would eventually be your permanent room as the sun set slowly. The thought of being alone for the rest of your life hurt more than you’d ever tell anyone.

Dinner that night consisted of leftovers, and you were thankful you’d prepared them ahead of time when the week began—baked chicken, potatoes, and gravy. You were far too out of it to even worry about a vegetable. 

I’ll tell Ellen tomorrow.

Finally deciding to quit working at the bar as you cleaned up dinner and headed to bed, almost feeling as though a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Slipping under the covers and getting comfortable, you also felt more relaxed than usual. 

—----

Two hours into your shift, and Ellen had already had to pull you out of your head a dozen times. It was Saturday, so even the morning hours were busy today. You were just thankful that you never had to cook, knowing you would have ended up burning most of the food.

“Can you at least pay attention to the ones at the bar? Jo can handle the floor today,” Ellen told you, again sounding worried.

“I’ll try,” you sighed, glancing at the men sitting there.

There was no point in apologizing again. As you began taking care of the drinks, the bell over the door dinged, signifying yet another customer. Typically, you wouldn’t have even looked up, but something pulled at you.

It was three men, none of whom you recognized, and two of them looked to be around your age, with the third being older. All three of them sat at the bar, so you went over to get them drinks.

“What’s your poison?” you asked, putting on that fake work smile and not really looking at them.

“Three beers,” the older of the three said, “And please tell Ellen to come over.”

You were slightly confused but agreed. You set their beers down in front of them, then went to find Ellen in the back. “Hey, there’s a guy out here that asked for you.”

“Did you get his name?” she asked as she dried her hands.

“No. He didn’t say. He’s with two other guys who are younger, though, if that helps?” you replied as you followed her out of the back room.

You stopped halfway down the bar, but you were still behind it, as she was now on the other side, making her way to the three of them. The older man stood, both he and Ellen smiling as they embraced in a hug, which confused you. You managed to keep up with the drinks for those at the bar but couldn’t hear what the four of them were talking about.

“Y/N, come down here and get these boys a refill,” Ellen hollered, motioning for you to go over to them.

Rolling your eyes, you did as she asked, putting on that fake smile again, “Here ya go.”

“Thanks, Sweetheart,” one of the two younger ones said to you with what looked to be a flirtatious smirk.

“Don’t be flirting with my niece, Dean. She’s still what you’d consider innocent,” Ellen scolded the one who had just spoken to you, but to you, it sounded more like a teasing sort of joking around, which made you slightly curious. “Thanks. Like I need some stranger to know that sort of thing,” you grumbled.

“Sweetie, these are the Winchesters. They’re practically family. You met them when you were little,” Ellen replied, smiling happily.

For a moment, you were somewhat dumbfounded as to what to even say. You couldn’t seem to remember meeting the three of them. Ellen introduced you to John Winchester, the father of Dean and Sam, who were four years apart in age.

“I hate to do it, Aunt Ellen, but, I need to talk to you about something before I leave in ten,” you finally told her.

“What’s up?” she asked, looking quite puzzled.

“I need to take some time off for a while,” you mumbled, feeling bad.

“Take all the time you need, sweetie. I know things have been rough for you lately,” she said softly, then she gave you a hug. “And tell that old fart to stop by sometime.”

“Thanks for understanding, and I will,” you replied, relieved as you hugged her back. Then you looked over at the Winchesters, “It was nice to have at least met the three of you since I don’t remember meeting you before now. Not sure when I’ll see you again, though.”

“How come?” John asked, seeming fairly curious.

“I’m going to be working my other job full-time for a while. It’s the love of my life, honestly,” you replied with a smile, giving John your full attention.

“What’s that, kid?” he asked, which made you wonder if perhaps he knew Bobby since Bobby called you that all the time.

“I fix cars. Hate to do it, but I have to run,” you replied quickly, heading for the door and out to your Baby. However, your heart about stopped when you saw the black 67’ Chevy Impala parked next to your Firebird.

“Damn…” you breathed out in quiet shock and awe.

Shit! I’m gonna be late.

With that thought, you shook your head, pulled your gaze from the car, and drove to Bobby’s garage for your shift. It indeed was a beautiful car, and you knew that no one in town drove one of those. Through deductive reasoning, you figured it had to belong to the Winchesters. You just weren’t sure which one. Whichever one it was, though, they loved that car, and you knew it with how well it had been taken care of.

The leaves on the trees were changing colors already, and the light breeze was finally cooler than the summer heat that you hated. However, you didn’t notice much today; you were too excited to give Bobby the news.

You knew the smile you couldn’t hide would give it away, but you stepped into his little office anyway. You didn’t even have time to say anything before he did.

Bobby was smiling from ear to ear when he looked up at you, “Nice to know Ellen didn’t give you a hard time about being here full time. You can whip those boys on the morning shift into shape for me.”

“Like they’d listen to me,” you chuckled but rolled your eyes.

“They better, since you’re gonna be their boss from here on out,” he told you seriously.

“Wait? What?” you asked, in complete surprise.

“Kid, you know your shit, and you’re good at your job. You’re better at your job than the four boys I got workin here already. I’d rather just have you than all of them 'cause I know you’d get the job done like it should be, and you never cut corners,” he explained, being completely serious.

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you stammered, still shocked.

“Just say thanks and be here at six tomorrow morning. Take the afternoon off and rest up,” he smiled.

You went over and wrapped him up in a hug. He knew the only reason you worked in the garage late was to avoid the boys he had working there in the morning. You had tried doing the dating thing after your sixteenth birthday, but realized quickly that no boy wanted anything to do with you.

That night, you were still smiling, even if you were apprehensive about being someone’s boss, let alone four grown men. People in the town were mostly courteous toward you but treated you like a plague of some sort since your soulmate's name never appeared on your body. 

—-------

As you got ready that morning, you attempted to calm your nerves, but it didn’t work. You gave yourself mental pep talks all morning and even on the drive, but that wasn’t helping either. Your heart was still racing as you parked out back like you usually did.

Bobby was the only one at the garage for the moment, and he even told you to breathe more than once. He explained that you’d still be working on cars, but now you’d also be keeping an eye on the boys he had working there and telling them when to take their breaks. It seemed simple enough.

Benny, Cas, Garth, and Jack were decent guys and were all friends. They’d spend time at the bar in the evenings when you were at the garage. It was how you had avoided a lot of people in the town since they really wanted nothing to do with you. The part you were worried about was interacting with them, as their boss. Bobby was standing next to you as the four of them arrived and mingled into the garage.

“Boys, meet your new boss,” Bobby said sternly, and all four of them looked up at you.

You were sure your heartbeat could be heard throughout the room as you froze under their gaze. The only one who didn’t look at you like you were a waste of space or something to avoid was Garth, and you made a mental note of that.

Something in you snapped with how they looked at you, and you laid into them before Bobby could comment on their expressions. “Look, I know that at least three of you would rather not work with me. I’m not a bitch, but I will be if I have to be. You don’t like this, there’s the door,” you told them sternly, putting your hands on your hips.

“Seriously?” Benny asked, annoyed. His Cajun accent was thick, and if it weren’t for his attitude, you probably could have listened to the man talk all day.

“Yes, Benny. She’s got the right to fire you if need be. I suggest you don’t give her a reason,” Bobby replied, crossing his arms, almost daring the man to challenge his decision.

Garth stepped forward, though, with that kind smile he always had, “I, for one, am looking forward to working with you, Y/N. You seem like a nice person, fair.”

Your expression instantly softened, and you smiled at him. “Thanks, Garth.”

“Alright, get to work,” Bobby told all of you before he headed into his office to keep an eye on things.

You turned from the four of them and headed toward the newest of the cars that had been brought in the day before. Your nerves were shot, but you were proud of yourself for standing up to the three of them. Pausing for a brief moment as you looked down at the car, you decided on something.

I’m gonna just be me. If they don’t like it, they can quit.

You turned on the radio to the classic rock station, then got to work on the car. Benny raised an eyebrow and just watched you silently before he got to work with the other three. It was odd for you with the other four working there, too. It was something you weren’t used to, but you found yourself keeping an eye on them, even while you worked.

An hour into the shift, Cas had stopped working and sat on one of the barstools, sipping some water. You watched him out of the corner of your eye for a few minutes while still focusing on your current task. Five minutes later, he was back to work. You took mental note of it and focused on your task again.

Each of them did that, taking turns to sit for a few minutes, have water, and then return to work. It puzzled you, but you weren’t ready to ask them why they did it, at least not yet. 

Just before nine, you heard it before you saw it. The beautiful purr of that Impala you had seen the night before. A smirk crossed your lips while you were unbolting the upper portion of the water pump for the current car in front of you. 

The Impala stopped, and then she was silent. You could clearly hear three sets of footsteps heading into the garage. The four boys erupted with greetings to the Winchesters, more Dean than the other two. Even Bobby joined in. 

So, they do know each other. Too bad the boys know them too. So much for maybe making a friend now.

You sighed and slid under the car, going for the bottom bolts now that the top ones were loose, completely ignoring the ruckus of greetings going on only about twenty feet away from you.

“Kid, you gonna come say hi?” you heard Bobby ask, and you realized he was standing next to you.

“I really wanted to get this finished, since the part finally came in, and this poor car has been sitting here for a week waiting,” you replied without moving out from under the car.

“Kid, don’t make me pull you outta there,” he told you a bit more sternly, and you knew he’d do it.

“Fine,” you grumbled, sliding out from under the car.

“So much for not running into you again, Sweetheart,” Dean smirked, which made you roll your eyes.

“Dean’s gonna be starting tomorrow morning. Dean, she’ll be your boss, so don’t try anything funny. She’s also practically my niece,” Bobby told him, far sterner than you’d heard him talk to anyone before, which only piqued your curiosity as to what their past entailed.

“I’ll behave, Bobby, I promise,” Dean told him, somewhat seriously. 

You noticed a small twinkle in not only Dean’s eye, but also in Bobby’s. It was like there was something they both knew but weren’t saying, at least not in front of you.

“You better, boy. I got no problems telling your dad and making him fire you,” Bobby replied, glancing at John.

That was when it hit you. You’d seen the initials JW on several different pieces of paperwork and even a couple of packages that had been delivered to the garage. John was Bobby’s partner in the business, and Dean was supposed to inherit it when John passed or retired. You were a bit surprised, though, that you had the power to fire the boss's son or at least write him up if you had to.

John’s laughter filled the garage at Bobby’s statement, “If I have to get involved, you’ll be in far more trouble than just losing your job.” There was a joke in there, but you could also hear the hint of seriousness in his tone.

What do the three of them know but aren’t saying around me? This is so frustrating.

“I said I’d behave,” Dean grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning against the car closest to him while the boys gave him a hard time. But it was there, even if only a hint of it, a smirk, and you noticed.

That was when John and Bobby both turned toward you, and for some reason, it made you nervous. “We’re having a little get-together tonight at Harvelle’s, and you’re invited. Sam graduated and is getting a full ride for law school, and that calls for a celebration,” John told you with a far softer smile than you thought the man was capable of.

“Uh, sure, I guess,” you replied, completely unsure of the idea of being around people who really wanted nothing to do with you.

“Good. Then we’ll see you there around say, seven?” John replied.

“Okay,” you answered, not sure what else to say.

Due to your attention being on John and Bobby, you missed the silent conversations going on between Dean, Sam, and the four grease monkeys on the far side of the garage. Dean was mostly watching you while Benny and Cas were telling him things, about you. Sam was also watching you, but his was more out of curiosity than anything else.

John and Bobby hung out in the office with the door closed for at least another hour. Dean and Sam were distracting the other four while they worked. You, well, you were changing out the water pump, ignoring all of them. It was what hurt the least. 

While you were tightening down the bolts under the car, you noticed a pair of feet standing next to you.

“You really don’t remember us, do you?” he asked.

“Sorry. I really don’t,” you answered, focusing on the bolt that was being a pain to get to.

“Wow. Kinda surprised since we went to the same schools and grew up in the same town,” he chuckled quietly, and you realized it was Sam and not Dean. Sam had a softer voice, and he didn’t call you sweetheart.

“I’m really sorry. I was kind of a loner,” you told him and finally got the bolt tightened down.

Sliding out from under the car and looking up at him, you felt like an ant with how tall he was. You shook off the feeling, got to your feet, and bent over into the engine so you could finish bolting the water pump in place.

“I remember. I heard about what happened, or uh, I mean- what didn’t happen when you turned sixteen,” he told you with that softness you were thankful for.

You shrugged your shoulders briefly, “Doesn’t matter. At least Bobby let me work here. All I ask is that you aren’t being nice to me out of pity. I’d rather be ignored.”

“I don’t pity you. I actually wanted to tell you something I found out while I was at college. It’s rare, like it only happens to one in a billion people. A traumatic event before the age of five can leave a child too scared to get their soulmate’s name when they turn sixteen,” he explained.

You froze where you were. It was more than anything you’d been able to find, and for a moment, you wanted to hope. You quickly brushed it away, though, remembering how badly you’d felt the last time you got your hopes up.

“You gonna keep going or just leave me hanging like that?” you asked, a little sharper than you intended.

Sam took a deep breath, and you missed him glancing at his brother momentarily, “Well, what I read said that the other person still gets their soulmate’s name. The one that went through the trauma has to fully heal from it before they get their soulmate’s name.”

You rolled your eyes, “Kinda hard to heal from something I don’t remember.”

“I just wanted you to know that me and my brother don’t see you like others do, and we’d like to be your friend, if you want,” he replied, then walked away to leave you to your thoughts.

Great. I don’t even know what to do to heal that sort of thing. I don’t even remember my parents. And now, the boss’s kids want to be friends with me. No, that can’t go horribly wrong, can it? Plus, I have to go sit through a celebration with people I don’t remember and others who want nothing to do with me, even if Ellen, Bobby, and Jodi will be there.

You focused on the car but finished it quickly before the Winchesters were even ready to leave. After wiping off your hands, you closed the hood and put the tools away before driving the car out to the finished area so it could wait for its owner to pick it up. When you headed back inside, your eyes were only on the office door, which was still closed. You didn’t see Dean watching you again.

“Hey, Bobby. Cars finished. I didn’t see anything else out back. What do you want me to work on?” you asked, setting the keys on his desk so he could get the paperwork together.

“How about you give Dean the tour? Show him where everythings at?” John suggested with a smirk before Bobby could say a word. “I figured Benny would do that, since they seem like friends,” you replied, not wanting to interrupt the six of them.

“I’m sure he could, but he won’t. You’re their boss. Comes with the territory,” John told you.

“Yes, Sir,” you replied in a slight mumble, heading back out of the office, closing the door, and then leaning on it.

As you crossed your arms, you watched the six of them. They looked like they were enjoying whatever conversation was happening between them, with Dean laughing at something he must have found funny. With a deep sigh, you walked over to them, slipping your hands into your pockets.

There was instant silence the moment you got close to them, but you didn’t let the hurt show, “John said I should give you a tour and show you where everything is,” you explained to Dean, not really looking at him.

Dean glanced at the office door then back down at you, “If that’s what my dad said, then lead the way, Sweetheart.”

Why does he have to keep calling me that? It’s not like he knows me. Maybe he calls all girls that, and it’s just his thing or something like that. 

“Yeah, not like you been in here a day of your life,” Benny teased him, which made you look up at Benny, confused. “Huh?” was the only word you could manage.

“Oh yeah, Dean’s been working in here since he was knee-high to a grasshopper,” Cas chuckled, teasing Dean.

Your gaze went from each of them and then to Dean, tilting your head in a fair amount of confusion. Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously and looked away from you.

“What’s wrong, Dean? Worried she’ll figure it out?” Benny stated.

“Figure what out?” you asked as Dean glared at Benny.

“Nothing,” Dean snapped, still glaring at Benny.

So, Dean’s got some secret he doesn’t want me to know about. 

“Do you still want that tour I’m supposed to give you?” you asked with a sigh, looking more at the floor than anywhere else.

“Dean, you were here less than a month ago. Did you really forget where everything is already?” Cas teasingly asked him.

You’d had enough, so headed out of the garage, tossing your hands up and hollering, “Never mind,” just before making it outside. Once you made it to your car, you texted Bobby and told him you were heading home since there weren’t any more cars to work on at the moment.

The six of them watched as you drove past the garage entrance and then down the driveway. You missed Dean punching Cas in the jaw. You missed John and Bobby going off on Benny and Cas. You also missed Dean going off on Benny. You were too pissed and hurt to even look back.

Bobby didn’t text you back, but you knew if he had an issue or needed you at the garage, he would have said so. The moment you got home, you went straight for the punching bag, needing to get the anger out of your system so you could shower.

How am I gonna get out of tonight? Can I even get out of tonight? Probably not. I’ll have to show up, at least. I can always leave early, though, right? 

You groaned at the thought of having to be around people, knowing full well that getting out of it, even early, was going to be difficult. At least you weren’t required to dress up any, so you went for a pair of black jeans, a dark blue shirt, and your favorite deep green flannel pulled over it. At the garage, you typically had your hair pulled back, but for tonight, you left it down.

Parking near the back of Harvelle’s Bar & Grill, you were just staring at the building, dreading going inside and having to “people,” as you called it. The sun had already set, and the darkness was allowing the glimmer of stars to be seen in the night sky, but you didn’t notice them, just the bar in front of you.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2

Story Master List Main Master List

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @jamerlynn @jackles010378 @bruhidkjustwannaread @onthehuntforshinies

@chriszgirl92 @angzls @xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @onlyangel-444

@nancymcl @muhahaha303 @suckitands33 @kr804573 @justrandomthougt

@suckitands33 @mxtansy @scarletqueenx @krazykelly @roseblue373

@whimsyfinny @ladysparkles78 @aaathazagoraphobiaaa @hobby27 @perpetualabsurdity

@cicibunbuns @n-o-p-e-never @vanessa-boo @foxyjwls007

If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment.

[idaokiwatine]

as i'm agonizingly waiting for last twilight, here are some scenarios i like to imagine morkday in (begging this series to come out soon bc im going insane and i'm not sure how much more i can take.) anyways, here you go, i need to share my misery with other people:

- an aquarium date, after noticing day's liking towards fish when cleaning up day's fish tank, mork decides to bring him to a real life aquarium. he holds his hand while day gets as close as possible to the glass and mork describes to him the fish species that can be seen.

- day asking mork to read him his favorite book, or even better, mork telling him once about a book he loves and day asking him to read it for him (and mork doing so happily while explaining his favorite scenes)

- one night, as they're cuddling (mork loves being the little spoon and feeling safe and warm knowing there's someone out there who cares about him), mork wakes up terrified after a nightmare about being abandoned - since he doesn't have parental figures in his life anymore and has spent most of his life on his own - and as he turns around he sees day sleeping soundly with an arm around him. mork is suddenly overwhelmed with emotion as it dawns on him that he isn't alone anymore and that he is loved (for who he is, in spite of everything) (then he falls back to sleep at peace, putting his hand over day's and squeezing it tightly.)

- day is feeling down so mork puts some music on and convince him to dance together. (user @stormyoceans i will never move on from your fic it was the most beautiful thing i have ever read)

- mork is jealous of this guy who hangs out at day's house and who seems close to him (he doesn't know it yet, but the guy's name is august.) mork hasn't yet put a name on the confusing feelings he has for day, and he hates feeling this upset over what should be nothing. but he slowly realizes he is falling for day.

- day asks mork to take him to the garage he works at after finding out he's a mechanic. mork teaches him a lot about his job and day is eager to learn about mork's interest for cars.

- day wants to know more about mork and one afternoon he asks him about his music taste and the two share earphones as mork plays lana del rey. although day thinks the songs are a bit sad he doesn't say a thing and instead, asks him often after that day to listen to lana together. he likes the proximity of this activity and how it allows them to bond.

- on the days when going out seems too exhausting and day needs peace, mork would sit on day's bed and day would lay his head on mork's lap while mork plays with his hair and tells him stories about anything day wants.

- day finds out about mork's tattoo and as they're closer now, asks him if mork could describe to him what it looks like. mork suggests day touches the tattoo while mork describes each part and that's how they end up lying side by side, day tracing mork's tattoo on mork's bare skin as mork describes every line, every curve of the tattoo.

- day holding mork's face in his hands to know whether he's smiling or not (like in the trailer) (but it happens more than once)

that's it for now but expect more as i'm terribly attached to them already (for the ones who know me from twt i'm sorry for bringing my insanity here, it will happen again)

[theliterateape]

A Tale of Two Malls: At Least We'll Still Have Dildos and Plastic Vomit

by Don Hall

Four months in a Vegas one bedroom, hiding from the inevitability of walking by my ex-wife’s apartment and being serenaded by the sounds of her having sex with… someone took its toll. I hadn’t contracted COVID yet and so it was sort of like my own self-enforced quarantine. One afternoon, walking to get my mail, I spied her with an old Chicago friend who had since moved to L.A. in the pool, humping on each other. I felt like running out in traffic to be hit by a speeding tourist. Instead, I hunkered down and rarely left the confines of the 680 feet of my place.

Then Wichita. Living with my parents in a guest room that resembles a dorm room designed by Martha Stewart and spending the few moments of outside the house taking my dad to his dialysis and going to the gym. That was most of September. So, five months in my own stew.

I can’t keep hiding from the world.

This past week I dropped dad off at his medieval torture chamber and decided to revisit places in the city I hadn’t been to in forty years or so. Old haunts. Places of import from when I was a kid. My dad, when he isn’t moaning about how much pain he’s in or how little energy he has or how humiliating it is to have been a go-to guy who can no longer drive or hear or walk, yarns on about the old days. I love his stories (even if I’ve heard some of them before).

Working at a garage in the evening and as a janitor for a local bowling alley overnight when he was in high school. The time ‘Green Teeth Jim’ accidentally lit his massive beard on fire. How his friend Wally lost his RV business due to incredibly bad investments.

I’ve spent an awful lot of time mining my recent past—a ridiculous divorce from someone you thought you knew but didn’t even a little bit will do that to you—so I decided to maybe mine some of my more distant past for a change.

In high school there were three things to do in Wichita: cruise Douglas Street at night and hang out at either of the two big malls in town. Towne West Square was newer and I can remember seeing the original Footloose there, the theaters right next to the arcade and just in front of the booming food court with Arby’s, S’barro’s, Burger King, a chicken place and a cookie stand. Towne East Square was older and I had spent a summer working with a crew tarring the roof of Dillards. The Pizza Hut on the periphery where Ryan Berger and I got our ass’s kicked by five frat guys. The Chess King where I bought my first parachute pants. The open area in the middle where Lew Hanna and I pretended I was a Russian foreign exchange student for no reason but the stupid fun of it.

I drove out to Towne West. It was early but open. The huge mall, flanked by a Dillards and a J.C. Penney, was empty with about thirty old folks getting in their steps by walking the mall. It was dire. For every active storefront there were three empty lots. It was like a ghost town but very clean. The booming food court had all the tables and chairs set out for diners but only a coffee place and an unstaffed Mexican place still were struggling on. Every other former business was empty. I walked the perimeter. I could see what I remembered but in stark contrast to the deserted beast it had become.

The Dillards and the J.C. Penney were empty. Oddly, there were kiosks with globes filled with brightly colored bubble gum balls and I wondered how old that gum actually was like remnants of humanity discovered at the end of The Planet of the Apes (the one with Chuck Heston not Markie Mark). A Japanese massage store with chairs and massage tables and three employees sitting alone waiting for customers who weren't coming. Several art-for-sale galleries, likely paying below the asking price for space. In one of them there was an attractive female painter, furiously painting. I thought about going in but realized that A) I'd only buy something because I felt bad for her and B) she was attractive which, given my horrifically bad judgment when it comes to women, would probably not be a a disaster.

And there it was—as if I hadn’t aged a day—Spencer’s Gifts. For those uninitiated, Spencer’s Gifts is a novelty store. Crazy t-shirts, lava lamps, mugs shaped like a pair of tits, plastic vomit. When I was in high school in the 80’s, it was Spencer’s Gifts that provided the Whoopee Cushions, the palm-sized squirt guns, and anything you could imagine covered in glitter. It was like a Nirvana for Morons.

I strolled inside. There was a kid—maybe twenty-two—folding novelty shirts with a picture of Christian Bale as Patrick Bateman and the slogan “Go Fuck Yourself!” underneath—and I asked him how they could still be open with the mall as wholly corpsed out as it was.

“Oh. We get some walk up traffic in the afternoons. Spencer’s is a pretty healthy company, I mean, not here but nationwide. Pretty slow until around 5PM.”

“I remember this place from 1982. It looks almost exactly the same except for the expansive sex toy and dildo collection in the back. I don’t remember those.”

“Really? Yeah, that’s about 60% of our business now. Sex toys and music t-shirts. You saying this place has been here since 1982? Wow.”

“Hard to say if it was this specific storefront but the place was here, alright. I guess there will always be a demand for dildos and plastic dogshit.”

I left and continued walking. The surreal feeling that life had just moved on, that the world had abandoned the very hubs of activity and community that were my youth, that perhaps I was this abandoned mall, a GenX white guy with no kids, no wife, no thirty-year work anniversary with a shitty cake and plaque shuffling around this mausoleum of desolate commerce. It didn’t feel bad necessarily but it was a tilt in the planet’s gravity.

I went back to my car and decided to swing over to the other side of town to Towne East Square. What the fuck. Might as well cement my newfound obsolescence.

Towne East was as opposite as it could be. The parking lot was half full even at 11AM. There were no empty storefronts. The food court was populated with a Chinese-ish place, a Vietnamese-ish place, a Korean-ish place (all likely using the same central kitchen) as well as a Hot Potato Bar, a Starbucks, an Orange Julius, and an old man spooning roasted nuts into cups.

There were people just hanging out. With their kids, by themselves. A couple wearing matching Las Vegas sweatshirts. Heavy set women getting their nails done. Multiple shoe stores, those kiosks with iPhone cases and sketchy jewelry were everywhere. And, of course, a nearly identical Spencer’s Gifts. The mall to the east was hopping.

How? How could one mall thrive while the other, nearly identical mall die? What happened here that pushed all the business east and left the island to west desolate?

I spent some time asking locals and doing some online research. There are lots of theories about the demise of one and not the other but none definitive or conclusive. Maybe it was that the west of Wichita expanded further west and shops set up where the new developments were. Perhaps the corporation that owned both malls simply decided at least one of them should be packed and sacrificed the other. It seems that it just… happened. Slowly, over time, the traffic to Towne West dried up, businesses closed or moved further west to standalone brick and mortars, the mall to the west dwindled. None of this occurred out east.

If these malls are symbols of my earliest years as an adult, just a few years before I set out and moved to Chicago, I wonder which one holds my future? I’ve done well enough for myself but left little in terms of legacy. Am I the Deceased Mall or the One that Keeps Going? Have my prospects diminished so the only thing I can offer the world is a place for old people to walk and young people to buy a Tupac t-shirt or is the future a bit more robust and it’s just a matter of time before I thrive?

Time will tell I suppose. For the next days, I’m going to venture out to my old high school and the tiny towns of my nascent days to continue to ruminate on my stone-skipping history through the world. Kind of like my own personal Garden State without the romcom elements but with a similarly kickass soundtrack.

[dimitrescus-bitch]

Double Crossed (Jennifer Jareau x Emily Prentiss x Reader)

Growing up, you hadn’t had a good family dynamic. So, you’d spent most of your adult life avoiding being put into a situation where you’d be a parental figure. With Emily, that was pretty easy, but that wasn’t enough to keep the two of you together. She left to go work with the BAU and you sort of spiraled out without her. Years later, a case brought the BAU to where you’d been living on your own and Emily convinced you to find work in DC. Now, you had Emily back, and with her came JJ, Henry, and Michael. 

“Are we going to Disney?” Michael asked excitedly. You turned around to face him and leaned down. 

“Probably not little man. Your moms have only a little while until they gotta go back into work and Florida is a long ways away,” you told him. He frowned for a moment, but you quickly distracted him by picking him up and slinging him over your shoulder. 

“Will we ever go to Disney?” Michael asked and you nodded. “When?” 

“Hmm, well my birthday’s coming up, so maybe I’ll talk to Em and JJ about it then,” you suggested. You set Michael down as you saw your partners approaching. You let Henry hold Michael’s hands as they ran towards JJ and Emily. It was always really sweet whenever they got excited about visiting their moms at work. 

“Hey, how were they this morning?” JJ asked you as she pulled you into a hug. You kissed her cheek and then turned to get your kiss from Emily. “I know we left in a rush, sorry about that.” 

“It was fine, they’ve been so good all day,” you told her. It was true, the boys had quietly waited for breakfast when they woke up and had kept to themselves for the majority of the morning. When you told them to get ready to see Emily and JJ, they both went upstairs to shower and get themselves dressed for their afternoon out. 

“We have a surprise for you!” Michael squealed excitedly. You and Henry shared a look, both afraid that Michael would ruin the “surprise” you’d planned for JJ and Emily. 

“Oh really, well that’s great,” Emily said as Michael took her hand. The five of you walked through the park together until you found a nice place to sit. Henry and Michael ate their lunches pretty fast and then Henry took Michael over to the playground. Per the rules, they stayed in everybody’s eyeline so that they didn’t get stolen or anything bad like that. “So, any clues on the surprise?” 

“Not the one for tonight, but I was thinking that for my birthday we should go to Disneyland,” you said and JJ looked back at Emily. “It’d be fun and we’d all get to spend time together.” 

“You hate theme parks and mascots,” JJ pointed out. 

“Yeah, you punched that giraffe when we all went to Toys R Us,” Emily reminded you. “We could go somewhere else.” 

“I think this is the perfect chance to make new memories with the boys. I’d love to go and it not be ruined by my parents’ imploding marriage.” You batted your eyelashes at them and when JJ sighed, you knew that it was going to happen. 

“Alright, but let’s surprise the boys with it,” JJ suggested. Both you and Emily liked that idea. Michael called you over to wait for him at the bottom of the big slide and you ran over to catch him. “She’s good with them. They love her so much.” 

“And she still thinks that they see her like a babysitter,” Emily huffed. JJ leaned over and rubbed Emily’s back as they watched you play with the boys. Just a bit before JJ and Emily had to leave, you and the boys came back up so that everybody could say bye for the afternoon.  You let the boys play at the park for a little while longer and then you took them home. 

When you got home, you started on making a really nice and fancy dinner for Emily and JJ. Once that was at a place where you didn’t have to prepare anything or watch it, you went into the garage to get the big water guns out. You filled them and then set them in the freezer so that they’d be cold for when you needed to use them. About two hours later, you set them out to make sure the water wouldn’t be ice when you went to shoot JJ and Emily. 

“They’re on their way in,” you said and the boys got into position. Emily and JJ came in through the garage door, so there wasn’t the fear that you’d ruin the rug or anything with the water. “On my count. 3...2...1... Blast ‘em!” 

You and boys shot Emily and JJ with the water guns. It was absolute chaos. Emily and JJ were shrieking and trying to hide behind one another while the three of you were screaming at them. Michael’s gun ran out first and that was when Henry turned on him and you pulled out a second gun from behind your back and shot at Henry until there was no more water left in anybody’s gun. 

“Surprise,” Michael said and JJ started chasing everybody around. Emily did no such thing, she just walked upstairs to her bedroom and changed into a robe while she dried off in their bedroom with the heater turned on. “Help me, it’s so cold!” 

“Gotcha dude,” you said as you vaulted over the couch and tackled JJ away from Michael. JJ stared up at you and pulled you down to kiss her. It was nice, even if she was cold and you’d have to change your clothes too. 

“Let’s get ‘em,” Henry said and before either you or JJ could even look, you felt two cups of water being dumped over your head. 

“Double crossed,” you grumbled as you shook the water off of yourself like a dog. 

“Aw, now you know how I feel,” JJ said and you sat there and pouted. 

“The plan was to get our moms with the cold water,” Henry told you as if you hadn’t been the one who came up with the plan. 

“You’re our mom too,” Michael told you and JJ put her hand on your back when you stiffened up. Henry took Michael’s hand and took him upstairs to get cleaned up for dinner. 

“Are you gonna cry? It’s okay to cry,” JJ told you and you scooted away from her. It was partially because you didn’t want to cry in front of her, but also because she was cold and wet. You tried to get up and run, but JJ got to you and wrapped herself around you. “In this family, we let each other cry and you know that.” 

“Double crossed by my own emotions,” you said as you teared up a bit. 

[solarwonux]

24H || Seuncheol 

mechanic!seungcheol x reader

soulmate!au

w.c: 6.5k

warnings: talks of death, angst, self doubt

note: hello everyone I am not completely back yet, I am still on hiatus. I have been writing this one shot since the release of 24H. I have rewritten it many many many times and have a abandoned it many times as well. Anyway, this is the finished product and I hope you guys like it as much as I do. Thank you for reading and please let me know your thoughts. And thank you @sunlightwoo​ for literally witnessing it all lol.

Also maybe one day I’ll post the original draft of this one if anyone is interested. 

P.S. this is a part of a soulmate universe in which all the members are going to have a story, but that’s gonna take a little while lol, but I hope you all stick around until them

masterlist

Hour 1 - 17:00

Seungcheol threw the wrench on the pile of tools next to him before rolling himself out from underneath the car he was working on. “I don’t see the point in it, Shua.” He sat up, grabbing the towel he had next to him, and tried his best to wipe the black smudges of his fingers. “I’m already a disappointment to my parents, why not add one more to their list?” He shrugged, eyeing his best friend who had decided to come and visit him at the car shop he worked at. 

“I think Shua has a point; you can’t brush this off. You don’t want to end up forgotten in a ditch somewhere.” Jeonghan said, pointedly resting his forearms on top of the hood of the car he had been working on. 

“I’m not going to end up in a ditch and forgotten. The higher-ups--” Seungcheol stuck a pointer finger out and pointed at the cement ceiling, “are just going to set me up with someone.” He stood up and brushed off his whitewashed jeans, the only ones he seemed to wear as they had various oil stains etched into the creases of the fabric. In actuality, he had many of the same pair, and each of them had their own unique patterns of different oil stains. 

“But wouldn’t it be better if you married your soulmate, your other half, your partner in crime, the person the Stars destined you to be with,” Joshua spoke in rushed sentences as he ran a frustrated hand through his jet black hair. His wedding ring shining in the light of the sun, glowing in all its glory. A reminder that he had chosen the path that he and Jeonghan were trying to get Seungcheol to take. 

Sometimes curiosity would seep in s when he saw how happy his best friends were with their soulmates, or when the ticking of the clock scarred into the skin of his wrist, and got too loud to ignore. Seungcheol knew he didn’t belong on that path. He was never one to follow the crowd, and the proof was in his parent’s disappointment when he decided to study music instead of medicine. 

“Nope.” He stood up and closed the hood of the car. He could feel their glares burning holes into his scalp as he strode over and opened the driver’s door. “I’m a firm believer that soulmates are made not found.” Seungcheol grinned before getting behind the wheel and inserting the keys into the ignition. He had spent all morning working on a minor problem in the engine; he was hoping that after many failed attempts, he would finally be able to get the car to start again. 

With a deep sigh, he turned the key listening as the engine sputtered a few times. The hope and confidence he had gained diminishing with each hiccup until, finally, the car roared back to life. A sigh of relief leaving his chapped lips along with a light laugh. He rested his forearms against the old battered steering wheel, peering through the windshield, catching Joshua’s nod of disapproval. He turned on his heels and walked out of the large garage door of the shop.

Seungcheol knew his friend’s meant well, and he knew they didn’t want him to end up unhappy with someone that wasn’t his other half. But how was he supposed to be sure that happiness was a given? When at the end of the day, everyone’s given soulmate was chosen at birth by a group of old white dudes calling themselves Stars.

Hour 2 - 18:00

“What are you going to do then?” Jeonghan closed the hood of the car and dusted his hands. His blonde hair grasped the light of the afternoon sun. Seungcheol placed down the paper bag that contained his and Jeonghan’s lunch on top of the aluminum table they kept in the far corner of the shop.  “I don’t know...eat lunch.” He stated, shrugging and started taking the contents out of the paper bag. “Shua leave?” 

Jeonghan rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the hood of the car. He strode over to where Seungcheol was and took the burrito he had held out to him. “Said he doesn’t want to stay and watch you ruin his life.”

“I’m not ruining my life,” Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head and sat on top of the table, unwrapping his burrito. “I’m choosing the road not taken.” He finished before taking a decent bite out of his burrito. 

“That’s ruining your life in my book.” Jeonghan gave him a pointed look and unwrapped the foil of his burrito, cursing when he noticed some its contents start to fall out of its confinement. “Aren’t you at least a little bit curious about how they look?” He dug inside the paper bag and took out a napkin to clean off the salsa stain of his grey graphic tee. Jeonghan rarely dressed down, unless he was working. Though, sometimes he’d show up in outfits Seungcheol always deemed to clean for the oil splatters he would obtain throughout the day. 

“If looks were the all end tell-all, you’d be an actor instead of the owner of your father’s car shop.” 

“Are you calling me sexy, Choi Seungcheol?” Jeonghan gasped, making the other boy scoff in annoyance. Seungcheol took another bite of his burrito, the salsa running down the stubble of his chin and sighed. “Cause may I remind you I am happily married.” Jeonghan jokes, raising his hand, wiggling his ring finger. 

Seungcheol squinted as the ring got caught in the crossfire between the heat and summer sun. The churning at the pit of his stomach started up again, along with the little voice annoying voice that lived in the back of his head. The red block of numbers on the inside of his wrist laughing at him as he tried his best to push the thought to the back of his head. Like he had done his entire life.

“Sure...but that would just be an excuse, and it wouldn’t be fair towards the other person.” He shrugged, finally cleaning his chin the rest of his mouth. He crumpled up the foil in his hands before throwing the ball he had formed into the paper bag. “It wouldn’t matter soon anyway; I don’t have much time left.” He jumped off the table and made his way to shelves where they kept most of the tools along with small spare car parts they might need some time in the future.

“How much time do you have left?” Jeonghan asked a little too exasperatedly than he would’ve liked, but Seungcheol had managed to catch his tone, and it was starting to make him feel uneasy. He closed a drawer he had mindlessly opened and dropped his head. Seungcheol hated looking at his timer because it never brought a good reaction out of him. He hated the way the anxiety would filter in through his veins as he let his mind wander to the what-ifs. 

For as long as he could remember, he only allowed himself to stare at the number scar before bed but never enough to dwell on it. Last night he had twenty-four hours left; now he was positive the timer had reached the single-digit zone, and to be frank, he was afraid. He didn’t want to feel the pressure against his chest and the shortness of his breath. He didn’t want to feel the shaking in his hands and sweat that formed against his brow bone. Seungcheol had already chosen, but he knew that the second he glanced over at the timer, his doubt would start to run free. And he hated that feeling more than anything, but he also hated Jeonghan’s burning gaze staring him down as if he were doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. So he caved. 

He turned his wrist and pushed the bracelets he used to hide his soulmate mark with his other hand. His breath caught itself in the back of his throat, his lungs closing in like two crushing walls as he saw the numbers ticking down. For a split second, he wondered if he had chosen the right path if his parent’s and his friends had been right all along. But he had been so sure just like he was confident that his name was Choi Seungcheol, that he had chosen right, so why was he letting his thoughts take over. 

Maybe it was the teachings of the Stars he grew up reading at home and at school, or the guilt has finally started to consume him. Whatever it was, he decided to push it aside, bury it deep inside the archives of his mind. He had chosen right, and he wasn’t going to let any false pretenses change his mind.

“Five hours.” 

Hour 3 - 19:00

Seungcheol moved the straw of his bubble, creating soft caramel tidal waves in the cup. He had already picked out all the tapioca pearls leaving him to deal with the unpleasant honeydew tea he had ordered. The soft melodies of an old pop song played in the background, drowning out the flirting going on between the lovers in front of him. He kept his eyes trained on his cup; it had started to accumulate the condensation that came with the humidity of the summertime. His index finger traced over the water droplets that had fallen onto the table, creating a small picture of nothing. 

Jeonghan had dragged him to their usual boba shop after closing up the shop for the night. He had given Joshua a frantic phone call, claiming it was a 911 type of emergency. Seungcheol wasn’t sure how they weren’t tired at having the same conversation, and why they couldn’t let him live with the consequences in peace? If he ended up unhappy, that was his problem, and he would eventually deal with it, but he couldn’t stand the way everyone around him always seemed to have an opinion on how he should live his life. 

It had started the day he was born, scarred with a mark against his own will. It carried out onto his childhood, his parents and teachers telling him how to sit, how to dress, how to speak, and how to breathe. When he left for college the same day his parents decided to disown him, he had finally felt free. He thought for himself, walked for himself and lived for himself. But now his best friend’s the ones he thought he could always count on and he felt knew him better than anyone in the world. Where the ones were trying to guilt-trip him into making a choice, he had made years ago, and frankly, he was getting really tired of it. 

“Are you even listening to us Seungcheol, this is your future you're putting at risk,” Joshua whispered angrily, his grip on his cup grew tight enough his knuckles had started turning white. 

“Why does it matter?” Seungcheol lightly flicked the straw of his drink before pushing it away and crossing his arms. Jeonghan and Joshua both looked at him as if he was growing a third head, annoying him even more. He wasn’t sure why this was such a big deal to them, it wasn’t their life getting ruined. 

“It matters because we don’t want to see you dead.” 

Hour 4 - 20:00

“Are you serious? Do you guys actually believe that kind of stuff?” Seungcheol shook his head and looked out the restaurant window. The sun had finished going down for it’s deep slumber and in return awakened the night life of the city. He took in the people smiling and laughing as they joked and clinged onto one another. He saw limbs start to give out as the alcohol they had previously consumed started to replace their blood. Seungcheol found himself wishing he was one of those people, where the one controlling his body wasn’t the one that gave up on their dreams but instead still held onto that small sliver of hope. It would at least be an escape for a little and most importantly it would be an escape from the painful talk his best friend’s were giving him. 

“Fuck you Seungcheol.” Joshua spat out, quickly he stood up grabbing his coat and shrugged it on. “I’m not going to stay with you and watch the clock count down until you die.” He stuffed his hands in his pocket and took out his wallet before throwing some money onto the table. “Are you coming with me?” He said before facing Jeonghan who was biting his bottom lip in contemplation. Seungcheol saw the gears turn in his head as he thought over his options, his eyes traveling between the furious looking Joshua and himself. 

“Joshua calm down, look there have been some cases in the news lately of mysterious deaths and the only thing they have in common is that their timers went out before they got to meet their soulmate. I don’t know if it's all connected but it can’t just be coincidence Seungcheol.” Jeonghan stated, he tapped his forefinger against the wooden table as Joshua eyed him down waiting impatiently. 

“And what if it is, what if I do find this person and then they turn out to be horrible? You guys got lucky but my life has never been a series of unfortunate events since the beginning of time so who's to say this is any different?” 

“If you keep sitting here and mopping and feeling sorry for yourself, you’ll never find out.” Jeonghan nodded before taking out his wallet and throwing money onto the table. He hated the pity he saw behind his eyes. It only frustrated him because to him it felt like they had given up on him already. That they were planning his funeral without him leaving the world yet. Seungcheol wasn’t entirely convinced that death was at the end of this unfortunate journey, he sadly hoped it was. That way his friend’s would actually have something to pity, but he was alive and healthy (for the most part) so their pity in Seungcheol’s eyes was uncalled for. 

“Then let me find out. Everyone is always telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, I didn’t need you guys to also be one of those people too. You’re supposed to be my friends but here you are nagging me like you’re my parents. If I’m not worthy of hanging with you guys anymore because I’m not married and I have no interest in ever getting married then just leave me alone. I’m better off by myself anyway.” 

Seungcheol knew that as soon as the words left his mouth they had been a mistake, but mistake or not he would never take them back. No matter how the luck of hurt flashing in their handsome features affected him more than it should’ve. These few hours could be the last of his life and instead of living it to his fullest with his closest friends he was pushing them away. Just like he always did whenever he felt too comfortable or afraid. 

“Jeonghan let’s just go, he’s already made up his mind. He’s not going to listen to us.” Joshua sighed, the exhaustion was evident on his face. It was clear he had given up long before the events of tonight. He knew how stubborn Seungcheol was, he knew that once he sets his mind to something there’s no way to turn it back. Seungcheol suspected that’s why he hadn’t tried as hard as Jeonghan to convince him to change his mind. 

“Cheol, just think about it okay. You don’t have to go out and actively look for that person but just keep an open mind and they might just appear right before you. I know you think that we’re trying to do this to change you or to get you to settle down, but we don’t want to turn on the news tomorrow and have your names be part of one of the victims. If you can’t do this for us or yourself at least do it for you mom.” Jeonghan nodded one last time before scooting himself out of the booth. He stood sending a glare to Joshua that wasn’t missed by Seungcheol and somehow it made him feel uneasy inside. He didn’t want to be the one to cause a rift between him and Joshua’s friendship, they had known each other longer than they had known Seungcheol. For half of their life’s Seungcheol was simply an outsider between the threesome. He didn’t know at what moment they became inseparable, but now he wished they hadn’t. 

At least they wouldn’t be involved in the webs of Seungcheol’s complicated life, and they certainly wouldn’t be here showing the utmost care for him when he himself felt like he was unworthy of it. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow” Jeonghan mumbled before dragging Joshua out of the restaurant, mumbling angrily underneath his breath. Seungcheol knew the small comment was Jeonghan’s way of holding onto the little amount of hope he had for his friend. The hope that he would walk into the car shop tomorrow morning and see Seungcheol passed out drunk, his drool stain embedded into the checkered pattern of the old battered couch in the office, because he couldn’t remember how to unlock his front door.

Though, it was a phrase full of hope, it wasn’t a promise, and it felt more like a goodbye to Seungcheol. It made him uneasy and Seungcheol hated feeling uneasy because it only made the ticking sound of the clock tattooed onto his skin louder. 

The front door bell to the restaurant sounded, signaling that someone had walked in or out. He turned to face out the window again and saw Jeonghan and Joshua in a heated argument before Jeonghan kept dragging him away by the ear this time. The scene could’ve been comical to him at some point, but now he just wondered if they were all going to be okay by the time the night ended and morning came again. 

Either way it was clear to him that they had walked out of his life, maybe not for good but they also wouldn’t be the first ones either. 

Hour 5 -21:00

Seungcheol paid the bill and exited the restaurant quietly, his best attempt to remain invisible. It would be a lie if didn’t admit how scared he was after Jeonghan and Joshua left him alone with his thoughts for the first time since he awoke that morning. 

Would his faith really be death?

Or where they using their evil tactics against him to convince him to do the right thing. Needless to say he was scared, more scared than he ever was whenever he thought about falling in love. 

He had once, a long time ago, back when he was still studying music production in college, before he dropped out and took up a job at Mr. Yoon’s carshop. During the three years he was there, all the songs he had composed resembled something about her. Whether it was a phrase she had said or the way the color blue seemed to make her honey doe eyes pop. He was in love, head over heels, ready to give it all up, his friends, his pride, his dream, his life, everything under the sun, for her. He had his bags packed long before she had agreed to run away with him. 

In fact, he almost did, but the morning as he stood underneath the winter sun, waiting at the bus stop with two overprized one way tickets, with his fingers threatening to fall off from the cool. Everything became clear to him, she had abandoned him and their plan. She had given up on him, just like his parents had when he first told him he was going to follow his dream, instead of theirs. 

Seungcheol was angry, it boiled inside of him like an overflowing calderon, and the closer he got to the university and his dorm, the more it spilled over. In a frenzy he had entered his home and destroyed everything he owned. His studio setup, his computer, his many notebooks that were filled with lyrics, because everything had been touched by her and he wanted nothing to do with her anymore. Not after she had lied boldly to his face the night before when they shared the most intimate moment with each other. 

And just like he promised to her underneath the moonlight, he gave it all up, but this time because she had broken him. 

There was a letter she had left for him to find. It didn’t come into his possession after he had stopped attending classes and was living on Jeonghan and Joshua’s couch. The university had called him to pick up his belongings from his dorm after he dropped all his classes on whim one Saturday afternoon. When he did, when he opened the front door of the wretched dorm room, the room that once held so many beautiful memories turned sour. The toe of his shoe was met with a brown paper envelope, his name scribbled neatly on the back. Instantly he knew who it was from. 

Seungcheol had once prided himself in memorizing the way her letters curved with one another. A useless talent he now wished he could forget entirely. With a hesitant he opened it and skimmed through, not wanting to linger long enough on every single one of her words so it would hurt less. 

In the end it did.

It hurt more than her leaving him stranded on the bus stop that morning. It hurt more than finding out that the little things she had strategically left at his place had mysteriously disappeared when he came back home that morning. It hurt more than giving up entirely on a dream so pure that it ended up tainted. It hurt more than dying, or so he assumed because now he finally knew the truth. A truth he had been blinded to the entire three years they spent lost in each other’s thoughts and arms. 

She didn’t love, and she never did. She had a passion that consumed her to the point of greed and when she realized she wasn’t going to achieve her dream with Seungcheol at her side. 

She left and he had given up love for good. 

Which is why Seungcheol was so against the entire soulmate phenomenon. If death was the outcome then so be it, even though the thought of his mom finding him out he was dead scared him to the point it welcomed chills to his body. He was stubborn though, and his father always hated that about him because it reminded him of his younger self. But Seungcheol was never going to give in, no matter how loud the click on his wrist was ticking and how fast he found himself walking.

There was a little bit of hope. It was reserved for special occasions and those had been a rarity in Seungcheol’s life for longer than he liked to admit. But it was still there, buried deep inside, behind his walls and his pride. And it was threatening to burst out into the open, because as much as Seuncheol was scared of falling in love again, this time with a complete stranger, terrified him. The thought of not knowing if his life was really at stake was far scarier. He was gambling with his life line and that was a risk he found himself not willing to take. Though he would never admit to himself and especially not to Jeonghan or Joshua. 

He was in complete denial at least for a slight second. Yet, he had started to walk with fever and hastily. He was desperate, he didn’t know where to start or how to start or if he should even start. He just walked, until his body was running on autopilot. He didn’t know where he was going or where  he was going to end up, but the only thing on his mind was that the timer was blaring inside of his eardrums at an alarming rate, and the hope he kept at bay spilling out of his pores. 

He needed to find his soulmate before it was too late. 

Seungcheol didn’t want to die, he still had a dream to achieve. He will do it, he had promised himself that much. And he wasn’t going to let anyone take it away from again. 

Hour 6 - 22:00

Seungcheol was panting, bending over, with his sweaty palms against his jean clad legs as tried his best to put the air back in his lungs. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been walking, all he could remember was bumping into a few people along the way and mumbling sorry’s underneath his breath when they had sent him glares his way. But he had ended up at the park across the street from his studio apartment, the one he rarely lived in because more often than not. The old raggedy couch at the car shop had been his home for as long as he had worked there. He had bought it last year after saving up enough money, in hopes of it becoming his new beginning, his safe space, where he could jump right back into working on his one goal in life. 

Though, the first night he had spent there, he had hated it. Occasionally he would give it a second chance. He had given it many second chances, but the outcome was always the same. He would stay awake until four in the morning, get frustrated and then end up running laps at the park until sunrise. 

This park had been his sanctuary, the one his apartment couldn’t provide, so it was no surprise his body had carried him here. He felt at home here, the hollowing of the wind chiming and wrapping around him like a blanket of safety. Here, in this park, Seungcheol felt comfortable enough to let his mind race through the thoughts he would keep hidden behind a wall. 

He straightened himself out, running his fingers through his wet sweaty hair and made his way to the park bench by the basketball court, where he would occasionally lay down in the middle and look at the sky, counting the lack of stars in the sky. He knew they were there, but because of the city's light pollution they were invisible to his eye. Those were the only stars he trusted, not the ones that used the Universe’s gifts for their own selfish desires and to control everyone. 

The stars in the night sky, the one’s he used his imagination and intuition to connect with, trusted him. They were the only one’s in his life that believed in him, even when he couldn’t believe in himself, and it made him feel at ease knowing that at least someone out there was rooting for him to win this losing battle.

Seungcheol took a deep sigh and placed his palm over the watch on the inside of his wrist. He had only two hours left, and he would rather not witness the time ticking down. He could hear it, it was drumming loudly against his eardrums, loud enough to the point in which he couldn’t hear the wind and the tree’s surrounding him singing their natural melody. The last thing he needed was to see the visual representation of his last breath nearing him. 

He wanted to fight, but he was tired. If tonight was his last night living a life he had been so cruel to. He would at least take his last breath at the place he felt most at home. 

So, he sat back and closed his eyes tightly. He felt the wind against his cooling skin, the familiar shivers running up his spine. For the first time since he woke up that morning he felt at peace. 

Hour 7 - 23:00

The ringing of his phone startled him. He had only had his eyes closed for about five minutes. Only five minutes of peace before it was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He let out a frustrated sigh and fished out his phone from the pocket of his oil stained light washed jeans. His gaze and heart softened when he realized his mother was the one calling him. Without hesitation he unlocked his phone and placed his phone to his ear.

Silence. He was met with silence, until a choked sob broke it, his heart shattering in the process. “M-Mom, what’s wrong?” Seungcheol sat up. His eyes grew wide. The anxiety running through his body making his leg bounce. 

“Joshua called me. He was freaking out saying that you were making a mistake. What is talking about? You’re not thinking about leaving again?” His mom spoke. Seungcheol could visualize the almost heart attack Joshua had given his mother when he called. He could visualize the color draining from her face as her hands shook while she dialed his number. Seungcheol’s mother was an over thinker and she always thought about the worst possible scenarios. Especially when it came to Seungcheol and his brother. Joshua knew what he was doing when he had called his mother. He knew that his mother was his weakness. Despite the differences they argued about over the years, Seungcheol loved his mother and knowing she was in such distress because of him, scared him more than what he already was. 

“Nothing mom, he’s over exaggerating. Jeonghan, him and I had a small argument earlier but it’s nothing mom. I’m okay.” He spoke into the receiver lying through his teeth. He wasn’t fine, although he was in his sanctuary and at peace. His timer finally reached the fifty-nine minute mark and his heart was racing to the point he was scared it would literally squeeze through the spaces between his ribs and rip through the safety of his skin, onto the concrete pavement beneath his feet. 

“Are you sure? He sounded really scared and worried, what did you guys fight about?” The words came rushing out of her mouth at lighting speed. He knew that question was coming and although he tried scouring through the files in his mind to come up with a concrete answer that would make his mother worry less. He couldn’t. There was no answer he could give her. If she lied she would know, but if he told the truth, his mother would certainly never be able to recover. 

He knew he could prevent her heartbreak. All he had to do was get up and start walking again, let his feet carry him as his intuition and the Universe led him to where he needed to be, but he stayed seated. His hand closing into a fist taking the roughness of his jeans between them, the frustration, fear and anxiety coursing through his veins faster than before. Maybe if he wasn’t such a coward, maybe if he didn’t let his own selfishness consume him to the point it clouded his judgment, he could’ve let himself do what he needed to do. What he wanted to do. 

“It’s not a big deal, Jeonghan asked him to be his best man and I got a little upset. Tomorrow we’ll be fine and laugh about it.” He said letting out the breath he had been holding in. He knew he sounded like he had just ran a few miles rather than sitting down in complete silence and stillness. 

“I know you’re lying but I have been able to get the truth out of you, so I’ll drop it. At least I know you’re okay and you’re still here.” Seungcheol’s mother stopped speaking for a second, he could hear his father whispering something to her and his mother answering in agreement. “Visit us tomorrow, your brother is coming over tomorrow for dinner. Your dad wants to see you.” She half whispered the last part and it brought a slight smile to his face. For years Seungcheol and his father had not been on good terms, whenever they saw each other, his future always became the topic of conversation. His father always shared his disapproval and disappointment on how Seungcheol’s life had turned out. His father expected too much from both him and his brother, he had dreams in which he had tried to instill in them. It wasn’t enough that one of his sons had achieved his dream, his pride was attached to the two of them. And knowing that Seungcheol always refused, always followed the beat of his own drum, wounded his pride. 

His mother and brother always tried their best to bridge the gap between them that had only grown deeper over the years. 

Seungcheol admired their commitment, but just being in his father’s presence fully aware of how he felt towards him was only a simple reminder of what he did not want to become, and it only made him resent him even more. 

“I don’t know mom, I work until late tomorrow and I wouldn’t have enough time to go home shower and change. Maybe some other time.” Seungcheol whispered. The wind blew causing a single leaf to escape its perspective branch. Seungcheol watched it closely as it flew down, landing on his lap. He picked it up in between his forefinger and thumb, twirling the steam as he listened to his mother sigh out. 

“Just come after work...it’s important.” 

Seungcheol wanted to say yes. The simple three letter word was one of the hardest ones to say. With the urgency in his mother’s voice, he knew that she wasn’t lying and that whatever his father had to tell him. It was important. But Seungcheol didn’t want to make a promise he could not keep. For he didn’t know if his tomorrow would ever come. If the last thirty minutes (indicated by the timer on his wrist) would be the last thirty minutes of his life. 

He wondered if it was possible for time to run faster than before, and the quick ticking sound in his head proved that he was right. It was now drowning out the sound of his mother’s low and desperate pleas. 

“M-Mom I’ll see what I can do, maybe if Jeonghan is in a good mood I can convince him to let me off early, I’ll try to be there by dinner time.” The almost empty promise escaped his throat, running past his teeth and perfect lips faster than he could stop himself.

“Perfect. We’ll see you tomorrow.” His mother cheered. He could hear and sense her happiness through the receiver of his phone and it shattered his heart. When tomorrow came and what Jeonghan and Joshua both claimed to be true would happen. What would be his mother’s reaction?

“I’ll try mom, you know I’m not good at keeping promises.” He half joked, the tears had started to pool in the corner of his eyes. He looked up at the night sky, making eye contact with the moon. They had once been intimate, but over the last few months they had been disconnected, the stars surrounding her protecting her from his own selfish needs and acts. He missed her, he wished he could feel her light upon his skin, caressing him and holding him in ways he wanted to be held. Ways in which he needed to be held. Though, he could feel her reluctance as he took in her beauty. She was there with him, keeping him company as the last twenty minutes of his life counted down. 

“You always find a way to keep them Seungcheol. I’ll see you tomorrow night. I love you.” 

“I love you too mom.” He whispered before the line went dead. Seungcheol sighed, bringing down his phone from his ear. He stared at his mother’s contact name, trying to decide if he should call her back again. Tell her that he wasn’t fine that he was scared and that he wanted to be in her arms, singing the song she always sang to him whenever his imagination betrayed him, plaguing his dreams with nightmares. But he didn’t again, his own pride and reluctance, the one he gets from his father and the reason why they clash so much kept him calling her back. 

Instead he looked at his timer one last time, noted that there were ten minutes left and placed his phone down next to him on the bench. He took in his surroundings one last time before leaning his back and closing his tired soft eyes. 

Hour 8: 24:00

“Excuse me?”

Seungcheol opened his eyes upon hearing the sound of the soft voice behind him and the light tap on his shoulder. He sat up quickly looking around frantically. He only had five minutes left and his peace had been disturbed. He turned around his gaze falling upon someone he had only seen in his dreams. 

“You dropped your phone.” You said shakingly, handing him his phone. He assumed that it had fallen through the cracks of the bench; he had been so deep in his thoughts he didn’t hear the thud of it hitting the ground. 

“Oh um, thank you.” He spoke quickly, taking his phone. His fingers accidentally brushed over the soft skin of your wrist, the familiar digital clock appearing before him and the ticking sound became loud enough to the point he couldn’t hear the nagging voice that had stayed with him for the last twenty five years of his life. Quickly he glanced down to his wrist and then at yours, he could feel the fear radiating out of your pores as the seconds counted down faster than the speed of light. 

Seungcheol almost laughed. In fact he felt the laugh suppressing itself in the back of his throat. But as the timer finally reached the infamous zero’s, his last breath didn’t come, and neither did yours. He watched as you looked around frantically before your eyes found his. You let out the sob you had been suppressing for the entirety of the day. Your knees gave up on you and you leaned down hugging your calves, burying your face into your thighs, the sobs came quickly and Seungcheol sat there not knowing what to do. 

It was like his body was acting on his and he stood up, rounding the corner of the bench and crouched down. His shaking arms wrapped around you tightly, running a soothing hand down your back, smoothing out the wrinkles of your navy blue sweatshirt. 

The next words we muttered, were words he never thought he would say again. But again it felt like he wasn’t in control of his body. It felt like after the timer hit the long awaited double zero’s his body belonged to someone else, almost as if he had been reborn again after twenty five years. 

“It’s okay, I am here.” 

[unholyhelbig]

We Sold Our Souls | Chloe

Read Beca's Chapter Here | Read on AO3 here

Summer 1985

The Diner on 10th and Jefferson was not an inhabitable establishment. The floor was once a glimmering white that had faded to a musty brown. You could see where the tables had been situated because underneath was still the original color- not the dingy, ketchup-stained mess. A window unit sputtered as it pulled in hot air and the sound of sheets of meat sizzled and popped on day-old grease.

There was flypaper tacked to the ceiling and they spun as the warm air shifted it. It wasn’t brown, not like the floor, it was black with squirming legs and tired wings. Chloe watched, sweat dripping from her nose, as one particularly large one tested his luck and failed.

The boombox in the corner crackled and competed with the sound of two number sevens being placed on the counter. The antenna was stretching to the sky and they only got a slight signal for KWBT, the best Rock music in the county.

Chloe perked up, her spine straightening as Brock Argent’s rumbling voice filled the small area behind the counter. She ignored the way the cook stared at her, sweat beading against his greasy forehead, as she shushed him and turned the dial. She knew what he was going to say, and he didn’t push any more than he already had.

She hadn’t stopped talking about ‘The Ramones’ New Album. It was advertised with neon yellow and orange posters all around town. No one could tell if it was from the record label or some die-hard fans that had too much time on their hands. Either way, everyone knew about it, and that everyone included Brock Argent and the KWBT team. They had made a big deal about getting their hands on a copy.

“Alright you crazy people, I know we’ve been teasing this one for a long while, but we’ve got a good one for you today!” Brock’s tone was so deep that it shook the upturned milk glasses on the counter.  “Here’s Pet Cemetery by the Ramones. Some seriously creepy stuff!”

Chloe felt the greasy diner and the sharp scent of fry oil leave her all at once. The second the first guitar chord struck the airwaves she had fallen so contently into the melody. Joey Ramone’s deep growl hissed and churned and made her stomach feel like soup. Johnny pressed down hard on the guitar strings and Tommy backed him up with a solid beat on the drum kit.

She ignored the way the cook eyed her cautiously as the steaming food on the counter attracted one of the flies that the paper hadn’t attracted. He was growing impatient as the lead belted out words about pets with their ribs crushed and their hearts gnawed pulling from the dirt. It mirrored that horrible book by Stephen King, the one that the schools banned, and the PTA moms fussed about until their veins splattered.

Finally, the song faded out and Chloe gave a grateful smile to the man in front of her before palming the cold plates and taking them to the couple that sat in the back booth. The woman slathered her pile of fries with a generous helping of ketchup and the man seemed to hate the idea of eating altogether.

Chloe didn’t’ notice when the cook turned down the radio for the rest of her shift. She was sore from mopping and wiping down all of the tables that were still sticky despite how much elbow she put into it. He watched her mount her bike and flick on the light that dawned its front despite the sun not fully being down, before he backed out of the parking lot himself and left their second lives behind, at least for a few hours.

She was mostly tipped change today and it rattled in the pockets of her apron as she took the side streets back to their run-down home. It had been nice once- at least that’s what the pictures tacked to the stained green refrigerator portrayed.

She shoved cake into her face with her vibrant mother holding her close. They all looked so clean despite the mess of pastry. There was light in their eyes and sugar in their systems and the old polaroid was a constant reminder to Chloe of the way things had been. The way she wishes they were.

The thought pulled at the back of her throat as she slowed her bike when the front tire met the Mitchell’s driveway. It gave her just enough speed to get over the dip on her own and pull the old blue contraption next to the garage. She could sandwich it between the trashcan and the side of the house. No one would take it, not in their small, rundown town. She flicked off the front light, reveling in the darkness for a few moments.

It was never silent, not here, not this close to the front door where the screen kept the lightning bugs out but no sound in. Her three younger brothers were blasting the television, all of them with their noses pressed to the static screen as MacGyver got himself out of whatever situation he was thrown into.

But over that, she heard her parents.

Her mother and her stepfather screamed loud enough for the whole block to hear them. It made Chloe’s jaw ache- how much they hated each other. They lived together out of spite, and because the boys needed a good role model.

But Rick, Rick hated Chloe just as much as he hated her mother. She wasn’t his and that had ebbed some deep resentment in him that she didn’t understand, nor did she care to. Not as she snuck in through the front door and trudged to her room. She was careful to toe her shoes off by the door, despite the pungent smell the house admitted.

It was considered rude to track mud, though no one had vacuumed in months at this point. No one had changed the lights or addressed the water stains that browned the ceiling above them. There was food on the table, most of the time, and hot water in the lead pipes. So Rick was doing his job and from the sound of the screaming match, Lauren was not.

Chloe tuned it all out.

She focused on the rifts she had heard this afternoon at the diner, and the satisfaction she got when she pulled the jar from the back of her closet, behind her 45’s and an old rolled poster of the Bay City Rollers that she had scored at an old thrift store and hung because the colors were vibrant.

As soon as Chloe could, as soon as she blew out the candle on her cupcake for her 18th birthday in front of that stupid polaroid and that puke green appliance, she would leave this tiny town. She would leave her brothers, and the dirty carpet, and stupid Rick, and even Lauren.

She would meet Joey Ramone, they would get married and she would never have to hear muffled screams and broken glass again- not unless it was at a concert that she was playing.

There was a glass of water on the table in front of Chloe Beale, but she hadn’t reached for it. There was some sinister part of her that considered it a test; there wasn’t a pitcher to refill it or anything else on the stark white surface. Just one singular cup that was free of any blemishes and water pushed to the near brim.

She was on a sofa that matched the rest of the room, stark and unfeeling. There wasn’t personality here; other than her and that stupid taunting glass, there was nothing. It could have been the waiting area in a place that detailed cars, but it wasn’t. She didn’t’ know what it was and she didn’t’ know if the water was a test- so she left it.

Her boots were the blackest thing, sharp like the night, against the white carpet. She got the sinking feeling that she should have taken them off by the door, though the secretary that lead her in here hadn’t told her to do so. Chloe wasn’t a child, not anymore, and Chloe could make her own choices. Like taking a gulp of water to quench the dry heat in her throat or taking her shoes off.

Rick would have made her take her shoes off.

Rick had killed her mother when she was at a concert in Orlando. She had saved up to get the tickets and she had had a fun, normal, road trip with the girls. They ate terribly and broke down in Georgia where they baked in the heat and splurged on ice cream cones that turned into a soupy mess in a matter of seconds. Chloe was happy then, and she had the polaroid tacked up on the corner of her apartment.

Thought the lights had been shut off a few times, and she and Beca had to eat all the ice cream and leftover pizza, and milk each time they did fade away, she kept it there. Her stomach would ache and her brow would sweat but they would fall asleep on the floor and the picture of her last happy moment would gape down at her- not mocking, but reminding.

They saw the yellow tape when Beca pulled the Monza to the edge of her driveway. Chloe let the rubber tire hit the corner of the driveway first, just like she used to do with her second-hand bike. Beca protested as she pushed the door open and flung herself towards her own home. A cop that shadowed his eyes with a large cap grabbed her by the middle and stopped her.

“That’s my house!” She had shouted, letting herself be lowered to the wet grass. “What happened? That’s my house! That’s my house!”

It had stopped being her house a long time ago when her father died of cancer and her mother met Rick, the anesthesiologist with the calm temper and the two boys from a previous marriage, and the one son that they shared together.

Chloe had spent most of her free time in Beca’s room now, staring up at the posters that weren’t of the Bay City Rollers on the ceiling. They both laid close to one another and she had memorized the features of Metallica and Stix and Beca’s breathing patterns, and the way the Charvel rested in the corner, with its off-white color.

Beca’s mother always had dinner on the table and always had enough for all three of them. Beca’s mom was interesting and kind. She was still alive when the summer of 88’ came to an end. She hadn’t heard the gunshots but she had smelt the blood- she said she was a nurse and she knew the scent of decay anywhere.

Rick shot Chloe’s mom in the head while her back was to him, and Chloe had always said he was a coward. He killed the boys too, straight shots with a gun Lauren had purchased him for Christmas because his new hobby would be hunting. As far as Chloe knew, the only shots he fired were that day, and the last when he ever did tore up his throat and painted the wall behind him.

She should take her shoes off and drink some water while she waits and wishes for wine. The secretary told her that he was running late and that she was welcomed to anything. But she didn’t’ feel welcome to the water, and really, she should have taken her shoes off, because the carpet was pristine, and the bottom of her boots were anything but.

Winter 1994

Snow fell in thick, wet drops against the pavement. It had barely started but picked up by the time Chloe ascended the stairs of the venue and tracked down Beca. The girl looked ragged, worn down, and thick with sorrow. She was moving her tongue against the edge of a cigar she had sliced with the pocket knife clipped to her jeans.

The sickly-sweet scent of weed followed the sparking of a lighter and the cold breeze that edged the nearly empty street. She leaned against the side of the van, next to a sizeable dent that had been there when they purchased it. When we’re famous she had said this won’t matter and we’ll be able to afford a van that isn’t half-totaled.

Beca pulled in a hot breath of marijuana, the tip burning hot and fast. She pushed the smoke through her those and passed it to Chloe who took it wordlessly and revealed in the sour film that coated her tongue and her teeth and her throat. A few more of those and she would be able to forget the disaster of tonight.

“Maybe I should have gone into accounting,” Beca said.

“You hate math.”

“That wasn’t my point,”

“I know. I just think that If you want to go back in time and choose MIT over your garage in the winter you should pick something you like. Not math. You’re not even good at math.”

Beca frowned and snatched the joint back. She wedged it between her teeth and gave Chloe the finger, the tattoos against her knuckles catching the red glowing light of the sign that hung above them. It buzzed like the flies Chloe had always hated- for some reason, more than spiders and moths, but she couldn’t’ recall now.

“Aubrey would have had a million things decided by now, you know? I don’t’ even need to prompt the woman before she brings up Julliard. Next thing; she’s going to be bitching about her back hurting from carrying the band.”

Chloe laughed sadly at that because she knew it was something Aubrey would say with that docile fire in her eyes. But through all of this, Aubrey was the best bass player that she had ever met and Beca had the right voice for them- but none of them ever said it. None of them ever dared that she would be better suited to part her ax down and grip the microphone instead.

“Are you?”

“What?”

She hadn’t noticed Beca was staring at her expectantly. Not only holding out the blunt, which she took and sandwiched between her lips, but with a question. Beca’s stare was dark, shaded in crimson, and glazed over because something was hitting; be the alcohol that she had consumed during the show or the slow crossfade that was humming happily through her now.

“Are you ready to give up?”

“Beca, this is all I’ve ever wanted.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

She swallowed hard and tried to dull the pain of the flames at her throat. Red and hot and a lot like the stories plastered on the news not too long ago. Her stomach felt fuzzy and her brain did too and she suddenly felt like following Beca out here was a bad idea. A terrible idea, really.

Chloe let the end of the roll hit the ground. There was no need to stomp it out. The color faded away in the puddle of dingy water that had collected as they talked. She didn’t’ mind the cool embrace of the large drops that felt more like snow and stung like an insect bite. It kept her steady and grounded.

“I heard what you asked, and I told you this is all I’ve ever wanted.” Chloe sniffed, “I don’t’ care how long it takes to get there. It’s me and you, kid.”

Beca’s clouded stare softened, and she laughed loudly because at this point- standing in the rain, the two of them, she didn’t’ know if they had much longer at all. Not as a band, not as friends, not as that odd drunken mess they escalated to when they weren’t.

The scent of weed mixed with the wet odor of Portland and beer. Chloe curled her fingers around Beca’s, both cold and clammy, and the gesture hurt. It stung the bandages wrapped around Beca’s fingers and hummed at the pain in the back of Chloe’s head, where she figured a scar would be one day.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Little Things in Life - 1

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); nothing for this chapter

This is dark!Steveand explicit. 18+ only.

Series Summary: Your suburban life begins to show cracks and your next door neighbour, Steve Rogers, seems intent on shattering what’s left.

Note: I’m still working on Syster and BJB and all my other WIPs. This was supposed to be a one shot but I got about 22 pages out and realised that we weren’t even close to an end. Anyways, hope you enjoy a subtle Steve. Slow burn. Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You liked to do your gardening early. Even on the weekends. You let your husband Logan sleep in; your daughter, Kayla too. You basked in the morning balm as you rooted around for stray roots and watered the leaves which looked a little too brittle in the dew. The birds sang as the neighbourhood still slept. It was a rare moment of your own.

Well, almost all yours. 

You turned at the steady beat of sneakers on the pavement. You stood and dusted off your gloves. Steve, your neighbour from just across the street, stopped as he reached the end of your walk. He smiled and wiped the sweat from his brow. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” You said. “You’ve got a newborn keeping you up all night and here you are, running the entire neighbourhood like it’s nothing.”

He laughed. “Never got much sleep to begin with,” He said. “You know, if you ever get bored of the dirt and grubs, you’re welcome to join me.”

“You know I couldn’t keep up with you, Cap,” You grinned. 

“Not anymore,” He said. “I hung that shield up.”

“Oh yes, Logan told me you let him toss it around.” 

“Well, he tried,” Steve said. “I… you know, I’m happy I ran into you. Me and Sharon, we’re having this thing next weekend. A party for all us restless parents. No kids.”

“Yeah, she was saying the other day.” You replied. “I’m sure I could get the sitter and Logan never says no to a beer or two.”

“Maybe we could hit the felt again. It’s been a while.” He ventured. “We had to move the table but I got the cues all ready.”

“Yeah, maybe,” You said. “So she let you keep it.”

“It’s in the garage now but it’s still in one piece,” He preened. “You should pop by some time. After dinner, I like to try a few trick shots.”

“I’ll try,” You said. “I’m usually the one cleaning up dinner and Kayla. But, maybe we could do doubles sometime. Nap time, maybe.”

“I might be able to convince Sharon,” He rubbed his neck and glanced over at his house. “Speaking of, I should go check in on her. Got a serious diaper run to go on this morning.”

“See ya,” You said. “Say hi to Sharon for me.”

“See ya,” He turned and jogged across the street. 

He stopped at his front door and turned back to look at you as you collected your watering can and basket of tools. He waved and you waved back. A coffee would be nice before you roused the little monster. Saturday was pancake day and she rarely forgot it.

🏠

That day you kept thinking about your neighbours. Steve and Sharon used to be your weekend buddies. You’d stop by after you put Kayla down for the night and have a few drinks. That was until Sharon had gotten pregnant and they’d both descended into full blown panic mode. Baby this, baby that! It was a peculiar type of excitement which had them both beaming and baffled.

You’d seen Sharon for lunch every now and then and at her shower. She was so swept up in it all that she wasn’t as social as before. You were glad to hear she was throwing one of her parties. She was finding her balance again.

As for Steve, you only really saw him in passing. Doing yard work or random chores around the house. He was always busy it seemed. Well, that was life.

You went about your usual Saturday routine; pancake breakfast, dishes, play time with Kayla, lunch, nap time, a walk to the park, dinner… The days only varied when you worked and most times, you did so from home. You were lucky enough to spend much of your time with your daughter, though you wished you could say the same of Logan.

He worked hard, you couldn’t fault him that. Most days, he stayed late. By the time he got home, he was so wrapped up in it that it was all he could talk about. But he was a good dad when he was there. He loved Kayla and he treated you well enough.

Sunday was lazy. The afternoon was disappointing as Logan spent much of it on the phone with his boss. You took Kayla out to the garden so she couldn’t disturb the call. She helped, or tried to help you transfer some flowers from your garden into a pot. Proud of your creation, you took her across the street and knocked on the door.

Steve answered it to your surprise. Sharon was usually quick to the punch. You greeted him with a smile. 

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to disturb, I just thought… well Sharon said she liked the flowers so we brought you some.” You held out the pot.

“You can put them in your garden,” Kayla said cheerily.

“I need to make a garden first,” He grinned at her and took the pot. “Thank you. I’m sure Sharon will find a place for them. She’s just sleeping with the baby right now.”

“I get it,” You said. “We were a bit restless and just wanted to say hi. She wanted to give them to Ethel but you know she has terrible allergies.”

“I appreciate the thought,” He leaned down to talk to Kayla, “You’re getting big, kiddo. How old are you now?”

“Four,” She chimed. “Mommy says I’m old enough to go to school.”

“I would think you are,” He replied as he stood straight. “I’ll let Sharon know you came by. Oh, and… the pool table is still open.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” You offered. “Logan’s taking Kayla to a Paw Patrol show.”

“Tomorrow,” He accepted. “I’m gonna hold you to it.”

“What happened to that friend of yours; James?” You wondered.

“Bucky. He’s around now and then.” Steve shrugged. “But not as much as I like. And he prefers poker.”

“Ah,” You took Kayla’s hand before she could wander away. “Well, I’ll see ya.”

“What time’s the show?” He asked before you could back away. 

“Six.” You answered.

“Then I’ll see you at six-thirty. How’s that?”

“Six-thirty it is,” You confirmed as you picked up Kayla and turned away. “Okay, you little brat, let’s go bug your father.”

🏠

You were glad Logan was getting some time with Kayla. You wished you could go with them but keeping to your new budget, two tickets were all that could be had. The upside was that you didn’t have to sit through the cartoony mascots dancing in an arena full of hyper children.

You gave Kayla a kiss on the cheek and barely sneaked a kiss on Logan’s lips before she tugged him away from you. He strapped her into her seat and gave a smile as he climbed in the front. You smiled as they left but when they were gone, you felt restless. There were only a few times you were without Kayla; at work and during your early morning gardening sessions.

You went inside and wandered around the kitchen for a few minutes. You poured yourself a glass of wine and looked at the clock. You were suddenly very grateful for Steve’s invitation. The game would keep your mind off your listlessness.

You finished your chardonnay and rinsed the glass. You stepped out the front door and found Steve’s garage door open as he ducked beneath it to wave you over. You looked down the street before you crossed and jogged up the drive. 

“Hey,” You entered the cool garage. The pool table took up much of the space not occupied by the aged motorcycle Steve had been working on for years. “What’s up?”

“Oh you know, getting some practice in,” He grabbed the cue leaning against the table and another from the rack on the wall. He handed you one. “Hope you’re not too rusty.”

“You know, I’ve been playing online but it’s not quite the same,” You kidded. “What’s Sharon up to?”

“I asked her if she wanted to come out and join us,” Steve shrugged. “But she’s been on the phone with her mother all day.”

“Maybe next time,” You watched as he set up the balls in the frame.

“You want a beer or something?” He asked as he stood.

“I shouldn’t. I just had some wine. I don’t like to mix drinks… or rather, my body doesn’t.” You chuckled.

“I’m sure I’ve got some wine,” He went to the mini fridge. “Aha, pinot… grigio.” He squinted at the label as he turned around. “Sharon hasn’t touched the stuff in ages. It hasn’t been opened though.”

“Really, I shouldn’t.” You waved him off.

“Come on.”

“Is this some sort of tactic?” You teased. “To get me off my game?”

“Maybe,” He twisted open the bottle and handed it to you. “It’s open. You gotta at least have a sip.”

You tilted your head at him.

“I don’t have any glasses out here,” He grinned.

“Just a sip,” You took the bottle and drank less than a mouthful. You placed it on the metal side table against the wall and fiddled with your cue. He returned to the fridge and grabbed a tall can of beer. “Thought that stuff didn’t get to you.”

“Doesn’t, but it’s comforting,” He approached the other side of the table. “When I was… serving, the men didn’t have much to do but drink on their time off.”

“Ah,” You leaned your cue on the top of your shoe. “It’s like how tequila makes me wanna run as far as I can in the other direction.”

“I guess,” He said. “Guest’s honour. You can break.”

“Alright,” You went to the head of the table and lined up the cue ball. “Wait.” You paused as you bent over the table. “What do I get when I win?”

“If you win,” He corrected. “And, I don’t know. Twenty bucks.”

“No fun. How about… I get to try on the helmet.”

“Helmet?” He blinked.

“That old war relic you have in your den.” You said. “You know I always wanted to try it on.”

“It’s an antique now,” He said. “Rusty.”

“Like you?” You taunted.

“Like me,” He rolled his eyes. “Fine. And what about if I win?”

“Name your price,” You narrowed your eyes at the table and set up your shot.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind a touch of that green thumb,” He said. “I… wanted to do something special for Sharon. Clean out the garden, replant everything that’s died.”

“That’s not really an even trade,” You mused as you hit the ball. “But it’s a bet.” You stood as the coloured balls shot in all directions. Three solids plopped into the corner pockets. “Oh, I also get a selfie in the helmet.”

🏠

You glared at the felt. Then the bottle of wine. You should have stopped at a sip but you had gotten carried away in the game. You’d also missed your last shot and set up Steve to sink the last stripes before he set his eyes on the eight ball. He called the top left pocket and you hoped he missed. Crossed your fingers around the cue.

The clack of the balls echoed in the garage and the black ball made a slow path to the pocket. It tipped over the edge and you curse. You stomped your foot and spun the cue in your hand.

“No fair,” You pouted. “You’ve been practising.”

“And… I’m sure that online pool is quite the workout.”

“Only for my finger,” You held up your index. “So… the garden?”

“Can we start this week?” He asked.

“Sure,” You smiled. “You’ll have to grab seeds or whatever. Please, anything but rose bushes.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know where to begin but I’m sure I could ask someone at the greenhouse,” He mulled.

He went to the table and reached into the pockets. He pulled out a yellow ball and a red ball. He place them parallel at the other end.

“Or maybe… I don’t know, I know you’re busy but you could help me?”

“That wasn’t part of the bet,” You said. “But sure. I can do Wednesday afternoon. I hope you don’t mind if Kayla tags along.”

“Of course not,” He lined up the cue ball in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You stepped away from the table as he grabbed his cue.

“A trick I’ve been working on,” He said. “I saw it online and gave it a go. It’s fun.”

He bent over the felt and hit the ball. It hit the yellow ball which bounced off the red one and sent both of them into opposite pockets. He stood and smirked proudly.

“Your turn,” He rearranged the balls and you frowned.

“I can’t,” You argued. “I think I had too much of that wine.”

“Come on,” He said. “Just give it a try.”

You looked at your phone. It was already past eight.

“It’s not that late,” He urged.

“Fine,” You took your cue and approached the table. 

Your shot was less successful than his. The yellow ball hit the red in but came to a halt several inches from the pocket. You shrugged and stood straight.

“See.” You huffed.

“Practice,” He positioned them again. 

He came around the table as he placed the cue ball before you. He stood behind you as you relented and lined up your shot. You paused as he adjusted the end of your cue and neared. He leaned over you and helped you position the nose of the cue. He was almost flush against you, just for a moment before he backed away.

“You just gotta put some force behind it,” He said as he walked along the side of the table. 

He stepped back to see the table. You hit the white ball and shakily retreated from the felt. The yellow and red split off and the latter plopped into the pocket while the former bounced off the edge of the corner.

“Close,” He said and went to the table. He shoved his hand in the small pocket. “Night’s not over til you get it.”

[collecting-stories]

Thanksgiving - ep. 04 - Georgia

Summary: It’s Thanksgiving in King County and you won’t let Daryl celebrate alone. 

A/N: I’m really going for the slowburn this time. 

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“Nice backpack,” Rick laughed, picking the bright yellow backpack up from the lawn chair.

“It ain’t mine.” He shrugged, lighting up a cigarette.

Rick had come over for beers. An odd night off from work without the academy in the morning he had decided to stop ‘round at Daryl’s. It was already dark out when he’d pulled up outside his best friend’s house and Daryl was working on a jeep by the light of the carport. When he walked up he’d spotted the backpack sitting there, an odd contrast to anything else lying around.  

“Didn’t think it was.” Rick replied, “so who’s the girl?”

“Don’t know what yer talkin’ ‘bout.”  

“There’s a Jeep in your driveway and some girl’s backpack in your truck.” Rick pointed out, “you know, I’m a cop, I’m trained to notice these things.”

“Ya ain’t a cop yet.” Daryl muttered, heading over to the fridge and grabbing a beer.  

“So?”

“I’m fixing someone’s car and she left her bag. That’s all.”  

Daryl had realized that you left your backpack there after he drove you home on Sunday night. He’d gotten all the way back home when he saw your bright yellow backpack sitting on the floor of his truck. He had called you when he got inside. He felt stupid, standing in the kitchen with the phone pressed to his ear, waiting for you to answer like he was some dumb high school kid.  

You had answered after the second ring, “Hello?”

“Hey...it’s Daryl, ya left yer bag in my truck.”  

“Oh my gosh...I totally did, didn’t I? I'm so sorry.”  

“It’s alright. Ya want me ta drop it off?” He asked.  

“Are you at the garage tomorrow morning? Glenn is driving me to school, we could stop and I could grab it?” You asked, unsure how else you were going to get the backpack. You couldn’t leave now that you were home or your mom would get suspicious. She knew Maggie was grounded and there was no way she’d let you out after dark to hang out with Glenn or Tara or Rosita.  

“Yeah I’ll be there.”  

Somehow the bright yellow monstrosity had ended up back in Daryl’s possession. It wasn’t much of a mystery though. You had stopped, just like you said you would, before school in the morning. While you were there you had mentioned getting the second payment to him that afternoon. Part of that agreement somehow involved driving you from school to the diner where your bag had once again been forsaken in his truck.  

Now he had to figure out how to get it to you all over again and Rick was trying to rifle through it. “Would ya quit that?” Daryl grumbled, grabbing the bag and putting it back in his truck. He had set it on the chair so he didn’t forget it but Rick was bothering him.

“I just wanna know who she is,” Rick replied. “College student.”

“I told ya I’m just fixing a car.”  

“Please tell me she’s at least 18 D.”

“It ain’t like that.” Daryl slammed the truck door shut and glared at him, face flush at the accusation that he thought of you in a way that wasn’t just a client. “I’m fixing a car.”

“Alright.”

It had taken Rick getting a call from his mom to swing by for dinner to finally get him to leave Daryl’s house. Not that Daryl wanted to be rid of him, with Merle in prison for the next six months Rick was the only other friend he had. He did want to return your backpack though and he figured it was worth stopping at the diner to see if you were there. You were always telling him how you worked all the time and while he wasn’t sure if you really did or if you were exaggerating he thought it was worth a shot, plus he assumed you would need it for school. Axel, Tiny, Dale, and even T-Dog weren’t strangers to the diner but you had never seen Daryl come in before so you were surprised when you saw him walk through the door.  

“Hey!” When you saw the backpack in his hands you smiled, “I’m so sorry.”

“Ya say that but yer smiling." He replied, setting it on one of the stools and sitting down beside it.  

“I’m honestly sorry.” You insisted, though it wasn’t truthful in the slightest. All you could really feel was happy that he had gone out of his way to bring the bag back to you. “Can I get you anything? On the house.”

It was pretty dead at 9pm on a Monday night. Most people weren’t out so late in King County. Daryl took the menu off the counter and opened it, looking through the options. “I’ll have some coffee.”

“Okay,” you poured him a cup and went to give another patron their meal. When you came back Daryl was still looking through the menu. “Are you still free on Thursday?”

“Why?” He asked, “what’s Thursday?”

“Thanksgiving.”

“I got work in the morning.” He replied, “Probably won’t work on the car honestly.”

“No, I wasn’t asking for that. I was wondering if you wanted to come around for dinner. Patricia has a bunch of people at the diner for a big Thanksgiving dinner. Like the Greene’s and Dale usually comes.”  

“Yah, I don’t think so.” The last thing Daryl needed was to show up somewhere he knew he wouldn’t be welcome. He knew the invitation was innocent, you were just trying to be nice, but he didn’t need to embarrass himself by hanging around more than he was welcome.

“Okay, well, if you change your mind I’m making apple pie.”

-

Unsurprisingly, Daryl did not change his mind. He spent his thanksgiving the way he did every year, drinking beer and watching the game on TV because it was all that was on. Will bailed on anything Thanksgiving related almost as soon as he woke up, leaving for a bar over in Woodbury. Daryl had grilled a steak but otherwise he had skipped out on dinner.  

He was almost asleep on the old laz-e-boy when a knock on the side door startled him awake. Rick never stopped by on Thanksgiving and there was only one other person he could think of that would come by his house.  

“Ya know when someone declines an offer to see ya that don’t mean ya need to come by.” He said, leaning in the door and blocking you from coming inside. You looked kind of adorable, a corduroy brown pinafore dress and cream turtleneck.  

“I know but I come bearing apple pie.” You bartered, holding up the wrapped up pie dish.  

“A’ight, come on.” Daryl moved aside to let you in.

“That was easier than I thought.”  

“I know ya well enough ta know ya ain’t just gonna leave if I ask.”

“You are correct.” You smiled. You eyed the beer cans sitting on the coffee table, “having a party?”

“Something like that.” He took the pie dish from you and set it on the coffee table before heading into the kitchen in search of clean utensils. You sat down the couch, looking around the Dixon’s home. The TV was sitting on an entertainment system that looked seconds from falling apart, the carpet was stained with cigarette ash and other substances.  

“This is...”

“Its a piece a shit.” Daryl replied, walking into the living room and sitting down beside you. “How was yer Thanksgiving?”

“It was alright...Maggie’s not talking to her dad so that was kinda awkward. I sat at the kids table with Beth and Sean.” You said, “better than sitting with the adults. Anyway, I told you I was making pie and I didn’t want you to miss out because, honest to god, I make the best apple pie in Georgia.”

Daryl nodded, more interested in the pie than in who you sat with at dinner. The last time he had apple pie he was probably seven and his mom had bought it premade from the grocery store because he had begged for it. “Ain’t got anything to weigh it against.” He finally said, scooping up some with his fork and taking a bite.  

You held your fork in your hand, waiting for a reaction. Daryl had terrible eating habits. He ate too fast and didn’t pay attention to whether the food was going completely in his mouth all the time. Growing up in a house with Merle and Will hadn’t exactly instilled strong table manners in him. Mostly they ate their meals at the TV, on fold out tables or the coffee table or he ate in the camper away from his dad. The last time they used a kitchen table it had been in their old house before his mom died.  

“Good?” You chanced while he ate.  

He hummed around a mouthful. You took a bite and smiled. Last year you had almost messed it up with the wrong apples but this year it was perfect.  

“Yer good at this.”

“Baking?”

“Yeah. Can’t cook anything if it ain’t on a grill.”

“You might be able to make an apple pie on a grill...I’ve never tried.” You teased and he smiled just enough that you caught it.

“Where do your parents think you are?” He asked, getting up and grabbing a beer from the kitchen fridge.

“Tara’s. Can I have one?”

“No.”

“Oh come on. I’m almost 18.”  

“I ain’t giving ya alcohol. Last thing I need is some girl going home drunk from here.” He replied.  

“I won’t be drunk! I can drink like, a whole case of Zima before I get drunk.”  

“That shit’s disgusting.”

“Oh I’m sorry, your Pabst is so great.” You sassed. Daryl rolled his eyes and held the can out to you, the one he’d just been drinking from. You took it, downing as much of a gulp as you could stand and imagining that you could maybe taste him on it. But the taste of the cheap beer won out and you nearly gagged as it went down, “that’s disgusting.”

“Gets ya drunk.”

“Are you?”

“Right now, no.” Though he wasn’t totally sober. If he was he would have never let you in his house. “Most a those are my dad’s. Had ‘em ‘fore he left for the bar.” He said, dropping onto the couch beside you.  

“I think this is the most we’ve ever had a conversation.” You pointed out.  

Daryl nodded and grinned, “maybe I am drunk.”

-

The next morning, as Daryl stepped out of the 7-11 with a pack of cigarettes and a coffee, he caught sight of you standing at the driver’s side of his truck and fixing your hair in the sideview mirror. You had stayed longer than you intended the night before; long enough that you had to call Glenn to pick you up because Daryl refused to drive you home after drinking.  

“Ya gonna pump my gas for me.” He asked and you spun around, smiling.

“I can. But it’ll cost you.”

“I’ll tell ya what,” Daryl picked up the gas nozzle and placed it in the truck, trapping you between him and the hose, “I’ll give ya the pie plate back.”

“Deal.” You turned slightly and reached for the nozzle, putting your hand over his, “but I’m only doing this because my mom already asked about the pie plate. Now move it, this is my job.”

You caught the slightest smile as he pulled his hand away and held them both up in mock surrender. He leaned against the driver’s door and took a sip of his coffee while he watched the numbers on the screen. “Ya working today?”

“Yeah, Lori wouldn’t clock me in early cause she’s on some power trip. Patricia left her in charge and she said I was trying to steal hours from Amy, she’s new, but I’m not. I don’t care about Amy or her hours.” You replied.

“Yes or no woulda worked.” He teased.

“I’m gonna think of the most long winded ways to answer your questions from now on. Just to annoy the hell outta ya.”  

“Ya already do.”  

“I do not! You love hanging out with me.”

He hummed and reached around you to grab the nozzle, clicking off the handle so the gas flow would stop but keeping you trapped. “There ya go. Pie plate is yours.”

“Thanks.”

He was slow to step away, almost reluctant, “I’ll see ya ‘round.”

“Okay.”

-

Taglist: @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @oncemorewithfeelingg @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare  @mainokutan @qrangr  @twdeadfanfic @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @twdeadfanfic @alwaysadreamingoptimist @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @cathwritestragediesnotsins

[hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis]

Sleepover!

Request: Hey I loved your songwriting fic and wanted to ask if you could write something mainly platonic julie and reader? Maybe them just supporting each other or just like movie nights/sleep overs and also with the guys? Lol idk of that makes any sense but I tried. If you don’t want to that’s totally fine! :) 

Alive!Sunset Curve x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

You had always loved hearing  Julie sing and play the piano. But since her mom had died she stopped playing and singing. You’ve been supporting her since but you hadn’t been able to get her to sing again. Even your friend Flynn couldn’t get her to sing again. 

You were walking down the halls of your high school when all of a sudden you were tackled by the boys in Sunset Curve. 

“You guys are so annoying,” You chuckle.

“It’s our job,” Luke says.

“Well you guys are great at it,” You say.

“Hey, Y/N,” Julie says walking up to you guys.

“Hey, how are you?” You ask.

“I’m good. My dad is taking pictures today for the realtor,” She says.

“Do you really have to move?” You ask.

“Are you gonna introduce us?” Reggie asks.

“Fine. Julie these are my friends Luke, Reggie, and Alex. Guys this is Julie,” You say as they greet each other. “I’ll catch up with you guys later,” You tell the boys and walk off. 

“I mean I understand why you want to move but you know Flynn and I don’t want you to,” You say.

“I know but I think it’ll help me move on,” Julie says as the bell rings.

“I get that but it doesn’t mean I won’t give up on keeping you here,” You say and head to class.

You slug through your classes as the day went on. When lunch finally came around. You invited Julie and Flynn to sit with you and the boys, hopefully convincing her to stay.

“Hey, you guys have band practice today right?” You ask the boys. They all nod with mouths full of food. “You guys are disgusting. I always watch them play because they trust my judgment on songs. Why don’t you guys join us, Julie and Flynn? I mean if Sunset Curve doesn’t mind,” You say. The boys don’t disapprove so you assume the offer was ok.

“I’m down,” Flynn says.

“I have to clean out my mom’s studio today,” Julie says.

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll help you clean out the studio and you come to practice. Deal?” You ask.

“Deal,” Julie says after you give her a look telling her you won’t take no for an answer.

Once school was over you head to Julie’s house to help her clean the studio out. The two of you pull out some items and sort them into boxes. You pull off the cloth laying on top of the grand piano, “Wow, I’ve never seen this. It’s beautiful,” You say.

“Yeah, my mom and I used to write songs with it,” Julie says as you notice some sheets of music.

“Hey, this looks like a song your mom wrote,” You say picking up the papers.

“She must’ve left it there,” Julie says.

“It’s really well written,” You say after reading a few lines. You set it back on the piano as your phone starts to ring.

“Hello?” You say picking it up.

“Hey. The guys and I finally cleaned the garage up. You guys can head over whenever,” Luke says.

“Alright, we’ll be there soon. We’re picking Flynn up on the way,” You say.

“Cool, see you all soon,” Luke says before hanging up.

“Hey, Luke just called. Practice s starting soon, we should head over,” You say to Julie.

“Ok, let’s get Flynn on the way,” Julie says. The two of you head out to Reggie’s house, picking Flynn up along the way.

“So where did you meet these guys and why did you hide these cute guys from us? Flynn asks. 

“First off gross...these guys are like my brothers. I’ve known Luke since I was little and I met the others through him. And I guess I never really felt like it was important enough to tell you guys? Do I really have to have a reason?” You question.

“Either way they’re cute and maybe you’ll get inspired to play again Julie,” Flynn says nudging Julie.

As you arrive at Reggie’s you head straight to the garage where all the guys were hanging out. You all spent the next few hours listening to Sunset Curve play. Surprisingly both the girls and guys got along well. 

“My dad’s here. I gotta head out,” Julie says.

“Alright see you tomorrow,” You say hugging her.

“Flynn, you need a ride home?” Julie asks.

“No. You can give me a ride right, Y/N?” Flynn says.

“Always,” You say.

“Bye,” The boys say almost in sync.

“Hey, guys. I have an idea for Julie,” You say after Julie had left.

“Ooooh, what is it?” Flynn says excitedly. She has always loved your ideas.

“I know the guys have just met Julie and you but I was thinking we could put together like a going away sleepover thing,” You say.

“I!” Reggie says shooting his hand up.

“I love it,” Flynn says.

“So boys? I mean besides Reggie who is already clearly interested,” You ask. Alex and Luke nod their heads thinking it was a great idea.

“Although I don’t think our parents would be too keen on having boys and girls sleeping over,” Flynn says.

“Oh...I already ran this by my parents. The boys are over all the time plus my parents really don’t care,” You say.

“So it’s settled! Sleepoverrrrrr,” Flynn says flinging herself at you.

“I already have some ideas planned but I still need help setting everything up,” You say.

“Leave it to us!” Luke says pulling the guys towards him.

“No offense...love you guys. But you’re not setting it up, it’d be chaos. Flynn and I got it. Just. Bring some snacks maybe?” You say as the boys make a sad face at you.

The next few days you guys secretly spent time planning the night, movies, games, and music. You had already set everything up since you needed to set up a projector and a comfy place for everyone. 

“Hey Julie,” You say while you and Flynn run after her in the hall.

“What’s up?” She asks.

“So Flynn, the boys, and I—“ You start.

“The boys? We just met them a few days ago,” Julie says pointing to Flynn.

“Shush let her giver her spiel,” Flynn says.

“So all of us planned a little going away sleepover for tomorrow. And before you say anything I talked to your dad and he said it’s ok,” You say.

“Which means you have no choice,” Flynn adds.

“Wellllll we’re actually staying,” Julie says surprisingly you and Flynn.

“And you’re just telling us now?!” You say.

“I decided last night,” Julie responds.

“You have a phone right?” Flynn asks as we chuckle.

“This still doesn’t get you out of the sleepover. I put in way too much work to just cancel it,” You say.

“She did,” Flynn confirms.

“Fine...I’ll come,” Julie says.

“Great. Be at mine at 5,” You say.

~The next day~

You spent the afternoon after school setting everything up. You had asked Flynn to pick Julie up and, surprisingly, the boys to help with the finishing touches. 

“Hey! We brought snacks and didn’t mess it up,” Luke says scarring you.

“You know you could honestly be a little quieter,” You say annoyed.

“Oh sorry,” Reggie says.

“I’m kidding. Just set the snacks on the table. Can you guys help me set up the floor couch area thing?” You ask. 

They nod and help you set up blankets on the air mattress and floor. You all scatter the pillows along the area and set the projector and screen up. Luckily you finished just in time to for Julie and Flynn to arrive.

“Surprise! Not going away sleepover,” You say as they walk in.

“Thanks for doing this guys. Even though I decided not to leave,” Julie says. You all spend the night jamming out and watching all of Julie’s favorite movies. 

A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for. I’m sorry this took so long to get out. Thanks for reading!

[a3-headcannon-hell]

“First of all, this blog is my new favorite thing. Second, can I please get Taichi trying to form a band with the other Mankai company members?”

(via @primeministerofantarctica )

mod note: im so sorry this took so long, this prompt was giving me a hard time, so i just kinda forgot about it.. but!!!! this is my first request, so i had to answer it!!! ill try to be more active in the coming future!!!

- let’s be real. taichi’s main reason behind wanting to form a band is because he saw a dude at school serenading a girl with a guitar. taichi is a simple man. a simp, if you will

- matsukawa is *ecstatic* at the idea. he’s all over this taichi, helping him pick out potential instruments, talking to him about rythmn and beat, and maybe even helping him songwrite

- taichi ropes in sakuya, masumi, muku, misumi, kazunari, azami, homare, and guy for the band

- muku and sakuya joined because they’re too nice to say no to taichi and matsukawa, especially with how excited they look!!!

- homare wants to wax lyrical about whatever the fuck, misumi just wants to play the triangle, and guy got dragged in via citron

- however, tensions rise as not all bandmates can agree on what music to preform

- masumi wants a more classic rock n’ roll sort of deal, particularly love ballads about the director exclusively

- citron wants to play traditional Japanese music!!! he wants to use his taiko drum :)

- homare requires only *classical, romantic* music for his poetry. Homare finds art in everything, but he only wants orchestral babey!!!!

- Azami wants hip-hop and rap, something fresh and edgy!

- sakuya, muku, kazu, and guy just want everyone to please stop arguing guys please

- misumi’s fine with whatever as long as he gets to play his triangle

- sakyo just wants all of them to shut the fuck up so he can play his old man jazz records in silence

- personally, taichi wants something lovey-dovey like masumi, or high energy and fresh like azami!

- but he and matsukawa both know that there’s only one way to settle this.

- BATTLE OF THE BANDS BABEYYYYYYYYYYYYY

- it’s a competition for the ages: the main mankai band split into factions, battling for the genre choice

- the teams are as follows: azami, taichi, and masumi for rock n roll/hip hop combo, homare and misumi for classical, citron and guy for traditional, and sakuya, muku, and kazu doing a pop/party music vibe

- matsukawa, Izumi, and Akito Taninaga, the summer troupe ensemble guy who the manager recruited at a music store act as judges

- should they be using this time to prepare for upcoming rehearsals and shows? Yes, but Izumi handwaves it away as group bonding time and potential acting experience if they ever put on a musical

- during this whole shebang itaru gets constant war flashbacks to middle school where his parents forced him to play clarinet in the school band. he’s never getting back all those hours he spent cleaning his fucking reeds. needless to say he spends the afternoon curled up with rhythm games

- tsumugi also played in his middleschool’s orchestra, but has much fonder memories of his time spent. like that one time tasuku came to visit him during rehearsal and somehow got his head stuck in a tuba

- this exact memory is why tasuku also won’t be showing up to the grand battle. tsumugi would not stop fucking bullying him about it

- the stage is set. the rest of mankai sans itaru and tasuku sit in the audience. the performers take center stage.

- misumi and homare’s is well. a misumi and homare performance. homare recites his poetry while misumi dings his triangle every so often. he gets too excited though, and starts dinging the thing at maximum velocity, so izumi calls the performers off before they could permanently damage mankai company’s collective eardrums

- citron and guy’s performance is surprisingly... really good??? like they got traditional costumes and everything... call citron whatever you want but goddamn when he goes all out for something he goes all out

- sakuya, muku, and kazu’s act is!! really nice!!!! whenever muku or sakuya got strange fright from singing, kazu would hype them back up again from behind his booth

- muku: “s-senri no michi mo saisho no ippo k-kara...”

- kazu, adding an obnoxious beat drop: “YEAAAAAAAAAA MUKKUNNNNNNNN!!!!”

- they’re a little off key at times, but they tried really hard, and that’s all that matters!!!!

- and then. it’s taichi, masumi, and azami. they all try to look appropriately badass, taichi slicking his hair back and azami in his best pair of doc martins, but the mood is kinda ruined when masumi has to ask kazunari if he could borrow his equipment

- “what. do you people think i own that shit?”

- “WHAT WERE YOU USING DURING REHEARSAL????”

- “he was also using my equipment then!”

- anyways. masumi gets his shit together, taichi slings the guitar he loaned from matsukawa on his back, and azami turns his mic on. and together they preform only the most hardcore song:

- the g-anthem of y-city

- (it’s was azami’s choice. that boy is a mtc stan first human second.)

- can azami rap? of course not. can taichi play acoustic guitar to a rap song? obviously no. can masumi look away from Izumi and focus on his sheet music? what do you think they are, professionals?

- azami calls himself azami-sama and banri doubles on the floor crying laughing

- overall, team badass rock is all over the place. it’s one adorably awful garage band.

- in a surprise turn of events, citron and guy are claimed the winners, since their act was technically the best. even still? no one really wants to do a traditional japanese band, and most of the volunteers learn that maybe they better off sticking to acting, so the mankai band ends before it could even start

- taichi, of course, is completely dejected, his serenading dreams crushed.

- matsukawa, tho, isn’t about to let him give up so easily, so instead of forming a whole mankai band, he just decides to teach taichi privately about serenading hot babes via guitar

- taichi has a lot to learn, but he’s picking it up fast, according to matsukawa!!! there’s plenty of lady friends in his future... maybe.

[tangledstarlight]

hi im back again with another jatp 5+1 thing because i have no self control and work has been real slow lately. this time it started because i was thinking about the plants in the studio garage and who watered them yknow?? and well. now we have this. i’m very sorry.

sidenote: this is apparently turning into a lil series so if anyones got any ideas of reggie or alex hmu cos im drawing a blank

ANYWAY it’s a 5+1 julie centric with a happy ending because Julie Molina can and will save those boys with the power of love. 

also on ao3 

trigger warnings! death mentions (because they’re ghosts (also her mother is yknow. dead)), mild swearing.

one. 

When she was six Julie had made a very detailed presentation - including glitter and coloured print outs, courtesy of Carrie’s printer - on why she should be allowed to get a pet fish. There had been charts and graphs - because she’d seen someone on tv using charts and graphs and getting what they wanted so obviously it was the way to go - and little hands outs in the form of flyers and posters she’d found in the school library. 

She’d stood in front of her parents in the living room, Carrie holding up the bar graph, Flynn supporting the pie chart, and she had made her case. She had promised to feed them, to help clean out the tank and filter. She’d pointed out how having a fish didn’t need walking and that they were quiet and there was never really any mess to clean up. A fish would be the perfect pet. 

A week later on a sunny Saturday morning, the three Molina’s walked into a pet store. Julie had done a lot of thinking in the last week about what kind of fish she wanted. Carrie, Flynn and herself had spent a painstaking afternoon looking through photos on google until they found the perfect fish. 

So she almost didn’t notice the tank in the back corner of the store that looked a little dark and dingy, with two fish swimming aimlessly around the decoration-less tank. There wasn’t anything particularly special or different about these fish, they looked like every other goldfish she’d ever seen. Yellow-gold scales, large eyes, fins that always reminded her of wings, one of them seemed to be turning almost white while the other had little spots of black mixing with the gold. 

Julie tilted her head as she peered into the tank, blowing a stray curl out of her face as she furrowed her brow. She couldn’t say why, but these fish just seemed so very sad to her. 

“They’re sad,” she said out loud, looking over at her parents where they were standing talking to a shop assistant about different types of tanks. “Why are they by themselves?”

“Those two are returns. Kid didn’t want them anymore so they bought them back,” the man said, already sounding bored of the conversation. But the frown on Julie's face deepened as she looked back at the fish. No wonder they were sad. Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, Julie looked around at all the other fish tanks around her, at all the bright happy fish swimming around and made up her mind. 

“Can we get these two please?” She pointed at the tank in front of her, careful not to touch the glass because she didn’t want to scare them. That would be a terrible first introduction. 

“I thought you wanted one of the ones with orange and black splotches?” Her mom said coming to stand next to her, because that’s all she’d been talking about on the drive over. About the fish that she’d wanted. Julie nodded her head quickly and then shook it once, hair flying in front of her face again that her mom gently moved away. 

“I did! But these two are sad and no one wants them which isn’t fair. They didn’t do anything wrong. But I want them. And I’ll look after them and love them and they can be happy! Please momma, these ones?” Julie watched as her parents exchanged a look, eyebrows raising and lips twitching. She didn’t know what any of it meant, but her dad said something about needing a tank big enough for two and forty-five minutes later they were leaving the shop with a tank and two sad looking fish. 

Julie had been so engrossed in looking at her new fish, naming them and telling them all about their new home and how they were going to be able to see the TV so clearly from their spot in the living room that she didn’t hear the shop assistants comment about how they probably only had a few months left to live. 

Two years later as Juile went about her usual Saturday morning routine of breakfast and cartoons and pretending to help her mom with the crossword she paused to say hello to her fish. Empty bowl in her hand and halfway to the kitchen when she looked into the tank and felt her heart drop. 

“Mom! Dad!”

Her parents both came rushing in from the kitchen at her distressed call, finding her staring into the glass tank she had taken hours to decorate with silent tears dripping down her face as the two fish floated listless at the top. 

“Oh sweetie,” her mom said, a hand resting on her chest and as she wrapped her other arm around her daughter's shoulders, pulling her close to her side. 

“They’re dead,” Julie said quietly, because she had done all her research two years ago about fish and how to look after them and what they liked. And how to tell if they were dead. 

“Yeah they are,” her mom gave her a gentle squeeze, turning her away from the tank and leading her to the sofa so they could sit down. “But you gave them the best two years with the way you looked after them. Decorating their home and making sure they got only the best food and keeping them company. They weren’t so sad anymore.” 

And Julie just nods her head, wiping tears away on her sleeves and swallowing when she feels more tears welling in her eyes. 

“Can we bury them?” 

“Of course we can mija. There's that old shoe box in the closet upstairs, why don’t you go get it and we can decorate it for them, huh? Put their names on it, make it look nice,” her dad, perched on the arm of the sofa said, running one hand over her hair as he smiled down at her. 

“Okay.”

They bury the two fish in a cardboard shoe box decorated with glitter and stickers in the back garden, next to a little flower bed near the studio garage and Julie cries again but it’s not so sad. Because she had given her fish the two best years she could and her mom is holding her hand while her dad has her hugged to his side. And maybe death isn’t so sad if they’ve lived a happy long life.

 two. 

The plant sat on her desk staring at her. 

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t staring at her, because it was a plant and, as far as Julie knew, plants couldn’t stare. But if they could this one would be. 

Actually it would probably be glaring at her. Using it’s last dregs of life to make sure it’s murderer knew what they had done and felt guilty about it. 

Julie hadn’t meant to kill the little plant. She’d just… forgotten it was sitting on her windowsill in her bedroom, in direct sight of the sun everyday for the last three months. Without getting watered once. 

She was eleven years old and a plant killer. 

Julie dropped her head into her hands and let out a groan, throwing herself backwards onto her bed so only her feet were dangling off the end. That’s how her mom finds her twenty minutes later. 

“Everything okay in here?” She asked, a laugh in her tone that just makes Julie groan again. 

“No!” She whines, not sitting up but at least moving her hands from in front of her face as her mom comes further into her room and sits on the edge of her bed. 

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” 

“I killed the plant,” Julie mutters, a pout on her lips as her eyebrows are drawn together and she glares at the ceiling. Just how she’d imagined the plant glaring at her. 

“Ah,” is all she gets in response which just makes Julie glare harder at her ceiling, even as she feels tears pooling in her eyes. 

“I’m a plant killer mom. Does that make me a bad person?” 

She can almost feel the shock coming from her mom as she looks down at her, eyes a little wide as the older woman shakes her head. And then her eyes soften and she’s pulling Julie up so they’re sitting side by side on the bed, looking at the plant she has murdered by default. 

“Oh Julie. Did you mean to kill the plant?” She asks and Julie immediately shakes her head, hair flying everywhere and eyes widening in horror at the thought. 

“No! Of course I didn’t! I swear!” 

“Well there you go then. You just made a mistake my love, everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes they can lead things like a plant dying,” her mom gestures in front of them with one hand while the other brushes tears off her cheeks. “Sometimes they can lead to bad things happening to someone else. But it’s what you do in response to your mistake that really matters. You’re not a bad person Julie, I don’t even think you’d know how to be a bad person.” 

Julie sniffed, eyes locked on the plant as she thought over her mom's words and what they meant and what she could do with them. 

“Can we get a new plant? And maybe– maybe keep it in the studio so I’ll remember to water it when I go practice?” She turned her eyes up to her mom and was greeted with a wide smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“That sounds like a great plan!” 

three.

Sometimes you make friends when you’re a little kid and just assume they’re always going to be in your life. Because when you’re a little kid and when you say someone is your best friend, you mean it, whole heartedly and without a single doubt in your mind. 

For as long as Julie can remember it had always been the two of them. 

Julie and Carrie. 

Carrie and Julie. 

Best friends forever.

She knew they had met because their parents knew each other, that they’d always gone to the same schools, the same parks. She knew that when Carrie’s mom had left her dad spent three weeks drinking and shouting and playing music too loud, that Carrie had spent the majority of those three weeks at her house. She knew that whenever she learnt a new song that Carrie would have a dance routine worked out within hours. 

Julie knew that no matter what went right or wrong in her life, Carrie would be there to have her back.

Because they were best friends. 

Nothing had ever really changed in their friendship, not even when they’d met Flynn on the first day of first grade and immediately decided their duo was now a trio. Because they were kids, and when kids declared they were best friends, they meant it. 

At least Julie had meant it. 

Now, curled up under the covers on her bed, tear tracks on her face and a headache forming behind her eyes, she starts to wonder if Carrie had ever meant it. She starts to reevaluate their entire friendship, her entire childhood. There’s very few memories of the last fourteen years of her life that don’t involve Carrie in some way. 

That thought just makes a fresh wave of tears fill her eyes and dampen her pillow. 

The words are still echoing in her head. The tone she had used, the hand on her hip, the tossing of her hair, the look of disgust on her face. Julie had seen it all before, she’d just never seen if directed at her or Flynn. 

“Don’t you get it? We are not friends anymore. I don’t hang out with pathetic losers like you.” 

Around and around in her head the words bounced. Julie doesn’t know what changed from Friday afternoon to Monday morning, doesn’t know what she did or didn’t do, doesn’t know how she’s meant to react other than crying. 

Which is apparently one of the many, many,  things that make her a pathetic loser. 

Along with being childish and unfashionable and boring and not the right type of person for Dirty Candi – a group that Julie had helped her form, encouraged her to start, helped brainstorm a name for and decide on who would wear which colour. A band, that no Julie thought about it, she had never been asked to join. Not once during the whole process did it ever come up. 

Julie had never even seen the distance growing between them. Hadn’t noticed when Carrie decided on who she wanted to be, and who that person was didn’t need someone like Julie around. 

Twenty minutes later, with Julie still hiding under her duvet and some playlist of sad songs playing on youtube, Flynn comes through the door. Dropping her bag next to the bed and joining her under the covers. Julie turns to face her, closing out of the app so they’re left in silence. Flynn’s been crying too, she notes, because Carrie had ended her friendship with both of them. Said mean and hurtful things about both of them. 

“Carrie’s a bitch,” Flynn mutters her eyes on the ceiling but there’s no real heat in her words. They’re both too in shock and sadness right now, Julie realises. Do you have to go through the five stages of grief even if the person you lost hasn’t died? She’s never thought about that before.

“Yeah, she is,” Julie agrees. Because it’s true. Carrie has always been a little bit of a bitch, she’s just never directed it at them. In fact she’d never actually been so outright mean to anyone and in the back of her mind, Julie wonders what happened in the forty eight hours that they didn’t see her. 

They’ll probably never find out the answer to that question. It’s just a fact of life that Julie is going to have to come to terms with, she supposes. Her and Carrie had been best friends once. They weren’t anymore.

Her mom finds them twenty minutes later still tucked under the duvet and concocting plans on how they can possibly egg Carries house without being caught. She leans against the doorframe, her cheek pressing to the wood as she crosses her arms over her chest and smiles at them both. 

“How about I make us some hot chocolate and we come up with a plan that doesn’t involve you two doing anything illegal, huh?” And who are they to say no to hot chocolate when they’re sad?

 four. 

Music had never been about being the best or winning or even competitions to Julie. It had always been about the emotions, the lyrics, the actual music. That’s not to say she didn’t like it when she won though. Because she did. She very much liked it when a group of strangers gathered together and decided she was the best of the bunch. 

So it also hurt when she didn’t win. Even if the loss was deserved. She’d messed up the intro to the song, had forgotten some of the lyrics half way through, had even been a little out of tune at the beginning she knew.

So she knew she wasn’t going to win. But it still sucked. It especially sucked when Carrie strolled past, tossing her hair over her shoulder and glancing in her direction before saying something that made her friends laugh long and loud. Julie felt her face flushing, tucked a stray curl behind her ear before pulling it back free and trying to hide her face behind it. 

It wasn’t that losing in a silly school music competition was really a big deal. It was just one really bad performance that just happened to be a little more important than any of her previous ones. It didn’t count for a grade, it wouldn’t go on her report card or in her file. It was something she’d signed up for for fun. For a laugh. 

She just happened to be the one people were laughing at. Which just, it really sucked. There was no other way to describe it. 

She said as much later when she sat on the sofa and Carlos wandered into the room, a box of cereal tucked under one arm with a handful of the stuff in the other, and asked what was wrong. He stands in silence for a few seconds, stuff the cereal into his mouth before coming to some kind of conclusion and sitting next to her on the sofa, offering her some of his cereal. It’s enough to jerk a surprised laugh out of Julie as she accepts the offer.

“You’re way better than all those people at your school. I should know, I have to listen to you sing all the time,” he says it so matter of factly. And even though he’s nine year old and hasn’t heard anyone else from her school perform (other than Carrie and Flynn, but he dislikes Carrie on principle and knows that Flynn didn’t perform) Julie finds herself believing him for a moment. 

She leans back on the sofa, pulling Carlos down with her with one arm around his shoulders until they’re sprawled together, box of cereal between them. 

“You’re a good brother,” she mutters, tries to make it sound like a rare admittance to the fact, even if Julie often thinks it. 

“In that case will you watch Ben10 with me? There’s new episodes out.” He grins at her, big and toothy because he knows that she doesn’t like the animation of the new Ben10 but that she’s never quite been able to say no to him when he asks. 

So Julie huffs out a sigh, disentangles her arms from around his shoulders to reach for the remote and flips through the channels until she finds the right one then settles back down next to him. 

They share the box of cereal, sheepish smiles on their faces when their mom comes through half an hour later and finds them covered in crumbs and giggling at the screen. She just shakes her head at them, but there’s a fond sort of smile on her lips that Julie knows means she’s more amused then annoyed. 

As they all sit around the dinner table later that evening, Julie arguing with Carlos about how much better the original Ben10 was and her dad nodding along as if he knows what they’re talking about and her mom humming some new song she’s been working on under her breath, she forgets all about losing some silly little music competition.

 five. 

Julie had never really thought about it before – mostly because she’d never had to spend much time in one – but hospitals were strange places. 

They were a bit like airports she decided. Places where time lost all sense of reality. It must have something to do with the lights, she thinks, how they’re never turned off. You could walk into one at two in the afternoon (lights bright) and leave at three in the morning (the lights still bright) without even realising it had been more than an hour. 

The difference was, she supposed, that if you were in an airport you were probably going somewhere nice and fun. You might even get a fun meal and a new book. There’d be people crowded at the windows to wave at planes as they left. An airport was a strange place but it had an underlying feeling of fun and excitement about it. 

Hospitals just screamed dread and worry. And, if she could go her whole life without ever stepping foot in another hospital Julie would. 

She finds herself thinking the same thing about the studio garage as she stands outside it. One door is open and she can see half the piano, papers sitting on the top and the plants she had helped pick out waiting to be watered. 

That’s why she’s stood there, she needs to go in and water the plants. But she just can’t make herself take the next step, the one that will have her crossing the door and being inside. Julie doesn’t think she’s ever been inside the studio without her mom. Or without knowing that her mom would be  joining her inside in a few minutes. 

Julie doesn’t know how long she stands there for, one hand gripping the door handle tightly while the other shakes at her hand, fingers trying to find purchase in the soft material of her black skirt. 

She needs to water the plants, it’s the only thing in her mind.

She needs to water the plants because she had promised her mom she’d water them when they’d gone to the store to pick them out even though they’d split it between them.

She needs to water the plants because it’s been a week and they’ll start to die soon and Julie doesn’t want to be a plant murder again. 

She needs to water the plants because her mom is dead and it's her job now.

Flynn finds her still standing there, staring at the piano and the plants and the quite empty room. Dimly, Julie notices the black dress her friend is wearing, the muted accessories and the concern in her eyes. 

“Hey,” she says. And it’s quiet, careful in a way that Flynn is rarely quiet and careful when she speaks. 

“I need to water the plants.” Is all Julie can say, unable to draw her eyes away from where they are in the garage. 

Because she needs to water the plants but she can’t make herself step foot in the garage because her mom is dead and it’s the funeral in an hour but she needs to water the plants because there’s no one else who knows where the watering can is or which ones need spraying instead but she can’t move because her mom is dead and the studio is quite and the plants are dying and her mom is dead.

“Okay. Okay, how about you tell me what to do and I’ll water them, yeah?” Flynn is holding her hand, the one she’d had gripped painfully tight to the door handle. Julie doesn’t even know when she took it. She’s not sure if she nods or makes some kind of sound, all she knows is that Flynn is squeezing her hand quickly and then she’s in the studio garage and following the instructions Julie forces past her lips. 

When she’s done Flynn helps her close the door, lock it up and leads her back into the house. There’s family and friends already milling about. Offering condolences and deepest regrets and offering empty help. Julie can see her dad and Tia Victoria talking to a large group of people. Can see them keeping it together.

She can see Carlos sitting at the dining room table with an untouched mug of something in front of him and watches as Carrie sits down next to him. Watches as she says something that makes him smile just a little, because Carrie had always been able to make Carlos smile, even when he was mad or upset at them all. They used to joke it was her super power. 

Julie didn’t even know Carrie was coming today. Doesn’t know how she’s meant to feel about it either.

As if sensing them looking Carrie looks up, makes eye contact and gives her a small smile, a tilt of her head. There’s something in her eyes that Julie can’t decipher. Doesn’t have the energy to try to. Flynn squeezes her hand once even as Julie nods back at Carrie. They haven’t been friends in a long time, but they used to be best friends and Carrie had once been like family. 

She supposes it makes sense that Carrie is here. That she is sitting next to Carlos and talking to him quietly. That she can see Mr Wilson talking to her dad. It’s been a long time since either of them were in this house and Julie wishes that they weren’t here because of this. 

Julie supposes she should be good at losing things and people by now. She’s learnt to deal with it via a fish and plants and friends. She’d just never thought the thing she’d be losing would be her mom. That she would have to find a way through all this hurt without her mom by her side. Because she had always been by her side through every other loss. 

She cries quietly, stood in the kitchen with Flynn holding her hand tightly and people passing by them with sad looks on their faces and concern in their eyes. 

She cries quietly as she thinks about how cruel and awful the world is for taking away one of the people she loves most. 

She cries quietly as she wonders how the hell she is supposed to get through it all.

 +one.

They’re not sure when it happens or what's changed or what they did. One day they just wake up and things are different.

Or, not different per say, but more how they used to be BHD – before the hot dogs. Which is what the boys insist on calling their stint as ghosts no matter how many times Julie vetoes it. And she’s vetoed it a lot.

Really, the first sign that something had happened should have been the fact Julie walked in on them piled on top of each other on the sofa in the living room, passed out asleep. They were ghosts. Ghosts weren’t meant to sleep. But she brushes it aside, thinks maybe it's more of a reflex thing. 

It isn’t until three hours later as she hugs Reggie in celebration of a particularly good shot with the basketball outside that Julie notices the thing that’s different. 

She can feel his heart beating in his chest. A steady thumping where there hadn’t been before. 

“Reggie…” she starts, eye wide as she looks from his chest to his face, trying to see if he’s noticed. If he knows that his heart is beating blood around his body. But he just looks at her confused, his eyebrows drawing together and his lips quirking to the side like they do when he thinks he’s in trouble. 

“I swear I didn’t cheat. I’m just that good!” He holds his hands up in defense, but Julie reaches out to grab his left wrist and cradles it in one hand while she presses two fingers along the inside, trying to find his pulse point like she’s seen doctors do (she blinks back the memories of the last time she saw a doctor press their fingers to someones wrist, searching for something that wasn’t there and the small shake of their head) and letting out a small gasp when she finds it. 

“Er what’s going on over here?” Luke asks curiously as he eyes the way Julie is holding Reggies wrist and the growing realisation on Reggie’s face. 

Julie doesn’t answer him, just reaches out to grab hold of Luke’s wrist and proceeds to do the same thing. Fingertips pressing into the soft skin on his wrist, and for the first time Julie sees the light blue tell-tale sign of blood flowing through veins under his skin. 

And then she feels it, the faint pulsating. 

She lets out a choked sob, letting her hand that was holding his wrist steady fly up cover her mouth even as the other stays in place, almost scared that if she moves her fingers the pulse will vanish and with it this strange miracle she thinks they’ve been given. 

“Holy shit,” she hears Luke whispers above her and she looks up to see him with his free hand resting over his heart, eyes widening with each beat they can both feel. 

She doesn’t have any words to say in response. Holy shit seems to be a pretty accurate reaction. Still holding on to Lukes wrist, Julie turns around to see Alex and Reggie each holding the other's wrist like some strange handshake. Unconsciously they all seem to move towards each other, in awkward small steps as no one is prepared to let go of the other until they stand in a loose circle and Julie can press her fingers into Alex’s free wrist and feel his pulse too. 

Three pulses where there hadn't been one before. She lets out a half laugh, half sob.

“Is this real?” Alex asks, his eyes wide with unshed tears, as if he’s holding himself back. And Julie remembers when they all first met and how he’d said he never dealt well with change and how death was a big change and how now. Now they might be going through a bigger one. She lets her fingers slip down from his wrist so she’s holding his hand and squeezes it tightly. 

“I think so.” 

There has never been any answers for their situation. For being ghosts. For being seen by Julie or seen when they play. Definitely no answers for why they could suddenly be touched or seen by others. (Though secretly, in the dark of her room in the dead of night Julie had wondered if it was love that had done it all. Her love for them, her mom's love for her.) 

The last two years had just been them guessing at every turn and getting lucky each time. They had written their own ghostly rule book, and getting a heartbeat again would just have to be the newest chapter. 

“We’ll just have to figure it out, like we’ve figured everything else out,” Julie says, squeezing Alex’s hand and Luke’s wrist and smiling wide at Reggie. A few moments of silence pass between them, the boys still feeling their hearts beating, counting each one before it’s broken by a startled gasp and they all look to Luke.

“Hey! Do you think this means we can eat now?” Luke asks, his eyebrows shooting up at the thought. No doubt already planning what he wants from the kitchen. 

“Only one way to find out man,” Reggie shrugs but his smile is wide and Julie knows not being able to eat has been one of the biggest disappointments of their afterlife for all three of them. 

That’s how her dad and Carlos find them half an hour later, gathered around the island in the kitchen with sandwich ingredients scattered around all available surfaces. And three not-so-ghosts eating their creations as Julie looks on with a wide smile. 

“Um–” is all dad gets out, a hand half up in the air as he points at them with confusion. Her dad has been pretty understanding about the whole ‘my band is made up of three teenage ghosts, oh, and by the way they kinda live in our garage’ thing, but she can’t blame him for being confused by this scene. Ghosts aren’t supposed to be able to eat after all. 

“Woah what did we miss!?” Carlos, ever the enthusiast for all things ghost related, is already running across the kitchen, pulling out the chair next to Julie’s and kneeling next to her, eyes darting between the three older boys as he leans on the contertop to be even closer. “Are they eating? How are they eating?” 

Julie shrugs one shoulder, turning her eyes to Carlos and her dad, who’s moved from the doorway to stand at the end of the island, watching all of them. 

“We’re not sure but–” Julie starts only to be cut off by Reggie who drops his sandwich back to his plate and stretches out his arms, one to her dad and one to Carlos with possibly the widest smile Julie has ever seen on him. 

“Check this out. Go on, feel y’know, with your middle and forefinger. Right there, yeah.” The four of them watch as her dad and Carlos do as instructed, fingers resting over the pulse points on Reggie’s wrists. Her dad finds it first, and Julie can pinpoint the exact moment he must feel the thrumming of a heartbeat because his eyes widen a fraction even as they fill with tears she hadn’t been expecting. 

Which is silly, if she really thinks about it, because the boys have found a way into all their lives and hearts so seamlessly. 

Because Reggie spends time with her dad helping out around the kitchen or while he fiddles with his camera and jokes around with Carlos and talks with him late at night when he’s supposed to be sleeping. 

Because Alex watches all the terrible telenovela’s with him that her and Carlos hate and asks questions about all the movies they’ve missed, and he spends time helping Carlos with his history homework and practices his ball throwing when their dad is busy.

Because Luke listens to him talk about composition and lighting and perspective with real interest and takes his music suggestions seriously and has been teaching Carlos to play guitar when they think no one is around. 

They’ve filled a gap in their family that they hadn’t even realised was there.

It wasn’t like their home was lacking in love and laughter and light, it had just been dimmed down. It was like they’d shut all their curtains after her mom had died, and were making do with a cheap light bulb and rare rays of sunlight that peaked through and lit up their life in tiny bursts.

 But then along came three dead teenagers and without them noticing, without Julie even realising, they’d opened up the curtains again. Let all the light stream back in and never asked for anything in return other than being allowed to stick around.

So maybe this was their reward. 

As her dad and Carlos worked their way through feeling the pulse on each of the boys, pulling them into hugs and sharing in their excitement, Julie let herself smile, tears trailing down her cheeks as she felt her own heartbeat with one hand over her chest.

She didn’t know if this was her mom’s doing or her own or if they’d just accidentally done it themselves with sheer will power. 

All Julie knew was that her boys were here, were breathing and eating, had hearts beating in their chests, and were being given their second chance at life. 

All Julie really knew was that she loved them, had hoped for a way to keep them, had proud every bit of love and hope into each hug they’d ever shared.  

All Julie knew was that she wished she could thank whoever or whatever it was that was answering her pleaded request and allowing her to keep them. 

She doesn’t notice them moving, too busy thinking and sending thanks into the world, but all of a sudden there are three pairs of arms wrapping themselves around her in an uncomfortable and awkward hug. But she doesn’t care. She just grabs onto whoevers arm she can, lets out a small laugh of joy and holds them tight. Never intending on letting them go.

[deascheck]

Family is More than Blood

Summary: The reader and Winchester brothers bond as the brothers try to help the reader realize family is more than blood when a hunt goes wrong.

Pairings: none

Word Count: 4439

Warnings: angst, description of physical pain, death and fluff <33 !!!

A/N: Also, this is my absolute first SPN fic I ever wrote and am now getting around to posting it. I’ve fleshed it out and edited it since then, but still. Not bad for a first attempt at writing SPN, I think! Thank you to the wonderful @winchest09 for beta'ing once again!!

Well.. At least my day could not possibly get any worse, you thought. After getting a rip from your parents for choosing to stay with the Winchesters, all you felt like doing was curling up in bed with a bottle of whiskey and drinking away your newest painful memory. Correction, you didn’t get a rip. You had just been disowned. You frowned as you thought about your parents. I don’t need Mom or Dad… They don’t understand the life I want to live. How long has it been since they supported me? You rolled your eyes as they filled up with tears.

You’d been with the Winchester brothers for four months now, grabbing any case you could get your hands on. You weren’t sure how they viewed you, given the short time you’d been together, but you were confident in how you viewed them; badasses.

They had first run into you on a case, interrupting your attempt to fight a vengeful spirit on your own. To this day you argued that you would have won the fight. Whenever you said it though, Dean just scoffed and Sam would muss your hair with a small smile.

As you thought about the adventures you’d had with the brothers, trying hard to keep your mind off your parents, you heard a knock on your door.

Quickly, you wiped your eyes to make sure they were dry, and then answered in a strong voice, “Come in!” You bet yourself it would be Sam, since Dean tended to just barge in. Sure enough, Sam poked his head in. “Y/N? Hey, we’re about to sit and eat dinner. You coming?”

Sighing, you nodded and got up. As much as you loved the Winchesters, you didn’t feel like bringing them into your family drama quite yet. It seemed best to keep up appearances. Wandering into the kitchen, the smell of hamburgers hit your nose. You smiled, remembering that Dean had made it a rule: Hamburgers every Friday night if and when the three of you were at the bunker.

Dean grinned at you as you sat down, happy with having a night off. You gave him your best smile back, hoping he didn’t notice you were off rhythm tonight.

“Hey Y/N! Haven’t seen you all afternoon. You been hiding?” Dean looked at you inquisitively as he took a massive bite of his burger, rolling his eyes in ecstasy.

You gave a small chuckle. “I think I’m allowed to hide from you two terrors every once in a while with what I put up with from you.”

As Dean’s chest swelled with indignity, you winked quickly at Sam. When Dean was happy, it was easy to tease him.

Sam gave you a quick smile back, though he seemed a little distracted.

Crap. He can tell. He’s studying me! Do better, Y/N. Get the banter going! Your inner panic began. Sam had always been able to pick up on how you were feeling, no matter how well you hid it. Even from day one, he had read you like a book.

You spent the rest of dinner working on making the two of them laugh, embracing the warmth their laughter brought you. You knew you’d have to hold on tight to this happy feeling once you were on your own for the night. The nighttime was always when any unhappiness you were harboring hit you the hardest.

As you stood up and started clearing the table, you missed a non-verbal exchange between the brothers.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“We’re gonna to head to the bar in town.”

You didn’t pause in your cleaning as you rolled your eyes. “Good for you.”

“No, we’re ALL going, ya moron. Stop cleaning and get ready! We leave in 10!”

Turning around from the sink, you narrowed your eyes as you studied him. “Why? I’ve got dinner to clean up and a good book waiting in my room.”

This time, it was Sam who answered with a big grin. “Why? Cause it’s high time you learn how to compete with us at pool. And you’re gonna need more alcohol than we have to deal with Dean’s cockiness.” He laughed at Dean as he walked around the table to grab your shoulders and guide you out the kitchen door.

“Sammmmm,” you complain. “I don’t want to have to do the dishes later! You’ve seen the mess Dean makes when he cooks!”

Sam bent down to put his mouth close to your ear. “I have seen the messes he makes. But I’ve also seen you hide when you’re hurting. So we’re going out to give you some fun memories to battle your bad ones with.”

Your eyes filled with tears at his thoughtfulness. You stopped resisting him and turned around to give him a giant hug. Being significantly shorter than him, if you wanted a comfort hug, you had to jump and wrap your arms around his neck. Sam caught you and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tight as your feet dangled off the ground several inches. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, squeezing your arms gently to let him know that you appreciated what he was doing. Sam’s arms squeezed back.

After a couple minutes like that, he lifted his cheek from your head and started to walk, straddling a bit to avoid hitting your legs as he walked. You laughed and started to struggle. “You big teddy bear – put me down! I can walk!”

As Sam laughed too, you could feel it rumble deep in his chest. He said, “So? I need my workout for the day! I’ll carry you to your room, m’lady.”

Appeased, you stopped struggling until what he said hit you. Indignant, you exclaimed, “Workout? I’m a workout to you? I am NOT that heavy!” Sam laughed at your outrage and then grunted as your struggling resumed.

“Ok! Ok! I’ll put you down. But only if you promise to be ready in a couple minutes!” Sam looked at you, more solemn now. “We’re serious about giving you some good memories, Y/N. You are a part of our family, and we want you to be as happy as you can be in the life we live.”

As Sam put you down, you gave him a quick peck on his cheek as a thank you, and ran into your room. It wasn’t hard to decide what to wear since you had all of two non flannel/jean outfits. Grabbing your white, high-waisted short shorts, you pulled them on as you ran into your bathroom, rummaging through the mess of clothing, make-up, and toiletries on your counter. Your fingers found your eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss, and you immediately separated them by placing them on a tshirt as you pulled your crop top on. It was one of your favorite tops, and you loved to wear it when you got the chance. But you’d been so busy with the Winchesters, you hadn’t gotten to dress up since before you became a hunter.

Despite the lack of practice, you dolled up quite nicely within 10 minutes. You fluffed your hair as you walked to your door, hoping that you looked ok. Opening your door, you yelled for Sam and Dean, “Guys! I’m ready, let’s go!”

You walked down the hall towards the garage, suddenly impatient. You opened the garage door and saw that the boys weren’t there yet. You gasped. I actually beat them? How on earth did I beat two men in getting ready for a night out? Smiling smugly, you leaned against Baby, crossing your ankles and your arms as you waited. This was a day for the history books.

Sam and Dean walked through the door in button down shirts and jeans. You huffed softly, wishing they’d change it up occasionally. Talking quietly, they didn’t see you until they got close to the car. Glancing forward, Dean spotted you first and stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw hanging slightly. Sam, in the middle of a sentence, stopped when he saw Dean fall back. Confused, he looked around and saw you leaning against the car. His eyebrows go up slightly and his eyes roamed down and up your body slowly. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, yet flattered, you flipped your hair as you opened the rear passenger door.

Sending a quick look in their direction, you teased, “If you boys don’t hurry up, the bar is going to be closed by the time we even get out of this garage.”

They quickly shook out of their stupor and climbed in the car. Clearly they had not seen you dressed up enough. Dean started Baby up and the three of you headed out.

The drive to the bar was not very long, and before you knew it, Dean was pulling into a parking spot. You got out, and headed inside with the brothers. As you walked in, you noticed they each flanked you. You realized they were feeling protective, and you couldn’t help but loop your arms through theirs in a burst of rare affection for the two of them. Looking up, you caught them exchanging happy smiles over your head. This was going to be a fun night, you thought to yourself.

The three of you reached the bar, and while you and Sam sat down, Dean ordered three whiskeys. One thing that you knew the boys liked about you was that you could drink like they did. The bartender brought you your drinks, and you all took a big gulp from your glasses, wincing slightly at the burn that trailed down your throats.

“Ok, Y/N.” Dean looked at you seriously as he put his glass down. “This is the plan. We’re going to get drunk, and then I’m going to teach you how to play pool with the big boys. Because you, my dear, are sadly lacking in your pool skills.” He smiled a big smile, letting you know he was teasing.

You leaned in, and said right in his face, “Challenge accepted, Winchester. Bring it on!” You laughed at the surprised look on his face and turned to Sam. Raising your glass, you gave him a nod and a wink and downed the rest of your drink.

As the three of you ordered another round, you noticed something caught in the napkin dispenser. You moved closer to inspect it, and as you did, your face paled. It was a hex bag. Pulling a napkin out of the dispenser, you used it to grab the bag and bring it to you. You turned around and sat down again, wishing to God you hadn’t seen anything. All you wanted was to get wasted and make some good memories with Sam and Dean to counter the awful ones of your parents. But you were never one to back down from a hunt. And maybe you’d get to release some pent up emotions by beating up this damn witch.

Sam noticed the napkin in your hand and asked, “Hey Y/N, what’s in the napkin?”

You groaned and pulled it below the counter before you opened it up. Their eyes widened as they saw you reveal a hex bag. Sighing, you said, “Boys, we have a witch in our territory. We’ve got work to do.”

Dean hung his head and sighed. “Why tonight?” he asked, frustrated. “This stupid witch couldn’t have waited for us to get ONE NIGHT off?” He grabbed his second drink and downed it in three gulps. He growled, “Let’s go finish this mother fucker.”

You slid off your seat and headed to the door when your head started spinning. Unable to stay upright, you crashed into Sam, who caught you. “Y/N? Y/N what’s going on? What’s wrong?” His concerned eyes swam above you as you tried to focus on what he was saying.

“Sam.. ‘M so dizzy.. Why…” You left it at that, feeling more than dizzy. Your stomach turned, and you turned your head just in time as you vomited violently all over the floor. You felt fear threaten to overwhelm you as you saw blood on the floor.

Dean grabbed your head when you finished and shook you gently to get your attention. “Y/N! You gotta talk to us! What’s wrong?” His deep voice was slightly husky with his urgency.

You met his eyes and moaned, “So dizzy.. and my stomach!” You clutched your stomach as pain shot through it, draining you.

Sam’s arms tightened around you as you went limp, the strength quickly leaving your body. He hoisted you up bridal style and said to Dean, “Dude, what happened to the hex bag?”

Dean’s eyes widened in understanding, and he quickly checked your pockets. As he patted through them, he apologetically said, “Sorry Y/N, I promise you I’m not trying to feel you up.” Dean found it and tucked the hex bag into his shirt’s front pocket, handling it with a bandana, before heading for the car. Sam was hot on his heels with you in his arms.

When they reached Baby, Dean helped Sam get you into the back seat before they opened up the hex bag. They mumbled in confusion as they realized it must have been made for you. Its location originally seemed a coincidence. But the fact that once you held the hex bag and then got sick solidified their theory. The witch knew you and wanted you to suffer.

Dean worked on destroying the bag while Sam patted a wet rag along your face, trying to help the best he can. Your eyelids fluttered weakly as you turned your head to look at him. The bag may have been gone, but you were still weak from whatever the bag inflicted on you. As you felt the rag on your face, your feverish thought process picked up. This isn’t over… If I’m sick, Sam and Dean are distracted. It would have been too easy to just destroy the hex bag. Trap... Y/N, get your act together and warn them! You forced your eyes fully open and looked at Sam. He met your eyes in surprise, seeing a fear and determination in yours. You forced yourself to put full sentences together, and say, “Sam. This is too easy. It’s a trap- you two need to arm up. I think the witch is here.” As you finished, you heard two thumps. Sam leaned back and looked towards the sound.

“Dean! Y/N, Dean’s down!” As the reality of your situation fully set in, your adrenaline started to kick in.

Good to know that I can practically be on my deathbed and my adrenaline will bring me back, you thought wryly. You stayed low and slid out of the car, carefully watching the surrounding lot. Sam grabbed Dean and pulled him over to you. He had a lump on his head, but his pulse was steady. What the hell? How did he get knocked out? Friggin witch must be here…

Sam motioned for you to lie down and roll under the car. You rolled under the car and waited a few seconds, knowing the witch must be close. As you got ready to emerge from the other side, you heard an angry, rough, female voice utter three words in latin, and then you heard another two thuds.

Shit. She must have gotten Sam. What the hell does she want? Is she one of those psychos that plays with her victims before she kills them? Your stomach turned uncomfortably as your imagination ran away with you, disgusting images flashing before your eyes. Yo. Dude. Gotta focus, you told yourself. Sam and Dean need me.. With that thought you rolled out and sprang to your feet, ready to fight.

For the first time in your short hunting career, you were grateful that you had faced so many witches. Being a quick learner, you knew a spell or two yourself. As you located the witch, you yelled, “Obmutesce!”

Roughly, you knew you were removing her ability to speak. You saw her work her mouth in surprise and frustration, and you grinned. The spell worked. Grabbing a knife and a gun from your bag in the back seat, you faced her. As she tried to get around the spell, you took a second to study her. She had dark brown hair, dark eyes, and a long, albeit pretty face. She was a little taller than you, and clearly had some class. Her wardrobe just screamed ‘snobby rich girl’.

As the two of you locked eyes, hers went black. Immediately your mind went into panic mode. She’s a demon witch? A witch demon? I’m screwed! Sam and Dean need to wake up! Shit!

Your face remained hard and confident as you called out, “Ya know, you may be the spawn of hell, but without the ability to speak, there’s really jack shit you can do to me without having to fight me.” You forced yourself to give a big predatory grin that you learned from Dean. “And well, I’ve got two weapons here that will kill you.” You hold up the gun and the knife tauntingly. Thankfully, you’d stolen the demon killing knife from Dean after the last hunt, and had stuck it in your bag- intending to be the one to kill the next demon the three of you faced.

The witch raised a hand, looking smug, and flicked her wrist. Your weapons yanked out of your hands and went flying. Your jaw went slack. Ok, she’s a demon who isn’t afraid to use her demon powers. Bluffing, failed. Plan B. Attack? You grimaced as you realized you’d have to charge her. This is one fight I’m probably going to be feeling for a week... You groaned mentally and went to attack her.

If it was a fight she wanted, it was a fight she’d get. Thanks to your parents, you’d always been able to defend yourself. You knew aikido, karate, and boxing. You’d beaten both Sam and Dean in several training fights.

The minute you got close, she snapped her fingers and you found yourself flying through the air, crashing onto a car’s windshield a few yards away. Ahhh...That one hurt. Freaking bitch. Who does she think she is? You growled at her, “What? Afraid you can’t take me in a fair fight? Is that why you’re hiding behind your stupid demon powers?” You approached her again, taking your eyes off her for a split second to check on Sam and Dean. They were both still and unmoving.

That made you even angrier, and you attacked again. This time the witch let you get even closer before she waved her hand and sent you flying again. You contacted a car’s driver door, the impact jarring every bone in your body. You prayed to yourself, Come on Sam, come on Dean... I don’t know how to exorcise her! Wake up! I’m only going to be able to take this for so long... Even just two hits in and you could feel your body giving. You were sure you have a couple cracked ribs, and maybe a mild concussion. Cars were hard, unforgiving objects.

As you walked towards the witch again, warily, you noticed Dean stirring. Perfect. Time to help wake him up. Throwing caution to the wind, you charged her at top speed and full volume, knowing you wouldn’t get even close at that rate. Sure enough, she grinned maniacally as you got closer, before sending you off through the air once again. This time, you get knocked against a light post.

As you hit the post, and then the ground, you felt a searing pain in your knee and your shoulder. Eyes welling, you looked down and saw your kneecap was not at the front of your knee. Despite the rising urgency of the situation, you couldn’t help but think how gross it was. You couldn’t look at the disfigured limb without feeling weak and began to taste bile in your throat. Your shoulder was just about in the same situation. You could feel it out of its socket.

Looking up, you saw the witch making her way to you. As you watched her approach, you wished you could talk to her and find out why she had such an interest in you. Despite your pain-addled brain going haywire, you managed to organize your thoughts enough to try to identify your attacker. Do I know her? We haven’t faced her before.. or she’d be dead. Is it the demon that knows me? Which demon is it?

You started getting desperate, realizing you were completely helpless against a freaking demon. She stopped in front of you and crouched down to your level, staring at you closely. Your voice filled with pain, you ask, “Who are you? What do you want with us?”

As you asked, you heard the sound of flesh being torn, and you saw the demon-killing knife protrude from her chest. You looked up in shock, and you saw Dean pulling his knife from the witch’s body. His hard battle face changed into one of deep concern as he looked at you.

“Y/N! Man, you are messed up... What hurts?”

You responded softly, trying hard not to cry. “My shoulder and knee... I think they’re dislocated. My ribs feel cracked, and my head hurts like nobody’s business.” You looked at him helplessly.

Dean’s face battled between sympathy for you and anger at the witch. His sympathy won, and he said, “Here, let’s get you up.” He wrapped his arm around your waist and helped haul you to your feet, mindful of your dislocated knee and shoulder.

Now that Dean was awake and here, and the witch/demon/enemy was dead, you started going into shock. You began to tremble, and Dean saw you starting to deteriorate. He quickly said, “Oh no you don’t,” and slapped your face gently. “We still have some work to do, sweetheart. Don’t worry, Sammy and I will take care of you.”

Startled into calm, you look at him. The words started tumbling out of your mouth, “Dean, it was a witch possessed by a demon. I didn’t know who she was, and I muted her, so I couldn’t find out after that. She never let me get close. She just kept tossing me around like she was freaking Goliath, and oh my God, Dean, I hurt so bad...” At this point you couldn’t handle it, and the tears started to cascade down your cheeks, leaving you breathless as you lost control.

Dean brought you as close to his chest as he could without hurting you, and shushed you softly. “Shhh, Y/N it’s ok.. Shh. You did great, kid. You did great. The bitch is dead now- there’s nothing to worry about. Hey, you’re ok. Shh...”

He held you for several minutes, allowing you to cry your stress, fear, pain, and anger out. As you finished, despite the massive amount of pain you were in, you relished the moment of getting to snuggle with Dean; it happened so rarely that you’d take it, regardless of the circumstance.

Once you had quieted down, Dean helped you over to where Sam was, who was slowly waking up. He sat up slowly and put his hand to his head, groaning softly. As he looked around, he saw you and Dean. Immediately he was on his feet and hovering anxiously when you told him not to touch your right side. Dean helped you perch on the side of Baby’s backseat while you discussed how best to get you home.

Sam looked at you guiltily and said, “Y/N, I can put your shoulder and knee back into place, but it’s gonna hurt a lot. And you’ll probably be in even more pain once they’re back. Do you want to do this now?”

You looked at him wearily, with your tear-stained face. “Sam, I’m in more pain than I’ve been in my life, quite honestly. So since my pain record has been set tonight, it doesn’t matter to me how high it gets as long as I can get fixed quickly.”

Dean stepped in at this point, and explained, “Y/N, he’s just asking because we can take you to a hospital and have them do it while you’re on pain meds. You’ll be a lot more comfortable, but they might not let you go home tonight. If we do it, it’ll be a helluva lot more uncomfortable, but you’ll be home, and we can take care of you there.”

You attempted a smile. “It’s a no-brainer, boys... Help me out. And take me home? Please?”

Needless to say, your level of pain went from overwhelming to excruciating when they reset your knee and shoulder. But you were grateful the boys could get you right again. Dean was driving and Sam was helping prop you up in a comfortable position in the back seat.

You reflected as you were lulled into a half-asleep state. Ha... And here I was thinking today couldn’t get any worse. My parents disowned me, I don’t get to get drunk because I got attacked by a demon-witch, and then I’m almost killed because I can’t protect myself, Sam, or Dean. What a fantastic fucking day.

Sam’s voice brought you to a more conscious state. “Y/N? Hey, sweetheart. Sorry, I know you’re falling asleep. I just wanted to tell you I know you’re probably beating yourself up, and you’re probably thinking about how much today sucked. Which,” he paused to smile briefly, “would be fair. However, I want you to know that you were incredibly brave today. Not many new hunters would be willing to face such an intimidating challenge alone.” He bent his head around sideways to look at you and see what you were thinking about. “Seriously, Y/N. Dean and I are proud to call you our sister and fellow hunter. Family is more than just blood.”

You smiled up at him as you felt sleep starting to take over you. “Sam, there’s no one I would rather have as my brothers. Thank you for taking me in. I love you guys.”

You continue thinking as you fight sleep. The bunker, living with my boys, that’s my home. They’re my family. Sam and Dean are the only two who matter in my life. I choose my family...

Sam smoothed your hair gently as you nodded off. “It’s us who are grateful, Y/N. You are the sister we never had.”

[pbandjesse]

I am glad to be home. I miss being out on our big trip but I had a good day.

I slept pretty well last night. But I let myself sleep in a little. I woke up and James was there and it was great.

I had a really productive day. I got washed and dressed and had oreos for breakfast. And got to work on my proposal for workshops at the museum. I proposed a printmaking and a sewing workshop and wrote out the proposal and then the two projects with supply lists and lesson plan like descriptions of breakdown. Basically the printmaking one is based around card making and the sewing one is based around visible mending. I hope they like them!

I didn't have anyone to style so I got started on cleaning up the studio. I worked on the closet for a bit. I took all my flea market stuff out for James to put in their parent's garage. And was able to put the kayak in their spot. I also put our rollar skates in there. The heaters will come on soon and I don't want anything touching them and the skates were on top of one of those. I am trying my best to put things away in better places.

I spent a good amount of cleaning the closet and moving my farmers market art boxes into the closet. I spent a lot of time just putting things in better spots but there is still a lot to do. Still some things got done and I was pleased.

I did some cleaning. Some more organizing. I went through all my photos to print for the month. And then got to work on organizing our camping gear.

I wanted all of our stuff to fit in one box and not have the milk crates anymore and after some moving and stuff I was able to get everything in there. Didnt realize until like 2 hour later that there was some stuff in the dishwasher so I will have to try again but I am still happy. James had to help me get some stuff up and down because it was heavy but the closet closes and that all the matters.

I got all of our laundry packed up so James could take it to their parent's tonight. I cleaned in the kitchen. And as the afternoon wound down I laid in the studio because my eyes were so tired.

I never actually slept. Instead I just laid there and watched videos. I would eventually start working on some documents on wedding bands for me and James. It was a nice afternoon.

I hung out with James in their room for a bit. I played animal crossing for a while. It was nice just being with James.

A big storm randomly rolled in. We had to quickly close all the windows. It was a little scary! But we survived.

James got together and headed out at 7. And I took a bath. My psoriasis is very bad right now. I think it was from traveling, the change in environment always hurts. But I am trying my best to do the things I need to make my skin not itch so much. I should get a new prescription for something.

Now I am on the couch and waiting for James to come home. I am going to work at the museum tomorrow and I am looking forward to it. I am only slightly nervous about giving a tour. So wish me luck. Take care of yourselves everyone!!

[maybankiara]

NOTHIN’ LASTS FOREVER (WE BOTH KNOW HEARTS CAN CHANGE)

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera

prompt: pre-canon

summary: JJ decides to take his chances with Kiara the summer before they go to different high schools, which possibly ruins their friendship (and by an extension, the Pogues’). 

word count: 5.3k

a/n: written for the first day of jiara july jubilee! this is basically how jj causes and ends kiara’s infamous kook year, full of angst and a sprinkle of fluff with some banter to match.

masterlist | tag list

read on archive of our own

They talked about everything, but high school was the one thing none of them wanted to mention.

  The Pogues grew up together. Some more so than others, but at the age of when things are starting to get real, they were as much a family as they could be. Pope brought the sense of reason, John B brought the sense of home, Kiara brought common sense, and JJ brought nonsense. 

  It shouldn’t have worked, because all of them were people who shouldn’t have found friends in one other, but they did. 

  JJ can’t imagine a life without the three teens in it. 

  It’s a sunny afternoon, like most late august afternoons on the island, and John B’s dad takes them to the Chateau’s backyard, out to the marsh. Big John is a man JJ has come to think of as more of a dad than his own father, but he’d never say it – so when he tells the kids he’s got something for them to see, JJ doesn’t think twice. He follows the man to the back of his plot, excitement filling his veins. 

  He leans over to John B, who’s walking right next to him. ‘You got any clue what this is about?’

  ‘He didn’t tell me anything.’ The brunet glances at his father, making sure he’s out earshot, and then says for only his friends to hear: ‘I think it’s whatever he’s been hiding for the past week.’

  ‘The thing in the garage?’ Pope pipes in. He walks over until he’s right behind the two boys, Kiara at his side. ‘It has to be the thing in the garage.’

  ‘It’s a boat,’ states Kiara. She sounds confident to the point that all of the boys turn to her, the same question evident on their faces. ‘Y’all are blind.’

  And sure enough, when JJ looks at where Kiara is pointing, there’s a boat there. It’s an old thing, flat bottom Carolina Skiff, 19-footer, JJ reckons. It’s a little beat up but looks decent enough, and if JJ’s right, then Big John must’ve spent the whole of last week fixing it up. 

  ‘A boat?’ asks John B.

  It seems like a dumb question (it is , thinks JJ) but it feels like someone has to say those words to clarify they’re all seeing the same thing.  

  Big John beams at his son’s words, hands moving from his knees as he crouches, patting the wooden front. ‘A boat. Actually, your boat.’ 

  The words sound as if you means less John B and more all of you , so his son exchanges glances with all of his friends, licks his lips with a soft tilt of his brows. ‘Ours?’

  ‘If you want it to be.’

  JJ steps forward and touches the wood. He’s always wanted to have a boat – his dad’s Phantom is a treasure he’s not allowed within ten foot of, and being able to just set out into the ocean, or even the marsh without anyone bothering him...

  He looks at Big John with a wary grin starting to take over. ‘You’re saying that you’re giving this boat to us?’

  ‘You kids are getting older,’ explains Big John, talking to all of them. ‘I don’t want you hanging around my backyard all the time.’

  ‘So you gave us a boat,’ Pope notes.

  ‘Damn right, son.’

  He takes them out of a spin, teaching them how to man it. JJ gets it the quickest because boats are in his blood, and John B and Pope each need a couple of repeats to get the hang of it. Kiara sticks to the side, saying hardly anything. between themselves, the boys figure she’s just not a boat person. JJ thinks there’s more to it, but doesn’t say anything. 

  They celebrate at the Wreck. Big John drops them off before work, promising them they’d get to take the boat to themselves tomorrow. It’s hard to say who’s most excited, but it’s easy to say who isn’t.

  Kiara doesn’t sulk, but she’s quiet, and they’re not used to that. Her dad gives them something to snack on (Big John pays for it, because the kids aren’t Mike Carrera’s favourite people). 

  John B and Pope are the first to go, leaving with the latter’s parents. It’s getting quite late already and Kiara’s dad is still working the shift, so JJ decides to stick around. (He’s always thought Mike dislikes him the least.)

  They munch on fries. 

  ‘Why are you quiet?’ he asks. a fry lands in her mouth and they’d high five at their coordination, usually, and the lack of a high five is what bothers him the most. 

  She leans back in her chair, glancing at her dad, before averting her eyes. 

  ‘Kie.’

  Her fingers are on the fries, but she isn’t throwing them at JJ anymore. 

  He lightly kicks her leg underneath the table. ‘You can talk to me.’

  What he means is i understand you better than pope or john b ever could , but he doesn’t want to say it out loud. He doesn’t want to admit it. He doesn’t want her to know how he feels. 

  ‘I already have a boat, JJ.’

  ‘So?’ JJ frowns. ‘You’re pissed because you’ve already got a boat?’

  ‘ No .’ 

  Kiara opens and closes her mouth a handful of time, licking her lips in-between. JJ sees her grow agitated, but he doesn’t know if it’s at him, because of him, or something else altogether. 

  She slumps into the back of the chair. ‘You guys seemed so happy to just have a boat. I looked at it and my first thought was i have a bigger one at home . And I couldn’t get as excited.’

  ‘So you’re pissed because you’re rich,’ JJ concludes. 

  ‘Don’t say it like that! I didn’t mean it like – JJ, I wanted to be happy because of the boat Big John gave us. And I am, kind of. I’m excited that it’s ours. But I couldn’t stop thinking about my mom’s boat, and how I’ll never see the simple things like that as something great.’

  ‘Are you now pissed that we’re poor?’

  ‘JJ,’ Kiara warns. Her eyebrow’s raised and she watches him sigh, resigning his failed attempts at humour. ‘You know why I’m upset.’

   i do , he realises. The atmosphere between them turns sombre, and JJ wishes there were more people in the Wreck. He plays with the fries in front of him, stuffing a few into his mouth. 

  Consoling other people has never been JJ’s strong suit – he’s mediocre at best. But it’s Kiara , of all people, so he plays footsies with her leg underneath the table. 

  ‘Stop it.’

  He does. ‘Come on, Kie. You’re one of us even if you could buy your own boat and not even notice.’

  Kiara raises her eyebrows. JJ apologises. 

  ‘Money or not, you’re a pogue. Things aren’t going to change once you’re attending that stupid kook academy.’

  ‘Cooke,’ she corrects him, quietly. ‘It’s the Robert Cooke Academy.’

  ‘Seriously, if you’re correcting me on kook bullshit, I’ll retract your pogue membership.’

  He watches her face fall as if he didn’t say those words with a mischievous grin on his face, throwing a fry at her. JJ concludes trying to console Kiara is an absolute disaster, and he’d really like to be able to stop, but he doesn’t see anything else that could work. 

  Humour certainly doesn’t. 

  ‘Look, as long as you’re hanging out with us, you’re one of us. That’s the whole deal. You might have money, but pogues aren’t about money, have it or not. Sure, you might not be able to relate to what it feels like for kids from the Cut to be on our own boat, but we can show you. as long as you want to hang out with us, you’ll always be welcome.’

  At the end of the monologue, JJ takes a deep breath; he’s fairly certain this was the longest thing he’s ever said in one go, so he tells her that. 

  She laughs, a little bit. JJ figures it must’ve done some good. 

  He throws a fry at her and she catches it with her hand, then puts it in her mouth. She throws another one and she catches it with her mouth this time, and they’re back to playing the game from earlier. Her laughter is a little louder now, a little more cheerful, and he notices her shoulders aren’t as slumped. 

  It’s getting even later now, but JJ doesn’t leave. her dad’s still got some work to do, clean up, lock up, all that jazz, so the two teens make their way out of the restaurant. The air is fresh and they’ve both got a brisk walk to their feet, laughing louder than they should. 

  JJ likes this. He likes spending time with his friends, and he likes spending time with Kiara alone.  

  There’s a bench a little down the road, in the very middle of the street (and the Cut) and they sit down, side by side. They’re close enough that their thighs are touching, and JJ is acutely aware of the contact of skin on skin that their shorts uncover.

  He glances at her and catches her gazing at the starry sky. 

  ‘I can’t imagine a world where you’re not one of us,’ he tells her. ‘That’s why I think things won’t change when school starts.’

  ‘When I become a kook.’

  ‘You won’t, though. you’re a pogue.’ JJ looks at her, face serious, and hopes she can tell he means it. JJ Maybank might be a kid, but he knows loyalty, and he doesn’t give it away easily. ‘We’re friends. Friends stick together.’

  The nod Kiara gives him is soft, reluctant. ‘What if we don’t?’

  ‘What if we don’t what ? Kie, there’s no pogues without Kiara Carrera.’

  ‘I’m not from the Cut,’ she says with a smile on her face, but sadness in her voice. ‘I’m not a pogue.’

  ‘You’re a pogue with a capital p ,’ JJ says then. He feels the fire in his chest, anger and excitement, and bitterness at the fact that Kiara is the one who keeps worrying she’s not one of them. ‘We’re the Pogues with the capital p . You me, John B, Pope. And – and our boat, the one we got today? That’s the Pogue boat. HMS Pogue . It’s ours .’

  ‘So we’re not pogues, we’re the Pogues?’

  ‘Hell yeah.’

  Kiara’s face changes as she absorbs JJ’s little speech, watching him crouch on the bench instead of sitting on it. There’s confusion between her brows, then a smile in the wrinkles around her eyes, then finally laughter coming off her lips. Her hair’s wild today, in the way that is so like her that if someone asked, JJ would describe kiara as a pretty girl with curly hair and a nose for trouble. 

  He puts a hand on her shoulder, tugging at the strap of her top so it snaps onto the skin every other moment. ‘So, Kie. You a pogue?’

  Kiara swats his hand away. ‘Will I be a pogue even if I become a kook?’

  ‘ Please . We’ll always like you, kook or not. Besides, you’d be the only one to be a kook and a pogue at the same time and that’s kinda cool.’

  Her eyes lose some of the little concern he can see in the dark, and a reserved smile graces her lips. Something warm bursts inside his chest. 

  ‘Thanks, JJ.’

  He looks at her, really looks at her, and feels like he’s seeing her for the first time. The street lights on the Cut are orange and shitty and it makes her look a little orange, too, but he’s never before noticed the depth of her complexion, or how it’s gotten darker since summer started. He’s never noticed the quirk in the right corner of her lips, a slight tug upwards that makes her look like Mona Lisa at times. 

  He should look away, but his eyes are on her lips, and it feels like the warmth led to something brewing inside his chest. 

   bravery , he thinks. 

  JJ looks into Kiara’s eyes and they’re unguarded, soft, vulnerable, kind, all the things he loves about her, and JJ just...

  He kisses her. It’s sloppy, and he almost smashes his mouth against hers because there was no time to think , and he freezes. 

  He fucking freezes. 

  Kiara pulls back, the same eyes wide and guarded. ‘What the fuck was that , JJ?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he quickly says. ‘Forget about it.’

  He knows he should look away, but he can’t, he just stares at her and she stares right back and they’re both just like what the fuck is going on what the fuck do i do what the fuck what the f u c k

  ‘Pogues can’t mack on other Pogues,’ Kiara states, firmly. 

  JJ says nothing. He swallows the gulp in his throat with difficulty, finally averting his gaze. his eyes don’t sting; his chest doesn’t ache; his body isn’t overflowing with chills. 

  (All of those are lies.)

  ‘JJ, we’re friends,’ she says. 

  He doesn’t look at her so he looks up at the stars instead, wanting to see a shooting star and wish that he could take this moment back, or that he could grow a pair and not freak out like he’s doing right now. 

  A shooting star doesn’t come. 

  ‘JJ,’ Kiara starts again. ‘You’re one of my best friends. We can’t – we can’t do this. What would happen with – with the Pogues, with capital p ?’

  ‘You’re right,’ he tells her, shaking his head. ‘It was dumb. Sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.’

  ‘I just...’ She sighs. When he finally stops avoiding her gaze, he’s surprised to see her looking into the distance. ‘We can’t mess up our friendship. It’s not just us – it’s John B and Pope, too.’

  ‘You’re right,’ repeats JJ. He places a hand over hers and gives it a light squeeze, until he’s got her attention. ‘No Pogue on Pogue macking.’

  ‘No Pogue on Pogue macking,’ echoes Kiara. 

  The rule’s set in stone that night, after a kiss they quietly agree to never talk about. JJ doesn’t talk to the boys about it and he knows Kiara doesn’t, either. The little rule they came up with got rid of all the tension that could’ve ensued from the kiss. 

  JJ knows she shot him down, but there are times when her words are a broken record in his mind, and he tries to figure out if there’s any chance that she didn’t. He doesn’t know. She was right, they couldn’t ruin their friendship, but JJ wonders if she meant it in the if we kiss more we’ll ruin our friendship way or if we are together and then break up we’ll ruin our friendship way. 

  In any case, it ends up not mattering, because their friendship falls apart regardless. 

  It happens slowly, over the course of early autumn, and begins the day school starts. The boys go to Kildare High, Kiara goes to Robert Cooke Academy. At first, things are fine – they spend more time together after school, at the Chateau or lounging on the HMS Pogue . But then school starts getting real, and more of their free time is taken away. 

  Soon enough, Kiara starts coming over less and less. It’s because of homework, mostly, or extra classes the kook academy is asking her to take. She’ll apologise and show up next time with some cookies in tow, and the boys wouldn’t think twice of it. 

  By the time October rolls around, they’re hardly seeing her anymore. She keeps being busy and so do they, but they make up for it by chilling in the few classes they have together, or during lunch hours. JJ slacks off most of the time, so he’s the one who gets to hang out with Kiara on the odd chance she’s got time when they don’t, but even that is not the same. 

  ‘We miss you,’ he tells her the evening before Halloween. They managed to sneak some time together for the first time in over two weeks, but it doesn’t feel the same anymore. ‘The boat kinda sucks without you.’

  Kiara’s legs are swinging out of her bedroom window and she’s staring off into the distance. She says she misses them, too, but the tone in her voice is distant and quiet, and it makes JJ feel as if that’s not the truth at all. 

   i shouldn’t have kissed you , he wants to say, but he doesn’t. They agreed they wouldn’t talk about it. He doesn’t want to make her dislike him any more than she already does. 

  ‘How are the kooks?’ he asks. 

  Kiara smiles, but it’s the ghost of a smile. ‘They’re good. Not half as bad as I thought. Sarah Cameron’s nice to me.’

  ‘They better be nice to you. We’ll kick their asses otherwise.’

  The look she gives him lets him know she doesn’t agree. 

  JJ looks at her straightened hair, her little blouse that she usually wouldn’t be caught dead in, and at the flashy rings on her fingers. It’s seeing this that makes something click in his brain, and JJ just shakes his head. 

  ‘I’m gonna go.’

  ‘Okay.’ She doesn’t stop him; doesn’t even pretend she wants to. ‘See you soon.’

  JJ drops from the window, landing with a thud. His ankles hurt a little bit, but he’s a big boy who knows how to fall and how to take a hit. i don’t think so , he muses. 

  He looks at her and gives her a two-finger salute in goodbye. 

  No classic Pogue handshake. Nothing. 

  It’s the last time any of them talk to Kiara in real life. He wonders if the kiss has something to do with it, and he guesses it must, because things were okay before it. Kiara was the one who was the most upset about the idea of going to a different school, losing the three of them, becoming a kook – and now, JJ thinks that it was more her choice than anyone else’s.

  There’s a piece of plastic that must’ve fallen off a car on the side of the road, and JJ kicks it. It doesn’t hurt, so he keeps kicking it as he walks down the street. 

  They all tried to keep her one of them. They all wanted her to stay. 

  She was the one who didn’t.

  That night, JJ lets her go. 

  With time, the Pogues recover from the loss, mostly because it wasn’t sudden – a blind man could’ve seen where it was leading. September wasn’t off to a good start, and October was when things came to a cliff and jumped off of it.

  Big John goes missing in February. Nobody has spoken to Kiara since the end of October, when the boys just decided to make their own groupchat, considering she hardly even checked the one with her in it anymore. This is where John B texts the two. 

   jombee [6:47pm]: guys i’m starting to get worried for my dad

   popeye [6:48pm]: i’m sure he’ll be fine. the thing might be taking longer

   jombee [6:53pm]: can you guys come over?    jombee [6:53pm]: and bring some beer

   me [6:54pm]: on it mister bee(n)

  JJ is the first to show up, carrying a six-pack in each hand. pope comes a bit later, having picked up some snacks on the way. At that point, Big John has been away for four days, when he usually doesn’t leave for more than three. 

  ‘Do you know where he went?’ asks JJ, through a mouthful of chips. 

  Pope darts a beer cap at him. ‘Be serious, JJ.’

  ‘I am!’ 

  John B says he doesn’t know where his dad went; he doesn’t know when he should get back, either. The boys do a semi-decent job of keeping the atmosphere from falling into the dumps, but it’s not an easy task. Usually, Kiara’s the one who holds everything in place, who knows the right words to say. 

  Inadvertently, JJ glances at the spot on the HMS Pogue where she used to sit. Even though she hasn’t been here for months, they never put anything there, even if the rest of the boat is packed. It’s a space that’ll always belong to her, regardless of what happens. 

  Big John is declared missing three days later, when it’s been a week. If he was at the sea, they would’ve found him, or at least that’s what the authorities say. They have some hope, but the three Pogues are the ones who keep their necks out of the water, looking for the man. 

  They cruise the marsh, the ocean, everything they can find, for weeks. At some point, Pope is the first one to lose hope, and he says it to JJ only. It’s March, nearly April. 

  ‘People are starting to talk,’ he tells him, while they’re waiting for John B to come out of the Chateau, resting on the boat. JJ’s got his hand in Kiara’s spot, and he doesn’t look at the boy next to him. 

  ‘People have been talking since the beginning,’ counters JJ. 

  ‘No, man, I’m being serious. It’s been two months. The chances that—’

  ‘Stop, dude.’ JJ turns to Pope, knowing that disappointment and disbelief must be clear on his face because he doesn’t bother hiding them. ‘Are you giving up? You can’t do that to John B, man. That’s fucked up.’

  Pope shakes his head, leaning forward as he sits with his legs crossed. ‘I’m not giving up. I don’t even know what I was trying to say.’

  ‘Big John’s still alive and he’s looking for someone to save him. It’s gonna be us, because you can never trust the cops.’

  The boy nods. John B comes to the boat a minute later. He’s got his shirt buttoned the wrong way, with the uneven holes sticking out. his hair is getting long and messy, the top now merging with the sides. He lost his spunk, gradually as time wore on; he doesn’t smile as often – none of them do. Life hit them and it hit them fast, some more so than others. 

John B walks over Kiara’s spot and sits at the wheel, turning on the engine. ‘Ward Cameron offered me a job. To take care of My Druthers .’

  Pope chokes on the beer he was drinking. ‘ That ’s the boat’s name?’

  The brunet shakes his hand as he steers them out of the chateau and into the marsh, sighing. ‘It’s a dumb name, yeah.’

  ‘Did you accept?’ asks JJ. 

  ‘I need the money.’

  JJ sips his beer, recalling Kiara saying she’s friends with Sarah now. He wonders if they’re still friends, still as close as they seem to be. If John B ends up going to the Camerons’, maybe he’ll get to see her in the passing. 

  The thought leaves a bitter taste of envy on his tongue, and JJ downs it with beer. 

  John B doesn’t end up seeing Kiara, but JJ does. It’s April, nearly three months into Big John missing, and he’s starting to understand Pope now. Hope is a difficult thing to keep when all it does is run away. 

  He doesn’t text her, because she’s changed her number. He doesn’t want to message her on social media, either – that feels vain and stupid , and the reason why he needs to talk to her in the first place is anything but superficial. 

  So JJ rings the doorbell, like a normal person would, instead of climbing the tree in front of her bedroom window. 

  Kiara’s mom opens. surprise is evident on her face when she lets him in, but she doesn’t ask questions. 

  ‘She’s in her room.’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs. C.’

  He walks up the familiar flight of stairs, toward the room he’s spent many evenings in, yet it feels as if he’s walking into an exam hall. His half-closed fist taps against the door two times, and he waits. 

  ‘It’s open!’ comes from the inside. 

  JJ’s got his hand on the doorknob, but it falls, slick with sweat. He hasn’t heard her voice in so long that he’s forgotten what she sounds like. 

  It’s a blow after blow after blow, what’s been happening for the past few months. JJ needs something to bring him back some stability – something that in his opinion, is what only Kiara can give them. 

  Here’s hoping the Pogues won’t hate him for doing this. 

  He walks into the room and Kiara’s hunched over her desk, scribbling away into her notebook. her room looks the same but wrong , as if everything had been moved an inch to the right, or painted a different hue, or maybe JJ just hasn’t seen it in way too long. 

  Kiara looks different, too. She’s thinner now, and when she turns around and her mouth makes an ‘o’ shape, he notices she’s got some lighter strands in her hair, too. 

  ‘ JJ .’

  ‘Hi,’ he says.

  The JJ that is in Kiara’s room now feels like an entirely different person in comparison to the JJ that was in Kiara’s room in October. Hell, he’s never been further from the person on that bench next to the Wreck last summer. 

  Life’s a fucking shipwreck now. 

  So he sits down on Kiara’s windowsill, one leg to his chest and the other hanging out of the window. Kiara’s on her bed, at first, but she comes closer when JJ tells her about Big John. He tells her about John B giving up on his grades, on how he’s working for Ward Cameron to survive, how the boys are the only thing that’s keeping the Chateau alive now. 

  He doesn’t spare her the gritty details and he doesn’t ask about her. He’s not here to find out what she’s been up to. 

  When he finishes his story, she’s quiet. 

  ‘Once a Pogue, always a Pogue, Kiara.’

  ‘JJ, I fucked up.’

  He shakes his head, and he means it. ‘We can put that behind us. Fuck that, Kiara.’

  ‘Is it that bad?’ she asks. 

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Kiara hesitates, and it’s the first time JJ feels like he catches a glimpse of the kiara he fell in love with was friends with. She’s a little vulnerable, but she’s got the spunk, and she’s got enough to give to others. 

  She sits down on the windowsill, close enough that their thighs touch. They’re both wearing jeans this time, and JJ wonders, for a fleeting moment, if he’d feel the same as he did all those months ago if they were skin on skin again. 

  ‘You must be out of options if you came to me, JJ.’ She looks at him with grave sadness in her eyes, and something that JJ recognises from the mirror, and wouldn’t wish upon anybody. Her chuckle is dry. ‘You don’t have to lie to me, JJ. I know you. You’re loyal to a fault, and you expect people to be the same, and I fucked up. If you didn’t need me, you wouldn’t look at me twice.’

  JJ is quiet for some time, letting her words sink in. The breeze is cold and light outside, touching his face like a gentle, cold hand.  

  He missed Kiara’s window. 

  ‘You’re right,’ he says, finally. ‘It’s bad. And I don’t – I don’t know if I would’ve come to you if I knew what to do.’

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ Kiara offers.

  JJ chuckles, and it’s as dry as hers was. ‘Yeah, I probably wouldn’t.’

  They don’t talk for a bit. JJ finds himself enjoying her presence – it’s like going to a place you have both good and bad memories of, and you haven’t visited for a while, and the memories become distant, merging into one another. 

  He doesn’t know how he feels about her anymore. He knows he’s hurting, for more reasons than just one, and he knows that having her around will be better than not having her. 

  ‘I can’t imagine what it must’ve took, to come here,’ she admits. ‘You’re not the one who should be asking me to come back. I should be begging you and the guys to let me come back.’

  There’s something in her tone that’s almost yearning; something so intrinsically aching that JJ manages to read between the lines. It’s not an apology, nor an admission of guilt, but it’s as close as they’ve gotten from her in a long, long time. 

  ‘Why didn’t you?’ he finally asks. It’s a question he’s had on his mind for months , and saying it out loud to no one other than Kiara herself, is freeing and daunting at once. ‘Come back, I mean?’

  Her head bows and JJ thinks he sees a teardrop reflect the light on her cheek. ‘I thought you’d hate me.’

  ‘Kiara, you know the boys would’ve welcomed you back with open arms.’

  ‘Not them, JJ.’ She looks at him and her eyes are watery, and it feels like a blow to his stomach, even after all this time. ‘I thought you would hate me.’

   i could never , he thinks, because he still remembers how she tasted like fries. But then he remembers the ache in his chest, the nights spent staring at her number on his phone screen wanting to call, just to hear her voice again, just to have her tell him things are going to be okay. 

  He didn’t want to be without her. He didn’t want a life without her in it. He needed her, same as he needed John B and pope, same as he needed the ocean, same as he needed to feel adrenaline rushing through his bones when things started going to shit. 

  He needed her to be his anchor, and she wasn’t there. 

  But JJ shakes his head, half at his thoughts, half at her words. ‘I could never hate you, Kie.’

  Whether it’s the earnestness of his voice, or the way it cracked when he said her nickname for the first time in months, JJ can’t tell – but she lays her hand on top of his and gives it a little squeeze. 

  ‘Thank you.’

  He doesn’t forgive her right there and then, and neither do the boys, when he pulls up on his bike the next day with her on the back of it. There’s a lot of conversations, a lot of things that need to be said on both sides, but JJ keeps to himself. 

  He sits on the bench at the porch and watches it all unfold. 

  What he thinks about Kiara is something he can’t tell anybody. It’s intertwined with everything that’s happened in the recent months like vines on a branch, and he doesn’t want to undermine everything. 

  JJ Maybank is angry and hurting and broken, and every time he looks at Kiara’s face he thinks of the time when she was all he needed to get through the day but she wasn’t there for him. Seeing her reopens the wound all over again, yet he pushes it to the side in favour of growth, in favour of giving her a second chance. 

  Kiara was wrong, when she thought that his loyalty would be the downfall of their friendship – his loyalty to her is the only reason he came back for her. 

  They all need her, John B most of all. 

  It’s only when the Pogues are back to the original four, each of them lounging on their spot on the HMS Pogue , that JJ feels like the hole in his heart is starting to fill up. Kiara knows the right things to say when John B gets upset, or when Pope loses hope, or when JJ feels like he’s about to lose his shit. The Pogues aren’t the Pogues without her. 

  Eventually, he knows he’ll forgive her. For now, he’s just happy she’s back.

  ★

tagging. @jjmaybanky​​ @chasefreakinstokes​​ @drewstarkey​​ @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge​​ @outrbank​​ @juneyxx @drewstarkeyobx​​ @ilovejjmaybank​​​ @teamnick​​​ @jjmaybanksbaby​​​ @mahleeyuh​​​ @nicolewithasoul​​ @kiarawilliams127​​ @starlightstarkey​​ @anonymous0writer​​ @outerbongs​​ @warnettc​​ @jjandreidsgirl @jjmaybanqs @sofiesshitshow @kaitieskidmore1

[editorialsonlife]

Well

Welp, feeling like doing an update because there's been a lot going on to be honest. its one of those weird dichotomies where every day feels like an eternity and there's so much going on and then you look back and you're like oh, ok its just my brain making it difficult and making things take forever but anyway.

LOCKDOOOOOOOWWWWWWNNNNNNN

Lockdown life was good, apart from being thrust into it so suddenly dave left a banana on his desk. Wasn't great to come back to after 5 weeks out of the office - mummified mouldy banana!! Classic. We luckily got our first jab before lockdown started so that was good, and we were reasonably well stocked up on food and were generally a lot healthier this lockdown that last. honestly, there's a level of chill and serenity in lockdown that i just love. the ability to set my own schedule and only work the hours I actually work to get the job done? Amazing. getting 8.5 hours of sleep each night without having to wake to an alarm blaring? AMAZING. getting to go for walks every afternoon? SO FLIPPING GOOD. I love it so much, I really really do. I need this to be my life permanently.

WORK

Work is just ongoing and draining and honestly, coming back to the office was so fucking stressful and it was only one day. Being at home is just the fucking bomb. Pending home decisions, I wanna go contracting I think, but also ideally two part time contracts to have more flexibility? I dunno. You'd think a big 4 would provide variety but it really doesn't and honestly, with Richie leaving, wellington is just a sinking ship. Sean's off on parental leave, Kirstyn is down to four days a week, ben will be gone if he doesn't get promoted (and I don't think he will be tbh). Jack is just muddling along, Nigel wants to swap to consulting as well, Matt's going to be a shit leader in terms of bringing in work so it's just not going to work. and in our wider group it's going to get even more messy with heaps of the analysts leaving and a couple of senior hires too. so I think it's probably time to jump ship in general, pending the home stuff below. Also, coming back after a break again, I'm like, I don't actually like a lot of you? All the people I enjoy here are in other teams and groups, and I'll be sad to leave you all, but like, not enough to stay anyway lol.

Pending the home below, two options are to just going and get a job with a $30k payrise to make up for the maternity leave benefits I'm gunna leave behind when I leave this role - 18 weeks full pay, $100 a week for the first year back and a full year of maternity leave. It's basically 30k post tax which is a bit nuts to walk away from to be honest.

Otherwise the other option is to go contracting. Less security overall but holy shit so much money. If I went in as a project coordinator at the lowest rate to build up a bit of a portfolio I'd need to work 40 weeks of 40 hr weeks and Id basically match my current salary plus the lost family leave benefits and still qualify for govt maternity leave payments. Realistically I could go in as a project manager for $140 an hour ($60 more an hour than the above math) and absolutely smash it at that level as well so ya know, there's a bunch of other info. I like the idea of the flexibility of it and only having 6 months even if its a shitshow and beign able to walk away at the end of it. I really don't want to get a govt job and this is a v govt town which is fine but also, if I can avoid it that would be great. I just know I'm not gunna thrive in that environment.

Need to talk to Dave to get him across the line on the security issue part of that though. I've mostly come a long way in terms of my financial management (thanks YNAB) so I think he'd be ok with it mostly.

So there's a lot to toss up there because......

HOME

We got the reno plans done during lockdown, finally. which was super good. but holy fkn jesus $$$$$$ ++++++++++. The guy is coming around for the final quote on Thursday. We indicatively said $100k total because we're doing kitchen laundry bathroom and toilet. so only the most expensive rooms and when I was talking to him last week he said 'that might cover it' and they're seeing cost escalations of 7-10% a week which is just insane. we're not doing anything structural apart from putting in a cavity slider in the bathroom, and the quote they'll give us won't include flooring since they won't do it.

Meanwhile, the prefab homes I were looking at for our site were $425k fully done. Like, I'm not going to spend $130K on doing up my 1940s ex state house ya know? That's not good cost benefit ratio.

So depending on what that comes out at on thursday we'll be able to make some plans.

We also want to start trying for kids next year and need these renos done first - I am not having kids and no dishwasher lol.

Also we need bank financing so good to be in a permanent stable job for that application. the good thing is we have so much equity we know we can borrow whatever we need, I just don't want to spend that much money on it because it's fkn ridiculous. and if I'm going on maternity leave we need to be able to cover it all on dave's salary and whatever benefits I have as well so there;s a lot of financial planning and spreadsheeting going on at the moment lol. it's fab.

either way. we've got plenty of options up our sleeve. we've got friends who's brother owns a building company so we can talk to them, we've got the garage so we can get things prefabricated even if they're not installed til next year, Dave can get shit at cost through his work for whiteware, there;s plenty of things to like cost control we can do, we just need to know where we're starting from basically. thats the challenging part. but we'll figure it out, its just taking longer than I want it to basically.

We also planted up the vege garden for the spring/summer which was lovely, super jazzed about that. we've finally got the garden to a reasonably low maintenance level where everything is mostly under control and it's such a relief, honestly.

PERSONAL

Man what a shift to lockdown last year honestly. I think the last 8 weeks in particular has just been like, a massive reality check of how absolutely shit the last year was and how fucking glad I am to be rid of it. I spent a week absolutely spiralling 2 weeks ago now and honestly, I don't know how I lived in the state for more than a year. I actually don't know how I did it. and I could not be more glad that I'm finally on the other side of it, for the most part. There's still a bunch of other stuff to work through (hahahahahaha when is there not like damn) but fucking hell its nice to just not be anxious and nauseous and wound up constantly. life is actually accessible. miracle.

My workmate had his bebe - I went round and got newborn cuddles and was like, oh, is this what it is to be clucky? this is odd. so there's that as well. I think we'll probably start trying next year pending renos and jobs etc. If the renos can be done in jan I'll prob just stick it at the job to get the benefits but I dunno. it's a tough call to make really. we shall see. This all assumes we get knocked up without any issues which is questionable these days. I really want to feel healthier before getting pregnant as well, and part of that is losing weight. however, given discussing that is what triggered the spiral we're working on that one slowly.

Also, lets have a moment for counselling, because fkn bless anne and all her hard work honestly. I actually ended up emailing her being like, I;m losing my shit on the monday and then talked to her on thursday. And its so funny because it's such a counselling thing but I didn't realise until afterwards what she'd done but she was like you're clearly not doing well and then the night before dave got a fkn miserable migraine and he was up for like, 2 hrs powerchucking except he didn't make it to the bathroom in time so guess who was cleaning up vomit at 130am trying not to chuck herself but I digress. anyway, not doing well, couldn't even explain why, didn't even have words and super tired and she's like, what lynaire up to this week how's she going with izzy and chat about that and then be like how are you feeling about your body and then 5 more mins of chat about the cat and the chickens and then like bam hard question and then hows it going with x and y and z and its like, it wasn't til I was on my walk afterwards when I FINALLY started feeling marginally better I was like damn woman work your magic for figuring it out for me and helping me reregulate. all over the phone as well since we were still in lockdown. GREAT WORK FRIEND.

and then last week was like totally fucked theoretical discussion about religion and the role it's played in my life and fate vs free will and all this nutty shit but genuinely just a great discussion. She's the best and I love her. thank good for good counsellors. thank god I can afford to pay for it honestly.

Dave and I are just chugging along, god bless that man. I love him. its amazing. I miss having friends close by but understand why they had to move (boooooo f u house prices). Family is pretty chill, still not really talking to dave's parents which is nightmarish but we'll deal with that when we need to. gunna have to go and visit them at some point coz dave misses them and I feel for him, I really do. It's the whole boundaries renegotiation I went through with my family last year post wedding blow up and its just not a fun place to be. oh well. can't fix it for him but also I'm not putting up with that level of BS from either of our families once we have children. not gunna happen.

Either way, life is busy and full and fun and I'm enjoying it. Daylight savings starts this weekend too, its october next week WTF and I'm just waiting for 4pm to find out what's gunna happen to our girls trip. Clearly we cancelled our sept trip to christchurch and akaroa and hanmer springs so my covid travel curse continues. fkn ridic. Still dunno what we're gunna do with $2500 of flight credits coz if we get knocked up theres def no international trips happening any time soon.

thus concludes the almost 2000 word write up of life. hope you've enjoyed it. I'll throw up some pics in a separate post if people care about reno plans. such a good time!