#the way we know him is different from the way his mom knows him

[buckttommy]

god. god. but like. so eddie is dating this woman, right. she's shannon's mirror. shannon is every way that matters. she's got that rasp to her voice, that scrunch to her nose. she is, for all intents and purposes, the best parts of his wife minus the memories together. and so, it's like. he's with her, he's living this fantasy, this delusion, as ryan called it. and. it really is the most selfish thing eddie has done, which is incredible because eddie is a deeply unselfish person, not because of nobility but because he is violently self-sacrificial in a way that verges on self-harm. but we won't go there right now. so he's dating this woman—this fake shannon—and is just like. he's happy. for the first time in years, he's genuinely happy and he's tasting just a little bit of what his life could have been like if...

but then it's like. eddie. eddie. you don't know what you are to this woman. are you her second chance? did her fiance die? is she trying to find love again after tragedy? is she a cancer survivor? are you her new lease on life? is she from a different city? did she have a bad breakup? did her mom die? did her pet run away? did she lose a job? just. it's like. he's inserting himself into this woman's life and all he's thinking about is him him him. she's like my shannon, she's like my wife, i need to do this for me. and it's like ok... great. so you're entering this woman's life for your own selfish gain and you have no idea how badly, how deeply this will hurt her. eddie diaz, you may very well be Just Some Guy to her but you may very well also be The Guy to her. YOU JUST DON'T KNOW

and so. i'm thinking and i'm like. so she finds out. she finds out he's not single, finds out he lied to her from the jump, and she's hurt. and. i don't think eddie's thought that far. because right now, right, right now he's just seeing, and tasting, and feeling the joy and euphoria inherent to being in shannon's orbit. but baby boy. when you hurt her. when you see the tears well up in her eyes and hear that voice crack. when you see her brows draw together and her face tighten when she's pissed, and sudeenly you are twenty-something and stupid breaking your wife's heart for the goddamn millionth time all over again. what then. what then eddie? it's like. you cannot have the joy of "shannon" as some cosmic second chance without having the grief of her too. and it's grief either way. it's grief whether "shannon" is alive and he gets to live this fantasy up until he breaks her heart again, and it's grief if she's dead and she stays dead and life doesn't give him anymore second chances, like. it's all grief. it's all sad.

and he's gotta pick his poison. he has to. this is a path he must walk, but damn if he isn't picking the poison that's going to hurt him the most. i mean jesus. he should have just stuck to pining for a damn ghost. my god eddie. my god.

[inkdrinkerworld]

hello!! could you write about spencer catching sunshine reader during a sad time? like perhaps reader has very rarely shown spencer what she gets like when shes sad, so when he catches her, she is stubborn at first and doesn't want to open up, but eventually eases into it? thank you :))

Cw: mentions of parents venting to their kids, being sad

Wc: 1.4k

You’re not sure what you'd done to deserve a day like today exactly, only that you’d woken up and from the very first moment you’d had a hard time of it.

Your planned outfit had a stain, you forgot to make extra dinner to have for lunch, you cut your ankle shaving and then your mom called.

Calls with her have a habit of being fifty fifty. It can either be a good call, or it can be a call where she uses you as a sounding board for all her negative thoughts, worries and despite the many times you’ve told her to stop, she hasn’t.

It’s safe to say by the time you walk into work you don’t even have the energy to smile- you’re using it all not to cry.

Not even your back up outfit is working it's magic- a green top with brown pants, your favourite outfit to feel like a hobbit.

Emily calls you into the round table room as soon as you walk in, giving you a little more reason to avoid Spencer’s curious gaze.

Spencer doesn’t really take into account just how bad your mood is till you volunteer to stay in Quantico with Penelope rather than go out in the field.

“Y/n?” He touches your elbow gently as the rest of the team go for their bags. It’s just you and him in the round table room and your hands shake from holding back tears.

Spencer hasn’t ever seen you this upset, sure during a case you’re mad at the things you guys read and uncover, but this is a different type of upset and Spencer doesn’t really know what to do with it.

He just knows he wants to make it better.

“Yeah Spence?” You try to keep your voice even, knowing he’ll only worry more and the case needs his worry more than you do.

“What’s going on? You haven’t looked up at me once and you keep scrunching your nose. You also haven’t smiled since you got here.” He’s a profiler to his core, but this is just you and him, of course he’d notice everything.

You shrug, scrunching your nose again. “The case isn’t exactly something to be happy about, is it?”

Spencer knows what you’re trying to do, but you don’t get the tone right for anger- you just sound defeated.

“Either way, you and Penelope have a knack for smiling through it and you haven’t even tried once.” Ever soft, ever tender are the words that escape him.

He bends his knees a little, chasing your eyes. “What is it?” Spencer’s thumb strokes the inside of your wrist, wanting nothing more than to help.

“Spencer, can we talk about it when the case is over?” You can feel the pressure of the tears behind your eyes and you don’t want to cry here.

Not where anyone can see.

You’d much rather do it at home, where you can curl up under your blanket and sob until you lose your voice.

“Alright, but we will talk; yeah?” You nod and Spencer squeezes your forearm, a firm and soothing pressure on your skin.

The case takes a day and a half to wrap up, and you’re barely holding it together- Penelope lent you her favourite unicorn desk pal for the entire case and also her fluffy pen.

“I’m sorry, babe. You’ll feel better once this is over and you can have a good cry.” She says, your head on her shoulder as you wait for your team to come back.

You nod, “How badly do you think Spencer will react if I start crying now?” Your throat is tight with emotion- honestly you’re not sure if it’s just from your previous day or also the exhaustion of working into the next evening.

“Oh, pretty bad,” she says and you chuckle, a few tears rolling freely down your face. “But I think he’ll be more worried.”

Before you can say anything, there’s a knock on Penelope’s door and you already know who it is- only Spencer knocks. You wipe away the tears hoping that will be enough to hide them from Spencer- it likely won’t be.

“See you tomorrow Pen,” you say, gathering your things and opening the door.

Spencer looks more tired than you expected and you have to assume you don’t look so rested either.

“You’re back,” he nods, taking your satchel bag from you and reaching for your hand.

“What’s wrong?” He murmurs, leading you to a secluded spot in the hall. Spencer doesn’t say it, but your eyes bare all your emotions even if your face is neutral. They’re red and they’ve got a sad look about them, just completely and utterly exhausted. Spencer wants to help any way he can.

You debate how you should start, if you should just tell him about your bad day from beginning to end or if you should just tell him about your weird relationship with your mother and let him fill in the blanks from there.

You decide it wouldn’t be fair to Spencer because he never had you guessing when he’s sharing things so you won’t do it to him.

“Um,” you can already feel the pressure building behind your eyes again. “Yesterday was off to a terrible start, nothing was going quite right from the moment my feet hit the floor.”

Spencer nods, listening quietly as you wring your hands tightly. He takes them easily, holding them in his own and stroking the skin on the back of your hand.

“Then my mom called which could really go either way, and I had to listen to her complain about my dad and every other thing in her life and it gives me a lot of anxiety hearing some of the things and she just wouldn’t stop.”

Your tears are rolling freely now and Spencer pulls you to his chest, fear of germs be damned.

He quiets his own feelings about you crying and about the way you sound recounting your day.

“She just says these things like I’m supposed to be the one to fix them and I can’t and she’s mad that I can’t and it just messes with me sometimes.”

Spencer can deduce what you’re too kind to say- it isn’t your fault or your problem and you shouldn’t be made to feel like it’s your responsibility to make it right.

Your hands shake against Spencer’s back and he sighs, squeezing you just a bit tighter.

“I’m sorry,” his hands coast up and down your back, massaging at the nape of your neck when he reaches there. “I’m sorry she puts it on you, and I know that you’re aware it isn’t your problem to solve but you can’t help that either. Maybe over time she’ll come to realise that you can’t solve all of the things she tells you.”

You nod, trying to stop hiccuping against him. “M’sorry about your shirt Spence.” He laughs, nose in your hair as he holds you.

“It’s okay,” you sniffle harshly trying to clear your sinus. “Want to come over and watch Lord of The Rings?” This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been there- you’ve spent nights there after drinks with the team and movie nights just the two of you.

All the same it’s a shocking proposal from Spencer right after a case, you know he likes to decompress in his own way.

You gasp, leaning back from his arms a little. It’s hard to miss the care displayed so clearly in his gaze. It’s harder to fight the urge to kiss him. “The extended versions?” Spencer notes that you’ve a little more spark in your tone, a little more life in your eyes.

“Yeah, I think we can make it through the entire trilogy if we hurry.” There’s a grin on his lips as he says it.

“Spencer, don’t play with me here. We’re talking serious business.” He laughs, hiking your bag higher on his shoulder as he watches you wipe your tears.

“I’m not playing. Is your go-bag full or do you want to stop by your place on the way to mine?” He hopes secretly that you don’t have your own sleep clothes, it’s a selfish want to see you in one of his shirts or even a cardigan.

“I have clothes, we can go straight there. And you’re driving, you have all the maps in your head with the shortest routes.”

Spencer nods, like he was ever going to make you drive. “Plus you’re a hazard on the road, absolute chaos behind a wheel.”

Spencer feels his chest lighten when your laugh explodes from you, loud and so like yourself as you wait for the elevator to open.

[lunajay33]

Not the Only One

•🌪️🍂🪵🏹•

Summary: Reader comes from an abusive family and is insecure about it showing up everywhere with bruises, but one night she comes across Daryl who is more like you than you know

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Content Warning: Abusive parents

•Masterlist•

Growing up in a small town in Georgia can have its benefits, close friend group, late night walks, fun memories, but not for some, not for me I get the other side of a small town, the rough crowd and the judgmental stares from the well of kids who’s parents gave them everything they wanted

I never thought there was a problem with the way I lived as a kid but the older I got and realized that not everyone lives with abusive, negligent parents it was world shaking for me and I felt like a complete loser and I still do, I don’t have much some simple clothes and some drugstore perfume and makeup but that’s about it, others girls in my class had expensive name brand everything and judge those like me who didn’t

My dads drunk and takes his problems out on me, my moms a coward and won’t stand up for me so here I am walking around school with a cut down my eyebrow with a nasty bruise forming around

“What happened y/n old man beat on you again” Jessie says laughing as she walks by with her little click, I look back into my locker getting my books for science class sighing not ready for the day ahead full of more comments like that

I walk into Mr.jensons class taking my seat at the back, some people whispering as I walk through the class

“Okay class we have a new student transfering to our class from a different course, obvious people like me more than miss.smith’s music class” he says obnoxiously as the student enters our class

Daryl Dixon he lived a few houses down from me but we didn’t interact much, sometimes I’d see him take out the trash or see him sitting on the doc on the lake behind our houses, it was rumoured that his dad beat on him too but it’s not like we were gonna be friends because we’re abused that crazy…..right?

“You can go sit at the back next to y/n” Mr.Jenson points out to me

He sits down and I can smell his calming aroma, woodsy with a hint of cigarette

“Hi” I smiled meakly

“Hey, ya live on my street don’t ya” he asks slouching down in the chair

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around” so he’s seen me too

“Alright class listen up” the class went on like usual until the bell rang signalling the end of the day, I gathered up all my stuff shoving them in my bag and leaving the class, walking through the hallways heading for the exit when someone runs up next to me

“Hey, ya walking home?” Daryl asks looking down at me

“Oh yeah, I usually like to sit at the doc when I get back, don’t like to stay in the house much”

“Why not?” He asks as he continues to walk beside me back to our street

“I think you know, everyone talks about it” I say motioning to my bruised eyebrow

“They don’t understand, ain’t yer fault”

“It’s just……embarrassing” I say rubbing my arm as a nervous habit

“Yer old man?”

“Yeah, you?” He nods in agreement looking down

“Pretty shitty, wish I could just get out of here or just start fresh here” he hums making my heart warm, finally someone understands how I feel

We got to our street stopping infront of my house

“So ummm I’ll be down at the doc later if you wanna meet me there just to talk or whatever” I say

“Yeah I’ll see ya there” he says heading off to his house a few doors down

I walked into my house hoping nothing happens today, seeing my dad sat on his chair with a beer in his hand watching the tv

I try to walk past him to my room when he grabs my wrist

“Did you pick up the cigarettes from the store like I asked?” His voice is already angry, I completely forgot

“I……I forgot, I’m sorry” I whine as he tightens his grip

“Why can’t you ever listen, you know what this means”

“No please I’m sorry I’ll go get them now”

“It’s too late”

Sitting on the doc was suppose to be a wind down form the day an escape from hell that is suppose to be a house, instead I’m sat here feeling like I went solar against concrete, my lip is busted severely, by cheek stings, bruises and whips against my back, the hoodie I’m wearing was irritating against my sore flesh

I’d do anything just to go back in time and run away with my sister but I was scared and young and now I’m miserable and constantly afraid

“Hey sorry I’m late” I heard from next to me, too deep in thought to have heard him approach

I kept my head down looking at the water

“It’s fine” I mumble

“Ya okay?” That one simple question broke the damn in me as tears spilled down my cheeks, I turn to him just wanting reassurance or comfort

“I forgot to get a pack of cigarettes on the way home” my voice quivers as he stares at my red cheek and bust lip

“How am I even suppose to cover this up”

“I could go kill him” he huffs anger rising in his features

“Everything hurts” I wince when he places his hand on my back, he pulled back quickly

“Do ya need help?”

“I don’t know how bad they are”

He moves behind me lifting my sweater up to my shoulders, revealing the old and new scars that littered my back with occasionally fresh bruises

“Oh baby girl I’m so sorry” he says under his breath but there was something there in his words that made it feel like he understood this type of beating

“Are they bad?”

“Don’t think ya need stitches but I don’t want ya going back there” he says bringing my sweater back down moving beside me again

“But where am I suppose to go?”

“Old man’s gone for a week, ya can stay at my place”

“Are you sure I don’t want to burden you”

“Ain’t a burden, yer staying with me, come on”

His house was more or less just like mine but there is no surprise there, our fathers are basically the same, he brings me to his room and it’s pretty normal, some hunting stuff plain brown walls

“Thanks for this” I say sitting on the edge of his bed

“ ‘course, ya need anything?”

“Do you have any painkillers?” He went in his drawer and popped one in my hand, taking it hoping it will ease this discomfort

He jumped on the bed sitting next to me as a comfortable silence surrounds us

“I got em too”

“Huh?”

“Scars, don’t like to show em, don’t like to be reminded”

“I’m sorry Daryl, one day we’ll be happy, one day we’ll get out of this mess”

“Together”

Part.2 soon working on some other stories!!:)

Taglist: @l0kilaufeys0n7 @stoner420things69 @pinchofthetwd @thestonedwriter @daryldixmedown @deansapplepie @ghostboneswrites2 @superbowlisgay @daryls-wife @pinkratts @daryl-dixons-left-hand @mrrumplebottom @twistedprincess-92 @addi1978 @wongcena @darylspersonalwhore @starrqi @heidiland05 @livlaughlove03

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 18

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

“You know, sweetie, I was thinking,” Steve stacks the plates and gathers the utensils, “if you’re going to take those pills, I don’t think you should be alone.” 

You blink and sit up, rubbing your neck. You’re not a good liar. You weren’t planning on taking them. You were just going to go home and lay down but he keeps bringing it up. Maybe he’s suspicious. 

“Oh, I think I’ll be okay--” 

“Look, honey, your mom’s already in the hospital. I’d hate to see you in there with her. For my peace of mind, will you stay? Just for the night. That way we can head out bright and early to get mom,” he suggests. 

“Well...” you trail off, staring at the wall. 

He’s being pushy but for good reason. He’s looking out for you. You’re the one going against doctor’s orders and why? Because it’s embarrassing to think it’s that bad. Depressed? No, just pathetic. 

“Here, you can borrow some of my clothes,” his voice muffles as he goes into the kitchen and the plates clink in the sink. He reappears and grabs the boxes from the table, wiggling free on and peeling the flap open, “take a shower and relax. You need a good night’s sleep.” 

He pulls out the insert then reaches for the doctor’s note. He pops out a tablet and holds it out to you, “says you might get lightheaded. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

“I... It’s okay. I’ll go home to...” you bat your lashes at him and give up. He’s just as hard to argue with as your mother, although in a much different way. Your mom is stubborn and mean, but he’s concerned and you’re the one being obstinate. “Okay.” 

You take the pill and stare at it. It’s so small. You probably won’t feel a thing. You shrug and grab your glass of water and swig it down, tossing the tablet in your mouth before you swallow. You gulp thickly and set down the glass. 

“Right, let me get you something to sleep in. And a towel,” he says as he claps his hands. 

You nod and stay at the table as he strides off. You look down at your lap, thumbs twiddling around each other. As nice as he is, you’re starting to feel like just another burden. 

Before you can sink too far into self-pity, you make yourself get up. You take your glass and carry it into the kitchen. You flip on the faucet and dump what’s left of the water. You rinse out the glass and place it in the rack of the dishwasher. You do the plates next, then the cutlery. As you close the door and it clicks, you’re startled by the shadow to your left. 

Where the counter extends, Steve stands on the other side. You blanch and fold your hands over your chest. You show your teeth sheepishly. 

“You didn’t have to do all that,” he smiles. “You’re a guest.” 

“I... I wanted to help,” you say, “um, but... I don’t know how to turn it on.” 

“Leave that to me. I put the stuff in the bathroom for you. If you feel like it, you can have a bath. Help chase away the stressful day,” he offers. 

“Shower’s fine,” you drop your arms and raises your shoulders, trying to make yourself smaller, “thanks.” 

“No problem, sweetie,” he comes around the counter as you go to move in the opposite direction. You nearly collide and press yourself against the drawers as he grazes past you with and apology, “just... gonna finish up.” 

He presses a button on the dishwasher door and you flit away. His cologne clings in your nostrils as his warmth lingers around you. Too close. 

You go upstairs and shut yourself in the bathroom. It’s a little bit of solace. It’s not much but it’s space for yourself. You see the towel hung from the rack and the clothes folded on the counter. The tee shirt is grayish blue and the shorts are drawstring and stretchy.  

You twist and turn the faucet, water running into the sharp-cornered tub but you can’t figure out how to get the showerhead going. You turn the water off then on. Off and on. What the heck? 

“You okay in there, sweetie?” Steve calls through the door as friction rubs against the outside. 

“Um, yeah,” you shut off the tub and back up. You go to the door and flick the lock back, opening it just a little. “How... I can’t get the shower...” your words jumble up with your embarrassment. How stupid. You can’t even figure that out. 

“No problem,” he steps in and you back up. 

He goes to the tub and flips on the water, pulling out the lever until the water flows from above. You could smack yourself. Instead ,you thank him and hug yourself. He turns and winks at you, “all good. Anything else?” 

“No, I’m fine,” you assure him. 

He nods and marches back to the door, turning to tap on the edge of the door, “alright, sweetie.” 

He shuts the door and you go to lock it behind him. You retreat and slowly undress. The clothes you’ve been wearing since the night before are slightly musty with sweat and the stench of the hospital.

You step under the showerhead and let the temperature seep in. You lean your head back as it splashes down your chest. You stand with your eyes closed, your mind slowing and your eyelids scratchy. You feel your muscles slacken and sway just a little. 

Oof. You open your eyes and steady yourself. You look around and find a bottle of woodsy-scented soap. It’ll have to do. You won’t use too much, either. 

The steam forms a cloud around you. The humidity clogs in your nose and chest and swirls in your head. You’re dizzy as you slap a hand on the tile and turn off the faucet. 

You stagger out. The heat of the water fogs the mirror, further setting you off kilter. You pull on the shirt and shorts then collect your own clothes. You leave the towel on the rod and lean into the door as you unlock it. 

You trip out into the hall and wander along, for a moment, forgetting where you are. You enter the bedroom with the purple bedspread and dump the armful on the dresser. You stumble and sit on the edge of the bed. You slump onto your shoulder and your head lolls. You think the medicine is kicking in. 

You close your eyes and descend into the grey. It’s as if you’re floating on water, swaying and rolling with the tides. Not quite awake and not quite asleep. You hear yourself droning nonsensically. Snort and jerk but can’t break free of the heaviness. The world is moving around you but your eyelids won’t peel back. 

Your head pulses as you sink further and further down. Your subconscious is so deep it’s suffocating. The dim darkens to an endless void through which you hurtle down towards no bottom. The blackness unfurls before you, swallowing you up. 

You wake to the ceiling above you. There’s warmth against your side and a gentle breath brushing over your cheek. You groan and look over as the slumbering form next to you. You nearly scream at the sight of Steve but you don’t have the strength to do more than babble. 

Your arms shake as you sit up, your muscles sore and strained. You hold your head as you try to think straight. You shut your eyes again and urge yourself to wake up. It’s a nightmare. Some twisted dream. 

Your lashes flick up and you tilt your head to follow the yellow light seeping in between the curtains. It’s morning already. Your vision turns vivid and you’re certain you’re truly awake. But how did you end up here? 

“Sweetie,” Steve rasps groggily as he rolls onto his back, “you okay?” 

“Steve,” you look down at the tee shirt, drooping down one shoulder, “how... why am I in here?” 

“Hmm,” he rubs his forehead and opens his eyes, “you don’t remember?” 

“Remember?” 

“You came in here, saying you couldn’t sleep,” he lifts himself up, his chest bare as the blanket falls away, “you wouldn’t go back to bed so... I just let you stay. You seemed pretty out of it.” 

“I... I did?” You gurgle. 

“Must be the pills,” he rubs your back, “we can talk to the nurse again. Sweetie, are you okay?” 

You don’t understand. Why would you come in here? How can you not remember? 

“Nothing... happened?” 

He laughs, “sweetie, what would happen?” 

He stares at you and you grimace, shaking your head, “nothing. Nothing, I just... can’t remember.” 

“Hm,” he hums and his hand slides lower, stopping just above your bum before brushing back up, “just sleeping. That’s it.” 

[twisted-king]

Hi! Hello! I was wondering if you wrote any platonic hecs in twst? If you do, can you write gn!mc always finding a away to mention/talk about her home world? Maybe add a little bit of homesickness for angst👀.

Platonic hcs with the first years pls:>

Btw I really love you writing style!♡

AAAA oh my gosh thank you so much! I have no idea what im really doing aha...

Absolutely!!! here's a key:

Epel Ace Deuce Sebek Jack You

First year friend group + Reader who talks about home

They love you

they REALLY do

But this is excessive.

"Back at the farm we used to drink hot cider after a long day out in the snow, actually one time we-" "Heh.. like how my mom and I used to..." "Used to what?" "Oh its nothing... Just a tradition. We'd get together every Tuesday and go for bubble tea" "Oh..."

Epel understands feeling far from home, and he wants to try and relate with you but he doesn't know about half the stuff you're saying.

"hahah I got a higher score than you this time. Mayeb you shoulda studied a bit harder like lil ol me~" "Shut up Ace! It's a difference of like... two points!" "Two more points than you!" "oh you-" "My friends and I used to compare scores all the time, she always asked for help studying but.. haha she always got better grades than me."

They feel SO awkward when this happens

Deuce almost feels like he's showing off in some kind of way. He wants to be an honor student AND a good friend to you, so he's trying to creatre new memories with you, he's just having some trouble.

"Hey! I uh- I learned out to make one of Trey's tart! The one from the unbirthday party you liked so much?" "Oh thank you Deuce! It's kind of funny actually-" oh no,,, "My sibling and I used to bake for each other to say sorry."

Ace on the other hand is curious, but he kind of wishes you could be with the group sometimes.

"And then Lucius was like-- On top of Deuce- get this- while he was STILL sleeping" "No way..!" "Seriously?" "Hah- how pathetic, I NEVER fall asleep in Trein's... admittedly dull, lessons." "I used to have a dog, he could sleep anywhere"

And suddenly, it's quiet again...

Jack tries to keep your mind off things

He takes you out on relatively silent runs, he invites you to track meets, you can join or just watch him and Deuce! You've been looking a little down recently so, this makes sens to Jack, Deuce enjoys having you watch him run too, his friends give him extra motivation to beat his last personal best!

But... now you're crying?

Ohnowhatdoido.jpeg

Ace, Epel, and Sebek are on their way too, they wanted to do something nice for you and suprise you and -oh no...

They drop everything.

Your friends rush toward you, maybe you're hurt? you like... NEVER cry around them.

And suprisingly, Sebek can get you through the worst of it

"You're sad. and far from home. and that is hard. Especially for a pu ny huma-" "Sebek!!" "Right, uh... But we are here with you now. And we care for you."

"You're our best friend, I don't think anyone would be 'round here if it weren't for you."

"I don't feel as alone, riding solo just... wasnt it."

"'Sides, class isnt nearly as fun without you in it?"

"We really care about you, Prefect. You're our friend."

They gather around you, peacefully letting you cry after they let you know how muhc you mean to them.

"I just... I miss home so much..!"

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Scarecrow | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 5402

A/N: SURPRISE!!!! I've decided to start updating twice a week!!! I would not be cranking these out like I am if it weren't for y'all's support. Thank you so so much for everything, my lovebugs. See y'all on Saturday!!! New update schedule:

Wednesdays and Saturdays @ 3 PM CDT

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Series Rewrite Playlist (surprise!)

You awoke to the sound of your phone ringing, and were shocked by the voice on the other end of the call. “John?!”

“Hi, (Y/N),” he answered. “I know you’re with the boys. I need you to do something for me.”

“John, what the fuck? How did you get my number?” you questioned. “Why didn’t you call Sam or Dean?!”

He sighed. “Because I knew they wouldn’t just let me go. Listen, I need you to take down these names for me.”

You wrapped a jacket around yourself and headed to the boys’ room next door. You banged on it loudly, still talking to John. “Look, sir, I’m sorry, but I have to let them know you called me.”

Sam opened the door. 

“(Y/N), no! It’s too dangerous!” John responded, his voice gravelly. 

“Too late,” you told him. 

Sam had apparently heard his dad’s voice and ripped the phone out of your hands. “Dad? Are you hurt? We’ve been looking for you everywhere. We didn’t know where you were, if you were okay.”

Dean began to wake up with all of the commotion.

“We’re fine. Dad, where are you?” Sam continued.

Dean shot up when Sam said “dad.”

Sam scoffed at something his father said. “What? Why not?”

“Is that Dad?” Dean asked. 

“You’re after it, aren’t you? The thing that killed Mom,” Sam said softly. “A demon? You know for sure?”

“A demon? What’s he saying?” Dean’s voice became almost frantic.

Tears suddenly welled in Sam’s eyes. “You know where it is?... Let us help… Why not?”

Dean extended his hand to his brother. “Give me the phone.”

“Names? What names, Dad— talk to me, tell me what’s going on,” Sam pleaded. “No. Alright? No way.”

Dean grabbed the phone out of Sam’s hands. “Dad, it’s me. Where are you? Why’d you call (Y/N) instead of one of us?...  Yes, sir… Uh, yeah, I got a pen. What are their names?” He began writing on the notepad next to his bed.

Sam shook his head, tears still in his eyes. 

Dean hung up the phone and handed it back to you. “How’d he get your number, (Y/N)?”

“I have no idea; I changed it since I met you guys,” you told him. “That was after your dad disappeared.”

“Why would he call her and not us?” Sam asked his brother.

“He said he knew you wouldn’t just let him go,” you explained. “Said it was too dangerous for me to let you know I spoke to him.”

“Well, thank you for not listening,” Sam told you. 

You gave him a lopsided, sad smile.

***

Later that day, Sam was driving you toward what you thought was your next hunt. Couples had been going missing through the same part of Indiana every year on the second week of April; which just so happened to be this week.

“So, Dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?” Sam asked.

“Yahtzee. Can you imagine putting together a pattern like this? All the different obits Dad had to go through? The man’s a master.” You could tell Dean really respected his father. You had that same respect for your dad when he was alive; you understood completely. 

Sam seemed annoyed, though, and pulled over to the side of the road. He turned off the car. 

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“We’re not going to Indiana,” he responded.

Your eyebrows shot up. “We’re not?”

“No. We’re going to California. Dad called from a payphone. Sacramento area code,” Sam explained.

Dean shook his head. “Sam—”

“Dean, if this demon killed Mom and Jess, and Dad’s closing in, we’ve gotta be there. We’ve gotta help.”

“Dad doesn’t want our help,” Dean protested.

Sam’s voice rose more. “I don’t care!”

“He’s given us an order!”

Sam’s voice was suddenly quieted. “I don’t care. We don’t always have to do what he says.”

“Sam, Dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives, it’s important,” the older brother argued, incredulous that this was even a conversation.

“Alright, I understand, believe me, I understand. But I’m talking one week here, man, to get answers. To get revenge.”

“Alright, look, I know how you feel—”

“Do you?”

You were shocked by Sam’s tone.

“How old were you when Mom died? Four? Jess died six months ago. How the hell would you know how I feel?”

“Sam!” you scolded. 

“Dad said it wasn’t safe,” Dean continued. “For any of us. I mean, he obviously knows something that we don’t, so if he says to stay away, we stay away.”

Sam scoffed humorlessly. “I don’t understand the blind faith you have in the man. I mean, it’s like you don’t even question him.”

“Yeah, it’s called being a good son!”

“Both of you, stop it!” you ordered.

Sam angrily got out of the car. You looked to Dean who couldn’t meet your eyes before the two of you got out as well.

“You’re a selfish bastard, you know that?” Dean spat. “You just do whatever you want. Don’t care what anybody thinks.”

Sam bit back, “That’s what you really think?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, then this selfish bastard is going to California.” He shouldered his backpack and started walking in the opposite direction. 

“C’mon, Sam, get back in the car,” you called to him.

“No, (Y/N), stay out of this,” Sam responded.

“It’s the middle of the night!” you protested.

“Hey, I’m taking off, I will leave your ass, you hear me?” Dean roared.

Sam stopped walking and turned around. “That’s what I want you to do,” he replied coldly.

You watched with bated breath as the two brothers sized each other up.

“Goodbye, Sam.” Dean slammed the trunk closed. He went to get in the car and drive away, but you stopped him.

“Just wait a second, please?”

He nodded.

You sprinted to Sam, giving him a tight hug. He returned it with his free arm. “Bye, Sam. Be safe, please,” you told him.

“What, you’re really gonna stay with him?” he scoffed.

“I don’t have much of a choice—”

“You do, though. You said you were gonna help us find our dad. I’m going to find our dad.”

You backed away from him. “I believe we will find your dad. I think he’s too smart to stay in Sacramento after calling us.”

Sam shook his head. “This is about more than that, isn’t it? You just wanna stay with Dean.”

“No, Sam, that’s not the point—”

“Then come with me.”

Your voice softened considerably. “No.”

The brunet scoffed again. “Goodbye, (Y/N).”

He walked away from you. You hurried back to the car and slammed the door to the passenger’s seat shut. You slumped against the door, and you nor Dean talked for the remainder of the drive to Burkittsville, Indiana.

***

When you arrived, you saw Dean take out his phone and scroll to Sam’s contact. You silently prayed he would click it, but he never did. Alternatively, the two of you got out of the car and made your way over to Scotty’s Café.

Burkittsville was a sleepy little town full of mom and pop shops and not a chain restaurant in sight. The people seemed just as quaint and perfect as their town appeared, including the man on the porch of the café.

Dean gestured to the sign above the man’s head. “Let me guess. Scotty.”

Scotty looked up at his sign and nodded curtly. “Yep.” 

“Hi, my name’s John Bonham,” Dean smiled, “And this is—”

Scotty cut him off before he could introduce you. “Isn’t that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?”

The younger man was taken aback. “Wow. Good. Classic rock fan.”

Scotty’s face was unchanging. “What can I do for you, John?”

Dean took out the Missing Person posters of Holly and Vince Parker, the couple that had disappeared last year. 

You stuck the fliers out to Scotty. “We were just wondering if you’d seen these people by chance? They’re friends of ours, and we just really wanna find ‘em. The cops haven’t done much, and we figured we’d take the investigation into our own hands. We already asked around Scottsberg and Salem—”

Scotty cut you off and looked to Dean. “Does she always talk this much?”

You were offended. “Sorry, I just, I really wanna find my friends.”

Scotty sat back in his chair and huffed. “Haven’t seen ‘em. We don’t get many strangers around here.”

Dean nodded. “Scotty, you’ve got a smile that lights up a room, anybody ever tell you that?”

Scotty eyed him strangely.

“Never mind. See you around.”

The two of you walked away from the man and the café.

“That was awkward, you mumbled. “The fuck was his problem?”

“He was right about one thing, sweetheart, you do talk a lot,” Dean gibed in response.

You shoved his shoulder. “Fuck off.”

Your next stop was the Jorgeson General Store; another one of those mom-and-pop shops. You spoke to the woman behind the counter and her husband about the Parkers’ disappearance. 

“You sure they didn’t stop for gas or something?” Dean questioned.

The older man before you shook his head. “Nope, don’t remember ‘em. You said they were friends of yours?”

Dean nodded.

A young girl bounded down the stairs carrying some boxes. “Did the guy have a tattoo?”

You looked at her surprised. “Yeah, he did.”

The blonde put the boxes on the counter and looked down at the missing posters you were holding. “You remember?” she asked the older couple. “They were just married.”

The old man seemed to remember suddenly, “You’re right. They did stop for gas. Weren’t here more than ten minutes.”

“You remember anything else?” Dean asked, You could tell he was suspicious of these people; as we you.

“I told ‘em how to get back to the Interstate. They left town.”

“Could you point us in that same direction?”

***

“I’m telling you, those people weird me out,” you told Dean as you drove down the old man’s directed route.

“Yeah, no kidding,” he responded. “WASPs.”

“Oh, for sure,” you giggled.

You were cut off by a sound coming from the backseat.

“The fuck?” Dean mumbled at the sound. “(Y/N), care to investigate?”

You nodded, leaning over the backseat and rummaging through Dean’s duffel bag. You pulled out the EMF meter, which buzzed frantically. “Pull over,” you instructed him.

***

The two of you walked through a pretty apple orchard. It was quite large, as were the trees. You had no doubt it stretched for hundreds of acres. You and Dean crunched leaves under your boots and followed the strengthening beep of the EMF meter to a frightening scarecrow. It wore dark clothing; its eyes were hollow and its mouth was sewn shut. The hair it seemed to have was straggly and wild under the brim of its hat.

“Dude, you fugly,” Dean jested.

You giggled, but something caught your eye. The scarecrow held a sickle, and your eyes trailed from it to a design on its arm. “Dean, look.”

He seemed to notice the same thing you did and grabbed a ladder. You held the bottom steady while he climbed up to the scarecrow’s eye level. He adjusted its sleeve to fully reveal the design on its arm. You pulled out Vince’s flier and handed it to Dean. He compared the two, but you already knew the designs would match exactly.

“Nice tat,” Dean told the scarecrow.

“Alright, get out of its face before you piss it off,” you told your friend.

He chuckled. “Yeah, right.” He climbed back down the ladder and you headed back to Burkittsville to investigate further. Dean drove you to the gas station next to a car repair shop where you noticed the young girl from the general store was working.

“You’re back,” the blonde smiled.

Dean replied, “Never left.”

“Still looking for your friends?” she asked.

You nodded.

Dean noticed the nameplate necklace the girl was wearing. “ You mind fillin’ her up there, Emily?”

She grabbed the pump and obliged.

“So, you grew up here?” Dean asked.

“I came here when I was thirteen. I lost my parents. Car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in,” she explained.

“They’re nice people.”

“Everybody’s nice here.”

“So, what, it’s the, uh, perfect little town?”

She nodded and sighed. “Well, you know, it’s the boonies. But I love it. I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here, it’s almost like we’re blessed.”

You nodded. “Hey, you been out to the orchard? You seen that scarecrow?”

Emily shivered. “Yeah, it creeps me out.”

Dean laughed. “Whose is it?”

The girl shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just always been there.”

You nodded toward the red van parked by the garage with its hood up. “That your aunt and uncle’s?”

Emily shook her head. “Customer. Had some car troubles.”

“It’s not a couple, is it? A guy and a girl?” A look of concern crossed Dean’s face, and Emily nodded.

And with that, you thanked Emily, paid her, and headed off to find the town’s next victims: that poor couple. You found them in Scotty’s Café.

“We’re famous for our apples,” Scotty said as you walked in. “So, you gotta try this pie.”

“Oh, no. It— please,” the girl shook her head. The couple’s table was already full of plates.

“It’s on the house.” Scotty’s disposition was much different than the one he’d presented to you and Dean previously.

“Oh, hey, Scotty,” Dean grinned. “Can I get a coffee, black? Oh, and some of that pie, too, while you’re at it.”

You and Dean sat at a table next to the couple. “Mind your manners, please,” you mumbled to him.

“I got it,” he answered. “How ya doin’?” He leaned over to the couple, who waved back and smiled. “Just passing through?”

“Road trip,” the girl replied awkwardly.

“Hm. Yeah, us, too,” Dean said.

Scotty came back over to refill the couple’s drinks. “ I’m sure these people want to eat in peace.”

“He’s just making conversation,” you defended. 

Scotty glared at you and walked away.

Dean was clearly reveling in Scotty’s agitation. “Oh, and that coffee, too, man. Thanks.”

“So, what brings you to town?” you asked the couple. 

“We just stopped for gas,” the girl explained. “And, uh, the guy at the gas station saved our lives.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, one of our brake lines was leaking. We had no idea. He was fixing it for us,” the man replied.

Dean seemed concerned. “Nice people.”

You didn’t know the first thing about cars, but from the look on Dean’s face, you could tell he knew something was fishy. “So, how long till you’re up and runnin’?”

“Sundown,” the man answered curtly, taking a bite of his food.

“Really.” Dean pondered for a minute. “To fix a brake line?”

The man nodded.

“I mean, you know, I know a thing or two about cars. I could probably have you up and running in about an hour. I wouldn’t charge you anything,” Dean said, chuckling awkwardly.

“You know, thanks a lot, but I think we’d rather have a mechanic do it.” He turned back to the table.

Dean paused. “You know, it’s just that these roads. They’re not real safe at night.”

The couple exchanged a look. 

“I know it sounds strange, but, uh, you might be in danger,” Dean tried.

“Look, we’re trying to eat. Okay?” the man responded, annoyed.

Dean seemed disappointed. He turned to you. “Sam could just give him that puppy dog look and they’d just buy right into it,” he lamented. 

Your heart was saddened; both because you missed Sam and felt for Dean. The bell above the door jingled, and Scotty came out from the back. 

“Thanks for coming, Sheriff,” Scotty told the man who had just entered.

You were beginning to get incredibly agitated with Scotty.  

“I’d like a word, please,” the sheriff told you and Dean.

“Come on. I’m having a bad day already,” Dean grumbled.

“You know what would make it worse?”

And with that, the sheriff escorted you to the outside of town; making sure you kept driving outside of Burkittsville. 

You and Dean were stubborn, though, and returned to the town later that night. You headed to the orchard where you knew the couple was about to become scarecrow food. 

You always had your pistol on you, of course, but Dean had you carry a shotgun loaded with rock salt, too. He grabbed one for himself, and the two of you trekked into the orchard, quickly trying to find the couple. You had seen their car broken down on the side of the road and knew they couldn’t be far. 

“Who’s there?” you heard the man from the diner call.

You and Dean broke off in the direction of the voice. You jumped in front of the couple just before the scarecrow could reach them. 

“Get back to your car.” Dean ordered, aiming his shotgun at the scarecrow. “Go! Go! (Y/N), follow ‘em!”

The couple took off running and you stayed close behind, occasionally looking over your shoulder to make sure it was far enough away. You watched as Dean shot the scarecrow, which stumbled, but kept walking.

You took out your pistol and aimed at the thing. “Dean, look out!” You took a shot at it, too, but it still persisted.

“What the hell kind of thing is immune to rock salt and real bullets?!” you yelled to Dean.

“Go! Go!” He responded, pushing you and the couple forward and out of the orchard. When you turned around for the last time as you had reached their car, the scarecrow disappeared. Even still, you and Dean kept your guns pointed at the orchard’s entrance. 

“What— what the hell was that?” the man from the diner panted.

“Don’t ask!” you told them.

While you stood guard, Dean fixed up the car for the couple and escorted them out of town. The next morning, you and Dean decided to find a local history professor from the next town over to get some information.

“We should call Sam,” you told him.

“I know,” he mumbled.

“Oh-kay, then what are you waiting for?” you asked.

He said nothing in response, but pulled out his phone and dialed Sam’s number. You weren’t surprised when Dean didn’t address their fight at all.

“Yeah, I’m tellin’ ya,” Dean told Sam on the other line. “Burkittsville, Indiana. Fun Town… No. We can’t cope without you, you know… No, it’s more than a spirit. It’s a god. A Pagan god, anyway… The annual cycle of its killings? And the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman. Like some kind of fertility right. And you should see the locals. The way they treated this couple. Fattenin’ ‘em up like a Christmas turkey… Yeah, (Y/N)’s thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some pagan god... Yeah, yeah. She’s fine. She’s here.”

You smiled at what you knew was Dean responding to Sam asking about you.

“And the scarecrow takes its sacrifice. And for another year, the crops won’t wilt, and disease won’t spread… No, not yet… I know. We’re actually on our way to a local community college. I’ve got an appointment with a professor. You know, since I don’t have my trusty sidekick geek boy to do all the research.” Dean’s tone shifted. “I’m not hinting anything! Actually, uh—I want you to know….I mean, don’t think… Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life.”

You eyed Dean curiously as he continued.

“You’ve always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I—anyway… I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy… Say you’ll take care of yourself… Call me when you find Dad.”

You took the phone from Dean. “Hi, Sam. I miss you,” you told him.

“Hey, (Y/N/N), I miss you, too. I’m sorry about what I said,” Sam responded.

“Yeah, me too. Be safe, kiddo.”

Sam laughed at your nickname for him. “I will.”

***

You and Dean talked with a sweet, old professor about the pagan god you could potentially be dealing with; feigning that it was for a research paper. He flipped through a large book on the different Norse pagan gods and goddesses, until a scarecrow in one of the drawings caught Dean’s attention.

“Wait, wait, wait. What’s that one?” Dean asked.

“Oh, that’s not a woods god, per se,” the professor answer.

“The V-Vanir?” Dean read off hesitantly.

The professor nodded. 

You read the page aloud. “ ‘The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female.’ “ You pointed to the picture. “Kind of looks like a scarecrow, huh?”

The professor looked at you strangely. “I suppose.”

“This particular Vanir that’s energy sprung from the sacred tree?” Dean questioned.

The professor seemed confused, but answered you none the less.“Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic.”

“So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it’d kill the god?”

The old man laughed. “Son, these are just legends we’re discussing.”

“Yeah, yeah of course. He knows that,” you said. “Thank you for your time.” You shook the man’s hand.

“Glad I could help,” he responded.

Dean was the first to hit the door, only to be knocked in the head with a rifle when he opened it. 

“Hey!” you yelled, drawing your gun. The sheriff pointed his back at you. 

“Carrying a gun on a college campus,” the sheriff tsked. “That’s not a good look for you. Why don’t you put that down and come with me.”

You hesitated, but knew he was right. You put it back in your jacket and raised your hands. 

The sheriff aimed his gun at you while two other men he’d brought with him dragged Dean’s passed-out body back to Burkittsville. 

The sheriff’s deputies threw Dean’s body down into a cellar beneath one of the houses near the orchard and shoved you down with him.

“You motherfucker,” you told the man. “So what’s the plan? Huh? Keep us here ‘til nightfall, then, what, let us loose in the orchard? You know that thing won’t be able to catch us.”

The sheriff chuckled at you. “Don’t you worry. We’ll take care of you.” And with that, he shut the cellar doors above your head; blocking the majority of the light out. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the bits of sunlight still peeking through the cracks in the boards. You shoved the cellar doors with all your might, groaning as you did. You tried to get it open for hours with the few objects down in the cellar.

“C’mon!” you cried, frustrated. Nothing you tried worked.

Dean’s groan in pain from behind you caught your attention. You rushed back down the stairs and over to him.

You sat down on the floor beside him, gingerly brushing your hand over the wound on his head. “You okay?”

He propped himself up on one elbow and touched the spot on his forehead with his other hand. “Super.”

“Just try to relax,” you told him, “I wanna make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“What are you, Nurse Ratched?” he grunted, trying to push away from you. “I’m fine, (Y/N), seriously.”

You huffed. “Will you just let me help you? Please?”

Hesitantly, he obliged. You shuffled closer and positioned your knees under his head. He leaned back into you, and you could have sworn some of the tension left his body when he came in contact with you. 

You brushed his short, spiky hair back with one hand and held a finger over his face with the other. “Follow my finger, please. Without moving your head.”

He did. His eyes tracked your motion well. 

“Okay, now, where are we?” you asked, still stroking his hair.

He scoffed. “What does that have to do with me having a concussion?”

“Just answer the question, asshole.”

He scoffed again, but obeyed. “Uh… some kind of cellar. I’m assuming in Burkittsville.”

“Okay, good,” you said. “Why are we here?”

“That bastard knocked me out at the community college. Fuckin’ professor must’ve called him or something,” Dean grumbled.

“Okay, I think you’re fine,” you told him. 

He sat up from your lap, and you missed the feeling of him against you. “Where’d you learn that stuff from?” he asked. 

You laughed nervously. “I, uh… this is gonna sound stupid, but I was planning on going to school for nursing the year my parents died.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Yeah. They, um. They died without ever knowing I was gonna go to school that fall.” You looked down at your lap.

“So why didn’t you just leave this all behind and go to school? You could’ve been normal, (Y/N).”

“Honestly?” you replied. “Screw normal. I knew that even if I left hunting, I’d never truly feel safe ever again. Besides, the white picket fence isn’t really my style.” You gave him a lopsided smile which he returned.

“What would you have done? If you weren’t a hunter, I mean,” you asked.

He sighed. “I don’t know. I haven’t given it much thought.” He paused and looked off. He thought for a minute before turning back to you. “I think I would’ve been a mechanic. Maybe a marine, like my dad. When I was a kid, though, I wanted to be a fireman.”

You smiled. “I can totally see that for you.”

The warmth that had settled between you was dispersed by the cellar doors opening. You and Dean scrambled to your feet.

“It’s time,” the woman from the general store said.

You shot Dean a nervous look. You could tell he was doing his best to be brave.

The sheriff really liked using the butt of his rifle to hit things. He’d been using it to urge you and Dean forward about the last half mile into the orchard.

“Do you feel powerful with that thing? Manly?” you asked the sheriff. “You can probably do more with it than you can with your dick— Ow!” You were cut off by a sharp whack to the back of your head.

The sheriff sat Dean down and tied his wrists to a tree. 

“How many people have you killed, Sheriff? How much blood is on your hands?” Dean spat.

“We don’t kill them,” was all the sheriff responded with.

“No, you just clean up after,” you broke in as the couple from the general store tied you to a tree next to him. “I mean, how many cars have you hidden, clothes have you buried?” 

The sheriff shot you a glare before walking away from you and Dean.

“Try to understand,” the woman told you, somehow still smiling. “It’s our responsibility. And there’s just no other choice. The town needs to be safe. The good of the many outweighs the good of the one.” She turned away from you, and led the other three men away. 

“I hope your apple pie is freakin’ worth it!” Dean called after them.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked.

“I’m workin’ on it,” Dean responded.

You leaned your head back against the tree stump. “I can’t believe I’m gonna die like this.”

“(Y/N), do not talk like that. You are gonna be fine. We’re both gonna make it,” Dean responded.

“No, dude, be serious. Neither of us have a plan. We’re toast.”

“I told you, I’m working on it,” he assured you.

***

Hours passed. You tossed ideas back and forth about how to escape, but nothing was working. You couldn’t get through the zip ties around your wrists without scissors or a knife; which neither of you had on you. The sheriff had frisked both of you of all your weapons. Before you knew it, night had fallen. 

“Can you see?” Dean asked. “Is he moving yet?”

You craned your neck, trying to see around the tree stump. “I can’t see.”

Leaves rustled. You and Dean began frantically pulling at your bindings. 

“You hear that?” you squeaked.

“Yeah, I do!” Dean strained against his binds.

And then, Sam emerged from the trees behind you.

“Sam!” you grinned.

“(Y/N)?” he responded, stooping down to you. He immediately set to work untying you.

“Oh! Oh, I take everything back I said.” Dean sounded relieved and overjoyed. “I’m so happy to see you.” 

Sam moved over to Dean next.

You rubbed at your wrists and rolled your neck around as you stood. “How’d you get here?”

“I, uh— I stole a car,” he answered sheepishly.

Dean laughed. “That’s my boy! And keep an eye on that scarecrow. He could come alive any minute.”

“What scarecrow?” Sam questioned. 

You peeked around your tree to see the scarecrow was missing from his post. You and the brothers exchanged nervous looks, and broke off running in the other direction.

“There’s some kind of sacred tree we have to find,” you explained to Sam as you jogged along.

“It’s the source of its power,” Dean added. 

“So let’s find it and burn it,” Sam replied simply.

“Nah, in the morning. Let’s just shag ass before Leather Face catches up,” Dean said. 

The three of you reached the clearing, only to find yourselves surrounded by flashlights and the townspeople.

“This way!” You tried to lead the boys in another direction, but there were more people flanking you from the back. The three of you put yourselves back to back, facing the numerous guns and flashlights that clouded your vision.

“Please. Let us go,” you begged.

The old man from the general store spoke to you. “It’ll be over quickly, I promise.”

“C’mon, man, please!”

The man shook his head. “You have to let him take you. You have to—”

All of a sudden, the scarecrow’s sickle poked out through the man’s stomach. The woman next to him screamed as the scarecrow began dragging the two of them away. The rest of the townspeople began to flee the scene at what they had just witnessed.

“Come on, let’s go!” Dean ordered, and the three of you broke off running again. 

You heard a noise and turned, but the scarecrow and the elderly couple were gone.

“Alright, let’s light this sucker up and get the hell outta dodge,” Dean remarked, picking up a large stick from the ground. The three of you walked a ways before finding a tree marked with Vince’s tattoo design. 

“There!” you pointed at it and took the stick from Dean. Sam poured lighter fluid all over it and you lit the end of Dean’s stick with his zippo lighter. 

Dean threw the stick at the tree, and the three of you watched it go up in flames. “So long, fugly scarecrow.”

You and the boys walked back to the college where the Impala was left. It took hours, and you were exhausted, but the sight of that car had you grinning from ear to ear.

“And the rest of the townspeople, they’ll just get away with it?” Sam asked, seeming unsatisfied.

“Well, what’ll happen to the town will have to be punishment enough.” Dean turned to his brother once you had reached the car. “So, can I drop you off somewhere?”

Sam shook his head. “No, you guys are stuck with me.”

You smiled. “What made you change your mind?” 

“I didn’t. I still wanna find Dad. And you two are still pains in the ass.”

You giggled.

“But, Jess and Mom— they’re both gone. Dad is god knows where. You, me, and (Y/N). We’re all that’s left. So, if we’re gonna see this through, we’re gonna do it together.”

You could sense a witty remark coming from Dean any second. 

“Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful.”

‘There it is.’ You laughed again.

Sam smacked his brother’s shoulder.  “You two should be kissing my ass. You were dead meat.”

“Yeah, right. I had a plan, I’d have gotten out,” Dean responded.

“Oh, sure you did,” you chimed in. “They were just all crap.”

Dean shoved you playfully toward the door of the backseat. You got in and settled down, allowing yourself to be sucked into slumber. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @thepocketverse @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado

Quite a few tags were broken :(( so sorry!!

[ebdaydreamer]

fuck it friday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard

so ummmm I wrote a whole fic. here it is on ao3

tagging: @bigfootsmom @monsterrae1 @elvensorceress @honestlydarkprincess @wildlife4life

@spaceprincessem @bucksbiawakening

It's spec but not really spec the idea just wouldn't leave me alone enjoy:

“Well that was dramatic,” Buck said to break the awkward silence.

They had just got home from the hospital. It was a total false alarm, Eddie was fine, but whilst he was off getting every test under the sun done, his life blew up in the waiting room.

First his parents came, with Chris in tow. And everything was fine, Buck was chatting to them, everyone was just trying to remain calm. Until somehow the topic turned more sombre, and they were discussing what would happen if Eddie really was sick. And well, one thing led to another, and Eddie’s will was brought up, and Helena Diaz lost it.

Then Marisol rushed through the doors, asking them what happened.

Which was odd, because Eddie had been on a date when they all got the call that something had happened.

Then the ghost of Shannon Diaz walked in. The woman Eddie had been on a date with when he was rushed to the hospital.

All hell broke loose.

The group had marched to Eddie’s room, demanding explanations. Buck held on to Chris who was looking a little green himself. This was not his place. He could ask Eddie what the fuck he was thinking and why he didn’t talk to him later.

And this was that later.

Eddie gave a half laugh and sunk into the chair at his dining table. “That’s one word for it.” He rested his chin in his palm, but Buck could see he was shaking.

“What’s going on, Eddie?” Buck asked softly. “Talk to me, please.” He held up his hands, palms facing Eddie. “No judgement, I promise. I’m not exactly in the position to, anyway.”

Eddie shook his head. “You got drunk and kissed someone else once. I lied… to everyone I know, for weeks.”

“O-OK, but why?”

He took a deep breath, gaze pointed to the left of Buck’s head. He hadn’t looked him in the eyes since the hospital.

“I guess… I wanted to live in the delusion a little longer. That somehow I’d found Shannon again, that I had that magic back, instead-” He abruptly cut himself off.

And Buck guessed he could understand. Because cheating on his girlfriend aside, everyone would have told him what a bad idea dating Kim was. Because she wasn’t Shannon. She looked a creepy amount like her, but she acted nothing like her. And it wasn’t fair to her to just be a replacement. 

Buck wondered if that was what Eddie had been doing with every relationship since Shannon died.

“Eddie, what you had with Shannon… you’re never going to have that again.” Eddie began to protest, and Buck cut him off. “But that’s OK. It’s supposed to be different. There’s no one right way for a relationship to be. That doesn’t take away from what you had with her.”

The chair screeched against the floor, and Eddie jumped up. “It has to be! My kid needs a mom and I need a wife and-”

“OK, we both know that’s B.S.” Buck stood up, and held out his hands to Eddie’s shaking ones. Just in case he needed steadying. “That’s what has been drilled into your head as a kid-”

Eddie huffed and began walking to the living room. Buck followed.

“about what families are supposed to be, but you and I know that isn’t true!”

Eddie stopped and spun around, panic flashing in his eyes. “What other choice do I have? Because there’s what I want and what I can have. I can want Shannon, but I can’t have her. I can have someone safe and easy like Marisol, even if that’s not what I really want. Because believe me, there’s a lot I want but can't have!”

“Like Shannon? Eddie, if… if you think Shannon was it for you… then stop torturing yourself. Stop forcing things you think you need to have. And who knows? Maybe one day you will find someone you want again. But it’s not fair to the people you date or yourself to keep forcing a relationship.”

“This isn’t about Shannon!”

Buck blinked. Eddie’s chest heaved. Chris snored from down the hall.

“W- what?”

“I mean… a part of it is. A part of it always will be. But there are other…” Eddie waved his hands as he searched for the words, “things that I’ve realised I want, that I can’t have. So sue me for trying to recreate the one good relationship I was actually allowed to have.”

Buck swallowed and nodded, trying to follow along.

“Right, so there’s something else you want. Why not go for it? What’s stopping you?”

“I told you, I can’t.”

“Eddie, you deserve to be happy.” He said it softly, gently, like approaching a wounded animal, because he knew that Eddie didn’t quite believe it. “You deserve to be a little selfish, for once.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I just did the selfish thing, and I think it ruined everything in my life.”

“You screwed up. Big time. But you haven’t ruined everything. Your parents will get over the will thing. Chris will forgive you. And you’ve still got all of us. The 118.” Buck smiled at him. “You’ve still got me.”

“Do I?” Eddie snapped, finally meeting his eyes.

And Buck… Buck felt like he’d been pushed back by the force of his words.“Of- of course you have me! I’ve got your back, remember? You’ve been the one pushing me away these last few weeks. Which is what you do when you’re hiding something. Now I know and we can get back to normal.”

Eddie stepped towards him, until they were close enough that Buck had to tilt his chin down ever so slightly to fully meet his eyes. His eyes that were now storming with something Buck couldn’t recognise. “What if I don’t want to get back to normal?”

“What do you m-”

One hand on his neck. One hand in his shirt. Lips. Lips against his. Kissing. Eddie was kissing him. Why was Eddie kissing him? They don’t do this. Eddie wasn’t into men. But then again, Buck didn’t think he was into men until Tommy.

Tommy.

Buck pulled away and stepped back. “What the hell?”

“You asked what I wanted.” Eddie gestured between them. “There’s your answer.”

“Me?”

“You.”

Buck’s brain felt like static. He couldn’t even begin to process the amount of feelings and thoughts and questions bouncing around his brain. He tried to grab them as they flew past, and after a solid 30 seconds of spluttering, he managed to ask, “Since- since when?”

Eddie shrugged, lighter than before. “Not sure, really. I didn’t figure it out until I was bleeding out on that street, reaching for you. I fell. My eyes were so heavy. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay awake. So I looked for you, and I reached for you and I realised I was in love with you.”

“You’re-”

“Yeah.” Now Eddie’s started looking at him, he can’t seem to stop. Buck felt like he was suffocating under his stare. “I couldn’t have ever dreamt you up in my wildest dreams. You’re… everything I never allowed myself to want. And the life we’ve built? Our friendship? It means so much. I couldn’t ruin what we already had. So yeah, I dated Ana and Marisol and Kim because I can’t get over you or Shannon.” Eddie made an amused noise and briefly looked away from him. “Maybe if I could get over at least one of you I could be happy with someone else.”

The silence returned. Eddie was clearly waiting for Buck’s next reaction, but he still couldn’t think properly. He tried to process the last few minutes: Eddie kissed him; Eddie was in love with him; Eddie has known this since he got shot.

“Three years ago, Eddie. Why are you telling me now? I’m with Tommy! I’m happy with Tommy!”

There had been time. Maybe not right away, when he was still with Ana, and then Buck was with Taylor. But they were both single for months. Hell, Buck died and Eddie still didn’t think it was important enough to tell him. This is the time? Not when Buck was scrambling to find the secret to happiness? When he died? When he asked Eddie about being shot? Literally any of the countless days they had spent together?

“Because! Because I’ve already blown up everything else in my life! What do I have left to lose? Besides, would it have even made a difference?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know and I can’t know because I’m with Tommy.”

Because Buck could think all he liked about the opportunities Eddie had had before now, but he couldn’t begin to wonder what would have happened if he had taken them. Because then he wouldn’t have Tommy.

Tommy, who was so hot and cool and confident.

Tommy, who made Buck feel giddy and excited.

Tommy, who made him laugh and moan and scream.

Tommy, who changed his life.

(But didn’t Eddie do that too?)

“Look I can’t…” Buck ran a hand across his face. “I have to go. I can’t do this right now, and Tommy has been asking for an update about you, because he’s worried about you, because he’s your friend and-” Buck cut himself off, knowing he was probably driving the knife a little deep. Eddie knew how badly he’d fucked up. He knew it when he’d kissed him. Buck wondered if he even cared anymore.

“I’ll text you later, I just… I gotta go.”

He turned away before he could see Eddie’s reaction and walked out the door.

It was the last time he went through that door for a while.

[matan4il]

911 ep 707 first watch reactions

Oh man, I'm actually not sure I have that much to say about this ep.

The entire plot with Mara and her brother Tyson was very sweet, very nice, and way too convenient. One day, shows are going to stop using the phrase, "There must be something you can do!" like it's some secret magic phrase, that makes this sentiment into a reality, AND turns the person addressed into someone willing to risk everything, in order to do that one thing they can do, which is usually something they're very much not supposed to... That said, Denny was sweet, Mara was lovely, her with Tyson was very endearing, and Henren continued to rule.

The storyline with Maddie was nicely handled, both her trauma, and the way Chim helped her use it to figure out the case and help save everyone from the stalker. My little Madney heart absolutely loved it. And Maddie's distress over a baby involved felt very real and understandable, when she's a mom herself now.

But then in a sense, it was clear this has no long term repercussions, other than bringing Brad into contact with Bobby. With his burn scars, and what we know about the fire that Bobby caused in the past, we can guess where this is headed. I trust that 911 will delve into this coming clash with the same humaneness with which it tackles most storylines.

But I'll be honest, I don't really like where Eddie's headed. I know Shannon scarred him deeply, but he was able to let go of her, and allow her to walk away from him twice while she was alive. It's weird if it's now being implied that the reason why he was never able to move on to another serious r/s is that he was stuck on her. The way she died was traumatic and painful, and it made sense that, even accepting that they as a couple were over, he had a hard time dealing with her death, but Eddie seemingly moved on in s4 at the latest. It feels a bit like they don't really know what to do with him, and how to move him on, so they keep going in circles with his character. Kinda like they were with Buck in s6. None of what we saw in that season helped Buck get to some major breakthroughs that we've seen in this one, so this current storyline with Eddie might end in the same way.

I'm not saying it doesn't have the potential to move him forward, and I'm sure it will be presented as if it has whether it actually does or doesn't (kinda like how 618 presented Buck and Natalia as a move forward, even though it very obviously was not), but right now, I'm not enjoying it. I also... even with this idea of having Eddie run into a Shannon look-a-like, I feel they could have gone in a lot of different ways, and the one where he goes on a date with her while having a serious gf he's essentially cheating on, it just doesn't feel great, or true to Eddie's values. Which can be the point, right? That sometimes we're so shaken up, we do stuff that's uncharacteristic. If that's where they'll take it, then it's working, 'coz right now, everything about this feels a little off. Let's hope they do something actually constructive with this, and give Eddie real progress (rather than just give Tim an opportunity to re-use an actress he already said he really likes).

Small mandatory Buddifer moment was really lovely, even if far from what my shipper heart would want. Then again, I honestly feel it's so funny that Buck is dating Tommy, while being married to Eddie, his actual baby daddy. If there aren't a lot of fics shipping all three men already, then IDK fandom.

Thank you for reading! If you’re looking for more, you can find my s7 reactions tag here, and more of my Buddie meta and content in my pinned post. xoxox

[zmediaoutlet]

Sweaty crumple of mixed bedding and discarded clothes. Even with Sam's hulk feeling like he's going to fuse to Dean's skin, it feels—pretty good, honestly. Dean adjusts his sore neck and Sam accommodates him, resettles. His fingertips occupied with a bruise under Dean's collarbone, testing the edges just careful enough that it almost, almost hurts. If Dean were younger he'd be revving up for round two; as is it's…

"Tell me more about Eliot Ness," Sam says.

Dean slits an eye open but Sam's not making fun. He's watching his fingers, his hair screwed up six ways from Sunday. "He so did call me untouchable, for one thing," Dean says, and Sam blows a lazy raspberry. Dean grins, rolls his hips flat so he can spread out. Heels stretching off the crappy bedroll, skidding in the dust.

"Coolest day in a long time," Dean says. Sam makes a little noise. "Dude was a hunter, you know? Real deal. Wasn't one to suffer fools, either."

"Amazing that he put up with you," Sam says. Dean kicks vaguely but Sam wraps one of those stupid giganto legs over his and he subsides.

What can he say. That—there was about ten minutes where he was positive he was gonna get stuck in the past, with Eliot freakin' Ness and a god of time on the loose and no way to get back, and that was the worst feeling in the world but also—it was a time without Leviathan. A time before everything that'd gone wrong had gone wrong. The sheer terror of the gap at his right hand where Sam should've been aside, there was this. Thought. Kept nagging him.

Camp lantern's still on, sitting on the floor above their heads. Sam's got a blue-white halo. He looks up from Dean's chest eventually, raises his eyebrows.

"What would you've done?" Dean says. Eyebrows a little higher. "If I'd—gotten stuck, or something. Part of the Untouchables for real."

Sam squints at him, for a few seconds. "I would've come and got you," he says. He opens his mouth and closes it. Shakes his head. "No idea how. Kidnap an angel and make them take me back? Or make them get you. Either way."

Kidnap an angel. His brother. Dean squirms on the half-assed pallet. "We both could've got sent back," he says.

He was trying to make like it just occurred to him. Must not quite manage, because there's a pause, after which Sam drags his arm out from under Dean's neck and lifts up on his elbow, looking down at Dean's face. Dean bites his lips between his teeth and Sam says, "What."

"Nothing," Dean says. Sam looks at him for a silent handful of seconds and Dean scratches the stubble under his jaw. "Just—we'd've been—back there, back then. 1944. Before… everything. Not just Dick and the Levis but before, you know—"

"Apocalypse," Sam says. His cheek sucks in on one side, picking up the thread. "Before… angels, hell. Man, Dad wasn't even born. And Mom and Dad met in… what, '74?"

"'72," says Dean, who's already done this math.

Sam takes a deep breath. A little under thirty years, in a world that—yeah, it had its troubles, but not the kind that'd come. Long before a hole would open in Stull. Long before Dean would have to kneel in the mud with blood on his hands and have the future core out into a narrow dark tunnel with nothing at the far end. Long before even that first worst day, one of Dean's earliest memories, when he'd been curled terrified on floorboards not all that different to these and Sam had woken up screaming in the pulled-out drawer that had served them then as a crib and Dean hadn't known how to get him to go back to sleep, and Dad had been gone, and it was worse somehow than the night their mother had burned, with his baby brother making that horrible desperate coughing wail and Dean just—not knowing how to fix it. That night he thought nothing would ever be okay again.

A hand spreads on his chest, over the bruise. He breathes past constriction and finds that Sam's got his head propped on his hand, watching Dean's face. "But you came back," he says. His thumb runs along Dean's collarbone.

Dean covers Sam's hand. "You woulda looked dumb in the hats, anyway," he says. Has to clear his throat. "And you would've had to cut your hair. No way the Untouchables would let you get away with the delinquent look."

"Delinquent, huh," Sam says, raising his eyebrows, and Dean nods, reaches up and pushes it back from Sam's face, says, "You'd be a real mug, you know? A real bunny."

Bunny, Sam mouths, and then slides his hand down to Dean's side, pulls him closer. "Guess it's just as well we can't change history," he says. He curls his arm under his head and lays down, his face turned in close to Dean's, his eyes closing. For a second Dean's in two times at once, watching his brother curl down to sleep. "Wouldn't want to be a delinquent."

"You're already a bunny," Dean says, and ignores Sam mumbling that makes no sense when he reaches to turn off the lantern.

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 20 | Crush(ed)

Chapter Twenty | Crush(ed)

“No! It’s because you’re a nerd and know way too much about space,” teased Selina. Both she and Parker were howling with laughter after an in-depth conversation about space and the different elements of it.

Space. Stars. Comets. Black holes. Meteors and meteorites.

Everything Selina had a question about, Parker had an answer for, which naturally led to her teasing him. They had spent the past few hours going back and forth in discussion, playfully talking and teasing one another the entire time.

And this wasn’t the first time they’d spent most of a Saturday morning talking well into the afternoon and sometimes evening. For the past few months, the two of them could be found talking to one another either on discord or through messaging apps.

For Parker, it was a good distraction from the past few weeks during his relative obsession with the mysterious drill bit and the odd shadow he thought he saw when his eyes were playing tricks on him. Just last week, he even dared to venture into the walls and explore that mysterious space between the drywall and the supporting beams that made up his home.

He didn’t find anything, not that he thought he would, but there was still some odd sensation lingering in his chest that there was something that he was missing.

“I mean, seriously!” grinned Selina as she leaned forward toward her webcam. Parker snapped back to the conversation and kept his mind from wandering any further into the unknown. “Why do you know that there are almost ten thousand satellites orbiting Earth right now?”

“Nine thousand, four hundred, ninety-four active satellites. Let’s be precise,” grinned Parker.

“Oh what-ev-er!” Selina giggled. “What I want to know is how you managed to steer the conversation into space when we were talking about our upcoming Mario Kart tournament.”

Parker, grinning from ear to ear, felt his cheeks pinken as he looked up into the camera, imagining looking into Selina’s eyes instead of the cold lens that was in front of him.

“Well, you know there are a lot of different themes and arenas to choose from when playing Mario Kart and we were trying to decide which one would be the best. I think that the space themed one would be best,” pointed out Parker.

Somehow, the room was feeling a tad warm, and Parker was feeling nervous and giddy. It was like butterflies were swirling around in his chest. What was this feeling?

“I know, but there are a dozen other designs we could go with. There’s the original and the rainbow road. I love the rainbow road!” moaned Selina playfully. Parker chuckled and shook his head.

“We always do rainbow road. We need to mix things up a bit. Come on! We need to make a decision to send out in the group text today,” said Parker. He reached up and ruffled his hair, noticing that the length was starting to get a tad long and that his mom was probably going to notice any day now.

“Oh, don’t be a spoil sport,” Selina teased. “Why don’t you come on! We need to celebrate! We just finished finals. You, as usual, were in the top three – ya’ nerd – but I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

Parker’s cheeks burned hot with embarrassment. It was true. The finals went off without a hitch and Parker found his scores near the top of his peers, which was significant considering he was in the advanced classes with kids who were a little bit older than himself. The scores, for Parker, were a tad bittersweet.

On one hand, being part of the top meant that Parker was on a lot of honors emails and celebrations and shout-outs. It looked really good for his transcripts, especially since he was already considering specialized high schools and college programs that accepted students who were much younger than the average student.

Parker considered himself fortunate enough that his mother wasn’t pressuring him into any particular program. She wanted him to be happy, but the one thing that would really make Parker happy came with the bitter part of the bittersweet.

A lot of those accolades and awards came with get-togethers and parties – none of which Parker could attend except virtually.

It wasn’t the same.

Parker wanted to be able to go to these parties. He wanted to see his friends in person. He had known a lot of these people for three years and he had never met them face to face. Even the upcoming Mario Kart tournament was going to be in-person at his friend Bailey’s house, but everyone but Parker would be able to show up.

“Parker?”

“Hm?... oh… yeah,” stammered Parker as he found focus back on the conversation. He remembered Selina calling him a nerd after talking about finishing finals and not expecting anything less from him. “I am a bit of a nerd.”

Selina eyed Parker through the camera and leaned forward, those hypnotic eyes capturing Parker’s attention. He squirmed under her gaze. It was like she could see straight through him. If he wasn’t sure she didn’t know about his size, he would say that she guessed it simply because of this one look.

“Parker? Are you okay?” asked Selina. It was a question Parker didn’t care for recently. He wanted to answer honestly – which was no. No, he didn’t feel okay. Everything in his body was hurting and aching randomly. He didn’t feel comfortable in his own frame, and that was coming from him and his proud nearly four inches. His dreams had been odd recently. He was so spooked because he thought he saw a shadow that he literally ventured into the walls to find out if he was crazy.

But how could he articulate it? How could he get Selina to understand?

“Bummed about not coming to the party?” Selina’s prompting question brought a whole new level to Parker’s mental scramble, so he decided to go with that being the main reason.

“Yeah, a bit,” mumbled Parker. “But it’s okay. I’ll be able to call in through Discord.”

Selina rolled her eyes, which was a classic Selina move, and shook her head.

“I still can’t believe you put up with that,” she grumbled. This comment took Parker aback just a bit, and it wasn’t like him to just leave it alone. He decided to ask for clarification.

“Put up with that?” Parker asked. Selina gave an animated shrug and flared her fingers as if to say “duh.”

“Yeah, constantly being on lockdown. You talk about you having some weird condition that makes you fragile, but you don’t seem all that fragile to me. It just doesn’t make any sense to me. Can’t you ask your mom to let you come just this once?” said Selina. Her tone took on a weird combination of whining and pleading.

The familiar disappointing sensation crept over Parker, making his chest feel tight, as he solemnly shook his head.

“Selina, I can’t. I mean, I could ask my mom, but… my condition… I don’t think it’s a good idea,” said Parker.

“But why?” insisted Selina.

“Selina…”

“What? You’ve never really given a straight answer.”

“Because not everyone would be careful with me,” said Parker, for the first time raising his voice in frustration. He hoped Selina would drop the issue, but the determined look in her eye said otherwise. In fact, she looked terse and frustrated.

“Well… I’d be careful with you….” Selina grumbled. “And what does that even mean? Careful with you? Parker, I hope you know I’d never hurt you. I… I really like you…”

Parker’s world came to a complete stop hearing Selina’s words.

Like? Like him?

As in… she had a crush on him?

It would absolutely make sense. It would explain Selina’s behavior recently. She was very complementary. She was giddy and giggling most of the time. It reminded Parker of the romantic comedies that his mom liked to watch from time to time.

Parker remembered his mom talking to him about how things would be changing and the odd question of whether or not he liked any of his classmates. Only now did the teen realize this is what she meant.

Taken aback, Parker felt himself stammer, “L-like? Me?” before he could even stop himself. Selina, now blushing a bright pink, nodded bashfully.

“Yeah. I really like you, and I was hoping you would go with me to the party as my boyfriend.”

Parker’s head swirled. His heart was going to burst out of his chest. Everything was tingling inside of him. His insides actually felt like they were filled with butterflies now.

“I… you mean it?” asked Parker. Selina glanced up at the camera and bit her lower lip, which made Parker feel his heart begin to race, as she nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I mean it. So? Will you be my boyfriend?” asked Selina. Parker took in a couple nervous breaths. He thought about how Selina made him feel and how he felt excited and jittery when they were talking.

Was this love?

Parker wasn’t sure, but he knew he did like Selina.

“Well… yeah. Let’s do it,” grinned Parker. Both of them couldn’t stop smiling as they continued to glance nervously at one another through the camera. The young teen felt at a loss for words, but less than a minute had passed when Selina broke the silence.

“Great! Now, as my boyfriend, you have to tell me everything about you. Do I even know your favorite color? Oh, that’s right! It’s green. Like dark green. Okay. Got that. Um… yeah! So, tell me more about your mom. No. Wait. I can ask her when I meet her. Um… let’s see… Oh! I’ve got it!

“Since you’re my boyfriend and you always have to tell the truth to whatever question I ask, tell me more about your condition. Like, what makes you fragile? And you have to ask your mom – no, tell your mom that you’re going to the party.” Selina spouted off everything so fast that Parker’s head was starting to spin.

Some of what Selina said made a bit of sense. Honesty was a good policy, according to his mom, but he had never opened up to anyone about the specifics of his condition. Parker had always been secretive simply because he knew his condition was rare and that things were odd surrounding it.

It was now that the same sensation crept over him that kept him guarded. It was the same sensation that made Parker shy away from his mom’s hand and the feeling that led him into the walls.

For one reason or another, Parker’s instinct was to keep his condition a secret – and that’s what he did.

“Um… well… I… don’t know what else there is to say about it other than what I’ve told you,” said Parker, realizing how lame he sounded after the words came out of him. The look Selina gave him only confirmed that he was in trouble.

“Parker, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. You can trust me with this. Don’t you trust me?” Selina bristled.

Parker felt taken aback and defensive all of a sudden. He’d never come across something like this before. He felt hollow and nervous, but also a bit angry.

Why was this an issue now? She’d never wanted to know before, so why was there additional pressure now?

“Selina, I do trust you. It’s just… there’s nothing else to tell,” urged Parker. He felt the same sensation creep over him as he kept his condition a secret – and it was one of reassurance. For whatever reason, Parker knew he was doing the right thing not saying anything else other than what his mom trained him to say.

Selina tossed her hair and folded her arms before retorting, “I don’t believe you. I don’t think you’re telling me the truth. If I were Bailey, I’d bet you’d tell. You two are sooo close.”

“Bailey? What does Bailey have to do with this? And of course we’re close. We’re best friends. Why are you bringing her into this? We were just talking about the get-together,” asked Parker, meaning to ask this to himself instead of out loud, but there was no retracting his words now.

“Oh, I don’t know. What does she have to do with this? Does she know? Would you tell her more if she asked,” accused Selina.

Disbelievingly, Parker shook his head as it began to swirl. “Selina, Bailey doesn’t have anything to do with this. She knows just as much as you do, which is what all of my friends know about me. I’m just a bit fragile and different. That’s all.”

What is happening? Where is this coming from?

“Parker, I can’t accept this. If you don’t tell me, I’m breaking up with you,” threatened Selina.

Parker couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Breaking up? They were barely together? Was this how all girls were?

He knew he liked Selina, but he wasn’t sure if he liked her in the same way. Sure, he enjoyed their time together, but all of this was really sudden.

Not only that, but Parker inevitably knew that his condition was something that Selina would have to deal with. He knew the lengths his mom went to in order to help him. Was that something Selina would be up to? Did he dare disclose his condition in full to save this five minute long relationship?

A million things hit him all at once, both for the immediate situation in front of him and for a future he felt like he was too young to comprehend.

He bit his lip as he felt himself crushed under the weight of what Selina just said. It was a lot – possibly too much – for right now. As much as he liked Selina, Parker wasn’t sure if he was ready to tell her everything.

Parker made his decision.

Between his instinct of keeping his height and condition close to his chest and Selina’s sudden erratic behavior, he knew what needed to happen.

“I… I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing else to tell,” said Parker. Selina rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Well, I guess that’s the end of that. Goodbye Parker. Have fun telling your girlfriend Bailey the same thing and see how she reacts. Next time a girl wants you to open up, maybe you should listen.” With that, the call was cut.

Parker, dazed and confused, felt like he had been punched in the gut repeatedly. He hoped he didn’t just lose his friend, and he hoped that none of his other friends were feeling the same way Selina was. If they were just as frustrated with Parker’s lack of additional explanation about his condition as Selina was, he would be friendless by the start of the party.

Chest heavy and sad, Parker closed down his computer, slunk over to his bed, and flopped down on the squashy mattress. He stared at the ceiling for several minutes as he contemplated everything that just happened.

Curses…

Yet another thing he would never be able to do face to face…

Why?

Why him?

Why was he so different?

And would he ever find that true sense of belonging?

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue | Coming Soon

Previous

Beginning

[bumblesimagines]

i just like having sex with you sometimes. that's all. let's set some ground rules. so… how do we do this? Sarah Cameron

i just like having sex with you sometimes. that's all.

let's set some ground rules.

so… how do we do this?

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

and so the sequel becomes a holy trinity

Sarah Cameron was a pretty girl. Everyone knew it, whether they acknowledged it with awe, envy, or lust, everyone knew the Cameron genes worked like magic. The button nose, the full lips, the sun-kissed skin, the luscious hair that was a mix of blonde and brown strands, the dark brown eyes. The talk of the town, the pretty princess of Figure Eight, the beloved darling of the Cameron family. Sarah Cameron had no business being in the Cut. Hell, she had no business hanging out with JJ's troublemaking friends. She had no business seeking him out, and no business lying in the bed of a Maybank. Funny how the world worked, (Y/N) thought. 

Maybanks and Camerons weren't supposed to mix. They were from two different worlds. And yet...

Between the altercation between JJ and their father and Barry's rage over being jumped and robbed, (Y/N) had an ever-growing headache. He found himself glad JJ had beaten their father into near silence and fucked off before (Y/N) could get home, although he'd left him to patch their father up and deal with quiet, angered mutterings. His father luckily seemed either too exhausted or too drunk to bother him much, leaving him to spend his free day in his room listening to music while he gathered the will to get a Tylenol and step out into the world. He could use a drink or two or three. Maybe he'd stop by a bar and listen to Barracuda Mike's tales about his international dealings until the alcohol knocked him unconscious. 

Following in Daddy Dearest's footsteps. Typical.

His father staggered into the doorway, slamming his fist twice against the old wooden door with a sneer. (Y/N)'s heart skipped a beat and he tentatively paused the music, eyeing the subtle way his father swayed from side to side. Nobody could make him revert to childhood like Luke did, back when he'd cradle a crying JJ while JJ's mom and Luke got into screaming matches over one thing or the other. "Mind tellin' me why the hell there's a Cameron standin' on our goddamn porch? I don't want no problems with Ward, (Y/N)." 

"Jesus," (Y/N) exhaled, pulling the earbuds from his ears and standing up. "Which Cameron, Dad? The idiot or the chick?"

"The chick." Fuckin' Camerons. Fuckin' Sarah. "If Ward catches wind of his little girl strutting aroun' here half-naked-"

"What are you even talking about?" (Y/N) tossed his phone aside and sucked his teeth, slipping past his father and hearing those familiar heavy footsteps follow him to the front door. Sure enough, there stood Sarah Cameron, her head tilted out toward the marsh and arms folded over her bare stomach. Christ. 

"I want no problems. Understood, boy?" Luke hissed in his ear, moving past him and sparing the blonde a glance before he walked toward his truck. (Y/N) inhaled deeply and ran a hand over his face, finding relief in the fact his father coincidentally needed to head into town under the guise of an errand, when they both knew Luke only ran 'errands' when he needed a hit of something strong. Probably needed something to take his mind off the bruises on his face. 

"I shouldn't have to explain why showing up here, on the Cut, dressed in a bikini top and shorts is a shit idea, Sarah." 

"I was going to the beach with some- whatever, it doesn't matter. I... I wanted to talk about the other day, alright? You know, when you basically yelled at me-" 

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Next time, instead of showing up, you get my number from one of the Pogues and you text me, alright? The guys my dad hangs out with call girls like you jailbait, Sarah. They're sleazy fucks who couldn't care less about where you come from." (Y/N) huffed, but regardless, he pushed the front door open enough for her to step inside, eyes following the cloud of dust left behind by his father's truck as it sped down the road. 

The Maybank's home was hardly anything to look at but (Y/N) managed to keep it clean, at least whenever Hurricane Luke didn't pass through. The general upkeep, and frankly everything else, fell on his shoulders with JJ gone half the time and Luke too intoxicated to care about the world around him. Just about every piece of furniture was old, passed down from Maybank to Maybank without so much as a repair or restoration. At the very least, trying to fix the broken things at a young age had given him some pretty decent skills. He couldn't do much about the holes in the walls and doors, though. 

"It's my day off, Sarah. I'd like to spend it without stressing over any of the bullshit that's been going on the past couple of days, 'kay? Say your piece and go off with your boytoy, princess. I want to have a beer in hand by noon so make it quick." (Y/N) sat back on the armrest of the worn couch, crossing his arms and watching the girl study her surroundings. Sarah slipped her tote bag off her shoulder and set it on another seat, leaning back against the barely used dining table. Great. Definitely wasn't going to be quick.

"I didn't appreciate you getting in my face, for starters. It was rude and unnecessary and I wasn't even given a chance to explain our side of the story. We found the gold in the Crain house and we went to your job thinking you were there. You weren't, obviously. The old lady and Barry were and they set us up. Barry held us at gunpoint and tried robbing us. We defended ourselves. JJ went rogue and robbed Barry. We told him not to." Sarah kept her arms crossed as she spoke, finishing with a light shrug and slightly jutted lips. "I'm not a thief and I'm not a liar, either. I wanted to set the story straight." 

"You could've found diamonds or emeralds or rubies in that old ass house, and I still would've been pissed about this treasure hunt continuing. Big John is dead and you know how he died? Treasure hunting. John B wants to die like his dad? Fine by me. I stopped liking him a long time ago. But JJ? The idiot that I spent my whole life raising? I'm gonna make sure that little shit dies of old age. If you want to merrily march into danger with Routledge, fine, go for it. Keep my brother out of it."

"Why do you keep bringing JB up as if I like him? I already told you John B isn't my boyfriend. He's my friend, and yes, I care about him. I-I want to see him happy and that's why I'm helping him but-"

"Is that the only reason you're helping him?" (Y/N) asked, rising from the armrest and taking slow steps toward the blonde. Her brows lifted slightly and her lips twitched, slowly curling upward into that little smile despite how much she tried resisting it. She looked away from him defiantly and clicked her tongue, eyes trailing back toward him.

"Are you suggesting I became friends with John B just to see you? Quite the ego you've got, Maybank. I said I liked you, not that I'm obsessed with you." Her voice softened, laced with playfulness and a hint of mischief, her previous irritation (if she'd even been irritated to begin with) long gone. 

"I was gonna say you wanted to piss off Carrera but if that's the first thing that came to mind..." He trailed off, hearing her scoff in soft disbelief before she swatted at his shoulder halfheartedly. She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips slightly, peering up at him through her dark lashes. 

"You're a dick." She murmured, not nearly as offended as the last time she'd uttered those words.

"Yeah," He dipped down slightly, hands finding the back of her thighs and fingers digging into the warm plushness of her skin. Her hands landed on his shoulders, soft giggles leaving her as he lifted her onto the table, the wood creaking softly under the added weight. One hand slid up from his shoulder and curled around his neck, the tip of her nails slightly scraping against his skin. Sarah's skin flushed. "And the sky's blue."

"But what else is new, right?" Her lips stretched out into a smile before she leaned in, pressing them against his as his hands moved from her thighs to her hips, half his palms pressing against her skin and the other half against her denim shorts. He pulled her closer until she'd gone flush against him, her legs wrapping loosely around him. Her arm curled around his shoulder and her head tilted to the side, a muffled, flustered giggle leaving her when his teeth lightly dug into her bottom lip. His hand moved and pressed flat against her exposed back, trailing upward until his fingers found the bottom straps of the olive green bikini. With one swift tug, they went undone. 

There was a dizzying aspect to making out with a Cameron, he'd come to realize. Maybe it was the knowledge that her father could be considered one of the most influential men on the island or that his life could change for better or worse with just a word from her. It was an intoxicating feeling if he had to be honest. Sarah seemed to feel similarly considering her fingers dug into him and pulled him as close as possible, her breath escaping her in soft pants. She leaned back briefly and pulled her hands away, dipping them under her hair and undoing the straps keeping the bikini on her. She tossed it aside blindly and mushed their lips together again, arms coiling around him and body slightly lifting itself onto him. His hands returned to her thighs and he lifted her again, letting muscle memory kick in as he found his way back to his bedroom.

He really needed to stop hanging out with the Pogues. They were messing with his judgment.

At the very least, he'd spent his free day doing something fun, even if regret began to dig into his back. He was a Maybank. He lived up to the asshole playboy part of his family's reputation 'cause there was nothing better than messing around to take the stress off, but he never enjoyed toying with someone's heart. He'd made a rule in middle school after his first heartbreak to never knowingly get involved with anyone who actually liked him. The first time with Sarah hadn't broken that rule but now... 

"Can I ask what we are or will that ruin your mood?" Sarah's voice piped up, her lips dragging lightly over his shoulder. His fingertip ran up and down her spine, feeling the goosebumps along her skin while he stared at the ceiling. It felt grounding to have weight pressing him against the bed, even if it was Sarah Cameron of all people. 

"I just like having sex with you sometimes. That's all." He answered and she shifted, hands planting themselves on either side of his head and body lifting itself up slightly. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders, the ends tickling his cheek. 

"Sometimes?" She repeated with an arched brow. "You want to do this more often?"

"You're not bad for a virgin." He murmured. 

"Not one anymore, remember?" 

"Yeah, I remember." His hand moving along her back dipped under the covers that'd pooled around her hips, squeezing the skin hiding underneath. She flushed immediately and lowered herself back onto him, burying her warmed face in his neck and huffing. "You were pretty loud-"

"Okay." She groaned and lifted her head again, her reddened cheeks puffed out slightly. "So… how do we do this? Have you done this before?"

"Yeah, until she and I had a pregnancy scare. It was enough to make us block each other." (Y/N) answered, pushing himself up slightly and against the wall behind his pillows. Her legs tangled around his further, and her eyes widened at the revelation. "Let's set some ground rules. I'm going to give you my number and you'll use it whenever you want to see me. If anyone asks, it's just to keep in touch about JJ. Routledge probably thinks you've got the hots for him so I'd prefer if you didn't tell him or Thornton. Let those two go at each other. If you want to be spontaneous like today, you bring protection. I really don't need a little bastard running around right now." 

"I've been on birth control since freshmen year. Rose insisted on it."

"Good for you. My mom was on it when she decided to fuck around and find out and here I am now." He raised his brows at her. "Anyways... don't get your hopes up for anything, Sarah. I mean it. If you don't think you can handle it, that's fine. We're supposed to be having fun, not getting hurt by disappointment."

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

Starlo's personality

I'm still confused about this man's 'true self,' gotta admit. How much of 'himself' IS there in 'North Star'?

What we know about real Star:

He's a nerd/geek obsessed with westerns; that's where he got the inspiration to build WE

He looks different than with the hat on and used to wear braces

Was shy in his teenage years around Ceroba (no idea how he acted normally) + couldn't confess to her

His mom (after killing him) says how he's never been the one to follow rules. I wonder what she meant by that. Rules, like, you're supposed to hate humans like everyone else or rules, like, no sneaking off to practice your shooting and lasso skills? Both?

Ed describes the 'old him' as a fearless leader and as a monster who could 'make his own fun in the little things' (you mean he used to be more humble but at the same time remained an ambitious risk-taker?)

Is insecure about where he comes from and what he looks like

We don't have enough info to know what he was like as a kid. I'm curious if absolutely everything about North Star is the opposite of Starlo (I don't think it is); both are kind and protective. Still, I can't help but wonder if the Starlo after Showdown, in both routes, is the real him or not. Maybe 50% yes and 50% no

Just from the end credits, the only thing I got about him was that he's kind and friendly and optimistic and charming (North Star is this way too, but more exaggerated). Nothing new

So maybe Starlo IS North Star, but more modest (aka not as exaggerated)

I'm curious about your thoughts guys.

Also I forgot to mention how he wanted to plan a PARTY for Kanako, in neutral says that the PARTY in the saloon was great (and the letter he sent was pretty charming), wants to accompany Ceroba in the Steamworks, is open about how he feels (immediately openly confronts Ceroba and calls her out; he's assertive), not afraid to get physical if it means protecting Clover & Martlet, can be pretty loud (like when he spotted Clover after sparing him in neutral, he was like "DEPUTY!!!"

I'm left wondering if all this is the real him or not. I think it is. Just maybe toned down a bit :) It's the only explanation for the fact he's been doing all this for a really long time and never showing signs of wanting to stop/that it exhausted him

[writerownstory]

✨there must be magic inside your bones✨

aka the Juke Ghost Whisperer au that I’ve been working on forever😭

Here’s a not-so-lil snippet of the first chapter for Juke Jeudi! ***Disclaimer, this is unedited & I also know little to nothing about guitars😅 Tried to do some research but that only gets ya so far.

~

“Maybe if we just go over and nicely ask them to stop, they’ll stop,” Julie offers as she slips on some shoes.

“And when that doesn’t work I’ll nicely ask if they’d like my foot up their—“

“Maybe you should sit this one out,” Julie quickly interjects. “Go back to bed and try to block out the noise. I’ll try to reason with them and maybe not threaten them with physical violence.”

Flynn agrees with a yawn and walks back toward her bedroom and Julie slips out of their apartment and over to their next door neighbor’s. She knocks the first time like a normal person, but when the guitar doesn’t stop, she knocks much louder.

The guitar cuts out and a moment later the door swings open to reveal a boy—or a man, she guesses?—probably her age, a mop of brown hair that just barely hangs in the most beautiful green eyes Julie has ever seen, and wearing a cut off Rush t-shirt that shows off his incredibly toned arms and black jeans.

“Ernie, I’m sorry man. I promise it’s the last time—oh. You’re not Ernie,” the boy observes as he realizes who’s at his door.

“Nope, but I am your next door neighbor trying to get some sleep at 3 o’clock in the morning,” she tries to keep her tone light because while she doesn’t want to fight with her neighbor, she was rudely awakened at 3am on a weeknight.

The door opens wider and another boy in a pink sweatshirt and jeans appears, his blonde hair tucked under a backward baseball hat. “We’re so sorry for waking you,” he says, stepping in front of Luke. “Sometimes Luke just gets into playing and forgets just because he doesn’t sleep, doesn’t mean no one else does.”

She glances at the sleeveless boy—Luke, she guesses, only to find he’s already looking at her. His face turns a light shade of pink once he realizes he’s been caught, but then his eyes flick to the boy in front of him.

“It’s okay. Just please, keep it down. Or maybe play at a normal time?” Julie says, looking at the blonde boy. She considers throwing in that she’s trying to protect them from Flynn’s wrath, but maybe that’s not the way to make the best first impression.

“Of course,” he agrees. “We—”

He’s cut off by loud buzzing coming from inside the apartment behind him. The three of them immediately cover their ears against the sound, with Luke quickly turning around to reveal a third boy with darker hair, a black tank and jeans with a bass guitar strapped to his shoulders and frantically pulling different cords from the amp next to him.

“Reggie, man, cut it out!”

“I’m not doing it! I can’t get it to stop!”

The blonde boy hurries over and rips the power cord out of the wall, effectively silencing the amp.

As Julie brings her eyes back to Luke, she realizes there’s a 4th person present.

An older man stands next to the amp, dressed in jeans and a band t-shirt not unlike Luke’s. He looks like a roadie Julie’s mom used to have to help her out at her shows. “Wait, can you see me?”

She tries to avert her gaze, but it’s too late.

“You can see me!” the ghost exclaims, his face lighting up.

She inwardly groans, eyeing the three boys as they continue to argue amongst themselves. They don’t react to the roadie at all. It seems like they’ve forgotten she’s standing there, so she nods silently at the man.

It used to be more difficult to decipher the difference between ghosts and the living, but over time Julie’s become more practiced, even if she didn’t always want to.

The gift of seeing ghosts used to feel like a burden to her. Early on in her middle school career, Julie was labeled the weirdo who was always talking to someone who wasn’t there. At first, she didn’t understand what was going on and she really did feel crazy. But once she came clean to her mom about what she’d been seeing, the ever calm and collected Rose Molina sat her down on the worn couch in her garage-turned-studio with a cup of tea to soothe Julie’s nerves, and explained that Julie wasn’t crazy.

Instead, she was seeing ghosts. Just like Rose herself.

Earthbound spirits who had unfinished business with the living, her mom always told her.

“It’s our job to help them, mija,” Rose had explained. “Sometimes it’s as simple as passing along a message to their loved one. Or it might be helping someone else who is still living. We have to do what we can to help them cross over into the light where they belong.”

The explanation didn’t exactly settle Julie’s worries right away. It was still weird, especially because her life had already become more confusing ever since her best friend Carrie started hanging out with Kayla and a bunch of other girls in their class that Julie didn’t talk to.

For a long time, she resolved to ignore any random spirits that popped into her view throughout the day. Didn’t they know she was at school?? Didn’t they know she can’t be seen talking to no one again???? It was mortifying.

But as she grew older, Rose began to teach her more and more about how to handle such ghosts, especially in public. It’s easier now, but still a work in progress and hardly ever convenient.

“Thank God,” the ghost roadie sighs, the sound of his relief going unheard by the other three occupants in the room. “I used to take care of this equipment for an indie band, until I…well, you know.” Unfortunately, she does know. “I’ve been trying to tell these doofuses that the jacks need to be cleaned, that’s why the audio keeps cutting.”

“Um,” Julie speaks up from her place by the door. The three boys fall silent at the sound of her voice and turn toward her. “Have you tried cleaning the amp jacks?”

Everyone turns to the boy with the bass—Reggie—who blinks back at her.

“Of course you did, right Reg?” Luke looks at his roommate expectantly.

“He didn’t,” the ghost answers for Reggie, clearly annoyed. “And please tell him to stop carrying it out in the rain. They’re sensitive to temperature and humidity, any musician knows that.”

“Uh… well… no,” Reggie answers finally for the other boys, looking sheepish. Julie feels kind of bad for him, but this isn’t a conversation she wants to be awake for at 3am.

“You know what else I’ve heard is good for amps? Not having them out in the rain,” she says quickly, smiling nervously at the way all the boys look at her like they’re the ones who’ve seen a ghost. She’s never been a good liar, but how do you mention oddly specific things without any explanation?

Reggie tries to speak up first, but can’t seem to put a full sentence together. “How do you—how did she…?”

“Just a random thought,” Julie offers as she steps away from the door. “But if you could just keep the guitar playing to during the day, that would be great. Thanks, have a good night!” She hurries back down the hallway, not willing to embarrass herself in front of the cute strangers any longer.

The ghost appears next to her and Flynn’s front door. “You have no idea how ridiculous their conversations are,” he tells her.

Julie huffs a laugh as she unlocks the door. “Do you see a light? If that’s all you were waiting for, you can cross over.”

“Oh I’m going, I just wanted to say thank you. I thought I was going to have to shock that boy to get his attention.”

She frowns, glancing over her shoulder at him. “That is not—”

“Hey, wait!”

Julie freezes as Luke comes out into the hallway. “I-I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I don’t need to sign a name to my embarrassment,” she says, giving him a weak smile as she pushes her door open. “Thanks anyway.”

“Well I-I’m Luke,” he says quickly as she tries to walk inside. “And I’d love to buy you a coffee. You know, as an apology for waking you up.” His hand flies to the back of his neck as he offers her a sheepish smile. “…and keeping you up.”

Julie raises a playful eyebrow at him. “Smooth talker, huh?”

“When I want to be,” he shrugs, a bit of smugness flashing in his expression. “I’m also a great coffee drinker.”

She shakes her head at him, unable to keep the smile from growing on her face. She can’t pretend Luke isn’t incredibly cute, with a disarming smile and his bright, green eyes that look gorgeous even in the terribly lit hallway. “I’d like that.”

His smile is contagious, provoking a small one of her own. “But I have to ask, how did you know about Reggie trying to fix his amp in the rain?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you sometime,” she says over her shoulder before she finally walks into her apartment. She can see the confusion in Luke’s expression, but she only feels a little bad because she’s hoping they both forget the little details of this night.

“Over coffee. On Friday?”

“You’ve got a date, Luke.”

[gavidaily]

what are your favorite things about gavi? 💙❤️

Reasons Why I Love Pablo Gavi - a short essay by gavidaily

I think for me the main thing is that he's sweet. He is just adorable. I grew up seeing footballers being extremely rude, portraits of toxic masculinity and just massive idiots. Gavi is not afraid to show the appreciation for his teammates by touching and kissing them, ‘cause that’s how he expresses himself. I think it’s endearing how he’s an affectionate person.

Then comes his dedication, something I’m each day more enchanted with. He gives all he got, it doesn’t matter if it is training, friendly matches or finals, he gives the same energy to all of them. He’s truly a great team player, and just like some of his teammates said (Lewy, Araujo) that’s important for the entire team, they need this kind of intensity. I think it’s a great work ethic on his behalf and hope this doesn’t change. While that dedication can seem like aggression sometimes (esp. in the field), at the same time that he'll be pissed off with a yellow card, the next minute he'll run to the teammate that scored and give him a big smile and a hug.

That can be weird or just me, but I love how shy he is lol. I think it's amazing how someone can be that aggressive on the pitch and then will answer only "bueno" with a shy smile to a full question asking him how it feels to be so young and breaking records. And that same person is a goofy ball playing with his teammates, dancing around them and jumping on them. I bet he doesn't shut up when he's around his friends. I love this whole low profile personality timid in front of the cameras and once in a lifetime insta post.

This is more vibe-based, but he seems like a good friend. From running across the field to hug Ouse to carrying Sergino on his back, I feel like he's someone you love having around, like the kind of friend that waits for you when you're tying your shoelaces (or not, since he doesn't know what that's like 🤪). The kind of person that considers his friends like family.

At the end of the day and the first thing that it captivated me, he is a skilled player. He really is, he's so young too and has been playing great football and being part of a WC, winning awards, getting praise from players and coaches with years of experience, and he's just beginning. He's very competent and brilliant on the pitch and I fucking love smart people being good at their business.

That's basically it, and I could be totally wrong about alllllll of this, but that's how I read him from seeing him play, his interviews and the person he shows to the world.

[starry-bi-sky]

(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)

...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.

She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.

Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.

The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.

Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.

He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.

He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.

But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.

And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.

His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.

Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.

"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.

"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more

Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"

Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.

On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.

And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.

Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.

Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?

She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.

Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."

She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?

Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."

"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."

Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."

The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.

She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.

But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.

"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.

Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."

Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.

(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)

"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."

"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."

"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"

Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."

Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."

It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.

"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.

Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.

She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.

"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."

(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)

(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)

Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.

Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."

With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.

[winepresswrath]

tbh all jiang cheng ships are hypothetically good to me because jiang cheng is just so not in a good place for dating or marriage. no one should wife him up which is why anyone wifing him up has great comedy potential. it is a situation you're putting him in where he's forced to cope with intimacy and the possibility of betrayal or rejection. he's going be thinking about his parents' marriage except for the times he's going to be thinking about his sister and his redacted. and also there is the potential for someone to die horribly and leave him alone with a baby. again.