#and just go off on her but like.......... she was driving me to the rally when she didn't originally want to go

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 3

part 1 | part 2

(tw: guns, accidental death)

Robin’s already in full panic mode by the time Steve pulls up to her place, flinging the passenger door open and throwing herself into the car with so much force that the car bounces on its wheels a little. “Drive!!”

“Jesus Christ, good morning to you, too.”

“Steve!”

Steve starts to drive.

Beside him, Robin flips the visor down to look at her reflection; groans and scrubs her hands down her face in misery at whatever she sees. Steve doesn’t really get it. He thinks she looks beautiful, with her hair gently moving in the breeze from the open window, with her freckles lit up by the early morning sun.

“Ugh,” she says, turning to look at him, “I can’t believe I look like a zombie and you’re gonna make me late to the first day of school.”

“Wow.” Fuckin’ ingrate. And when he was just being so nice to her in his head. “How about a thank you, huh? ‘Thanks for picking me up, Steve. Thanks for bringing my backpack, Steve. Sorry you almost got shanked by your neighbor, Steve.’”

“You what???”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Um, yes it very much does matter, what the—”

“—I’m just saying, a little gratitude? Wouldn’t hurt you.”

He licks at the corner of his mouth, spritzes wiper fluid to clear the bugs off the windshield. Robin’s eyes are bulging out of her head, but he really doesn’t want to talk about how he still feels the ghost press of steel against his throat, so: “You’re not even right, by the way; I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“Huh?”

“School started yesterday. I’m making you late for the second day of school.”

“Yesss,” she draws the word out like he’s stupid, rolling her wrist in a hurry up and get it motion, “but everyone knows that syllabus day doesn’t count. The first pep rally is the real first day of school.”

Ah, there it is.

Steve steals another peek at his best friend while they’re on a straightaway, notes the nervous twitch of her hands as she goes back to fussing at her reflection; the way she’s clumping her lashes together with seven coats too many of some drugstore brand mascara. She’s wearing lipstick. “This is about Vick—”

“—Don’t talk about—”

“—It’s about Vickie, isn’t it?”

“Ughhhhh.” Robin folds forward and thunks her head against the dash. “Fine, okay? Fine! Yes! This may have something to do with a distressingly cute fellow marching band member. Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Oooh, big word for you, Steven.” She swats him on the shoulder, face all twisted up in offense. “Stop laughing!”

“Stop hitting me,” he laughs. “I’ll dump your ass out on this highway.”

She gasps and narrows her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Steve eases his foot onto the brake.

“Okay, okay! Mercy! I’m being an asshole, alright? I’m sorry. I’m just— I’m stressed! Being gay is very stressful.”

The knife incident pops back into his mind. “Yeah,” he mutters, “I imagine it is.”

—

He catches himself slouching down into his seat a bit when they pull up to the school. Has to force himself to sit upright, hears his mother’s tutting in his ear about bad posture and the message it projects to the world.

It’s not that he’s embarrassed to be here; really, he isn’t. He’s just hoping to avoid being spotted by the nuggets now that they go here, too, lest he be accosted for evading his chauffeur duties.

God.

Dustin’s nerd shit is infecting his brain.

Robin grabs her bag out of the back seat, plants a parting peck on Steve’s cheek as she gets out of the car. “See you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up for work.”

“Love you, dingus.”

And then he’s alone again.

With Robin gone, Steve finds himself driving. Wandering and aimless, like a ghost who doesn’t know he’s gone. It’s not like he has nothing to do — he’s supposed to be out finding a second job, finding a way to support himself and his mom, because he’s the man of the house now. Because his life has turned into one of those shitty, overcomplicated word problems from math class.

If a recently widowed mother works no hours and her minimum-wage son works as many as Family Video will allow, how much mold-riddled dogshit housing can they afford?

Not much.

Inevitably, he finds himself circling the scorched bones of Starcourt, driving tired loops around the barbed wire perimeter. His ghost likes to guide him here; can’t shake the place where he shook off the mortal coil.

He didn’t know it at the time, but Steve Harrington died the day the mall burned down. Embarrassing, to not hear the death knell as his family name went up in smoke.

It was hard to hear much at all that night, between the concussion and the fireworks and the shrieking of a monster being torn apart, but the memory caresses his mind now in cruel whispers: the headrush of victory; the blood and the sweat; the relief that they’d won, they’d done it, it’s over, they won.

Steve tugs at his bad ear ‘til the ringing subsides.

Some fucking grand prize.

The thing is, you can’t go around exploding an eldritch horror without alerting the US government, and the US government can’t go around letting major investors in a hostile commie invasion keep their assets once they find out about their treasonous schemes. It happened fast: the arrest, the bail, the impending trial and the seizure of property. Richard Harrington was once a small town god on an invisible throne, making deals with devils in shadowy boardrooms, and suddenly he was looking at life in a cell.

Maybe it was a blessing he died before his reckoning was due. Maybe it was no accident at all.

The second, and perhaps more important, thing is: stray bullets don’t care about your looming court date.

Dad had a habit of cleaning his guns while he was drunk, nursing a whiskey in one hand while he polished the gleaming barrels with the other. Pointless, really, because the guns were always pristine to begin with. Dick Harrington didn’t hunt. Didn’t shoot. Claimed the pistol was for home defense, that he kept it loaded in case anyone ever tried to hurt his family, but Steve knew the truth.

His dad just liked to flirt with death. Liked to handle pretty, deadly things, stroke his fingers over ruthless metal and feel the rush of power when he walked away unscathed.

He didn’t walk away that night.

Didn’t even face death standing.

Sliced through his femoral artery and rolled right out of his chair.

They found him lying on the ground in a dark, sticky puddle, gasping like a fish as blood spurted from his thigh. Crazy how fast it happened. Steve had been in his room when the shot rang out, and he barely managed to reach the bottom of the stairs before the gurgling noises stopped. Just boom! whizz! bang! and Dick Harrington was gone.

Maybe it’s a good thing, too, that they lost the house.

The image of his mother in the hallway that night — shellshocked in the doorway, one pale hand shaking in front of her open mouth, features wide and wet with waking horror as she stared into the room — was enough to make him never want to step foot in the place again.

So now they live in a rundown piece of shit on the wrong side of town, with hideous burnt orange carpet and wood paneled walls, with cracks in the ceiling and cigarette burns in the walls, some parting gifts from whatever feral hick lived there before them, and it feels like another cruel, cosmic joke. Like the universe is delighting in the Harringtons’ comeuppance; like the blackened beams and brick rubble of Starcourt are all twisting to form one great, mocking mouth; the better to smile and laugh at their misfortune.

You bought your bed, now you have to lie in it.

He didn’t even know that the Harringtons owned Forest Hills until it was the only asset left to their name.

He’s pretty sure his dad bought it more as a joke than a genuine investment. Meant to teach Steve a lesson, like how he used to bring home Waffle House applications whenever Steve got a C on a report card. This is your future if you don’t straighten up, son.

Kill yourself, dad.

Oh, wait.

You already did.

—

part 4

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic #tw: guns #tw: death

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Dead in the Water | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, Dean and the reader are dickish to each other

Word Count: 9338

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You were sitting inside of a diner across from Dean, munching on the last of your fries as he circled names in an obituary. Sam had gotten up to go to the bathroom, and you and Dean refused to speak to each other unless it was to start a petty fight. 

The pretty blonde waitress returned, leaning over the table and showing off her boobs. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked Dean. 

You looked over at him as he grinned around the pen he was chewing on.

You suppressed an eye roll, addressing Wendy. “Just the check, please.”

“Okay,” she smiled at you, glancing over at Dean once more. The waitress strutted away, and Dean dropped his head down before looking over at you. 

“You know, (Y/N), we are allowed to have fun once in a while.” He pointed at the waitress as she walked into the kitchen, “That's fun.”

“You can have fun when we find your dad.” 

Dean went to say something back to you, but Sam sat down and effectively cut the conversation short.

“Hey,” he said. “What’d I miss?”

“Just your brother trying to pick up our waitress,” you stated, glaring pointedly at Dean. 

“Can it, (Y/N).” He put the newspaper in front of Sam. “Take a look at this, I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin.” He pointed to the obituary he had circled in the paper. “Last week Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.”

“A funeral?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, it's weird, they buried an empty coffin. For, uh, closure, or whatever,” the older of the two shrugged.

“Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them.”

Dean’s expression hardened. He squared his shoulders and leaned forward on his forearms on the table. “Something you want to say to me?”

You took a sip of your drink, eyes widening as you looked down and to the side of you, feeling pretty awkward. 

“The trail for Dad,” Sam started, “It's getting colder every day.”

Dean sighed. “Exactly. So what are we supposed to do?”

“I don't know. Something. Anything.”

“You know what? I'm sick of this attitude.” Dean’s tone was harsh as he spoke. “You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?”

“Yeah, I know you do, it's just—”

Dean cut his younger brother off. “I'm the one that's been with him every single day for the past two years, while you've been off to college going to pep rallies. We will find Dad, but until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?”

Sam rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he did so. 

The waitress walked past again, effectively distracting Dean from his anger toward Sam. His gaze was focused right on her ass.

You snapped your fingers a mere inch in front of his face.

He jerked back, furrowing his eyebrows at you. “What was that for?!”

“For focusing on getting your dick wet instead of the task at hand,” you replied. 

Dean went to shoot something back at you, but Sam was quick to jump in. “Alright—” he directed his next question at Dean, “—Lake Manitoc, how far?”

***

You had been driving for what felt like forever. Lake Manitoc was, in fact, pretty far from the diner you had stopped at. In between playfully bickering with Sam about the cultural impact of 1995’s Clueless and fighting with Dean over the stupidest thing, you had been doodling in your journal to keep you occupied. You were focused on drawing the wendigo from your previous hunt to the most detailed extent your memory would allow. 

Most of your sketches were placed next to journal entries about the hunts you embarked on, or you wrote around them once you had finished your drawings. The drawings themselves were halfway decent, in your opinion. However, you always wished you would’ve been able to take art classes in your youth and had some semblance of normalcy. You did all your shading and drawing with black pens you’d purchased while hopping state to state. You found the process relaxing and helpful at getting your mind off the horrors of your day to day life. 

Your shading process was interrupted by the Impala’s roaring engine stalling to a low rumble in front of what had formerly been the drowning victim’s home. 

You got out of the car and headed up the painted green steps leading to the house. The wooden stair boards creaked beneath your boots as you walked. Dean knocked on the door of the house and was greeted by a man that looked to be about your age standing there.

“Will Carlton?” Dean questioned the young man.

“Yeah, that's right.”

“I'm Agent Ford,” the older Winchester started. “This is Agent Hamill—” he gestured to Sam, “Agent Fisher—” he gestured to you, “We're with the US Wildlife Service.” He held his fake badge up for Will to see. “Can we ask you a couple questions? Maybe see the spot where your sister went down?”

“Sure,” Will nodded. He led you and the boys down to the edge of the water. “She was about a hundred yards out.” He pointed at a spot far out into the lake. “That's where she got dragged down.”

“And you're sure she didn't just drown?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. She was a varsity swimmer,” Will answered. “She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as in her own bathtub.”

The older man sitting on a bench on the wooden dock that jutted out into the lake grabbed your attention. The following interrogation was just background noise to you as you studied the man’s slumped over form. 

“So no splashing? No signs of distress?” Sam piped up.

“No, that's what I'm telling you.” Will was failing at keeping his aggravation at bay. You were sure he had already had a week full of questioning keeping the wound of his sister’s passing ripped wide open.

“Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?”

“No. Again, she was really far out there.”

“You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?”

“No, never. Why? Why, what do you think's out there?”

“We'll let you know as soon as we do,” you heard Dean say. You sucked in a breath when Dean suddenly yanked on your arm to get you to follow him to the car.

“What was that for?” you hissed, ripping your arm out of his grip.

“You wanna stop creeping on the old man and focus on the case?”

“I wasn’t creeping on him,” you replied.

“Yeah? Well, then what were you doing?”

“Just... thinking,” you answered. 

“You can think when we’re not in the middle of talkin’ to a witness,” he told you.

“Are you that much of a control freak that I can’t think when I want to?” you asked incredulously. “Grow up.” 

Dean opened his mouth to say something back to you, but Sam cut him off in an attempt to stop a fight from happening in front of the Carltons. “Okay, so. Can’t talk to Mr. Carlton.“

“Okay...” you trailed off, “So our best bet is the police station, then.”

***

The sheriff, whose name you found out was Jake, walked out from behind the desk in the police station’s lobby as he addressed you and the boys. “Now, I’m sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?”

“You sure it's accidental?” Sam challenged. “Will Carlton saw something grab his sister.”

Jake led you and the Winchesters into his office. “Like what?” He motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. "Here, sit, please.”

You took a seat in one of the chairs and Dean sat in the other. Sam leaned on the back of your chair as the sheriff continued to speak.

“There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake. There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person unless it was the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Yeah, Dean laughed, “Right.”

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still—” Jake sat down behind his cluttered desk, leaning forward on it on his forearms, “We dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there.”

“That's weird, though,” the older Winchester noted, “I mean, that's, that's the third missing body this year.”

“I know,” Jake started, “These are people from my town. These are people I care about.”

“I know,” Dean told him.

“Anyway,” the sheriff sighed, “All this...it won't be a problem much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Dean questioned.

“Well, the dam, of course,” Jake stated as if it were obvious.

“Of course, the dam. It's, uh,” Dean stuttered awkwardly, “it sprung a leak.”

You jumped in before Dean could make the situation worse. “No, it’s falling apart, remember? The feds won’t give them the money to fix it, so they opened the spillway,” you told him. 

“It’s good to see somebody does their research,” the sheriff commented. “As Federal Wildlife, you should already know that.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed.

A few quiet knocks on the door drew your attention behind you.

A pretty brunette walked into the office. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

You and Dean stood up, facing the young woman.

“I can come back later,” she said, turning to leave.

Jake’s voice stopped her movements as he stood up as well. “Gentlemen— and lady— this is my daughter.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” the older Winchester smirked.

‘Is he seriously making his voice deeper?’

“I'm Dean.” He shook the woman’s hand. You fought the urge to scoff, given he couldn’t spare you a handshake when he’d met you.

“Andrea Barr,” she smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He was eyeing her up and down. 

‘He’s still fucking smiling.’

“They're from the Wildlife Service,” her father interjected. “About the lake.”

“Oh.”

A little boy with shaggy, copper-colored hair walked out from behind Andrea, his head down low.

“Oh, hey there,” Dean grinned at the boy. “What's your name?”

The child looked up at Dean with sad eyes before turning and walking out of the room without saying a word. Andrea looked at Dean apologetically before following who you assumed was her son out of the room.

“His name is Lucas,” Jake answered for the boy. 

You watched as Andrea gave Lucas a box of crayons and ran her hand over his hair. 

“Is he okay?” Sam asked.

“My grandson's been through a lot. We all have,” the older man admitted. He went and stood by the entrance to the office, turning to face you and the boys. “Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know.” He led the three of you out of the office.

You thanked the sheriff.

Dean looked at the sheriff as he began to talk.“You know, now that you mentioned it—”

‘Oh, boy.’

He directed his attention toward Andrea, “—could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?”

“Lakefront Motel,” she told him. “Go around the corner. It's about two blocks south.”

“Two—” He feigned confusion. “Would you mind showing us?”

Andrea laughed. “You want me to walk you two blocks?”

“Not if it's any trouble,” Dean stated, his smile bright.

‘Is he for real?’

“I'm headed that way anyway,” she shrugged. She told her father she would be back to pick up Lucas at three and told Lucas that she would take him to the park before leaving with you and the boys. 

“Thanks again,” Sam nodded at Jake as he followed Andrea out of the station. 

You and Sam stayed a few paces back from Dean and Andrea as he attempted to charm the brunette. You and Sam both wanted the pavement to swallow you whole.

“So, cute kid,” you heard Dean tell her. 

“Thanks,” she replied.

‘Short, to the point, not taking any of his crap,’ you thought. ‘I like her.’

“Kids are the best, huh?” the older Winchester tried again.

Andrea glanced back at him over her shoulder, shaking her head with a smile on her face as she continued walking.

She stopped in front of a place that said “Lakefront Motel” in bold, white letters, contrasting with the red background the words were placed upon. “There it is. Like I said, two blocks.”

Sam thanked her.

She turned to address Dean. “Must be hard, with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.” She walked away, calling back over her shoulder, “Enjoy your stay!”

You let the laugh you were trying to suppress burst out of your lips. “I like her!”

“‘Kids are the best'? You don't even like kids.” Sam was not missing the opportunity to rag on his brother. 

“I love kids!” his older brother argued. 

“Name three children that you even know,” Sam responded.

Dean paused to think for a moment but came up empty. You waved your hands at him in a shooing motion before walking toward the motel with Sam.

“I’m thinking!” he called after the two of you.

“Have fun going to get the car, Dean!” you called back to him as his younger brother chuckled.

“We seriously just walked two blocks and left the car at the police station all so Dean could try to hook up with the hot mom,” you sighed, shaking your head. 

You and the boys had gone to your separate motel rooms to unpack once Dean had grabbed your bags— well, his and Sam’s— making you go out to the Impala to get your own. 

Sam told you that he and Dean were going to take some time to unpack and the three of you would meet up again later. You were never one for unpacking your duffel bag on hunts since you would not be staying in one location for very long. Instead, you took the downtime you had been given to do some research.

You pulled your laptop along with a few other items out of your bag before flopping down onto the flimsy mattress and kicking your combat boots off. As you blew out a puff of air, you opened your laptop to The Lake Manitoc Tribune’s browser page. You scrolled through article after article on the drownings in the town. One article, in particular, caught your attention. The headline read “Local Man in Tragic Accident” with the story of a man named Christopher Barr written below. 

‘Christopher Barr... as in Andrea Barr?’

Your question was answered when you scrolled a little way down the page to see a picture of a soaking wet and traumatized Lucas wrapped in a towel. He was standing next to a policeman who you assumed was Lucas’s grandfather. 

You read the article in full detail. It told the story of how Lucas and his father were out swimming in the lake when Christopher was pulled beneath the surface of the water. Lucas was floating on a nearby wooden platform at the time of his father’s drowning. Two hours later, Lucas was rescued. 

‘That poor thing...’

You were no stranger to witnessing the death of a parent, so you knew how hard it must have been for Lucas. As far as you could tell from reading through loads of articles, Lucas was the only eyewitness to see whatever creature you were dealing with. This struck you as peculiar since there were so many accounts of other lake monster sightings, making you believe you were not dealing with something corporeal. 

You heard a knock on the door moments later, and you opened it to find Sam standing there. You invited him into your room, and the two of you sat at the small table by the window of the room to talk. 

“So,” he started, “we figured out what’s up with Lucas.”

“Yeah, I did too,” you responded. “That poor kid.”

“Yeah...” he trailed off, shaking his head. 

“Where’s Dean?”

“Back in our room. He’s still unpacking.”

“Jesus, how much shit does he carry around with him? He’s been unpacking for, like, forty-five minutes,” you scoffed.

“He’s slow,” Sam chuckled.

“Yeah, so I’ve gathered,” you retorted. 

You saw Sam’s eyes drift over to your bed where some of the contents of your duffel bag were scattered. He nodded at what you assumed was your open journal as he questioned, “You draw?”

“Yep,” you replied. 

“Can I see?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair to grab it off your bed. You opened it to some of your most recent drawings and let him flip through them. 

“Dude, these are really good,” he complimented you. 

You thanked him with a smile. “I did one of you the first week I met you.” You showed it to him.

“Thanks,” he grinned. “This is amazing.” He looked from the drawing back up to you. “But why’d you draw me?”

“Well, I draw people I find interesting,” you shrugged. "You and that freaky head of yours are interesting.”

“Who are the other people you drew?” He gestured to one of an older woman from a few months back. 

“Not a clue,” you answered. “Like I said, people I find interesting. Random people in bars, diners; pretty much anywhere.”

“That’s so cool,” he told you. Sam handed you the book back. 

“What about you?” you asked as you took it from him. “You have any fun hobbies? Hidden talents I should know about?”

“Not really,” he replied. “I mean, I like to read.”

“Lame,” you joked, leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed. “C’mon, there’s gotta be something more fun than that.”

“Well, I liked going to the gym at Stanford and going on runs.”

“Oh, so you’re a health nut,” you chuckled.

“I guess so, yeah,” Sam laughed. 

A moment passed before you spoke again. “You remind me so much of my brother.”

He turned his head to you. “Didn’t know you had one.”

You shrugged. “I, uh, don’t talk about him much. But yeah.”

“What was his name?”

“I always called him ‘Stevie’ or ‘Bubba,’ but his name was Steven.” You smiled fondly at his memory. “He was super smart. Greatest person I’ve ever known.”

Before you could continue, you were cut off by a knock on the door. 

“You girls done in there?” Dean called. 

“I guess we are now,” you remarked. 

Sam got up and let his brother into the room as you glanced at the clock on your bedside table that read “3:15.” 

“We should probably head over to the park now,” you told the boys.

“Park? Why?” Dean inquired.

“Andrea said she was bringing Lucas there at three. He’s the only eyewitness we got, so we should probably try to talk to him,” you informed him.

“Alright, let’s go.”

***

Conveniently enough for you and the Winchesters, there was only one park in Lake Manitoc since it was such a small town. You noticed Andrea sitting on a bench on the outskirts of the small field near the playground watching over her son. He was sat on the ground by another bench a little ways off from Andrea, using the bench as a table for him to color on. Lucas had crayons, paper, and what appeared to be green army men scattered on the bench. 

“Can we join you?” Sam asked Andrea once you three had walked up next to her bench. 

The brunette looked up at you three, smiling as she stated, “I'm here with my son.” 

“Oh,” the older Winchester started, “Mind if I say hi?” Without waiting for her answer, he went over to Lucas. 

Andrea addressed you and Sam as the two of you sat on the bench next to her. “Tell your friend this whole Jerry Maguire thing is not gonna work on me.”

“I don't think that's what this is about,” Sam told her.

You watched as Dean knelt next to the young boy while Andrea and Sam talked about Christopher’s drowning. Lucas paid Dean no mind, continuing to color as Dean played with the army men on the bench briefly. He spoke a little more before grabbing a piece of paper and sitting on the bench. Dean showed off whatever he had drawn to Lucas before putting the drawing down when Lucas was unresponsive and decided to say something else to the young boy. Moments later, the older Winchester walked back over to you, Andrea, and Sam. 

Andrea was saying something about how Lucas had not spoken since his father’s death as Dean reached your group. 

“Yeah, we heard. Sorry,” Sam told her. “What are the doctors saying?”

“That it's a kind of post-traumatic stress,” she explained. 

“That can't be easy. For either of you.”

“We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It's just...when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw...” she trailed off and shook her head. 

There was a short silence broken by Dean. “Kids are strong. You'd be surprised what they can deal with.”

You noticed Lucas get up from his seat by the bench out of the corner of your eye and make his way over to your group with a piece of construction paper in hand.

“You know,” Andrea began, “he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish—” she was caught by surprise to see Lucas suddenly next to her. “Oh, hey, sweetheart.”

Lucas ignored his mom and looked up at Dean. He handed the man the picture. 

“Thanks,” Dean nodded, looking the drawing over. “Thanks, Lucas.”

You caught a glimpse of the paper, recognizing the house in it but unable to place where you had seen it. 

“We’ll see you around,” Sam told Andrea as you and the Winchesters turned away from the Barrs.

You studied Dean as he looked over the picture. In your mind, he was still a dick but had made the child feel comfortable enough to communicate by some means with him.

“What are you looking at?” Dean interrogated you gruffly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

‘And he’s back to being a dick.’ 

***

You slept pretty well that night but woke up groggy in deep need of coffee. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and got up from your bed, moving over to your duffel bag. You grabbed a clean black shirt from your bag along with a pair of jeans and socks. You tucked the oversized shirt into your jeans and tugged on your combat boots. After finishing your morning routine, you headed out of the door. You figured it was late enough that the boys should be up, and knocked on the door to their room. Sam opened it a few seconds later. 

“I want coffee,” you stated dryly, feeling a bit like a zombie in your decaffeinated state. 

“Me too,” he answered. “You want anything, Dean?”

The older brother grunted in response from somewhere within the room.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

After grabbing the Impala’s keys, you and Sam headed over to the car.

“Is he always that cheery in the mornings?” you asked referring to Dean.

“Yeah, he’s a joy to be around when he first wakes up,” Sam responded sarcastically. The two of you got into the car and Sam began to drive away from the motel.

“Ooh, I saw a cute little coffee shop over that way.” You pointed out of the passenger’s side window. 

Sam followed your instructions, and soon the two of you were off for a drive in the neighborhood around the lake with coffees in hand. 

You straightened up in your seat when you saw an ambulance in front of the Carlton house. “Pull over.”

Sam did as told, and the two of you hopped out of the car. There were several other onlookers standing near the house. 

“What happened?” you asked one of the older women nearby.

“Oh, the young man who lived here, Will Carlton,” she began, putting a hand on her chest, “he died last night.”

“What?” Sam asked incredulously.

“The poor thing drowned.”

“How?” You gave the woman a quizzical look. 

“I don’t really understand it myself,” she laughed uncomfortably, “he drowned in the sink. His father didn’t find him till this morning.”

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath. 

“Poor Bill,” the older woman sighed, looking at the house. “First his godson in May, then his daughter, and now Will.”

“His godson?” Sam questioned.

“Christopher Barr.”

You looked up at Sam, who looked down at you with a confused expression that mirrored your own.

You said your goodbyes to the older woman and headed back to the car. 

“This just gets weirder all the time,” Sam commented as he drove the two of you away from the scene. 

“At least now we know there’s a connection to Bill Carlton,” you reminded him.

“But what did he do to deserve this?”

“Hell if I know.” 

You and Sam filled Dean in on the situation as soon as you walked into the boys’ shared motel room.

“What the hell? So you're right,” Dean said, talking to Sam, “this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else.” 

“Yeah, but what?” you asked. 

“I don't know,” he told you in an annoyed tone as if you had asked a stupid question. “Water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water...” he trailed off. He straightened up and his eyes grew wider as he came to a realization. “Water that comes from the same source.”

“The lake.” You were making the same connections he was.

“Yeah.”

“Which would explain why it's upping the body count. The lake is draining. It'll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time,” you added.

“And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere.” Dean got up from the bed as he spoke, his stress level seeming to rise slightly. “This is gonna happen again soon.” He sat down on one of the chairs at the table near the window. 

“And we do know one other thing for sure. We know this has got something to do with Bill Carlton,” Sam mentioned. 

“Yeah, it took both his kids,” the older Winchester acknowledged.

“And this lady at the Carlton house said that Chris was Bill’s godson,” you explained. 

Dean looked up at you and Sam. “Let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit.”

***

Your attempted questioning of Mr. Carlton had gone unsuccessfully. 

“My children are gone. It's...it's worse than dying. Go away. Please,” the older man dismissed you. Through the duration of his visit, he refused to look up from the boards of the wooden dock. His posture had been slumped over, and his facial expression remained solemn. 

“We’re sorry,” you told him before you followed the boys back to the car. 

“What do you think?” Sam asked.

“Aw, I think the poor guy's been through hell,” Dean replied. “I also think he's not telling us something.”

“So now what?” the younger brother inquired, leaning on the roof of the car.

“Huh,” you let out, still facing Bill’s home.

“What?” Sam asked. 

“You got Lucas’s drawing on you by any chance?” you asked Dean. 

He looked at you questioningly but pulled it out of his jacket pocket nonetheless. 

You unfolded the paper and held it up next to the Carlton house. Lucas had drawn Bill’s house on the paper, which is why the drawing looked familiar to you. 

“Maybe Bill's not the only one who knows something,” Dean commented. 

***

You and the boys were just inside the door of the Barr household, trying to get Andrea to let Dean talk to Lucas.

“I'm sorry,” Andrea expressed, “but I don't think it's a good idea.”

“I just need to talk to him. Just for a few minutes,” Dean pleaded.

“He won't say anything. What good's it gonna do?” 

“Andrea, we think more people might get hurt. We think something's happening out there,” Sam explained. 

“My husband, the others, they just drowned. That's all.” 

You could tell Andrea did not really think that. 

“If that's what you really believe, then we'll go. But if you think there's even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let me talk to your son,” Dean tried one last time.

Andrea gave in, showing you and the boys down the hall to Lucas’s room. Your group found Lucas sitting on the floor surrounded by drawings and army men. He was coloring another picture. 

Dean walked into the room and crouched down beside the boy’s setup. “You know, I, uh, I wanted to thank you for that last drawing. But the thing is, I need your help again.”

You looked over at what Lucas was drawing. It was a person in the water. You quirked an eyebrow at it as Dean placed the picture of the Carlton house in front of Lucas.

“How did you know to draw this? Did you know something bad was gonna happen? Maybe you could nod yes or no for me,” Dean offered. 

Lucas ignored him.

“You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.”

That seemingly touched something within Lucas, who dropped the crayon and looked up at the older Winchester. 

You heard Andrea suck in a breath as Lucas handed Dean a picture of a white church, a yellow two-story house, and a little boy with a red bicycle. 

“Thanks, Lucas,” Dean said quietly.

***

“Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died,” Dean brought up as he drove along the highway. The three of you were attempting to find the place Lucas had drawn. 

“There are cases—going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies,” Sam explained.

“Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please,” Dean remarked.

You leaned forward on your elbows on the back of the leather front seat. “All right, we got another house to find.” 

“The only problem is there's about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone,” Dean brought up, his tone once again implying what he thought you were suggesting was stupid.

Sam looked at the picture, which he held in his hand. “See this church? I bet there's less than a thousand of those around here.”

“Oh, College Boy thinks he's so smart,” the older brother mocked. 

“You know, um...” Sam started. “What you said about Mom...You never told me that before.”

“It's no big deal,” Dean shrugged. 

Sam looked at him with his signature puppy dog eyes expression.

“Oh God,” the older Winchester groaned. “We're not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?” 

You and the boys walked up to the yellow house that matched the one in the drawing. The house just so happened to be across the street from a church just like Lucas had drawn. 

You were greeted at the door by a petite old woman. “Hello,” she smiled.

“Hi,” you grinned back. “I’m (Y/N), this is Sam and Dean—” you gestured between the two boys, “—we just have a question for you.”

“Come in, come in.” She was incredibly welcoming as she allowed you and the Winchesters into her home.

“We're sorry to bother you, ma'am,” Dean began, “but does a little boy live here, by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle.”

The woman’s formerly cheery disposition suddenly shifted to solemn. “No sir. Not for a very long time.” She looked over at a picture of a smiling little boy on a table in the living room. “Peter's been gone for thirty-five years now.” She turned back to you and the boys. “The police never— I never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared.” The woman’s voice wavered as she spoke.

Your eyebrows turned upwards out of sympathy for her. 

Sam nudged your elbow and pointed out toy soldiers sitting on one of the side tables. 

“Losing him—you know, it's...it's worse than dying.” The woman echoed Bill Carlton’s earlier statement. 

“Did he disappear from here? I mean, from this house?” the older Winchester question. 

“He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up,” the woman whimpered. 

Dean picked up a picture off of a mirror in the room. It was of two little boys in boy scout uniforms, one of them being Peter with his red bicycle. “Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, nineteen seventy,” Dean read from the back of the photo. 

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Sam stated softly. “We’ll just be going now. Thank you for your time.” He and his brother turned to head out of the door.

The woman turned away, her sniffles tugging on your heartstrings as you went to follow the boys. 

“Mrs. Sweeney?” 

She turned to you, as did the boys, who watched from the door. 

“Can I give you a hug?”

She seemed surprised by your question but accepted your offer nonetheless. As soon as you wrapped your arms around her, she broke down into sobs.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered to her. 

She nodded into your shoulder as a response. 

After another moment, you released her and rubbed up and down her arms. “It’ll be okay.”

She nodded once more. 

You and the boys showed yourselves out. None of you said a word until about halfway through the drive.

Sam was the one to break the silence. “Okay, this little boy Peter Sweeney vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow.”

“Yeah, Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something, huh?” Dean mentioned.

“And Bill, the people he loves, they're all getting punished.”

“So what if Bill did something to Peter?”

“What if Bill killed him?”

“Peter's spirit would be furious. It'd want revenge. It's possible.” Dean’s eyes flickered to yours in the rearview mirror. “This is probably the quietest I’ve heard you since I met you, (Y/N). Wanna share what you’re thinkin’ about with the class?”

“Like you give a shit,” you grumbled back.

“I was trying to, but fine, keep being a bitch.”

You could not believe Dean. “What, you treat me like I’m stupid, act like a dick to me for weeks, and suddenly I’m supposed to believe you’re genuinely concerned?” 

“Forget I asked.”

The Impala pulled in front of the Carlton house, and to your surprise, you had not seen Bill sitting on the dock. You and the Winchesters got out of the car, calling out to Mr. Carlton.

You wheeled around when you heard the roar of what sounded like a boat engine. 

“Guys?” you called to the boys behind you when you saw Bill driving his boat out into the lake. 

You immediately broke out into a sprint, yelling for the man to turn his boat around. 

Bill turned his head to look at you three standing at the edge of the dock but continued driving out. As soon as he turned his head back around, the water beneath the boat sprang up as if a bomb had been blown up beneath the surface. Bill’s boat flipped over into the water, and neither Bill nor the boat ever resurfaced.

You and the boys called Jake to the scene of Bill Carlton’s disappearance. Neighbors gathered around the lake, looking for signs of Bill, the boat, or whatever had taken him down. After Jake found nothing and questioned the neighbors who witnessed what had happened, he asked you and the Winchesters to head back to the station with him. 

Once inside the station, you spotted Andrea and Lucas sitting behind the desk in the police station’s lobby. 

When the young woman saw you, she bounced up and put the bag that was in her hands on the seat behind her. “Sam, Dean, (Y/N), I didn’t expect to see you here. 

Jake looked between your group and Andrea. “So now you're on a first-name basis,” he scoffed. “What are you doing here?” He directed the question to his daughter.

“I brought you dinner,” she explained. 

“I'm sorry, sweetheart, I don't really have the time.” He shook his head and moved past her to head into his office, you and the boys hot on his tail.

The sound of Andrea’s voice made all four of you stop and turn around. “I heard about Bill Carlton. Is it true? Is something going on with the lake?”

“Right now we don't know what the truth is,” Jake relayed. “But I think it might be better if you and Lucas went on home.”

As soon as the older man mentioned Lucas going home, the little boy jumped up with a panicked look on his face. He whined and tugged on Dean’s arm as Andrea and Jake tried to comfort him. 

Andrea managed to get her son off of Dean and pull him out of the office. You watched the pair as they left, and noticed Lucas’s eyes never left Dean.

The sheriff threw his jacket onto a chair and scrubbed a hand through his hair as he walked into the office.

You looked at Sam and the two of you supposed you were to follow Jake.

You sat in one chair, Dean sat in the other, and Sam leaned on the back of your chair just as had happened before. 

The older man leaned on the front of his desk in front of your trio. “Okay, just so I'm clear, you see,” Jake trailed off, recovering a moment later, “something attack Bill's boat, sending Bill—who is a very good swimmer, by the way—into the drink, and you never see him again?”

“Yep, that about sums it up,” you replied.

“And I'm supposed to believe this, even though I've already sonar-swept that entire lake? And what you're describing is impossible? And you're not really Wildlife Service?” Jake casually mentioned.

You managed to keep a poker face on, but apparently, Dean gave you away.

“That's right, I checked. Department's never heard of you three.”

“See, now, we can explain that—” Dean started, but was immediately cut off by the officer. 

“Enough. Please. The only reason you're breathing free air is one of Bill's neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So, we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton's disappearance. Or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get into your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't ever darken my doorstep again.” Jake jutted his finger in your face as he spoke, his tone harsh.

“Door number two is... rather appealing.” You were trying to keep up your plucky attitude despite your circumstances.

“That's the one I'd pick,” he said sharply. 

***

You had your head against the window, legs tossed to the side of you as the hum of the Impala’s engine was slowly lulling you to sleep.

Sam’s voice pulled you out of your haze. “Green.”

“What?” Dean asked. Apparently, he had been in a daze, too.

‘Not good considering this asshole’s the one driving.’

“Light's green,” Sam elaborated. 

Dean turned right.

“Uh, the interstate's the other way,” you yawned.

“I know.”

“Oh-kay—” you dragged out the word, “—so why are you heading back to Lake Manitoc?”

“Cause I think we still got more work to do,” he responded.

“But Dean, this job, I think it’s over,” Sam interjected.

“I'm not so sure,” Dean replied shortly. 

Sam gave his brother more pushback. “If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest.”

“All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt?” Dean argued.

“But why would you think that?” 

“Because Lucas was really scared.”

‘Can’t argue with him there.’

The younger Winchester was caught by surprise. “That's what this is about?” 

“I just don't want to leave this town until I know the kid's okay.” Dean tried to play off his concern nonchalantly, but you could see right through the act.

‘Aw, he does have a heart.’

“Y’know, I’m actually with Dean on this one,” you declared. 

Dean quirked a brow at you in the rearview mirror, but you simply shrugged at him.

“Who are you two? And what have you done with my brother and (Y/N)?” Sam quipped sarcastically, glancing between you and his brother with a confused expression.

There was a slight pause before both you and Dean said in unison, “Shut up.”

***

“Are you sure about this?” Sam looked around as you and the Winchesters stood on the front porch of the Barr house. “It's pretty late, man.”

Dean ignored him, ringing the doorbell. Immediately it opened to reveal a panicked Lucas.

“Lucas? Lucas!” Dean called after the boy as he took off into the house. 

You followed behind Dean as all four of you sprinted through the house. You heard a splash beneath your feet and realized water was pouring down the stairs in front of you. Lucas started to pound on the door that led to where the water was coming from, which you assumed was a bathroom. 

Dean pulled Lucas out of the way just before you gave a powerful kick to the door, effectively knocking it in. 

Inside the bathroom, the tub was filled to the brim with murky, brown water. You jumped out of the way to let Sam try to pull Andrea out of there, knowing he would be a better fit for the job than you were. 

Sam eventually managed to pull her out of the bathtub. They landed with Sam on his back and Andrea on top of him, sobbing and coughing up water. You immediately offered the woman a towel you had found and wrapped her in it.

Lucas threw Dean off of him and immediately wrapped his arms around his mom. 

Happy to see that she was okay, you and the boys let Andrea have some privacy to get dressed. After she had done that, she and Sam went into the living room to talk while you and Dean looked for a connection to Peter Sweeney. 

You found a bookshelf full of photo albums and began giving the labels a quick once-over. You found one with “Jake— 12 years old” scrawled across the white label of the brown cover. You flipped to a page with pictures of the same Boy Scout troop that Peter Sweeney seemed to have been in from that picture you saw at the Sweeney house. You shut the book on your finger, holding your spot in the photo album.

“Whatcha got?” Dean asked.

“You’ll see.” You walked past him back into the living room. You opened the photo album to the page your finger was tabbing, putting the book in front of Andrea on the coffee table. “You recognize the kids in these pictures?”

She seemed caught off-guard, and you felt bad for potentially startling her after the night she had had. 

“What? Um, no.” She took a pause. “I mean, except that's my dad right there. He must have been about twelve in these pictures.” The brunette dragged her finger across the page gesturing to her dad as a young boy. Jake was standing next to who you recognized as Peter Sweeney in several of the pictures.

“Chris Barr's drowning,” Dean spoke up. “The connection wasn't to Bill Carlton. It must have been to the sheriff.”

“Bill and the sheriff,” the younger man corrected his brother, “they were both involved with Peter.”

“What about Chris? My dad—what are you talking about?” Andrea was looking at the three of you like you were crazy.

“Lucas?” Dean’s voice brought your attention to the little boy staring out of the window. “Lucas, what is it?”

Lucas kept his gaze focused outside as he walked out of the door. Andrea continued to call after Lucas as you all followed him outside. Lucas stopped and looked at the ground and then up at the older Winchester, who stood beside him.

Dean faced Andrea. “You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there, okay?”

Andrea did as told, pulling her son away from your trio. 

You turned to the brothers. “You guys still have those shovels in the trunk?” 

“Keep workin’ hard over there, sweetheart,” Dean deadpanned. 

You pushed yourself off of the tree you were leaning against. “Dude, you only had two shovels and you were too busy trying to be macho and digging whatever’s down there up yourself to let me use one of them,” you protested. “So don’t tell me shit about ‘working hard.’ But by all means—” you then started to use a mocking baby voice, “—if Dean is getting a wittle too sweaty, I’d be happy to take his pwace.”

“Nope. I got it.”

You loved using his stubbornness against him. “So hush your mouth.”

He glared back at you and plunged his shovel back into the dirt when the metal part of the shovel hit another piece of metal. You and Dean both looked down at what laid beneath the ground and you helped the boys pull the object out of the dirt. 

“Peter’s bike,” Sam remarked.

You heard a gun cock behind your head before feeling the barrel pressed squarely on the back of it. “Who are you?” 

‘Jake.’

The boys slowly turned around.

“Put the gun down, Jake,” Sam pleaded. 

Both he and Dean dropped their shovels. 

“How did you know that was there?” The sheriff demanded.

The older Winchester did not answer his question. “What happened? You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake, and then buried the bike? You can't bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried.”

“I don't know what the hell you're talking about.” The sheriff’s lie was not even in the ballpark of convincing.

“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney thirty-five years ago. That's what the hell I'm talking about.”

“Dad!” Andrea yelled, running up to the altercation.

“And now you got one seriously pissed-off spirit,” Dean continued, keeping his eyes trained on Jake. 

“Peter’s gonna get everyone you love— Lucas, Andrea— and drag their bodies god knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter’s mom felt. And then it’s gonna take you. It won’t stop until it does,” you informed him, trying to keep your voice even despite the cold chill running down your spine emanating from the spot where the gun met your head. 

Jake pressed the gun further into your skull. “Yeah, and how do you know that?”

“Because that's exactly what it did to Bill Carlton,” you told the older man.

“Listen to yourselves, all of you. You're insane!” he chided. 

Dean scoffed. “I don't really give a rat's ass what you think of us. But if we're gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust. Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn't just let him go in the lake.” 

“Dad, is any of this true?” Andrea interrupted, her voice shaking.

“No,” her father lied. “Don't listen to them. They're liars and they're dangerous.”

The brunette wasn’t having it. “Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me.”

A pause followed.

“Tell me you—you didn't kill anyone,” Andrea pleaded.

No response came once again. You felt the gun behind your head drop away. You rushed over to Sam and Dean, your adrenaline still keeping your breath in a vice grip. You could see the guilt beginning to overtake Jake’s features. 

“Oh my God,” Andrea breathed.

“Billy and I were at the lake,” Jake started to explain. “Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time, it got rough. We were holding his head under the water. We didn't mean to. But we held him under too long and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank.” 

‘Great,’ you thought. ‘Makes our job so much easier.’

Jake’s focus remained on his daughter. “Oh, Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake. But, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris, because of some ghost? It's not rational.”

Dean was done with Jake’s skeptical attitude. “All right, listen to me, all of you. We need to get you away from this lake, as far as we can, right now.”

Andrea turned her head and immediately cried, “Lucas!”

You turned your head in the direction she was looking to see the little boy leaning over the side of the lake reaching for something.

You took off, following close behind Jake as you ran. You spotted Lucas get pulled into the water by something, causing you to cry out his name. You ran off the solid ground onto the dock, leaping into the water once you reached the edge of the platform. You pulled yourself deep into the lake, trying your best to make out the shape of Lucas or the spirit of Peter. You went back up to the surface, taking in a deep breath. You looked over to Andrea on the dock, and she stared back at you with a panicked expression. You shook your head, diving back below the surface.

While you did not see Lucas, you did see a boy with skin pale gray and tattered clothing rising to the surface a mere few feet from you. You flinched back, the appearance of Peter’s spirit catching you off-guard. It grabbed Jake, who you just noticed had gone into the water and began pulling him under. You sprang into action, swimming as fast as you could over to where Jake was being pulled down. You reached your hand down, trying to grab him, but. it was too late. You were running out of air, and because the water below was getting blacker as you went deeper, you could not see Jake anymore.

You clawed your way back to the surface, gasping for air when you came up. Andrea looked at you frantically, and you shook your head once more. She screamed “No!” just before splashing coming from behind you on the right caught your attention. You looked behind you to see Dean holding an unconscious Lucas to his chest. The poor little boy’s head was lying on Dean’s shoulder limply, and you and Sam swam to help him. Sam took Lucas ashore, and you checked him over to see if he would need CPR. Once you determined that he would, you immediately set to work. You were able to revive him with two cycles of rescue breaths and chest compressions. He immediately coughed up water as air filled his lungs once more. You got out of Andrea’s way and let her hug her son. 

The scene before you— Andrea on her knees, crying and hugging her rescued son— was the reason why you did what you did. Seeing families reunited and given a temporary happy ending was what made you love hunting, despite how gruesome the job could get at times. You figured that even though your life was so screwed to hell, at least you could save the lives of others.

Once you and the boys had changed clothes, dried off, and packed up, you began loading your stuff into the car. Dean clearly had something on his mind, and you were not the only one to notice.

“Look, we're not gonna save everybody,” Sam reminded his brother, having figured out what Dean was mulling over.

“I know." His voice was distant. 

“Sam, Dean, (Y/N),” you heard Andrea call. 

You looked up to see the young woman walking toward you with Lucas, who carried a tray of food wrapped in cellophane.

You all walked toward each other, stopping once you had met in the middle. 

“We're glad we caught you. We just, um, we made you lunch for the road,” Andrea smiled. “Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself.”

“Can I give it to them now?” Lucas asked his mom.

The sound of his voice made you smile. 

“Of course.” The young woman kissed her son’s head. 

“Come on, Lucas, let's load this into the car.” Dean led Lucas over to the car, and you stayed with Sam to talk to Andrea.

“How you holding up?” the younger brother asked her.

“It's just gonna take a long time to sort through everything, you know?”

“Andrea, I'm sorry,” Sam sighed.

Andrea shook her head. “You saved my son. I can't ask for more than that. Dad loved me. He loved Lucas. No matter what he did, I just have to hold on to that.”

You heard Dean talking to Lucas from behind you, and you turned around to face them as Dean spoke. “All right, if you're gonna be talking now, this is a very important phrase, so I want you to repeat it one more time.”

“Zeppelin rules!” the boy cheered.

Dean cracked a genuine grin. “That's right. Up high.”

The two boys high-fived as you, Sam, and Andrea began walking over to them.

“You take care of your mom, okay?” Dean told Lucas.

“All right.”

Andrea leaned over the open door of the Impala that Dean stood behind and pressed her lips to his.

“Thank you,” she said to him.

You rolled your eyes, pissed at him for his ability to pick up whoever he wanted. 

He scratched his head, walking around to the other side of the car. “Sam, (Y/N), move your asses. We're gonna run out of daylight before we hit the road.”

You got into the seat behind Dean, waving to Andrea and Lucas who were waving back at you as Dean backed the Impala out of its parking spot.

Once you were on the road, you spoke up over the music. “Y’know, I’m not dissin’ on Zeppelin because I love them, but there were so many other amazing bands that ‘rule’ that you could’ve told Lucas about.”

Dean groaned. “Really? You’re picking a fight with me about that?”

“I’m not picking a fight, I’m giving my honest opinion,” you replied.

“Okay, well, who would you ‘ve told Lucas about?” he questioned.

“Um, how ‘bout Fleetwood Mac, Metallica, Guns ‘n’ Roses, Blondie, Black Sabbath, need I go on?”

“I cannot believe you just said Fleetwood Mac is better than Zeppelin,” he stated incredulously.

“It’s fucking Stevie Nicks, dude, of course Fleetwood’s better than Zeppelin,” you argued. “She’s a goddess.”

Dean turned left onto the Interstate, picking up the Impala’s speed. “Robert Plant’s better.”

“Yeah, no,” you responded dryly. 

Instead of responding verbally, Dean put one of his Led Zeppelin tapes into the cassette player and cranked the volume up. “What’d you say? Can’t hear you over the greatest band of all time!”

For the first time since you met him, you genuinely laughed at him. “You are such an idiot!” 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireaderr @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylorr @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

[the-oblivious-writer]

Meant To Be One

Gf!Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader

One-Shot

Summary: You couldn't have guessed this is where you would end up after letting Sam Carpenter in your life. Well, now you're in your room, hiding, as Sam tries to break down your door whilst revealing the cruel future she has planned for the students of Woodsboro High

Warning(s): Swearing, dark!sam, manipulating/gaslighting, gun(s), mentions of death & killing

Notes: Based off of the song 'Meant To Be Yours.' Not sure how to feel about this one, lemme know what you think

2/7 for Seven Days Of Christmas

Bang. Bang. Bang—BANG.

That was all you could hear on the other side of the door as Sam Carpenter incessantly pounded on your bedroom door. You tried to be as quiet as possible but deep down you knew no matter how quiet you could be, Sam wouldn't leave until you opened up. 

“All is forgiven baby! Come on, get dressed! You’re my date to the pep rally,” she shouted from the other side. You stayed a few feet from the door, not knowing how far Sam would go. You’ve seen how far she could go, and you soon realized she could go much farther.

“Fuck off! You’re a psychotic asshole!” You spat harshly. Sam stared at the door with a grin so sinister you could almost feel it. 

“I’m protecting you! If you would just listen instead of chucking me out like trash, you would understand that!” 

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you! You should be dead for the way you’ve treated me!” The grip on Sam’s gun tightened as she spoke, soon loosening once remembering the plan. “But that’s when it hit me like a flash…” Sam took a short pause between, leaving you in a state of suspense. “What if high school went instead? Don’t you see it—those assholes are the key! They’re keeping you away from me!” 

“Sam, you’re fucking crazy! So what—what your solution is blowing up our school with everyone in it and we’re just supposed to drive off into the sunset?”

“Do you not want that for us?” You could hear the emotion in her voice, the sorrow in her tone evident. It made you want to give in until you remembered where you were, how you got here, what she had done—no, what you both had done. 

“It’s not that simple–”

“Then make it simple!”

“You tricked me into killing my best friend—not to mention the six other people we’ve killed. God. Just saying it out loud… It’s fucked Sam!”

“He was a damn asshole, an asshole that didn’t deserve you. Not like I do.” She spoke with pure venom, just the thought of him and you made her trigger finger itch. “When I found you, it changed my heart… and so I built a bomb. Because that’s how much I fucking love you!” She banged on your door again, causing you to flinch back. 

“Love doesn’t equal bombing the whole damn school!” You subtly moved around in your room as you shouted back, looking through your things for something.

“You don't know what you’re saying! They have made you blind, messed up your mind—but I can set you free!” She pounded on the door again. “Just open up, Y/N. Do you really think there’s going back?” 

You grabbed the bat from under your bed, getting ready to use it. Your grip squeezed around the handle as you slowly inched towards your door. “Y/N!” Another bang to the door causes you to jolt back. “Open the door, please… Can we not fight anymore?” Sam’s patience was thinning as she was only met with silence. She let out a sharp exhale, her hand subconsciously squeezing around her gun’s handle.  “Don’t make me come in there—I’m gonna count to three!”

“One!” 

You let out a shaky sigh, but your eyes suddenly catch sight of your closet.

“Two! Thre—fuck it!” Sam shoots the knob before kicking down the door. She was only wearing the cloak of her ghostface costume, opting to save the mask for later. You saw her look around, confused and frustrated. As she was just about to give up, she noticed your closet slightly open. You suck in a breath, trying your absolute hardest not to be caught. You could hear her combat boots as she inched closer to the closet.

 This is it. Your only chance. 

Suddenly, the doors abruptly open and instead of giving her a chance to make the first move, you swing your bat. She groans in pain after the metal bat makes contact with her back. You run past her, but Sam has a speedy recovery and immediately starts chasing you. One minute you’re running, the next you’re being pinned to one of your shelfs—books and items falling as she harshly pushed you up against the shelf. 

“You really thought you could get away from me baby? Tonight our school is Vietnam, and nothing is changing that,” she says in a low voice. “So you might as well bring marshmallows, we’ll make s’mores,” Sam lets out a sinister laugh at her own remark.

You narrow your eyes at her, looking at her with disbelief and pure confusion. How was this the same woman you fell so hard for? 

“I don’t even recognize you…” 

“Well you better get associated darling, because there’s no backing out. We’re doing this. There’s no point in fighting it.” She ran hand down your face, her knuckles softly brushing against your cheek and you hate how much you love her touch. 

“I’m meant to be yours. We’re meant to be one.” 

Just a moment ago you were absolutely repulsed by her plans. Disgusted with her. Disgusted with the vile acts you helped her commit, how she so effortlessly manipulated you, and how easy you fell for it. But oh, when you look into her eyes… it’s hard to say no. You can't help but feel yourself being pulled back into her cruel plans. You couldn’t resist Sam Carpenter. Not when she kissed you the way she did, not when she touched you the way she did, not when you loved her the way you did. 

Sam Carpenter had you in a chokehold.

“So what do you say baby?” With a tilt of her head, she looked at while flashing those dark eyes of hers—eyes she knew you couldn’t resist. 

“You know I can’t say no to you, Sammy…” You softly spoke defeatedly, completely forgetting the mindset you had just ten minutes ago. 

She brushed her thumb against your bottom lip, slightly smirking. “That's my girl. Now let's go blow up some assholes.” 

At the end of the day, Sam was right. She was meant to be yours, and you were meant to be hers.

You were meant to be one.

-----------

A/N: R did a full 180 but let's be real, who wouldn't for Sam?

#sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera x you #melissa barrera #scream fanfic

[byler-alarmist]

Disclaimer: I am not anti-Vickie by any means. I think Vickie seems very sweet (although there may be something going on with her we don't know) and I will fully support her and Robin if the Duffers can prove to me in S5 why they work together.

That said, I am going to examine the one, glaring issue I have with Rovickie. If you're not put off by that, read on!

So, most of the criticism leveled against Vickie is that we don't know anything about her. That's true; we don't.

However, my main criticism is:

Does Robin know anything about her??

All we hear from Robin in S4 is that Vickie is the girl of her dreams, but we never hear why. In all her gushing/agonizing to Steve, Robin never tells us what about Vickie makes her so special.

Is she smart? Funny? Ambitious? Kind? Is she a pro at playing poker?

Even Tammy Thompson, whose role in S3 was purely offscreen, got a shout out of traits that Robin valued ("she has dreams!").

We can't say the same for Vickie. All we know is:

-she laughed at one of Robin's (Steve's) jokes

-she likes Fast Times

-she talks a lot when nervous

-she possibly likes boobies

And those last two were only figured out by Robin in the final episode of S4.

If Robin's feelings for Vickie are more than mere infatuation based on looks, wouldn't Robin have told us more than the most surface-level things about her?

And if your immediate response to this "well, she just hasn't spent enough one-on-one time with her to know!" .......that's exactly my point.

The writers have shown time and time again that the shallow relationships where tbe couple got into it without really talking or getting to know each other do not last .

I'm reminded of Lucas telling Mike "you're just blind because a girl isn't grossed out by you." 👀

All this in the same season where Robin is spending one-on-one time with Nancy, getting to know her and respect the things that make her "her". Rather than just looks, Robin gets to see Nancy's drive, intellect, leadership and bravery.

She calls her a "genius", says she is "full of surprises", and learns even more about her when Nancy opens up about her relationship inecurities. Robin sees her complexity.

I don't know about you, but to me, this is the core of why Rovickie is not as compelling as a ship. If they are meant to be endgame, why was Robin paired with Nancy all season?

Surely there could've been some plot device to bring Vickie into the fold, just like Max was brought into the Party back in S2.

Vickie could've been trapped with Robin and the older teens after some supernatural things happened at rhe pep rally or other school function and they got separated from the rest, or she could've been related to the Creels and the gang needed to ask her for help. It's a TV show; they can do whatever they want.

Either way, they decided not to involve her in the main plot of the show at all, preventing both Robin and the viewers from getting to know her fully. I believe this was intentional and will have consequences for their relationship in S5.

One final thought- in early S4, Robin tells Steve that she has found the girl of her dreams but can't get the courage to ask her out, whereas Steve goes on a ton of dates but has no idea what he wants.

I think it would be VERY interesting if their roles were actually swapped, i.e. by the end of S4, Robin is the one who doesn't really know what she wants, and Steve is the one who realizes he has found the (person) of his dreams.

#hope this made sense #it wasn't really meant to be a ronance post #but i felt i had to mention that part at the end #st analysis #robin buckley analysis #stranger things analysis #st thoughts #st brainrot #ronance #stranger things #anti rovickie #<-i'm not really but this is so i don't offend ppl who have these kind of takes blocked #robin buckley #vickie stranger things #st vickie #st4 rewatch #tammy thompson #wlw ship #st ships

[star-girl69]

Dark But Just a Game

Lottie Matthews x Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!Reader

—-

sypnosis: A former Yellowjacket with a vendetta against the team and anyone associated with them targets you during gym class dodgeball. Your girlfriends take their revenge.

a/n: this literally sucks but oh well i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: CRINGEY AS HELL, literal assault lol, swearing, injury, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

You have spent far too much time in the Wiskayok gym.

You’re there for every girls soccer practice, every pep rally and assembly, and they still force you to play dodgeball in this poorly lit, sweaty place.

Soon, the walls are going to start greeting you.

You look towards Laura Lee, smiling, watching as she rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to get out!” you shout, knowing you had every opportunity to move before the ball hit your leg.

“Sure,” she smiles, having more integrity than you, and you make your way over to the bleachers.

While you’re not a member of the star soccer team, Lottie and Nat are on it, and most of your friends are- so you feel a duty to come as much as you can.

You enjoy watching them run around, groaning and shouting, and you like driving home with Lottie and Nat each night, stopping at the trailer park parking lot to smoke whatever Natalie had brought today, watching her walk to her house, and Lottie’s hand on your thigh for the rest of the drive.

All of your lives were so intwined that you couldn’t imagine anything different. You would have to take the bus without Lottie. You would get home earlier if you didn’t stay for their practice. Your entire life would be uprooted.

You lean back into the metal and tap your fingers against it, watching Laura Lee dodge whatever’s coming at her only to shoot them right back. You silently cheer her on until Marsha, a former Yellowjacket, finally got her out.

She didn’t seem to mind. And you didn’t either, not until you noticed the way Laura Lee was limping over to you, and the way her thigh had turned red with the imprint of the rubber ball.

“Oh my gosh,” you breathe as she sits down next to you. She pulls up the end of your shorts so you can both see it. “Oh, Laura Lee,” you murmur, staring at the red skin.

You glare over towards the other team, where Marsha sends the two of you a glare.

“Oh, she’s just so damn bitter, isn’t she?” you huff.

Laura Lee seems a little guilty when she nods.

“I prayed for her to get her grades up!” she says like she’s explaining it straight to God.

Marsha had gotten kicked off the team months ago because her grades were so poor. You faintly remember Jackie even giving her the copied answers for their French class, but still. And to this day, she hates every Yellowjacket. And you, by extension.

You sigh and turn back to Laura Lee.

“Does it hurt bad? Wanna go to the nurse?”

“No,” she says, kicking her feet. “It doesn’t hurt bad.”

“You sure?” you ask, but when you look back down at her leg, the redness has already started to fade- if only slightly. “Oh, well, okay,” you mumble.

The first game ends, and the teacher blows his whistle, so you both stand up, whispering about how Micheal was so rude to Mrs. Stock second period.

Everyone goes to the opposite sides of the gym. Another sharp whistle, and everyone takes off for the balls lined up in the middle. You and Laura Lee stay behind, walking slowly, still finishing up your conversation.

You look away from the court, watching as Laura Lee walks away to pick up a ball.

“I couldn’t believe that he said that, you know? I mean, he has to have a little respect, right?”

Laura Lee straightens and shakes her head. “And he goes to church every Sunday.”

She looks up at you. “Y/N!” she shouts, dropping the ball, pointing towards something in front of you, and you turn to see it, something slamming into your face.

You hear this horrible, stomach-churning crack, then quick build up of pressure, and then a swift release as blood start pouring from your nose.

Yours and Laura Lee’s screams melt into one.

—-

“I have a really bad headache.”

“And I have a really bad stomachache. Can I just lay down for a few minutes?”

“Yeah, and can I get some ice?”

You can hear their voices, and you almost want to cry more. Your nose aches horribly, the ice doing nothing to help you, but at least keeping your head tilted back like this has stopped the bleeding. It’s still sticky and half-dried, running down your chest and shirt, mixing with your salty tears.

“Sure,” the nurse says. “I just have to go to the staff room, we’re out of ice in here unfortunately. Sit in those two beds. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Lottie says.

“Mhm. Mhm, thank you,” Natalie says.

You can hear the nurse’s footsteps fade away.

“Natalie? Lottie?” you ask, sure it’s them, but just wanting to hear their voices more.

“Hey,” Nat says, leaning over you, brushing hair from your face. Lottie grabs your free hand and smiles softly.

“My nose really fucking hurts,” you whisper, laughing slightly, tears rolling down your face.

“C’mere,” Natalie says, her hand cupping yours, helping you pull the ice away from your face. “You’re alright- oh, Jesus fucking Christ.”

Your eyes widen.

“Is it that bad?” you ask, wincing at the air hitting your nose. Nat’s eyes widen, and she grimaces, trying to be good to you, but you can feel it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Lottie coos, her thumb brushing against the back of your palm.

You take a deep breath, Natalie pressing the ice back to your face, and you just stare at the ceiling, trying not to cry more.

“It was fuckin’ Marsha,” you say after a moment. You had understood her anger before, but after this you just feel bitter resentment and… rage towards her.

What have you done to her besides date two Yellowjackets?

“God, I can’t believe her,” you continue, sniffling.

“Hold on, what?” Nat asks. Your look towards her, her brows furrowed together, her jaw clenched. “It was fuckin’ Marsha?”

“Marsha.” Lottie hisses, her usually kind and sweet voice filled with such violence.

“She’s gonna look like a marsh when I’m done with her.”

You laugh, and even Natalie and Lottie smile a bit, even though all of you know a part of Nat is serious.

“Okay,” you chuckle. “Don’t go all fuckin’ Joker on us, or whatever.” Lottie smiles against your hand as she kisses your knuckles.

Natalie just smiles softly, brushing your hair back one more time, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

—-

Your parents graciously let you spend the next day at home, your nose still throbbing and having been reset by a doctor- you were miserable. Lottie and Nat had swung by your house on their way to school, waking you up with sweet touches and sweet words, before promising they would come after practice.

Practice ended at 5pm, and it only took about 15 minutes for them to pack up and get to your house. So, at 5:15, you had dimmed the lights in the living room, set the remote and a bowl of popcorn out on the coffee table, blankets carefully wrapped around you.

They usually just barged into your house without any warning, and this time was no different. Your face was puffy and your nose was swollen, but they still smiled so sweetly when they saw you.

Lottie threw her backpack to the floor and jumped onto your couch, wrapping her arms around your neck.

She placed her hand on your face, frowning at your nose, a scab already starting to form near the top.

“Feeling any better?” she coos, and you nod, maybe a bit too fast, just excited to spend time with them and forget about your throbbing nose and the embarrassment.

“You’re gonna give her a double broken nose jumping on her like that,” Natalie laughs, setting her backpack down much more carefully. She bends over and you look at her light grey jean shorts.

You giggle slightly.

“What the hells on your ass?”

It was dark blue, dried, obviously something that happened much earlier in the day. You imagined her sitting in history class, only for some spilled ink to be on her seat.

Lottie straightens and pulls away from you.

“You didn’t check your clothes?!” she hisses to Natalie, her mouth immediately clamping shut after she realized what she said.

“Wait, what happened today?” you ask, laughing until Natalie sits down next to you, looking a little sheepish. Your smile falls. “What?”

You’re a little scared for their answer.

Natalie and Lottie shoot each other a look.

“Well…” Lottie starts. “I may have accidentally bought a pack of balloons from the party store yesterday. And then I accidentally blew it up this morning, and accidentally put a bunch of ink from some pens in it, and I may have written something on it with Sharpie. And…. maybe I gave it to Marsha…”

“And then we accidentally walked in front of Marsha while she chased after us, and I accidentally spilled some water, and she accidentally slipped and fell on the balloon… accidentally getting ink all over herself.”

Both of them cringe and look away, waiting for your reaction.

You mouth drops open in shock.

“Some of it must have accidentally splashed on me…” Nat trails off.

Lottie hits her slightly. “Even though I told her to make sure there wasn’t any on her!”

“How am I supposed to see my ass, Lottie?”

“I-”

You start laughing like you haven’t in years. A laugh straight from your stomach, from the deepest happiest parts of you, a laugh that makes them start laughing too.

“You’re not, like, really mad at us?” Lottie whispers when you’ve all quieted down.

“Well… thanks for avenging my honor?”

Natalie chuckles and kisses your cheek. “Anytime.”

“Unrelated, but we won’t be at lunch for the next week.”

“Oh,” you hum, placing the popcorn in your lap and leaning back. “So, you totally don’t have lunch detention, right?”

“Totally,” Lottie affirms, kissing your forehead, relaxed, because she knows she can do it again and again.

—-

everything taglist:

@emilynissangtr

#lottienat x reader #lottie matthews x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets x reader

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 46

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

Showering in luxury was rejuvenating. The whole trip was rejuvenating. Despite it being my second shower in a matter of hours, I didn’t care. I enjoyed it. I indulged in it. And, frankly, I knew internally I was just passing the time in the most relaxing way possible until Dr. Miller returned to our room.

No harm, I reminded myself. I had a bad habit of making myself feel guilty for no reason, and i wasn’t about to do that right then. Things were fine. There was no harm in indulging in all that the hotel had to offer. And why wasn’t I entitled to a few mindless hours of peace?

Peace. Quiet. The sound of the shower raining down. Tranquility. That all ended when the lights went out.

My inner peace suddenly transformed into an adrenaline-fueled bout of anxiety.

“Hello?” I let out a breath and the optimistic side of me longed for Dr. Miller to playfully join me in the shower after turning off the lights, though when I called out his name, no one answered.

I turned off the shower and stood there in the darkness. In the quiet. The quiet that had brought me so much peace just seconds ago suddenly felt menacing. Something was up. Something was off.

“Joel?” I called out again.

Nothing.

Would a resort have a power outage? I doubted it. They would have generators; especially in the heart of Vermont where snow storms and nor’easters were a regular occurrence. So, what was going on?

I exited the shower and immediately reached for a towel in the darkness. I patted my face first and ran it through my dripping hair before drying off as much as I could and wrapping it around my body. The dampness on my back from my hair made my entire body feel cold. A chill ran down my back and I hugged the towel against myself.

I breathed heavily and considered locking the bathroom door and just remaining inside until Dr. Miller returned, but why? What would I do? Wait? For how long? And why? No one could get into my room without a key card.

Except for the workers, I reminded myself.

No. No that wouldn’t happen. Especially not at a place like this. They wouldn’t risk some kind of a lawsuit that would drive away clientele.

“Joel?” I called out again, but there was nothing.

I tiptoed across the cold tiles toward the door and reached for the light switch. Much to my surprise, the lights flicked on.

I breathed. Relief filtered through my body, until it registered just a few seconds later that someone had to turn off the light. Someone else was in the room. Was it Dr. Miller being playful? Was it one of the girls just engaging in a prank? I didn’t know what to think. Outside of some paranormal being, there was no other option than another human being walking in and flipping off the switch.

“Fuck.” I whispered the word to myself and I heard my phone going off again back in the room. Like before, I knew it wasn’t Dr. Miller’s specific ringtone. Someone else was calling, and I began to think maybe it was Carol and the girls attempting to rally everyone up for a mischievous bachelorette night to match whatever the guys were doing.

That makes sense, I told myself. That’s rational.

But turning off the lights in the bathroom? I asked myself internally. That didn’t feel like something a group of forty or fifty year old women would do. It felt more like a teenage prank.

I was at a crossroads, and I knew I had to do something. Leaving the bathroom was the first step.

Maybe it’s Dr. Miller. My mind switched gears to a new, probable scenario. Maybe he’s playing some fun, little cat-and-mouse sex game. Maybe he’s laying naked on the bed right now. That scenario didn’t sound all that bad to me.

I reached for the doorknob and yanked it open, only to be met with another room of darkness. I took a long, deep breath. A part of me wanted to shout, ‘hello’ again, but I didn’t. My eyes glanced at the door a few feet away. A glow from the hallway made a thin, yellow line at the bottom of the door. It resembled freedom - freedom of the unknown that lingered in the room. I could walk out that door, but I’d be walking out in my towel with people wondering what was wrong with me.

Would I go to the front desk and ask for Carol’s room half-naked? What would I do once out in the hallway? Almost immediately I decided it wasn’t practical, and so I glanced into the black abyss that had become my room.

Why do I want to say hello again? I guess those scary movies had some truth to them. All I wanted to do was fall into the scary movie cliche. I wanted to ask who was there and why. I wanted to confront some unknown in the darkness.

I jumped when my phone began to ring again. “Fuck.” I cursed at myself. Who was calling close to midnight? Multiple times? It had to be Carol. Or maybe even Dr. Miller from someone else’s phone. Right?

I took a deep breath and began to cross the room. My eyes darted in all directions until I got to the bed and clicked on the little lamp on the nightstand. It illuminated the area and I took a long look around. There was no one. 

I picked up my phone and saw that it was James who had called several times.

Why is James calling me? I thought he might be drunk. Who else calls someone again and again at such a late hour? And it just so happened to be the guy who professed his feelings for me.

My fingers began to dart across the screen: Hey James. I’m close to calling it a night. So tired. What’s up? We can talk tomorrow.

I placed the phone back down and began to get myself dressed, still glancing around at my immediate surroundings.

When the phone went off as I pulled up a pair of sweatpants, I walked over, reaching for a sweatshirt and pulling it up and over my head. When I was fully dressed I grabbed the phone again.

Please call me when you can. You might be in danger. The message had me staring at the screen for an over-exaggerated moment.

Danger?

I took a breath and looked down at the screen when it went off again.

I think I figured out who the Lady Killer is.

The Lady Killer! Why was he following me to Vermont? I didn’t want anything to do with the stupid Lady Killer.

Can you tell me when I get back? I asked my friend. I’m not even near Woodbridge.

I chewed on my thumbnail for a moment and then looked down immediately when my phone went off again. And then I felt it - the thing that scared me more than anything. The thing I was scared off in my own home. The thing I was even scared of in Dr. Miller’s castle, most immensely when I was locked in the room with the glass ceiling. The thing I was scared of mere minutes before when the lights went off in the bathroom.

A hand clamped over my mouth from behind and I struggled to shift my eyes to see with little success.

Who are you? What do you want? Please don’t hurt me! Those were the phrases and questions that hung in my mind, peppering my thoughts in such a short time span. A warm palm covered my mouth and I couldn’t even turn to see who it was. They held me too tight.

“Put the phone down,” a male voice whispered.

I obeyed. I put the phone back down on the nightstand and the person held me tighter against them.

What the fuck is going on? Panic began to set in. I still held a faint thought to rationalize my surroundings. Something was going on. Something bigger than I realized.

I’m in trouble.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandojojo @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @smolbeanzzz @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @bandluvr97

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x oc #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!oc #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller x original character #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x fem reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #professor joel #joel miller professor #protective joel #joel tlou #the last of us fanfic #the last of us

[hawkins-losers]

She wears short skirts, I wear tee shirts | Robin Buckley x Reader

Summary: Robin has a crush on a cheerleader 

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Reader

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: I wrote this in Robin’s pov without realizing...oops. Also, this has been in my drafts since the day I binged season 4 part 1. Sorry it took so long to post/finish

-

Robin Buckley, the girl who liked to be out of the box, had fallen for a high school cliché with lip gloss, a bouncy ponytail and a mini skirt. A fucking cheerleader.

When she told Steve about her little crush on you, he thought it was a joke and laughed…which earned him a smack on the shoulder. Robin was serious. She really did have a crush on you, and it was the worst thing that could happen to her. Actually, getting outed would take the cherry, but her crush on you was next in line.

You weren't a bad person - you were very sweet actually -, but to Robin's eyes, there was no possibility that you could reciprocate her feelings and that’s why it was so terrible. You were at the top of the pyramid, and she was playing trumpet in the school’s band.

While driving to school on Friday morning, Steve was ranting about girls, like always, and Robin was trying to apply mascara without stabbing herself in the eye. A blind person can play the trumpet, but it’s better with two functioning eyes.

‘’Robin! Are you listening?’’ Steve asked, taking his eyes off the road.

‘’Yes. Yes, I am. I-’’

It was false. She was only half listening, concentrated on coating her bottom lashes with mascara.

‘’What did I say?’’

‘’You said something about sex with…Linda.’’

‘’No!’’ Once again, Steve took his eyes off the road. ‘’I’m talking about Heidi.’’

Heidi or Linda, Robin could never remember who was who other than one of them was a blonde and the other a brunette. Which was which? That she did not know the answer.

‘’Cut me some slack, please. Your love life is a labyrinth complexity and it’s seven in the morning and I have to do this stupid pep rally and I woke up looking like a total corpse.’’

‘’You’re worried about a basketball pep rally?’’ Steve raised an eyebrow. ‘’You expect me to believe that?’’

‘’Yeah.’’

Steve scoffed. He wasn’t always the brightest crayon of the box and sometimes made questionable decisions, but he wasn’t that stupid. The basketball pep rally was not why Robin was so stressed and panicked over. It was something else - someone else.

‘’No. We both know what this is about, okay? I’m not buying that bullshit. This is about Y/N.’’

A little smirk curled at the corner of Steve’s lips, seeing the defense mode kick on Robin’s face at the mention of you. Bullseye.

‘’Absolutely not.’’

‘’Yes it is, and I think that you should stop pretending to be someone else when you’re around her. You just gotta be yourself.’’

Robin reached into her bag for her lip balm and applied some with her finger. ‘’Are you really quoting my own advices?’’

‘’They worked. Maybe you should listen to yourself more. Look at me, I listened to you and now, boom, I’m back in business.’’

‘’It’s not the same thing,’’ Robin argued.

In a way, it was the same, but in another, it was very different.

She continued. ‘’You ask a girl and she says no, no big deal. Nothing happens. Maybe your ego is a little bruised but I ask out the wrong girl, bam, I'm a town pariah.’’

Although Steve was not in Robin’s shoes sexuality wise, he understood her point of view. Being gay - lesbian, in Robin’s case - was not persued well by the majority of people. It was seen as disgusting and wrong.

‘’Yeah, I buy that, except Y/N is definitely not the wrong girl.’’

‘’She’s a cheerleader. She couldn’t be straighter.’’

‘’She comes to Family Video every Saturday - even when it rains - and only goes to you to check her out. Oh, and remember two weeks ago when I switched shifts with you so I could go on a date with Heidi? Y/N came to rent a movie and asked if you were around while I checked her out. You should’ve seen the disappointment on her face when I told her you weren’t working. She likes you.’’

‘’You’re full of shit.’’

*

In the school’s gymnasium, the band's music echoed while the cheerleading team did their choreography, twirling, spinning, jumping and dancing with their pom-poms. 

Standing in line with the band in the stands, Robin tried balancing her attention between playing her trumpet and watching from afar the bright smile on your face and the Tigers green eye shadow on your eyes. 

The band stopped as the choreography came to an end, and everyone clapped and cheered. 

Then, the cheerleaders vacated the spot and sat by the stands as the headmaster called in the Tigers. Another round of cheers and clapping echoed as the paper was ripped and in came the team, with Jason at the front.

*

During fourth period, Robin’s eyes wandered to you while Mr. Scotts talked about protons and electrons. She should probably be paying attention to the lesson, all this information will likely be asked in the next test, but you were sitting two rows before her and your glossy lips and smooth-soft looking skin were much more interesting. Sorry, Mr. Scotts.

A quiet sigh left Robin's lips. She wished she wasn’t such a hopeless disaster and had the courage to go up to you and talk to you. So far, your exchanges have been limited to ‘did you find everything you wanted?’ and ‘that will be 3.50$’.

It was pathetic.

The bell rang, forcing Robin to break her staring.

Mr. Scotts cut the lesson and everyone gathered their things and left.

After shoving everything in her backpack, Robin was about to leave the classroom when she spotted a white knit cardigan with Tigers green edges on the back-rest of a chair. Your chair. She took the cardigan, a little smile curling at the corner of her lips as she read your embroidered name on the right side, and went after you in the hallway. This was the perfect excuse to talk to you.

She could’ve called your name and you would’ve turned around. It would’ve been easy and not weird, but Robin wasn’t thinking and ended up following you to the bathroom.

‘’Y/N!’’ she called, walking in the girls’ bathroom.

You turned around, pulling your eyebrows together. ‘’Robin? Where you...following me?’’

‘’Yes! No!‘’ she quickly corrected, realizing how it must've sounded. ‘’I mean, yes, but not in a creepy way. Eh...you left your cardigan in class and I saw it on your chair so I took it and followed you to give it back.’’

Your eyes trailed down to the cardigan in Robin’s hand.

You thanked her with a kind smile. ‘’That’s very nice of you. Most people would’ve just left it there.’’

‘’Well, I'm not most people, and I didn't want you to get cold.‘’

Robin wanted to sap herself for saying something so dumb.

You took the cardigan from her, your fingers brushing for a few seconds during the exchange, sending butterflies to Robin's stomach. ‘’Thanks.’’

*

The next day at Family Video, Steve had to listen to Robin’s rant about her short exchange with you while they stocked the shelves with the returned tapes. Well, Steve was stocking the shelves. Robin had been following him around with the same two movies in her hand for the past ten minutes, completely absorbed in her story.

‘’-forgot her cardigan and our fingers touched and-’’

The bell above the door ding-ed and Robin paused her story. She turned her head at the new customer and her throat went dry, seeing you walking in in a mini skirt and a blouse with a funky print.

‘’Hi! Welcome to Family Videos,’’ Steve greeted, his voice echoing through the store and pulling Robin from her trance. ‘’You looking for a movie in particular?’’

He wasn’t always this nice with every customer - unless he was flirting -, but he was trying to help his friend get the girl she was crushing on.

‘’Eh, no. Not really,’’ you replied, brushing him off and walking away to the comedy aisle.

Steve turned his head back to Robin. ''Go talk to her,'' he mouthed over the shelf, his back turned to you.

She shook her head, panic rushing to her eyes. ‘’I can’t.’’

One thing about Robin was that she had no filter and talked a lot when under stress or was nervous. Most people found it pretty annoying and she didn’t want to annoy you by turning into an unstoppable tornado of word vomit.

‘’Just go ask her if she needs any help finding a movie.’’

‘’Why? She already said she didn’t know what she was looking for.’’

‘’Because I asked her. She didn’t want my help,’’ Steve explained.

His theory was ridiculous and Robin wanted to prove to him that he was wrong so she walked up to you. ‘’Do you need any help finding a movie?’’

Your eyes flickered to Robin’s and, much to her surprise, you accepted her help. ‘’Do you have a copy of Ferris Bueller's day off?’’ you asked. ‘’I believe it was released this week, but I can’t seem to find it.’’

Without needing to check in the computer, Robin knew that there was one copy left in the store. And she knew exactly where it was.

‘’We do. It’s at the register though. I was saving it for myself, but I’ll let you have it just because it’s you.’’

She wanted you to see her gesture as her being nice to you - and perhaps a little flirty -, because it really was that. You didn’t need to know that it was actually store policy to give the customers the movies you saved if they asked for them.

‘’Oh, thank you, but you don’t have to do that. I can pick another movie-’’

‘’It’s fine.’’ Robin tried not to look too disappointed. ‘’I’ll watch it another day.’’

You and Robin went to the front of the store to retrieve the movie and check you out. ‘’I feel bad for taking your movie. Do you…would you want to watch it with me?’’

‘’With you? As in, at your house?’’ Robin asked, wanting to make sure she got your offer right.

You nodded, a glint in your eyes. ‘’Yeah. I don't have anyone else to watch it with. My friends are more of the Footloose and Pretty in Pink type.’’

Just as Robin was about to scan the movie into the computer, there was a loud bang outside, which spooked you both. Thunder. Then, it began pouring heavily.

‘‘What the hell? It was sunny five minutes ago,’‘ you said.

‘‘It’s Hawkins. Unexpected downpours happen all the time,’’ Robin explained, the town in itself being good enough of an explanation.

They’re usually followed by not so pleasing supernatural surprises, but she didn’t need to add that.

Robin scanned the VHS and you paid your weekly 3.50$. Then, she added, ‘‘You can stay here, you know. Until the rain calms down. You’re gonna get soaked within five seconds if you go out in that rain.’‘

Once again, Robin was just being nice by offering you shelter, but she also didn’t want you to go yet.

‘’What if the rain doesn't stop? Sometimes, it goes on for hours.’’ Your eyes flickered to Robin’s blue ones and held her gaze.

Another clap of thunder echoed, making the lights flicker.

‘‘Looks like we might lose power,’‘ Steve said, louder than necessary. ‘‘I’m gonna go in the backroom and fetch some flashlights, in case the power go out.’‘

‘‘Don’t forget to check if there’s batteries in them!’‘ Robin called out after him.

She knew it was an excuse to give you some alone time with her crush and she was grateful for the help.

Shortly after Steve disappeared, the power went out, plunging the store in the dark. Across the street, you could see that there was power so this must be Steve's doing. Robin was praying you wouldn't notice.

‘’I hate when the power goes out,’’ you said, beginning to feel anxious in the dark.

‘’You can hold my hand if you want, I won’t tell,’’ Robin boldly blurted, the absence of light giving her a boost of confidence. She reached across the counter and you took her hand, tangling your fingers together as butterflies bubbled in Robin’s stomach because she was holding your hand.

A loud clap of thunder hit and you squeezed Robin’s hand. ‘’Sorry. I got a little spooked,’’ you explained with a nervous giggle.

‘’It’s okay.’’

Robin shifted on his feet, trying to fill the silence. What do you do when you’re in the dark with your crush? You ramble facts about thunderstorms.

‘‘Did you know that for every five seconds between the lightning flash and the clap of thunder, the thunderstorm that produced the lightning is one mile away? If the time is decreasing, the storm is moving toward you. If it is increasing, the storm is moving farther away.’’

You shook your head. ‘‘I did not know that.’‘

‘‘My father taught me this when I was little. I used to be scared of thunder so he made it a game for me. We’d sit on the porch and count the seconds together.’‘

‘’That’s sweet. My father taught me how to drive. I dented the car when backing in our driveway and ruined my mother’s flowers. He never let me sit in the driver seat again. I think it's best for everyone's safety.’’

Robin laughed at your anecdote. ‘’Don’t worry. I can’t drive either. I haven’t tried, but it took me six months longer to learn to walk as a baby and I still can't run right, so I’d rather not find out how I drive.’’

Suddenly, the power returned, lighting the store with its bright neon lights. You let go of Robin's hand, making the latter pout at the loss.

‘‘See you later, Robin.’‘ You picked the VHS from the counter and, just before pushing the door open, you paused. ‘‘We still have a movie to watch, remember?’‘

-

​Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3  @cursedandromedablack  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1   @wh0reforbucknasty   @eddiemunson-slut   @slvdsjjk  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @grace-loux  @iamharrystyleslover  @matildavol6  @Original_babababoo  @eddiemunsonbby  @notbeforelong  @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog  @tatespillows  @alwayslexii  @lilygreennn   @milkiane  @imahomeslice  @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re  @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick  @wandamaximoffs-deadchild  @horrorstreet  @rmeddar123  @Pastel-abyss-x @lil-tracys  @lanalanabanana 

Robin Buckley taglist: @uhidklol-26 @prettyplant0   @ran-rap   @eddiemvunsongf    @batorchids222  @scarlet-kazuha  @saphmoth  @uhidklol-26  @you-makeme-crazier-blog  @spongebob-in-the-upsidedown  @swiftbyul  @xenon54xe  @tribute-101  @starstruckspring  @whyamihere2673  @moonlight-imagines  @p40l44 @moonlight-imagines   @ofherscarlettwitchways  @pastelbabygirl19 @eddiemunsonbby  @bitterbyfletcher @i-could-be-lonely-with-you @chrisxevans-seb @robinbuckleyluvr @lol-lol—idk @satinselenite  @missmaxmayfield  @soph69420world  

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley x oc #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things s4

[lovelytsunoda]

a thousand miles // mick schumacher

summary: searching for life after f1, the race of champions may just have the answer mick needs, in the form of a shy former w series driver who is just as lost as he is

pairing: mick schumacher x female driver!reader

warnings: mentions of guenther steiner/haas, karaoke, matchmaker val returns! corinna the icon is also trying to get her son to go on a date, one small joke about crashing a rally car.

author's note: @magnummagnussen told me this was a terrible idea. i beg to differ : )

the swedish sunlight bounced off the snowdrifts outside of the ski lodge, illuminating the inside of the dining hall where the drivers milled about and socialized, bright smiles on their faces.

mick saw her first.

he was locked in conversation with seb, his eyes catching her just out of the corner of his line of sight, hair braided messily over one shoulder, wearing skinny jeans and a hoodie for a band he's never heard of, a pom pom hat with the race of champions logo on it as she nervously clutched a breakfast tray and tried to figure out where to sit.

normally, she would have sat with jamie chadwick, but the brit had decided to go for an early run, and had left the other former w series driver alone.

it was valtteri who noticed the young german driver's wandering eyes first. with a smile and a sip of his espresso, he waved the young woman over, enjoying the look of panic on mick's face.

"valtteri!" mick hissed. "why would you do that!?"

"because you've been miserable since abu dhabi and you need to let loose a little bit."

mick couldn't exactly protest. since learning that he had been dropped from the haas formula one team just hours before the qualifying session for the last race of the season was due to start, there had been a hole in his heart, something that he couldn't patch up.

but he knew that a short lived roc fling was the last thing that would help him out.

"hi." she said sofltly her voice like music to mick's ears. "can i sit with you guys? jamie kind of left me high and dry this morning."

sebastian smiled, ever the gentleman as he motioned towards the free seat next to him.

the free seat that also happened to be next to a certain young schumacher.

"i'm y/n y/l/n, i used to drive in the w series for quantfury. i'm felipe's teammate for all star team this weekend." she introduced herself as she picked at the paper wrapper on her double chocolate muffin, an untouched mug of hot chocolate and whipped cream on the other end of the tray.

"mick schumacher, fellow racing reject." mick joked nervously, reaching out to shake the young woman's hand. "formerly of the haas formula one team and the ferrari driver's academy. now proudly driving reserve for mercedes."

"i'm technically a part of the alpine young driver's programme, but it's not like they've done any work at getting me closer to driving an f1 car. not that i blame them, all of otmar and laurent's efforts were on the piastri thing this season."

"technicalities only matter in this sport when the fia get what they want." seb hummed. "i'm-"

"sebastian vettel, racing legend!" y/n gushed. "i'm like, a huge fan. i grew up watching you on the telly, i had a poster of you at red bull hanging up in my room. this is so fucking surreal, dude. heck, i walked past mika hakkinen earlier and thought i was going to cry."

the rest of the table laughed. "mick was like that when he was here last year." seb said fondly. "i think everybody is like that when they come here for the first time."

"mika fucking hakkinen, man."

seb and val shared a look before looking back over at mick.

they knew.

the boy was smitten already.

--------

the press conference took place at exactly noon, and as was typical of the roc, most of the scheduled drivers were late.

it's not that y/n was late on purpose. but she was horrifically lost inside the chalet and had been turned around four or five different time trying to find her way to the conference room, overheating in her race suit in the warm chalet.

the directions were loaded on her phone, but she still felt like it was a lost cause as she rolled up the sleeves of deep blue nomex material, leaning her head against the wall to take a few deep breaths.

everything was fine. everything was okay. she was safe.

she heard voices coming from her left, and her heart skipped a beat.

the press conference. she had found it.

she rushed inside, trying to duck out of view of the cameras as she scurried to the table at the front of the room. catching her eye from the distance, mick waved at her, a small smile on her face that was enough to put a matching smile on her own as she took a seat in between the german and her teammate, felipe drugovich.

"where have you been?" felipe asked quietly.

she shook her head, unwilling to admit that she had gotten lost. "don't worry about it."

"so nice of you to join us, miss y/l/n." one of the reporters said, the young driver snapping to attention and reaching for the desktop microphone, fumbling with it and trying not to knock it over. "with the w series seemingly ended permanently, what's next for you after this weekend?"

"i'm still trying to make my 2023 plans." she said softly, the microphone barely catching her soft voice. she had always hated media commitments. "obviously an f3 place is out of the question right now, and it's pretty obvious that i'm too old for all that now, so i've been looking into these one-off racing opportunities and tests so that i can find out what i want to do in 2024."

she felt her throat get tighter, the sweat forming on the back of her neck as she nervously reached one black polished fingernail to brush an errant strand of hair from her bun to the space behind her ear.

"hey." mick said softly, nudging her in the side. "you're doing great."

she took a deep breath before flashing mick a smile as she continued talking.

"i've got a few races lined up with the nascar xfinity series down in the united states, and i'm really looking forward to it. racing in america has a completely different vibe to it, you know?"

--------

the next time mick saw y/n, he was with his mother, testing out the rally car during the free practice session.

she was impossible to miss, her screams of delight carrying over the wind and followed up by laughter as the car caught air going over a hill.

it was enough to make the boy freeze behind the wheel, corinna giving him a knowing look.

"what's her name, mickie?" corinna said with a smile, pulling out her phone, no doubt to see who her son was so infatuated with.

"y/n y/l/n." mick said softly. "but i dont know her that well, mom."

"oh, she's pretty!" corinna beamed, pulling up the driver's instagram profile. "look, she's a perfect fit for you, she's quiet and she's shy and she doesn't go to parties!"

"mom, i swear to god i will crash this car and make you walk back to the chalet yourself!"

mick rolled his eyes, turning his head back to the windshield as he took a sharp corner around the track. it's not that he hadn't thought about y/n since the presser. he thought she was sweet, and he would deny it if asked, but he looked forward to seeing her and knew that when life went back to normal after roc, that he would miss her.

"you don't have anything to lose, mick. what's the harm in even just going for a coffee with her or something? i'm not telling you to marry the girl, but at least give romance a chance."

the german would think about his mother's words all day: through his time in the sauna, to the ice bath and then again at dinner. the thoughts would eventually keep him awake at night, unable to fall asleep while wrapped in the hotels luxury down bedding.

he found himself wandering the chalet at odd hours of the night, lost in his own thoughts as he meandered towards the coffee machine in the lobby. if he was going to stay awake, he might as well stay warm as well.

the chalet doors slid open, and mick's breath caught in his throat as he watched her stride into the lobby, wearing a different beanie hat but the same one ok rock hoodie she had been wearing when he eyed her for the first time, a puffy tan jacket pulled over the entire ensemble and a plastic bag for a swedish supermarket hanging from her arm.

"mick!" she shouted, face bright as she crossed the lobby. "couldn't sleep?"

the boy shrugged, trying to play it cool even though his palms were sweaty and his heart was racing and was she always this pretty? was that mole on her upper lip always there?

"come on, let me introduce you to my favorite pre-race ritual." she beamed, pulling a bag of edible pilsbury cookie dough from the bag, along with two metal spoons clearly stolen from the breakfast buffet.

mick couldn't help but laugh. "how has your performance coach not killed you yet?"

"what she doesn't know won't kill her. who is she to rob me of life's greatest pleasures?"

pinching himself to make sure that he wasn't dreaming, mick followed the driver back to her hotel room. her energy was magnetic, and mick couldn't help but be drawn in.

they settled on the plush bed, shrouded in blankets as she overturned the shopping bag, allowing it's contents to fall to the blanket.

"so, this is what i watch when it's been a long day, or if i don't have the mental energy to focus on anything else." she said with a cheeky smile as she popped open her laptop. "when i was in the w series, it was juju noda who got me hooked on the really cheesy j-dramas. i already watched the darker asian dramas, like the psychological thrillers and everything, but it was juju who got me hooked on the romance ones when we watched coffee and vanilla."

she clicked onto disney plus, waiting for it to lead as she opened the canister of cookie dough in her hand. after the screen loaded, she navigated her cursor over to an orange thumbnail.

"this is yakuza lover: romance and bullets. and yes, it's as mind-numbing as it sounds."

they watched a few episodes, exchanging bites of cookie dough and popping open bottles of flavored sparkling water as the characters on the screen kept digging themselves into holes they couldn't get out of.

"do they not take one look at the dialogue and go 'what the fuck is going on here'?" mick asked quizzically, staring at the fictional yakuza boss on the screen. "like, seriously? and she finds that even remotely attractive?"

"it reads like a bad wattpad novel, and that's enough for me when i don't want to think about anything." y/n laughed, shoveling another spoonful of cookie dough into her mouth. "either that or i watch a concert film or something. i live for live music. hate parties, but i'll go to a good concert any day. that's why i liked racing, you know? not for the fame or the money, but for the travel, the means to an end."

her eyes went wide, and mick was captivated, hanging on to her every word.

"have you heard of one ok rock? probably not, since you didn't mention it when you saw my sweater earlier, but they have this one really good concert film from when they played yokohama stadium, it's called mighty long fall. i saw them live in 2018 on the 'ambitions' tour, so that's a good film as well if you can find it, but mighty long fall is one of my favourite live concerts like ever."

mick was struggling to follow everything, as she seemed to have talked without even breathing, her fingers flying across they keyboard as she searched for 'mighty long fall' on youtube.

he was well and truly smitten with her as she loaded the concert, seemingly skipping to a particularly important part.

"this has to be one of my favoruite songs they've ever done, and it's not even theirs."

mick would have recognized the piano arrangement anywhere. anybody born before two thousand and five would have. the japanese band on the screen was playing an acoustic rendition of 'a thousand miles' by vanessa carlton.

"making my way downtown, walking fast, faces past and i'm homebound."

she was singing off key, but that seemed to be the point as she threw her head back and forth, her hair flying everywhere as she beamed, singing into the metal spoon as if it was a karaoke microphone.

"come on, schumacher. i know you know the words!" she laughed, mick laughing along with her as his face turned pink. "sing it with me!"

and when she looked at him like that, what else was he supposed to do?

---------

and just as quickly as it began, the race of champions weekend was officially over.

gathered in the warm den of the chalet, the drivers milled about and chatted among themselves, jazz music playing in the background as a warm fire crackled in the hearth.

y/n and felipe had placed second in the nations cup as the all-star team, and she seemed to glow from the happiness of the somewhat victory as she stood off to the side with both her teammate and jamie chadwick.

mick couldn't help himself, staring at her with a lovestruck gaze from the other side of the room, where he stood with sebastian and valtteri. mick and y/n had grown infinitely closer over the course of the weekend, but mick hadn't had the courage to ask for her phone number, or to properly take her out on a date.

and soon, he'd lose those chances for good.

"the way i see it, you don't have anything to lose." seb suggested, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. "the worst that could happen is that you made a new friend, who doesn't want to be more than that."

"why not just accept things as they are?" mick whined. "the weekend is almost over anyways!"

"it's never too late for a romantic gesture." valtteri suggested, nodding his head towards where a karaoke machine had been set up by team norway earlier in the night.

and that's when mick knew what he needed to do. with seb and val's help, he managed to get everything rigged, set up and ready to go.

when the music started playing, she knew that it was meant for her, all conversation stopping at that piano arrangement as she stopped to look at the german, hands nervously gripping the microphone as he began to sing.

"making my way downtown, walking fast, faces past and i'm homebound."

jamie broke out into a grin, turning to look the the other female driver. "there's no other person this could possibly be meant for. how did he know you're emotionally attached to this song?"

despite herself, y/n found that she was also starting to sing quietly under her breath.

"staring blankly ahead, just making my way, making a way through the crowd."

felipe nudged her in the side. "go on. you're not going to get another chance."

trying to stop the uncontrollable blush on her face, she kept her eyes cast down as she made her way to where mick was standing. sebastian gave the duo a knowing look as mick wordlessly passed y/n the microphone, shy smiles on both of their faces.

"if i could fall into the sky, do you think time would pass me by? 'cause you know i'd walk a thousand miles if i could just see you tonight."

neither of them realized how close to each other they had gotten, barely a foot of space between their bodies, faces blushing bright pink as the lyrics faded out to the instrumental.

"mick-" she said softly.

"you don't have to say anything. not right now, not right here. just kiss me."

and that's exactly what she did, the room erupting into cheers as mick's soft lips met hers. she dropped the microphone, feedback echoing around the room as mick held her, both parties smiling into the kiss before mika hakkinen came running over the grab the fallen mic.

"will you go on a date with me?" mick asked, lips swollen and shyness in his tone. "like, a real one this time?"

"yes, mick." she giggled. "of course i will."

Tags: @scuderiamh @libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @sidcrosbyspuck

#mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #mick schumacher imagine #race of champions 2023 #SoundCloud

[wasjustred]

A Lesson in Trust - Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: Larissa comes to your rescue.

Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x femprof!Reader

Warnings: Mention of drugs, alcohol, self-victim blaming

Word Count: ~2.8k

Author’s Note: Another little ditty for you all based on a sentence prompt that can be found here! Totally self-indulgent but I hope y’all enjoy lmaooo ♡ (un-beta-ed!) ╱ AO3

“Hey, I’m sorry––I know it’s really late, but… I didn’t know who else to call.”

You feel like pure shit, phoning your boss at one in the morning on a Friday night, crossing every professional boundary you know one line at a time, shivering against the outside bricks of a nightclub downtown. The lethargy in Larissa’s voice is clear from the moment she picks up (which surprises you in and of itself): Gravelly, low, delayed. Hot if you hadn’t just rudely torn her from a deep sleep. You had fought yourself pretty hard on the topic of dialing her up, but as your limbs got lighter and your head a little hazier, your ego gave in and surrendered to reason.

“Y/N? ‘s everythin’ alright?” She mumbles into the receiver, the distant sound of rustling sheets and the click of a lamp switch carrying in the background. You purse your lips in an attempt to keep the embarrassment and guilt at bay; it’s rallying at the gates and feels a helluva lot like drink-induced nausea.

“I’m sorry, I just, uhm––.. I just think somebody slipped something in my drink, and I’m, uh, I’m on my own, and I was wondering if you could––if you’d be willing to pick me up?” The words are jumbled and slurred in some instances, drawn out ‘s’s, but you’re clear enough that Larissa immediately perks up on the other end. You shiver against a harsh gust of wind and lean harder into the wall as you await - dread - the concern that’s bound to color each of her words. 

Instead, she’s firm and commanding: “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. Just tell me where you are, okay? And I’ll come and get you right this second.” It takes you a minute between processing her response and checking the front of the club for a name or marker, but you eventually present what information you have and she confirms she’ll be there soon. You could cry, really, not at her willingness to come to your rescue but at the harsh reality that you’re helpless and feel like a child in almost every regard. 

Larissa strongarms you into staying on the phone with her as she drives––says she doesn’t want anything to happen in the time it takes her to get to you, as ‘grim as it sounds’. It’s the least you can do, so you ease yourself down into a crouching position on the side of the building and wrap one arm around your knees, the other fitting the phone snugly to your ear. The music pulses from inside, leaking out into the real world every so often as a group of girls or handsy couple stumble through the door towards the end of their night; you can feel the vibrations on the ground beneath you and shudder at the sensation, already struggling to ward off the dizziness that’s quickly made itself home within you.

“Are you still there?”

“Mhm, ‘m here.” Forming sounds, words, takes all the energy out of you. Your eyelids are fighting a losing battle against the call to sleep, and each sharp intake of breath you take to keep yourself awake and aware marks another minute on the clock. You hate feeling vulnerable. You hate that Larissa’s going to see you like this. You hate that you couldn’t protect yourself, but the feeling of free-falling through the asphalt is winning out over the agitation.

Tomorrow’s problem, then.

“I’m here… Ah, I see you. Just one second, my love.” The line disconnects as you seek out her headlights, no choice but to gloss over the pet name as your thoughts swim, convoluted and fractured. Everything feels weightless. Your phone isn’t your phone. It slips from your hand the same second you recognize Larissa’s hair, down in this late hour and curling past her shoulders. An angel.

“Thank you s’ much,” you rasp out when she reaches you, barely supporting yourself against the brick wall in your crouched position. She kneels and steadies your frame as you begin to slump forward.

“Oh, darling… You’re safe, I’ve got you, okay? Can you walk?” Larissa knows better based on the image in front of her - lolling, unfocused - but asks anyway before hooking one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back. She lifts you with an ease you didn’t expect, but you’re far too out of it to comment, mustering what little strength and wherewithal you have to tuck your head against her shoulder.

“Shit,” she mumbles, stooping down once more and struggling for a moment before she’s upright again with your phone clutched between two fingers. You feel like you’re floating as Larissa walks off towards her car with a steady hold on you. The world is swaying––no, she’s swaying? She’s lowering you into the passenger seat and the car is stationary but it feels like you’re going fifteen miles a minute as she buckles you in, chin balanced on your clavicle.

“There we go.” She slips behind the wheel a moment later and begins the drive back to Nevermore without another word. If you were more yourself, you’d have noticed her occasional, worried glances in your direction, her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, the string of obscenities she’s mumbling under her breath, cursing the powers that be. You’d be far more ashamed than you are, slumped in her passenger seat.

The rest of the night passes in a confused blur: One second you’re pulling up to the Academy, the next you’re in the main hall, then Larissa’s quarters, then her bed as she carefully undresses you. She covers you as best as she knows how in an effort to preserve your dignity, painfully aware that you’re not there, not really. Suddenly the lights are out, and she’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and then the door’s cracked but she’s gone, and the weight of exhaustion mixed with something else is dragging you deep into the depths of slumber.

You don’t dream during the night. You’re asleep and it’s black and then you’re awake and the sun is bursting through the curtains unabated. When you sit up the faint sense of intoxication floods through your limbs, all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. You’re sober, you think, but your body disagrees and is quick to make its point: You wobble when your feet hit the ground, and you’re forced to steady yourself against the mattress before you can straighten out to your full height and take stock.

Larissa’s bedroom is a masterclass in opulence, dripping in chiffon and satin, complemented by ornate golden fixtures on the walls and windows, beautifully worn furniture that matches her consistent air of class. You’re reminded in your appreciation that you’re here because last night you–––––––

You hiss against the memory and shove the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping to rub the images away. You should’ve known better, should’ve been more careful, should’ve gone with someone else or a group and not by yourself like you did. It was stupid. Irresponsible. Shameful. Instead of basking in Larissa’s bedroom a second more, you stalk towards the door and push out into the hall,

only to knock straight against Larissa’s front.

Oh, fuck.

She ‘oof’s airily at the force and clasps your shoulders in her hands to keep you both remaining upright, confusion washed over her features. She’s already made up for the day, hair perfectly coifed and lips a veritable shade of red. The image of you two side-by-side is almost laughable if you weren’t so distraught over the idea of your boss - your kind, lovely, attractive boss - handling you at your most vulnerable: Larissa is the picture of professionalism, and you’re swimming in what you assume is one of her old school t-shirts and a pair of shorts tied tight at the waist, which is barely visible beneath the hem of the shirt, feet bare and hair tangled.

“I was just coming to check on you––how are you feeling?” Her gaze is soft, words softer. She rests a tentative hand on your forearm and you evade her eyes, desperately shrugging off the feeling of incapability that immediately overtakes you.

“I’m–I’m fine. Uhm, thank you, for helping me last night. You shouldn’t have had to do that, I realize how inappropriate that was.” If you could bring yourself to meet Larissa’s gaze, you’d be privy to the swiftness with which her expression morphs from one of caring to one of bewilderment.

“I hardly think answering a call to help from one of my employees is inappropriate, Y/N.” Curiouser than the rest of this - the shame and the discomfort - is how your insides bristle wildly at the idea that Larissa was only acting in her capacity as an employer. Somehow, the idea makes things much, much worse. You expect that some delusional part of you hoped the aggravation you felt at having called her would have subsided in some part if she admitted to coming to your aid as a friend, a–––well, a someone who cares for you as a person and not just as a worker.

“Right. Well, thank you again, Principal Weems. I’m indefinitely beholden to you.” You brush past her harsher than you mean to but don’t dare stop to apologize, making for where you hope her door may be so that you can escape to your own quarters. You just need space to breathe, to get out of her clothes, to reasonably and philosophically beat your psyche down into a pulp for being so reckless––––

“Y/N, stop,” Larissa commands, her voice suddenly full and forceful in the otherwise quiet space. By gods do you want to continue right out the door but your feet disobey you, freezing somewhere between the hall and what looks to be a sitting room. You don’t turn to look at her. Instead, you listen with bated breath as she approaches from behind, taking slow deliberate steps towards you. When she reaches you, evident by the stunted sound of footsteps and that unmistakable feeling of being loomed over, she rests a hand on your shoulder. Gently still, Larissa ushers you to face her. And once you do, she grasps your chin ever so slightly and tilts it up so that you have no choice but to meet her eye.

“I’m glad you called me. I’m glad you trusted that I’d come. And I came because I care about you, do you understand? Not just because you’re one of my professors but because you’re important to me, Larissa––not ‘Principal Weems’.” Her eyes are searching and you’re leaning into her touch despite the humiliation building within you. The humiliation brings tears with it, burning and quick to fall. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, darling.” Her thumbs brush away the stray tears as your face scrunches in hopes of curbing the waterworks.

She’s too kind.

“I should’ve never put myself in that position. It was so––it was such a childish mistake. How the hell am I supposed to teach and protect my students if I can’t even protect myself? It’s embarrassing!” Your volume grows with your frustration but Larissa doesn’t bat an eye, instead guiding you towards one of the loveseats in her sitting room. She sits you down and kneels before you, hands balanced on your knees.

“No, Y/N. You’re wrong,” she insists, ducking her head to meet your gaze. “It is not your fault that there are awful people in the world who go out of their way to corrupt it. Nor does it mean you can’t protect your students; I have the utmost confidence that should the situation call for it, you’d do everything in your power to keep our Nevermore family safe. And I trust you’d succeed.” She pauses to wipe away another escaping tear, squeezing your knee. “There’s no one I’d rather have next to me watching over our students, hm? This does not change that, not in the slightest.”

Her tone is firm but compassionate, slanted by a tinge of anger at how one night has forced you to question your worth. You take a few moments to work through her words, subtly nodding as you piece it all together from start to end. It was out of your hands; you’re okay; your students are safe with you; you’re safe with Larissa. She picks herself up and slides back down next to you on the cushions as you ponder, and readjusts so that the hand closest to you can rub small, soothing circles along your back.

“... thank you. I needed to hear that.” The smile she gives you is a warm one, pleased with the shift in your line of thinking. Her hand moves further until it rests at your shoulder and then she’s turning, turning until she’s wrapped you in a tight hug, burying her face into the crook of your neck as you allow yourself to melt into her.

“I care about you very much, Y/N. It’s important to me that you know that.” For the first time this morning, Larissa’s voice is timid. You press yourself into her skin as far as you can, almost molded like a funny amalgamation of three-dimensional puzzle pieces on her couch, and squeeze.

“I know. I know. I care about you, too.” You bite your tongue before anything else can slip through unfiltered, like the way your heart thrums a million miles a minute when she smiles at you, or how the simplest things about her - her coffee order, how she greets students in the halls, the look she always gets when she watches everybody else enjoy an event she organized - makes you want to wrap her up and never let go. The sentiment stands all the same.

You finally release each other after a a couple minutes of comfortable silence, content to just breathe each other’s air and savor what little time remains in the morning before weekend duty calls. When you do part, Larissa’s eyes are glassy, and a track of bare skin beginning from the corner of her eye to the tip of her chin gives her away.

“Are you alright?” The sudden reversal in your roles makes her chuckle as you look her over, eyes wide.

“Yes, I am. I’m just happy is all.” She stops you in your tracks with that, and you have to remind yourself to manually breathe when she smiles at you, expression so unbearably fond. The urge to kiss her in this moment is overpowering; it takes everything within you not to throw yourself into it when her eyes fall to your lips, something akin to yearning there. You both inch closer - nearly impossible given you’re already wrapped up in each other - and duck your heads together as if in a conspiracy, brushing noses, sighing into the fall as––

“Principal Weems? Are you in there?”

There. The obligatory interruption of your shared contentedness. You have to laugh, and Larissa shoots you a lighthearted stare that tells you to shut it as she turns towards the door, yelling out. 

“Just a moment!” She returns her attention to you, pliant in your hands, and shakes her head. “Whoever’s up there,” her eyes flit up towards the ceiling, gesturing towards the heavens, “has got a bloody dreadful sense of humor, haven’t they?” You giggle and move to fix a strand of hair behind her ear, shrugging.

“What’s a couple more hours of waiting, huh?” An eternity, really.  Larissa rolls her eyes, loosening the hold she has on you begrudgingly.

“I suppose you’re right, although I’m certainly not happy about it.” A snort escapes you as you push yourself up off of the couch, reaching out a hand for her to do the same. When she does follow suit, it’s with a smile that leaves you breathless and hopeful for more, standing over you in a meaningful silence that warms you both to the core. Another knock sounds, this time apparently impatient. “Oh, Christ. Alright, go hide. I’m not finished with you.”

As you scamper off towards her bedroom to evade whoever’s on the other side of the door, Larissa pulls you in for one last hug, however brief. How it escaped you all morning you don’t know, but you’re abruptly thrust into the lingering scent of her perfume, floral and clean, undeniably her. It’s a scent you doubt you’ll escape now that you know it in this context, wrapped in her arms, in her sitting room, a couple walls away from a confession.

When she releases you, you press a kiss to her cheek and quickly dash away, clamping a hand over your mouth when she hisses ‘not fair!’ at your retreating form.

Whoever’s knocking at her door will surely have hell to pay.

#i’m half asleep rn but i think it makes sense?? #feel free to put lil requests in my inbox 🥰🫶🏼 #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x f!reader #principal weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa weems imagine #larissa weems x female reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #principal weems imagine #wasjustred #* ​queue won’t tell a soul .ᐟ

[thesirencult]

YOU NEED PEOPLE LIKE ME / DARK PSYCHOLOGY

You need people like me. You need people like me so you can point your f*****’ fingers and say, “That’s the bad guy.” So what that make you? Good? You’re not good. You just know how to hide, how to lie.

(Tony Montana, Scarface)

Most people can not handle their darker side. They can not handle their ego and their deepest desires. Now, I'm not telling you to become like Tony Montana. He was consumed by his vices and they run the show for him. I'm telling you to do what you what to do and to stop lying to yourself and hiding from your true nature.

A couple of years ago, I met a girl who had an obsession with finding a wealthy man. She did not care about anything else other than the money. In her defense, she grew up in a poor family where, her dad beat her mom up and he even did that while her mom was pregnant with her.

That girl was studying finance. She took up Arabic and wanted to work for off shore companies where she could find a husband. She specifically told me she wanted her husband to drive a Porsche which has more prestige than a BMW and buy her a BMW cause the woman should be beneath her husband. Overall she was "micey" in character. If you didn't know her you would think she was shy and religious, but. you should know better guys, these people have more ego problems than the most outspoken, egomaniac extrovert.

So, she looked "weak" but had an agenda. She also was trying to give off the "trad wife" vibe but salivated as soon as a man breathed her direction and shamed any woman who showcased her seductiveness.

A few days ago, she messaged me. She wanted to grab a coffee with me as she would be in town. I was surprised when I saw her. In the "kindest" way I can put it, she looked like women who run on every single rally around and fight for justice (nothing wrong with taht, but if you're following me I bet you get what I'm trying to convey). A white girl with Bob Marley braids! Yup, there it is!

She told me she had given up Arabic and no longer wanted to work in a big shipping corporation because that supported big oil and their agenda. She then preached to me about equality and why the left is supreme. Now, I'm pretty straightforward so I asked her, how and why her views changed. She wanted to own 3 cars and be a stay at home mom! She looked outside the window of the coffee shop and saw my parked car.

"Do you see this car?"

I said "Yeah, I see it."

"Whoever drives this car is a right wing egomaniac who doesn't care about the environment and just wants to flaunt their money." (my car is a hybrid you guys!)

"Do you drive?"

"No, I can not afford a license and my family owns only one car. Also, I'm scared of driving. Also, did I tell you I'm running on the elections with the *left wing side*. Will you vote for me? If I make it I'll get 2k per month plus health care benefits."

"That's my car. I was going to ask you, do you want to take the train home or will you ride with me?" I just wanted this meeting to bo over, to tell you the truth.

She came with me.

Wanna know why? Here is my hypothesis (and it ties in with Tony Montana's words):

99% of people give up on their dreams by age 23. In order to make it easier for them and help them soothe the guilt this breeds, they begin to drift to the opposite "side" of the court. Pornstars turn to trad wives. Playboys turn to "faithful" husbands who preach the word of the Lord. Money and power hungry individuals take up boring jobs and blame the rich and the goverment for everything. Men who can not pick up women turn to red pill guys and so on and so forth.

Most people can not handle their darker side. They can not handle their ego and their deepest desires. Now, I'm not telling you to become like Tony Montana, he was consumed by his vices and that's who runs the show. Either you run the show or someone else or something (an addiction) runs it for you.

We see all that often with sex. Body counts, "I can not find a good man/woman" etc. People who can not get what they want hate those that have the GUTS to get it.

If my acquaintance's beliefs are that strong why did she enjoy the drive in the luxury SUV? Why did she then ask me when are we going out again and if I can bring "that" guy friend who runs a tech start up?

Because they are not her beliefs. They are just a cover up. A mask.

We've all seen how happy some people get when a dreamer fails.

So, go one. Fail. You''ll succeed at some point. You're better than those who sit on the sidelines running their mouth.

They would want to be at your shoes. They would want to run free on the court.

Own that. Own yourself and run after your goals and desires. Fuck them.

#level up journey #self education #seduction #self love #philosophy #psychology #dark psychology #48 laws of power #robert greene #dark femininity #dark feminine aesthetic #dark feminine energy #femme fatale #personal growth #source: thesirencult #source:thesirencult

[underworld-park-offical]

TOLKIEN: Zzzzzzzzrzrzrzrrzzzz

TOLKIEN: Zzazzazazezezezezezrzrzzrrzrrr

PHONE: ♪ I'M A BARBIE GIRL ♪

PHONE: ♪ IN THE BARBIE WORLD ♪

PHONE: ♪ LIFE IN PLASTIC ♪

PHONE: ♪ IT'S FANTASTIC ♪

TOLKIEN: Huhhheheehdbfd…

TOLKIEN: Huh

TOLKIEN: What

TOLKIEN: What the fuck?

TOLKIEN: Why is my phone going off?

TOLKIEN: Are the fucking queers calling me again?

TOLKIEN: Eeeeyup its them

TOLKIEN: What

GARY: Have you ever been beaten by a wet spaghetti noodle by your girlfriend cuz she has a twin sister and you got confused and fucked her dad, well that’s how it feels to drive a Ford F-250. That sounds really cool. But you know what else is cool? The new 2020 Ford F-150, winner of 10 J.D. power awards. Perfect for hauling big things and going long distances. But you want to go offroad? Try the new Raptor Edition, which cannot just go offroad, it is perfect for going extreme off-roading. You can go rock climbing or across a desert, really quickly. It is also good for the great American thing - BBQs! In fact, you can haul MORE than one oven! That's pretty cool, huh? So hurry, and buy the new 2020 Ford F-150, now for sale at your local Ford dealership. RED: Wgat RED: Stop RED: Stop speaking BEBE: Girl get the tape from the backseat RED: Already on it NICHOLE: Heyyyy Tolkien NICHOLE: Did I wake you?

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: No..

NICHOLE: Oh NICHOLE: That’s  NICHOLE: That's good

TOLKIEN: What's going on

NICHOLE: So uhm NICHOLE: Ahahaha NICHOLE: Funny story

TOLKIEN: Nichole what did you do??

TOLKIEN: Did you fuckin

TOLKIEN: Commit fraud?

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: Again?

NICHOLE: What NICHOLE: No NICHOLE: Of course not NICHOLE: I am a law abiding citizen NICHOLE: Except for when it comes to the Barbie Movies

TOLKIEN: Okay? We’ve all  pirated a Barbie Movie

TOLKIEN: What makes you special?

TOLKIEN: If it's not fraud or piracy what did you even do

NICHOLE: There’s a sentient advertisement in our Porsche now

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: Excuse me?

NICHOLE: Yeah uh NICHOLE: We saw Gary NICHOLE: Or G-4R-Y if you wanna use his actual name? NICHOLE: Fuck I don't know anymore NICHOLE: He was walking in the cold for some reason? NICHOLE: And you know how he only speaks in ads?

TOLKIEN: We all do

BEBE: Wait BITCH do you think we could reprogram him to be like

BEBE: An ALEXA???

GARY: Need some music for that impromptu dance off? Ask Alexa to play songs or playlists from Prime Music and Spotify so you're always ready to show off your sweet moves-if that's what you call them ;) "Amazon Echo: Alec Baldwin and Missy Elliott Dance Party Commercial" via @popisms :https://www.popisms.com/TelevisionCommercial/126873/Amazon-Echo-Commercial-2016 GARY: I really don't want you to see me like this. You need some entrance music. Alexa, play Alex dance playlist. Playing Alex playlist. That's dance music? Alexa, play Pep Rally by Missy Elliott. Really? Perfect! I got a little something for you. It's beautiful. Does this mean I'm gonna be in your next video? Let me see what you got. (Lyrics) Anything you want me to (Lyrics) Pep rally, pep rally, pep rally Oh, this a pep rally Pep rally, pep rally, pep rally Bounce, biggity bounce, biggity-biggity bounce, bounce Where my clappers that stomp? Now rock with it Bounce, biggity bounce, biggity-biggity bounce via @popisms : https://www.popisms.com/TelevisionCommercial/126873/Amazon-Echo-Commercial-2016 GARY: I’m Gary! The Mormon who advertises! RED: I mean RED: I’ll become a mechanic if it gets him to stfu 💀💀💀 WENDY: No- RED- NO PUT THE WRENCH DOWN! RED: FUCK YOU GARY: The future. You used to chase it. Now you’re living in it. The Wavefront is an all-electric automobile that propels driving into a new era. With sleek, aerodynamic design, and ultrasonic sensors that prevent collisions, there’s no more getting left behind. Life’s short. Drive fast.  GARY: I’m Gary! The Mormon who advertises! RED: SHUT THE FUCK UP!! WENDY: RED!! NO!! BEBE: GIRLY POPS AS MUCH AS I LOVE YOU BEBE: I'M GONNA HIT A DEER IF YOU ALL DONT HUSH RED: WENDY LET ME GO I'M GONNA KILL HIM WENDY: WE ARE NOT KILLING THE AD NICHOLE: SHUT THE FUCK UP IM ON THE PHONE BEBE: SHUT THE FUCK UP I'M DRIVING!!!! RED: CAN I THROW HIM OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR??!?!?!?!?!? WENDY AND NICHOLE: NO!!! NICHOLE: Tolkien I'm gonna have to let you go NICHOLE: We might die- NICHOLE: RED PUT DOWN THE WRENCH YOU'RE GONNA KILL SOMEONE! RED: THAT'S THE GOAL!! GARY: As a parent, I want to know that my kids are safe wherever they are. That includes riding in the car. With the new Carpool Optic from Solar I can breathe easy knowing my kids will arrive where they need to safely – whether I am the driver or not. RED: AUGHHHH!!!!!! NICHOLE: I’m hanging up now NICHOLE: MMMMMMMMMOKAYBYE

TOLKIEN: Bye?

(Beep Beep Beep)

TOLKIEN: Jesus christ

TOLKIEN: (Yawn)

TOLKIEN: Man

KENNY: Hey

TOLKIEN: Ah!

TOLKIEN: Oh my god I got jumpscared by a fucking queer!

KENNY: Oh hardy har har har

KENNY: You got games on yo phone?

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: What

KENNY: Do you got games

KENNY: On yo phone

TOLKIEN: I mean like

TOLKIEN: I got like

TOLKIEN: Subway surfers??

TOLKIEN: If

TOLKIEN: If that works???

TOLKIEN: Uh

TOLKIEN: Ok?????

TOLKIEN: Here

KENNY: Thanks

KENNY: Oh yeah, can I call my sister while I play subway surfers?

KENNY: I gotta make sure she’s not

KENNY: Yknow

KENNY: Fuckin’ dead

TOLKIEN: No you’re gonna kill my damn battery

TOLKIEN: Just call your sister you dont need to play fucking subway surfers

KENNY: Fine

KENNY: Killjoy

TOLKIEN: Ugh

KAREN: I can't believe McDonald's served me that lukewarm fucking patty 

KAREN: And then had the AUDACITY to tell me KAREN: That it gets cold over time!?!?

KAREN: I think they just undercooked it ON PURPOSE to make ME look like an idiot

TRICIA: Damn, that's crazy

(🎵 KAREN METAL 🎵 )

KAREN: OH MY GOD

KAREN: WHO'S CALLING ME AT EXACTLY 1:59 IN THE MORNING?!?!?

TRICIA: Bro just say 2 AM 💀

TRICIA: …

TRICIA: I can’t believe I just said that out loud

KAREN: WHAT?!?!?

KENNY: Hi

KAREN: WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME?!?!?

KAREN: DO YOU KNOW HOW LATE IT IS?!?!?!

KAREN: I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER

KENNY: Sis it's me

KAREN: UGHHHHH

KAREN: You missed your nail appointment

KENNY: Shiiiit that was today?

KAREN: You still owe me the money for it

KENNY: … KENNY: Karen, we don't have money, we’re poor

KAREN: Get a job

KENNY: …I do have a job

KAREN: Okay so then you have money?

KENNY: No

KAREN: That doesn't make sense

KENNY: Anyways- KENNY: You alive?

KAREN: Clearly

KENNY: Okay cool KENNY: So uh KENNY: There's demons around, I hope they find you and kill you and you die bye

KAREN: …What?

KAREN: Tricia do you know what the fuck he’s talking about?

TRICIA: No

TRICIA: Also stop calling on speakerphone

TRICIA: You remind me of my brother (derogatorily) 

TRICIA: …

TRICIA: WHY DO I KEEP DOING THAT!?!??!

TRICIA: UGHHH

TRICIA: I’m gonna go yell at my brother by cursing me into the influencer gene pool

TRICIA: You wanna come?

KAREN: If I get to yell at someone, of course

TRICIA: Be-

TRICIA: …

TRICIA: I'm not even gonna say that 

CRAIG: Who the fuck where you talking to

CRAIG: I feel like they were talking shit smh my head

KENNY: Oh just my bitch sister and your bitch sister

KENNY: Told her she was gonna die soon

CRAIG: LMAOOOO I’m dead 💀💀💀

KENNY: Lol it was funny she was so mad

TOLKIEN: I swear to god you guys are the same person sometimes

CRAIG: Smh my head no literally untrue

KENNY: Common Tolkien L

TOLKIEN: I want you both dead

CRAIG: …

KENNY: …

TRICIA: Okay where tf is blud

TRICIA: I'm gonna kill his ass

KAREN: Ugh

KAREN: He probably set up Kenny to fucking prank us

KAREN: Going to yell at them both when we find them

TRICIA: For real

TRICIA: Smh my fucking head

TRICIA: OH MY GOD CAN I STOP DOING THAT!?!?

KAREN: There's his door

KAREN: Should I kick it down?

TRICIA: No he will literally kill me

TRICIA: Instead we’re gonna go in his room

TRICIA: Steal all his shit

TRICIA: And fucking burn it

KAREN: Ohh yay! Property damage! My favorite!

TRICIA: Shhh shhh shhhh

TRICIA: Stfu

TRICIA: He’ll hear us

KAREN: No

KAREN: You're not the boss of me

TRICIA: Okay

TRICIA: On three

TRICIA: One- Two-

KAREN: THREE

KAREN: Ew it's so dark in here

KAREN: It smells like fucking Ccool Ranch Doritos in here

TRICIA: Shut the fuck up

TRICIA: He’s gonna hear you

TRICIA: I know where he keeps his Supreme hoodies

TRICIA: HOOOOOLY SHIT IS THAT A DEAD BODY!??!?!?!?

KAREN: AAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

KAREN: WE ARE GONNA DIE

KAREN: GET THE MANAGER!!

TRICIA: SHUT THE FUCK UP THE KILLER COULD STILL BE HERE YOU QUEERMO

GREGORY AND ESTELLA: Shhhhh he eepy

TRICIA: …

KAREN: …

TRICIA: …

KAREN: …

TRICIA: …

KAREN: …

TRICIA: …

KAREN: …

TRICIA: …

KAREN: …

TRICIA: …

KAREN: …

TRICIA: …

KAREN: …

KAREN AND TRICIA: AAAAAAAAAAA-

TRICIA: Okay

TRICIA: HAILLLL NAWHHHHH

KAREN: I’m calling the police

TRICIA: That is the smartest thing you could ever do

KAREN: Hello? 911?

KAREN: Hi yeah, there's some queers in our house

KAREN: Please come

KAREN: Bye

(Edits made by @pissblanket and @cattpup5)

#craig tucker #craigfluencer #hellpark #south park #south park edits #sp #southpark #underworld park #underworld park estella #underworld park tolkien #underworld park gregory #underworld park gary #underworld park hype house #underworld park thomas #underworld park tweek #underworld park clyde #underworld park cartman #team gregory cutie pie 3rd #gregory cutie pie vrs craig the real tucker #underworld park kenny #underworld park stan #underworld park kyle #blue haired cartman

[hereforthe911buds]

so let's say at the wedding, Buck decides to come out to his parents before Tommy arrives. But before Tommy can get there, an emergency occurs that he can't leave. So he's later and later and later, until it's more halfway through the reception and Buck already feels like shit due to the hangover.

he sits at a table with his parents, Eddie within ear shot two tables behind them with Marisol. she goes to the bathroom, but Buck's parents are becoming more and more dismissive, to the point the comments are borderline homophobic/biphobic. Eddie can see Buck's stress level building before his eyes.

The one of his parents says "at least you're little thing doesn't have to take away from your sister's wedding." the hurt all over Buck's face, his parents disparaging what is him coming out. Eddie stands up and immediately walks towards Buck.

"Hey," Eddie reaches his hand out, "do you wanna dance?"

"w-what?" Buck studders, but Eddie doesn't wait for a response. He grabs Buck's hand and pulls him to his feet. His parents are shocked, but Eddie is guiding Buck to the dance floor. Honestly Buck feels a little relief that he doesn't have to sit with his parents any longer.

"I'm leading," Eddie orders as he places his hands on Buck's body.

"what are you doing?" Buck questions, but there is a giddyness in his voice.

"dancing with my friend," Eddie answers nonchalantly.

"you don't have to do this," Buck comments, though he doesn't know why he's so happy Eddie did.

"any excuse to give some parents the middle finger," Eddie shrugs off. Buck looks over Eddie's shoulder to his parents glaring, as if he is taking away from his sister's day. but no one else seems to care besides them. He looks back at Eddie.

"well thank you," Buck sighs, "What a mess of a day. I'm almost relieved Tommy didn't make it, not see me looking like I slept in a bathtub last night."

"what are you talking about? you really rallied. he'd find you handsome as hell," Eddie gleams, then suddenly feeling this tightness in his chest, as if he just realized he's dancing with a guy in front of everyone. and not just any guy. Buck, his best friend who he has a connection with like he hasn't with anyone before.

and now he's publicly dancing with him, and he didn't even think about it. Buck looked like he needed help, and also deserved at least one dance with how good he looked tonight.

oh god.

"and you look-" buck starts, but then stops himself because 1) he may have been about to call his best friend beautiful 2) Marisol is standing by her and eddie's table staring them down.

"uh your girlfriend does not look happy," Buck comments, causing Eddie's head to turn. the second they make eye contact, she hightails out of the reception hall.

"wait!" Eddie yelps as he chases after her. he feels bad leaving Buck there, but his girlfriend is obviously mad. But it's not like he was dancing with a girl, he was just offering some support by slow dancing with his guy best friend.

it is sounding gayer and gayer the more Eddie thinks about it. he's not far behind her but as she stomps through the entrance way, Eddie sees Tommy heading in the opposite direction.

"Hey Eddie!" Tommy starts, but then see Marisol storm past him with Eddie trailing behind, "uh, bye Eddie." wanting to avoid whatever confrontation is happening, he continues into the hall.

as Eddie steps out the building, he looks over his shoulder to see Buck embracing Tommy, looking so elated that he finally appeared.

and Eddie doesn't know why but he feels like he got punched in the gut.

"Marisol!" he calls out.

"I want to go home," she commands.

"yes, let's go home and talk-"

"no, I want to go to my home," she cuts him off, "my car is at yours. either drive me there or I'm taking an Uber to get it."

"it was just Buck," Eddie tries to distract.

"no, it was only Buck," Marisol points out, "we barely even danced, and then you-"

"Eddie, you're in love with your best friend," Marisol states firmly, "I don't care how he feels for you, but I don't want a boyfriend who obviously likes someone else more than me."

"So are you taking me home or not?"

and there goes the longest car ride of Eddie Diaz's life.

#buddie #i think i just wrote a fan fiction? nice #911 #911 abc #fan fic #fan fiction #fan fic writing #tw homophobia

[sydsaint]

My fav evil bastard man is back!! <3

Summary: PAC returns to AEW and finds that his old friend/lover has been swayed by Malakai Black to join his crew.

It's almost time for the main event involving House of Black. Buddy, Malakai, and Brody are all doing last minute adjustments to their gear and plans while you are Julia wait for them.

"Malakai." You approach your leader cautiously, not wanting to distract him from the task at hand,

"Yes, YN." Malakai turns away from Brody who he was just talking too.

You twitch under Malakai's intense gaze as he peers down and waits for your question. It's been almost a year since he saved you from a dwindling singles career and recruited you into the House of Black. You and Malakai have become close in that time. But the man still scares you to some degree. Just like he does everyone else on the team.

"Are you sure that you don't want me and Julia to come out there with you?" You ask Black. "You know that it wouldn't be a problem. And we could help ensure that Mark Briscoe and his friends are dealt with once and for all." You add.

Malakai shakes his head and puts a hand on your shoulder. "We can handle Briscoe and his friends, YN." He assures you. "Besides, Julia needs time to recover from her shoulder injury. And as for you, my dear? Well, you should be focused on finding a way to garner Toni Storm's attention." He reminds you.

"Right." You nod meekly. "Good luck out there, then. To everyone." You nod to Buddy and Brody.

Buddy and Brody both nod and Malakai turns back around to them. You walk back over to Julia and take a seat next to her.

"Sorry, YN." Julia frowns. "I know that you hate being cooped up in here all night."

"It's alright, Julia." You sigh. "But it's like Malakai said. I should be using my time to figure out how I can mess with Toni the most." You assure yourself.

Over the past few weeks you've taken notice that Malakai has been confining you to the locker room more and more. Usually he's happy to have you at his side and ready to handle potential problems. You're a wild and free spirit. So being cooped up like a caged animal has been slowly driving you nuts. But you trust Malakai. He pulled you out of a dark place after your last faction fell to pieces.

A little over a year ago you were happily involved with the Penta, Rey, and most importantly, Pac. Together, the four of you were a faction making moves in AEW. But then Pac lost his international title to Orange Cassidy, Rey broke his arm badly, and everything fell apart.

On the other side of the locker rooms backstage, Eddie Kingston has rallied the troops for his latest multi-man feud and is busy greeting his newest recruit. Fresh off of a bad shoulder injury, Pac.

"Pac, man. It's good to have you back." Eddie greets the self-proclaimed 'bastard' with a friendly shoulder bump and handshake.

"It's good to be back, mate." Pac nods. "Rumor is that you're dead-set on taking out the Jackson brothers and their new best friend, Okada?" He asks Kingston.

Eddie nods as the two sit down to chat for a bit. "Yep, that's the plan. Penta is already on board with it." He nods to Penta talking to someone on the phone in Spanish on the other side of the room. "And we could use your specific brand of violence and cruelty for this, if you're down."

"Of course." Pac nods. "I'm happy to help an old friend. And speaking of old friends. I can't seem to find YN anywhere." He wastes no time in bringing you up to Eddie.

"YN, right." Eddie nods. "I forgot you and her used to be a thing." He chuckles. "YN...she's been going through some stuff lately, man." Eddie rubs the back of his neck.

Pac tilts his head, worry crossing his face. "What kind of stuff? She's alright isn't she?" He presses Eddie to clarify things.

"Umm, not exactly the words I'd use." Eddie replies, beating around the bush as much as he can for fear of Pac's response to the news. "Pac, you gotta understand something man. After you lost the International championship and Rey broke his arm. Well, everything kind of fell apart." He explains a bit. "I tried to look out for YN as best that I could man. But I had my own shit going on at the time. And well, you know, YN, man. You can't keep a leash on the girl."

"Eddie! You're rambling." Pac interrupts his friends babbling. "Just tell me where she is. What happened to, YN?" He asks Eddie again.

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head, guilt written plain on his face. "YN's with Malakai Black and his buddies now, alright?" He finally gives Pac a straight answer. "Black picked her up about a year ago and she's been with him ever since."

"What?!" Pac jumps out of his seat. "You let YN get pulled in by Malakai Black?" He aims an accusing look at Eddie.

"Now come on man!" Eddie sighs and gets to his feet as well. "I said I tried to look out for her!" He reminds Pac. "But the girl doesn't listen to anyone, you know that."

Pac's jaw twitches in annoyance and worry. But deep down he knows that Eddie is right. Pac knows better than anyone that you can be one stubborn woman when you want to be.

Eddie studies his friends face and watch as Pac begins formulating a plan in his head to get you back. "Pac, bro, say something." He tries to get Pac's attention off of you for a moment. "Come on. What's on your mind? Where are you going?" He asks when Pac turns toward the door.

"I'm going to get YN back." Pac replies matter-of-factly as he strides toward the door like a man on a mission.

"Pac, wait!" Eddie hurries around the table and steps into Pac's way. "YN ain't the same broad you were seeing a year ago, alright?" He warns Pac. "Malakai's turned the girl into an animal. Just like he did Julia."

Pac shakes his head and shoulders past Eddie. "YN was always an animal. She was just excellent at hiding it from people." He insists. "She's still the same, YN. My, YN."

Eddie groans in frustration as Pac storms off in search of his lost love. He grabs Penta from the locker room and the pair head out to assist Pac in case a fight against Malakai and his boys breaks out.

Back in the HOB locker room, you decide to head down to the ring and assist your friends when it looks like they are in trouble. Julia's shoulder is bothering her, so you go alone. You make it out to the ring without a hitch and assist Malakai with Mark Briscoe. Malakai delivers a finishing blow to Briscoe and HOB wins the match so you join Malakai in the ring to celebrate.

You are in the middle of celebrating with your team in the middle of the ring when suddenly a familiar voice sounds over the arena speakers. Your head whips to the top of the ramp just as someone comes through the tunnel.

"YN! Tell me it ain't true, love! You've abandoned your friends for these fools?" Pac comes through the tunnel like a man on a mission and a microphone in hand.

"Pac?" Your heart skips a beat in your chest.

Malakai clamps a hand down on your arm and you turn to look at him. "Look who finally decided to come back, YN." Black peers down at you with an intense gaze. "Remember what I told you when we first met?" He asks you.

You swallow and nod. "That my friends would try and blame me." You recall your first encounter with Black.

"Mhm. And look what's happened." Malakai points up the ramp. "Pac comes back to AEW finally and what is the first thing he does? He points fingers at you. He's the one that left, remember?" Black whispers in your ear.

"Right." You nod. "I didn't abandon my friends! They abandoned me!" You begin to feel anger rising up in your gut. "He abandoned me. Not the other way around." You point an accusing finger toward the top of the ramp.

A sinister smile crosses Malakai's face at his expert manipulation of you. "Atta girl, YN. Now, are you going to let that traitor stand there and blame you for his misfortunes?" He asks you.

"No. No, I'm not." You shake your head. "Brody, Buddy." You turn to the pair standing idly behind you. "Take care of him, please." You ask them.

Brody and Buddy both happily nod before quickly making their exit from the ring. You watch the pair sprint up the ramp to confront Pac. Luckily for Pac, Penta and Eddie arrive just in time to occupy Malakai's goons. Pac breaks away from the fight and makes a b-line for the ring. Malakai remains at your side as Pac steps into the ring, his gaze transfixed on you.

"YN, love. Come on now." Pac begins his speech with a soft expression.

"Don't!" You put a hand up. "Every abandoned me, Pac. You abandoned me. No phone call. No letter. Nothing. You were just gone. And I was left alone. Alone to face everyone and everything we did together!"

Malakai watches your speech with a pleased expression. He's done it. He's managed to take a broken girl with the passion to be the most dominate force AEW has ever seen and sowed hatred and mistrust into her heart.

He's made the perfect weapon. And now here's the test to ensure that you are past the point of redemption and ready to be wielded like the gilded sword Malakai needs you to be.

"YN, I'm sorry, love." Pac takes a cautious step toward you.

"You're sorry!" You laugh. "Sorry? You don't get to be sorry!" You shout at him. "You don't get to show up out of the blue and expect everything to go back to normal!"

Pac takes a step back at your outburst and turns his glare onto Malakai. "You! What did you do to her!" He confronts Black.

"What did I do to her?" Malakai laughs. "You should ask yourself that same question, friend. You're the fool that abandoned, YN. I saved her! I gave her friends! A family that loves her!" He puts a hand on your shoulder. "Tell me, Pac. What did you do for, YN? Pretend to care about her? Lie and claim you loved her once? Only to abandon her when she needed you most?" He raises his voice in a fake protective manner.

"YN, please." Pac tries one last attempt to reason with you. "You have to know that I never meant to hurt you." He asks you.

You stare at Pac with a cold look in your eyes. "Well you did hurt me." You inform him. "And now you get to live with that sin." You step back, eyes directed behind Pac as Buddy and Brody make their way up to him after dispatching Penta and Eddie.

Brody and Buddy descend on Pac and Malakai leads you off with a directing hand on your back.

"YN! YN! I know It's not over!" Pac shouts in-between hits as Brody and Buddy reign hits down on him. "The girl I love is still in there! And I won't stop until I get her back!"

#wrestling #aew #all elite wrestling #aew fanfiction #aew fanfic #aew fic #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fanfic #wrestling fic #aew x reader #pac #pac aew #pac x reader #pac aew x reader #bastard pac #syd's wrestling fics

[captainlunaxmen]

The Lady and the Lord

Chapter 1

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

This is a repost since the old blog doesn't work anymore. 🥰

Chapter summary: pretty much the firstt episode from the reader perspective, also the first interaction with Eddie.

Chapter warnings: harassment, jocks.

Here I am, looking at my reflection in the mirror: last day before spring break begins. Thank goodness some peace at last.

I check one last time my appearance before hearing Steve honking right outside so I grab my bag and head out.

"Hey" I greet both him and Robin on the passenger sit.

"Hey Y/n"

"Hi" Robin sends me a big smile as I get in the car with them.

As always Steve is driving us to school.

"How's it going?" Steve asks immediately.

"Oh since today is last day, all fucking good" I say.

"I know right!" Robin "Hey, quick question and please be honest" she turn to look at me from her seat.

"Yeah?"

"Do I look like a corpse?" She asks.

Her question catching me completely off guard.

"What? No, why do you ask? Or, most importantly... since when do you even care?" I answer.

"Exactly" Steve agrees "thank you, honey"

"Stop calling her that. She's not your girlfriend" Robin scolds him.

"It's fine, I'm used to it" I laugh.

Steve's been my closest friend since... ever, basically. He always called me 'honey' as the most playful thing ever.

We grew apart after he started hanging out with Tommy and the rest of those 'lovely' people... anyway after the events involving the Upside Down we found each other again.

"See? She gets me." Steve says as a matter of fact.

"Whatever" Robin says as she starts to fix her look in the small mirror.

"How was your date with... uhm... Brenda..?" I hesitate a bit, I can't remember the name of each girl he goes out with.

"Stella" he corrects "Yeah.. Good, but not my type."

"Right.." I nod. "So who's Brenda?"

"Brenda is Tonight. Then there's Heidi tomorrow night, but the problem with Heidi is that she's going out of state for collage. Do I wanna start another relationship that has no point other than sex? I mean, I don't know. Does that make sense to you?" He then asks us, but Robin is definitely not paying attention and I lost track of the names long time ago.

"Are you two listening?" He asks.

"Yes"

"Yeah"

We both say quickly.

"What did I just say?" He tests us.

"Something about sex with... uhm" Robin starts turning to seek help.

"With Linda..?" I try.

"No, I'm talking about Heidi." He exclaims with an exasperated laugh.

"Cut me some slack, please. Your love life is one of labyrinthine complexity. It is 7 in the morning, we have the stupid pep rally, and I woke up looking like a total corpse!" Robin snaps.

"You don't look like a corpse, Robin, stop" I assure her again.

"You're worried about a pep rally? Expect us to believe that?" Steve says.

"Yeah? So?"

"So, we all know what this is about. I'm not buying that, Y/n is not buying that. This is about Vickie." He states.

"Absolutely not" Robin tries to defend herself.

"Yes it is, Robin, c'mon" I tell her.

"Oh so you're on his side now?" Robins accuses me.

"And you know what else I think?"

"I don't care-"

"You gotta stop pretending to be someone else when you're around her." Steve's using his motherly tone.

"You're literally quoting me to me. You do realise that." She replies.

"Well, then try to listen to yourself. How about that?" I tell her.

"Yeah, exactly. I listened. Look at me. Boom. Back on business." Steve says proudly.

"A little too much, but whatever works with you Stevie" I tease him.

"Yeah, but it's not the same thing. Okay? You ask a girl out and she says no. Big deal. Nothing happens. Maybe your ego is a little bruised. I ask out the wrong girl and bam, I'm a town pariah" she explains.

"I'd buy that, except Vicki's is definitely not the wrong girl." Steve tries to reassure her.

"We just don't know that, do we?" She says back.

"She returned 'fast times' paused at 53 minutes, 5 seconds. Do you know who pauses 'fast times' at 53 minutes, 5 seconds?" He asks looking at us "people who like boobies, Robin."

Oh god.

"Ew, gross don't say boobies" Robin replies not so sligly disgusted.

"Yeah, please Harrington" I say.

"Boobies! It's not a big deal, okay? I like boobies. You like boobies. Vickie likes boobies. Definitely... it's boobies."

His supporting ways are... peculiar, to say the least.

"Can we talk about something else? Thank you" she basically order us.

"Fine fine! So I got a date, Robin got her band thing, what about our lovely Y/n?" Steve asks.

"I gotta help Nancy at the game. I'll be taking pictures" I answer him simply.

"You know.. we gotta find someone for you." Steve simply says, like it was the most amazing idea ever.

"What do you mean?" I ask confused.

"Well.. Robin and I can't be the only two with love problems" he answers. "Some solidarity, honey"

"I'm fine, thank you very much" I say laughing.

"Oh please! Nancy and Robin are the only ones you talk to at school, beside some 14 years old-" he starts.

"And I'm okay with it, Steve. Plus the perspective of having to talk to someone I don't know... scares me. So.. appreciate the thought, but no" I smile at him.

"Well you talked to me" Robin intervenes.

"That was different, our lives were at risk, russians, mind flayer, possessed people everywhere... that was deadly necessary" I chuckle, even if the events of last summer, and everything before that, don't have anything to chuckle about.

"Yeah well... think about it as deadly necessary too" Robin suggests.

"I don't have that imagination" I laugh.

"We'll find a way" Steve says to Robin quietly, to not make me hear, but I do.

"Don't you dare" I warn.

"Okay okay"

"Yeah sorry"

They say at the same time.

I don't want a relationship now, too much trouble. I need to focus on finishing this damn school, then I will have time to experiment and all that.

The day goes on pretty well, nothing major happening. A pretty normal day.

As I'm going to throw away the leftover of my lunch, in the cafeteria, I spot Mike and Dustin, nervously looking at their table.

I stop with them.

"You guys good?" I ask with a small chuckle "you look like you're about to get shot"

"That would be more gentle I'm sure" Dustin is the one to answer.

"What's wrong?"

"Well... Lucas decided to betray us and won't be present at tonight's campaign" Mike finally speaks.

"And... is that a tragedy because...?"

"It's the end of Eddie's campaign." Dustin answers.

"Can't you.. postpone?" I ask.

"That's our plan.. the problem is.. telling him" Dustin replies, swallowing hard.

"Oh c'mon. He's not that scary." I tell them.

"You say that only because you find him cute" Mike says.

"What?" I ask, feeling my face heat up at that.

"Anyway, why don't you sit with us and... protect us" Dustin asks.

"Oh no no no. No can do, little genius. Not a chance" I say.

"You'll have our lives on your conscience" He replies, raking a deep breath.

"After all those times I saved you asses from demo-things, I think I can leave you to him for this once" I answer walking away.

After I threw away the food I take out my notes, to see what I need before going to Nancy.

I'm a bit lost in my thoughts as I walk near the wall when my attention is caught my Eddie Munson himself standing on the table, making faces at Jason and then turning around.

"It's forced conforming" I hear him say as he walks back on the table.

"That's what's killing the kids!" He says the last part shouting and jumping of the table, scaring a few people that walk by, not me though. I just chuckle as I keep walking.

He sees me and simply takes a theatrical step back to let me pass.

"After you, m'lady" he says as I walk past him sending him a small smile.

"C'mon, man, stop staring" one of his friends says, making me turn around to make eye contact with Eddie who was already looking at me.

He just winks at me with a smile, my face got warmer than before so I quickly turn my head around and just keep walking.

Did he actually just winked at me?

Nah... yeah?

Nah.

"Fucking hell.." I mutter as I walk to the gym.

Nancy needs more pictures of the basketball team for the school paper. So here I fucking am, on my way to the gym full of dickheads.

I enter and tell the coach I had to take pictures as the boys practice for the game.

As soon as he gives me permission I move around a bit to take as many pictures as possible so Nancy won't send me here again... hopefully.

As I stop near the benches to prepare the camera for another set of shots, one of the players come sit close to where I was standing, I feel him staring at me, but I pay him no mind though, focusing all my attention to the camera. Maybe if he sees that I'm busy he won't start a conversation.

"Hey there"

Boy, I was wrong...

I don't answer, pretending to not hear him might help.

"Hey, baby"

Nope. No help. At. All.

I just turn my head to face him and mutter a small "hi" before getting back to the camera.

"How are the pictures going?"

I can tell he's not really interested.

"Good" I simply say.

"Not so many words, uh? It's cool, actually better, you know" he comments.

I roll my eyes and keep fixing the object in my hand.

All of a sudden I feel him standing up.

Oh great he's finally going away...

"You look like you know what you're doing"

No...He stands right next to me, watching closely what I'm doing, making me go completely rigid.

"Yeah" I say quietly.

"Good with you hands too" he comments again, now he's basically attached to me.

"I guess" I say, moving away in a poor attempt to put some distance, but he's quick to follow.

"You're the quiet one, aren't you?" I can hear the teasing, mocking tone very clearly.

I obviously don't say anything, I just look around hoping someone catches on what's going on, but no one seems to notice.

"But I bet I can make you scream" he whispers directly in my ear, making me jump, but he quickly put his hands on my hips, preventing me to move too far. "I want to make you scream so loud everyone will know what a little whore you actually are"

"Get off" I tell him.

"Aah! She speaks" he fakes surprise. "You won't say those words tonight, trust me, you'll be all mine." He jokingly say, even if the 'joke' seems more like a threat.

Thankfully the bell rings and he just walks to the showers with the other, not before yelling "hope to see you tonight!" And laughs.

I quickly gather my things as soon as he disappeared into the showers, when Lucas' figure catches my eyes.

"Hey.." he timidly say.

"Hey" I say, trying to act like nothing happened.

"I... I'm sorry a-about Andy" he tries.

"Nothing happened" I say, still getting my things to avoid any eye contact with the boy.

"Y/n, I saw" he calmly says.

I take a deep breath and look at him.

"It's okay.. I mean, could you have stopped him? Not with the whole team here at least. Don't worry, kiddo" I say giving him a quick hug before stepping back. "Please... go shower, you smell" I playfully shove him towards the bathroom and then I walk out of the gym as quickly as possible.

I walk quickly while I put my things in the bag paying no attention to whatever's around me, in fact I run into someone, dropping some paper.

"I'm so sorry" I say kneeling down to grab the fallen paper.

"No worries, m'lady"

Eddie?

I look up and as I lock eyes with the metalhead, I look back down just as quickly.

"Here" he says kneeling down with me to help me gather my paperwork.

"Thanks" I say quietly standing back up, Eddie does too.

"No problem... hey, you okay? You look a bit.. shaken. Do those pricks give you trouble too?" he asks, concern hidden by a nervous chuckle.

"No, uhm.. he was just-" I cut myself off, seeing how he frowns, visibly concerned, trying to understand what happened, I shake my head "I'm fine. Don't worry" I finally say standing up, putting the paper back in my bag.

"Are you sure?" He asks again, eyeing the gym doors suspiciously.

"Yeah yeah. Thanks. I.. I gotta go" I say, but I stay put staring into his eyes.

When he nods with a small smile, I shake my head again and I quickly walk away.

"I got the pictures" I say walking back into the room to Nancy.

"Oh great, if they win tonight we need more pictures from them 'practicing the victory', thanks" she says handing the camera to another girl to have the movie developed.

"You okay?" She asks looking at me.

"Yeah, why?" I say, as calmly as possible.

"You look.. tense"

"Nah, I'm okay, just can't wait for this day to be over" I lie.

"Mh" she looks at me sceptically, but leave it alone. "You remember, I need you tonight at the championship game, for the picture of the game"

Fuck. I forgot about that...

"Yeah, yeah, no I... remember" I reply with a nervous chuckle.

Everyone is so excited about this game, everyone is cheering and clapping for the team to finally win.

The band is playing as always, I see Robin next to Vickie, hoping she's not feeling that nervous now.

The team enters the gym and the cheerleading squad, obviously, cheers louder and I take pictures next to Nancy and Fred who's ready to take notes.

I see Steve entering the gym too, with... oh shit.. Stacy.. no.. Carol... no, Brenda! Yes.

"Does it bother you that, like, we might win a championship right after you graduated?" I hear her asking Steve.

"Yeah, that's an interesting point. Thank you so much for bringing that up, Brenda" he answers looking around, to not show how her words slightly affected him. He locks eyes with me and I sarcastically pull my thumbs up for him, he just rolls his eyes and follow the blond girl to their seat.

"Everyone now please rise for our national anthem" Everybody stands up "singing for us tonight, we have a very special guest. All the way from Nashville, our very own Tammy Thomson!" He announces and leave the court.

Holy shit.

I hold back a laugh.

I'm gonna tease the hell put of Robin later, since Steve is already doing that now apparently. I see him mouthing something on the line of "muppet" at her after Tammy started to 'sing'.

Then the game begins and I just focus on taking pictures.

And they actually won... unbelievable.

Lucas finally got to show he can really play. I'm so proud of him.

I'm gonna congratulate him tomorrow, now he's enjoying his well-deserved glory, so I just walk out after saying goodbye to Nancy.

I hear someone yelling something, but I keep walking out of the school.

"Hey baby"

I still keep walking, when a sweaty, breathless Andy runs in front of me blocking my way.

"Hi baby" he repeats.

"Hi" I say and try to walk past him, but he moves to prevent me from going any further.

"Trying to run away from me?" He playfully asks.

"I just want to go home" I honestly say.

"Oh c'mon, come celebrate the win" he tries to convince me.

" I..." I start.

"I'll make it worth your while" he smirks.

He then moves closer, holding out a hand to try to touch my cheek but I instantly step back avoiding his hand.

"I'm tired... thanks, but I do have-"

"I told you you'll be mine tonight" he says, trying to sound seductive, but he just makes my blood run cold.

"I'm not interested" I say quietly.

"What was that?" He mockingly asks getting closer.

"She said she's not interested, man." Steve's voice catches both attention.

Thank goodness.

"We're having a moment here, Harrington" Andy says, annoyed.

"I think you're having a moment, she isn't. So be a gentleman and back the fuck off, man." Steve tells him. "Or I could just tell everyone you can't get a girl"

"Whatever man." Andy then turns to me "I'll see you around, baby"

When Andy walks away, Steve shouts "no you won't"

"You okay?" He turns to me.

"Yeah.. thank you Steve" I tell him.

"Don't mention it. Let's get your ass home" he says wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"And your date?" I ask with a small chuckle.

"Oh... not my type. Again. Just my luck" he says defeated.

"Oh don't worry, you'll find your true love" I assure him patting his back.

"If you liked me enough I wouldn't have this problem" he jokes.

"As well as Robin" I joke back.

"Yeah.. surrounded by amazing girls... who just don't like me" he dramatically says.

"We do like you, just not in the way you want" I tell him with a smile.

"Yeah yeah, don't rub it in, uh" He says.

"Righ. Better get your bruised ego home" I joke.

"Are you gonna be okay there all alone?" Steve asks after I climbed out of his car.

"Yeah, as always" I answer.

"Mh... call if you need anything." He tells me. "Or I could stay"

"Yes, Steve, stop worrying. I'll just make some beads rings to calm down and not think about that dick, I'm gonna be sooooo fine" I reassure him.

"Fine fine" he chuckles, "you coming tomorrow right?"

"As always" I say. "Night Steve"

"Night honey" he says starting his car.

I walk to my house and get in.

Then I walk to my room, take out some beads and start to make a flower ring.

I love living on my own, I really do. Sometimes I just think it would be nice to enter and shout "mom I'm home!" And hearing her asking about the evening and the game, talk about everything.

Unfortunately my parents died long time ago, I lived with my grandmother, who left me the house when she died about.. 5 years ago.

I shouldn't have lived alone, but I was so scared to leave Hawkins and this place that Hopper pulled some strings and let me stay here on my own since that young age.

Hopper... why do my thoughts lead me to him now... he was like the father I literally never head. We bickered all the time, but I cared about him and he cared about me.

My mind runs to that day at Starcourt.

We were catching our breath after the fight with a possessed Billy, we planned how to end that. Joyce, Murray and Hopper were supposed to get into the Russian base and close the gate to the Upside Down.

Hopper was giving El a motivational speech, I just stood there watching them, feeling a bit envious, I have to admit. They definitely looked like father and daughter. They both tried to let me in, asking me to join them on their Miami Vice nights, but I never accepted... to scared to know what if feels to have a real family, I think.

I remember calling for him before he and the rest went to the base.

"Hop!" I called him.

"Yeah? What is it?" He asks.

"I... I'm sorry.." I stuttered out shaking my head.

"About what?" He replied with a small chuckle.

"I just... do you think... uhm.. I mean.. you and El have any plans for.. for.. Friday night? I heard there's this show, that seems kinda cool... I'd like to check it out.." I timidly said, my eyes focusing on playing with my rings instead of him.

I kept my eyes down, getting more nervous as the seconds went on without an answer from him, so I worked up the courage to look up at him and to find him smiling. A warm, proud smile.

"Only if you buy the snacks" he said before hugging me.

I hugged him back tightly.

That was the last time I saw him...

I shake my head, trying to get rid of those thoughts.

I put away the beads and head to bed.

I definitely need to sleep all these thoughts away.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things #stranger things x reader

[bitchinbarzal]

We need an AU about the birth of Stevie and Jack seeing/holding her for the first time!

Jack was in Detroit when you called.

“Hey baby, what’s up how’s peanut?” Jack answered the phone in the midst of breakfast with the team before they headed back to Jersey.

You laughed nervously “Well… peanut is coming”

Jack dropped his fork, catching the attention of everyone else “You-you’re having the baby right now?”

“Well no, she’s not like hanging out of me or whatever but she’s coming tonight probably”

“Ok I’m coming!”

The team rallied, Dougie threw some random bills at the waitress and apologized while Nico was calling their travel organizer to get them home earlier.

When they arrived home and got to the hospital you were laying in the bed, face scrunched up in pain.

“Here, I’m here baby!” He announced, thanking your mom who was sat next to you for support.

He kissed your head and your hand gripped his bicep “Hey, how was the flight?”

“Yeah good, i mean don’t talk about me! How’s the baby? How are you?”

You talked him through the whole day from your waters breaking to now.

“And now it’s a waiting game!”

And it was a very long winded waiting game. The two of you ended up watching the Canucks Ducks game in the room.

Jack was talking to her, his head right next to your belly “You see that Peanut? That’s uncle Quinn and that stupid one there that’s Trev”

You giggled, hand tugging lightly on his curls.

Things finally got moving just after midnight, you were crying out in pain. Jack stood next to your head whispering sweet words of encouragement.

“you’ve got this baby”

“you’re doing so good”

“she’s almost here, mama”

When she cried, you did.

“She’s here! You’ve got a daughter, congrats mommy!” The nurse announced.

Jack began crying, kissing your head “You did so good baby, so good”

“Go, go with her” You pushed him towards where the nurse had taken her. You watched as they handed Jack a pair of scissors and cut the cord.

Cleaned off and medically checked they bundled her in a swaddle and placed her in his arms.

Her cradled her, tears in his eyes and he looked up at you too “She’s beautiful, baby”

You only nodded.

“Hi, hi baby I’m your daddy” he mumbled, sitting next to you on the bed.

You reached up, finger brushing over her cheek

“Our Stevie”

“She’s perfect”

Jack held her most of the night while you slept but also because he didn’t want to put her down.

You had to force him out the door to go play in the devils game against the rangers at Madison square garden.

The team were surprised to see him in the locker room but all looked at him expectingly when he said “It’s a girl! I’m a dad, boys!”

You and Stevie watched from the hospital room, talking to her about the rules of the game and the team.

“That’s your uncle Luke there and that one is Jesper”

When Jack scored he was ecstatic, you smiled and cooed at your daughter “Did you see that Stevie? Daddy scored!”

In the intermission interview Jack couldn’t wipe the smile off his face

“Jack, what a goal!”

“Thanks! Yeah we played a solid two periods just gotta carry on for another!”

“I hear you’re excited to get home tonight! Got someone special waiting for you” the interviewer said.

He laughed “Yeah, my daughter she was born this morning! the boys have got this win for her!”

@amadacstein: jack hughes says his daughter, stevie was born this morning and his girlfriend, y/n forced him to the game because she’s the biggest devils fan! Nico Hischier says the boys will get the win tonight for Stevie, their littlest team member!

They won and Jack was so excited to get back to the hospital and pick you up.

A little after eleven he burst through the door “Peanut I’m back!”

“Shhh she’s asleep” you scolded, the sleeping baby in your arms stirring.

He apologized silently before kissing your head and mumbling “let’s go home”

It took a lot longer to get home with Jack driving at 3mph the whole way but when you eventually did and got Stevie in her own room you announced you’d be taking a shower.

Jack stayed staring at the little being a little longer

“Gosh, I love you so much peanut. welcome to our world”

#life of stevie

[robthegoodfellow]

Here I Go Again 2/?

Hanging on the Promises in Songs of Yesterday (also on AO3)

Part 1

for @fizzigigsimmer who has been stoking ideas/feeding the madness

Caligator, past Harringrove (reincarnation, past character death, age difference)

Gator spared not a glance at the waitstaff, just moseyed to the corner booth nearest the door, that roll in his step unique to boys in big boots who wanted you to know they had big brass balls to match. He slid onto the far bench, his back to the wall, the better to survey his domain. 

Biting his lip, Billy followed behind, turning to catch the eye of the waitress before he sat himself opposite. “Some coffee for me and the law, here, please.” Ignored the brat’s snort, opting instead to pluck a menu from the stack by the napkins, old laminate foggy and frayed. “Anything good?”

Tongue clicked, musing. “Julie’ll do you right, but she don’t work weekends.” 

No need to look—the smirk oozed like an oil slick. Billy hummed, mild disinterest. “For her sake, I hope you tip well.”

Did look up for that, and God, the way he scrunched his nose, the twist of his mouth, one eye squinted as he picked apart the affront, wrong-footed… And then it was Billy off-kilter, squashing the wave of nostalgia. 

Ordered himself to knock it off and focus. He was here to—

Well, what the fuck was he here to do?

The twisted mouth was moving, groping for words. “Honestly can’t tell whether you’re crazy or plain stupid.”

Their coffee arrived, buying Billy time to reply—to rally his discordant impulses under a single banner: he was here to… get a read on the guy. Poke and prod till he could come away satisfied that this Proud Boy wasn’t so much like Steve after all, once you looked close enough.

So—crazy or stupid? Billy took up his mug, blowing steam, and shrugged. “Guess I’m just versatile, that way.” 

Gator huffed, sipping his coffee too soon, like always, and Billy winced, anticipating the hiss of pain—and froze when it came, a sibilant echo down the years, sleepy mornings propped up on pillows, hip to hip against the counter for a pick-me-up, passing him his frou frou latte at the drive-through window. 

“—for real heart attack? Hey—” Snapping fingers. “Old man.”

Billy blinked, breathing deep. Told muscles to unclench, his lips to give up the grimace. Couldn’t tear his gaze from that face, though. Eyes defied orders.

Gator was shaking his head, concern curdled by impatience. “Seriously, what the fuck is your deal? One second you’re dying, next you’re staring like I’m the second coming—”

The snort of laughter didn’t do him any favors. Billy held up a hand, placating, even as he facepalmed with the other. “Shit, you may as well be.” Just said it, half-mindless, and before Gator could do more than glare, he spilled the rest into that unfocused middle distance, all in a breath, clinging to the warming support of his mug. “You’re—the spitting image of someone—someone from long, long ago. So long I’m trying to convince myself I’m not remembering right.” Billy chuckled on the inhale and confessed, marveling quiet. “Like he’s waltzed out the ground and into a police uniform, fresh as a daisy.”

When Gator made no reply, Billy summoned a self-deprecating smirk, tried to meet his eyes. Tried and failed. 

“Well within your rights to take the coffee, file this one under crazed encounters of the—”

“What was his name?”

Startled, Billy choked on nothing—struck dumb, pinned by a narrow brown stare, his mind awhirl of Steve. His name was Steve. Shouldn’t hurt this much—spoke of him often enough. Obliquely, though, he realized. Slantwise. Mostly kept him snug between the ears. Inside the ribs. Not in the mouth. His name was—

Snapped his jaw shut just in time, the flavor of Gator’s stare registering on delay: investigative. 

Obviously.

“Harrington,” Billy said, rough. “Out in Indiana. Any relation?”

Gator shook his head with a dismissive huff. “Tillman roots in Stark county are the deepest there is.”

“And your mother’s side?”

Innocent question, but Gator recoiled with such disgust you’d think his coffee had turned to shit.

Well, actual shit. The coffee wasn’t great.

“If your guy is any family of hers?” Gator sneered, jagged humor. “Then I hope them and all their line are rotting in hell.”

“Damn,” Billy pronounced, struck anew, but not so much struck dumb as… struck like a tuning fork. Because that bitterness, that blithe cavalier bile…

And there you have it. Gator didn’t look like Steve anymore. 

He looked like him. Billy. Or—how he used to be.

“Raw nerve.” A statement, not a question, then—fully aware of playing with fire: “I got a couple of those. Let me guess: flew the coop?”

Like had been happening since Gator climbed out of the cruiser, his face pulled in five directions, vacillating this way and that. Overall effect was just—bewildered. 

Lizard lost in the woods. And Billy wondered if they had that in common, too. Cold-blooded, in desperate need of some warmth from the outside. A heat source. One you could rely on.

So it was cruel, probably, what he did next. Because Billy didn’t think he could be that for him. 

He gentled his voice, aimed a soft, ironic smile. “And dear old dad? He do his best—or his worst?”

Lizard was on the fritz again, all puffed up, forked tongue darting to wet slack lips. It was anger broke through first. “Who the fuck do you think you…? I oughta—running your mouth like… last thing you’ll ever do if you don’t—”

He sputtered out, a gasping fish now, mute and hooked, thrashing on the line. And Billy also knew that well—heard Steve speaking slow and calm, reaching through the riot.

“Drink your coffee,” he said, and Gator blinked, line cut. Fumbled for his cup and cupped it, both hands. 

Sipped it steadily enough, his face scrunched. Mutinous.

“To answer that first question,” Billy continued, braving a swig of tar. “You could call me a drifter—mostly retired, these days. I’m headed out west to visit my sister.”

Gator absorbed that in sullen silence. Drained his mug in long gulps that burned the whole way, judging by the wince. Set the cup down with a thunk.

Finally, throaty and frayed: “You always so fucking weird, or is today special?”

Didn’t look up, eyes cast aside, a preemptive turn away. 

Billy wouldn’t have thought his heart could break anymore than it already was, and yet—some shard chipped and cracked at the embedded plea, a ploy he recognized. To ask without asking.

And that, he shouldn’t have answered. To answer was to promise. But… what else could he do? Confronted with this doubling image—these mirrored specters of himself and his first and only love—how he could not answer?

So Billy did. Said it straightforward and serious, dead sincere. “Special.”

#caligator #past harringrove #reincarnation #past character death #age difference #billy is 50 #gator is gator