#like minnesota i would love to say is a joke but i really heard that song for the first time YEARS ago and went oh my fucking god.
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V random but I’m in my Brockpetey feels could I listen to your 46 60 playlist!!
of course!! the first playlist i mentioned in the tags is actually not mine—it belongs to ash @notthequiettype and is a soundtrack to their wonderful fic Lake Rules (go read it if you haven’t already!!! highly recommend!!!)
annnd this one is my personal brockpetey vibes playlist
happy listening!!!
#liv in the replies#sadcanucksfan#also!! ash if you want me to unlink/untag please let me know and i will!!!#this one got bumped up because it’s currently relevant (i just posted brockpetey content) the rest of them will be scheduled in the queue 🫡#if i don’t do it now i will lose all links and ability to find things#as for my brockpetey i have zero reasons for any of the songs besides minnesota. it’s all vibes no thoughts.#minnesota to me is the quintessential brock petey song topped only (but really equaled) by charm you (also by samia)#like minnesota i would love to say is a joke but i really heard that song for the first time YEARS ago and went oh my fucking god.#i’m going back to minnesota huh#and then CHARM YOU??? AN ACT OF VIOLENCE AGAINST ME PERSONALLY????#you’re telling me there’s the lyrics ‘kissin you would be like kissin on the USA’ & ‘flying while i’m lying that i hate LA’ & it’s not 406?#(addition that i wasn’t gonna tell you but i have to tell y’all because it’s relevant to Me. samia is so so so so good live.)#(also i haven’t added it to the playlist because it’s sad but kill her freak out has narrative potential as brockpetey. also????#they’re all somehow petey pov to me. sometimes people just get assigned bands in my head for no reason & i think samia is petey’s vibe band.#BESIDES bbno$ which is canon lmao. spiritually petey is a samia song to me i guess idk why either sorry but kill her freak out#is a (seemingly you know how i am) unrequited brock/petey for when brock got his gf. thank u for your time i hate it too just listen to it)#also no statements about my music taste i will cry. if you hate it don’t tell me if you have recs do tell me#although i do have a joke playlist compiled of all the songs brock has been screencapped listening to because. why not. it’s fun and also#has that man ever listened to a single lyric in his life. what the FUCK is up with your chill playlist bud none of those songs are chill.#lovingly. ripping my hair out. the amount of times he listens to fast car like???? girl are you okay.#anyway this is ur reminder i miss stalking people on spotify let me see your music taste cowards.#ALSO#IF I THINK TOO LONG ABOUT PETEY IN MINNESOTA I WILL LOSE MY SHIT SO I AM NOT JUST KNOW THAT I CLICKED THE FIC & SKRTED I CAN’T HAVE EMOTIONS#if i did not have someplace to be at precisely 7:50AM i would be having a full breakdown please believe me.#oh also ALSO bonus points if you figure out what the numbers in the name are :)
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Lope:Ah, yeah- our recording devices still seem to be picking up noise from all facilities properly, our temporary one included. So, the prisoners are being recorded as they should be. I heard one facility had sprinkler issues? We're lucky that didn't damage any equipment but- Huh, management really should stop sending cottontails to do a hare’s job. Well at least everything’s still good-
Oh, they've been up for a minute now haven't they? I'm late and the profiles weren't up in time. Stop the complaining. I did say I'd be testing things on top of running this Milgram. The transcripts of what has transpired will be up later.
Lope's Commencement
Daniel Prisoner 001
Mirelle Prisoner 002
Zareth Prisoner 003
Afra Prisoner 004
005 - Nell Newell
Place of Birth: Winona, Minnesota
Date of Birth: 11/11/2011
Age: 12
Ethnicity: African American/Caucasian
This one’s a bit of a strange case. He’s very relaxed in these circumstances and walks around as if this place were his own house. I haven’t really figured out what gets to them yet. He mentioned something about some time offline doing him some good. A decent cook for someone that age. His mannerisms make him come off like an old man. Maybe he was raised by older people. That sometimes happens, doesn’t it? Might have picked up the mannerisms from them.
Prisoner Color: #757D42
Permanent Record
Nell has perfect grades with 4.0 GPA. However, his attitude is rather perplexing for a child of his age. He complains about leg pain, the school chairs being uncomfortable on his back and the teacher writing too small on the board. His vision and physical health are good. We don’t understand why he’s behaving this way. We thought he was joking at the beginning of the year, but it’s persisted.
We assumed he had grandparents he was imitating but his mother says his grandparents passed away before he was born. It’s not as though it’s a large issue but it certainly isolates him from his peers. It is recommended that communication counseling continue for the rest of his middle school years until we’re able to help him out of this period he seems set in.
Nell: …
Worker: Hm? Are you- Perhaps interested in volunteering?
Nell: Yes. I would like to if that’s okay.
Worker: Oh, that’s perfect I’m sure they’ll love you! I never thought a kid your age would be interested in things like this.
Nell: …
To the Newells,
Nell has been a great help! He seems to be enjoying his time volunteering greatly. Thank you for giving him your permission to volunteer his time after school.
Sincerely,
XXXXX
Ms.Newell: Where have you been all this time.
Nell: Library. I walk over to it after school closes.
Ms.Newell: You know when you answer so quickly and in depth like that it comes off like a practiced response.
Nell: . . .
Ms.Newell: They still haven’t taught you how to speak in natural way at that school… What point is there in me having you go there then?
Nell: Education is important. You said so.
Ms.Newell: Education can only get you so far being a decent communicator is important to. People need workers that seem personable.
Nell: I’ll work on it more.
Ms.Newell: Well if you’re good looking enough when you’re older you’ll just have to stand around and saying nothing. If you can’t be personable the next best thing to be is attractive! It’s not a full dead end so chin up.
Nell: . . . Thanks for the encouraging words.
Ms.Newell: What do we do when we thank someone?
Nell: Smile…
Ms.Newell: . . .
Nell: Thanks.
Ms.Newell: That’s better! That’s my baby boy, great job!
Missing child found sleeping in woods ten miles south of the local senior citizens center. The child was found with-
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Everett Blakely HC’s from my hs au!!! Liked and reblogs highly appreciated!
MOTA Masterlist!
•Everett grew up as an army brat, his father a retired naval aviator. His step mom a lawyer and she certainly was more like a mom to him than his actual one.
•His dad’s originally from Minnesota his step mom from San Diego. They met there while he was stationed there, they fell in love, got married, had two kids. Everett absolutely adores his younger brother and sister.
•They’re a very hug oriented family.
•Everett smokes cigarettes because he wants to be a indie tumblr girl, okay?
•god forbid his parents ever find out…
•Beginning of junior year he started dating this girl named Ava. But it wasn’t a healthy relationship at all, she was manipulative, mean, isolated him, sometimes she would hit him.
•When she would hang out with the group she’d go as far as making fun of Johns stimming.
•Gale had a bit of a falling out with Everett because of her.
•God, he felt so alone and now none of his friends wanted to talk to him.
•Curt removed him from the friend group chat.
•When Dougie didn’t say anything everyone knew this was serious.
•Everett spent his summer between junior year and senior year pretty much alone. Besides when he was with Ava but you know that wasn’t positive attention.
• Everett: wanna hang later?
• Dougie: sorry gotta work.
•Things came to a halting stop one specific day at the end of July.
•Everett had confronted her about how she was treating his friends and him.
• “God, Everett I didn’t mean it like that. You’re so dramatic.”
• “I’m not dramatic you’re being an ass! Do you not understand why your ‘jokes’ are so hurtful? You have no idea what it’s like to be Bucky, so stop with your comments.”
• “It’s not my fault your friends are a bunch of fucking freaks and fags.”
•Everett had heard enough at this point. He’s telling her to get out and she’s grabbing her stuff but oh my god she will not stop talking. Everett literally grabs her arm and hauls her ass to the door and slams it in her face.
•The beginning of summer football camp in August was a shit show to say the least.
•Everyone was mad at Everett and they were all off their game.
•Chick and Jack pulled Everett into their office after the end of the first week. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but you should talk with Buck and get this is all sorted out.”
•Everett showed up at Gales house that night asking to talk. Upon seeing, no Ava Gale let him in.
•Curt’s sitting on the couch with Ken tucked into his arm and Meatball in his lap but he’s shooting daggers at him. “What the fuck is he doing here, Buck?”
•Gale lets Everett explain and defend himself. Johns smashed in between Gale and Curt playing with Gales fidget ring. He’s silent and he doesn’t think he can bring himself to make eye contact or talk.
•Everett kinda breaks down crying at the end and John just comes over and rubs his back before whispering a small, “it’s okay I forgive you.”
•The fact that Meatball went over to comfort Everett won over Curt a little bit but he’s still got a hell of a lot of more trust gaining to do.
•Him and James spend a lot of time just sitting in his truck quietly together while music plays and they eat snacks.
•James can see that Everett’s cigarette problem has only gotten increasingly worse.
•He can see the way that Everett has became so flinchy to touch. They were always just so playful and naturally touchy with each other.
•I’ve rambled long enough but we know that these two make out…
•okay they have a really good character development arc I promise!
•Asks open for any questions regarding these!!!!
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Brought to you by military la la land @mangokitkats @ihearteugeneroe
#i’m cannoning athena and bobby from 911 as his parents#with different careers#it just fits okay?#masters of the air#mota#hs au#everett blakely#james douglass#blakely/douglass
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Legacy of the Fallen- Chapter 1
Link to Prologue
Table of Contents
Accepted
Dear Mother,
We’re moving again, such a surprise, I know. It’s so tiring, every single time, and now is no different. The past four years have been just above the line of disaster, every day either packing or unpacking, some of the boxes don’t even get touched before we leave again. I just want to go back to London, I miss Lydia so much, I haven't been able to make any friends since we don't stay long enough for that to happen. I know that Father says he needs to move for his job, but I don't know how he can even begin to take it.
I'm worried about him though, he's always so jumpy. He puts on this brave face and makes a joke and later I find him leaning against a wall, staring into space with this horribly sad look in his eyes. I know that he misses you and my sister, but this sadness runs deeper than that. I think he feels like he's failed. I don't exactly know why I think that, but I can't shake that feeling. We've moved to Rochester, Minnesota in the U.S. now, I honestly think this is a good step since Father told me of how his brother lives here. They lost their daughter not too long ago too, she was only few years older than me, so I think it's a good idea to have us here.
I'm still looking for the answer of why you left and where you went, it's really begun to frustrate me. When I was little, I could just accept that you were gone, but now it's like a pebble in my shoe that I can't get out. Life overall is just a mess and continues to be, I can only hope that one day things will be normal. Whatever the heck that is.
I'll write again soon, love your daughter,
Annamarie Rose Olson
____________________________
Annamarie Olson leaned her head carelessly against the school bus window, ignoring the slight pain that jolted through her head at every crack and dent on the road. She stared at her reflection in the slightly fogged window, leaning her head back as the bus brakes engaged to pick up another kid. She still found riding a school bus to be strange, they hadn’t existed where she’d grown up.
Her long golden blonde curls closely framed her face, ever threatening to fall over her eyes at the next large bump. Her lips were pulled tight, betraying the anxiety that was stirring in her gut. Her button nose was just ever so resting against the cool glass, just enough to make the skin tingle. She met her own gaze, pursing her lips as she did so. She knew that someone was going to mention them today, they always did, every time she switched schools. Her hooded eyes weren’t the problem, neither was the dramatic upturn that caught some attention. It was the fact that no one could figure out what colour her eyes were actually supposed to be. They were ever-changing, every single colour and shade making its appearance at some point, depending on the light or her mood or whatever it was. She didn’t hate it, but really, she wished people would just stop bringing it up.
She let out a soft sigh, letting her breath fog the window further. She refocused her eyes on the pavement, creating an imaginary trail with her gaze while they drove along. Anything she could do to distract her from the inevitable pattern of going to a new school would make her day better.
Truly, it was getting old. They didn’t have much to move with just the two of them, but place after place, lifting boxes and dragging around what little furniture they hadn’t sold. She was only fifteen, and she really didn’t think she was supposed to feel old already. The one hope she held about this place, above all the rest they had been, was her uncle.
Throughout the years, her father had hardly spoken of their family at all. When he did, he always spoke of them in the past tense, leading her to believe for many years that they had no other family. So when he had told her about Joseph, his brother who was only a year older than himself, she had been confused, to say the least. She had heard him talking on the phone with him many times over the last couple of months, their conversations only ever serious or sombre. What they were talking about, however, she didn’t pry.
They had been living in Minnesota for a week at that point, and her opinion of the place was no different from many other places. Whether they stayed here or left, she just wanted to settle back down, just as they had when she was younger. She knew that her father had been a restless spirit since her mother was gone, having trusted friends watch her while he was gone for weeks at a time, sometimes coming home more disheartened than when he left. She missed him during the times he was gone, but he had always overcompensated when he came home, the affection and care he had shown her as a single father leaving her unable to hold resentment of any sort. She supposed he had waited until he deemed her old enough to travel with him, as the borderline nomadic lifestyle was not one for a kid. She had been able to see some amazing sights, however, travelling much further distances than most her age.
She shifted her posture as they pulled to another stop, knowing that they had to be nearing the end of the pickup route. The bus had already been moderately full when she had boarded, though she still had the pleasure of not having to share her seat; something she hoped would not change.
She shuffled her feet in discomfort, her fingers gripping each other in her lap. Contrary to what people in towns or smaller cities she’d lived in, growing up in a big city did not make her comfortable in crowds. They were suffocating, the clamour of voices, especially children’s, made her ears ring, and their unspoken voices in the back of her head became so loud she couldn’t pretend they weren’t there anymore. Her father had taught her that talking about the things others said without speaking aloud was considered incredibly rude by most people, and indeed whenever she accidentally brought up something that an unspoken voice had said, others acted shocked and completely disturbed, as though she’d broken the biggest rule in human society. So, she tried to ignore the continuous noise and forced it down, like everyone else was presumably doing.
It did confuse her though when some other people said that hearing unspoken voices was a bad sign of schizophrenia. How could anyone possibly know the difference between that and regular chatter? She sank in her seat, her arm brushing along the textured material of her backpack. Outside, houses continued to fly by, their designs and colours all seemingly the same. She shivered as the girl seated a few seats in front of her reached up and pulled the small window open. The blend of sweet grass and the musty rain from earlier that morning sent a fuzzy feeling through her body: the smell of spring.
The bus took a right turn, revealing the view of the school from her seat on the left side of the vehicle. She sat up in her seat, her hand unconsciously sweeping her hair back from her face, wincing slightly as her index finger caught and released a small tangle.
They passed a small, unfenced baseball field, a large grassy field rising on the edges up to the road they were now driving on. Further to the back of the field, a fenced-in sports field of some sort, with audience stands surrounding it blocked out the view of the neighbourhood behind. She turned her attention to the school itself, the cold, concrete structure nothing more than a three-story cube. It was almost comedic, how much it looked like a prison, the only pieces missing being the guards and barbed wire fences. Well, the fence around the sports field looks similar enough, she decided. As they grew closer, she could see brown brick accents in small alcoves that lined the walk along the ground floor, the only colour being a rusted blue accent under each window, all of which added insult to injury and made the building look completely bizarre.
The bus made a final left turn into the oval-shaped unloading zone, stopping just short of being in front of the only indent in the structure. As soon as they halted, every student stood and began shoving their way into the narrow aisle. Anna shouldered her backpack, the bag feeling unnaturally empty against her. She stood slowly, eyes darting to each person who passed. She knew that she was average in height at five-foot-four inches, but so many of the other students walking through easily dwarfed her.
Finally, the flow had begun to slow, only a few other others scattered throughout the vehicle being patient enough to wait. She shifted out of her seat carefully, her feet hesitating more than her head as they momentarily paused on the last step down to the pavement. A scoff and a light push on her backpack from the boy behind her caused her to take the last step, having to try and prevent herself from stumbling further as he pushed past her, jogging over to join a group of other boys who looked her age.
She continued at a slow pace away from the bus, looking around at the groups gathered around the entrance, only a few students making the journey directly into the building. She lowered her gaze, somewhat self-conscious as her mind bustled with the whispers in her head, her face suddenly scrunching up at the state of the pavement. The path made of pebbles sealed in concrete was covered in inch-wide black circles, some were brown or grey as well, but the majority were black. Newer circles of green or pink gave her the answer that she didn’t want to know, every single spot was where a student squished a piece of gum into the ground.
She raised her gaze again, trying to shove that knowledge from her active steps toward the main entrance. The doors themselves were nothing special, just a row of glass with plain concrete steps leading up to them. Above the doors, several large windows overlooked the entrance; the silhouettes of students inside could just be seen behind the glare of the sun.
A shiver ran down her spine, her muscles tightening automatically, the feeling of being watched overwhelming her senses. She glanced around, her body growing warmer under the mysterious scrutiny. A voice suddenly rose, above the rest inside her head. A clear voice amid the fray, directly into her head. Who are you?
Her breath stuttered, her pace freezing in place as her search for the gaze intensified. It had been the voice of a boy, his voice already dropped to a baritone, with an accent she couldn’t quite identify, yet seemed so familiar at the same time. She swept her gaze along the faces in the crowd, her skin itching as it finally landed on a dark-haired boy wearing all black leaning against the wall, strangely vivid golden eyes narrowed carefully at her. He almost looked like he was supposed to be in high school, his muscular build telling her immediately he was some kind of athlete. His skin was a warm amber tan, and his wavy, dark brown hair looked like he had just rolled out of bed before being hit by a windstorm. His features were sharp, narrow almond-shaped eyes observant. He was quite a bit taller than she was, probably closer to five-foot, eight. His posture was casual and curious, yet there was something about him that resembled a predator on the hunt.
Even as a redheaded girl with thick glasses and a tall skinny boy joined him there, he didn’t break his gaze, watching her even while responding to something the redhead said. She couldn’t say how, or why, but she knew the question was his.
She stared back, eyes wide, unsure of what was happening or what she was supposed to do next. She watched as he laughed, his eyes going to the redhead for only a split second before returning to her. His head tilted slightly at her, an amused tick pulling at the corner of his mouth.
She forced her gaze away, suddenly aware of how bizarre she looked, one foot frozen forward in a step she hadn’t fully taken. She mentally shook herself, continuing faster than before, pulling the door open with more force than she intended.
She paused once she made it through the second set of doors, the hallways now much busier than when she had taken her blur of a tour the week prior. Tall, thin, blue lockers lined the walls of the hallways, and to her right, the three gyms the school sported lined the entire side of the building. She glanced to where she knew the office to be, off to her left, before pulling her written-out schedule from her coat pocket. To say what had occurred outside was strange would be an understatement. Despite the many places she had gone, nothing like that had happened before. Then again, she was growing up, and her father had warned her that boys might start noticing her in different ways and that those thoughts tended to be stronger. She wasn’t sure though, something felt off. It was very direct. For the moment at least, she wanted to forget it happened, to just go on with her planned, predictable first day of meeting her new teachers and classmates that she would only know for a short while before moving on again.
She turned around the short wall that hid the stairway that rested beside the entrance, heading straight down the long staircase, her footsteps echoing in the empty, tower-like space. Her locker was in the basement, not far from the stairs. She rolled her eyes as she passed the boys’ locker room, hearing the younger kids inside yelling nonsensical insults at each other before the first class of the day began.
She glanced at the paper in her hand, following the numbers down until she reached her own. She put in the combination that her father had ever so helpfully made a song for her to remember by; forty-two, thirty, forty-six. The tune was so annoyingly catchy, she wasn’t worried about suddenly forgetting it.
The locker opened with a slight creak, the inside a muddled mess of peeling tan paint, rust, and black spray paint attempting to block out the curse words someone had carved into the back. She slid her backpack down her arm, catching the strap before it hit the floor, and hanging it on the inside hook. She then slipped her anorak off, revealing the light green jumper she wore underneath, having to push the anorak carefully around her backpack. As usual, with thinner lockers, she wondered how difficult fitting everything would be after having more than just her binder and a book inside. It didn’t matter though; she never stayed long enough for things to build up anyway.
She jumped as a blaring beep rang out through the hallway, other students hardly moving at the noise. She quickly unzipped her backpack, her schedule wrinkling slightly as it was pressed into her lower palm by her last two fingers. She pulled her binder free of the bag, the question of why she hadn’t pulled it out before putting her backpack in the locker coming to mind.
With a quick slam of the locker, she spun on her heel, lifting the paper once again. Her first class was on the top floor; in fact, most of her classes were. She went to the stairs she had gone down earlier, stopping short as she just about slammed face-first into someone dressed in black. “Sorry,” she murmured, glancing up, ready to continue on her way before stopping short.
Sharp golden eyes looked down at her, an odd look on the boy’s face. “Hi,” a small smile played on his lips.
“Hi?” She tried for a smile back, it probably came off more like a grimace. She swerved away from him, reminding herself once again to return to her plan. Ignore the weird boy.
She practically ran up the two flights of stairs, stopping as she reached the top. The large windows she had seen earlier opened up beside her. She walked along the hall until she got to the room her geography class would be in on the left side of the hall.
She sucked in a breath before crossing the threshold, posters covered the walls; historical figures, geographical sights, and nearly decade-old memes alike were stationed around the room. Rows of desks were laid out in front of her, and only a few of the seats were filled. In the back corner of the room, beside the row of windows looking out the front of the school, was a large metal desk. An older man engrossed in a book sat, calmly sipping what she guessed was coffee from a travel mug.
She approached him carefully, extremely aware of how her fingers tightened around her binder. “Sir?” She forced her voice out, holding back a wince at her awkwardness. She’d been through this enough, why hadn’t that changed yet?
The man, Mr. Wilson, immediately set his coffee down, looking up at her with raised eyebrows, extenuating the wrinkles on his forehead. “Can I help you?” He reached for a bookmark that was resting on the desktop, quickly stuffing it into the page before closing the book with an audible snap.
“I’m Annamarie,” she began. “I’m new.” She stopped, waiting for him to take off from there.
“Oh yes,” he reached for a pile of paperwork, flipping through them quickly before finding what he was looking for. “We’re in the middle of learning about South Asia currently,” he glanced at her, holding out the small pile of papers in his hand. “Keep up the best you can, we’ll see about whether you’re able to take the test we have at the end of the week.”
She nodded, only half paying attention as a random pop song began playing over the loudspeaker. She blinked in confusion before turning her attention back to her teacher.
“Your seat will be third from the back over there,” he gestured to the last row beside a short row of cabinets that sat along the wall that connected to the hall. She gave a nod and a small ‘thank you’ before starting to turn. “Thank you, Ms. Olson,” he stood from his chair, grunting a little at the motion. She paused at the use of her last name, unusual in her experiences in schools as of late.
She went to her seat, sinking down into her chair and placing her binder centred before her. She folded her hands in her lap just as a flood of students began to come in, chair after chair being filled across the classroom. She fiddled with her fingers, wondering if this was the type of teacher to introduce her as a new student or not. Most were, but there was the occasional blessing of them letting her fade into the background without such a spectacle.
Her hope for any possibility of an easy class period was crushed as right when the loud beep that signified class had started, the boy with the golden eyes rushed through the door. “Mr. Samuels,” Mr. Wilson walked between the far two rows of seats, not even looking at the boy. “Pushing your luck again, I see.”
“It hasn’t failed me yet,” the boy let out a laugh, taking a step towards the row of seats she was seated in before stopping. Surprise filled his gaze when he looked at her, one eyebrow quirking up before the amused smile she had seen him with earlier returned. Anna couldn’t help the narrowing of her eyes, the boy’s accent catching her memory. It sounded so familiar, yet she couldn’t identify it.
Mr. Wilson turned, frowning at the boy who was just standing in place. “Did you forget where your seat is, Mr. Samuels?”
“Nope,” the boy had the decency to flush slightly as a couple of giggles came from somewhere in the room. He continued the path until he stopped at the seat directly in front of her own. Great.
Just my luck… she thought as he looked over his shoulder to give her another glance.
“I’m Jacob,” he whispered, giving her a small grin.
“Anna,” she mumbled.
“I have a feeling we’ll keep running into each other,” his grin grew slightly before he turned back to the front.
She stared at the back of his head for a second longer, wondering what she did to deserve this. This is going to be a long couple months.
____________________________
Anna’s day seemed to drag by, with each of her teachers doing exactly as she predicted them to do. What she hadn’t expected was for Jacob to be in three of the four hours before lunch. He had seemed to appoint himself to be her personal tour guide for the day, easily keeping pace with her.
She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be creeped out, flattered or annoyed; maybe a bit of each. He kept asking questions that didn’t seem to make any sense, about where she had lived, her family, et. cetera. After him doing this for a while, she just stopped paying attention. She couldn’t figure out why he was so intrigued, she couldn’t be that interesting.
She now found herself with a tray of food, momentarily paused as she looked across the crowded cafeteria. Each table seemed to have its established group, some reflecting the classic clique tropes that were so often seen in so many shows and films, while others were harder to identify. As many times as she had done this, it never got any easier.
The cafeteria itself was decently sized, based in the basement of the school. Large windows looked out to a small blacktop, the large green field behind the school beyond it. Behind her, students were still filing into four separate lines for food, flowing in from the open connection to the hallway, some cutting between tables while others passed through evenly spaced openings. The walls were plain white, excluding a strange mural that covered the far wall: different foods spilling out of a lunchbox, faces painted onto each.
Friend groups were so often made within the first couple weeks of the school year, leaving her to fend for herself in situations like this. Most of the time she didn’t mind, being alone wasn’t as bad as the rest of the world thought it to be. Even so, it didn’t stop her from wishing she had friends to talk to. The closest thing she had to a friend anymore was her cat, as she had left the one friend she had back in London four years prior.
She spotted an emptier table in the far back corner of the space, the students seated there eating in silence. She quickly made her way to the table, picking the seat furthest from any of the others seated there.
Within seconds, just as she was picking up her apple to take a bite, a kid, probably twelve years old, plopped himself down in the seat directly to her left. His most notable trait was the wild mop of curly, light brown hair atop his head. He grinned at her, his rounded baby face making him look even younger than he probably was. His piercing light blue eyes slid over her, the action catching her off-guard.
“Hello, Angel,” He leaned towards her, his prepubescent voice dropping low, and the attempt at trying to sound older than he was almost funny. Almost. She glanced at the other students sitting at the table, none of them paying attention or caring enough to look to see what was happening. That, or this was a normal occurrence here. “What’s your name?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, his lips curling into what could barely be called a smirk.
She tried to subtly turn away from him, hoping he’d take the hint and leave her alone.
“Oh,” his voice drawled out, “mysterious. I like that. Tell me though, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”
She cringed at the classically overused line coming from a young kid, hiding the look on her face by taking a bite out of her apple. She was disappointed to find that it lacked the characteristic crisp crunch as she began to chew, at least momentarily relieved that she had an excuse not to respond.
“I hope you know CPR because you take my breath away,” his voice continued next to her. “Can you hold my hand, I want to be able to tell my friends about how I’ve been touched by an angel.”
She took another bite, confused about how anyone could be so socially inept to continue this cursed conversation if it could even be called that.
“I guess you can kiss heaven goodbye, it's a sin to look that good. You are so hot, it’s girls like you that are causing global warming.” She just about choked on her bite, her face scrunching in disgust. “Tell me your name, I’m sure it’s as beautiful as you. If not, you can just take mine.” She could see him wink at her in her peripheral vision.
“Evan,” the sharp voice of a girl made them both turn. A short girl her age stood a metre away with her hands on her hips, her annoyance clear. Her bright ginger hair was cut just below her shoulders, framing her face. She had an almost pixie-like look to her features, full cheeks, and wide, incredibly dark brown eyes, hints of red flashing in the light. She was very pretty, but that fact was overshadowed by her roughly ripped jeans and a baggy grey sweatshirt. Thick, black glasses rested on her freckled nose, only intensifying her glare. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Rachel,” Evan’s face broke into a grin. “You must be tired, after all, you ran through my thoughts all night long.”
“How many times do I have to tell you to leave people alone?” Rachel huffed, completely unfazed. “Haven’t you tormented us enough?”
“No need to be jealous, Spitfire,” Evan completely turned his attention to the other girl, much to Anna’s relief. “You know you’ll always be my number one.”
“Don’t call me that,” Rachel spat, crossing her arms and popping a hip as she shook her hair away from her face. “Just leave the poor girl alone.”
“Sorry, I got lost in your eyes there, do you happen to have a map to your heart?” Anna was becoming more convinced by the second that this boy learnt how to speak by reading awful pickup lines from the internet.
“Just shut up,” Rachel’s jaw set, chin tilted up in defiance. She turned her attention to Anna, expression softening slightly. “You can move if you’re uncomfortable, we have room at our table.”
Anna nodded, a warm feeling beginning to release her tense muscles. “Thank you,” she offered a smile.
“You’re British?!” Evan whirled back to her, suddenly slack-jawed, like the fact that she had an accent made all the difference.
She felt the urge to shake her head in exasperation, internally rolling her eyes. The way Americans responded to hearing the way she spoke was growing old. You could very well tell them magic existed and they would react the same way.
He made a loud humming noise, tilting his head as he looked her over once again.
She stood before he had a chance to begin speaking again, picking up her tray as she did so. She moved hesitantly to Rachel’s side, watching the other girl’s face carefully, looking for any sign that she hadn’t meant her offer.
They began to walk, Rachel glancing at her a couple of times before gesturing to a table close to the dish return station. Anna stopped, confused at the sight of Rachel sliding into the seat opposite of Jacob, rolling her eyes at something he said. The redhead looked at her quickly, probably just realizing she hadn’t followed to sit.
Anna took a breath, making a split-second decision to continue on, finding herself in the empty spot next to Jacob. As weird as the dark-haired boy was, there were worse things. She already knew, even with the prolonged stares and questions, he was a better deal than Evan.
She hoped anyway.
Just as the thoughts ran through her head, he turned his attention to her, an amused grin dancing on his lips. “Evan, huh? Ow!” He jerked back, sending an indignant look at Rachel, who, Anna just realised, had kicked him under the table.
“You deserved that,” the girl snorted, plucking a grape from the small vine she had on her tray.
“I’m just saying,” he protested. “On her first day, what are the chances?”
“Quite high, actually,” Rachel grumbled.
Anna looked to the silent, third member of their party. A tall, lanky boy was hunched over his food. He was pretty thin, his cheekbones more defined than what she supposed they were supposed to look like. His skin was pale, like he spent all day inside, hidden from the sun. His eyes were a surprisingly rich blue; dark, but not quite navy, with prominent dark circles underneath them. He wore a rumpled blue flannel over a plain white tee shirt, and his short, mousy brown hair was decently neat, though rumpled in a couple of places near the back. Most worryingly though, she couldn’t help but notice the distant stare he wore, staring unseeingly at his food. She wasn’t sure if he had even noticed her presence yet.
Rachel cleared her throat, the boy turning slightly to look at her, blinking his eyes curiously. “This is Ben,” she introduced with a smile.
“Hi,” she greeted, her voice stunted. “I’m Anna.”
He gave a small, awkward wave with a fork held between his fingers. “Nice to meet you.” His voice was so quiet against the noise of the cafeteria she had to strain to hear him.
“Thank you,” Anna addressed Rachel, the other girl regarding her with unreadable eyes. “Really.”
The redhead shrugged, eyes glancing at Jacob for a moment. “Evan’s been at it for months, it started a little odd, but now it’s getting excessive.”
“Either way,” Anna shook her head lightly. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I did.” Rachel huffed.
Jacob let out a soft snort from beside Anna, she frowned at him, unsure of what he was laughing at. “You just want an excuse to yell at him again at this point,” he told her. “You complain about him all the time, but you love shutting him down more than you hate him.”
“Go eat a sock,” Rachel glared at him, the strange phrase passing through her lips easily; like it was normal.
“Tried that once,” Jacob’s voice was dead serious, his face deadpan. “Not all you chalk it up to be.”
Rachel let out a loud groan, laying her forehead down on the table to the side of her tray. Her hair draped out over the clear tabletop, pooling out in a fan-like shape around her head.
Jacob let out a snicker, turning her attention back to him. He silently moved his hand to his plastic utensils, he noticed Anna watching him, giving her a playful wink as he lifted the fork into his hand. Slowly, he reached out, angling the plasticware down towards Rachel’s hair, dragging it lightly through the bright locks.
Instantly, Rachel’s head shot up, Jacob pulling his hand back to avoid stabbing her head. Her eyes were wide, mouth parted. “You-” her indignant stutter caused a burst of laughter from him. “You TURKEY!”
He only laughed harder, his face turning red from the effort. Anna bit her lip to prevent her own giggles, Ben looking over at his friend with amused concern. Jacob’s laughter began to die down, his eyes sparkling when he opened them. “I’ve always wondered what it was like to be a turkey,” he managed. “Though, it might ruffle some feathers.”
“Stooop,” Rachel’s face twisted into a grimace.
“Aw, don’t get a fowl mood,” Jacob leaned an arm on the table, a smug grin growing across his lips.
Rachel pulled another grape from the vine, lightly tossing it at the dark-haired boy. It bounced off his chest, his hands instinctively flying up to catch it as it fell.
He raised it like one would toast a glass of champagne before popping it into his mouth. “Thanks,” he quipped.
Rachel rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything more. It was clear she wasn’t truly annoyed with a hint of a smile pulling at the edge of her mouth.
A pang of jealousy coursed through Anna as she watched them banter, and the fact that she didn’t have anyone to joke with as they did became more and more noticeable. At the same time, the clear care they felt for each other warmed her heart, and though Ben hadn’t said much at all, the looks he shot at the others were filled with the same sentiment. Yes, Jacob was weird, but for the first time in years, she felt accepted by anyone her age.
Hope began to rise in her chest, an undeniable desire to get to know these people making itself known. A part of her, a large part, wanted to see herself be friends with them. Now, the question was: how long until she was packing her bags once again?
Next Chapter
Taglist: @hxad-ovxr-hxart, @the-printed-words, @frostedlemonwriter, @on-noon, @my-cursed-prince, and @thesorcererspen. If you'd like to be added, please let me know!
#legacy of the fallen#legacy of the fallen text#my writing#writing wip#writer#fantasy writer#writeblr#aspiring writer#aspiring author#annamarie ophelie
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Came back to your blog after 3 months because i knew u would have some hot political takes. Was not disappointed.
Well I'm, I'm not trying to post about politics too much on this blog, because this blog is supposed to be a source of comfort, but like. This is. An extremely significant development for human rights in America. A really really massively horrible development because they're not just taking away abortion rights, they're using it as a precedent to go after gay marriage and other things next. Like for example? There's literally a sitting Republican US senator from Texas named James Cornyn and he literally, i shit you not, retweeted former president Obama talking about how we should undo laws preventing segregation next
Like this isn't even a fucking joke anymore. I can't even fathom it. That a sitting member of our government not only said something as disgustingly heinous as "yeah now that abortion isn't constitutionally protected we should do the separation of races next" but decided to say it by retweeting our former black president like ????? This country is actually going down in fucking flames right now???? We are actually descending into Christo-fascism while being told this is democracy in action???
Like even when I write things about abusive partners or reproductive abusers, that's still in the scope of fiction. We can all read it and consume it and sure, it might make some people uncomfortable, but we all know it's not real. But now in reality the country im living in is being taken captive by the deeply conservative religious far right and now, being forced to have babies even if it kills you is something politicians in my country are FIGHTING to do
Like. Jesus Christ. Did you know in 2019 Ohio tried to pass a bill where, in the case of an ectopic pregnancy, the doctor is ordered to reimplant the fetus into the womb or face "abortion murder charges". Like, literally, that is literally a surgery that does not exist and has never even been successfully attempted. We literally do not even have that science yet. It is literally impossible. But these psychotic fucks are so out of touch that you either listen to them or they throw you in jail
Oh and uh. It doesn't even end here? Have you guys heard that across the pond, the UK government is trying to overturn a law that is literally called the human rights act and. Reading everything that would be undone makes me physically sick. If that law is overturned, if you're chronically ill or disabled even just with autism the government can assign you a DNR without your consent? Just basically fucking say you don't deserve to live and KILL YOU? They're also going to rule on if police are obligated to protect your human rights, very similar to a case we had here in America, 2005 Castle Rock, where the Supreme Court decided that no, the police aren't obligated to protect you.
So yeah uh. I'm kinda of just honestly constantly depressed and panicking a lot and that's why I don't write a lot anymore. Like I WANT TO but. It's like I'm living in a nightmare.
Also last thing I want to say. Please for the love of God start doing research TODAY about the candidates for your state's primary elections coming up in August. I live in Minnesota which is basically THE ONLY STATE IN THE MIDWEST that is currently protecting abortion rights and the Republicans are already firing up their base to try and elect a new governor. Like I literally hear old men talking about taking back the house and the senate on the bus and i want to SOB
I just really, I'm fucking crying, I just really cannot BEG ENOUGH that we all get out to the polls because it keeps getting worse. The Republicans are trying to break your spirit and make you lose faith in voting and we CAN'T, we have to keep voting, it's the only power we have! We can't just watch them ruin our country and ruin our planet and ruin our future!
So yeah. Please start doing research if you're in the states and start researching who is running for governor, secretary of state, etcetera, because uh. The Republicans are probably going to take everything back including the next presidential election and. They're literally setting things up where they'll have the majority power for decades. The fact that the Supreme Court has become majority conservative is going to shape all of our laws for decades to come until some of them either die or be removed. I'm just scared. I dont think there's any coming back from this. I think our country is only going to get worse from here on out, and we're going to take the rest of the world down with us
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Winter Wonderland
wc: 2k inspo by @archervale art here <3
It was a last-minute decision, involving phone calls, new festive outfits, and using Charlie’s special card. It was a Christmas miracle to get everyone on the same page, but eventually, all the small details were settled, and the family was heading to Minnesota. A huge lakeside cabin was waiting just for them.
Just in time for Christmas.
Jody arrived at the cabin with Alex and Patience only a few hours after Dean parked his Baby in the garage. Donna should be coming tomorrow morning with Claire and Kaia since they all went vampire hunting together. While Sam and Eileen are already on a plane to spend a few days with them before heading back to Ireland.
“Take a look at this.” Dean nudged Jody to grab her attention, Alex quickly scooting close to peek at his phone. He holds it out for all of them to see the video Garth sent him to apologize for not being able to make it.
Happy screams of little Cas and Sam saying, ‘Uncle Dean! Dean!’ came from his phone before the camera focused on little Gertie explaining that the twins were teething, so they couldn’t make it for Christmas.
“I’m an uncle.” Dean proudly said while Jody patted his head, a soft smile on her lips.
“That you are. And I hear you’re a Dad now?” Jody asked while Alex faked gasping. Probably already knowing the news from Claire.
“Sort of. I guess.” Dean shrugged. “Cas is the Dad mostly. I’m just…happy to help.”
“Call it what you want,” Jody continued as Dean embarrassingly put his phone away. Knowing damn well, she saw his lock screen of sleeping Jack and Cas. “Helping raise someone makes you an important person in their lives.”
“Well, aren’t you an expert on that, Mom.” Alex hugged Jody from around the shoulders, both smiling as if they had an inside joke.
“I sure am.”
Dean watched as the two of them walked around the cabin together, already talking about getting dibs on the good rooms before Claire showed up.
His eyes then fell on Cas that sat on the living room floor, waving hello to their guest while covered in tinsel that Jack just wrapped him in. An image he never thought he would see. His best friend or boyfriend or soulmate, if they believe in that kind of bull—they don’t—happily laughing as Jody walked over to hug him. Picking up Jack in her arms to give them a big kiss while Alex helps untangle Cas from the huge mess.
Dean always felt like something was missing from his life. Feeling that hole in his chest ache just a little less when Cas was around—feeling it hurt and sting when he wasn’t—but now, having Cas the way he does, he doesn’t even remember how it felt to be lonely.
Now, he realized someone always loved him even when he didn’t feel he deserved it.
He wondered if Cas knew that feeling was reciprocated.
It’s only been a few months since Cas came back, and their relationship has grown into what it is now. New. Scary. Awesome.
Add to that the fact that Jack decided they wanted to look their age—shrinking down to the size of a four-year-old—and Sam moving to a whole different country for a bit really shook him to the core. But he’s okay.
He’s better than okay. He’s good. He’s so fan-freaking-tastic that he is actually celebrating Christmas for real just because he can.
And best of all, because he has a big freaking family to celebrate it with.
“Dean, can you help Patience with the rest of the stuff?” He heard Jody call after him while she busied herself wrapping tinsel around Jack. Alex and Cas hung ornaments on the little Nephilim, but he didn’t miss when his boyfriend turned to give him a heart-stopping wink.
That dork. He thought when he went back to the garage to help bring in the rest of the luggage, noticing Patience standing outside.
She was staring out into the still lake, looking just as frozen as the water was becoming. He swung a purple duffle over his shoulder and walked over to her, making enough crunching noise with the pebbles at his feet to not startle her before he stood at her side.
“Hey. How’s my favorite psychic?”
She didn’t jump or even look away from whatever point she was looking at. She did let out a small huff of a laugh through her nose, though—he’s taking that as a win—before she answered. “My grandma isn’t going to be happy to hear that.”
“I’m sure she’ll agree.”
She finally turned to look back at him, she looked calm, but Dean could see she was struggling with something. She was smiling, almost teasing.
“What?” He asked, but she shook her head in response. Turning around to head inside while Dean follows behind her. “You’re not gonna tell me? Was it a vision?”
“Nope. Just,” She stopped and looked at him, watching him with sincerity as she said, “The view down by the lake must look really nice when it’s snowing.”
Before he could comprehend what she was saying, even looking back to see the lake and afternoon sun glimmering behind them, she was called by Alex. Leaving him thinking it was nothing to worry about.
The view is pretty nice. So he thinks as he takes the last duffle inside and closes the garage door.
The rest of the day is spent decorating the house and getting ready for Christmas day tomorrow morning.
Holiday music played through the speakers as soon as they figured out how to use it, and Cas was quick to dress Jack for the occasion. They ran around in a gingerbread person onesie while Miracle followed their every little step.
“Aren’t you going to change?” Cas asked, sporting his own festive outfit. A thick light blue sweater with festive Christmas lights decorating it. “I left it in our bedroom whenever you are ready.”
Our bedroom. Maybe it’s just the holidays, but he really couldn’t help the emotion that hit him at that very moment. He leaned into Cas’s space, stealing a small kiss as a thank you. For having his sweater ready. For coming back. For loving him.
Cas, wide-eyed and dope-looking, never failed to make his heart race, especially when he looks back down to Dean’s lips and lets out a shaky breath he didn’t need to take.
“Okay.” Cas sighed before he looked back at Dean’s eyes. “Are you going to um, change?”
“Yeah, I’ll be right up.” Dean winked at him before continuing to help Alex and Jack put up the Christmas lights around the house.
The deal is not to decorate the Christmas tree until everyone arrives.
Later, dressed in the red sweater Jack picked out for him—it had a big light-up Christmas tree in the front— they were all in the kitchen baking cookies for a jolly old man they were all still not sure was real. It wasn’t until Jack’s blue eyes started to glow gold that the argument ended.
Can’t have the kid create a fat white man coming down people chimneys.
“Okay! We’re going to take Jack and Miracle for a walk while Dads here,” Jody winked at them. Already taking Jack into her arms. “Clean up the kitchen. Is that cool?”
“Yes!” “Yeah!” Dean and Cas say simultaneously, ignoring the laughing girls as they all head out the door. Then, with one last reminder to bundle up, the front door finally closed behind them, and they were alone.
Dean didn’t hesitate when he turned to grab Cas’s face and pull him in for a kiss. Both of them laughed and smiled as they did.
And maybe it was that moment in the messy rented-out kitchen, Cas jumping to sit on the counter and pull Dean to stand between his legs so they can continue to make out like two love sick teenagers', that Dean really decided on what his future will be.
And it had Cas in it.
It had his kid in it.
And it had his family being happy in a place where they could see the sunrise and sunset from out their windows.
“I love you.” Cas brushed against his lips. Kissing Dean’s cheek before kissing his lips again. Softer. As if every move of the lips was telling a story—the story about how an angel fell in love.
“I love you.” And the human that fell alongside him.
“Hey! We’re here! Dean?” They stopped mid-kiss when they heard the familiar voice coming from the living room. “Cas?”
Dean laughed when he felt Cas frown against his lips, but they went out to meet Sam and Eileen with one last peck.
It was the early hours of Christmas morning when Dean couldn't hold it in any longer. Waking up with Cas snoring right into his ear and his body draped across Dean's chest was the happiest he has woken up. It was crystal clear now what he had to do.
"Cas?" Dean turned his head to kiss him awake. Then, gently combing the mess of hair with his fingers while he coaxes his boyfriend awake. "Sweetheart, wake up. I got to ask you something important."
Cas opened one eye to peek at him and then squished his nose to Dean's cheek. Using his mojo to strengthen his octopus hug.
"It's dark outside. Shhhh."
"But I wanna do something."
"Too tired."
"No! Cas," Dean wiggles out of his grip just enough to grab Cas's face. Then, watching as his sleepy eyes turn more aware. "I love you. You listening?" He gave a silent nod, so Dean continued. "Good. Cause I wanted to tell you that I–that I love you and I think--no, I'm fucking positive that I want to marry you."
"I…What?" Cas watched his face, rereading it before his eyes started to water. "Really? Me?"
"Yeah, dumbass," Dean pressed their foreheads together as they both let tears fall. "You. I want to marry you. Fuck, I want to be married to you and love you for, well for fucking forever cause you don't die and I ain't leaving you so we'll figure some shit out, but for now," Dean kissed him, and Cas kissed back with just as much love. "Stay. With me."
"Yes!" Cas smiled as Dean rolled him into his back, kissing every inch of his face. "This is so...I love you. Dean, I love you so much."
They kissed for a little while on the bed before something caught his attention out the window.
“It’s snowing,” Dean whispers, watching the snow slowly fall from outside the large windows. Remember Patience's words from yesterday before chuckling. Understanding now. “The view by the lake.”
“What?”
Dean sat up, pushing the blankets off them. “Grab your coat!”
“Dean? Wait!”
They quickly got ready half haphazardly to go outside. Dean drags Cas to the lake to get the perfect view. It was breathtaking.
“Merry Christmas, Cas.” Dean digs into his pocket and grabs a ring he bought in a shop months ago. Always wondered if he was ready. If he even wanted this, but now he was sure. He never wanted anyone else. “You wanna be married to me?”
He holds out the ring and takes Cas’s hand. Watching as he studied every move Dean made with watery eyes. “As soon as possible. Yes.”
“Great.” Dean slipped the ring on and brought Cas in for a kiss. Slow and soft as they both tasted tears while the sun rose up from behind the house. Making the lake sparkle along with the falling snow. “We’re married now.”
“Hey!” They both turned towards the familiar voice coming from the house. “What are you two doing down there?”
It was Claire; they had just arrived just in time. Kaia waved back at them while Donna yelled out a “Good morning!”
Dean held Cas’s hand up. “We just got married!”
“What the fuck?” Claire blinked at them while Donna ran down in excitement. Bringing them both into a hug. While Claire still shockingly gasped, “Married?!”
Dean chuckled, already excited to see the rest of the family's reactions.
#fic#wormstachewrites#wayward sisters and team free will 2.0#destiel#baby!jack#dinner didnt burn but the cookies sure did
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American Song Contest live reaction from a local swede
HELP
Oh my god it’s so… american
Laughed from the first note of Minnesota’s. Sounds like a song from Disney Channel
The crowd is so overexcited?? Like are they ok?? The hosts say 1 word and they are all like ”WOOOHHHH!!!! 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼😂😍🥳🤩”
The charm with the crowd in esc is that you can only really hear it in the background a little more quietly, cause the microphone is not directed at them. Here it’s like ”LOOK THE CAMERA’S THERE LET’S SCREAM AT EVERYTHING”
Liked Oklahoma’s song!
Arkansas’ song is not my cup of tea, but what I thought about was her intro. She was like ”haha a normal stereotype is that we don’t have shoes or cars 🤪” like ?? Listen a lot of small cities in my country, we can joke that they live like medieval people, but we know that’s not the case. But in this case they act like people genuinely believe this? Like taking it too seriously like ”we’re not that far behind guys 😃 Come on 😀” I mean, I am sure people don’t legit take it seriously, but they act like they do
The crowd doesn’t even laugh at the host’s jokes? Like every time a host cracks a corny joke in ESC, you can hear a distant laughter. But here, when the hosts joke they cheer?? Imagine telling a joke and people go ”WOO!! 🤩👏🏼”
Indiana’s song was fine
Why are the hosts basically acting like every song is a #1 hit. Like ”I loved it what did you think?”, ”I loved it yeah it’s a jam”.
I was like ”Is Puerto Rico part of USA-” but apparently it is. Learned something new
Yeah this is pog it sounds like something they would sing on Soy Luna (I was gonna say Violetta too, but Violetta never had this kind of music, this is specifically something they would sing on SL)
Michael Bolton… ah, a name I have heard a lot but I have never actually known exactly what he’s done KEKDIDOIDOWI
Ok song from him but I love how awkward he looks. Like ”💨🧍🏼💨”
Iowa’s performance slaps
Cheese propaganda
Yeah Wisconsin’s performance is nice - not a song I would listen to (I don’t think I would listen to any song) but watching the performance? It’s nice
Not sure if he did a 🤌🏻 or a 🫰🏻 or a 🖕🏼
Missisippi’s song is ok but THE RANDOM DUDES WITH THE TAMBOURINES NEXT TO HER HAHAHAHA
AND THE GUITAR SOLO HAHA I like this
Love how every song is Snoop’s favorite song
HAHAHA COWBOY RAPPER WYOMING
Oh my god Wyoming is like how Swedes describes their hometowns. To outsiders, our towns are interesting, but when you live in the town you’re like ”eh. I mean sure, it’s fine”. For example, my hometown has an old church with two clock towers and one of the oldest schools in the country (it was first founded in 1246! But obviously has been rebuilt and relocated around town several times) and that’s kind of cool and impressive, and we have a culture here, but when you’re actually living here you’re like ”Yeah I mean it’s ok”
HELL YEAH COWBOY RAP
Them showing the hosts during the song is… a choice
Rhode Island wasn’t my cup of tea but it was fine
Please say they have a middle act. Middle acts are one of the most fun things
Ok they aren’t
Nerkidfidikd Rhode Island won??? Ok?
It just ended
????
Ok
They didn’t have time to say the winner before the credits just spedrun
Wh-
Also why are there judges instead of the viewers voting? Everyone who has watched ESC knows that the jury votes very often just fucks up the numbers. It’s the audience votes who gets the REAL fan faves to win
Aight should I liveblog next one too?
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Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 4
A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.
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Chapter 4
1997 (One year later)
The convention center had been beautiful under the blue Minnesota sky when Liam had arrived, and it was still beautiful now with its windows backed by heavy showers of falling snow that threw diffuse, moving light onto the walls inside the conference room. Beautiful and alarming.
Liam’s university was located in Florida. Florida was quite nice in January, and besides, there were theme parks. Didn’t people always like theme parks? But instead, the conference was being held in Minnesota, and this was the final day. In an hour, Liam and his colleagues, other faculty of the history department, were supposed to start the twenty-some-hour drive home.
“Could have been at Disney World,” Kurt remarked, startling Liam. Liam had been too busy watching the storm to realize Kurt had come up beside him.
“What on earth?” Liam asked, quite rightfully surprised, not by Kurt’s sudden unexpected presence, as he was used to that by now, but because Kurt was not a history professor, and therefore didn’t have a reason to be at the conference.
“Thought I’d drop in,” Kurt said. “See how things were going. Anyone interested in your research on Tollense?”
“Everyone. It’s very exciting.” Liam kept his voice low. “Am I talking to myself, or can everyone else see you?”
Kurt smiled at him. “I wouldn’t give you that kind of reputation. I’m visible.” Liam could see it was true, as Kurt’s good looks were attracting a few appreciative glances. “Are you ready to come home?” Kurt asked.
“Yes, we’re due to head out soon. Not that we’re really looking forward to it.”
“Well, your co-workers can head out whenever they like. I’m taking you home.”
“What?”
Kurt looked surprised by Liam’s surprise. “You’re from Florida. You have no idea what to do with snow. They’re pulling locals off the roads, Liam. I'm not letting you drive in this weather.”
“But you don’t even know how to dr— wait.” Liam felt a bit of a shiver crawl up his spine. “Oh, no. I’m not teleporting home.”
“I’ve been doing it for thousands of years. With humans. You know that. It’s perfectly safe.”
“No.”
Now a bit of hurt flashed over Kurt’s features, and like all his dark expressions, it was vaguely unsettling. “You don’t trust me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t want to teleport.”
“Why on earth not?”
Liam hated to lie to Kurt. Partly, it was because Liam was not entirely sure that Kurt couldn’t somehow tell that he was lying. Kurt claimed that he couldn’t read minds, but he was a vampire who could teleport himself from Florida to Minnesota, and Liam would not have been at all surprised to find that Kurt was aware of the snowstorm confronting Liam without having checked the weather.
But it was also true that Kurt was Liam’s best friend and it seemed wrong to lie to him. Except Liam couldn’t tell him the truth about this, because that wasn’t going to help anyone. It was better if Kurt didn’t know that Liam was in love with him, that for over a year now, Liam had been obsessed with the memory of Kurt kissing him, slow and sweet, and that the last thing Liam needed now was for Kurt to pull him close and show off his impressive supernatural abilities in a rescue. Kurt had made it clear that he never allowed himself to fall in love with humans that he met, and Liam had to be protective of his heart, already cracked and in danger of breaking.
“Look, if you are so dead-set on it, you can use your mind-control powers to convince me,” Liam joked, and immediately realized that was worse than lying, because Kurt flinched.
“If I do that,” Kurt said, in what sounded like a carefully controlled voice, “I will lose you anyway.”
“Wh— you’re not going to lose me. I’ll get a hotel, then. Drive home later.”
“I don’t want you driving to a hotel!” Kurt looked exasperated. “Liam, you are the most adventurous person I know. Why not this?”
“Oh, I’m hardly—”
“Yes, you are. You’re like an explorer, always hungry for something new and unusual. You’re brave, and not terribly cautious, which is bad for your driving habits, but it’s perfectly safe when it comes to me, because I am never going to let anything happen to you.”
Kurt had stepped close, and Liam could tell how upset Kurt was because Kurt was losing his grip on the human appearance and mannerisms he tried to put on. Right now he looked sleek and strong and shadowy. He didn’t reach for Liam with his hands, but Liam could feel something surrounding him, like a faint cool mist. It felt oddly familiar, and Liam got the impression that the mist might actually always be there, a piece of Kurt holding onto him, and Liam had just never been consciously aware of it before.
And then everything suddenly snapped back into place: Kurt looked ordinary again, and Liam realized with a shock that a couple of his colleagues had approached them.
“What do you think?” asked one of them. “We’re talking about getting a hotel.”
“I have a ride home,” Liam said faintly. Everyone looked at him in surprise, including Kurt. Few of Liam’s fellow faculty had met Kurt, partly by Kurt’s design, because he wasn’t terribly social, and partly by Liam’s. Liam was aware that his very close friendship with a very handsome man was likely to give him a certain other reputation, one that was quite deserved (though sadly not much practiced), but not very wise in the current political climate.
Nothing for it now. “Chris Mullens, Doris Sullivan, this is my friend Kurt, ah, Smith. He was in town for something else and is heading back to Florida today. He offered me a ride.”
“Is it safe?” Doris asked, looking concerned.
“Kurt’s a very good driver. Got a— a car like a tank.”
Doris laid a hand on Liam’s shoulder, and to Liam’s surprise, Kurt seemed to bristle at that, almost literally, and the whole room seemed to go with him, the air around them feeling oddly sharp. Liam understood that Kurt was concerned that he’d change his mind and be convinced to travel with his colleagues, but it undoubtedly looked like something else from the outside— a sort of possessiveness.
“What a nice friend,” Chris said lightly, looking at Kurt in a way that Liam did not like at all, as if Kurt was not a person but a problem, not a good-looking man but a tempting trap. Liam’s personal belief was that men who were so vehemently opposed to homosexuality were probably terrified that they themselves might be vulnerable to such a “trap,” but it was better if that went unsaid.
Kurt rescued him, of course. “Yes, Liam and I have been friends for a while. I used to date one of his students, Martina.”
Chris’s face cleared a bit, losing some of its distaste. He had apparently not heard of bisexuality, or whatever word might describe Kurt. “Oh. Sure.”
“Ready to go?” Kurt asked Liam. He barely waited for an answer before steering Liam out of the room. They walked down an empty hallway where the storm winds were pushing hard enough to make the windows shift in their frames. Kurt spoke in a gentle voice. “Give it a few years. The world is becoming more tolerant again. Humans keep discovering their natures over and over.”
“This must all be very trite to you.”
“Not in the least.” Kurt’s eyes were sharp on him. “Do you think Chris is the one sending you those threatening letters?”
Liam scoffed. “He barely knows how to tie his shoes. Worse than even the typical history professor.”
Kurt looked unconvinced. “I’ll keep an eye on him all the same.” He held out a hand to Liam. “Let’s go home.”
Liam looked down at Kurt’s hand. A pale blue vein ran delicately along his wrist, and Liam wondered what flowed there, if anything. “What about my luggage?”
“I already picked it up from Dr. Sullivan’s car. It’s at your place.”
“You’re awfully confident that I’d say yes to this.”
Kurt sighed, exasperated. “I can’t believe you haven’t asked me sooner. I thought I’d be taking you to the Louvre every weekend. Or Rome. At least Antietam.”
Liam laughed. “I should have.”
Kurt smiled, looking at ease for the first time since he’d arrived. “You should.”
“Next weekend then.” Liam finally took Kurt’s hand, and their fingers fit together easily. As always, Kurt was slightly cool to the touch.
The convention center faded away into a sort of bland white light. Liam felt like he was floating, but still with his feet planted on the ground. He looked down and found his own office floor beneath his shoes.
“Stay still a moment,” Kurt warned. “People can get dizzy when they’re not used to it.” He dropped Liam’s grasp and put a steadying hand on his arm instead. And now was the moment Liam had dreaded: Kurt was so close, so strong, and so hauntingly strange.
���We must seem so very fragile to you,” Liam said.
“You are fragile.” There was a harsh coldness in Kurt’s voice.
“So how did you learn to do that? To teleport?”
Kurt shrugged. “Just always could.”
“Always?” Liam frowned. “I thought a vampire’s abilities were based on age.”
“They are.”
“But if you’ve been doing it as long as you can remember— since at least Tollense— doesn’t it follow then that your origins would have to be a great deal older than that?”
Kurt narrowed his eyes, considering.
“Or else,” Liam said, “maybe you’re not a vampire.”
“I drink blood.”
“A lot of creatures— uh, beings— are said to drink blood. I’m sorry, it must be so frustrating not to be able to remember.”
Kurt looked at him with a sort of gratitude, but then he turned away, toward the door. A second later, there was a knock, and Kurt finally let go of Liam’s arm.
It was one of Liam’s graduate students at the door, Jonah. “Hey,” he said. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Just have a couple of questions. I thought I heard you talking. Do you have company?”
Most of the students never met Kurt either, despite the fact that he was around quite a bit. Liam had learned by now that Kurt only appeared to those students he thought he might start a relationship with. Kurt had been alone since Martina had graduated, and Liam assumed it would only be a matter of time before he picked another student, someone to provide him with blood and share his bed. In between lovers, Kurt drank blood from animals, but he had told Liam that it was much better to have a human source. Kurt chose those people whom he thought would be open to the idea of a finite relationship with a vampire, those who wouldn’t be afraid of him but also wouldn’t want to stay with him indefinitely. Because Kurt never got attached.
“Let’s find out,” Liam said, and opened the door wider. His heart sank immediately when he saw that Jonah could see Kurt standing by the desk. Liam thought back for a moment to Kurt’s reaction when Doris put her hand on Liam’s arm. But Kurt wouldn’t get jealous, of course.
Liam definitely was.
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My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light
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We Were Wild - Prologue
Hey guys. As you may be able to tell, I am a HUGE Minnesota Wild fan. A huge hockey fan in general. I decided to write a fanfic about the Wild and Kaprizov (the love of my life). I’m writing this for my own entertainment but I also hope you guys like it. Even if you aren’t a NHL fan, I think this will be a cute love story. You don’t need to know the players.
Thanks guys.
Also the title will probably change... Haha.
____________________________________________________
Prologue:
The cold always felt like home to me. Winter always made me happier than the summer ever could. With winter came skating and hot chocolate. It also brought blizzards and freezing temperatures, things that often reminded me of myself…
I woke up with the air feeling extra heavy within my room. The humidity would not let up, especially during a Minnesota summer. On top of that, my air conditioner sat broken in the window, mocking me.
I could hear the sounds of rush hour beginning. I pulled my curtains open to see the city bustling around me. I smiled down at the busy street below me. Whenever I looked out the window at the traffic below, I felt on top of the world. Something about the busy city made me feel at home. After spending my time at college up in the northland, I was happy to be back in the cities.
I let out a yawn and made my way down the hallway. I could see my college best friend and current roommate pouring a bowl of cereal out of the corner of my eye as I slipped into the bathroom.
“Kat! You aren’t really going to spend the rest of your summer in an ice rink, right?” Eliza yelled across the apartment at me when she heard the faucet running. I chuckled as I splashed the cool water on my face.
“You know I love hockey,” I retorted, grabbing my toothbrush. I heard her snicker and told me to come eat breakfast before I left. I shook my head though. My stomach was filled with butterflies at the idea of starting my new job.
I pulled my long brown hair out of my face and up into a high ponytail. I couldn’t have it getting in the way today. I applied a small amount of makeup before really looking at myself in the mirror. I smiled, trying my hardest not to look too tired.
“Come at least sit with me while I eat breakfast!” Eliza whined. I chuckled and walked out to the kitchen. I filled a glass of water and sat down next to her. She rolled her eyes when she saw the excitement in me. “You know they only want you because of the new Russian kid they’re bringing in. You’re basically going to be a translator, Katerina.”
Sadly, she was right. They hired me as a photographer, but they asked me to help their newest rookie out. I had a feeling that pictures would be lower on my task list then I had initially expected.
They hired me because I had hockey photography experience from college. I took photos for my university’s hockey team. Not to mention that they were one of the best college teams in the US. However, they also hired me because I was Russian.
Katerina Petrov, first generation immigrant. My parents immigrated to the US when I was four. My mother didn’t speak a word of English and my dad had a limited vocabulary. He basically got a factory job by saying, “I fix that for you,” and pointing at a machine. Russian was my first language and English was my second.
“I know…” I muttered. “But on top of that, they’re paying me to shoot their games. That’s my dream. Plus who wouldn’t want to be surrounded by the hottest team in the NHL.”
She laughed at my joke, knowing damn well that I was right. The Minnesota Wild has some of the best looking hockey players across North America. Still, Eliza looked at me and told me not to get my hopes up. She was right, this job might not be what I think it would be.
After she had finished eating, we both went back to our rooms to get ready for the day. She was off to her engineering job and I was heading to the TRIA Rink where the Minnesota Wild held practice. We lived very different lives.
My jaw hung open as I walked up to the building. I couldn’t believe that I was actually here. I secured my camerabag on my back and took a deep breath. I slipped my face mask on and pulled the door open.
Inside the lobby, Bruce Kluckhohn waited for me. He smiled at me as I walked in. I walked up confidently and offered him a handshake. I greeted him nicely with a huge smile on my face.
“Katerina, right?” he asked me. I smiled and held back my chuckle. Hearing my full name in an American accent always caught me off guard.
“You can call me Kat,” I said. He nodded in response and took me around the practice arena.
It was cold and empty when we got there. There was no sign of players anywhere. My head swiveled around to see everything about the room. I took mental notes on where the lights were and where the best spots to stand would be. I glanced at the plexiglass around the rink and smiled at how clear they were still.
“You won’t have to worry about that,” Bruce said as he motioned for me to follow him. I tilted my head in confusion and walked slowly behind him. We made our way around the rink and onto the bench. I could feel the chilled air radiating off of the ice. Bruce turned to me with a smile. “You will shoot from here.”
I stared at him in silence for a moment as my mind tried to process what he was saying. Why would I get such an awesome spot to shoot from? I opened my mouth to ask questions but I was interrupted by someone behind me. I turned around at the call of my name and saw someone I would recognize a mile away. Dean Evanson, the Wild’s head coach, stood right in front of me.
“Katerina, it’s wonderful to meet you,” he said with a smile. He shook my hand.
“Hi,” I said, freezing up a little bit. “You can call me Kat.”
I could tell he was surprised by my voice. I sounded very American and he was not expecting it. Even though I was Russian first, I lost my accent at a young age. I spoke English everywhere except for at home and having an accent made things harder for me growing up.
“Okay Kat,” he said, a smile on his face. “C,mon. I can show you the rest and explain things a little bit more.”
I nodded and followed him through the rest of the training facilities. It was a huge building and I could see myself getting lost before I got used to it. I listened carefully as he explained the situation to me. As I listened, I felt myself getting more and more discouraged. The reason I was here was to provide Bruce a hand. There was no guarantee that they would use my photos anyways. The main reason I was here was to help with communication between the coaches and their newest team member, Kirill Kaprizov. That’s why I would shoot their practices from the bench. It was so I could provide clarification at practice whenever he needed it.
“We really appreciate having you here and we look forward to seeing the talent you bring to our team,” Dean said as we made it back to the rink. I forced a smile on my face and nodded, telling him I would do my hardest before he walked away.
After he left, I looked out at the rink and noticed a few of the players skating on the ice. Bruce was over on the side opposite of me taking a few photos of the guys. There were no coaches around, but they looked like they were working on some drills. I walked over to the bench and pulled my camera out. I attached my 70-200 mm lens and adjusted my settings carefully. I snapped a couple of photos, observing the players on the ice. I immediately recognized a couple of them. Jared Spurgeon. Mats Zuccarello. Kevin Fiala. Matt Dumba. I could name them all. Well, all but one.
He looked young. He had to be around my age. His dirty blonde hair stuck out the back of his helmet. However, the thing I noticed the most was that he looked frustrated. He skated over to the bench, muttering to himself.
“I’m trying to understand, but I keep messing it up,” he said under his breath. However, he didn’t say it in English. This was him. This was Kirill Kaprizov.
“You’re working hard. Don’t worry, it will get easier,” I said to him.
His head shot in my direction. He had this dumbfounded look on his face as he stared at me.
“You can understand me?”
#saramae21#mn wild#mn wild fanfic#mn wild fic#wild fic#wild fanfic#Minnesota wild#kirill kaprizov#kirill kaprizov fanfic#kirill kaprizov fic#hockey fic#hockey fanfic#nhl fanfiction#nhl fic
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Pizza from Cali
“Okay guys I gotta go, my pizza is here.”
“Aww.”
“Where’s my pizza?”
“Get your own.”
“Bye guys!”
OR
In which Reggie has to leave the game to eat pizza, and Bobby wants some
Ship: Boggie, kinda
Word Count: 879
Reggie was playing Call of Duty with his friends. They’re a group of gamers from all over the US and they call themselves Sunset Curve, Julie doesn’t understand why but she lets them do their own thing. None of them live close to each other, Reggie lives in LA, Bobby in NYC, Luke lives in Minnesota and Alex in Oklahoma.
He knew he couldn’t play for too long because his dad had ordered take out for dinner, his sister Julie was going to get him when it arrived.
“Oh come on!” Bobby yelled through the headset. “Luke you were supposed to cover me.”
“I’m sorry I got distracted,” Luke apologized.
“Were you thinking of Reg’s sister again?” Alex teased.
“Yeah...” Luke mumbled and Reggie got annoyed.
“Can you stop Luke? Like seriously dude she’s my sister, that’s weird,” Reggie complained.
“Yeah and it gets me killed,” Bobby tagged on.
“Not the point Bobbers,” Reggie rolls his eyes.
“It is to me, Reginald,” Bobby retorted.
It was then that Julie knocked on Reggie’s bedroom door, “Reg?”
“Yeah Jules?” he replied, moving the mic away from his mouth.
“The pizza is here.”
“Okay, thanks,” he said before moving the mic back. “Okay guys I gotta go, my pizza is here.”
“Aww,” Luke groaned.
“Where’s my pizza?” Bobby joked and they all laughed.
“Get your own,” Alex laughed.
“Bye guys,” Reggie insisted and the rest of the guys chorused back.
He left the group call and turned off his computer. He took off his headset and went downstairs, still laughing to himself.
He looked at the pizza with a grin on his face, “God, I love pizza.”
They all sat down and Carlos said grace, not without thanking God for the pizza delivery guy of course. They ate their dinner, Reggie still chuckling to himself.
“What’s so funny, mijo?” Rose asked him.
“Just Bobby,” he replied.
“What did he do now?” Carlos asked.
“He asked where his pizza was when I had to leave the game.”
“You know you could send him pizza, right?” Julie questioned before taking another bite of pizza.
“What?”
“You know his address, right?” Julie reminded him. The Molinas were in New York earlier that year and Reggie and Bobby decided to meet up. They were the only two of Sunset Curve who had actually met each other in real life.
“But he lives in New York,” Reggie countered.
“You can order it online,” Ray said. “In fact, Carlos, why don’t you help him do that.”
“Wait, really?” Reggie smiled in disbelief.
“Sure, Reggie,” Rose smiled. “Just finish your dinner first.”
He did just that, Reggie devoured the pizza, but that’s not to say he didn’t savor it, it is his favorite food after all. And when he was finished Carlos helped him order the pizza for Bobby online. He made sure to add in special instructions for the delivery guy to say “Pizza for Bee, from Reg.”
When everyone was finished Reggie went back upstairs to play with the guys again, and he had the biggest grin on his face when he did.
“Alright guys, I’m back,” he said as he joined the group call again.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Heyy.”
It was about five minutes since he and Carlos had sent in the order and there was about ten more before the pizza would get to Bobby’s house.
“Let’s play. Now Luke, no more thinking about my sister, we don’t need Bobby rage quitting on us. And if you really like her that much then just text her, please? For our sanity,” Reggie pleaded with the shaggy haired boy.
“Okay, okay,” Luke sighed.
So they played. They played and Reggie was so engrossed in the game that he almost forgot the surprise he had for Bobby until he had heard the faint sound of a doorbell ring through his headset.
“Guys, I’ll be back. Someone’s at my door,” Bobby said before setting down his headset.
Reggie couldn’t hold in his giggles as he awaited Bobby’s return. It only took a second for Alex to call him out on it.
“What are you laughing about?”
“Just wait a second,” Reggie replied, still laughing quietly.
It was then that you could hear Bobby’s heavy footsteps returning, a definite spring in his step. “What the fuck Reginald!”
Reggie burst into laughter at this greeting, Alex and Luke were very confused.
“What’s going on?” Alex bit the bullet and asked.
“How the fuck did you get me pizza from Cali?!” Bobby demanded but Reggie was breathless with laughter.
“Wait, what?” Luke was still confused.
“So the doorbell went, yeah?” Bobby began, “And so I open the door and there’s a pizza guy there and I start to explain that I didn’t order pizza and was beginning to think my phone had done it for me or something because as we all know-“
“The government is always listening,” the boys chorused. Bobby had gone through this with them many times.
“But then the guy says that ‘This is pizza for Bee, from Reg,’ like what the fuck Reginald. He sent me pizza from California!” Bobby exclaimed.
“I ordered it online,” Reggie explained, finally having his breathe back.
“You are a king, Molina. My man is an actual god.”
Reggie blushed at the compliment.
#reggie peters#bobby shaw#bobby wilson#reggie molina#boggie#boggie brainrot#julie and the phantoms#jatp#boggie fanfic#julie and the phantoms fanfic#jatp fanfiction#jynx writes#jynx edits#jynx graphics#fanfic#fanfiction
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Hi! Can I please get an imagine where the reader is Bombay’s daughter and he’s never been around because of his job and that he left the readers mum years ago. But he comes back to coach her team, not knowing she plays and they argue, he pleads to get to know her etc.☺️😄basically the absentee!father x reader who wishes for a father but doesn’t know how to forgive him
TITLE: Forgiveness [Can you imagine?] (Bombay x daughter!reader)
✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!
Prompt/summary: Bombay tries to reconnect with the daughter he walked out on 8 years ago.
Word Count: 2,519
Authors note: You said argue? Alright here’s some angst. It feels so good to be writing for The Mighty Ducks again, this is one of my favorite movies so I’m so happy I got a request for it!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Every summer I used to get the same letter from my dad. It actually wasn’t even a letter. It was child support.
Every fall we used to stop by the diner in town to get milkshakes to celebrate the anniversary of him leaving us. It wasn’t that he was a terrible dad, she just knew she could do better for the both of us if he wasn’t around. After 8 years she still got the same order every time we went to the diner, and every year Mrs. Conway was still there taking our order.
Her son Charlie was always there too. Both of us played on the same hockey team and every winter we would drag our gear down to the pond to practice with our team.
That entire routine changed after one day.
“Goldburg you’re the goalie, the puck is supposed to hit you,” Charlie sighed as he skated towards us.
“Does that sound stupid to anyone else?” the goalie groaned.
I rolled my eyes at him before lining up another shot.
After a few more shots Charlie tapped my shoulder, he looked in wonder as a car drove out onto the ice. We all wandered over and a man in a finely pressed suit stepped out.
“Wait, that can’t be him-” I mumbled.
“We ain’t buying nothing man, I’m feeling generous today so I’ll let your sorry vanilla bootie outta here before we use your eyeballs as hockey pucks!” Jesse said.
“Thanks bro,” the man rolled his eyes before going to reach in to his jacket, “but I’m not going home ‘til I take care of business.”
The group slowly backed up. When the man pulled out a piece of paper and not a gun we all sighed in relief.
“District five pee-wee hockey team, I’m Gordon Bombay. Your new coach.”
The team laughed as I locked eyes with Charlie. He saw the absolute panic in my eyes.
“Got the roster right here. Averman, Dave. Bombay, (Y/n). Conway, Charlie. ”
His face scrunched up as he got to mine. Confusion or being uncomfortable. Either way I couldn’t tell. Luckily no one seemed to notice the fact that I had the same last name as the coach.
“Here’s the long and the short of it. I hate hockey and I don’t like kids. I’m sure this will be a real bonding experience. Maybe one day, one of you will even write a book about it in jail.”
Charlie nudged my shoulder, looking at me with a questioning look. I sighed, “He used to love hockey, but he really seems to hate kids. My mom said she heard that he got a DWI last week.”
Bombay ordered us to scrimmage. We all dove for the puck. Players tripped and fell over each other as we desperately tried to play. I finally got the puck and started to make a move towards the goal when Jesse (accidentally or not) hooked my ankle with his stick as he fell. Connie skated over quickly to help me up before taking off over to Bombay.
I rubbed my sore elbows as Charlie and I skated back over to the car that was still parked on the ice. Bombay brushed the team off by saying we need to scrimmage more and got back into the car.
“What a jerk,” Peter said.
Eventually the team came to the amazing conclusion we should hijack the car. On Peters mark, we all jumped on the car, shook it, and climbed inside.
“We want a ride! We want a ride!” Connie began to chant as we all joined in.
“Take em for a spin, anything!” Bombay said, we all cheered as they started driving.
The fun didn’t last for long. Charlie’s mom soon appeared on the ice and made us all get out.
She furiously shouted, “Are you out of your mind? What were you thinking putting that car on the ice? My son was in that car!”
“Lady lady relax,” Bombay said, “The ice is not gonna crack.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she said. Charlie and I slowly got out of the car and skated to the side to take off our skates.
Bombay sighed, “Gordon Bombay, the new hockey coach.”
Oh lord he was in for it now.
“Oh you’re the dead beat that married (Y/m/n). They send you down here to coach the team and you endanger their lives. You endangered your daughter's life!”
I hid my face with my hand as Bombay looked back at me. Oh god he knows now.
Charlie’s mom eventually pulled us away and drove us home. I knew I’d be hearing about this from my mom later.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By order of the state of Minnesota Bombay was at the game the next day. I’d made it my mission to avoid my “dad”. Charlie did a good job of keeping him away, asking him questions or distracting him. I knew I’d have to talk to him eventually but until then I was content with pretending I wasn’t his daughter.
The game was a joke. We didn’t score any goals. Didn’t get a chance to defend ourselves as the Hawks beat us into the ground. 9-0. I left the game with bruises on my face and arms. My helmet was barely covering my face and my hockey pads were my dad’s old ones from the 80’s. One of the few things I stole from his house when we left. Charlie was extremely frustrated at the missed shot he had towards the end of the second period.
As the team sat arguing I was putting my gear up.
“I thought we came here to play hockey. Do you guys think losing is funny?” Bombay yelled.
“It’s not like you coach us or anything. At least we tried,” Jesse said.
Bombay’s face went red with rage, “That was the sloppiest playing I’ve ever seen. Why the hell won’t you just listen to me?!”
I stood up, shouldering my bag, “Why the hell should we?”
The team followed me out of the box.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next game was a disaster. Bombay encouraged us to lie, cheat, and foul our way through the game. Bombay was furious when Charlie wouldn’t do his little act when he was cornered. The bruises on my face still hadn’t healed properly.
The locker room was filled with groans as everyone agreed the game was pathetic.
“Charlie! When I tell you to do something, you do it! Got it?”
“You can’t make me cheat,” Charlie said walking out of the locker room.
Jessie and Terry’s dad stormed into the locker room, “LEt’s go boys. This is what I gave up my overtime pay for? To watch my kids take falls? You’re a pathetic excuse for a coach, and an even more pathetic father if you can let your daughter get beaten up like that.”
The team’s heads turned to me as he pointed in my direction. I let my head fall as I stormed out behind Jessie and Terry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I really thought I could keep avoiding him. I didn’t think he would come and try to find me.
The next day at practice was a shock for everyone. We all got new uniforms, gear, and sticks. Everyone was pumped up during practice and we even got two new players.
“What changed?” I asked Charlie.
He shrugged, “I don’t know. He came and apologized last night.”
My blood boiled. He can apologize to another kid but not his own daughter who he practically abandoned. I warmed up to him as practice went on but in the back of my mind there was still that thought lingering.
“(Y/n), you’re riding home with me,” Bombay told me as I packed up my stuff.
I looked at him confused, “But-”
“Your mom said it was okay.”
I silently followed him out to the car, the driver had rolled up the middle window so we could have some privacy.
“So…” he said, I stayed quiet still looking out the window, “Your mom told me you never quit hockey. Even after I…”
“Left?”
He sighed, “Yeah I guess it was like that wasn’t it?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Look (Y/n), if I had known how much it had affected you I never would’ve stepped out that door. Your mom and I… we just weren’t good together.”
I scoffed, “No, your drinking side just didn’t line up with the fact mom wanted a decent husband.”
He went to speak again but quickly closed his mouth.
“I’ll just imagine me forgiving you. Maybe one day I can actually do it with meaning,” I sighed and went to pick my bag up as the driver pulled up to the curb.
“(Y/n),” he said grabbing my arm, “I already talked to Charlie about this. I’m so sorry for the way I acted. I never should have asked you guys to cheat. And I definitely shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you guys. I’d do anything to try and get you to forgive me.”
“I’m just confused as to why your star player got an apology before your daughter did. I’ve been waiting for that for 8 years. If you truly wanted that from me you should’ve tried a long time ago.”
I slammed the car door as I got out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next few days I spent at Charlie’s house when my mom wasn’t home, hoping Bombay wouldn’t come track me down again.
“(Y/n)?” Charlie said, “Someone left a package for you.”
I looked up from the comic books that were sprawled across Charlie’s bed in confusion as he sat the brown paper package down. My name was written across it in black sharpie.
Charlie shook his head, “Well, are you gonna open it?”
“I think I already know who it’s from.”
“(Y/n), he really wants to make it up to you. Just open it.”
I sighed and slowly ripped the paper, inside was a jersey. My favorite hockey team’s jersey.
“Woah,” I said.
Charlie scoffed, “Your dad sent you that? How’d he know your favorite team?”
“Cause it’s his favorite too. Charlie this is his vintage jersey.”
“Well,” he said, “Maybe you can start imagining that forgiveness part.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“The Ducks? We’re the ducks? What brain dead jerk came up with that name,” Peter scoffed.
“As a matter of fact,” Bombay said pulling a jersey out of the box, “I did. But I didn’t have a choice, we’re being sponsored. You’d rather be district 5? Some stupid number?”
“They don’t even have teeth,” Peter said.
“Neither do hockey players,” he said, we all giggled, “Have you ever seen a flock of ducks flying in perfect formation? It’s beautiful. Pretty awesome how they all stick together. The other animals are afraid, cause they know if they mess with one duck then they’ll get the whole flock.”
Bombay walked around the locker room giving his little speech. He smiled when he got to me, his eyes flicking down to see I was wearing the old jersey he had left for me.
He whipped off his coat to reveal his Ducks jersey underneath as we all laughed, “I’m proud to be a duck, and I’d be proud to fly with any one of you.”
Charlie and I smiled at each other.
“So how about it? Who’s a duck?”
Silence followed as everyone looked around the room to see who would go first.
“I’ll be a duck,” our new player Fulton Reed said.
I smiled and placed my hockey stick on the bench, “I’ll join the flock.”
“Yeah,” Charlie said following suit, “me too.”
Soon enough the whole team joined in. Grabbing jerseys and cheering.
“We are the ducks!” Bombay shouted, “The Mighty Ducks!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next few games were amazing. Our winning streak started to pick up and soon enough we were getting ready to face off against Cardinals.
Charlie and I were named the dynamic duo. Our ability to make plays and take shots off of each other improved everyday. But that put a target on our back.
It was the third quarter, we had to make one shot to pull us out of a tie and win. The crowd was going crazy as Charlie and I sped up the ice. Our team following behind us for backup.
It was a stupid idea.
Charlie went to take a shot as I saw a goon defender moving in for the body check. So I threw myself in between Charlie and the goon. My head snapped back against the glass as I heard the buzzer go off signaling a goal.
The team cheered. Charlie frantically raced over to me.
“(Y/n)?”
I could barely hear him, the ringing in my ears was so loud, “Where’s my dad?”
Charlie looked confused before shouting over to Bombay.
“(Y/n)? Can you hear me?” he said.
“Dad?” I started to cry as the pain caught up to me.
“Get her helmet off Charlie,” he said, I felt Charlie gently take it off and the coolness of the ice against the back of my head, “(Y/n) the paramedics are gonna get you off the ice okay?”
I felt myself being picked up off the ice and lifted onto a stretcher, the crowd clapped as I was rolled off the ice.
The ride to the hospital was short, Charlie’s mom called my mom's work to tell her what happened and she rushed over as Casey rode to the hospital with me.
“Where’s my dad?”
“He had to finish up the game, he’s gonna meet us there afterwards.”
Everything happened really fast when we got there, I wasn’t allowed to sleep even though I was super tired.
“Look who’s here” Casey said. I turned to see Bombay and Charlie walking in.
“Woah,” I yelped as Charlie ran over to give me a hug.
“Are you crazy? You won’t be able to play at the next game!”
I laughed, “At least we get a next game. It was worth it.”
He rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair. Bombay sat down in the chair beside the hospital bed. Casey and Charlie walked outside.
“Do you remember what happened after you took that hit?”
I paused trying to think back to earlier, “Um… not really.”
“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it in front of the team. You called me dad.”
I turned my head to look down at the sheets, “Oh…”
“I don’t have a problem with it,” he laughed, “But the team is definitely going to have questions for you tomorrow.”
I smiled.
“Alright, grab your stuff. The doctor said you can go, you just can’t practice or play in a game for a week.”
My eyes widened, “A week?!”
“Yes,” he said, “And I better not hear any complaints. I’ll make you run extra. Your moms waiting on us.”
“Where?”
“At the diner, she said something about milkshakes.”
I smiled, “We always get milkshakes after games.”
“Well, it’s on me tonight.”
I jumped up and gave him a hug before running out to grab Charlie. I think I can imagine that forgiveness thing now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taglist: @thebookwormlife @talksoprettyjjx @coolreallyfuzzystudentuniverse @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @larrystylinson-sus @lovesanimals @aunicornmademedoit @thexhotmess @ssprayberrythings @registerednursejackie @julieandthephantomsblogduh @fangirling-allday @solophantomsmultis @drxgxnslxyer @schnapp-my-neck
#the mighty ducks#the mighty ducks imagine#gordon bombay#emelio estevez#gordon bombay imagine#gordon bombay x daughter!reader#emelio estevez imagine
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Releves
1x12
Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham
Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist
Word Count: 1.9k
Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, mental health problems
Author’s Note: Me being angry at hannibal despite it conflicting with my plans for this series are something else
I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar. Those sentences are not mine.
Official Episode Summary : The BAU team finds evidence linking Abigail to the Minnesota Shrike victims; Will checks Abigail out of the hospital; Hannibal convinces Jack that Will is capable of murder.
I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director
Tag List: @llperfectsymmetryll
(not my gif)
You woke up and Will was gone. You must have fallen asleep on the chair beside his bed. You started to panic which had become a much too familiar feeling. You got up and started to walk around. You thought about asking a doctor or something but didn’t want to worry anyone but yourself just in case it was nothing. You walked through the halls, peeking in rooms for your boyfriend who slept walked more often than not these days. You got to the room of the girl who had been under your bed and Will was inside.
“Will?” you whispered. He turned around.
“Hi. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Dont’ worry about it.” You glanced at her. She looked so much better than you had seen her last considering.
“I don’t think we’ve met properly,” she said. “Georgia.”
“Y/N.”
“I’m sorry, I heard I kinda crashed under your bed.” You shook your head and laughed.
“No worries there.” You turned to Will. “You should come back to your room.” He turned to Georgia sarcastically.
“Helicopter girlfriend,” he teased.
“Yeah I wouldn’t have to be if you slept through the night,” you confessed. Georgia laughed and you grabbed Will’s pole that he was holding. He nodded and waved goodbye to her before following you out the door.
You walked out of the room and he turned to you.
“She said they would never figure out what’s wrong with me,” he whispered.
“She’s not a doctor.” He glanced at you and then the ground as he shuffled along.
“You’re optimistic.”
“I gotta me. You’re pessimistic,” you whispered teasingly as you made it back to his room. He nodded.
“So you think they’ll figure it out?” You shook your head softly.
“I hope they do. But honestly, I think you’re too complicated for them.”
-
Will woke up later to a light conversation. You were sitting on the bed and Hannibal stood at the edge of it.
“Well it is complicated,” Hannibal was saying quietly.
“What’s complicated?” Will asked. You looked over at him and smiled comfortingly.
“Nothing.”
“You keeping secrets now?” Will teased, sitting up.
“We were talking about how to make this soup. Y/N said she couldn’t quite cook and I was sharing the recipe,” Hannibal explained.
“He’s brought food,” you said happily.
“Smells delicious.”
“Silkie chicken in a broth. A black boned bird prized in China for its medicinal value since the 7th century. With wolfberries, ginseng, ginger, red dates and star anise,” Hannibal explained.
“You made me chicken soup,” Will said and Hannibal offered a supportive smile.
“Y/N says you’ve been wandering.”
“I was awake. And wandering with purpose and good intentions,” he promised. You nodded.
“Just visiting around,” you promised.
“Visiting that unfortunate young woman suffering from delusions?”
“She’s my support group,” he joked. You hit him gently. “You are also my support group. Relax.” Will got out of bed and sat down at the table while the three of you ate the broth together. “Could all of the things have been the fever Hannibal? Like the hallucinations or the sleepwalking, the loss of time,” Will asked as he sat down.
“It’s possible.”
“What else is possible?” you asked.
“Fevers can be symptoms of dementia. Dementia can be a symptom of many things happening in your body or mind that can no longer be ignored,” Hannibal said.
“Does Jack know?”
“That this could be a fever? No I haven’t told him,” Hannibal said.
“He wouldn’t do anything about it either,” you muttered bitterly.
“But shouldn’t you?” Will asked.
“I believe Y/N may be right. Additionally we don’t know for certain.”
-
Will walked with you into the room of Georgia who you felt as though you had just spoken to. Her charred body laid across the burn tank.
“Hospital speculates a short circuit could have ignited the fire,” Jack muttered.
“Unit looks well maintained. No exposed wiring,” Price said.
“Don’t know if she suffocated or burned to death. We’ll look for soot in the lining of her airways,” Zeller commented. Will lets out a shaky sigh and puts his hand almost protectively on your arm.
“Horrible way to die,” he whispered.
-
Will woke up with a start and it woke you up. It was odd not to be laying beside him but you were sitting in the uncomfortable chair beside the bed. He breathed heavily.
“Do you need something?” you whispered. Will grabbed your arm and pulled you to the bed. He wasn’t sweating and didnt’ feel hot. You wrapped your arms around him and he put his head on your chest.
“Sleep here,” he whispered. You nodded
-
The next day you walked into Abigail's room. It was the first time you had been away from Will since he had been admitted to the hospital. Hannibal had urged you to leave but not come back to work just yet although you would be back the next day.
She looked up and let out a sigh of relief.
“I thought you were Freddie,” she muttered.
“Or Alana who is also watching you like a hawk?” you asked. She nodded. She knew you knew and that was a good thing when it came down to it. She didn't feel like she had to hide with you.
“Just anybody else,” she murmured. You walked inside and sat at the window sill with her.
“How have you been?”
“Do you know that Hannibal is in love with you and Will?” she asked. You choked on the air at the change of subject. She was a teenager. But still.
“Excuse me?”
“I thought it was weird when I noticed. I wanted to know if you had noticed,” she said. You shook your head.
“Will, Hannibal and I are close friends,” you said lightly.
“But you and Will are dating,” she suggested.
“Yeah so?”
“Hannibal loves the two of you as a unit I think,” she said. “I told him I thought of all of you as a weird parental group and he got oddly happy.”
“Abigail-”
“It’s just an observation,” she whispered. “I’m fine.” You laughed at the change of tone.
“Good to hear.”
-
When you got back to the hospital Will was gone. You were notebally pissed. You walked right into the building where he worked and up to Jack Crawford's office. You could hear Will’s voice from down the hall.
You opened the door aggressively and they both turned around.
“Did you do this?” you asked at Jack.
“He checked himself out. I told him to go back,” he said honestly. You walked up to Will and put your hand on his forehead. Still warm but not boiling like he had been.
“Why did you-”
“Jack thinks she killed herself. I think it’s the copy cat of Garret Jacob Hobbs.” You blinked twice. Even for Will, that was a stretch. But you trusted his instinct more than your own.
“And you can wait to catch them. It’s been this long,” you said, removing your hand. He shook his head.
“I have to do it now. I’m thinking clearer, I’m finally thinking clearly.” His eyes pleaded but they still looked undescribingly broken. You glanced at Jack who clearly didn’t believe Will at all. “Jack also thinks Abigail had something to do with the murders.”
“What?”
“I’m not explaining this to you. You don't’ work for me,” Jack said.
“Neither does Will! He’s not on a payroll is he?” you asked. Jack let out a sigh.
“Will go talk to Hannibal,” Jack said simply.
“Finally something I can agree on,” you murmured.
-
Will ran up to you. It had been a few days since he released himself from the hospital and you were still annoyed about it. You turned to him, raising an eyebrow as he came out of the office of Hannibal's place.
“The copycat,” he said. You nodded, curious to hear what he had to say. He rarely talked to you about any kind of stuff with his work. ��Was planning to frame me for the murder of the doctor.”
“He wouldn’t have been able to do it. I was there,” you said.
“But you’re unreliable,” he said.
“Excuse me?” He shook his head.
“You’re my girlfriend. You would have been accused of lying,” he said. You shook your head.
“I am very reliable. Why are you telling me this?” He shrugged.
“You need to know.”
-
First day back at work. This was a mistake.
You ran your hand over your head and Jack Crawford walked in. He thought about asking you what he was about to ask Hannibal but decided against it.
“You don’t have an appointment,” you said bitterly.
He opened the door anyway. You were still working when Hannibal and Jack opened the door quickly. Hannibal looked at you and you thought about what Abigail had said. That he was in love with you and Will. You pushed it aside when you saw the pity in his eyes.
“Where’s Will?” he asked.
“At home. Hopefully. Why?”
“Will Graham is at Garett Jacob Hobbs house with Abigail,” Jack said. You scoffed.
“You on something?”
“Where was Will on the night of Marrisa Schuur’s murder? ‘
“Again, at home presumably.” Hannibal stared at you. Hard. “What?”
“Will dissociates into other personalities. Whose personality is it?” Jack asked. “Will got close enough to Hobbs to think he was him.”
You scoffed again.
“Sorry, what the hell is your point?”
“Will is going to kill Abigail. And he killed the girls before,” Hannibal said. You stared in Hannibal’s eyes.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m serious.”
“Hannibal you know him! He trusts you to know him,” you seethed, standing up from anger and audacity. You pointed a hard finger at him. “Will Graham didn’t kill anyone he didn't’ have to.”
“The evidence suggests-” Jack started
“Hey Jack, I don’t really care what you’re about to say and so if you say it I’ll have to hit you or Hannibal or something.”
“I’m going to get Abigail,” Hannibal said. Jack walked out of the room but your gaze stayed steady on Hannibal’s.
“You don’t think he did this,” you said.
“A statement and not a question?” You shook your head.
“He didn’t do this.”
1x13
#hannibal lecter x reader x will graham#hannibal lecter imagines#will graham x reader#will graham imagines#will graham x reader x hannibal lecter
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Jump The Shark
Author’s Note: This is part nineteen of The Best Laid Plans series
Summary: When John gets a call from the youngest son he never got to meet, Y/n goes with him to find out what happened to the one-night stand John had back in 1990.
Pairing: Alpha!John x Omega!Reader
Word count: 3597
Story Warnings: angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, angst, mentions of physical violence, mentions of mindfuckery, mentions of ferality, pining, did I mention angst?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You hadn't said anything. Not from the moment you and John found the truck. You climbed up into the cab and changed into jeans, a black and green plaid flannel and a pair of hiking boots. You dropped your suit skirt and blouse out the window going 80 down the interstate, and then you closed your eyes and listened to the Rolling Stones.
You had to open your eyes when your memories started attacking you.
Dean had been so sure that you were the one he wanted, the one he was looking for...but that was Dean Smith and Y/n Colt. That was a Stanford MBA and a former Miss Teen USA runner-up. The idea that he wanted to mark you was particularly hurtful and you were kinda glad you made him wait because you weren't sure if it would have reset like the first mark Sam gave you and the last thing you wanted was for Dean to be tethered to you when he could barely stand to be around you.
He only wanted you because he was someone else. He was someone else, but his soul was still stuck on you. You both felt that pull because you were connected but he didn't want you. Smith liked Colt, but Winchester would never love Y/l/n.
John just drove. It was obvious he had no destination in mind, he just pointed the truck West and drove. Part of you wished that he would go back to Mississippi but you knew that your semi-normal was gone...and it was better. You were a hunter and so were your alphas. No normal for you.
"It hit her hard, Sammy," you heard John whispering as he drove when you woke up a few hours into Missouri. "She hasn’t been that close with your brother in years and the fact that it was all fake is killing her."
A pang of sadness hit you as your brain called forth what John was talking about. The haze of sleep had taken the memory, but now it was clear why your heart felt like so many broken pieces shoved into a box in your chest.
"Yeah, we know that but he won't say it and she probably wouldn't be able to hear it now anyway." John sighed as Sam spoke through the phone. "Son, I don't know what we can do other than what we always do. If you need help, just call, but she definitely doesn't need to be around your brother for a while. All right. Keep me updated," John said before setting his phone on the dashboard. "I know you’re awake, 'mega. Can't fool me."
"Wasn't trying to fool you. Just letting you finish your conversation," you responded, sitting up and stretching as best as you could in the truck cab. "What'd Sam want?"
"Tell me that the whole deal in Cincinnati was the Angels fucking with us. Specifically fucking with Dean. They wanted to prove to him that he was always supposed to be a Hunter or something."
"And we just got pulled along for the ride? That was nice of them." You rolled your eyes and reached down for your purse, pulling out a travel mouthwash. "So, what, everything's dandy now?" you asked as you took a drink of the mint liquid, swished it around in your mouth and swallowed.
"You know, you're supposed to spit that out, right?"
"Only quitters spit," you said automatically. You ran your hand across your face as you dropped the bottle to the floorboard. Dirty jokes Dean told you as a teen were not what you needed to get out of your funk. “I’ve put worse things in my body.”
“Girl, we...we’ll get through this.”
“Not like we have a lot of options, right?” You licked your lips and shook your head. “I’m fine, John. I slept. I’m better. I’m fine.”
“When are you gonna learn that it’s useless to lie to me?” John asked.
“I’m sure it’ll sink in eventually,” you responded, chuckling. “I promise...I’m going to be fine.”
“I know you will,” John said, reaching over to pat your knee.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few weeks passed and you were getting better at putting it behind you. The might’ve-beens dragged up by the Angels in Cincinnati were slowly being pushed back into the recesses of your mind and you were feeling better. Sam emailed John to tell him about some jerk in Ohio writing books about the boys’ lives, someone Castiel revealed to be a Prophet of the Lord who was writing The Winchester Gospels. There were books about the boys’ lives, their actions, their innermost thoughts, just hanging out on bookshelves around the world. You wondered if you were in any of the stories, the gospels.
John’s secondary cell phone went off as you pulled the truck into the parking lot of a coffee shop and he frowned as he looked down at the screen before he answered, “Hello?” A beat of time as you parked the truck and turned to him. “He’s not available. Can I help you?” He had a severe look on his face and you shook your head at him, confused by his reaction to the call. “What’d you say your name was? Milligan...and, uh, what are you callin’ John for?”
He made a fist and hammered it into his forehead. “Right, well, uh, I hate to have to tell you this over the phone but John is dead. He died in 2001.” Your eyes went wide and John put a finger up to quiet you before you could even start to question. “If you need help, then I can meet with you, kid. I’m, uh, John Winchester’s son, Dean. Windom, Minnesota. Cousin Oliver Café. We’ll be there tomorrow at 8am. See ya then, kid.”
“What the fuck, John?!” you exclaimed when he ended the call.
“Fuck.” He scratches his fingernails across his forehead and sighs as he sets the phone on the dash. “I recognized the area code, knew it was Missouri, thought it might have something to do with...with this case I had around January 1990. Anybody I interacted with back then, they would’ve known me before I got hit with that hex. So, that’s why I answered the phone like that and I’m glad I did because...because the kid on the other end of the phone is…” He trailed off and you gave him a pointed look.
“The kid on the other end of the phone is what?”
“My youngest son, Adam.”
Your eyes went wide, confusion and anger filling your body. “Your what?”
“I told you...I told you that I had one dalliance before you after Mary died, remember? When I was on that ghoul hunt and I went into rut and I-I was almost feral and I had one night where I couldn’t fuckin’ control myself and-”
“You knocked her up with pups?” you whispered. For some reason, it hurt a lot more than it should, especially considering you were only seven years old at the time.
“Only one. Adam.” He shook his head at himself. “She never told me. I didn’t know anything about it until 2001...and by then…by the time Adam called the first time, I was a young man again. I couldn’t show up looking like a twenty-five year old and start a relationship with the boy. So I just never called him back, kinda put him on the back burner. I figured I’d go see him when we found the witch and fixed me but I never found the witch and-”
“So, why’s he calling again now?” you asked, trying to be understanding. It wasn’t John’s fault. He should have told you. He should have told his other sons, but he couldn’t do anything about it now.
“His mom, Kate, is missing.”
“And he called you because?” you asked.
“Because the cops aren’t worried and his mom told him to try to get a hold of me if anything weird ever happened. She knew about the hunting.”
“So, your plan is to...pretend to be your oldest son and go meet your youngest son for the first time and try to find his missing mother...who most probably is just normal-missing, not supernatural-missing?” you asked, cautious of your tone.
“I can drop you somewhere if you don’t wanna participate in this, girl,” he said, biting his bottom lip.
“No,” you responded vehemently. “You don’t get to leave me behind, Winchester. Not ever again, remember?”
“Okay, then I’m gonna need you to back me on this and you’re going to have to call me ‘Dean’.”
You nodded. “I can do that.” You weren’t sure you wanted to, but you’d do it for him.
“Thank you, darlin’.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
John was nervous. You could smell it in his scent. You leaned into his shoulder as you sat in the booth, trying to calm him with your own scent. You kept your head on his shoulder as he switched a glass of water out with a glass of holy water and set a trio of silverware on the opposite side of the table. “Just in case.”
“You really think-”
“I looked into him, ya know? Kid did real good without me in his life,” John said suddenly. “He’s real and he’s smart and he never had anything to do with this life. I’m scared it bled onto him anyway.”
You sighed and leaned up to press a kiss to his temple as the door opened and a tall, thin young man walked into the diner. He looked like a mix of Sam and Dean. “That’s him,” you whispered, recognizing him from the Facebook profile.
John, or rather ‘Dean’, stood and waved at the boy.
“Dean?” Adam asked, walking over. John nodded. The boy laughed. “Wow, you look just like the picture my mom had of-of John. You’re almost the spitting image of him.” He let out a scoff as he sat down, his eyes moving to you. “Who’s this?”
“My omega,” John said, a bit defensively.
“Y/n,” you said, offering your hand to him.
Adam took it with a smile. “Wow.”
You felt a cringe move through your body and you looked down. “What?”
“I just…” Adam cleared his throat. “There’s not a lot of omegas in Windom and none are as pretty as you.”
Another Winchester flirting with you was sending all sorts of bad signals through your body. You softly tugged your hand back and sat back down as Adam settled into the opposite side of the booth and picked up the water. You held your breath when he took a drink but the water went down easy so you relaxed a bit.
But not much.
He smelled wrong. John was lavender and orange and ylang ylang, Dean was lavender and honeysuckle and anise, Sam was vanilla and coffee and undercurrents of honeysuckle when he was in rut. Adam smelled like dirt.
Not grass and forest and mossy logs, dirt. Just dirt. He didn’t even have a secondary scent to him, no undercurrent or complementary smell. Just dirt.
There should have been some part of him that smelled like a Winchester, even if he wasn’t the same makeup of a Winchester as the ones you knew. He shouldn’t smell like that.
Adam didn’t seem to notice your musing or your deep breaths to try and find something else in his scent. He went off on a tangent as he ate his breakfast about how John and Kate met in the emergency room at the hospital room where she works and he went into rut after he got hurt and Adam tried to get a hold of John when he was a kid and John just never picked up the phone and he’s glad that ‘Dean’ answered the phone this time.
“At least I know why he didn’t answer when I was calling before. So, uh, what happened to John?”
“Heart attack,” John responded. “It was sudden.”
“Right, guess that makes sense. Heart disease is the number one killer of men his age in the US,” Adam said.
Your eyes focused on the silverware in the man’s fists. Not a shifter either then. But this was something. This was not a Winchester.
“Well, after we get done eating, why don’t you take us to the house and we’ll see if we can’t find something to tell us where your mom got to,” John offered.
“Thanks, Dean,” Adam said with a smile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"He didn't react to silver or holy water," John argued as he followed Adam's car down the road.
"So? There's plenty of things that can alter people's perception of them that don't react to silver or holy water! Rakshasas, sirens, djinns, ghouls, do I need to go on?" you argued back. "He smells like dirt, John. That is not-"
"Maybe that's just-"
"What'd his mother smell like?" you interrupted.
"Passion fruit...and something else I can't remember."
"Not dirt. He shouldn't smell like that. He's not your son."
John sighed and scratched at his chin. "You might be right. He should smell more like one of us. He doesn't even smell like an alpha, honestly, but...if he's not Adam, then where the hell is Adam? And where's Kate? And why the fuck would whatever he is try to get me out here?"
"I don't know."
"Me either. For now, let's focus on finding Kate and we'll go from there." You held in a groan and focused out the windshield. "I know, 'mega. I'm just...I got this feeling...I lost my opportunity to be a part of this boy's life because of that witch."
"And that’s terrible, John...but you wouldn't have me if it wasn't for that witch so…"
“I’m not sayin’ I regret it, sweetheart, I just...wish I could have...met him once before I went after that bitch.”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, biting your thumbnail. “Sometimes I wish things were different, too.”
“You wish I never came over when you were going into that first heat,” he guessed.
You swallowed, but you didn’t answer. The truth was, you had thought through a lot of different wishes and butterfly-effect ripples of how it would change everything. If John didn’t show up, you wouldn’t be a hunter. If Dean hadn’t pushed you to let Sam take you when those apple-pie assholes put you in heat, you would have just been Dean’s. If you never sold your soul for Dean, you might have been able to move on, find another alpha...a non-Winchester.
“I don't think I'd be myself if you hadn't shown up,” you answered eventually. “I'd have stayed stuck at Bobby's, never ended up with an alpha let alone two, and I would be dying from never getting a knot in a few years' time...it’s better you did.”
"I'm...glad I did, Y/n. I like the woman you are, the strong and beautiful omega you are.”
You smiled and your cheeks heated up at the praise. “Let’s just get this done, huh?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You weren’t exactly happy that you were the one who had to crawl through the vents but Adam said, and John fucking agreed, that you were smallest and therefor the best choice. When you found the blood and pieces of skull and blond hair, you were happy to be small enough to pull your phone out of your pocket and text the news to John so he could break the news before you crawled back out.
“Call the cops. We gotta get out of here, though,” John said as he offered you a hand to help you up out of the vent.
“Wait, but-” Adam started to argue.
“We don’t mix with cops,” you responded, before stomping away from them, roughly brushing dust off of your jeans and shirt. “Come on, J-Dean. Let’s get out of here.”
“You don’t mix with-” Adam started to argue, but you pushed past him and stomped out to John’s truck.
“There was no surprise in his scent. There was no anger or sadness. I’ve lost both parents, John, there should have been-”
“Maybe he’s numb or-”
“Maybe he’s made of dirt or something!” you snapped. “That is not-”
“He hasn’t done anything wrong yet, ‘mega.”
You shook your head. “Yeah. Yet. You know what, John? I’m gonna go ahead and look into things that could be pretending to be your illegitimate pup.”
You barely looked at him as you got out of the truck and headed inside to start researching. When Adam showed up to find out what was going on with his missing mother and you and ‘Dean’ leaving before the cops showed up and “what the hell?!” John decided to explain about hunting as simply as he could. He didn’t explain who he really was, though. And then John decided to take Adam to explore other options of finding Kate.
It was a couple hours later that you came across a mention in an online lore forum that said ghouls, while normally scavengers who feast on dead flesh, could actually eat living specimens and have been shown to greatly enjoy fresh human meat and blood...and just like feasting on the dead, the ghoul can take the visage of their victim and their memories.
“Didn’t John say that’s what he was after when he was here before?” you whispered to yourself as you picked up your cell phone and dialed John’s number. It rang through until it went to voicemail. You called again. It went to voicemail again.
Panic fell over you. Your alpha was in trouble. Your alpha was in trouble and you had no idea where he was.
“Fuck!” You were almost shaking as you stood up and looked around aimlessly. What could you do? Another string of expletives fell from your mouth before you forced yourself to focus. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Your soul was connected to him. You needed to find him.
It only took a flash. A flash of the dining room at Kate’s house, John tied to the table had you grabbing the keys to John’s truck and rushing for your alpha. You pushed that truck as fast as it would go to get it to the house on the outskirts of Windom. The truck tires screeched as you slid to a stop in the front yard. You grabbed your shotgun from the rack in the truck bed and ran into the house.
John was tied to the table, ‘Adam’ and ‘Kate’ standing over him as he bled from his wrists. “Y/n,” he groaned. “They’re ghouls!”
“I know!” you snapped, aiming at Adam’s head and shooting. Parts of his head exploded onto the wall behind him and Kate shrieked before running at you. You moved to pump the shotgun for a second shot, but Kate grabbed you and tossed you into the wall like you were nothing.
“Y/n!”
“I’m fine, John!” you shouted, rolling onto your hands and knees.
“John?” Kate spat out, her tone dripping with poison.
“Forgot to mention before you started draining me,” John groaned. “I’m the one who killed your daddy, sweetheart.”
“Witches are better than plastic surgery, bitch,” you said, sweeping the woman’s leg with your foot. She fell to the floor and you jumped up, grabbing the shotgun and shooting her in the head, too. You licked your lips and panted as you limped over to the table and pulled out a knife, getting him loose from his binds. “You okay?” you asked, grabbing a rag and ripping it in half, wrapping each half around his wounds.
“Yeah. You...you got here in time.” He sat up, his legs hanging off the table as you secured the wraps around his wrists. “How’d you know?”
“I figured out ghouls could eat fresh and then I couldn’t get you on the phone and...I…” You licked your lips. “I knew where to find you.”
“How?” he pressed.
“How’d you know what motel room I was cutting Sam’s mark off of me?” you asked in answer.
“You felt it?” he asked and you nodded. He reached out, barely wincing at the pull on his wrist, and pulled you in for a soft, sad kiss. “They were siblings, kids of the ghoul I took down last time I was in Windom. They called to get revenge for me killing their dad.” He looked away. “Killed Kate and Adam to get revenge first. I was hoping I wasn’t right about my life bleeding on his.”
“It’s not your fault, John,” you whispered.
He shook his head. “I know. Shoulda stuck around to see if the thing left behind little monsters for me to kill, but...I went into rut...and then I had to get back to the boys.”
“John...it’s really not on you.”
“He’s dead because of me.”
“He was alive because of you,” you insisted. “He had nineteen years before these things...he had nineteen years because of you. Please, don’t let this get to you.” You chuckled, ruefully. “I’m the one that’s supposed to be barely floating in an ocean of shit. You’re supposed to be my life raft.”
He smiled and nodded. “I am. I am your life raft, darlin’. Just...a little blood-deprived right now. I’ll perk up after a glass of O.J. and some protein. Come on. Let’s get outta here.”
You nodded and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, helping him off of the table and walking him out to the truck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @sunnyroadtrips @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you @dayasvalkyrie @paryl @wereallbrokenangels @the-american-witch @that-one-gay-girl @tatted-trina6 @sunshineandwings86 @lunarmoon8 @wheezyeds @vicmc624
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24+82 for shoni. i picked those at random so i hope they work 🤷
Rules: Send me two (2) tropes from this list + a ship and I’ll describe how I’d combine them in the same story.
Soulmate AU & Second Love
well this one got sad. oof. i haven’t read it so lmk if there are any glaring mistakes.
Shelby was remarkably young when she met her soulmate. Seven and a half, to be specific. Seven a half and a girl with the bluest eyes Shelby’s ever seen in her whole life clips with her bike, racing down the thin sidewalk on a summer day so hot it could fry an egg off a hubcap.
“Hey!” Shelby calls after her and the girl stops.
“Sorry! Did I get you?”
Shelby gapes at her.
The girl blinks. “What?”
Soulmates are rare, her parents tell her, special. Sometimes soulmates aren’t a man and a woman, but two women or two men. People can get confused about what it means but only a woman can love a man like he deserves to be loved, and only a man can love a woman like she deserves.
Shelby won’t ever have love like that, but her and Becca will be friends. Best friends. That’s why soulmates between women exist and it’s important she don’t get confused.
Shelby gets confused.
See, on her arm it says, “Sorry! Did I get you?”
And on Becca’s arm it says, “Hey!”
And whenever Becca holds her hand or kisses her cheek, or laughs at her jokes, or goes along with a prank, Shelby’s heart stops beating and she thinks she’s gonna burst. And whenever her parents talk about love, all Shelby can hear is beccabeccabecca.
In hindsight, it’s gotta be some kinda miracle she lasts as long as she does. Twelve years before making a single move. Twelve years before she even dares to press her lips as carefully and as quickly as she does to Becca’s.
Becca pulls away, like across the room away, and laughs loudly. “Shelby, oh my god, I’m not gonna actually give you a flavor savor!”
“What’s going on in here?”
Shelby jumps, badly, at her dad’s voice.
Becca is giving her some kinda look and Shelby swallows hard. “Just—um, messing around, Daddy,” she said.
“In your pageant dress?” He asks.
She nods. “You’re right I should—I should change.”
Becca leaves to help with dinner and just as she does her eyes meet Shelby’s and gives her this kinda half smile. beccabeccabecca
Getting out of Texas is like fighting a war, they battle through years of brainwashing, with only their love for defense. They battle through their peer’s spitting words, even if they aren’t directed at them, and their parents at the dinner table, they fight it all. And all that time Shelby thought they were braving it together, that they could handle it together, could survive until college, but Becca lied.
Becca, holding her waist from a bleeding bullet wound, said: “I’m fine.”
And Shelby believed her. Shelby loved her. Shelby trusted her. Becca lied.
Shelby doesn’t even hear about it first hand. Her dad sits her down when she comes home from school and he asks her if she knew anything, if she’d heard anything, if Becca ever talked about it to her. He assumed she’d already known, had heard about it at school or something.
There’s all sorts of grief support groups for people who lose their soulmate but it ain’t enough. Nothing is enough. If you lose your person—your person since you were seven, your heart, your head, your sense of humor, your conscience, your kindness, your everything—nothing will ever be enough.
It’s not like Shelby wants to die, but she wishes life would hurry up already so she could see Becca again. She wades through it, trying not to get caught in the weeds as she trudges forward. There’s not really any point, is there? She’ll be all alone, just like her Daddy threatened.
But she can’t think like that because Becca wanted to run so many times but Shelby just wanted to get her diploma but if they ran she would still be alive and Shelby wouldn’t be alone like she’ll be now anyway for the rest of her life.
Her parents force her to apply to colleges, she applies to the one’s furthest away and gets into Minnesota State even if her grades suck, because she’s from Texas, she can pay full freight, and her mom wrote a damn fine essay about losing the one you love the most. Shelby did try to write it, she did, but it didn’t seem worth it. Nothing did.
Her roommate, Leah, lets her skip most of her classes, and she’ll drag herself to whatever grief group her parents demand she goes to, but she doesn’t really bother with trying. Not usually.
Until someone nearly runs her over.
She jumps to the side, falling over into the grass of the lawn, and the car stops a few feet away. A girl hops out. “Sorry!” She says. “Did I get you?”
“Watch where you’re going you frickin’ jackass,” Shelby says back, more emotion coming forth than she’s felt in years.
The girl stares, and Shelby’s stomach drops because she knows that look. That look is burned into the back of her eyelids, she could never forget that look.
She runs. She gets up and she bolts. Distantly, the girl screams after her, begging her to stop, come back, wait please, but Shelby doesn’t—Shelby can’t.
She runs until she sees a bus and jumps on it first thing, she looks away as she feels the girl’s eyes on her and has to contain her breathing.
There are two options: Becca wasn’t her soulmate, or this girl isn’t. Shelby doesn’t want to know if it’s the latter, and the girl might as well never know if it’s the former. It’d only hurt them both.
It’s just not worth it.
#the wilds fanfic#soulmate au#second love au#prompt game#gus writes#the wilds#shoni#goodfoe#goodfoe fanfic#gus answers
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Sunset Breeze (JJ x Reader)
A/N: this is my first request! :))))
Pairing: JJ x Reader
Request: reader stealing JJ’s hoodie cause she’s cold 🥺👉🏾👈🏾 pwease cause you’re writing *chefs kiss*
Summary: You’re out on the marsh during the end of summer with all of the Pogues. The cool wind of the sunset makes you some what of a thief.
Warnings: Mentions of abuse.
SUNSET BREEZE
Being friends with the Pogues was an adventure in itself.
Every day there was something new to do and you never knew what that day would bring. From going cliff jumping to breaking into houses that were under construction to hanging out at the marsh to the bonfires at night on the beach. Everything excited you in a way nothing had ever excited you before.
You hadn’t grown up with the Pogues, no. You had moved from Minnesota to the Outer Banks due to your mother’s job just two years ago. Once here, your father had managed to snag a job as a chef at The Wreck, one of the best restaurants in Kildare County.
It was during one of your visits there that you had met Kie. She was the owner’s daughter, and she worked there with your dad as a waiter. She had noticed you hanging around a couple of times before, but she had never really been interested in speaking to you until she had accidentally heard a conversation you had with your father.
You were mad at some kids at Figure Eight for teasing you about how poor you were (in reality you were pretty comfortable but not as rich as any of the Kooks on the island). This made you angry as you thought that it didn't matter how much money someone had as long as they were nice. However, the boys had been bothering you without even knowing you, which made your head absolutely fume.
After that Kiara had approached you and asked who the boys had been, but before you could even answer she asked, “Rafe and his goons?”
From then on she took you under her wing. Two days later you had met the rest of the Pogues. Pope had taken a liking to you almost as soon as he laid eyes on you. This was mainly due to the fact that you had a book tucked under your arms the first time you had walked into the Chateau. John B had a similar reaction to Pope and lit up once you had gladly accepted the beer he had offered you. JJ was a whole other story.
In your eyes, JJ was the most beautiful person you had ever seen. Blue eyes and blond hair had never been your type, but it turned into your type when you saw him. You were smitten from the start. However, JJ was not happy about having another Pogue in the group and tried to shut you out.
It took a couple of months for him to open up to you, but once he did you fell for him even more.
He was reckless and adventurous, and he knew exactly how to push you out of your comfort zone. For some reason, you really liked that.
It wasn’t until you had been friends for at least a year did he confess to you the reason behind his behavior.
This cleared up the questions you had in your mind. Why do we always hang out at John B’s? Why are we never at JJ’s if his parents seem just as relaxed about him being out all night as mine?
The answers to your thoughts fell upon his father.
Now you understood the scabs that always surrounded JJ’s face, and why he sometimes wouldn’t remove his shirt when you were all out on the Pogue. It all made sense.
You followed the rest of the Pogues lead on how to deal with JJ. Your heart ached for him and was begging for you to get help, but you listened to John B, Kie, and Pope. “It’s JJ, he’s fine.”
Despite this sad part about your golden boy, he never ceased to amaze you at how happy he could really be when he was surrounded by his real family. Just like right now, he had a huge smile adorning his face as he laughed at whatever Pope had said.
You were sat at the bow with Kie, sipping on your beers, but you were, for sure, not paying any attention to what had been surrounding you. Your eyes were trained on JJ’s golden skin, the dips of his abdomen making your thoughts turn dirty.
You felt a light shove at your shoulder and turned towards the brunette beside you. The girl you called your best friend raised an eyebrow at you and turned her eyes pointedly at the blond (he was now trying to grab John B in a headlock and kind of failing).
You stared at her blankly back. “What?”
“Quit staring,” she murmured in a teasing tone before going back to speaking with Pope.
You looked down at your beer bottle and took one final swig, finishing it off. With that, you stood up and stretched, taking off your clothes.
“Who wants to swim?” you asked the group. Kie and Pope declined, but the other two boys jumped in right after you.
To your surprise, the water was freezing. You should have expected it though. It was the end of summer, and the temperature of the island was quickly decreasing. You got back onto the boat shivering and regretting jumping in.
JJ and John B, on the other hand, were fine and continued to swim in the water.
You searched for a towel to dry yourself off, but you didn’t know what to do about your swimsuit and your hair. The wind started picking up as the sun had begun to set.
“Holy shit, I’m freezing,” you said as you searched around the small boat for your hoodie. Goosebumps littered your exposed skin.
“Where’s your hoodie?” Pope asked as he began to help you search.
“Oh, God,” you exclaimed, slapping a hand onto your forehead. “I left it at the Chateau on the hammock.”
Kie laughed at your forgetfulness, as Pope said, “Well, JJ has two hoodies on the boat right now. You should just wear one of his.”
This made your cheeks burn up. Wear JJ’s hoodie? The mere thought of it excited you.
You reached the bow where the blond had discarded his gray Pelican Marina hoodie and put it on. It smelled exactly like JJ (which made sense since this was JJ’s hoodie). You inhaled deeply while pulling the fabric closer to your nose and exhaled happily.
“Hey, where’s my Pelican Marina hoodie? I’m freezing right now,” you heard JJ say as he climbed onto the boat. Your cheeks burned up once again.
“Y/N’s wearing it. She was shivering so bad we thought she had hypothermia,” Kie answered. You turned around to glare at her, but she only winked.
You smiled at JJ as innocently as you could, while you felt the cool sunset breeze move the tips of your hair around.
“Oh, you little thief,” JJ said in a teasing matter. Within seconds he had latched onto you and thrown you over his shoulder. A laugh escaped your mouth at his antics, but suddenly became a scream when he reached the edge of the Pogue.
“JJ, please,” you begged, “Don’t drop me in! I’ll give it back, I promise!”
JJ laughed at the desperation in your voice, as John B joined him. Meanwhile, Pope and Kie shared a look. JJ was obviously flirting with you.
“Ah,” JJ sighed. “Don’t you guys love it when a girl begs?”
This joke made Pope and John B chuckle really loudly. You continued to pound on JJ’s back trying to make him put you down.
“JJ, I swear if you throw me into the water I won’t speak to you for a month.”
The blond pretended to drop you in but caught you before you could slip from his grasp. You were now chest to chest, your eyes, and noses level with each other.
You saw JJ’s eyes soften and move to your lips before setting you down firmly on the floor. He cleared his throat. “You can keep it. It looks good on you.”
Your eyes widened in surprise as you pressed your hands, which were covered by the long sleeves of the hoodie, to his chest. JJ, feeling as if you were going to pull away, tightened his hold on you.
The other Pogues had turned around, giving you two some privacy.
“You sure?” you said softly. “This is your favorite.”
JJ just nodded. “Yeah, you can keep it, you little thief.”
With that being said, he began to poke your side and tickle you, causing both of you to lie down at the front of the boat.
Once he stopped you both tuned in to the conversation the others were having.
“We should throw a kegger at the Boneyard tonight!”
Cheers and whoops came from not only your mouth but everybody else’s.
John B then turned the boat back towards his house.
You looked out towards the horizon and noticed the sunset was reaching its end. You sighed in content.
You felt JJ’s arm, which had been draped over your shoulders since your tickle fight had ended, pull you closer to him, letting him whisper in your ear, without anyone else listening:
“Maybe at the end of the kegger I’ll get to steal my hoodie back.”
You were blushing the whole way back to the Chateau.
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Quick Learner (Supernatural)
Summary: Y/N is a Donna's that Dean couldn't take his eyes off her since she showed up at the Sheriff's station. Donna, Y/N, Sam and Dean went out for drinks where Y/N and competed with each other on the bull ride at the bar. They all parted ways when they were kidnapped and taken to a vamp nest.
Pairings: Dean x reader (platonic), Sam x reader (platonic), Donna x reader (platonic)
__
Dean and Sam rolled into Stillwater, Minnesota after Donna called them to help for a huge vamp nest of 1,000 vamps. They are wearing their suits and walking into the Stillwater's Sheriff stations. "Hiya boys," Donna greets.
"Hey," they greet as each of them give her a hug. "Alright, catch us up. What have you found out so far?" Dean asks. "Yeah, how did you find out there were 1,000 vamps in the nest?" Sam asked in a low voice.
"I was going hiking with some colleagues and we were ambused. I was the only one that survived." Donna says, making both Winchesters look at her softly. "I'm fine boys. It's just more motivation to find and kill those sons of bitches." "We'll help you out every step of the way, you just let us know if you want us to take over." Sam states.
"Donna!" Y/N calls as she walks in and everyone in the station looked at her. Y/N wears black, leather pants and white racer back crop top that is topped with combat boots and white and black plaid long sleeve coat. She was the literal definition of bougie and she looks goregous. She's been getting head turns and stares all day
She walks towards them and in Dean's mind, she was walking in slow motion. He drinks her in with his eyes and Sam notices. He hits Dean's chest and Dean clears his throat before sending Sam a glare. "Dude, stop devouring her with your eyes," Sam scolds. "What? She's gorgeous," Dean states. "Behave," Donna warns.
"Y/N," Donna greets with a smile as Y/N approaches them. Y/N's perfume puts Dean in a haze. "Hi," Y/N says with a wide smile and Dean's heart flutters.
He feels like a scared little boy that didn't know shit about woman, and he hates it. "Hey," Dean says. "Y/N, these are Agents Walker and Patton. Boys, this is Y/N Y/L/N." Donna introduces. "Pleasure to meet you guys,"
"The pleasure is ours," Dean says, clearly flirting with Y/N. "We still on for drinks, Donna?" Y/N asks. "Of course! You mind if these boys tag along?" "I don't see why not. The more the merrier." Y/N states, glancing over at Dean and Sam. "Well I'll let you lot get back to work. Just wanted to swing by," she adds.
"See ya!" Donna says and Y/N waves with a smile before leaving the station. Wolf whistles and men talking over one another. "Hey! If any of you try anything, your little ones will suffer." Donna snarks and the station went quiet before the deputies went back to their duties. "You two, Winchester." Donna says to Dean and he slowly covers his little ones with his hands.
--
Y/N, Donna, Sam and Dean walked into the bar and the first thing Dean and Y/N sees is the bulls ride in the far left corner. Y/N and Dean look at one another and Dean says, "Bet you ten dollars that you won't last thirty seconds on that bad boy,"
"Honey, I ride bad boys for sport. I'll be back to collect my ten dollars," Y/N states, swaying her hips as she walked over to the machine. The air left Dean's lungs as Y/N pulled her hair into a ponytail and slowly peels her long jacket off.
She truly was beautiful. She deserved something more than a one night stand. She's so genuine and happy with herself, it kind of inspired him to love himself like that.
Y/N's grip tightened on the belt on the neck of the machine bull and her other hand is free. The bull whips and pulls her all over the place and she is still hanging on.
A minute past and she still holding on, even with the frequent jerks. The bull came to a halt and Y/N broke the record of 7 minutes. Dean slaps a ten dollar bill into Y/N's hand and she sits down next to them with a victorious smile.
"Don't get too cocky. I can stay on there for 14 minutes if I wanted to." Dean taunts. "Oh really? Then be my guest," Y/N says, motioning to the bull. "Oh, this is going to be good." Sam says.
--
Dean winces as firmly holds an icepack to his temple. "I shouldn't have told the guy to speed up the machine." Dean groans. "You really shouldn't have," Y/N says.
She pulls the icepack away from the temple and hisses when she sees a purple welt. She caresses the surrounding skin and Dean's heart jumps.
"We shouldn't have started competing with one another. I'm sorry," "Don't be sorry, I had a fun time. Minus the landing on my face part," Dean says, making them both chuckle.
They were all walking to their cars intoxicated and didn't fully notice the black van that was slowly trailing them. The doors of the van flew open and the vamps knocked them over the head before carrying their limp bodies into the van and drove off.
Y/N and Sam were the first to come to because they were the less drunk out of group. "What the hell is happening?" Y/N asks, trying not to freak out and lure the attackers back into the room.
"Listen to me, you're going to see and hear things that you've never seen or heard. But I need you to keep a cool head for just a little while." Sam says and Y/N nods.
"Ah look, the hot one is awake." a man with auburn hair says as he walks in and lays eyes on Y/N. "Hey, don't you touch her." Sam snaps, which wakes Dean. "Guess we found out who the boyfriend is," the other man with blonde hair says.
Dean groans and the blondie says, "Rise and shine sleepy head." The guy with auburn hair squats down next to Y/N and brushes a hair away from her face.
"As hungry as I am, I would rather turn this one and make her my girlfriend. She is curvy in all the right place," he says, ghosting his hand over her breasts.
"I will kill you, you blood sucker." "Wrong, this one is the boyfriend." The blonde said before punching Dean in his face.
Y/N was frozen in both fear and anger and her gaze drops to the floor. "You want to live, don't you princess?" The man says, lifting her chin up and she pulls away from him. "Don't do that again," he warns.
Hours passed and the vamps didn't do anything to them besides rough them up when they talked too much. It was like they were waiting for someone. Donna was the last one to wake up and she was bleeding from her head. After brushing up her restraints against a free nail, Y/N breaks through them.
She quietly stands up and Sam and Dean shook their heads. "They can smell and hear everything you do." Sam mouths. But Y/N's fight or flight response got the best of her and she ran. Oddly enough, there was no one else on the floor they were at. This situation was getting weirder and weirder.
She ran to find a weapon to use and when she was sneaking around in search for an exit, she stumbled across a duffel bag with machetes, shot guns and vials of blood it looks like.
Y/N took the machete into her hand and she heard someone speak behind her. Without thinking, she swung the machete around until she heard a faint thunk. Her eyes widen when she sees the blade going straight through the blonde's face.
She winces and pulls the blade out of his face before grabbing the duffel and tip toeing back to the room. "Where did the hottie go?" you heard the auburn haired man say.
She gently set down the duffel bag and waits until the voice grew closer to her before cutting his head off. Her breathing sounds were getting faster and faster as her eyes widen with shock. She releases a loud exhale before using the machete to break their restraints.
"I thought you left us," Donna says. "Hell no, you're stuck with me, Donna Hanscum." They exchange a smile before Y/N says, "I found a bag full of machetes. I'm assuming that it belonged to one of their victims." She picks the bag up and sets it at their feet.
Sam and Dean looks at Y/N with surprise and she notices. "What?" "You just killed two vamps without any hunting experience." Sam explains. "It was out of instinct. I wanted to live and not many things can survive their head being chopped off so I took a chance."
"Yeah, but you could have left us. Any one else would have ran without looking back. It takes courage to fight back." Dean says. "If I did that then who else will kick your ass at bull riding." Y/N jokes, but she's clearly still freaked out by everything.
"We should move out. More of them are bound to come when they notice they're missing," Y/N adds before cleaning off her machete and leaving the room. "She'll make a damn good hunter," Sam says to Donna. "Damn right," Dean states.
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