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jasmines-library · 7 months

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Up and Down

WHUMPTOBER 2023: Day three, prompt ‘solitary confinement/make it stop’

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: After returning from being tortured by the devil himself, your brain can’t help conjure up its own images which refuse to leave you alone.

Warnings: Hallucinations, manipulation, glass shattering, negative comments about reader.

Word count: 1.3K

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

He was there again.

That tall, looming figure that seemed to always wear a shit eating grin on his face. He was lounging across a chair, drumming his fingers against the wooden table and singing obnoxiously loudly to some song you had never heard before but had promptly decided that it was already getting on your nerves. With elbows resting on the table opposite him, you clenched the hair on your head into fists and let out a frustrated sigh, rising to your feet and storming away from the library.

“Aw, come on.” Lucifer pouted. “I thought you liked my singing Y/N?”

Rolling your eyes, you made your way into the kitchen to where Dean was thickly spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread, trying to drown out the jests from the archangel he was still hurling at you. At the sound of your footsteps Dean raised his head greeting you with a grin.

“Hey Kiddo. How’s it going?”

You were hesitant in your answer. Dean knew the toll that coming back since being tortured by Lucifer was taking on you. You were much more jumpy than usual and opted to spend much more time locked up alone in your room than spending time with your beloved hunter friends. Dean couldn’t help but feel guilty everytime he heard you cry out in your sleep from across the hall. He couldn’t help but feel deep down that all of this was his fault. After all, it was he and Sam who decided to reopen the cage - it was he and Sam who Lucifer wanted revenge on. Instead of responding verbally, you opted to nod, knowing that an unwanted tremble would snake its way out between your words, like it had your hands.

You couldn’t help but stiffen at the voice behind you. It didn’t go unnoticed by Dean, who moved away from his PB&J to place his hand on top of yours. “It’s okay sweetheart. It’s only Sammy.”

Turning, you watched as the lumbering man struggled in through the door. His arms hugged a selection of paper bags awkwardly. He smiled; a gentle gesture before placing the bags on the counter, and wrapped you up in one of his bear-hugs. Returning the gesture, you smiled into his blue flannel, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you had been holding. Detaching yourself from Sam, you began unloading the groceries he had brought back with him, listening to the eldest Winchester talk animatedly about the latest show he had decided to binge watch on netflix. It brought a grin to your face.

Here, with Sam and Dean around you, you felt much safer. That was until that irritating voice drifted into your ears. You dug your nails firmly into your palm, leaving little grooves on the soft skin, hoping that the dull pain would distract you from the image of the Archangel. When that didn’t work, and his remarks still rang through your head, you turned to flee the room.

“Y/N?” Sam tilted his head.

“I’m fine, Sam. Promise.” You nodded.

Sam was about to say something, but shut his mouth as he watched you flee the kitchen, your bare feet pattering on the wooden floors as you retreated back down the corridors and into your room, locking the door, and the hollering of Lucifer behind you. Albeit, you could feel him lingering over your shoulder. Taking a deep breath and screwing your eyes shut, you pinched yourself harshly.

Lucifer chucked deeply. “Real cute, Y/N.”

You turned and pushed past him.

“You know you can’t ignore me forever.” You stopped abruptly. “I miss our little heart-to-hearts.”

You rolled your eyes, moving towards your desk and beginning to shuffle the contents around. That was when he started singing. It was an old song. A sad song that you and the Winchesters used to listen to on particularly difficult nights. One that you associated with comfort.

“Stop.” You told him firmly.

He didn’t. Only sung louder, edging closer to you.

“Stop it.” You said once again.

Lucifer continued to sing mockingly.

“I said stop it!” You yelled, throwing the glass that you were moving at him. It sailed straight through the illusion and shattered on the ground. He grinned manically.

“There we go, Y/N!” He howled, clapping his hands together joyously. “That’s what I’m talking about. This is the you I miss. Where did all that fire go, huh kiddo?”

“Leave me alone.” You spat out through gritted teeth.

“Mm” Lucifer pinched his chin between his thumb and his index, tilting his head towards the ceiling. “I don’t think I want to…You see, now you’ve acknowledged me, you’ve let me in.”

You shook your head, backing away from him as you approached. “No.”

“Oh yeah. I can see everything Y/N.” The devil proceeded forwards until your back hit the wall. “I’m inside your pretty little head. “ He sang.

“You’re lying.” You shook your head, trying to convince yourself more than him. There were voices outside your door, but they were drowned out by Lucifer. “Sammy said that nothing you say is true. He- knows. He’s been here before.”

Tutting, the blond rolled his eyes. “Sammy, is a lying, untrustworthy piece of shit.”

“Don’t say that.”

“He doesn’t care about you Y/N. None of them do. They’re just using you Y/N.”

“You’re lying.” Rouge tears began to snake down your face.

“They just feel bad for you. You’re a liability, Y/N. You’re gone as soon as they get the chance to get rid of some dead weight. They don't need someone like you on their team, dragging them down. I mean, think of how easy it was for me to get to you. Poor, helpless, useless-”

“STOP IT!” You cried, sinking to your knees.

Your heart pounded in your head, beating like a drum to the rhythm of an army march.

“You are nothing Y/N. You’re nothing without those Winchesters. You are nothing without me!”

“Get out!” You sobbed “clutching your knees to your chest.

“You are worthless.”

The pounding grew louder as you buried your head between your knees. Fat tears fell down your cheeks, pooling on your jeans as Lucifer continued his onslaught of words. That was when you realised that the drumming was not your heartbeat, but the sound of Sam and Dean trying to break down the door to your room having heard the commotion. When they managed to barrel themselves in, Sam’s heart dropped when he saw you rocking back and forth in the corner of the room, lip trembling with hands plastered over your ears. He took one cautiously in his hand. You drew back sharply, eyes moving frantically across his features.

“Please…” You whispered. “Make it stop.”

Wrapping you up gently he allowed you to bury his face in his chest, ignoring the dampness that followed as you continued to weep silently. Dean pulled you in close from the otherside, encasing you in between them. He never would fully understand what you were going through, no matter how hard he tried. He could sympathise, sure. He had been through decades for torture himself. But he would never be able grasp onto exactly what you were experiencing. Sam would be able to understand more; he too saw Lucifer for a while. But they both knew that no two experiences were the same. They knew that people cope differently and that was okay. All they could do was stick by you and help you work this out. And was exactly what they chose to do.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY TWO ⛤ DAY FOUR ->

🏷️ whumptober taglist:

@senjoritanana

#whumptober2023 #whumptober #no.3 #make it stop #solitary confinement #hallucinations #hallucinate #ptsd #supernatural #spn #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #supernatural x injured reader #fanficion

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stvharrngton · 8 months

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a lesson in romantics; lesson four

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

a/n: aaaaand we're back!! i'm so sorry it took me so long to update this but i'm hoping to go back to weekly updates now <3

characters: steve harrington x fem!reader, mentions of robin and nancy

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none, steve is dorky af

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @nix-rose

series taglist: @pbs-theundeadmaggot @alana4610 @onceuponaoneshot

SERIES MASTERLIST

HAWKINS HIGH, NOVEMBER 1922

Steve burst through the door of the teachers lounge, coffee cup and brown paper bag in hand. He came up behind you like a whirlwind, hair swept away by the wind, a cute red sweater fitted to his body.

“I snagged an extra muffin from our favourite bakery,” he started, unable to help that smile that painted his features, “and it’s got your name written all over it.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at him, he drew out those last few words as if he was trying to make a joke, but he was oh so serious. Steve’s smile grew wider as you laughed, the kind of smile that reached his eyes. And you didn’t even want to think about how he called it our favourite bakery.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, the promise of a free sweet treat sparking your interest, “Your place or mine?”

You meant classroom. You definitely meant the classroom.

“Mine? At lunch?” he said, eyes all hopeful.

“Sure,” you nodded, “sounds good.”

Steve’s eyes lit up at the prospect of having lunch with you, alone, in his classroom. Sporting a toothy grin as he began to retreat back towards the door now.

“It’s a date,” he stated, eyes wide as soon as he realised what he said, in front of everyone and Robin no less, “not a date, I mean, shit— shoot!” Steve stuttered, nervously stumbling over his words, “I’ll see you at lunch.”

Robin immediately looked in your direction as Steve left, doing her best to hide a snigger that was threatening to spill out into a full blown laugh at her friend’s expense.

Lunch time soon rolled around as you made your way over to Steve’s classroom, lunch bag and fresh hot coffee in hand. You peaked your head into the room before clearing your throat as you stepped in.

“Is that offer for a free muffin still on the table, Mr. H?” you asked, a coy smile on your face.

The sandwich that was in his hand found its way back to the desk, a chuckle rumbling in Steve’s chest as he waved you in, “For you it is,” he scrambled to clear a place on his desk next to him, pulling a chair up, “come on, sit.”

You took your place next to him, pulling your own sandwich out. You ate in silence for a moment, neither awkward or uncomfortable. Steve spoke next, pointing a finger out to your side of the table, “What’d you bring?”

“A BLT,” you said confidently, “what about you?”

Steve nodded, an impressed look on his face. One that turned to minor embarrassment when he was about to reveal his own choice, “A PB and J.” Steve muttered.

You chuckled softly, one that made Steve’s cheeks light up pink, “That’s cute,” you said softly, fluttering your lashes as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, trying to prevent any more laughs from spilling out.

“Oh, come on,” Steve defended, “it’s a solid choice! You can’t mock a man’s choice of sandwich in his own classroom.”

“Sorry,” you said with a giggle.

You didn’t realise as you went back to your own sandwich, but Steve looked at you now, really looked at you. With that sappy, love sick puppy dog look on his face, the kind of look he only sported when he was in too deep, way too deep.

Chin in the palm of his hand, eyes all soft as he realised that maybe Robin and Nancy were right.

Shit. Robin and Nancy were right.

The sound of your voice broke him from his trance, your brows pinched together as he failed to answer whatever question you had for him. You looked at him puzzled, ready to ask him if he was alright when Steve piped up with a murmur that resembled a ‘hmm?’, a sheepish look on his face.

“I said,” you began, cheeks slowly heating up at you realise you may have just caught Steve staring at you, “what’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?”

“Just one?” a jovial tone finding its way to Steve’s voice, “Okay, so it was Sophomore year and I took this girl to a pool party that one of the kids on my

block was having and I had picked up this brand new white pair of swim shorts—,”

You purse your lips to hide the laughter that was ready to spill out, already seeing where this story was going, “and so we were in the pool having fun right, and when I got out I didn’t realise the entire thing turned see-through.”

Unable to hold it in any longer, you burst out laughing but Steve was still talking between his own bouts of laughter, “And you could see everything! And I mean everything.”

Your laughter was intoxicating, like music to Steve’s ears, the cutest laugh he’d ever heard by far. He was far too caught up in the happy sound to notice that you’d been clutching onto his arm whilst doubled over in laughter. He soon caught on, eyes soft as he gingerly placed his hand over yours, both of your giggles soon fading out.

“Easy there, tiger,” Steve hushed, as he stroked his thumb over the back of your hand. You stared at each other for what felt like an age, a lump swallowed in your throat, Steve’s gaze hopeful and yearning. You didn’t know if you saw it, but you swore his eyes flitted down to your lips for a second, or maybe you were just being hopeful, “What about you? What’s your worst ever date?”

Steve’s voice was low and quiet, a tone that sent a shiver down your spine as you attempted to compose yourself to answer.

“It was my first year of college and my first date with my ex. He took me to the movies and it was all going perfectly well, bought myself a cute new dress, the works, right?” You reasoned, “We went to get snacks and he got a large Coke and on our way to the theatre he slipped on something wet on the floor–”

“No,” Steve exclaimed, hand slapping over his mouth, “don’t tell me–”

“Yep,” you sighed with a chuckle, “thing went up in the air and landed right on me, all over my dress! It was like something out of a cartoon,” you felt your cheeks heat up from just thinking of the memory, “the date itself wasn’t even bad but it was so mortifying.”

You both glanced at the clock simultaneously, the noise of kids chattering and hollering outside of Steve’s classroom told you that lunch would soon be coming to an end. You sighed as you dusted the crumbs from Steve’s desk, packing away your trash ready to go back to your own afternoon classes.

“No way have we been in here an hour already,” he sighed, dusting off his slacks, “well, thanks for the company, don’t forget your muffin.” Steve spoke casually, as if he wasn’t still thinking about the way you clutched at his bicep, or how soft your hand felt beneath his, or how he really wanted to kiss you.

You nodded as you took the brown bag from him, thanking him again for the free sweet treat. You went to let yourself out of his classroom as he spoke again, spinning on your heel as your hand was still clutching the door knob.

“I’m having a grading party at my place this weekend,” he began, fingers scratching at the scruff decorating his jaw, “we don’t get much grading done but I’d love it if you came along.”

He’d love it. The simple word, the implication that Steve would be miserable at his own party lest you be there, oh, how it made you swoon. You answered with a resounding yes, telling him you wouldn’t miss it as you skittered out into the hall with a small wave and a very big smile on your face.

What Steve wanted to do was ask you on a real date, just you and him, a real, proper date where he would go all out to impress you. Maybe a nice dinner or a picnic in the park, not rushed sandwiches during your lunch hour in his classroom.

But this was a start, right?

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #teacher!steve #alir #k.fic

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rozcdust · 2 years

Text

I don’t speak to whores

Pairing: Bonten x AroAce!GN!Reader

Genre: Crack, SMAU

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Canon divergent, profanity, ooc, whore behaviour, NO ROMANCE, just reader bullying Bonten

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

Was feeding him a PB&J sandwich necessary?

Probably not.

It was fun though.

Just as you were picking up your papers to go to the meeting you had scheduled. Mikey stormed into your office as if God himself was whipping him, slamming his hands on the table with all of his tiny, yet powerful fury.

Now thinking about it, he definitely seemed like the type to be into that shit.

You merely stared at his piercing, void-like eyes, trying to figure out where, when, and most importantly, if you fucked up.

Maybe he figured out you were the one to feed that PB&J sandwich to a severely allergic Ran.

“Is it true you made Ran throw his own flowers in the dumpster?!” Through his breathless, heavy gasps, the sentence came out more as a single word.

You cocked your head.

“Yes? Is that a problem?”

The loud slam of one of his credit card on your desk made you jump.

Who knew something so tiny could move so fast?

Especially something that looked as if it were poorly taxidermied.

“This is your bonus, you are golden, I love you.”

You blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“The card has 10 million yen on it. Do you want more? I can get you more. Actually, now that you mentioned it, you should get more. Let me just-“

Without even giving you a chance to speak, or finishing his own sentence, the small menace rushed put of your office, his mumbles of ‘Needing to go to an ATM’ still audible from down the corridor.

You blinked at the card.

You could swear it blinked back.

“Well, aren’t you truly beautiful.” A voice you can best describe as nails on a particularly moldy chalkboard pierced your ears, unfortunately drawing your attention to a particularly gruesome creature.

He looked like a fucking jellyfish hybrid born out of human hubris and misery, the awful mop of what he probably called ‘hair’ sitting on his head unpleasantly.

Do people consider this attractive?

“Hello.” Stoically, you greeted, disinterested and already tired of everything regarding this damn job.

Mikey made all these men seem like the Boogie Man, a terrifying yet constant presence, inevitable and permanent in their goal to make everyone around them fail.

Mikey was truly giving them more credit than they’re due, because all these bitches were is exhausting.

The fore-mentioned creature flashed a smile, softly taking your hand into his palm and kissing the top of it, his well-manicured nails digging into the sides of your palm.

Is this considered cute?

You’ve seen cockroaches cuter than this.

Suppressing a gag all while smiling a tight, uncomfortable smile, you wrestled your hand out of his ungodly grasp and plopped on one of the free chairs, next to a slim, decently aesthetically pleasing pink-haired man with scars, hoping he will leave you be.

Wrong.

Again.

You should start a Bingo card.

“Hello!” Energetically, he spun towards your direction, the chair producing an ear-piercing squeak as he got way too close to your face, “I’m Sanzu!”

Oh.

The spawn of Satan.

Great.

“Hello to you too.”

“Baby, you’re hot, I just may fall in love.” Beaming a smile your way, he tilted his head, his hand sneaking to rest around your shoulders, making your skin crawl the same way worms will through his rotting flesh if he puts his filthy hands anywhere close to your goddamn body again.

Thank God for rule number three.

Physical violence is encouraged.

And that is just what you did.

As minutes ticked by, incredibly slow if you may add, more people trickled in, all faces unfamiliar but two, one belonging to the slutty little bitch man from a few days ago, and the other to Kakucho, who you have decided to label ‘depression incarnate’, purely off the permanently sour expression on his otherwise pleasant face.

And finally, Mikey.

Just as he opened his mouth to shush his little rodents, you made a mental note to tell him his hair is an abomination.

The meeting was a fucking disaster.

If you had paper-thin patience before, the blond catboy has successfully managed to shave it down to an electron-thin slice of pure rage.

You had one job, one *fucking* job, present your shit, tell them they’re idiots - a Mikey approved method - and be the fuck out of there.

But no.

The capitalistic catboy had to interrupt you constantly, an irritating crescendo of “Sorry, may I just add really quickly-“, “Sorry sweetheart, let me-“, “Sorry, but this chart-“ almost making your ears bleed.

You could feel your blood pressure rising by the milisecond.

Hands crossed, foot tapping with impatience, you tried to finish your report in a polite manner.

“So to conclude your schedules-“

Of course the human embodiment of a Persian cat couldn’t even let you do that.

“Sorry to interrupt, but may I-“

That was it, your patience left you, dead and departed to chase wild buffalo in prairies of some better worlds.

Your face twisted into a sardonic, wrathful smile.

“I am almost done, let me just get this done, and then I’ll leave the podium all up to you.”

He tilted his head, his dead, irisless eyes staring deep into your soul.

Mikey said this was the romantic one?

Mikey clearly has no fucking idea what the hell is he talking about.

To be fair, neither did you, but you knew the definition of the word, and it did not include whatever the fuck this dude was snorting.

“Kokonoi-san, I am almost done.”

“But-“

The electron got split into a fucking particle, and with a perfectly sweet, professional voice, you picked your words carefully.

“Kokonoi-san” You placed your hands on the table, leaning towards him, with a sickly sweet smile, “This is your last warning. When you’ll have to deal with 8 idiots, then you may speak.”

The fucker leaned right back, an even sweeter smile on his stupid, horrifying face.

“You think I am scared of you?”

“Actually, yes, as all of you combined have the time management of a dead gerbil, without someone managing your time as if I were your goddamn mommy, you’d all be swamped and get nothing done in this godforsaken gang. I recommend you shut you mouth, let me talk, and listen. I can see your fucking browser history, you know?”

The flash of horror on his face gave you an incredible amount of satisfaction.

Straightening your back out, your cold gaze passed all of them.

“Any more complaints?”

Silence.

“I asked a question.”

You were met with a unison of muttered no’s.

“Excellent, so to circle back to Rindou’s schedule-“

Two days passed in relative silence.

Only two fucking days.

But you can’t have shit in this goddamn workplace, now can you?

You’ve seen feral hogs better behaved than these motherfuckers.

“Hey, y/n, I brought you these reports.” Blondie barged into your office, without even knocking, naturally, and with a cocky sway in his walk, he laid the papers on your desk, straightening them out meticulously.

You don’t know what it was about him, but you had a bone-deep desire to break his fucking jawbone.

You refused even look up at him, merely nodding instead, as it was your break and you were too busy complaining to your best friend about how annoying your coworkers were to pay the resident catboy cosplayer any mind.

What a fucking joke.

Kokonoi, for whatever godforsaken reason, stood by the damn desk, not moving a muscle, barely even breathing, still waiting on you to pay him a crumb of attention.

Not happening until that damn clock hits noon.

Minutes ticked by.

Your best friend sent their condolences just as the clock at the top of your screen spelled out the end of your break, and with a heavy sigh, and finally giving up, you laid your phone on the desk, glancing in the general direction of Mr. Krabs.

And there was a Burkin bag right on your desk, for whatever reason.

You stared at the bag.

It stared back.

You finally looked up at the man.

“We kinda got off on the wrong foot,” He sheepishly smiled, rubbing the back of his neck, “I want to give you this. As a peace offering. It’d fit your aesthetic well.” Shrugging, his previous humility was replaced by a smug smile.

Your face didn’t move a muscle.

On one hand, Mikey said to never accept gifts.

On the other…

This was fucking expensive.

And would sell great on e-Bay.

“That is very kind of you. Apology accepted.” Leaning your elbows on the desk as your fingers interlaced, you offered a polite smile, nodding your head.

His smugness only grew.

“I’m glad. I hope we can work together for a long* time.”

“I hope the same, Koko.”

“So would you like to go out to dinner sometime? As coworkers, of course, I’d like to meet you a little better.“

Raising an eyebrow, you looked him up and down, repeating it numerous times over.

“Well I don’t really think that’d be quite professional…”

“Oh come on, my treat, I’m sure we’ll get along great.” He laughed, playfully sticking his tongue out.

Leaning back into the comfort of your chair, you started filing your nails.

“I’m allergic to food.”

“What?” Kokonoi blinked, all of his previous mischief stopping to a halt.

You nodded, looking away, a look of deep sorrow marring your face.

“Yes, it is in fact a very serious condition.”

“Wait, so, how do you stay alive? Like, how aren’t you dead?”

“Photosynthesis.”

🔖Taglist (closed):

@1818cigarettes @nana-phobia @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @m0rrax @levistiddies @bxnten @spookygeto @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @gigibobigi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @bontenacious @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @aurel1ia @nahoyas-nymph @one-green-frog @justrandomlypassing @kio-kookie @haikyuu-simps-assemble @arlecchino-n-scara-k @ayhashi @mOrl @tiredlattes @jeagerslutx @hayamirinrin @crown5 @medusalovessnakes @bblyerim @ohnoyouareasimp @sakinotfound @syddisheep @barcelona-sergei @solliver05 @ricecake23 @ayamvirus @vanillaashakee (second tag list in comments. in bold are those who tumblr won’t let me tag. my apologies!)

suggested by: @nahoyas-nymph

#tokyorev #tokyo revengers #bonten #kakucho hitto #ran haitani #manjiro sano #rindou haitani #sanzu akashi #bonten x reader #kokonoi hajime

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obxone · 1 year

Text

For Me

Edited-ish-- ~1.9k words. Rafe Cameron x Reader

Master Page

You glanced up from counting how many children were left to be picked up when the door opened and Kelce stepped into the lobby. “Hey, Kelce! Here for your little brother?”

He nods, clasping his hands. “Yes, is he ready?”

“Sure is!” You flip the clipboard to face him and he signs his name. “How was your day?”

“Better than yours,” he smirks at you before shrugging. “Not bad. Played some golf with Topper and Rafe.”

“My day was so much better,” you return with sass and he snorts. “Are you kidding me? I would much rather run around a summer camp with a bunch of 5 to 10-year-olds than deal with a drunk or high Rafe.”

Kelce laughs. “Fair.” You walk with him down the hall towards the large playroom that the last remaining children were in. “When are you going to give my boy a chance?”

You pause turning to him, crossing your arms over your waist. “You and I are friends right Kelce?”

He nods. “Yeah. I would say so.”

“Then why would you want your friend to be with that douche?”

Kelce’s lips parted in shock.

“I’m sure he’s a great friend to his fellow kook buddies, he’s decent with his family, and he’s a good time with all those girls, but at the end of the day, he’s not a good guy to anyone else. So respectfully no, Kelce.”

“Okay, I’ll stop asking.” He holds his hands up in innocence. “Rafe asked me to try.”

“What?!” You ask, pausing at the doorframe and turning to him with wide eyes.

Kelce shrugs. “Can you blame him? Your family is one of the oldest families in this area, you volunteer at a summer camp three weeks out of the summer instead of partying on a yacht like the rest of your friends, and you are one of the best-looking girls on the island.”

“Kelce!” You shove him while a blush spreads across your face. “Thanks, I mean it, but Rafe would need to change a few things if he wants anything from me.”

“I’ll let him know,” Kelce flashes a smile before you both step into the room and his brother abandons his blocks to come running in excitement. “Have fun!” He sings songs over his shoulder as they leave the facility. You go back to the desk after waving at the teacher and getting a headcount to match the clipboard.

— — — —

Camp had ended and now you were spending your days by the pool, reading, and going to the clubhouse for lunch when a simple pb&j didn’t sound good. Your parents left you to your own devices. They trusted you and were far too busy most of the time anyway. Sarah Cameron was meeting you for lunch, and you were a tad bit late as you slipped into the entrance. You checked your dress to make sure it was smooth and perfect as expected before walking further in.

“Well if it isn’t our most popular Kook Princess,” Rafe’s voice says from your right as you pass to get to the back patio. You pause and turn to see him, Kelce, and Topper at the bar, each holding a drink.

“Well if it isn’t the three stooges getting drunk in the middle of the day,” you respond, hand on your hip. “How charming.”

Kelce smirks over the rim of his drink knowing your spitefulness was more towards Rafe than him. Topper laughs while leaning back against the bar.

“Topper. Kelce.” You direct your attention to them. “You should find better company to keep.”

You turn to leave, but Rafe’s hand encloses your wrist stopping you. He smirks looking down at you.

“I don’t have time for this Rafe. I’m already late.”

“For what?” He asks, his breath fanning over your face. The smell of rum on his breath. “Do you have a date?!”

You frown and then try to tug your wrist free, but he doesn’t let go. “Charming as ever Rafe, but no I’m meeting your sister for lunch.”

“Sarah can wait, join us for a drink,” he gestures to the bar with his other hand that still clutches his drink.

“Thank you, but no.”

He shakes his head. “I’m starting to get the impression you think you are too good for us Princess.”

“Us implies the others, but it’s just you.” You try to tug free again, but he still doesn’t let go. “Rafe!”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Let me go. Now.”

He frowns before releasing you. “I’ll see you later okay? Maybe once you eat you’ll stop being such a bitch.”

There it was, your breaking point. Your hand connects with his face hard as you slap him. He stands stunned as you turn to leave him behind. You smile at Sarah once you get onto the deck. A sigh of relief comes from you as you join her at the table.

“Your brother is inside, already drunk, and a complete dick.”

“Oh,” she murmurs glancing towards the window that looks into the bar. And he’s there, staring at you, a harsh look on his face and a red mark where you hit him evident. “Is he okay?”

“He called me a bitch so I slapped him,” you say quickly while spreading the napkin on your lap.

“Whoa!”

You frown. “I didn’t enjoy it that much.”

She laughs and you join in before glancing as JJ steps up to the table.

“Ladies, what can I get for you?”

You study him. “Hey, Maybank. How��s life?”

He shrugs, studying you. “Less like a gilded cage.”

You bite your lip looking down at the menu while a blush paints itself across your neck and face and Sarah watches with interest. You had told him that’s how you felt during a kegger when you were wasted and kissing him.

“I’ll have a salad with grilled chicken and the house dressing,” Sarah says after you don’t respond for a moment. You look up then.

“Same.”

He nods, his blue eyes on you and he doesn’t leave to place the order until Sarah clears her throat. He turns then with a shake of his head. You look at Sarah who is staring at you with a knowing look.

“Damn it,” you mutter, burying your face in your hands. She laughs squeezing your shoulder.

“You ladies order already?” Rafe asks, plopping into the chair beside you opposite Topper who takes the other one.

“Yes as a matter of fact we did,” Sarah says turning to her brother. “You should probably go sober up before you get thrown out.”

Rafe turns to you, quirking an eyebrow. “What? Are you going to slap me again?”

“Only if you deserve it,” you mutter and glance as JJ fills your water glass. He chuckles and that’s all it takes for Rafe to be out of his seat, hand fisting JJ’s shirt pulling him closer. You stand before Topper can and Sarah grabs his arm stopping him as well. You put as much of yourself between them. You take the pitcher from JJ passing it to Sarah who takes it. “Rafe, step away,” you say, your voice even. Sarah and you both look around the deck noticing people are turning to look. “Rafe, now.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” he seethes before his angry blue eyes flash to JJ who stands just behind you. His chest against your back and Rafe’s arm over your shoulder gripping his black polo shirt still.

“I do because you are making a scene and if you want to keep coming here I suggest you do as I say.” You raise your hand to his chest and gently apply pressure. “My family donates more money than yours. Rafe, so help me, I will get you banned if you don’t walk away.”

He looks at you. “Are you protecting this dirty pogue right now Princess?”

“No,” you say raising your hand to his cheek. You touch where you had slapped him earlier. “I’m protecting you and the reputation of your family right now.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

“Rafe,” you say, tone sharper keeping his focus on yourself. “Let him go. He’s doing his job. That is it.”

Rafe looks at you. You smile weakly at him before slipping your other hand around his outstretched arm. You drag your hand up until to his bicep and squeeze lightly.

“Let him go, Rafe, please.” You soften your voice after you notice a manager and security coming up the stairs off to your left. “For me, please.”

He stares at you and you see his gaze soften. He lets JJ go and you glance at JJ.

“Go to the kitchen JJ. I can’t stop them from firing you.”

He ducks his head and goes without another word, his jaw set in anger, but he goes. You turn back to Rafe. His hands grasp your waist now, staring at you hard. You shiver at everything unsaid in his expression.

“Sarah, can I have a rain check?” You ask not breaking eye contact with him.

“Sure.”

“Okay, come on,” you grasp Rafe’s hand and exit the deck and walk towards the golf course. You don’t look back, but you know they are all watching until you are out of sight. You stop once you are past the dunes and turn to Rafe. His lips are on yours. One of his hands tangles in your hair and the other falls to your waist pulling you as close as he can. You kiss him back, hands clinging to his shirt until the kiss ends, and then you step back. “Rafe, that’s not…” You wrap your arms around yourself before walking further away from him towards the water. He follows you and when you sit down and he joins you. You look at him. “What do you want from me?”

“Kelce told me what you said.”

You sigh looking back at the water. “Of course he did. He said he would.”

Rafe smiles while playing with a blade of tall grass he plucked from the sand. “I don’t like the way JJ looks at you.”

“I don’t like the way you treat JJ,” you respond right after.

He frowns. “Do you like him?”

“What?!” You ask, looking at him again. He stares at you, waiting for the truth. “No. JJ and I had a moment earlier this summer, but it was just that 'a moment'. We made out at a party.”

“At The Boneyard?”

You bob your head. “A few too many beers.”

He smirks, “didn’t realize I missed a fun night.”

“Shut up.”

He laughs making you sigh.

“JJ is a friend. I know you and the others are all about this kook versus pogue life, but I’m not and I won’t be.”

“Okay,” he responds chunking the piece of grass. “Who’s the better kisser though?”

You scoff, shaking your head, staring at the sunlight reflecting off the waves. “I’m not answering that.”

He grins, his hand pushing your hair behind your shoulder. “You can tell me. I won’t rub it in his face.”

“Rafe!” You scold looking at him. He smirks before dragging his finger down the side of your face, then to your chin, before hooking under your chin and guiding your lips back to his. You kiss him unable to stop from leaning into him. Your fingers curl into his shirt until you gently push him back an inch or so. “I meant what I said to Kelce.”

“I know,” he whispers, his nose brushing yours. “I promise to lay off JJ and do better, be better.”

You exhale before pecking his lips. “You are the better kisser.”

Part II

#outer banks #obx #outer banks fic #obx fic #outer banks rafe cameron #outer banks rafe #obx rafe cameron #obx rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #obx fluff #outer banks fluff #rafe cameron

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starry-nights12 · 6 months

Note

“Hugs, Kisses and wishes” for the fanfic ask game.

WIP Ask Game!

Tagging @redrum-alice because that one joke about Chuck inspired all this😆

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

Jinx sat on Ekko's desk playing Tick-Tock Bomb!

The players drew chibi drawings of their heads to fill in as X's and O's. The loser's face was crossed and drawn with explosions.

"You cheated!"

"How do you cheat at what is basically tic-tac-toe?" She took a bite of her PB & Jinx. It was her version of a PB&J that was more dessert than an actual sandwich.

It was cut into two triangles and the bread was suagr toast sprinkled with cinnamon.

Between the peanut butter and strawberry jelly were strawberry slices drizzled with chocolate syrup.

"You drew over mine, you sore loser!"

"Call me that again." she challenged. "I'm going to kill you and dance over your grave." she dug two fingers into the side of his head. She said, "Pew!" as she shot him.

"You're not as great of a shooter as you think." he took a bite out of his slice.

Jinx narrowed her eyes at him, "And why the fuck would you say that,sunny boy?"

"I managed to make it to twenty." he took a sip of milk from his mug.

Jinx gave it to him as a gift and drew firelights and his hourglass symbol with a blue and red heart.

"You think. I rigged your whole, precious sanctuary with bombs."

"I've been told that I'm a great kisser," he held her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"I'll get the information out of you sooner or later." he stroked her bottom lip with a smirk.

Jinx stilled. Her cheeks grew warm and her fluttered erratically along with the butterflies infesting her stomach.

Instead of giving in, Jinx swatted his hand away. "Go fuck yourself. I hate you."

Ekko's laughter was like warm syrup-covered pancakes that gave your insides a comforting hug.

The sunlight always seemed to find him and cast a soft glow around him. Jinx thought It was as if the Heavens were shining down a light on one of their own.

Even his dredlocks were styled like a halo today.

They've been dating for four weeks now and Jinx never thought she could be happier.

Her eyes glinted with mischief as an idea came to her. She stirred her chocolate milk with a straw. "I had someone else before you."

"I remember. The guy you almost kissed at the party?"

She had wanted to forget her crush on Ekko by kissing some guy she thought was decently handsome.

It didn't work.

She took her anger out on him during the next shimmer raid.

She sucked the milk bubbles with her straw. "Not that rando. The difference is that I saw him everyday," she couldn't restrain her chesire grin. "His name is Chuck. He was Silco's bartender."

#timebomb #ekkojinx #jinx arcane #ekko arcane #arcane #wips #my writing #hugs kisses and death wishes #ask game #wip ask game #ask #julietwiskey1 #AAAAA!!!#THANKS FOR THE ASK!!!#firelight jinx au #as always😌#This fic gets mildy angsty later-

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gardenofchrome · 9 months

Text

Pacific Rim Headcanons #2

What they would do if you, their (S/O) brought them lunch

(Requested by @screechinginthevoid, I hope you like it 😊)

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．

You, Y/N, are [character's name] S/O and decide to bring them lunch everyday, as they are busy Ranger pilots and can sometimes forget to eat. You make sure to include a little note to show how much you appreciate them (*^‿^*)

Raleigh: You make him classic American foods- a grilled cheese sandwich, mac n' cheese, and chocolate chip cookies. You write a little love note to him, putting it all in a brown paper bag, and take it to his barrack. He was sleeping when you got there, so you put it on his nightstand and gave him a little kiss on the forehead, covering him up with a blanket.

Yancy: You make him the same thing you made Raleigh- once you gave it to him, he pulled you into hug and kissed you, getting a very loud 'awwww!' from Raleigh who was in the doorway.

"Get out Raleigh!"

Mako: You make her Ingee Chicken, Nagarame, and Anno Imo, foods from where she was born, as you thought she would like a little taste of home. It turns out that she made some lunch for you too, consisting of your favorite foods. You both have a picnic on the roof of the shatterdome, watching Jaegers being deployed.

Chuck: You make him meat pies, chicken parmigiana, and fairy bread. When you go to give it to him, he nearly knocked the food straight out of your hands by accident, as he was sparring with his father. Herc made him apologize while he begrudgingly thanked you for the food.

Herc: You make him sausage rolls, avocado toast, and pavlova. He hugs you tightly, before he lets you go when you tell him that he's crushing your ribs. He also makes sure that you had something to eat before he went somewhere quiet to eat.

"Herc, please put me down before you snap my ribs."

Stacker: You make him Shepard's pie, sausage rolls, and trifle. You leave it at the foot of his office, before knocking on the door to let him know it was there. You didn't want to disturb him as you knew he was probably very busy with all the paperwork he had to do and overseeing the Jaegers in the shatterdome.

Newt: You give him a PB&J sandwich, a Caesar salad, and a roll of oreo's. You force him to it eat, as you knew that if you gave it to him he'd probably just eat an oreo or two and then focus on his research for the rest of the day. He thanks you for the lunch and offers to let you see the new kaiju samples that just arrived.

Hermann: You made him a ham and cheese sandwich, schnitzel, and plum pudding. You set it down on his desk, and he thanks you, promising to eat it in a few. You come back 3 hours later and notice that his lunch was still not eaten, and you scold him.

"Please just give me 5 more minutes to finish this and I will!"

Tendo: You give him a few bagels to eat, along with some jam and butter, and a cup of coffee. He gives you a quick peck on the cheek, before nearly spilling the coffee on the controls.

"Oops."

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．

I might include Jake and Nate the next time, but I've watched the first movie more than Uprising so idk if it would be good.

#pacific rim #pacific rim headcanons #raleigh becket #yancy becket #mako mori #chuck hansen #hercules hansen #newt geiszler #hermann gottlieb #stacker pentecost #tendo choi #headcanon #jeagers #kaiju

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hippienerrd · 2 years

Text

Dallas Winston × Reader

Chapter 1

I need to watch/read the outsiders again and analyze their talking patterns so some of this may not sound like them at the moment but ill try and fix it asap. (ill take this chunk out when its updated) I just wanted to get this out of my drafts and post content for the fist time in a while. Also all of the enemies to lovers fans are in for a treat. -💜

Monday, one of the worst days of the week if you ask just about any human being on this planet, but if you ask me, well i quite like it to be honest. Sure it starts my work week but i get to come back refreshed from the weekend. If i had to pick a least favorite day it'd be Friday, by then everyone is tired, cranky, and ready for the weekend, including myself, makes business at the shop harder.

I've been working at a local flower shop, for 8 years now, since i was 10. Technically that's illegal but its owned by an acquaintance of my families, more like my father was a loyal customer for years, so we were able to pull some strings. Of course it started as part time, after school work, but since i graduated last year i was open to switch to a full time position here.

I entered the shop and greeted every one on our crew on my way back to my office. Im more of an assistant than anything else round here, my job is just scattered tasks, but before any of that out i always head back to my office to set my things down and check email.

"Nothing" i say under my breath. I don't often receive emails at work but i like to just make sure.

Exiting my office takes you to the garden, we don't grow much of what we sell, a few things we do take from our own garden, but mostly we all just enjoy the visual. I pass through the garden into the back of the store and make my way up front to see what my tasks are today.

A note was stuck to one of our flower coolers. "1. Open shop 2. Clean flowers 3. Prepare deliveries 4. Take care of walk-ins" looks like its just me today. My boss is an older woman who has trouble with her joints so she doesn't always come in during the day which leaves me by myself, well the curriers come in and out but for the most part its just me on days like this.

I pull the note down and set it on our universal desk, its just a random desk in the back for anyone who wants to use it since our offices are elsewhere. I lock the back door just in case and run back up front to flip or open sign and unlock the door.

My next task takes me too the coolers where i take out a bucket that held a bunch of yellow roses, a bunch of lavender roses, a bunch of pink roses, 2 bunches of red roses, and 3 bunches of daisies. I spend the morning popping ugly petals off of roses, removing thorns, and making sure the stems look pretty which due to the amount took me about 2 hours.

3 hours of making bouquets and tidying the shop between arrangements and it was time for my lunch brake. Lunch was my favorite part of my work day but not just for the plain old i get time off of work and food reasoning though, right around this time we usually get my favorite customer. He's a regular, his name is Sodapop Curtis. He works down the street at the DX and once or twice each week he pops in on his lunch break to grab some fresh flowers for his girlfriend Sandy, i bet shes a real happy gal, real special to, to get a guy like Soda.

Halfway through my PB and J sandwich i hear the bell on our front door chime, i look up from my lunch to find the man himself, Sodapop! Except this time he wasn't alone, far frome it to be honest. He had with him a group of 6 other boys that looked to range from a few years younger than me to a few years older than me, although majority looked about my age.

"Hi Y/N!" Soda said with his near perfect smile, i don't know how his teeth stay so nice after all these rumbles he tells me about, one day one of em is gonna get knocked right out of his head.

"Hello" i greet giving a look to each boy letting them know its intended for all of them. "Who all is with ya today Soda?" I asked "Well, this is my kid brother Pony" Soda said giving a nod to what seemed to be the youngest of the bunch. Pony smiled, he seemed to be the only one other than Soda who was having fun here, the rest seemed like they didn't want to be here or like they just didn't care. "Next to Pony over here is Johnny, and then we got my older brother Darry, he's the tall one in the back" those 2 both seemed pretty neutral about their current situation. Soda started turning his head real fast like he was looking for someone specific "uuhhmm,, oh! Behind me is Steve, he's the one i told you works with me at the DX". Steve gave me a quick smile but his was definitely a contrast to Soda's Considering he had something brown all stuck in his teeth. "Then we got Two-bit next to Darry and Dally in the corner back there" Soda finished naming off all the boys. I couldn't help but notice the expression Dally gave though, it wasn't like the others who were just bored or thinking of being somewhere else, he REALLY didn't want to be here.

"Well now that I've met the whole fam-damn-ly when do i get to meed Ms. Sandy?" I questioned as i walked back to the station where we make bouquets. Soda just laughed. I threw on our company apron and looked to Soda "what are we thinking about today?" "Just 6 red roses, you know more than me though make it pretty like you do" he said, to anyone else that probably made little sense but i knew what he meant, he just doesn't know the names of the flowers or really what flowers he wants other than roses, but that's my job to know what'll look good so its no big deal.

As i grabbed the flowers from the cooler i asked Soda "wrap or vase?" He gives a quick response of "wrap please" we continued to chit chat as i wrapped his bouquet but i cut our conversation short to talk to the others briefly "can i wrap up some single roses on the house for you boys? Im sure your girls will love em"

most of them shook their heads or said they didn't have a girlfriend but Pony nodded his head yes, which seemed to shock the others "when did you get a girl?" Steve asked and Darry seemed to get a bit protective, and Pony seemed startled like he wasn't expecting to be questioned, i could tell they weren't for a girl, he just enjoyed the flowers, frankly i cant blame him.

"Nun ya" i butted in, i mean, i cant imagine these boys are real easy to explain beauty like a flower to. "Don't matter who the girl is, let the boy have fun. He's doin it right clearly, taking her flowers and all"

"Oh come on Pon-" Soda started in an attempt to pry, wanting to know who his little brother was going out with, but before he could finish Dally spoke up "can we just get out of here man, i don't wanna be seen in a frilly little store like this"

I was taken aback and decided to do something about it "well you're close to the door, why don't you leave by yourself, there's no need to be rude" "look i don't particularly like getting my ass beat for being seen like this ok" Dally snapped back. The boys were trying to get him to calm down and keep quiet while soda fished the money for Sandy's flowers from his wallet.

"Maybe try winning then." I said with an attitude "maybe then we'll all be happy, you wont get beat, i wont have assholes like you to deal with, and greasers like Soda wouldn't get a rep for greasers like you" at this point Soda had the cash out and left it on the counter while they all dragged Dally out before he could do or say anything else. That last part may have been a bit harsh but it's true, my boss hates greasers, wont even allow them in the store when shes working, and its because of miserable greasers like Dally who just cant be kind.

#enemies to lovers #the outsiders #dally winston #dallas winston #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #dally x reader #dallas x reader

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pbandjesse · 1 year

Text

Today was a nice day. After how productive I was yesterday I do feel slightly guilty for not being productive today. But it's fine. I had a nice day still.

I woke up this morning when James's alarm went off at 5 and they struggled to turn it off for a while and I was a little upset. But it was fine. I fell back asleep.

I woke up at 9 and didn't feel great. In those few hours I had some horrible dreams. Specifically that my entire face had psoriasis and I was like. Dehydrating and it was scary. But I got up and got ready for the day.

James made the bed. And we hung out for a little. They drank their coffee. I chilled on the couch. My hair felt very floofy and I was just slightly uncomfortable in my tights. They have a hole that needs to be mended. I will probably do that tomorrow. But today it just was slightly irritating.

I wanted to go to IKEA today. Not for anything really. Just to walk around and look at the spaces. And so we made a plan. IKEA, grocery store, laundry, and we would watch the last of us when we got home.

And that made today really nice.

We left here and drove out to White Marsh. And it was fun to go to IKEA. Got to see a little bit of the new collection everyone in TikTok loves. It's nice but way more expensive then I expected.

We pointed at the things we liked. James liked a few of of the dark kitchens with lots of shelves. I enjoyed thinking about the different wardrobes I would love to have and tables. It was just really nice walking around.

We didn't leave with nothing. We got some of the frozen veggie dogs and the toppings!! And we got a c to c type charger. Which ended up not working for what I wanted but it's all good.

After we paid (at self checkouts??) we went to the little fast food area (also self checkout!!!) to get snacks.

But the screen wouldn't let us chose veggie hotdogs. James asked and they said it would be 10 minutes. So we chose to wait. And it was worth it. We totally came at the most busy time. But we got a frozen yogurt and a cinnamon bun while we waited.

And the hotdogs were great. I felt really happy.

James was being a goof. And we were laughing because I couldn't see walking to the car because everything was glaring. But it was fine. Just very silly.

There was a giant grocery store (the brand not the size), and so we stopped there to get everything we needed. And we did pretty good with sales and deals. I got a few silly little things. Like the new strawberry Dr pepper. And mangos. But we did good and soon (after a long stop at the customer service desk to get quarters) we headed home.

When we got back here we brought everything in and James put stuff away. I was tired. I wanted to nap. But it never happened. I would just sort of feel exhausted and miserable for the next few hours. Despite trying to calm my brain down enough to nap, I couldn't get myself to stop thinking about stuff.

I would actually get some lesson plan stuff done for the summer. I want to have some semblance of a plan to show Alexi on Wednesday. I plan on working on that tomorrow but at least I have all my reference images ready to go.

James warned me up pizza from yesterday. I never actually ate any of it last night. Instead I had a PB and j. And we chilled in bed together. My head started feeling really horrible. I couldn't shake it for hours. It is finally feeling a little better but I thought I was going to throw up it hurt so bad. Thankfully never did but man that was not fun.

I would play fetch with Sweetp for a little. I went and took a bath but the water was to cool. Even when James added two kettles of water. But it helped make me feel a little better but not much.

Once I was in jammies we set up in James's room and watched the last two released episodes of last of us. I wound two balls of yarn. And cuddled with sweetp. And had some birthday cake with some aspirin on the side.

And the episodes were great. Heartbreaking but really good. We also went back and watched all the behind the scenes clips which were so good!! I love behind the scenes things.

Now we are in bed. And I am slowly feeling better. I am going to go brush my teeth and try to get to sleep before midnight.

James has a conference tomorrow. I am jealous. I hope it's so much fun. And I hope to have a productive day. I have mending to do. And I want to make sure all my stuff is ready for my workshop this weekend. And do my lesson planning. If I could finish that I would be so excited. But we'll see what happens.

I hope you all have a great night. Sleep well. Be safe!

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stolensiren · 2 years

Text

wants & fears // sloane & cass

TIMING: current PARTIES: @faetedwill & @stolensiren SUMMARY: cass and sloane's pb&j date at sloane's house is interrupted when sloane's parents come home unexpectedly and throw a real wrench in things. CONTENT: none!

Despite not having been to Sloane’s house often, Cass found herself fairly comfortable in her friend’s bedroom. She hung upside down off the bed, flipping through pictures on her phone. Ever since their trip to the eighties, she’d been researching both the blue ghost that attacked them and the siren that had saved them, but she hadn’t found a ton of information on either. Charlotte, it seemed, had survived the ghost’s attack if the information the sketchy guy online was right, but her trail seemed to grow cold a few years later. It was almost as if she’d deliberately vanished, and Cass couldn’t find out why. The ghost thing, too, was full of dead ends. Metzli didn’t know anything about it, and Cass didn’t have quite enough details to do very good research. Add to it the fact that she was bad at research, anyway, and it felt like she was hitting dead end after dead end.

But at least she had company for it. If you had to get stuck running into walls, Sloane was a pretty good person to be stuck with. Honestly, Cass didn’t even mind the frustration when it meant she got to hang out with the other girl. They’d been clicking pretty well lately; it was probably worth the ‘blue ghost mystery’ of it all. “Okay,” she flipped herself rightside up, squinting at her phone. “Hear me out: Holograms. Ghost guy was a hologram. With… physical knives.” She made a face. “Okay, yeah, it’s a stretch. I think we’d do a lot better if we had some food, though. Wanna make a run down to your kitchen? I make a mean PB&J.”

It was risky, letting Cass come over. Sloane knew that, but she let her friend in through the door anyway. If her mom knew that she’d begun to grow close to somebody, it could put Cass in danger. She sincerely hoped that if asked, Sloane could pass it off as a tutoring session. Then again, it always seemed like her mom knew when she was lying. The nerves that’d struck her by the mere thought of having to introduce Cass to her mom had been squelched the moment that her friend explained she really wanted to find the ghostly apparition that had tormented them when they got sent back to the 80’s. Sloane was more than happy to help, especially because it’d all been so weird. It would do her better, knowing what they were dealing with, it if happened again, or if it happened to somebody else.

Sloane looked over at Cass as she spoke. “Holograms?” She arched her brow. “I don’t think that the 80’s had holograms, and I also don’t think they can like, pick things up and also throw them.” She leaned back in her chair, pulling her legs up onto the seat so that she was sitting criss-crossed. “How do you make a mean PB&J? I only make them sadly.” Sloane stuck her tongue out at Cass before she grabbed the edge of her desk, turning herself left and right slowly as she began to stare into space, mind working against the possibility that being in plane view could go awry if her mom suddenly showed up. “Yeah, sure, but we only have weird expensive jams, if that’s cool with you.” Her mom took her jam seriously, and it was one of the only things that they splurged on as a family. Sloane untucked herself from her chair and stretched her arms above her head as she walked over to Cass, looking down at her. “You should wear more purple, by the way. It totally suits you.” Of course, Sloane was referring to the purple of her bedspread that was scrunched beneath her, but she hadn’t quite put those pieces together yet. “Let’s go?” She stuck her hand out for her friend to take with a smile.

Okay, so, in retrospect, holograms weren’t the most sound theory. But time travel was a very new thing to Cass, so she was kind of grasping at straws here! “The eighties didn’t have us, either!” She pointed out, though the fact that she laughed as she said it probably betrayed the fact that she wasn’t really a firm believer in the ‘theory’ she’d put forth. Honestly, though the experience had been terrifying and harrowing when they were going through it… it felt easier to laugh about it now that they were back home. It was actually kind of cool, in retrospect; they’d time traveled to another era, they’d met someone they never would have known otherwise, they’d survived a fight against a big, scary thing. And they’d done it together. There was something about that that made it all the more exhilarating.

Snorting a quiet laugh at Sloane’s words, Cass feigned a serious expression. “I am a PB&J expert,” she said, really lathering the drama into her tone. “Have you ever seen Top Chef? That’s me, but with PB&J specifically. I’m gonna rock your whole world.” It was funny; research usually left her tired and more than a little bored, but there was a strange sense of adrenaline to it here. Hanging out with Sloane always left her with a certain level of energy in her chest, like an electric charge looking for an outlet. “I’ll make a gourmet PB&J then. Even better!” She took Sloane’s hand as it was offered to her, letting her friend pull her off the bed. Glancing down at her outfit — a faded t-shirt and old jeans, neither of which featured half as much purple as the bedspread she’d been lying on — Cass smiled faintly. “I can totally rock more purple if it impresses you that much,” she joked with a wink. “But first, I wanna impress you with my cooking skills.” Did making a PB&J count as cooking? It had to at least be considered cooking adjacent, didn’t it? Whatever. “Hey, I’m not gonna be, like, ruining your dinner or anything, am I? When are your parents supposed to be getting home?”

Sloane rolled her eyes playfully. Even though she knew that anything was possible, especially in this town— such as time travel, it wasn’t totally unfound that a hologram could throw knives at them. But knowing White Crest, it was something a lot more screwed up. She briefly thought of Charlotte and the way the knife had plunged into her shoulder. Even though they’d only been in each other’s company by chance (as fate would have it), Sloane still hoped that the girl was okay. She imagined she was, especially seeing as neither herself or Cass could find anything about her dying back in 1988.

“Top chef? What is that? Do they wear top hats or something?” Sloane was serious in her questioning as she looked down at Cass. There was pure joy written across her features, and Sloane secretly hoped that she had done something to put it there. The only anxiety the banshee felt was the one her own mother brought forth. She hoped that she could have these moments with Cass and not worry about being swooped in on, even if what she and Cass were doing was harmless enough. To an older banshee who had every intent on activating her daughter, however, it could potentially end in disaster. “I’m so looking forward to it.” As Cass got off of the bed, Sloane’s gaze flit to the bedspread, then back to her friend. She felt her neck grow warm with embarrassment and she rolled her eyes at Cass’s words. “Impress all you want, my kitchen is yours for the destroying.” Only, it wasn’t. Her dad would freak.

Sloane guided Cass out of her room and down the hall. “What am I, a toddler?” She threw a look over her shoulder at Cass as she padded into the kitchen. Steve was out with her dad at the cemetery, so it was just the two of them. “My parents? Uh…” That was a good question. Her mom sometimes dropped back in if things were slow, but she hoped with the number of freak accidents happening, orders would be piling up. That was fucked up to hope, but Sloane had good reason. “I dunno, but don’t worry, you don’t have to meet them or anything.” She smiled at Cass as she dug into the cabinet that held the peanut butter. “The jam is on the counter over there.” She pointed with her elbow before grabbing the bread out of the bread box. “This better be like, really good, or I’m going to tell everyone you’re a phony.”

“No! It’s a show. Where they compete to be top chef.” Cass paused for a moment, considering. “Cooking in a top hat would be, like, really fun, though. I’m definitely gonna buy one. Why should chef hats have the monopoly on kitchen wear? It’s not fair!” With most people, Cass put up a front. She subtly shifted herself into someone else, often without even meaning to. She drew on those limited empathetic siren abilities, found out what a person wanted her to be and became it. But… She’d never felt the need to do that with Sloane. Maybe it was because Sloane had really only ever wanted Cass to be herself. And that was something Cass could do, even if she sometimes felt like she was still trying to figure out just who that was. “Oh, you should be. It’s gonna knock your socks off.” She glanced back, following Sloane’s eyes back to the bed and recognizing her friend’s slip just a moment later. She opted not to say anything, not to draw any attention to it in hopes that Sloane might be just as forgiving if she somehow noticed the flutter of Cass’s heart in her chest.

Laughing, Cass scrunched up her nose in quiet protest. “That’s totally a thing people say! Not just to toddlers!” In all honesty, she wasn’t sure. She’d definitely heard it on television, but not so much in real life. She hummed as Sloane spoke of her parents. “What if I want to meet them? I’m, like, super good at charming parents, just so you know. They’d love me.” They probably would, though Cass was sure Sloane’s desire for her to be only herself wouldn’t be one her parents shared. Most people wanted Cass in pieces; never whole. Walking over to the counter, she considered the different jam flavors before settling on one, grabbing the jar and bringing it over to the bread box to join Sloane. “Oh, it is. You’re gonna be impressed. Mark my words.”

“You keep explaining it, but I still have no idea what you’re talking about.” It was cute, watching Cass try to explain herself. At the mention of her purchasing a top hat to fit the mold what Sloane had thought Top Chef meant, she snorted. “I mean, you might have a point. I’m sure that rat chef from Ratatouille would definitely back you up there. Imagine how much easier it would’ve been if that guy wore a top hat.” She wasn’t sure where her tangent was leading, but she was sure that it would make sense somewhere. Or, at least, she hoped it would that way she didn’t look totally dumb in front of Cass.

Sloane scoffed at Cass. “If your PB&J curbs my appetite for dinner, then I totally owe you an apology.” She grinned at her friend. If she were somebody else, then maybe Cass could visit and meet her parents and even have dinner like Teagan had. But Cass wasn’t somebody else. Cass was… important to Sloane. What that meant, Sloane wasn’t quite ready to unpack. “I don’t know, I think they would think you’re a little annoying.” Even though it was a joke, there was a slight burn at the back of Sloane’s throat from the lie. “I’m sure they would love you,” she quickly recovered with a sigh, “my mom is just… weird.” That was an understatement, and it wasn’t quite a lie. She pulled open the bag of bread and slid it over to Cass. “Okay, you’re on.” The banshee smiled innocently at Cass before flitting away to grab a knife and two plastic plates from the drawer across the kitchen before returning with the items. “Here you go. Let’s see you work your magic.”

“We’re having a Food Network marathon at some point,” Cass vowed, because it was just necessary at this point. Sloane didn’t even know what Top Chef was. That had to be some kind of a crime! Though the mixup did birth a great idea, because cooking in a top hat sounded like Cass’s idea of fun. “A top hat would have been so much roomier for Remy the rat!” She agreed. “He could have put a lawn chair up there. Really made himself at home!”

Grinning, Cass decided to take Sloane’s words as a challenge, vowing to make a PB&J so good that her friend would have no interest in her dinner. Something else settled over her, though, at the way Sloane was so quick to insist that Cass shouldn’t meet her parents. Cass had always been more than a little self conscious, especially in regards to how other people might feel about her. The idea that Sloane’s parents might not like her was a little upsetting, even when Sloane insisted that they would. One of two things was true: Either Sloane really did think her parents would dislike Cass, or she didn’t want Cass to meet them for some other reason. Neither option sat particularly well with her. But she shook off the feeling as quickly as she could preferring, as she often did, to focus more on what was happening in this moment. Cass was good at throwing her bad feelings to the side, even when it wasn’t exactly the smart thing to do. Taking the knife from Sloane, she forced a very serious expression onto her face. “Watch and learn,” she said dramatically, leaning in close as she meticulously spread peanut butter onto the first slice. She did it with far more care than she usually did, theatrically squinting as if working on a painting instead of a sandwich. It was a good distraction.

“Let’s do it.” It helped that she enjoyed her time spent with Cass, so accepting the far off plans came with ease. Sloane wasn’t sure what a lawn chair had to do with a top hat, but she was sure that Cass had a reference somewhere out there that she didn’t quite get. Sloane still laughed, for Cass’s sake. The idea was funny, even if she didn’t understand why. “Maybe make it stop animation or something, I’m sure people would love that.”

Sloane made a show of watching Cass begin the preparations for the PB&J, doing her best to ignore the way that her friend’s face clearly fell. If she could tell her why, she would, but the idea of telling one of her closest friends that her mom might murder her if she found out they were close was not exactly the kind of conversation one had over a PB&J. “I’m watching, but I’m not sure I’ll be learning much.” Sloane grinned at Cass as she leaned against the counter, close enough to Cass so that she could feel the warmth of her arm against her own. “You’re a real Picasso. When I finally get my sketchbook back, I should let you take a crack at it.” She thought about the rough sketches in the back she’d started to do of Cass. Ari was in there, too, and if asked, she could use that as some kind of defense. Again, Sloane brushed the thought and feeling off before she pointed towards the edge of the bread. “You missed a spot.”

Sloane’s laughter seemed to fill the empty space, and Cass felt a little proud, in spite of herself, for being the one to spark it. She knew she was hardly a perfect person — there was still a knife shoved in the back of her kitchen drawer that would never quite be clean again, still a guilt that clawed at her chest that never went away, still a lot of things lacking inside of her — but if she could make her friends laugh like this, make Sloane laugh like this, it must mean she was doing okay, right? She flashed a grin, wide and bright and genuine, and nodded her head. “If we get started on it now, we can totally finish in time to score an Oscar nomination. Because we’d definitely get one. This is a genius idea.”

In spite of the twist of concern in her gut, the one that always came with the concept that someone might not like her, Cass relaxed a little under Sloane’s watchful eye as she made the sandwich. “You could learn if you tried,” she insisted, returning Sloane’s grin. It was fine, she decided, if Sloane didn’t want her to meet her parents. It was fine. It didn’t have to mean anything. It was fine. “When you get it back? Back from where?” She glanced up, a hint of concern in the expression. Sketchbooks, from what Cass understood, were kind of a private thing. Missing one was bound to be stressful. She hummed as Sloane pointed to the bread, shaking her head. “You can’t rush a masterpiece, Sloane, you know that!” But she spread a little peanut butter to the spot, just to be sure. She really did want Sloane to like the sandwich — maybe to a ridiculous degree now.

“Do you teach classes? What are the rates?” Sloane twisted around and hoisted herself up onto the counter, ankles crossed while her heels hit the cabinet below. “I’m very cheap, if you didn’t notice.” She waved towards the assortment of mismatched cups. Any that actually matched were her mom’s. Meanwhile, she and her dad liked to collect them from gas stations and other tourist traps to commemorate where they’d been, even if most of the cups had a scrubbed off NE written on it in an off-brand comic sans font.

Sloane looked down at the bread as Cass worked, smirking slightly as she ran the knife back over the spot that Sloane had said she missed. “Huh? Oh, my book?” Sloane’s brows knit together and she looked down at her lap, reaching to pick at a frayed part of her shorts. “I accidentally swapped bags with a friend, but they haven’t gotten back to me about giving it back yet.” She thought about the selkie skin upstairs in her closet. How long could Saylor go without it? “I think their phone is broken, but it’s not a big deal.” There was no burn in their chest, because really, Sloane hadn’t been able to get a hold of Saylor, so she really wasn’t sure what was going on. Sloane gave Cass a reassuring smile before she splayed her hands over her thighs, poking burgundy chipped nails into the small loops the frays had created. “Is it rushing, or is it critiquing your art?” She arched a brow, tilting her head to the side. “You haven’t even started on the jam section and you’re already making baseless accusations.”

“For you, I’d give a discount,” Cass replied with a wink, heart stuttering in her chest with the action even though it was one she’d done a million times before. She’d even done it with Sloane before, but… Things had felt different lately. Sometime between the zoo trip and the eighties fiasco, something had shifted. Cass couldn’t quite put her finger on what, or why it was that the back of her neck felt so hot or why it was hard not to stumble over her words. “I don’t think you’re cheap! I think you’re very classy. Other people just don’t get it, is all.”

She wondered how long Sloane’s sketchbook had been missing, hoped the friend she’d swapped bags with was taking good care of it. Cass didn’t always understand art, but she knew how important it was to the people who created it. “Maybe we can go check on them,” she offered. “Your friend, I mean. We could take their bag to them and see if they’ve still got yours?” Depending on how long the bags had been swapped, it might be overkill. Showing up at someone’s door the day after such an event would probably be a little dramatic. Rolling her eyes playfully at her friend’s comment, she wiggled the peanut butter-covered knife in Sloane’s direction. “I don’t take criticism,” she warned. “I only take cash or credit.” She squinted at the peanut butter again before deciding she was satisfied and setting it down on the plate, taking the bare bread and the jam jar in its place. “You’re the one with no faith in my process! Trust the jam, Sloane. Trust it.”

“A discount? Really? How much would that be?” Sloane kicked her feet forward, ankles dropping against the cabinet with a low thud. “Oh, I love the vote of confidence.” Sloane knocked Cass’s shoulder with the back of her hand playfully before she turned to grab something out of the neighboring cabinet. “How much would you hate me if I ate a granola bar right now? Are you afraid it’d ruin the experience?”

At Cass’s suggestion, Sloane shrugged. “I’m not actually sure where they live if I’m being honest. I’ll just hope that they get back to me soon.” It was a burden, carrying around somebody else’s livelihood. Maybe this was good practice for what was to come. Sloane stuck out her tongue teasingly at Cass as she waved the knife around. “I’ve got some coupons for Al’s, will that do? You, me, veggie burgers, and milkshakes.” She felt heat settle against the back of her neck at the suggestion after realizing the implications, but she made no move to clear them. They were friends. Friends went out to eat all of the time. “Oh, I trust the jam, I’m just not sure how much I trust you.” Sloane grinned at Cass, the burn in her chest slightly more noticeable. “But okay, I’ll trust you.”

“We can totally discuss payment.” It came out a little… different than she’d meant for it to. A little less playful, a little more breathless. The tips of her ears burned, and she quickly looked back to the bread and pretended to be utterly captivated by the act of making the sandwich, turning only when Sloane’s hand knocked against her shoulder. “You’d better not!” Cass laughed, grabbing Sloane by the arm and pulling her away from the cabinet that presumably held the offending granola bars. “You’re going to ruin me ruining your dinner!”

It made sense, of course. White Crest was a small town, but not so small that everyone knew where everyone lived. Cass hadn’t even been to Sloane’s house before now, as the two typically hung out at Cass’s apartment instead. “Hopefully they’ll get their phone fixed soon, then, right? I mean, I can’t imagine going without a phone for too long these days.” The world kind of operated in a way that made technology a necessity now, after all. “Now that sounds fun. I’ll totally take you up on that offer.” Maybe she was a little too eager with it, but it really did sound like a good time. “Hey! I’m super trustworthy!” To Sloane, at least. There were a lot of people Cass would lie to, but Sloane wasn’t really one of them. The most she’d done were small lies of omission here and there, and those were often necessary. She wanted Sloane to keep liking her. She wasn’t sure that could happen if the whole ‘technically a bird’ secret came into the light.

Finally satisfied with the sandwich, Cass meticulously stacked the pieces of bread on top of one another and cut it in half with a grin. “You’re totally gonna eat your words. Along with the best PB&J you’ve ever had!” She held one half of the sandwich out to Sloane with a grin.

Maybe if Sloane’s eyes had been on Cass and not the sandwich, she would’ve noticed the way that her ears burned a deep red. Instead, she was fixated on the best sandwich she would ever have. Sloane would swallow the lie and let it burn, even if that weren’t true. No way was she going to tell Cass to her face that the sandwich wasn’t that great after all the effort she had put into it— which, really, hadn’t been a lot, seeing as the ingredients were what Sloane already had in her kitchen, but still. When Cass grabbed Sloane’s arm, she let out a soft yelp as she nearly fell off of the counter. “Hey, okay! Okay, I won’t eat one.” She dropped the granola bar with a great show and splayed her empty hands, palms facing Cass. “See? I dropped it.”

Sloane watched Cass with an amused smile before she leaned her head against the cabinet. She could feel her pulse in her throat. Was that normal? “Yeah, I’m not really sure.” Sloane cleared her throat, lifting her shoulders into a shrug before dropping them dramatically.

“Super trustworthy, got it.” Sloane nodded as if in approval before she watched Cass close up the sandwich. Sloane plucked her half from her friend’s grasp and held it up to the light, making a noise of approval in the back of her throat as she examined it. She shifted it around slightly. “A good jam to peanut butter ratio you got here. Where’d they teach you that?” She grinned past the sandwich at Cass before she took a bite. It was a good sandwich, and really it was nothing out of the ordinary, but because Cass had made it, it tasted even better than she remembered her last PB&J. “Damn, you might be onto something.” Sloane nodded and gave Cass a thumbs up before she took another bite.

If Sloane noticed Cass’s blush, she didn’t mention it. And Cass was glad for that, the relief swimming through her all at once. The last thing she wanted was to be weird in a way that might alienate her from her friend, especially when that friend was Sloane. Sloane was, without a doubt, one of the best friends Cass had in White Crest. It was evident in the way she could always make Cass laugh, like right now as she dropped the granola bar dramatically. Cass grinned, picking the bar up off the ground and putting it down on the counter just out of Sloane’s reach. “You better not! I got my eye on you.” She squinted theatrically, as if to demonstrate this.

Maybe Sloane was a little more bothered by the missing sketchbook than she let on. She seemed a little nervous, in the moment, clearing her throat in a way that made Cass wonder if she should be, like, totally setting out on a mission to track down Sloane’s friend and retrieve her stuff for her. Maybe she could ask Marina or Levi or Metzli to keep an eye out for it, just in case. “Well, hopefully it won’t be too much longer,” she said, vowing to do everything she could to make sure of that. The last thing she wanted was for Sloane to be unhappy.

Cass laughed as Sloane took the sandwich, quickly forcing a serious expression onto her face as the other girl ‘inspected’ it. The way her heart was pounding in her chest was a little odd; she hadn’t realized how much she wanted Sloane to really like the sandwich until her friend was holding it. “I am self taught,” she said stoically, borrowing the phrase from every cooking show she’d ever seen. It was impossible to keep up the serious persona when Sloane bit into the sandwich and complimented it; the grin that split Cass’s face was so wide it almost hurt. “I told you!” She took a celebratory bite of her own sandwich. It was pretty good, if she did say so herself, though she was pretty sure a lot of the credit had to go to Sloane’s mom’s fancy jams.

Were these butterflies Sloane was feeling, or something else? As she watched Cass over her sandwich, her lips split into a grin. “Self taught, huh?” It occurred to her then that neither of them had really discussed their home lives. She wanted to know her friend wholly, even if that meant the nitty gritty. It was clear to the banshee that everyone in White Crest had a secret. Hell, even Teddy had exposed himself as non-human when she inadvertently outed herself.

“Hey, you definitely told me! You did.” Sloane felt her nerves erupt like lightning, fingers tingling with the understanding that she had done that— she had made Cass smile as if she’d never smiled before, it was even like this was the first time that Sloane had witnessed it. “I appreciate it, it’s a good sandwich.” She smiled at Cass before polishing off her sandwich. After she swallowed the bit, Sloane nodded towards the fridge. “Do you want a drink? I don’t have anything that’ll really match the delicacy, but hey, I can try.”

“Mmmhmm,” Cass nodded noncommittally, chewing the sandwich. Elaborating more on the topic might mean getting into the way she’d lived off peanut butter sandwiches for a while there, when the group homes were so full that they couldn’t afford to give everyone a hot meal. She got good at making sandwiches for the same reason she got good at most of the things she was good at — because there was never anyone there to do it for her.

But she didn’t want to talk about that right now. Not when the air between them felt light and breezy and fun. Not when Sloane was smiling and eating a sandwich Cass had made like she was really enjoying it. Not when they were both having a pretty decent time. “I’ll make it for you any time you want,” she replied, heart ticking up again for just a moment with the words. She nodded at the offer, glancing towards the fridge. “Peanut butter does make me thirsty,” she agreed with a grin. “Gimme what you got! I’m sure it’ll be great, no matter what.”

Right as Sloane was about to turn towards the fridge, the telltale sign of a car pulling into the driveway stopped her in her tracks. Without missing a beat, she rushed to the furthest window of the house that still had a view of the driveway and saw both her mom and dad sitting in the car. She was lucky that she had picked up Cass instead of Cass arriving on her own. How would she answer to the random car parked on the side of their lawn? “We have to go.” Sloane quickly dropped the knife into the sink and grabbed Cass’s hand.

The warmth from moments before was gone, and now all Sloane felt was panic. Even though she could tell a small lie and get away with it, her mom would know instantly that it was one to begin with. If Cass said anything at all, it went through one ear and out the other. She rushed towards her room and slammed the door shut. She still hadn’t heard the front door open, but that didn’t mean anything. “You have to go. Um, go through my window.” She didn’t have time to explain. If her mom saw her alone with a friend, she would decidedly gauge how close they were and possibly use Cass as the means for her activation. While Sloane wanted to be activated, this couldn’t be how it went– Sloane refused to lose Cass to her own selfishness. It was becoming increasingly difficult to find the line of what she was willing to lose, actually. “Please, I need you to go.”

The mood changed in an instant. Cass heard the sound of a car pulling up and perked up slightly, glancing to the window. Sloane said Cass didn’t ‘need’ to meet her parents, but if they were already here, it would be silly not to introduce them, right? She looked to Sloane, about to say something to that effect, but paused at the look on her friend’s face. “Sloane, what —” Before she could even get the question out, Sloane was dropping the knife and grabbing Cass by the hand, dragging her into her room.

“I have to — Through the window?” Cass looked at the window dubiously, shaking her head. Why did Sloane want her to leave so badly? Even if she was worried her parents might think something was… going on, that they might react poorly to that, it would be simple enough to just say she’d been hanging out with a friend, wasn’t it? Unless Cass was the problem. An insistent, deafening voice in the back of her mind brought up the possibility, so loud that it seemed to echo in her thoughts. Maybe it wasn’t the idea that her parents might get the wrong impression at all; maybe it was just Cass. Maybe Sloane was worried she’d say the wrong thing, or do something stupid. Cass’s chest ached just a little. “Come on, just… I’ll go out the door. I won’t even say hi to them if you don’t want me to.” Just let them know I was here. Don’t be so embarrassed of me that you can’t even handle that much. Please. Please.

Fear split Sloane in two. Her needs and wants were thrown out the window at the very thought of losing Cass to her own selfish self-actualization. For something she had wanted for so long, Sloane felt no harm in discarding it to ensure her friend’s safety. The idea of being the cause of Cass’s death, at one point, may have sat with her in a way that wasn’t heavy. But now? Even if those feelings of warmth were absent, she would still feel evil to decide her friend’s fate. To intervene with fate, even if death had not yet taken her, felt perverse. But she had to. It was a different feeling than it had been before. She had been okay with it, the idea, had understood the implications, but Cass’s hand in hers pulled her to the opposite side.

“Through the window,” Sloane insisted, nearly out of breath. She began to pull it open, only sparing a glance over her shoulder as it seemed like her friend was hesitating. She didn’t understand the severity of the situation, and Sloane couldn’t explain it in the time they had to get Cass out safely without her mom asking questions. “No, you can’t.” Sloane turned and grabbed Cass’s hand before dropping it soon after, her own fear and desperation reflecting upon her features as she tried to figure out a way to get Cass through the window without an argument. “Please, Cass. Just listen to me. This is– I need you to go through the window. I’ll drive you home, just give me like ten minutes. Please.” She heard the front door open and she shook her head. “We don’t have time. Please, go.”

It felt like a rejection, the way Sloane desperately wanted Cass out of sight. For a moment, Cass was a kid again, in foster homes where she was brought forward as a display of the family’s charity but tucked to the side when she became unseemly to look at for doing silly things like feeling or thinking. It was a stupid thing to think, because Sloane wasn’t like that. She wasn’t. She must have had a reason, must have had an excuse, but… In this moment, all Cass could feel was the sting of it. The way Sloane took her hand only to drop it a moment later, the way it hung there after, feeling cold.

Cass glanced to the door again, and some childish part of her wanted to just… walk through it. It wanted to walk downstairs, wanted to introduce herself to Sloane’s parents, wanted to say look, I can be good, I can be something you put on display instead of something to be ashamed of if you’ll let me. But Sloane looked desperate, and Cass wanted, as she always did, to be liked more than she wanted to be right. So she swallowed the lump in her throat, nodded her head, and walked to the window. “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to drive me. It’d be weird to have to explain why you were leaving, right? I’ll walk home, or get an Uber or something. I’m tired, anyway.”

Sloane’s heart was in her ears. All she could think about was her mother using this to her advantage. If she saw the desperation on Sloane’s face, it would be over– Cass would be dead. Maybe not today, but soon. There’d be no convincing her mom that Cass meant nothing to her, because that wasn’t true. The reason that Sloane was rushing the girl out of her house was because she meant something. If Ari were here, she would do the same.

She hated the look of betrayal on Cass’s face. If Sloane could tell her the truth, she would, but doing so would take time to get the other girl to understand, and they didn’t have time. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but you have to go.” She could hear shuffling from downstairs and Sloane continued in a hoarse whisper, pain in her voice, “I’ll text you, okay? I’m sorry.” She held the window open for Cass to climb through, hands shaking.

Sloane, we’re home!

“Coming down, be one sec!” Sloane’s voice shook and she cleared it before looking at Cass, brows creased.

It was funny; earlier, Cass had been awed by the way Sloane only ever wanted her to be who she was and now, it felt like who she was was the sort of person her friend felt the need to sneak out windows and hide from her family. Because that was how it always went, wasn’t it? Cass had never been the kind of person anyone wanted to show off. She’d never been the sort of person people wanted to introduce to their loved ones. Maybe she never would be, no matter how many pieces of herself she carved off.

She forced a smile, ignoring the way it hurt. She was pretty sure it was the first time she’d ever had to pretend to be happy with Sloane, the first time she’d ever felt the need to push some part of herself down to make her easier for Sloane to be around. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought she’d have to do before this very moment, and being wrong had never hurt quite this badly before. “Yeah,” she said, forcing it to come out bright and easy and nothing like what she was actually feeling. “For sure. You still owe me Al’s, right?” The words tasted bitter on her tongue, because everything did. Cass slipped out the window, balancing on the sill for a moment. “I’ll talk to you later, Sloane.”

And then, she pushed herself out and onto the grass below, slipping off like a thief in the night. It wasn’t a comparison that had ever bothered her before now. It wasn’t a thing that had ever hurt like this. Funny how things changed.

#faetedwill #sloane: wants & fears

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e350tb · 2 years

Text

Red Alert - Chapter One

ACT I - RED DAWN Chapter One: Red Alert

The Pentagon Day One

“God damn it… Jesus Christ, god damn it!”

Captain Pullman shot out of his chair, racing over to the duty officer. He was staring down, his eyes wide and his face pale, shaking his head in numb disbelief.

“Captain Slater, what is it?”

“I can’t believe it, I just can’t believe it!”

“Captain Slater!”

Slater punched his desk.

“My wife packed PB&J again!”

Pullman deflated as Slater hurled the sandwich to the side in bitter disgust.

It was early morning in Washington - the sun had barely risen over the horizon, and Slater and Pullman had been given the second watch of the day. In this day of computer consoles and advanced radar, that generally meant staring at a screen waiting for any sinister red dots to appear on their little green maps of America. As duty officer, Slater was technically in command - it was his job to call out the moment something appeared.

“Helpful hint, Slater; maybe don’t start calling out for God’s mercy over a sandwich while you’re the duty officer,” grunted Pullman. “Christ, man, I thought red paratroopers were dropping on Fifth Avenue.”

“I hate peanut butter! She knows I hate peanut butter!” Slater shook his head. “But nooo, it’s good for me - maybe if I rashed up and died she’d get the point. Hell of a way to start the day.”

“She knows, does she?” Pullman raised his eyebrow. “You actually tell her that?”

“No, but… I figure she’d work it out, you know?” grunted Slater. “It’s a spread, not a rocket science. I swear, I just… sweet Jesus.”

“Hey, you’ll get over it, man.”

“Sweet Jesus, sweet mother of Mary, oh god…”

“Oh, what is it now, Slater?” demanded Pullman. “She forget to pack you any poptarts? You are such a drama…”

“Pullman.”

Slater turned on his chair, looking Pullman directly in the eye. Behind him, Pullman could make out blinking lights on his screen, just beyond the American coastline, red in colour.

“Get General Carville,” said Slater. “Now.”

-------

Beale Air Force Base, California Day One

“...this is Beale, we’re receiving you CENTCOM, go ahead.”

…

“Yes sir, we are picking up multiple contacts incoming - confidence is high. Looks like conventional air forces, possibly escorting naval transports but we cannot confirm at this time. More than three hundred contacts and growing on the west coast. CENTCOM, is this an exercise?”

…

“Roger that, this is not an exercise…”

-------

The Pentagon Day One

“...Beale and Clear are both picking up Soviet aerial activity, sir. We can’t raise Cape Cod.”

General Ben Carville grimaced, moustache twitching, as he did up his top button, marching out of his office as he did so. One arm was already in his service jacket as he began to grapple with his tie.

“You wanna tell me how in Sam Hell they got this close?” he demanded.

“No idea, sir.” Colonel Fraser shook his head as he followed Carville through the halls of the Pentagon. “Navy’s as stumped as we are - where we can raise them, anyway.”

“They’re scrambling our comms?”

“Likely,” the Colonel replied. “We can’t raise Pearl or San Diego. All our bases on the southern border are dark. Either they’ve jammed us or…”

“...or the Ruskies are already on top of us.” Carville gritted his teeth as he pulled on his jacket. “Belt.”

Fraser handed the general his belt.

“We’ve constructed as much of the situation as we can on the Big Board,” said Fraser. “It’s… not a good look sir.”

They emerged into the command centre - a dark, wide room lit by the cool blue and green glows of computer screens, all in the shadow of the Big Board, a world map that showed strategic movements as soon as they were reported. Carville wrinkled his nose as he looked up at the situation.

The Southwest was completely dark - it was as if all activity, Allied or Soviet, had been scrubbed from Texas to Arizona, and as far north as southern Kansas and Colorado. At every other angle, save from the north, red arrows were approaching the coast, most of which seemed to come from random points in the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Some lights were already blinking, indicating possible attack - Cape Cod, San Diego and Anchorage for now, but Carville was certain this was only the beginning.

“Submarines,” he said.

“Big enough to transport an entire army?” Fraser said incredulously.

Carville shot him a dirty look.

“You got any better ideas, Colonel?” he demanded.

“I… no sir.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Carville shook his head.

“Has the President been informed?” he asked.

“We were waiting on you, sir,” said Fraser.

“Well then get me the damn phone,” snapped Carville.

-------

Somewhere south of the Rio Grande Day One

“Comrade Colonel, the beacon is ready!”

Colonel Demichev looked up at the device standing in the desert. To him, it almost resembled a cattle prod sticking out of an American sink plug and ringed with batwings - a strange, twenty foot modern art project sitting incongruously amongst the shrubbery. Yet, so the Psychic Corps claimed, this was a weapon of enormous potential, and other constructs just like it were already hard at work all along the border.

He was sceptical, but orders were orders. If Moscow wanted him to babysit the PsiCorps while they played games in the Mexican desert, then that was simply what he had to do.

“Well comrade,” he said. “I suppose we’ll see if your master Yuri’s toy works.”

The woman standing next to him glared through icy blue-green eyes. She wore a gunmetal silver jumpsuit with black gloves and boots; the bob that framed her freckled face was only somewhat lighter in its silver colour. This, so Demichev was informed, was Afina, one of Yuri’s most talented acolytes. As if a clown could have acolytes, he thought.

“Connect it to Moscow immediately,” she ordered.

“You heard her,” Demichev said lazily, waving off his engineers.

He took a drag of his cigarette.

This may be a total waste of his time - but at least it took him off the front.

-------

The White House Day One

President Micheal Dugan struggled to form words.

“I… can you repeat that, Ben?”

“Soviet invasion confirmed,” Carville replied simply. “The Reds are hittin’ us just about everywhere.”

Dugan blinked.

To say this wasn’t what he had expected when elected to office was an understatement. He had come into office hoping to champion a number of infrastructure reforms, a few progressive civil rights bills here and there; effectively he was to be an inoffensive president for an inoffensive time. Hell, he’d even put continued peace with the Soviets on his platform! Surely they wouldn't be attacking, right? Romanov was, well, a communist, but he’d never seemed…

He gulped and pulled himself together.

“Keep an eye on the situation for now, General,” he said. “Beef up our defenses where you need to. I’ll call Romanov and see what’s going on; this could be a rogue general.”

“Mhm,” Carville grunted doubtfully. “I’ll be on the line.”

Dugan put the general on hold and shifted his eyes over to the red telephone on the other side of his desk. His hand shaking slightly, he picked it up - there was no dial, as this was a direct hotline. All he needed to do was press the connect button and he was on his way through.

It seemed to take longer than it needed to, but eventually there was a click.

“Mr. President!”

“Premier Romanov, uh, we have a situation over here.” Dugan wiped his brow. “I, uh… your forces are moving uncomfortably close to our borders…”

He grimaced as he heard Romanov chuckle.

“I am quite aware of that, Mr. President,” he replied. “Impressive, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, uh, you… well, you’re throwing everything you have at us, Alex!” exclaimed Dugan. “What the hell happened to detente? We’re supposed to be Allies, you maniac!”

“Allies?” Romanov spat. “You listen very carefully to me, Mr. President. I am not your pet. I am not some dancing monkey you can parade around for political points! We Romanovs have a legacy to consider!”

“I…” Dugan scowled. “I don’t give a wooden nickel about your legacy! Call your forces off!”

There was no response - Dugan could hear a light snicker, as if Romanov was enjoying a private joke. The President took a deep breath.

He hadn’t wanted this - but now it seemed he had no choice.

“You know we’ll retaliate…” he said, a warning tone in his voice.

“No, Mr. President,” Romanov replied. “I don’t believe you will.”

Dugan shook his head, disconnecting the line and grabbing the regular phone once more. He took Carville off hold.

“Sir?”

“We’re hitting them, General,” Dugan said, reaching into his desk for his card. “My authorization code is as follows…”

-------

EC-135 ‘Looking Glass’ Aircraft, Undisclosed Location Day One

“General!”

The communications officer held up the phone for the commanding officer, who immediately raced down the plane to pick up.

“This is Alice.”

“Looking Glass, this is CENTCOM, you are cleared for a full scale assault on the Soviet Union, authorisation code is as follows…”

-------

KGB Headquarters, Moscow Day One

“...Echo… Niner… Seven. Confirmed! Send confirmation to all silos, over.”

The signals intelligence officers, deep underneath KGB headquarters, perked up at the transmission. Their commanding officer immediately climbed to his feet.

“The Beacon is receiving, patch it through to the Premier’s office!” he ordered.

-------

The Kremlin Day One

Romanov watched with baited breath as Yuri picked up the telephone.

The Premier had waited for this day for longer than he cared to admit, and he had dressed for the occasion. He was in his full white dress uniform, his cap sitting on his desk, trying to pull off an air of total confidence - and yet, he was worried. This was the moment of truth - if Yuri’s plan worked, nothing would stop the Red Army. But if it didn’t… well, it didn’t bear thinking of.

He strained his ears to listen to the phone, but there were so many voices coming through that it all seemed to melt together. On the other side, connected through a complex series of communications arrays from Moscow to Mexico, was a line that now connected Yuri to every single missile silo in the US arsenal.

With his free hand, Yuri massaged his temple, his eyes widening. They seemed almost to glow.

-------

Classified Nuclear Launch Facility, Near Kansas City, MO Day One

“...code is in, we are preparing for….”

Lieutenant Boyd froze. Behind him, his partner, Lieutenant Fonda was finishing the process of preparing his missile for launch, pausing to wipe the sweat from his forehead before grabbing his key.

“Boyd, we’ve gotta open the silo doors,” he said. “C’mon.”

Boyd, still holding the phone, slowly turned around, reaching for his holster.

“C’mon, man, get over here!” exclaimed Fonda. “Why are you still on the horn? They calling it off or something?”

Fonda’s eyes widened as Boyd drew his pistol, clicking the safety off as he pointed it at his head.

“The hell are you doing?” demanded Fonda. “This… we’ve gotta open the doors, man! We got six missiles in this compound, the backblast… this is suicide!”

Boyd narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to his partner. His finger began to tighten around the trigger.

“Boyd… Jesus, Boyd, no!”

About thirty seconds later, all across the central United States, missiles roared to life, only to find their flights to the USSR cut short by their own silo doors. Although their warheads were not set up, it was little comfort to the launch staff, nearly all of whom were erased in one fell swoop by the blackblasts.

-------

The Kremlin Day One

“CENTCOM, this is Alice, we’ve just had a massive failure! Our missiles have failed, I repeat, our missiles have failed… I don’t know what to tell you, Ben, they’re all gone…”

Yuri slowly put down the phone, gently letting it click into place in the receiver before he turned to the window. Before him stretched Red Square - most of the people moving to and fro outside had no idea that their country was now at war. They would be informed, soon - especially now that early victories were all but certain.

Romanov wiped his brow with a handkerchief, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Is it over?” he asked warily.

Yuri shook his head.

“No,” he replied.

He turned his head, regarding Romanov with his wide, empty stare.

“It has only just begun.”

#command and conquer #red alert 2 #writing #red alert

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s27hey-its-renee · 2 years

Text

Reyes X Reader story prompt Pt. 1

Prompt: Spirit/dead Reyes, father-figure Reyes, modern witch reader

Words: 649

Y/n opened the door to her new, and first house, with a large box in hand.She set it down and let out a grunt as she examined the space around her.

"Alright, the place seems to be in good shape, now let's get settled in."

For the rest of the day, she unpacked all of her belongings and what little furniture she had, arranging them throughout the house.By the time she finished, it was nine o'clock and she couldn't have been more exhausted.

"Holy shit that took forever, but at least it looks like I live here now.... Shit, I need to look for some jobs," she said as her body lay sprawled across her small sofa. "-I'll do that tomorrow, I'm too wiped. I'll get something to nosh on and go to bed."

Y/n willed herself up from the sofa and looked inside her fridge. There wasn't much, but until she got a job, she was going to have to make do.She pulled out a slice of bread and made half of a PB&J out of it.

As she stood by her sink, which sat in front of a window overlooking the city, she saw a silhouette in the window's reflection.Startled, she turned around quickly, only to find nothing there. She thought nothing of it and finished her sandwich and cleaned up her mess soon afterwards.

Y/n made her way to her bedroom.

It was a decent sized space with a queen bed with purple and blue fairy lights wrapped around the headboard. A soft, fuzzy blanket lay folded at the foot of her bed, waiting to be used once again.

The feel of her room was modern with some whimsical and witchy twists to it, like the alter facing her bed. It consisted of various crystals, candles, and a deck of tarot cards.

A journal of sorts with a dark red, leather cover sat amongst the other items as well, with a handmade bookmark sticking out of the pages.

A white desk along with its respective chair sat next to the doorway on the right of Y/n's bed that had her tablet and laptop resting on the desk's surface.

Her favorite part of the room was the bay window on the left of her bed. Unlike most bay windows, this one consisted of one, large, rectangular window rather than three that slanted inward from each side.

The view wasn't much, but it faced an open meadow with a large tree on the right that sat beside the road leading to her driveway. A street lamp, illuminating the area with a warm light.

After getting ready to turn in for the night, the tired young woman trudged to the side of her bed closest to the window. She lifted the covers and was about to crawl in when she sensed something. It felt cold, making her shiver. This entity she was sensing was beginning to make her afraid, but she took a deep breath and looked around the room.

"I know there's something or someone here.... You don't need to make yourself known if you don't want to, but know that I'm not here to disturb you or something. If you're evil or have ill intent towards me, I ask that you leave now. I know how to protect myself in situations like this...."

Silence. Her hands were now tingling from the entity's presence. They felt closer now.

"All I ask is that you don't bother me, especially tonight. I'm exhausted from moving shit around all day and want a good nights rest, so... yeah."

The tingling seemed to subside slightly and the coldness backed off.

Y/n walked over to her alter and grabbed her amethyst and obsidian just in case. She walked back to her bed and stuck the two crystals under her pillow before climbing back in bed.

After getting comfortable, for the first time in years, she fell asleep so easily and quickly.

The entity stood a few feet outside her window, taking on the form of a misty figure, flowing in the wind.

It vanished soon after the girl fell asleep.

#gabriel reyes #Overwatch #reaper #ow #spirit #witch #xreader #story prompt

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warningsine · 5 months

Text

Dying is easy; dramatizing the dot-com world is hard. Where is the action in people staring at computer screens, pointing and clicking and typing? Even the costumes, hoodies and such worn by coders, the props of empty pizza boxes and foosball tables and sleeping bags under the desk, lack a certain oomph. At least the finance bros of the ’80s had snappy suspenders, martini dinners, strip clubs and buy-sell pads they could wave around between screams on the trading floor.

The development of online “wallets” might seem particularly bloodless — what, those things you use sometimes to buy stuff on the internet and often forget the password to? — and yet “The Founders: The Story of PayPal and the Entrepreneurs Who Shaped Silicon Valley,” by Jimmy Soni, is an intensely magnetic chronicle in which ambitions and emotions run as red-hot as they did in the Facebook movie written by Aaron Sorkin, “The Social Network.” It helps that PayPal’s origin story, though essentially an ensemble piece, features two of the more complicated antiheroes of our time: Peter Thiel, who has become a significant player in right-wing politics, and Elon Musk, currently the richest person in the world, who makes aggressive forays into the cosmos. Each has previously been the subject of big biographies.

Here, though, interviewed along with scores of PayPal personnel — sometimes known as “the PayPal mafia” for their ruthless insularity — they are just two moneyed young men trying to lasso the moon, and often missing. Or crashing, as they did dramatically when Musk drove them to a meeting with Sequoia Capital in the McLaren F1 sports car he acquired after the sale of an early start-up, Zip2. Thiel compared the excursion somewhat opaquely to being “like this Hitchcock movie,” but it suddenly turned more “Dukes of Hazzard”: The car hit an embankment and sailed through the air “like a discus,” Musk recalls. (He and Thiel walked into the meeting separately but unscathed, despite having forgone seatbelts, not even speaking of the incident.)

Thiel initially thought that “beaming” money between PalmPilots, those chunky and short-lived precursors to smartphones, would be the next big thing; a former Stanford classmate convinced him to focus on email payments instead. Thiel comes off in Soni’s telling as pessimistic, occasionally unscrupulous and fiercely competitive, beating nine out of 10 colleagues in chess even after doing a rare celebratory keg stand. “Show me a good loser, and I’ll show you a loser,” he told an early employee, echoing the rhetoric of Donald J. Trump, whose presidential campaign Thiel would later support.

Musk reads as cuddlier and more magnanimous, with the grander vision: to upend and streamline existing financial systems, like Wells Fargo Bank, whose early website had, symbolically, a slow-loading stagecoach and not much else. He calls those systems, with their big empty buildings, outdated mainframes and code, “this herky-jerky frickin’ monstrosity.” He was comically preoccupied with holding onto the domain X.com for his scheme, even after market research showed that customers found it salacious or even sinister. Eventually, he was ousted as C.E.O. of the proto-PayPal while honeymooning with his first wife.

Personal lives barely appear in “The Founders,” in which bragging about sleep deprivation is the coin of the realm. “There’s definitely something about the nocturnal lifestyle for engineers specifically that really opens up the chakras of creativity or code-writing,” Max Levchin — an émigré from Ukraine and another PayPal founder who became a billionaire — told an interviewer for a PBS show called “NerdTV.” In one breakthrough moment, Levchin, a devoted battler of foreign hackers, plays Wagner’s “The Ride of the Valkyries”; other staff members blasted Salt-N-Pepa’s “Push It” for inspiration. They shot potatoes against the wall to release tension, and “massacred” stuffed mongooses after an unwanted corporate acquisition. (And they say there’s no reason to return to the office!)

Soni, the co-author of previous books about the mathematician Claude Shannon and Julius Caesar’s enemy Cato, is balanced and fluid in this solo outing, making mundane projects like the creation of an online “button,” or the dawn of CAPTCHA, somehow literary, comparing PayPal’s tale, improbably but effectively, to Dickens and the Bloomsbury group. He captures, and cheers, not any one genius but what Brian Eno called “scenius,” the rare sparks that can occur in certain groups, at certain times, and with lasting effects: The company’s alumni have fanned out to found among other entities YouTube, LinkedIn and Yelp.

Soni does intermittently fall under the sway of business jargon. Space is not just something Musk wants to conquer, but a teeth-gritting synonym for business realms (“the payments space”; “the saturated e-calendar space”; “the financial space”). Teams “gel”; executives “pivot” faster than Regan’s head in “The Exorcist.” And if you drink every time the author uses some iteration of the word “iterate,” you’ll be passed out cold by the end of the book.

But Soni also has a knack for the wry or lovely phrase, as when he describes Musk’s car, treasured as a work of art, taking a “distinctly cubist turn” after the crash or names a chapter about a different C.E.O.’s ouster “The Nut House Coup,” after a bar with discarded shells that crackle underfoot.

The agony over what to call this new product, with the help of a naming firm, makes for a particularly ecstatic chapter. What if it had been christened Cachet, like the Sydney Biddle Barrows escort service; or MoMo? PayPal prevailed thanks to its friendly sound (“a pal has their arm around you”) and double plosives; it also has the advantage of sounding like “people.” (Imagine Barbra Streisand singing: “People who need PayPal…”) More recent competitors in the “payment space,” like Venmo and Zelle, are not mentioned in “The Founders,” but a long battle with Billpoint, the now-defunct payment service once used by eBay, is one of the more fascinating subplots, as is watching eBay circle PayPal like a dirigible worried about getting punctured.

And lest you believe the problems of a few future billionaires doesn’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world, Soni appends a coda about the power of PayPal’s “mafia” to inspire that left this reader, at least, in sobs. No finance bro has accomplished that.

#jimmy soni #review #books

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ggcampbellgrad604 · 7 months

Text

sorting out the order of things more. treating it like a story and how I create things. Starting with first column of 5. I start in my bedroom in my space I might use my diary to spark something, a tool in my pencil case, a pen of paint something. As I am doing that there are these things around my room or desk I also use as reminders of my creative process. In the second column I might light a candle while I do some art. Use something from the trinket box or play around with my twisty toy for some inspiration. Admire the knife on my desk love the aesthetic of it. Maybe play around with my tech deck while I think. This column is a play and relaxation column. Collum 3 is then as I think of ideas I might look at inspiration from my photo bank of things like this buzzcoks album. Or create something based off feelings I am having like Joao inherit does. play some music to get me in the groove and vibes then create from crotchet to pattern making. Collum 4 As I am doing this I am also thinking of the things that help aid this creation to do with my family and myself. Twist my ring my aunty gave me never sick of admiring the ring love it. Eat some pb and j. cuddle me panda and remember the cool decor m brother gave me then think about my family and how they influence me so much. the bottom layout is the one I have gone with now but as I am writing this I am thinking that maybe I will order it so it shows my creative process a little more logically. like I wake up in my bed cuddle my panda eat pb and j etc but pretty happy with it so far it is getting somewhere.

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writer-in-theory · 2 years

Note

If you’re still taking blurb requests:

👄 sharing their first kiss | 📆 office romance | ⚠️ a love triangle with a character making their final choice

a love triangle for the ages (spencer reid x reader)

summary: after working with spencer for years, reader has finally worked up the courage to admit their feelings for him. someone else beats them to it, leaving spencer with a choice.

category: a bit of angst, a bit of fluff

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

content warnings: mild language, mentions of jeid (it’s not endgame), brief food talk, a sentence of negative self-talk

word count: 2k

a/n: SURPRISE. i'm feeling a little unhinged today so have this. aka, i have a couple huge exams monday/tuesday so i'll be less active this weekend

grecy, you spoil me. this was such a fun prompt. I’ve never actually written a love triangle before so i hope it ends up okay. the alternative title for this is, what if jj confesses her love way earlier in the show and also what if spencer had a relationship that wasn’t doomed to fail from the start.

masterlist

send me a blurb prompt!

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The moment you walked into the office and heard the words “physics magic”, you knew you’d fall for whoever had spoken them. Your point was only further proven upon seeing the sweater vest-laden man cheering behind his desk after launching a makeshift rocket across the room.

From the first moment you saw him, you knew Spencer Reid would be the one.

What started as a cute office crush quickly spiraled into one of the best friendships you’d ever had. The two of you went together like peanut butter and jelly, and where one went the other was never too far behind. It only made the team stronger, too, the pair of you able to finish each other’s thoughts and theories better than you ever thought possible.

It was easy with Spencer, and that was the most terrifying part. Terrifying, because even now as you sat working at your desk, you were aware of the man occupying the one beside you. You forced yourself not to focus on the one little curl that had fallen into his face, his hair a little more unruly now that he’d elected to stop slicking it back. You fought not to think about his hands and the way they might feel against you, or the way he looked so effortlessly gorgeous in that red cardigan.

You couldn’t think about it, because over the past couple of years you’d become one of his closest friends. It felt wrong to picture him in that way when he had no clue you ever wanted to. It was even worse now that you knew the whole rest of the team had figured it out too, the only one left out of the loop being the only one who should know.

So maybe that was why, on a random Tuesday in the office, you decided it was time to come clean. For better or for worse, by the end of the day, Spencer would know everything.

“Hey, Spence, wanna take lunch early today?” you asked as you approached his desk, gently tapping his upper arm to get his attention. Sometimes the man could get so deep into his work that it took a physical touch to break the focus.

“Hm?” Spencer hummed, turning his head to look at you and positively beaming. “That sounds great, I have something to tell you.”

“Funny enough, so do I,” you told him, the two of you making your way to the little table in the breakroom.

Spencer pulled out his own carefully packaged lunch, a perfect combination of each food group. You pulled out your own, a few hasty items shoved into a paper bag leftover from your last grocery trip. It was easy to remember when you pestered Spencer into eating healthy lunches after he admitted he often forgot it entirely, but sometimes it was tough to remember to make that choice for yourself.

Spencer eyed your bag, clearly trying not to pass judgment but a bit of a sassy eyebrow twitch coming through anyway. “What’s for lunch today?”

“Doritos and an Uncrustable PB&J,” you answered, happily munching on the first chip.

“I thought we agreed we were both doing better,” Spencer pointed out, gesturing to his little Tupperware container of fruit. “Fruit is considerably less exciting than Doritos.”

“How about I pay a Dorito tax and we’ll call it even?” you suggested, dumping a handful of chips onto a napkin and sliding it over to him.

“I accept these terms, but tomorrow you’re packing a vegetable.”

“I can do that.”

“A green one,” he added, a knowing smirk on his face as he tried to claim victory.

“Well now you’re just being cruel,” you teased.

“So what did you have to tell me?” Spencer asked, causing your heart to race all over again. One moment you were playfully bantering with one of the most important people in your life, and now you were risking all of it on one confession. Could you really do it? What if he didn’t feel the same way?

“You go first,” you deflected instead, figuring you could use the time to re-work up the courage.

“Well,” Spencer began, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck and suddenly looking far too nervous for your liking. His eyes looked around the room, landing on just about everything but you, and his cheeks even turned a brilliant shade of pink. “JJ told me she liked me yesterday.”

“Well, I’d hope she does. She’s like one of your best friends,” you pointed out, hoping that was all this was.

“No, I mean, she likes me,” Spencer clarified, practically digging a knife deep into the center of your chest. “Isn’t that great?”

No, it wasn’t great. It wasn’t great at all because JJ was absolutely perfect. She was stunning, and kind, and wanted children right away like you knew Spencer sometimes thought about. She was everything that would make a perfect partner for Spencer, and how could you possibly compete with that?

“Yeah, that’s so great, Spence. I’m happy for you,” you tried, voice rising a little higher in pitch to convey the happiness you certainly weren’t feeling.

“I never thought someone like her could think of me that way,” Spencer admitted, only breaking your heart more that he truly thought that about himself.

“Oh c’mon, you’re a total catch,” you laughed, suddenly feeling less hungry and more sick to your stomach. “And you know what? As my congratulations present to you, please take the rest of these Doritos,” you told him, sliding over the rest of your lunch, “I’m so behind on reports, I need to take a quick lunch today.”

“Wait, what about what you were going to tell me?” Spencer asked, eyebrows tilted in concern as you stood from the table.

“It’s really not that important. I already forgot what it was anyway,” you lied, practically running out of the breakroom and leaving any chance you had with Spencer behind.

It was nearly impossible to focus for the rest of the day. There he was, sitting at the desk beside yours like always, but now you couldn’t even focus on his hair or the way his nose scrunched up when he thought really intensely about something. All you could think about was how much Spencer deserved JJ, how she would make him so happy and for that reason alone you couldn’t even be upset about this.

So at the end of the day when the team decided to go out for drinks, you made up an excuse and rushed out of the office, not wanting to see the happy couple when you knew you’d missed your chance by mere minutes.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The second you were home, the work clothes came off and the comfy clothes came on. It would be a self-care not for the ages, the hours passed by with movies, and ice cream, and anything else you needed. Because after tonight, you wouldn’t hold onto whatever you felt for Spencer. It wouldn’t be healthy for either of you, not if you wanted to continue the beautiful friendship the two of you had built over the years. You’d have to get used to seeing Spencer and JJ together, and for that reason alone you had to spend tonight saying goodbye to whatever hopeful feelings you once held.

It lasted until midnight. Just as you were starting up another silly rom-com, a knock sounded at your door. Like second nature, your hands were grabbing for your gun and your eyes were scanning the room, trying to search for quick escapes. There was no reason for anyone to be at the house this late, leaving you to only picture the kinds of people you dedicated your life to catching.

Never once did you ever expect to see the man of the hour standing at your door, looking breathless as if he’d run all the way here. Spencer’s hair was a mess, tousled from the wind, and his shirt was rumpled as if he’d been adjusting the collar of it all night. His hands clung to the strap of his messenger bag tightly, knuckles white with the effort.

Most of all, his amber eyes were staring at you as though he saw you in a different light.

“I thought the team was going out for drinks?” you asked, nervousness building up in your body. What was he doing here so late? Was everything okay? Were you called in for a case and missed the bat signal from Hotch?

“We did,” Spencer spoke hurriedly, “and I was trying to figure out what I did to upset you. I didn’t...”

“Spence, it’s okay, you didn’t do an-”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Spencer blurted out, stopping you immediately in your tracks. Oh G-d, he knew. Spencer knew, and he was with JJ, and here was the moment where it all came crashing down.

“I wanted to, but it doesn’t matter now,” you told him gently, “I’ll get over it, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Spencer told you, pulling a wince from you just as quickly. “It’s not okay, because I don’t want you to get over it.”

And, did you hear that right? You searched his expression for any sign of a joke but instead, all you saw was insistent care, a desperation to prove what he was saying was real. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying it was always you, Y/N.” The words stole your breath, plucking it right from your chest and leaving you standing, lips parted and aching for something, anything. “I thought I liked JJ, but I just kept thinking about you. I thought you only saw me as a friend.”

“I thought the same,” you admitted, feeling relieved tears beginning to build in your eyes and hearing them begin to wobble your voice. “I never thought someone like you could think of me in that way,” you echoed his words from earlier.

“Please, from the moment I heard you tell me how to make the physics magic trick fly further, I knew you were special,” Spencer admitted, stepping closer to you until he was close enough to take your hands.

“Did you know it’s safer to kiss than hold hands?” you dared softly, a smile forming on Spencer’s lips at the reference to his own words.

“I did know that,” Spencer answered in the same soft voice, keeping a hold on your hands but leaning to capture your lips in a kiss.

It was everything you ever hoped it would be, and more. People always say that sparks fly when it’s the one, but you never quite believed them until this moment. Spencer was kissing you, was telling you that the feelings you’d been so ashamed of for years had been reciprocated the entire time.

Spencer was choosing you, and what else was there to say?

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

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