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verai-marcel · 3 years

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Serendipitous Meetings (Arthur x GN!Reader, Modern AU, 18+)

Summary: You foolishly didn’t mark where you parked in the huge parking structure, and spend some time looking for your car. You run into a fellow who did the same thing, and things get ridiculously serendipitous from there.

Author’s Notes: How many tropes can I shove into this fic? Let’s face it, I just wanted to have Arthur fuck like the manly man that he is. Also going for gender neutral as much as possible, so all my readers who want a piece of Arthur can have him.

Tags: Arthur x GN!Reader, smut, light D/s tones, size kink, light spanking, neck grabbing, rough sex, dirty talk, modern AU

AO3 Link is here, li’l darlin’.

Word Count: 3764

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"Shit."

You let out a long suffering sigh as you looked around the packed parking structure. In your rush to meet your friends, you had forgotten to take a photo of where you parked. Now you stared at the large expanse of cars, racking your brain for at least a slight memory of how you got to the venue entrance from your car.

Sticking your hand into your pocket, you gripped your phone for a moment before letting it go. You had already shooed your friends away, insisting you had parked nearby and could get to your spot no problem. Swallowing your pride, you started to search the rows for the off-white bucket of bolts you dared to call your car.

After searching one floor, you trudged up the stairs to the next one, stopping a few steps past the landing to gaze upon the hundreds of cars before you. You faintly heard another set of steps coming down the stairwell, but you were so mired in your own despair that you didn't pay the sound any mind.

"Shit," said a gravelly voice next to you.

Glancing over, a very broad set of shoulders filled your view. Your eyes flicked over the red and black flannel shirt and blue jeans, with an almost hilariously large belt buckle. Then you looked up.

Oh no. He was gorgeous, in a rugged, manly-man sort of way. That chiseled jaw, the five o’clock shadow, that thick neck… he was the kind of man who could probably pick you up and throw you over his shoulder with ease. You were so busy staring at him in tired awe that he finally noticed you.

A pair of turquoise eyes met yours. "Sorry," the man said. "Can't find my truck."

It took you half a second to remember to respond. Then you gave him an empathic half-grin. "I can't find my car either."

He pointed upstairs. "What's yer car look like? Maybe I saw it up there."

You shook your head. "It's just a generic off-white Toyota Corolla."

The man shrugged. "Oh. Well, sorry darlin', there's a bunch of those up there."

You sighed, lamenting the fact that your car was one of the most popular cars out on the road these days. You also secretly enjoyed him calling you darling with that accent of his. He sounded like he had just stepped out of a spaghetti western.

"Maybe I saw your truck downstairs, if it stands out," you said, trying to be helpful.

"It's a blue Chevy pick-up. Really old, like one o' them classic trucks, 'cept it ain't been cleaned up like the ones you see in a car show."

Your memory flashed with the image of a dirty blue truck in your apartment complex's garage. You stifled a laugh at the thought. You had always wondered who drove the old thing, since you had never seen its owner.

"Nope, I didn't see a truck like that downstairs," you told him.

"Oh. Well, guess we better start lookin'," he said. He looked at you for a moment, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

You waited.

“Maybe,” he finally said, “maybe we could look together? For a bit. Keep each other company.”

“Okay,” you said easily. Part of your brain screamed that it could be really easy for him to just pull you into his car, but you dismissed the voice in your head. He seemed alright; you had a good feeling about this guy.

The two of you took off towards the left side of the structure. Putting your remote under your chin and hoping it would actually increase its range, you hit the button on occasion.

“Uh, what’re you doin’?” he asked, pointing at your remote.

“Oh, I read about this online, someone figured out that you can use your own head as an antenna, or something like that.”

The man raised an eyebrow, but eventually just nodded. “Huh, I guess that makes sense.”

You shrugged. “Haven’t tested it before this, so I’m hoping it actually works.”

The two of you wandered further and further towards the center when finally you heard that familiar beep.

*BEEP BEEP*

He chuckled. “Guess it works.”

You had never been so happy to hear that annoying little buzzer of a horn. You took off at a jog without waiting for the man, going towards where you had heard the sound, and as you turned a corner, you spotted it.

It was the big, old, blue truck from your apartment complex.

No way, you thought. There is no way. Maybe it's a similar truck.

Going back, you saw the man wandering around, still searching.

"Hey Mister!" you yelled.

He turned towards you.

You excitedly pointed towards the truck. "This yours?"

He started walking to you, and as he came closer, you could see the smile on his face and felt your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you," he said, stopping in front of you. "Where’s your car?"

You grinned and hit your unlock button. The little off-white sedan next to his truck let out a little beep, the lights coming on.

"Wish I had one of those," he said wistfully. "Sure woulda made my life easier." He looked at you with a small smirk as he opened the door to his truck. "But then I wouldn’t have met you. Thanks fer your help, angel."

You smiled, feeling your cheeks warm from his comment. "No problem." You struggled to find anything else to say, feeling pathetically desperate to hear him speak more. "Have a good night," you finally said.

"You too," he said, his voice a little lower, a little more breathy as he hauled himself into his truck and closed the door. Now that you had a pretty good feeling that he was a decent guy and not a creep, you half-wished he really would pull you into his truck and have his way with you.

Shaking the lewd thought from your head, you got into your car and set up your phone to listen to a podcast as you drove home. You eased your way out of the garage, through the local roads, and onto the freeway. For the next thirty minutes, you would spot the same blue truck out of the corner of your eye. Sometimes you’d pass him, sometimes he’d pass you.

Maybe it’s a different blue truck, you tried to convince yourself.

You couldn’t convince yourself any further when you pulled into your apartment complex right behind him. He parked at his usual spot, three away from yours. Climbing out of your car, you saw him walk towards you.

“You followin’ me?” he asked gruffly, though the grin on his face clearly showed his amusement at the coincidence.

“I can’t believe we live in the same complex,” you muttered, still in shock that you had never seen this handsome man before. “How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, ‘bout two years now.”

“Shit,” you thought to yourself.

“Why’re you cursin’?”

Oh crap. You said that out loud. “I, uh, um,” you stammered.

He quietly watched you, letting you stew in your own embarrassment, an amused grin on his face. The bastard was enjoying watching you squirm!

Feeling your face heat up, you blurted out the truth.

“We could’ve known each other sooner!”

It was an unfortunate tick in your personality that you had never managed to get rid of, and now, watching his eyes widen at your embarrassing remark, you wished the sidewalk would just open up and swallow you whole. But since that wasn’t going to happen, you opted to turn around and stalk away.

“Hey now, wait, you can’t just say that and leave,” the man said, jogging to catch up to you. When you wouldn’t stop walking, he swerved in front of you, forcing you to stop mere millimeters from him. You noticed how big he was, how little you were in comparison. You weren’t a small person by any means, he was just… large.

“Why’re you runnin’ away, darlin’?” he asked, his voice hushed as if he was trying to calm a wild animal. Perhaps with the way you acted, you seemed that way to him.

You took a deep breath, accidentally inhaling his scent, a mix of pine trees and a subtle hint of campfire smoke and musk that made you want to bury your face in his chest and stay there. Desire shot straight between your legs, reminding you that it had been a long time since you’d been with anyone. Letting out a shaky breath, you made the poor choice of looking up at him.

You were blinded by his kind smile and seduced by his deep voice. “Do you want to know me?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, I do,” you answered immediately.

He pointed to his apartment. “I live there. Want to share some whiskey?"

You paused. He was a stranger.

A stranger with beautiful eyes and the sweetest smile you had ever seen.

You followed him willingly into his den.

***

You blinked after he turned on the lights. When your vision cleared, your expectations were, fortunately, not met at all.

You had expected a bachelor pad with junk everywhere and clothing on the floor. What you saw was a clean and neat living room with a simple couch and a TV on top of a small entertainment center that held a few blu-rays and a blu-ray player. The short table in front of the couch had a plate on it, a smudge of ketchup and some crumbs on it, and a glass with a little bit of water left.

The man went to pick up after himself, putting the dirty dishes in the sink before going to his pantry. His kitchen looked pretty bare, except for the dried herbs, tied up in bunches under his cabinets.

While he shuffled around bottles, you went to sit on his couch, but not before pausing for a moment to look through the door to his bedroom. He had a bed that looked big and comfy, his sheets somewhat askew but otherwise in place. Didn’t look like there were any clothes or boxes lying around anywhere. So either the man was tidy, or he didn’t own a lot of things.

“Curious li’l one, ain’tcha?” he chuckled behind you.

Spinning around, you could only give him a sheepish grin. “Yup, sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

He smiled and gave you a tumbler of amber liquid with a giant sphere of ice. “Curiosity like that could get you in trouble one day,” he said mysteriously, gesturing towards the couch.

You raised an eyebrow, but sat down anyway. You took a sip of the ice cold whiskey, enjoying its slow burn down your throat. It was smooth and sweet. “This is fantastic, what is it?”

“It’s a blackberry flavored whiskey,” he replied as he settled himself on the couch, a little closer to you than you had expected. “I thought you might like it.”

“Oh?” You leaned in a little closer. “And why is that?”

“Somethin’ a li’l sweet fer a li’l sweetheart,” he said with a grin. He knew he was being schmaltzy, but you didn’t care. You were eating up his words, spoken with that deep rumble that went right between your legs.

You continued to sip and make small talk with him until your ice had melted and the late night had become the witching hour. But he didn’t seem to mind, and you wanted to stay.

“You got a bit o’ whiskey here,” he said as he leaned in and reached for the corner of your lips, his thumb catching the drop that had escaped your last sip. You flicked out your tongue to catch him, and your eyes met. A heartbeat passed. The whiskey gave you strength.

Taking his hand in yours, you surged forward and kissed his lips, tasting whiskey and his woodsy scent. A low moan came from deep within him, but he did not reach for you. His hands gripped the cushions as he let you take the lead, climbing into his lap and wrapping your arms around him, your fingers kneading his broad shoulders. You kissed the breath from him, desperate to feel him against you.

When you finally broke away for air, you stared at his eyes, now filled with lust and longing, and realized you didn’t even know his name.

He came to the same conclusion. “What’s yer name, darlin’?”

You told him.

He nodded and repeated your name. It sounded so good when he said it. “Feels nice to say it out loud,” he said. “I’m Arthur,” he added as he wrapped his arms around you and held you tenderly. “How far do you want to go?”

“All the way,” you said, grinding your hips against his groin, making him take a shuddered breath.

Without a word, he picked you up and carried you to his big, comfy bed. He dropped you unceremoniously and took off his shirt.

He was ripped. He was built like a man who had worked all his life in a physical job, carrying & lifting. With his tall stature, his broad shoulders, and his huge arms, he made you feel small.

You had never been more aroused in your whole life.

Your body was ready to be thoroughly fucked by this man, and you hadn’t even taken your clothes off yet. You watched hungrily as he undid his belt and dropped his jeans & boxers, your eyes taking in his size. He wasn’t even at full mast yet, and you already wondered if you’d be able to take him all in.

“Your turn, darlin’.”

Taken out of your trance, you took off your clothes as he watched. You started at a normal pace, but when you saw him take himself in his hand and stroke himself while watching you with a lustful gaze, you slowed down, making an attempt to tease him. Already topless, you lay back on the bed and lifted your legs up, sliding your pants upwards. Slowly, you exposed your ass to him, winking salaciously.

He stroked himself a little faster. A soft moan escaped his lips. “Darlin’, yer makin’ it real hard fer me to stay in control here.”

You glanced down at him. “I can see it’s real hard,” you said with a playful smirk.

“Oh, yer goin’ ta get it now,” he said, his grin becoming predatory as he climbed onto the bed. Grabbing the rest of your clothes, he pulled them from you, flinging them over his shoulder before flipping you onto your belly. He gripped your ass and squeezed hard before giving you a firm spank.

“Ooh!” you yelped.

“You want more?” he asked as his hand soothed over his mark.

You could tell he was asking for permission. Turning back to him, you gave him your best pouty face. “Does Sir think I need more?”

Arthur looked immensely pleased with your response. “I think so,” he said, his voice deepening with a thread of command that turned you on beyond belief. He straddled your legs and rested one hand on the curve of your ass. “I told you, curiosity would get you in trouble.”

He spanked you hard once more. “That’s fer sneakin’ glances into my room,” he said. He gave you three more swipes, each in slightly different areas so you wouldn’t get too sore. Then he grabbed your ass with both hands and massaged your muscles, spreading you open as he thrust his cock along the cleft of your rear.

“Yer so obedient, sweetheart,” he murmured as his hips rocked, his eyes fluttering shut for a few moments. Then with his strong grip, he manhandled you onto your back, wrapping his big hands around you and pulling you into his arms. He cradled you for a sweet, gentle moment before rolling you around like you were as light as a pillow before setting you back down onto the mattress. He leaned over you as he reached for the nightstand, pulling out a condom. You watched him slip it on, but he didn’t move to enter you. Instead, he reached down and began to stroke you as he loomed above, watching your reactions.

You moaned and writhed under his deliberate exploration. His hands traveled languidly along every inch of you. When he found a sensitive area that elicited a soft noise of pleasure from you, he lingered, making you whimper and lean into his touch. He finally touched you lower, where you longed for his attention, but to your frustration he continued his study at the same leisurely pace. Soon his strokes became faster and he pressed harder against you. His eyes nearly glowed as he watched you lift your hips towards his hands, imploring him for more. Using his new knowledge to his advantage, he brought you to the brink and then shifted his touch elsewhere, making you cool off before working you back up again until you were going insane with need.

“Please, please Arthur, I need to come,” you begged.

He only smiled as he slipped a finger inside of you. He slowly worked you open enough for two of his fingers, then three. Soon he was dragging you to the edge again, and you hadn’t even had his cock. You were feeling like you were being denied the thing you wanted most.

“Arthur,” you whispered, “I want your cock.”

“Louder, darlin’.”

“I want your cock!”

“And what do you want me to do with it?”

“Fuck me!”

“Say it again. All of it.”

“Fuck me with your cock!”

His smile was wolfish, satisfied that he had heard you beg for your desire. Pressing the head of his shaft against your opening, he pushed, easing his way inside of you.

You were right. He was big, long, and oh so thick. He stretched you deliciously, and you keened softly as he took you, claimed you, made you his in the most carnal of ways. He reached up and slipped his hand under your head, gripping your hair at the base and pulling slightly.

“Eyes on me, darlin’. I want to see you while I’m takin’ you,” he murmured.

You couldn’t look away from him. His look was intense, as if he commanded your entire being, your body his to use for his pleasure. And you willingly gave it to him, letting him sheathe his entire length inside of you. He held you still while your body adjusted to his claim, watching you with an almost proud expression.

“Good li’l darlin’,” he said as he leaned over. He kissed you gently on the lips, then on the forehead, and as if he was overcome with affection for you, peppered kisses along the curve of your cheek and down your neck.

“I’m goin’ to fuck you now,” he whispered into your ear. “You tell me to slow if it’s too much for ya, alright?”

You nodded, sure that whatever he was about to do to you, you could handle it.

He lifted himself up onto his forearms, his hands framing your face. “You look so damn cute,” he murmured before his hips slowly pulled back. “So fuckable.”

Arthur slammed his cock deep inside of you with one forceful stroke. He immediately looked down at you when you let out a cry of surprise. He waited, quietly checking in.

“More,” you whispered.

You thought you saw relief cross his features before he gave you a teasing smirk. “Ask me nicely and I just might give it to ya.”

“Please sir,” you begged, “I need more.”

Arthur gave you a single nod before rocking his hips, building you up slowly, his gaze nearly burning a hole into you with their intensity. As your body stretched and accommodated him, you clawed at his arms, greedily clamoring for him to speed up. He let out a feral growl before wrapping a big, rough hand around your neck, his other hand gripping your leg and spreading you wider for him.

"You think you can take more, darlin'?"

You looked up at him and smiled a challenge.

He began a ferocious pace, angling himself to take you as deep as he could go. All you could focus on was the impact of his body against yours, his thick shaft filling you over and over, unrelenting as a tidal wave.

Soon he let go of your neck so he could sit up and grip your hips with both of his hands. He was fucking the breath out of you with each hard thrust, the sound of his hips slamming against yours filling the room with a lewd rhythm, intertwined with your breathy cries and his low moans of pleasure.

He reached down and stroked you, his touch rough and vigorous, matching the way he was ravaging you in a haze of lust. You could feel yourself sprinting towards that delicious finish line. The end was in sight as your hips jerked wildly, your legs wrapping around Arthur as he thrust even harder and deeper than before.

"Come fer me," he murmured. "I want to feel you lose yerself around my cock."

You screamed as his words broke the dam that was holding back a torrent of pleasure, your climax tearing through your body at breakneck speed. Your legs stiffened, your toes curled, and your fingers dug into his very muscled biceps as you came harder than you ever had. You shook with aftershocks as Arthur continued to thrust, his hands letting go of your hips as he fell upon his forearms, caging you in as he chased his pleasure.

"Fuck sweetheart, I'm comin'," he moaned before he buried his head into the crook of your neck. He gave three more erratic thrusts, then nearly crushed you with his weight as he pressed his hips against yours, keeping himself inside of you for as long as he could.

A breathless moment passed, the two of you trying to catch that elusive breath. Arthur rolled off of you, quickly gathering you into his arms as he tumbled onto his side.

"Goddamn," he finally muttered. "Wasn't expectin' to have such good company."

You turned in his arms so you could see the wide grin on his face. "For once, I'm glad I got lost in the parking lot."

He kissed your forehead. "Me too, darlin'. But let's make sure we don't get lost again." He found your hands under the covers, brought them up to his lips, and kissed your fingertips.

"After all, I only just found you, my li'l darlin'."

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End Notes: Been a while, and of course, all of my pent-up lust just came streaming out of me in a flurry of words and phrases. Hope it’s still hot enough for you, my lovely readers!

#arthur morgan #arthur x reader #arthur x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #nsft #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #writing #lemon fanfic #fanfic

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leossmoonn · 3 years

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Unexpected Love [Kai Parker] || Part Two

masterlist | part one

pairing - kai parker x fem, human!reader

type - fluff, angst

note - read the first part, this cannot be read as a standalone! if you have read the first part then welcome back, thank you for reading the second part. so this part will be more focused on kai and the readers relationship and definitely all fiction lol (aka no actual scenes from the show) :) and part 3 is at the end!

summary - you and kai fall in love over a period of time after spending time with each other in the prison world

warnings / includes - language, alcohol, crying, fighting, mention/thinking of suicide, family trauma, lot of flirting in this one, suggestive, f/f = favorite flavour (of ice cream) lol

————

*gif isn't mine* (ugh hes so fine im dying)

I sat up straight and gasped, my eyes flying right open. I looked around frantically, sharp pain shooting right through my chest.

“Ow,” I whined, pressing my hand gently to my side.

“Oh, yeah. The first time you die here, it’ll hurt. I bet it’s not any different from what that ring does for you, though,” Kai’s voice ringed next to me.

My head snapped to him, memories of what he did to me flooding back.

“Get away from me!” I shouted, getting up out of the bed I was in.

“I did you a favour, Y/n. You should thank me!” He exclaimed.

“What favour! You robbed me of my only chance of getting home. Now we have no magic and the ascendent is broken!”

“Stop shouting. Ugh, you’re giving me a headache,” he whined.

I gave him a death glare. “You’re the one with the headache. You’re the one- I just… I’m going for a walk.”

I stomped out of the room, running down the stairs. I heard Kai’s footsteps from behind me. I walked as fast as I could without feeling any pain. Kai seemed to be full on sprinting, though, because he grabbed my wrist.

“Let me go!” I exclaimed. “Please, Y/n. I’m sorry,” Kai pleaded.

I jerked my body away from him. “Shove it, Malachai. If you want me to forgive you, then you better leave me alone right now.”

He looked at me with wide, fearful eyes. I didn’t wait for him to say anything. I turned on my heel and made my way out of the house and back to the woods. I stomped the whole way there, my hands balled in tight fists. My fingernails dug into my skin as tears stained my cheeks. I just could not believe Kai. I knew he was a sociopath and a dick, but I didn’t think he would try to rob me of my chance at happiness. It was stupid how I thought he would even think about someone else and not himself. Sometimes he made it seem like he did care, though. It also seemed as my attraction to him from the first time we met was still there. I needed to get rid of it. I needed to find a way to get out here. Without Kai.

I stopped walking as I realised I was deep in the woods. The cool breeze flew around me, calming me down. I closed my eyes and breathed out the air that I had been holding in. I opened my eyes to stare at the sky. It was a cloudless afternoon with bright sunshine. It was always like this. For the past few months this was all I had seen. I was more than sick of it. I wanted rain. Snow. Hail. Anything else but the sunshine for once.

I released my hands from their fists, reaching my right hand up to my side where Bonnie’s jacket still was. I let out a strangled, but happy sound. I unwrapped it from my body, seeing that it had a huge red blood spot that was mine. I ignored it and held it up to my face, hugging it closely to my chest.

“I’m getting out of here. I’m going home,” I promised to myself.

I stayed in the woods until the sun started to set. I spent my time walking around some more, making up a plan. I knew how the ascendent looked before it was broken, and I was sure that Bonnie’s grimoire, that was thankfully still here, had a diagram of some sort, too. I could just build it back up. I took a shop class in high school and used to build cars with my dad, so I was quite the mechanic. Getting it to work without magic was the hard part, though. I needed a Bennett witch to access the spell. I knew Kai still had some of Bonnie’s magic in him, but I couldn’t risk telling him the plan and having it work, only for him to leave me here again. Plus, it’s not like having him use Bonnie’s magic would actually work. He wasn't actually a Bennett. He just happened to have her magic in him.

I opened the door and stepped into the Salvatore house, looking around for Kai. I smiled, relieved that I couldn’t spot him anywhere. I shut the door behind me, kicking off my shoes and going to the liquor cabinet, popping off the top of a bottle of whiskey. I didn’t bother with a cup, I just downed it straight. The liquor burned my throat as I strutted to the kitchen, going over to the CD player and putting on Toni Braxton’s ‘Another Sad Love Song’.

I danced around and got out the ingredients for a strawberry cake. As Toni’s song came to an end, I heard the front door open. I groaned loudly, my mood dropping immediately. I left the kitchen to see what Kai was up to. I laughed incredulously as I saw him carrying multiple duffle bags and a backpack.

“Are you seriously moving in?” I asked.

“Yep,” he nodded. “What part of ‘leave me alone’ do you not understand? Do I need to spell it out for you so it can get through your thick skull?” I snapped, taking ahold of his arm and dragging him back to the front door.

“I understand!” He exclaimed. “Good. Then you’ll get out,” I sneered, pushing him out the door. I went to shut it, but his arm held the door open.

“I will smash your hand in this door,” I threatened.

“Yeah, I know, but hear me out. I can help you get back,” Kai said.

I scoffed, “I don’t want nor need your help. Get out.” I pushed the door further in his face. He dropped his bags and used both hands to keep it open.

“I know you don’t trust me and you have no reason to, but please. I still have Bonnie’s magic in me and I can fix the ascendent with her magic,” he begged. He pouted and put on his puppy dog face.

“No,” I said without any hesitation. “You get out of my life, okay? If I ever see you, hear you, or even smell you, you’re dead, okay?”

His eyes then filled with anger and frustration. “Fine!” He exclaimed. “You know, I only even wanted to help you because I want to get out of here. We both know that I would have only left you here alone.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, then,” I smiled sourly. “See you never.” And with that, I slammed the door in his face.

I sighed deeply, smiling in satisfaction. I went back to the kitchen and resumed my cake making.

A few hours later and I was finishing the last pieces of cake, and watching Forrest Gump.

“Life is like a box of chocolates, huh,” I muttered. “First I’m a regular girl with human friends and a family. And now I’m a girl who who has no family, vampires, werewolves, and witches for friends, and who is stuck in a never-ending prison world!”

I rolled my head around the couch ledge, my eyes looking out the window. It was pitch black now. The stars were shining brightly, many of them twinkling.

“Mom, Dad, Jenny, Andrew. Bonnie and Damon. If you’re out there, please help me. Send someone or something. I-I can’t do this alone, and I definitely don’t want Kai’s help. Please help me,” I cried out. I hugged a couch pillow and Bonnie’s jacket.

I hope someone could hear me up there. Otherwise I was screwed.

————

3 months later and I was still stuck in this hell-hole. Well, at least I think it had been 3 months. Ever since Kai kept me here, I had been counting the days. It had been approximately 90 days, give or take. I was beginning to think this was actually my own personal instead of Kai’s.

Speaking of Kai, he actually had been pretty good of avoiding me. In these 90 days, I have only ran into him twice. Once was while I was going for a morning jog and the other was when I was venturing into town, walking to the Mystic Grill and all the shops. During my stay, I have also been documenting my days with an old video camera I found. I knew that I would get out, but just in case, I would be able to have all those memories saved and if I died somehow and never came back and someone else got trapped here, they could see the glamorous life of Y/n L/n. Or what was left of it at least.

Today was going to be different, though. For the past few months, I had been sitting in my bedroom for most of the week, crying, talking to myself, screaming at the world. I had even considered killing myself once or twice, but I knew that I would only wake up in more pain and sadness. Every day I prayed and hoped for someone to come and find me. For my friends to find out a way to get to me, even though they didn’t have the ascendent or anything. It seems as more days past, the less and less hopeful I got, though. So, I decided that the only way I was getting out of here was to do it myself, regardless if I wasn’t a magical being.

And so right now, I was trying to build the ascendent. I was almost there, actually. It was just these little parts that were so frustrating to put back together.

“Go together, dammit!” I exclaimed out of frustration.

I put the device down, running my hands over my face, thinking of a solution. Maybe I should ask Kai for help.

No. That would only end up with me screaming at him the whole time and potentially killing him.

But he probably still had some go Bonnie’s magic left. He could help me get out. And plus, I could just push him away last minute when we go through the portal.

I groaned out of annoyance. I didn’t know what the right answer was. I thought I did. I thought I could do this by myself. But it turns out I can’t. It’s a lot harder than I thought and the fact that I’m a human doesn’t help either. I bit my lip in thought, racking my brain for an answer.

“You have to ask him to help, Y/n. It’s the only way,” I sighed to myself.

I got up from my seat and put on my shoes and jacket. I went out of the house and got into Damon’s Chevy, driving it to Kai’s house. I clenched the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white as I parked in his driveway. Just the thought of seeing him made my stomach churn. Thing was, I didn’t quite know if it churned in a good way or bad.

I stepped out of the car, putting the keys in my jacket pocket. I walked up to the door and gave it a good 3 knocks. A waited a few minutes, but no answer. I knocked a few more times and waited another few minutes. Still no answer.

“Seriously?!” I whined, raising my hand to pound on the door, but Kai’s voice stopped me.

“What are you doing here?”

I turned around and saw him carrying grocery bags.

“Oh. Good, you’re here,” I said, stepping down from his porch.

“You never answered my question. What are you doing here?” He asked.

“I need your help,” I confessed.

His lips upturned into a smile. He let out a laugh. “Wow. Princess Y/n has gotten over her pride, huh?”

“And sociopathic Parker still harasses me with nicknames, huh?”

Kai frowned and walked up to the porch, passing by me and unlocking his house.

“Sorry,” I sighed, following him into his house. “Will you please help me?”

“Hm, let me think about it,” he said, setting the grocery bags down. “No.”

I rolled my eyes. “C’mon! You barely thought about it. Why not?”

“Because I hate you,” he shrugged. “Why? What have I done to you?” I scoffed.

“Well, first of all you slammed a door in my face. Second, whenever we run into each other, you act like I murdered your whole family. And third, you denied my help before, but now you want it? I think not,” he explained.

“Look, I’m sorry. I really, really am, but I know for a fact that you want to get out. I want to, too! But I’ve learned that we can’t get out without each other. I’m sorry I let my pride take over me. So please help me,” I begged and apologised.

Kai grinned at me. “I love this.” “Love what?” I asked.

“I love seeing you beg,” he said, his voice dropping low. He started to walk towards me slowly. Stalking me like I was his prey.

I backed away from him, my eyes trained on him. I let out a huff as my back hit a wall. My eyes widened and stared into his menacing eyes.

“I love seeing you beg for me. Begging for my help like the helpless little human you are,” he muttered.

He arms went around your sides, trapping in-between him and the wall. I breathed out heavily and shakily, averting my eyes.

“I’m not helpless,” I protested. He smirked down at him, his eyes lighting up. “You sure about that, princess?”

The way he stressed my pet name set my fire to my heart, and set my stomach flipping. He head hung low. So low that I could fell his breath on my lips. I felt his knee nudge my thigh and that’s when I stopped breathing. I could fell myself slowly melting into a puddle right in front of him.

“You gonna answer me, sweetheart, or are you just gonna stand there gawking at me?” He chuckled.

I swallowed hard. “N-No.”

“Then answer me,” he teased me. “Y-Yeah… I’m sure about that,” I whispered.

He hummed in reply. I let my eyes roam his face and set on his lips.

“Offer is still there,” he said. “What offer?” I asked.

“The offer to kiss me. Remember when I offered when we first met?”

“O-Oh, yeah,” I stuttered, beginning to catch my breath

“The offer’s still there if you wanna take it.” My eyes flickered back up to his. I shook my head furiously. “I-I don’t want to take it.”

“Oh, I think you do,” he grinned.

I then snapped out of my daze, putting my hand on shoulders and pushing back. “I said no.”

“Alright, alright,” he held his hand up in defense, backing further away from me.

“Now you’ve had your fun, will you help me?” I asked, running my fingers through my hair.

“I guess so,” he shrugged. My eyes lit up, “Really? Oh, my God! Yes!”

I jumped up and went to hug him, wrapping my arms around him. I engulfed him tightly, entangling my fingers in his hair. It was surprisingly soft.

“This feels nice,” Kai sighed.

I groaned, “Okay. Moment ruined.” I pulled away, stepping back a good few feet.

“You hugged me first,” he shrugged. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Alright, so when do you want to get started?” I asked.

“After dinner,” he answered. “But it’s 2 pm,” I said.

“I know. But how about you and me have dinner together,” Kai explained.

“I thought you hated me?” I asked. “Oh, I do. I definitely do. That’s why I want to have dinner with you. I know just how to push your buttons. You’re so cute when mad,” he grinned.

I growled at him. “And you are so annoying.” “See! So cute,” Kai scrunched his nose.

“I bet it’ll be cute when I give you a black eye,” I muttered.

“It'd like to see you try. Anyways, if you want my help, then you’ll come to dinner with me,” Kai shrugged.

I sighed, “Fine. What time? What do I need to cook?”

“7 PM. And nope, I’ll cook.”

“O-Oh, really? You cook?”

“Yep,” he grinned proudly.

“Hm… Well, good to know. Anyways, I’ll be here at 7,” I said, making my way towards the door.

“Make sure to dress up! This is gonna be fancy!” Kai called out.

“Noted!” I exclaimed, stepping out of the house. I shut the door behind me, exhaling heavily. “Now you got a date with the town’s psycho, Y/n. Good going.”

I strutted over to the car, getting in and driving back to my place. I read a few books to pass the time until I had to get ready. I got done with Twilight: Eclipse, as I actually had already started that the other day, and I went ahead and started to read more into Bonnie’s grams’s grimoire.

It was all so fascinating, really. I was so amazed by just the spells themselves, I didn’t even consider the history of all of them. While reading the grimoire, I started to feel a little jealous of the fact that Bonnie’s a witch, and the fact that I’m a human with a ring that keeps me alive whenever I got killed. I almost started to feel jealous of Damon and Tyler, but I knew that I never would want to be a monster. Being a witch would seem nice, though. Not like Kai, though.

After a little heavy reading, I checked the clock. It was 5:49, which meant that I had to start getting ready. I put a bookmark in place in the grimoire and got up off the couch, heading up the stairs. I turned on the shower and got undressed.

I took off my sweatpants and socks, followed by my shirt. As I reached for my shirt overhead, the front of it brushed my nose. An unfamiliar, but calming scent filled my nose. I slipped the rest of the shirt off, turning it back right side out and held it up to my nose. I closed my eyes and breathed the scent in. It smelled like mint, paper of old books, and a little like grape jam. As soon as the grape jam smell came to me, I immediately knew who this scent belonged to.

“Ew!” I shrieked and threw the shirt across the room. It landed in the laundry basket, luckily enough. I let out a gagging noise, taking off my underwear and getting in the shower quickly.

I took my time washing up. Taking a shower seemed to be the only place I could really let go and bask in the quiet and loneliness that was in this house. It was strange because it was always quiet and lonely in this house. This was my only time to truly relax since I was doing everything to keep my busy during the day, so I wouldn’t start crying and throwing a fit about still being here.

I lathered my body with shampoo, giving myself a little massage on my shoulders. I closed my eyes and started to imagine what life would be like if I wasn’t stuck in 1994.

I would be with my friends, obviously. We would be at Whitmore, trying to live a normal life. Caroline, Elena, Bonnie and I would be having a picnic on campus. Sipping iced teas and eating sometime of desert. Damon would probably be with us, considering that Elena can’t be without Damon for more than 10 minutes without dying - literally. Stefan would most definitely be there. He’s my best friend, so of course he would be there. He would be talking to Caroline, though, her hogging all of his attention because she likes him (though she always denied it). And maybe Jeremy would be there, too, for Bonnie. Holding her hand and cuddling up next to her like the cute couple they are. And me? Well, I didn’t really have anybody special in my life. I actually had a thing with Kol Mikaelson before he died. I liked Tyler briefly in high school, but I’m 100% sure he’s into the girl that works at the coffee shop at Whitmore. Matt wasn’t my type at all. Neither was Enzo. Maybe I had a cute boy a Whitmore on my arm. A classmate that I had invited to the picnic. Someone cute, smart, funny… a little crazy. Maybe… Maybe Kai.

My eyes snapped open as I became aware that Kai was now in my fantasy. I couldn’t help but shudder, even with the hot water running on my skin. I washed the rest of my body, focusing on anything else but Kai. I turned off the water, wrapping a towel around me. I dried my skin off as I walked to the sink, putting on lotion and re-brushing my teeth. I stepped back into my bedroom and put on a nude-coloured underwear set. It was simple and very, very comfortable. I then went over to my closet, looking for an outfit to wear. I shuffled through all my shirts, not being able to find one that I liked. I sighed in slight frustration, stepping back to try and see if anything stuck out to me.

A little, annoying voice - that sounded much like my mother’s - sounded in the back of my head.

Maybe you can’t decide on an outfit because you like him and want to look nice for him.

I scoffed loudly, shaking my head. “No. I definitely do not care. That’s why I’m just gong to wear this.” I reached into my closet and pulled out a simple dark-turquoise dress. It was spaghetti-strapped and plunged a little bit at the neckline. It reached down just above my knees. Perfect for dinner with an… associate.

I slipped it on and back to the bathroom and did my hair, putting it in one of my favourite hairstyles. I then got out some makeup products. I put on a light coat of foundation and concealer, curling my eyelashes and brushing them up with mascara. I then shaped my eyebrows and filled in the sparce parts, dusting on some blush and putting on chapstick. I looked in the mirror, stepping back to look at my appearance. I cringed as it looked like I was going on a date. I shook those thoughts out of my head. I wasn’t dressing up for him, I was dressing up for myself. There’s no shame in wanting to look nice for yourself.

I went back into the bedroom and found a pair of black heels. I slipped them on, going over to the dresser and putting on a few gold bracelets and a pair of earrings. I re-adjusted my necklace that I was already wearing. I looked at my reflection and smiled. For once, I felt and looked good. I grabbed a black jacket and walked out of my room, checking the time once again. I had 10 minutes to get his house, which was perfect.

I went out of the house and to the Chevy, driving to Kai’s house. I parked in the driveway, my heart beginning to race. I let out a few deep breaths and go out of the car. As soon as I was about to knock, the door swung wide open.

The door revealed Kai who was wearing a white button-up shirt and dark-blue slacks. He actually looked… nice, for once. My eyes traveled around his chest. I couldn’t help but notice the way his biceps strained against his shirt. I could literally see his abs through the shirt, too. It did not help butterflies that were starting to flutter in my stomach.

“Like what you see?” He smirked.

My eyes flew up to his face, taking a deep breath to calm myself down from all the excitement I was feeling.

“No,” I said flatly, going into the house and brushing past Kai.

“Well, you look nice,” he said as I walked into his kitchen.

“Thanks. You do, too,” I complimented genuinely.

“I’ve never seen you in a dress before. You should wear them more often.”

“I don’t like dresses.”

“But you like me. That’s why you wore one to our date?”

I balled my hands in fists, turning around to face him. “One, this is not a date. And two, girls can wear dresses for themselves, not for men like you.”

Kai grinned widely at me. I realised I had fallen into his trap. He was trying to push my buttons and so far, he's been successful. I couldn't let him win, though. I had to calm down and get through this night. Otherwise I would probably never be getting out.

“Your temper is almost as bad as Damon’s,” Kai remarked.

I sighed, “Well you’re not making it easy to stay calm.”

“I know,” he chuckled, walking past me and to the dinner table. “I hope you like ravioli and mushrooms.”

“Did you make these or buy them?” I asked, walking towards the kitchen table.

“Made them. The Salvatores have lots of cook books. I might have stole them before you came,” he explained.

"Well, it smells great,” I admitted, beginning to take off my jacket.

“Glad you think so. Here, let me get this for you,” he slid over to me and took the jacket off my shoulders. He folded it and put it on the ledge of his couch.

“Thanks,” I said. He then pulled my chair out for me. I sat down, thanking him this time with a smile.

“Wine?” He asked, bringing a bottle over. “Yeah, sure,” I nodded.

He poured two glasses and placed one in front of me. He sat down and took a knife and fork.

“Dig in,” he offered. “This isn’t filled with like, cyanide, right?” I asked half-jokingly.

“Ha-ha. No. I worked really hard on these,” he said.

“Hm,” I hummed. I cut one of the raviolis in half and popped on in my mouth. My eyes widened as it tasted a lot better than I expected.

“Good, right?” Kai smiled.

“Very,” I nodded once I swallowed.

We ate in silence for a few moments. I was itching to talk to him about getting home. I took a long sip of wine before beginning to take.

“So um…. I’ve started to re-build the ascendent. It’s a lot harder than it looks, but I’m really close. I just have-”

“No,” Kai said suddenly. I furrowed my brows, “What?” “No, we aren’t going to talk about that just yet. I want to get to know you,” he explained.

I rolled my eyes. “Why? All you need to know is my name and that I hate living here.”

He chuckled, “Not true. I have trust issues. So before I get involved with you, I need to know I can trust you. See, I didn’t trust Damon or Bonnie. I knew that they hated me from the second they met me. I knew that no matter what I would do, they would never give in to trusting me. You, however, you are so trusting. Didn’t you find it creepy that I, a strange man whom you met in a parking lot, offered you a ride?”

“Oh. I-I mean, I guess? But I needed a ride, anyways,” I said.

He shook his head with a smile. “No. Not a good enough reason. Any reasonable woman would have run away from me. You, though… You saw something good in me, didn’t you? You thought I was nice and cute. Maybe a little too forthcoming, but still you put some trust in me. And if you can trust me, maybe I can learn to trust you.”

“Is that why you didn’t let me go with them?” I asked, suddenly connecting the dots.

“Part of the reason. I knew that I had no chance of getting home with Damon and Bonnie. But with you, I knew that I had a chance. Even though you are just a human.” “I am more than that,” I argued.

“And I’m sure you are! But you see, I don’t know that for sure because I don’t know anything about you. See what I’m getting at here?” “Yeah, I see,” I grumbled. “Great! So let’s start with the first question. Why do you always wear that necklace?” He pointed to my neck.

“It was a gift,” I explained shortly, hoping he would notice the edge in my voice.

“From who?” He asked, the corners of his lips upturning in a smirk.

Of course he noticed. He just wasn’t going to stop.

“Family member.” “C’mon, you gotta give me more. I can’t help you if I don't trust you.” I slammed my fork down on the table. “So? There’s a lot of people in the world that you don’t trust fully, but sometimes you just have to help them! Like in school, you may not trust one of your classmates personally, but if they ask you for help on a math problem, you would help them, right? And plus, I don’t trust you. I never did, for the record. I just really want to get out of this place, which now I am believing is my personal hell, not your’s, but I can’t do that without you!”

Kai took a bite of his ravioli, taking his sweet time to chew and swallow. I clenched my knife, tempted to throw it into his carotid.

“Watch your temper, princess. If you keep yelling at me, then I definitely won’t help you.” I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly, trying to calm myself down. “Fine. Sorry. I just don’t want to answer the questions about my necklace.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why I’m asking,” he grinned.

I rolled my eyes, settling back in my seat. “Please, don’t. It’s really personal.”

“You know, I killed my family. It can’t get any worse than that,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, well, this is worse to me,” I muttered. “What? Did you kill your whole family, too? Man, I didn’t know we were so similar,” he chuckled.

“No. They got murdered right in front of me,” I whispered out. Tears prickled the corners of my eyes. I lowered my gaze to my almost-empty plate. Thick, uncomfortable silence filled the room. I tried to fight the tears that threatened to fall, but as memories came back, I could no longer hold them off.

“I-I’m gonna go. Thanks for dinner, Kai.” My voice was hoarse as I spoke. I swallowed hardly, trying to clear my throat, but it felt like shards of glass were rubbing the sides of it.

I went to grab my jacket and wrapped it around me, reaching out for the doorknob, but Kai pulled me back. He wrapped his fingers around my wrist gently, but firmly. He tugged me back slightly, enough for me to turn around and look him in the eyes. The expression on his face was something that I had never seen on him before. He looked regretful, guilty; full of remorse. For once I didn’t feel annoyed or scared of him.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he spoke softly, his blue eyes boring into my e/c eyes.

“I-It’s alright. It’s not your fault,” I sniffled. “No… I-I should have known this was too personal for you to want to share,” he admitted.

“Yeah, well, I know how much you like to push my buttons,” I chuckled.

“I do. I admit that. But I really do want to get to know you.” I narrowed eyes at him, crossing my arms around my chest and leaning back in my chair. “Why?”

“Because I… I think you’re interesting. When I was watching you and your friends, I was able to discover things. Things about Bonnie and Damon. But you… I couldn’t figure out a thing about you. You talk a lot to Damon, and I know you’re really close with Bonnie, but you’re still so private. I’m such an open person, so it was weird for me to see you be so closed-off, but outgoing at the same time,” he explained, his cheeks glowing pink as soon as he finished.

I couldn’t believe what I had heard him say. He was finally saying nice things about me in a sincere tone. I couldn’t help but smile and softened up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” He shrugged sheepishly. “Hm,” I buzzed.

“So, will you stay and we can get to know each other? I promise I won’t ask you about your family anymore,” he said.

I stared at him intensely. As much as I wanted to say no, every fiber in my body was screaming yes.

“Alright, sure. I’ll stay,” I nodded. I knew that if I said no, he probably wouldn't help me get back home, but I was actually looking forward to staying. It seemed as though my feelings for him were developing a lot quicker and stronger than I thought they ever would.

A bright smile lit up his face immediately. “Great! Do you want to continue eating? I have some ice cream, too, if you want.”

“Ice cream sounds good,” I answered. He nodded and let go of my wrist, walking to his freezer.

I felt alone and cold all of the sudden. I felt myself start to miss his hand on me, holding my arm. His skin was so warm and surprisingly soft. I wanted him to touch me all over.

“Take a seat on the couch.” His voice broke me out of my dirty thoughts.

I shrugged away the thoughts and made my way to the sofa, taking a seat and making myself comfortable.

“Do you want a blanket of anything?” He asked, setting down two bowls.

“I’m good for now, thanks,” I said, reaching her to grab a bowl. “F/f?” I asked.

“Yeah. This one of the few things I found out about you,” he smiled sheepishly, taking his bowl and sitting down next to you.

“Indeed I do. I assume you do, too?” I guessed. “Yep,” he nodded. “Hm. So, what do you want to know about me?” I asked.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“F/c.” “Do you have any pets back at home?” He asked.

“I had a cat a few years ago. She died, though.” “Oh, I’m sorry,” he frowned. “It's alright. She was 20, so she was bound to die soon,” I shrugged.

He nodded. “What’s life like back at home?”

I took a bite of ice cream, thinking for a few moments. “Fun. Busy, but really happy and colourful.”

“Are you in college?” He asked. “Yeah. Second year,” I answered. “What’re you studying?”

“I’m majoring in human studies and minoring in art and design.” “Sounds fun.”

“It is. And a little stressful,” I chuckled. He laughed with me, looking away from me for a moment and then looking back.

“Do you have a boyfriend, or girlfriend, back at home?” He asked.

“Nope. I’ve been single for a good couple years,” I said.

“You? Single? I find that hard to believe,” he snorted. “Why?” I asked, my heart fluttering just thinking about his answer.

Kai smiled softly at me. “Well, for starters, you’re beautiful. You’re strong and confident. You know what you want and have no issue in fighting for it. You’re a little hot-headed, but I find it attractive. You’re very smart; I see you reading almost everyday. You’re determined and dream big. I can tell you really care about your friends and family, despite how much you and Damon bickered. You’re like a girl in a novel or movie that other girls want to be.”

My whole face went warm at his explanation. My lips were upturned into the most cheek-aching smile, too.

“And you said it was hard to find things out about me,” I giggled, nudging his foot with mine.

“Well, I couldn’t find out personal things about you. That's all just from observation,” he shrugged, not seeming to be embarrassed.

I nodded, “Well, now you know a few personal things about me.”

“That I do.” “I…. I thought you liked Bonnie, too,” I spoke my thoughts out loud.

“She’s beautiful, too. She’s also incredibly smart and intuitive. She’s very strong and nice. But you’re the one that really caught my eye.”

“Oh,” I smiled impossibly wider. “Well, good to know.” “Yep,” he popped the ‘p’. I couldn't help but notice how his gaze dropped down to my upper chest, where my necklace sat.

“They died one and a half years ago,” I started.

His eyes flew up to mine. “You don’t have to-”

“No, no. It’s alright. Um… so it was at night. Everyone else was at the house, but I had snuck out to go to a party hosted by Caroline. At this time, I was involved with a vampire named Kol. He convinced me to go out. I knew it was wrong and I was going to get in trouble. I was what some would call a goody-two shoes. Anyways, I stayed out until like, 2 in the morning. I was getting tipsy and tired. So, Stefan, Damon’s brother, drove me home. When I first arrived at my house, it looked completely normal. It was quiet and peaceful. It wasn’t until I walked into my house when I knew something was wrong. There were lights on upstairs. It felt so tense, too. I could literally feel how tense and thick the air was.” I stared down at my ice cream for multiple minutes, blinking rapidly as tears fell.

“I went upstairs and that’s when I saw him. He was tall and wearing a ski-mask, like he was trying to rob us. I guess he had other things he wanted to do, too. He didn’t see me at first, though. It wasn’t until he shot my dad when I started to cry and that’s when he noticed me. I ran away though and into my sibling’s room. I saw that they were still were asleep and safe. So I did the first thing I thought was sensible. I called Stefan. I explained to him that someone had murdered my dad. And as I called him, I heard my mom scream,” I shuddered as her scream ringed in my ears.

“That’s when I heard the door being kicked open downstairs and I knew that Stefan was there. He had brought Caroline and Damon, too, with Bonnie. They were all here to help and I was so appreciative of them. I thought they were going to kill the guy, which was honestly what I wanted. But apparently, the murderer was a vampire. An old one, too, which meant he was stronger than everyone. My friends put up a good fight and I tried to get Andrew and Jenny out of the house, but as soon as we were going down the stairs, the murderer sped up to us and snapped both of their necks. I-It all happened so fast. I….I just couldn't register what was happening. They both just fell limp in my arms. I didn’t know what to do but cry. I was practically screaming while crying, cursing at the murderer. I tried to fight him, but I was so tired and weak, he almost ended up killing me, but luckily Stefan got to him the fastest and ripped his heart out. He fell right on top of me, too. I will never forgetting the weight I was feeling just then. Metaphorical and physical. I pushed him off of me and collapsed into Stefan’s arms. He held me for what seemed like forever until I stopped crying.”

I felt Kai move closer to me, putting a comforting hand on my hand. I smiled softly at him, letting out a deep breath as I was about to finish the story.

“I didn’t come to school for four months after that. I didn’t even come out of my room during that time. My friends took turns everyday taking care of me. Stefan was on cooking duty, Caroline, Elena, and Bonnie switched roles of helping me bathe, getting me to eat, trying to get me to take a step out of bed. Damon and Jeremy provided the jokes and funny stories to try and get me to feel better. Alaric, who was acting like Elena and Jeremy’s parent, adopted me into their family. He said it was Elena and Jeremy’s idea and he agreed fully. After my grieving period, I moved in with the Gilberts. Elena and Jeremy called me their sister and I fell into that role. It was nice to have a family again. It was nice to have siblings again. To have a parent again. I knew it wasn’t real, though. Jeremy and Elena acted like it was real, though. They were so welcoming of having me as a sister, it was just so good. Once I went to college, though, I tried to get a little more independent. Bonnie was gone, actually, so all I had was Caroline and Elena. But we made it work. I’m so thankful for all of them. They really helped me and never gave up on me. Even when I threw fits about getting out of bed,” I smiled at the memories of them helping me.

“Anyways,” I shifted on the couch. “The summer before college, I ended up cremating my family and spreading them across the Pacific Ocean, thanks to Damon who gladly took me on a trip.”

“Wow,” Kai breathed out. “I know,” I chuckled.

“You have really great friends. I’m sorry that all happened to you,” he said. “I-I can’t imagine what you went through. And what you’re still going through.” “Yeah, well, I’m the survivor here. You’re an actual murderer,” I smirked.

He laughed, “True. You know, if you know that I’m a murderer, then why do you agree to spend time with me?”

I sighed and set the empty bowl of ice cream on the table. “Well, you’re right. I am trusting. I see the good in people and I see the good in you. When I was about to walk out the door, I saw the good in you. I see the good in you now. You can be good, Kai. I know it’s hard considering what you have been through, but you are just as much as a survivor as I am.” I intertwined our fingers and put my other hand on his forearm.

“You were abused as a child. You were punished for being different. And although that doesn’t excuse you killing your siblings, you still deserve love. I don’t know how being in a coven works, but I do know how being in a family works. You’re supposed to love each other and your father didn’t give you that love. Sure, you’re a little… eccentric at times, but you still have feelings like everyone else. I know Damon and Bonnie called you a sociopath, and I know I did, too, but now that I’ve seen this side of you, I know you’re different. You should be able to resent your father for being blamed for being a siphoner. Which, by the way, I think it really cool, honestly. I-I’m sorry for yelling at you and getting really mad all those times,” I apologised, looking at him in the eyes to know I was sincere.

He shrugged with a smile, “Well I didn’t make it easy on you.”

I laughed, “No, you did not. Anyways… You are a survivor Kai. A survivor of your family and this world. You deserve a lot more than you think.”

“Thank you. I guess that’s true,” he said.

I smiled and leaned into him, “I know it’s true.”

He smiled at me, his hand tightening around mine. My eyes trailed down to his lips, ogling them for a good few moments.

“Does the necklace has pictures of them?” Kai asked.

I leaned away immediately, my hand slipping out of his. “Yeah, do you want to see them?”

He nodded, moving closer to me so our thighs were touching. I took off the necklace, opening it up and showing him the left side where my parent’s picture sat.

“That’s my dad, Owen, and that’s my mom, Louisa,” I pointed.

“You look just like your mom,” Kai muttered.

I looked to my right, seeing that he was staring right at me. I blushed a little, looking down shyly. “Yeah. We got our genes from our mom.”

“Are they Andrew and Jenny?” He pointed to the right side of the locket.

“Yep. Andrew is 10 and Jenny is 13,” I said.

“They look like good kids,” he commented. “They were. I often wish that it was me who died instead of them,” I murmured.

“Why?”

“Because I was the one who snuck out that night. Plus, my mom and I were having some relationship issues. She was always so irritated with me and criticizing everything I did. The last thing I said to her that night was “I hate you. I wish I had a different mom.”,” My lips were pulled down in a deep frown.

“Well, you didn’t mean that, right?” Kai guessed.

“I didn’t,” I shook my head. “Well, that’s all that matters,” he said.

I nodded and looked up at him.

“You have a little… Here,” he said and lifted up his hand. He cupped my cheek, his thumb running across my cheekbone, wiping a few tears away.

My breath hitched as I felt myself leaning towards him. There was like this magnetic pull that I was feeling. I knew I couldn’t fight it if I tried. His eyes met mine, staring intensely at me. My eyes flickered down to his lips. They looked so soft. So pink. So unbelievably kissable. I was about to close the space in-between us when Kai stopped me.

He put his hand on my shoulder, pushing me back.

“What? Did I read the situation wrong? I’m so sorry,” I rushed out, getting up from the couch.

Kai’s hand grabbed my forearm roughly, pulling me back down on the couch.

“No, it’s not that. You read the situation totally right it's just that… I’ve never kissed anyone before,” he admitted, looking down shyly.

I smiled softly, reaching my hand out for his. “It’s alright. We don’t have to do anything. It’s late, anyways. I should get going.” I looked at the clock, noticing that it was 9:30.

“Or you can stay and we can watch a movie?” He suggested. “Sure,” I nodded with a smile. “Can I take my shoes off?” “Yeah, of course. Actually um, do you want a change of clothes?” He asked.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” I nodded.

“Sweatpants and t-shirt work for you?” He asked.

“It definitely does,” I said. “Great. I’ll be right back, go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” he said, getting up from the couch.

I smiled and nodded, taking my shoes and jacket off. I leaned back on the couch, sighing. I could not believe I was making nice with someone who tried to kill me. Damon was right. My type is crazy.

————

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Part Three is right here!

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@123cxcv @mrsobrien888 @happinessisabutterflyx @mrs-parker-1972

#kai parker #kai parker x reader #kai parker imagines #kai parker fluff #kai parker smut #kai parker x reader fluff #kai parker angst #kai parker x reader angst #kai parker x reader smut #chris wood #chris wood imagines

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Champagne Problems [Frankie Morales x Reader]

Summary: Sitting on the night train, Frankie reminisces on the time he proposed to you, his high school sweetheart. You were so sure that this was all you ever wanted. But as it turned out, you had more on your plate than you initially bargained for, and things don’t go as well as Frankie could’ve hoped.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 1600>

Warnings: allusions to death, mention of substance abuse, addiction, relapse, allusions to depression, cigarettes mention, self induced injury, food mention, alcohol mention.

Author’s Note: BASED HEAVILY ON THE SONG ‘Champagne Problems’ by Taylor Swift. Please please give this song a listen either before or after you read this. It is so beautiful.

Masterlist

Frankie booked the night train for a reason. He couldn’t stay in town anymore, knowing that you were still there. He had no place to go, but that was the least of his concerns. Embarrassed and humiliated, all Frankie wanted was to sit and drown in all his hurt. As he paid for the ticket, he considered how the train might look. Bustling crowds or silent sleepers? He wasn’t sure which was worse. So long as he was without you, he was alone and without purpose.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The living room was burning in amber candlelight, the faint smell of figgy pudding cooking in the distance was so distinct, and the crackling of the record player when the vinyl needed flipped was enough noise to give Frankie nightmares for the rest of his life. You and Frankie were the last ones dancing, your feet shuffling against his mom’s old carpet as you gazed longingly into his eyes.

When he got down on one knee and asked you to marry him, in front of his entire family, you wanted to say yes. So desperately, in your heart, you were certain that you wanted to marry Frankie Morales. And so, in that moment, you weren’t quite sure why the word “no” fell from your lips. Like every word you had ever spoken, the rejection was sweet like honey, and somehow, that only made the cut sting more.

Frankie’s face softened and he looked down at his feet as his cheeks burned pink with shame. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. How could you do this to him? Frankie made the mistake of scoping out the room, taking in the appearance of his family members who sat there with their jaws agape, watching the heartbreaking scene unravel before them like some kind of movie. You hadn’t meant to hurt him like this. You would never mean to hurt him. You loved him.

And so, Frankie shoved the small velvet box back into his jean pocket and didn’t speak another word. He continued to slow dance with you until the song ended. The melody was tainted now, and you tried your hardest to fight back your tears. Somehow, you knew, this would be your last dance with Frankie. You wish you could find the words to make things right. Would an apology be enough? For a brief moment, you and Frankie looked into each other's eyes and you still felt that familiar love… until, on impulse, you made the decision to drop his hands and run away. You left him standing there, crestfallen, in front of his entire family.

Sitting on the train, he gazed out the window. Pearly white snowflakes fluttered past him and they reminded him of your gentle nature and delicacy. Your picture burned a hole in his wallet, and his mom’s wedding ring weighed down his pocket. Frankie’s heart was like glass, fragile, and you had so carelessly dropped it.

Frankie had told his family on Christmas Eve when he thought you were tucked up in the warmth of his bed, fast asleep. The excitement was bubbling within him and he just couldn’t keep it in anymore. He had told them of his plan to marry you. But his delight was short-lived when he acknowledged the concern that crossed their faces. You were Frankie’s only ever love; his highschool sweetheart, but they knew you were a ticking time bomb. You were about as self-destructive as they came.

The Morales’ had known you long enough to recognise your history of mental illness; although they didn’t take the liberty to understand it. You hadn’t had the easiest of lives, but neither had Frankie. You had grown up with them. Whether they liked you or not, they were your family.

Between the pile of ash and the burned out cigarettes that cluttered every surface of his childhood bedroom, you felt yourself slipping into relapse. You weren’t sleeping like he thought you were. When the panic swelled into your lungs, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your mind was racing, your sobs were hysterical, and you were smashing up the cheap beer bottles so the glass cut your fingers. You desperately searched for a quick and easy way out. For once, you just wanted to feel something.

Frankie was the love of your life. He deserved to know about your struggles. You knew that, deep down, he would want to know. He would want to help you. Frankie was so caring, holding your hand through every battle you ever fought. But he wasn’t without scars either. He’d finally recovered from his own problem with addiction, and you had promised him that you were getting better too. You didn’t need to drag him down when he was doing so well.

That’s the thing. You were so sure you were getting better. With Frankie having retired from the force, he was by your side every second of the day, and you had truly never been happier. But any person who suffers with mental illness will tell you that Christmas is the hardest time of the year. In fact, you were surprised to see him coping so well, not knowing that the thought of marrying you was the only thing getting him through the season.

You couldn’t enjoy yourself. The thought of eating all the delicious foods that Mrs Morales had prepared made you feel sick to your stomach, and it would be so easy to mess up and have one too many glasses of wine before you were spiralling again.

The night of the proposal, Frankie’s brother, Abel, had splashed out on the finest bottle of Don Périgon.

But nobody was celebrating.

Not even bothering to wrap up warm, you had left for good, into the darkness of the woods behind the Morales family home. The cold of the winter night stung every inch of your bare body, and the ice slipped through your shoes as you trenched through the thick white snow.

The memory replayed in your mind over and over again, tears free-falling down your face at this point. Your sobs echoed through the bare trees and as you crossed the frozen lake, you made no effort to be careful. This was your fate.

As Frankie sat on the train, contemplating his rejection, he couldn’t help but let out a deflated chuckle. He felt pathetic.

He had a whole speech planned out; about how he knew that you were the one for him the day he met you. It was sophomore year of high school and you and your friends were hanging out by his Chevy truck. Your cheeks were flushed with the colour of November and you were wearing a brown and blue flannel shirt that dropped down to your knees. It was identical to his.

By the time college rolled around, you had already been dating for a year, and had decided to move in together.

“This dorm was once a madhouse.” Frankie exclaimed incredulously, his dark eyes going comically wide as he read the pamphlet that had been presented to him by the university landlord.

You joked with a half smile and tugged on his arm. “Well it’s made for me.” With the jangle of the keys, you both entered your first ever home together — a shanty little apartment located in the corner of campus. Little did you know, those four walls were where you’d really begin to lose your mind. Nevertheless, those were his memories of you, and he wouldn’t change them for the world.

Frankie considered yours and his friendship group in college ‘evergreen’; a symbol of perfection, but now he didn’t think he’d ever say that word again. In a life without you, no such beauty could exist.

He had a speech, now he’s speechless. His love slipped beyond your reaches, and you couldn’t even give him a reason. His hometown skeptics called it champagne problems. It was a glamourised reference to your addiction.

As you walked over the lake, you didn’t even notice the way the ice slowly began to crack beneath your feet. Your thoughts were too loud as you tried your hardest to justify your actions. Maybe you just weren’t cut out for marriage. Sometimes you just don’t know the answer until someone’s on their knees and asks you.

Not long after you had run off, Frankie broke down in front of his family. His parents and siblings surrounded him, shushing him and holding him tight. In a desperate attempt to comfort him, they put you down, making it out as if he deserved better.

Frankie didn’t know if he deserved better. All he knew was that he wanted you.

“She would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked in the head,” they said. “but you’ll find the real thing instead.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When the ice finally shattered, you were already completely numb. Blue lips and snowflakes balancing on your eyelashes — and yet all you could think about was your Frankie. You were sure that he’d move on eventually, he had to. He deserved happiness. If you could have it your way, you’d apologise for wasting his time all these years.

As your body sunk into the depths of the river, you could only hope that he’d eventually forget about your champagne problems.

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#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #catfish morales #catfish morales x reader #triple frontier

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ladyreapermc · 4 years

Text

Fic: Your Move (Chibs x fem!Reader)

A/N: Unsuprisingly, I’m writing for SoA. It was just a matter of time until this new obsession caught up with me. This is my first attempt to write an accent phonetically, so I apologize in advance for the mess.

I also wanna thank @toomanystoriessolittletime and @penwieldingdreamer for beta’ing this for me and @ly--canthrope @wishuhadstayed and @chibsytelford for welcoming me to the SoA fam and encouraging me to write for it.

Summary: When you returned to Charming after your father passed away, you planned to only stay long enough to settle his affairs, but memories of the past and the prospect of a certain Scot in your future made you stay longer than planned.

Wordcount: 4,5K

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and inebriation and that’s it.

You knew the Sons of course.

There was no way to live in Charming your entire life and not know about them or at least some of them. You went to school with Jax and Opie and you remembered having such a crush on them, like most girls your age. They were the cool guys with their air of danger and the prospect leather cuts they wore every single day.

Your father warned you to stay away from them, as most parents would. The thing about the Sons was that they were a necessary evil to your small town, but it didn’t make them any less dangerous. Your father made sure to steer clear of them unless he absolutely needed it. You watched him seek out Clay Morrow once in a while if there was a problem in the diner, but it always pained him so much to do so.

You could see in his eyes, the exhaustion and barely contained shame whenever he had to have a sit down with the President of the MC. Always at the diner because he refused to go anywhere near the Teller-Morrow Garage.

He invested every cent he had to make sure you had a good education and could leave Charming for good. Do something he could never do in his own life and you appreciated that with all your heart but once he passed away and you had to come back to settle his affairs, sell the diner and the house and everything else, you found yourself caught up in the memories and the charms of the small town.

Everyone seemed to know you. Sometimes by name, most times as Allan’s kid. They paid their respects at the funeral, even the MC. You saw Gemma and Jax at the back and when your eyes caught the bright blue of the man Jackson had become, his lips tilting into a small, sympathetic smile in your direction, you didn’t feel the same butterflies as you used to when you were a teen.

He and his mother came closer after everyone else was gone. He still had that same sad smile placed in his face as Gemma pulled you into a hug that you didn’t really feel comfortable with, but didn’t know how to refuse.

“Allan was such a good man,” she said, pressing a kiss to your cheek and you could feel the lipstick imprint Gemma left behind. “Anything you need, sweetheart, just give us a call.” She handed you a Teller-Morrow business card, her number scribbled on the back.

“Thank you.” You nodded as they stepped away letting you go back to your grieving.

The diner was quick to sell. Your father, once he got sick, already found a buyer on call, you just needed to finalize the deal. The house was harder to do so. Not because you didn’t have people interested in it but because you couldn’t bring yourself to put it on the market. Not when there were so many childhood memories in it. This was the house you grew up in, where your father raised you to be the woman you were now. It was hard to let go of that, so you found yourself searching for reasons to delay your departure.

Separating possessions that would stay, be donated, sold, or thrown away. You started doing small repairs around the house, just like your father taught you because he wanted you to be as independent as possible. Taking off old, worn-out carpets and wallpapers, fixing the yard and clogged pipes, and closing off holes in the plaster walls.

Before long, a month had passed and you were still in Charming, only making weekend trips back to your apartment to bring more of the essentials with you. Even your cat had found residence in your father’s house, taking long naps in the porch bench, apparently much more comfortable with the small-town life than you expected.

Still, you had a hard time admitting that you didn’t intend to leave any time soon. Being in the house was a constant reminder that your father never wanted this life for you but at the same time, after spending the last 10 and something years in a big city, you had never felt more at home than when you got back here.

You were even painting again, something you haven’t done since you settled for a career as an art teacher. You were even more surprised when you opened up the yard sale and a couple of people ventured into the garage while you were distracted and asked about your paintings.

“They’re not really for sale,” you replied to a woman around your age, her dark hair falling over her shoulders in waves and she was so familiar, but you couldn’t place her in your memory.

“You should really think about selling them. Maybe even opening a gallery? They’re gorgeous.”

Her words stayed with you after the sale was done because it had always been your dream but in a big city, renting space was expensive and there were tons of small art galleries other there. It was hard to compete. In a town like Charming? It would be a place one of a kind.

The next morning, you found a small store for rent in the main street as you walked through the wide-open space, the morning bright light filtering through the half-closed blinds from the window, you could already see your works hanging around, the small counter with the cash register to the left and the backspace for your studio so you could work during slow days.

“I’ll take it.” The words were out before you could even think it through but once they passed your lips, you knew they were the right thing to do. You just needed officially move back to your hometown after so long away.

You took a week to go back to the city, pack up your belongings, and put in the moving truck. A few boxes of more personal stuff you loaded in your own battered old Chevy to bring with you on the drive back.

The car gave out in the middle of the night, still on the highway, miles away from Charming. The engine coughing and spluttering but refusing to start, no matter how many times you spun the key in the ignition. You had to settle for your fate and call a toll truck.

It was almost like destiny that when you pull out your phone from your pocket, the TM card fell out too and you didn’t even realize it had been there all this time. Gemma’s number in pen was washed out but the printed one for the garage was still visible so you dialed it. It wasn’t like you had another garage’s number on speed dial.

You waited at the side of the road for about 50 minutes until the headlights of the toll truck lightened up the night before pulling by your car and you couldn’t help the nervous flips of your stomach as the man stepped out of the car, in tight jeans and leather cut. His longish dark hair combed back, peppered with grey strands at his forehead and the goatee gave him such a distinguished look that you had a hard time not staring. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this attracted to someone at first sight.

“Ye called for a toll, lass?” he asked in a smooth drawl and thick accent that made shivers run down your spine, and for a second you couldn’t find your words.

“Uh… yeah, yes. I did,” you finally managed, glancing back to your car. Seemed to be the safest thing to do. “The old piece of junk died on me. Sorry for the hour.”

“No problem,” he waved off your apology, setting up to get your car secured in the back of the truck, before opening the door for you. “Come on, I give ye a lift.”

He helped you into the truck’s cabin, taking your hand in his gloved one like a perfect gentleman and closing the door behind you before he got behind the wheel and started the engine.

“Thank you so much, mister…”

“Nah, lassie. No mister required,” he offered you a soft smile and from this close, you could see the pale line of the scar in his cheek. “Chibs is fine.”

“Alright. thank you, Chibs,” you replied smiling too as he pulled into the road and turned the radio into a classic rock station.

You remained in silence for most of the ride, sneaking glances at the man next to you. Had he been in Charming all those years ago? Before you left? Why didn’t you remember him? How many times had you seen the Sons riding through the main street in their Harleys and leather cuts? You would probably have seen him before. Then again, back then your eyes tended to seek out Jax’s slender form due to your stupid teen crush. Maybe that was why you missed him.

“Mind if I smoke?” Chibs asked, startling you out of your thoughts.

You shook your head, feeling the heat of embarrassment burning your face as you tried to ignore the way his lips closed around the cigarette and how his long fingers operated the lighter.

The flame lit up his face for a brief second, reflected in his deep, dark eyes and you had to look away, clearing your throat. You never felt this awkward and uncertain in the presence of man, so you raked your brain for something to break the tense silence.

“Why Chibs?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself and he chuckled, the sound low and husky and it went straight to your center, making you press your legs together as discreetly as you could.

“It a Scottish slang,” he started, glancing your way as he took a deep drag of his cigarette. “For knife.”

“Oh,” you replied dumbly, mulling over his words. “Because of…?” Unconsciously, you reached for your cheek and froze in shock at your own insensitive action. “Oh shit! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright, love,” he chuckled again as he slowed down the truck and you didn’t even notice he was dropping you off at home until you recognized the construction in front of you. “I dinna mind. And yes, that’s why. Bu’ Filip works too.”

“Thank you, Filip,” you spoke softly, meeting his eyes and he smiled around his smoke and nodded. “I’ll drop by TM tomorrow morning to settle everything?”

“Aye. I’ll let Gem know.”

You hesitated to step out of the truck, and you didn’t even know why. You just didn’t want to leave. Not yet, but there was no reason to stay. So you resigned with doing what needed to be done and watching as he drove away before finally getting inside the house.

Next morning, you took your dad’s old Jeep – and how lucky it was that you hadn’t sold it just yet – and headed to TM to settle payment for the toll and get the cost for the work.

While Gemma was ruffling through some papers trying to find your invoice, you let your gaze wander through the open side door towards the garage, noticing the men in overalls talking and joking while working.

“He’s not here,” Gemma said, startling you to turn back and meet her narrowed eyes. You wondered how she could possibly know. “Jax.”

“Oh!” Relief washed over you and you managed a timid smile. “I wasn’t…”

“And he’s back with Tara.”

There was a clear warning in her tone, almost as if saying you shouldn’t dare to try and intervene between the couple, not that you would want to. She finally handed you the paper so you could sign it, authorizing the service.

“How soon can I expect the car?”

“Maybe a week? Might be more,” Gemma replied, pulling the paper back and giving you a long look. “There were some boxes in the truck… You’re uh, staying in Charming, then?”

“Yeah…” it was the first time you said it out loud and it felt almost like a confession. “I am. The moving truck should be arriving soon so can I drop by later to pick them up?”

“I’ll get one of the prospects to bring them to you,” the older woman declared after an assessing look. Like she was measuring you up, making sure if you were worthy of her town.

You just offered a quick thanks and headed off, resisting the urge to glance behind your shoulder at the men working on the cars or the side building that housed the club. Even if you could feel the baby hairs in your nape prickling due to an intense gaze at your back. If it was Gemma or someone else, you didn’t find out.

The entire thing slipped from your mind by the time you got home and found the moving truck already waiting for you. The rest of your day was spent moving boxes and furniture to their designated spaces, making sure the movers didn’t break anything with their careless demeanors.

It was late afternoon when they finally brought everything in and took off, leaving you to sort out the mess. Just the sight of scattered boxes all through the wooden floor of the two-store house was enough to make you regret your decision. It would take you days to get everything in order and that on top of making sure your gallery was up and running too.

“Better get to it,” you whispered to yourself, tuning in the radio and letting the melodic beats of Pat Benatar set the tone for your work. And if you sang along and danced around the house through it all, well there wasn’t anyone around to see it, even if no curtains were covering the windows just yet.

The knock on the door made you jump midway through setting the cutlery in place and you lowered the radio before making your way through the maze of boxes, your lips tugging into a surprised smile when you found Chibs standing outside, cigarette in his mouth, sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Hia, lass. Gem asked me to deliver some boxes?” he explained, and you smirked, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest as you examined the biker in front of you.

“Gemma asked you?” you repeated, brow arched. “Sounds more like a prospect job…”

“Might ‘ave volunteered,” Chibs admitted, his smirk matching yours. “Memory’s a little fuzzy on the details.”

With a chuckle, you stepped aside to let him in offering quick instructions of where to put the boxes while you watch him move around. This time, there was no leather jacket below his cut, only a sleeveless shirt, and you could appreciate the flexing of his muscles and the ink adorning his skin as Chibs worked.

“That’s the last one,” he said, setting the box down by the door and meeting your gaze.

“Thank you. I really appreciate the help.”

He waved off your gratitude and silence fell over the two of you, thick and heavy like a blanket of all the things unsaid. In your brightly lid living room, you could properly see Chibs’ face and his dark eyes watching you as if waiting for something, a sign maybe, but you didn’t know what to do. Had you always been so bad at this? Or was just his presence that seemed to strip you from all functional reasoning?

“I, uh…” you looked around, searching for what to say or do. “Wanna drink?”

“Sure.”

Chibs followed you into the kitchen and you were very aware of his presence behind you like a shadow as you stopped by the fridge, pulling out two beers and offering him one. You drank in silence, watching one another and you wished you could explain why this felt so strange. You wished you could make the tension and awkwardness fade away, but you didn’t really know how and Chibs didn’t seem inclined to help.

Then again, he did take the first step, coming all the way here with your boxes to see you and he wasn’t even trying to hide or deny it. It was your move but just his mere presence made you freeze and you didn’t know what to do, how to show him you were glad he came and wanted him to stay a little longer.

All you could do was watch him, the way his lips fit around the tan glass of the bottle as he took a gulp of the drink, his throat working as he swallowed. You wondered if Chibs knew how effortlessly sexy he was. How just having him leaning against the counter watching you with that heavy-lidded gaze was enough to make your knees weak and your breath speed up.

“I should head off,” he finally broke the silence, setting his empty bottle on the counter and you felt your heart sink. “Get out of yer hair…”

“Right…” you followed him to the door, hands in your pockets. “Thanks again.”

“No problem, love.” Chibs paused outside, his eyes lingering on you. “Ye know, the clubhouse has a bar. Ye could stop by some time.”

“Yeah,” you hurried to say with a nervous smile. You almost thought he had given up on you but here he was, throwing you a line. “Sure.”

“Good,” he smiled too. “‘Night, love.”

You watched once again Chibs driving off from your place until he disappeared around the corner before you stepped back inside, leaning against the closed door. It was your move and knew. You just had to figure out a way to actually take that step.

A week passed since Chibs’ invitation and you had yet to find the courage to meet him at the clubhouse. At first, you told yourself it was because of the move. You were busy getting the house in shape and then your gallery but you knew you were lying to yourself.

You were just afraid. Torn between wanting to learn a little more about the mysterious Scot that didn’t seem to leave your mind and knowing that going there, getting mixed with the Sons was getting yourself involved with a crowd your father worked so hard to keep you away from. Those two sides seemed to be at war, and you didn’t know what do to.

You knew, however, that the longer you waited, the more you made it clear to Chibs that you might not be interested, even if you were definitely were. So you needed to make a decision. Soon.

When you finally worked up the nerve to go to the clubhouse, you spent hours deliberating on an outfit. You wanted to look good but not like you were trying too hard because you knew what you were going to find there.

Several of your high school friends had sneaked in at some point to check out the Sons’ official hangout and report back. You knew there would be the club members, of course, and other friends, but most importantly, there would be other women, croweaters.

The expression always made you grimace in distaste, the implications clear in the pejorative tone used and it made you stop and consider if you weren’t exactly like them, chasing away a biker you knew nothing about.

The thought was almost enough to make you give up, turn around and go back to your car but you were already there at the garage, might as well bite the bullet and do this. With a deep breath, you crossed the parking lot, the heel of your boots crunching the cement as you walked toward the clubhouse, hands in the pockets of your jacket, out of sight so no one could see them tremble with your apprehension.

When you walked into the smoky room, you were almost expecting to see all eyes on you, the outsider in their territory, but no one paid you any attention as you surveyed the space, searching for Chibs. He was nowhere in sight and the longer you stood there, awkward and afraid, the urge to flee grew in your chest. You shouldn’t even have come.

Turning around to walk out, you ran straight into the solid chest of the man you came here to find. Chibs held you steady with a hand on your elbow, watching you with curious eyes.

“Leavin’ so soon, lass?” he asked, his voice a smooth drawl and it set your body on edge, in a good way.

“Yeah, I, uh,” you glanced around at people dancing and drinking and making out in front of everyone, verging on indecent exposure. “Didn’t really seem like I belonged.”

“Give it a chance, love,” he said with a smirk and offering you a hand. “Ye might actually enjoy yerself. How ‘bout a drink?”

“Ok,” you accepted after a moment’s hesitation, taking Chibs’ hand and letting him lead you to the bar.

A drink turned into several and before you knew it, you were playing pool against a guy named Tig, barely being able to stay upright but still managing to be the better player of the two of you to Chibs’ great amusement and loud heckling.

“You’re sure he’s not just letting me win?” You asked Chibs as he brought you another shot of whiskey, chuckling as you winced and pulled a face after downing it the shot. You had just won yet another round against Tig and his annoyed, barely conscious face was very amusing.

“‘M surprised he managin’ to hold on to his cue,” he commented as he took your cue and handed it over to the first person around. “How ‘bout some air? Sober ye up a bit?”

Chibs led you into the cold night air of the yard and to the picnic tables outside. Out there, you two were completely alone except for the stars and the random passing car but it was late enough that the town was mostly silent, the only sounds coming from inside the clubhouse, the music leaking out muffled due to the soundproof walls.

There were just the two of you, sitting side by side as Chibs lid a cigarette, and before he could even take a drag, you snatched out of his lips, bringing it to your own, making him smirk. The alcohol had dissolved most of your reservations, leaving only you desire for the man next to you.

“Bigge’ men 'ave lost fingers stealin’ ma smoke, lass,” Chibs commented, turning his body towards you.

“Good thing, I’m just a little lass, then,” you teased, trying to mimic his Scottish drawl as you shifted your position until you were straddling the bench and facing him.

“Wee lassie,” he corrected, watching intently as you took a drag of his cigarette and puffed out the smoke.

You liked this, being alone with Chibs. Having his dark eyes focused on you and only you. Being close enough that you could smell the whiskey, leather, and the heady sweat of his skin. Feel the heat of his body. You reached over to trail the black Reaper etched on his biceps, daring to touch without asking permission first.

As Chibs allowed the touch, you grew bolder and moved closer, letting your fingers travel higher, over his shoulder and on his neck, until your thumb brushed his jaw and cheek, touching the rough stubble beginning to grow there.

His own palm had settled over your clothed thigh, large and hot, making you acutely aware of how close you two were and how it would barely take a move for your lips to find his. You wanted that more than anything. Chibs had to know that, right? He had to see it in your eyes.

“Ye should head home, lass,” he said instead, pulling away from you and you felt the loss of his heat. “'t’s gettin’ late.” Then you felt the burning shame as he refused to look at you.

“Yes,” you croaked, eyes darting around at anything other than him. “You’re right.”

You had put yourself out there for this man and he was shipping you off like unwanted cargo. You didn’t even know why.

“I’ll get one of the prospects to drive ye, just…”

“It’s fine,” you didn’t let Chibs finish, getting to your feet and stepping back. “I brought my Jeep. I can drive myself.”

You walked away before he could say anything else because you could feel the familiar lump in your throat and the burning behind your lids. The last thing you wanted was to cry in front of him. You already made a fool out of yourself enough for one night.

You were almost at the car when you stumbled on your own feet. Fortunately, you never met the ground as a strong arm surrounded your waist, keeping you upright and pressed against his strong chest. You could feel his breath tickling your nape as both of you stood there, neither daring to move.

“If I ‘ere a good man, I’d let ye walk away,” Chibs sighed and you sagged against his warmth, letting him inhale your scent on your neck before you turned around to face him, hands resting against his chest.

“Maybe I don’t want you to be a good man,” you whispered, looking up at him. “Maybe I just want you to kiss me.”

His lips were softer than you expected, just a gentle press against yours the whiskers of his goatee tickling your skin. It was almost as if Chibs weren’t really sure if he should do this. Like he was giving you the chance to pull away and change your mind.

Your fisted his vest, pushing closer to him, pressing harder against his lips in search of more. Letting your own lips part in invitation and soon enough, his tongue was exploring your mouth, tangling with yours, bringing forth the taste of whiskey, nicotine, and something dark and addictive that you could have for the rest of your life.

One hand on your hip, the other on your nape, adjusting the angle of your head so he could better deepen the kiss, Chibs pressed you against the cool metal of your Jeep, his body crowding yours, one of his thighs between your legs as he devoured your mouth.

Everything seemed to fade away then but the taste of his lips and the touch of his hands on your skin, burning a bright fire within you as his calloused hand sneaked under your shirt, exploring your back, his rings catching lightly on your skin, making you shiver as he nipped at your bottom lip and allowed you a second for breath.

“Go home,” Chibs grumbled, his lids even heavier than usual as he peered at you with what you could only describe as bedroom eyes. “Before ye do somethin’ ye might regret at the light of day and without the haze of alcohol.”

You paused, considering his words, licking your lips as if to chase the aftertaste of his kiss.

“And if come tomorrow morning, stone-cold sober, I still want this?”

“Ye know where to find me.” Chibs let his lips brushed over yours one last time, just a small temptation of what he could offer before he took a step back and pulled the car door open for you. “‘Night, lass.”

“Good night, Filip.”

xxx

#sons of anarchy #chibs telford #chibs telford x reader #chibs telford x you #sons of anarchy fanfic

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thran-duils · 3 years

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When the Truth Comes Out (P.2)

Title: When the Truth Comes Out (Part 2) Summary: Reader/Professor Novak. The reader is in graduate school and has fallen into a surreptitious relationship with her married professor. Professor Novak is educated, handsome, and fascinating. But he has an issue of drawing healthy boundaries for him and the reader. And it all comes to a head when their secret is found out and everything has to change. Words: 3,368 Warnings: Smut, ***ANGST***, infidelity, emotional abuse, eventual happiness(?idk if it’s super happy but lmfao)

Author’s Note: Another warning, the reader is far too dependent on him. And Castiel is very emotionally manipulative! If that is triggering, please don’t read on. I promise I’ll update the oh so much more healthy (lol) Bartender!Cas this week.

Part One || Part 3 || Fanfic masterpost || Masterpost (mobile)

You brought the bottle back to your lips. You were taking pulls straight from the bottle, sitting on your bed, covered in your blankets. Leaning your head back on the wall, you sniffled, threatening to sob all over again. You were thankful your roommate was over at her girlfriend’s, so she was not here to ask you questions and you were allowed to cry as loudly and as long as you pleased.

Castiel had texted you at five times since you had stormed out of his office last night. The first three had been pleading for you to speak with him. The last two you could tell he was losing patience.

Don’t do this to me. This is unfair and you know better.

The last one he had sent.

You had almost thrown your phone into the wall when you read that one. He was one to talk about things unfair. You had given him everything in the last two years and it was all in secret. It was exhausting keeping a relationship like yours private and you knew there was the potential of this happening. In all honesty, deep down, you knew he could not leave her, would not, not when everything was flimsy around his parent’s health. Not when he had a great job here, a nice house. This child was something to ground the two of them and give him some piece of happiness they had wanted for so long.

It was infuriating that he tried to talk you out of your anger, as if it was not warranted. You had left because there was the large possibility, he would have been able to; he had a way with words and breaking down your walls. It was safer to leave to avoid that. You needed time with your thoughts.

The bottle touched your lips again and you took another drink. Sniffling, tears fell down your cheeks. You hated that she was pregnant. You hated feeling sorry for her now – and not before – to the point that you were reluctant to pursue any further relationship with Castiel. And it made you angry you felt sorry.

But mostly you hated that you dreaded the fact that you knew eventually you would crumble in your resolve in giving him the cold shoulder. He was just too damn important to you; you basked in his praise and affection. What if you pushed him too far and he stopped reaching out to you at all? The thought terrified you. Yet did you deserve the way he was willing to treat you?

You just wanted to sleep. You had not been able to since you had left his office. It was now 3:00am. You were just sad and drunk, and you only wanted to sleep. You took another long drink before placing the bottle on the side table. You felt lightheaded as you snuggled down into your blankets, clutching your phone.

<> <> <>

Are you just going to keep ignoring me?

Y/N, if you’re planning to wreck me, at least have the respect to tell me.

You scoffed loudly. Of course he was worried about that. You threw your phone onto your bed, turning away to look at yourself in the mirror.

“You shouldn’t be texting me since she knows your password,” you muttered underneath your breath scornfully, pulling at the fabric of the dress. It was tight at your hips, cut just mid-thigh. You were contemplating going to the bar and finding someone. You had not had a one-night stand in years and you wanted to release some pent up anger and how better to do that than having a wild night with a guy?

A day had passed and Castiel was still texting and calling you. You had woken up hung over yesterday – not a surprise and texted him curtly back telling him you were vomiting and just wanted to sleep. You immediately regretted it because that caused him to change course, asking you if you needed anything that he could bring you. It only served to make you more upset because you knew he was sincere in the offer – how many times had he paid for your groceries for instance? – but you could see through the surface too; he had seen an avenue to get his foot back in the door and did not hesitate.

The guy you took home that night was the complete opposite of Castiel, long haired and lean. His hands were calloused, skin traced with tattoos. He gave you what you wanted though, freedom from your thoughts as you drowned in pleasure with him.

When he fell asleep next to you early in the morning, though, the thoughts crept back in. You had gone years without sleeping with anyone else and the realization you had broken the streak made you feel powerful more than anything. You were still desirable, and you had enjoyed the different way he handled you.

You picked up your phone, itching to confess to Castiel, to hurt him like he had hurt you. Maybe him seeing you with someone else would set a fire underneath his ass.

You giggled to yourself when the flash off, making sure it had not woken the guy up. You had only taken one of his back since he was facing away from you. The blanket was at his waist, exposing his back, his hair sprawled over the pillow.

I had a fun night. Did you? you sent attached with a picture.

<> <> <>

Castiel did not respond to your picture.

This was it; you had pushed him too far.

Too many times you had picked up your phone today, opening your texts to send him something. But there was nothing that came to mind that would suffice. There was some remorse, but you did not want to apologize… not really. The ball was in his court in how he wanted to proceed and that scared the shit out of you. You had relinquished the control you had been holding.

It was hard to focus but you needed to, you were behind on your work from the last few days. Everything your classmate was writing about seemed trite which made it all the harder to make notes and give them feedback in your peer review. You had turned on one of your playlists you used to help to make you hone in on your work; it was helping a little bit and a little was better than nothing.

Suddenly, your phone was ringing on your desk loudly over your music next to where you were typing causing you to jump. Leaning forward, you saw it was him. You let it go to voicemail, cursing under your breath. You were afraid of what he was going to say, you wanted him to just text you what you wanted to say so you could have time to think of a good response. But you would have a voicemail more than likely. He had left a few of those too.

The ringing came again, and you shot a look over, half surprised to see it was him again. He had refrained from calling back-to-back until now. But the game had changed had it not with your move last night? You picked the phone up, your finger hovering over the answer button. Before it went to voicemail, you answered, not saying anything.

“Y/N?” His voice was tight. He waited a beat. “Are you there?”

“Yes.”

“Are you home? Your car is here.”

Confused to how he knew that you answered uncertainly, “Yes?”

“Come outside.”

“What?”

“Come outside,” he repeated, with more force this time. “You know what my car looks like.”

You heard a click, indicating he had hung up. You stared down at your phone, dumbfounded at the exchange. Was he really outside waiting in his car? The sound of heavy rain outside found your ears and you swallowed sharply, turning in your chair to look at your closet. That was when your heart began to hammer in anticipation, your lips twitching from a smile. He was there; he had come to you. That he still wanted to despite what had happened… you dressed quickly, throwing on shoes and a raincoat, not bothering to change out of your leggings and sweatshirt.

He was parked down the street in his deep blue Chevy Equinox. You had never been inside the SUV, only seen it from the outside. You had peered through the windows once, taking in the interior. You had felt envy at the high-tech dashboard, wishing you could afford a better car than you had.

When you opened the door, you hopped in quickly to escape the rain. Shivering, you closed the door, avoiding eye contact. He took off without saying anything and you rushed to put your seatbelt on. You slowly pushed your hood back, adjusting in your seat, trying to relax. Where were you going?

It was silent, unbearably quiet as he drove through the city. You wondered if he was afraid of anyone seeing you in his car. Had something happened to remove that fear?

“You’re acting like a child,” Castiel scolded, breaking the silence. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, he was gripping it so tightly. “I should not be surprised though because you still are one.”

“Wh—”

“No, I expect too much of you sometimes,” Castiel cut you off, taking his eyes off the road only for a moment to shoot you a glance. “And I shouldn’t hold that against you.”

“I’m not a child,” you protested hurt, and you hated the way your voice sounded. You sure sounded like one whining the way you were, which was not helping your case.

Castiel shook his head as he turned onto the highway heading out of town. You furrowed your brow and asked where you were going. He by stepped your question and said, “Ignoring me. Storming out of the office like you did without having a mature conversation about it. Sending me pics of someone you no doubt picked up from a bar to fuck. Everything you did and continue to do is childish, Y/N. You might not be a child physically, but you certainly aren’t mature enough to handle what needs to happen if this is to continue. That is even if you want it to.”

“I do,” you blurted, wanting to remove any doubt from his mind. Shame licked at you for how quickly you were tossing your self-respect out the window, but he sounded like he was considering ending it completely with you. That was the complete opposite of what you wanted.

“It doesn’t sure seem like it. And can you blame me with your actions last night? What were you even thinking with that little stunt?”

You said nothing, choosing to avoid eye contact and shrink into yourself.

“And why are you not going to class?” Castiel demanded, shooting you another disproving look.

He knew your schedule; you had given it to him at the beginning of the quarter, so he knew when and when not to contact you. The thought of him waiting outside of your class to try to catch you the last couple of days only to find you not there made you tense.

“You’re paying a lot of money to just sit at home,” he continued chastising you. “I understand that you are hurt but, Jesus, Y/N. Don’t spiral like you tend to.”

That dig shot your wall right back up.

“Spiral?” you asked in disbelief about his choice of word, turning in your seat to look at him. “I’m am hurt! You are right! And I have a right to feel that way. You are asking me to put everything on hold while you get ready for your baby and try to repair things with your wife.”

“Not everything, don’t be overdramatic, Y/N. Just us.”

“Then what is this?” you asked, a mixture of anxiety and anger beginning to swirl in the pit of your stomach. “If we are were supposed to be putting things on hold, why am I here in your car? Driving to who knows where?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you. You really think it would be that easy for me to just stop caring?” Castiel asked you heavily. “I wanted to talk to you. Talk to you more about everything. And the car gives us privacy. Especially out at the river.”

At least he gave you answer now where the two of you were going.

“Isn’t she going to be suspicious?”

“It’s the middle of the day,” Castiel returned, taking the exit towards one of the backroads along the river. “I should be in the office.”

You wondered if he had cancelled office hours to come get you. He must have if he was not supposed to be teaching. You studied his profile, contemplating on how to progress in the conversation.

“What are you thinking about?” Castiel asked you. You shrugged, honestly. “That’s not helpful, Y/N.”

You shrugged again, sighing. “I don’t know. I don’t know what you want me to do here. I can’t just wait around. I knew, I knew, it would be like this if it ever came to light. And I was still surprised to hear you say it… that you were still going to stay. And then you have the audacity to ask me to just stay put. That’s wrong.”

Castiel let out a little chuckle and you glared at him. “’It’s wrong’. It’s wrong to ask you to hold out?”

“Yes! You get to rekindle your relationship and be cared for. And I, what? Just stay by myself? That is wrong, Castiel.” Tears stung your eyes explaining this to him. “If you are serious about trying to build things back up, then you need to let me try to find comfort somewhere too. Not leave me in the cold on a maybe.”

“It’s not a maybe—”

“Yes, it is! You could really fall back in love and this could be the thing that saves you two. And don’t even argue!” He had started to say something in retort, but you cut him off. He looked displeased but you had gained confidence to tell him how you were really feeling, despite how you were openly crying now. “You know that is a possibility. It’s a very real one. And then I would have just wasted my time being by myself when I could have been moving on.”

Castiel was quiet now as he turned onto the side road leading down to a spot by the river side.

“It’s not fair,” you muttered, crossing your arms, and staring out the window. You did not bother wiping the tears away, wanting him to see them.

The car came to a stop, Castiel putting it into park and kept it running to keep the heat on, you surmised.

Castiel turned to look at you, putting his arm across, resting his hand on the back of your seat. You risked looking out the corner of your eye at him as he sighed, “Fine. Fine, yes. It isn’t fair to ask that of you. You are right. You deserve better than that and I want to give you that. That being said, what you did really hurt me last night. It was petty. And I think you know that and you actually look remorseful, so… I’ll just have to get over it. In the future though, I hope you choose something more meaningful in someone. I don’t like it… the idea of you being with someone else, let alone...” He cleared his throat, trailing off. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts before he turned his gaze back to you, shaking his head. “But I can’t let you come to resent me; that would hurt worse. To lose you completely. We just… need to be honest with each other.”

You softened your posture as he spoke, more tears pricking your eyes. All you wanted was for him to take it back and apologize. You thought it was going to be harder than this considering how the conversation had been going.

His hand moved to come grasp you behind the neck, his thumb gently grazing your jawline. His touch was tender, and he was winning you over so easily. Had you ever had any real power at all?

“Can you be honest with me, Y/N? About anything that comes up relationship-wise? I’ve been honest with you.” Breathing shakily, you nodded. “Can you look at me?” You did as he asked, eyes glistening. He looked at you with adoration, a small smile on his face. “Thank you, love. I don’t like when you won’t look at me.” He brushed a tear away and you leaned into his touch. “I’m sorry that it came to this. I naively hoped it never would. I love you so much and don’t like seeing you hurt. I’m sorry.”

Leaning forward, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. He inhaled deeply before placing another slow kiss. You titled your head up in invitation and he accepted, his lips coming to rest on yours. He deepened the kiss, holding your face and you let him.

“How is this ‘fixing it’, Castiel?” you asked him, your foreheads together. “Are you just hoping it goes back to normal? It can’t. And this isn’t changing much, is it? We are still sneaking around.”

Shaking his head, Castiel told you as he pulled away to be able to look you in the eyes, “It’s not going to go back to normal. No more late nights. No more sex in the office. We’ve got to be more discreet, do what we are doing today. So yes, sneaking around still. But, during a time that it won’t draw suspicion. And it’s got to be less frequent.”

“How less frequent?” you fought to keep the whine out of your voice.

“We’ll determine that as we go along. Can we do that?” You nodded in affirmation and he smiled at you warmly. “Plus… I downloaded Snapchat. We can text there. I have the app hidden in an extra file on my phone. And we can still send pics and videos there in between. Does that sound okay with you?” You nodded again and he looked satisfied.

His eyes trailed down, and his hands followed his gaze, slipping up into your jacket to pull it off your shoulder. You reached up to stop him and he froze, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

“Don’t you have to get back?” you said.

“It’s only 2:00pm. Here is perfect.”

You looked around and despite the rain more than likely deterring people from walking, you were hesitant. “It’s… what if someone comes by?”

“So, what? This is the only way it’s going to work.” You did not move and Castiel pushed his hands further in, pulling your jacket down your arms. “Come on,” he coaxed you, tossing your jacket to the ground, and his hand moving back up to caress your cheek. “Crawl back there with me. I put down the seats just for us. Let me revel in you.”

Not knowing when the next time would be that you could be with him, you did as he asked, and he followed you into the back of the SUV. He had you undressed to your underwear swiftly, peppering your bare skin with kisses and soft sucks in visible places and harder where it would be safe for him to leave marks along your breasts.

He trailed soft kisses down your abdomen, keeping eye contact with you as he did so. Your breath hitched when he ran his fingers delicately up the crotch of your underwear. His fingers slipped underneath the band, entering your quickly wetting pussy. Bringing his fingers back up to his lips, he sucked earnestly.

“You taste so good,” he husked, his eyes blown black with lust. He tore your underwear off, tossing them aside. He buried his face, hooking your legs over his shoulders.

As your hands clenched into fists feeling his tongue lap at you, you pushed everything else from your mind, falling into feeling him worship you.

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas @stixnstripesworld

#castiel x reader #professor!castiel #professor castiel #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #castiel fic #my shit

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duallygirl178 · 3 years

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Dearest O'Malley Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Robin, Gonzo and I were trying to think of some challenges to do for a summer fun project. Gonzo thought and suggested; “why don’t we do an Elvis prance or Elvis parade to show off our best impression.” Robin hummed to himself, thought, and said; “nah, “ I had an idea to start so I said; “I know, we’ll have some sort of pickle challenge, but can’t copy the other kinds of challenges that involve pickles. We need something new. Like a pickle bath and flour challenge.” Robin thought hard about it and asked ; “what would we do with the flour part?” that was a good question to think about. I thought a minute and said; “cover ourselves with it to look like ghosts to chase people around.” Robin imagined what fun that would be like. He laughed and said; “good idea, man. I know a brand of flour we could use.” that same day, the three of us; Nathan, Natalie and I went shopping at a big supermarket. I already told Natalie what I needed which was Pillsbury flour. So about 15 minutes later, they came out with groceries, loaded them into the trunk, and we headed home. Gonzo was there, providing the kiddie pool we were going to dunk ourselves in and told me that Robin went to go get pickles from Sam’s club; a big grocery store that was behind WALMART in town. It was already sunset and he still hadn’t returned. Gonzo had to go home but he said he and Robin will do it tomorrow since we didn’t get to do it today. Then they’d start the pickle challenge. I told Gonzo; “that would be a good idea since we aren’t really prepared and set up.” Then Gonzo agreed and headed home.

That night, I watched some TV with Nathan and Natalie. I thought about other challenges that Robin Gonzo and I could do. Something different that others could do. I began to think about it but couldn’t think of anything else to try. The pickle bath and flour challenge was the only one I had in mind. I could have suggested a “Mountain Dew” and corn chips challenge but wasn’t sure if Gonzo and Robin liked Mountain Dew” soda pop. I’ve never seen any of them drink it before. I thought of doing a 24 hour challenge to stay awake but that would be hard and a few people were able to do it. Ironically, I wondered what people would do if I pranked Ol’ Reliable by involving firecrackers. Maybe folks would think I was a bully by picking on little cars. I knew I didn’t want to make all the Chevy cars have a bad reputation. I later on thought I’d better ask Gonzo and Robin if they had any ideas for a few other challenges that people could do to spread all over the world. The next day after the barbeque, Robin, Gonzo came over and the three o us thought up a challenge to do because Robin had a video camera and an account with YOUTUBE. He wanted to post it to see if anyone would participate after we did the pickle bath and flour challenge. So Robin asks Ol’ Reliable to be the cameraman for the day. Ol Reliable cooperated as Robin was directing Ol’ Reliable how to use his camera, Gonzo and I poured about 28 gallon jars of pickles we bought from Sam’s Club into the kiddie pool that Gonzo brought over. The smell was revolting! But at least there was 3 bags of flour setting out and ready on the porch. When Ol’ Reliable got the camera recording, Robin faced the camera and said; “hello fellow YOUTUBERS. Today’s challenge is the pickle bath and flour challenge and what we’re doing is getting 3 people; meaning O’Malley, Gonzo, and me to roll in a kiddie pool of pickles and pickle juice and then covering ourselves with Pillsbury flour after we’re nice and covered with pickle brine. Next, we’re going to the park to chase people around for fun. And you too can try this too, just make sure you’re careful. So I challenge you to try this.” Ol’ Reliable chuckled and said; “This should be fun.” Robin went in first. It was a quick roll and dunk for him, because Robin couldn’t bare the smell of pickles. He got out fast and gasped like a fish out of water. I laughed, teased Robin and said; “We should call you ’Pickle Fins’ because you got pickle brine all over you. I mean what are you? A sissy?” Gonzo bursted out laughing and said; “HA! Pickle fins.” Robin frowned ever so fake-like, splashed himself with flour and said; “Oh yeah, O’Malley. Let’s see how you like this.” Robin picked me up happily, and tossed me into the pool. Juice got all over me. Ol” Reliable, Gonzo, and Robin laughed belly down. It might have been funny to them, but I had a better idea. I took a huge sip of pickle brine , swallowed it down, and as they made sick faces, I said; “Hey Robin, come here. I want to tell you something.” Robin came close and he said; “Yeah?” then, I let out a huge deep belch and blew it in his face. Robin’s face turned green with nausea as he made a sick noise. I laughed and said; “Ah…hallelujah that was swinging.” Gonzo laughed and pointed at Robin as he looked like he was going to faint. I rolled in the juice and covered my whole body with juice. Next I got out and covered myself with one of the bags of flour and said; “Okay Gonzo, you’re turn.” Gonzo right away jumped in and spent an uncomfortable retched 10 minutes in pickle juice. Then he got out and said; “Dappa papa mow, how do you like me now?” as we laughed as Gonzo dumped another bag of flour on himself.

The next thing we had to do was drive in town, Ol’ Reliable followed and captured everyone’s reaction on camera. There were people holding their noses and some were fanning the air. Then Robin started chasing people and dogs as we came to the Brookside park. Gonzo followed after Robin and was making noise that all dogs hated to hear. I watched for a few minutes as Ol’ Reliable filmed. I thought the whole point of having a pickle bath and flour challenge was to roll in juice and get fluffed out by dumping flour all over the challenge taker’s body, but chasing people and animals in the park was stupid. Then Gonzo screamed out “Pickle ghosts!” while Robin did his perfect Taz manian devil Looney toon character noise to whoever they were chasing after. I couldn’t bare waiting. Ol’ Reliable kept filming and said; “Well, go on Grandpa. Join them. I know you want to.” I watched Robin and Gonzo laugh and boy, did it look fun. So I jumped in the chase and joined the two candy-prats in their game. Folks in the park ran and ran. One of them fell to the ground and was crawling to get out of the way. Another wet his good pair of pants and darted towards an SUV our chase lasted up to an hour and when a sheriff arrived, we were done and already gone. Ol’ Reliable stopped filming by the time we got to my house. We got cleaned up as we were laughing from all the fun we enjoyed. Robin bathed first while Gonzo and I waited our turn. We thought of other challenges to do that would be safe. Earlier today, Gonzo suggested we would try the Elvis challenge and I thought that would be a good idea to try. Gonzo put it as the “Elvis prance” which would be a popular thing to do since so many people loved Elvis Presley. When Robin came out, Gonzo had a turn to clean off. Robin posted the video of the pickle bath using Nathan’s laptop for YOUTUBE.com. I talked to him about Gonzo’s idea. Robin thought about it and said; “I think we should try Gonzo’s idea. You only live once to make your print on the world.” the question was, who had an Elvis costume, wig, sunglasses and clothes? When Gonzo came out, Robin asks him; “You you have any Elvis costumes around your house? I’ve decided to do the Elvis challenge.” Gonzo looked at Robin, smiled almost too embarrassed and said; “Yes. I have three costumes stored in a room. Their in a tote box. Impa, O’Malley and I used to dress up as Elvis Presley mobiles for Halloween in the seventies . Why?” Robin shrugged and said; “Next challenge is for all the Elvis enthusiasts.” all those memories with Impa had me remembering of Halloween in the’70s when Gonzo, Impa and I would dress up like Elvis-mobiles and we’d always do the impressions to people walking by. We would go up to people’s doors and do Elvis dance poses and impressions in different positions and make them laugh until the wet themselves. What a bunch of magical Halloween pleasure to be doing that every Halloween year! But enough memories. I was the last one to wash off the pickle brine.

When I got all washed up and cleaned, Robin told me what he and Gonzo were talking about. Robin looked stoked about it and said; “I was discussing with Gonzo about doing the Elvis challenge. I came to a conclusion that we should try it and I think it’s fair that you and Gonzo put on the costumes, do impressions and dance in town since Elvis did wear a lot of white. You know, around the plaza. Gonzo has the costumes.” I wasn’t sure if I liked the sound of that idea. Gonzo went home to get the Elvis costumes about 30 minutes later. When he came back, he had two Elvis costumes and he said; “Okay, O’Malley man. Get changed.” embarrassed, my face blushed. I had given up playing dress up years ago. Robin unplugged his fully charged video camera from the USB port and started recording while I was dressing up. The outfit was a bit tight since I last wore it. Robin turned on the video camera and pointed it towards him. He smiled and said; “today’s challenge is for all lf you Elvis Presley lovers, so, O’Malley and Gonzo are going to do impressions in town for people.” then, the camera turned to me. I had my “Elvis” on. When Gonzo was fixing the wig, I said; “I knew I didn’t like the sound of this idea. Robin, this is unacceptable.” Gonzo sprayed some hairspray on the wig and was fiddling with it trying to get to fit right on me. I cleaned off the sunglass lenses while Robin was holding the camera. He giggled and said; “Come on man, do it for all those Elvis Presley fans out there.” I knew I didn’t want to because I was done with playing dress up, but I had no choice. I had to…for all the Elvis fans. For the king of rock and roll and to make Gonzo and Robin to stop begging. I started to feel self-conscious and when I was about to say something, Gonzo cut me off and said; “Don’t worry, I’ll dress up too so you don’t feel self-conscious.” Robin laughed as he pointed the camera in on me for my facial expression while Gonzo was finishing up putting the wig on me. Then he pointed it at Gonzo. He was getting on the wig himself. The wigs were large and were meant for people who were dressing their cars up for show. I shook my hood in disappointment and humiliated and said; “You better be happy that I agreed to this and that I love you two kooks.” Gonzo laughed and said; “Now we go town .”So, out the door we went with the Elvis hip swinging maneuver . Gonzo and I put on our large sunglasses while Robin met us in the yard and watched us come out. I swear to graham crackers, we looked like the Blues Brothers! It was terrible. Robin laughed with joy and said; “Hey, it’s the Elvis crew, Yo! You two look great” I didn’t know about Gonzo, but I was humiliated to daylights in this costume. We drove to down town and even did Elvis Presley imitations on the side of the road, while Robin kept filming. People honked, stopped to take pictures of us and filmed us doing seven Elvis moves and quotes. Robin got all the footage on camera and when we went further in town, people gave us money for no apparent reason. Maybe they were Elvis fans or enjoyed watching us make fools out of ourselves. They were sticking twenty dollar bills in our windshields and doors, as we were doing different poses that Elvis did much more earlier in his years. An hour later, we swung by Dairy Queen, got some lunch of burgers and fries with Blizzard ice cream treats. People commented us and took pictures of us. I was starting to have fun today. I usually don’t get attention much from people in car shows, but I get eyes gazing at me when I’m not in a car show. After lunch, we headed to my house while Robin uploaded his video on YOUTUBE.com. Gonzo and I had a beer while Robin’s video got a ton of likes, reviews, and good comments. He suddenly gasped and said; “No way!! Four hundred smacker-roos! We’re practically famous!!” I almost spewed out my beer and said; “Say what? C’mon now!” Gonzo and I looked at the video. Unexpectedly, there were over four hundred dollars donated, before you could say ‘hallelujah, Saint Jordan’. We discovered they all came from the Elvis

lovers of America. Robin had added several Elvis songs in the video including; King of the whole wide world, Blue Suede Shoes and Don’t be cruel. On a comment below the video, it read out; “Thank goodness for Elvis Presley.” there was also a link to the website belonging to the enthusiasts of Elvis Presley. Then on another page, there was a paragraph about the really real Elvis. Authorities found a body identifying a man that was the actual Elvis Presley in California. We were shocked because all those years of Elvis facts, we didn’t expect to see this. We had been celebrating early of Elvis’ birthday which was until August 9th. National Elvis day was celebrated in August 9 through the 17th in Memphis. But this was summer and altogether we said; “Oh crud” like professional duets. We saw another link at the end of the Elvis website that linked us to some more videos of Elvis impressionists that we checked out. There were many videos of people dressing up like Elvis and doing what Elvis did best.

So there we had it. National Elvis day was a party in Memphis, Tennessee . He really was an inspiration for the world.

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swiftlymoniquesblog · 4 years

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A Classic Day- Dean Winchester x Reader

Prompt: A day in which the reader and Dean are supposed to spend the day taking in the beauty of classic cars.

A/N: This is based on my trip to a classic car museum that a friend and I went to yesterday. I thought it would be cool to imagine it with Dean since his car is one of the ultimate beauties!

Warnings: Occasional swearing, lots of tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 2018

Masterlist

Ever since you were little, you loved classic cars. The older the car, the larger the appeal to you. Something about the older cars, like those from the 1920s, the Model T’s, on down to the 1970s, stood out to you. You believed cars today don’t get the attention and the TLC they got back in the day. The process of building a car as a team of people, one person, and part at a time, is short in place of mass production cars. With how much time you spend with the Winchester Brothers, taking care of them, the Bunker, and helping with hunts as much as they would allow you, you had no time to go out and visit any classic car showrooms. You usually just settled with television shows, magazines, and the internet to fill your interest. That is, until one day, a commercial flashed on your TV advertising a car show coming to the town you and the brothers happened to be in on your monster-hunting journey. Sparking your interest, you dashed out of your room and into the main room where Sam and Dean were busy looking into another case and to the one person you know would not say no.

“Dean! Listen to this! There’s going to be a classic car show in town starting tomorrow and I think we should go!” You say to the eldest Winchester, who only just glanced at you momentarily from his research, before looking back to his book. He didn’t say anything at first, so you continued talking, trying to convince Dean to go with you.

“There’s supposed to be so many kinds of cars, from all periods, and a lot of them were hand-painted and restored right here in town! Come on, Dean, please!” You whine, sounding like a child, to wish Dean rolled his eyes but smirked and chuckled at you anyway.

“Why are you laughing?” You question, putting your hand on your hip in a sassy way, giving off all the attitude you felt inside.

“Darlin’ I already had plans to take you to the classic car show in town. As soon as I heard about this, I took a case that came up in town, and hoped I would’ve been able to have the day off to take you.” Dean admitted.

“You asshole! You had me all worked up, thinking I had to work hard to convince you to go!” You sassed, jokingly whacking Dean in the arm.

“Ow!” He whined, rubbing the spot you just hit but still smirked at you anyway.

“Now get dressed kid, those PJs won’t hold up at the car show.” Dean took in the outfit you were currently wearing, winking at you as his eyes came back to yours. Your cheeks reddened and you quickly turned away, hoping he wouldn’t catch your reaction. Not that you had a choice in the matter of how you reacted to Dean, after all, you had strong feelings for the eldest brother. Something you always kept to yourself and planned to do so at all times.

You got dressed quickly and decided to keep your outfit cute but comfortable. The weather was warm in Santa Fe that day so you opted for shorts and a tank top, with tennis shoes to ensure your feet would remain comfortable all day. Keeping your make-up light and your hair up in a ponytail, you added a clear gloss to your lips and called it a day.

“Y/N? You ready?!” Dean called from down the hall to you but you surprised him by standing right next to him and answering him.

“Yeah!” You said, to which he jumped at your response.

“Jesus kid, don’t scare me like that!” You just smirked at his response, finding it funny that he had such a strong reaction to you scaring him.

On opposite sides of the Impala, you and Dean got in and headed off to the arena where the event was being held. The drive was quiet besides the mild sound of classic rock playing from the stereo. However, something about Dean seemed off to you but you just ignored it and turned all your attention out the window. You hadn’t even realized the car had rolled to a stop until Dean nudged you.

“You seem deep in thought. Anything you wanna share?” He asked, looking over to you.

You shook your head, avoiding any conversation that may be uncomfortable, so Dean just let it go.

Following him as quickly as possible, you noticed he went another way from all the other guests.

“Where are we going?” You ask, falling in step with him.

“They asked for Baby to be in the show. I’m the only person in miles of this place that owns a Chevy Impala and especially one from ’67.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? That’s amazing, Dean!” You praised him.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to let you down. I can’t go see the cars with you until the show is over.”

The look of hurt and betrayal reared its ugly head over your face and all you could do is run. Run as far away from the hurt Dean just placed inside your heart, despite all the times he called after you. There was no way you could’ve enjoyed the show now, so you grabbed your phone from your pocket and dialed Sam’s number.

“Y/N? Hey, what’s going on? I thought you were with Dean?”

You sniffled and mustered up a “Dean lied to me.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“Dean entered Baby in the car show and didn’t tell me.” You cried much harder than you had originally started this phone call and Sam knew what he had to do.

“Stay there and be out front in fifteen minutes; I’m on my way.” He instructed and you followed his word.

Exactly fifteen minutes went by and Sam was there to pick you up and take you back to the Bunker, squeezing your shoulder affectionately when you cried again.

Dean’s POV

“Sam?! Y/N? Where are you guys?” I yell for my brother and my best friend when the car show ended. Baby took home first prize for overall quality in the 1960s category. Every decade had at least twenty different kinds of cars so it was exciting my girl was the best car made during the 1960s. However, I was not able to celebrate with anyone because I noticed Y/N was no longer with me. Immediately, I began to worry, wondering where she could’ve run off to and when no one had seen her, I texted Sam.

Me: Dude, please tell me y/n is with you! I haven’t seen her in a few hours and I can’t find her, I swear on Dad’s grave if something happened to her…

Baby bro: Relax, Dean. She’s here with me.

Me: Oh, thank Castiel! Why is she with you?

Baby bro: Because you had to lie to her and not tell her you weren’t going to be able to enjoy the car show when you knew how much going with you to this, meant to her.

Shit, I messed this up bad.

“Y/N?” I knock on her bedroom door but there was no answer.

“Y/N, kiddo, please. I want to talk to you” I practically beg on the opposing side of her door, my head leaning against the door frame.

“What do you want, Dean?” She opened the door to me, but only part of the way. I could tell she had been crying by the puffiness of her eyes, and at that moment, I knew I loved her.

“Y/N listen, I am so sorry I didn’t tell you but I knew if I told you the real reason behind me going to this show, you wouldn’t go.”

She didn’t look impressed so I continued my explanation.

“I heard about this show a long time ago and managed to find a case here in town. I went ahead and made sure we had a day off when the show started. But then you wanted to go and you got so excited, so I had to lie. I couldn’t let you down like that. I wanted you to enjoy the show for a little while.”

“Just leave me alone, Dean.” And with that, she shut the door in my face, leaving me with my thoughts.

“Damn it!” I punch the wall beside her door and rush off to the common room.

“What’s gotten you so mad?” Sam asks as I storm into the room.

“Am I the biggest idiot on the face of the earth?” I ask rhetorically.

“Probably but what did you do?” Sam pokes fun at my dismay, earning him a bitch face.

“I just made y/n hate me. Sam, you should’ve seen her face; she’s so hurt.”

“I know. I’ve been with her for the last few hours.”

“I’m sorry you had to be there for her. I’m supposed to be there for her, to care for her. She…She’s my whole world, Sammy. And she just locked herself out of it.”

“You love her, don’t you?” Sam asked.

I thought about it for a while, contemplating my answer and making sure I was one hundred percent sure. “I do. I love her more than I love pie, or beer, or bacon, or Baby even! She lights up the room when she walks into it. She’s always the optimist when I’ve been the pessimist. Always smiling and laughing, not a hateful thought in that pretty little head of hers. She understands the life Sam, she gets it. She helps as much as she can with research and tidying up around here, especially after us. I don’t know what I’d do without her Sammy and I don’t ever wanna find out.”

“Took you long enough, Winchester.” A feminine voice spoke up from behind me; I’d know it anywhere.

I turn around and see her leaning against the map table, arms folded and one leg crossed over the other. She stood like this a lot, usually meaning we were going to hear some sass coming from her, and of course, that’s what we got.

Without really thinking much of it, I walk to her, taking long strides, to get to her as quickly as possible, to when I reach her, I grab her face in both my hands and pull her to my lips. She immediately responds to the kiss, her hands on my wrists as her lips dance perfectly with mine. We battle for dominance, going in circles, her pulling my lip, I pulling hers until I successfully pushed past her lips and was able to feel her mouth against my tongue.

The sound of Sam clearing his throat is what finally pulled us apart. She held onto me still, clinging to me like a child, and I just encircled my arms around her.

“Next time y’all do that, make sure I’m not here to see it. Oh, and it’s nice to finally have a sister.” He winked before stalking off into the other room.

“I’m sorry that took so long. You know how stubborn I can be.” I admit, looking down at the smaller woman in my arms.

“Mhm, yes, I do know this. Boy, do I ever know that. Yet you forget, I am too and that, is why I think we made a wonderful couple.” She smiles up at me; I return the favor.

“I love you, kid,” I say, kissing her once more.

“I love you, too. Now, take me back to that car show tomorrow; you owe me.” She sasses me once more and my only answer is to bend down and wrap my arms around her legs, lean her over my shoulder, and lift her off the ground. She squeals in delight, kicking and screaming for me to put her down and when I do, it’s on my bed, where I hover over her and kiss her some more.

“If you promise to be my girl, I promise to take you back to the show.”

“Deal.”

Tags (Requests are open) @fandom-princess-forevermore @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @simpleboox @marvelfansworld @tloveswriting @juju-la-tortue @67-chevy-baby @akshi8278

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean fluff #Jensen Ackles #supernatural

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 5 years

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Baby (IV)

“I could’ve done good,” Baby grumbled, his chin in his palm as he sat on the white wicker chair next to Dean, in the outdoor cafe while Sam and Cas talked to the second witness. “I just needed another chance.”

“When the Priest asked you your religion, you made a joke about Vicecity.” Dean reminded, smirking a little because he could, and he was so past that stage. “You needed more than a chance.”

“I’m sorry, but they didn’t mention it in my finishing school for muscle cars.” Baby threw back.

“As if I did a thesis on witness-interrogation for my Hunting 305 class at community college.” Dean replied, but there was no sharpness in his tone. Mere humor. Baby made a sound that sounded increasingly like a whine, and Dean was satisfied.

“You really have no idea what you’re missing out on,” Baby suddenly said, all serious.

“What?”

“I mean Cas, Dean. Cas.” He repeated, turning his eyes back to the trench-coated angel, looking much shorter than he was supposed to, next to Sam, standing stiff and wide.

Dean could feel the impending lecture in the air. About Cas. About how he and Dean should solve their differences and like, get together or some shit. He’d gotten enough of those, combined with disapproving looks from Sam, on the nights they let loose and hung out together drinking. But before he could reply to that which wasn’t said yet, he was cut off.

Baby was talking about something else. “His wings, Dean. His magnificent wings.”

“What? You - you can see them?”

“No, but if you try hard enough, you can feel them.” He justified. “At least, I could feel them.”

Dean was quiet, because he knew the other wanted to keep speaking.

“When its just him in the back, like most of the time? He lets them sprawl over the seat. And I can feel it. Its a tingling feeling, but it’s there.” He paused. “He never sits on them, you know.”

“Well, one would think that he wouldn’t sit on his wings, right?” Dean pinched his eyebrows together.

“I mean,” He chastised. “It’d be so much easier, if he just folded them up or something. But, no. He never hurts them, he’d never ruin it.”

Dean blinked. “That’s…something.”

“That’s impressive.” Baby corrected. “And, of course you know, he’s so fast.” He let out a whistle.

The tone was different.

The almost reverent tone was replaced by admiration. Maybe attracted, even. “When he flies, Dean, he’s something else. I can’t see him, he isn’t in our dimension when he does it, but can’t you feel it too? Like, damn. That’s fast.”

Of course, Baby would like speed. That part was kinda obvious.

But Dean had thought about it many times before, too. He knew Cas was an angel, even though he not have even half of his powers anymore, and none of that personality. He knew his best friend had wings, he knew that he once flew. With the birds in the sky, maybe the aeroplanes even higher, through the clouds and through the skies, Cas had flown. Faster than all of them.

It was an exciting thought.

Now, though. Dean hurt as much as anyone else did when he thought of Cas’s lost wings. The loss of his ability to fly. He couldn’t imagine what that’d be like. It’d be even worse than losing Baby.

“And when he lost them,” Baby went on, almost in sync with Dean’s head. “I saw how he troubled he was. He had trouble sitting in all that place so empty, by himself. I was there all those moments that you were, Dean,” He paused, serious again. “Maybe you were looking away but I wasn’t, and I saw his heart break each time something reminded him of flight.”

No, I was looking too. Dean wanted to say. But he nodded and made a sad noise in his throat. I just didn’t know what to say.

“I may just be a car,” Baby went on and Dean was surprised at the insecure, humble edge to his ever-confident tone. “I may not be a match for wings of any kind. But I swear, its not about being his wings. If only I could be his wheels.”

Dean listened, dumbstruck.

“That’s too literal a metaphor.” He almost choked on his own voice.

That’s my line. His eyes added.

“Well, where were you when he needed to hear that?” Baby challenged, showing protest with a mutinous lip. He jutted out his chin. “You had a chance of saying it to him.”

A dark cloud went over their conversation. Dean replied, prompt and frowning. “I blew it, okay? I added to his hurt, was a shitty friend overall. I blew my chance.” Dean looked away, away from Baby, and away from Cas, metres away. “And I couldn’t have said it as prettily as you just did either, so there.”

There was a moment of silence.

Followed by a rustle of fabric, and a hand on his shoulder. A hand, just a hand. But there. And giving him hope. Reminding him of home. Like the Chevy Impala ‘67 had always done.

“You,” Dean let out. “You’re really my car, aren’t you?”

“I’m your Baby, yes.”

“Well, Baby,” Dean said, in the same breath for the first time, sounding like he meant it. “Couldn’t you just have, like, given me those lines then? Through the speakers or something?” He smiled, bringing the focus back to lighter matters. “Been my wingman once more, like you’ve been since I started picking up one night stands at 18?”

“What can I say?” Baby smiled, and his fingers around Dean’s shoulder squeezed. “I’m just a car, Dean.”

“Just a car,” Dean repeated, mockingly. “Are you kidding me, Mister-really-sucky-puns?”

“Well, right now, I’m not just a car. Probably this time tomorrow, I’ll be one again.” He grinned, standing up. “I’m gonna go join 'em. You coming?”

“Are you,” Dean groaned, standing up. “Are you gonna use that line on him?”

“Well now that you’ve verified that it’s a good line, I’ve gotta, don’t I?” He smirked, back in his stride. “They say, there’s no such thing as a missed opportunity for a pick-up line.”

“You’re such a -” Dean rolled his eyes. “And I’m not even gonna ask who they is, because its probably 16 year old me.”

“Nah, you were 23.” He laughed. “At sixteen, you were not a hundredth as much of a 'player’ as you think. I should know.”

“Just go.”

Just go hit on my guy, and be done with it. Dean wished he could say it out loud, even in a joking tone, to the man - car - one who probably knew him the best, after his brother. But of course he couldn’t. That needed like many more years of character development before he could call Cas that out loud.

“And shut your face.” He added, because well, he’s Dean, son of John Winchester, isn’t he? “Don’t bother Cas too much.”

Rolling his eyes, Baby strolled off, smoothly leaving Dean frowning behind, with parting words of the most annoying kind. “You wouldn’t kick my ass or anything even if I did. Sure, he’s Cas. But I’m still your Baby, and you’re kind of a sap so you love me too.”

Dean swore under his breath, and to not give him the pleasure of having won the round, determinedly didn’t respond.

Dean walked towards the decided restaurant, a small-ish place, which probably didn't serve too much alcohol. Beer, though, would definitely be available.

Well, it would have to work, wouldn't it? Because he sure as hell needed some booze in his system to get through this evening.

This date.

With Cas. And Baby.

He didn't even know why he was doing this. He could've said no - well, theoretically, at least. He could've spent the night at a bar, instead of this diner. With strangers he'd forget the next day - instead of people who actually meant something to him. Maybe even back at the motel, where Sam was, forcing Sam to watch crappy TV with him, instead of look for more cases.

But here he was.

He pushed open the door, the fluorescent 'Open' sign swinging as he did, and looked around for familiar faces.

His eyes found Cas, sitting by himself on a table for four, doing absolutely nothing except looking at the squeezy ketchup bottles, arranged neatly on the table.

Dean sighed, as he made his way over to him. He'd noticed Cas had his trench coat off, but the rest of him was the same. He looked good, of course, but not as though he dressed up for a date.

Of course, Dean hadn't done anything either. It'd been a randomly spontaneous decision to shave at six in the evening, or replace his old red flannel, with a slightly less worn green one. Of course.

A flicker of a thought went through him, as a scene went through his head. He'd once gotten Cas - Steve, actually - dressed up for a date. (More like dressed down, but okay.)

Well, Cas clearly hadn't remembered any of it. Sure, the obnoxious blue vest was absent, but the blazer and tie was pretty much his uniform. Not a Gas 'N Sip uniform - kinda like his custom hunting attire.

In any case, the buttons were all done, all the way to the second, and the collar was fairly formal with the tie blocking any sliver of skin, which may otherwise have been visible.

No big deal. Dean too had folded up his sleeves, for just the heat.

"Hey," Dean sat down across Cas, and the latter looked up at him. "Reading the ingredients of ketchup, are ya?"

"No," Cas smiled, wider than the joke was funny and deserved. Dean was pleased, and he instantly mirrored it. "I know what tomato ketchup is made of."

"Vegetables," Dean clicked his tongue, and winked, referring an older joke, of a simpler time. Cas nodded, remembering surely, and there was quiet for a moment.

"Where's," Dean cleared his throat, and forced the warm comfort of this setup - with Cas - away, with his next words. "Where's Baby?"

Cas shrugged. "He's not been with me for a while now."

Dean blinked. "But -"

"He had something to attend to." Cas recalled.

"He's my car," Dean narrowed his eyes, suspiciously. "What business would he have, something that he couldn't ask me - or you, or Sam - for?"

Cas was surprisingly relaxed. He didn't even have his squint on. "I don't know, Dean, but nevermind. At least you're here."

Dean succeeded in not blushing, but it was a heroic effort.

Sure, he and Cas had some unresolved tension, going for pretty long now; but blatant lines and declarations was not their type of gesture. He was not used to Cas softly looking at him, and telling him that he was glad Dean showed up to their date. This was not up his alley.

"Heh," He stammered. "You hungry? I sorta am. I'm gonna go order, alright? Will get you whatever I have, minus the pie and extra cheese."

Cas began to say something, seemingly to tell Dean that there was a waitress around who'd take their order, but Dean was on his feet and on his way to the main counter.

He leaned on it with his elbow, and did not look back at Cas, lest he should lose it and freak out again. He waited his turn, while the lady spoke to another customer.

It was in another moment, and when his eyes fell on a clock that showed twelve past seven, that a strange thought struck him.

Why wasn't Baby here yet? Fashionably late doesn't really fit into this scenario, of having a diner-made dinner with 2 guys you just hunted vampires with, supposedly a date.

Could it be that - and Dean melted against his resolve and stole a glance at Cas, who wasn't looking at him anymore - Could it be that Baby set them up?

Was he gonna ditch them for the entire evening? Was this - was this a whole plot to get Cas and him on a date?

Okay, Dean was probably overcalculating the facts he had, and overinterpreting. But, the idea suddenly seemed fitting. Why else would Baby not be there? Why else, would he invite Dean to a date, for him and Cas? Why else would he insist on his coming too? Why would -

Wait - what if he was right?

What then?

Dean bit his lip, and the lady behind the counter, in a waitress's uniform and a customer-service smile, finally turned to him. Dean stammered over his order, his head swarming with a million possibilities.

Even their table now seemed like it was a table for two - probably two considerably large men. But two.

She told him that he could go sit, they'd get the order to the table.

He nodded weakly, paid with a tip, and turned back to get to his table.

He was all prepared to propose his theory to Cas - live up to his name, and make the already awkward situation more so - and gauge his reaction. Hell, he was kinda prepared for a full evening, just with Cas. Who knew? Sometimes Dean's courage surprised him, and most of that was around Cas, for obvious reasons.

But as soon as his eyes trailed up to their table, he was stumped.

Baby was there.

He stared, his jaw slack and eyebrows raised, more disappointed than he'd ever admit aloud. In the matter of minutes, it was as if he’d gotten his hopes raised. Baby was right there, sitting next to Cas, squeezed into the same seat as him, their shoulders touching, talking in his usual animated manner.

"Welcome back," Baby greeted Dean with a toothy smile, as Dean took his spot. "Sorry I'm sorta late."

"Yeah," Dean wondered if he'd have trouble hiding his disgruntled frown, but he forged a small smile and was good. Cas certainly looked more satisfied and settled now, with Baby's arm slung around him - well, around the seat, but that was like the oldest trick in every guy's playbook. "Where were you?" He asked, instead.

Baby shrugged, to avoid answering the question. Dean furrowed his brows and was about to repeat and prod, when Cas spoke up. "I think we were both beginning to wonder if you wouldn't come."

A smug smile spread across his face. "Oh, no. I wouldn't miss this, for the World." He gestured with his eyes, at the other two. "And not show up? What do you mean, like, you thought I invited you two on a date and ditched y'all?" His eyes fixed on Dean's. "Set you up, or something?"

"No," Dean began to protest, the lie ready on his lips.

"Don't worry," Baby leaned back, probably even leaned more towards Cas. As if there needed to be any less distance between them. "I wouldn't do that kinda stuff. Like, I'm personally into this thing you two have going, but I'm not gonna meddle and make the move for you. You do you."

Dean rolled his eyes, while Cas looked more surprised.

"If you wanted to be worried about getting set up, though," He added. "Keep a lookout for Sam. His shipping is getting out of control, I heard Charlie say once. He could do this sorta thing, where he invites the both of you to a movie and then makes an excuse for himself."

Dean glared at him, while Cas pursed his lips. "That happens. Often. Dean and I watch the movie, because Sam has great taste."

Dean wished the floor would open up and swallow him. "Uh-huh," He managed, flustered.

"And what, you dumbasses thought it was not a date, because?"

"Because it wasn't." Cas clarified, perfectly serious. "We didn’t ever call it that. We didn’t do date-things. It even ended with us going to our own rooms, and not with a kiss." Cas spoke, in an adequately soft voice, as if somehow Dean wouldn't hear it then.

Dean face-palmed, wondered what he'd done to deserve this, and the blood rushing to his cheeks made his blush prominent. "Goddammit, Cas." He had half a mind to get up and depart, but it’s not like the other half of his head would ever give in to such a sane and healthy decision.

"Oh, hell yeah," Baby laughed, throwing his head back. Both Dean and Cas’s eyes flitted to his bared neck and collarbones, with as much haste as they returned to each other, almost shy of being caught in the act. "I’m even more excited about this date now!"

And so, the evening went on. Stories were exchanged, and it was a light-hearted meal. Cas and Baby sat as if glued at the hip, and Dean ate more aggressively any moment he thought of it. There were bad jokes all around. Some more food. They didn’t budge away from each other. Dean got over it slowly. Okay, that was pretty much a lie. At one point during the date, Dean couldn't take it anymore, and spoke up before he could shove those words down his gut like he’d been doing all evening.

"You realize this is a kid-friendly place, right?” He looked up at them. “I mean, you can stop sitting like there's no space left in the entire diner." He crossed his arms across his chest.

It was true. They together fit in the seat, which Dean could fill all by himself, if he tried or spread his legs.

Cas, almost curiously, looked at Baby - their faces unbelievably close - and the bastard shifted obligingly - probably an inch though. "You're right." He agreed, earnestly. He shuffled another inch. But only that much.

"Hey, I don't mind," Baby cajoled, and looked mischievously at Dean. "But, if Cas does, I could always sit next to Dean instead."

"Don't even," Dean growled back.

"Well!" He threw his hands up, in mock exasperation. "There's no other spot for me to sit? You want us move to a larger table for dessert, Dean?"

"Just pull a chair." Dean rolled his eyes. “Sit on the third side.”

"Good idea." Cas agreed, and the way he looked at Dean, so completely sincere and genuine, that Dean had to blink a bunch of times and look away, defeated. What was it about these two that made him go wild?

"Like, sit in the middle?" Baby whined, eyeing the spot. "But, I'm not really the middle in this relationship, am I?" He added, wickedly.

There was a moment of silence.

Dean swallowed, his eyes strained on his plate.

Baby went on, his tone an edge of flirtation, with slick humor. "Why doesn't Dean shift to the middle, huh, Cas?" Cas shrugged, and Dean thanked any luck he had, that Cas hadn’t said ‘good luck’ like the last time - because he’d go nuts.

"Your thoughts, Dean?" Baby winked straight at him, and for a moment, Dean's eyes flickered between Cas's and his faces, wearing opposite expressions but somehow synonymous, and you know what? This was probably how a stroke felt. He could swear his chest hurt.

"You can fucking sit on top of each other, you jackasses." He hissed, through his teeth, dedicating all of his attention to the food in front of him, as he drank his beer obstinately, from the bottle.

"We might," Baby led with a wink, again. "But is that a yes, on being in the middle?"

Jesus Christ.

Dean Winchester regretted all of his life decisions that led him here. Everything. Every fucking little detail, that had brought him here, on a motherfucking date, sitting across the two most gorgeous men he'd ever laid eyes on. One, too damn straight-faced, the other the goddamn opposite. It was a deadly front, and Dean was terrified for himself.

Yeah. He regretted every damn thing he'd ever said, which had brought him here, and conveniently landed him the butt off all the bottom puns possible in this scenario.

“I’m gonna throw my fucking plate at your face, you son of a -” His voice rose with every syllable, until Baby was laughing again - smug-faced and satisfied, like the look he always got when Dean reacted out to something he pulled. Dean, a pissed scowl on his lips, continued to glare at Baby, who doubled up laughing each time their eyes met. Cas looked at Dean, and only Dean. A dedicated tilt of his head.

There was a slight tug at the corner of his lips. Dean knew he’d lose it if Cas ever outright smirked at him - but this was enough to fluster him. “But why?”

Huh, so the sonuvabitch understood.

Dean passionately glared back, and it was enough to make Cas crinkle his eyes into an iconic smile, all dimples, gums and crowfeet. So, at the end of the day, it wasn't Dean's fault he was rendered speechless, and incapable of retorting. It was Cas's.

Tagging @hellodean-sam @moderatelypanickedbisexual @love-nakamura @casbiotic @blazeeblake @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @lykanyouko @victorian-sexstache @crack--attack @johnlockshire @kitsuneharo12 @emilydakitten @midnightmarauder3 @eyesofatragedy67 @malevolent-dean @skeletonsinzeeclost @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @demonsofhunting @american-phycho @insomniac-with-a-juice-pouch @gigisfavourites @sammyimpala-67 @ain-t-bovvered @fictionfucker @adventurous-blob @styggtroll @petrichoravellichor (helped me choose) @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect

Has this gotten too weird? Tell me to stop, and I will. If not, mwuahahaha, here I come, more date scenes! Also how do I make Baby go back somebody got any ideas

Thank you for reading! ALSO I HAVE TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING @lovenakamura MADE! BASED ON BABY #1

THANK YOU, I AM SO FLATTERED YOU MADE THIS ♥️

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irishsunshine-n-l-l-h · 5 years

Text

Alrighty guys, I wrote this for my grad school writing sample. Be honest. Tell me what you think!

Jane Doe #2

As soon as I saw Ali Bello standing outside Harry’s Auto Parts Store as I was walking in to start the early shift, I knew her car had eaten yet another starter.

I unlocked the employee entrance on the side of the building, leaving her out there in the summer morning cold. It was more for the farmers in the area that we opened at seven a.m.—though with how many times her starter’s gone to shit on her way to work, maybe we opened early specifically for Ali Bello.

I went into the back and grabbed the starter off the shelf and set it on the counter before I unlocked the front door for her.

She was standing there with her arms wrapped around herself, pulling her loose sweater closed. She whipped around when I opened the door, making the bell chime and her dark hair wrap around her face.

She looked worried like I’d leave her out there and she’d never make it to work on time, but luckily, she only worked at the animal hospital in town.

“I need a starter,” she said and pushed past me.

I let the door fall closed and followed her up to the counter where she was already waiting and getting her wallet out of her oversized purse.

I walked behind the counter and took my damn time, not to piss her off, but because I wasn’t awake enough to embody her panic.

“Jack? Did you hear me?” she said. “I called Lucky, but he doesn’t open the repair shop until eight, but I know he’s there by seven-thirty, and I have to be at work by eight and I don’t—” She cut herself off when she saw the starter sitting there in front of her on the counter.

She looked at me and I gave her my best effort of a smile for that early in the morning.

“I’ll even install it for you, if you’d like.”

She smiled and her face lit up in a way that made me actually want to smile back.

Now, small town, plus the fact that Ali Bello and I knew each other, quite well, to say the least, from high school, I knew that she only lived about five minutes from the auto shop. It wasn’t like she had hiked twelve miles to get there.

I locked the store back up and I drove her back to her house where her car was parked in the driveway. I could hear her dog, Tony, barking at us from inside the house.

She sat in a folding chair next to the car while I worked, and she’d hand me whatever tools I asked for. She didn’t want to go sit inside like I told her she could. I think she felt bad for taking me away from work.

The whole thing only took about a half an hour, but at least it was quiet.

I hadn’t really talked to Ali since high school. She was one of the lucky ones that got to go to college, but now, with student debt, she couldn’t afford to buy a new car. She lived with her grandma, who’d gone deaf over the years and I swear she wouldn’t have let Ali keep her Jack Russell terrier, Tony, if she’d been able to hear him bark as constantly as he did.

Ali promised to pay me back in some way. She used to bake a lot when we where younger, and not like how most high schoolers bake, but she’d always have cookies or brownies to share at lunch. I’m surprised none of us weighed a hundred tons by the time we graduated.

When I came back from my lunch break just after one o’clock, Marcus Guerrero sat on the tailgate of Doug Potter’s dented and beat up ’82 Chevy pickup. And when I say beat up and dented, I mean it looked like someone took a baseball bat to it.

“Hey, Cowboy,” I said. I looked over the truck.

“Hey, Lawman.” He slid off the tailgate, his work boots hit the ground with a thud.

When I looked at Marcus, I noticed a few red scratches on his face.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Protestors!” he threw his arms up. “I picked up the feed this morning and when I got to the farm they were everywhere. Apparently, the locals found out that good ol’ Farmer Doug supplied the wine for that town history tour the museum is putting on. The tour, which includes Doug’s farm because of the dead girl they found in the field.” Marcus rubs his face. “They took a damn shovel to the truck while I was still in it.”

I looked at the truck again then at Marcus. “Well, on the bright side, the truck runs well enough to get you here.”

“It’s not funny, Jack. The people in this town are psychotic. I was lucky the sheriff showed up before they got a chance to set the feed in the back of the truck on fire.”

Marcus had a tendency to overreact and overdramatize his stories, but I could tell just by looking at his face, looking at the truck, and knowing the general mindset of this town, he wasn’t making any of it up.

“C’mon, Cowboy, I’ll get the first aid kit.”

I let him in through the side entrance. Harry wouldn’t care if Marcus was behind the counter. Before he got his job at the farm with Doug Potter, Marcus frequented the auto parts store just to hang out with me after we graduated high school.

Marcus was smart enough to go to college, but he didn’t get a chance to save up much money when he bounced around a couple different foster homes.

Marcus’s parents left him at a church in Missouri when he was six. They were heavily religious and thought Marcus had the devil in him. He’d been placed with a few different families, but no one wanted the teenager with a record after he beat a man with a bat at age of thirteen. Marcus never talks about what happened, and it happened during the two years when he moved in with a foster family in the city. He’d been gone only a few months and I got a call from him once he was in juvey.

My first thought was that our old babysitter, Mrs. Hargrove, was right. She was a little weird and always insisted that she was psychic. She said that Marcus had the heart of a cowboy. He was polite, rough around the edges. He liked being alone—he liked the quiet. She also said that I had the truth in my blood and that if Marcus ever got in trouble, I’d be the one take him in like we were two sides of the same coin or some shit. I always wanted to be a cop when I was little so the thought excited me and terrified me at the same time. When Marcus’s hearing came up, I managed to get a ride to the train station and took a bus just so maybe I could speak on his behalf. The man he beat didn’t die, but they considered the bat a deadly weapon and Marcus was lucky that he only got eighteen months under the circumstances, which I never found out what those circumstances were, and Marcus never talked about it. When he got out early, a year later, they placed him back with his old foster family and back at school with me.

“All this over a twenty-three-year-old cold case,” Marcus muttered while I cleaned up the cuts on his face.

They never identified the dead girl in Doug Potter’s field. She’d been out there too long by the time someone found her, and her face was eaten off by bugs and other wildlife. Artists had done renderings of what they thought she might’ve looked like, but this was back in 1994 in our tiny little town, so she remained a Jane Doe and the town buried her in the cemetery across the road from the Harry’s Auto Parts. The only things they did know about her was that she was about twenty-three and had recently given birth. No child was ever found, and they looked at the local hospitals for any abandoned children.

Marcus took off his backwards baseball cap—the one from when he was on the team in high school—and pellets of glass fell onto the cement floor. I pulled a few more pieces of glass out of his curly hair and from the collar of his shirt.

“Did Sheriff Bell take anyone in?”

Marcus bent over and fluffed up his hair to make sure there wasn’t any more glass in it before he but his hat back on. “Just the ones that destroyed the truck. And to be honest, we’re lucky that’s all they went after. It’s hard to come by parts for some of the older equipment.”

“I’ll put in a call to Tina at the junkyard, see if they have any trucks we can take parts off of for the pickup.”

Marcus shook his head.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Marcus shrugged it off. He had a tendency to do that.

Everyone that came in the rest of the day asked about the beat up, broken windowed, truck out in the parking lot, asking if it had anything to do with what happened over at Doug’s farm. News and gossip in this town always spread like wildfire.

Marcus didn’t go back to work. He sat beside me behind the counter reading car magazines until my shift was over at three. He told Doug he was getting the truck fixed and left it at that. I got the notion that he wasn’t ready to go back to the farm just yet.

Things quieted down the following week after the town tour was cancelled in light of the protestors. People complained that the tour was a good idea because it would get that artist rendering of Jane Doe out in the world and maybe someone would recognize her, and others wanted the whole thing dropped to allow her to be at peace.

I felt like shit the last couple days. Maybe it was the heat or maybe I caught something. The weather was seventy percent rain and a hundred percent sweltering heat. There were people who would just come into the store because it was cooler inside with the fans running.

Harry asked me if I wanted to go home, he said I looked like shit, but whatever it was it wasn’t something I had before. I was drained. I’m sure I was running a fever but didn’t exactly have a thermometer or money lying around to go to the doctor. The headache was the worst part of it.

I never got an order wrong, or given someone the wrong part, or given bad advice when it came to fixing cars, but I did all three of those things on Thursday.

I stayed home on Friday. Sleep was my best bet. I woke up around five in the afternoon and was thirsty as all hell. I drank two bottles of water and after I pissed it all out, I felt better. I called Harry and told him I’d be able to come in for my Saturday shift.

It was already boiling hot outside by nine a.m. and it wasn’t letting up. By the time I got to work by noon, it was damn near unbearable to be outside. Doug Potter’s pickup truck was parked outside the store again, but this time with the mismatching colored doors and hood, along with new windows and windshield that Marcus and I found at the junkyard a few towns over last weekend.

Also, sitting there was Ali Bello’s car and my first thought was that the starter went again, but when I got inside, Marcus and Ali were chatting by the watercooler in front of the counter. Ali had a plate of cookies in her hand, which made me smile. Some things never change.

Ali smiled when I came up behind the counter and Marcus just titled his head.

“Hey, Lawman.”

“Cowboy.”

Ali gave us an odd look but pushed past Marcus to deliver the plate of cookies to me. “Payment in full,” she said. “I remembered you liked the banana ones.”

Marcus tried to hide his smile and laugh, and had I been within distance, I would’ve smacked him.

He knows about me and her. He knows everything, which is funny considering how we both tried to forget about it altogether. We acted like nothing happened; that everything we went through didn’t happen.

I would’ve done it for free. I’d do anything for her for free. I promised myself that I’d never take anything from her ever again, but I also know she doesn’t like taking charity. She’s stubborn like that.

Marcus was just there to hang out and Ali stuck around for a while. It reminded me of when we were in high school. The three of us just being around each other like that.

The day was perfect. I wasn’t screwing up any orders and I didn’t fight with Kyle Franklin when he insisted his car needed 10W 30 oil when I knew it takes 5W 30. It wasn’t until Tim Ridgefield walked into Harry’s Auto Parts Store and declared, “There’s a body in the cemetery!” that the day crashed.

Harry, who was standing just beside me behind the counter, didn’t think much of the statement, replying with, “There’s a lot of bodies in the cemetery, Tim, that’s kind of their function”. He didn’t even look up from the papers he was looking at.

“No, I’m serious, Harry, the cops found a body in the cemetery across the street. Like a dead, murdered one,” Tim insisted.

I looked at Harry. “I did hear sirens earlier.” That was all I said. That’s all I could think to say. I didn’t think much of it because people were always speeding on the straightaway in front of the store. I knew what Harry was thinking though. He was thinking that it’s happening again. That girl they found in Doug’s field and now another body.

Harry stood outside the front door for a while watching the cops across the road. They were moving about just on the other side of the hill in the cemetery.

I couldn’t bring myself to look. I just stayed behind the counter. Even after Marcus and Ali left, people came in asking about what was going on across the street, but I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t tell these people that there was another body in our little town. It’s been twenty-three years since the last one and all I could do was pray that they identified this one.

The store was empty aside from me and Matt behind the counter. Matt was about to make a delivery when Sheriff Bell and one of his deputies came in. I figured that they just wanted to ask if we saw anything or if we knew about what was going on, but the way Sheriff Bell looked at me, made my stomach turn.

“Jack,” he said quietly. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I was wondering if you know who this is?” He turned the phone so I could see the photo on the screen.

It was definitely a dead girl. She had long brown hair and her face looked…wrong. Christ, how long had she been dead for before they found her? How many days went by and none of us noticed her.

“I don’t recognize her,” I said quietly, and it was the truth. I didn’t recognize anything about her. Not her hair, her clothes, what was left of her face. I peered across the counter at Bell. “Am I supposed to know her?” It seemed like a dumb question, but I thought maybe he wanted me to implicate myself or something, before he told me that she was an old classmate or a customer.

“We found her body in the cemetery this afternoon. She was lying on your father’s grave, I just thought maybe it meant something.” Sheriff Bell put the phone back in his pocket. “You boys didn’t see or hear anything odd around here the last few days, have you?” He looked from me to Matt, who just shook his head.

“I was sick this week, so I wasn’t really paying attention. I wasn’t even in yesterday.” My mind was already going over my alibi for the last week or so, but I spent most nights home alone and the only one to confirm that would be Coach Teller. He would’ve seen my truck in the driveway and Christ, I lived in his used-to-be but now-renovated shed and I—.

I didn’t kill her, so what the hell was I so worried about?

#my writing #feedback is appreciated #not fan fic

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casseythebee · 5 years

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“You look so sexy when you’re ignoring me.” Destiel one shot

Prompt: “You look so sexy when you’re ignoring me.” Summary: After Castiel catches Dean flirting with a, quite frankly gorgeous, girl at a bar he tries to give him the silent treatment, for the first time. Pairing: Dean x Castiel (Destiel) Words: 1.2k-ish Warning: language, mostly fluff, and my shitty writing like usual A/N: I kind of added myself into the story, but with a bit of a name change, whoops. This is a prompt for “Elliana’s 400 Followers Fanciful Fluff Challenge” @thehoneybeecastielfollows hope I win *crosses fingers*

(this is not my gif)

Dean whistles walking up to a gorgeous brunette. “Somebody call the cops because it’s got to be illegal to look that good!” he proclaims.

She lets out an adorable giggle. “Dude this must suck for you!”

Dean leans onto the bar lifting an eyebrow. “What?”

“Because if I were looking for someone tonight, that totally would have worked!”

Dean drops his head so it hangs low in defeat and lets out an overdramatic, yet pretty funny, sigh. “Well, I guess tonight isn’t my lucky night, huh?” He looks up his eyes lighten up. “Can I at least buy you a drink?”

“Oh, I don’t drink.” She holds up her glass of water. “Designated driver and all.” She shrugs happiness twinkling in her large, blue eyes.

“What’s wrong Cas?” Sam asks. He had just gotten back from the bathroom, Dean was gone, and Castiel was staring daggers at the bar.

All Sam got as an answer from Cas is a grunt. So Sam tries to investigate by following his line of vision. He is staring at Dean and girl. She is totally Dean’s type, she had long brown hair, large blue eyes, a pair ripped black jeans, and- if he could see right from here- a form-flattering Black Sabbath shirt. “Just go up there, plant a big kiss on his cheek, and put an arm around his shoulders. Stake a claim. Make sure she knows that ‘This is my man and you need to step the fuck off.’”

Cas goes over there with the intentions to be subtle about ‘staking a claim’ but when he sees her touching his arm, Dean subtly moving in closer, them laughing it up over some private joke, it doesn't really work out the way he wants it to. He lets those blasted human emotions get the best of him.

“Dean? What are you doing? I thought you were going to get the drinks and come right back,” Castiel demanded, a little more aggressive then he intended it to be.

Dean looks up not noticing the pure rage in his Angel’s eyes. “Just talking to Athena over here. She is really nice. I think-”

He was cut off by Castiel throws Dean’s drink in his face.

“I hope you two are fucking happy together!” Cas exploded before stomping off toward Sam sitting at a table gawking at the whole ordeal.

“Come on he can get a cab home,” Cas fumed grabbing Baby’s keys and stomping out the door - Sam following close behind not sparing a glance for his brother - and leaving Dean sitting drenched in beer with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“I uh don’t really know what in the hell that was about,” Dean sputters trying to dry himself off.

“Hey it’s okay, I overstepped my bounds. It’s clear he likes you, you should go after him,” Athena adds insightfully.

“I… I guess so. He did take away my only way home though.” Dean chuckles under his breath imagining Sam driving them home with a grumpy little Cas sulking next to him. “I’m just going to call a cab.”

“Son of a bitch!” Cas exploded slamming the passenger seat door. “Just go straight home, no stops!”

Sam got into the 1967 Chevy Impala and started it without a word to the fuming angel sitting next to him. As soon as the car started Castiel turned the music up as loud as he dared without breaking the speakers. Once again, though Sam hated having loud music playing, he knew how angry Castiel was.

After a few minutes of no talking just blaring music and Cas staring out the window, Castiel finally turned down the music and said, “Look I know I’m overreacting, but I’m just pissed. Your brother is a jackass who makes me melt every time I look at him. And… I just don’t want to have to share him with anyone else. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, when it came to… to Jess, I could get a little paranoid that she was trying to leave me for other people.” There was a pause as Sam remembered Jess and all the heartbreak that came with it. “I guess growing up in the situation I did, Dean was the only person who would love me no matter what, so when Jess showed me love from a person who wasn’t part of my family it was new. I wasn’t used to it, Dean and I were always together so I had no one else to compare our relationship too. So if we weren’t together thing just felt… odd, I guess.”

Cas took a few moments to contemplate this before answering, “Yeah, I guess I have no other romantic relationship to compare this to as well. Not many relationships to period. ”

They spent the rest of the car ride listening to the music in a much quieter manner, each lost in thought about the roller coaster that is their pasts.

Cas’s stomps echoed off of the bunker's walls as he stormed to his room.

Sighing, Sam realized that he hadn’t eaten anything at the bar and he was quite hungry. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet in the kitchen he pours himself some water and takes a leftover slice of pizza from the fridge, not bothering to heat it up. As he climbs up on the counter he sees Dean rush by holding something brightly colored.

“Cas! Come on, my Angel Love. Let me in,” Dean begs rapid-fire banging his fists on their bedroom door.

Without an answer, Dean defeatedly trudges to the kitchen. “You’ve been in a semi-healthy relationship, right? Tell me what to do, please, Sammy I need you.”

It’s not every day that you see the Dean Winchester begging for help. It’s also not very common that you see Dean with a sad look on his face holding the most colorful bouquet of flowers in one hand and a Kit Kat, Reese’s, and a Snickers in the other.

“I don’t know man. I’ve never been in a situation like this. Just try him one more time, and if he still won’t budge just go to bed and hope for the best in the morning,” Sam offered. “Sorry man.” Sam halfheartedly pats Dean’s shoulder on the way out.

The sound of Dean rummaging through the kitchen drawer is the only thing to be heard in the giant lonely bunker. Dean scribbles out a note to put next to the flowers and candy so Cas would see it in the morning. Dean decides to sleep on the couch tonight, despite the fact that there are so many other bedrooms he could have fallen asleep in.

“Pancakes, Sam?” Cas asks a groggy Sam with messy bedhead.

“Sure,” Sam runs a hand through his hair, instantly smoothing it out, “what about Dean?”

“I guess I forgot to make him some, oh well. There’s always next time,” Castiel deadpans with an unamused shrug.

“Ooo! Cas are those your pancakes I smell?” Dean asks with a twinkle.

“No,” Cas snarled bumping Dean’s shoulder on his way out of the kitchen.

“By the way,” Dean calls out, “You look so sexy when you’re ignoring me.”

With a sigh, Dean looks over to see that the chocolates are moved and the flowers are in a more interactive vase than what Dean chose last night.

Dean walks into the library of the bunker to see Cas curled up in one of Dean’s flannels reading a book Charlie had recommended, it was Fault In Our Stars.

Without another word Dean turns on one of the old twenties records turns it down low sits down in the chair opposite of the couch Castiel is sitting at and picks up where he left off in the third Divergent book, also courtesy of Charlie.

Every few minutes Dean looks up from his book - checking to see if Castiel is still okay with him being there - only see the angel engrossed in his own book.

Eventually, on the next check, Castiel is crying softly.

Padding over Dean asks, “May I sit?”

With only a sniffle in response, Dean takes it as a yes and plops down, wrapping his arms around his angel. Castiel is now sobbing into the crook of the hunter’s neck.

“Cancer! Really? Of all things! Look at all he accomplished! Oh, Augustus!” Castiel wails.

“Shhh, it will be okay.” Dean is stroking the angel’s tousled hair. “It will end soon, my Angel Love.”

“I love you, Mr. Cutiepie.”

Edited by @justluciferr

#elliana’s 400 followers fanciful fluff challenge #Destiel #dean x castiel #dean winchester #castiel #Sam Winchester #charlie bradbury #supernatural #You look so sexy when you’re ignoring me.#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #superntaural

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gutsngrace · 6 years

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For @ain-t-bovvered ‘s #talesofthewinchesters. I had sooo much fun doing this. It’s not from any particular season, though I was drawing heavily on early supernatural vibes.

Summary: There’s a place, at the crossroads of Nowhere and Everywhere, that the Winchesters are known as a legend.

There’s a truck stop just off of I-80, a transitory town that is nothing but a gas station, a motel, a diner, and a pair of bathrooms. It’s a kind of purgatory, a meaningless landmark denoting the distance across Nebraska. Fields stretch in every direction for miles, a kind of sea that gives rise to madness. It’s a place you are either sentenced to or flee to when there is nothing left. The nameless little blip is only known as a mild grimace among truckers.

In this little nameless place, there’s an equally nameless diner that knows it will amount to nothing but a hot meal. At the Formica tables and red leather bar stools, truckers trade stories to swear they’re alive as time itself seems to slow and take a seat beside them. Usually it’s little things they talk about, like family, tourist attractions, traffic horror stories. But sometimes, when the hour gets late and even conversations pass by on the highway without bothering to be had, the horror stories are real.

Truckers, unlike most, know that it’s not such a small world. Know that there are too many miles between stops, too many miles of forests and fields and shadows for mankind to know their self proclaimed fish bowl. It’s what hunted things say to sleep at night. No, they’ve seen too much, seen things run alongside them and disappear. They’ve seen too little too, which is almost worse. There’s no reason for the world to be that still, not unless it’s holding its breath.

It’s one of these nights, clinging to the diner’s bar like a life raft in the sea of fields, that a trucker tells the story. There’s a glass of water in his white-knuckled grip that says he’s not drunk, and a haunted look that says he’s not crazy. It’s for these reasons he’s got an audience, tonight.

Bad Moon Rising plays quietly on the jukebox, the tune unnervingly upbeat for what is being told.

The man tells of a truck stop he had the misfortune of touching down in a few years back. Week after week, a truck or two wouldn’t finish it’s trip, left abandoned in the parking lot. The drivers were never contacted about the issue, because they never showed up again. He only learned as much sitting at a diner like the one he sits at now, the wide eyed waitress murmuring under her breath.

Fear had settled cold in his bones when he pushed out of the diner door to retrieve his duffel from his truck. All his senses were on high alert as he walked between the dark, eerie rows of nearly identical semis. It’s the only reason he heard anything at all. Duffel in hand, he heard footsteps behind him, trailing him almost silently. When he turned, it was only one of the usual prostitutes that hung around the stops like a sweet smell, leaning against one of the trucks. He watched as she pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a deep drag away from interested eyes. He couldn’t help but think those eight inch stilettos should have made more noise.

When he turned the corner, another trucker passed him and into the waiting dark. A few seconds later, barely audible, is an inhuman growl, a grunt, then the dragging of limp feet across the asphalt. In that dark parking lot, the world is surreal. It made it easy to turn away and walk fast to his motel room, bolting it shut with a chair propped under the handle for good measure. Not that it would stop whatever made that noise, but perhaps it would let it turn to easier prey.

He slept uneasily, the back of his mind a continuous, wordless alarm going off, screaming of danger.

Sometime around midnight, he was awoken by the loud grumble of an engine and the sweep of lights through his window. Stumbling to pull the sheer curtains back, he saw something, well, out of place in the little crossroad of Nowhere and Everywhere.

The night went still as the lights of the car turned off. Nothing moved, not even its occupants. The car was a beast of a machine, an old American muscle car that filled the parking space and then some. The black finish caught the dim, distant light as it crouched in the dark like a massive predator, the growl of its engine silenced as it lurked. The night knew it for what it was; there were no crickets, no wind, no movement. Only the large shape, sitting in the lot like the malevolent shadow in a vague nightmare, the kind of dream that seemed like a bad omen in the morning.

The doors opened, releasing two large men, broad shouldered and tall. It was then he realized that the car wasn’t the predator. It was these men that carried danger in their gait as they walked to the back of the car. There was no swagger, only the steely confidence of two men on a mission that God could not keep them from, all strength in the moonlight like a blade leaving its sheath.

He watched as the men each pulled a gun and a blade from the trunk, breath caught in his throat. A day ago, he would have wondered why they had them. But hiding in his room from whatever stalked the rows of trucks, he knew. These men were something more dangerous than whatever was out there, and he should be thanking his lucky stars they were here for it and not him.

They prowled into the dark, guns raised, and he lost sight of them.

Sometime later, he heard a single gunshot.

Morning came, his sleep oddly restful. Convinced it was a nightmare, he picked up breakfast at the diner.

A stack of pancakes and a plate of toast with raspberry jam, he’ll never forget. Glancing around the room lazily as he reached for the syrup, he saw him. The trucker that walked past him last night and into that thing’s hunting grounds. As if feeling his eyes on him, the man turned to meet his gaze. His eyes were flat, like a body floating on shallow water. As if he had seen something he should have never seen and would never forget. There was something damning in his eyes as well; he recognized him, too. Recognized the man who let him walk to his death.

But he wasn’t dead. No, just his eyes. Though the two, almost toothlike punctures on his neck said it was a close call.

He must be overthinking it. The man must have had strange birthmarks or had an odd accident, and just felt the trucker staring at him. That’s what he told himself when he climbed up into his truck. But when he pulled the truck out of its spot and towards the endless road, away from this hallucinatory nightmare of a town, he saw it. The car.

In the daylight, it’s cheery. The black and chrome gleam in the morning sun, clearly loved and polished by it’s owner. Now he can see the Chevy insignia, a 1967 Impala. An odd thing, he thought again, for a truck stop.

A week later, out of morbid curiosity, he checked the online obituary for the little podunk town. No more disappearnces, not since that big black Impala roared into the parking lot.

When the trucker finishes his tale, the diner is quiet. The story is a little too close to home, a little too believable. Everyone has seen something, usually an unnameable, fleeting shadow. Sometimes worse. It leaves the thin air unsteady. The story is a comfort and a nightmare; there are two men looking out for them, hunting what goes bump in the night, yes. But there is, for certain, rattling the chains. And so, they are rattled. There’s another world out there, layered on top of the one they know, where men can kill monsters, where the two men are the apex predators of the things that kill people like them.

A month passed by that little piece of nowhere at seventy miles per hour on the freeway. A month before someone goes missing from the little Nebraska truck stop. A month and a half and six more disappearances before, as sure as rain, there’s an approaching growl on the expressway. It announces itself from miles away. By the time the monstrous black Impala pulls into the parking lot, the waitress is waiting for them, waiting to see just what these two men are.

The doors open and slam shut, followed by the sound of bells over the diner door.

“-said they have the best burgers. And dammit, if Death tells me they’ve got good burgers, well, I’m inclined to believe it,” the first says, easy confidence in his bowlegged gait. He’s six foot, at least, and as massive as the trucker said. But he doesn’t seem dangerous, now now, but he’s oddly at ease in the middle of nowhere, steady on their transitory ground.

An impossibly taller one rolls his eyes in the way that only brothers do, following a step behind in deference to the man that has to be his older brother. “He’s also immune to cholesterol, Dean. Unlike you, he’s not in imminent danger of heart disease.”

The first, Dean, slumps onto the bar stool. “Sam, if I die from a burger-induced heart attack, I win,” he says before turning his gaze to the waitress. “I hope the coffee is as hot as you are, because damn, am I thirsty.”

The taller one, Sam, rolls his eyes again and groans this time, but says nothing.

For a long second, the waitress stares. These men are the two beings worse than monsters? The shadow in the corner of a monster’s bedroom?

After a long moment, her cheeks warm as she realizes she’s been staring. “Sorry,” she mumbles, pouring two cups of coffee and sliding them across the laminate.

“Not exactly a problem,” Dean says, only to be elbowed in the ribs by Sam.

“Isn’t it a bit early for that, Dean?” he chastised before turning to the waitress. “Thanks for the coffee.”

On a whim, the waitress offers to take the night shift. Just to see. That, and she’s fairly convinced she won’t be able to sleep tonight. Not when she knew why they were here.

The crowd tapers off to catch some shut eye before another long day of driving. Fight the Good Fight plays on the jukebox, too loud in the empty space. The diner is a vacuum and a speaker, swallowing conversations and amplifying the scrapes of forks and the shifting of feet. Waiting. Everything here is always waiting. The waitress waits, waits for what, she doesn’t know. She’ll know when it happens.

At two twenty-six a.m., it happens. The sound of a gunshot, then another. The bloodcurdling scream of something dying in a way that befits a monster.

Two minutes later, out the window, two hulking, six foot figures prowl out of the dark. They are not quite human now, not the people who walked into the diner. They are something otherwordly, now. And while the waitress recognizes the shape of the, knows it’s Sam and Dean, she doesn’t recognize the shape being dragged behind them in barely held together parts. Whatever it is is tossed in the trunk with the long outlines of shotguns, and the trunk is slammed shut.

Anyone else would call the police. she doesn’t technically know what they’ve killed. But if that trucker was right- and she can feel he was- she doesn’t want to know.

The two men- brothers, she thinks- slap each other well done on the back. It’s a startlingly normal gesture, and just like that, the aura of danger is broken. The engine starts up in a roar, and they’re gone, as quickly as they came.

The disappearances stop.

And so it’s carried across the country, travelling through a web it’s unlikely to leave, left forgotten in the late hours in cracked leather booths at equally forgettable diners. Sam. Dean. An old Impala. A bad omen and a saving grace in one, the rising tide that sweeps the beach smooth, leaving broken shells and bodies in its wake.

Five hundred miles away, the hunters introduce themselves as FBI agents Plant and Bonham to Linda Steininger, the wife of a trucker who is away from home, telling the story of a black Impala under distant fluorescent diner lights.

Her husband has a penchant for telling stories. With a life as monotonous as his, he takes the time to make up a story by the time he returns home. But the Impala parked out front is evidence to his story, this time. But that isn’t the deciding factor. It’s the look in their eyes, something comforting and chilling. It’s intent and ominous, their eyes alone giving away the ticking of the clock in the back of their heads until the next victim. It’s the cold calculation, trying to figure out just what it is they’re hunting. And in the end, it’s the ease. No one asks about dismembered bodies in the house next door like it’s routine. Because they know it’s not some down to earth psychotic. It’s something worse and beyond earth, and that’s what they kill best.

“Thank you for your service,” she says as they turn for the Impala. “I hope you kill the monster that did this.” And if she’s just a little too serious, a little too knowing, well. She’s heard of Sam and Dean, the men that monsters fear. And she’s glad they’re out there.

#spn #spn fanfic #talesofthewinchesters #my writing #goodbye friends i am gone #ain-t-bovvered

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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Sausalito AR Training, December 1998

A couple of weeks ago there was a thread about “Epic Training Adventures” on Tri-DRS. A couple of us too Epic training to heart and scheduled an incredible adventure that took place yesterday. This was the most training fun that I have had in a long time.

For those people interested in Adventure Racing, our training was based on a mini-adventure race – kayak, mountain bike and run.

7:30am – Paul Allman shows up at my house, and we pack up my truck with two mountain bikes, two large duffel bags full of gear and a pile of food. It is about 30deg F and raining. We wonder about the sanity of training in such conditions, but as fledgling adventure racers – “we live for adversity.”

7:45am – we are on the road. Looking up at the coastal mountains we are shocked. Snow. Yes, at about 2400’ there is a very clear snow line. Neither of us have seen snow on Skyline Road before. We laugh like mentally deranged children.

8:30am – meet fellow dead Craig Benson at his house in San Francisco. I have a small truck (Chevy S-10) with a standard cab. We put our gear bags inside trash bags to hopefully keep our stuff dry. Then we pack three bikes, three sets of gear and three men into my truck for the drive over to Sausalito – it is a tight fit in the cab of my truck.

EVENT NUMBER ONE – SEA KAKAKING

9:00am – arrive in Sausalito where it is brutally cold and there is at least a 20 mile per hour wind biting through us. The kayak guy wonders about our sanity an mentions that hail is forecasted. This is true adversity.

9:30am – there are five of us in three kayaks – two doubles and one single. I am paired with Rich, who looks like an adventure racer; tall, lean and unshaven. We put in and work on our paddle strokes. The key to paddling a double kayak is teamwork. After a couple of minutes we leave the harbor and enter choppy seas and a tough headwind. We reach an open section that feels like a wind tunnel. Rich and I bear down and paddle across. My wetsuit and spray jacket is keeping me plenty warm now that we are paddling hard and creating body heat. I have never been in such choppy conditions before. Craig is in the single kayak and almost gets blown over a couple of times. We cruise close to shore and ogle the mansions built with more glass than walls – can you say “real estate with a view.” In the sheltered areas Rich and I occasionally push the pace. When we are in synch we can really make that double kayak move. Unfortunately my hands are getting very tired from paddling when we head back to the harbor.

To get back we have to cross Richardson Bay, and we are paddling perpendicular to the current and wind. We get beam on in a couple of swells and the kayak rolls and dips but stays upright. We hit the beach in a few minutes and are greeted with snow flurries. Yes, it was snowing at sea level in San Francisco. Since we are no longer paddling, our bodies cool quickly in the wind, rain and snow, and we are soon bitterly cold. We return our kayaks and the kayak shop immediately closes due to “Adverse Weather Conditions.” I feel like I am taking part in an event that only a few people would even consider attempting.

kayak time – a little over 2 hours

12:00 pm - we change clothes from kayak gear to mountain bike gear. I wonder what to wear on the bike to prepare me for the weather conditions. I am a Californian who is not used to this type of cold. We eat a little, and fill up our water bottles. My Pringles go quickly.

12:30 pm - the start of the mountain bike. I am test riding a dual-suspension Trek that a buddy has for sale. It is my first time ever having suspension on a bike. We will ride a route that Craig uses often for training. The route goes up through the Marin headlands, down almost to the Pacific Ocean and back to Sausalito. Of course, it can never be as simple as "up, down and back home." The ride is more like up, up some more, look at the incredible view of San Francisco, down, up, keep going up, go up some more, go down, go down really fast, take a break, go up, shift down to your lowest gear, try to keep your front wheel from leaving the ground because it is so steep, look at the incredible view of the Pacific, keep going up, go up some more, take a break. Now we get to do a really technical downhill. We zip up and throw on another layer, then we point our bikes down, there are several jumps on the path I launch off of the first jump and scare myself silly, so I decide to keep both tires on the road. I start to get very hungry for solid food. I develop a craving for chicken fajitas. Ummmm, chicken fajitas on a sizzling cast iron skillet, wouldn't that be nice. Back on the mountain bike the trail twists and turns and is almost too much fun. Finally it is time for one long climb, one long downhill, one short climb on a road, and a downhill to our cars. The long climb and downhill go well, but I hit the wall on the short climb. Paul gives me some gorp and a Fig Newton which I inhale. After a short break to let the food work into my system we start paddling again, and about fifteen minutes later we are at our cars.

Verdict on the Trek - suspension is very nice, but this bike needs too many component upgrades in order to make it race worthy.

Ride time - 3 hours of actual riding and 3 1/2 hours of elapsed time.

4:00 pm - we refuel and consider our options for the run. Our fifth member, Jeff, has to leave, so the rest of us decide on a 1 hour run. It is incredibly cold in Sausalito with the wind blowing very hard. I change into my running shoes, but leave my tights, bike jersey, full gloves and arm warmers on. I also chose to wear what I would normally call my winter coat. I have never before done a run wearing an insulated jacket, but on this occasion I was very happy to have my coat.

We start running at a moderate to slow pace - probably about a 9:30 or 10:00min per mile pace. We fall into a paceline and trudge along. My fingers start to hurt as the blood starts to circulate in my finger tips once again. At the 30 minutes mark we turn around and start walking back. We start to run again and settle into a steady pace. My legs are very sore and I would rather walk, but it is only a few miles back to the car. We pick up the pace slightly in order to get the run over with. At best we were running 9:45 min/mile, but I am really pushing to even hold that slow of a pace. A few hundred yards away from the cars we stop running and walk it in.

It's over. In 7 and 1/2 hours we have accomplished a kayak, mountain bike, and run training day. I am very tired and very satisfied. Craig starts talking about hitting a bar to listen to his favorite ska band. I can only think of sleep, and Craig still has the energy to go grab a beer - I am not sure where he stores his reserve power.

We pack up and head home. I drop off Craig and Paul, and drop my gear off at my house. I have only one thought - food, specifically chicken fajitas which I have been craving for several hours now. I am sure that I was the worst dressed man in the restaurant, but those fajitas were delicious........

It was an amazing day. I look forward to training with this group in the near future.

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crownless-kings-and-broken-wings · 6 years

Text

Car Heaven 5: Buggin’ Out

Tag: @ratwrites

Hair-raisingly, the closest hotel was only two blocks away from the Biomech building. The room me and Bug were in was a lot bigger than the garage on the ferry. It was also circular, meaning Bug could drive around a little if he wanted. I stayed in the backseat overnight to sleep.

Bug headed out early that morning, before I even woke up. When I did finally stir, he filled me in on his plan.

“Our best shot is through Mercury Square. That’s where the snobby, expensive Fords who think they’re better than everyone else live. They’re pretty protective of their territory though, so we might have to sneak in.” He explained. “They don’t want ‘lesser cars’ mingling with them, ya know? I think they get that from their humans.”

I nodded. “They let the price tag go to their heads.”

“I think the way is through Mustang Fields, then Newford. The only real problem is that I’m not sure of anything past Mercury Square.”

I nodded. “That’s okay. We’ll find some road signs or something.”

“If it comes down to that, yeah. Before any of that, though, we’ve gotta find a way into Mercury Square. Do you need to stretch your legs?”

“Yes please.” I said.

Bug pulled over and I walked around him for a little bit. The road was raised here, so I was able to stand in the ditch without being seen. I tried to find more cool rocks, but there weren’t many rocks in the ditch.  “When you get back in, sit up front and play dead if anyone sees you. They’ll think you’re an anxiety doll for cars who get nervous about driving without a human in control.” Bug explained.

We continued on to Mercury Square, which was rather easy to see due to a large, shimmering wall surrounding the entire community. As we got closer, I realized that it was covered in logos off of all sorts of brands- Toyota, Chevy, and even other Fords. It reminded me of the day after the accident, when my dad told me he’d been down at the crash site trying to find the Ford logo from the front end of Blue Boy. He hadn’t found it, of course- I told him it was probably stuck in the engine.

“Where’d they get so many logos?” I asked.

Bug’s engine stuttered, not that it affected his driving. “These guys have certain ‘guard dogs’ for when average cars try to come through. See, when a car crashes down here, they vanish. Back to the Land of Rebuilding. Then they have to cross the ferry again and go back to wherever they were. It’s pretty brutal, or so I’ve been told. But the high-end guys always take the insignias from trespassers as kind of a lesson. Then they put ‘em on this wall as a warning.”

“That is literally horrifying.” I nodded along. “Why doesn’t anyone stop them?”

“The sensible high-end Fords are off doing more noble stuff.” Bug explained.

I was debating how Bug was gonna get in. If the cars thought I was fake, then they’d have no trouble doing whatever they did to Bug. They probably would do it if they knew the truth, too. There didn’t seem to be any gaps in the walls, either, aside from checkpoint stations.

Bug drove off of the road before anyone could really question him. I had to question what he was thinking- Beetles were not made for off-roading. And yet he followed a set of ruts in the ground with all the confidence of a big stupid man in a big stupid truck.

“Where are we going?” I exclaimed, my voice bouncing around. My neck and shoulders were beginning to hurt. The last thing I needed was more whiplash.

“I know what I’m doing, kid.” Bug muttered. He didn’t really seem to be enjoying this part of the drive either.

He stopped at a rather fake-looking thicket with the barest resemblance of a path cut through it. “This is gonna be bumpy.” He said. “But trust me, I know what I’m doing. I learned from the best.”  He vanished into the bushes quickly, though once a good way inside he slowed down considerably. This made the ride less bumpy, which I was grateful for. We reached another checkpoint along the wall, but it was smaller, and manned by an green older Toyota.

“Buuuug.” The Toyota said. “Heard you got caught last week!”

“Last week?” I asked. Hadn’t Bug been new?

Bug ignored me. “Ravi, how have you been?”  “Good, good. Haven’t been busy all day. Why don’t you head on in, get that human settled?”  “I have a name.” I muttered. “How do you two know each other?”

Ravi, despite having go face, seemed to grin. “We work together. Oh, Bug. The next guy is Licorice. He’ll take you to the Whispering Village.” He opened the checkpoint gate.

I poked Bug’s dashboard. “Whispering Village?”

“A human-safe zone.” He responded, driving himself through the gate. “750’s Gang and the Biomechanics can’t get to you there.”  “And what about you and Ravi knowing each other and working together? When this is what, your third day here?”  “About that…” Bug said, slowing down for a moment. “You humans are so gullible. I guess I should start being honest. I’ve been down here since 2002.”

My blood turned cold. “What?”

“Hey, before you get mad, just remember that I’m doing this for your good. See, the Biomechanics have eyes all over the Land of Rebuilding. They know when humans arrive and where to catch them. But they can’t be seen going through that place, because it ruins their image. So they have a gang ready to catch those humans on this side of the river. My job is to get to those humans before the gang does.”

“For what?” I asked, slamming his brake. It didn’t do anything to him.

“To keep you guys safe, that’s why! Listen, kid, you didn’t come here on purpose, and I understand that.”

“Sure you do.” I muttered, trying to steer him away. None of his controls were working.

“The Biomechanics know that you’re here, and 750 and his henchmen are gonna be all over Car Heaven looking for you. But they can’t come here, so this is where you’re gonna stay.”

“And what about Blue Boy?” I cried. “What about my life in the regular world?”

Bug growled. “Kid. Stop.”

He pulled up next to a black Lincoln. “Licorice, we’ve got a situation.”

Licorice’s lights flashed. “She’s mad?”

I glared at her, sniffling.

Bug did a car-nod. “She just found out.”

“Bug, my guy.” Licorice growled. “We’ve talked about this. You need to be more up-front with your intentions!”

“I’m gonna kidnap you and hold you hostage in a village of humans. Yep, that sounds great.” Bug muttered sarcastically.

“You always run into problems right about here though.” Licorice responded flatly. “But you’re in luck. I’ve got Elastagirl and Lariat with me.”

Within moments, a race car with The Incredibles airbrushed onto the front and an old Ford pickup flanked Licorice. “Human, these are Elastagirl and Lariat. They’re going to bring us all to the Whispering village. Square formation, everyone.”

Bug moved backward slightly. Lariat drove up next, parking with their front bumper about ninety degrees with Bug’s. Elastagirl likewise parked with her back bumper at ninety degrees to Bug, forming a big U. Licorice closed off the U, making something of an uneven rhombus of cars.

Licorice addressed me. “Human, you’re gonna have to switch vehicles. If anyone catches us, they won’t be able to see you if I’ve got you.” She was right about that, at least. Her windows were tinted so darkly that I couldn’t see into her interior through them.

She and Bug both opened their doors. I flung myself out of Bug, angrily kicking his door closed. I kicked his side for good measure. “That’s for Blue Boy.” I spat.

Bug rolled back slightly, never leaving me enough room to escape without having to do some sick parkour. “I’m sure he appreciated it.” He said back.

“Don’t tell me what Blue Boy thinks!” I shouted. It was impossible to not cry. He really was being sincere now, but I found it hard to accept any form of apology he had to offer.

I realized then that Bug was getting ready to drive between Elastagirl and Lariat, probably to give me the final push into Licorice’s cab. I decided I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction and stormed into her backseat. She swung her door closed and locked it.

“Now we’re gonna bring you to your new home, human.” Licorice said. “It’ll grow on you, I promise!”

Something told me that it would not grow on me, whether it was promised or not.

#From The Desk Of The King #Car Heaven!Verse #Character: Bug #Character: An Unnamed Protagonist Who Is Also Me #'I'll write something cute and fluffy' I said #'it'll be fun' I said

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crowdvscritic · 4 years

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round up // JUNE 20

The quarantine continues, and so does my insane level of film consumption. As you’ve probably discovered in your many a Zoom call, if you ask, “What’s new?” you usually get a, “Nothing much since we last talked.” Of course, these days no news means good news, so I’ll happily confirm the same is true here at Crowd vs. Critic. In this time of no movie theatres and few new releases, I’m catching up on a lot of classics and squeezing in a yoga sesh and reading in between. Perhaps these pop culture pieces that brought me joy in June will bring you some in July!

June Crowd-Pleasers

Yoga with Adriene

Adriene is all about finding what feels good, and her yoga videos have been helping me feel good during quarantine. I’m a big fan of browsing her YouTube playlist of 20-30 minute practices and picking whatever focus sounds like it would, well, feel good on my lunch break or when I wrap up my work day. If you’re looking for a way to stay active, destressed, or stretched out, Adriene’s (and her dog Benji’s) friendly videos have become my go-to.

The World According to Jeff Goldblum (2019- )

You know those people who can make anything interesting? Jeff Goldblum is the quintessence of that kind of person. Every episode of this Disney+ docuseries covers a broad topic that happens to intrigue him, including ice cream, tattoos, denim, RVs, and jewelry. While I don’t have many questions about ice cream, per se, I’m happy to just ride along on his trips all over the US to learn more about it. He finds niche communities, game changers, and new technology I suspect most won’t be familiar with, and he finds ways to get involved, a lá giving someone a Jurassic Park tattoo or getting custom grills made for his teeth. Truthfully, I don’t care much about what Goldblum chooses to explore as long as he’s stammering and sing-song-ing his way through as only he can.

Double Feature – Historical Action Flicks: The Quick and the Dead (1995) + Troy (2004)

I told you last month I’m working on the Western genre, and The Quick and the Dead (Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 8/10) is a ‘90s entry from Sam Raimi featuring a rare female lead (Sharon Stone), the babiest of Leo DiCaprios, an evil Gene Hackman, and an epic tournament of duels. If you’d prefer your adventure several thousand years back, Troy (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7/10) is a star-studded interpretation of The Iliad featuring a plethora of togas, romance, and epic battle scenes.

Double Feature – Corporate Espionage Thrillers: The Firm (1993) + Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit (2014)

Two unassuming guys start jobs bright-eyed and leave jaded, one a fresh-out-of-law-school attorney and the other a quit-school-to-save-the-world CIA analyst. The Firm (Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 9/10) is the critical winner of the pair, but Jack Ryan (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10) is a more satisfying action movie than its Rotten Tomatoes score would suggest. (Another example of why we should take those numbers with a grain of salt.) Bonus: Another evil Gene Hackman in The Firm!

Double Feature – New Crime Comedies: The Lovebirds + My Spy (2020)

For a family movie night in, I recommend My Spy on Amazon Prime (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10), which holds the honor of the last movie I watched in theatres before everything shut down. For date night in, I recommend The Lovebirds (Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 7/10), which made me ready for Kumail Nanjiani to become a superstar. You can read my full thoughts on this fun pair of laughs on ZekeFilm:

The Lovebirds

My Spy

Double Feature – Heist Thrillers: Now You See Me (2013) + Finding Steve McQueen (2019)

Close up magic hasn’t been as cool as Now You See Me(Crowd: 10/10 // Critic: 8/10) since Houdini was escaping handcuffs. This, of course, has less to do with the magic shows and more to do with the Ocean’s Eleven/The Sting-style plot. I love a movie that pulls the wool over my eyes—Hollywood, this is your call to trick me more often! And who says “cool” like Steve McQueen? While I wouldn’t have minded another pass at the dialogue in Finding Steve McQueen (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 6.5/10), this based-on-a-true-story heist targeting President Nixon looks as cool as it is funny.

Double Feature – ‘80s Comedies: ¡Three Amigos! (1986) + Coming to America (1988)

The stars of early SNL & Friends make movies! Steve Martin, Martin Short, and Chevy Chase bring an alternative version of The Magnificent Seven with more jokes and fewer successful heroics, and I’m surprised at how most of it (save a few moments) has aged well. (Crowd: 9.5/10 // Critic: 7.5/10) And who knows when we’ll get the sequel Coming 2 America that Eddie Murphy and Arsenio Hall were going to star in this year, but the original sweet and silly romantic comedy about a Prince looking for love is worth revisiting so we’re ready whenever it drops. (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8/10)

Cinematic Cities: New York by Christian Blauvelt (2019)

I started this Turner Classic Movies book to prep for my first visit to New York City in March...well, we all know what happened there. Kudos to this writer and the book designers who helped me wrap my head around how the neighborhoods are connected in this city and where to find famous movie locales, plus a few off the beaten path. Now I have more places I want to see and taste and experience when I finally go, but until then, I’ve got a list of movies to watch so my vacation doesn’t feel so far away.

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Summer Stock (1950)

The plot is hackneyed and the songs are hokey, but, gee, if I didn't spend the whole time wishing we had more movie stars like these clowns, Gene Kelly and Judy Garland. Twice I tried to wipe the smile off my face as Gene danced, and I just couldn't do it. The corners of my mouth twitched back up because a newspaper and squeaky floor were competing with Judy for his best dance partner! 70 years later this movie still won't let someone wipe a stupid grin off her face—three cheers for camera-magnetic movie stars! Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 6/10

Air Force One (1997)

Sure, it’s Die Hard on a plane, but when you nail the formula this well, I think you get more than a pass. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 6.5/10

June Critic Picks

The Sting (1973)

I jumped out of chronological order in my Best Picture watch because I liked Butch and Sundance so much. It’s an unusual winner, but it holds up well. Scroll down a bit for two reviews, or catch ‘em here:

Crowd

Critic

Double Feature - World War II Action Dramas: Saving Private Ryan (1998) + Enemy at the Gates (2001)

Watching this pair back-to-back makes for a poignant compare and contrast of how the United States and Russia managed their campaigns during World War II (at least as they’re depicted here). In Saving Private Ryan (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 10/10), Tom Hanks and Co. are trying to save one soldier just after D-Day; in Enemy at the Gates (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8.5/10), Jude Law is a legendary sniper trying to give hope to his comrades. Compare how both armies fight against all odds, and contrast how one life matters to each country.

Anna Karenina (2012)

Joe Wright reunites with much of his Pride and Prejudice cast, and it’s as magical and beautiful as you’d hope. Keira Knightley stars as the tragic heroine alongside a stacked cast including Domnhall Gleeson, Jude Law, Matthew Macfayden, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, and Alicia Vikander. Fun fact: I just learned my grandfather calls Knightley “his girlfriend” because he thinks she’s so cute in Pride and Prejudice—no word yet on what he thought of the gorgeous gowns she wore in this movie, but my podcast co-host Kyla and I loved them in our most recent episode. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 10/10

Double Feature – Humphrey Bogart: The Maltese Falcon (1941) + Key Largo (1948)

Plenty has been written about how The Maltese Falcon (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9/10) is the epitome of Film Noir. Now that I’ve met Sam Spade and his femme fatale (Mary Astor) and watched their hunt for a McGuffin, I’ll just join in the chorus. And now that I’ve watched all of Bogie and Bacall’s features, I’m picking Dark Passage as my favorite and Key Largo (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8.5/10) my second. In their last film together, she’s a war widow and he was a soldier who knew her husband. When he comes to visit her at her hotel in Key Largo, they end up stuck inside during a hurricane with gangsters—tension ensues.

Da 5 Bloods (2020)

While Spike Lee’s latest was a little long, it’s hard to know what to cut when its updated take on The Treasure of the Sierra Madre is so engrossing. Between the performances, the action, and the treasure hunt plot, it’s the rare Netflix original in which you won’t be tempted to look at your phone. I’m hoping Delroy Lindo is in the Oscars conversation come next April. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8.5/10

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Long Gone Summer (2020)

The summer of ’98 was big for me: My sister was born, my family moved to a new house, and I turned six with a Mulan-themed party. (Yes, I was the height of cool.) It was also the summer Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa faced off in a home run battle to beat Roger Maris’s regular season record, which even then I knew was a big deal. This ESPN 30 for 30 episode interviews McGwire, Sosa, and everybody in their orbit, but the real heart is the tribute it pays to St. Louis, Chicago, and baseball as a whole. I knew baseball films make me cry, and it turns out good baseball documentaries do, too.

Women In Music Pt. III by HAIM (2020)

The sisters are back with an album made for late-night driving with the windows down, and “I Know Alone” feels like a COVID anthem.

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964)

If you loved La La Land like I did and haven’t seen this musical, just get around to watching it already! From the colorful aesthetic to the melancholy plot structure, you can literally see Damien Chazelle’s inspiration for his modern musical. And if you can find an answer as to why the Academy found this film worthy of consideration at not one but two Oscars ceremonies, let me know—I’ve yet to solve that mystery. Crowd: 7/10 // Critic: 9/10

Double Feature – Gregory La Cava Class Comedies: My Man Godfrey (1936) + 5th Avenue Girl (1939)

I don’t think I’ve watched a film from the 1930s that isn’t about money on some level, and these two from director Gregory La Cava are no exception. In Godfrey (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8.5/10), Carole Lombard is a socialite who brings a homeless man in as their family’s new butler (William Powell), but there’s more to him than they know. in 5th Avenue (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8/10), Ginger Rogers befriends a lonely businessman (Walter Connolly), and though their relationship is platonic, that doesn’t mean he won’t hire her to make his philandering wife jealous. The moral of both films? Rich people be crazy, which is a great set up for comedy.

Also in June…

In addition to Anna Karenina, Kyla and teased our self-made millionaire hair and introduced our butler Max to discuss the ‘80s rom-com procedural Hart to Hart. If you enjoy detective shows, it’s a fun spin on the genre you may enjoy.

I watched and reviewed Best Picture winners The Sting (above) and the worst one I’ve watched yet, 1933’s Cavalcade. Read the Crowd and Critic reviews to know why it’s not worth your time.

I updated my Letterboxd with a list of all the movies in Cinematic Cities: New York, and my quarantine watch list is almost to 250.

Photo credits: Yoga With Adriene, HAIM. Cinematic Cities my own. All others IMDb.com.

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michelemoore · 4 years

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Takhuk

April 29, 2020

Michele Moore Veldhoen

“Tis good to laugh. Yer gotta laugh and laugh out loud,” said the leprechaun. “You can cry if you want to but laughin’s better.” Jacqueline Edgington, Happy Jack

With so much stress and sorrow in our world these days, we need to turn to Happy Jack and to Mel Brooks who said, "Humour is just another defense against the universe." Right now, we definitely need humour. Lots and lots of humour. I hope you get a laugh or two here today. Take care.

A RUST BUCKET, A GAS GUZZLER, AND A LAND YACHT

Being that most Albertans enjoy a special relationship with their cars and trucks, and being that so many of them are sitting idle in our garages these days, I offer you a sentimental and fond reflection of three cars I once owned and that are rumbling, overheating, and plowing through the unoccupied regions of my mind.

MY FIRST CAR

1963 Chevy Impala. Price: $100.00

It was whitish (I’m sure it was the original paint job, thus, it was whitish). The interior was red leather, with a fair bit of deterioration (tears in the seats big enough to conceal a machete). This vintage look was nicely complemented with the flaking red rust trim around the wheel wells and along the door edges. The source of the rust was the bottom of the trunk which had a hole so massive I couldn’t keep a spare tire in there because it would have fallen out. Oh, and the exhaust preferred to disperse itself through the car interior rather than the exhaust pipe, which come to think of it, was missing. Therefore, the windows had to remain open at all times. In winter, this made for some frostbitten trips down Elbow Drive from my home in Southwood to my high school on 17th Avenue southwest.

I bought that rust bucket from my brother for $100 bucks cash. Money I saved from my cashier job at K-Mart. When my brother offered to sell me the Impala, I wasn’t old enough yet to get a license, but I bought it anyway. I had my priorities. Owning and driving my own car was numero uno. That car, any car, would do. It was about freedom of movement, man, and being in control of my own destiny.

The Impala sat on the driveway of my house for several months, waiting for me to turn sixteen. (I already knew how to drive. I learned when I was twelve and competed against my brother and cousins in a demolition derby. There were three cars in that event. We smashed them all up pretty good and walked away without a bruise and everything we needed to know about driving.)

It would be impossible for me to overstate the pride and satisfaction I felt driving that dilapidated, afflicted, contraption. I could compare it to the obvious delight a young dog exhibits when it has fetched its’ first stick. I could compare it to a young child who has just served his mother his first Easy Bake cake, or has just received his first Student of the Month award, or has just scored his first goal, his lungs bursting with so much pride and love he is afraid to exhale or he might cry. Or that feeling, for which there are no words, a new parent gets holding her first newborn child. It was like that.

My peacock feathers were on display every day I drove that car into my school’s parking lot. I was completely oblivious to the much finer, rust free, sporty type cars driven by other students at Western Canada High. (Which, for the record, was where the Mount Royal kids went to school, so you can imagine the cars.)

I will admit though, my pride was dampened (literally, with sweat) by the relief I felt every time I completed that trip to school accident free. And when I say relief, I mean relief from the kind of heart pounding that feels like your teenage son is pounding his drum set under your rib cage.

You see, aside from the rust, and the missing exhaust pipe, the Impala had another issue. This one was with the steering. The problem was that the steering wheel had more play in it than a car load of toddlers. Handling the Impala felt like floating. On big ocean waves. In a dime store rubber raft. Keeping her safely between the lane lines while negotiating the many curves and bends of Elbow Drive was like trying to walk a straight line on the midway at the Calgary Stampede. It can be done, but it takes a great deal of concentration and constant course adjustments. After every trip, I felt dazed and amazed that I got that boat to school or home without incident. I have no idea how many close calls I had, but honking car horns occasionally echo in my memory bank.

As big a thrill as it was, driving that old rust bucket, when my father offered to sell me his car, I was ready for an upgrade. He may also have pointed out that my Impala had used up most of its life and would likely crater in the spring potholes.

MY SECOND CAR

1974 Oldsmobile Toronado. Price: $2,700.00

Teal blue with a white leather interior. She had all the bells and whistles and was in mint condition; after all, two staple items on my dad’s grocery list were Armour All and Turtle Wax. The price was steep, but dad let me pay off the purchase in monthly payments, interest free. Seems to me the payments were $120.00/month. Which was a good thing because, soon after taking ownership of that gas guzzling brute, all its’ bells and whistles stopped ringing and whistling. Repairs to power steering, electric windows, and transmissions are expensive. (Is the transmission a bell or a whistle?) For the next couple of years I gave away most of my typist’s salary in post-dated cheques to the local mechanic, who kept me on the road.

Despite the Toronado barreling through all my entertainment and future education funds, I loved that car as much as I had loved the Impala. Whenever I was first in line at a red traffic light and there was another teenage driver in the lane beside me, on the green light I would put the pedal to the metal which often triggered a similar response in the other driver, who invariably behind the wheel of a hoppy little car that would leap ahead. The lead was short lived. I would keep my foot on the floor, and a few seconds later would wave at the driver as my 454 horsepower engine and I rumbled on by. Oh, how I reveled in the superiority of that elegant behemoth.

That magnificent machine, with her front wheel drive, could’ve plowed through a field of hay bales without slowing down or suffering a scratch. Once, in fact, while parked in front of my house on an icy winter street, a City of Calgary Transit bus came around the corner and slid into the back end of her. The grill of the bus was mangled, but the bus driver and I could not find a scratch, dent, or scrape on my bumper. After that, I wasn’t afraid to use the back end of that beast to push out of my way any car that had boxed me into a parking spot.

Even when she malfunctioned, she did so in a spectacular fashion. Once, when driving west toward home on Anderson Road, white smoke began streaming out from under the hood. (Having watched too many Smoky and the Bandit type movies, I didn’t think steam, I thought SMOKE). I stepped on it, making for the nearest gas station. (Why I didn’t just stop on the side of the road right there and then remains a mystery.) Speeding up, of course, made the SMOKE/steam billow in huge cloud formations above the massive hood which meant that, when I roared into the gas station, the attendants watched a terrified teen/ woman in a pencil skirt and heels come flying out of the cloud screaming, “it’s gonna explode! It’s gonna explode!”

After she had cooled off and had her radiator refilled and later repaired, I kept driving, and repairing, her for several more years. She just had too much charisma to give up on.

Unfortunately, the day came when I had to come down from my high horse-powered white leather perch and take up a different, upholstered one behind the wheel of another monstrous hunk of steel that had none of the sex appeal of the Toronado, but did have four doors. An important feature when you have a couple of toddlers in car seats.

MY THIRD CAR

Early ‘80’s Chrysler Imperial – price: Giving up my Toronado

I was not, at all, happy about giving up my Toronado, but my husband was not happy about the repairs, so I acquiesced. The regret I felt when he brought home the Chrysler was worse than the regret I felt the second time I cut my own hair. (I had beginner’s luck the first time.) (For the record, this was not a coronavirus haircut, it was a different era entirely.)

That land yacht was plain blue and boring, but it became my home away from home and a place of joy and abundance. On any given day you could always find a blanket, some stuffies and snacks between my two little boys in the backseat, who sang, laughed, wrestled, and slept in the back of that cavernous heap of iron. Nothing could touch them back there behind me. Not even me, which they knew perfectly well when they were deliberately annoying one another.

Although that dreadfully dull car was a reliable steel fort within which my children were safely transported, I did not lose any sleep when she was retired because I had begun to notice that no one else on the road still drove cars the size of yachts. In fact, most people in the countryside where I lived drove trucks. And so, I got a Jeep and entered the modern era.

I could go on about the two Jeeps I drove over the next twenty or so years but each one went to one of my kids and they have better stories than me about their days in those bouncy go anywhere rides. I know on at least one occasion one of those jeeps went floating down the Kicking Horse River……

I bet you have a story or two about your old cars. Please share!

Onion rings in the car cushions do not improve with time. Erma Bombeck

www.thetreeswallow.com

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