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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

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A Cure for Insomnia CH.2

Getting back to your little one story cottage, you can only manage to rush in and run about in a mad dash as you try to accomplish getting ready for work and getting something to eat. Running through choices in your head as you change and freshen up, nothing sounds good. There's not much time since your shift starts at nine and to make it to the store you need to leave by eight twenty. You got home at eight fifteen, and while Nate, your manager, has never seemed to give a fuck what you did at work you're still in your probationary period and would like to keep the easiest job you've ever had.

It's a really simple gig, seeing as the store you work at is actually a front for some illegal activity. The variety of crime you aren't sure of, but you are aware there's no way you guys do no business and yet they can afford to pay thirty dollars an hour. Thankfully just keeping your mouth shut and being nice to little Jo, the owner's daughter, is enough to keep you in the cushiest job in the world. The store's front is a regular old book store, all the books are real, the registers work, you're able to sell books and you've run to the bank to do the weekly deposits twice for Book & Nook. The front is very legitimate or it would be if the amount of customers ever equaled the sales made.

Again you don't ask questions, because for thirty dollars an hour you get to goof off for a couple hours a day, plus you get a bonus when you watch little Jo at the shop. She's a real sweet eleven year old, she's got tourettes and took a shine to you the first time she saw you tic. While you both might not suffer the same disorder she finds the common ground nice, like it's not just her. It's not even hard to watch her or enjoy her company, she'll come bouncing in with her excited chittering and hands clapping spilling all the latest gossip that comes with being in middle school. And boy is there a lot of gossip.

It's really nice seeing that Jo has friends at school and is even considered a “popular” kid. You remember how tough school was because no one understood you and teachers never cared enough about your personality to bring up the fact that it was clear to most faculty members that you had Autism. You excelled academically so what did it matter if you got picked on for oversharing information or for finishing assignments the minute they were handed to you. As bittersweet as the parallels are you're so glad Jo doesn't have to go through that. Never would have thought a southern school could be so accepting, much less a middle school at that.

Tearing through the kitchen you honestly can't find anything that you want to eat right now. And even after a long night of hiking/dissociating you don't think you're that peckish at all. Figuring it's best to at least take something to quell any future nausea you grab a Pedialyte Pop from the freezer. As fast as you entered your home you left, and not before ensuring twice that the door was locked and secured. While living on the outskirts of town saves you from many potential robberies, and worse salesmen, there's still the chance of some lunatic with an ax hiding out in a closet to murder you. Better safe now than sorry later.

Pulling into park behind the shop right at nine is a blessing. You run into the shop to clock in blurting out a quick 'Morning' to Nate, who was carrying a particularly large box, as you passed by him. In a flash you were back at your car retrieving your newly prized deer skull. Lungs burning a bit from the all out sprint you just did you took a little extra time to close the trunk and lock your car up to catch your breath, and avoid any light headiness you might get from the empty stomach workout. Eager to share the wonders of death with your best work friends, and by that you mean Nate your manager...and only other coworker, you rush back into the building.

The shop was quiet as usual as you made your way through the door though you were in the back room where only employees could roam you had the slightest suspicion that the front of shop was just the same. It's there you find Nate, now lugging a medium sized box around to a side table. He did this a lot you suspect some type of smuggling but hey plausible deniability and all those legal matters. The taller dark haired man sees you and just as he's about to wave you over, notices your prize with a raised brow.

“The fuck d'you bring in the store?” he doesn't seem amused by whatever it is he thinks you're up to. “Deer skull.” Lifting it up in one hand and pointing at it, “Found this guy on my hike last night...or rather this morning actually.”

“YN, we talked about this, you said you'd get some sleep last night. No adventures remember.” he's only two years older than you and yet he acts as if he's ten years. He must be an old soul, or enjoys the role of care giver...or you're making him go gray prematurely, anything's possible.

“Eh, I remember saying I'd 'try' and get sleep.” for someone who's body is running on fumes your cheekiness is astronomical, “operative word being 'try', remember.”

It's a long silence as Nate decides if he wants to deal with your bullshit at this moment. After a minute or so he concedes leaning back on the table behind him. “Let's hear it.” and you perk up immediately.

“Cool, so I was walking along the tree line and spotted him, tried to find more but seems there's only one piece. Judging by the size of his antlers I'd say he was nearly fully grown. Now my plan is to do whatever treatments taxidermists do to bones and,” you continue to word vomit at the tired twenty-six year old in front of you, about the joys and wonders of taxidermy and the likely hood of ever finding a skull so nicely preserved.

“I can do that in here right?” even though it's been phrased as a question, you aren't asking permission, you're just being polite and letting Nate know the storage room will house your creepy deer skull antics for today...maybe the week you need to find a taxidermist book to figure out what you need to do.

Nate gives up and leaves with his box of new books to let you have full run of the back to do your weird vulture culture shit. He figures he's just too old to understand the new obsessions with the macabre. He hopes his cousin won't take to shit like this, the kid's weird enough as it is, no need to put another target on her back. Nate sets off to take down the Harry Potter sets in favor of this new comic series little Jo wanted.

Already taking his silence as the go ahead you place your found skull on the table and rush off into the store front to find a book on taxidermy and hopefully more specifically about bones. The set up and organization of the store reminds you a lot of the scene in Brendan Fraser's The Mummy 1997 where Evie is on the ladder and somehow causes all the book shelves to fall like dominoes. So unsafe, yet all book stores and libraries seem to have this set up. With the tall shelves it makes it difficult to accurately get a read on the spines. You don't even know what section taxidermy actually falls under, education maybe?

“Nate, where do you think a book on taxidermy would be?” you called out as you passed by him.

“...hobby?” that didn't sound right but you'd give it a shot anyway.

This should be fun, the hobby section was so disorganized and it took up nearly half the store too, Book & Nook had everything from fishing, to crochet, cooking, the art of film making, hell even had a cryptid hunting book a book that you may have to look into a bit later. You closed your eyes and let your intuition guide you, when you looked up you saw a thin black...vine, no whisp? It undulates in less than rhythmic movements nearly like a snake but it has no head, and not unlike a tentacle but without suckers. It's another hallucination so you were keen to ignore it until it stretched past your head, giving you an added auditory hallucination where you swore you could hear wind rushing past your ears, it swirled around you until it flew to the shelf and tapped on a book. Cautiously you walked over to it, it's never good to play into these delusions. Once you got close enough the black shape was gone but on the shelf was a creme colored paper back titled “Manual of Taxidermy: Complete Guide of Preserving Birds and Mammals.”

Walking to Nate with the book in your hands you asked him to read it and make sure you weren't having an episode and making everything up right now. You'd have to try harder to go to sleep tonight if that were the case.

“Oh you found your book huh?” he said looking down at the title.

Well this is getting weird fast, but you nod nonetheless. Might as well thank the weird hallucination gift right. Leaving him to do whatever it is he plans on doing the rest of the day, you go to the back. And just as the book instructs you set to cleaning the skull by setting it in some water and changing it as many times as the water runs murky. The book is quiet helpful to a beginner like yourself but it does seem a bit outdated from the bits of information you know from taxidermists blogs and vulture culture posts on the internet. Reading it in between water changes is a great way to pass the time though, not like you guys get any real customers anyways.

The bell rings as the front door opens and closes alerting you to someone's arrival on your third water change. Needing a little bit of mental stimulation you walk out into the front where Big Jo and Little Jo are talking to Nate. Little Jo sees you and skitters away from her father to rush you, she stops about a foot away and holds her arms wide open. She's a hugger but upon meeting you had never even thought people could be touch adverse so keeping in mind that you might not want to be touched she's learned to invite you into hugs and it's your choice to allow it or not. Placing a hand on your bicep you give a squeeze, checking your tolerance you find the thought bearable. Placing your arms outstretched at your sides Jo rushes your torso for her hug.

After she nearly body slammed you into the wall, and let her death grip go she was off on a tangent about so many things. Her excited rapid blinking tic, one she developed after meeting you, triggering your own.

“Ok so you remember how last week I told you that Jessie Kinsleton said that Micheal Saleisa told Gigi B, not Gigi S. that Meghan,” you had no clue the lives of eleven year olds had gotten so complex, from the gossip you heard from Jo it seemed that the school's sixth graders were plotting for a war with an ice cream parlor up the street. No clue why, maybe just to fuck the system, kids are weird, preteens are weirder...and angry.

But you nod to Jo listening to her every word, and trying to calm your eyelids so you could actually open your eyes. After being told the sequence of events that would happen in the Tween Armageddon, something to do with Marco Salvator ordering three dozen donuts and a flock of geese, your eyes finally gained their ability to see back. Black whisps, much like the one from earlier, wandered all around your vision, it looked like a dark smoke had settled eye level within the shop and was snaking through the isles.

Catching the movement of your eyes Jo looked around the shop too. Seeing nothing she turned back to you concerned, “Hey it's okay, nothin's there.”

Hearing the drop in volume of the normally chatty tween, Big Jo and Nate pause their conversation to turn their attention to you and follow you're gaze.

“Kid, you ain't sleepin' again?” Big Jo can already gauge by the bags under your eyes but he's a polite man so he feels the need to ask rather than state his assumptions.

“Day 6.” You answer simply, ever since you've started at Book & Nook the whole Cowell family became acutely aware of many of your disorders. By their record your longest time spent awake was ten days, you however adamantly say that you were an hour's mark away from ten full days so the longest you've been up is nine days in a row. And those are just the cases they know of since you've moved to Kepler.

Big Jo shook his head as a stern father would, which he is, “I have half the mind to send you home to rest.”

“That won't work.” you really don't mean to sound so coarse but it's so irritating having to go over this at least once a week.

“What about those gummy things Dia got you?”

“Long term that kind of stuff has no effect, sure it'll make me drowsie for an hour or two but even if it made me sleep one night I can't use it all the time. And before you ask the same questions again, caffeine has no real effect on me so limiting my intake will do nothing and weed doesn't do a thing for me either.” you state plainly, monotone as you present facts that everyone in the room already knows.

Looking at the stern face of Big Jo's and the exasperated face of Nate you continue, “I know it must be frustrating for you to not be able to help, but I'm content living like this. I like my late night adventures and when I do sleep it's really pleasant.”you threw in a smile for added comfort.

“Kid tha's not the point, there's somethin' wrong with you, medically I mean.” he's pinching the bridge of his nose, probably counting to ten to calm himself from raising his voice.

“Tons of people suffer from insomnia and there isn't anything a doctor could do for me except look for underlying conditions.” Big Jo's about to retort when you continue with, “Plus my dad and uncle both have insomnia as well so my case is due to the genetic lottery I lost.” You say with a hint of finality of your situation, you had to come to terms with this condition all the way back in high school. Having a decade to get used to your strange condition and the limitations it places on you from time to time. Whereas the Cowell family's only had two months to process this information, and you understand it'll take awhile before they stop being concerned. Same thing happened with you parents and friends back then too.

For now you're only met with more head shakes as if they were saying 'what are we going to do with you'. Leaving your medical issues aside Nate and Big Jo continue to talk shop, when the set up Nate just put on display catches Jo's eye.

Like lightening the tween was away from your side and by the new display shelf it looked like it held graphic novels. That's a first since you've been here, you walk over to join Jo knowing the second you do she'll start on about what's got her so excited. Most people might say you over indulge the child and coddle her but you actually just think it's really important to take interest in what makes kids happy. It helps them find their voices and also shows them that it's normal to get excited and like things.

“We got the TAZ graphic novels in?!” you hate rhetorical questions but smile and nod at her anyway.

“Have you read them? No, well you've listen to the podcast...what omg! Ok so there's these three brothers and their,” Jo begins regaling you with tales from the podcast known as The Adventure Zone and how fun they've made dungeons and dragons seem with their amazing story telling and funny characters.

You aren't sure if a show where the main group of heroes being called Tres Horny Bois is exactly age appropriate but when you look to Big Jo he kind of just shrugs it off. Turning you attention back to Jo who's now monologing about mongooses you just smile at the weird family you've found yourself in.

Let it be said that a tween with a slightly unhealthy fixation on something can find anyway to drag it back to that fixation. The day flew by with Jo explain the inner workings of dungeons and dragons, fifth edition, to you, her father, and her cousin after you mentioned why she didn't play. Apparently she'd love to but wanted a story fitting for her friend's to adventure. So being the good older cousin, father, and weird family friend you all were you came up with a story plot for her to use with her campaign.

The Jos had a lot of fun bonding over this little workshop and you guys even had food delivered so you and Nate could stay later. What was meant to just be a quick workshop turned into a mini family game night after you made several nearly impossible puzzles that wouldn't be used in Jo's campaign due to no one at the current table understanding how to solve it even after you showed them several times.

Overall it was fun and you think you might actually be tired enough to go to sleep tonight. You tried to stay and help clean up but Big Jo put his foot down and told you to go get some rest, he'd seen the way you occasionally look around the room as if something was moving behind them all. You may have started off as a cashier two months ago for him but his daughter has opened up a lot since meeting you and discovering that tics aren't so uncommon and there are people who wouldn't care or make a big deal out of them. Because of that you've earned your keep in his family, he already has you down on the list for Christmas cards.

Knowing you can't fight the six foot four man you roll your eyes and bid everyone good night, little Jo coming in to steal another hug from you and thank you for helping with her game. Checking on your skull you see the water's clear and dump it in the sink of the break room before leaving the skull to dry overnight, it's for sure gonna make Nate scream tomorrow, you can't help but chuckle at that.

Leaving through the back door and into the dusk colored parking lot you notice your trunk is popped open slightly. You definitely heard it shut earlier this morning. You blink before your head jerks to the right, unsettled by possibility of a break in and not risking it you head back inside.

“Hey, I think my car may have been broken into.” you stand awkwardly in the door way unsure of how to proceed.

Big Jo and Nate are out of the door as fast as they can. They find your car unlocked with the trunk popped, you know they weren't trying to brush you off when they asked several times if you did in fact lock your car this morning. After hearing your affirmative response each time, they began to inspect your car checking to make sure all wires are properly secured under the hood, Nate even retrieved the jack out of his own car to take a look under the car, ensuring the brakes hadn't been messed with. They started the car up just fine and it didn't appear tampered with. Even though nothing looked out of place and Nate's car, sitting in the same parking lot, hadn't been touched you appreciated them checking to make sure you were alright.

Knowing you're perceived as a woman by most, even outside of this small town, makes you uneasy when it comes to terms of abductions and violence. You know the chances and hear the stories whether it's from the victim's mouth or a podcaster's telling the story the dead can't. Nate offered to follow you home and make sure you were ok but you declined and said you'd call them both when you got home. Big Jo said to just call his home phone because Nate would be coming over tonight anyway, and if they didn't make it there before you called Dia was already at home and would pass the message along. You'll probably still try and give the shop a call if Dia answers, it wouldn't sit right with you if you wound everyone up just to not and at least try to settle their nerves.

With one final check of you car, the men even going so far as to lift seats up and feel under them, they sent you off. You drove carefully on the road tonight, ready to pull off into the shoulder at the slightest hint that something was wrong. Not even the radio was on something that you really didn't like driving without, but if there was the chance for you to catch a shift in tone of the machine you wanted to. Eventually you did end up making it home in one piece and you had called the Cowell family home, from the safety of your car, and got a spazztic eleven year old asking if you'd made it home alright. It took a little bit of coaxing but Little Jo calmed down and shouted to her parents that you were on the phone and alright.

“Kid,” looks like Big Jo took the phone away from Little Jo, “Everything ok on the drive.” Big Jo could hear the movement and shutting of your car door, he'd have to say he was relieved you waited until you were on the phone before exiting. He knew you lived out past the quiet zone in Old Lydia's house. A fact that did little for the unease he felt when he thought you were being watched.

“Oh, yea drive was fine, too quiet but fine.” you said simply as you began circling the cottage. Nothing seemed out of place on the outside, even looking above eye level where people tended to get sloppy in stalking or home invasion cases, everything seemed fine.

“Hope you don't mind if I keep you for a bit.” You had just unlocked your door and stepped in.

“Nah, kid 's fine.” you give a hum of acknowledgment as you look through the kitchen in cabinets, under cupboards, and even under the table.

“You're a smart kid.” he's taken that fatherly overtone that makes you roll your eyes. You understand the sentiment of parents and parental figures having pride in their child or ward but it's always been so weird to you when they feel the need to bring it up. Especially when they bring it up in situations that are dangerous, like can you not make it sound like someone's about to die.

Finding nothing in the living room, hall closet or bathroom you make sure all the windows are locked and dowels are in place to keep them from opening. And you double check that both the back and front doors are secured. You can hear the hushed whispers on the other end of the line, Dia must have just found out about your car, as you rustle through your kitchen utensil drawers taking out two forks before you make your way to your bedroom.

Once in your room you checked your closet and under your bed. Finding nothing you went to the window in your room, the one right by your bed, you checked the lock, secured it in place with two dowels, and then covered it throwing a thick blanket over the curtain rod to ensure no one would be viewing you in your sleep or the precautions you were about to do. Turing around and locking your bedroom door you then jam one fork into the closed door crease, right below the locking mechanism, and jammed the other fork perpendicular through the prongs. You attempted to open the door with all your weight but only could get an inch in before the forks would stop more movement.

“Kid you alright over there?” it's rushed, he probably heard the commotion with your make shift lock.

“Yea, just had to add another lock to the door.” you trust the Cowell's but you understand how stupid it'd be to let them know exactly how you were defending yourself. Even if it wasn't them there's no telling if the person who broke into your car was outside and just good at hiding. You could also be too jumpy from your true crime shows but you figure it's better to be safe.

“I think everything's good Big Jo.” taking a final glance around your room eye's landing on the bed, “Think I'm even ready to go to sleep tonight too.” a small half laugh leaves your mouth.

“Alright kid, you call if you need anything got it.” it's an order not a request.

“Got it, good night.” Big Jo might think that'd been rude coming from anyone else but from you he can only roll his eyes at the brevity and the dial tone he's met with. He has his own sweep to do, if they were targeting his employee there was a reason. He hasn't had any problems since coming to Kepler but someone always eventually comes along who can't take a hint.

Even combing through your home with Big Jo on the line you didn't feel safe having your bed by the window anymore and moved it away and in front of the closet door. You'd rearrange your room later but for tonight this would have to do. By some grace of god you were actually able to shut your brain down tonight and rest. Maybe it was the excitement and merriment from hanging out with the Cowells or more likely the situation you find yourself in of perhaps being a target for something insidious.

Whatever the case may be you are off to the land of dreams before you know it. And unbeknownst to you the same eyes from this morning watch your home. They may not have seen what you did in there but they'd be sure to catch you when you come out. They'll wait all night to catch you if they have to.

#creepypasta fanfic #proxies x reader #proxies #masky x reader #masky x hoodie #hoodie x reader #ticci tobyx reader #timothy wright x reader #brian thomas x reader #masky #hoodie #ticci toby #ticcitoby #timothy wright #brian thomas #reader insert #reader #readerinsert

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jovanniaaron · 3 years

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⤜ ❝ 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖌𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊, 𝖎 𝖆𝖎𝖓'𝖙 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖎𝖙. 𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖆 𝖒𝖔𝖛𝖎𝖊 ❞

i’ve been keeping a close eye on JOVANNI MALIK AARON lately . by all means , i’ve started to notice the striking resemblance between him and keith powers , but something sparked my interest more . as it turns out - the aaron family have indeed tried their best to tuck away jovanni’s impulsive tendencies , but it only seems to bring out his arrogance more . according to close confidants , on rare occasions , he can be debonair , last time they saw this side of him was , and i quote - “ON HIS TWENTY-FOURTH BIRTHDAY” . but most shocking of all , seems to be the fact that ever since i dug deeper in his life , i somehow couldn’t shake the image of golden grills on perfectly straight teeth : tendrils of marijuana smoke in the air : leather seats in a foreign car : a façade of perfection : empty bottles of hennessy : pretty lips spilling pretty lies : smooth r&b and soul : the seductive scent of creed aventus & sex out of my head .

⤜ BASICS.

full name: jovanni malik aaron ( pronounced: joe-von-ee ) nicknames: j, jo, vanni, van ( pronounced: von ) birthday: march thirtieth zodiac: aries gender: cis male pronouns: he/him/his sexuality: pansexual occupation: part-time model / full-time law student / part-time paralegal

⤜ PHYSICAL.

height: 6′2 weight: 182.3 lbs. eyes: brown hair: dark brown/black, usually cut into a bald fade piercings: both ears, usually wearing small gold hoops tattoos: none distinguishing characteristics: he has a dusting of freckles across his face and a jawline so sharp that it could cut steel. he’s usually wearing a flirty, panty-dropping smirk on his face, and he carries himself with confidence -- a swagger that’s simply unmatched. he has a small scar on his forehead that he got playing in the yard when he was younger. he’s classically handsome, with perfect bone structure, a tall and lean stature, jovanni is something of a walking wet dream.

⤜ PERSONALITY.

positive: bold, confident, debonair, intelligent, creative, playful, easy-going, charming, flirty. negative: impulsive, invincibility-complex, cocky, selfish, self-centered, emotionally unavailable, temperamental, dishonest. short description: to jovanni, the world is his oyster. it revolves around him. the aaron family is the epitome of perfection personified, and jovanni was raised to carry that perfection on his back. he’s gotten good at putting up that façade though -- creating the illusion that he’s just another perfect member of the aaron. on the outside, he’s the picture of perfection and grace -- just like the family mantra. when, in reality, he’s self-destructive. he’s quite the opposite of what his parents would like him to be. his confidence bleeds into unabashed arrogance, he believes he’s invincible to everything -- the law and even death. not to mention, you can’t trust a single thing that spills from those pretty lips of his.

⤜ BIOGRAPHY.

(tw: drug use)

jovanni had a perfect childhood. his parents showered him with anything he could have ever wanted. his bedroom was full of the latest toys, video game consoles and video games, he had the biggest birthday parties in the backyard, and he never wanted for anything. maybe it just came naturally, seeing as his parents are who they are, but jovanni’s always been naturally intelligent and driven. he was easily always top of his class, bringing home good grades and top test scores. however, jovanni had a problem when it came to discipline, and that only got worse as he grew up. he had an affinity for landing himself in hot water with his parents because he talked back to a teacher, or he pushed a schoolmate on the playground -- jovanni just didn’t ( and still doesn’t ) like to be told what to do. of course, this little issue was a blemish on the face of the aaron family name, and it simply had to be handled.

and it was. jovanni was taught, by any means necessary, the importance of good behavior and self-image -- because his self-image directly reflected the family image, and the aaron family couldn’t be anything short of perfect and graceful. it’s the family mantra after all, right?

jovanni’s academic achievements continued to grow, so did the pressure to keep up that perfect image, and so did his desire to be anything but. by the time he was in high school, jovanni was fully immersed in parties and alcohol, he was sleeping around -- with girls and guys ( though he’s still pretty closeted when it comes to his sexuality ), getting absolutely hammered when he got the chance, when his friends would come over they would raid the wine cellar for whatever liquor they could find, and before he graduated from high school, he was introduced to marijuana and a few other drugs -- like lsd, molly, and ecstasy -- he also did coke once in college but it was a one done thing for him.

while jovanni and his friends knew what he was really like on the inside, to his parents and the rest of the outside world, he was a perfect kid. he got straight a’s, was involved in plenty of clubs, always elected president of the student body, a star wide receiver on the football team, a great basketball player, and an amazing baseball player, a tutor, and someone who always had the attention of some of the most coveted universities. he would attend court when his father was working more high profile cases, or more like his father would drag him along, and so jovanni just assumed he was expected to follow in his footsteps.

during college -- which were full of wild party days, hookups, and a few scandals that his parents worked hard to cover up ( including but not limited to: a dui charge, a hit and run, two unwanted pregnancies, and a threatened expulsion after a plagiarism incident ) ( he also pledged kappa alpha psi ) -- he started doing a few modeling gigs here and there after being discovered on instagram. he still does it to this day, a few modeling gigs here and there that have garnered him quite the social media following. when he isn’t modeling or partying or fucking -- he’s focusing on law school while also working at the firm his father does as a paralegal.

he still lives young, wild, and free much to his parents dismay, though his façade of perfection hasn’t come crumbling down...yet. time will only tell how long he can keep this up.

⤜ WANTED CONNECTIONS.

exes: maybe an ex-girlfriend that his parents had set him up with in high school, they probably had a toxic relationship because neither of them wanted to be in it. or maybe it was toxic but your muse wanted to be in it, actually loved jovanni despite how he treated her. another ex -- someone he actually wanted to be with and probably loved despite his parents not really accepting that relationship.

friends: friends from high school and college. they can still be close or maybe they drifted apart. friends who he partied a lot with in high school/college.

the bro: his true bromance -- otb. this has been his best friend since like the first grade, they’ve been through everything together and they’re still as thick as thieves.

the sis: his girl best friend, it’s always been platonic between the two of them.

enemies

a boy he’s known since high school, someone he explored his sexuality with. maybe they’ve drifted apart or had a falling out and now they’re running into each other again.

fuckbuddies: this one’s pretty self-explanatory. the boy likes sex, it’s one of his vices next to weed and alcohol and looking in the mirror a little too much. layer in some angst with some of these relationships and we’re cooking with grease!

and plenty more! i’m down for any and all connections honestly! just give this a like or slide in my ims and we can plot out some connections and plots for our muses!

#❝ ━ intro.#monterey.intro #pls luv us 🥺

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thefandomsinhalor · 4 years

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The Lucky Pairs of Christmas Underwear

An Advent Calendar fic by thefandomsinhalor

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Rating: Not Rated (it is rated as such until I finish the fic, right now it’s leaning on Mature.)

Summary: Due to heavy workloads and conflicting schedules, Sam and Dean, living in different cities, are both disappointed when it appears that they won't be able to spend the holidays together—something they had always managed to do in the past.

This turn of events, however, offers them both the opportunity to seek someone else to share their respective holidays with, and when Dean's last year crush is paired up with him at the Gift Wrapping booth, and Sam keeps running into a charming new acquaintance, by helping each other, the brothers feel hopeful that Christmas time might not be ruined after all.

Read on AO3

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Chapter One: A Holly Jolly Time

“Dean? Hello? Did you—are you still there?”

Sitting on a very uncomfortable chair at an overpriced café, for someone of his limited means anyway, Dean swallowed hard. Still holding the phone to his ear, he lowered his eyes as he felt his heart growing heavy at the news he had just heard.

“Dean?” repeated Sam at the other end of the line.

“Yeah. Still here. Sorry. Just—I didn’t expect that.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I feel awful. It’s just—work is crazy.”

“It’s okay, Sammy. I get it. Hell, I’m in the same situation. If not worse.”

“And this is why I’m really sorry. I had agreed to be the one to—”

“Sam, stop.” He cleared his throat. “I—it sucks, but like I said, I get it. We’ve been lucky so far, but I guess that this year…” he let out a deep sigh. He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“I promise I’ll do my best to change it, but right now, um, it doesn’t seem like I’ll be able to join you for Christmas,” Sam said in a desolate voice.

Dean nodded blankly. “Any other good news?”

Sam let out a deep sigh in turn.

“I—I just, Dean, I hate the idea that you’ll be alone for Christmas.”

“Me? I’ll be fine, Sam. What about you? What are you going to do?”

“I’ll be okay too. I’ll be at work.”

Dean lowered his phone and shook his head for a moment, and then he brought his phone back to his ear. “That’s what I mean, Sam. You, not being able to make it here because of work, deadlines and travelling schedule, that’s one thing. But to actually work on Christmas? I mean, I’m not even doing that and all I do is work.”

“I don’t have a choice. And honestly, it’s just, you know, one day. For a few hours. Which is really annoying when said like this, but...Work will be a nice distraction. And we can still talk. And skype for the rest of the day if you want. It’s ridiculous, but we can do it. I was almost going to suggest that we postpone Christmas and meet up soon after, but….”

“Nah. I mean, even if I knew for a fact that we could do something in the following week, I feel like we would have missed it. It would still be cool, but you know.”

“That’s what I thought too,” agreed Sam. “But we should do something for New Year’s Eve. I’m definitely working on that.”

“All right. Work will still be nuts on my end, but it should have diminished a bit by then. Or maybe I could make it to your end this time.”

“Dean, no. I—unless you let me help you out with money—”

“No,” blurted out Dean.

“—but I know you won’t agree to it,” said Sam, sighing.

Biting his bottom lip, Dean pondered on Sam’s suggestion. “I’m not saying yes, but I’ll think about it,” he brought himself to say.

“You will?”

“Just because I haven’t seen your freaking face for far too long now. But still. Not a definite yes.”

“But you’ll consider it?”

“Yeah. But it’s still too early in the month to have a clue of what the situation’s going to be at that point. So, I’ll leave it to that for now.”

“All right. That’s great,” said Sam.

Dean could hear how happy Sam was at the idea, so he decided that he should make an effort to make it happen.

“And Dean, even if for whatever reason that doesn’t work out either, I promise I’ll visit you soon, okay?”

“All right, Sammy. But don’t worry. I’m—it’s disappointing, but I know you tried. It will be okay.”

“Thanks Dean. I—thanks for understanding.” There was a long pause, and then Sam asked, “So, besides that? Anything new?”

Welcoming the change to a less depressing topic, Dean said, “Not really.”

“What about work? Is the holiday frenzy rising?”

A slightly less depressing topic.

“The frenzy is settling in, all right,” he sighed.

“Is the music driving you nuts already?”

“It’s been driving me nuts for the last two weeks. I was actually freaking humming Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer yesterday and I didn’t even notice it. I only did when a customer mentioned it.”

Sam let out a laugh. “Sorry. A few more weeks and it will be all over. And it’s better than last year, right? Since you’re at the Chocolaterie this time. I thought you said it was a bit more shielded than the rest of the store now that they moved its location this year.”

“Yeah, well that was the plan, but not anymore.” Dean leaned back into his seat.

“What? I—what do you mean?”

“I was about to tell you earlier. I was transferred a couple days ago to another department. Sort of.”

“No! What? But why?”

Dean cleared his throat. “It just needed to be done.”

“Why? Dean, what does that mean?” asked Sam, nearly aggravated as though he already knew the answer.

Dean debated for a moment whether or not he should share the specifics with his brother, knowing that Sam would most undoubtedly be worried and annoyed at him.

Nor would he be shy to express his views about it.

And Dean had worked really hard to avoid this particular lecture.

But since Sam had been honest about his work situation, he concluded that he owed him the same courtesy.

So, Dean replied, “Because another position opened up at the last minute and it offered more hours. I gave my name and here we are.”

“Dean,” groaned Sam.

I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.

“It’s all right, Sam.”

“Is it? How many hours are we talking about now?”

Silence.

“Dean?”

“Twenty hours.”

Sam swore loudly. “On top of your full time job at the garage? And the gig that Jo got you with Pam?”

“I was hoping you forgot about that…”

“I didn’t. Dean, this is nuts. How are you even able to pull this off?”

Dean crossed one arm over his chest, lowering his eyes.

“Bobby is helping me out. I’m solid during the day at the garage throughout the week, so I can have my nights and the weekends to do the rest.”

“That’s not what I meant. Do you even have a day off? A night off?”

“You’re one to talk, Sam. And it’s just for December. Everything will be back to normal after that.”

“December starts tomorrow and it’s already insane. And answer the question.”

Dean sighed. “I work at the store on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday nights. And in the afternoon during the weekend. And then Saturday nights, I wait at Pam’s events, which is really not a big deal. I did it this summer. It’s good money.”

“You did it once, Dean. One wedding. Not four in a row on top of—”

“No weddings this time. Pam said it will be Christmas parties for companies. The first one is tonight. It’s gonna be fine.”

“That leaves you with what, though? For free time?”

“I still have my evenings Sunday through Tuesday.”

“If you’re not pulling extra hours at the garage, you mean? Which I’m guessing you’re already doing in the mornings during the weekends? Am I right?”

“Sam,” warned Dean.

Sam remained silent for a good minute, until he said, “Dean, I’m worried.”

“Don’t be. It’s all going to go in the piggy bank so I’ll be able to catch my breath during the harsh winter,” he joked.

Sam let out a deep sigh. “And what about the new position at the store? Shit, Dean. I—I know you were really happy about—you were actually looking forward to the Chocolaterie. Now, I feel even worse about not being able to go.”

“It’s not your fault. And anyway, it’s just a job for the holidays. No matter what it is, we both know the novelty would have worn off eventually.”

“Okay, hold on here. Because we both know the real reason you wanted to work in that department. And it had absolutely nothing to do with the job in question…”

Dean pursed his lips, lifting his head to look at the ceiling, annoyed.

“Ugh. Not this again, Sam. I told you, it was…it’s not important.”

“Bull. You’ve been whining about this guy for, like, literally a freaking year now. A year.”

“Well, whatever,” urged Dean. “Doesn’t change anything now as he’s not even here.”

“But you said that last year he hadn’t shown up until a week or so before Christmas.”

“I said I only noticed him at the end of the season. Nuance.”

“But you also said they had added employees as Christmas approached. So maybe he was one of them. And he will be this year too.”

Dean let out a sigh. “I don’t know, Sam. All I can do is wait and see.” And after a short pause, he added in an urgent manner, “If I cared. Which, I don’t. Not really.”

Sam snorted. “Right.”

“What about you, huh? Made any headway with your office crush?”

“I—there’s been progress.”

“Yeah? Asked her out yet?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

At the sound of Sam clearing his throat, Dean shook his head.

“Did you or did you not ask her out, Sam?”

“I…okay, I haven’t yet, but—”

“God, Sam,” said Dean, cutting him off. “What are you waiting for?”

“If you would let me finish, I was going to say I’m going to. I’m just waiting for the right opportunity.”

“And when’s that? On your wedding day?”

Sam huffed. “I’ll get to it. The timing and the setting have to be right.”

Dean was not impressed by this statement.

“Don’t wait too long.”

“I won’t.”

Not wanting to push it too far, Dean asked, “Got anything else planned for today?

“Not sure. Kevin texted me. He and some of his friends are going out tonight. He told me the address of the bar. He said he invited Bela too…”

“Perfect! You can make your move then. You’re going, right?”

“I don’t know. I have so much work to do.”

“Sam, I swear if you don’t go, I will somehow teleport to Chicago and drag you there myself.”

“Dean, this isn’t really my scene.”

“That’s precisely why you should go. Live a little. And if Bela’s there, she gets to see you somewhere else than at the office. A different setting, like you’ve been waiting for. And if she’s not there, you still get to have fun.”

“But hitting on her at a bar? Like, that’s just—that’s not really how I had pictured it.”

“Sam, maybe start by finding out if she’s interested? And when you know that she is, feel free to execute whatever fantasy of courtship you had planned out,” he said with a grin on his face. “At least, go to the damn bar and enjoy yourself, huh?”

“In which department are you working at The Milton’s now?” asked Sam.

“Changing the subject, huh? Nice try.”

“I’ll think about what you said,” he assured him. “But I’m curious and you didn’t say earlier.”

There was a reason for that.

“The…I’m working at the Gift Wrapping Booth.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Sorry, the what?”

Dean groaned. “You heard me.”

After a long pause, Sam said, “I see.” Sam hadn’t laughed, but Dean knew full well his brother was most likely holding down a massive fit of laughter. “I’m—wait, aren’t those usually managed by volunteers? And it’s for donations or—”

“It still is. The donation part, I mean. Look, I don’t know the whole story, but apparently, there was an issue last year with some of the volunteers, so this time, they decided to offer their own Gift Wrapping services. Nothing has changed. Every customer is entitled to the services, to donate however much they want, and all the funds goes to the Children’s Hospital, just like last year. The only difference is that the store is employing people instead of relying on volunteers.”

“Is this unusual?”

“I have no clue, but it creates jobs, so I’m not gonna complain about it. It’s actually kinda nice of them to do that since they really don’t have to. And the store is providing the wrapping paper and everything, and let me tell you, it’s not the cheap stuff either.”

“Cool. Cool. I just have one question.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“Had they seen you wrap anything before they gave you the job or…”

“It’s wrapping, not rocket science.”

“Dean.”

“I’m fine,” he said defensively. And then, after a short hesitation, he added, “They do have a certain fancy way of doing it.”

“Thought so.”

“But I’ll manage. I practiced at home a bit—I mean it’s wrapping for God’s sake!”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine, Dean. I was just curious,” said Sam sincerely. “And how do you feel about it so far?”

“Well,” sighed Dean, “honestly, it’s been somewhat uneventful. I’m the only one in the booth—it’s more like a box, but whatever. At least I don’t have anyone boring to tear my ears off, but people haven’t been super eager to have their purchases wrapped so far. So it’s basically been me, sitting on a stupid chair and looking at people buying stuff I can’t afford. While listening to the same twelve songs.”

“Well, I don’t know if that’s encouraging or not, but I’m pretty sure the pace will pick up soon enough.”

“Yeah. Not sure that’s a silver lining.” Moving the phone away from his ear, Dean looked at the time on his phone. “All right,” he said, after putting the phone back, “I have to head back. My break is almost over. I’m lucky they even give me one, so… Thanks for the phone call.”

“Same. Though, I wish I had better news. Hang in there, Dean. The holiday season will be over soon.”

“I will. I’ll call you back tonight after my gig. And you better not answer because you’re out having fun for once,” he said with glee.

“We’ll see.”

“You freaking better.”

“Fine! Bye!”

Dean, walking to his booth, trying not to drag his feet, passed by toys’ department and spotted his friends, Charlie and Jo, looking at the board games.

Not in a talking mood, he simply waved at them and continued his route.

“Dean, wait!” said Jo.

Dean came to halt and let his friends catch up to him. “Sorry, I have to go back.”

“We’ll walk with you a minute,” said Jo. “Are you still good for tonight?”

“Yup. Pam called me Thursday night to double check. She gave me the address and everything. And a reminder of the regulations. I’m trying not to take it personally,” he said, beaming.

“Don’t. She did the same for me too.”

“Thanks again for giving her my name.”

“No problem.”

“You going too, Charlie?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Which sucks. That’s when I had my D&D meet ups.”

“Create a new one, then,” said Jo. “I’ll join.”

Charlie lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t toy with me, Harvelle.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Then Charlie, smiling, said, “You think we can convince this one too,” she said, poking Dean’s chest with her finger.”

“If I had time to have a life,” he said, “I would.”

Charlie squinted at him. “We’ll have to see about that then.” Continuing walking side by side, she asked him, “So, do you like your new position, Dean?”

“I’m not thrilled, but it’s not bad, either. And if I’m honest, it’s certainly an improvement from last year…”

“That wasn’t very hard to beat,” pointed out Charlie, remembering full well as she had been stuck in the same boat as he had.

“True.”

Having reached the booth, Dean pushed the half-door, stepped inside the booth, and approached the counter facing the girls.

“Wait, I thought you were at the Chocolaterie?” said Jo. “That was like perfect for you.”

“Yeah. I agree,” said Dean. “But I switched for the hours.”

“So, who is manning the Chocolaterie now?”

“Meg,” said Charlie. “I saw her this morning.”

“What?” exclaimed Dean. “Oh, man! I didn’t even know she was back.” And he made a face of disgust.

“She’s actually not that bad,” said Charlie.

An opinion that was not, it seemed, overly shared with her friends.

“Not that I care about that kind of stuff, but she always seemed kind of a manipulator to me,” said Jo.

“I don’t trust her,” said Dean simply.

Charlie lifted an eyebrow. “Um, one, you barely trust anyone. And two, I’m pretty sure the main reason why you don’t like her is because you saw her lurking around that guy you had heart-eyes for last year.”

Jo turned briskly towards her. “What’s that now?” A smirk appeared on her face. “What guy?”

“You didn’t know this?” asked Charlie.

“No. What guy?” she repeated.

“No one,” said Dean, busying himself by moving the wrapping paper around, which was utterly unnecessary.

“Not no one,” said Charlie. “Last year, there was this guy—dark hair, killer blue eyes, about yay-high—he was one of those last-minute employees. You know the ones who are brought in within the last few days before Christmas for emergencies, substitution or additional help?”

Jo nodded, understanding and eager to hear the rest.

“Okay, well, last year,” she continued, “Dean and I were elves helping out kids to have their picture taken with Santa. Which was not very far from the Chocolaterie. And this guy showed up just a few days before Christmas for additional help there, and from that moment on, all Dean did was constantly stare at his pretty face.”

“I didn’t constantly stare at him…”

“You didn’t ask him out?” said Jo.

Dean, pursing his lips, let out a deep sigh. “I never got to. As it was the last days before Christmas, I didn’t have one second to myself. I don’t even know his name or even exchanged a few words with him. And I didn’t work here after Christmas. I, um, did stop by the store a few times, but…and since I’ve been back, I tried to find out if anyone knew anything, but I haven’t had much luck so far.”

“I asked around too since they kept me on after Christmas, but nothing,” said Charlie.

“The only one who may have something is Meg and the only thing she had said to me last year was that his name was Clarence and I’m pretty sure it’s a goddamn lie. Hence: I don’t trust her.”

“Uh-huh. Were they a thing?” asked Jo to Charlie. “‘Clarence’ and Meg, I mean.”

“Who knows?” said Charlie. “It’s possible. I think Meg was the only one who got to interact with him. But he didn’t stay around for that long and I haven’t heard anything suggesting that either. The guy’s a mystery.”

Frowning, something was still bothering Jo. “Why not ask Rowena? If anyone knows who he is, it would be her, no?”

But Dean and Charlie shook their heads. “Rowena wasn’t here last year, remember? It was that atrocious-ass Adler.”

“Right. I think I had repressed that,” she said with a grim face. “Still, there has to be a way to find out. A record or something?”

But Dean was officially done with the subject. “Whatever,” he shrugged. “It’s not like my life depends on it. It was, like, one guy. Who may or may not have been good-looking. From afar. Whatever.”

Charlie and Jo exchanged devious looks.

Ones that made Dean roll his eyes. He waved them goodbye, as he knew they both needed to head back to their own departments, and watched them stroll down the aisle.

And so, left by himself, and with no customers in sight (for him, at the very least), just as he had told Sam, Dean pulled up a chair, sat down and…waited.

Attempting to seem alert and ready to help.

And not appear overly depressed at doing nothing.

At least it’s not complicated and it certainly beats dealing with rude customers.

On the other hand, killing time by staring in front of him blankly felt like a waste of time. Even if he was technically earning money while doing it.

But he knew he shouldn’t complain. As Sam had mentioned earlier, soon enough, he would most likely reminisce on the time when he was bored out of his skull.

But being kept in that booth with nothing else to do but to watch the people around him, while he was stuck alone, served as a painful allegory to his life. Everything around him was moving and there he stood, waiting for someone to come to him, while he was expected to just smile as if he was having the time of his life.

And now, the one silver lining he had had for the holidays was apparently gone as well.

No Sammy. No traditional cookies. And no making fun of old Christmas movies, while eating junk food and drinking eggnog.

They had never spent Christmas apart before. Even when Sam had been away at college. Even when either of them had been in a serious relationship (though that had mostly been Sam’s case, not Dean’s), they had still celebrated the holidays together.

No matter what. That was their thing.

And now he would have to spend it on his own.

Alone.

Assuming he would survive the crazy amount of workload awaiting him in December.

And not be driven mad by this infuriating Christmas music.

Awesome.

I hate my life.

“Hello.”

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin. A hand over his heart, he turned to his left only to realize someone was standing next to him.

In the booth.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was told to join you today.”

Regaining his composure, Dean said, “Cool. Um, the place has been pretty de—”

And the rest of his sentence died in his throat, the moment his eyes fell on his new co-worker.

Dark hair.

Killer blue eyes.

About yay-high.

It’s him.

And he’s here.

With me.

At the freaking booth.

Dean gawked at him.

Chapped lips.

Stubble beard.

And a deep voice that—

And all I’ve been doing is staring at him like a complete moron.

“Hi!” Dean nearly yelled, waving his hand.

Stop now.

And he immediately dropped his hand.

“Hello,” the man repeated.

“Dean,” said Dean, pointing at himself.

“Hello, Dean. I’m Castiel. Nice to meet you.”

Castiel.

“Um, same. Hi, Castiel.”

And he smiled at him like an idiot.

--End of Chapter One----

Read Chapter Two and the rest of the fic on AO3 :)

#spnpetra #spn fic #xmas fic #advent calendar #destiel fluff #sabriel fanfic #my fanfic #christmas shopping #spn xmas

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depressed-chicken-man · 4 years

Text

Cooped Up

Shane x OC

CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 CH5

Summary:

After failing to start her dream in the city, the fashion designer turned farmer tries to cope with her new life in the last-ditch effort to make a happy home for herself. She has so many concerns for her new life. How much of her identity is stuck in the city? Will she even make a difference?

Even if she doesn’t think so, it’s undeniable that she will make a difference for a certain depressed coop keeper.

Chapter 5: Flower Dance

Chapter 5 on Ao3

“Honestly, I think I like this slight tan on you. You’re as stunning as always and the pink peonies were definitely the way to go. You look sickening.” His sing-song voice complimented as he weaved the fresh flowers into her caramel blonde hair. He dropped the braid and pulled it apart, spraying a generous amount of instant freeze hairspray, the smell mingled with the aroma of the caramel latte he brought her.

“Thanks, Brad,” she said, taking a deep gulp of the latte, savoring the flavor she had missed for so long. She hadn’t had good coffee like this since she arrived in the town and after over a month, it felt like heaven. It felt like home.

The past few weeks had gone by and her farm was still intact by some miracle. The parsnips she had planted were growing and with her excitement taking hold, she planted a lot more crops while the season was still in full swing. Her chicks, on the other hand, were something she had gotten more used to. To put it lightly, she could bear to feed them. Whenever she tried to pet them, they would chirp and bounce over to her. She was still uneasy and didn’t want to pick them up, but she found that ruffling the soft yellow down feathers wasn’t so bad.

She cringed to think of what would happen when they grow older. Larger claws and more anger, she guessed. For now, she was content and had even named a few. Stinky was her favorite chick, but Abe Lincoln was growing on her.

The bathroom door swung open and Haley bounced in, her already completed half up half down hair style was finished and her eyeshadow sparkled in the warm light of the bathroom mirror. She tapped her foot and looked at her phone.

“Are you finishing up? I wanna get there early to practice my dancing and get a few solo shots. You’ll practice with me, won’t you?” she asked, her voice carried her words swift. Jennifer sighed and looked to Brad, who tsked and held a mirror behind her. As usual, the style was perfect and looked picturesque. She admired Brad’s skill and she was stunned by how much he had improved since he insisted on doing her hair in highschool.

“Uh-huh,” Jen responded, admiring her braid and the placement of the pink blossoms. “I’ll definitely need to practice. Maybe we can get a picture under the cherry blossom tree?”

“That would be lovely. I’m no professional, but I can take the photo so you can get the whole group.” Brad offered, pulling the mirror up to his own face as he flicked at his own hair. The white-blonde style was always cut and crisp. Catching Brad looking messy was a rare sight and usually meant he was either way past his drinking limit or upset.

“That’s perfect.” Haley exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She had gotten glitter on her fingers from her dress and heels, the brilliant white made her look as if she were going to walk down the aisle.

Jennifer stood from the kitchen chair that they had to bring in and smoothed out the light blue ballroom style gown that Brad had brought for her. Truly, he was her savior most of the time when he wasn’t getting her into trouble.

Taking the cue, Haley, led both her and Brad from the restroom and began to gather her camera and such for the day. She and Brad waited and she inspected her whole look, smiling to herself.

“Oh Jen, you’re going to have to visit me every month. I can’t let you fall out of touch just because you have this farm. Besides, those stick on nails are no luxury for you. Don’t let this farming gig make a manicurist weep.” he said and bumped her chin up with his knuckle. “You’re better than that so take care of yourself okay?” he said with a smile, but she knew he was concerned.

This was one of the things she had tried not to let slip away from her, something that was as much a part of her as her skin was. She couldn’t let anything mess with her appearance or her style. Yes, she was going to pull weeds and look stunning doing it. She owed that to herself and her friends. It was what set her apart and she was determined to keep it up until she was too old to stand.

“Yes, stick on nails aren’t my style.”

His fingers twitched, desperately resisting the urge to pull the flask from his suit pocket. No, instead, he had a wet wipe in hand and was looking around in the sea of white dresses and blue pantsuits.

Shane didn’t know what he was doing dressed up and he swore he would never, ever come to this dance without the intention of grabbing a plate of free food and leaving immediately. He didn’t know how he was convinced to have a clean shave so early in the morning and fix his hair with gel that he hadn’t touched in years. He had no clue as to how one little girl could bat her eyes and tug at his leg and make him come out, dressed and polished, which he almost forgot how to do.

Yet, here he was.

And the little girl responsible was running around excitedly, covered in a chocolate cupcake that she was offered. Jas had not shut up about the Flower Dance in weeks and he half blamed Marnie for showing her an abundance of period dramas set in the victorian era. Tea parties, dances, and writing with a dip pen were on Jas’s mind and she wouldn’t let up. If all he could do was dress her up and bring her to a useless town dance, then he hoped she would be content with it. Hell, he hoped giving her a chicken feather as a makeshift quill pen would be enough but she had gotten upset with how bad it was at writing. Maybe this would make up for it.

With each second that he scanned the small but surprisingly dense crowd of dresses, he felt more and more inclined to pull that flask out. He wasn’t sure if it was for the best, but he soon spotted her standing next to a familiar blonde farmer.

Her blue, flowing dress almost brushed the grass and her hair was braided with some kind of pink flower. The petals had begun to fall from the flowers and were caught in her hair and gripped the back of her low cut dress.

She was as pretty as usual and perhaps now even more unapproachable. He didn’t want to say that he had taken a liking ot her, but she wasn’t as unbearable to be around as before. Every so often, she would come into the saloon, order a pizza, and then bring him half. The first few times, he had told her to get lost and to stop, but she never listened. She would simply ignore him, slide the plate to him, and tell him to have a good evening before she would leave. He had gotten to the point that he would no longer argue and just accepted that she would never learn to leave him alone.

Instead of telling her to get lost, he would mutter a thanks and she would be off. It didn’t matter, the result was the same. She would still give him pizza and she would still leave immediately afterward. He wondered if it was the thought of bothering him that had her leave promptly, but the smarter half of him knew that it was probably pity. She would give him pizza to “help him” as some kind of meaningless charity, and then when she felt better about her good deed of the day, she would leave. She didn’t want to talk to him and she didn’t want to stay.

Besides, there was no telling what her new buddies had shared about him. She probably knew better than to place hope in him at this point.

Mentally steeling himself, he trudged over to were Jas was happily talking to her, her sugar rush giving her a surge of friendliness. Her grin was punctuated with chocolate icing like dimples.

“You look just like a princess! I wanna look like you when I grow up!” Jas giggled and swayed from side to side, her hands clasped in front of her. He flower crown hung loosely and threatened to fall to the grass.

“Like me? I’m no princess. You’re the one with the crown, miss thing!” she said in mock shock, her hand placed humbly over her heart as if taken back by the child’s beauty.

“My uncle is going to dance with me! Are you dancing with anyone?” She asked, and Jennifer nodded.

“Your uncle? How nice!” She gave and pointed over to Haley, who was practicing her footwork a few feet away. “My friend there is going to show me how to dance. I’m not any good, but I’m sure you’re great!” she said and Jas beamed.

“Oh, I can show you, miss. I watched a docu-documemory about it!”Jas bragged and reached for Jennifer’s pristine, blue skirt, her chocolate covered fingers promising a stain. He didn’t want to be responsible for that argument.

“Woah there, pumpkin!” he interjected, reaching down in the knick of time to capture her hand. Jennifer jumped a bit in surprise, surely not expecting someone to swing in and grab the child she was talking to. He ignored her and wiped the chocolate from Jas’s fingers clumsily.

“Uncle Shane!” she whined and gave a looked of disgust when he leaned down to wipe her face with the scented wet wipe.

“Just a second, kiddo. Can’t be messing up the lady’s dress.” He explained and Jas gave a look of realization at her now clean hand, as if she hadn’t thought of the possibility of getting anything dirty. A small voice shouted out about something in the background and Jas’s eyes lit up as she looked around the clearing.

“Vincent is here! Please let me go, dear sir!” she pleaded, taking the language from her period dramas. He sighed and studied his clean up job. Good enough. He released his loose grip on her arm.

“Alright, but no more cupcakes. I don’t want you getting-” and she was already gone. He straightened up “-sick…” He stood in silence for a moment and only realized that Jennifer was still watching when she spoke up.

“What a cutie pie. Looks like you have your hands full.” She joked and then gestured at him. “I hardly recognized you, all cleaned up.” She admitted.

He shrugged and looked at the ground, pulling at his sleeve.

“Yeah… She wanted a dance partner for the dance and I couldn’t say no. She’s a handful but she’s a cute little squirt.” He said and paused. Why was he telling her that? Before the blonde could respond, a white haired, froo-froo looking guy in a ritzy tracksuit bounced up and pulled at her bare shoulder.

“Jen, picture time! Let’s go!” he sung and the dark blonde gave Shane a quick look.

“I’m sorry. I have to go. Have fun with the little one, uncle Shane!” she dismissed and was gone in a few seconds. He looked at his feet and mentally cursed himself. Why did he try to talk to her? It wasn’t as if he was going to be her friend and it certainly wasn’t like he wanted to hang around her.

No, the sooner she was gone, the better.

Shane was sure she knew that and that she would go back to the city where she belonged. She didn’t belong here and her farm was a joke. Besides, she didn’t even fit in and even now that was apparent. Her dress was blue when it was supposed to be white.

Closing his eyes, he turned back and looked around for Jas. She was with Vincent, who was holding up a cricket that he found in the grass. Jas wasn’t scared of the bug and leaned in the get a closer look, her eyes wide. A better time than ever to mess around with her.

“Scared of that little cricket?” he asked and she shook her head. Vincent gave Shane a smile. He was a well-behaved kid and he was glad that Jas had him to play with.

“Nope! A lady is never scared!” she proclaimed, mocking a british accent like in the dramas. Shane crouched down and pointed at the cricket.

“You’re not scared of this thing? For real?” he asked, and she once again shook her head, this time accompanied by crossed arms.

“You should be,” he began, making it up as he went, “These crickets are even more mean to little girls who aren’t afraid. They get ya when you don’t expect it.” Jas dropped her guard and gave a wary look at the cricket, Vincent had resorted to holding it farther from him.

“No they don’t. You’re just messing with me like last time, right?” she half asked, her disbelief waned. Shane stood back up and gave her a short laugh.

“Right, kiddo. Just messing with ya.”

She giggled in response and was gestured away by Vincent, who wanted to show her something. Shane looked over to the table that gleamed like a beacon to him. It was covered in casserole dishes and plates of sweets and finger foods.

Making himself comfortable, he made his way over to it and began to fix himself a plate, ignoring what he was certain was a glare from a passerby that he hadn’t bothered to look up at. Plate in hand, he looked over his shoulder into the mass of practicing dancers and onlookers. He wasn’t sure what had made him curious.

Practicing in the far corner, Haley and Jennifer held each other close, their dressing swaying with each step. They both adorned smiles and their lips moved with words that he couldn’t hear as Jennifer stumbled a bit.

His mood soured, and instead of being drawn to his plate, his hand quickly found the flask tucked away in his pocket.

CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 CH5

#sdv shane #sdv shane fanfic #sdv shane x oc #sdv fanfic #stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley shane

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keepingupwithfundies · 5 years

Note

So I think we can safely assume that all of the Duggar spouses will be homeschooling their kids, at least until proven otherwise- so whose kids do you think will end up getting the best and worst educations? (Disclaimer- I mean in relation to each other, i think in general the fundie homeschooled kids we've seen don't seem to have gotten a good education but i don't mean it as an attack on homeschooling in general)

Homeschooling’s a hard gig. If some of the families decided homeschooling wasn’t best for them, I could see private Christian schools becoming an option.

I honestly don’t know if I could rank the Duggar kids as educators, since all of the daughters have been pretty equally educated and were all just as unambitious as the next. Jana definitely seems to be best equipped of all the girls with practical skills, and a more knowledgeable mother enables a more informed child. Among the Bates, I think Tori brings a lot to the table since she actually earned some sort of degree in education. Kelly Jo had also named her in particular as being the most likely to have as many kids as she did, and for being able to handle the challenges that come with a group of children. -Suz

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echodrops · 6 years

Note

Can we still send ships? Midotsuyu, Kiribaku, Kataang, Zutara, JoxLaurie (don’t know the ship name, little women)

Whoa, there are a lot here, so I’ll just write a little about each one.

MidoTsuyu:

vomit / don’t ship / okay / cute / adorable / perfect / beyond flawless / hot damn / screaming and crying / i will ship them in hell

I quite like Tsuyu and her character. It’s refreshing to see a somewhat blunt female character who speaks her mind, is responsible, level-headed, and great in a crisis. She’s not only cute in her design but also in her reactions to other characters–her straightforward manner of making friends is very endearing to me. Even though she rarely gets as much of the spotlight as she deserves, I think that she and Midoriya could be a fine ship! In particular, I appreciate that if this ship was the main het ship, there probably wouldn’t be a lot beating around the bush and awkward romantic tension such as exists between Izuku and Ochako–Tsuyu seems like the type who would come clean about her feelings fairly quickly. Ha ha, it would honestly be pretty cute to see Midoriya completely flustered by having a girl confess to him–he’d probably melt into a puddle from the heat of his own blush.

I think this ship has a lot of potential and should get more attention from fans–maybe Horikoshi should spend a little more time giving Tsuyu some ship tease with other characters! I’m kind of partial to Ochako/Tsuyu myself.

KiriBaku:

vomit / don’t ship / okay / cute / adorable / perfect / beyond flawless / hot damn / screaming and crying / i will ship them in hell

There are some ships where you just have to ask yourself what the creator’s intent was. Like do you think Horikoshi intended for the fans to like seeing Bakugou and Kirishima together as much as we do? Do you think he sees all the fanarts and asks himself “What have I done?!” or, deep down, do you think that sometimes manga and animation artists create these characters just KNOWING that fans are going to ship them, and secretly embracing that fan reaction, even if they don’t ever actually plan on making the pair canon in actual material? Sometimes when I look at KiriBaku, I just get the feeling that Horikoshi knew what he was doing when he started drawing the two of them together.

I love that Kirishima has zero fear of Bakugou’s threats and crappy attitude, and that he also won’t just allow Bakugou to trample over others. He’s such a good kid whose gentle chiding and constant corrections seem to be improving Bakugou’s mannerisms and helping Bakugou to make genuine friends (however grudging Bakugou seems to be about it lol). Kirishima makes Bakugou a better person just by being around him! But it’s also true in reverse–I don’t know if Bakugou’s really deliberately trying to cheer Kirishima up or just stating what’s on his mind because he’s honest, but Bakugou’s supporting words have been massive motivators for Kirishima, whose greatest weakness has always been his internal feelings of inferiority.

A good, mutually supportive and beneficial ship. A+.

Kataang:

vomit / don’t ship / okay / cute / adorable / perfect / beyond flawless / hot damn / screaming and crying / i will ship them in hell

Ten years ago I was not the mature adult I am today, and although I myself was never an active part of the ship war between Zutara and Kataang, I definitely read every single piece of back-and-forth drama between these two ships that I could get my hands on and was vocally on the Zutara side. To be honest, I recall hating Kataang with a burning passion back then. I just disliked everything about it, from the stereotype schoolgirl/schoolboy crush vibe it radiated to the irritating “clingy jealous girl“ scenes that got handed to Katara… Not to mention that, personally, I’ve always found it a bit odd when girls date younger men–I’m sure this is just ingrained societal stereotypes coming out, but… ha ha, is it bad of me to say that I’ve always found men to be less mature than girls? Dating a guy who is your own age can turn into a babysitting gig if he hasn’t got his shit together… Dating a younger guy might be even worse. XD

I felt like a lot of chemistry between these characters was kind of arbitrary… Almost like “Katara has never met any young men who weren’t from her tribe before but now she met someone new and ooh, he’s so cool and different as the Avatar!” There wasn’t anything wrong with Aang–he was sweet and fun and strong. But I could never see what particularly would have attracted someone to him romantically; his vibe and attitude were so explicitly childish through the first half of the story that I never quite got a “romantic” vibe and it kind of made me, as a nearly twenty-year-old viewer, a little uncomfortable to even try to imagine a twelve-year-old in a romantic light. I feel like a lot of the Kataang shippers might have been on the younger end, and therefore more likely to see Aang as a reflection of themselves?

In any case, as a more responsible adult, I definitely have learned my lessons on shipping and letting others ship–if Kataang is your cup of tea, more power to you guys! I was never my ship, but I can respect other people’s love for it.

Zutara:

vomit / don’t ship / okay / cute / adorable / perfect / beyond flawless / hot damn / screaming and crying / i will ship them in hell

Obviously if you’re not a Kataang shipper, you’re a Zutara shipper. I don’t make the rules, just abide by them. Zutara was my bread and butter for as long as Avatar was on TV. I remember calling my friend up on the good old house phone with a cord I had to stretch to the max just to see the TV and talk at the same time, wailing about all the ship tease scenes for this ship. I still remember the heartbreak I felt when watching the ending of the last season and knowing that Kataang was incoming. I remember grumbling through every Zuko/Mai scene wondering why in the hell the creators hated Zuko so much they’d throw him together with someone so ambivalent as Mai…

I love red/blue, fire/water, opposites-in-balance ships, always have and always will. I love the imagery, I love their motifs, I love the personalities that come along with these kind of elementally-aligned characters; I love the weight and automatic tension coding two characters with these colors or other opposite features brings and how creators can bank on these archetypes to add additional depth to character interactions–there’s just something very tidy and pleasing about color-coded ships.

Not to mention all the other wonderful aspects of this ship. I really wanted to see this one in canon. Alas…

Jo/Laurie:

vomit / don’t ship / okay / cute / adorable / perfect / beyond flawless / hot damn / screaming and crying / i will ship them in hell

LOOK MAN. I might not have read Little Women since elementary school but you do not forget the perfection that is Jo and Laurie, the most perfect ship that never was. Screw you Louisa May Alcott, I’ll never forgive you.

I feel like, when you’re young and you read books, there’s that moment where you come across your first “real” romance, the first relationship where you go from seeing relationships as “blech, something for adults” to “this is why all the adults make such a big deal out of getting married because THEY’RE IN LOVE”–in some ways, what we read or see depicted to us through media early on in life becomes our lens for viewing and judging later relationships, and having Little Women as an early example of romance has definitely had a profound effect on my tastes and definitions of romance throughout the years, I feel.

Jo and Laurie had no right to never get together. It actually feels cruel, thinking about it in retrospect. How could their destiny be denied so coldly?! I’m getting sad just thinking about this lol.

Jo and Laurie were each other’s best friends, the absolute picture of “kindred spirits”–they understood each other, delighted in each other’s wit, and supported each other through the doubts and drama. There was an air about them that they existed in a world all their own, that they were just two very different people from all the other characters, who saw eye-to-eye in a way that others couldn’t touch and who brought out the best–and sometimes worst–in each other in a very vivid and human way.

They felt real, lovable, enjoyable, and made for each other.

And then it never happened. I’m going to leave my dissatisfied fan letter on Alcott’s grave, dammit.

#kiribaku #zutara #kataang #midotsuyu #jo/laurie #boku no hero academia #avatar the last airbender #Little Women #ship ask game #echo answers asks

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bamby0304 · 6 years

Text

The Hart II: Highway

Summary: Off on her own, without the Winchesters, Bobby, Ellen or Jo, Lizzie tries to get back to what she does best… hunting. But time is running out, Dean’s soul is on the line, and now everyone knows Lizzie is psychic like Sam. Can the brothers and Lizzie work through their problems? Or will they lose everything?

Bamby’s Masterlist

The Hart Masterlist

The Hart II: Highway Masterlist

Part Ninteen: Just Sleeping

Warnings: Normal stuff. Some angst, bit of violence.

Bamby

SPOV

I sat at a bar, Long Train Running by the Doobie Brothers played in the background as I looked down at the half full glass of whiskey in front of me. I tilted the glass back and forward, in deep thought. All the hope I'd had the last few months seemed to have come to an end.

Dean's time was coming closer and I didn't know what to do anymore. I didn't know how to save him.

"There you are." Speak of the devil. I turned to see Dean walking up to me, worried. "What are you doing?" he asked.

I gave a simply shrug. "Having a drink."

"It's two in the afternoon. You're drinking whiskey?"

"I drink whiskey all the time."

"No, you don't," he argued.

"What's the big deal? You get sloppy in bars, you hit on chicks all the time," I noted. "Why can't I?"

He took a look around at the bar, noticing the older waitress and another woman, neither of which either of us would be interested. "It's kind of slim pickings around here." He turned back to me. "Liz and I have been looking all over for you. What's going on with you?"

Shaking my head, I didn't say anything right away as I looked down at my glass for moment or two before speaking again. "I tried, Dean."

"To do what?" Dean asked, clearly confused.

"To save you."

Sighing, Dean took a seat next to me as he nodded to the bartender. "Can I get a whiskey? Double, neat."

I shook my head at him again. "I'm serious, Dean."

"No, you're drunk."

"I mean, where you're going... what you're gonna become." I felt my eyes begin to water. Scoffing to hide my emotions, I went on. "I can't stop it." Looking down at my drink I admitted something I'd been trying to deny for a while now. "I'm starting to think maybe even Ruby can't stop it. But really, the thing is, no one can save you."

He shrugged. "What I've been telling you."

I looked to him again. "No, that's not what I mean. I mean, no one can save you, because you don't wanna be saved. I mean, how can you care so little about yourself?" When Dean scoffed and smiled, I sighed, getting agitated. "What's wrong with you?"

Before Dean could answer his phone started to ring. Answering it, he didn't hesitate to talk. "It's fine, Liz, I found-" He stopped, frowning as he began to stand up, something clearly wrong. "Liz, slow down. What's wrong?" There was another pause. His eyes locked on to mine as he spoke again. "Pack up the room. We'll be there in less than ten minutes," he told her before hanging up. "Liz just got a call from a hospital. Something's wrong with Bobby."

That's all he had to say. I was suddenly sober as I got up and we headed for the exit. Bobby was family. It didn't matter where the hospital was, if there was something wrong we'd be there.

EPOV

I stood next to Bobby's bed, looking down at his sleeping form. His unmoving, un-waking form. Everything I was feeling in that moment... I hadn't been that scared in years. Bobby was the only father figure I'd ever really had, he wasn't just my surrogate father, he was my father. Losing him... I'd never be the same.

"So, what's the diagnosis?" Sam asked from where he and Dean stood at the end of the bed, looking to the doctor.

The doctor shook his head. "We've tested everything we can think to test. He seems perfectly healthy."

"Except that he's comatose," Dean noted, a tone in his voice that told me how worried he was. Bobby meant as much to Sam and Dean as he did to me.

The doctor turned to me. "Miss Snyderson, you're his emergency contact. Anything we should know? Any illnesses?"

"No, he-he..." I found it hard to speak, feeling my throat get tight as I tried not to cry. "He n-n-never gets sick."

"He doesn't even catch cold," Dean added as he came over to wrap an arm around my waist comfortingly.

Sam looked over at me and then at Bobby before turning to the doctor again. "Doctor, is there anything you can do?"

"Look, I'm sorry, but we don't know what's causing it... so we don't know how to treat it. He just... went to sleep, and didn't wake up."

DPOV

Sam and I walked into Bobby's hotel room. We'd left Liz back at the hospital. She hadn't wanted to leave Bobby's side. Honestly, none of us had wanted to leave him, but we all knew the only way to figure out how to help him is to figure out what happened to him, and the only way to figure that out is to go digging.

"So, what was Bobby doing in Pittsburgh?" Sam asked.

I shrugged. "Unless he's taking an extremely lame vacation..." Closing the door behind me, I moved to stand in the middle of the room with Sam.

"I mean, he must have been working a job, right?"

"Well, you think there'd be some sort of sign of something, you know?" I noted as I headed over to the chest of drawers. Sam was right behind me, but as we opened a drawer up each, we found they were empty. In fact, the whole room was spotless. "Research, news clippings. Or a frigging pizza box or a beer can."

Sam stepped away from the dresser and over to the wardrobe, I watched as he opened the door and found some clothes hanging up. Pushing them aside, he nodded, having found something.

"How 'bout this?" He flicked on the wardrobe light.

As I moved over to check it out we found that the inside wall was covered in newspaper clippings, maps and pictures. The pictures were of roots, mushrooms and seeds. A map had to word 'Pittsburgh' written in big letters and underlined- I recognised Bobby's handwriting. There were post-it's with addresses and numbers. There was all the information a hunter might need.

I chuckled lightly. "Good old Bobby, always covering up his tracks."

"You make heads or tails of any of this?"

Reaching forward, I took one of the papers about plants and began to read. "'Silene capensis', which of course means absolutely nothing to me."

"Here." Sam grabbed a newspaper clipping. "Obit. 'Dr. Walter Gregg, 64, university neurologist'."

"How'd he bite it?"

"Um... actually, they don't know. They say he just went to sleep and didn't wake up."

I took the clipping from him and read it, seeing a lot of similarities. "That sound familiar to you?"

"All right, um... so, let's say Bobby was looking into the doc's death. You know, hunting after something-"

I cut him off, "That started hunting him."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"All right, stay here. See if you can make heads or tails of this." I gestured to the closet. "I know at least one person who might be able to answer some of our questions."

"Lizzie," he noted. "But what are you gonna do?"

Turning away from him, I started for the door. "I'm gonna look into the good doctor myself." I called over my shoulder as I left.

...

Walking into Dr Gregg's office, I found books and boxes cluttered all over the room. It was clear everything of his was already being removed despite the fact he only passed away recently. I found it a little insensitive but at the same time didn't really care.

"So you're Dr Gregg's lab assistant?" I asked Miss Sanders as she followed me into the room.

She gave a short nod. "That's right."

"Well, his death must have come as a shock to you," I noted, moving to his desk.

"Yeah, it did. But, still, go in your sleep, peaceful... that's what you wish for, right?"

"Yeah. Right." I grabbed a book from the desk, taking a look at it. "Dr Gregg uh... studied sleeping disorders? Dreams?" I asked, showing her the book.

Her face changed, going from polite to uneasy. "I don't understand. I went over all of this with the other detective."

I looked to her curiously as I put the book back down on the desk. "You already spoke to another detective?"

"Yes. A very nice older man with a beard."

"Well, I'd love to hear it again if you don't mind."

"Thing is, I'm sort of busy. Maybe we could do this later?"

It was obvious that she was trying to dodge me and my questions. But I wasn't letting her go that easily. "Sure. Yeah. Just bring you down to the station later this afternoon," her face fell as I went on, "and get your statement on tape, do it all official-like."

"Look, okay, I didn't know about Dr Gregg's experiments. Not until I was cleaning out his files."

"His experiments, uh...? The ones he was conducting on... sleeping?"

"No one knew, okay? Not the university, not anybody. I already spoke with a lawyer and he told me I can't be held liable for anything."

"Maybe you couldn't, but that was before the new evidence came to light," I lied through my teeth.

She suddenly looked more nervous. "New evidence?"

"Mm-hm."

"What new evidence?"

I thought of a quick answer. "I'm not at liberty to say."

She gave a sigh, clearly annoyed by the whole situation. "Look, I'm just a grad student. This was a gig to cover tuition."

"Maybe so. But, uh, still, this- this..." I gestured around the room. "This could go on your permanent record. Unless you hand over the doctor's research to me. All of it."

SPOV

I walked into Bobby's hospital room, finding Lizzie sitting next to him, holding his hand as she looked out the window deep in thought. I wasn't really sure how the two met, but it was clear they meant a lot to each other. She was his emergency contact, that meant something.

Clearing my throat, I got her attention. "Hey." I offered her a smile as she turned to me.

"Hey." She gave a small, half smile that didn't reach her eyes. "What did you guys find?"

I knew Lizzie enough to know that she didn't like beating around the bush. If I was here for help, she'd want me to get to it. So I did.

Walking over to stand by her, I offered some of the research I'd brought along. "I was wondering if you could help me with Silene cap-"

She cut me off, looking at the papers. "Silene capensis? It's an African Dream Root. I haven't seen the stuff in years. It's rare, expensive, and powerful."

Listening and watching Lizzie, there was a second there where I understood how Dean felt... Lizzie did seem to know a lot. At least she seemed to know a little about a lot of things. Either way, she usually had some helpful information, just like now.

"African Dream Root?" I asked, hoping she'd go into detail- she did.

"It's a plant you digest and gives you abilities in dreams. You can make bad dreams good, and vise versa. It may not seem so bad, but it's dangerous. If Bobby was researching a case involving the stuff..." She shook her head, looking up at me. "It's not good."

DPOV

Still dressed as a detective- only now for the Pittsburgh police department- I showed my badge to Jeremy Frost, one of Dr Gregg's patience.

He moved out of the way so I could step into his apartment. "Look, I don't know what the RA said, but, ah, I was growing ferns."

I chuckled lightly, walking in to stand in the middle of the room. "Take it easy, Phish, that's not why I'm here."

"Really?" he asked, when I turned to give him a reassuring nod he relaxed a little. "Oh, thank God. Okay."

"I wanna talk to you about Dr Gregg's sleep study."

"Yeah. Dr Gregg just died, right?"

"You were one of his test subjects, right?"

"Yeah." He turned and opened his fridge, pulling out two beers and offered me one. "Unless you're on duty or, whatever?"

I looked to the offered drink for a moment or two before making my mind up and taking it. "I guess I can make an exception."

Taking the bottle, I opened and brought it to my lips, enjoying the cool and refreshing taste. If Sam had been here he would have stopped me. If Liz had been here she would have shaken her head and grinned at me. But I was on my own, and I was gonna do whatever I wanted.

After another moment, I turned back to Jeremy, getting on with the interview. "Now, Dr Gregg was testing treatments for a, uh, 'Charcot-Wilbrand syndrome'? Which means...?"

"Um... I, uh... I can't dream." When I looked surprised, Jeremy went on. "I had this bike accident when I was a kid and banged my head pretty good and I haven't had a dream since. Till the study. You know. Sort of."

"What'd the doc give you?"

"It's this yellow tea. It... it smelled awful, tasted worse."

"What did it do? "

"Just passed right out. And uh, I had the most vivid, super-intense dream. Like a bad acid trip, you know?"

"Totally." Remembering that I was meant to be a cop, I corrected myself and go back into character. "I mean, no."

"That was it. I dropped out of the study right after that. I didn't... like it. To tell you the truth... it kind of scared me."

SPOV

"How is he?"

I looked over to see Dean walking into Bobby's room. "No change," I answered.

Dean looked around, confused. "Where's Liz?"

"I convinced her to go get some food. Thought it would do her some good."

He nodded, seeming to agree. "So, what you got?" he asked, moving over to me.

He'd called me on his way to the hospital and filled me in on everything he found out about Dr Gregg and the experiments he doctor was performing. During the conversation, we also agreed it would be best to keep the fact the doctor was dead from Lizzie. She wasn't dealing with Bobby's condition as well as Dean and I were. If she thought Bobby was in more danger than she already suspected, it wasn't going to help.

Getting straight to it, I began to tell him everything Lizzie and I learnt. "Well, considering what you told me about the doc's experiments..." I sighed, "Bobby's wall is starting to make a hell of a lot more sense."

"How so?"

I held up a picture of the Silene capensis plant. "This plant, Silene capensis, is also known as African Dream Root. It's been used by shaman and medicine men for centuries."

"Let me guess. They dose up, bust out the didgeridoos, start kicking around the hackey."

"Not quite. If you believe the legends, it's used for dream walking. I mean, entering another person's dreams, poking around in their heads."

"I take it we believe the legends"

We shared a look before I answered, "When don't we?" Never, by the way. We always believe them. "But dream walking is just the tip of the iceberg."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, this Dream Root is some serious mojo. You take enough of it, with practice, you can become a regular Freddy Krueger. You can control anything. You could turn bad dreams good, you could turn good dreams bad."

"And killing people in their sleep?"

I gave a short nod. "For example. So let's say uh, let's say this doc was testing this stuff on his patients, Tim Leary-style."

"Somebody gets pissed at him, decides to give him a little dream visit, he goes nighty-night."

"But what about Bobby?" I asked, looking over at Bobby as he 'slept' in the bed nearby. "I mean, if the killer came after him, how come he's still alive?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know."

DPOV

Walking out of Bobby's room, we started for the vending machines, hoping to find Liz on the way.

"So how do we find our homicidal sandman?" I asked.

Sam shrugged. "Could be anyone."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Anyone who knew the doctor, had access to his dream shrooms."

"Maybe one of his test subjects or something?" Sam suggested.

"Possible. But his research was pretty sketchy. I mean... I don't know how many subjects he had, or who all of them were." When Sam scoffed I looked at him confused. "What?"

He gave a loud sigh. "In any other case, we'd be calling Bobby and asking him for help right now."

An idea occurred to me then, causing me to stop in my tracks. I grabbed Sam and stopped him too. "You know what? You're right."

It was his turn to look confused. "What?"

"Let's go talk to him."

Now he looked even more confused. "Sure. I think we might find the conversation a bit one-sided."

"Not if we're tripping on some Dream Root."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"You wanna go dream walking inside Bobby's head?"

I gave a simple shrug. "Yeah. Why not? Maybe we could help."

"We have no idea what's crawling around in there."

"Well how bad could it be?"

"Bad."

"Dude, it's Bobby."

He considered it for a moment before giving a short nod. "Yeah, you're right." He hesitated as if realising something. "One problem though. We're fresh out of African Dream Root, so unless you know someone who can score some..."

One name came to my mind then. "Crap."

"What?"

"Bela."

"Bela?" He looked confused again before his face fell as he understood. "Crap. You're actually suggesting we ask her a favour?"

"I'm feeling dirty just thinking about it, but yeah," I noted before I started walking down the hall again to find Liz.

EPOV

I sat on the couch in Bobby's hotel room. Dean sat across from me, his hand absentmindedly massaging my ankle as my feet rested in his lap, while his were stretched out onto the bed across from us. We were going through some information on the Dream Root.

On the other side of the room was Sam, who'd fallen asleep at the desk and was now drooling as he moaned and mumbled. He was enjoying himself, whatever the dream may be about.

"Hey." Dean's hand moved to my calf. So maybe it hadn't been an absentminded massage... "You got anything?"

Sighing, I shook my head as I reached down and put the papers on the floor. "Nothing I didn't already know."

"Maybe we need a break." He grinned, moving to place his papers down as well, his other hand slowly running further up my leg. His intentions were blatantly obvious.

"I'm not having sex with you in Bobby's hotel room, with Sam right at the desk. It's weird."

Dean gave a slight shrug. "He's fast asleep. We'll be quite."

"When are we ever quiet?" I couldn't keep myself from grinning back. "You're always trying to make me moan."

"And scream." He shifted so his knee was on the couch as he started to move himself on top of me. "Screams from you are rare. Makes me feel good."

"Sex makes you feel good," I noted with a raised eyebrow. "And don't think for a second that this," I gestured between us, "is happening. We're still in Bobby's room, and Sam is still-"

His hand slid to the inside of my thigh, mere inches from my underwear. Heat was radiating off both of us as I fell silent and closed my eyes, forgetting why I didn't want anything to happen.

All thoughts were focused on everything Dean was doing as he massaged my inner thigh, fingers inching closer and closer to my underwear. All I could think about is how much I wanted him to do more. I needed more. Sex was a great way to relieve stress, and lately we'd all been stressing out…

I let out a gentle sigh as he leaned closer and pressed a kiss to my neck. He was hovering over me now, his own body heat pressing against me as his hand moving closer and closer...

A moan from Sam brought me back to reality.

My eyes snapped opened just as Dean pulled away and looked over at his brother with a groan. "Son of a..." Looking at me again, Dean knew there was no way anything that might have happened would happen now.

I reached over and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back quickly. "After we fix Bobby and everything, we'll do whatever you want."

His eyes went wide, surprised and excited. "Really?"

I laughed lightly, nodding. "Really."

With a smug smile, he pulled away and got back onto his spot before looking over to his brother. "Sam, wake up!"

It took a moment before Sam woke and sat up, wiping the drool off his face. Both Dean and I chuckled at the sight as we got back to research. It was as if the sexual heat that had been pressing on me moments ago, hadn't been here at all.

Dean grinned. "Dude, you were out. And making some serious happy noises. Who were you dreaming about?"

"What? No one. Nothing," Sam answered a little too quickly.

"C'mon, you can tell me. Angelina Jolie?"

"No."

"Brad Pitt?" Dean asked, earning a gentle nudge from my foot as it rested in his lap again.

Sam turned around, almost looking at Dean and I as he snapped. "No. No! Dude, it doesn't matter."

"Whatever." Dean shrugged. "Liz called Bela."

It took a moment or two before Sam awkwardly responded. "Bela? Yeah? She- what'd she... You know, say? She... gonna... help us?"

"No. Which isn't much of a surprise," I sighed.

"That puts us back to square one," Dean added. "We've been trying to decipher the doctor's notes. Unfortunately, he has worse handwriting than you do." When Sam stayed where he was and said nothing more, Dean looked over at him again. "You gonna come help with this stuff? "

Sam shifted, stretching a little. "Yeah, yeah. Just give me a sec."

Is it just me, or is Sam being... odd? I watched him, wondering why he was acting a little strange. Was it about the dream he'd been having? Or had he heard Dean and me?

A knock on the door pulled my attention away from the youngest Winchester.

"I got it." Taking my feet off Dean's lap, I moved to answer the door. Before opening completely, I looked through the crack and sighed. "Bela." Letting her in, I watched as she moved to stand in the middle of the room and turn to me.

"You called me. Remember?"

"I remember you turning me down."

She grinned. "When have I ever turned you down."

Without a word, Dean got up and moved to stand next to me. I couldn't help but feel a little bit of jealousy and protectiveness coming from him.

From over at the desk, Sam spoke up. "Hey, Bela. What's going on?" He gave her a little wave.

Dean and I looked to him, confused for a moment, before we both turned back to Bela, waiting expectantly.

"I brought you your African Dream Root." Reaching into her handbag, she pulled out a jar of the stuff and handed it to me. "Nasty stuff, and not easy to come by," she noted as she began to take off her coat.

"We know," I told her as I handed Dean the jar.

He took the jar, looking at the contents before asking, "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"What? I can't do you a little favour every now and again?"

"No. You can't," Dean and I answered at the same time.

A smile formed on her lips as she looked from me, to Dean and then back. "Aren't you two adorable?"

Dean ignored her comment, pressing for a genuine answer. "Come on, I wanna know what the strings are before you attach them."

"You said this was for Bobby Singer, right?" When I gave a nod, she went on. "Well, I'm doing it for him. Not you."

I frowned. "Bobby? Why?"

"He saved my life once," she answered. "In Flagstaff."

"Why don't I know about this?"

She sighed at my question. "I screwed up and he saved me. I begged him not to tell you. It would be too embarrassing, and that was back when I cared about what you thought of me, okay? Are you satisfied?"

"Maybe." Dean shrugged, walking past her and towards the wardrobe where a safe sat.

She watched him, changing the subject. "So when do we go on this little magical mystery tour?"

"Oh, you're not going anywhere. I don't trust you enough to let you in my car, much less Bobby's head. No offence," Dean told her as he placed the jar in the safe where the Colt sat.

Bela sighed. "None taken." She waited until Dean finished with the safe before she turned to me expectantly. When all I did was shrug, she sighed again. "It's 2 am. Where am I supposed to go?"

"Get a room," Dean suggested with a short grin. "Ah, they got the Magic Fingers, a little Casa Erotica on pay-per-view. You'll love it."

"You-" Shaking her head, she grabbed the coat and handbag, storming to the door.

Sam jumped out of his seat, calling out to her as she left. "Nice to- Seeing you-" He was cut off as she slammed the door, ignoring him. "Bela," he finished with a sigh.

One again, Dean and I looked at him confused.

...

Sitting next to Dean on one of the beds, I watched as he grabbed two cups from Sam who had just finished making the three of us some tea out of the Dream root.

"Here." Dean handed me one of the cups.

I offered him a quick smile. "Thanks."

Turning to Sam just as he sat down, Dean looked down at the yellowish-brown mud-like looking drink. "Uh, should we dim the lights and synch up Wizard of Oz to Dark Side of the Moon?" He grinned.

"Why?" Sam asked, clearly clueless as to what Dean was going on about. I couldn't help but chuckle a little.

Dean looked genuinely disappointed. "What did you do during college?"

When Sam just looked at Dean as if to say, 'huh', Dean shook his head before moving to take a drink.

"Wait!" I lifted my hand to stop him, putting my hand in between his cup and lips- which ended in his lips lightly pressing against my hand.

Pulling back- a smug look in his eyes- Dean looked over at me. "What?"

"Here." I pulled a small envelope from one of my leather jacket's pockets. Reaching a few fingers inside, I pulled out some hair and moved to sprinkle a little in each of our drinks. "It's Bobby's hair. " I answered their questioning looks. "In order to control whose dream you're entering, you gotta drink some of their body."

Dean looked down at his drink as the hair floated on top. "Well, guess the hair of the dog is better than other parts of the body." Giving a light shrug, he lifted his cup in somewhat of a toast. "Bottoms up."

Sam did not look ready for this. "Yeah. "

The three of us clinked our glasses together before we downed the liquid as quickly as we could.

It tasted awful. I mean, I have never ever had anything like that. It was as if I was eating an old, mouldy sock, that had been stewing in a pot of sweat, dirt and ass. Just a whole lot of ass. There were also indistinguishable flavours, but they were the worst and I was trying really hard not to think about them.

…

After lowering his cup and waiting a moment or two, Dean spoke. "Feel anything?"

"No." Sam shook his head and looked to me. "You feel anything?"

"Nope," I sighed.

Dean lifted his cup, looking at the remaining contents which consisted of a few drops or so. "Maybe we got some bad shwag."

Thunder in the distance was heard, drawing our attention to the fact that it was now raining...

Sam looked over at the window, confused. "Hey, when did it start raining?"

Dean and I looked over at the window as well. It was Dean who got up to check though. He stood and handed me his cup as he moved to go check outside. But as he pulled the curtain back, what we all saw was extremely odd...

The rain was 'falling' up.

Sam and I stood as Dean turned to us again. "When did it start raining upside down?"

As Dean turned, the room changed. We were no longer in the hotel room, but instead in a dull and dim living room.

Looking around, Dean seemed to be freaking out the most. "Okay, I don't know what's weirder, the fact that we're in Bobby's head... or that he's dreaming of Better Homes and Gardens."

"Guys..." I moved to the wall and ran my hand over the paint. "Imagine the place without the paint job. More cluttered, dusty, books all over the place..."

Both brothers realised what I was getting at, at the same time. "It's Bobby's house."

Smiling lightly, I nodded. "Yeah."

"Bobby?!" Dean called out, walking closer to me.

Sam went the opposite way, moving to the opening of the living room by the stairs. "Bobby?" he whispered. "Guys?" He turned to us, no longer whispering. "I'm gonna go look outside."

Dean shook his head. "No, no, no, stay close."

"Dude, I'll be fine," Sam insisted. "Just, look around in here. Look, we gotta find him."

Seeing that his brother wasn't going to listen, Dean didn't bother arguing. "Don't do anything stupid."

With a simple nod from Sam, he walked out the front door. A moment or two later he closed the door behind him.

SPOV

After I stepped out into the porch, I was more confused than ever. Instead of a dark a dreary junk yard, the yard in front of me was bright, colourful and lively. The sun was shining, birds singing, colourful flowers in the garden. It was a technicolour, white picket fence cliché.

Behind me, the door suddenly slammed shut.

I turned and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. "Dean!" Walking to the window, I looked in to see Lizzie and Dean still in the living room. "Lizzie!"

Try as I might, they couldn't hear me yelling. They couldn't even hear me banging my fist on the wall.

Great...

EPOV

"Stay close," Dean told me as he grabbed the handles of the kitchen doors before sliding them open.

The whole house seemed so... normal. Clean, painted, furnished. It was as if a real family. Like ordinary people lived here. Bobby's place now was a bit of a mess- a huge mess if I'm being honest. But it was him, and I loved it. Walking in this home... I did not feel right at all.

Dean moved through the kitchen and towards the hallway on the other side. I was a step or two behind him, watching our surroundings closely. Since appearing in Bobby's dream, I hadn't been able to shake the feeling that we were being watched.

"Bobby?" Dean called in a hushed voice as he walked into the hallway and turned to me. He gestured for me to come closer, a look in his eyes telling me he was on edge as well. "Bobby!"

"Who's out there?" The voice was faint, and scared, but it was Bobby's.

We both turned to the door closest to us. The hallway closet door. I step closer to it, running my fingers over the many scratches running along the wood. It looked as if someone had made these marks with their nails.

Resting his ear against the door as he reached for the doorknob, Dean spoke. "Bobby, you in there?"

"Dean?"

"Yeah. It's me, Liz too. Open up."

Bobby opened the door and looked slightly relieved for a moment before he looked over our shoulders. He was quite clearly terrified. "How in the hell did you find me?"

"Sam, Liz and I got our hands on some of that Dream Root stuff," Dean answered.

Bobby looked confused. "Dream Root? What?"

"Dr Gregg, the experiments?" Dean tried to remind him.

Bobby threw him a glance. "What the hell are you talking about?" Before Dean or I could answer, the lights began to flicker. "Hurry." He grabbed my arm and rushed for the closet again.

Dean grabbed Bobby and stopped him quickly. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What's going on?"

"She's coming." Was all Bobby said, in his scared and shaking voice.

I rested my hand on Bobby's. "This is a dream, Bobby. You know that, right?"

"What are you, crazy?"

"It's a dream, Bobby! None of this is real!" Dean snapped.

But as he spoke, a door opened behind him. My eyes went wide as I watched a woman dressed in white with blood on her chest, walked into the hallway. It took a moment or two, but I recognised her from some photos I'd seen before... it was Mrs Singer, Bobby's wife.

Bobby pointed over Dean's shoulder and to his wife. "Does that look made-up?"

As the three of us looked to the woman who was slowly stepping closer and closer, the closet door slammed shut behind us. Bobby turned and tried to open it again, but there was no use, it wouldn't budge.

Knowing there was no exit, Dean turned to the woman, needing to know what we were dealing with. "Bobby, who is that?"

Bobby's voice shook more as he answered, leaning against the door as much as he could. "She's... she's my wife."

DPOV

"Go." I grabbed Liz's arm and pulled her towards the kitchen. "Go!" Both Bobby and Liz moved for the kitchen as I backed up, keeping an eye on Mrs Singer. My priority at that moment was to keep Bobby and Liz alive. "Get to the living room," I told them.

Turning, I moved to rush as well. Reaching the doors of the living room just as Mrs Singer spoke.

"Why Bobby?" she asked, causing Bobby to pause and turned to her. "Why did you do this to me?"

"I'd rather died myself than hurt you," Bobby assured her.

"But you did hurt me. You shoved that knife into me. Again, and again. You watched me bleed. Watched me die."

Moving closer to Bobby, I grabbed a hold of his arm. "Bobby, she's not real."

"How could you?" Mrs Singer continued.

Bobby was close to crying as he shook his head at his wife. "You were possessed, baby. You were rabid. And I didn't know what I know now. I didn't know how to save you."

"You're lying. You wanted me dead! If you'd loved me," she was yelling now, getting more and more worked up, "you would've found a way!"

A small sob escaped Bobby. "I'm sorry."

"Come on!" Being more forceful as I grabbed him this time, I pulled Bobby into the living room.

Mrs Singer screamed as she started for the doors, but just as she was about to reach them, Liz lifted her arms and closed the doors with her mind.

...

Liz was still keeping the doors closed, but I could see it was taking a toll on her, which is why I was now leaning on the doors trying to help her keep them shut. Bobby on the other hand was still very clearly scared and unable to do anything as his wife continued to scream on the other side.

"I'm telling you, all of it. Your house, your wife, it's a nightmare!" I tried to get it through his head.

"I killed her," Bobby cried.

Sighing, I moved away from the doors in the hopes that Liz could handle it as I grabbed Bobby's shoulders. "Bobby! This is your dream. And you can wake up. I mean, hell, you can do anything."

"Just leave me alone. Let her kill me already."

"Look at me." I shook him. "You gotta snap out of this now! You're not gonna die. I'm not gonna let you die. You're like a father to me. You gotta believe me, please."

Bobby hesitated a moment, looking from me, to the door, to Liz and then back. "I'm dreaming?"

"Yes!" I snapped. "Now take control of it."

Turning to the door, Bobby closed his eyes tightly as if he were thinking hard, and suddenly, the banging and screaming stopped.

Liz didn't move at first, still holding the door until I let go of Bobby and moved to open them. Sliding the doors open I cautiously looked out, ready for Mrs Singer to jump out at any moment.

But she didn't. She was no longer there. Instead, all I found was Bobby's empty kitchen.

"I don't believe it." Bobby was completely shocked.

I turned around, breathing heavily, slightly out of breath. "Believe it. Now would you please wake up?"

SPOV

Walking around Bobby's garden, I came across the clothesline where clean, white sheets were hanging. The whole place was surreal. It was all so clean, and bright and oddly perfect. It felt more wrong than Bobby's dull living room had felt.

As I turned, I wasn't prepared to see a guy standing there. I also wasn't prepared for him to hit me with a baseball bat. I fell to the ground, holding my shoulder, groaning in pain as I looked up at him standing over me.

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?" he asked back, oddly clam. "You don't belong here."

"You're one to talk. You're in my friend's head."

"You got a poor choice in friends. This is self-defence. He came after me. He wanted to hurt me."

"That may be because you're a killer," I countered.

"You should be nicer to me. In here... you're just an insect. I'm a god." The guy lifted the baseball bat, aiming at my head. "Sweet dreams."

I lifted my arm, flinching, waiting for the hit as the bat began to come down hard and fast...

Bamby

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x oc #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fic #elizabeth rose hart #the hart #the hart ii: highway

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aggresivelyfriendly · 6 years

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Hi All! Back with Chapter Two this time. Once again- this chapter has a May-December romance budding, if this makes you uncomfortable, give it a pass! Or read on! Here’s to the lights of my life- @dirtystyles, @bleedinglove4h, and @nocontrolforlouis!

~Who Names The Colors~

December 2013

Do you ever stop worrying about your kids?

This was the question Jo asked herself as she laid in bed waiting to hear a key in the door. She knew that Ethan had his own place. Had lived on his own under his own power for a year and a half. Jo was also under no delusions that he stayed home all the time while he was there, far away from her. So far, he had shown enough responsibility. No calls from the university with issues, she sees the Uber charges when she puts money in his monthly play money. Ethan was doing better than she could hope. Jo just didn't know any better when he was at school. He went out and she only knew about it after the fact.

But tonight she was painfully aware that the boys were off to some party at a school friend's house. Ethan had been excited about seeing Alissa again. He'd nudged Harry while he thought Jo was too busy with her hands in soapy water to see his eyebrow raise. Jo wondered who was most excited about Alissa, was she a 'friend' of Harry's or Ethan's? Jo didn't remember her name from their time at college at all. Harry had not looked all that enthused about Alissa, but that could just be boys ribbing each other about not getting past the sniffing butts stage. She didn't imagine either of the young men in her kitchen had too much trouble. As long as they were respectful, which Ethan had better be.

If she had ever gotten a call about unsolicited dick pics, she may have wrung his neck. As a single woman, who had tried not a few dating apps and was reasonably attractive, she'd had her own unfortunate incidents. 'Really hot for a mum.' Pfffft, she was lovely full stop thank you very much. And starting a conversation with, 'how old are you?' Or 'do you trade pics for pics?' was annoyingly common. No, no, nope. Jo had started sending 'I don't send nudes' as her second message before she deleted the apps altogether. This was all before Colin, almost four years ago. She couldn't imagine it had gotten any better. It had caused her to go on some rants. She was fairly sure that Harry had been there when she'd lectured Ethan on consent and the reality that dicks out of context are not sexy and do not in fact cause panties to drop.

"You have to engage her mind before you can expect her to be interested in that part of your body, Ethan!" Her son had just rolled his eyes. His sexual education had been an ongoing talk that started with anatomy at about 7, then covered feelings when he hit puberty, and focused on pleasure and how it and emotion intersected when he was old enough to process all of that. Boundaries and consent and how to act after a hook-up (not nonchalantly but honestly) were also covered. She'd foregone the talk tonight. She just hoped she had done her job well enough by now. But Jo was sure she had not covered every temptation ever. She tried to keep up, and keep current, but she really didn't know what it was like to be so young and have so much information at your fingertips. Maybe they needed to have another talk about how porn sex was not like real sex, mostly not even good sex.

Jo'd been worrying about tonight since they showed up at the house. Her boy and his best friend. Best looking friend. Every time she saw Harry, he was getting more like a fever dream. Or maybe she was just aware of him in a new way. He'd been a sweet kid for so long, but that unbuttoned purple plaid he strolled in with showed way too much ink for her comfort. Maybe she should have a talk with herself about temptation.

Ethan and Harry had come in together around noon, two days before Christmas, and did that thing that teenagers and very new twenty somethings apparently still did: disappeared into a room and didn't surface until food was offered.

Zoe had asked for 'boys' multiple times before Jo gave in and sent her to the top of the stairs to knock.

There was a bang and shuffling and laughter before they opened the door and Jo wondered if they were smoking in there. She'd have to talk to Ethan about that too, more temptation. If they came down red eyed she'd let it pass, they weren't driving. If his pupils were blown out, that would be a different story. When he started going out, to parties and such he'd gotten the standard safety discussion about drugs. Party drugs especially. But the lengthy pause before he answered the door for Zoe indicated there was clean up going on there.

When her merry band made it to the kitchen finally, they looked fine, maybe a little disheveled but not high or coked out. Harry had a hold of Zoe, who was desperately trying to jump ship to her brother's arms. Ethan would be home longer than he usually was. He had taken several weeks off from his work study gig to spend the whole holiday at home. He was staying through New Years and Jo was floating. From the look of things, so was Zoe.

"No loyalty at all, this one! I'm supposed to be your favorite Z! Remember! The snake!" And Harry put his first two fingers up like fangs and got her belly where she was cuddled up against Ethan's chest.

"Face it man, I'm more handsome and babies like pretty people." Ethan smacked his lips at Harry and Jo nearly stood up for him, which was a strange reaction, because of course Ethan was the most handsome lad ever, if she did say so herself.

But Harry was pretty, too.

"Nah, it's nowt to do with that. It's because she knows you have those candies in your pockets, E!" Harry complained- striking Ethan's shoulder with his finger fangs. "Which you stole, might I add."

"Ow! Jeezus!"

"Language!" Jo sounded-semi playfully, she knew they were watching the f-bombs for her sake.

"Sorry mum!" He looked at her still rubbing his shoulder and pouting. "Are you poking Zoe that hard?" He flicked Harry's shoulder. "Cuz, I'll tell you right now, if you are, that's why she wants me. Or, maybe cuz I'm her brother. Right bub!" He redirected to his sister, making faces while she laughed. "And it's not stealing when it falls out of the pocket of one of the two bloody plaid shirts you are wearing."

Jo looked at Harry then and realized he was indeed wearing a purple plaid over a red and black print. "Why are you wearing two button ups?"

Harry rolled his eyes and Ethan burst out laughing. "You'll love this infallible reasoning mum!"

Harry huffed in annoyance. "Listen! I need to do laundry and I left my good coat at the dorms. It's chilly, I needed warm layers, and I wasn't sure which one to wear. Wore em both, didn't I, to ask this dipshit," he pointed at Ethan and then caught Zoe snuggled up and said, "sorry," in Zoe's direction until she grabbed his finger. "Which would be better for the party."

"I tried to tell him that no one cares, especially not Lucy, who he's been trying it on with since college." Ethan looked at Jo for her to co-sign, but instead she was just confused. Why wouldn't Lucy like Harry? Also, now she was worrying about the party. She'd gone to the pub for his 18th, why was this so worrisome? At least he'd be coming home to her. Unlike however he stumbled home when he was away. She could supervise him post consumption and see if he was still in the get as drunk as possible phase, or if he had moved on to a more moderate pattern.

Jo decided to fish a little while the boys were bantering, Harry insisting he wasn't trying to look any way for Lucy and Ethan was currently asking him if he was gonna seal the deal.

"Where is the party?" She started, then backtracked. "Seal the deal? She's a woman not a contract, so help me Ethan, this isn't a contest!" Jo was more upset than she expected about this.

"Sorry, mum! It's just how guys talk!" Ethan gave her a patented forgive me/I'm cute grin.

Jo stopped herself from mentioning that Harry wasn't objectifying the girl at all. "Listen, talk to the lady if you like her, even just the look, but don't do it to best your friend. It's cruel. To him" She threw a thumb in Harry's directions, "But especially to her if she is just a pawn in game, right?" She looked at both boys, though she was admonishing her own and they nodded, Harry with a concentrated brow. "Now, where's the party and are you coming back here after? Do you have your keys?" Ethan'd had to fish out her back up set, had woke her up when he arrived late after a shift first night. But, it had been lovely. She'd made him a plate and tea and he'd told her about his shift before they had turned in. Some one on one time with her eldest.

"Party is at Alissa's!" At this Harry raised his eyebrows at Ethan quickly. "And I think the plan is to come back here. My sister is in town as well, so my house is a little crowded."

"Sure your mum is loving it!" Jo said wistfully. An empty nest sounded like a dream and a tomb. When she wasn't sleeping for days on end, she wished for Zoe to grow up, but then she thought of Ethan and held her tighter, even at 3 am.

Harry smiled at Jo and she couldn't fathom Lucy's indifference. "What's your food situation?" She got up to the fridge. "I can put something quick on. Tacos?" She had the things for that. Ethan had been raving about some Mexican one day and she had been amazed by the simplicity. It was an easy go to when he was home.

Ethan's tummy growled and she did an internal cheer.

The boys were digging in 20 minutes later when Jo took Zoe upstairs to bathe and nurse her to sleep. She had dropped down to nursing only the once a day and had decided to relish it. She had only eked out six months of breastfeeding with Ethan, and had been thankful for every minute of it, but she was going to do her best to hold on to this precious time with Zoe. It was one of the few times that her little girl was still and Jo was just able to stare at her. Her little blue eyes were blinking more frequently and there were long pauses between dreamland and eye contact with her mum. Jo found herself singing 'I want to hold your hand' softly and looking at the tiny fingernails. Miracles abounded.

A soft knock at the door caused Jo to look up and Ethan padded in on his tippy toes. "Hey mum," he smiled down at Zoe, whose eyes seemed to have closed for good and caressed her cheek. "I missed a lot."

"You're supposed to. You are away." Jo nodded. She doubted he'd come up to watch his sister sleep or because he was feeling guilty.

"Harry and I are gonna go get a few pre drinks at the pub. Not sure when we will be back." He gave her a significant look. "Don't wait up."

Jo bit her lip and nodded.

"Mum," he whined just a little and it went against his next line. "I'm a grown man. I promise I can take care of myself."

Jo slipped to the edge of her chair and planted her feet softly on the carpet before shifting around Ethan and laying Zoe down softly in her bed. She knew that, but bigger babies, bigger worries. Jo turned around and led him out the nursery and down to the foot of the stairs where she hugged him. When she pulled back, she decided not to lecture him, though she wanted to mention more about women, or drugs, or not getting in cars. Instead, she said, "Have fun. See you in the morning." Harry was over Ethan's shoulder watching them with a gleam in his eyes. She hoped she hadn't given him too much reason to tease Ethan, but she couldn't imagine there was much fodder in her two sentences.

Jo walked to Harry and tipped up to him and hugged him too. "Take care of my boy," she said by his ear and felt rather than saw him nod. Harry held her fast and she had to pull away first.

"I'm gonna-" and she pointed to her studio. Ethan nodded and Harry's chin came up and his eyes gleamed. He looked ready to follow her in there rather than go with Ethan to a party. She smiled to herself. He must still be painting, Jo was curious to see how he'd improved. It had been amazing once he put brush to canvas.

She'd missed Thursdays a lot when she started at the university. Until she fell for Colin, then she just focused on him, and then the wedding and pregnancy. She wondered how her protege was progressing.

Jo smiled at him and shook her head. "Another time, we can paint?" She suggested and he nodded before grabbing Ethan about the shoulders.

Jo was thinking about sunlight and how much white it requires to get the rays just right. If the white was milky, had a translucence, it was more useful, but a thin milky white, hard to get. She found herself painting a shape that suggested a box. Within it a yellow resembling, well, nearing her idea of morning light. The opening of the day, the opening of the world.

Jo was in her studio, with the door closed, a bottle of wine, the baby monitor, and her current painting playlist. She was wondering if there would be a revealer, her very own Pandora, introducing day to the world, or if the escape of the light was inevitable and didn't need a catalyst, when she picked up her bottle and brought it to her mouth and realized it was empty. Jo checked the clock then and looked at the monitor. Zoe only nursed at night anymore, but Jo was thinking she needed to google how long her milk would be alcoholic before tomorrow evening. She was surprised she had emptied the bottle herself. She must have been engrossed. It had been a while since she'd gotten carried away in her studio. Over a year, oh god, she realized it had been nearly 18 months. Sorry excuse for a painter she was.

She still wasn't happy with that sunrise. Rusty, she was.

It would have to keep for tonight. Jo needed to sleep. It seemed, as it approached 3 AM, she had waited up for the boys by accident. She was making deals with herself about how if she was ready for bed, had combed her hair out of the bun, was in her sleeping clothes, had washed up and done skin care, and brushed her teeth, she would get in bed. Jo scoffed at herself over her extra long routine. She rarely did more than strip down and pull her hair out. Though, as she approached her 40's and careened into the wall of that decade, she was better about her skin care and brushing her teeth. Flossing, which she was doing now, was honestly usually only done in the mornings or when a dentist appointment was looming.

She was done, there was nothing else to do. Jo had a moment where she considered making tea, again, but forced herself to pull down the bedding and fold herself in like cream into a mousse. She was warm and safe. Unlike her son, who wasn't in either of his beds. Jo liked it better when he was at school. That was a lie.

She was going to convince him to go to the new year's party that the whole family were invited to. Jo felt like a ninny, but really, her worry was heavy, an armoire pressed up against the door of her mind where sleep was trying to enter.

Jo picked up the book she'd been trying to read for ages. Two chapters later, she was starting to nod off when she heard their loud voices. Ethan fell through the door. Jo could tell from four things: the slip of the door on its hinges, the squishy thud of a body, Harry's explosive laugh-quickly muffled, and Ethan's groan.

She was up and out of bed before she could slow herself down. Didn't even pull on her robe. Jo was sure he was ok. Course he was, he was just drunk.

When she came into the kitchen, to where they were coming in the back door, Harry was extending an arm to help Ethan up, though his other hand was still alternating between his mouth to stifle laughter and his stomach to hold it in. Ethan grabbed his other hand and pulled Harry down to the floor, half way on top of him.

They both raised startled faces when she said, "idiots!" Then they were both giggling and she was too. Jo walked into the kitchen and pulled her son up. Then she stepped up to Harry. She extended her hand and her laughter caught in her throat like a piece of jagged crisp when he didn't grab for it at first and she realized his eyes were crawling up her exposed thigh to her high cut cotton shorts. Jo could feel her nipples pebbling and though her mind told her to hunch and cover herself, her shoulders squared as his gaze skidded up and stopped at the midline of her chest. Jo's hand hung out between them. Harry sucked oxygen out of the air and her lungs and his stare levitated between them on her braless breasts.

Jo's chest was heaving and she had just realized that it was in rhythm with Harry's when the fridge slammed.

"Mum!" She shushed him reflexively.

"Zoe's asleep!"

"Sorry," now he was stage whispering and Jo pulled her feet from the cement they were in and left Harry to sort himself out. "Will you make me cheese toasties and tea, please?"

Ohhh the lip was out. She was going to say yes before he pulled out the big guns, but that sorted it.

Jo made her way to the box and fridge and grabbed the necessary articles, and got the kettle on. She was just about to tell Ethan to ask Harry if he was hungry when she noticed his head down and his eyes closed. She'd wake him when the tea was done, and go ask Harry herself.

Maybe she'd grab her robe while she waited for him to come out though. On her way, she heard a grown and muffled utterance that might be her name. How drunk was he? Ethan seemed worse, but maybe she'd misjudged. Jo knocked on the door to check and the poor latch opened it on a sight she'd never be able to unsee.

There was Harry. He'd shed one plaid and the other was unbuttoned all the way down. His eyes were closed and his lip was tucked into the white rows of his teeth. Her eyes plummeted down like scales with the weight of her curiosity. There was the large hand she had once shaped around a paint brush gripping a sizable cock head. His pants gaped around the split of his zipper and he extended away from the wiry hair there. His thumb skidded over the tip at the end of each stroke and and they moaned together at the end of the fourth cascade of his foreskin up over his glans to meet his caressing thumb. His eyes popped open then.

Instead of stopping, covering himself or apologizing, Harry preened under her observation, expanded even. His dick hardened, filling further in his hand, Jo saw it and gasped. She didn't hurry to excuse herself either but stayed to watch him stroke himself off.

Harry was emboldened by her gaze it seemed. Almost like he'd been thinking about her anyways. Jo felt and saw his eyes stroll over the parts of her he had caught her off guard by staring at earlier. The fact that her toes curled under just from his gaze was shocking, and her skin rose up to meet the fire there in gooseflesh over her calf and lightly muscled thighs. She could almost feel it. Did when he got back to her nipples. Jo couldn't stop staring back at him and he grunted when he glanced his slit on that stroke.

Jo's eyes jerked up to his and it's then that he came. The feel of her eyes on his was the last bit of sensation needed.

It felt like when they were in the studio together and she helped him figure out what color to mix.

Jo stumbled away then. But not before she watched him paint his chest and firm belly with milky cream stripes. It's more than she had seen come out before, and some part of her wants to paint patterns into it, play there on his chest and make shapes of it. Or better yet, mix it into the yellow from earlier. It would make the exact right color for sunlight.

When Jo got to her bedroom and closed the door, she slipped her hand past the elastic waistband of her shorts and again got herself off to Harry, though a year or more separated the incidents. This time to the image burned onto the backs of her eyelids. When she felt the contractions and gush she brought her own taste to her mouth. She imagined their mingled flavor would taste of the dawn. If she lived on the sun.

#harry styles #harry styles alternate universe #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #who names the colors #wntc #one direction #one direction fanfiction #Pandora’s box #chapter two

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