⬩➤ bea ~ they/them ~ queer ~ fourteen ~ christopagan ~ writer ~ real life annabeth chase ~ intj ~
♡⊹˚₊ why can't it ever be enough? ₊˚⊹♡
⬩➤ the naturals ~ tig/tgg ~ sbg ~ lockwood & co ~ the cruel prince ~ six of crows ~ riordanverse ~ gravity falls ~ owl house ~ natasha preston ~
‧₊ ♪˚⊹ my head is full of poison... ⊹˚♪₊‧
⬩➤ paris paloma ~ billie eilish ~ annabelle dinda ~ tv girl ~ gigi perez ~ the crane wives ~ alec benjamin ~ olivia rodrigo ~ conan gray ~ david bowie ~ radiohead ~
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ my heart is full of doubt... ❀𓍢ִ໋ ˖˚
⬩➤ dni : ~ homophobes ~ transphobes ~ racists ~ ableists ~ maga ~ haters ~
*༄ ೃ it feels like medication, and it's good for me, i'm sure ೃ༄*
⬩➤ ao3 ~ pinterest ~ spotify ~
ᯓ✦∘˙ it doesn't matter how your love feels anymore... ˙∘✦ᯓ
⬩➤ current read: how to read literature like a professor (revised version, 2014) ~ current watch: pretty little liars ~ current listen: you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love (olivia rodrigo) ~
word count: 2.5k
parings: deancassie, past cassie x original character
summary: cassie gets coffee with an old friend
notes: this is my submission for the games day of the naturals week 2026! it also aligns with the pythia!cassie AU, specifically my fic The Hand on ao3 (to those of you who read it, a new chapter will be out eventually trust)
Hey! It was nice chatting with you the other day! We still on for today?
I send the text right before I get in the shower after my run. After I shower, I go downstairs to make breakfast. By the time I sit down, I have my reply.
yup, lol. see you soon ☕☕☕
I smile at her random use of the acronym. But, I guess that is how Evy always is: always smiling and laughing. I don’t know if anyone missed me when I left Colorado for the Naturals program, but if someone did, Evy would’ve.
Today, I’m meeting her for coffee in the park, to catch up on what’s been going on since I left.
“What are you smiling at?” Dean asks as he walks into the kitchen.
“Oh, nothing…” I say, putting down the phone. I take a bite of my cereal.
He walks over and gives me a peck on the cheek, and I stand up and return the favor. He pulls me into a hug and, even after all this time together, I can’t help but think that I want to stay like this forever.
He’s warm and steady. I breathe in his scent and he smells like old wood from the deck. With his arms around me, I almost forget about the scars on my own. Like this, nothing bad has ever happened to either of us. Like this, maybe we can be normal.
Everything is perfect. At least until Michael walks in with Laurel on his shoulders.
We break apart, and the brunette gives us a cheeky look.
“I see I interrupted something,” he says with a smile, “feel free to ignore me and go back to lovebirds or whatever you were doing.”
“We were not–” I start, but then I decide to drop it with a sigh as I see the look on his face.
“Why is Laurel still in her pajamas?” I try instead. “That was like the one thing I asked you to do before I went on my run.”
Dean gives me a glance that says You know you could’ve asked me to do it, but I know I couldn’t have. Both Dean and I work out at the same time everyday, and in these past months I have come to appreciate how sacred a set time for that can be. Without a run in the morning, my whole day is thrown off, and it’s the same with Dean in the gym.
So, when we have somewhere to be, that leaves Michael in charge of Laurel for the hour.
Theoretically, I know I could ask Lia or Sloane, and I have before. However, Sloane– bless her heart– had no idea what to do. As for Lia… Well, in the days afterwards I had to teach Laurel that some words were big kid words and kids were allowed to use them.
“Because I am one weak man, Colorado,” he replied.
I raised an eyebrow.
“She asked me to play Mario Kart. How could I ever say no to this face?”
Just then Laurel made eye contact with me, which is good considering we are trying to be more sociable.
“I like the colors.” She told me, completely deadpan.
I sighed and lifted her off Michael’s shoulders.
“Come on, piccolo pacificatore, let’s get you dressed. Then we’ll go to the park!” I tell her in an excited tone, trying not to sound exasperated.
With the same deadpan tone and blank stare, she tells me, “I like the slide.”
“I know you do, mia figlia, I know you do.”
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
When we finally got out the door, we were already 10 minutes late.
I texted Evy to let her know.
don’t worry one bit, my star 🌟🌟🌟
i’m running late too lmao
Thank god she hasn’t changed one bit in terms of time management. Although it used to drive me crazy.
After some time and a bit of fussing from Laurel (“But, Cassie! This isn’t a park, it’s a building!”) I made it inside the coffee shop, with Laurel sitting on my hip.
I scanned the room and found Evy sitting at a table near the window. I couldn’t help but smile.
She’s grown.
I guess, in some ways, I have too.
Evielyn Walker– a.k.a “Evy”– was a tall girl with dark skin and a rower’s build, which was good considering that was the sport she did. She often smelled like cinnamon, and her skin was spotty with acne, which somehow made her look even prettier. She worked at a convenience store, and did babysitting on the weekends.
She’s also my ex-girlfriend.
We didn’t end things off on a bad note. We just drifted apart. However, we both agreed to stay friends. I still can’t tell whether or not it was a good idea at the time.
She waves me over.
“Hey, Cassie! I ordered for you; I hope it’s still a mocha cappuccino?” She asks, her tone happy.
“Yep! Thanks for doing that! This one wouldn’t put any pants on,” I nod to the girl perched on my hip.
That makes her giggle.
“She’s your sister, right? Unless you left because you had a secret baby without telling me,” she never has had a good poker face, so I can tell she means that last part as much as she means it when she says she’s going to quit rowing. She never will.
“Yeah, she’s my sister,” I laugh, “How have you been these past few years? Are you going to college in the area?” I ask, trying to get a conversation going.
“I’d say things have been going pretty well on my part. A few rough patches, but nothing I can’t handle. And, yeah, I am going to college in the area. Online, actually.”
A barista calls out my name.
“Oh, really! How’s that going?” I questioned as we walked over to the counter to pick up my coffee.
“Really good! I like the way it’s mostly self-paced, allowing me more free-time to do things like this.”
I set Laurel down, holding my coffee in one hand, and her hand in the other.
We walk across the street to where the park is.
“Go, play,” I tell Laurel, and she runs off to the slide.
“She’s cute! Is she like your half sister? With your mom and all that…” Evy trails off.
I hesitate. “It’s… complicated,” I say after a beat.
We fall into an awkward silence.
“I, uh– I heard about your cousin a year ago.” She tests, offering comforting eyes in case I break down.
I don’t.
“Oh! Yeah, that was, um… Well, it was a hard loss for the family.” I say with pursed lips.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, I wasn’t that close to her anyways.” I lie.
She was the only cousin I was close to. There were times that her and I hid away in my rooms during family dinners and just talked about anything that came to our minds. She was the only one I told about being bisexual. I never really got to process her death, considering that immediately afterwards I got kidnapped for five months.
Yeah, I haven’t had a great few years.
We sit down on a bench, facing the park.
I can’t stand the look she’s giving me anymore, so I break the silence.
“Truth or dare?” I ask.
“What?”
“Truth or dare?” I ask again, more insistently this time.
“Oh, umm… Truth,” she says, a questioning look on her face.
“Okay…” I start thinking, while also scanning the mass of kids for Laurel, making sure I don’t lose her in the crowd, “What was the first rough patch you went through?”
She furrows her eyebrows, confused.
“Back in the cafe, when I asked how you’ve been, you mentioned a couple rough patches. What was the first one of those?” I inquire as my eyes lock on Laurel.
She takes a deep breath. “I failed my first class, the semester you left.”
My eyebrows shot up. Evy wasn’t one to slack off on school, and she certainly wasn’t one to fail classes.
“Which one?”
“Nuh-uh. That’s another question.” She waves her finger at me. “My turn. Truth or dare, Cassie?”
“Truth, I guess.” I have a lot of things to answer for.
She looks as though the thing she wants to ask is illegal. She hesitates.
“Well, go on,” I urge, still watching Laurel play.
“Okay, well, um…” She stutters, “where did you get all those scars?” she whispers.
Oh. That question.
It’s not like I care about telling people. There were a couple news reporters who picked up the story of the Masters cult case after it all got torn down, but not many. And it was just a few small true crime reporters who don’t have a huge following.
But I feel like telling Evy would make it real. Even after all this time.
Despite that, I tell the truth.
“I got kidnapped by a cult a year back. Obviously, I escaped, but they still left their marks.” I say as casually as I can. I figure that if I don’t seem majorly bothered by it, she won’t be either.
“Are– Are you being sarcastic right now?” She asks, her eyes filled with a mixture of genuine concern.
“Nope,” I tell her, popping the p, “Truth or dare?”
Her mouth drops wide open.
“Hold on, back up. I feel like we are skipping past a major thing here.” Her eyes are now filled with panic, as if I’m still missing.
“Look, it’s not something I enjoy dwelling on. If you ask about it in the game, I’ll answer your questions, but other than that, I know there are a few podcast episodes about the case.” I explain.
She draws a shaky breath. “Okay… Truth, I guess.”
“What class did you fail?”
“Creative writing.” She states, as if it’s absolutely in character for her to fail a creative class. “How did you get kidnapped by a cult?” She demands, her voice raising up an octave.
“Truth, if you insist,” I say with an eyeroll, “Long story short, it was the same cult my mother got kidnapped by– so she was alive for those five years, by the way– and they basically tried to ‘test’ her loyalty to them, by making her kill me. So they got me by drugging my drink at a diner, and basically put me in a Hunger Games arena, if the arenas only had two tributes. But, as you can clearly see, I’m standing here and my mother is not.” By the last bit, I turn and look at her, risking taking my eyes off Laurel.
She looks devastated.
“Well, don’t look at me like that. I’m here, aren’t I?” I say to her with a pointed look.
“Look, I’ll send you the links to the stories that were done on it,” I sigh.
She slowly nods her head. “That was a lot of information to get in thirty seconds.”
I laugh, scanning the crowd of children for Laurel again.
“Truth or truth?” I ask her, after a minute.
“What?” She looks at me, quizzically.
“I figured that both of us have too many questions for each other to pick dare, so truth or truth?” I explain.
“I would probably shove you if you picked dare,” she says with a laugh, “Okay. Truth.”
“Why did you fail creative writing? I mean, you love story telling. And you're one of the most creative people I know.” I grill, my eyes still locked on Laurel.
She doesn’t speak for a minute.
“I guess I just… Lost my inspiration.” She says with a sad smile. “So, truth or truth?”
“Truth.”
“How shocking,” that makes me snicker, “Where did you go? I mean, you just up and left, right before the school year started without telling anyone. Then, poof, you back. Except you're living in this fancy house with, what looks like, other people your age and not with your grandparents.”
I should’ve expected this question.
I should know how to answer it by now.
How do you explain to someone that you got recruited to the FBI, not quite legally, then trained to catch serial killers. Oh, and also you got kidnapped multiple times along the way, not just the once that you’ve already explained.
“Uhhh…” I stammered, “I… got recruited to a… private school based in Quantico, Virginia, for… an independent study experiment, where… They see how kids learn better in different environments.” I stumble over my words. It might not be the full truth, but it's true enough. Even though the government wouldn’t label it as an experiment. An experiment is just a test, but changing one variable, right? Well the variable changed is what we’re learning. There, it’s an experiment.
“Cassie, even I can tell that’s not what happened.”
“Truth or truth?” I deflect.
She sighs, “Truth.”
“Why online college?” I ask.
When we were together, she always talked about us getting away from this small town. We felt trapped. After we graduated, we talked about getting on a train to New York. If we needed money, we would become street performers. We believed that with my voice and her guitar, we could make it. It was a silly dream.
“I felt like there was something keeping me here.” She states, and I knew there wasn’t really anything more I was going to get from her.
Laurel came running up to us. “Cassie, I got to go potty.”
I sigh, “Okay, piccolo pacificatore, let’s go.” I pick her up and we leave Evy on the bench.
We get back after a couple minutes.
“Alright, sorry about that. Where were we?” I ask.
“My turn, truth or truth?” She replied.
“I think you know.”
She laughed. It was still a sound to be savored. “Can I be Laurel’s auntie?”
That shocks me.
“Oh! Um… Sure, I guess. I have to warn you, though. She’s not very trusting.” I attested.
“That’s alright,” She says excitedly.
“So, I suppose that means you would like to do this again sometime?” I ask.
“Skipping the formalities, I see. But yes. I missed you, Cassie.” She says, like that didn’t just solve my biggest fear.
“Oh.”
“Not in that way,” she explains, “I have a steady girlfriend now. She works at a flower shop up the road. But, you’re a good friend.”
I swallow, “Yeah, obviously. I have a boyfriend now, too. Good for you.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Despite all that’s happened,” she starts, quietly, “Do you ever miss us?”
I think about it. About her.
I think back to high school, sitting in the cafeteria, holding hands during lunch and assemblies. Going to football games together. Making out behind the bleachers. No killers, no Masters, no Nine. I was just Cassie. I was not the Pythia or another victim in a serial killer’s book. And when I was with her, I was as big as the universe. I was everywhere, all at once. We laid on my bed and just sat there, for hours. We didn’t need words. Like Dean and me now.
hello and welcome to the first day of #the naturals week 2026 !!
today's prompt was deancassie, but I'm not great with fluff, so take some cassie content instead
Cassie Hobbes is... the silent wondering of an afterlife, but ultimately coming to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter because even if there is no heaven, you know you made it for yourself here on earth
sometimes i be posting naturals stuff and then getting very strong Imposter Syndrome bcause i rarely post about michael lia sterling or briggs and those seem to be 90% of the fandom's favorites
imagine being kidnapped and chased through the woods by a serial killer and surviving by a SECOND and you go home THE NEXT DAY and the first thing this boy does upon laying eyes on you is ask you about who you're dating. this is the first time he's seeing you since you got kidnapped. and he's too busy being mad that you didn't choose him to even ask if you're okay. this happened to my good friend cassandra hobbes. and she didn't even kill him.
happy pride month to those who converse with me on a daily basis, not because they are gay, but because i will be using this as an excuse to get my way on everything this month
also people in the lgbtqia+ community i guess (dw this is me too 😞✊)
repeat after me. humans are not inherently evil humans are not like a virus on this earth humans do not “deserve” to go extinct or anything like that. we are living breathing animals that deserve space just like every other creature on this planet. there’s just a tiny amount of us that have a fuck ton of money and power and they really suck
