#surge and jack are the same person i keep saying this !!!

[badnikbreaker]

"He thought he was so clever.  Turns out, mess with someone's head enough, you can turn a scared little kid into an ALL - POWERFUL BITCH.  Fuckin' idiot."

[hd-junglebook]

Falling For It

Part 5

Hey...I am alive. This part is kind of mid buttttt at least it is finished, more jack content coming since I'm finishing up with school in two weeks.

Previous ... Next

Y/N sat with her friends at their favorite coffee spot, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach. Lexi's incessant complaints about Quinn were starting to grate on her nerves, but she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as she listened to her friend's woes.

"It's like he doesn't even care anymore," Lexi sighed, swirling her straw around in her drink with a frustrated look on her face. "I don't know what I did wrong."

Y/N exchanged a glance with Angie and Heather, who both rolled their eyes in unison. It wasn't the first time they'd heard Lexi lamenting about her relationship troubles, and they were starting to grow tired of the constant drama.

But before Y/N could interject, Lexi turned her attention to her, her eyes narrowing inquisitively. "So, what about you, Y/N? How's things going with Jack?"

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat at the mention of Jack's name, her mind racing as she tried to come up with a suitable response. She couldn't deny that things had been going well between them, but there was a nagging voice in the back of her mind telling her that it was too good to be true.

"Oh, you know, same old, same old," she replied casually with a shrug, hoping to deflect any further questions. "We're just taking things one step at a time."

Lexi wasn't so easily deterred, her probing questions becoming more persistent with each passing moment. And as Y/N felt the eyes of her friends boring into her, she couldn't help but wonder if there was more truth to Lexi's words than she cared to admit.

Lexi leaned in closer, her voice dripping with faux sincerity. "You know, Y/N, you're so lucky to have found someone like Jack. He's such a catch."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a flicker of suspicion crossing her features as she studied Lexi's expression. There was something in her tone that set her on edge, a subtle hint of insincerity that sent alarm bells ringing in her mind.

"Oh, really?" Y/N replied, forcing a tight smile. "And what makes you say that?"

Lexi shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes that Y/N couldn't ignore. "Oh, you know, just his charm, his good looks, his... appeal," she added with a sly grin. "I wouldn't be surprised if some other girl tried to snatch him away from you."

Y/N felt a surge of anger bubbling up inside her, but she forced herself to keep her composure. She knew that Lexi's words were meant to unsettle her, to plant seeds of doubt in her mind. But she refused to let her friend's petty jealousy ruin what she had with Jack.

With a steely resolve, Y/N plastered on a fake smile and brushed off Lexi's comments with a casual wave of her hand. But deep down, she couldn't shake the feeling that trouble was brewing on the horizon. “If that’s what he wants to do but I don’t think that will happen anytime soon.”

…

Later that night y/n sat with Hugo on the couch, his purring lulling her into a state of comfort as they both watched ‘How to get away with murder.’ The noise from the TV faded into the background as her thoughts drifted back to Jack, his charming smile and magnetic personality.

He had been taking her out every week up until now and she couldn’t help the giddiness that spread into her body as she replayed their last encounter. Despite Lexi's snarky comments earlier in the day, she refused to let anything dampen her spirits.

A buzz near her leg caught her attention momentarily, y/n sprung up and snatched her phone unlocking it to see Jacks name on her phone. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she read his message, the warmth of his words sending a flutter through her chest.

"Come out to the bar with us tonight," the text read, simple yet inviting.

She twiddled her fingers as she thought of a text to send back. Before she could even type out a reply, another message from Jack appeared on the screen.

Another buzz vibrated her hands as he sent another one. "I'll give you a big hug," he added, a playful tease laced in his words.

With a satisfied grin, she hit send on her message and tossed her phone aside, the thought of seeing him again tonight filled her with a warm anticipation, and she couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude for the unexpected invitation.

…

Y/N stepped into the bustling bar, the cacophony of voices and clinking glasses washed over her, mingling with the pulsating beat of the music. She navigated through the sea of people, her eyes scanning the crowded room in search of familiar faces just like last time.

The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter and chatter. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the dimly lit space as she made her way through the throng.

Her gaze landed on a familiar figure tucked away in the corner of the room. Her heart skipped a beat as she spotted Lexi and Jack engrossed in conversation, their heads bent close together in hushed conversation.

Every step brought her closer to him, her heart pounding in her chest as she drew nearer to the corner where they sat. Lexi's laughter rang out through the crowded bar, her voice carrying a hint of flirtatiousness that set Y/N's teeth on edge.

As she approached, she caught snippets of their conversation, the sound of their laughter mingling with the pulsating beat of the music. Y/N's eyes flickered to Jack's back, his broad shoulders blocking her view of his face. Lexi's voice floated over to her, laced with a playful charm that made Y/N's skin crawl.

"Jack, you're such a riot," Lexi laughed, her hand resting casually on his arm as she leaned in closer. "I could listen to your stories all night."

Y/N's jaw tightened at the sight, her stomach churning with a mixture of frustration and jealousy. She forced a tight smile, her fingers curling into fists at her sides as she struggled to keep her composure.

 Jack's eyes lit up as he spotted her, a warm smile spreading across his face as he rose to greet her. "Sorry I'm late," Y/N interjected, her voice tinged with forced cheerfulness as she forced herself to meet Lexi's gaze. "Traffic was a nightmare."

Lexi's smile widened at her arrival, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes as she turned her attention back to Jack. "Oh, don't worry about it," she replied, her tone dripping with honeyed sweetness. "We were just getting acquainted, weren't we, Jack?"

Y/N's heart sank at the implication, a surge of frustration bubbling up inside her. She clenched her jaw, her nails digging into the palms of her hands as she fought to keep her emotions in check. With a forced smile, she turned her attention to Jack, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for his response.

Jack noticed Lexi lingering, her eyes fixed on him with a hint of desperation. Ignoring her completely, he turned back to Y/N with a charming smile. "Hey, would you like to dance?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine interest as he extended his hand to her.

"I'd love to,” she answered.

His hands, warm and comforting, found their way to her shoulders, his fingers working their magic as he massaged away the knots of stress that had been building up all evening.

She couldn't help but sigh in relief, the weight of the world lifting off her shoulders as she leaned into his touch. His closeness, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, sent shivers of anticipation coursing through her veins.

"Better?" Jack murmured, his voice low and husky as he leaned in closer, his breath tickling her ear.

Y/N let out a soft chuckle, the tension that had been coiled tight within her chest slowly unraveling in his presence. "Much better," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned to face him, their eyes locking in a heated gaze.

With a sly grin, Jack took her hand in his, his touch sending electric currents dancing across her skin. "Good," he murmured, his voice filled with a hint of mischief as he pulled her closer, their bodies swaying in time with the music.

Their banter was playful, filled with teasing jabs and flirtatious remarks that left them both breathless with laughter. "You're quite the dancer, Y/N," Jack remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he spun her around, their movements fluid and effortless.

Y/N grinned up at him, her heart pounding in her chest as she twirled under his guidance. "And you're not too bad yourself, Jack," she teased, Y/n leaned in closer, their faces inches apart.

As they lost themselves in the rhythm of the music, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of liberation wash over her. In Jack's arms, she felt free, unburdened by the weight of the world as they moved together in perfect harmony.

They were joined by the rest of the group, swirling around them in a whirlwind of laughter and joy. Lexi, in her eagerness to join the fun, accidentally bumped into Y/N, causing her to stumble and spill her drink all over Y/N's dress.

Y/N froze, her eyes widening in disbelief as the cold liquid seeped through the fabric, soaking her to the skin. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Lexi exclaimed, her voice tinged with feigned panic as she reached out to dab at the stain with a napkin.

But Y/N didn't hear her apologies, her mind consumed with frustration and anger as she turned on her heel and stormed off towards the bathroom, desperate to escape the eyes of onlookers and regain her composure.

The dimly lit hallway provided a welcome respite from the noise and chaos of the bar, the cool tiles beneath her feet a stark contrast to the heat of the crowded dance floor. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, her dress clinging to her skin in damp patches.

She reached for a handful of paper towels, dabbing at the stain with shaky hands as she tried to salvage what was left of her ruined dress. But no amount of wiping could erase the humiliation and frustration that gnawed at her insides, her mind replaying the events of the evening over and over again in an endless loop.

Taking a moment to collect herself, Y/N straightened her shoulders and squared her jaw, determined not to let Lexi's carelessness ruin her night. With a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped back into the dimly lit hallway, ready to face whatever the night had in store for her.

She approached the booth where they were sat, she could hear the murmur of their voices, punctuated by bursts of laughter and animated gestures. Taking her place by Jack's side, Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as she settled into her seat, her fingers instinctively intertwining with his.

The group seemed to be deep in conversation, their voices rising and falling in a steady rhythm as they discussed their plans for the rest of the evening.

Quinn and Nico were engaged in a spirited debate, their voices growing increasingly heated as they argued back and forth. But Jack's touch was a soothing balm, his grip firm and reassuring as he squeezed her hand gently, his eyes meeting hers with a silent understanding.

Quinn leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he addressed the group. "Alright, so here's the plan," he began, "We can just go to our lake house. For some ya know late night fun"

Nico raised an eyebrow, a skeptical expression crossing his face. "And what exactly does 'late-night fun' entail?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Quinn grinned, shooting Nico a playful wink. "Oh, you know, the usual—bonfires, music, maybe a little bit of skinny-dipping if we're feeling adventurous," he replied, his words met with a chorus of laughter from the group.

Lexi nudged Y/N, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Sounds like it's going to be quite the party," she remarked, her tone teasing as she glanced over at Jack.

Y/N rolled her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Oh, I'm sure it will be," she quipped, shooting Jack a knowing look.

The conversation continued around them, Jack leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "Let's go." His words sent a shiver down her spine, a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins as she nodded in agreement.

With a quick glance at her friends, Jack's hand firmly in hers as they made their way towards the exit.

…

The lake house stood nestled among towering trees, its wooden facade blending seamlessly with the surrounding nature. She marveled at the tranquility of the setting, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of pine and the distant sound of birdsong adding to the serene atmosphere. She took a moment to soak it all in before Jack's footsteps approached from behind.

"Hey," Jack greeted, a warm smile gracing his features as he joined her by the edge of the lake.

"Hey," Y/N replied, returning his smile, feeling a flutter of excitement in her chest. Together, they wandered towards the lake house, their footsteps crunching softly on the gravel path. Y/N's cheeks flushed in embarrassment as Jack's hand found the small of her back, guiding her closer to him.

The wooden structure loomed before them, its windows reflecting the shimmering surface of the lake. Jack led Y/N inside, and she found herself in awe of the rustic charm of the interior.

Their tour culminated in Jack's room on the second floor, a cozy retreat with a panoramic view of the lake. Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight, the tranquil waters stretching out before her in a mesmerizing tableau.

"This is amazing," she breathed, turning to Jack with a smile.

"I'm glad you like it," Jack replied, his voice was soft, filled with warmth. His eyes sparkling as he led her to the window. Together, they stood in silence, gazing out at the serene landscape, the soft lapping of waves against the shore providing a soothing backdrop.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still, and Y/N found herself lost in the depth of Jack's gaze, a warmth spreading through her veins.

“I really like you y/n.” He said softly, his lips softly trailing down to the side of her neck before whispering. Y/N felt her heart swell with affection for this person who had captured her attention and her heart.

“Tell me to stop.” His grip tightened on her hips as she continued to stare outside the window. His kisses became more eager, becoming more passionate as he pulled y/n closer to his body.

A gasp escaped her lips causing jack to smirk, his hands creeping up to her back. Y/n looked up to meet his eyes not caring about her doubts anymore. “Kiss me,” she whispered. Jack’s lips met hers in a rush, y/n could no longer breathe due to the intensity.

Her breath was caught in her throat as jack wrapped his hands around her thighs and lifted her, slowly carrying her to the bed facing the window.

He dropped her down on the plump mattress before shrugging off his jacket. Y/n watched from her position, hungrily eyeing his figure hidden by the white shirt he was wearing.

He crawled back between her legs, her heart pounded at the sight of him so close in the intimate position. “Tell me to stop.” He begged practically, Y/n shook her head no, placing her hands in his hair while he gazed at her.

She trailed her nails down his torso, eyeing his body in the dim light of the room. His hands slide down to her hips and squeeze once more before moving a little lower to her thighs. “Why are u acting so scared Jack” y/n questioned teasingly.

"Scared?" He laughed at the comment as he caressed the smooth skin of her thighs a bit harder. "You think I'm scared of you?"

“I think you’re scared of what I can show you. How good I can be,” she tilted her head, meeting his gaze with a soft smile.

"Is that right?" He chuckled, the sound low and intimate.

Abruptly, Ang and Jesper walk in, interrupting the moment. “Oh jack, you guys should uhm come out and see everyone downstairs. They’re all waiting for you” she says with a smirk to jack. They both giggle as they close the door and leave the room in a rush.

Jacks smile quickly turns to a scowl. He leans back over y/n and whispers, “I’m not finished with you.” His hand runs down her face and caresses her cheek before he walks out of the room, leaving y/n to sit there shocked and speechless. She ran her fingers over her bruised lips, letting a small giggle out.

[the0ldmann]

Whoops, my hand slipped! I saw a prompt about kissing things and was like "i could put a couple of these together" and next thing I knew here I was! Enjoy!

---

    You’d spent the day so preoccupied with work and the Karens that came with it, when you came home the first thing you wanted to do was find Sunny Day Jack. Usually he would greet you at the door, but this night he didn’t.

    Had the day been any better, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought.

    However since the day was so stressful and your anxieties were still running high, you couldn’t help but take it a little personally.

    Was he upset with you? Had you not been doing enough? You know you hadn’t been the most attentive partner lately with how much overtime you'd been working, had he gotten sick of having to keep track of you? You loved him so much and yet to have so stupidly been pushing him away…

    At least you thought perhaps he had grown tired of you until you turned around from putting your jacket up and bumped right into him.

    “J-Jack!” Your surprise didn’t last long as you threw your arms around him. You buried your face in his chest and he hugged you back just as tight.

    “Sunshine, is everything alright?” You could tell he was concerned as he started to slowly stroke your hair. It’s all you can do to shake your head and try to mumble out what was going through your head.

    “Today was one of the worst shifts I’ve ever had! I wish I never had to go back and then when you weren’t at the door I was worried I’d finally pushed you away and all before I could apologize for how I’ve been ignoring you…” Letting your emotions out quite like this wasn’t planned, but boy were you glad your face was hidden right now. Now you just held on to him tight as he gave your back a couple of pats.

    “I would never leave you Sunshine, ever. What kind of a man would I be, to leave you when you've been run the most ragged? I know you don't intend to be gone so much.”

    You absently nod into his chest and breathe a sigh of relief.

    "I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little upset… but not at you Sunspot! I'm upset with your boss. Work is not doing you- or us- any favors.”

    "But I still have to go back in to open in about six hours and then I'm almost positive he'll expect me to come in the day after even though I'm supposed to have it off."

    "Call off."

    You freeze. Call off? You try to think of an argument, but one isn't coming. You've enough savings from the overtime gained the last two weeks that you could take the hit and still not financially feel it. Plus you were a primary pillar for such a tiny crew- firing you for calling off one day would be both ridiculous and ensure your boss would have to do even more work…

    "What would I say though? How could I make it believable?" It didn't take Jack long at all to think of an excuse for you.

    "You're sick. After spending all that time working yourself to the bone, you just can't take it and can barely move. You'll be in on your next scheduled day- to ensure you don't hurt yourself more. Then after you call in, we can spend the next two days together!"

    Looking up at him, you try your best to hide the surge of excitement from your face. Then you realize just how close the two of you are.

    You gulped.

    He was so close, noses almost touching. You could feel the faintness of his breath from his parted lips. All you could do was close your eyes and pray that he was okay with what you were contemplating.

    “S-Sunshine I… I want to show you how I feel. Reassure you. Is that okay?” His voice was low, desperation from all the time apart starting to show as he struggled to keep it steady. Was he thinking of doing the same thing? Rather than verbally answer him, you grab his collar and pull him in, kissing him.

    There’s zero hesitation as he begins to kiss you back. The need he’s kept bottled up inside is evident in the way he kisses- always wanting more and not wanting either of you to pull away. He holds the back of your head, firm yet gentle, as the two of you try to take in small gasps of air whenever your mouths break contact for a second.

    A few minutes later and he finally pulls away. With the two of you panting heavily, he rests his forehead against yours.

    Neither of you say anything.

    What could you say?

    You had trouble wording things in the moment, but even if you had the time you don’t think words could ever adequately explain how you feel right now. Actions could explain much better than words.

    While Jack had been wanting- needing- that kiss for...

    It was difficult to tell if that was pent up from weeks of desire, or if there was something deprived for years that was impossible to satiate.

    No, words wouldn’t do at this moment.

    Jack gently places his hand under your chin, and tilts your head up to look at him. There’s a fire in his eyes that you yearn to reach out and touch.

    The rest of the night certainly promised to be wordless.

[somedayonbroadway]

Criminal Minds au?

Criminal Minds AU

TW: kidnapping, split personality, beatings

Season 2 Episode 15: Revelations

Race sucked in a breath. He rolled his head on his neck and bit back a whimper when he felt a pain surge through his head. It didn’t help that all he could see was a single lightbulb hanging above him. If Jack hadn't made him watch so many horror movies, Race wouldn’t have even given it much thought, but the memories flooded back to him, hitting him hard. The young man quickly reminded himself that now was not the time to be the kid everyone saw him as. He had to be an agent right now. He could do this. He was trained in combat, he knew how to handle a gun, he was the whiz kid. He could be brave too. He didn’t need to be terrified.

But as the unsub looked over him, Race’s heart sped up. He couldn’t fully open his eyes, but he could still see the troubled man before him, scowling at him. Race looked around for Spot, wondering if he’d gotten hurt too. But Race was alone. “They’re gone.”

The young FBI agent winced as the voice split through his brain. It didn’t matter how quiet it was. “Who?”

“It’s just me now.” Just him. Race didn’t know what that meant. He went to reach for his gun, before he realized he wasn’t just sitting in a chair, he was bound to it, wrists at his side and ankles pulled under the chair, neatly cinched together. He could barely move. There was something awful cooking in the corner. Race tried to see what it was, his eyes automatically drifting to the small stove, but the man in front of him grabbed his chin. “Don’t you look away from a man of God, you lousy little demon!”

Fighting the urge to flinch, Race swallowed hard. “Rafael?” he asked. “The angel, right? The lord, he sent you to deal with his sinners.” That’s what the man believed at least. “Wh-what do you have cooking? Sm-smells like fish—“

“You will learn to hold your tongue in the presence of a holy man,” Rafael growled. “Fish heart and liver help keep away the devil, so you can’t see into my mind.”

With a harsh swallow, Race shook his head. He tried to remind himself he could still breathe. “I can’t read your mind, I study human behavior, it’s all just evidence and data…” the boy closed his mouth when he saw the gun in the man’s hand.

A bullet was held right in front of Race’s face. “Do you know what this is?” Race didn’t dare answer. He wasn’t sure a quick quip wouldn’t get him killed, though it was all that came to mind. “This is God’s will.” He placed the single bullet into the revolver and spun it around till he didn’t know where it was. Race lost sight of it too, and tears began welling up.

Then he pointed it right between the young doctor’s eyes. Maybe Race hated being the kid on the team, maybe he hated the jokes and the way the team would never let him go out alone, but he would kill for one of Jack’s hugs right now, a tussle of his hair from Katherine, a pat on the shoulder from their fearless leader. He held back tears. He wasn’t ready to die. He tried to do the math in his head to calculate the odds. 83.3% chance of survival and all Race could focus on was there other 17.7%. “You don’t have to do this, I can help you.”

“That’s exactly what the Devil would say,” Rafael growled before pulling the trigger.

—

“He’s not here,” the words sent chills down Jack’s spine as Spot stared at the cornfield like he wished it would take him too.

Spot shook his head and looked back at the dogs he’d shot down. “It was all a distraction. I was so stupid—“

“You were being attacked, it wasn’t your fault,” Jack insisted, marching out of the room to try and find any kind of clue of where Dr. Anthony Higgins had been taken to.

—

When the door opened again, Race looked up at the man walking in. The same man who had been there before, but something about him was different, the way he carried himself. He had wood for the fire where the fish were being burned to keep the devil away. Race could feel blood trickling down the side of his head. He wiggled a bit in the ropes that held him still and sniffled. “Who are you?” Race asked. “Tobias?” Tobias. That was the man’s name, the real man’s name. Some would call him a host. He was multiple people living in one, twisted brain.

“Shut up, boy,” the man growled. “No talking.”

It was an order and Race knew it, but he couldn’t help himself. “I j-just wanted to thank you for trying to save me, f-for keeping us safe—“

There was no holding back the flinch that wracked Race’s body when his captor threw a piece of wood over his head. The agent ducked to try and keep his head intact. Then the man was hovering over him, hands on either side of Race’s hips. “Don’t try to lie to me, boy.”

This personality seemed older than the body it was in. Race pressed his legs together, not enjoying how helpless he felt beneath the much larger, very violent man who had him in a very hopeless position. “I would never lie to you,” Race insisted.

“Lying is a sin—“

“I’m not a liar, I’m not a liar,” Race tried as the man reached beneath the chair and untied Race’s leg. The boy kicked at him, knowing it wouldn’t do much good. His shoes were slid off of his feet and the man tightly held one of his ankles. He breathed hard. “Wait! Wait! Please!” His heart raced when he saw the man take out a small whip. “Wait!”

“This can be over quickly. Just confess to your sins,” the man instructed.

Still, Race shrugged. He didn’t know what that meant, if it meant the hurting would stop or his life. So he shook his head. “I’m not a sinner, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I can help you if you’ll let me. I can make one phone call and a friend can come out here and we can go confess our sins together—“ Race let out a cry when the whip came down on his foot.

“Shut up or I will have to shut you up myself,” the old man growled.

The young man squeezed his eyes shut when the whip was raised again. “But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners!” Race braced himself for pain but it didn’t come. “M-Matthew 9:13…”

The man was staring at him. “You know the Bible?”

Desperately, Race nodded. “Yes! I know the Bible—“

“The devil can read too,” the man remembered, raising up the whip again. The higher the angle, the more it would hurt.

“No! No, it’s not like that, I can recite it to you, the whole Bible, beginning to end,” Race pleaded. “I know it, every word.” It wasn’t even a lie. He did. He’d read it one morning. The man scowled at him. “Please, please, let me recite the Bible. Please let me recite the Bible…”

His captor just brought the whip down on the bottom of the boy’s bare feet.

When the man was done, Race was trying to breathe. He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t show the man his scared he was, but when his captor held his face in his hand and thumbed at his tears, Race figured that was already out of the question. Now even if he did get out of the ropes, he couldn’t run, not like this. He glanced at the door waiting for it to be broken down, maybe by Denton or Spot, but all Race really wanted was Jack. He knew it was stupid but Jack was the only big brother he’d ever really had. Ever since they’d known each other, Jack had been the one protecting him with all he had.

When Race forced himself to look back up at his tormentor, he found that someone was gathering ingredients for a sandwich. He tilted his head. “Tobias?” he whispered.

The man turned back, his eyes wide. “Oh, he hurt you,” he noted, looking down at Race’s feet. “I’m sorry.” The apology ended there. Tobias sighed and grabbed the rope that had been around Race’s ankles and began to put them exactly there, tying the agents feet so they couldn’t brush against the ground. They were pulled beneath the chair. “I’m sorry I have to do this, father would kill me if I didn’t—“

“Tobias, you have to let me go,” Race pleaded. “I can help, all you have to do is let me.”

“You help? N-no, I help you,” he insisted, pulling a small vile and a needle out of his pocket and placing them on the floor. Race began to panic at that, struggling when Tobias wrapped a belt around his arm.

“Wait, no, please, please don’t—“

“It’ll help,” Tobias insisted, filling the needle and raising it to the crease of Race’s elbow.

The young blond shook his head. “No, no, I don’t want it, i-it no! No!” he screamed but the liquid was injected into his bloodstream anyway, making his cries and struggles go weak. Soon enough, the doctor’s head pulled back and all Race could do was stare blankly at the ceiling, praying he would be found in time. It wasn’t long till his eyes fell shut.

—

David was typing away at computers, trying like hell to find anything that could lead them to where Race was being kept. Jack had his hands on his shoulders when the screens went dark. “What happened?” Jack asked.

The tech genius shook his head and squinted. “I don’t know—“

They both froze when a clear image of Anthony showed up on each and every screen. Jack’s eyes widened. “Denton! Get in here!” he yelled. Race’s chin was down to his chest. He looked out of it. The whole team came running in and Jack didn’t notice.

The typing of the keyboard was loud as David tried to track the feed but nothing was working. “I can’t get a trace,” he grumbled, still trying.

A hand tightened in Race’s hair and pulled his head up. Race’s head was still beating. In fact, his eye was just about swollen completely. He breathed hard, looking around with his one good eye as the man with a hood over his head walked behind the camera. “He’s been beaten,” Jack noted. “When we find this guy, I’ll have his goddamn head on a stick!”

“Kelly,” Denton warned, a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

Race groaned and blinked slowly, shifting in his restraints. “Good morning, boy,” the old man said, back again it seemed. “Time to be the saving grace you always wanted to be,” he said, pointing at the three screens in front of him. “Two of them will die today. You get to chose who lives.”

The young man breathed hard and shook his head. “No,” he whispered. He could see the camera. It was one. “I’m not choosing. I’m not, please, let me go, we can talk about this—“ A hand tightened around Race’s neck.

“You chose one to save or I kill them all, and you save no one,” the man growled. Race whimpered so his captor shook him more, making the boy flinch. “I’m no liar, boy!” Race was shoved back against his chair with tears in his eyes. “The rest of the devils are watching. You tell me which one to save and they get the address.”

The camera. Race’s eyes flickered to it. They were there. They were watching, his team was watching. It took everything inside Race to remain calm and not immediately start begging them to just come and find him, please come and find him. So he swallowed hard and looked at the screens in front of him. He sniffled and picked, “the far right screen.” All the boy could do was sit and wait as the man wrote down a name and an address and showed the camera.

Race watched the screen go dark and he bit his lip. “Rafael…” he whispered before the man turned the camera off. He let more tears fall as the man left him watching those cameras, waiting for these innocent people to be murdered.

—

It felt like weeks. Race felt lightheaded, like he’d been drugged again. He wouldn’t be surprised. “Anthony? Anthony, if you can hear me, you’re stronger than him. He cannot break you…”

“Todd?” Race whispered. But the voice was gone in a second. Race lifted his gaze to the screens that Tobias was standing in front of. Replaying something. That’s when Race saw them. Todd. Todd Kloppman was trying to comfort him and when Race saw it, he melted, only wanting to cry more. But when Tobias turned to him, Race froze. “N-no, no..” he whimpered, struggling against the ropes once again. “Please, please, I didn’t do anything,” he whimpered.

“How do you read minds?”

“I don’t!” The beating started then. Race didn’t know the camera was on. He didn’t care. He just cried. He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t want to die. “Tobias! Help me, please, Tobias—“

“Tobias can’t help you, boy!”

Race shivered. He shook his head. “Jackie… Jack, please help me, please find me, please help me,” he begged. He didn’t know if Jack could hear him or if anyone would even miss him if he were killed right now, all he could do was hope. “I’m not a sinner, please, please help me…” the beating didn’t stop. Race saw a flash of a gravestone in the corner.

A gun was placed between his eyes again. “Which one of your teammates gets to die now, angel of death? Which one?”

“No! No! I won’t! I won’t choose!” Race cried. “No!” The man began to pull the trigger. 80% chance of survival. 75%. 66.7%. “Wait! Wait! Agent Bryan Denton! D-Denton…” he pleaded. “K-kill him, he’s a narcissist, please. He always tried to pretend like he was a father to me, but he’ll never be my real father—“ He prayed the camera was on. They had to find it, they had to understand.

The man nodded and left Race alone again after turning off the camera.

Only moments later, did he come back, a knife in hand. He sliced through Race’s bonds. “Stand and grab a shovel. Now.”

Race was too scared to protest. He stood and shakily grabbed the shovel as Tobias pointed a gun at him. “Walk…”

—

That’s how Race ended up in a cemetery, digging his own grave. He was trembling, sweating. His feet were screaming out in pain and he just wanted this to be over. “Any coward who turns on family deserves to die. You’ll go in alive as I bury you to give you time to think about what you’ve done.”

Race didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He just squeezed his eyes shut and cried, before he was able to look up at the man. “I’m sorry…” he whimpered. “I’m not st-strong enough ta dig—“

“Don’t talk back to me!“ Race grabbed at the gun on Tobias’s waist as his captor charged at him and he pointed it up at the man. 50% chance of survival. “There’s only one bullet in that gun, boy—“ the man raised up his knife so Race shot. The bullet hit the man right in the chest and Tobias fell to the ground. Race tried desperately to stand.

“Tony!” someone screamed.

Race couldn’t scream back. All he could do was crawl over to the man and hover before reaching into his pocket and stealing the suppressant he’d been using to keep Race subdued. In an instant, arms were around him, pulling him away and laying him down. “Tony, Racer, breathe, okay?”

“Jack,” Race’s hoarse voice managed to get out.

Jack hugged him tightly. “They’ve got him, you’re safe now, you’re safe,” he promised. “Where’re you hurt?”

Race sniffled. “M-my feet…” he whimpered. “I d-don’t know if I can walk…”

Jack nodded and smiled sadly. “That’s okay,” he whispered. “Put your arm around me, yeah?” Race did. It was all he could do. And he let Jack carry him to safety, knowing he may never be let out into the field again if his big brother had anything to say about it.

[boudicastar]

Tony

The colors of my soul, once bold and vibrant

Began to fade and lose their brightness.

Shades of past, once well-defined, lost their light when I learned life is timed.

Memories cut too deeply, blurring good moments and bad,

Running them together,

Like watered-down paint on canvas, too thin to matter.

A caged horse was I until the gate fell down and I broke loose,

Slamming hooves into the track,

Running, running,

from the old haunts chasing my back.

I sought nothing but lighthearted means, acing the social climb but failing to be clean.

Nothing to fear but fear itself, I was numbed out and put reason on a shelf.

Giving nothing that was truly me, but taking and taking all I could see. What about me?

The faster I ran, the emptier I became, hollowed out, incapable of shame.

Getting higher and higher for long bouts of time, chasing that feeling akin to sublime.

Nothing made sense, so why stew? Stop thinking, no feeling, just do.

Run, run, faster than wind, chasing the rain and seeking a friend.

Someone to understand my soul on fire, just one person to pull me from the mire.

In my lost and crazy ritual of swirling through life,

A spinning jack on the blade of a knife.

Too fast to slow down and too quick to hear the sound,

The sound of warning in my ear, ears that were shut, shut out the fear.

Keep going! Don’t stop! I ran and raged until I saw

There was one thing that could kill me, my one great fall.

My wild heart pumping to the rhythm of stormy wind,

Stopped beating in that instant and shrank from within.

I fought to grasp my anchor, but my hand swept through a cloud.

“She’s gone,” they whispered. “My mom? NO!” I screamed out loud.

The angel of my existence, my only friend, my mother. Gone. Her time had reached the end.

A cruel shattering of bones and heart…gave birth to my rage and broke me apart.

Her lifeless body was my doom. Another gate broke loose, a flooding gate that hung my noose.

My numbed-out shell filled with wet rain, sloshing through the soaked out surges of pain. They were Unbearable and drove me to seek the blank and hollow through the swallow, through the drink.

Taste was at first the distraction for a false satisfaction, no power to cure the deeper darkness than Before.

My senses were dulling and sending me crawling, headlong down into a panicked falling.

I thought I’d overcome before, but now I could take no more, slamming them down, two by three, Attacking the hurt never helped so instead, I flee.

From the table and drinks, I pass through the door, run away as if there’s nothing left to say. Words Balanced on my tongue now slipped away, long gone. I’m drunk and matter to no one.

The one who saw me, the heart who knew, all I was and what I should do - she was gone, my anchor Detached, holding me to nothing, no tether to keep me from drowning.

One final drink had washed me away, one unstable step caused me to sway.

Then beyond expectation or realm of foresight, my life was blinded by a searing light.

Massive impact of stunning pain, I couldn’t run nor feel the rain.  

Darkness snatched me like a thief in the night, pulled me from life and out of sight.

It swallowed my body, the blood from my veins. No more running. God grabbed my reins.

Realization slammed into my chest, face down and crushed into less.

Less than who I dreamt I’d be, less than what she saw in me.

But then I looked up at the outstretched hand, a beacon in the dark to help me stand.

If I took it, would I still have regrets? Or would I move forward to heal and reset?

The one path seemed easier but it was much the same, with constant repetition and no growth to gain.

The other path looked difficult with unseen twists and climbs, but hope takes you higher when faith is Blind.

[early2000smovieimagines]

Meeting and Dating Oliver Wood

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Oliver... what can we say about Oliver.... Handsome, charismatic, sweet, ...and far too obsessed with Quidditch to use his very desirable traits to land himself a girlfriend.

- Truth be told: Oliver has never met a girl capable of sparking his interest enough for him to choose them over more time with his favorite sport. Well, no girl except you.

- You and Oliver first met when you were seated next to each other in one of your classes. Since you were seated together, whenever one of you had a question or had to do work with another person, you did it with each other.

- Oliver likes you. Oliver really likes you. He’s never gotten on with a girl so easily before, ...and you’re pretty; really pretty, and you don’t even care for Quidditch all that much and that somehow doesn’t even bother him!

- Every time there’s going to be a game, he asks if you’ll be there; surprising himself with how much he cares about your attendance. He feels this surge of pleasure every time you wish him good luck and he yearns to kiss you “for it” as well.

- I should probably give you guys a fair warning: Oliver may have a bit of a prejudice against you if you’re in Slytherin; considering they’re his main rival. He’d obviously prefer to date someone in Gryffindor but a Slytherin girl is the only one that would really throw his feelings for a loop.

- So Oliver has a crush on you for a fair bit of time, and he’s adorably shy about it because he’s never really had a crush on someone before. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to look down at his paper to try and hide the blush and/or smile on his face because of something you’ve said or done.

- He first asks you out after a big Gryffindor win. You’d gone over to congratulate him before returning to the school like everyone else but before you got too far away, he’d called out your name, causing you to turn back to him.

“I was jus’ wonderin if ya’d go out with me?” He asked, to which you obviously agreed to, causing a relieved and happy smile to spread across his face.

- For your first date, the two of you sit out in the field together and talk. He confesses that he’s liked you for a while and is very happy and flustered when you say that you liked him for a while too. He also talks to you about Quidditch, though at the time, you had no idea just how much the game would come to affect your life....

- You share your first kiss a few weeks later. You’d offhandedly mentioned that you wished he didn’t have to go as he got ready for practice. He’d paused, smiling and asking “you do?”, momentarily forgetting about what he was doing.

- Soon enough, he was leaning in closer and closer before pressing his lips to yours in a soft, quick kiss. He pulled away, insisting that he really had to go and giving you a quick peck before he happily made his way to practice.

- And just like that, Oliver finally found something that gave Quidditch a run for its money.

- There’s quite a bit of Pda in your relationship; usually on the more innocent side of things. He’s a fan of being adorably affectionate with you.

- Handholding. It’s the easiest thing for him to do; especially when you’re walking together and he’s holding a broom in his other hand.

- Long hugs.

- Getting softly pulled into forehead kisses.

- Soft, sweet kisses.

- Celebratory snogging after he wins a game.

- Shutting him up with kisses; usually when he’s been talking about Quidditch for an hour. As much as you love him, you sometimes just can’t sit through hours of sports talk that you don’t even really understand.

- Where do you think you’re going? It’s his favorite thing to say when you move to get up from under his shoulder as you’re sitting on the couch together or when you’re hopping out of his bed while the two of you are/were cuddling.

- He’s the big spoon when you cuddle. It’s his favorite position since he can hide his face in your hair; away from the sun, and feel you pressed close, his arm wrapped around you and keeping you there.

- He probably consistently falls asleep on you whenever you cuddle. The two of you usually take naps together after practice or a tough game.

- His favorite nicknames for you are Angel and bunny. There’s just something so sweet and fitting about them.

- He likes when you call him captain. He thinks it’s really cute ...and hot; depending on your tone.

- You wearing his jersey is his kink. You asked if you could try it on one day, just out of curiosity, which he’d obliged and ever since, the vision of you in that damned sweater invades his mind.

- You gave him some kind of good luck charm at some point and now he won’t go through a game without it, whether it be something like a little heart drawn on his hand or a bracelet of yours.

- Cheering him on at games.

- Checking on him after he takes a tumble in Quidditch. He always insists that he’s fine but he does find your fussing to be pretty cute.

- Getting taught all the intricacies of Quidditch at length. He can talk to you for hours about it so let’s hope that you learn to like it or are just really patient/love him enough to suffer.

- Even though you may or may not be clueless about it, he still likes to run through his Quidditch ideas/plans with you; at least if you’re in Gryffindor. You find it sort of touching that he genuinely cares about your opinion.

- Oh the things that can happen on an abandoned Quidditch field....

- Letting him rant to you about Flint and the other teams or when practice is being canceled, etc.

- I’m sorry but you’re not the only one who’s dating Oliver, okay? You’re sharing him with Quidditch and you’ll occasionally have to vie for his attention against it.

- You know that Oliver has to be lowkey jacked from all of his training, right? He probably likes lifting you up while you’re hugging/kissing or throwing you over his shoulder, or chasing after you and grabbing you around the waist to spin you around.

- He likes being able to warm you up. He’s always all smiles when he takes your hands in his and/or breathes hot air on them, or when he just pulls you in close to his body.

- Dates at the Three Broomsticks.

- Laying out on the grass of the school. You’ll usually lay between his legs with his arms wrapped around you.

- Taking walks by the Black Lake together.

- Just being in the same room and enjoying each other’s company while doing your own thing.

- Sitting up in the astronomy tower.

- If you’re going to special events with him than be prepared to see a kilt. The first time you did, he told you not to laugh as he came out and you were; probably, speechless for far different reasons.

- He can always make you laugh. He’s hilarious; even when he’s really not trying to be.

- Teasing him about his accent every now and again. You’re the only one who’s allowed to do it and it’s only because you’re so cute.

- He is fully convinced that Scotland is the best place on Earth and he will not take any other answer. He promises that he’ll take you there over one of your breaks and prove it to you if you don’t believe him.

- Compliments, compliments, oh how he loves them. He jokingly pretends as though he knows how good he is, stretching out and brushing off your praise with a poorly concealed grin.

- Trying to cheer him up when his team loses a game. He’s always bummed out for at least a day but you do make him feel a little better just by being there.

- Giving him a light slap on the shoulder to stop him from saying something or to scold him when he says the wrong thing/something very unhelpful.

- Patient boy. He’s really good at explaining things to you, always giving you a soft chuckle and some reassuring words before going over whatever it is you don’t understand again. He finds your frustration to be sort of cute.

- He can always see if you’re not doing alright and softly checks in on you, giving you a little squeeze on the arm and tilting his head down to meet your eyes. He asks if you’re alright or makes you a little promise to make you feel better, usually asking “How does that sound?” before giving you a “Yeah? Good.”.

- He tries to be comforting but he’s not very good at it. It’s the thought that counts, right?

- He probably doesn’t immediately notice when someone is flirting with you but can’t stop thinking about it after you or someone else mentions it. It bothers him but on more of a itch that can’t be scratched level.

- He’s not overly protective but he does defend you if need be and likes to make sure that you’re safe.

- The two of you really don’t fight all too often but you will occasionally have one; usually solving it in the same day/same place after a few minutes of arguing. Sometimes, when he’s really mad, his accent gets so thick that you literally cannot understand him and have to stop and just say “what?”.

- You both expect the other to apologize if they’re in the wrong and he has no problem doing so. He’ll give a “‘M sorry alrigh’?”, taking you by the shoulders and giving you a small smile before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

- He doesn’t say “I love you” a ton but he does say it occasionally, usually out of nowhere when he just gets this sudden rush of realization that he is so lucky to have you.

- Look me in my eyes and tell me that Oliver wouldn’t want to make a little army of Quidditch playing babies. Why stop at one or two when you can make a whole team?

[teawaffles]

The Conspiratorial Bullet: Chapter 3

“——Friendship is hard. Don’t you think so, William?”

Helena said so with a somewhat philosophical tone. Since the start of the game, she had stayed with William, and now they were hiding in the shade of a tree while keeping an eye on the state of the battle.

Although he was on the lookout for danger, William’s expression remained the same as always.

“Why do you say so?” he replied.

“Earlier, in front of the forest, there were some children having fun together right? Actually, some of them were my friends in the past. We used to be five good friends, but before I knew it, they left me out and became a group of four.”

Even without an explanation, William understood the reason why she’d been excluded. Helena herself knew that as she continued.

“Before, you said these sensations are what made me unique, but there are times when I can’t convey that no matter how much I try to explain it. What’s more, as long as someone differs from them even in the slightest, those children will cast them out without a second thought. My uniqueness really isn’t a big problem, is it?”

“Abilities. Personalities. One’s background, and physical traits…… People will take the smallest differences and use them as a basis for persecution. That is one truth in this world.”

William ventured further, using expressions that were removed from Helena’s personal frustrations — this was a universal problem in society. As for Helena’s relationships with her peers, it might be possible to give her advice such that they could be repaired for a time, but there was no guarantee that a similar situation wouldn’t arise in the future. Hence, William had decided that at this stage, he should avoid intervening more than necessary.

As she continued, Helena appeared to have sensed what he was thinking.

“You know, I only realised this earlier when I was looking at them, but now it seems they’ve become a group of three. There was clearly only one person they weren’t talking to. In a situation like this, what’s the right thing to do?”

Her tone was reminiscent of a student asking their teacher a simple question. But William could tell that it wasn’t because she was being indifferent; rather, she was deliberately trying to act calm. In all likelihood, she was lost as to whether she should step into the other children’s affairs, even after being excluded herself.

Helena was in a complex situation, and he intentionally responded in a detached manner.

“I’m sure that problems like these have no clear answer — there’s a risk that by attempting to improve the situation, one will only end up making it worse. Human relationships are simply that complex and delicate.”

“……I knew it.”

Perhaps she herself had anticipated that answer, for Helena made no attempt to protest, but simply lowered her gaze in dejection. That gesture vividly revealed her conscience — but the world wasn’t so simple as to allow everything to be resolved by good faith alone.

After making sure that she was contemplating that very matter, William spoke to her in a soft voice.

“However, I’m not saying that you should shut away your emotions. Rather, you should take care to anticipate the situations that may arise, and think about what both you and the other party will stand to gain or lose. If, after doing so, you are still determined to carry out your intentions, then that is called courage.”

Helena’s eyes widened.

“……Courage?”

“Yes, courage. When you’re ready to face that problem, Helena, you can always come talk to me. That’s a side job of mine too, you know.”

Saying that, William gave her the reliable smile of a private consultant, and Helena’s face instantly brightened up.

“Alright. When that time comes, I’ll be sure to talk to you again.”

The girl faced forward, her heart filled with gratitude at having met a friend she could trust.

“Well then, I got a little distracted, but now we’re right in the middle of a game. Since I’m already here, I’m definitely going to win.”

But just as she had a change of heart, and her fighting spirit surged forth, William started.

“Helena, look out—”

“Hm?”

Before she could react, in one swift movement as if to hide her, William covered the girl’s entire body with his.

“U-Uh, what? What’s wrong?”

Her understanding still hadn’t caught up with the situation, but William slowly rose to his feet.

“Well, it looks like this is the end for me,” he smiled, somewhat sadly.

Near his waist was a streak of brightly coloured paint. At his feet, a small round mock bullet lay on the ground.

At the sudden occurrence, Helena was taken aback.

“……Did you take the bullet for me?”

“Yep. I can’t sense any enemies nearby, so it must’ve been a sniper shot. With this level of skill, perhaps it’s Moran?”

As he calmly guessed the sniper’s identity, William looked towards the gamekeeper’s cabin built on a distant hill.

“You’ve got to be kidding — you’re going to leave now? Then, what should I do?”

The girl’s voice shook, and her expression grew uneasy, as if she’d been instantly overcome with loneliness. William gave her a mournful smile.

“I’m sorry. But there’s nothing you have to panic about. Be it dashing alone into enemy territory, or joining forces with your allies, you can do whatever you like.”

“B-But……”

Her distress was still plain. Although they weren’t related by blood, in this moment, it felt almost as if they were parent and child. But even as that slightly strange feeling washed over him, William spoke.

“Now that I’m supposed to have retired from the game, it’ll be unfair for me to give any further advice,” he said. “I’ll be leaving early. Well then, good luck, Helena.”

“Ah…… A-Alright.”

William tried to take his leave without showing any lingering attachments or regrets, and Helena gave him a weak wave as he departed.

Then, he called out to her over his shoulder.

“——Just so you know, I haven’t forgotten your other ‘consultation’.”

At his words, Helena suddenly straightened up.

“Yeah, I remember it just fine too.”

Having received her resolute answer, William walked off with unhurried footsteps, as if he were merely taking a stroll.

Even after her dependable friend had vanished, Helena continued to stare in the direction he’d left.

Scoreboard

🔹 Blue team: Albert, Jack, Fred, William, Kevin, Andy

🔺 Red team: Moran, Bond, Louis, Helena

[datawyrms]

Happy DannyMay everyone! i say while dropping this. For day one, Memories. sorta kinda sequel to this Half a Decade Late

He said he’d never hate them. Back when he thought it would only be a matter of time until he found a weakness, a flaw and squirmed free. He always had before. He didn’t like being captured, and he certainly didn’t like getting shoved into cages, but it was always temporary. A terrifying inconvenience. Something he’d shrug off eventually and forget. Lately he was starting to realize he’d forget that he ever considered thinking charitably. Just like all the other things he couldn’t quite remember.

They took everything. His freedom, his limbs, his skin, his voice. So many things he had the misfortune of learning he could recover from with enough time. Really broke the idea that anything about you was special. Did it matter that they ripped him open when the green slime he was made of would eventually cover the hole without even a sign of the pain it caused him? He just stopped caring. Ghosts didn’t feel pain. Maybe if he believed that enough, he wouldn’t need to feel it. Hurt was just a matter of perspective.

He was changing, apparently. The spectral copies of his human organs they stole over and over again stopped being perfect copies. Sloppy. Apparently his body was forgetting what the real ones were like. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been human anyway. That was fine. It was the only real way he could bother them now, being ‘less useful’. Obviously he didn’t need them that badly. He envied some of his fellow prisoners. They were just green inside. Nothing the vultures wanted, nothing for them to mutter and prod at while he struggled uselessly.

He didn’t really know why he still bothered to do that. It never worked. Some impulse. Just better than keeping still. He never really was a human, was he? Humans didn’t treat other humans like this. So he wasn’t one. So why did he ever think he was?

Tie was weird. Maybe having a soul made you act all funny. He’d been tempted to change her name, to no-mask or just face, but the words didn’t feel right, sort of caught on his tongue. Even when he didn’t have one sometimes! Tie just slid off easily. Like he’d said it a lot, or something like it.

So the newbie remained Tie. And Tie was weird. A good kind of weird? She didn’t just tell him to shut up, anyway. Most of them were boring like that. Though not getting shocked into unconsciousness did make the days tend to drag a bit more. She did make his head hurt sometimes, with all the weird reactions Tie made. It always passed though.

He kept playing with the lights up there so they would flicker and crackle, just to check if it was a Tie day. Sure, that got a good amount of shocks when it wasn’t Tie, but they were always grumpy after he’d lost a limb or two. It was almost amusing again. That was the word. Maybe?

“You don’t remember Amity at all?”

Frustration and anger that was directed at him, but also not. Tie was super strange like that. “Why would I?” His response just made her eyes narrow more, but she didn’t do anything to take it out on him. It was hilarious. 

“That’s where you’re from.”

“News to me.” Might be a lie, might not. Gun grunts said lots of weird stuff. He shifted position, watching her while upside down didn’t make it easier to tell if humans were lying or not, but did make her scowling funnier. “That’s where you’re from then? Or that other name you keep using.”

“You can’t actually be him. Fuck.” She was rubbing at her forehead, looking away at nothing. “You remember ghost hunters but not Amity Park?”

“Hey! Names are hard, Tie. Isn’t like you know the name of every town you’ve ever been in.”

“No, but I remember the one I lived in most of my life!”

“Good for you! I’d clap but I’m kinda under armed for the task.” Under armed. He snickered as she only rolled her eyes at his joke, but it only made him think of another one. “Isn’t like a ghost lives anywhere.”

“You’re in here for hell knows how long and you can’t get better jokes?!”

Tie’s irritation just made it funnier. “These are gold! Way better than the stuff you guys laugh at.”

“Like what?”

“Oh you know.” The humour of the moment passed as he got back up, wondering if he should give the old ice trick another go. The noises were fun. “Like how the ghost won’t eat, but ghosts don’t breathe either. So the ghost can’t do much to stop ya.” As if Tie didn’t know. She still made the weird pinched expressions though. Why bother? It didn’t really matter if she actually had a soul still. Those ones just quit and then there’d be a new newbie. “Lots of you think that’s reaaaaal funny.” He stuck out his tongue, gagging. “Gross gun grunts.”

“That’s not funny either.”

“Try breaking your funny bone a few times. That’ll fix it. Or was that computers?” He frowned, rubbing his fingers against his chin. Computers. What was it about computers again? Re-re-something? Like with bones when you...did something…

“Phantom!”

That jerked him out of his considerations. “Still not him!” Now that he checked, Tie looked like she’d been trying to get his attention for awhile again. That, or she’d figured out how to teleport closer to his cage. Both were very possible. Probably. 

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you.”

“You were talking?”

“For someone who says he isn’t Phantom, it sure gets your attention fast.”

He shrugged. What did Tie expect? So what if he noticed it? It didn’t mean anything to him, personally. It was like comp-whatevers. “You could say the coats were coming and I’d do the same thing.”

“Doubt it. You remember Jack and Maddie maybe?” Tie hesitated, as if saying something to him actually mattered. “Your parents?”

“I’m a ghost. And possibly a starfish. Since I do the whole regenerating thing.” He’s pretty sure it’s starfish that do that. “I don’t think they’re big on families.” He thought that was pretty amusing, having like. Little voiceless things that cling to rocks as parents. Actually had a bit in common if you thought of his cage as a rock? Tie didn’t agree, based on how he was biting at her lip and clenching her fists. Still no shooting. Still super weird.

“Be a mercy killing at this point…” Tie wasn’t actually speaking to him, but it was interesting. Killing what? One of the other ghosts maybe. “Sam, Tucker? Any of them ring a bell?”

He certainly didn’t have a bell in here. “Sam...and Tucker are names?” He guessed, shuddering a little. Weird names. Made the gooey mess of ectoplasm he was made of wriggle when he said it. Like when he was struggling to digest something, uncomfortable and heavy and just making him want to move when he couldn’t. Though he could this time. Zipping up to the top of his cage helped shake the feeling off, at least. He wasn’t saying those again, no thank you. “You have weird tricks, Tie”

“They’re just names. I didn’t do anything to make you fly up there. I half thought you couldn’t do that anymore.”

Tie did have a bit of a point. When was the last time he’d flown up here? “Think I forgot I could?” He didn’t really move much in general. Not like he had anywhere to go, his cage didn’t really change.

She just looked tired. “This isn’t fixable.”

He wasn’t really paying attention, poking at the edges of his cage with his feet was pretty entertaining. It tingled a bit when he got pushed back, but flipping over in the air was easy. Why didn’t he float more? “Gun grunts don’t fix things, so Idonno why you care.”

Tie wasn’t paying much attention to him either, muttering to herself. “Manson would kill me for doing it. No way she’d believe you’re like this. Let alone the Fentons...”

Well, that was boring. He busied himself with counting how many seconds it took for the shock to stop coursing through him when he touched the walls. Though it was a bit tricky to keep track between tries.

“Skulker? Ember? You at least remember the ghosts, don’t you?”

“Are you just making names up now Tie?” They just sounded silly. The thought of someone named ‘Skulker’...who was also very tiny. Now that’d be funny. Kinda liked that idea actually.

“Probably don’t even remember the guy who put a million on your head…”

“A million whats? Questions? That’s more a you thing, Tie.”

“No, Vlad. The mayor?”

“The what?” Things weren’t funny anymore. He wasn’t cool and passive. That word, there’d been others but he didn’t even care what they’d been. The V had been enough to set his core to a furious pulsating heat of fury. His ice claws clung to the wall even as the buzzing in his skull grew stronger as the field tried to shove him back. “WHERE” He snared, not caring how his throat burned from the partial wail trying to scrabble out of his throat. Tie didn’t matter, nothing mattered and he actually missed his arm since not having it made it harder to keep his grip and snarl at the one backing away from his prison. “WHERE IS HE?” Oh he’d order anyone, and they’d listen or he’d shred them as soon as he got through- but his claws were cracking- green and red staining and corrupting the fine edge he’d honed so often. Why did he care? He didn’t know, didn’t want to know, he just had to act and now, just in case. The chance might slip away and he wouldn’t, they’d pay they’d pay, they’d PAY.

“Danny! Stop hurting yourself, he’s not here!” Tie was blathering, but at least backed away when he shrieked at her. Stupid Tie. Didn’t know anything. “Hell. You don’t even know why you’re mad, do you.”

He kept slamming the ice back in place, even as his arm weakened and started oozing. He didn’t need his legs, he didn’t need arms, he didn’t need anything. Just OUT. NOW. He snarled and snapped at the metal that grabbed his back and slammed him hard to the ground of his cage. It ignored him and the awful warmth that had consumed everything. He never won against it but now he had to keep trying because-because the anger? Because of something. The metal easily ignored the green surging pulses of electricity, just kept pressing down on him until he wasn’t solid enough to struggle, not strong enough to scream at it. The awful stabbing feeling in his core wanted him to act, but he couldn’t even defiantly flick his tail as he grew colder and slipped out of consciousness.

Everything hurt and it wasn’t even Friday. At least. He didn’t think it was? He’d have to ask Tie about it...if Tie showed up again. Something about her gave him a stab of unease. Might have something to do with all the green stains in here. Didn’t remember getting shot though. Strange. Must have done something. Maybe. Didn’t really matter.

[maeve-of-winter]

not at all here to change ur mind about Kent and chara because we know chara to be a softy off the ice and taking pictures of pigeons to post on social media of course he’s there for this hurt but feral blonde kitten coming into the league lost and hurt

Aw, it makes me so happy to think that other people ship Kentara! Lol, yes, Kent is the feral kitten, and Chara is the gentle giant who takes care of him and lets him cry on his shoulder in Boston when Kent's visits to Samwell end in disaster.

Also, please have this unfinished Kent/Chara WIP:

Everyone in the League knew the story of Kent Parson and Jack Zimmermann. Between Zimmermann being the son of a hockey legend and an award-winning actress, the two of them being rumored to be lovers, and the two of them slated to be top draft picks of their year, culminating in Parson actually being the top draft pick, it was a story that had the hockey world spellbound for weeks. Personally, Zdeno found the fixation on the Zimmermanns’ and Parson’s pain to be both invasive and morbid. Every time he caught a glimpse on TV of some TMZ gossipmonger staking out the Aces prospect camp hotel and then badgering Parson with questions about his feelings on Zimmermann’s condition, he was flooded by renewed disgust.

The Bruins had the dubious privilege of being more familiar with the Parson-Zimmermann saga than anyone else; one of their first-year players for the season was Jordan Caron, who’d played on Parson and Zimmermann’s line in Juniors. The more gossipy of the Bruins (read: Marchy) took full advantage of this connection to attempt to scrounge up details that the press had left uncovered.

“What was he like?” Marchy asked as they stripped off their gear after practice. “Was he, like, an obvious cokehead? Coming to practice high, stuff like that?”

Caron shrugged, and even watching from the corner of his eye, Zdeno could spot the obvious discomfort on his face. “No, nothing like that. He was just an intense guy, you know? He really wasn’t like anyone who you thought would be using. Between them, Parson was the guy who liked to party. I mean, if I’d heard that one of the two of them overdosed without knowing who. . .”

Marchy and several of the younger guys continued to pester Caron with questions, but only until the end of that practice, when Chara firmly told them to knock it off, and they immediately obliged.

Whatever the gossip about Parson, whatever anyone had to say about what he did back in Juniors, no one could deny that he was a phenomenal player on the ice. It wasn’t just that he was good with the puck, either. It wasn’t just that he could score and make it look boring because it came so easily to him. He had speed. During the Olympics, Chara always made a point of watching the speed skaters, following their movements during each event and talking to them later to ask them about their techniques, hoping to improve his own skills. Chara was always conscious of needing to improve himself, always ready to give credit where it was due, so he would readily volunteer that seeing Parson effortlessly outskate any of his opponents was nothing short of incredible

It was utterly astounding to watch. In Zdeno’s experience, first-year players often needed extra help to improve their skating, struggling to catch up to the more stringent demands of the League. But Parson? He was a regular ghost out on the ice, disappearing into the corner of your eye just as you finally thought you’d pinpointed him. It was a good talent for him to possess, given that his size and scoring record made him a prime target for any rival team’s enforcers. Very rarely, however, did any of them catch up to him.

But Parson could catch up to Chara, no question.

It happened near the end of the third period of a particularly rigorous game, with the Bruins leading by one point but the Aces trying their damnedest to bring it into overtime. With Thomas starting to fade on blocking the shots and the Aces’ offense never slowing, Chara was fully expecting them to succeed.

Just as he was steeling himself for the possibility, suddenly, one of the Aces slammed into him at full speed, knocking him against the boards. As Chara fought to keep his balance and also fully realize that, yes, one of the Aces had actually attempted to board him, he vaguely registered that the same player had simply dropped to the ice in a heap. Steadying himself on his skates, Chara glanced down to find that it was Parson, the Aces’s new star and first year player, coughing and convulsing on the ice, seemingly struggling to stand.

Even though it was Parson who came at him, guilt instantly flooded through Chara as he saw the condition of the other player, and cold dread churned in his stomach as Parson let out a hacking cough, dark blood surging out from his throat to splatter across the ice.

Chara didn’t hesitate for a moment before signalling for a ref to halt play at the first opportunity.

It wasn’t until the end of the game, after the Bruins just barely scraped out a win over the Aces, that Chara fully understood what had happened. Parson had lost one of his skate blades mid-stride and, unable to control his direction any longer, plowed straight into Chara. The impact had knocked the wind right out of him and left him with a bloody nose. He’d fallen to the ice, barely able to wheeze in breath, while blood from his nose dripped down his throat as he tried and failed to stand up and locate his missing blade.

Parson somehow found him that night at the bar where the Bruins were celebrating their victory and apologized, backwards snapback hat on his head in all its glory. (It was just beginning to be recognized as his trademark.)

“I’m sorry about what happened during the game,” Parson told him, looking at him directly with an unflinching gaze. “It really was an accident. I really wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Chara stifled a snort at the idea of Parson, who stood nearly a foot shorter than him and easily weighed at least fifty pounds less, deliberately headhunting him on the ice. He’d either have to be incredibly stupid or a complete goon, and he’d seen the way Parson played and knew he was neither.

“No need to apologize,” he told Parson, hoping that his accent didn’t obscure the sincerity in his voice. “What happens on the ice is fine to leave on the ice. We know this time was an accident and not a dirty play.”

“Thanks.” Parson’s lips tugged up a little bit, like he might smile, and suddenly Chara found himself overcome by the distinct desire to see it out in full force. Thinking back, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Parson offer up anything in interviews but a cocky smirk.

“You should let me buy you a drink, though,” Chara continued, letting a playful warmth flood his tone. “To show you I understand your apology.”

Parson laughed and ducked his head slightly, and Chara got his wish fulfilled as he glimpsed a small smile playing across his mouth. Combined with the faint pink tinge in his cheeks, it was, Chara decided, a very good look for him.

[murdershegoat]

(inspired by this // on ao3 // ko-fi)

she’s had the voice in her head for as long as she can remember

well, it’s not exactly a voice, more just like a really strong, disembodied feelings that echoes loudly in her head and body. like, it’s not her gut feelings, it’s an outside force and it’s loud and sometimes scary.

so whatever she calls it a voice when she’s explaining it to others.

this voice, it guides her decision making. it’s not an exact science (yet) but if she thinks in her head ‘i’m gonna go get ice-cream’ the voice will either say WARMER or it’ll say COLDER

well, it won’t say it because it’s not a voice. it’s more like this disembodied feeling feels like it’s saying WARMER or COLDER and she’ll physically feel it as well.

if she’s supposed to get ice cream, she’ll feel a sudden warmth

if she’s not supposed to get ice cream, she’ll feel a sudden chill

she doesn’t know why the voice makes the decisions it does, but she has to assume that it’s leading her towards something, towards success or whatever

at the very least, she has to believe that it’s trying to keep her alive. it’s a survival thing. whatever it is, it’s kept her alive for 26 years and counting.

and though it keeps her alive, it doesn’t always save her from pain. the voice tells her kissing veronica sinclair in the horse stables is a warm idea and veronica ended up breaking her heart and humiliated her in front of the whole school.

when she was four, the voice told her to trust lillian. and that’s led to a whole life of pain.

anyway. the voice. 

andrea is the first person she tells about it.

they’re hiking in the amazon during spring break. and, as happens sometimes in life, they come to a diverging path and have to choose. left or right. andrea looks at the compass. ‘it’s not working,’ she says. ‘how fucking convenient,’ lena replies. she sighs and steps to the left path.

‘we’re going left,’ she says emphatically as she feels a familiar warmth roll through her. ‘why?’ andrea asks. ‘i just have a feeling.’

only andrea isn’t swayed by ‘just a feeling.’ she demands more and she refuses to go left until lena finally breaks down and explains the voice

(not a voice.)

‘well what happens if we don’t listen to it??’ andrea asks after a barrage of questions, her analytical mind whirring a mile a minute. lena shrugs, ‘i dunno. i’ve never taken the risk of not listening.’

they go left.

they survive the amazon. the voice is always right.

‘you know,’ andrea says, her head resting against the plane window. ‘my nanny used to tell me stories.’ ‘isn’t that what all nannies do?’ ‘she would tell me stories about people having unexplainable powers or whatever, i don’t remember the details… but i remember her saying that the powers always lead people to the thing they need the most. and it could take months or it could take years but it’s a part of your soul, like, intrinsically in you.’

andrea’s xanax kicks in soon after that and she sleeps for the rest of the plane ride home

lena stays awake the whole flight, wondering what these choices are and what this voice is leading her towards.

the voice leads her through the end of high school and it leads her to MIT (fun fact: she’s never felt a firmer COLDER than she had when she held harvard’s acceptance letter in her hand.)

it really helps her in college. sure, she still makes a lot of what she deems voice-sanctioned mistakes (sleeping with veronica sinclair is at the top of that list) but her grades are stellar and she’s on track for getting her second masters and she has a load of friends.

and then her brother goes insane and tries to kill superman. the sky is red and lena stands in lex’s office overlooking downtown metropolis. ‘join me lena,’ he says. ‘help me and we’ll be unstoppable. we’ve always been a strong family  but believe me, we’ll run this country together one day, i promise you that. all i need you to do is trust me.’ he holds out his hand

for a second, she considers doing it. she doesn’t want to lose her family. i am going to trust my brother. 

the voice says COLDER.

lena listens to the voice. she always listens to the voice.

it’s the first time the voice has made her lose something - someone - as important as lex. it’s the first time she thinks that maybe this voice thing doesn’t know what it’s doing because it’s never hurt her like this before. 

the fallout from lex’s breakdown feels cataclysmic. her friends stop speaking to her, her professors stop calling on her in class. she can’t even work at the library without being harassed.

and to top it all off, she becomes the youngest female ceo of a fortune 500 company. which means board meetings and strategy sessions all while writing a thesis. 

but meeting jack spheer feels like finding a life raft in the middle of a ferocious ocean, keeping her afloat, letting her catch her breath. he’s cute and he’s funny and well-to-do, and he’s the type of person lena knows she should date and possibly marry.

jack is the second person lena tells about the voice. she’s scared because she isn’t sure he’ll believe her, that he’ll drop her like the rest of her friends have.

but jack, bless his heart, just asks a hundred questions. ‘so even things like which sodas to drink?’ ‘the voice doesn’t let me drink soda.’ ‘whoa.’

jack is the first person who’s not veronica sinclair lena tells her other big secret to. they’ve been out drinking and eventually they stumble back to jack’s place and she feels brazen enough to blurt it out while he makes her a grilled cheese sandwich. she doesn’t even have time to wait for the voice’s opinion; the truth just falls out of her, unable to stay contained any longer.

‘i’m gay,’ lena says. ‘and i understand if you don’t agree with that lifestyle, but i’m still the same person i’ve always been and i would like to remain friends with you.’

‘a person with terrible gaydar apparently,’ jack replies. ‘as the kids say, it takes one to know one. i would’ve told you sooner but… i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.’ she surges forward and throws her arms around him, hugging him tightly. neither of them lets go.

the grilled cheese burns.

‘should we just get chinese instead?’

the voice says WARMER.

she’s scared of starting over in national city, but the voice in her head seems to think it’s a WARMER sort of idea.

so she packs her bags and jack says goodbye to her at the airport and before she knows it, she’s looking down at NC from her pristine white office. the CVs of two assistants she’s interviewed. ‘i’m going to hire jess chin-salva as my PA,’ she murmurs to herself. ‘WARMER,’ says the voice.

when jess tells her two reporters are at the door, the strapping frame of clark kent isn’t whom she is expecting. she also isn’t expecting kara danvers to follow close behind, kara danvers whose smile is much too bright and friendly to work for a hardened journalist, whose blue eyes twinkle with a kindness lena has seldom been gifted by others, whose biceps are clearly visible through the cardigan she wears.

lena doesn’t have a choice to make, and yet for some reason it screams at her. WARMER. WARMER. 

and then it says something new.

WARMEST

the feeling won’t leave lena’s body, and she struggles to focus on the interaction with the journalists, but she thinks she’s managed to tell them the truth. she’s just trying to rebuild her family’s business. she just wants to do good things and make the world a better place. but it’s hard to focus on any of that when her mind and her body feel like they’re on fire.

it only dies down when kara leaves the room, and lena’s pretty sure that there’s something special about that woman.

except maybe there’s just something about the blue eyed women of national city. because later that day lena’s helicopter is shot down and she finds herself being carried to safety by supergirl and the voice goes batshit crazy again.

‘focus on the fact you’re about to die,’ lena tries to tell it, but it doesn’t listen to her. so instead, she doesn’t look away from supergirl’s steady, reassuring gaze until she flies away. and she wonders why supergirl is a ‘WARMEST’.

‘i heard you almost died,’ jack says when he calls her that night. ‘who cares about that?’ she responds, ‘the weirdest thing happened with the voice.’ she tells him of feeling ‘warmest’, of feeling it twice in one day with two different people, of how it refused to go away and occurred without any decisions to make.

‘ok i’m about to share a document with you,’ he says, and lena can hear him typing on his laptop. ‘there, open it.’

it’s a spreadsheet. holy shit.

‘this is every big decision you’ve ever made,’ jack says. ‘there are also some medium sized decisions thrown in, but mostly just the big ones.’ ‘how the hell do you know all this?’ she asks, shocked. ‘why else do you think i’ve been asking you about all this for so long?’ he replies. ‘every time you tell me something the voice says, it’s gone into this spreadsheet. now, i only have limited knowledge of decisions you made before you met me, but i’ve been able to put in a lot of them based on your stories alone. i thought, what better way for you to try and understand this than to put it into words you understand best?’

‘you’re phenomenal,’ lena tells him. ‘i just… i never thought of this. i just assumed it was all some unknowable hippy dippy nonsense.’

‘i mean, it could definitely still be hippy dippy nonsense. but still take a look at it, see if there are any patterns or anything.’

‘i love you, jack.’ ‘too bad i’m gay, huh’

lena sees a lot more of kara and supergirl, though never at the same time. kombucha dates with kara and supergirl swooping in to save her life every now and again. the voice isn’t as overwhelming in their follow up visits, though a pleasant hum of warmth resides low in her being whenever either of them are around. 

maybe, lena thinks, it’s not the voice at all. maybe, she thinks, it’s about time she starts dating again. 

but none of the women she sees bring the same warmth that kara and supergirl do.

the decision data that jack put together doesn’t seem to make much sense either. but she continues to add to it, bit by bit.

and then something weird happens. 

‘you’re getting more potstickers?’ lena laughs. ‘don’t you have any self control?’

‘i’m only human, lena.’

‘i suppose i should believe you.’

COLDER.

COLDER? she’d never gotten a COLDER near kara before. and why? she shouldn’t believe that kara’s human? of course kara’s human! she’s just an awkward, sweet, kind girl from midvale. it’s not like she’s supergirl, for crying out loud!

holy shit

what the fuck

kara’s supergirl?????

kara’s supergirl. it totally makes sense. why hadn’t she seen it before??????? had she been willfully blind to it?

she made a fool out of me, lena thinks. i should hate her. but the voice says COLDER. huh. so hating kara is off the table.

 maybe, she thinks, maybe i knew and i didn’t want to admit it to myself. because clearly kara doesn’t want me to know. and i don’t want to push her into telling me because i don’t want to lose her. i can’t lose her. because i lo---

‘i’m so fucked,’ she tells jack over the phone later that night. ‘kara is supergirl and she doesn’t know that i know and i--’ ‘what is it?’ ‘i think i’m in love with her.’ ‘oh my god FINALLY,’ he yells into the phone. ‘i havent even met kara and i knew you were in love with her. you know she’s all you talk about right? like, you run one of the biggest companies in america and you have a disembodied voice that lives in your head and a million other things going on in your life, and the only thing i’ve heard you talk about for months now is kara danvers.’

‘you did not know’

‘i really did. but im glad you know as well because i can finally present you with my biggest theory on The Voice.’

‘not a voice’

‘remind me what it was that andrea’s aunt or nanny or whoever thought it could be?’

‘that was a million years ago,’ lena says; she hasn’t thought about andrea in ages. she should give her a call. ‘i think it was something about… these types of abilities lead a person to thing they need most in the world.’

‘right. i’ve been doing a lot of new age reading and it hasn’t been pleasant at all and i sort of hated every moment of it, but i think i have some idea of what this could be. it’d explain everything.’

‘well then, what is it?’

‘i don’t think it’s the thing you need most in the world,’ jack says. ‘i think it’s the person you need most in this world.’

‘you mean like-’

‘a soulmate. think about it. somehow every decision that voice has gotten you to make has led you to standing in your office in national city where you met kara for the first time. and what did the voice say when you met kara, completely unprompted?’

‘warmest,’ lena whispers. 

‘exactly. warmest. as in, as warm as can be. because the whole time, the thing this voice has been leading you towards is kara danvers.’

lena’s plan for handling all of these revelations is drinking herself into a stupor. and it’s truly wonderful for the most part.

that is, until she wakes up with a headache and someone pounding their fist on her front door.

‘wHAT,’ she yells as she throws open the door.

‘do you want to explain the voicemails you left me last night?’

oh shit. lena’s hungover brain processes that it’s in fact kara standing at the door. she ushers kara in and shuts the door behind them.

‘to be honest with you,’ lena says as she puts on a pot of coffee, ‘i think i’m still a bit drunk and i definitely dont remember what those messages said.’

you said you know i’m supergirl. you said you’re not angry at me for lying to you--’

‘oh that’s not so bad’

‘-- and you said you have proof we’re soulmates.’

fuck.

‘do you want to explain yourself?’

‘can i drink my coffee first?’

… kara watches her drink her coffee.

‘okay,’ lena says. i’ll explain but you can’t ask any questions til the end. deal?’ kara nods.

the third person lena tells about the voice is kara danvers.

‘my whole life i’ve had this… this sort of voice in my head. and when i have a decision to make in front of me, it says WARMER or it says COLDER. it’s how i’ve made every choice since i was four years old, from the clothes i picked to the type of coffee i drink to the college i went to.’

‘like intuition.’

‘not intuition. fuck. i shouldnt tell you any of this.’

COLDER.

‘well. guess i should tell you about this.’

WARMER

‘it’s not intuition. it’s not a gut feeling. it’s not a part of me. it’s something bigger and otherworldly and it’s been leading me my whole life to something… i can only assume something much bigger and more important than i am. except i also think that the thing it’s been leading me to is you. and you don’t have to believe me at all, and god, you don’t have to believe in soulmates but… but far out, kara. i’m in love with you. i’m so in love with you it’s insane. and if you don’t feel the same way, i understand, but please don’t shut me out. i can live without you being in love with me, but i don’t think i can live without you in my life anymore.’

they stand in silence, lena’s plea still hanging in the air between them.

‘on krypton,’ kara says softly. ‘there’s only one way to know if somebody’s your soulmate or not.’

‘how do they do it?’ lena asks, imagining a blood test or a swab or something.

instead kara takes a step closer to her and she puts her hands on lena’s hips and she presses their foreheads together and she says ‘do you feel it?’

‘what--’

but she feels it. a sort of calm washing over them both. the air stills and lena swears she can hear kara’s heart beating and she feels serenity like she’s never felt it before.

‘wow,’ kara says, and before she can stop herself, lena kisses her softly, barely. but it’s still a kiss.

and she can’t really describe it, but she feels the voice leave her. 

‘i want to kiss you again,’ lena says. but there’s no voice that says warmer or colder. all there is is kara danvers, nodding her head and saying ‘then kiss me.’

lena has many thoughts about soulmates. she thinks if the universe gives you some sort of magical powers, it should also give you an instruction manual for them. she thinks her soulmate is the most perfect soulmate that’s ever been created ever. but this is the real kicker: lena knows that the voice may have led her to kara, but she’s the one who has to make sure she stays there. they have to put in the work together. love isn’t just a magical feeling, it’s building trust and learning to be selfless and letting someone into your life in a multitude of intimate ways. and now that kara’s in her life, in all of her wonderful glory, there’s no way lena will ever let her go.

[mychemicalficrecs]

Do you have any fics of them having powers? It can be just one member having powers or all, I just want some fics with superpowers, it can be any ship. Also just wanted to say I love all the hard work you put into this blog 🥰

Hey, thanks so much! This took a bit, but I hope you're still around and looking for Superpowers AUs.

Superpowers

The Calypso Initiative by theficisalie, Frank/Gerard, 91k, Explicit. A rise in technological and medical advancements combined with an unexpected surge in mutations around the globe can only mean one thing: superpowers. As a child born before the information boom of 2010 rocked the world with the official news of these "SuperHumans", Frank Iero was kicked out onto the street at nine years old. His power seems to be more of a curse than a blessing: his body creates and leaks a net of energy that sets those who are unaware of it on edge. He is saved at first by a rogue agent of the government who understands the plight of the homeless children, and then by a small team of government agents who bring him into The Institute: an underground compound set up by the government to teach those with emerging superpowers how to control and use their gifts.

A Borrower of the Night by tuesdaysgone, Frank/Gerard, 9k, Explicit. When a curse causes Frank and Gerard to switch powers, Frank takes things a step too far, while Gerard scrambles to break it before he loses Frank and Frank loses his mind.

Crush my soul (and send me flowers) by Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd), Bob/Gerard, 6k, Mature. After his nasty breakup with Gerard, Bob leaves the superhero business and gets a mundane job.  But when Gerard shows up without his powers working, will Bob's life stay the same

Septicemia by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 45k, Explicit. Gerard keeps ruining things, but he never means it. Frank keeps getting hurt, but he never feels it

Personal Demons by SapphyWatchesYouSleep (JupiterMelichios), various past and platonic relationships, 4k, Teen And Up. The worst thing about being body-swapped is definitely Gerard's tendency to spontaneously combust.

Don't You Want to Believe by clarityhiding, Gen, 8k, Teens And Up. "Mikey was right," Ray says in a rush. "The furniture is out to get him. "

The Umbrella Academy of Superheroes. by unorthodox_anthology, Frank/Gerard, 7k, Not Rated. Gerard Way was special.Gerard knew this – he’d known this since he’d turned thirteen and he started to flicker in and out of visibility. It freaked him the fuck out the first time it happened. Chilling in your room, jacking off and them BAMM! You’re invisible. But once he got over the shock, he had his mum enrolee him so he could attend the Umbrella Academy – a school for people from around the world who had ‘gifts’ the same as Gerard’s, gifts that made them supers.

Rising with the Heat by shoemaster, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Explicit. Superhero AU written for the Porn Battle Prompt "sidekick"

In the Alley It Ain't That Cheap by mahoni (orphan_account), Bob/Gerard, 5k, Teens And Up. Brendon put the whammy on Batman's sidekick. ...look, it was an accident, okay?

Superheroes by mwestbelle, Frank/Mikey, 3k, General Audiences. Mikey isn’t a superhero.

The Pros and Cons of Dating a Telepath by panicparade, Ryan/Mikey, 12k, General and Teen And Up Audiences. He clenched his fists at his side and tried to think of anything other than how badly he wanted to strangle Mikey Way. It sucked that his worst enemy in the entire world was also one of the strongest telepaths in the country and while Ryan wasn’t scared of him (not even a little bit.), his brother’s best friend was Bob Bryar and Ryan felt no shame in admitting that Bob Bryar scared the living shit out of him.

The Only Sound That's Left by betweenthebars (butyoumight), Gen, 23k, Mature. Nuke, a member of the Government-sponsored 'superhero' group V5 dies under mysterious circumstances. The remaining four members of the group are barred from investigating the death, prompting them to go back to their (now illegal) vigilante ways. Along the way, they pick up a new ally (Nuke's replacement in the team), an old ally (who never went in for the government sponsored work), and end up fighting against a conspiracy that goes further than expected.

[dustrp]

GOES BY THE NAME OF ZORA LESLIE JAMESON, AGED 32. USES SHE/THEY PRONOUNS. WORKS UNDER THE JACK ODYSSEY GANG AS A ROBBER. FACECLAIM: JASMINE TOOKES. CURRENT BOUNTY: ✹34,000

You always start with a few simple words: I’d like to tell you a story. You were taught by your mentor the power comes from the lilt of the voice, the pitch, the leaning. You have to get it right every single time, too. No slip-ups or signs of fear when it comes to picking marks clean, otherwise they’ll become the vultures. So you say I’d like to tell you a story and whoever it is that is looking at you like you made the sun leans in a little closer. Sometimes you mirror them, or put your arms around their shoulders to slip your hands down into their pockets. Or you pull them along the length of the dancehall or bar, and while they are trying to keep from stumbling you tell them whichever story you think will placate them best. A cruel tragedy, following a mother’s death and a child desperate to live. A comedy, detailing a love triangle that ends with two of the three dead. A horror story, about a siren that lives only to take what she pleases.

Here is the thing about your stories. They all have a fragment of truth to them. Maybe that’s why they work so well. Of the men and women you’ve robbed blind in York over the years, hopping from one house of ill repute to another, they all buy into you one way or another. You are a chameleon by default, a liar, a charismatic beast that wears a beautiful skin, and none of them ever seem to figure it out until it’s too late. The end, you whisper in their ear, and then you’re gone before they have time to pat themselves down in panic. You laugh all the way home and pay off anyone important enough to tell any stragglers you went in the opposite direction. Pickpocket! Thief! The Revenants snarl, to which you respond by grinning a little wider. You try not to see the same face more than once; you’re not the sort to stay in one place for very long.

You were born in York. It is all you’ve ever known, and, like countless others, you’ve only ever tried to dwell amongst the masses to make a life for yourself. You’ve clawed your way to the top of the ladder only to be shoved back down more than once. And the truth of the matter is that no matter how many stories you tell to keep your pockets full, thievery does not make a person feel warm and fuzzy if they’re doing it alone. You get away with nearly a grand of divinity and when you feel no surge of excitement or pleasure or even a modicum of happiness, you decide to make a change. A bit of different scenery couldn’t hurt, could it? You buy your train ticket from Atticus Railway that same night. Let fate do what it will with me, you think, even as you watch the lights of York fade from the window. Lucky for you, fate has plans.

You go broke. Quickly. How that happened is neither here nor there — oh, is that a bird over there? — but the reality is that you are drained of any divinity before you hit your second month in a small town called Mercy’s Hilt. Whatever quaint, romantic little life you thought you’d be living is nonexistent, and you have other debts to pay, so you take out a loan with a stranger called Quarter who comes to town one day. You think you’re getting a decent deal, too: I’d like to tell you a story. Only that money is gone too, too fast for comfort, and when Cain and Shotgun come to collect your debt you try for a second time to weave a tale. They don’t buy it, but when you say you can make them a decent chunk of change just by smiling at the right person, they bring you back to the one and only Jack Odyssey… and you see a future outside of York in which you are very, very rich.

WIDOWER MAY I. They seem to know what they want from you — some sort of ground-breaking potential they imagine you possess, maybe — but you don’t. Never once have you had to rely on skills of gunmanship or threats to get what you want, but Widower isn’t a fan of the strategies you use to to trick people out of their divinity. So they’ve designated themselves as a bizarre mentor to you, kicking you when you’re down and trying to teach you lessons that you have no interest in learning. In fact, when you see them coming with that stupid, too-knowing smile on their face, you’re usually inclined to dig your heels into the dirt even furhter. Worse than that, their apathy towards just about everything means that you can’t charm your way out of their grasp when they say they’re going to take you along on a job. 

DOVE. You’ve been harboring quiet feelings for Dove since they came out of their shell, loath as you are to admit it. It was you who slowly drew them out of their grief, you who helped them along in finding their step and determining if they truly wanted to stay. If Widower can’t look after their daughter for them, you’re the next person they come calling for. But it’s like they don’t even notice you some days — as if you’re not even there. You’ve never had to deal with that before, really, someone who isn’t interested in hearing what you have to say when all you’ve ever had to do your whole life is talk. You turn the charm all the way on around Dove, but all they do is laugh you off and say that it’s not the real you when you talk to me like that. You don’t know what they mean; this is all you’ve ever been. How can you be anything else?

PARAGON. They remind you quite a lot of your mentor, who taught you all that you know. You find their self-righteousness and ego amusing — mostly because they huff and puff whenever you poke any holes in the idea of themself that they’ve created. You’ve met hundreds of people like Paragon. They think they’re clever, knife-sharp, above everyone else… but the money in their pockets spends just the same, and their charm wears off eventually. It always does. As of late, you think they’ve been getting antsy about something, a little too big for their britches in terms of the work they do for the gang and where they see the Odyssey headed. You don’t love to entertain questions of power or even of the gang’s future, but the direct Paragon is headed in has you worried. You can only try to turn them away from the road they’re travelling on before they go too far and can’t turn back.

— LARK is currently TAKEN by LIA.

[jamestrmtx]

Wish Upon a Night Sky - [Beastars | Various x Reader]

[Female, Sheep Reader | Slow Burn]

Act Seven | Lamb vs. Sheep

[Act One Link] | [Act Six, Scene Three Link] | [Act Eight, Scene One Link]

"Want me to wait for you?" Jack asks, standing by the door frame. "Juno told me what happened."

You look up from your bag, putting a halt to organizing it to face him. "She did?" Your words come off more surprised than you wish them to, curiosity remaining as to what she could've possibly said to him. Nonetheless, you wait and continue packing up, faster now that the offer of being waited for's surged up.  "Want me to wait for you?" Jack asks, standing by the door frame. "Juno told me what happened."

"She was worried about you," he adds after a nod, concern replacing his smile with a frown. "But she didn't say much about it, just that you were attacked last time." He approaches you, crouching next to you as he helps you with your books. "Are you sure you're okay? You were really quiet today, and I think even Dom noticed the difference today." 

"I was naive," you blurt out, sighing as you set a book down and clutch onto the skirt of your uniform, letting out your stress through it. "I forgot about the dangers around me, and I... I got too comfortable too quickly."

There's a hint of gloom present in the canine's eyes, one he covers up by managing another smile. "I'm not gonna pressure you into telling me anything," he says, offering you a hand as soon as he gets back on his feet. You accept it, the weight of your bag being a little more heavier today. While you'd managed to come out scar free from the incident, fear still remained in your thoughts, resulting in your subconscious wanting to lessen your trips to the library. "But," he speaks up again, smile growing. "I'm sure Legoshi could help with that better." A chuckle bursts through, a hint of nervousness heard from it. "Maybe it's not the wisest advice to keep telling you to make friends with people like us, but I'm sure you can open up to him better for this kind of thing."  

"Does he…" You consider your words, against making them sound too intrusive. "So you're saying he has more experience on the subject?"

Jack nods, waiting for you to exit the library for him to close the door. You follow him, walking right beside him, steps quick despite you reassuring yourself you were safe. "A lot more than me, that's for sure." You wait for him when you realize you're going faster than he is. He notices and covers up a laugh, continuing the conversation when you make it back. "I can tag along tomorrow with you two, if you don't feel safe."

You stop walking, making him be the next one to dial back on his steps. A furrow shows on your gaze as you face him, unsure how to voice out what's on your mind. "It- It's fine! I like being around you guys, so it's no big deal, but..." You stop yourself, already regretting your words. "Juno, she…" You hesitate, biting on your bottom lip to keep your voice from shaking. "She…" Her confession after rescuing you feels too personal for you to say it out loud. You bite back your tongue, sighing your defeat.

"She likes you, doesn't she?"

"What?"

You almost sputter that question out with how sudden of a blow his words are. You can feel your face grow warm, reminding you of yesterday night. His words had been about as much of a surprise as having Juno flirt with you back then. Composure returns with the help of him elaborating his question better, adding more context to it. "It's nice to see you two got along well so quickly. It's only been a month, hasn't it?" He faces your side, a hint of melancholy present in his eyes. "I still remember the day you found out you'd be rooming in with her." He laughs, beaming afterwards. "Your face back then was really something, (Y/N)."

You're almost at your dorm, though you stop for a moment, not quite ready to end the conversation yet. More questions than answers fill up your mind, and curiosity and confusion have only managed to heighten. You want to hold him back for a minute more, yet the bell rings, signaling it's about time to wrap things up and be making way to your dorm. "Jack," you call out, halting him with the tug of his arm. "Could we talk more later?" He looks down at you, agreement already showing on his face. "Even if you say you don't have much experience on what happened... You're still my friend, and talking with you still helped a lot."

You let his arm go when you see him tense up, a bit of embarrassment showing on his face. "Sure," he mutters; a harrumph covers him up, allowing him to ease out more. "I-"

Before Jack can say anything, you give him a quick hug, letting go as quickly as it happens. "Thank you!" You smile at the canine and fix your hold on your bag to wave at him, confident. "See you tomorrow."

Slowly, he nods, bringing a hand to the back of his neck and using his free one to wave back at you. "See you tomorrow."

You glance a look back to him one final time before knocking on the door of your dorm, opening it when you receive no response. The inside reveals your bunk beds and belongings, though Juno's nowhere to be seen. Being the only two girls so far in the hybrid dorms made it easier for you to notice when something was wrong or different, yet everything seems intact; right where you left it.

"Juno?" you call out. It's odd for her not to be around at this hour, though judging it's only been a month since you've known her and everyone around, you don't discard the possibility of her having other plans. Worry over her being in trouble rises, but the reminder of her being a wolf makes you ponder as to what kind of trouble she could be in.

Was it the person from yesterday?

Or was it bullying by other students, as she'd once mentioned?

When you hear a knock on the door, all worries are set aside, and you peek outside to see her waiting, calm and collected. You're the opposite of her, bursting the door open to receive her with a hug, much more stronger and longer-lasting than the one you'd given Jack. Fear and worry over things going wrong make you break and show the weaknesses your family had warned you about showing.

You don't care about that now though, the relationships you've formed and the experiences you've lived with them deeming these necessary of gratitude. Acting too soft for who you were didn't matter at the moment. For now, you were just glad the wolf was alright and that you could still have her safe by your side. 

She hugs you back, surprise taking her a while to bring strength over the embrace. "Is this our new way of greeting each other?" she teases, giggling.

Letting go, you look down and shake your head, replying with, "No." You face her and smile, relieved to see her in good shape. "...I was just worried something happened to you."

Juno returns your smile with a grin, and her hand reaches out for you. "Shouldn't that be my line?" she asks, ruffling the top of your head. "Either way, I'm happy you're safe, (Y/N). I felt the same yesterday... But I didn't expect you'd act that way with me, too."

[nealiios]

The Supernatural 70s: Part I - Corruption of An Innocent

"We're mutants. There's something wrong with us, something very, very wrong with us. Something seriously wrong with us - we're soldiers writers."

-- with apologies to the screenwriter of "Stripes"

Dear reader, I have the darkest of revelations to make to you, a truth when fully and wholly disclosed shall most assuredly chill you to the bone, a tale that shall make you question all that you hold to be true and good and holy about my personal history. While you may have come in search of that narrative designer best known for his works of interactive high fantasy, you should know that he is also a crafter of a darker art, a scribbler of twisted tales filled with ghosts, and ghouls, and gargoyles. I am, dear innocent, a devotee of horrors! Mwahahahaha!

[cue thunderclap, lightning, pipe organ music]

Given the genre of writing for which most of you know me, I forgive you if you think of me principally as a fantasy writer. I don't object to that classification because I do enjoy mucking about with magic and dark woods and mysterious ancient civilizations. But if you are to truly know who I am as a writer, you must realize that the image I hold of myself is principally as a creator of weird tales.

To understand how and why I came to be drawn to this sub-genre of fantastic fiction, you first must understand that I come from peculiar folks. Maybe I don't have the Ipswich look, or I didn't grow up in a castle, but my pedigree for oddity has been there from the start. My mother was declared dead at birth by her doctor, and often heard voices calling to her in the dead of night that no one else could hear. Her mother would periodically ring us up to discuss events in our lives about which she couldn't possibly have known. My father's people still share ghost stories about a family homestead that burned down mysteriously in the 1960s. Even my older brother has outré memories about events he says cannot possibly be true, and as a kid was kicked off the Tulsa city bookmobile for attempting to check out books about UFOs, bigfoot, and ESP. It's fair to say I was doomed - or destined - for weirdness from the start.

If the above listed circumstances had not been enough, I grew up in an area where neighbors whispered stories about a horrifically deformed Bulldog Man who stalked kids who "parked" on the Old North Road near my house. The state in which I was raised was rife with legends of bigfoots, deer women, and devil men. Even in my childhood household there existed a pantheon of mythological entities invented explicitly to keep me in line. If I was a good boy, The Repairman would leave me little gifts of Hot Wheels cars or candy. If I was being terrible, however, my father would dress in a skeleton costume, rise from the basement and threaten to drag me down into everlasting hellfire (evidently there was a secret portal in our basement.) There were monsters, monsters EVERYWHERE I looked in my childhood world. Given that I was told as a fledgling writer to write what I knew, how could anyone have been surprised that the first stories I wrote were filled with the supernatural?

"The Nightmare" by John Henry Fuseli (1781)

My formative years during the late sixties and early seventies took place at a strange juncture in our American cultural history. At the same time that we were loudly proclaiming the supremacy of scientific thought because we'd landed men on the moon, we were also in the midst of a counter cultural explosion of interest in astrology, witchcraft, ghosts, extra sensory perception, and flying saucers. Occult-related books were flying off the shelves as sales surged by more than 100% between 1966 and 1969. Cultural historians would come to refer to this is as the "occult boom," and its aftershocks would impact popular cultural for decades to come.

My first contact with tales of the supernatural were innocuous, largely sanitized for consumption by children. I vividly remember watching Casper the Friendly Ghost and the Disney version of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I read to shreds numerous copies of both Where the Wild Things Are and Gus the Ghost. Likely the most important exposure for me was to the original Scooby Doo, Where Are You? cartoon which attempted to inoculate us from our fears of ghosts and aliens by convincing us that ultimately the monster was always just a bad man in a mask. (It's fascinating to me that modern incarnations of Scooby Doo seem to have completely lost this point and instead make all the monsters real.)

ABOVE: Although the original cartoon Scooby Doo, Where Are You? ran only for one season from 1969 to 1970, it remained in heavy reruns and syndication for decades. It is notable for having been a program that perfectly embodied the conflict between reason and superstition in popular culture, and was originally intended to provide children with critical thinking skills so they would reject the idea of monsters, ghosts, and the like. Ironically, modern takes on Scooby Doo have almost entirely subverted this idea and usually present the culprits of their mysteries as real monsters.

During that same time, television also introduced me to my first onscreen crush in the form of the beautiful and charming Samantha Stevens, a witch who struggles to not to use her powers while married to a frequently intolerant mortal advertising executive in Bewitched. The Munsters and The Addams Family gave me my first taste for "goth" living even before it would become all the rage in the dance clubs of the 1980s. Late night movies on TV would bring all the important horror classics of the past in my living room as Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolf Man, the Invisible Man, the Phantom of the Opera, The Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Godzilla all became childhood friends. Over time the darkened castles, creaking doors, foggy graveyards, howling wolves, and ever present witches and vampires became so engrained in my psyche that today they remain the "comfort viewing" to which I retreat when I'm sick or in need of other distractions from modern life.

ABOVE: Elizabeth Montgomery starred in Bewitched (1964 - 1972) as Samantha Stephens, a witch who married "mortal" advertising executive Darren Stephens (played for the first five seasons by actor Dick York). Inspired by movies like I Married a Witch (1942) and Bell, Book and Candle (1958), it was a long running series that explored the complex relationship dynamics between those who possess magic and those who don't. Social commentators have referred to it as an allegory both for mixed marriages and also about the challenges faced by minorities, homosexuals, cultural deviants, or generally creative folks in a non heterogeneous community. It was also one of the first American television programs to portray witches not as worshippers of Satan, but simply as a group of people ostracized for their culture and their supernatural skills.

Even before I began elementary school, there was one piece of must-see gothic horror programming that I went out of my way to catch every day. Dark Shadows aired at 3:30 p.m. on our local ABC affiliate in Tulsa, Oklahoma which usually allowed me to catch most of it if I ran home from school (or even more if my mom or brother picked me up.) In theory it was a soap opera, but the show featured a regular parade of supernatural characters and themes. The lead was a 175 year old vampire named Barnabas Collins (played by Johnathan Frid), and the show revolved around his timeless pursuit of his lost love, Josette. It was also a program that regularly dealt with reincarnation, precognition, werewolves, time travel, witchcraft, and other occult themes. Though it regularly provoked criticism from religious groups about its content, it ran from June of 1966 until it's final cancellation in April of 1971. (I would discover it in the early 1970s as it ran in syndication.) Dark Shadows would spin off two feature-length movies based on the original, a series of tie-in novels, an excellent reboot series in 1991 (starring Ben Cross as Barnabas), and a positively embarrassingly awful movie directed by Tim Burton in 1991.

ABOVE: Johnathan Frid starred as Barnabas Collins, one of the leading characters of the original Dark Shadows television series. The influence of the series cannot be understated. In many ways Dark Shadows paved the way for the inclusion of supernatural elements in other soap operas of the 1970s and the 1980s, and was largely responsible for the explosion of romance novels featuring supernatural themes over the same time period.

While Dark Shadows was a favorite early television program for me, another show would prove not only to be a borderline obsession, but also a major influence on my career as a storyteller. Night Gallery (1969-1973) was a weekly anthology television show from Rod Serling, better known as the creator and host of the original Twilight Zone. Like Twilight Zone before it, Night Gallery was a deep and complex commentary on the human condition, but unlike its predecessor the outcomes for the characters almost always skewed towards the horrific and the truly outré. In "The Painted Mirror," an antiques dealer uses a magic painting to trap an enemy in the prehistoric past. Jack Cassidy plots to use astral projection to kill his romantic rival in "The Last Laurel" but accidentally ends up killing himself. In "Eyes" a young Stephen Spielberg directs Joan Crawford in a story about an entitled rich woman who plots to take the sight of a poor man. Week after week it delivered some of the best-written horror television of the early 1970s.

In retrospect I find it surprising that I was allowed to watch Night Gallery at all. I was very young while it was airing, and some of the content was dark and often quite shocking for its time. Nevertheless, I was so attached to the show that I'd throw a literal temper tantrum if I missed a single, solitary episode. If our family needed to go somewhere on an evening that Night Gallery was scheduled, either my parents would either have to wait until after it had aired before we left, or they'd make arrangements in advance with whomever we were visiting to make sure it was okay that I could watch Night Gallery there. I was, in a word, a fanatic.

ABOVE: Every segment of Night Gallery was introduced by series creator Rod Serling standing before a painting created explicitly for the series. Director Guillermo del Toro credits Serling's series as being the most important and influential show on his own work, even more so than the more famous Twilight Zone.

[deancas-fanfiction]

A Daydream Away

Chapter 1/?

Summary: After multiple couples go missing from a resort in northern Minnesota, Dean and Cas are forced to pose as a couple to investigate the mysterious entity. As Dean and Cas navigate their fake relationship, it leaves Dean questioning what's real and forces him to confront his feelings for Cas.

A story in which Cas is human, Dean is sometimes an idiot, and Sam acts as matchmaker.

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: fake relationship, case fic, sharing a bed, human!cas, Sam ships Dean and Cas, fluff, eventual smut

available on ao3 Read Ch. 2 Here

“I think I found us a case,” Sam announced, entering the Dean Cave with his nose buried in his laptop.

Dean sighed in irritation, pausing the movie he and Cas were in the middle of watching. “This better be good, if you’re interrupting our movie night. You know we’re in the middle of Half Blood Prince, and Cas hasn’t seen it.”

“Metatron did upload the movie content into my –” Cas argued, but stilled at Dean’s murderous glare.

“Being told what happens and actually experiencing it are two very different things, Cas. You have to experience it firsthand.”

Cas opened his mouth to argue but didn’t get the chance, as Sam interrupted him by loudly clearing his throat.

“Are you two done?” Sam looked at the two of them in irritation and Dean had to stifle a laugh at the almost stern expression on his face.

“Sorry, Sammy. The floor is yours. Tell us about your case.”

“Okay, so get this. There’s this resort called Grand View Lodge in Nisswa, Minnesota where couples have reportedly gone missing. In the past month, three couples have disappeared without a trace. No evidence of foul play and all of their personal belongings were left behind as were their vehicles. None of the other guests saw or heard anything.”

“That does sound suspicious,” Cas agreed. “Did the missing persons have anything in common?”

“All I can ascertain from the articles and social media posts is that the couples were very happily in love and were staying there on their honeymoon. But there isn’t a lot of information out there. I think we need to check it out, but we’ll need to pose as a couple if we want to gather information and attempt to lure whatever entity this is.”

“Go for it,” Dean shrugged. “When are you and Eileen leaving?” Dean noted the sudden look of discomfort on Sam’s face as he awkwardly shifted the laptop to his other hand.

“So that’s the thing…”

Dean groaned. “Of course.  It’s never that simple.”

“Eileen is on a hunt in Ohio right now. She just got there, so she won’t be back in time.”

“What about Jody? Or Donna?”

Sam shook his head. “Neither can get off work. Claire and Kaia are both out on a hunt, too. That leaves just the three of us.”

“So…?”

“So, that means you and Cas will need to pose as newlyweds, and I can come as backup. The resort is looking for temporary help for the holiday season so I can work at the front desk and interview the employees for information, while you guys can lure the entity and interview the guests.”

Dean choked on his beer and barely managed to sputter out a response. “You want me…and Cas… to pose as a couple? Are you serious?”

“Fine.” He shrugged.  “Me and Cas will pose as a couple then, and you can get a job there. I just thought you’d prefer not to work at a customer service desk.”

Dean felt a flash of irritation surge through him at Sam’s suggestion. The idea of Sam and Cas posing as a couple left a bitter taste in his mouth. Imagining them holding hands or having a romantic dinner just the two of them caused him to involuntarily clench his teeth and form a fist. He wasn’t jealous. No really, he wasn’t. It just – wasn’t right, okay? Sam and Cas probably wouldn’t be able to even pull off posing as a couple. So really, for the sake of the case, Dean should agree to pair up with Cas. All for the sake of the case. That’s all.

Suddenly Deans thoughts consisted of posing as a couple with Cas. Well, not just a couple, but Cas’ husband. Dean’s mouth went dry and oh. Okay. That scenario suddenly seemed a lot more pleasant. They’d have to hold hands, but really, that wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe add a few lingering touches and cutesy nicknames into the mix. But that shouldn’t be too bad, he’s used to Cas being in his personal space. In fact, he’s sort of grown accustomed to it at this point. Cas has always gravitated towards Dean’s personal space. While it was a mild irritation at first, it evolved into a comfort as it was something so expected. Besides, since Cas became human with the help of Jack, they’ve spent much more time together. Movie nights were nearly a nightly occurrence at this point. Their thighs always pressed against each other as they fight over the shared bowl of popcorn. Or in the mornings, when Dean rests his hand on Cas’ lower back for balance so he can reach a mug from the top shelf. Or when Dean tries to teach Cas how to properly play pool by standing behind him, helping him aim the cue. Really, the list goes on. So, pretending to be married shouldn’t be that much different than their current dynamic.

Huh. That’s a new revelation. Before that thought can cause too much panic, he buries it deep inside and ignores the way it made his stomach swoop. “No, no. You’re right.” Dean cleared his throat in an attempt to hide the way his voice sounded borderline frantic. “I would be a terrible employee. I would probably be fired for flirting with the guests or yelling at my boss.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, great. So, you and Cas can pose as newlyweds, just as I suggested. I’ll book the cabin and we’ll head out early in the morning.” He stomped out of the room and Dean mirrored his brother, rolling his eyes in return.

Cas wordlessly grabbed the remote and pressed play, leaning back into Dean as the movie resumed.

---

The next morning, they were on the road much too early, in both Dean and Cas' opinion. They stayed up later than was probably wise to finish their movie. Then Cas had questions, to which Dean had to patiently answer and suddenly it was nearly two in the morning. Meanwhile, Sam was bright eyed and happily sipping his thermos of coffee as he lowered himself into the Impala.

"Dean, if you wanted to keep sleeping I could --"

"Don't you dare." Dean warned. "I'm driving, now shut your mouth." He heard Sam sigh in response and turned the key, feeling the car rumble beneath him. He pulled out of the garage and turned onto the road, getting a start on the nine-hour drive to Nisswa.

The first hour of the drive was nearly silent. The radio played quietly in the background as all three occupants took the time to fully wake up. Every now and then Cas would nudge Dean's arm from the backseat, his silent way of asking for Dean's coffee. Dean would roll his eyes, but nevertheless pass him the thermos with a smile tugging at his lips.

The silence wasn't broken until Cas complained that Dean finished the coffee. This, of course, prompted into an argument over who was entitled to the last sip of the coffee, only to be broken by Sam's frustrated interjection.

"Guys. Cut it out. You can get more coffee when we stop for gas."

"Gas station coffee is not the same as bunker coffee."

"Yeah, they don't have almond milk at gas stations, Sam."

"See? Not the same." Dean chirped, enjoying teaming up with Cas against Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's antics and changed the subject. "We should probably discuss the case in more detail before we arrive."

"What's left to discuss? Couples went missing while banging on their honeymoon. Probably a routine salt and burn of some pissed off ghost."

"Delicately put, jackass." Sam scoffed. "I was thinking, we should discuss your relationship with Cas."

"My what?" Dean's pulse quickened and he internally cursed his body for betraying him.

"Your relationship with Cas. You know, for the case. We need to come up with a back story so that way if someone asks how you met, Cas won't say 'I gripped him tight and raised him from perdition.'"

"That is how we met, though." Cas insisted.

"Dude, you can't just tell people that!"

"We just need to think of a way to twist it, so it sounds normal." Sam explained. "So, for example, Dean could say he met Cas during a bad time in his life and Cas saved him."

"That's putting it lightly," Dean commented. "Cas? Does that work with you?"

"Fine."

"You're grumpy today." Dean observed, meeting Cas' eyes in the rearview mirror.

"I'm not grumpy. I'm tired. And I didn't get my full amount of coffee."

"You drank your whole thermos and half of mine. How much do you normally drink?"

"More than that."

"You have a caffeine addiction, you know that?"

"Well, at least you two already have the bickering of a married couple down." Sam half joked.

Dean rolled his eyes and focused back on the road; lips drawn into a straight line.

"What else do we need to cover?" Cas resigned, breaking the silence that once again settled over the car.

"Length of relationship."

"Ten years." Cas answered easily.

Sam pursed his lips. "Why don't we say you've been together for 5 years, and friends for the first 5. That will make you fit the same profile as the other missing couples a little more closely."

"Jesus, Sam. We'll be fine, we've been in situations like this before."

"I just don't want your cover blown. We have no one else to fill in. We need to discuss what your wedding was like, who proposed, how long you were engaged --"

Dean cut him off with a sharp look. "The wedding was small, just close family and friends. No one proposed, we both talked about it and together we agreed to get married. The engagement was short, less than a year. How's that for our cover?"

"That's great. Cas, did you get all that?"

"Yes. Can we stop and get more coffee now?"

"I thought gas station coffee wasn't good enough for you?"

"It's not. There's a Starbucks at this next exit. I saw a sign."

"Cas, we're not even halfway there yet. Dean's not going to stop yet."

But sure enough, Dean was already turning towards the exit, cataloguing the way Cas' lips turned up at the corner.

The remaining hours of the trip passed rather quickly. Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in tune to his Zeppelin tape, Sam read lore in preparation of the case, and Cas happily watched the passing snow-clad landscape while sipping on his venti coffee.

As they neared the town of Nisswa, the scenery gave way from a frozen landscape with nothing but bare trees and the occasional truck stop to boutique shops, rustic restaurants, and log-cabin-like structures that served as hotels and cafes. As they neared their turn off the highway, Sam requested to be dropped off in town so he could secure a car rental and check into his own hotel. Sam would be interviewing for the seasonal front desk position early the next morning, so he couldn't be seen arriving with Dean and Cas.

"Oh! Before I forget --" Sam paused after stepping out of the Impala and dug around in his bag. He retrieved two gold bands and handed one to Dean and Cas. "Your wedding rings."

Dean slipped his on and scowled at his brother. "Where did you get these?"

"A pawn shop," Sam said sheepishly. "I grabbed them when I went out on a supply run last night. Don't lose them - I'm pretty sure they're actually gold."

"It's probably a knock off and will turn our fingers green."

"No, Sam is right," Cas observed. He held the ring close to his face, carefully scrutinizing it. "It's 24k gold. It's actually quite good quality."

"Thank you, Cas." Sam said pointedly. "You two better get going and check in. I made your reservation under "Smith." I'll be at the resort tomorrow morning for my interview. I made a very persuasive resume so I should be hired no problem. Just keep your phones on you and check in with me occasionally, yeah?"

"I know how to do my job, Sam. Cas and I will get settled in then we'll talk to some of the guests at breakfast tomorrow morning. Don't worry about us. Worry about your interview," Dean said with a wink. "Cas, you've been upgraded to shotgun, let's go."

With that, Sam stepped away from the car, making room for Cas to climb in. "Be careful, guys."

"Yeah, you too," Dean replied. Cas then shut the door and Dean pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto the highway. "You ready for this?"

Cas nodded, fidgeting with the gold band on his finger. "We met 10 years ago and started dating 5 years ago. A few months ago, we decided to get married and we had a small wedding with our closest family and friends. Now we're on our honeymoon."

"Yeah, that - that's good."

Dean cautiously glanced over at Cas. His hair was tousled from leaning against the window, with the left side matted down and the right side sticking straight out. He had an air of contentment radiating from him, no doubt from the dangerously high levels of caffeine racing through him. Since becoming human, Cas formed a very dependent relationship with both coffee and sleep. Sleeping became his favorite pastime as he was finally able to experience dreams. However, that meant he would often sleep for the better part of the morning, only begrudgingly getting out of bed when Dean would pound on his door to inform him breakfast, and more importantly coffee, was ready. Even then, Cas would be grumpy until he was halfway through his second cup of coffee.

Dean would never admit it to anyone, but he always enjoyed his morning routine with Cas. Cas would silently sit at the table, watching Dean dish up breakfast. Dean would slide a fully loaded plate of eggs and bacon towards him and watch as he took his first bite. Cas would always groan in appreciation (which okay, maybe Dean enjoyed that part a little too much, but he would never admit to that either) and then Dean would refill Cas's mug. At that point Sam would enter the kitchen, just back from his run and openly making a disgusted face at the heaping pile of bacon on Dean's plate. Ignoring him, Dean would sit next to Cas, and Cas would scoot closer to Dean, soaking in his body heat due to the endless cold draft in the bunker. That's the only reason Dean would lean back into him. No other reason, whatsoever, regardless of the knowing look on Sam's face.

Dean ended his train of thought there and signaled for the coming turn which featured a large stone sign with "Grand View Lodge" neatly printed on it. The road was illuminated by string lights and lanterns along it and Dean could see cabins in the trees along the road, with warm yellow lights illuminating the darkness around them. The Impala's headlights shone on a sign directing them towards the main lodge for check-in. The resort grounds seemed beautiful and very quiet. Dean could understand why it was a popular destination for newlyweds. The cold winter air made the glowing cabins seem all the cozier. He could imagine the resort in the summer, filled with families and children running towards the lake with sunscreen and beach towels in tow. It would be quite the opposite than it is now, in mid-December with below zero temps and not a single person in sight.

The first sign of life they saw was the dozen cars parked outside of the main lodge for check in, otherwise no one was out of their cabins. "It's going to be hard to talk to the guests when it's this cold. No one will want to leave their cabin." Dean frowned.

"Sam said there's an optional itinerary over the weekend for all of the guests. We'll have to sign up for some activities so we can interview them."

Dean sighed. "As long as it involves free food, I'm in." He put the car in park and traded the warmth for the frigid cold. It was a sharp cold that hurts your lungs as you breathe it in. It was the kind of cold that you don't spend time in unless you have to. Dean pulled the jacket tight against him and motioned for Cas to follow him inside.

The main lodge was beautiful. There was no other way to describe it. The interior was covered in dark wood, with large leather couches set in front of a roaring stone fireplace. A small gift shop was off to the side and there were large rustic chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Dean could hear silverware clattering and subdued conversation which hinted to the presence of a restaurant down the hall. The front desk was near the doors and they quickly approached to check in.

"Good evening," The receptionist beamed. Her name tag identified her as Brenda. "Welcome to Grand View Lodge. Have either of you stayed with us before?"

"No, Ma'am," Dean responded, leaning against the desk.

"Well, welcome!" She said cheerfully. Dean could already anticipate that she and Sam will get along perfectly once he’s hired. "Here's a map of the resort grounds for your reference. It shows all of our cabins and the four restaurants we have on site. You can dine in or order room service. All of that information is on the back of the map. Now, can I get the name your reservation is under?"

"Dean Smith."

Brenda typed in the name and clicked a few times then looked up at Dean and Cas grinning. "You should have mentioned you were on your Honeymoon! Congratulations, love birds!" Dean felt his face heat up and avoided eye contact with Cas. 'Minnesota Nice' was very real and it was making Dean very uncomfortable.

"Thank you," Dean choked out. "Could we get our keys now? We just had a really long drive and we're tired."

"Oh, of course! I don't want to delay your honeymoon activities," she stated not-so-subtly. She opened a drawer and handed Dean two key cards. Then she grabbed their resort map and circled their cabin number.

"Do you have a list of activities you offer?" Cas questioned.

"Oh! Yes! This weekend we offer both wine and bourbon tasting, depending on your preferences. We also offer couples' cooking classes, and our spa is open for couples' massages. I see you’re staying for a week so here's a pamphlet of all the activities we're offering this month," She explained as she handed over a brochure. "We also have an ice rink which is open until 8pm and free to all guests."

Cas opened his mouth to assumingely ask a question that would only drag out the check-in process, so Dean interrupted him.

"Great, thank you. We appreciate your help," He then grabbed Cas by the hand and pulled him back into the cold.

"She seemed nice," Cas observed.

"Too chipper. Sam will love her."

Cas laughed at that. It was the kind of laugh that shows his perfectly white teeth and makes his eyes slightly crinkle. It was the kind of laugh that was Dean's absolute favorite.

Dean glanced at the map, noting where to drive to get to their cabin. It appeared to be a short drive from the main lodge. He started the car and turned back onto the gravel road they entered on. Following the signs, they were led along a winding road towards the south end of the grounds, where the now frozen lake is located. The trees were dense, and the cabins were growing sparser as they continued along the road. At last, they pulled up to a quaint log cabin that matched the number on their keys. The cabin had large windows and a wrap-around porch that would be perfect to utilize in the summer and fall. The porch light was on, illuminating the front yard which was littered with large pine trees.

He put the Impala in park, and they grabbed their bags out of the backseat. The night was still and silent. There were no lights except for those on the porch. A large expanse of stars and sky nearly took Dean’s breath away. Growing up, Dean would always take solace in the night sky littered with millions of stars. With the ever-constant change of living on the road, the stars were always there. When John would drink too much or be gone too long on a hunt thereby forcing Dean to parent Sam, he would step outside of their usual run-down motel and take a deep breath, taking in the stars. As they got older and Sam’s nerd tendencies began to develop, he would tell Dean all about the constellation. They’d sit on the sidewalk with their backs against the brick motel and Sam would just talk. He’d point out the shapes in the stars and talk about the history and the namesakes behind each one. It was a most welcoming distraction from the constant shit in Dean’s life.

Even now, as he looks up at the brilliant set of stars unhindered by city lights, Dean can’t help but feel grateful for where his life is. Sure, his kid is basically God. And he’s helplessly in love with his best friend who was an angel but is now a human and probably doesn’t feel the same way about him and now he has to pretend to be his husband at a romantic resort, which can only go poorly. Then there’s the fact that his mom was dead, then she was alive, and then she was dead again. Really, just piles and piles of trauma that he’s had to deal with. But God, Dean still feels lucky. Because he has a family. He has Sam, Cas, Jack, Eileen, Jody and the girls. During those years growing up he always assumed he’d be dead before living a life like this.

A gust of wind whips across the yard, stinging all exposed skin which pulls Dean out of his spiraling thoughts. Cas is mirroring Dean from moments ago, also gazing up at the night sky. “I’ve been alive for so long yet the beauty and wonders of this life will never cease to amaze me.” Cas simply states, as if that wasn’t the most poetic shit to ever come out of someone’s mouth.

At a loss for words, Dean clasps Cas’ shoulder and leads him through the snow and into the cabin. He unlocks the door and welcomes the immediate warmth radiating from inside the cabin. The cabin is incredibly cozy. The walls are a dark wood, with leather sofas next to a large electric fireplace and a big fluffy rug. The kitchen is off of the living room, which on a normal occasion would be perfect to cook some proper meals. Then there is a beautiful wooden table in the dining room with dim lighting that would be perfect for a romantic meal. Dean cut off that dangerous train of thought before it went anywhere that made this situation even more complicated.

Speaking of complicated, Cas was no longer by Dean’s side. Frowning, he walked down the hallway that led towards the bathroom and bedroom. It was in the bedroom that he found Cas hovering in the doorway and oh.

Oh.

There was a king size bed in the center of the room with rose petals scattered over it. An ice bucket with a bottle of champagne rested in the center of the bed with a box of chocolate next to it.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Cas looked at Dean questioningly. “Who?”

“Sam. He told them it was our honeymoon! Then this happened.” He gestured at the array of items in the room.

“I see no problem with this behavior. They needed to know we were on our honeymoon for the sake of the case. And we got free champagne and sweets. Usually, you’re all about the free stuff.”

Dean sighed. “No, you’re right. It’s just – never mind. It’s late and I’ve been driving all day. Guess I’m tired.” Cas just nodded and set his bag down. “So, uh –” Dean started, rubbing his hand over his face. “Want me to take the couch tonight? We can switch off every night or something.”

“Dean,” He sighed. ”You said yourself that you’re getting too old to be sleeping on couches and pull outs. Hence, the memory foam in the bunker. Besides, we’re playing the role of a newlywed couple this weekend. We should probably keep up with appearances and not make it seem like we’re already sleeping in separate beds like unhappy middle-aged couples who are too stubborn to admit they need a divorce.”

Dean barked out a surprised laugh. He loves when Cas goes on his weird tangents. “Yeah, okay Cas. That bed is huge, so it shouldn’t be a problem anyway.”

Cas just nodded and began digging around in his duffel bag. Meanwhile, Dean removed the ice bucket with champagne from the bed and set it on the dresser. Then he brushed off as many rose petals as he could, determined to clear the bed of any romantic connotation. When he was satisfied, he began stripping out of his jeans and flannel. It was a long day of driving and his body was no longer accustomed to sitting for so long, so he was ready for bed at this point.

Dean stopped mid-action, catching sight of Cas doing the same. Cas removed his jeans and then lifted his shirt over his head. Dean swallowed, trying to

tear his eyes away from his best friend’s body but holy shit – Cas is toned. As he bent over to put his discarded clothes back in his bag, the muscles in his back and legs jumped out. His golden skin was completely on display and as a result Dean’s brain was short circuiting. Panicking, he grabbed his toothbrush and locked himself in the bathroom as an attempt to get his breathing and body back under control.

So much for uncomplicated.

[rina-writes]

The Dress

A/N: The friend!reader consoling Ethan reminded me of this drabble I had in my drafts of Ethan comforting gf!reader when feeling insecure.  Kinda short, but I think it’s cute :D  

Warnings: Fluff, sexual references (at the end), insecure!reader

You chewed on your lower lip as you stood on line for the register.  You picked up the velvet, green dress that was draped over your right arm with your left hand to pull it into view.

“Are you sure it looked good?” You asked your best friend who was standing next to you, sending a quick text.

“Yes!” She said, with a laugh. “100 times yes.  I think it will look great for the red carpet.”

“It’s not really a red carpet.” You argued, your eyes still analyzing the dress.  “It’s more of like a gala.  Think the turn of the 20th century, where aristocrats would be invited to a new exhibit at the museum. Everyone would wear their best, strolling through the galleries with a glass of champagne in hand, occasionally nibbling on the hors d'oeuvres being passed around on delicate, silver trays.”

Your best friend paused and a little smirk formed on her lips.  “Your boyfriend hired you to do the PR his event again?”

You laughed. “Is it that obvious it’s my idea?” You smiled to yourself.

The Dolan Twins were huge fans of “putting people on,” so to speak.  If someone in their circle had a knack for something, they employed them to do it.  It wasn’t only that Ethan trusted your creative direction, but he AND Grayson thought your ideas were a great fit for their event.  Just like any other person who would organize an 100+ scale event, they paid you very well to do it. So, there was a lot of pressure to make this the best launch celebration ever.  

To be honest, you knew you nailed it.  You just couldn’t help, but feel like you didn’t fit your own event.  You weren’t a big YouTuber or a celebrity or anything remotely famous.  Your relationship with Ethan was on the DL, so you didn’t even feel pressure to keep up a certain image.  Unlike the boys, you definitely had a “whenever I feel like it” work out regimen and a “whatever taste good” kind of diet. You did try to eat relatively healthy and at least move during the day, but it wasn’t enough to maintain a Instagram-worth physique.

Which brings us back to the dress in your hand that you were now about to purchase...for quite a bit of money.  The dress fit the aesthetic of your event: an off the shoulder dress with a sweetheart neckline that dipped down the center of your chest, with long sleeves that started at the top of your arm and ended at your wrist.  The velvet material hugged your body, leaving nothing to the imagination, and stopped just about your knees.  The dress was classic, and one that you could wear again and again...if you had the confidence.  Your best friend hyped you up in the dressing room, but you hated the way your stomach looked in it. But, your best friend looked so disappointed that you didn’t like it.  Not because she particularly liked the dress, but because she knew your distaste for the dress was about your feelings towards you body.

“We’ll jack you up.” Your best friend said with a wink as you put the dress in the trunk.  She had been watching quite a bit of “Say Yes to The Dress Atlanta” lately and often quoted Monty and Lori.  “The party is tomorrow so, let’s continue our glam day where we just relax and pamper ourselves.  Then tomorrow, I’ll help you get dressed.”

“Thanks, Y/F/N,” You smiled softly, getting into the passenger seat of her car and buckling your seat belt. 

“Trust me, Ethan is going to love it.” Your best friend assured as she backed out of the parking spot.

But, what if I don’t.... You thought, but bit your tongue.  You didn’t want to make a big deal about it anymore.

The night of the event, you were buzzing around like a bee.  You loved the rush of making sure everything was going right, and the even bigger surge of energy when something was going wrong. 

The setting was perfect.  Each fragrance had it’s own gallery with a video clip on loop that showed the natural inspiration for the fragrance.  There were testimonies from the twins about the fragrances written on plaques placed beside the display of the fragrance bottles.  There were also several stations in the gallery to try the fragrance and pick up goodie bags.

You had successful ensured that all food was labeled for vegan, non-vegan, vegetarian, kosher, halal, and marked for allergies.  You also did your best to inform the wait staff of who had specific dietary restrictions to know to go to them with the options they could eat first before opening it to the rest of the floor.  

You had even ensured that the photographers got people when they came in through the door and let people know about the photo booth in the back.  

This was going to be your event to top.  Once people knew that you organized it, your office was going to be full with requests. But if there was anyone you wanted to impress, it was Ethan.  

And he was.  Ethan walked in, his hair styled neatly, his body clad in a black tailored suit with a white button down and a red tie.  Grayson, also wore a similar tailored suit and a white button down, but he opted for a green tie.  They intended to do the twin thing, and unintentionally did the Christmas color thing...but they could roll with it. When Ethan saw you, his jaw dropped.  He had never seen you like this before.  For one thing, everyone was running up to you with different issues. You kept a pleasant smile on your face as you calmed people down and told them what to do.  You made it look easy.  Then there was the dress...oof.  It was like he was seeing your curves for the first time.  He felt like he would need to holler at you all over again.

“Gray, quick, switch ties with me.” Ethan said, slapping his brother on the arm with the back of his hand.

“No, green is my favorite color.” Grayson said, narrowing his eyes. “I’m also not doing this in the middle of our event.”

“Green’s my favorite color now too.” Ethan said, gesturing to you talking to one of the wait staff.

The green velvet dress looked amazing on your complexion. You had taken the green elements into other parts of your outfit as well as part of your best friend’s “jacking up.” Your hair was decorated with faux emerald and cubic zirconia hair pieces (because this dress already cost you a fortune).  You were wearing black pumps, but they had green bottoms that your friend helped you dye yourself.  You were also wearing a mix of green and silver jewelry including dangling earrings and a bracelet.  Ethan made a mental note to get you a watch for your birthday, one that could go with this dress and any other dress you decided to grace him with in the future.

“Oh wow...” Grayson said, trying not to oogle his brother’s girlfriend.  “Okay, you win. Take my tie...”

Grayson removed his tie and Ethan did the same.  If you had turned around and seen them, it would have been comical.  It was like they were racing to see who could tie a tie the fastest and they were both losing.  Finally, they both looked decent enough to mingle.  Ethan walked straight towards you.

“Excuse me, miss?” Ethan said, licking his lips as he spoke to you. 

You looked up from the table you were re-arranging and smiled softly. This was one of your favorite bits. When Ethan pretended to not know you and ask you out again.  It was funny because Ethan was Mr. Slow and Steady when going into a relationship.  He never just hollered at a girl, he always became her friend, got to know her and then finally asked her out. It made this all the more fun to act out.

“I just wanted to say that I think you are the most beautiful woman in the room.”  Ethan rolled his hands and licked his lips flirtatiously. “And, if you don’t have a man, I’d be happy to apply for the position. If you do, I hope you don’t mind us doing this quietly.”

You laughed, and placed a hand on his chest. “Babe, stop.”

Your hand ran along his tie and you smiled.  You loved how you two always unintentionally matched...completely unaware of how much effort Ethan put in to do it.

“Alright, I’ll control myself.” He hugged you tightly, kissing your cheek. 

“Ethan...” You blushed. “People are staring.”

“They already were.” He leaned back and smiled at you. “Got to let them know you’re mine.”

Ethan gave your side a squeeze, resisting from giving your butt a little slap, before stepping back.  “This event looks amazing, Y/N.  I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you!” You exclaimed.  “Your product lent itself to this design.  I am even wearing one of your scents now.”

“I know...” He grinned. “...it’s one of my favorites because I made it with you in mind.”

You were about to say something cheesy when someone walked up to Ethan.  He introduced them as someone from their management team.  You waved, at them, and then paused, suddenly remembering what you were wearing.  Your hands danced between covering your stomach and your chest, and you constantly looked at your reflection in one of the dark windows behind them.  Your focus on your appearance made it hard to join the conversation.  You answered most questions curtly and in a quiet voice.  

When you interacted with the catering staff and your team, you weren’t nervous.  They had seen you come into the office in sweatpants and coffee stains on your shirt on multiple occasions.  You didn’t have to pretend for them. They knew you were good at your job and what you wore didn’t matter.

For Ethan’s colleagues, you felt more pressure.  Although the public didn’t know about your relationship, most people in the twins’ circle knew he was dating someone.  Eventually, someone would tell someone else that the girl in the green dress was Ethan’s girlfriend, and you couldn’t help, but worry about how that would reflect on Ethan. 

Ethan was surprised to see you clam up like this.  This wasn’t like you normally, and it definitely wasn’t like you a few moments earlier.  At first he thought it was just because you were caught off guard. It wasn’t until the third person he introduced you to did he notice that something was up.

“Baby,” Ethan whispered in your ear as the person excused themself. “Come with me for a second.”

Ethan laced his fingers in yours and pulled you to the back of the galleria where there was a back room used to house the extra supplies like toilet paper and tools.

“Is everything okay?” Ethan asked, once he was sure you were both alone and the door was closed.

“Yeah!” You smiled, thinking he was the one worried. “Everyone loves the launch, Ethan! It’s going well.”

“Not the event,” Ethan said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you toward him.  “I mean you.  You’re not acting like yourself.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, putting your hands on his shoulders.  “I’m fine.”

“You’re acting all shy and awkward.” He rested his forehead on yours. “You only do that when something is bothering you.”

“No I don’t.” You argued in a monotone voice.

The silence was awkward and bone chilling.  Ethan just stared at you until you cracked. 

“It’s the dress...” You admitted with a sigh. “I look like a whale.”

“Wait what?” Ethan asked, almost yelling.” Are you nuts? Y/N, baby, you look amazing.  I’ve been planning to pull you in here and plow you in this dress. I am holding back everything inside of me right now...how could you say that?”

You blushed. “It’s my stomach.” You backed up so you could show him the outline of your stomach. Your hands then went to the neckline of the dress.  “And this is cut in such a weird spot.”

“Your stomach looks fine, I didn’t even notice it. And your tits look amazing in that weird spot.” Ethan used air quotes when he said weird spot.  His hands then immediately went to your lower back to pull you closer to him.

“I just don’t feel like this dress is right for me.” You sighed again.

“Why?” Ethan asked, running hands up your sides. “Because this dress looks so amazing on you, I almost don’t want to take it off. Almost...”

You smiled softly. “I dunno...it just doesn’t look right. Maybe I should work out or something....”

“I mean if you want.” Ethan kissed your forehead. “Or you can change what you see in your mind.  Everyone here is impressed with you.   They want to hear more about you and book you for their events. I’m sure they’d ask if you didn’t seem so...out of it.”

You seemed unsure so Ethan continued, “Hey, I’ve even heard compliments on your dress.  I can’t change what you think of yourself, but I want to help you to love yourself the way I love you.”

“I love you too, E.” You sighed, “You really think it looks good?”

“Yes.” Ethan nodded so quickly you thought his head would roll off.

“Thank you.” You said, looking down at yourself.  Suddenly, your stomach didn’t look that big and your boobs did look pretty nice.  You realized, it wasn’t the dress. It was the whole being Ethan’s girlfriend thing that threw you off.  

“I guess, I just felt like this was the kind of dress that someone like you would like to see your girlfriend in.” You said, still looking down.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. “Yes, hence why I like seeing you, my girlfriend, in this dress.”

“I know, it’s just sometimes I feel like there is Ethan Dolan’s girlfriend...this image i have in my head.” You paused. “And then there’s me.  Which sometimes is a different image.”

“Well guess what...” Ethan kissed your cheek. “That image in my head is always you.  So, whatever we have to do to match up the images in your head, I’m ready to do it together.”

“Aww, E...” You kissed him softly and he deepened the kiss.

His hands roamed from your shoulders to your backside, giving your body little squeezes. As the kiss got sloppier, you realized that Ethan wasn’t going to be satisfied by a little frenching.

“Quickie before we go back out?” You suggested, breaking the kiss.  

You walked over to one of the shelves and put your hands on top of it. You turned so your butt was up and facing Ethan, one of his favorite positions.

“Yes ma’am,” He smirked, unbuckling his belt as he walked over.

“But make sure you don’t ruin my dress.” You said, looking back at him with a wink.

“Yes, ma’am.”