#cosmic heard me laugh and say “here we go” after I posted this

[dipplinduo]

Sweet & Sour Dipplins: Chapter 9 dropping shortly. Suggested materials below...

[aliasrocket]

How do you imagine having a first date with Rocket would go? Poor guy would probably be so nervous cause it would be his first real date ever.

OOO I’m usually not good at fluff but this would be a good warm up so why not?? Thanks for this request this is so cute <3

(Side note for those of you who read ‘last (friday) night’, you can take this as a sequel that happens like a year after multiple ‘accidental’ nights and they finally sort out their feelings.)

(This was supposed to be a drabble but it would appear I got carried away. I might post this to ao3 if I’m in the mood HAHAH RIP)

taglist : @caesarhamato22 @cosmic-lavender @shybabylovestmnt-blog (send me an ask if you wanna be on my taglist! Do specify what kind of content you’d like tonbe tagged for <33) or

masterlist! :> / request stuff :D

“Buy me dinner first, captain.”

It was supposed to be stupid joke. That’s the thing. Even Rocket laughed at the time. You laughed at the time.

So that perfectly explained why he’s grounded in dark blue lighting, the low light outside giving his room a taste of the windy evening while he adjusted the tie around his neck.

“Dinner,” he murmured, lips barely parting. “Yeah, right.”

He grabbed the knob to his door and it flew open and shut right after he slipped past it.

He was immediately greeted by the chilly Knowhere air, proving his effort of putting on a suit jacket useful. He typically didn’t like putting on a coat so early in the night, but judging from the people fading by the street, it was probably going to be a colder night.

Your door.

His feet stood planted on the ground, shoulder width apart after he’d slipped his hands into his pockets.

Hello, door.

Was that enough?

Of course not.

But talking to the door is a lot easier than knocking on it, Rocket found, with the way his hand shivered at the very thought of leaving its snug pocket.

His hand rose from its bed anyway, stopping right before the plastic surface in a fist.

Boom.

Well, he was being dramatic. It was really more of a knock.

He knocked two more times, and his hand quickly retreats back into his now warm pocket.

One second, two then three when a cool air brushed past him and a light touched his fur.

“Oh! Look at you, all dolled up.”

You had your head tilted and your back arched as both your hands tended to an earring on your right ear. Rocket wandered further down, observing the shine on your exposed shoulders, the spaghetti strings holding your dress up and how it so generously cherished your curves in its hold.

Rocket licked his lips. Cold air can turn your lips dry, he reminded himself.

“What can I say? You’re a doll.” He shrugged. “Ready?”

He almost had the instinct of holding one hand down but that would mean taking the other out of his pocket. They were dampening his pants from the humidity on his palms.

“Yeah!” You beamed with a cherry-chapstick smile, a white glimmer gilding across your lip as you closed the door behind you. “Where are we going?”

Rocket chuffed to himself, a smile curling his lips. “I think I’d better show you than tell you.”

“C’mon, I know all the great restaurants around here. It won’t take long for me to guess.”

You both descended down the last flight of stairs before making contact with the ground—your apartment hadn’t been as high up as many of the other civilians in Knowhere.

“First of all, we’re not goin’ to any restaurant. Second of all, it so, definitely would take you a millennia to guess.”

“Mm, and why’s that?”

Rocket wasn’t sure if it had been on purpose, but he could have sworn he heard that line from a 50’s show on Terra. That’s what they would call it, anyway, and they were usually of really poor quality and the film would be black and white. When he looked up, your lip was still the light’s favorite, gracing it with a little white dot as if Rocket hadn’t already given it all the attention it deserved.

“Because I’m not taking you anywhere you’ve been before,” Rocket replied.

It didn’t take long before you both reached the desired destination.

“Why are we at a parking lot?”

“You wound me, princess,” Rocket lamented theatrically, holding his hands to his chest. He snickered at his own gesture after you laughed at it too. “Don’t you know I wouldn’t take you to just any parking lot?”

“What kind of parking lot is this then?” You held a hand to your hip, and Rocket stole a quick glance before quickly looking away. Needless to say, it highlighted your hips a lot more than he would have liked for his own well-being.

“You’ll see.”

You both walk a little further in to find a large ship, and it probably occupied the entire parking lot from its sheer size alone.

“Woah,” your lips hung parted as your head swung left and right to get the whole view of the vehicle. “Your ship?”

“The guardians’, but basically, yes,” Rocket’s brows furrowed with a smug grin. “It’s called the Bowie.”

“Bowie—as in David Bowie? The Terran singer?”

“Yeah.” Rocket nodded. “You know him?”

“I mean, duh. I lived on Terra, once upon a time,” you smiled.

Rocket smiled too.

You seemed to notice.

“Wanna check it out?”

“You’re asking me if I wanna check out a ship named the Bowie? We’re going!” You laughed and began to run, forcing Rocket to chase after you.

Rocket gave you a conservative tour of the ship, but you didn’t seem to mind when he managed to swiftly get you across to the cockpit of the ship where the real magic was.

“Is—is that takeout?”

“Yeap. Terran delights. You seem very in touch with your roots so I started there.”

You rush towards the brown bags, peering inside to see the blue holographic container given in most takeouts orders to keep food warm. Rocket walks over to the pilot seat and you open the container.

“Fuck, chicken, I’ve missed this,” you sighed, inhaling the delicious aroma now filling the air.

The handles in Rocket’s seat was now infected by his damp hands. He clenched his jaw, wiping his palms on his pants harshly before pulling up a holographic control panel.

“Rocket,” you said cautiously. “Rocket what are you doing—”

“Getting a better view for our table.”

And that, he did, when the entire parking lot floor began to oscillate and the walls unfolded rigidly to reveal a familiar lens that seemed to unscrew.

“What—wait that’s—”

“Do me a favor?”

“What—we’re going to space?”

“Yeah. Strap on, put the food on your lap and do not let go of the bag.”

“Rocket, are you sure about this?”

“It’s completely safe. And I’m a pilot, remember?” Rocket’s chair pivoted to face you.

You stared out at the windshield, back slouching as you said nothing. Your eyes had perfectly reflected the stars and the skies that strewn the canvas of space.

Though, Rocket wasn’t quite sure if it was a reflection of the stars or something your eyes already behold.

“Hey.”

You look up at him.

“What’s wrong?”

You blinked, and your gaze was no longer on him. Your head was still tilted up but your eyes had wandered somewhere else.

“It’s … been a while. That’s all.”

“We don’t have to go,” Rocket said, softer than he would have thought, or liked. It made his voice … light. Something he didn’t consider himself to be.

“No!” You exclaimed, and then cleared your throat. “I-I mean, um, no, sorry—this is amazing. I want to go. I’m just … nervous. That’s all.”

“Don’t worry,” Rocket consoled, his voice becoming something of a velvet texture when it rolled past his tongue. “It’s nothing but gorgeous out there. You’ll fit right in.”

You covered your mouth.

Rocket grinned. It was stupid, sure, but he saw the way your cheeks rose and knew he didn’t have to worry.

And with that, you settled into the seat a few feet away from Rocket’s own, placing the brown bag on your lap and holding onto the rim.

You gave him a nod, and Rocket snickered as your head was sent back onto the head rest at take off, pressing before you found the strength to resist the pushing force.

Rocket was quick to settle the ship in space, the view partially including the ancestral head Knowhere was stowed away in. The rest of it had been space and everything else it’s always been; an endless, black vacuum lucky enough to end up with stars as freckles.

Except, this view had been different—somehow, there were some purple and blue hues bleeding into the black scene like paint being dipped in murky water.

“Holy shit.”

It was as quiet as a breath one would let out in an exhale, but somehow, Rocket heard it all the same.

“Holy shit is right,” he chimed in.

“Rocket … where is this …?”

“We’re near a planet and this one in particular gives off a plasma that’s highly reactive to its own natural hydrocarbons, so it takes the purple color of the planet’s surface and it drifts past the planet’s atmosphere and—”

You got off your seat and quickly set down the food on the floor between the two pilot seats.

“Oh! Sorry, continue—”

“No, you’re right, I should shut up,” Rocket agreed with a smile before getting off his seat and crossing his legs on the floor.

Rocket frowned as soon as you were occupied with the food. The thing is, he can’t really remember the last time he’s rambled like that to someone else. It wasn’t like he expected you to understand him and the only other person he’d ever rambled about science to is …

You set aside the brown bag, allowing Rocket a better view of you. You place down his own food container before opening yours again.

You took one of the pieces of chicken in your hand, your head lowered but your eyes on Rocket’s own.

“And it never drifts far because of the planet’s gravity, right?”

Rocket’s ear twitched and he perked up at your words. He felt the end of his tail jerk in every so often and he tried his best to keep it directly behind him.

“How’d you know?” He asked, grabbing a utensil and scooping up his own food.

“We go to school on Terra. Ever heard of it?” You joked.

“For some reason, I don’t buy it—not the school thing but the ‘they teach us in school’ thing,” Rocket said in a pitchy voice, stuffing his mouth with food and chewing.

( you weren’t surprised. If you were being completely honest, you wanted nothing less than to impress and knowing that Rocket was a pilot, you’d done all the research you could about space and took in anything that was comprehendible for you. School was nothing but a nightmare. It’s one of the reasons you left earth. But rocket didn’t need to know that. )

“Rocket, chew your food, c’mon,” you said with a smile.

You titter at his state, and rightfully so; he had taken a huge bite, and he was lucky you didn’t have a mirror on you or else his cybernetically engineered rib cage might combust.

“But for the record, it …”

Rocket exhaled through his nose.

The purples floating in space had somehow also gotten on your form and smudged itself on your cheek. You weren’t facing space, and it was at this moment that Rocket knew,

you had your own solar system, orbiting in your very eyes.

“It means a lot to me.”

You smiled.

Rocket wondered if the rose tint had always been in your cheeks or if it always emerged whenever you did something pretty.

Certain images of you began flooding his mind, images he’d seen before; the way you bite your lip, how it parted when he tugged your hair or did something to make you elicit those lovely sounds he relished hearing.

“The food is amazing,” you complimented right after swallowing your first bite. “Thank you, I really, really missed this.”

“It’s not my cooking, but no problem,” Rocket replied.

Both of you look out at the windshield, taking the view in once more and making sure it seeps into the little gaps of fur and skin.

“I know this date’s only just started but …”

Rocket turned back to you, another bite of food ready on his spoon.

“This might be the best day of my life.”

Rocket froze.

Soon enough, the spoon ended up in his mouth, withdrawing as soon as his teeth scraped the food off for him to chew.

“Well that’s a little depressing,” he smiled.

It turned into a hearty guffaw at your frown, your own mouth too stuffed with chicken for you to reply so soon.

“How is this day being the best of my life depressing?” You managed to make out right after swallowing your food.

“It’s a first date with take out fried food and we’ve barely just begun—”

“Well I’m sorry for finding your well-thought out date to be one of the best things I’ve ever experienced!”

Rocket paused for the second time that night.

“You mean that?”

Your eyebrows raised. “Of course, I mean that. I wouldn’t go out on a date with someone I didn’t like, I’ve spent way too much time on Terra doing that.”

“Well, then … what else is up on that list?”

“Hm?”

Rocket’s eyes were practically tied to your body. He’d been looking at the stars for half the night, but each sentence you spoke somehow made you lean forward a little more and due to the nature of your dress, you sat with your legs glued together but folded by the side.

All of which gave Rocket a very distracting view.

He couldn’t just steal a glance like before, no—because your dress stopped right above your cleavage and with you leaning forward, it was an angle that was all too hard to simply steal.

“What else was on your list of ‘the best things you’ve experienced’?”

Rocket looked away, finally.

But it might have been too late.

You snorted.

“That’s real cliché, Rocket,” you remarked.

“Hey, I’m sorry! I’m only a man—a man who’s happened to have the luxury of having sex with you and now I think I kinda want more,” Rocket confessed frankly.

“Tell you what,” you began, setting your chicken bone down on your food container. “Thirty minutes,” you paused, gesturing towards the food. “Wait for this to settle. Then I’ll suck your dick on that chair.”

“Fuck,” Rocket exhaled. “You’re so goddamn hot when you do that.”

thank you so much for reading!! <3

// tip jar. commissions.

[ofaflower]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 - 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐓

The following are lyric based starters from Taylor Swift's eleventh studio album, The Tortured Poets Department (Standard Version). Mature subjects implied within, so please use with caution. Feel free to change pronoun usage as needed. Minor edits may appear to sound more natural for dialogue. Link to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘.

FORTNIGHT (FT. POST MALONE)

i was supposed to be sent away, but they forgot to come and get me

i was a functioning alcoholic

nobody noticed my new aesthetic

all of this to say, i hope you're okay

you're the reason

no one here's to blame

what about your quiet treason?

we were forever

your wife waters flowers

i wanna kill her

i took the miracle move on drug, the effects were temporary

i love you, it's ruining my life

my husband is cheating, i wanna kill him

it won't start up

THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

you left your typewriter at my apartment

straight from the tortured poets department

who uses typewriters anyway?

you're in self sabotage mode

i've seen this episode, still i love the show

who else decodes you?

who's gonna hold you like me?

who's gonna know you, if not me?

you're not dylan thomas, i'm not patti smith

this ain't the chelsea hotel

we're modern idiots

nobody, no fucking body

i chose this cyclone with you

sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me

you told lucy you'd kill yourself if i ever leave

i felt seen

everyone we know understands why we're meant to be - cause we're crazy

you took my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on - and that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding

MY BOY ONLY BREAKS HIS FAVOURITE TOYS

oh, here we go again...

the voices in his head called the rain to end our days of wild

you should've seen him when he first got me

my boy only breaks his favourite toys

i'm queen of sandcastles he destroys

i should've known it was a matter of time

there was a litany of reasons why we could've played for keeps this time

i know i'm just repeating myself

he runs because he loves me

once i fix me, he's gonna miss me

just say when, i'd play again

you were my best friend

you told me i'm better off, but i'm not

DOWN BAD

did you really beam me up, in a cloud of sparkling dust, just to do experiments on?

you told me i was the chosen one

you showed me this world was bigger than us, then sent me back where i came from

for a moment, i new cosmic love

fuck it if i can't have him

i might just die, it would make no difference

come back and pick me up

fuck it if i can't have us

i might just not get up, i might stay down bad

did you take all my old clothes?

my same old town, somehow feels so hollow now

they'll say i'm nuts if i talk about the existence of you

for a moment i was heaven struck

i loved your hostile takeovers

how can you say that it's over?

how dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded

fuck it, i was in love

fuck you if i can't have us

SO LONG, LONDON

so long, london

i saw, in my mind, fairy lights through the mist

i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift

i pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away

i stopped trying to make you laugh

how much sad did you think i had in me?

oh, the tragedy

you'll find someone

i didn't opt in to be your odd man out

i founded the club you've heard great things about

i left all i knew, then you left me at the house by the heath

i stopped cpr, after all it's no use

i'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free

i'll find someone

you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it with my white knuckle iron grip holding tight to your quiet resentment

it isn't right to be scared everyday of a love affair

every breath feels like rarest air when you're unsure if he wants to be there

just how long did you think i'd go before i self-implode and have to go free?

you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?

i died on the alter waiting

you sacrificed us to the blue of your darkest days

i'm just getting colour back into my face

i'm just mad as hell cause i loved this place for so long

we had a good run

a moment of sun

i'm not the one

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM

i forget how the west was won

i forget if this was ever fun

i just learned these people only raise you to cage you

what a mess

these people try and "save you", cause they hate you

they slammed the door on my whole world and the one thing i wanted

but daddy i love him

i'm having his baby - no i'm not, but you should see your faces

i'm having his baby

floor it through the fences

no, i'm not "coming to my senses"

i know he's crazy but he's the one i want

all my plans were laid

growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all

stay away from her

i'll tell you something right now, i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning

let me tell you about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace

i dont' cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing

god save the most judgmental creeps

you ain't gotta pray for me

fuck 'em - it's over

time, doesn't it give some perspective?

no, you can't come to the wedding

FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER

now pretty baby, i'm running back home to you

fresh out the slammer, i know who my first call will be to

he don't understand me

you were with me in dreams

it's gonna be alright, i did my time

i was handcuffed to the spell i was under

now i know better and i'll never lose my baby again

all those nights, you kept me going

you weaved me into all of your poems

no matter what i've done - it wouldn't matter away

ain't no way i'm gonna screw up now that i know what's at stake here

FLORIDA!!! (FEAT. FLORENCE + THE MACHINE)

you can beat the heat if you beat the charges too

they said i was cheat, so i guess it must be true

my friends all smell like weed or little babies

the city reeks of driving myself crazy

little did you know, your home's really only a town you're just a guest in

packed my life away just stay in a timeshare down in destin, florida

florida is one hell of a drug

florida will use you up

i got drunk and dared it wash me away

me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time

yes, i'm haunted but i'm feeling just fine

all of my girls have got their lace and their crimes

your cheating husband disappeared?

well, no one asks any questions here

i did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that'd ever been on my body where in my mind they sink into the swamp

is that a bad thing to say in a song?

i need to forget

take me to florida

i've got some regrets, i'll bury them in florida

tell me i'm despicable, say it's unforgivable

at least the dolls were beautiful

fuck me up, florida

GUILTY AS SIN?

he sent me "downtown lights", i hadn't heard it in a while

my boredom's bone deep

this cage was once just fine

am i allowed to cry?

i dream of cracking locks and throwing my life to the wolves - or the ocean rocks

i'm seeing visions

am i bad or mad or wise?

what if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh, only in my mind?

oh, what a way to die

i keep recalling things we never did

how i long for our tryst

without ever touching your skin, how can i be guilty as sin?

i keep these longings locked in lowercase inside a vault

someone told me: there's no such thing as bad thoughts - only your actions talk

we've already done it in my head

if it's make believe, why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

my bedsheets were ablaze, i screamed your name

what if i roll the stone away?

they're gonna crucify me anyway?

what if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

if long suffering propriety is what they want from me, they don't know how you've haunted me so suddenly

i choose you and me, religiously

WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME?

the who's who of "who's that?" - is poised for the attack

my bare hands paved their path

you don't get to tell me about sad

if you wanted me dead, you should've just said

nothing makes me feel more alive

she'll leap from the gallows and levitate down our street

who's afraid of little old me?

the scandal was contained

the bullet had just grazed

at all costs, keep your good name

you don't get to tell me you feel bad

is it a wonder i broke? let's hear one more joke then we can all just laugh until i cry

i was tame, i was gentle til the circus life made me mean

don't you worry folks, we took out all her teeth

who's afraid of little old me? you should be

so tell me everything is not about me - but what if it is?

they say they didn't do it to hurt me - but what if they did?

i wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me

you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

all your kids can sneak into my house with all the cobwebs

i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all say?

i'll sue you if you step on my lawn

i'm fearsome, and i'm wretched, and i'm wrong

i put narcotics into all of my songs, that's why you're still singing along

you lured me, you caged me, and you taught me

you caged me then called me crazy

i am what i am cause you trained me

who's afraid of me?

I CAN FIX HIM (NO REALLY, I CAN)

the jokes he told across the bar were revolting and way too loud

god help her

he's my man

but your good lord doesn't need to lift a finger

i can i fix him, no really - i can

the dopamine raced through his brain on a six-lane texas highway

i could see it from a mile away

you're a perfect case for my certain skill set

he had a halo of the highest grade

he just hadn't met me yet

i can fix him

only i can

good boy, that's right - come close

i'll show you heaven if you'll be an angel all night

trust me, i can handle me a dangerous man

whoa, maybe i can't...

loml

who's gonna stop us from falling back into rekindled flames if we know the steps anyway?

we embroidered memories of my time away, stitching "we were just kids babe"

i don't mind, it takes time

thought that i was better safe than starry-eyed

i felt aglow like this - never before and never since

if you know it in one glimpses, it's legendary

you and i went from one kiss to getting married

you low down boy, you stand up guy

you told me i'm the love of your life about a million times

who's gonna tell me the truth when you blew in with the winds of fate, saying i had reformed you?

your impressionist paintings of us turned out to be fakes

well, you dragged me to hell too

a con man sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme

i felt a hole, like this - never before and ever since

what we thought was for all time, was temporary

mister "steal your girl, and make her cry"

you said i'm the love of your life

you shit talked me under tables, talking rings and talking cradles

i wish i could un-recall how we almost had it all

are they second-hand embarrassed?

i can't get out of bed cause something counterfeit's dead

it was legendary

it was momentary

it was unnecessary

should've let us stay buried

what a valiant roar

what a bland goodbye

the coward claimed he was a lion

i'll never leave

never mind

i'll still see it til i die

you're the loss of my life

I CAN DO IT WITH A BROKEN HEART

i can read your mind

she's having the time of her life

in her glittering prime the light refracts sequin stars off her silhouette every night

i can show you lies

i'm a real tough kid

i can handle my shit

they said "fake it til you make it", and i did

lights, camera, bitch, smile - even when you wanna die

he said he'd love me all his life - but that life was quite short

all the pieces of me shattered as the crowd was chanting more

i can do it with a broken heart

i'm so depressed, i act like it's my birthday everyday

i'm so obsessed with him but he avoids me like the plague

i cry alot, but i am so productive - it's an art

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart

i can hold my breath, i've been doing it since you left

i'm sure i can pass this test

he said he'd love me for all time but that time was quite short

i'm miserable and nobody even knows!

THE SMALLEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED

was any of it true?

gazing at me starry-eyed in your jehovah's witness suit, who the fuck was that guy?

he tried to buy some pills from a friend of friends of mine

they just ghosted you, now you know what it feels like

i don't even want you back, i just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal?

i don't miss what we had but could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived?

you hung me on your wall, stacked me with your push pins where in public you showed me off - then sank to stoned oblivion

once your queen had come, you treat her like an also-ran

you didn't measure up in any measure of a man

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

were you writing a book?

were you a sleeper cell spy?

in fifty years, will all this be declassified and you'll confess why you did it

good riddance

it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden

i would have died for your sins, instead i just died inside

you deserve prison but you won't get time

you'll slide into inboxes and slip through the bars

you crashed my party and your rental car

you said normal girls were boring, but you were gone by the morning

in plain sight you hid

you are what you did

i'll forget you but i'll never forgive the smallest man who ever lived

THE ALCHEMY

this happens once every few lifetimes

what if i told you i'm back?

the hospital was a drag, worst sleep that i ever had

i haven't come around in so long, but i'm coming back so strong

so when i touch down, call the amateurs and cut them from the team

ditch the clowns, get the crown

baby, i'm the one to beat

the sign on your heart says it's still reserved for me

honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

hey you, what if i told you we're cool? that child's play back in school is forgiven under my rule

i'm making a comeback to where i belong

these blokes warm the benches

we've been on a winning streak

he jokes that it's "heroin", but this time with an "E"

there's no chance try to beat the greatest in the league?

where's the trophy?

CLARA BOW

you look like clara bow in this light, remarkable

all your life, did you know you'd be picked, like a rose?

i'm not trying to exaggerate - but i think i might die if it happened to me

no one in my small town thought i'd see the lights of manhattan

this town is fake, but you're the real thing

a breath of fresh air through smoke rings

take the glory

give everything

promise to be dazzling

you look like stevie nicks in '75, the hair and lips

the crowd goes wild at your fingertips

i think i might if i made it

no one in my small town thought i'd meet these suits in L.A.

beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours demanding more

only when your girlish glow flickers just so, do they let you know

it's hell on earth to be heavenly

them's the breaks they don't come gently

you look like taylor swift in this light, we're loving it

you've got edge, she never did

the future's bright

dazzling

[infallible-dreamers]

A million and one ways

a little drabble I wanted to write about Malex post reunion. just a lot of cheese and fluff :P read it on AO3

Everyone wanted to be near Alex once they’d finally gotten him back. Michael was a little annoyed at this because he just wanted to be alone with Alex. He’d missed him for weeks and finally seeing him again, he never wanted to let go. But according to others he apparently had to.

Kyle apparently got first dibs because he needed to check him over and make sure the residual effects from what happened in the pocket dimension would be fade. Kyle concluded that Alex was psychically okay now, but still made Michael leave to make sure the emotional wounds would heal too. 

After the doctor, everyone else pounced, giving them only half hour to shower – they made every use of half an hour – and change before dragging Michael and Alex to the Wild Pony to celebrate the win. Kyle made a toast and Alex was enveloped in so many hugs from all their friends and family, before being pulled into many conversations whilst Michael hung back sipping his beer. But Alex looked for him in the room and would smile when he caught his eyes. Michael couldn’t hide the smile and tears that he wiped with his sleeve, he had Alex back.

After some time, he saw his boyfriend give people another set of hugs before finally appearing at his side. “Let’s go home?” 

Michael nodded eagerly, grabbing hold of Alex’s hand, and intertwining their fingers as they walked out of the Pony.

Alex sunk into the couch as soon as they got home. “I missed you so much.” Michael grinned, taking in Alex, he had to be real, didn’t he? It couldn’t just be another dream he’d had in the weeks he had been gone.

The airman laughed, “You’ve already said that.”

“Yeah but this is for the time I missed you since we got you back.”

“We didn’t get much alone time, did we?” Alex gestured for Michael to join him on the couch, too tired to move elsewhere.

“Uh huh.” Michael placed his Stetson and phone on the coffee table and sat down next to an exhausted Alex on the couch. He leaned into Alex’s chest, comfortable listening to the constant beat, knowing he was safe in his arms. Alex lazily played with his curls and could feel his boyfriend’s hand snake under his shirt, he grinned as he recalled the conversations he’s had with his friends since finally coming home. 

“Can I ask you a stupid question?”

Michael hummed in response.

“I heard you had a million different ways to say you love me.” Michael looked up at Alex who was smirking at the knowledge, “I think every one of our friends has now heard how I’m your soulmate or the love of your life.”

Michael grinned, content that Alex was aware, placing a soft kiss at his sternum that he had exposed, “It’s true isn’t it?” 

He was getting worried when Alex wasn’t responding and calling him out for using telekinesis on his buttons, he still had the same soft smile but looked lost in thought “Is that the question…” 

“Do you only say it when I’m gone?” The alien pushed himself up look at Alex directly shocking him and causing him to retract his statement, “I told you it was stupid! It’s just you never really say those things directly to me when I’m here. I know you feel it, I was honestly just curious.”

“Please don’t disappear on me again. I can say it every second of the day if you stay by my side.” Alex was shaking his head, insisting he was just teasing and he doesn’t have to say it that much.

He placed a hand on Alex’s cheek, “Alex Manes, you are my cosmic soulmate… and the love of my life… the home to my heart… I will never look away… you’re the piece I’ve searched my whole life for, ” Alex laughed as Michael followed every single statement with chaste kiss. “I love you so much.”

Alex smiled realising, of course Michael always had told him he loved him, even without three words, he said it all the time. And Alex loves Michael, he hadn’t been able to say it himself in those specific words but he knew Michael still knew because they told each other in other words, their looks, their touch and in every action, “I love you too.”

Michael nodded and pulled Alex in for a feverous kiss. After a long passionate kiss it slowed and with few pecks Alex found himself reaching for the other as he felt Michael pull away and opened his eyes to see him reaching into his jeans pocket. “I wanted to maybe give you a few days of rest before I put more on your mind…”

Michael brushed his thumb over Alex’s cheek to wipe the stray tear that had started to fall, and finally opened the little black box. It was two small simple silver rings, with a thin strip of small diamonds meeting in the middle at a larger glass gem embedded into the band reflecting purple and pink, the alien glass, more of his console and his way home “Michael…”

“I meant every word I said,” Michael huffed gathering his confidence, “I have never had a place I’ve felt at home since I woke up in the desert, I thought it was another planet I was waiting for, but when I was 17, someone yelled at me at the back of my pickup for stealing his guitar, and I realised my home was standing in front of me. Everywhere I went and everything I did, all I wanted to do ever was to go home with you. Alexander Manes will you marry me?”

Alex smiled through glassy eyes and Michael shoulders relaxed when he heard the soft murmured, “yes.” He kissed his cheek, his nose, his lips as Alex tried to will himself to stop crying. He was grinning into Michael’s kiss, “That was my favourite way.” 

[theplanetprince]

Shrodinger’s Adolescent 2.0 || Ch. 16

Fic: AO3 || FNN

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Rating: Teens and Up

Word Count as of update: 112.7k~

Relationships: Dash Baxter/Danny Fenton, Sam Manson/Tucker Foley, Ember Mcclain/Ghostwriter

Characters: Danny Fenton, Dash Baxter, Sam Manson, Tucked Foley, Cujo, Johnny 13, Ghostwriter, Sidney Poindexter, Mr Lancer  

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Slow to Update, Canon Rewrite, Post-Reality Trip, High School Setting, Fake Dating (Kinda), Unrequited Love, It's requited but they're dumbasses, one-sided attraction, fluff, I know the content warning is extensive, but I promise there's fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, Danny Fenton has PTSD  

Content Warnings: Sexual harassment, mentions of death, mentions decomposition, cosmic horror, environmental horror, implications of domestic violence, implications of violence against women, insects, breaking and entering, obsessive behavior,

Chapter Summary: Danny grows increasingly impatient with Ghostwriter’s antics and his refusal to leave his home. Though the guy can’t be all that bad, after all his roommate Ember McClain is worse, running her own babysitting service inside the manor. 

Author's notes: ANOTHER LONG BOI CHAPTER-- COME GET Y’ALLS DINNER. Heavy ship content towards the latter half of the chapter but you have some plot to get through first. I’m sneaking vegetables in with your brownies. -Voorhees 🍩

[Reblogs > Likes... Thx]

Danny wasn't having much luck with the residents of the Ghost Zone. Ember and the ghost boy had been verbally sparring for the better part of an hour. The argument boiled down to—

'Why won't you let me see the Ghostwriter?'

'You can't.' 

All the while, Youngblood sat on the couch and focused on his finger reading. He occasionally interrupted the bickering pair needing assistance sounding out a difficult word before shuffling back to the sunroom. 

Ember's attention instead lay in trying to locate Youngblood's other shoe. She floated around the ground floor with rapidly vanishing patience while Danny stayed at her heels. 

"Ember, I am not leaving until—!" 

"I heard ya the first time, sparkles!" She roared, her hair bursting into a blue typhoon of flame, "Trust me, Walker is way scarier than you baring your fangs— Believe it or not! We have priorities outside of you." 

While usually, Danny would flinch at someone raising their voice, he used his thumb to feel his canines. He had no fangs, not the kind of fangs Skulker, Ghostwriter, or… even Vlad possessed. 

The rockstar rolled her eyes, "Oh please, baby pop; it's a figure of speech." 

The puzzlement on his face only seemed to delight Ember. She rose from where she was searching—McClain continued to tease, "Is that why you're here? You think the lore keeper of the Ghost Zone has nothing better to do than to answer all your burning questions about the changes you're going through?" 

She gave a haughty laugh, "Get real." 

This was worse than a tech support helpline— at least What The Tech wouldn't make fun of him in an accurate way. Fists becoming intertwined with ivory hair, Danny exclaimed, "You know why I'm here!" 

"Do you?" The pop ghost tilted her head, “Do you know why you’re here?” 

Youngblood knocked on the door frame separating the sunroom and the library. Seven times exactly. 

Ember stooped down again, opening her arms, "What's up, little man? Did you pick the books you wanted to take home?"

The boy wiped his nose on the back of his hand and presented a thin hardback novel with an illustrated cover of a ship. The title was in cascading, flowing, and delicate calligraphy. Robinson Crusoe. 

She smiled. 

"Um, that's not what—I just wanted to say that…" Blood twiddled his thumbs, "I was playing in Mr Writer's office, and I may have lost my shoe there…" 

Danny squinted at this, "Je-sus, How old are you, kid?"

Ember shot the teen a disapproving glare. 

The little ghost counted out on his fingers to the number eight, looking down at his hands. He muttered, "Give or take… like a bajillion years." 

The Phantom nearly guffawed.

Ember cut him off, "That's okay little dude; Danny was just about to volunteer to get it." 

"If that means I can see Ghostwriter— then fine! I'll go get the kid's shoe." Danny spun on his heel towards the stairs, though his wrist was grasped by McClain just as quickly.

She warned, "You can't just go up there—" 

"You've established what I can't do just fine," Danny shot back. He thought about taking a swing at her, but Sidney's nasally voice picked at his brain stem. Doing his best Jiminy Cricket impersonation.

"You need to do something first." The way her tone changed when speaking to him wasn’t that much different from Youngblood— though one could argue it was more passive-aggressive, if anything. 

After all, that’s all Danny was to these ‘people.’ If he could even call them that. Danny was some precocious yuppie that only wanted to keep his town safe. At least that was the sanitized version of events. Danny didn’t think he and his adversaries were anything alike. Though, isn’t everyone realistically between a stage of life and death at any given time? 

He wrenched his wrist from her grasp, "Like…?" 

Shifting her jaw towards a table nestled between several bookshelves lined with threateningly large tomes. On this table, there lay a face open book; its pages were a bit weathered around the edges that they no longer possessed a crispness. Yet— the paper was so white and pristine it was nearly reflective of the central light in the Ghost Zone. 

Danny was hesitant to call it a sun. Because the sun was a star, it also had cycles based on the rotation of the earth. The Ghost Zone was not the earth— it wasn’t a planet. A planet was, by definition, a near-spherical object that orbited around the sun and had enough centralized mass to overcome rigid body forces. The Ghost Zone didn’t have a shape, but it did have edges. It was a formless being, sometimes organic, sometimes not. It was a madness-inducing M.C Escher gallery. It surrounded you on all sides—mathematically perfect and straight, yet were inherently discomforting to view like Relativity. And like the self-portrait of the artist in question, the denizens of this ring of hell seemed to be too sharp, jagged, and crooked like the hairline fractures on the surface level of glass. 

Planets, biomes, ecosystems didn’t have consciousness. They didn’t have a pulse one could identify like you could identify. What Danny couldn’t call the Ghost Zone was a vacuum. Matter couldn’t survive in a vacuum. What illuminated the viridescent atmosphere? 

Arguably, this wasn’t the right time for Jonah to try to diagnose what whale he was in the mouth of. 

“You have to write a story.” She crossed her arms, a bit too satisfied for Danny’s liking. 

You’ve got to be kidding me! Danny exclaimed, “With what? I didn’t know I’d be doing homework here too!” 

Ember pointed to his closed fist. 

There was a pen within his grasp where there wasn't before. The cell was a flimsy cheap thin thing that could be found in a pack of twelve at the register of a drugstore. The kind of pen you throw in the junk drawer because you need pens. His family had these scattered all over the house. They cracked like a glow stick whenever you applied the slightest amount of pressure to them. 

"Oh…" he said somewhat flatly, "It's gonna be that kind of day, huh?" 

The pop ghost snidely remarked, "They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but wow, that is… unimpressive." 

"So, you're stealing Kitty's material now?" The phantom fired back. 

Kitty didn't have jokes. Her quips weren't as much as humorous observations but just innuendos and double entendres that would make an X-rated-video star blush. Or cringe, depending on the circumstance.

Sauntering to the end table, before he hunched over the page to begin, he paid a glance over his shoulder, "I'll have you know; my pen is fine." 

"Whatever you have to tell yourself, baby pop." 

For some reason, this was the last flippant comment to break the camel's back.

"So what kind of story does Ghostwriter want, huh?" Haphazardly he plucked up the book fast and full of malice, "My deepest darkest secrets? My worst fears so he can manifest them and make me duke it out, dungeon-master style?" Danny hissed. 

Bending the hardback and causing the spine to buckle, the ghost boy spat, "Oh, how about how I died? Yeah, I haven't had nightmares about that one for a while. Did'ya know my best friends killed me? That's a plot twist! What's it gonna take for Ghostwriter to get his skinny neurotic butt down here for an explanation?! What do you freaks want? My soul? Pretty sure that train has left the station!" 

McClain's stare became affixed to the teen. No disdain on her face, just a gradual wash of puzzlement. She regarded his outburst very curiously. Almost dumbfounded by his anger which seemed wholly misplaced. The siren stated, "It's just a story, kid. Whatever you want it to be. Ghostwriter uses it as a sort of guest book. Keeps track of the comings and goings from the manor. You can tell a lot about a person and what they write." 

"Mr Writer said I was very, very imaginative!" Youngblood chirped in from the other room. 

He wondered what could have netted that reaction but shook his head. Staring at the intimidating blank page, the phantom cleared his throat, “Does it really have to be a story? I’m kinda sorta failing English at the moment— clinging to my terrible two-point-five average—and I’m saving the creative juices for this argumentative essay I have on nuclear energy versus—” 

“Hey— babypop, Do I look like I give one ounce of a damn?” Ember picked at her nails before splaying them in a threatening manner. 

Right.

Danny swallowed dryly. 

Eyes fall back to the empty page. Couldn’t he just punch something instead? 

Pen in hand, he hesitantly put the tip to the stark white canvas. He pressed down. He could feel where the point was burying into the page. He exhaled. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing else—?” 

“Nope.” Ember returned emphatically, departing to the empty kitchen. Having grown bored from this. 

Shit. 

Resting the book back down on the table, he lingered on top of it. Pen still plunged into the desert that words were supposed to occupy. Danny wasn’t wired for stories like most teenage boys; oftentimes, he got so impatient with them— he wanted closure—resolution. Nothing that made him think. Nothing that made him dwell on his microscopic existence in the universe. No open-ended questions unless stinging a future sequel. There was so much stress in daily life it dominated the space and sucked up all the oxygen to fuel creativity. English wasn’t his thing. To make something seemed like such a burden. 

A burden Danny wanted no part in, thank you very much— 

Shutting the book, the ghost boy darted to the grand staircase in the entryway hallway— as deftly and quietly as he could, he began to take the steps one at a time.

However, nearing the middle, the stairs began to shift and jolt. There was a mechanism in the staircase that slotted into place, all of a sudden, the steps vanished. Sending the ghost boy onto his chin and back down to the ground floor. 

Ow. 

Pain centralized in his rapidly reddening chin and through his bottom jaw— See, this is how you chipped a tooth before the elementary winter recital. 

Youngblood toddled by to see the unexpected visitor on the ground and in pain. That sight was quite common. The little ghost poked Danny on the cheek with his sharpened claw finger all children seemed to possess. He did this until the Phantom glared up at the boy and demanded, “What?” 

“The stairs are magic, dummy.” Blood whispered as though this was secret and not evident. It was amusing to the tot as he began to rack with giggles. 

God, I hate kids. Ghost children are even worse.  

He was about to say something hardly age-appropriate before Ember’s thick platform boots emerged in his peripheral. The Phantom’s gaze shifted to her. The siren folded her arms over her ample chest, and she was a bit too smug for his liking. 

Grumbling, Danny thanked Youngblood for the tip. 

The younger beamed before trotting off to gather the rest of his toys. 

Ember’s hip hit the archway leading back into the kitchen; she hummed, “I’m beginning to think you have trust issues.” 

Parroting and mocking her tone, Danny hissed, “Don’t you have a shirt to go put on?” 

The ghost boy reared back and launched himself into flight. He would get up these stairs one way or the other!

Except this attempt was negated as he bounced off an invisible wall. A very prominent thud echoed through the foyer, much like how a bird would hit a window in the early morning. And that’s how you make a migraine worse— He gripped his forehead— “GOD— SONVABITCH BASTARD!” 

“Sid was right. You have no concept of patience, do ya?” She craned her head up to look at her intruder, rather unimpressed. The Siren scratched her abdomen absentmindedly, “Hey, be my guest; I won't stop you if you want to concuss yourself into next week.” 

“Sid? Like Sidney Poindexter?” Danny winced. 

“No. Sid Vicious—” The siren deadpanned, before snorting, “Who the hell do you think—? Do y’know many other Sids?” 

“I guess he thinks rather highly of you,” She squinted at the teen.

“I mean… I don’t see it.” Ember admitted with a shrug, “But the dipstick is just a pushover like that.” 

One had to speculate if Blood inherited his tact from his babysitter. 

Shoes landing on the floor, Danny was losing the battle to a house. Hard day for his ego.

"You choose to pull your own teeth." Her hair seemed to flicker at his hesitation. Her frozen fire turning skeptically, she took out another hair tie from her torn jeans pocket— taming her hair into a chaotic flaming bun. McClain tutted and pointed to the book behind him, "That's why you don't have fangs." 

She sighed, "You get in your way,” Concluding her assessment.

How many times have I heard that one? 

Hardly humbled, the phantom figured it would be easier to take the path of least resistance. He stalked back to the table and hunched over it. 

Ember watched as the ivory-haired boy agonized in silence for a few moments. Of course, making it way harder than it needed to be. She had to wonder what the Ghostwriter would make of this performance. Her thoughts drifted to him. Up there… alone. What did he think of her now? Could he stand the sight of her? That typewriter was the thing he managed to take with him into the next life. It meant the world to him. 

Because it was his whole world, she leaned the side of her head on the archway and pursed her lips.

It was ridiculous to be jealous over… an object. But Ember wished she could capture his attention like an ink ribbon. McClain wanted nothing more than to have his hands resting at her sides, instead. Ember was so used to breaking things on purpose. When was she supposed to learn to fix? When was she supposed to find the time to heal what she hurt?

Stephen had so little after all. He would never say so out loud, but he had to be angry— or worse… disappointed. 

Or maybe, it wasn't about her at all. She simply was craving a place in the narrative. 

From Danny's shoulder, he scribbled line after line. Hurriedly scrawling along the length of a page and like a bullet from a gun. The teen scratched through the first page and stamped the final period in place.

Irritated, the ghost boy chucked the book in her direction. It went through her stomach. The sound was like a sheet of metal warping on itself was punctuated by the hardback hitting the dusty checkerboard tile. Ember was unphased by this reaction; in fact, she yawned. Her thoughts were preoccupied with her roommate. 

"There. Done. Bye." Danny said in a single breath before vanishing upstairs. 

It wasn't in a tsunami's nature to fix things. It wasn't right for a flood to feel necessary.  Yet after a storm, when the sun broke over the aftermath—when the landscape was so fundamentally changed— there was an eerie stillness. A new kind of silence. How do you defy nature when the change was nature?

How do you navigate the dubious space between birth and death— and survive? What remains? Your fleeting material wealth? Your legacy? Your fading memory in minds left to erode? Can one persist because they refuse to say goodbye? But which version of you would endure; the typhoon or the tranquil shore? 

What do you do after the bough breaks?

Skidding at the top of the stairs, Danny entered into a long thin corridor that stretched on. This floor didn't seem to align with the floor previous. It stretched so far ad Infinium with doors that were exact echoes of each other; It brought to mind a hotel hallway. Yet who could need so many rooms? This didn't seem right. 

Light fixtures were holding a dingy green lampshade between every other door. Moths festered underneath the surface and scattered to the walls when the ghost boy approached. They had this pattern to warn predators of a possibly fictitious poison they possessed. The washed-out peach pinstripe wallpaper had the vaguest idea of life in its warm color. However, this feeling was quickly dashed as the phantom caught sight of the tiny holes where the insects fed and burrowed into the wall.

This caused his neck to twitch. It was such a human response to an infestation. Danny rested his hands on his belt and removed a wrist laser. Fastening to his arm, he picked a direction and began to walk. 

Licking his lips as his throat abruptly went dry, the half-reanimated child whistled, "Nice digs you got here, Ghostwriter." 

He spoke with a shaky smile, denying the tremor in his voice, "You gotta get me the number of your decorator… assuming he's still with us, that is…"

Faintly he could just detect the loud chiming bell of a typewriter just out of his earshot. 

Tap tap tap tap-taptaptataptaptap— BRRRNG— RIIIIIP— 

Danny took a hesitant stride towards it— 

"So you finally arrived? What a twist. I thought my plea would certainly fall on youthful deaf ears." 

The voice was righteous and hateful— and hushed. So hushed. 

"You didn't make it easy," Danny replied, "Come on out, we're just gonna talk—" 

"You bring weapons to talk to your friends?" 

The teen smirked with a stiff chuckle, "I just said we were gonna talk; I never said we were gonna be friendly about it." 

Behind one of the doors, Danny began to hear indistinct yelling. Muffled sounds of a lovers quarrel. Then a body fell to the floor. 

Jumping, he posed the wrist blaster at the door. It whirred to life, waiting for the trigger.

"I said you'll get your money! I promise! I just need mo—" the shrill feminine voice was barely audible.

The man didn't sound like a man, "You scum-sucking WITCH! You thief!"  

Bang… Thud…

Taptaptaptap— tap… tap tap…

BRRRRRNG… RIIIIIIP— 

Danny approached the door— twisting the faux crystal knob. Only to find nothing behind it. It was just a hotel bedroom with an unluxurious en suite bathroom with two queen beds with cheap scarlet sheets. It was empty. There was no couple. 

The only thing to be heard was his breath, hastening and hitching with the primal fear he tried to hide. Was this real? 

“I can assure you, Daniel. What you’re experiencing is just… a rough draft I'm trying to recall from memory. It's a bit hazy right now. I’m trying to find the voice of our heroine. What do you think?” Ghostwriter asked, a bit eager for some kind of feedback. 

Danny didn’t think his opinion mattered so much. 

“I was going for jaded and matured by years of trauma. I’m all I’m hearing is some damsel right now; it's a bit cliche as it is, isn’t it? I don’t want it to be some woman being saved by some big strong man— I think the piece is about… god, what is it about? Tell me when I’m rambling, Daniel; I do so prattle on when I’m in one of my moods.” 

Before the phantom even had a fraction of a chance to reply— 

“Wait, wait wait— I know how to fix this.”  

Taptaptaptaptaptaptap, tap tap tap, tap-tap… tap… tap… 

Tap. 

The door slammed shut on Danny’s face sending a plume of dust back in his direction.

 The fighting started again, things being thrown, the crack of a chair breaking into splinters on the ground. Blows landing. A body hit the closed door— causing the ghost boy to back up. Any illusion of violence now was all but confirmed. What once started as a shouting match now devolved into a fistfight. 

They were utterly fictional characters— dolls for the amusement of a sad delusional man, yet none of this logic made it to Danny’s brain as he was convinced more than ever to intervene. That was until two bullet holes exited from the door and lodged into the wall behind the phantom. He felt the hot burst of air from the weapon and the sharp snap of the hammer igniting the rounds. Red sticky fluid poured out from underneath the door, and it kept coming. Staining Danny’s white boots… 

It got real quiet after that. 

Now with the new advantage of looking through the exit holes from the door— Danny could see the covered face of the woman, shaking at what she had just done. Her curly black hair surrounded her heart-shaped face, hands colored in running mascara and… blood.  As though she attempted to resuscitate her partner after fatally shooting him. She wept into her palms. 

The Phantom reached for the doorknob once again, though his fingertips barely brushed it before a scraggly man with a goatee yanked open for him.

With beady and feral eyes, the disheveled house-body begged for an opinion, “Now how was that? Much stronger, right? Leaves with a haunting sense of intrigue and—Suspense and— what’s with the look on your face?” 

Ghostwriter with his inscrutable— unreadable expression of waning excitement. And in an instant, the hotel set fell away, revealing nothing but moths. Wave after wave of insects painted with wallpaper patterns, and the blood beneath Danny’s feet began to crawl in the opposing direction before flying off. Winged vermin of all manner of sizes and markings floated from their places and vanished— 

Still trying to catch his breath, Danny closed his posture at the sight of his bugs. They made his skin crawl. 

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” The ghost boy exploded, “You’re the one who emailed me—? It's not like I have time to waste—” 

Scoffing, Ghostwriter turned on his heel dismissively,  “Nowhere did I extend an invitation to my manor in my correspondence. I simply asked for a reply— I don’t know why I even bother to share my genius with the likes of you.” He dramatically declared the time of death for his burgeoning noir murder mystery, “It’s unsalvagable!” 

The moths migrated to the broken window overlooking the garden. The scribe followed them along their path, ensuring they didn’t deviate. The sound of his shoes clicked and creaked across the wooden floors, pairing with the wing-beats, “I don’t need to fulfill my existence by picking the brain of an incompetent child who couldn’t even die correctly. I simply did my civic duty reporting that malcontent Johnathan is— Jonathan—” He ground his serrated teeth, “He destroyed my… my— My connection to the past.” 

Squinting through the insult, Danny felt a razor on his tongue that he desperately wanted to spit, “Didn’t know there was grading curve on—” 

Eyes falling to the desk having been flattened by the bookshelves which had been upturned and discarded off to the sides. A minimal amount of clean-up went into making it up for guests. Danny distinctly remembered that the office didn’t look anything like this the first time he came here. It was a mess in here, like a robbery gone wrong. All you needed was the chalk outline of a corpse. Added with those little cue cards with large print numbers on them and incriminating items tucked into plastic baggies for the forensic team to analyze later. What used to be a desk was carved ornately with the images of lions chasing after their prey— was a heap of nails and sharp jagged broken wood. The white fleshy inner pieces contrasted the dark swirling patterns of the varnished wood, bringing to mind the intense images of bones tearing through the muscle. 

“What happened here?” Danny asked solemnly. 

Sullenly, Ghostwriter sighed. He stalked back to the front of the room, sinking into a plush crushed purple velvet lounge chaise. His arm outstretched for nothing, the storyteller buried his face into the fabric and shrunk in on himself. His energy seemed to be dissipating every second he was locked into this conversation. 

“Do they teach you anything about inference in schools these days?” 

“Fine! Explain it on the way. Let's go.” 

The opposition said nothing but gave the ghost teen a suspicious glance reserved for naked cultists wearing nothing but a cardboard suit adorned with one of their psalms on the front and back. Ghostwriter looked down at his curled nose with the same confused revulsion one would after shaking hands with someone covered in a suspicious substance. By all accounts, the idea of leaving the room sounded… unappealing and frankly… stupid. 

“I’m trying to help you,” The ghost boy barked, “You—pathetic use of post-consciousness!”  

The Ghostwriter barely perked up from his lackadaisical pose, “What a scathing retort from the protagonist foiled by an on-off switch…” 

“Get up!” Kicking the chair angrily, gnashing his teeth, “You’re the one who got yourself into this mess, and you’re gonna get yourself out of it, sad-sack!” 

“Oh, you want to hear something sad? I wouldn’t wish what you had on my worst enemy. If this were one of my stories, I would have made sure you stayed dead— look at you!— You’re the question mark meant for a meandering philosophical debate. Wandering around with no purpose like a child with a sheet over their head. You’re only aping off the actual despair of those of us who’ve authentically suffered! You confused little creature! You are an insult to life itself!” 

Gloves becoming bathed in an ominous green glow— Danny’s eyes became engulfed in fury that matched the Ghost Zone’s atmosphere. Green like a real nasty predator that rips the wings off of moths, simply for the joy of doing so, “THAT’S IT!” 

On the first floor, it was business as usual. Youngblood wanted his last little john scene before going home. And well, the pop ghost was willing to oblige. It wasn’t like she had any other plans. Ember spun a broom around, clashing it with Youngblood's wooden sword. They exchanged quips, though quickly Young became upset with the height advantage McClain had on him. He latched himself to her ankles, causing her to tumble over.

"That was pretty underhanded, kid. I like your style." She noogied him with her elbow. 

The little ghost stuck his tongue out. 

Seven knocks at the front door and the large white frame of the skull-faced warden entered the foyer. Kicking off the dust from his spurs. Matte black cowboy hat in hand, the man greeted, “Ma’am.” 

Ember gave a nod, “Ranger.” 

Youngblood bounced— pulling himself away from his babysitter, sprinting a path towards the white-suited man, “Daddy!” 

“There’s my deputy!” The man got to his knee, picking up his adopted son and corralling him within his embrace. 

McClain got to her feet and picked some debris from her jeans, “How’s it out there in the wild world, Walker?” 

Stoically he muttered, “I came as soon as I heard the halfa breached the portal. An’ he’s still parked outside… that appears to be the only trouble on the western front.” Walker let his boy crawl onto his shoulders and take a respite. 

Rolling a toothpick between his teeth, the warden queried, “Tell me, is the hoodlum behavin’ himself?” 

The siren didn’t say anything at first. Trying to hypothesize the motivation behind a living was a bit more nuanced than they could fathom. After all, it had been a while since anyone in this domain had been, in fact, alive. It was honestly a bit frightening how impulsive and impatient the Phantom was. Ember gave a teetering so-so motion of her hand, the dusty light dancing off her chain bracelets as she did so. 

“I imagine this is pertain’ to a certain… biker?” 

Flashing a coy smile, the popstar rubbed her neck, “And here I thought that big head was just for showing off your hat collection, Ranger.” 

“Charmin’ as always Ms McClain.” Walker popped his knuckles, “It is firmly established my jurisdiction ends right as ya’ll leave the boundary to the living plane. Anything that happens out there is not my responsibility.” 

Ember sighed and murmured, “You could at least pretend to care.” 

“Don’t let my respect for law be mistaken for apathy.” The warden shot back, sneering, “I am not the enemy here. The rules are not mine to change but to uphold—” 

“Enforce,” She corrected. 

Walker scowled. 

“Please don’t fight,” Youngblood whined, resting his chin on his father’s hat. 

Patting his son’s leg encouragingly, the warden’s whole effect changed. He attempted to look above the brim of his hat, “Hey, hey, don’t pay us no mind, chief.” 

He then looked down at his son’s feet. Walker glanced over at McClain, “Where’s his other shoe?” 

The ceiling in the kitchen then crashed into the tiled floor.  The air became even more muddled with the aged antiques. Danny Phantom having pinned the Ghostwriter, yanking on his wispy beard. Their bodies glittered with fiberglass and particles of insulation. Thankfully the pair didn’t sink any further otherwise, they’d be rendered to stains that needed to be washed out of the foundation. The Phantom’s fist kept raising and impacting the feeble author’s torso— he was on the brink of tears. Tears that burned his eyes and warped his vision with the reflection of his own monstrous green eyes— Tears that betrayed the anger he felt. 

Thinking fast, the author pushed the teen off of him with a concentrated shield made of ectoplasmic energy from his core. The blast sent the Phantom across the kitchen and into the superfluous french-door refrigerator. The metal box warped around his svelte frame— it hurt, yes, but that didn’t matter. It was going to hurt the Ghostwriter a lot more in a second! In a single fluid motion, the ghost boy ripped a door off the appliance. Fueled by nothing other than his own hormonal, irrational rage and adrenaline, Danny shifted to bring down the full force of the door onto the man— 

“Freeze, punk!” 

Snapping his head towards the warden, Danny quietly and hastily sequestered the fridge door behind his back. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “H-hey… Walker.” 

Then seemingly right on cue, a child’s shoe fell from the ceiling and landed in the center of the checkerboard battlefield, the tile now chipped and permanently marred. 

The trio of others observed the dust settling. Walker’s hand hovering over his neutralizing handcuffs, Youngblood’s eyes blown wide in awe of Danny’s strength, and Ember… Ember just looked unsurprised but infinitely more tired. 

—

The Fenton speeder's cabin remained entrenched in silence. Thank God. Ghostwriter was enamored with watching the Ghost Zone pass the vessel by. He claimed to get motion sick, but it didn't dissuade the ghost poet from pressing his face against the glass as if he was an animal being taken from his natural habitat. Which upon further consideration… seemed like an apt description. Danny had initially offered to let Stephen travel via the Fenton thermos with Cujo. Unsurprisingly, no one at the manor went for that. 

Add dogs to the list of things Ghostwriter was afraid of.

The vessel rocked and rumbled occasionally, yet rhythmically enough to be soothing. Danny sat behind the wheel, occasionally pinching his own leg to keep himself awake to diminishing effect. The numerous floating doors in the emerald sky loomed over their heads. The void kept chattering. Finally, the ghost boy broke a question into the air, "So, your name is Stephen?" 

"And your name is Daniel." The Ghostwriter tirelessly rapped his black claws on the armrest. Rubbing his sharpened ear on his wool-clad shoulder. Even natives to the Ghost Zone weren't immune to the churning calls and wailing. The doors that dotted the sky like stars emitted these noises, that you could almost ignore if you didn’t think about them. 

"Uh, right," the Phantom stared ahead into the empty road occasionally choking on the wheel to reroute around debris, "I'm not sure if anyone else already briefed you, but you can't call me 'Danny' outside of the Ghost Zone."

"That is your name isn't it?" 

"My pare—they don't…" Danny closed his eyes, dourly stumbling over himself, "They can't— I'm supposed to be a bad guy, so it's important that I-I keep up—I keep up the image." 

Shifting in the seat, it was uncharacteristic even for Stephen, but he felt… sorry. For Danny. The Ghostwriter felt sorry for another person besides himself. Disgusting. He held his bruised side— the flat-liner got a couple of good shots in there. Tonguing at a tooth— one of his molars must’ve been cracked in a fall. Though now he idly toiled away at trying to straighten his wildly bent frames for his glasses.  

No child should think of themselves as a villain. Even one as annoying as the Phantom. There was shame in how the ghost boy spoke about himself. 

Quid pro quo. The older specter found himself saying, "I can oblige." 

After a few demur but equally grateful thank yous, Danny took one hand off the wheel and rested a fist against his face. His eyes became half-lidded.��

Trust, like that of the existence of ghosts, was intrinsically dubious. Trust was something you gave with little hope of return. With each pass, it killed you that much more. Numbness shadowed betrayal, to make it easier to suture wounds up one would suspect.

“So who were you before you wound up here?” Danny had to keep himself awake, and not fall victim to the lull of the perpetual motion of the drive. In the learner’s permit manual, it was called highway hypnosis. He more than likely would forget whatever it was Ghostwriter would answer.

"Stephen H.G Phillips," He stated pointedly. The older specter crossed and uncrossed his legs several times unable to find space in the cramped tin-can vehicle, "You've never heard of me?" 

To humor him, the Phantom offered, "That's probably for the best. Usually in class we just study old…" he was trying to think of another word for, 'racists' but nothing was coming to him.

"I'm certainly not old enough to be studied." The poet concluded, before poking at a dial on the dashboard, "How long ago was nineteen-eighty-six?"

Tensing again, Danny exhaled sharply. Ghostwriter had to have been in his late twenties. The way he spoke with a stilted Edwardian drama, had thrown the Phantom off. If Kitty was someone's fun aunt, then Ghostwriter was the neurotic divorcee feeding stray cats next door. Stephen would have at least been fifty. He could have been fifty. The crack in Ghostwriter's glasses caught the light, causing the pilot to squint.

Stephen was offended by the boy's reluctance to answer, “Don’t be fooled into thinking that death isn’t a natural part of life. I’m quite aware I’m dead. I just don’t know for how long, you see." He then guffawed, "There’s never no-vacancies in a cemetery.” 

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a delight to be around, Stephen?" Danny couldn't help but press his foot harder on the accelerator. 

The older ghost under his breath the same dreary mantra he had been for the past several minutes, "The worms crawl in and the worms crawl out…" 

It was at this point Danny wished his mom didn't talk his dad out of installing a radio in the Fenton Speeder. Granted there weren’t any stations to pick up, but the white noise was infinitely better than Ghostwriter’s mediocre melancholic melodies. 

Next to them, giving them an escort was Walker and Youngblood on a pale horse with black spots on its haunches, the warden had leaned off his saddle to knock on the window, catching Danny’s attention. 

Through the glass, the Phantom was able to make out the sheriff’s gravelly voice, “End of the road, punk. Stay safe out there.” 

Ember who had been flying and keeping up their blistering pace also chimed in with a very graphic gesture of dragging her thumb across her throat, “If Stephen comes back with one hair out of place, they won’t be able to recognize your corpse, babypop.” 

“Happy trails, Mr Writer! See ya, Danny!” Youngblood waved from his father’s lap.

Nervously, the Phantom waved, before guiding his vessel towards the giant black tunnel that led back to his family’s lab, the basement of Fenton Works. The opening of that wormhole was swirling like the choppy currents of an ocean and rattled the vehicle like a capsule returning to earth’s gravitational pull. This was always the tricky part— 

The dashboard lights flickered and the alarms went off dying the cabin in an array of colors as well as the pressure in the air changing significantly with a pop. Danny fought the stuffy feeling in his ears, wiggling them by the lobes like he had just removed his head from the deep end of a pool, as well as keeping both hands on the wheel as the vessel would want to veer in any direction it could. Stephen meanwhile was hyperventilating. 

Did he know he didn’t need to do that? 

Didn’t seem like a good time to bring it up. 

In anticipation, Jasmine stood in the glow of the portal. If she stared at it harder maybe-- 

It could be her straight-laced personality, but Jazz did not like using her parents' equipment without their permission. Especially the portal, it made her skin pimple and her head pulse. 

Call it premature paternal feelings she had to develop in her folks' absence, but Jazz didn’t enjoy sending out her brother into the unknown while sitting on her hands. 

It was the sense of complacency. 

She had to be there for her brother because her parents couldn’t be. Jasmine didn’t blame her parents but… Danny’s condition was one of her worst fears come to fruition. She was quite anxious on her own and she didn’t think she would be competing with her once aloof younger brother. 

Life was a lot easier when all she had to do was make stove-top ramen for the kid and add canned chicken. To make sure he got his math homework done and his night light was plugged in. 

It turns out after the accident Danny didn't get a compilation of his greatest hits. Once the electricity connected with his skin and down to his nerves, all the youngest Fenton saw was black.

Jazz remembered that he was afraid of the dark for the longest time. She was unsure at what age she stopped checking for closet monsters. It was a blur. Suddenly Jasmine was in the kitchen trying to decipher boxed macaroni at age seven, and now she was here. In a blackout she created, making whoever was on call at the power company awfully confused. 

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN? 'IT'S OUT OF YOUR CONTROL.'" Mr Fenton was furious that he had to halt production on his latest and greatest. Not to spoil it, but the working title was 'the Fantastic Fenton Ghost Hot Dog Griller.' With the added attachment of a bun warmer. 

Pocketing a yellow knob into her hand-me-down bell bottoms, Jazz kept her eyes on the swirling of the portal. 

There was this part of her stuck between regret and bargaining. She racked her brain constantly. Where was she during Danny’s accident? 

What was so important? 

Wasn’t Jazz supposed to protect him from monsters in the closet and keep him standing up right after every fall? 

So, why couldn’t she remember? And why did it eat away at her every time he took off?

Without warning the blunt and wide end of the Specter Speeder came in skidding. Yelping, Jazz hit the deck. The blowback sent her body towards one of the cabinets with a hearty thud. Ow.

The seal of the cockpit was broken with a sharp hiss of the hydraulics and instantly sprayed with disinfectant mist. Danny exited the vehicle, "Sorry about the rough landing, Jazz."

“You’re lucky Mr Lancer didn’t keep me long or you would have been totally up a creek without a paddle!” She nursed the back of her head, it was still tender to the touch. 

“Good god I think I’m going to be ill.” The Ghostwriter emerged from the cabin only to falter and trip on the dismount. 

Jazz perked up, “Wh—who said that?” 

Danny stepped down from the wing of the speeder, tearing his attention between his sister and the ghost poet. His head still reeling from reentry, the ghost boy snapped his fingers to remember the plan, “Uh, this is Ghostwriter, er— Long story short I think he may be able to help us track down Johnny.” 

“May be?!” The elder Fenton exclaimed, “You’re banking on bringing a ghost into a house full of trigger-happy phasmophobics on a ‘may be’?!” 

“Yep.” 

Groaning, Jasmine finally stood up, slowly but surely rising to her feet, “I sure hope you know what you’re doing…” 

At this Stephen howled with laughter, “Oh yeah, he knows what he’s doing.” 

“Is he invisible?” 

“Intangible, darling.” Stephen’s voice now floated around the beakers around the back wall near the stairs. 

Danny sighed, before motioning towards the general direction Ghostwriter was in, "I was afraid this might happen-- see because he's never left the ghost zone he's never had to exercise his abilities out here." 

Two pale rings passed over his torso, and his tennis shoes hit the clean sanitized floors of the lab, "It requires a lot more concentration than it looks. Right now, he could maybe appear as a glowing orb on camera. When he figures out how to move, then he's a poltergeist." 

"Much like the pupa of a butterfly, poltergeists are a transitional form." It was amazing that despite Stephen being in the compromising position of being a ghost in the home of arguably ‘expert’ ghost hunters, he still had the most pretentious way of describing his predicament. 

Danny rubbed his temples, "Dude, don't say pupa-- say chrysalis like a human being." 

There was a beat of pensive silence. Followed by a chuckle, "If you could see what finger I'm holding up…" 

"Pupa is a pervert's chrysalis." 

Rolling her eyes, the elder Fenton irritatedly stated, “Freud would have a field day with you both.” 

"Not to worry," Stephen assured, "I've always fancied myself a fast learner. I managed to commit one hundred and fifty years of literature to memory in the time it takes a pimple to fester on your face." 

Instinctively the siblings gave each other a glance, before confirming that neither of them was blemish-y.

A conical flask rose into the air, rather precariously. Like a broken flashlight, the Ghostwriter's form rapidly strobed in and out with the fluorescents in the lab. The hum from the electrical equipment became a grating buzz. Channeling power from whatever source he could find. Laboriously, the Ghostwriter declared, "Voila, tres bien, and so forth." 

Danny raised an eyebrow, while his sister raised her hands hesitantly for applause. Though who claps for a cheap party trick?

"YOU'LL FIND THAT WE PAY OUR TAXES LIKE ANY GHOST-FEARING AMERICANS!" Mrs Fenton had her heated moment with the power company representative. Don't feel too bad, the power company representative called Mrs Fenton 'grandma'.

The distinct sound of quartz glass hit the floor, the Ghostwriter's glow dimmed. Add raised voices to the list of things Stephen turned wussy willow around.

"Is everything alright down there my little cherubims?" Maddie called from the top of the stairs, switching gears from her customer service 'can I speak to the manager?' persona. She suspiciously asked, "I thought I heard something break…?" 

"Sorry, mom, we're good--" "Love you mommy--"

The door shut. 

"So, I'll fix the fuse box, you put away the specter speeder, and talk down the parentals after?" Jazz leaned to the younger Fenton, "Kay-o?" 

"Okay," Danny smiled, only a little. Sometimes she just said the right thing at the right moment to let him know that he was among friends.

Ghostwriter then began to whine. Broken glass made him think about blood and blood made him think about blood on him-- blood on him-- blood on him-- blood in him-- oh God he was going to faint. Stephen managed to get out, "And, uh, what should I be doing?" 

"Right now, just stay out of sight," The ghost boy ordered, "shouldn't be too hard." 

"And don't touch anything!" Jazz tacked on as she scanned the lab for the dustpan. 

They certainly had their work cut out for them.

— 

If you were to ask Danny Fenton a week ago about how the inside of Dash's room looked— he would have probably said it shared a similar aesthetic to sitcom sound stages where all the mess was completely manicured and fake. A dedicated stage right and left and a revolving door of absurd side cast that made guest appearances. Right down to the divide in the center of the room to face an audience. Every piece of furniture is angled to the camera. A facsimile of the habitat the average American red-blooded teenage male thrived in. It was like Dash was always on exhibit anyway— it wouldn't exactly be surprising. 

The walls were approachable easter pastels, the floor was some inoffensive neutral colored carpet, to avoid clashing with the important objects in the frame.

He expected posters for whatever top forty band was popular. Scattered sports equipment across the floor, baseball gloves, and mouth guards littering the top surfaces of dressers. Yet if Danny were to pull open any of those drawers, he'd find them empty. He didn't have much in the way of imagination. His cynicism would only allow him so much after all. 

When Danny pictured Dash's room, he saw a snow globe. An idealistic fragile little thing, that could entertain you for a few minutes with its detail, before inevitably being forgotten to a shelf off to the side.

However, the reality of it, Dash Baxter's room was this narrow shoe-box style space. More than likely it was a walk-in closet converted into a small bedroom. It was an aloof shrug. It was something made out of sheer desperation, years ago that no one bothered to update. It was claustrophobic. You could stand in the center, and nearly skirt the stucco walls with your fingertips. The head of the bed was aligned with the window that overlooked the backyard. The walls were an unassuming, inexpressive grey. This was done in an unprofessional haphazard way because Dash didn't want to explain his bedroom is technically a nursery. Underneath the streaks of paint, you could parse the outlines of stars and moons lining the trim near the ceiling. If you looked closely, that is. Danny didn't want to, for some reason he couldn't. 

Guided by the moonlight pouring through the sheer curtains that rustled against his intangible body, Danny navigated the room quietly and quickly. At first, he was careful not to touch anything, but upon his entry, the Phantom misjudged the gap between the bed and desk and bumped a few things out of place. 

A box clattered to the floor, its contents hitting the root of the container. The sound of dozens of tiny pieces hollowly impacting plastic. Danny squinted at the label, it was an industrial first aid kit. The other casualties included some loose pencils and a book. 

Without any thought, the Phantom placed everything back onto the desk. His eyes then caught on a random open page of sketches. He recognized the subject of illustration. It was Valerie Grey. She was posed casually, from the side, away from the viewer. She was hunched over her desk and focused on what she was writing— in that regard it was rather true to life. The style of the drawing strayed closer to a model example. The light from the window caught on the waxy surface of a polaroid under Danny's boot. The photo was of Val from the same candid angle, though the notable difference was that she was looking at the viewer. An easy carefree expression graced her features. She stuck her tongue out and playfully winked at the person behind the camera. The caption of the polaroid was written heavy-handedly with a fat-tipped marker— but those semi-hollow circles dotted the 'i's. It was freshman year presidential election. The sketch was recollecting the distant memory a few seconds before or after the photo was taken. The signature on the sketch seemed to confirm that it came from Dash's hand. 

Danny furrowed his brow in disbelief. The Phantom could hardly draw a stick figure! 

The sketchbook was thick with random inserts. Pressed flowers, reference material, more polaroids, papers with other exercise sketches and the like— 

Most were anatomy studies more than likely copied from textbooks around the art studio at school. It seemed that Dash's natural style was a homage to silver age comic books or the pop work of Roy Lichtenstein. Something approximating real life, or at least a more entertaining form of it. 

With the reason why Danny was even here, completely put on hold. He kept curiously turning pages. 

There was a running joke where Kwan was referred to in various drawings as 'salad head'. 

A swath of drawings were of various dishes Kwan's family made with photo reference attached to the corners with paper clips. Dash captured the smallest details, like the patterns around the plate, or the steam rising from the fried fish. 

Danny had absolutely no motive to continue skimming through the book, but he did. He did until he was greeted with his own face looking back at him, the Phantom nearly dropped the book again. 

From the chest up, Danny had been rendered fast, messy linework. Smiling. In the illustration Danny had his thumbs tucked under his backpack straps and appeared to be walking to another class. There was the vague shape of the guiding hand of his sister on his shoulder. Ghosting over his drawn face he couldn't remember the last time he looked like that. The page was annotated as 'the Fentons'. No punchline. No commentary. The Fentons. Like they were just any other wandering inspiration for the secret artist.  

Promptly, Danny shut the sketchbook. He didn't enjoy that Baxter held him in his thoughts. Danny was in Dash's head and had no control over the outcome. Just how long was this going on? Every time they swapped homework to grade in class? Did Dash ask his sister specifically to tutor him? When they would randomly bump into each other in the hall? Was that planned? Unceremoniously, he threw it back onto the desk. He dropped into the rolling desk chair in a boneless heap. There was a mass of nerves that occupied the space between his ribs and stomach— it was hell. He could feel the air getting thinner. He could feel the oxygen being pressed out of his body. The mass of nerves occupied a large amount of space with no weight like the pink insulation found in attics. Dread stopped up his throat to reduce corrosion and water damage. His body was stuffed with fiberglass. Incomprehensibly small shards scraped against the lining of his chest.

Why?

Why, was the only question he was left with. Why him? Why now? Why Dash? Why? 

It's because Danny wasn't listening. He was thinking—feeling, seeing— but never truly listening. He wasn't paying any attention. 

The other question was: Why was Danny still here? 

That had a much more complicated answer. 

This was different from the occasional times he abused his powers to sneak into the girls' locker room to satisfy a momentary impulsive teenage curiosity. His stomach knotted and twisted with some unidentified need. It was painful— but he kept at it. Like a scab. As if he kept digging, the pain would almost seem worth it. Wouldn't it? What if he kept going?

Discovery wasn't always an enjoyable experience. It was the result of hands smeared with dried blood. Discovery coalesced with relief.

When would this feeling end?

It was then that Danny saw his glowing reflection in the blank computer monitor in front of him. It was older than anything the school used, which was surprising. It was this huge, dense white box with a thick glass screen. It was littered with dust collected on the backs of stickers peeling from the plastic surface. They were the kind of penny stickers with puns written in a glittery font at the front of grocery stores. Of course, there were others, there were stickers of technicolor cartoon bears and cutesy Japanese product mascots. A bit childish for someone of Dash's age. 

Danny looked at his own reflection for a moment. His hair was pearly and iridescent, the stray strands floated and burned into vapor. The clock down the hall tick-tick-ticked idly… 

The Phantom's gloved hands already found themselves on the computer tower, booting up the PC. 

Hello Dash's browser history and instant messages.

Cracking his knuckles and popping his neck, the ghost boy was met with a neon blue password screen that illuminated the darkness. Danny stifled a hiss at the stunning light.

Odds and statistics weren't on the ghost boy's side, by any means. To guess a computer password without the aid of something like a keylogger would leave someone guessing ad infinitum. The letter combinations alone would enter into the realm of thousands. Well, it's not like Danny would get any deader, right? He had the time to kill. Whether that was completely ethical or healthy use of it had been completely tossed out the window he entered from. 

The fact that Dash had enough technological literacy to even set a password, should have been applauded. To put it lightly, Dash's room was a catastrophe. Tangled, fraying wires plugged into overclocked power strips, empty Tupperware containers, an array of forks fountain soda cups with moldy bottoms more than likely becoming watery sugary clumps, an overflowing wastebasket of scrapped drawings, overdue homework, and whatever could fit inside. It was a lived-in space. He could practically see Dash walking in, exhausted, from whatever after-school extracurricular—more than likely student counsel—setting down whatever drink he got at the corner store on the way back and letting it blend in with the background noise of his room. Baxter then would remove layers of his public persona in spades. Starting with his book bag, then his jacket. He would sit down at his computer desk, lean back, put his face in his hands, and decompress. 

The rolling chair creaked with his weight, Danny mimicked how that would look. He stared up at the popcorn ceiling… 

The jock was something a movie buff, going by the posters on the wall. Danny typed some movie titles that came to mind. 

Texas Chainsaw, Jaws, E.T, Terminator, Friday the Thirteenth. 

All met with a shaking type window and a bright red X. Invalid password. 

See, if this were a real sitcom— Dash would have conveniently written down his password on a sticky note placed just out of the frame of the camera. Danny dragged the heavy drawers with significant heft drawn from his shoulder. 

With an open palm, the Phantom rifled through the desk drawers for this cliche neon-colored sticky note. The first drawer contained nothing more than excess paper, drawing tools like charcoal, kneaded erasers, and allergy medication. The second was more of the same that the first one couldn't fit, along with bottles of cologne and perfume— the gentle clatter of the glass was almost enough to make him hesitate.

Though really, Danny had committed to this as soon as he knew no one was around to stop him.

The third drawer was one that piqued his interest. It was the deepest, and heaviest one that rattled the metal rail, and the wheels were damaged. The third drawer jerked open hitting Danny in the shin. 

"OW! Son of a—" 

The sight of a half-naked man on the cover of a shiny magazine graced his sight— 

Bodybuilder magazines…? 

Under a thick stack of self-esteem crippling body image-destroying magazines, there was a collection of pulp paperback books of varying conditions and lengths. The covers of these books were painted illustrations of oiled-up shirtless men saving damsels, riding horses, or other increasingly preposterous activities to do in differing states of undress. Danny had a spark of recognition, these were usually in bulk discount bins near the front of the dollar store. The titles were also ridiculous, and often just outright stated what the novel was about.

'Kidnapped by pirates'

'Stowaway on a Viking ship'

'Ravaged by Scottsmen'

'The Samurai Prince and the Pharaoh take Manhattan and the same lover.'

What in the world…?

There had to be a dozen or so.

With a brief flip through, the ghost boy found several dog-eared pages paired with highlighted sections. Huge blocks of salacious text had been dyed neon shades of marker ink and annotated, with Dash's shorthand in the margins. Definitely not required reading.

Surprisingly, only one of these novels depicted… two male leads without a notable female romantic interest. The lilac title was in a swooshy, calligraphy-style font. 

'The Baker and The Draft-Dodger.'

The cover was of two men, who hadn't lost their clothes, laying on a picnic blanket under a tree. One wore a denim jacket paired with the biggest sideburns, while the second man had freckled skin covered by a conservative pinstriped button-up. Denim jacket was glancing at freckles… in a single look, Danny could understand and feel the longing drawn on the protagonist's face because it was the same expression Dash had when looking at him.

Further delving into the content of the book, it was significantly toned down from the others in the collection. It was yellowed with age— 

The front door downstairs opened, the sound of house keys impacting a glass bowl. Sneakers were inbound, jogging up the steps.

Hastily the Phantom threw the novels back into the secret drawer, and haphazardly removed any evidence that another soul had been in the athlete's room. Danny threw himself to the ceiling and remained perched in the corner. 

His dog arrived first, the chihuahua's frantic claws clicking and skidding across the floor. The animal slid into the door, using its baseball-sized head to open it. 

The athlete came in, throwing his gym bag to the ground. Baxter was loosening up his muscles from a long day at practice. Shuffling his feet, buzzing with leftover energy from the brisk walk home. He was holding another book, this looked to be a lot slimmer. A plain unassuming cover that had the title in a small type. They were stage directions or a script. 

Taking off his jacket with a yawn, Dash folded it over his arm and opened his closet to hang it up. Pastel plush animals came tumbling out which almost caused the Phantom to chuckle. Dash waded and nudged them out of the way, before rolling his script. Swearing under his breath, the jock clicked his lamp on.

While scanning the pages, the quarterback began to use a specially installed bar in his closet to lift himself off the ground single-handedly.

It was quite the sight to behold, as it didn't look like it was any great effort on his part. Aside from a grunt or sharp exhale here or there, the athlete kept the motion going.

The Phantom observed, watching Dash from afar. Like he always did. That seemed to be a recurring pattern in their lives, Danny was just always on the outside of Dash's little world. He observed Baxter as he must have worked through seventy chin-ups, and sweat started to bead on Dash's forehead, making his eyes burn. 

With his feet back on solid ground Dash maneuvered as if he was going to take off his shirt. It was clinging to him uncomfortably. His eyes lingered on the mirror on the back of his door-- deciding against it. Instead, pulling at the hem, stretching the fabric out. After a few threads popped, he ceased. Baxter balled up his fists with the end of his shirt. Blinking rapidly. He didn't want to look at his own reflection, at his own body. It was odd from what Danny could observe. How for a second when Dash saw himself…there was that look of disappointment in his reflection.

Trailing back to his desk, the quarterback wiped his face of sweat. Under his breath, he muttered a line while scavenging for the page. Scanning the pages with sweat stinging his eyes— the jock was straining to read the small print in the book. Baxter removed a pair of large square glasses from the first drawer of his desk, putting them on. They had thick charcoal rims with smooth vanilla-colored inner temples.

It was like the difference between Super-Man and Clark Kent. Flaws were something that couldn't be replicated, which ultimately made someone infinitely priceless. That's all humans were: imperfect. 

If Danny could feel his face it would be flush. He has never so badly wanted to reach out and touch something. It was inexplicable. He wouldn't even know what to do after making that contact. The why didn't matter so much, the need. The need to just-- touch him. To confirm that he was real. He found himself clutching his hands together, so tight, to imitate some kind of closure. 

God, what was wrong with me? 

"... Now hear this—" Dash read aloud, before clearing his throat. He eased into the line with a wariness. It was Natural. It startled Danny that Dash sounded irritated in an instant. He was speaking as if demanding to be heard for once in his life. Agony coming from being spoken over for too long. 

Something Danny never thought could be possible for the jock. Through most of his life Dash either had nothing to say or tripped over his own tongue.

He spoke with an unrelenting hushed precision, "Now hear this, Willy. This is me." 

This is me.

Something Dash could never actually say outside the safety of this room. 

Baxter repeated with conviction, "This is me."

The second time, the jock took the line hitting his chest. There was a fitful solace in his voice that caused Danny to shiver.

Dash looked so small from up here.

Stop thinking, Fenton. Danny shook his head like faltering through a punch.

"You know why I had no address for three months?" Dash asked nostrils flared, "I stole a suit in Connecticut and I was in jail." 

Taking a moment, his face softened. He broke character, Dash then remarked, "It was Kansas… Kansas City. Where did I get Connecticut?" 

The quarterback then placed the book open on the floor and began to plank above it, mouthing the words silently to fine-tune the delivery. Dash had returned to his nightly exercise routine.

Johnny wasn't here. Danny was completely lying to himself if that's his reason for staying behind. It was aided by the fact that this was completely inappropriate. Normally Danny didn't have such a loud conscience about this type of behavior. The longer he stayed, observing Dash from the ceiling of the bedroom, he felt weird. His stomach hurt.  

Danny, like most teenagers, had a hypocritical relationship with privacy.

Sure, he didn't respect the lock on Jazz's diary. He didn't respect the locks in most places. If Sam wanted to keep him out of her house, she would say something. Actually didn't want to know most of what Tucker told him willingly. This was different. The Phantom was transfixed but painfully aware. If there was a line— it was coming into view again. Floating to the floor, Danny still had to check the rest of the perimeter for it to count as an actual check. The wood creaked under his boots— 

Pookie, who had been sleeping soundly in a ball on Dash's bed, twitched an ear to the noise. The chihuahua growled, lifting his head toward Danny. Despite being invisible, animals still had some sixth sense humans didn't have.

Pantomiming the universal sign of 'shut up', Danny wordlessly gestured to the dog. He did not want this to be his impression as the Phantom, some weirdo degenerate who watched people in their homes.

Pookie stared at the ghost boy and began yapping. At first, being aggressive, but then after some hesitation, the dog entered a play stance. Barking and reaching a single paw up to his friend from the other day.

Launching himself from the bed—Pookie hit the ground and grunted. Pinning himself to the wall Danny attempted to move, only for the floor to keep giving him away. Squeaking underneath his weight. This only led to Pookie following the phantom more closely—making attacks on his shoe. 

"Go…! Get away!"  The Phantom snarled. 

Dash groaned, “Pookie, c'mon I can't play right now." 

Biting his lip—Danny needed to stay absolutely as quiet as a corpse could be. But the chihuahua had other plans. Since Pookie couldn't get Fenton’s attention by chewing on his footwear, he elected to go find a toy to present. 

Pookie sprinted down the hall, using Dash as a launchpad. The athlete collapsed from his position, annoyed but amused like most pet owners were.  He rested on his hip, before rising. While Dash's gaze followed the dog out of the room, his body moved to the window. The window Danny was currently in front of. 

On the surface Dash had extended his arms to draw his curtains closed, seeing that Pookie might have gotten hysterical over a squirrel. Though in reality, Dash had stuck his arm straight through the ghost boy's chest. 

Danny sucked in a breath—

It didn't hurt. Was it weird that he wanted it to? To feel something, to tell him that this was wrong? 

Normally when Danny hit a dead-end chasing down a poor decision, he would redirect. Or give up. It was usually the latter. He put one foot in front of the other and suddenly he was in front of the computer again. This was no longer an impulse, it was a compulsion for information.  Hands trembling with adrenaline. He had to think— he had to think—

They were more alike than different so— 

What password would Danny use? 

Danny Baxter 

… 

… 

The loading wheel animation briefly froze as if it was going to boot up the desktop.

Invalid Password 

He wasn’t sure to be relieved or to be offended. With an even slower approach, the ghost boy pigeon typed—

Danny Fenton 

… 

...

Invalid Password

The Phantom's brow furrowed. He meant something to Dash! Didn't he? He had to. He must've. It seemed now that they couldn't untangle the mess they created, the only solution was to trace it back to its origin and interrogate it. Why did Dash like him of all people? The jock could have anyone he wanted, so why… so why Danny? Why Danny Fenton? 

None of it made any sense! 

Without thinking or much effort, the Phantom ripped the bulky monitor off the desk and threw it into the wall. Exhausting it to shards of glass and motherboards. It took a chunk out of the drywall too—creating a sizable dent. Sending out of a puff of powdery remains. 

Yeah, paint is not gonna cover that.

The chemicals and hormones released when experiencing attraction—love—Oxycontin, Dopamine, Norepinephrine—were associated with decreased appetite, sleeplessness, and extreme relentless euphoria. It was science. And in science, there was cause and effect. There was some semblance of law and order. 

But… this?

This all just some elaborate joke? It had to have been, right? 

Maybe that was just wishful thinking on Danny's part. 

He wanted to be the fool. He knew what that felt like. He knew what it was like to be nobody at all. 

But now, he was diving headfirst into something new. Something unknown. 

The loose cord from the monitor whipped things from the desk to the floor again. His hands glowing with toxic green energy, Danny just wanted to destroy all of it. The lamp must’ve been lost in the scuffle because a beam of light from the hallway caught his attention first.

Danny snapped his gaze to the creak of the hinges. There was a silhouette in the door frame. 

Eyes wide in terror, Dash's line of sight went from the fresh dent in the wall, his computer monitor smashed to bits, to the mess scattered along the floor, the trash caught up in the whirlwind, and finally the ghost in the center of it all. 

"Wh-What the hell?!" 

The Phantom wondered how his must've appeared. A malevolent entity surrounded by carnage with scleras reflecting and twisting the moonlight like a wild animal. Those soulless green eyes that glowed like embers— yet the room around them became static with a sudden chill. The sound of frazzled wires trying to connect and finish their circuit. It must've looked like something out of a horror movie. To find something so alien— something vague in humanity—encroaching on the place you felt most safe.

Seething, chest heaving, "Why'd you have to go and complicate EVERYTHING?!"

The sight was enough to make a nonbeliever quake with the fear of a god above. 

The accusation only caused the living teen to become more confused. His lips twisted into an expression that held back a scream, if only just barely. Dash stumbled back until his spine hit the balcony guard rail, if he were any more desperate to get away, he might have just fallen through to the ground floor. 

WHY WON'T YOU LET ME HATE YOU?!

His voice cracked, "P-please, don't—" 

The utter helplessness in his words was enough to make Danny halt completely in place. Without realizing it, the ghost boy had his fists clenched and energy pulsated behind the skin of his palms. Danny was blurring his waking and slumbering lives. 

Then all at once, the Phantom became afraid. Not of the situation, not of his tormentor standing across from him—but the Phantom was afraid for Dash. Because Danny was in control.

There was nothing to stop Danny from burning one side of the living teen's face with frostbite. He had thought about that specific scenario a lot since receiving his powers. The asymmetry was required. Danny wanted to ruin the quarterback just enough. And that thought was terrifying. It was this near childlike desire to rip him apart and put him back together. To choke the life from blond and suture it onto his own skin— praying that his body wouldn't reject it. That somehow by being terrible people, they were compatible. 

Danny wanted to ruin him. It was so much easier to make a monster than to admit there never was one there to begin with. He wanted to ruin Baxter just enough so that everyone could call him by his name but hesitate to do so. 

Like a broken bell, the sound would never be exact. 

The Phantom took a breath. Shuddering and stuttering, blue wisps exited his mouth. Two. Then four. Johnny wasn't here. There was no need to prolong this. 

As Danny glared down at the floor, his joints popped, loudly and awkwardly. Rendering himself intangible he sunk through the carpet and out of sight.

Watching the figure vanish right in front of his eyes— Dash nearly felt his legs give out but had enough sense to hold the balcony railing. 

Baxter's parents were gonna blame this one on him, too, weren't they? 

[deans-baby-momma]

Once In A Lifetime

A/N: Well guys. I guess you can say I fell down a rabbit hole....DEEP down a rabbit hole. And I’m going to blame Walker. LOL I’ve always been a Jensen/Dean girl with Jared/Sam curiosity and after a dream I had a few nights ago, THIS happened.  Now the dream was only the first part of this story, meeting them in a restaurant but them, while writing it took on a life of it’s own and I am not sorry in the least. 

Summary: During your shift as a waitress as a restaurant in Austin, you are surprised to find two of your favorite celebrities in your section. How will that encounter cause you to have a once in a lifetime experience? 

W/C: 11,138 words ( I’m not the least bit sorry)

Y/N: Your Name; Y/E/E: Your employment establishment

Warnings: ogling, fantasies, smut, p in v, fingering, v on v, oral (both giving and receiving), fisting, anal play, cum play, dirty talk, slight breeding kink, squirting, daddy kink, mama kink

"Holy shit," I exclaim before clapping my palm over my mouth as there were three adorable children in the vicinity. "Sorry. My name is Y/N and I'll be your server today," I say as I try to calm down. Jared and Genevieve Padalecki were seated in my zone at Y/E/E. "Can I interest you in some appetizers or some coloring pages and crayons for the kids?"

I can't help but glance around at the five of them. They two boys sporting the longer locks like their dad and the little girl, all dolled up with her light brown hair flowing down over her shoulders. They were three of the six most adorable kids in the world; the other three being the Ackles kids but I had yet to see them in person, only on the computer.  

“We will take some buffalo cauliflower bites and some mozzarella cheese sticks with marinara,” the loveliest voice I’d ever heard spoke. I look toward Genevieve to see her smiling at me, her brown eyes sparkling. 

“And-” I pause to swallow. “-for drinks?”

“Whatever is on tap for Jared, I’ll take a sweet tea with lemon and the kids will have Sprite,” she tells me, the smile on her face unmoving. ‘God she’s gorgeous,’ I think to myself as I write down the orders. ‘Jared is one lucky son of a bitch.’

I grin as I tell them I will be right back with their drinks and head toward the server area. I throw my pad down on the counter and lean against it, my palms flat against the granite. How the fuck am I going to get through serving them? I have had a crush on Genevieve since I watched Wildfire a few years ago. And then when I caught an episode of Supernatural and got a glimpse of Jared, I was in lust, for both of them. 

And now I had to cater to and serve them while being professional and less of a crazy fan. Yea that isn’t going to happen. I know myself too well. I’m going to do or say something that will absolutely humiliate myself in front of the two celebrities I have adored for years. 

Thanks to some tactical breathing exercises while waiting on their food and an internal pep talk, I got through serving the Padalecki family and when they asked for the bill I was a bit saddened that their visit was coming to an end. I knew I’d probably never see them again.

As I printed out their receipt I lamented the fact that the one time I met anyone famous it was at work and I couldn’t ask for an autograph or photo with them. I smiled as I gave them the sales slip and walked away. 

From my post behind the server’s desk I watched as the five of them got up and walked toward the door. Genevieve looked my way and smiled and waved as they left. I returned the gesture and giggled. 

After making sure the coast was clear, I approached their table to collect the payment and take it to the register. What I wasn’t expecting with the cash, was a handwritten note with a phone number on it. 

‘Y/N your service was magnificent. Here’s a little tip for you and a bigger one awaits, if you are interested. (xxx)xxx-xxxx. ~Gen’

Did she really expect me to call her? Was this even her real number? What kind of tip is she referring to anyway? I look at the money in my hand to see that they have paid almost $50 more than their bill! What bigger tip than that could it be?!

I waited until my shift was over and I was in the comfort of my own vehicle before I pulled the piece of paper with the number out of my apron.

Opening the text app with shaky fingers, I typed out the response I had thought of all evening.

Hey. Is this Genevieve Padalecki? It's Y/N from Y/E/E. I was your waitress earlier. 

Almost immediately my phone pings and I see that whomever I texted had responded.

Hey Y/N. Yes, it's me. Glad to see you found my note.

Yea, I did. What I can't figure out is why you left it. Did I do something wrong?

Oh sweetie no! You were the perfect hostess. Sweet, friendly, easy on the eyes ;)

Whoa, was this married woman flirting with me? This famous married woman who had an attractive, sexy, famous as well husband. 

Uh, thanks. 

You caught not only my eye but Jare's as well. We'd like to get to know you better.  Have you already gotten off? From work, I mean. Ha!

Ok, if that isn't flirting then I don't know what is. That was definitely an innuendo, right?

Yes. I'm sitting in my car.

Wanna come over? The kids are in bed. Us adults can talk without interruptions. 

Uh, okay. I'm gonna kinda need your address. I might be a fan but I'm not that kind of fan.

Gen sends me her address, along with the code to get into the gate. I realize they live in the gated community about 45 minutes away. 

I look in the rearview and notice my hair is frizzy and half of it has fallen out of the ponytail it was in. I really didn't want to show up on their doorstep looking like a charity case but then again was I going to pass up the opportunity to get to know two of my favorite celebrities?

If you aren't interested we completely understand.

Gen's message breaks me out of my reverie and I look at it, deciding what the hell.

On my way now. 

We can't wait to see you again Y/N!

I place my phone in the cupholder and start the car up, still in shock that I'm headed to the personal home of Jared and Genevieve Padalecki. 

What universe am I in?!

I get to their house and Genevieve meets me at the door.

"Hey Y/N," she greets me with a smile. "Did you have any trouble getting in the gate?"

"No, it opened right up as soon as I punched in the code." 

Gen is dressed down for the evening. Well, as dressed down as I'm sure famous rich people can  be. She is wearing velour sweat shorts, probably some name brand designer and her t-shirt has the Family Business Brewery logo and name printed on it. 

And here I look like a slob who can't care for herself. I so do not belong here.

"Come on in," Genevieve continues as she opens the door wide. "Jared is in the kitchen making us ladies some drinks."

"Uh, I don't know. I mean, I still have to drive home later."

"Or you could stay," she says as she takes my hand and stands right in front of me. Genevieve is just a couple inches taller than I am so we are practically face to face. 

"Oh."

That's all I can say. It is glaringly obvious now what this visit is. And if I said I wasn't down for it I'd be lying!

Gen smiles as she takes her free hand and reaches behind me, pulling the tie from my hair. I feel the weight of it fall to my shoulders. 

"That's better," she says then turns and pulls me further into the house.

We get to the kitchen and Jared is standing there, dressed down also in a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt. I can't stop myself as my eyes run down the length of his body.

The t-shirt doesn't do much to hide the breath of his shoulders or the bulk of his pecs,  the arms of the fabric stretched tight over his biceps. As my eyes wander lower, I realize that all the rumors I'd heard about the heft and length of his 'conda were not exaggerated as I can definitely see the outline of it behind the silky material of his shorts.  But what really draws my attention is the definition of his calf muscles; even relaxed they distend from his legs, the skin taut over them.

"Hey. You made it," his voice brings my attention back to his face. "I'm Jared."

"I know," I say sincerely, internally wincing at how nervous I sound. I smile to hide the uneasiness.

"Yea, I kinda figured that out at Y/E/E by your reaction," he chuckles as he hands a glass to his wife.  "Gen wanted a margarita but we have some craft beer in the fridge if that is more your taste. It's really good. Our friends, Jensen and Dee, own a brewery."

"Family Business," I state with a nod. "I've wanted to go check it out but haven't had a chance,  yet."

"Well, maybe we can get you a private tour sometime," he tells me with a wink. "Now, name your poison."

I settle for a Cosmic Cowboy, Jared grabs a Grackle for himself and the three of us make our way to the living room.

Their house is magnificent. There are logs, de-barked, as beams across the ceiling and even the staircase is made of the same type of wood. I'd seen it in a family picture on the internet but never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I'd be inside this home to appreciate the beauty of it.

The Padalecki's and I talk for what seems like hours. We all seem to have so much in common. Eventually I had traded the beer for one of Jared's famous margaritas,  thanks to Gen's suggestion and before I knew it I was on my third one and not feeling any pain.

A smile was glued to my face and I couldn't stop giggling. I was drinking with Jared and Genevieve Padalecki! Who would have ever thought that.

Jared takes the almost empty glass from my hand and laughs at the pout I give him.

"Ok lush," he says with his own deep giggle. "If you get too drunk we can't talk about what we invited you here for."

In my inebriated state, I say words I never in a million years thought I would ever utter. "You want to fuck me."

Jared looks surprised and glances at Genevieve, which causes me to look at her as I realize what I just said.

Can you go from intoxicated to sober in less than 5 seconds? Because I just did!

"Oh my god!" I exclaim. "I'm so sorry. I have no filter when I've been drinking."

I start to fidget and prepare to be thrown out of their house. I am taken aback when Gen smiles and says, "Yes we do."

There is a trail of clothing from the top of the staircase down the hall to where we are now. My body is being held up against the wall as Jared devours my mouth, Gen's lips on my neck and shoulder.

"You are so fucking sexy," she whispers and I whimper into her husband's mouth. "You caught my eye as soon as we walked into Y/E/E this evening. I knew I wanted you and Jared agreed."

"Let's take this into the bedroom," Jared murmurs against my lips and hoists me up by the back of my thighs, urging me to wrap my legs around his waist.

He carries me into the room with Genevieve following closely behind. He lays me back on the bed and hovers over me, his body pressed tightly to mine. I can feel his erection digging into my lower stomach.

"Jared," Gen calls in a sultry, seductive voice. "Share."

Jared pushes up off of me and Gen steps between my open knees. "Let's get these panties off of you," she says and I notice that she has already removed hers plus her bra and is standing at the edge of the bed in all her naked glory.

To say Genevieve Padalecki was beautiful would be an understatement but her nude? Well it just amped up the sexiness by a bajillion. She has no hair on her pussy, shaved (or waxed) clean. Her tits are perfect handfuls with pretty little rosy pink nipples that are erect and hardened. 

She has pulled her soft brown hair up into a makeshift bun and I watch as she reaches forward, her dainty fingers curling into the hem of my plain panties. Thank god I took the time before work to landscape!

She gasps as my equally shaven cunt is exposed as she pulls the garment down my legs and off my feet. 

"Such a pretty little pussy huh Jared?"

Jared comes back into my line of vision and he smiles at me before his eyes trail down to look at my bare body.

"So pretty," he says breathlessly as his hands come up and around his wife, his big hands covering her tits. "Bet it tastes so good. You gonna let Gen eat you out Y/N? Let her taste that sweet box."

I nod and he tsks. "Words Y/N. Use your words little kitten."

I swallow audibly and speak. "Yes. I want Gen to eat my pussy."

Gen smiles as she turns her head and kisses Jared passionately. After a few seconds though he pulls away, and pushes her closer to me. "Get to licking, baby while I open you up."

Gen bends down and I feel her hands on the inside of my thighs close to my center. The first touch of her tongue against my folds has me moaning like a porn star. She doesn't even breach my slit, just licks up the middle and then sucks on my outer lips.  

She moans and I look to see Jared has disappeared, on his knees behind her eating her out as she does the same to me. I can already feel the coil deep inside constricting. This is the most erotic sexual experience I have ever or will ever have!

When Gen does finally lick me open,  she immediately wraps her lips around my clit suckling and flicking the tip with her soft tongue. I feel a finger stroking around my entrance before it enters me. 

"Mmmmm," Gen moans and I open my eyes that I didn't even realize were closed. Jared is back in my line of sight, looking down as he notches his cock at her entrance.

He then places his hands on her hips and drives himself forward, burying inside his wife. Gen moans against my skin and I feel that coil tightening. I don't want to cum just yet so I brace against it, holding my release back.

With Jared's deep hard thrusts Gen's body bounces forward pushing her face closer into my pussy. She trades her finger inside me with her tongue and her thumb is rubbing circles around my clit as she licks my fluttering walls. 

My orgasm is bearing down and I'm beginning to fear I won't be able to hold it back.  

Jared is grunting and groaning behind her,  his eyes fixate on his wife's task of fingering me and licking my clit and labia. 

There is so much pressure between my legs I have to bite my lip to contain the scream that is begging to be released.

"Holy fuck!" Gen exclaims, pulling my attention to her. "Look babe. I have my whole hand inside her."

Jared's eyes travel to the spot and they widen as they take in the view. "Fuck! That is so goddamned hot."

Gen begins a soft thrust with her arm, twisting her wrist and letting her fingers hit my sweet spot. I see stars as I yell out. "I'm gonna cum!"

"Go on Y/N. Cum all over Gen. She wants it."

I let go and the pressure lessens as I feel my walls constrict and liquid squirts out around Gen's hand.

"God that was hot!" They both exclaim simultaneously and laugh.  Gen bends down and begins licking and suckling at my cunt as Jared continues his hard pace.

He slaps her ass twice and then stills,  groaning as I'm sure he is shooting his load inside her. Gen places her forehead on my inner thigh, catching her breath as Jared pulls out and looks down with a smile. 

"Baby you are leaking so much cum it's dripping on the floor."

When Gen moves out of the way, I get my first look at Jared's massive dick. And when I say massive,  I mean massive.  Not only is it ginormous in length but the girth is unbelievable.  How does he keep something that size hidden so well?

His hand is around the still-hard member and he looks at me as he fists up and down. "You ready?"

"Yes," I tell him confidently although inside I am not.

Gen has left the room, gone into their ensuite to clean up I'm sure. "Should we wait?" I ask hesitantly. 

"Nah, she knows I plan to fuck your brains out. She'll rejoin shortly."

“Okay,” I say with a nod and watch as Jared climbs onto the bed, walking on his knees to place himself between my legs. He is still fisting his cock, the mixture of his and his wife’s release lubricating the movement. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks tentatively and I look up at him. He has one palm on the mattress beside my head and is hovering over me, but not touching.

I nod and then with a quirk of his eyebrow I remember his request, to use words. “Yes. Please kiss me Jared.”

Jared leans down and brushes his lips against mine softly but firmly. When his tongue touches the seam of my mouth, I open for him allowing him to lick into me. The kiss quickly becomes deeper, more passionate. My hands automatically reach up and my fingers entwine in the long locks on his head, pulling him closer.

Losing his balance, Jared falls on top of me, his hand that was holding him up, cupping the side of my face as we both get lost in the kiss. I can feel his moist, damp dick on my stomach and it causes me to writhe. God, I so desperately want that monster inside me!

The bed dips with Gen’s return and her hands run over the part of my skin that is visible under Jared’s large form. 

“You two look so fucking hot together,” she whispers as she kisses along my neck. “Y/N, you going to let Jared fuck you? Feel that big dick of his filling up that perfect little pussy?”

I can’t answer her because Jared is still kissing me senseless so I whimper and dig my fingers into his scalp. Her words are music to my ears, the assurance and suggestion  of what all he is planning to do to me all the encouragement I need. She is okay with me fucking Jared; she is actually urging it. I pull away, opening my eyes to see his hazel ones, lidded and filled with lust. 

“Fuck me Jared,” I say and he smiles as he lifts himself and grabs his dick, notching it at my entrance. 

“Ready baby?”

I nod and smile before saying, “More than ready.”

The stretch of my walls around his dick is a pleasured pain. It feels so good as he keeps sliding deeper in until it feels as if his tip is going to puncture through my cervix. I look down between us to see that he is to the root inside me and it makes me wetter, if that’s even possible. 

Gen pinches my chin between her thumb and fingers and turns my head to look at her. “Y/N, Jared is going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I answer breathlessly. 

Gen claims my lips with her own as Jared slowly and torturously pulls out until just the head of his dick is inside me. I feel his hands grip my hips and then he plunges into me in one swift movement. I can’t help but cry into her mouth as he sits the same fast hard pace as he had with her, his dick stretching my pussy and digging in deep.

I pull away from Gen’s mouth to yell. “HOLY SHIT! OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD!”

“Yea, you like that don’t ya?” Jared pants as he keeps thrusting into my willing body. “You like being impaled on my big dick huh?”

“Yes! Yes! YES!”

Gen reaches between us and uses her fingertip to rub circles on my clit, making that coil deep inside me tighten. I am going to be cumming any minute now, I know it. I can’t hold it back even if I tried.

“You going to let Jared fill you up. Pump you full of his cum until you’re leaking like I was? Yea, you are, aren’t you? You want to feel him throbbing and shooting his load into your womb.”

Her words make my eyes roll into the back of my head and I scream as I feel my climax bearing down. Without any more prompting from either of them, I once again feel that pressure from earlier and before I know it I am squirting out around Jared’s dick, my release splashing against his thighs.

“Fuck!” he exclaims as he ramps up his efforts and suddenly I feel the warmth of his cum and the throb of his length as he empties inside me, his grunts and groans barely heard over the blood pumping through my ears. 

Jared claims my mouth again, his cock still buried deep in my pussy as it softens. 

I just fucked this man while his wife watched, after having her way with me. Whose life is this?!

My eyes slowly open as I come to consciousness. I am hot, sweaty and uncomfortable and the need to pee is overwhelming. I go to roll over but am met with resistance, from both behind and in front of me.  What the hell?

I fully open my eyes and take in the view. That is not my ceiling and this is not my bed. My mattress has never been this soft, even when it was new.  I look down and see the ivory sheets and the maroon comforter and it all comes back to me. 

I fucked Jared AND Genevieve Padalecki! I am in their bed, in their house snuggled up between them.  I had sex with a married couple; not once, not twice but three times they fucked the daylights out of me. And I enjoyed every second of it.

I squirm as I feel something moving inside me, slowly making its way out of my body and sigh when I feel a clump of Jared’s cum slide out and down my ass, landing on the sheet under me. God, he cummed so hard and so much last night, filling both me and Gen up. 

And as good as it felt, it tasted even better. Especially out of Gen’s pussy. I had licked it right up as it poured out of her hole and onto my lips and tongue and she reciprocated before we teamed up and took turns swallowing him down, his palms cupping the back of our heads as we knelt in front of him, licking and sucking his cock.

My bladder takes me out of my reminiscence as the urge to piss becomes palpable and I wiggle and shift until I am out from under Jared’s arm and go to crawl over Gen’s sleeping form, unintentionally waking her.

“Hey sweetie. Where are you going?” she asks sleepily and the torpor in her voice is sexy and sensuous. 

“I gotta pee,” I tell her and she smiles before lifting her head to kiss me. 

“Ok baby. Hurry back.”

I walk into the ensuite and quickly sit on the toilet to do my business, still reeling from the events of last night. How the hell did I end up here? And how am I going to recover from having my dreams come true? How am I supposed to go back to my normal, boring existence after such an experience?

As I finish up and wash my hands, I decide that I’m going to leave while the leaving is good. What if they regret it? What if it wasn’t what they expected? What if I was just a first choice when they decided to have a threesome? Too many what if’s and not enough answers for my taste.

I tiptoe back into their room and grab my panties from the floor, pulling them on when I realize the rest of my clothing is thrown throughout the hallway. Shit! If the kids were up and strolling around the house they would see the waitress from the restaurant in their house half naked. 

“Y/N?” Gen’s voice causes me to turn my head to see her up on one elbow looking at me confused. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Y-yea. I think that would be best, don’t you?”

“Hell no. Get your perky little ass back in the bed,” she said authoritatively. “And take off those panties. I want to be able to touch you and caress you.”

I do as she says and she scoots closer to her husband as she pats the mattress in front of her. I climb in beside her and she promptly pulls me to her, her hand cupping my sex as she kisses along my ear. She whispers, “I’m never going to get tired of this pretty little pussy,” as she begins drawing circles on my clit and running her fingers down my folds. "Could eat it everyday and never get enough.”

I whimper at her words and she smiles against my skin. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Me eating you out everyday, fucking you with my tongue, my fingers, my fist. Shit, I’m getting wet just thinking about it.” 

Her fingers tease my opening before two of them slide inside, curling up to hit that sweet spot. My back arches off the bed as I moan. “Yea, you like that don’t you. You like me fingering you.” She scissors her digits open and closed as we both groan at the slick that has accumulated. 

“Cum baby,” she urges. “Come on Mama’s hand.”

My climax comes out of nowhere as Gen sits up, propping her body with her free hand as he other works me furiously through my release. I watch her with bated breath as she removes her hand and licks her fingers clean. “Mmm, tasty.”

When she is done, she leans down and kisses me, her tongue prodding into my open lips, letting me taste the sweetness of my tang on it. I run my fingers through her hair, fisting them. 

“Jesus, what a sight to wake up to,” we hear Jared’s groggy voice and pull apart, looking at him. His hazel eyes are sparkling and there is a smug grin on his lips. “I could get used to this.”  Gen turns and kisses him just as passionately as we had just kissed and I hear Jared groan, knowing he is tasting the remnants of my release. 

Ok, so maybe this wasn’t something they regretted. This was what they both wanted and still want and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it too. Maybe I had been the first opportunity they’d come across when they decided to have a threesome but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I would gladly take whatever they wanted to give. 

And from the sounds and sights coming from the bed beside me, I was about to have another out of this world sexual escapade with two of the hottest people on the planet. 

I’m sitting in the kitchen at the bar in my panties and a t-shirt Gen gave me drinking a cup of coffee and watching Jared move about the kitchen, cooking eggs and making toast.

A pair of slender arms wrap around me from behind, startling me. “Morning baby,” Gen purrs as she kisses my shoulder.

I tense up afraid of getting caught if one of their kids walk in. “Uh, where’re the kids?”

“It’s Wednesday. They always have a playdate with the Ackles kids on Wednesday,” Gen says as she comes around and sits beside me. “We’re good. Francine took them over and will bring them back this afternoon.”

“Oh. Okay,” I say hesitantly. I’m relieved that I don’t have to worry about being found out but I’m also nervous because the three of us are alone in the house. What exactly did they have planned? 

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Jared says as he sits two plates of eggs, toast and jam in front of his wife and myself. “We all need to talk anyway. And the kids do not need to hear what we have to discuss.”

Well, there goes my good feeling down the drain. Now is when they are going to drop the bomb; tell me that it was all fun and games but they’ve satisfied their curiosity and I’m on my own. God, how can I be so dumb. What made me think that two celebrities would want me to stick around?

I push the food around on my plate as I try to come up with a way to take the blow and leave with my head held high.

“Jared Tristan,” Gen admonishes. “Look what you’ve done. You went and made her feel bad. Honey,” she says as she places a hand on mine. “It’s not bad; what we want to talk about. I promise.” She leans over and places a chaste kiss to my lips. “Now eat up so we can get to it. I think you might need your energy if I’m reading this situation correctly.”

I try my best to eat as much of the food as I can with my stomach still in knots and my anxiety level through the roof. Gen clears her plate and then looks at me, silently asking if I’m finished. I nod and clear my throat. “Yes, thank you.”  

Jared grabs my hand and pulls me off the stool, dragging me toward the living room once again. Last night, this is the same exact place that they propositioned me and invited me into their bed. Now, here we are again, apparently discussing something new.

I wait with bated breath as Gen makes her way into the room, carrying her and my coffee cups, sitting mine on the table in front of me.

“First off,” she begins as she turns to look at me, one leg under her bottom. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Wh-what?” I ask in shock. Was she actually asking if I enjoyed having sex with them?

“Did you have a good time? With us?”

“Duh,” I answer cringing at my snarkiness. “Yes, I enjoyed it and I had an amazing time. And I understand if this was a one-off; something you wanted out of your systems. I get it. And I promise not to speak a word of it to anyone.”

Jared chuckles and Gen throws her head back, laughing. “Oh honey. I don’t care about that. Hell, scream it from the rooftops for all I care. We want to know if you’d like to continue.”

To say I am floored is an understatement. They are actually asking if I want to keep having sex with them? Have I died and gone to Heaven?

“Really?” I gasp. I never in a million years would have ever thought this was what we needed to discuss.

“Yes, really,” Jared tells me from the armchair. “We understand if it is too much. We, uh-” he pauses to rub the back of his neck and chuckle. “-got a little enthusiastic last night. It’s usually not that acrobatic. But yea, we want to know if you want to keep this going.”

I nod as my brows furrow and I look down at my hands, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of Gen’s shirt. How can I answer without sounding too enthusiastic or overly eager?

“Sweetie?” Gen asks, leaning down to look into my eyes. “Are you okay? Is it too much?” 

The worry in her voice is what gets me. Is she actually afraid I am going to turn them down? But I have to know something first.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why me? I mean, was I just the first girl you came across once you decided to have a threesome?”

Gen and Jared both chuckle. “No baby,” Gen assures me. “This isn’t our first time doing this. We’ve had threesomes before. We, uh- should we tell her Jare?”

“She’ll find out eventually,” he answers his wife. “Go on.”

“We had a relationship with Jared’s co-star Jensen for a few months. It went really well but then we decided to end it, amicably before we all got married. He was dating Danneel but she was living in LA while he was up in Vancouver with us. And well, we fucked. Not Jare and Jen, they just uh, shared me. Although they did get close to kissing once in a competition to see who could get me off first by eating me out simultaneously.” She ends with a laugh and I look over to see Jared blushing.

“Now, that...that cannot and should not be repeated,” he says, clearing his throat. “We just got too close and our tongues touched that’s all.” He explained my unanswered inquiry.

“So, this isn’t your first time having a threesome with another guy?” I ask. “But is it a first with another girl?”

“Yes,” they both answer resolutely. “You are our first female conquest.” Gen finishes before she laces her fingers with mine. “When I saw you yesterday at Y/E/E, I liked you immediately. Even though I could tell you knew who we were you kept it professional and when I asked Jared what he thought about you, I could tell by the way he looked at you he wanted you. We both did. That’s why I left my number. Figured it’d be safer to leave mine than his in case someone else found the note.”

“It’s in my car,” I smiled at her. “I wasn’t about to throw it away.”

“See, you knew. You might have not realized you knew, but you knew me leaving you my number was a big risk.”

“So?” Jared asks as both Gen and I turn to look at him. “Is this something you can see continuing?”

“Absolutely!” I answer confidently and certain. “I will be the third wheel for you guys.”

“Oh honey, in this relationship, we are all equals,” Gen says as she smoothes her hand over my hair. “Now, let’s talk about the rules.”

The 'rules' as I soon discover aren't really rules at all. Mostly we discuss what kind of things are turn-ons and what are turn-offs. 

I find out that Gen loves oral, receiving and giving,  whether it be male or female. She requests to be called Mama in the bedroom and is unopposed to anal play.

Jared's turn-ons include oral as well, he loves to maintain dominance over his lovers and inquired as to whether I am opposed to that aspect. I tell him an unwaveringly no. I will submit and comply with his control. 

When asked what I prefer, I shrug my shoulders. I'd never given it much thought. Sure, I'd had partners before; I wasn't a virgin by any means but to actually sit and think and come up with stuff I liked and didn't like was new to me. 

"Okay," Gen says, aware of my discomfort. "Well, we know you like oral, both giving and receiving it. And you like fucking, we are very well aware of that." She continues with a smile. "Are there any positions you're more fond of than others?"

"Uh, I like doggy style," I say, feeling my cheeks heat up. Good god, I've had sex with these people and I'm getting embarrassed!

"Hey now. None of that," Gen coos. "This is a judgment free zone."

I nod, feeling more confident. "I like it when, uh...when you pulled my hair while I was eating you out. And," I turn to look at Jared. "I liked when you spanked her while fucking into her. That was hot, but not like you know,  hard or a lot of smacks but...yea."

He smiles at me and nods. "Good to know kitten."

"Anything else?" Gen presses.

"Uh, nothing I can think of right now. No, but permission to revisit this if I do think of something?"

"Of course sweetie."

"One last thing," Jared announces and I turn to look at him. "Move in with us?"

When the kids come in later with their nanny, they stop in their tracks when they see me sitting on the couch with their parents, platonically of course.

The two older ones, Tom and Shep,  recognize me and ask their mom why the lady from the restaurant is here while the little girl, Odette, climbs onto Jared's lap and burrows into his chest, peeking out and glancing at me.

"This is our friend. Her name is Y/N and she's going to be staying with us," Gen eases the information to the boys. 

The middle child, Shep, is the first one to speak. "Does she like dinosaurs?"

Gen looks at me with joy and laughter in her eyes. I smile and tell Shep, "Dinosaurs are magnificent! My favorite is the pterodactyl.  What's yours?"

The discussion between the boys and I quickly turns to which dinosaur would win if they were all in a battle to which dinosaur could survive if they were to come back alive and be in the world as it is today.

Odette finally warms up and makes her way to my side,  telling me that Mommy dinosaurs have to wear makeup while Daddy dinosaurs go to work.

I had been terrified of how the kids would accept the fact that I was going to be living with them but I had nothing to worry about. 

Kids are resilient though. They can adapt and adjust to just about anything. The three Padalecki kids have no problem knowing there is a new person living in their home but I also know the real talk is going to come after dinner and after Francine leaves for the evening.

Gen and I work together that night, getting the dinner dishes cleaned off and stacked in the dishwasher. Every so often, Gen would glance around and then pull me into a kiss, keeping it mostly innocent and chaste. The only thing not innocent is when her hands would roam and grab a boob or my ass or one time she ran her hand down my crotch, pressing on my clit. 

Once the kitchen is cleared, the two of us join Jared and the kids in their playroom where we decide to tell them what is actually going on.

Tom and Shep were sitting on the floor playing with toy cars, making engine noises while Odette sat on her dad's lap, coloring. 

"Guys," Gen speaks, getting the boys' attention. "Can you come over here for a moment. Family meeting."

Tom and Shep get up and walk to the table and stand, looking between the three adults in the room.

"Okay, you know how we have taught you all that honesty is always best? And that lying will only get you into more trouble?"

"Yes ma'am," they say in unison.

"Okay. Well your dad and I are going to be honest with you. Y/N is not only our friend, she is our girlfriend. We like her like we like each other; like Unkie Jensen likes Auntie D. And she likes us.

"You will see us-both of us- hug Y/N and kiss her just like we do each other. If you have a bad dream at night and come to our room she is going to be in bed with us. But we will always, always make room for you.  You three are our littlest loves and there isn't anything in this world we wouldn't do for you.

"Also, Y/N is the boss as much as your dad and I are so whatever she says goes. If she tells you it's time for bed you don't try to haggle your way out of it. If she tells you you've had enough candy, you listen. She is the adult, you are not. You understand?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Okay. Do you have any questions?"

They shake their heads no and Gen smiles as she reaches out to ruffle Shep's hair and then Tom's.

"You can go play for another hour and then it's time for baths and bed."

The boys go back to their spots and continue their game.

"Well that went better than I was expecting," I say with a laugh.

"Our boys are smart," Jared says with an air of pride. 

Odette looks up at him with a scoff, which causes both Gen and I to laugh.

"You're smart too lil O," he tells her before placing a kiss on her temple. 

When it's time for baths, Tom asks that I help him so I follow him to his room where he picks out a set of pajamas and underwear. We walk down the hall to the bath and he undresses as I begin filling the tub.

"Y/N?" Tom says as he washes his hair. 

"Yea?"

"Do you love us?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even. This was not a question I was expecting from a 7 year old.

"Mommy said that you like them like they like each other. And I know mommy and daddy love each other and they love us just like Unkie Jen loves Auntie D and JJ and Arry and Zeppy. So do you love us too?"

I'm not sure how to answer his inquiry. Do I love him and his siblings? Sure, what's not to love about three of the best behaved kids I have ever encountered. 

They took their Mom's news in stride, like it was no big deal that both their parents had a girlfriend, like it was normal.

"Yes, Tom. I love you and Shep and lil O. How could I not? You three are awesome," I laugh trying to break the tension. "Plus we can talk about dinosaurs without people giving us weird looks."

"Do you love Mommy and Daddy too?"

Well, there it is. The one question I was hoping to avoid because I didn't have an answer.  I don't know the answer.

Do I love Jared and Genevieve? I know I've lusted after them both for years and the three of us have had the most remarkable, memorable sex of my existence, but love? Wasn't it too soon?

"I think it is time to finish your bath before you turn wrinkly like a raisin," I tell him instead. 

It is only a few weeks later that those three words are shared between us. 

As we are readying for bed, Gen and I doing a skincare routine in front of the bathroom mirror Jared waltz in and lifts the toilet seat, not caring to relieve himself while we are in the room.

After he finishes and he rights himself, he wiggles between us to wash his hands. We both laugh at his antics and while drying his hands he kisses Gen,  telling her he loves her  and then turns to kiss me.

"I love you too," he whispers against my lips and my eyes widen at his proclamation.

The whole world stills, the Earth quits spinning and the air stops flowing as he presses his lips to mine again.

"Y/N?" Gen calls to me and everything begins moving again. "Are you okay sweetie?"

"Uh." That's the only thing I can utter. Jared just told me he loves me.  He just dropped those three precious words like it was nothing. 

"Do you not love me? Us?" Jared asks as he pulls away and looks down at me. 

My eyes well up with tears and I can't stop my body shaking if I wanted to. 

"Yes," I answer with a laugh. "I love you so much!"

Jared wraps me up in a kiss again, deepening it as he bends me backwards.  We pull away with smiles.  

"I love you. I love you. I love you," I say repeatedly.

"I love you Y/N," Gen proclaims as she pulls me into a hug before kissing me senseless.

That night we don't fuck. The three of us make love to one another, proclaiming our love and devotion to one another over and over until we each find our climaxes together, as one. 

On Friday we decide it is time to visit the Family Business Brewery to stock up on some more beer since the supply at home is getting low.

I'm nervous as hell as today I get to meet Jared and Gen's best friends and former lover. Jensen and Daneel and the kids have been away, up in the north visiting family and now they are back and the plan is to hang out at FBB to let the kids play on their playground. 

The Ackles know that Jared and Gen have someone they want them to meet but as I find out on the way there,  they have no idea just what I am to the Padalecki's. They just think it's a new friend.

As we pull up, the parking lot is half-full with vehicles and people milling about ready to go inside and sample some the craft beer that is brewed onsite.

I look toward the building and immediately can make out Jensen's silhouette. Probably because of the crowd that has amassed around him. Being one of the main characters on the country's hit sci-fi show and part owner of this place drew a bigger crowd to the brewery than the alcohol did apparently. 

I notice that over half of the guests have some type of Supernatural paraphernalia,  be it a t-shirt, a purse, or just a photo or something they hoped to get autographed.

The crowd finally disperses and Jensen finally makes his way to us, a smile on his face and a beer glass in his hand. 

"Hey guys. Glad you could make it. Dee is inside helping Gino run the bar since we are down a person," he explains and then his eyes narrow in on me. "Hello. I'm Jensen."

"Y/N," I say with a nod.

"Jay, this is our girlfriend." Gen tells him and I watch for his reaction. He is one hell of an actor because other than a quick widening of his green eyes, he fixes his face into one of nonchalance. 

"So, you're still…..doing that?" he asks lowly before taking a drink of his beer.

"We hadn't for a while," Jared speaks up. "Since you but yea, we now share a girlfriend."

"Nice," Jensen smiles but I can tell it's not a happy-for-you one; it's more forced, more strained.

Daneel finally comes out to join us and Gen introduces me much the same way she announced me to Jensen. 

"Oh wow!" Daneel exclaims.  "I, uh, didn't know you two were into that sort of thing."

So apparently she had no idea that a few years ago, Jensen had been in my position.  Good to know as now I can be  more aware of what to say and what to keep to myself.

The day is nice in the grove where the brewery is located. The heat from the sun is abated by the gentle breeze that flows through the trees. 

Jared and Jensen, and sometimes Gen get pulled away a few times by excited fans asking for pictures of just to chat, leaving Daneel and I watching the kids.

I can tell she is dying to ask questions so once there is no one close by, I turn to her and tell her. "You can ask."

"Oh thank god! It's been killing me. How does it work? Do you all sleep together? Have sex together?"

I smile at her questions. And with living with the Padalecki's I have come to also believe the truth is better than lying philosophy.

"We love one another and we work together raising the three most amazing kids I've ever met. Well, until now; the Ackles kids are pretty fantastic." I pause to smile at her. "Yes, we share a bed each night. Sometimes I'm in the middle, sometimes Gen. It just depends on who needs the assurance and safety net the most. 

"And yes we have sex together. As with the sleeping arrangement, we take turns on who is between the other two. Sometimes Jared fucks Gen while she eats me out and sometimes I eat her out while being whaled on by the big moose."

Daneel throws her hands up and shakes her head. "Okay. Okay. I'm sorry I asked. That was a visual I did not need. And now it's stuck in my head."

She storms off and I can't help but laugh at her reaction. I mean, she asked after all. I just hope I didn't ruin her friendship with my lovers. 

Later that night, when I tell Jared and Gen about it they laugh and assure me that it's nothing Daneel won't get over; that she just probably will never ask me anything ever again. 

Over the next few months, I learn just how close the Padalecki's and the Ackles' are as we tend to spend every holiday together and attend each other's kid's birthday parties.

Daneel continues to be cordial to me but doesn't inquire any further into my relationship with Gen and Jared. 

That may also be because after paparazzi got a photo of Gen and I at the store holding hands and ran with the story that Gen and Jared were obviously on the splits, the three of us sat down to an interview with People magazine and told the world that the Padalecki's marriage and relationship was still going strong and made it known that they were also in a relationship with me.

After that, the buzz of it all settled down and everything went back to semi-normal. There would be some gossip on the internet about us or we'd received unmarked mail containing threats of damnation but, with the help of my girlfriend and boyfriend, I learned to let it all slide.

People would always have their opinions. I just had to get used to them being different than my own. The world wasn't going to stop turning just because I was in a relationship with a married couple. 

A year to the day that Jared and Gen had entered my life when they visited Y/E/E found us all in the kitchen; Jared and Gen sitting at the counter while I cooked us an anniversary dinner.

"Can you believe it's been a year?" Gen says as I pull the roasted chicken from the oven. "One year since we decided to go out to eat and run into the most beautiful human we've ever seen."

"A year since you left your number on a piece of paper before we left and waited patiently for her to call," Jared continues. "One whole year of the most magnificent mind-blowing sex of my life!"

"A year since I thought you leaving your number was a prank or a mistake but texted it anyway. A year of….hell, the best year of my existence, " I tell them as I plate up the chicken, pasta and asparagus before turning and placing their plates in front of them.

"I love you both so much."

"We love you equally," Gen says before we set about eating the dinner I cooked. 

The kids were staying over at the Ackles' so we had the house to ourselves.

Jared cleared the kitchen after dinner and dessert while Gen and I went up to the bedroom to get ready in our matching lingerie that we purchased special for the occasion. 

"Jared is going to flip when he sees us," Gen says as she comes up behind me in the mirror. "Fuck, are we lucky. Sweetie you are absolutely gorgeous.  I can't wait to pull this off of you," she says kisses my shoulder, grazing her teeth across my skin. "With my teeth."

I shudder at the thought and reach back tangling my hand in her hair, kissing her passionately. 

"Same goes for you darling," I tell her as we hear Jared coming up the stairs.

Gen and I rush to get on the bed, laying back in nothing but lace and silk waiting for Jared to enter the bedroom.

"Fuck. Me!" he exclaims as he walks in and sees us. "God damn, baby girls, you're going to give this ole man a heart attack," he says, removing his shirt and unbuttoning his jeans. 

As we both promised, we put a show on for Jared; disrobing one another with nothing but our teeth and lips. 

Gen finally squirts after I bury my face in her sweet cunt, licking all around with my fingers knuckle deep inside her. Her breathing is labored as I pull away, leaving my fingers wiggling inside and turn my head to kiss Jared.

He groans as the tang of her juices mixed with my taste floods his mouth and I begin fingering Gen again, feeling her walls fluttering and quivering around them. 

"You like that Mama?" I ask as I pull away from my boyfriend. "You want more? I can recreate our first night."

"Fuck yes!" Gen screams. "Fist me baby."

I curl my fingers down and work my closed fist into her sopping wet pussy easily, twisting my wrist as she writhes above me. I lean down and suck her clit between my lips, flicking the nub with my tongue. 

"Shit! I'm going to cum again," she pants and I take my fingers and press against her sweet spot. Her thighs clamp around my head as she climaxes. 

Jared walks around behind me and I feel the swath of his tongue lick from my clit to my entrance and up to my ass. It isn't the first time he's ate me like that and it is erotic and obscene and I love it.

When Jared's tip notches at my opening, I wiggle my hips and he slaps his palm down on my asscheek. I moan as I lay my forehead against Gen's leg. Jared spanks me once more before he slams into me, burying his whole length in one thrust. 

"Oh fuck! Yes!" I yell out as he begins a pounding pace. His hands gripping my hips tight enough to leave bruises.

Gen finally recuperates enough to join in, kissing me senseless and whispering not-so-sweet nothings in my ear.

"Jared is fucking you real good ain't he? You're taking all that cock. You gonna let him put a baby in you? Yea you are, aren't ya? Get all big and round with a Padalecki growing in you. You want that? You want Jared to cum deep inside and impregnate you?"

"Uh huh," is all I can muster as Jared keeps pounding into me from behind, his balls bouncing up to slap my clit.

"Jared, put a baby in our baby girl. Fill her little pussy up."

"Yes Daddy. Please," I say, finally getting my voice.  "Please daddy put your baby in me."

"Oh god. Yea, I can do that. I can definitely do that."

"Mama?" I call out to Gen who lays down to meet my eyes.  "Are you sure? This is what you want?"

"Yes baby. I want to watch you grow our baby inside you. I love you sweet girl. And I know you'll be the best mom, you already are to Tom, Shep and O."

She smiles before capturing my lips with hers, wrapping her hand in my hair and tugging, making me whimper and whine.

Jared stills behind me as I feel his dick throbbing and spurting, filling me with his cum and hopefully getting me pregnant. It seems to go on and on before he finally slumps and pulls out of me, only to prod his softened dick back inside and thrusts, making sure the release goes where it needs.

If we made a baby together tonight or not,  I know these two beautiful people, my lovers, will be here with me through the celebration or if need be, the act of trying until we succeed. 

Six weeks later, I find myself peeing on a stick. I haven't told anyone but my period is about 8 days late and I've always been regular. 

I wait for the timer to go off on my phone, staring at the test laying facedown on the sink. Am I pregnant? Am I just late? But then if that's the case, why am I late? 

The device dings and I hesitantly reach for the test, turning it over to find out the result.

As I walk down the stairs, I hear my family in the front room laughing and just being goofy, none of them aware of what I hold in my hand. The small thin piece of plastic that is going to change everything. 

I stand at the doorway and just watch the five of them. I love them all so much and am grateful that they are now a part of my life. The kids accepted me and made me feel welcomed and loved from the very beginning and now they sometimes call me Mommy Y/N. It warms my soul when they utter those words. 

Jared and Genevieve. I never thought I could find a love like I have with them. It is an all-consuming love. They are so kind, caring and generous. The three of us are in love and we are about to bring another life into the mix. 

“Hey guys,” I call out getting their attention. Shep runs and wraps his arms around my waist and lays his head on my stomach, like he knows his new little brother or sister is growing inside me. But that can’t be, I haven’t said a word to anyone much less the kids.

I ruffle his hair and he looks up at me with a smile. “Why don’t you go sit on the sofa with your parents?” I request. “I have something to tell you all.”

“We’re having a baby,” I announce, not wanting to drag this out. I am happy, ecstatic even and I am hoping, ok I’m pretty sure this news will be accepted with joy. 

“What?” Gen exclaims, a smile blossoming on her face. “Really?”

“Yea,” I answer as I hold up the pregnancy test with the two bold blue lines. “I’m pregnant.”

Gen gently lifts O off her lap and jumps up, rushing to hug me and pulling me into a kiss. We’ve never hidden our relationship from the kids so to see their Mom and I kissing is no big deal to them.

When she pulls away, Gen looks at me with tears in her eyes. "We're having a baby?"

"Yea we are," I tell her, my own tears making themselves known. 

Suddenly Jared is pulling us both into his chest, his long strong arms holding us close.

"Where's the baby?" O asks as she looks around and in the floor. "I wann' see it."

We laugh as we break apart, going to join them on the sofa. 

I pull O onto my lap while Gen holds Shep and Tom is propped on his Dad's knee.

"The baby isn't born yet," I explain to my daughter. "He or she has to get big enough before it can come live with us. Right now, it's just a tiny little bean."

"I wann' see it," she repeats and I chuckle as I maneuver her around to straddle my thighs. I lift my shirt, exposing my stomach and take her hand to place under my belly button. "The baby is in here,  nice and warm and growing.”

Lil O’s eyebrows fuse together as she stares at the place her hand is and then she says, “Can I play with her when she gets here?”

I laugh and hear Gen and Jared chuckle.

“Of course you can sweetie,” I tell her. “But maybe not when she first gets here, she’ll be itty bitty.”

“She?” Jared says and I look at him. He practically has stars in his eyes with glee. 

“Well O called it a she so I just ran with it. Who knows, it could be a boy,” I say with a shrug. 

“I want a tyrannasaurus,” Shep declares. 

“Geez buddy,” I laugh as I look down at him. “You want me to explode? The baby is in my belly and you want it to be a dinosaur?”

“No, I wasn’t thinking about that,” Shep says, his voice remorseful.

“Hey Sheppy? It’s okay. I was just joking with you.”

“Okay,” he says as he reaches over and puts his hand on my stomach beside his sister’s. 

Before I know it I have three little palms against my skin, along with a slightly bigger one and a huge one over top of all of them; my family silently welcoming and loving on the new addition.

By the time Tom’s birthday comes around, I am huge! Gen had warned me that Padalecki’s were big babies but this is outrageous. I can't see my feet at all and need help to get out of bed every morning. This little one is making my life miserable but I know in the end, it will all be worth it.

We had decided against finding out the gender, mainly because I was still leery about how correct those results could be. So the five of us have begun referring to the bump as Baby P. And right now Baby P was kicking my kidneys and punching my liver. 

I still have almost a month before my due date of April 11 and it seems as if time is slowing down. Every day is a hurdle to get through, with being 8 months pregnant and still trying to help out around the house and do my chores, though both Gen and Jared have fussed at me for doing too much. But I’m pregnant, not disabled.

We’ve planned a barbeque party for Tom’s birthday and invited most of his friends from school, plus the Ackles and the Morgan’s and a few others from Jared’s time on the show. Both sets of grandparents are going to be here also, so it would definitely be a full house.

I am upstairs in the bedroom, trying to slide my sandals on but having trouble since I can’t see anything. Jared walks in while I huff and try again, only to push the shoe farther away.

“Hey baby,” he says gently. “Let me help you.”

“This is ridiculous,” I whine as he lifts my leg and slides the leather onto my foot. “I can’t do anything but waddle around, running into things and just getting in the way. I’m an annoyance to everyone. Maybe I should just stay up here.”

“You hush that right now,” he admonishes me, standing up to tower over me.  “You do not annoy anyone. You do not get in the way at all. You are pregnant, carrying my baby. You’re beautiful, baby girl. I love watching you, knowing that’s my child inside you; a life we created out of our love.” He tugs a stray hair behind my ear and tilts my chin up. “I love you. Gen loves you. Tom, Shep and O love you. We all love you and we love this baby. So get over yourself and get that cute little ass downstairs to celebrate our son’s birthday.”

“Cute and little is not how I would refer to my ass,” I retort with a smile. “I look like a Kardashian.”

“Mmhmm,” Jared mumbles as he leans down to kiss me. “More to spank.”

I chuckle as I tiptoe to kiss him and then turn to head downstairs to join my family and greet our guests.

The party is in full swing as most of the adults sit in lounge chairs, talking and catching up while Jared and Jensen man the grill and the ladies are in the kitchen gathering up the condiments and sides.

I have been commanded to stay in my seat and ask for anything I need. Jared went as far as to tell me if he saw me on my feet, he would spank me in front of everyone. And as much as I love him spanking me, that was something that no one else needed to see so I kept my promise, only asking that he give me a bottle of water for my stay.

Everyone seems to be having a good time; the kids are enjoying the gigantic bounce house that we rented and sat up in the backyard, the adults congregate on the patio talking and laughing and waiting for food.

I look around with a blissful heart at the family and friends I have acquired since becoming Jared and Gen’s lover. No one seems to bat an eye anymore about our relationship and took it at face value and that made me very happy. Sure, there were a few things still being said on the internet but those people don’t matter to me. What matters to me is the ones here today, celebrating our son’s birthday. 

A pain shoots through my body but as soon as it appears, it disappears so I think nothing of it and go back to watching Tom, Shep, JJ, and a few of their friends from school run around the yard playing tag. It’s a good day.

That good day turns when later that evening while the ones of us that are still lounging around, mostly family, my water breaks. Gerald and Sherri, Jared’s parents, stay at the house with the kids as Gen, Jared and I rush to the hospital.

In the early morning hours of March 18, we welcome Delaney Grace Padalecki, a whopping 9 pound 12 ounce baby girl. 

I thought I knew what love was, what love is but until I looked into my daughter’s eyes, I had had no idea. 

Love is infinite. Love is encompassing. Love is the glue that cements us all together. And I have found that with Gen and Jared and their-our-kids and now with Delaney. There is no way my life could be any richer. A once in a lifetime encounter gave me love and a family. 

THE END

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​ @spnbaby-67​ @tftumblin​ @sea040561​ @delightfullykrispypeach​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @atc74​ @vicariouslythruspn​ @squirrelnotsam​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @sandlee44​ @blacktithe7​ @hoboal87​ @mogaruke​ @deanwanddamons​ @supraveng​ @deandreamernp​

[simply-trash5]

Heartbeat

This post is for one of my new friends @simpingforgaara​

I hope that you like this piece. It was fun for me to write. Thank you for letting me simp in your dm’s. <3

Remember that I am taking lyric requests sweeties and I would love to write one for you all.

18. “And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat.”

Song: Cosmic Love by Florence and the Machine

Knockknockknock

“Yes he’s here finally.” You padded over to the front door of your apartment and opened it. “I’ve been waiting for you, I almost started the movie without you.” In the doorway stood your best friend Gaara. You both had been friends since you were teenagers. Every Friday night was movie night. No matter what, that was a date you could never break.

“Sorry I was running late,” Gaara grumbled running a hand through his wet hair, “its really coming down out there. I didn’t even know it was supposed to rain today.” You laughed at your friend. His clothes were completely soaked and he was shivering. His light blue eyes traveled to your face. “So can I come in?”

You let Gaara in your small apartment. “I think you have some clothes in my room if you want to change?” You went off into your bedroom and found a black shirt and grey sweatpants that Gaara had left from his previous sleepover. You guys had slept at each other's houses for years so you had clothes at his place too. “Here ya go,” you said handing your best friend the outfit you had collected from your room. Gaara stood and made his way to the bathroom to change. The wind began howling, the rain pounding, and the thunder booming, you had no idea it was supposed to storm like this.

Gaara returned to the living room and made himself comfortable on the couch. You both began watching the movie that you had picked. It was one of your favorite movies, so it wasn’t a huge deal that you were missing some of the scenes to steal looks at your best friend. He really was beautiful. He was tall, lean, but muscular. He had red locks that laid in soft waves, porcelain skin, and piercing blue eyes. 

For you, Gaara was your best friend but he was also the object of your affection; he of course didn’t know that. You had found yourself falling in love with your best friend soon after you became friends. You had spent so much time together that you knew everything about each other. You knew about his troubling childhood, his fears, his hopes, and his dreams. He even held you when you cried over your last boyfriend. How did he not see that you were hopelessly in love with him?

“Y/N? Are you okay? You have been staring at me for minutes now. This is your favorite movie.” You blushed slightly and shook your head.

“Yeah I’m fine.” Just as you were getting ready to suggest another movie the power went out leaving you both in the dark. The lightning danced outside the window and lit up his stunning features. His eyes almost seemed to glow. “Gaara, will you help me find the candles?”

You both made your way into your kitchen rummaging through cabinets and drawers to find candles. You both were only able to find one. You lit the candle and sat it on the coffee table in front of you. Gaara went back to his original place on the couch and watched as the flame danced in the dark. The candlelight on his face made him seem otherworldly. “Y/N, can I ask you something?” Gaara said using a soft deep voice. 

“Of course. You know I will tell you anything,” you said not expecting what he was going to say. 

“When were you going to tell me that you were in love with me?”

You immediately froze. Your heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a vice. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. Your biggest secret was no longer a secret and you knew that this would change your friendship forever. “I’m sorry Gaara,” you squeaked as you lept off of the couch and ran down the hall to your room. You turned toward your window with the back facing the door. You’d hoped that Gaara had left, but after a few minutes of silence you heard your door creak open and saw the light from the small candle being sat behind you. Then you heard a breath and suddenly you were in the dark. The lightning outside flashed wildly and your emotions got the best of you. You began to silently cry. You could feel Gaara’s eyes on you, but you didn’t dare turn toward him.

“Y/N we are supposed to be best friends. You are supposed to tell me everything. Why didn’t you tell me your feelings?” Gaara sounded hurt. You felt awful that you had caused him any sort of pain. You continued to watch the rain and lightning out your window and attempted to form a response.

“Gaara, I never told you because, well, because I didn’t want it to ruin our friendship. You mean so much to me. I would rather have you as a friend if I couldn’t have you as more.” You felt the bed behind you sink. Two long arms snaked their way around you. You could feel the warmth of Gaara’s body against yours and could feel his heart beating in the dark.

“Y/N, I have known for a while. I just figured you would tell me. Despite what you may think, I think I love you too. Something about your last break-up really showed me. I was so angry Y/N, I swear I could have killed him. It pained me to see you so hurt, but it hurt me worse to know that I would never treat you that way.”

You rolled over so that you both were nose to nose. He reached a hand up and with a soft thumb wiped away a tear on your cheek. “Gaara, please don’t feel like you have to say that. I don’t want you to say it unless you really feel that way.” Gaara reached the same hand to your hair and began to stroke it softly. You could feel yourself melting under his touch. 

“Y/N I love you. You know everything about me. All of the ugly parts that I hide from others, you've seen. You were literally with me at my worst but you’re still here. I want to give you the world if you will let me.” You reached your hand to cover his as he traced a small circle on your cheek. You felt like your whole body was on fire. This is what you had been waiting for your whole life. This had to be what love felt like.

You leaned into Gaara and kissed him. The kiss was soft and slow. You felt your eyes flutter open, half expecting it to be a dream, but no. He was there. You were there. In the dark that night you both found a new beginning.

[kingstylesdaily]

Stevie Nicks Answers All Our Questions About Harry Styles

Of all the disciples to worship at the altar of Stevie Nicks, none have managed to capture the attention of rock’s reigning priestess quite like Harry Styles.

The 26-year-old rocker (who this week received three Grammy nominations) is the Gucci-clad poster boy carrying the torch for a bygone era of music history that the Fleetwood Mac frontwoman helped crystallize. Styles recently cited the group’s 1977 (and still charting) classic “Dreams” as one of the first songs he learned the words to growing up. Their friendship began in 2015 after the former One Direction member presented his idol with a hand-piped birthday cake after a Fleetwood Mac gig in London. (“Glad she liked carrot cake,” he later said.) The years since have seen the duo’s mutual affection blossom into one of pop culture’s most cherished bondings.

Last year, when Styles inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, he proclaimed the 72-year-old “everything you’ve ever wanted in a lady, a lover, in a friend.” Nicks has gushed about him in interviews as everything from “the son she never had” to her “love child” with bandmate Mick Fleetwood. Styles earned her official seal of approval after covering “The Chain” every night of his first solo tour in support of a record that sounds closer to Crosby, Stills & Nash than anything he released under his prior band.

“Harry could’ve lost a lot of fans, but he didn’t,” Nicks recently told Vogue over the phone. “I’m so proud of him because he took a risk and didn’t go the One Direction route. He loves One Direction, I love One Direction, and a gazillion other people do too, but Harry didn’t wanna go the pop route. He wanted straight-up rock and roll circa 1975.”  

Nicks has been embracing some of the busiest years of her dual careers as both Fleetwood Mac frontwoman and solo sorceress—and doing so amid a global pandemic. Since she last performed with Styles at the Forum for his Fine Line release show in December, she’s released a 24 Karat Gold concert film and “Show Them the Way,” her politically minded single and first piece of original music in six years. After Miley Cyrus asked for Nicks’s blessing before releasing her “Edge of Seventeen”–tinged “Midnight Sky,” the two joined forces for an exhilarating new mash-up titled “Edge of Midnight.”

In honor of Styles making history as the magazine’s first solo cover boy, Nicks caught up with Vogue to answer all our questions about their cosmic connection. Currently beachside with her quarantine bubble in Hawaii, she’s been doing what one would expect Stevie Nicks to be up to during a pandemic: writing new music, dancing around her house to “Watermelon Sugar,” and “casting little spells.” As befitting rock’s foremost storyteller, our intended 30-minute chat turned into a two-hour confessional about her love of Styles, working with Cyrus for the first time, joining Fleetwood Mac, the president-elect Joe Biden, the Met Gala, betta fish funerals, and much more.

ksd note: edited to only include Q&A about Stevie and Harry!

Did you get a chance to look through Harry’s cover story yet?  

Right before I called you, I sat here and looked at all the pictures on my new iPad. What can I say? That’s my Harry. I think the thing that’s most wonderful about him—and I’ve told him this, and sometimes I think he takes it the wrong way—is that he’s such a kooky guy. He’s the type of person you’d wanna live next door to. He’d look out the window, see you having a hard time planting flowers, and rush out asking, “Can I help you with those roses?” “Sure, but you are Harry Styles, right?” That’s who he is.

I really only know him to a certain extent, but I have gotten to experience some big moments in his life, like when he released his first solo record at the Troubadour. I always think of Tom Petty saying, “So, you wanna be a rock star or you wanna be a pop star?” It’s two completely different things, and he really could have gone pop like his friend Zayn [Malik]. I was sorry that Zayn didn’t keep going more because I thought he was really good. But he took the pop route, which I think was right for him. Harry could’ve lost a lot of fans doing rock and roll, but he didn’t. Harry did a long tour with that first record and said, “I’m a different person now. I have a full-on rock band, and this is what I’m gonna do.” With many of my records, I’ll stuff down peoples’ throats until they like it, and that’s exactly what he did. Then he went away and wrote Fine Line, one of my favorite records.

What were your immediate thoughts listening to Fine Line for the first time?

Me and four of my friends sat with Harry in his living room  in London and listened to it a few times before it came out. But it wasn’t really Fine Line yet. The first time we listened to it, nobody really said anything. The second time everyone started to go, “I think this song is great, but it should be second in the sequence.” By the third listen, it was five girls screaming, “Well, Harry really now, I think you need to take these four that are called Harry Songs and do this and that—” while he’s sinking in his reclining chair thinking, Are these women ever gonna leave? Thanks for your opinions, but oh, my God, stop already.  

What changed when you heard the record in it’s finished form?

This record means a lot to me. When it was all put together, I listened and said, “Oh, my god, the Beatles live.” A whole lot of people live in these songs. Fleetwood Mac lives there. I live there. When I listen to “Fine Line,” I hear melodies that would’ve worked on “A Day in the Life. “It has that same kind of complexity. I think the Beatles would’ve thought, Here we’ve influenced a young man who took some incredible things from us and made them his own years and years later.

Earlier this year you posted a message saying that Fine Line is Harry’s Rumours. Can you elaborate on what you meant by that?

When Harry asked me to do “Landslide” with him at the Forum, I asked why, and he said, “Because I want you to be there. You were there for my first night at the Troubadour for the first record.” That night I wrote him a letter that said, “This is your Rumours so you have to really respect it and adore it because these kinds of records sometimes don’t ever come again.” Fleetwood Mac went on to make many great records, but people would bet their life on the fact that Rumours was the one. And this might just be the one for Harry. We were all kind of the same age when we made Rumours. I was 28, and Lindsey [Buckingham] was 27. I actually don’t even know how old Harry is—he’s that timeless to me.

Do you have a personal favorite of his songs?

Every one represents a different thing to me. “Sunflower” is such a great little song. He loves to do crazy videos, and one time I called him and said, “I have an idea. You’re gonna be a bee, and the sunflower would be your girlfriend, and you guys would get married and live in a beehive with your little bee children. You’d sing the lyrics ‘kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor duh duh duh’ and show this entire bee relationship.” 

What did he think of that pitch?

When I finished, the other end of the phone was silent. I said, “No, really, think about it. It’ll be fantastical like a Francis Ford Coppola movie.” He’s like, “Yeah, okay...” [laughs]. I also love the “Adore You” video with the little fish because I have my own special relationships with fish.

In what sense?

I always have two beta fish, but they have to be separated otherwise they’ll kill each other. I stick my finger into their aquarium, and the blue one will swim around my hand like a little dolphin. When my fish get old and suddenly die, I have funerals for them in my backyard where I play Celine Dion. I have them filmed, and everything [laughs]. It’s too much, but I thankfully haven’t had any recent fish deaths. I haven’t even been able to sit down and show Harry the videos of my little fish, so when I saw the “Adore You” video, I couldn’t believe it.

Why is it important for you to foster these relationships with younger artists like Harry who’ve been so openly influenced by you?

I’m inspired by them. I’m inspired that Miley wants to make music with me. I’m inspired that the Haim girls are my biggest fans—and I theirs. A lot of these kids are making the amazing records I’ve been waiting for them to make. I’m not like other 72-year-olds. I listen to current music because I want to be current. When people find out how old I am versus the music I’m listening to, they think it doesn’t gel at all. I’ve been collecting musical knowledge since I was in the fourth grade listening to the singles my grandfather used to bring home. I listened to Buddy Holly and the Everly Brothers until the sixth grade when R&B radio became Top 40. I said goodbye country and hello R&B, so it’s not like I’m ever stuck on one thing. What I love about Harry is that he’s very old school but still modern. And that’s kinda like me.

You both also transitioned from massive groups to equally massive solo careers rather seamlessly.

When I decided I wanted to be a solo artist, I’d only been in Fleetwood Mac for a few years. I tried to figure out a way to do it gracefully because I didn’t wanna break up the band. I just wanted to sit at my piano and write poetry. After we did a record and a really long tour, the band scurried off to different parts of the world while I’d just be home writing songs for a year and a half. What did they care what I did while they were all on vacation? I’ve always said all the way through these two careers I’ve had: If you’re in a band first, never break it up.

Do you think One Direction would ever reunite?

I think it’s a good idea. For all we know, One Direction is completely broken up forever. But I think those guys are friends, and five or ten years down the road, they could all go, “You know what, wouldn’t it be really fun to do a One Direction tour?” Because that’s what people do. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did reunite at some point just because they can. And because it would just be fun. Harry is the kind of person who would never stomp on that idea. He would never say, [imitates posh English accent] “Never! I would never do that again!” Because why not just keep the door open?

Was there any particular detail or passage in Harry’s cover story that stuck out to you?

According to this article, he can get in a car with his friend to drive all over Europe then drive back by himself. I stopped driving in 1978 because my driver’s license expired and I’d already made a lot of money. I very smartly thought, “You know what, if someone even hits you and it’s not even your fault but you’re a little drunk, you are done. You’re finished, and the fortune that you’ve made is gone, so why should you drive anyway?” By then me and Christine were very cloistered, but Harry’s able to live a freer life because he’s a guy. He’s like Mick. He has a free life.

Would you say that you don’t?

I’m only comparing us in the way that Harry goes off to the Bahamas to work on songs, then flies back to L.A., then London, then Italy—I can’t do that. I can’t do that by myself. He’s able to do whatever he wants by himself, and it’s a whole different way of life. Being that Harry is a guy, he’s able to be a loner more than I am. As a woman, I’m not free to do all that. Even when I was his age, I couldn’t just get off anywhere I wanted. When we were on the road, Christine and I didn’t have a clue in the world what the boys did. We went to our rooms with security guys standing outside. It’s not like we ever escaped to go club-hopping in downtown Manhattan. We never got to live that life, so freedom as Harry knows it is very different than it’s been for me.

Did you ever have any figure in your life who provided some sense of mentorship the way you have to artists like Harry?

I didn’t really have anyone. If I had any guiding force at all, it probably would’ve been Christine McVie because she was five years older than me. And five years is five years, you know? Chris was friends with Eric Clapton and knew all the famous musicians in London. She’d married John [McVie] and done a bunch of records with Fleetwood Mac before I came along, so she’d been in the music business for a long time. I was breaking up with Lindsey when she was breaking up with John. She was my therapist and my go-to person for just about everything. We had each other to get through that really difficult situation where no one was gonna quit the band. Christine and I kept the whole thing together by telling the three men, “You quit because we’re not stopping” Thank God I had her, but on the other side of that, thank God she had me. We really were a force of nature.

** I’m curious to what extent fashion plays a role in your and Harry’s relationship. Have you** gifted him any accessories that were significant to you?

I actually gave him a ring at the Forum thing. It’s very masculine and has a pink stone in it. I told him it was a pink diamond, but it really isn’t. It would’ve cost $5 million. It was mine, and I really loved it, but I thought, This should be for Harry. You can see it on his hands in the “Falling” video where he’s playing the piano. If Harry and I were in a band together, we’d be trading all kinds of crazy stuff.

What are your thoughts on him being the first solo male cover in Vogue’s history?

It makes me feel so inspired. I’m extremely jealous he’s on the cover of Vogue because I’m 72 years old and have wanted to be on the cover my whole life. I’m such a magazine hag, so I’m incredibly jealous of Harry, but I’ll get over it. As far as all the crazy things he’s wearing, you do whatever you have to do to be on the cover of Vogue. I’m very proud of him, and I think it’s great that there’s a man on the cover…but I should’ve been in the corner off in the distance [laughs]. Did you know I’ve never been to the Met Gala?

We would be honored to have you at the next gala and every one after that. I’m putting this in the article to make sure it’s in the public record.

As Mick Jagger says, “We still have our freedom, but we don’t have much time.” I would like to be not much older than I am now so I can wear a fantastic outfit and entertain everybody. It’s a dream of mine, and most of my dreams have come true, but I need to not be 90 when it happens.

Harry and you could perform together.

We wouldn’t even have to rehearse. We’ve got a couple of duets that are really great. We do “Landslide” and “Two Ghosts” together really well. We actually have five or six terrific acoustic numbers that we could do at the drop of a hat.

You hinted earlier this year that there might be a role for Harry in the miniseries based on the stories of Rhiannon. Is there any update there?

This is probably the third-biggest thing I’ve ever done in my life after Fleetwood Mac and my solo career. There’s a lot to be done in the movie business before I can start riding my horses across the mountains of Wales. I’ve signed with a movie company—I’m not gonna tell you who—and we just signed a writer. I’m not gonna tell you who that is either, but there’s an amazing part for Harry. My favorite character in the series is the only man who goes through all four books. He’s a magician who doesn’t wanna be king, and I think Harry would just be so perfect.

Have you and Harry discussed collaborating on any future music together?

We’re open to making music together because we’ve been very successful when we go onstage just to do one song. I would love to be in a band with Harry, but even if I never saw him in person again, he’s made a record that breaks my heart in a million places like Fine Line. As far as music goes, there’s plenty of fun things that he and I could do. We can just reach out to each other and do it. I’m always ready to slip back into those high-heel black suede boots and become my alter ego.

via Vogue.com

[hlupdate]

Of all the disciples to worship at the altar of Stevie Nicks, none have managed to capture the attention of rock's reigning priestess quite like Harry Styles.

The 26-year old rocker (who this week received three Grammy nominations) is the Gucci-clad poster-boy carrying the torch for a bygone era of music history that the Fleetwood Mac front-woman helped crystallize. Styles recently cited the group's 1977 (and still charting) classic “Dreams” as one of the first songs he learned the words to growing up. Their friendship began in 2015 after the former One Direction member presented his idol with a hand-piped birthday cake after a Fleetwood Mac gig in London. (“Glad she liked carrot cake,” he later said.) The years since have seen the duo's mutual affection blossom into one of pop culture‘s most cherished bondings.

Last year, when Styles inducted Nicks into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, he proclaimed the 72-year old “everything you’ve ever wanted in a lady, a lover, in a friend.” Nicks has gushed about him in interviews as everything from “the son she never had” to the “love child” of her and bandmate Mick Fleetwood. Styles earned her official seal of approval after covering “The Chain” every night of his first solo tour in support of a record that sounds closer to Crosby, Stills & Nash than anything he released under his prior band.

“Harry could've lost a lot of fans but he didn't. I’m so proud of him because he took a risk and didn’t go the One Direction route," Nicks recently told Vogue over the phone. "He loves One Direction, I love One Direction, and a gazillion other people do too, but Harry didn't wanna go the pop route. He wanted straight-up rock-and-roll circa 1975.”

Nicks has been embracing some of the busiest years of her dual careers as both Fleetwood Mac front-woman and solo sorceress—and doing so in the midst of a global pandemic. Since she last performed with Styles at the Forum for his Fine Line release show in December, she’s released a 24 Karat Gold concert film and “Show Them the Way,” her politically-minded single and first piece of original music in six years. After Miley Cyrus asked for Nicks's blessing before releasing her “Edge of Seventeen”-tinged “Midnight Sky,” the two joined forces for an exhilarating new mash-up titled “Edge of Midnight."

In honor of Styles making history as the magazine’s first solo cover-boy, Nicks caught up with Vogue to answer all our questions about their cosmic connection. Currently beachside with her quarantine bubble in Hawaii, she’s been doing what one would expect Stevie Nicks to be up to during a pandemic: writing new music, dancing around her house to “Watermelon Sugar“ and “casting little spells.” As befitting rock’s foremost storyteller, our intended 30-minute chat turned into a two-hour confessional about her love of Styles, working with Cyrus for the first time, joining Fleetwood Mac, the president-elect Joe Biden, the Met Gala, betta fish funerals, and much more.

Did you get a chance to look through Harry's cover story yet?  

Right before I called you I sat here and looked at all the pictures on my new iPad. What can I say? That's my Harry. I think the thing that’s most wonderful about him—and I've told him this and sometimes I think he takes it the wrong way—is that he’s such a kooky guy. He’s the type of person you'd wanna live next door to. He’d look out the window, see you having a hard time planting flowers and rush out asking "Can I help you with those roses?" "Sure but you are Harry Styles, right?" That's who he is.

I really only know him to a certain extent but I have gotten to experience some big moments in his life like when he released his first solo record at the Troubadour. I always think of Tom Petty saying "So you wanna be a rock star or you wanna be a pop star?" It's two completely different things and he really could have gone pop like his friend Zayn [Malik]. I was sorry that Zayn didn't keep going more because I thought he was really good. But he took the pop route, which I think was right for him. Harry could've lost a lot of fans doing rock-and-roll but he didn't. Harry did a long tour with that first record and said “I'm a different person now. I have a full-on rock band and this is what I'm gonna do.” With many of my records I’ll stuff down peoples' throats until they like it and that's exactly what he did. Then he went away and wrote Fine Line, one of my favorite records.

What were your immediate thoughts listening to Fine Line for the first time?

Me and four of my friends sat with Harry in his living room  in London and listened to it a few times before it came out. But it wasn't really Fine Line yet. The first time we listened to it nobody really said anything. The second time everyone started to go "I think this song is great but it should be second in the sequence." By the third listen it was five girls screaming "Well Harry really now, I think you need to take these four that are called "Harry Songs" and do this and that—” while he’s sinking in his reclining chair thinking "Are these women ever gonna leave? Thanks for your opinions but oh my god stop already."

What changed when you heard the record in it’s finished form?

This record means a lot to me. When it was all put together I listened and said "Oh my god, The Beatles live." A whole lot of people live in these songs. Fleetwood Mac lives there. I live there. When I listen to "Fine Line” I hear melodies that would've worked on “A Day in the Life.“ It has that same kind of complexity. I think the Beatles would've thought “Here we’ve influenced a young man who took some incredible things from us and made them his own years and years later.”

Earlier this year you posted a message saying that Fine Line is Harry’s Rumours. Can you elaborate on what you meant by that?

When Harry asked me to do "Landslide" with him at the Forum I asked why and he said "Because I want you to be there. You were there for my first night at the Troubadour for the first record.” That night I wrote him a letter that said “This is your Rumours so you have to really respect it and adore it because these kinds of records sometimes don't ever come again.” Fleetwood Mac went on to make many great records but people would bet their life on the fact that Rumours was the one. And this might just be the one for Harry. We were all kind of the same age when we made Rumours. I was 28 and Lindsey was 27. I actually don't even know how old Harry is—he's that timeless to me.

Do you have a personal favorite of his songs?

Every one represents a different thing to me. “Sunflower” is such a great little song. He loves to do crazy videos and one time I called him and said “I have an idea. You're gonna be a bee and the sunflower would be your girlfriend, and you guys would get married and live in a beehive with your little bee children. You’d sing the lyrics “kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor duh duh duh” and show this entire bee relationship.”

What did he think of that pitch?

When I finished the other end of the phone was silent. I said "No really, think about it. It’ll be fantastical like a Francis Ford Coppola movie.” He’s like “Yeah, okay...” (laughs). I also love the "Adore You” video with the little fish because I have my own special relationships with fish.

In what sense?

I always have two betta fish but they have to be separated otherwise they'll kill each other. I stick my finger into their aquarium and the blue one will swim around my hand like a little dolphin. When my fish get old and suddenly die I have funerals for them in my backyard where I play Celine Dion. I have them filmed and everything (laughs). It’s too much but I thankfully haven’t had any recent fish deaths. I haven't even been able to sit down and show Harry the videos of my little fish so when I saw the “Adore You” video I couldn’t believe it.

Why is it important for you to foster these relationships with younger artists like Harry who’ve been so openly influenced by you?

I'm inspired by them. I'm inspired that Miley wants to make music with me. I’m inspired that the Haim girls are my biggest fans—and I theirs. A lot of these kids are making the amazing records I’ve been waiting for them to make. I’m not like other 72-year olds. I listen to current music because I want to be current. When people find out how old I am versus the music I'm listening to they think it doesn't gel at all. I’ve been collecting musical knowledge since I was in the fourth grade listening to the singles my grandfather used to bring home. I listened to Buddy Holly and the Everly Brothers until the sixth grade when R&B radio became Top 40. I said goodbye country and hello R&B, so it’s not like I'm ever stuck on one thing. What I love about Harry is that he's very old-school but still modern. And that's kinda like me.

You both also transitioned from massive groups to equally massive solo careers rather seamlessly.

When I decided I wanted to be a solo artist I'd only been in Fleetwood Mac for a few years. I tried to figure out a way to do it gracefully because I didn’t wanna break up the band. I just wanted to sit at my piano and write poetry. After we did a record and a really long tour the band scurried off to different parts of the world while I’d just be home writing songs for a year and a half. What did they care what I did while they were all on vacation? I’ve always said all the way through these two careers I've had: if you're in a band first, never break it up.

I know Beyoncé because I spent a day with Destiny’s Child making the “Bootylicious” video. I owe them a debt of gratitude because that’s the one time I ever got to pretend I played rock-and-roll guitar! But when Beyoncé made the decision to be a solo artist she did not see herself going back to Destiny's Child every couple of years. And that's a perfectly acceptable decision because sometimes that's what people wanna do. I, on the other hand, said why not have the ability to go back to Fleetwood Mac whenever I want? Being a Gemini I get bored really easily, so being able to have those two careers was great.

Do you think One Direction would ever reunite?

I think it's a good idea. For all we know, One Direction is completely broken up forever. But I think those guys are friends and five or ten years down the road they could all go "You know what, wouldn't it be really fun to do a One Direction tour?" Because that's what people do. I wouldn't be surprised if they did reunite at some point just because they can. And because it would just be fun. Harry is the kind of person who would never stomp on that idea. He would never say (imitates posh English accent) "Never! I would never do that again!" Because why not just keep the door open?

Was there any particular detail or passage in Harry’s cover story that stuck out to you?

According to this article he can get in a car with his friend to drive all over Europe then drive back by himself. I stopped driving in 1978 because my driver's license expired and I'd already made a lot of money. I very smartly thought "You know what, if someone even hits you and it's not even your fault but you're a little drunk, you are done. You're finished and the fortune that you've made is gone, so why should you drive anyway?” By then me and Christine were very cloistered, but Harry's able to live a freer life because he's a guy. He's like Mick. He has a free life.

Would you say that you don’t?

I'm only comparing us in the way that Harry goes off to the Bahamas to work on songs then flies back to LA then London then Italy—I can't do that. I can't do that by myself. He's able to do whatever he wants by himself and it's a whole different way of life. Being that Harry is a guy, he's able to be a loner more than I am. As a woman I'm not free to do all that. Even when I was his age I couldn't just get off anywhere I wanted. When we were on the road Christine and I didn't have a clue in the world what the boys did. We went to our rooms with security guys standing outside. It's not like we ever escaped to go club-hopping in downtown Manhattan. We never got to live that life so freedom as Harry knows it is very different than it’s been for me.

Did you ever have any figure in your life who provided some sense of mentorship the way you have to artists like Harry?

I didn't really have anyone. If I had any guiding force at all it probably would've been Christine McVie because she was five years older than me. And five years is five years, you know? Chris was friends with Eric Clapton and knew all the famous musicians in London. She’d married John [McVie] and done a bunch of records with Fleetwood Mac before I came along so she'd been in the music business for a long time. I was breaking up with Lindsey when she was breaking up with John. She was my therapist and my go-to person for just about everything. We had each other to get through that really difficult situation where no one was gonna quit the band. Christine and I kept the whole thing together by telling the three men "You quit because we're not stopping” Thank god I had her, but I think on the other side of that thank god she had me. We really were a force of nature.

I’m curious to what extent fashion plays a role in your and Harry’s relationship. Have you gifted him any accessories that were significant to you?

I actually gave him a ring at the Forum thing. It’s very masculine and has a pink stone in it. I told him it was a pink diamond but it really isn't, it would've cost $5 million. It was mine and I really loved it but I thought "This should be for Harry.” You can see it on his hands in the "Falling" video where he’s playing the piano. If Harry and I were in a band together we’d be trading all kinds of crazy stuff.

How did you come to decide on your all-black stage uniform?

I started getting paid when I joined Fleetwood Mac but up until then I didn't have any money to buy food. All of a sudden we were going on tour so I just packed up my normal clothes. We started eating because there was room service and there I was gaining ten pounds in the middle of the tour. I didn't fit in any of the clothes and I didn't have time to shop so when I got home I said “I can never do this again.” I knew a friend who knew a designer and I told her I needed a uniform because I can't be thinking about what I wanna wear every night. It makes it so much easier since everybody that's in Pittsburgh isn't necessarily gonna be in Philadelphia. Harry's done the same thing with his white pants and pink shirt.

What are your thoughts on him being the first solo male cover in Vogue’s history?

It makes me feel so inspired. I'm extremely jealous he's on the cover of Vogue because I'm seventy-two years old and have wanted to be on the cover my whole life. I’m such a magazine hag, so I’m incredibly jealous of Harry but I'll get over it. As far as all the crazy things he's wearing, you do whatever you have to do to be on the cover of Vogue. I'm very proud of him and I think it's great that there's a man on the cover… but I should've been in the corner off in the distance (laughs). Did you know I've never been to the Met Gala?

We would be honored to have you at the next gala and every one after that. I’m putting this in the article to make sure it’s in the public record.

As Mick Jagger says, "We still have our freedom, but we don't have much time." I would like to be not much older than I am now so I can wear a fantastic outfit and entertain everybody. It's a dream of mine and most of my dreams have come true, but I need to not be ninety when it happens.

Harry and you could perform together.

We wouldn't even have to rehearse. We've got a couple of duets that are really great. We do "Landslide" and “Two Ghosts” together really well. We actually have five or six terrific acoustic numbers that we could do at the drop of a hat.

You hinted earlier this year that there might be a role for Harry in the miniseries based on the stories of Rhiannon. Is there any update there?

This is probably the third-biggest thing I've ever done in my life after Fleetwood Mac and my solo career. There’s a lot to be done in the movie business before I can start riding my horses across the mountains of Wales. I've signed with a movie company—I'm not gonna tell you who—and we just signed a writer. I'm not gonna tell you who that is either but there’s an amazing part for Harry. My favorite character in the series is the only man who goes through all four books. He's a magician who doesn't wanna be king and I think Harry would just be so perfect.

Have you and Harry discussed collaborating on any future music together?

We're open to making music together because we've been very successful when we go onstage just to do one song. I would love to be in a band with Harry but even if I never saw him in person again he’s made a record that breaks my heart in a million places like Fine Line. As far as music goes there's plenty of fun things that he and I could do. We can just reach out to each other and do it. I’m always ready to slip back into those high-heel black suede boots and become my alter ego.

This interview has been edited for clarity and space.

[shockdowndefiance]

1, 7 and 11 for Allison Shepard and her preferred love interest?

Answering from this post here. Not specified which sections so I'm going to do one question from the top 3.

This is for Allison Shepard and Kaidan Alenko

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

In a Systems Alliance base in Jacksonville, FL, where Kaidan and Joker were joking/veering on mocking who their new XO would be, when Kaidan notices a Staff Lieutenant* in fatigues and with a sea bag over her shoulder. He doesn't think much of it - this is an Alliance base (one of the busiest on Earth, up there with Vancouver, Shanghai etc.) and being his polite self he asks her if he can help her with anything.

Allison doesn't say anything for a moment, eyeing him up, then Joker, then the ship, then back to Kaidan. As soon as she starts to speak all the pieces fall into place and he instantly recognises her the moment she says "Staff Lieutenant Allison Shepard. I believe I'm your XO."

* Yeah I got fed up with the ranks as they are in game/canon, so I made my own system. Shepard is a Staff Lieutenant, Kaidan is a Lieutenant, Ashley is a Gunnery Sergeant as of ME1

GENERAL

7. Who takes the lead in social situations?

Allison. No question about it. It's not that she's necessarily the more forward or outgoing of the two, but being a War Hero (and before that, daughter of a First Contact War veteran) she's more than used to plastering on a smile, making casual small-talk, and lending an ear to someone for one task or another, but always making sure to never promise anything completely.

As of ME1 Allison's been in the limelight for near-on seven years, received invites to multiple high class events (and when a tour of hers accidentally or accidentally overlaps, oh I'm so sorry I would have loved to come but duty calls) and is basically the Alliance's biotic, N7, and later Spectre poster child.

Kaidan is definitely the more withdrawn of the two, though he opens up enough around close friends and maybe a little alcohol in the mix. When he and Allison are out about their relationship, I imagine that he is quite affectionate in parties, always wanting to be by her and touching in some way (hand on elbow, holding hands, knees touching).

LOVE

11. What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

Hoo boy. I have a playlist of 88 songs, totaling almost 6hrs. This does cover the entirety of Allison Shepard's story up to (and a bit beyond the Reaper War) so not all of them are romantically linked. Of the ones that are, these are my favourite/tell the story in the best way:

Mass Effect 1:

Florence + The Machine - Cosmic Love - more for the melody and the title than the lyrics themselves. Allison is a Spacer, so there's a bit of romanticism around stars, the galaxy etc. around their relationship.

Sixx A.M. - Starts (Explicit Lyrics) - "Do you wanna go to heaven tonight...Do you wanna be my lover tonight...Do you want to see the stars before they fall". The romance scene between Shepard and Kaidan on the way to Ilos. Again a cosmic-linked song but the moment I heard this it became the Shenko song for me. Remember this one

Black Stone Cherry - Remember Me & Johnny Cash - Hurt - "Today was a hard day, I still can't believe that all of this is true...When I am gone, will you stay strong, don't cry, this is not a dream. When heaven calls, and stars they fall, believe, will you remember me?" & "What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know, goes away in the end"

AKA the ooof ow my heart songs. Needless to say this is after the destruction of the Normandy SR-1, both from Kaidan's viewpoint. The relationship between the two of them wasn't expressed, so while Allison's family can grieve and mourn in public, Kaidan cannot - and even to a point where he can't be that upset over his CO, can he?

Mass Effect 2:

Shinedown - If Only You Knew - "If you only knew, I'm hanging by a thread, the web I spin for you. If you only knew, I'd sacrifice my beating heart before I'd lose you." This is Allison post-Horizon, when things are heavy. She's pulled her head above water somewhat, but Horizon pulls her back down.

Shinedown - Through The Ghost - "Speak of the devil, look who just walked into the room, the guilted and faded notion of someone I once knew. All the perfect moments are gone, all the precious pieces are wrong." This was originally an ME3 song (Vancouver) but story-wise this now places at the end of ME2, when Allison is heading off to Aratoht. Hackett sends along Kaidan and this echoes her feelings when she sees him.

Mass Effect 3:

Sixx A.M. - Stars (Cinematic) - I told you to remember this one. In any official soundtrack this would be a reprise, the same song but in a more mournful way. Allison and Kaidan are now officially together, and while the spark of what was back on the ME1 is still there, the galaxy being at risk puts a damper on their ability to take time and enjoy being with each other.

Florence + The Machine - Bedroom Hymns - pure romance scenes song. Nothing else to add. Smutty lyrics.

Conchita Wurst - Heroes - "So let the walls come down and the colours light up the sky. We could be heroes, we could be heroes, tonight. Where the hearts break loose and love is like a battlecry, we could be heroes, we could be heroes, tonight".

This one takes a bit of explanation. On the approach to Earth for the final assault, in the small hours of the morning, a thought pops into Kaidan's head. He turns to Allison and simply says "Let's get married." Allison half-laughs but goes "Sure. When?" and 30mins later they're in the shuttle bay, wedding officiated by Joker.

This song (or at least the chorus) is what I imagine whenever I think of that scene. Allison and Kaidan do quick vows, exchange simple fabricated rings, and prepare for the assault. Their wedding day, not that they know it at the time, is also the day the Reaper War ends.

And Beyond...

Black Stone Cherry - Sometimes - "Couldn't we pretend that I'm fine, and this ain't my life. It's not the way it ends for me. Couldn't we pretend, you're not gone, you're still here, it's not true. It's not the way it ends for you.". I spent so long swapping this and Remember Me (in the ME1 section) around and I think I am happy with their placement.

The Reaper War is over. Casualties are many. Allison Shepard is in the hospital, in a medically induced coma, with multiple injuries. The Normandy and her human crew are reported as MIA with no one knowing their status.

This song is, in my mind, a duet sung between Allison and Kaidan, Allison on Earth and Kaidan who-knows-where in the galaxy. They both believe the other dead, and this is them both wishing that this is not the case, that maybe the other can find a way back to them.

In short, another ooof ow my heart song

Skylar Grey - I'm Coming Home Pt. II - I'm sure this is on a lot of people's lists. The Normandy systems are functioning, they're going to make it to Earth, and Kaidan finally gets in contact with the Alliance in London. He discusses what happens with the brass, and turns his head and hides a sigh when yet another higher up is introduced to him.

"Alenko. Good to see you again."

"Allison?!" His eyes snap back front and centre. She's alive, standing in front of him in the QEC. It's a hologram, but it's her. She's alive, on Earth. They made it. Both of them.

And the blood will dry Underneath my nails And the wind will rise up To fill my sails So you can down and you can hate But i know no matter what it takes I'm coming home, I'm coming home Tell the world that I'm coming home

❤️

[writingsfromhome]

Lookalike

Request: Can you do another cone song? Maybe lookalike or maniac? [Can you do it like harry dates a lookalike of you?]

A/N: I know this is way later than I said, I honestly wrote four version of this and deleted them before settling on this one and it’s still not the best. I’m just posting it so I can move on to my other ideas. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Soz it ends kinda on a cliffhanger, I didn’t want to make it super long. It already feels really long.

———————————

It was a humid summer evening, not the kind of evening you wanted to step out in. But here I was, in line with my best friend Jules who’d somehow gotten word of this pop-up club that was recently getting more popular with social media. The location would be dropped in code somewhere online for a limited time and then the rest was just word of mouth. Jules worked as a makeup artist so she usually knew what the “in crowd” was doing. This time, she knew where the club was going to be.

Myself, I was just a recent masters-graduate with low job prospects and big time loans. Always tired, single, and at the moment, very, very sweaty. The humidity was really damaging the effort I’d put in for this night out.

“Do you think we’ll spot Ed Sheeran?” Jules asks, her one true desire. “Then I can finally tell him how much he means to me.”

“Don’t know if this is Ed’s scene,” I tease her. “He seems more like a laid-back pub sort of guy.”

“You’re so right,” she still peers around us. “You hoping to see any celebs here? This one’s the biggest so far I’ve heard.”

His face pops into my head but I slam my guard down. “I’ll be lucky just to find a cute guy.”

“Two of you?” The bouncer asks Jules as we make our way to the front-she looked twelve, and we finally head inside. We’d stepped into a storybook.

Vines and tiny lights covered the ceiling and floors, rays of green and pink lights flash around us and the ground was littered with flower petals.

“Oh my god the seats are trees,” Jules whispers in my ear. This was insane.

“They probably have themed drinks,” I grab Jules’ hand and pull her to where I see the bar. We loved a good themed drink.

“This is amazing,” Jules shouts. “I think I just saw Adele!”

On a second look, we decide it was Adele’s doppleganger but we’re soon preoccupied by drinks. I order a Cosmic Boom and take another look around the open space. It was getting pretty full, people dancing but a lot of people hanging about talking.

Jules and I take our drinks to the dancefloor and enjoy ourselves. This was new all over-enjoying myself. I’d spent the last five months working hard at school, job searching, and then a bit of travel. But I was so busy convincing myself that if I worked hard enough I’d forget about the awful year I’d had. Would forget about Harry and the way he left me.

Nobody would believe it, but Harry Styles was my boyfriend for a solid year. We’d met when I was visiting Jules on set of some talk show. He’d been there, after his interview, and mistakened me for backstage crew. He asked me to show him where his room was. He’d been so embarassed when I told him I didn’t work there, but I volunteered to help him find it anyway. I was just killing time ‘til Jules was done.

We had gotten lost and ended up in this storage space where it was clear stage props were stored. We’d found half a car-cut clear through the middle and ended up sitting inside and talking. It was weird, just an hour before that, Harry Styles was this iconic and unattainable person who lived in the fantasy part of my brain. Sitting in the semi-dark with him, in a half-car, and being only a foot away, he was just another person. A regular bloke who was gorgeous, talking to me about his recent mother’s day disaster while I laughed and told him about something similar that had happened when I was a child.

It was quite silly to think we were going to leave that room the same way we walked into it.

He’d leaned in once quiet had settled down around us, both of us just watching the other, afraid that speaking would ruin the moment. His finger had ghosted my face, hesitating, asking me without really asking me. I’d leaned in the rest of the way to tell him it was okay. That’s when I knew I was a goner.

He was gentle with me, but also entirely self assured, leading the way. I couldn’t keep track of his lips or his hands but every part of my body was alive and I lived entirely in the moment for him.

He’d called me later that night asking if I wanted to have dinner at his place. We knew we had something good going. So we kept at it.

Until five months ago.

“Y/N?” Jules says in my ear. I snap out of my memories and look to where she’s pointing. And then back to her ecstatic face. There, sitting near the DJ was actually Ed Sheeran.

“Jules,” I say, lost for words. We had to do this now. We had to approach him, now or never.

“I can’t,” she says close to me. “I’m going to vom right now.”

“Come on!” I grab her and try to move her stiff body one step at a time until we’re only a couple feet away. That’s when the group he’s talking to shifts and I see Harry. Harry with a girl on his arm. My Harry.

“What’s wrong?” Jules halts as my own body goes rigid. “Don’t tell me you’ve got nerves now...oh hey isn’t that Harry?”

“Yeah...” my mouth was dry and I couldn’t believe it. He was here, I really didn’t think I’d see him ever again.

“I need to talk to you,” Harry says as I pour my morning coffee. It was the first week of my final semester so I was actually in a good mood, optimistic before all the deadlines hit. I never saw it coming.

“What’s up?” i was so innocent, drinking my coffee with no idea what else was brewing.

He takes the coffee cup from my hands and puts it down, gathering my hands in his. I notice his hands are slightly clammy, that was the first red flag.

“What’s wrong?” I ask again, the anxiety spiking up.

“No-nothing. I was just thinking about how I have to on tour for the next year. You’ve still got school to finish and a great big career ahead of you. I feel like I’m just going to hold you back and I-“

“That’s silly,” I interrupt. “You’d never...”

“I might. I’ll have tour and you’ll have school-“

“Hold on. Are you just trying to say...is it you who’ll hold me back or me who’s going to hold you back?” I asked, confused. How would Harry ever hold me back? I offered to go on legs of his tour with him when I could. I could do my work on the road. Nobody was going to hold anybody back

Harry opens his mouth to explain but I don’t let him get a word in. How dare he try to twist the situation. He should just say what he felt!

“Is that really it? I’m just a regular girl-next-door who’s run out of her luck with the famous superstar? She could never understand your fame, you could never want her in the public’s eye? Is that it? You’re too good for me? You can’t even think about going public with our rel-“

“Trust me you don’t want tha-“

“Don’t tell me what I want!” The coffee had curdled in my stomach and I felt like dry-heaving but I hold it together. I was so in love with this man, to think about living without him was painful beyond comprehension. But all he saw me as was deadweight. The realisation is crushing. “Just leave Harry. Just bloody leave then, I don’t want to see you! After all we had together I’m just deadweight to you? I’m going to hold you back? And yoy can’t eve be a man and say what you really want!”

He’d ruffled his hair, given some explanation, tried to tell me he loved me but I was somewhere else. My life felt like it was falling apart, and I had a lab to teach in a few hours. He was so bloody selfish. I decided I hated him.

“-show him who cares. Go right up and pretend you don’t even know who he is...” I wasn’t sure how long Jules was talking but she was right. I didn’t care about him. This was my night out.

Jules walks ahead and uses her charm to wriggle her way into the small conversation, inserting me right beside her. She knew the business, taking her time to talk to Ed Sheeran so as not to overwhelm him. In the meantime, my eyes catch Harry’s, and it’s like a movie line. Time slows down, I hear the breath I take and see the surprise register on his face. But I let my eyes skim past his, he meant nothing to me. Instead, they land on his girlfriend and that’s where I fight to hide the surprise.

There’s these photos I see online sometimes, you take a picture and draw it in your own style. His new girlfriend was kind of like that. She looked just like me, except slightly off. More like how I looked last year. Since then, I’d grown out my hair and let its natural colour grow in. But I nudge Jules and use my hair as a curtain, trying to tell her to look. She speaks my language so she sees right away and her eyes widen. She mouths oh my god.

I watch from the corner of my eye while pretending to be engaged by Jules introducing what she does to Ed Sheeran. Harry says something to his girl and she laughs. Jesus, even her smile was reminiscent of mine. I try not to stare, using my drink as a distraction but some small part of me-most of me is upset-but a small part of me feels like I’d won. Harry had told me I wasn’t good enough for him, and then gone out to find someone who looked just like me. That gives me the confidence I need to finally look him in the eye. It’s like he was tracking my moves because he looks at me too. He smiles and I just raise my eyebrows.

“Y/N,” he says in that deep silky voice of his. It carries across despite the noise. My heart squeezes.

“Harry,” I say. I let my eyes slide to his girlfriend and she raises a hand.

“Hi, I’m Katy.”

“Hi,” I smile, she’d done nothing wrong except look like me I guess. She looks up at Harry, waiting for him to introduce us. Ugh.

“And this is Y/N, she’s my best friend but she always says she never understands my absolute obsession with your music.” Jules from the right of me catches my attention. She was introducing me to Ed Sheeran-and exposing me.

“Okay. Ouch.” I give her a look which makes her laugh and shake Ed’s hand. Oh my god. “I’m definitely a fan, just not as big as Jules.”

“She’s more of an indie rock girl,” Harry’s deep voice comes from behind me and I’m surprised to find him standing right behind me.

Jules raises her eyebrow at him, glances at me while Harry and Ed talk before interjecting and resuming her conversation.

“I’d say I’m more of a pop girl.” I turn to Harry. I look for his girlfriend but she’d disappeared.

“But that’s not your guilty pleasure,” Harry says and I avoid the tingle in my stomach as he says it. “And Kat’s gone off with her friend, they saw Adele they want to get a picture.” I don’t bother to say it wasn’t Adele. “How’s it going with you?”

He has to lean in close to be heard and I find myself drawing closer to his orbit. I had to be careful here. I remind myself that I hated him.

“Same old,” I say. “I’ve graduated, now looking for full time work. Travelled a bit too.”

“You finally see those tourist traps you wanted to?”

I forgot how intimately Harry knew me, I wanted to forget how much history we shared. But it’s so painfully obvious now that that would be impossible. Even holding onto my hate was proving slippery.

“The Great Pyramids were better than the Eiffel Tower,” I reference an old conversation we’d had. “So I was right.”

This makes Harry laugh and the club narrows down to just us as he steps to the side with me to a quieter area.

We stand in silence for a moment, just watching each other, memorizing the details about each that time had blurred. Like the laugh lines around his eyes, or the depth to his eyes. It feels like he’s cheating with me, with how fiery and focused his gaze is on me. The unspoken words in his eyes.

“Harry I-“ I raise my hand to tell him I should go, I didn’t want anything to happen we would regret. But he takes my hand and puts it to his warm chest. The words leave my mouth as I look at him again. Really look at him. From afar he looked like he was doing better than he ever was but up close I notice the tired bags and the lost look in his eyes. It was the same one I saw in my own after we’d broken up.

This was ridiculous, I tell myself. He left me, I shouldn’t feel bad for him. I’d won. But I want to ask him about Katy, when he looked in her eyes, did he think of mine? And when he looked at her smile, did I cross his mind? I already knew that he saw me instead ‘cause she looks a lot like I did back then. I wanted to ask him and tell him not to lie.

“How are you doing?” I finally break and ask even though I want to ask, is she just a lookalike?

He looks away, his hand letting go of mine. His fake smile is back on his face as he performs for me once again. “Not too bad. I’ve got a break from tour right now so just layin’ low.”

I look around and point to the club around us. “Laying low?”

“Yeah,” Harry laughs at being caught. “My girlf-Katy-she really wanted to come out to one of these with her girlfriends. She convinced me to come along.”

I didn’t know what to say to that so I just smile. My phone buzzed and I see a text from Jules. I look for her in the crowd and she’s staring at me with a raised eyebrow. I give her the everything is okay smile and she looks relieved.

“Jules is overprotective as usual,” Harry notices. What did he expect, I think, when he’s the selfish arse who broke my heart. The small flame of anger reignites as I watch Jules smile at me with caring eyes.

“She just wanted me to hook up with a cute guy tonight,” I say to Harry. “Spending it with my ex kind of kills the vibe.”

There, I’d addressed the elephant in the room. And just as I suspected, Harry gets uncomfortable.

“So I take it you’ve not got a boyfriend?”

“Nope,” I cross my arms. “Was busy travelling...” and feeling depressed at home I don’t add.

“Right,” Harry straightens up. “Well don’t let me keep you Y/N. Sorry to...”

I look up at him, his pause. His apology seems to be about something bigger than keeping me from the rest of the club. But I don’t mention it. I don’t push it. Yes, I wanted to stay here in this corner of the club with him but I don’t want to make it a big deal. I give him a squeeze on the arm to tell him it was alright. He paints a smile on and I walk away even though I want to just stay.

I walk to Jules, tell her I’d get another drink for us. At the bar, waiting for our drinks, I notice Harry with Katy again, they’re dancing with her friends, she laughs, he pulls her closer.

That was us not long ago, before that morning chat. God. I really did hope, in his head, he saw me instead. Cause...he’d been in mine every day since then. I admit it, some nights, no almost every night...I still though about him. I tried to hide it, I did an amazing job at hiding it, but I couldn’t erase him from my mind. The thought almost makes me laugh as I get my drinks...maybe I just needed to find a lookalike.

[spooks-and-tea]

Entangled (Spencer Reid x femReader) [Ch.11] The Final Chapter.

Summary: You don’t know how it happened. One moment you were watching Criminal Minds, and the next moment you were literally in the show. Can Spencer be the key to helping you find your way back home?

Warnings: minor character death, mentions of su*cide, bad explanations of quantum mechanics, bad words, sexual situations (some non-con), the usual criminal minds-type content

A/N: Some big bad interrogation Spencer vibes. Thanks for reading. This chapter was short, so I just decided 2 chapter posts in one day. Let me know what you thought of the story~Pleeeeease no one repost on other sites without my permission.

Word Count: 2,015

Chapter 1.  Chapter 2.  Chapter 3.  Chapter 4. Chapter 5.  Chapter 6.  Chapter 7.  Chapter 8.  Chapter 9.  Chapter 10.  Chapter 11.  

************************************************************************After Spencer had disappeared, JJ was surprised, to say the least.

She held the unsub by the cuffs as he angrily spoke about Spencer's big genius brain solving an equation in 2 minutes which had taken himself a lifetime of work to figure out. She asked him where the machine had taken Spencer and he replied with all of this talk about quantum mechanics, particle waves, split dimensions, and voids. Stuff that Spencer had been info-dumping about for months, regarding the case.

All JJ cared to know about was if Spencer was safe, and to that the unsub just shrugged.

The first thing the team did when you all returned to the BAU was throw the unsub into an interrogation room.

Spencer was quick to volunteer as the only interrogator in the room, he argued this unsub would react the strongest to him.

The rest of the team were still flustered from all of this inter-dimensional information that Spencer had gone on about on the ride back. You had backed him up wholeheartedly and you were seemingly in great health after being gone for 5 months.

"Alright Reid, you seem to be the only one of us that has a good idea of what's going on. We'll watch from here, and if he gets too aggressive, we'll send someone else in," Hotch agreed.

You watched from the double sided mirror, the unsub was looking at it as if he could see you. You clenched your fists. He was the reason you'd nearly lost Spencer. He was the reason that Spencer looked sick from overworking and you had nightmares for 5 months straight.

"Hey, will you be okay in here?" Spencer lowered his voice to ask you. You had refused to stop holding his hand since you got here. He noticed your fist clenching tighter.

"I don't want him to take you away from me again," you replied.

"He's in handcuffs, and his machine is being collected for evidence. He isn't a wizard, he needs that machine like Nikola Tesla needs an inductor. He can't hurt us anymore," Spencer tried to comfort you, using the soft tone he knew you loved.

"Just don't take too long in there, and give him hell for me, alright?" You stood on your toes and kissed him.

He gave you a small smile and nodded.

You slowly slid your hand from his as he turned to walk out.

When he entered the interrogation room, he was no longer soft-Spencer.

The unsub didn't even turn to look at him, he was fixated on the double mirror. His eyes unnerved you.

You crossed your hands over your chest and leaned against the wall, deciding to keep your eyes steadily on Spencer.

"We know who you are." Spencer spoke. You smiled, recognizing that Spencer was turning the unsub's words to you against him.

Was Spencer purposefully trying to make you happy while he was in the middle of an interrogation?

"I know who you are as well, Dr. Reid," his gritty voice made your skin crawl.

"Good, then you should know that I understand the significance of the science experiments you've been conducting, Dr. Arnold Lynch. You've been labeled as a dangerous person to the entire world; a mad scientist." Spencer sat in a chair, his arms crossed.

"Now they listen." Lynch, rolled his eyes, finally looking at Spencer. His unimpressed gaze trailed up and down, sizing him up.

"I was like you once. Young, an impressive mind; maybe if I had found her sooner she would have loved me." Lynch added. He looked back to the mirror, you tasted bile at the back of your throat.

Spencer leaned forward in his chair, putting his elbows on the table.

"You're trying to change the subject." Spencer pointed out. "Tell me how all of this started. Tell me where your partner, Dr. Deborah Tryst, is hiding and how she helped you."

Lynch's eyes widened. "We were colleagues. She helped me build the machine, and I wrote the equations that made it work. We went in together, the first time."

"She tested the machine with you?" Spencer asked.

"Yes, we experimented. We tried to study the void space for years. Then, one day, a crack formed. Through that crack I saw her." The unsub looked towards you, seemingly locking eyes with you through the one-way glass.

"Y/N?" Spencer clarified.

"Correct. She was spectacular, the girl from a parallel dimension. We didn't know why the crack revealed her at first, but then we saw the string. It was barely noticeable, like a fishing line. It led from her dimensional crack to ours. All it took was a tug on that wire to know who the other end of that line connected to."

He was watching me? What a sick creep!

"Who?"

"Don't play stupid with me Doctor, I know you feel it."

Spencer swallowed, his eyes flicking to you for a moment.

"I should have gotten rid of you when I had the chance. My colleague thought differently. Now that the cracks were open, she observed you both, she knew you both would feel-" he sighed, "-incomplete until you were in the same space. She decided to play matchmaker and ruin everything. I loved Y/N first. Y/N was mine and she was a beacon, a magnificent anomaly! I took her back so she could be my pet; so she would never be yours!" He angrily spat, slamming his fists onto the table. Spencer stood, seething. You felt similarly.

"You had no right!" Spencer's voice was deep and angry. You'd never heard him so angry, other than in the show.

"No, Tryst had no right bringing her to you in the first place!"

"Y/N wants to be here. This is her decision. If you're so convinced you love her, you would want what is best for her."

"What's best for her Dr. Reid, or what's best for you? Is she any better off fighting criminals for the BAU? A job she isn't trained for." He cruelly laughed. "Is putting her in danger just so you can fuck her every once in a while off-duty not selfish? You think I'm the selfish one, look at yourself. You're just expecting her to be the lawful Bonnie to your Clyde, how long until you drive her into a hail of bullets?" Lynch smirked.

Spencer's eyes widened and he gripped the table.

No Spence, don't let him get to you.

"That's it, I'm going in there." Morgan spoke up next to you.

Hotch held his hand up to block him; his eyes on Spencer. "Wait, let Spencer speak. He's getting the unsub to talk, and that's good."

Spencer quickly collected himself, his expression going blank.

"Where is Dr. Deborah Tryst?" Spencer asked.

"Ooh, did I strike a chord, Doctor?" Lynch chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

"Where is Dr. Deborah Tryst?" Spencer repeated, angrier.

"Probably playing matchmaker. There are an infinite amount of dimensions for her to play with." Lynch shrugged.

"She's still in the void?"

"Yup, she's the reason the crack sealed when you two went through. She trapped herself in there and made sure I could never go back. Whatever she's doing, we'll never know for sure because it is impossible to recreate the initial crack. You should know just how improbable it was to create one in the first place, Dr. Reid."

"So there is no further possibility of danger?"

"Not cosmically, but, for our impossible girl over there, who knows what kind of dangerous situations you will put her in." Lynch nodded to the double mirror.

"She is not yours and she will never be yours. We're putting you in a maximum security prison where you will never see her again. So you can sit in your cell for the rest of your life and remember that she's with me, not you." Spencer's eyes darkened. You wanted to end this fight and get him out of there. He was only getting angrier.

Hotch walked through the interrogation room door, holding it open. "Reid," was all he said.

That was it, Spencer had gotten a lengthy confession from the unsub. The details would come up during his trial.

Spencer stood up, not caring about the wobbling chair as he did so. He walked out of the room and you went to the hallway to meet him. You met him as he was stomping down the hall away from you. "Spencer!" You called, hurrying to follow him.

He made his way inside an empty meeting space and you quickly slipped in behind him; closing the door.

He loosened his tie and ran his hands through his hair. You let him cool off for a few moments.

"He's right. I am selfish." He sounded beyond angry, even guilty.

He leaned forward on the meeting table, clenching his fists against the wood.

"He was just trying to get the last word in. Don't pay his words any more attention." You spoke, softly; placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You shouldn't work here. You're not properly trained for the high-intensity, high-risk situations."

"Then I can train. Anyways, I doubt Hotch is going to let me work here now that he knows," you said, sadly. You loved working here. You loved helping people and being with your BAU family. You loved Spencer's daily teasing.

"Being with me puts you in enough danger. I couldn't protect you. What's stopping something from happening to you again?" He looked up at you, though he was still hunched over the table.

"All the other times you protected me." You gave him a small smile. "When Chris threatened me, you confronted him. When I jumped into the lake, you stopped me from drowning. When I was stuck in my dimension, you rescued me from a life of being absolutely miserable without you. When the unsub first encountered us, you stood in front of me even though you couldn't see him. You've protected me far more times than you are choosing to acknowledge. I trust you with my life, Spence."

Spencer's shoulders fell as his breath evened out.

"I love you Y/N, I just don't want you to get hurt." Spencer whispered, his grip on the table loosening. He slowly stood up straight to look at you.

"We aren't some alternate justice-duo, Bonnie and Clyde. We're perfectly capable of protecting each other, and we aren't some crazy serial-killing, bank-robbing couple. We're Spencer and Y/N, the BAU's hottest couple." You spoke with exaggeration and winked.

Spencer gave you a small smile. His hair was a mess, his clothing was wrinkled, and his tie was undone.

"It's been a long day. Take me home?" You asked, giving him your best doe-eyes as you reached up to fix his tie.

"Oh. About that- you're apartment and all your money and assets are sorta gone now. You were presumed dead."

"I'm not talking about that place." You rolled your eyes; unaffected by the news.

You were used to being dirt poor anyways and that house was nothing but an empty shell.

"Home, with you," you explained.

"Oh."

Spencer broke out into a large grin. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a kiss. His coffee and woodsy-vanilla scent enveloped you like a warm hug. When he pulled away, he held his hand out to you.

"Come on then, I'll take you home."

Home, it was a strange concept. Your now-empty apartment in your dimension was once your home. You'd once almost drowned yourself to try to get back to that place.

Then you fell in love with Spencer, and living with him made you discover what a home truly was. It wasn't where you were from, it was the place you loved to be; the place you felt most comfortable, the most yourself.

Your home was in Spencer's dimension, Spencer's apartment, Spencer's arms, Spencer's everyday gestures, Spencer's smile, Spencer's late night chess games, Spencer's "I love you's," Spencer's raspy morning voice, Spencer's unruly hair, Spencer's hand kisses, Spencer's scrunched nose ticks, Spencer's info-dumps, Spencer's everything.

It was the most improbable circumstance and the one thing you were most thankful for. You got to spend your new life with Spencer.

In the end, Spencer Reid kept his promise; he did help you find your way home. Your way home to him.

[hopesbarnes]

Black Swan (1)

Summary: Y/N used to be a Russian spy under the code name Black Swan. But that was a lifetime ago, now she’s a part-time avenger, dance teacher, surrogate sister to Natasha Romanoff, and trainer to new Shield Agents. She’s come a long way from the days of killing targets and being tortured. But when someone from her past comes around will she be able to ignore her history anymore? Or will she end up falling in love with the only man her sister ever loved? 

Warnings: None for this chapter  

A/N: Here we go againn! This is a edited form of the story I had posted last year. Taglist is open, send an ask 

“Bucky is going to be staying here,” Steve says at breakfast that morning. In the same nonchalant tone, he used to say “I’m going on a run’. Not the type of tone to use when announcing a dangerous assassin would be your roommate. You knew what he did wasn’t his fault, out of anyone, you understood this. But he killed without blinking, and his brain is scrambled like an egg. This didn’t make the most stable man, and it definitely didn’t make him safe to be around. 

“Steve, is that really a good idea?” Natasha says before you could form the exact same question. 

Natalia was your sister, you’ve known her your whole life. You’re not blood-related but related through things much stronger. The two of you were widows. A KGB experiment that stole girls and trained them to be merciless spies. They took your life away and killed anyone too weak to handle the stress. Natalia and you were the only known survivors. She took on the mantle of Black Widow upon graduation, and you took the mantle, Black Swan. 

“They took out the programming, he’s not the Winter Soldier anymore,” Steve combats with. “He needs help, and I need to be the one to give it.” He turns and leaves the room after this statement, leaving you and Natasha with no room to debate this fact. 

“This is not going to end well” you mumble under your breath, and Nat nods in agreement. Nothing about this screamed ‘good idea’. But then again, they did take in your sister and you. 

After breakfast, you head to the gym with Nat for morning workouts. It was never a crazy exercise, just enough to start the day. You head towards the treadmill, and she speaks first.

 “I remember him.” She admits softly. You knew the conversation was coming, but like hell did you want to avoid it. “Do you?” The ‘training’ you went through involved wiping, so there were spots in your memory that may never be filled. But James wasn’t one of those.

“Yeah, and I remember how you would talk nonstop about him,” you say teasingly. She throws her towel at you and the two of you break into giggles. A sound most people never dream of hearing from the two of you. 

“I was naive then! We were kids,” she says. Kids that never should have gone through what they did. 

“I never liked him,” you declare bluntly taking the goofy tone from the room. She exhales loudly. 

“I know сестренка (sis). What time is it, don’t you have class today?” She says effectively changing the topic. A trademark of hers.

 “It’s at 11, I have two hours and the building is 10 minutes away,” you tell her, even though she knows this information. 

“I still don’t get why you teach all those испорченные дети (spoiled children)” she says. 

“It’s my way of paying back to the society I guess. I might as well use my dancing skills for good for once.” She nods and you both continue running for a little while longer.

You arrive at the studio 15 minutes before class, which is more than enough to set up the barres and find the right CD for the lesson. The girls slowly start trickling in. It was your senior class so the girls are all teenagers. It’s Saturday which means the girls are here all day long. They stretched, ran through barre work, ate lunch, and then learned their choreography the rest of the time. They were part of a competition team, and put their all into dance. It was always refreshing to see such passion and reinvigorated your love for the sport. It may have lead you down a path that took everything, but it still held your heart.

“Alright girls, take off your street clothes. Barres mean leotards and tights only!” You say in an authoritative teacher voice and they all hurriedly shuffle to their assigned spots. You hit the music count “5,6,7,8-” and they begin their pliés. 

Two hours later the class ends and the girls go to their lunch break in a flurry of laughs and gossip. You put the barres back against the wall and join the other teachers for lunch. You’ve been with the studio for close to 5 years now. At first, they were wary of hiring an ex KGB spy, part-time avenger. But there were few people as trained as you, and when word got out that you were teaching, tons of girls signed up for a class with ‘The Black Swan’. Luckily the novelty of your celebrity status wore off with the girls and they stopped asking a hundred questions about the avengers and your past. (They were still obsessed with Natalia though.)

Lunch passes and you’re joined in the room by the girls of your large group. It was the beginning of the season and you had just announced they would be dancing to “Cosmic Love” by Florence and the Machine. They were still giddy with excitement and constantly heard “Miss Y/N Look!” by excited girls showing new ways they could turn or fold in half. The dance would start with three of the girls extending their leg above their head and holding it. You told them the previous week that this week whoever could hold it longest would get to do it in the dance. The girls all got ready before you count down and let them bring their legs up. You hear them all egging each other on and it reminds you of when you were younger before the program.

All but three girls eventually drop their legs and you have to practically shout over their excited squeals. The rest of the time goes by quickly and you have the first part choreographed and the girls seem to have it memorized. You give them all homework to work on their turns and bid them goodbye for the day. Before you can leave two of the girls come up and ask you to choreograph their solos and you agree before shooing them to their parents.

You head back to your apartment in the compound upstate and shower. Your floor consisted of bedrooms for the Nat and you and a shared area in between. There were few people you could tolerate early in the morning and Nat was about the extent of it. You head to the common area upstairs, where everyone gathered.

“The old man give any more information on when he’s bringing him here?” You ask Nat in your native tongue. She’s stretching and watching television. 

“Steve left today. Said they’ll be back Monday,” she replies from the straddle she’s sitting in on the floor. “How was the class?” 

“Good, started choreographing the large group today. They’re all super excited and want better spots in the dance so they’re trying their best right now.” You smile thinking about the girls all trying to see how long they can hold their tilts. “Two of them asked me to do their solos for them, so I’m a little excited too,” You answer.

“Sometimes a part of me misses the tutus and tights. Then I remember what came with them.” She says in a wistful voice.  

“You should come to class with me sometime if you want. I promise they’re not that vile,” you say. “Plus, they’ve been dying to meet you. It’s nothing like our lessons.” 

She smiles and says “Maybe.” You join in her stretching and watch the show with her.  

Later on, Bruce finds the pair of you chatting while sitting in splits.

 “You do know that the body was not designed to bend that way?” he asks. 

“It also wasn’t meant to turn big and green. But here we are.” Tasha quipped back. Bruce pointed as if he was going to refute that, but lowered his hand in defeat instead.

“You hear about the new addition? You ask.

 “Bucky? Yeah, I never met him,” he says, “But at this point what’s another messed up person who could kill everyone!” He laughs.

“How much do you think he’ll remember?” Nat asks. 

“Hard to say. Guess we’ll find out in time.” You and Natasha share a look but go back to talking with Bruce and hope for the best going forward.

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Black Swan Taglist:

@desimarie12​ @puddinsqueen​ @fogfolk​ @creepylittlemarvelgirl​ @jennmurawski13​ 

[h0ly-fire]

Timeless:

Chapter 3 part 1

Hi! So this is chapter three and chapter three will have 2 parts because its already at 3k plus words and I don’t have the energy to post it all ,but the good news is that it is edited this time! Hope you enjoy ! Part two will be finished and Posted tomorrow and than I will try to get chapter 4 out next week ! Also message me if you want to be tagged!

“I’m sorry, but who’s y/n? “You Questioned Loki. Loki looked at you like you were stupid before replying “You’re y/n. Do you not remember? “You shook your head no in response “sorry, but you probably have me confused with someone else. My name is Red.” Loki looked dumbfounded “Pardon, but Red? Seriously, that is your new name?” he put his hands on his hips before ranting “I mean come on. Did they just not know what to call you looked around and saw a red item and thought to themselves “Oh look, a red book, let’s just call her Red.” “I mean come on” he looked over at Mobius “Red?”

You made eye contact with Mobius before looking back at Loki “Are you done now? Because if you, are I’d like to carry on with my day.” Loki looked at you again with a sad expression this time “do you really not know who you are?” at this point you were fed up “Of course I know who I am! My name is Red, and I’ve worked at the TVA all my life!” and with that you stormed out the door. Loki had looked disappointed at your answer before turning back to Mobius “can we go now?” Mobius said yes before leading Loki out the room.

There were very few things in your life that made you confused, if any at all really, but Loki was a complete puzzle. What did he mean by “do you really not know who you are?” of course I know who I am, you huffed to yourself. A dull ache in your head and a flash of memory caused you to trip and run in to the wall. “Ouch!” you Hollard, rubbing your head while getting yourself off the floor. “Are you okay there Red?” Mobius asked. Him and Loki had left the room shortly after you stormed out and were headed the same direction. “Yes, I’m fine I just got this really sharp pain in my head, and I freaked out and fell.” Brushing yourself off you turned around to face them “What are guys doing anyway? Are you following me?” Mobius shook his hands “No, we were just on our way to get lunch. Well, I was on my way to get lunch, Loki here is going to the office to learn more about the TVA. Matter of fact why don’t you go show him where it is, so I don’t have to?” You opened your mouth to protest but Mobius walked away before you could get a chance to say anything.

You looked back at Loki before walking ahead of him “Are you coming along or what?” He ran, catching up to you, setting a brisk pace. “So, I get to see your office?” you rolled your eyes at him “just shut it.”

“This is my desk and that one over there is Mobius’s, but you can sit there.” You said pointing to the desk adjacent from your own. “Sit” you told him. “Now just stay and listen, okay?” you walked to your own desk, finishing up paperwork. Loki looked around him for a bit seeing other people work and walk by and then looked at you. “How did you get here?” he thought to himself “what did they do to you?” he looked at you for a while, but you had not noticed being too engross in your work. He then looked at the desk in front of him spotting a magazine on jet skies before that stupid animated clock he saw earlier on the television started talking to him. “Alright ya’ll what happens when a nexus event branches past red line?” the clock asked Loki. Loki, still reading, answered nonchalantly “very bad things.” You looked up from your paperwork hearing Loki’s reply and quietly laughed. You were learning quickly that he had a smart mouth. You noticed the clock did not find it amusing though, putting her hands on her hips and frowning.” Come on Loki what is it?” Loki sighed saying “It’s when the TVA can no longer reset the Nexus event.” You could tell by his tone that he was getting annoyed. You did not blame him though, that stupid clock annoyed the hell out of you too. The clock continued on seeming satisfied with his answer “right, and that would lead to destruction of the timeline and the collapse of reality as we know it.” Loki put his magazine down questioning the clock “can you hear me?” “Are you a recording or are you alive?” By now you were to busy hearing Loki’s conversation with the clock to finish your work. Your smile growing bigger by the minute as he continued to argue with her. The clocked looked up in thought “uhhhhh, sort of both.” Loki shook his head while he rolled up the magazine. You could tell where this was going and tried your hardest not to laugh at him. He looked over to the side at you. He had noticed your smile and smiled back before trying to smack the clock. He continued trying to hit the clock before she jumped back into the computer screen. Mobius had walked in and looked at you weirdly seeing you smile. In all your time of being here he hadn’t seen you smile like that. That is odd. Mobius went up to Loki “Is that my jet ski magazine? Put it down. Gear up there’s been an attack we have to go.” He then looked over to you “You coming along?” You looked at the mountain of paperwork and then to Mobius “Of course I will.”

“C20 and her team went dark shorty after they jumped to the 1985 branch. All signs look to another ambush. We’ve grabbed enough temporal aura to know if it’s our Loki variant, but which kind of Loki remains unknown.” The women said briefing you all on the mission at hand. You had a hard time listening though due to the dull ache in your head coming back. What was wrong with you? You have never felt like this before. Another flash crossed your mind, this time you could see it clearly. A women blonde hair and kind eyes and a little boy black hair and green eyes. The boy reminded you of Loki in a way, but that was odd. How could that be? Another ache caused you to bend over clutching your head. The only one who noticed was Loki. He wanted to ask what was wrong but figured now was not the best time. He turned his attention back to the women that stood in front of them all before replying to her “The lesser kind to be clear.” He said, looking at everyone. You rolled your eyes at him standing up straight again. The dull ache slowly dissipating. The women sighed and told him “Let me see the back of that jacket.” Loki looked confused, but complied showing the back, allowing everyone to see the big bold letters of ‘Variant’ written across it. They all chuckled amongst themselves before Loki turned back around “Very subtle, well done.” he said, the women then replied” I don’t want anyone out there to forget what you are.” “Oh, your only hope to capturing a murder.” He spoke. “No, a cosmic mistake,” she said.

You hadn’t paid attention to the rest of the conversation to busy trying to figure out who that woman and that boy you saw were. You looked back at Loki, him noticing your stare and looking back at you. He gave you a kind smile but frowned when he saw you holding you head again. “Are you okay?” he whispered to you. You looked up at him before softly replying yes and looking away. Mobius cleared his throat at you two before speaking and pulling out a device. Explaining the many different Loki variant before Loki interrupted him. “Duplicating Casting.” He spoke. Mobius shut the device off before saying “Illusion projection.” Loki shook his finger at him “they’re two completely different powers actually.”

“How?” Mobius asked. Loki than went off on a tangent about how Illusion projection and Duplication casting were different. They all had looked very confused, but Loki had looked proud of himself. He wasn’t wrong though, somehow you faintly recalled someone telling you the exact same thing once. Maybe it was a dream, but why would you dream of illusion projection and duplication casting? Either way you were confused as to why you knew those things, but you weren’t going to question it further.

“We’re gonna break into two teams. Including myself, Red, and Professor Loki.” Mobius said. You nodded, clearing your head before following everyone.

You all had ended up in what seemed to be some sort of fair. Why these people found this something worth while you would never know, but you did like some of the clothes the people were wearing. They looked cool. Looking back at the group you noticed you strayed off a bit and joined back up with Mobius and Loki. You listened in on their conversation, but it hadn’t interested you that much. Just Mobius explaining common sense to Loki as to why they couldn’t just show up to when the attack took place. You all had entered a large tent. “So, he’s taking hostages now?” You had heard the women ask another minute man. The man said something, and she said something back before Loki made a comment about underestimating him. The women ignored Loki before ordering everyone to fan out and search for C20. “And hurry up because we’re at three units until red line.” She spoke. “Come on, let’s go.” You told Loki and Mobius walking off, but Loki shouted “wait.” and said “If you leave this tent, you’ll end up like them. “Mobius walked up to him before asking “what do you see?” “I see a scheme. “But it wasn’t Loki that said it, it was you. Mobius looked at you tilting his head “what?” you ignored him turning your attention to Loki “You see it too don’t you Loki?” you asked. “Yes” he said “and in that scheme I see myself. “He started walking before continuing “We have a saying in Asgard. Where there are wolfs ears” he said “wolfs teeth are near. It means to be aware of your surroundings.” You finished for him. Mobius and the rest of the team looked at you strangely, but Loki looked like he was proud of you. He gave you a smile before standing straight again. “How did you know what he was going to say Red?” Mobius asked. You looked at him saying you didn’t know and that you were just as confused as he was. How did you know what Loki was going to say? Were you a mind reader now?

Loki continued saying the TVA and the Gods of Asgard were one of the same “Drunk with power and blind to the truth.” He spoke. “Those you underestimate will devour you” he said towards the women leading the group, walking closer to her. “You underestimate me. Just as you underestimate this lesser Loki. Which is why you walk into one wolfs mouth after another.” He spoke.

A device started beeping, signaling it was almost time to leave and reset. “Two units. He is wasting our time!” the women said, walking away from Loki. “We need to Look for C20.” The women told Mobius and you. “It’s a trap.” You told her. Loki shook his head in agreement “That���s exactly what the variant wants you to do. He’s waiting for you outside this tent.” He spoke. A minute man spoke up asking “do you want me to reset the charges?” but before the women could reply you interrupted “No, he wants Loki. He’s the key to his plan. “You said, Loki spoke up” He knows that I’m stronger than him.” The women looked frustrated before looking back down at the device “one unit left.” She spoke. Loki continued about how he could deliver the Variant but asked for assurances that he wouldn’t be disintegrated when the job is done. Mobius looked away from you, confused on how you knew this stuff, and then looked to Loki. “Right” Mobius said keeping a long pause before telling everyone “He’s lying, just playing games. Reset the timeline.” Mobius turned back to Loki, pointing a finger at him “you had me for a second.” “Well, here’s a thing. My ears are sharp to.” And then he walked away form Loki.

“Red can I speak to you?” Mobius asked you while you two walked through the portal back into the TVA. “Sure, what about?” you answered, looking at him. “How did you know what Loki was going to say?” “Did you two plan that all out or what? What is going on? Has he done something to you?” “Made up lies or false promises to you to get you to help him out?” It was one question after another with him and you had to stop him before he asked you even more. Putting your hand out to stop him you cut him off. “Okay first of all I don’t know how I knew. I just did, okay? “Putting your hand down you continued “second, no we didn’t plan out anything why would you even think that!” “And third of all, no, he didn’t do anything to me and No! he didn’t make any promises or lies towards me! “Exasperated, you quilted down “now if you’ll excuse me, I’m hungry and would like to eat lunch.” With your head down, that dull ache coming back, you headed towards the cafeteria.

Mobius sighed and went to the judge’s office. “Is it just me or does this office just get bigger and bigger?” “Where did you get that one, the snow globe?” He asked her, pointing to the shelf across from him. “I love those, I don’t remember bringing you back that case.” The women popped open a bottle and poured herself a glass “You’re not the only analyst working or me.” She told him. “What would you say. I’m your favorite one?” He asked her as she went to go sit down. “Let’s talk about the mission you just botched.” She told Mobius. Mobius looked like he wanted to do anything other than that. She passed him his own drink “You might need this for discussion.” He accepted the drink lifting it up and saying, “I hope it’s a double.” And then drinking it. “This variant is insubordinate, stubborn, unpredictable. Sounds like someone I know.” The women said. Mobius put his glass down and nodded his head “Sounds like someone I know.” “Listen Ramona, I’m sorry. I’ve realized that my methods with this, you know, with this Loki are controversial.” Ramona interrupted him saying “Don’t, bringing a dangerous variant into the field is controversial.” “Yeah, it didn’t go exactly how I wanted it to today, but here’s what we did find out the variant likes to stall for time and the other will do the same thing. Because understanding this Loki helps me get closer to the one we’re chasing, right?” he said and then continued “oh, and also another thing we found out is that y/n or Red as we were told to call her is regaining her memory and I think it has something to do with Loki being here.” Ramona looked away before saying “I need you to make sure y/n doesn’t regain her memory, okay? She’s one of our most powerful assets and she can be extremely useful to us if need be. We do not need her regaining her thoughts and screwing everything up like she’s already done.” “You and I both know why we keep her here.” Mobius shook his head in understanding “Yes, I do, because she’s already destroyed the timeline once and destroyed the multiverse and we don’t need it to happen again.” He said. Ramona sighed “Look I know you have a soft spot for broken things, but Loki is an evil lying scourge. That is the part he plays on the sacred timeline.” “And y/n is his lover, his partner in crime and if she finds out or he tells her who she truly is. It’s on you Mobius.” She told him.

After leaving Ramona’s office Mobius walked off with Loki trailing after him. Loki explaining himself to Mobius, but Mobius wasn’t having any of it and called Loki out on his bullshit before the two walked into the elevator. Mobius had left Loki at a desk putting him to work “Work like your life depends on it. I’m gonna go grab a snack.” He said before walking away. Loki sat down looking through all the files on the desk finding nothing of interest. After that he decided to go up to the women at the front desk, but she was too busy typing on her computer to notice him. After a few attempts of trying to get her to answer she looked up from her keyboard. “Can I help you?” she asked. “Yes, I’m on some important TVA business. Follow up to a field mission.” He leaned on her desk “You know how it goes.”

You had gotten back from lunch, the whole ordeal with Mobius behind you know, you were looking through some files for another case you were working on when you heard a familiar voice. Peaking out from the isle you spotted Loki at the front desk talking to the older women. “Um, I’d like all files pertaining the creation to the TVA, please.” He asked her. At that you silently laughed. “What and idiot.” You thought. “Those are classified.” She told him. “Okay I’d like all files pertaining to the beginning of time.” He asked. “Those are classified.” She said again. At this point you sat your files down and walked over to stand next to Loki. “Hi, can’t help but notice you’re having a little trouble here so why don’t I help you.” You placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder looking at the women. Loki looked at you “Y/n, what are you doing here?” he asked. You looked up at him “Again my name is not y/n, and I was here because I was doing work of my own, but I overheard you and thought I’d show you what you are allowed to see so you can stop pestering this older woman.” He pointed to the lady at the desk and said, “but that’s her job.” You shook your head and patted his back before looking at the women “I got it from here, sorry about him.” The lady rolled her eyes and continued typing.

You walked along the aisle with Loki tagging along until you got to the right spot. “No, no, no, AH HA! Here we go!” You than threw a stack of files into Loki’s hand. He looked down reading the file “Variant Case file” and then the name “Laufeyson, Loki” He sighed before following you back to the desk. You opened your own files while Loki had started to read his own. “Destruction of Asgard” was written in red bold letters at the top of the file. You looked up from your own files to see Loki’s disappointed face. He looked sad, but about what you didn’t know. Loki kept reading. Total Planetary destruction. Zero Variance energy detected (Entire Civilization Annihilated). Casualties: 9,719. Loki had looked up at you and then back to the file. “What is it?” You asked him. “I think I figured out how to catch our Variant. Follow me y/n we need to find Mobius.”

tags: @queenotaku23

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommate au :)

Chapter 8 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here. 

CW: mentions of verbal abuse, homophobia, alcoholism, jail time. instances of smoking. 

some notes: I usually go through and italicize as necessary when I’m posting on tumblr because it doesn’t copy over from my og text, but this chapter is like 6200 words and i’m just not gonna do that. recommend reading on AO3 for the best experience!!

An Exercise in Futility

Three Years Earlier

Castiel was convinced that his life was one massive, cosmic joke.

He’d been considering the possibility for some time. Being the gay son of a homophobic pastor does that to a person. When he discovered, sometime around the age of twelve, that the girls in his Sunday school class were far less interesting than the boys, he could practically feel God laughing at him. Then there was high school, where the religious prattling was replaced by what felt like endless torment at the hands of his peers. 

He felt like college was quickly becoming the third punchline.

Not that things were bad. Things were good, actually, better than they’d been in years. He was learning about things he cared about. He passed his midterms with flying colors. He even had friends. He spent a weekend watching all of the Lord of the Rings with Charlie. He had switched seats in accounting to sit next to Meg.

And, of course, there was Dean. Dean, who dragged Cas to a football game and didn’t drink a sip of alcohol the whole time in solidarity; Dean, who, after Tombstone, insisted on movie night every Tuesday; Dean, who, demanded that Cas print out a copy of one of his short stories and sign it (“When you’re a famous douchebag, this is gonna be worth so much money”).

It seemed that, on all fronts, Castiel had finally capitalized on the collegiate promise of a second chance. 

But by his own estimation, he was doomed.

Because sometimes, his palms started sweating when Dean stood too close. Sometimes, his heartbeat skipped when Dean threw an arm across Cas’s shoulders. Sometimes, Cas woke up from a dream so vivid, he was disappointed to find himself alone in his bunk bed.

He could see how easy it would be to fall in love with Dean Winchester, what with the blond hair and green eyes, bright smiles and southern lilt, funny jokes and considerate actions. The prospect was utterly terrifying, and Castiel was doing everything in his power to stop dwelling on it.

He’d been down the “falling in love with your straight best friend” road before. AP biology class brought Cas a lab partner in Ben Wright. Soccer team captain, A-student, all around nice guy. Maybe Ben didn’t do anything to stop the constant verbal torment, but he never took part in it. At first, being around him was exhilarating. Sharing looks, catching smiles, trading inside jokes; Cas was intoxicated. He was so high on first love that he made the mistake of confiding in Bartholomew. Cas had always considered him to be a role model, friend and brother at the same time. But that night, when Cas came out, Bartholomew looked at him like one might look at spoiled food. He’d agreed not to tell their father, on the condition that Cas never speak about the matter again, that he figure out some way to “cleanse himself.” They hadn’t spoken since that night.

And so the feelings that once propelled Castiel to school with anticipation suddenly made him dread it. Not only did baring his soul to a brother get him a one-way ticket to estrangement, but Ben started dating someone else, a girl from his English class. Now every shared look was painful, smiles were false, inside jokes stopped being funny.

It was somehow worse, knowing Ben could never feel the same way. It certainly didn’t help the feelings of guilt and shame brought by his family.

Cas would do anything not to feel that way again. 

He started by insisting that Dean invite Benny and Charlie to more of their nightly dinners. And while he honestly liked the both of them, he would be lying if he didn’t admit that their presence was, first and foremost, a distraction from Dean. He took up running again, as a way to get himself out of the dorm when Dean decided to stay in. He spent more time studying with Meg.

Meg was shockingly easy to befriend. She wasn’t nice — Cas had watched in shock when, once, she dumped a hot coffee on a skateboarder who had knocked her down on accident — but she never said a mean thing to Castiel. She was like him: a black sheep, the child everyone wished they could forget. Only, where Cas had become an agnostic and gone to college, Meg had become a Satanist and gone to jail for arson.

But this was her new leaf, she told him. Maybe it didn’t matter why someone needed a second chance, only that they were willing to take one.

They had been working for an hour when she threw her pen at his head and said, “Cas, you should come with me to Sig Ep’s Halloween party tomorrow. Be my date.”

Cas took a moment to process the meaning of party + date + with Meg. “Uh, I don’t — well, um, parties aren’t really —”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re allowed to say no, hun.”

Cas panicked. Meg was looking at him expectantly, her resigned smile making it clear she was prepared for rejection.

“Well, I… It’s not because of you — you’re very beautiful, and smart. Actually, you’re one of the most wonderful people I’ve met here.” She grinned at that. “It’s just, I don’t really… Go on dates. With girls.”

She studied him a moment before understanding lit up her face. “Oh.”

Castiel fidgeted with his pencil, refusing to meet her eyes. He’d only ever done this once, and it hadn’t gone well. But he liked having a friend, and more than that, he liked having Meg as a friend. He didn’t want her to think he wasn’t interested because of any fault of her own.

“Cas,” she said. When he didn’t respond, she poked him in the arm. “Castiel.” He raised his eyes. “It’s cool. It’s not like you can just choose to like girls when a pretty one asks you on a date.”

“I… Understand, if you would rather not be friends,” Cas said, cautiously.

“What?” Meg’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about? Why would I not want to be friends?” She laughed a little. “That would be super ironic, considering I told you I went to juvie and you didn’t bat an eye.”

“Because I’m gay,” Cas said quietly, looking down again.

Meg grabbed both his hands. “Cas, hun, there’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

He looked up again, eyes wide. “What? I mean, I know that, I just… Not everyone does.”

Meg smiled sadly at him and gripped his hands a little tighter. “Well, I do. No biggie. We’re going to be iconic together, you and I. Sexiest gay-straight alliance of all time.”

Cas smiled weakly, relief flooding his entire body. “Thank you, Meg. I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to make any judgements on your character. It’s just… This,” he motioned at the air between them, “has never gone well for me.”

Meg shook her head. “That’s a shame,” she said. “I haven’t known you that long. But I think I can tell that you — all the parts of you — are awesome.”

“You can still come to the party,” she added after a moment.

Cas shook his head, capping and uncapping his pen repeatedly. “Parties… They’re not really my scene.”

“All right. You know who to call if you change your mind.”

                   On Halloween, Castiel returned from his nightly run to find Dean pulling on a flannel. He checked his watch — he had barely made it. 6:57 pm.

“Right on time,” Dean said. “I was about to leave without you.”

“I would have never forgiven you if you did,” Cas joked. Then, “Are Charlie and Benny coming?”

“Nah, they’re both busy tonight. Halloween parties, you know.”

“Oh.” Castiel took a large sip of his water. “You’re not attending a Halloween party?”

Dean shrugged. “Wasn’t really feeling it tonight. Plus, I have a feeling you’ve never seen The Exorcist?” When Cas shook his head, Dean rubbed his hands together. “Oh man, we are totally watching it tonight. Unless you’re busy,” he added, raising his eyebrows at Cas.

“I’m not,” Cas replied. Dean knew this already, of course, otherwise Cas might have made something up. The waters in which he tread got more dangerous each day. He couldn’t escape the warm feeling flooding his chest at the idea of Dean ditching the parties for a movie night.

It was precisely that feeling that caused him to hurriedly ask, “Would you mind if I invited Meg to dinner?”

“Who?” Dean asked, lacing up his boots.

“Meg Masters. She’s the friend from accounting that I told you about.”

“Ah,” Dean said. “Right. What, just me isn’t good enough anymore?” Cas thought he was joking, but it seemed forced.

“Dean —”

“I’m kidding, man,” Dean said with a short laugh. “Sure, she can come.”

Castiel hurriedly splashed his face with cold water and shed his sweaty t-shirt in favor of a hoodie. Dean feigned a sniff in his direction and made a face, to which Cas replied with an eye-roll. As they left their dorm, Cas sent a text to Meg.

CN (7:02 pm)

Would you like to get dinner with Dean and me?

CN (7:02 pm)

Unless you’re already at your party, in which case, be safe.

MM (7:03 pm)

Party not til later. hot roommate dean?

CN (7:04 pm)

...Is that a yes?

MM (7:04 pm)

Yes please ;) shocker dining?

CN (7:05 pm)

Yes. We’ll meet you there.

Dean grabbed a burger and an inordinate amount of fries while Castiel loaded his plate with spaghetti and a salad. Meg walked into the dining room just after he and Dean sat down, and Cas waved her over.

“Meg,” he said, offering her the seat next to his, “this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Meg Masters.” Dean smiled at her with a mouthful of french fries. Cas dropped his head in exasperation.

“Pleasure,” Meg said with a half-cocked smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Dean shrugged. “I am pretty awesome. Can’t say the same about you, though.”

Cas went bright red. He shot Dean a glare, then turned to Meg. “He’s joking —”

Meg’s grin only widened, and she giggled. “It’s all right, Cas, I’m not very interesting.” She raised an eyebrow at him. He became extremely intent upon eating his dinner.

Dean stared at her for a moment, chewing a bite of burger. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You know Cas from accounting?”

“That’s right,” Meg said brightly.

“So he’s your tutor or somethin’?”

Cas interjected. “Actually, Meg is far more capable than I am. She essentially taught me everything about liabilities.”

“Adorable,” Dean grumbled.

“Isn’t it?” Meg asked sweetly. “And you’re his roommate.”

“Yep.”

“Lucky you.” She gave him a wink. Dean choked on his diet Coke, and Castiel prayed to whomever was listening that he might cease to exist.

“Meg,” he said, giving her a pointed look, “did you finish the homework?”

She pulled her eyes away from Dean. “Yeah, I did.” She dropped her voice. “Did you want to go over it? At my place?” She winked at Cas, who stared at her in horror. Why was she acting like this? “You know,” Meg continued, “We can do other things too. Besides accounting.”

Dean cleared his throat loudly. “I’m gonna go grab some more fries. Do y’all want anything?” 

Cas and Meg shook their heads. When Dean had left the table, Cas gave Meg a death stare.

“What’s wrong with you?” He hissed. “I thought we covered this —”

“Yes, Cas, hun, I know you’re extraordinarily gay,” Meg said with an eyeroll. “I’m not actually interested. I’m just conducting an experiment.” 

Cas narrowed his eyes. “What ‘experiment’—”

He closed his mouth abruptly and leaned away from Meg when he saw Dean returning from the buffet line. He returned to his seat, looking between Cas and Meg suspiciously. Cas downed his water in one swift action.

“So, Dean,” Meg said after taking a bite of her pizza. “I hear you’re educating our friend here on pop culture.”

Dean didn’t bother to look up at her while he swirled a fry in ketchup. “Guess so.” 

Cas cleared his throat to interject. This direction of conversation was much better. “Meg asked what my favorite movie was,” he explained to Dean, who still hadn’t looked up from his plate. “I told her about how much I liked Back to the Future when we watched it last week.” 

Dean gave him a small smile. “Yeah, that movie’s friggin’ awesome.”

Cas turned to Meg. “We’re watching The Exorcist tonight.” 

Meg gasped dramatically. “So that’s why you blew off our date?”

Dean sputtered into his drink. “Date?” He said through a cough.

Cas looked helplessly at Meg, who unhelpfully smiled back. He was going to have words with her after this. 

“I asked him to come to the SigEp party, but he said he was busy,” Meg said, feigning a pout. “But I get it, parties aren’t really Cas’s thing, anyway.”

Dean’s eyes flickered quickly between Cas and Meg. “All right, am I missing something?” He asked. His leg was bouncing against the table leg, hard enough that Cas’s plate was vibrating. 

Cas looked at him, panicked, and stuttered out, “I don’t —”

“Like what?” Meg asked, sipping on her water.

“You his girlfriend or somethin’?”

This question delighted Meg. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Dean turned to Cas with an exasperated look. “Well?” He prodded.

Cas was sure he was about three different shades of red at this point. “What — I — no,” he sputtered.

Dean seemed to relax a little. Meg was still grinning like a madman. “There you go,” she said.

Castiel could not formulate a single coherent thought. He was confused as to how they even ended up here. The silence between the three of them was thick and awkward. Meg paid it no mind, just popped a strawberry in her mouth and gave Dean a sickly sweet smile. Dean excused himself to use the restroom, hitting his leg on the table and nearly tripping over his chair. Once he had left, Meg turned to Cas, her eyes sparkling.

“You are so in,” she said.

“What the hell was that?” He asked her. “What just happened?”

“He thinks I’m into you,” she explained. She took a bite of her pizza, then continued, “And he thinks you might be into me. And he hates that.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cas scoffed.

Meg laughed, throwing her head back. When Cas fixed her with a glare, her eyes widened. “You really don’t see it?”

Cas pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s nothing to ‘see’. I already told you.”

“Yeah, right. Whatever, you’ll thank me later.”

“For creating what is perhaps the most awkward dinner I’ve ever had in my life?”

She waved him off. “Don’t be such a baby, it wasn’t that bad.”

Cas gave her a look that suggested otherwise. She sighed.

“Look, the way you talk about him…” Meg grabbed Cas's hand when he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. You like him, and now you know he likes you too.” She sat up proudly. “I just did all the heavy lifting for you.”

“Right,” Cas said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Obviously, this interaction points to an inevitable romantic encounter. Except, and I think this is important, Dean is not gay.”

Meg raised an eyebrow. “Well, the way he looks at you, he’s not straight either. Plus, he apparently still thinks you’re straight, so you two haven’t had that conversation yet. He could be flamingly bisexual and you would never know.”

“This conversation is exhausting.” Cas felt like he was watching a Disney Channel Original Movie, and Meg was a fifteen-year-old matchmaker.

Meg laughed. “I’m sure you’ll survive. By the way, did you actually want to go over the homework this weekend?”

“Yes,” he said, relieved at the change in subject.

Dean returned then. “Are y’all done?” He asked, pointing to their plates. Cas and Meg both nodded, offering “thank you’s” as Dean took their plates to the dish rack. They followed him to the exit, the crisp air sending a chill through Castiel.

“Did you want me to walk back with you, Meg?” Cas offered.

She beamed at him. “You’re so sweet, but no. I’m getting an Uber to Sig Ep, anyway.” She dug into her coat pocket and pulled out something small and black. “Plus, if anyone tries anything, they’ll find themselves electrocuted. Just a little bit.”

Cas grinned. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“See you on Monday, Cas,” Meg said, giving him a hug that lasted just a touch too long. “It was good to meet you, Dean.”

“You too,” Dean muttered.

They watched her walk away for a moment. Cas wanted to avoid looking at Dean for as long as humanly possible. He had no idea how he was supposed to explain the previous interaction.

“So,” Dean said, clearing his throat. “She’s… Nice.”

“She is,” Castiel agreed earnestly. “Dean, I’m sorry, Meg can be a bit…” He struggled to find an adequate descriptor. “I think she enjoys others’ discomfort a bit too much, sometimes,” he finished.

Dean let out a short laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. It’s not a big deal, man.”

They stood in silence, Dean looking at the ground intently, Cas tugging on the strings of his hoodie. Dean kicked a rock, then sighed. “You, uh, you ready to head back?”

“Yes,” Cas replied.

The walk back to their dorm was quiet. Castiel couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought Dean looked bothered. He felt bad — he had honestly expected for Meg and Dean to get along. He had thought them to be similar in their confident and boisterous personalities. Now, he wondered if that was precisely the problem. Too much personality at the same dinner table. He winced internally at his own poor judgement. Meg obviously took no issue with the encounter, but he worried that Dean might hold it against him.

Dean let them into their room, then wrinkled his nose at Cas once more. “Dude, seriously, go take a shower. You’re gross.”

“Actually, I enjoy the feeling of my sweat drying all over my skin. I was thinking of going straight to bed like this. It’s not as if I didn’t take a shower because of your constant insistence upon eating meals at the same time every day”

Dean made a gagging motion. “Hey, we had an appointment, and you were almost late. How is that my fault?”

Cas just rolled his eyes and gathered his things to head to the showers. He let out a muttered, “Crap” when he realized nearly all of his laundry was dirty. He’d been busy this week, and running every day tended to render his clothes unwearable after a single use. He made a mental note to do laundry first thing in the morning. He was able to find an old pair of gym shorts, but not a single t-shirt remained in his closet. Cas groaned inwardly. So he would simply have to sit next to Dean for approximately two-and-a-half hours, shirtless. Fantastic.

When he returned from his shower, Cas found Dean cooking two bags of popcorn, the title menu of The Exorcist already on screen. Dean stood up from the microwave when Cas entered, and was halfway into a thumbs-up when he did a double take.

“Uh… We goin’ shirtless tonight, Baywatch?” He said, tugging at his collar.

Castiel tilted his head. “I don’t understand that reference.”

“Of course you don’t,” Dean said with a chuckle. “Seriously, though, dude.”

Cas sighed as he sat on their beanbag. “I have a lot of laundry to do tomorrow,” he said by way of an explanation.

Dean didn’t respond, but made his way to his own closet. He ruffled through it for a moment before Cas was hit in the face by a t-shirt.

“Here, just wear one of mine,” Dean said. He coughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “‘S kinda cold in here, anyway.”

Cas held up the shirt. It was a Led Zeppelin graphic tee, vintage, from their tour in 1977. Cas raised his eyebrows at Dean.

“It’s pretty awesome right?” Cas donned the t-shirt. “Sammy got it for me from a Goodwill a couple years ago. Another of my prized possessions.” He looked at Cas with feigned scrutiny. “Looks good on you,” he said.

Cas played with the hem as he said, “Thank you.” Dean coughed again and walked back to the microwave to retrieve their popcorn. The air was palpable with awkwardness.

Dean turned out the lights. They settled onto the beanbag, as had become custom in the last few weeks. 

Not even thirty minutes in, Dean’s phone began to ring. “Hey, my brother’s callin’, can you pause it?” Dean said.

Cas obliged, and Dean stood as he said, “Hey, Sammy, how’s it goin’?”

Cas sat awkwardly with his hands in his lap, doing his best not to eavesdrop on Dean’s conversation. Though, he supposed if it was private, Dean could have moved to the hallway. Instead, he leaned against the door, twisting the beaded bracelet on his left hand. 

“He did what?” Dean suddenly yelled, and Cas jumped. Dean shot him a quick apologetic look. “

“Sammy, calm down, it’s okay,” Dean said, and Cas couldn’t pretend to not listen anymore. He looked at Dean with a silent question, but Dean was staring hard at the wall, his free hand balled into a fist. 

“Put him on the phone,” Dean said in a low voice. A pause. “What, so now he’s allowed to treat you like shit whenever he wants?” Another pause. A slow exhale from Dean. “No, you’re right. I don’t… I won’t make it worse.” Pause. “Do you want me to come down there? Because I will, you know I will.” 

Dean was silent for a long moment before asking, “Are you sure?” He sighed at whatever his brother said on the other line. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything, I guess. And Sam? I’m really fucking sorry. I should’ve stayed, I don’t…” He trailed off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I know. Yeah. Okay, I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” 

Dean lowered the phone from his ear. He stood silently for a moment, angry gaze directed at the floor. Then, causing Cas to jump once more, he turned and hurled his fist at the door. 

There was a loud thud upon impact, and then Dean was yelling “Fuck! Goddammit!” as he cradled his hand. Cas stood abruptly, but had no idea what to do. He walked toward Dean, cautiously.

Dean’s eyes were closed, and he was heaving deep breaths. Cas put a hand on his shoulder. “Dean?” He ventured.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled, still not looking at Cas. “I just — Fuck, that was so stupid,” he said, shaking out his affected hand. “Sorry,” he repeated to the wall. 

“It’s fine,” Cas said, even though he thought it definitely wasn’t. “What happened?” 

Dean just shook his head. Cas’s hand remained on his shoulder. He tightened his grip, a little nervous that Dean might shove him off. “Dean,” he persisted. “You can tell me.” 

Finally, Dean looked at him, and Cas thought if that level of rage was ever directed at him, he would promptly die. Instead, he raised an eyebrow. “Are you all right?” 

“No,” Dean growled. “I gotta — I don’t know, I need to calm down. I don’t actually want to break something,” he said, motioning to the door. “I’m gonna go for a smoke.” 

Cas dropped his hand and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll go with you.” 

“Cas —” Dean started, but Cas silenced him with a look. He grabbed one of Dean’s flannels from his desk chair and threw it at him. Dean caught it with a cross between surprise and irritation. Cas grabbed his own windbreaker and put it on, looking expectantly at Dean. 

“Are we going?” He asked. 

Dean looked at him as if he was trying to decide whether arguing was worth it. A sigh confirmed that it wasn’t. He silently pulled on his flannel and opened the door, ushering Cas through before exiting himself. 

They walked in silence, despite the fervor of Cas’s concern and curiosity at Dean’s outburst. Dean’s jaw was set, and he took a long, slow breath when they hit the crisp fall air. When they reached the Impala, Cas silently moved to lean on the hood while Dean retrieved his lighter and a cigarette. 

Dean joined Cas as he took a long draw. He exhaled the smoke upwards, his eyes closed. His face was still turned to the sky when he asked, “This really doesn’t bother you?”

“What?”

Dean brandished his cigarette in answer, turning to raise an eyebrow at Cas. 

Cas shrugged. “It’s not particularly comforting. But, there are worse things.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up thoughtfully. “Besides, you’ve been smoking for years. If anyone could convince you to quit, your random college roommate isn’t the most likely option.” 

Dean gave him a strange look before exhaling another plume of smoke. He coughed a little. “I think you have long passed the line between ‘random roommate’ and ‘new best friend.’”

Cas gave a little chuckle. “That’s good to hear.” Inside, his world was falling down and rebuilding itself anew. Dean thought of Cas as his best friend. Cas had never known that feeling, to have someone care about him like that. Cas wondered if that could be enough, being Dean’s best friend.  

He didn’t say anything more, though, just let Dean finish his cigarette. After throwing the butt on the pavement and stomping on it, he heaved a sigh. 

“My dad…” He started, but paused. “He, uh, he said some stuff to Sam. My brother.” 

Cas nodded, doing his best to keep his face neutral. Talking things through wasn’t Dean’s strong suit, and Cas didn’t want dramatics to make it more difficult. 

“What did he say?”

Dean shifted and rubbed his hands together. “Bunch of bullshit. ‘It’s your fault your Mom’s dead, it should have been you instead of her.’” Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I mean, he used to say that to me. He gets into these moods when he drinks, says a bunch of shit he doesn’t mean.” 

Dean shoved himself off the hood and began to pace in front of Cas. “But I could take it, you know? Sammy’s just a kid. He doesn’t need to hear that.” 

“Your father says things like this often?” Cas asked, a tinge of horror in his voice. 

“He used to. But only to me. Never to Sam.” 

Cas took a deep breath, trying to discern how best to proceed. “Dean,” he said slowly, “he shouldn’t say those things. Ever. Not to Sam, and not to you.” 

“I’m just confused,” Dean said. “And pissed. Sam and him are usually okay. I mean, they’re not buddies or anything, but Dad leaves him alone for the most part.”

“I don’t want to overstep,” Cas said, “But it seems like your father used you as an outlet for misplaced rage. A punching bag, if you will. And now you’re gone, so Sam is the next best thing.” 

Dean met Cas'seyes with a horrified look. “God. I didn’t… You’re right. Shit, this is my fault, I can’t believe I —”

“No, Dean,” Cas growled. He stood and grabbed Dean by both shoulders. “This is your father’s fault. Not yours.”

“But I left Sam, alone, with him,” Dean said, and Cas could see panic rising in his eyes. “How could I do that, why —” Cas interrupted him again. “Why did you decide to attend college, Dean? What’s the real reason?”

“What?” Dean gave him an incredulous look. “I don’t know.” 

Cas tilted his head down, skeptical. 

Dean let out a long sigh. “Okay, all right. I went because Sam is smart, and he needs to go. But we don’t have any money. So I figured if I came and got a degree or some shit, I could make enough to throw him some cash while he goes to school. Get some summer internships and save up for his college fund. He’d probably still have to take out loans and stuff, but if I got a good job, I could help him pay them off.” 

Cas wasn’t sure what answer he had expected, but it wasn’t that one. He felt his heart break for the man standing in front of him, who did everything he could and more for the people he cared about and never felt like it was enough. 

“Would Sam ever hold that against you?” When Dean didn’t respond, Cas continued. “I know I wouldn’t. I have four older siblings, and not a single one of them has ever done something like that for me.”

“But—”

“You’re making yourself miserable over something that isn’t your fault,” Cas said. “Did you have anyone protecting you when your father went on a tirade?” 

“No, but—”

“Is Sam incapable of handling himself?”

“No, but Cas—”

“He’ll be alright, Dean,” Cas insisted. “You can’t live your whole life as his shield. You’ll break yourself trying.” 

Dean was silent, and wouldn’t  meet Cas's eyes. Cas dropped his hands and leaned back against the Impala. “Did you ever think that Sam might have wanted you to go to school simply so you could get yourself out? Did you ever think that Sam hates the way your father treated you as much as you hate what he did to Sam tonight?” 

Dean pursed his lips together, but his jaw relaxed slightly. Finally, he muttered, “I guess I never thought about it like that.” 

Cas felt relief wash over him. He’d never seen Dean like this — angry and frantic. Cas wondered if Dean always did this, shouldered the blame for every bad thing his brother had to endure. The thought made his chest hurt. 

Dean’s hands were hanging limply at his side. He looked exhausted. Against his better judgement, Cas grabbed Dean by the forearm and pulled him into a hug. Dean was still for a moment, but then sighed and rested his head on Cas's shoulder. 

“Sorry, man,” he said. “I didn’t mean to act like that, punching things and shit. I just get so angry, and I don’t know what to do with it.” 

Cas was trying very hard to form a coherent thought. “There’s no need for apologies. I understand.” 

A chuckle escaped Dean’s lips. “You must think I’m a complete nutjob, huh?” 

Cas tilted his head in consideration. Dean’s hair tickled his cheek. “No. I think your father spent years verbally abusing you, and you’re doing your best in spite of that.” 

Dean broke the hug abruptly. The sudden space between them felt criminal. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s abuse…” He started, but, at Cas's look, he trailed off. Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, Cas,” he said quietly. “Honestly, dude, I don’t know what I would have done without you.” 

Cas's cheeks warmed, and he shrugged. “You would have done the same for me.” 

Dean gave him a small smile. Cas’s heart nearly broke with relief. “I’m beat,” he said. “Bed?” 

Cas nodded eagerly. “Bed.” 

When they reached the stairs, Dean broke the heavy silence.

“So…” He began. There was a false brightness in his voice; he was obviously searching for levity. “You hanging out with your girlfriend tomorrow?” 

“If you’re referring to Meg, she’s still not my girlfriend,” Cas replied vacantly. “And yes.” He suddenly felt exhausted. First the mortifying dinner with Meg, then the heavy conversation with Dean. He hardly had it in him to field jokes about Meg being his girlfriend.

“She’s not your girlfriend yet,” Dean amended, giving Cas a smirk that didn’t meet his eyes. 

And what was Cas supposed to say to that? Meg was funny and smart and beautiful. She and Cas studied together on the regular. There was absolutely no reason he shouldn’t be interested in Meg from Dean’s perspective. 

Of course, if Dean knew he was gay… 

Cas didn’t know if he could face the consequences of coming out to Dean. Would he be upset that Cas hadn’t told him earlier? Would he be uncomfortable with a gay man as his roommate? As his friend? Cas may have expanded his social circle, but he still couldn’t bear to lose Dean. 

But, then again, Dean had defended him once already, without knowing whether or not he was gay. He’d sounded indifferent to the possibility then. And just tonight, he’d called Cas his best friend. Dean cared more deeply for his friends and family than anyone Cas had ever met. Cas was in that group. Dean wouldn’t shove him out of it because of who he loved.

Right?

As they reached the entrance to their hall, Dean poked Cas in the shoulder. “Hey, Earth to Major Tom,” he said. “You okay over there?” 

Cas realized he hadn’t said a word since they started their ascent up the stairs. He sighed heavily.

Perhaps this was as good a time as any. 

“Dean,” he said, but closed his mouth. He should just say it. He had nothing to worry about. This wasn’t Bartholomew. He knew that, but the words remained stuck in his throat.

“What?” Dean said, eyebrows raised. “Cas,” he prodded, waving a hand in front of Cas’s face. 

“I’m not…” Cas swallowed. “I will never date Meg,” he finished, with a pointed look. 

Dean side-eyed him as they walked to their door. “What, she’s not your type?” 

Cas gave him a lopsided smile. “You could say that.” 

“I dunno, man, maybe you should reconsider, you two are pretty adorable, in a gross way —”

“Dean.” Cas was about to rip his hair out. He wasn’t taking the hint. “She’s not my type. She’s a girl.”

Realization dawned on Dean’s face. “Oh,” he said.

“I apologize for not telling you sooner,” Cas said, bracing for the worst. “If that makes you uncomfortable, I understand —”

“What?” Dean practically shouted. At Cas’s look of surprise, he lowered his voice. “No, Cas, are you kidding? I thought I told you, after all that shit with Cole. It’s not a big deal.”

“Knowing your roommate might possibly be gay and knowing he is, indeed, gay are two very different things.”

Dean looked at Cas like he had just made the worst joke in the world. “I’m not gonna, like, try to move out.” As they approached their room, Cas stared resolutely ahead, walking with purpose. But Dean jumped out in front of him, a hand on Cas’s chest to stop him in his tracks. 

“Dude, it’s gonna take more than that to get rid of me. I lost my shit and punched a door, like, an hour ago, and you barely even blinked.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

Cas met Dean’s eyes and found unparalleled sincerity.

“I don’t… You’re not the least bit upset?” Cas asked, slightly incredulous. 

Dean shrugged. “You’re my best friend, Cas,” he said as he straightened. “Nothing’s gonna change that.” He pulled on his bracelet. “I do feel bad though, for making you feel like you couldn’t tell me. Not that you had to, or anything,” he added in a rush.  

Cas shook his head vigorously. “It has nothing to do with you, Dean. I’m… I’m new at this,” Cas explained. “The first time, with Bartholomew… I believe he was, as you would say, a dick about it.” 

Dean’s eyes turned stormy. “Bastard,” he said. “I’m sorry, Cas. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.” 

Cas nodded. “You’re right. It was rather unfortunate. I haven’t spoken to him since the night I told him I was gay.” 

Dean moved back to Cas’s side and slung an arm around his shoulders. “His loss,” he said. “You’re friggin’ awesome, dude.” 

Cas smiled. Dean patted him on the back and let the two of them into their room. 

Cas brushed his teeth and climbed into bed. Dean returned minutes later from a shower, and he flipped off the lights as he made his way to his own bunk. 

Cas pulled off Dean’s shirt and threw it across the room. Dean’s head caught it, and he yelped.

“Thank you for the loan,” Cas said, smiling. 

An odd expression crossed Dean’s face before he threw the Zeppelin shirt back to Cas. “Keep it,” he said. When Cas gave him a confused look, he put a hand on the back of his neck. “I meant what I said. Looks good on you.” 

---------

tagging @nguyenxtrang :)))

[cassiecasyl]

we’re making it up as we go

Note: I haven’t seen 15x19 yet, so I’mma go into hiding after posting this to watch the episode. This is just a thing I was too tired last night to finish.

Prompt:

Chuck realizes the power of love through Destiel (that moment in s4e22 when Castiel volunteers to fight an archangel so Dean can do his thing bc I always got this vibe from that scene) + paired with s15e18

Read on ao3.

“You know what every other version of you did after gripping him tight and raising him from perdition? They did what they were told. But not you. Not the one off the line with a crack in his chassis.” Broken. That’s what they saw him as. The angel unable to follow orders, the one that was always causing trouble, even if he couldn’t remember it. Having his memory wiped countless times because no amount of brainwashing would ever stick. Defiant, rebel, traitor. Human. Just like Dean, no, following Dean, he transformed from the loyal soldier to an independent warrior. 

When Castiel first laid a hand on you, he was lost. A reminder, cutting deeply, of how he didn’t fit in among his old family anymore. How they hated him, and Dean for taking him away from them, for poisoning him. His human weakness. Just like Akobel had said, how could he know them and not have fallen in love with them? At Dean’s side, Castiel had never felt lost, maybe confused though. At Dean’s side, he was found. 

Dean. Hurt, angry, fighting, hopeless. The man preaching that there was always another way was at the end of his rope. He was lashing out at everyone, furious at the thought of being controlled, caged in. “You’re not in this story,” Chuck had once told him, before he revealed himself as God, in the beginning of Castiel’s fall. It seemed like so long ago now. 

“Well, we’re making it up as we go,” Castiel had defended, because this was what Dean wanted, and this was where he belonged. Next to Dean’s side, keeping him safe. So, he had already given himself up back then, walking into a fight with an archangel with no hope to win. He’d figure it out. 

That’s how they ended up here, at this epiphany that meant the end of Cas’s life, revealing a truth, and ultimately, saving Dean Winchester. He had slipped through the lines of the story, had hidden in the subtext, and now turned it around. 

“I love you,” Castiel cried, happier than ever, as he found happiness in the being rather than the having. His very last action was a rebellion, and it was to save Dean Winchester. It seems that his whole being came down to this. Moments later, he was embraced by the empty, and pulled into its realm. He left his love behind, safe and soundly sobbing. 

It was inconvenient love, Chuck realized as he watched this defiant finale unfold. It had been growing in the little cracks within his imperfect writing, like weeds on the street, and had planted its seed in Castiel’s chassis. 

Once, he found it entertaining, and encouraged it even by resurrecting Castiel again and again. As Metatron had pointed out, it made for a good story. The angel had been an interesting play ball. But now, only frustration rose in him as he turned his perfect ending upside down, not even letting him enjoy Dean being murdered.

He’d seen it coming long ago though, hadn’t he? When Castiel was ready to sacrifice himself just to sneak Dean into a story he wasn’t supposed to be in. Chuck had seen something in the angel then, had realized his humanity that night, but had denied it. How stupid it was. It had been right under his nose and he had deemed it too unimportant to see it as a threat to his story. And now, it was slapped right into his face. 

Castiel loves Dean Winchester. It was a rule his characters set up against his will, defying their very creator. It wasn’t something he had ever planned for, that he ever thought would interfere. He huffed frustratingly. Every other version had followed their plan, but it was exactly that he didn’t what made this version so fascinating. 

So, what now? With Castiel finally gone, Sam, Dean and Jack mourning. The nephilim had to go. Of course he had survived. But what Chuck wanted was a perfectly world-shattering finale between just the brothers. Like it had started, so should it end.  

An ethereal scream disrupted his thoughts as it echoed through several dimensions. He looked up, trying to locate it. He growled in recognition then, his eyes illuminated in pure rage. How dare he? Castiel had weaseled his way into this story and now, even after his final death, he wouldn’t lay still. The Empty’s scream of pain and frustration shook his core, tucking at him in a frightening way. It was more of a vibration, though. 

Castiel opened his eyes to darkness. For a moment, he thought he could make out a little light through the all-encompassing, lethal hug, maybe a last glimpse of Dean. But, he was laying on the ground. Why was he awake? He looked around for a sign of his captor, or even his family. Jack had got him out before, hadn’t he? He’d been in full shape though. 

Hope is a treacherous thing that sinks into the roots of your very being, wrecking it. Castiel knew that. But it was also what had let him time and time again back to Dean. It was there, always at his side, sometimes barely alive, sometimes a wildfire. 

He heard it before he saw it. A scream filled the void, frustrated and tired, full of hatred. The angel flinched away from it, but there was nowhere to go. The entity manifested before him, taking from all around to form its body. “You just can’t stay asleep, can you?” it snarled, wearing Meg’s face. “Why does everyone have to make it loud these days? It’s not fun. Go back to sleep, Castiel!” 

In all his lifetime, Castiel had never seen someone so seething with rage, letting it consume its whole being, and he had met Wrath. Hell, he had spent years with Dean Winchester, known for his poor anger management. Still, he wasn’t as intimidated as he thought he’d be. The Empty wanted something from him, and he wanted out. Maybe, they could come to an agreement, like before. 

“No,” he said, and it was almost amusing how it infuriated the cosmic entity. 

It moved closer, threatening the angel with its presence. “I could crush you, angel,” it whispered into his ear, “I could throw you into nothingness so poor that your being will forever be forgotten. You will never have even existed.”  

“No,” Castiel simply repeated. 

“No? Have you listened to a word I said? I could evaporate your very being and that’s what you say? No?” The want for sleep seemed to fill the Empty’s voice more and more with every word. It was at the end of its line. It was exhausted. 

“If you could, why haven’t you already done so?” Castiel stated calmly, a strange contrast to the Empty. The living and the forever dead. Light against dark. The eternal struggle, reimagend. “You’re tired, and we both know there’s only one way to get rid of what’s keeping you up.” It growled, hating to be proven wrong. 

“Don’t wake me up ever again!” 

Castiel found himself in a blur until warm hands touched him, probing, worried, shaking in ecstasy. “Cas? Oh my God, Cas!” Dean whimpered, and Castiel blinked into the yellow light of the winter sun. He shivered, pressing closer to the hunter. They were smiling, laughing, united. “Don’t you ever leave me like that again! You hear me, dumbass?” Dean accused him, though unable to hide the grin on his face. 

Castiel laughed, feeling the picking at his exposed skin, the impossible warmth that filled his heart, the sadness, anger, everything. He was so completely human. And Dean, Dean was there right in front of him, not letting go, crying of happiness. “I love you, Dean,” Castiel said, letting the happiness in those words swirl through. This was who he was. Castiel loves Dean Winchester. 

“I know, Cas, I know,” Dean whispered back, sporting one of those rare smiles that reached his eyes. He was beautiful. “I love you, too.” 

(Chuck watched from afar, his expression unreadable yet undeniably angry. This angel, who had weaseled his way into the story, had defied death again. Following love, he wound his way into a book he wasn’t supposed to be in, tossing words aside at his will. He scoffed as the angel and hunter kissed. Loved had won, after all. Chuck hated it.)

Tag List: @nightmare-in-plaid @luciferstempest @aniridescentdreamer @gnbrules @starrynightdeancas