#driver in his own right. deep down he's not super satisfied though because people keep saying he's only winning because of his car

[nerdyfangirlingbooks]

I've had a stupid merlin au idea stuck in my head for days now and I know I'll never get around to writing it the way I want it written but I kinda wanna try anyway even though I am 100% of the target audience

[darkmulti]

Hello I love your work so much, you are my fav writer I love your style and the way you paint your ideas! <3

I know you must have a lot of requests but could you please do a hard dom CEO jungkook, with innocent reader. Would be nice if you can add corruption kink, degrading and non con. Thank you!

⚠️: NON CON, DEGRADATION, CORRUPTION KINK, INNOCENT!READER, VIRGIN!READER, slapping, choking

-> I’m glad you like my work!! Sorry for the wait tho😭

-> I didn’t “add” too much corruption kink because it’s kinda hard to incorporate corruption kink and non con

-> sorry for any mistakes

“Y/N! In my office now!”

The moment you sat down on your chair, your boss called you again

You quickly stood up and hustled into his office

“Yes, Mr. Jeon. Is something wrong?”

You politely asked

“What the hell did you put in my coffee?”

“Regular, sir. Two milks and one sugar.”

“Did you check the expiration date on the milk?”

“Uh… no”

“God damnit! Are you trying to poison me, Y/N?! You can’t do the simplest tasks right! Get out of my sight.”

“Sir, I can make you another-”

“I said get out!”

You immediately left his office and sped off into your own

You closed the door gently before covering your mouth and bursting out into tears

The constant yelling and degrading was slowly breaking you down

He never appreciated any of your hard work, instead he focused on the small flaws you made

You knew you deserved better so that night you went home and wrote a resignation letter

The next day you went to work and gave it to Mr. Jeon

“Mr. Jeon, this is my resignation letter. I can’t work here anymore. It’s not good for my mental health.”

He poked his inner cheek with his tongue and crumbled the letter

“You have to give me a two weeks notice. That way I can start looking for your replacement. However, I have a business trip next week and you have to come with me.”

“What if I find someone that can take my place?”

“No, I want you to go with me and that’s final.”

Next week

You were at the airport with your carry on bag in hand and your passport in the other

Jungkook was in front of you, leading the way to the private jet

Once you both were seated, he poured himself and you a drink

“So, tell me why you want to quit.” He said, taking a sip of his Blue Label whiskey

You didn’t want to tell him the real reason, which was because of him

You thought it’d make the trip more awkward if he knew that you were quitting because of him and you also didn’t want to sound mean

So the best excuse you could come up with was that you found a more suitable job

You told him lies after lies, thinking that he was believing you

Little did you know, Jungkook could see right through you

He knew the real reason you were quitting was because of him

He was purposely cruel to you and you’ve finally reached your breaking point

It was amusing to him

Did you really think that you could trick him?

How cute

Jungkook knew that whole suitable job excuse was a lie because he keeps his eyes on you all day and night

While you were asleep, Jungkook broke into your apartment and installed tiny cameras all around

So he could keep an eye on you

He also hacked into your phone and installed a tracking app, just in case

He got access to all your emails, social media, phone calls, photos, text messages — ect.

Anyways, back to the private jet

You were in the back of the jet sleeping since it was a long flight and you get air sick

You felt something around your waist so you looked down and see a tattooed arm

You immediately recognized who it was and got up, waking up Jungkook in the process

“I- I’m sorry, sir. You should’ve woke me up and I would’ve given you the bed.”

“It’s fine, we’re about to land anyways.”

After you guys landed, you both headed towards the car in the hangar

The driver took you both to a luxury hotel

The building itself was super unique

The transparent, rooftop pool was definitely something you were looking forward to

Jungkook had paid for your hotel room

You guys had rooms right next to each other so it’s more convenient for him

It was still 10 in the morning, so Jungkook allowed you to sleep for a little while but by 12pm, you guys had to leave for an important meeting

The afternoon was packed with meetings, presentations & preparations for a small business party

You were exhausted because Jungkook kept you running back and forth while he was sitting on his ass

By the end of the day you were tired as hell, but luckily everything went smoothly

Jungkook seemed to be okay with how everything turned out

You were relieved to say the least

He’d usually find something to complain about

It was 10pm when you both arrived at the hotel

Jungkook said he was going to go shower and sleep so you bid goodnight and went into your room

Even though you were physically and mentally exhausted, your mind couldn’t fall asleep

You figured it was because of the amount of coffee you consumed

Since you couldn’t fall asleep, you decided to put on your swimming suit and go upstairs to try out the pool

Once the elevator doors opened, you were surprised to see so many people on the rooftop dancing and drinking

You still went to the pool even though it was loud and packed

On your way to the pool, you accidentally bumped into a group of guys

They notice your somewhat revealing swimming suit and offered a drink

You were going to reject but all of them were pressuring you to have at least one drink with them, so you stupidly agree

One drink turned into two and so on

You started dancing with the guys and they were all cheering you on

This was it

This was the attention you were craving for

You were a little wasted but still had your senses

You held one of the boy’s hand and took him to the swimming pool

“You said you were good at swimming… so make sure I don’t drown.” You drunkly said before jumping in

The man chuckled at your behaviour and jumped in afterward to make sure you don’t do anything dumb

After swimming, you had more drinks and danced more with everyone

The night was going so well until someone pulled you away from all the chaos

“Heyyyy, what’re you doing man? The party’s over there.” You said, pointing back to the crowd

He wasn’t responding so you tried to look at his face but the lights were burning your eyes

You looked down at his arm and recognize his tattoos

Once you realized who he was, it was too late

“M- Mr. Jeon, why’re you up so late?”

He brought you back to his room and shoved you in

Jungkook pushed you against the door and slapped you hard

It brought you back to reality real fast

“Are you dumb, Y/N?! Going upstairs without telling me anything, drinking and dancing with men you don’t know— do you know how dangerous that is?! Is your head hollow?!” He yelled in your face and hit the side of your head a couple of times, checking if it was hollow

“Do you know what they would’ve done to you if I didn’t come?! Let me fucking show you.”

He pushed you towards the bed and you slipped because of your wet feet

You started backing away from him, but you knew you were doomed when your back hit the side of the bed

“Mr. Jeon, please. I was just trying to have fun-” another hard slap landed on your cheek and this one was enough to make you tear up

“Fun? You want to have fun? Okay then, let’s have some fun.”

He pulled you up by your wrist and pushed you down on the bed

“Mr. Jeon, please! I’m so sorry! I don’t know how it all happened!”

You were sobbing at this point because Jungkook looked terrifying

He was beyond pissed and his eyes were showing it all

“You think a “sorry” can fix what you did?! You’re so fucking stupid! This is why I yell at you all the time because your dumb, little head knows nothing. Without me, you wouldn’t be living so comfortably. I give you a good pay, so you can pay rent, buy food and clothes without worrying about money. But, what do I get in return? A resignation letter…” he scoffs before continuing “… You’re just a dumb, naive, whore that would be homeless right now if I didn’t take care of you. Maybe this is why your parents abandoned you.”

Your bottom lip started to wobble and before you knew it, you were bawling your eyes out in front of him

His words were so harsh, you weren’t ready for it at all

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

You apologized over and over and over but he still wasn’t satisfied

“H- how can I make it up? Please, give me a chance.”

His hand went towards your private area and you started shaking your head profusely

“No, no, no… anything but that please…”

“Well, there’s nothing else that you have that I want.”

“I’m n- not comfortable though.”

Jungkook grabbed your face and stared deep into your eyes

“Does it look like I care?”

Jungkook continued on

He ripped your swim suit off and pulled down his pants

“Please be gent-”

You screamed when you felt him push into you

You grabbed his arms and tried to push him away but he easily dominated you

He pinned your hands above your head and spat down on his cock for some lube

Without any warning, he pushed his full length in, causing you to squirm around and cry

Your purity blood dripped down onto the bed sheets while you kept pleading for him to stop

“Mr. Jeon, please! I- I was sa- saving till marriage.” You sobbed

“That’s even better. Now we can get married.”

“No! No! I don’t want that.”

Jungkook pushed your legs apart and started going at a fast pace

“You don’t want to get married to me? Well, that’s too bad because I don’t care about what you want.”

Each of his thrust were powerful and rough

He wrapped his hand around your neck so anytime you rejected him in a way, he’d squeeze until you’d shut up

Your face was hot and red from all the slapping and choking

He covered your neck in hickeys

All night, he was fucking you

The headboard was banging against the wall so hard, it left dents in the wall

There was cum overflowing out of you, but Jungkook still didn’t stop

He pounded you until your body gave up on you

You couldn’t fight anymore

You weren’t talking, crying or moving

All you could do was whimper softly when it really hurt

Jungkook noticed you were on the verge of passing out, so he quickened up his pace and came into you before collapsing on top of you

“You would’ve been in so much more pain if I didn’t save you from those guys. So what do you say to me?”

You weakly open your eyes and look into his

“T- Thank you.” You whisper softly before falling unconscious

Decided to end it here bc I don’t have the brain power to continue writing. Sorry for any mistakes. It’s 2am

[basicjetsetter]

Part I

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Mild Language, Triggering Content

▹ Words: 4.6k

▹ A/N: Buckle in. This is going to be a long ride.

“No way!” Your friend Manda squeals. “Those were the exact words?!”

You smoosh a frantic hand over Manda’s mouth and shush her, then slightly pop up from your seat to scope out the packed bus, making sure none of your schoolmates heard her outburst. To your relief, only a few close students glance over with little interest and barely anyone in a wider radius catches Manda’s words over the buzzing clammer of other conversations. Blowing out a satisfied exhale, you turn back to your friend, removing your hand from her mouth with a teasingly reproachful frown. 

“Tell the whole world, why don’t you?” 

She giggles, “My bad. But can you blame me? This is huge!”

Thrilled warmth floods into your cheeks from her enthusiasm. She’s right. This is huge, and you might have secretly sought this exact reaction because only Manda’s trademark, earsplitting squeal stamps news with the seal of authenticity. It’s real. You heard your Destined Words.

The same jitters from when you woke up this morning skitter up and down your spine, sharpening your senses to the max, making it easier to recall the words that floated into your subconscious—words from a bodiless voice. Your Soulmate.

I’ve got you.

Your mind handles the precious words like a porcelain tea set, carefully deciphering the voice pitch and attempting to match it to a face, knowing its efforts lie in vain because the words’ owner only becomes apparent when they speak them to you.

Some inner part of you distinctly translates the words into a comforting assurance, an assurance one might receive after coming home from a long day’s work and walking into the soft embrace of a lover. It weaves itself around your mind like a consoling safety net, painting an image of a lover better than you’ve ever imagined and everything you’ve ever hoped for.

You couldn’t have hand-picked a better day than today, Midtown High’s field trip to the MoMA, to gush over the words with Manda while admiring spectacular, thought-provoking art pieces. One of the perks of going to Midtown High is their fantastic field trips. You circled this Friday on your calendar at the start of the semester because while you loved being in a school centered around technological sciences, you were excited to study artists’ colorful, eclectic expressions and how their cultural personalities materialize in the stroke of a paintbrush.

“You’re so lucky,” Manda says, trying to pull off a pout. Her vibrant smile triumphs. “Only three days after you turn eighteen, and you hear your Destined Words. I’ve got four more months before I file a complaint.”

You sympathetically rub her shoulder, her oversized, long-sleeved denim jacket rough to the touch. “It’ll come. Just don’t wait for it.”

“Oh, I know it’s coming. I just want it to be something as cute as yours, you know.” She shudders, “My cousin Alonzo said his Destined Words were ‘Sure, whatever.’ Can you imagine that? Finally being mature enough for your Soulmate and that’s the first thing they say to you? I mean, sure, he and Tanya are super cute together, but ugh. Those words?”

You snicker, “Let me guess. You’re expecting a grand gesture?”

Manda nods with a dead serious face, though she could never truly pull it off with her full lips and Cabbage Patch Doll cheeks. She’d have a better chance at getting away with murder than intimidating someone with her cute little frown. “If I don’t hear the words ‘Where have you been all my life, you breathtaking, drop-dead gorgeous goddess,’ then I’m demanding a full refund.”

You blankly stare at each other for a beat before you crack, both of you laughing until your sides ache and you’re gasping for air, not caring for the teachers' hushes from the front of the bus.

“I just can’t believe I finally hear the words, you know,” you say as the laughs fade. “It’s like a fairytale come true.” You lean your head against the cool glass window, watching the placid cerulean waves come into view as the bus drives onto a bridge. “I wonder what they’re like, if I know them. If they’re nice. My mom says she already had a mega crush on my dad, so when he said the words, it already felt like they were together.”

Manda sighs dreamily. “I bet they’re cute. And super smart. Those words seem kind of thoughtful, too, so that’s a bonus. And, hey, don’t worry so much.” She gently knocks her shoulder against yours. “They’re going to love you.”

You weren’t scared that they wouldn’t love you. Everyone who finds their Soulmate never doubts that that is their person. What pins a tiny knot of anxiety to the pit of your stomach is how it will happen.

As a young girl, you spent countless nights dreaming of the sequential events leading up to the day you finally met your Soulmate, orchestrating the moment like a scene from all the rom-coms you binged. Your person accidentally bumps into you either in a hallway or on the bus or in the lunch-line, gazes deep into your dazed eyes, then declares their love for you with some cliché phrase before scooping you into their arms and planting a kiss on your expectant lips.

I’ve got you.

The sweet words drifting in your head do their best to ease away the anxiety. You have nothing to worry about. The meeting will play out the way you fantasized, if not better. All because of those words.

“We’re all gonna die!” Ned Leeds shouts from the middle of the bus.

All heads snap to the right windows. In an instant, densely packed bodies swarm from the left side to the right, sandwiching together to search for what Ned was staring at, some opening the windows and craning their necks for a better look. You grunt as someone digs their elbow in your ribcage to see more, and you tensely shove them against the back of the seats in front of you before peering out of your window.

It’s a sight no eyes could miss. A large, metal donut levitates in the clear sky, an obstruction not there mere seconds ago. You gasp in wonder, but not fear. Surely, the Avengers, Earth’s mightiest heroes, will have this taken care of before the sun sets.

The bus driver, an old man with a smile as sly as a fox and pearly white hair, casually calls out, “What’s the matter with you kids?! You’ve never seen a spaceship before?”

“He’s got a point,” you shrug as Manda gapes at the driver with incredulous eyes, then rounds on you as you calmly sit back down. “We always get so worked up over these aliens, and nothing ever really happens. The Avengers got it handled.”

“You sure? Because that looks a little menacing.” Manda worries at her lower lip, anxiously sneaking peeks out the window. Many students stay plastered to the scene.

“Positive.”

✦ ✧✦ ✧

The appearance of the metal donut effectively sullies your experience of the MoMA. None of the tour guides thoroughly explain the paintings' and sculptures' meanings or historical relevance. Instead, they string together incoherent sentences about person, place, and time as they gape at the video feeds live-streamed to their phones. Even Manda stays glued to her screen, chewing on her lower lip so hard you're surprised she hasn't punctured it.

Fifteen minutes into the tour, aggravation chafes into you like sandpaper, rubbing your skin raw. You waited months for this trip. Months! You'd be damned if a few pesky aliens took this special day away from you. You weren’t afraid. You had no reason to be.

Fed up, you take matters into your own hands and stealthily break away from the group, tip-toeing back to an intriguing wall of paintings and observe it by yourself. 

One painting catches your eye early, drawing you to the middle of the wall to study it further. Its tag reads The Lovers, René Magritte, Paris, 1928, Surrealism, Oil Painting. There are two people, a man and a woman, painted with white cloths shrouding their faces as they share a seemingly intimate kiss. You lean in closer, noting the almost murky atmosphere and how it lends to the mystery of the kiss. What did Magritte want you to think when you analyzed this piece? What questions did she want you to ask? 

You derive two: Is love mysterious and complicated as the atmosphere suggests, or is it intuitive and straightforward as the veiled lovers suggest? And, would the love still be the same once they lift the veils?

Beep. Beep. Beep. All the phones in hearing range chime out three urgent trills, nearly ejecting your soul out of your body. Clearing your head with a shake, you pull your phone out of your back pocket. You don't even have to unlock it. The news alert flashes up like a hazard light. Tony Stark Missing.

You blink. What the hell is going on?

"Are you seeing this?" Manda whispers, sidling up to your side.

You nod, at a loss for words. Iron Man is missing? How? What happened? Did it have something to do with the metal donut? 

You blink harder and take another long look at the notification, hoping it was a typo or missing a few words, words like Tony Stark Missing Iron Man Suit. Hell, even Tony Stark Missing Cheeseburgers. Anything but what's on your screen.

Somewhere in the background, Mrs. Kramer, your Art teacher, roll-calls the students to the front entrance. "Okay, guys, time to cut the field trip short."

Your shoulders sag. This can't be happening. Is it really that serious?

"Peter? Peter?" Mr. Dell calls out, clenching onto a clipboard with shaking hands. "Has anybody seen Parker? Peter Parker?" he inquired, looking over the students' heads. A bead of sweat gathers on his forehead, even though there is virtually no heat in the building, and it's a breezy, 72-degree late-spring afternoon in New York City. "Where does this kid always sneak off to?"

Ned stuttered out, "He, uhm, Pe-Peter left early, sir. Family emergency."

"An emergency? Was it so important he couldn't at least notify the supervisors?" Ned bobbed his head up and down, keeping his eyes stapled to the floor in a manner that hinted at no further comment. Mr. Dell huffs, "Alright. But he's getting detention, and I have half a mind to put you in there with him, Leeds."

Ned's face screws up in a chastised grimace. "Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again."

Your eyes linger on Ned as he pulls out his phone and rapidly taps at the screen, probably sending a strongly worded text to his best friend, rebuking Peter for roping him into his antics and nearly earning him a week's detention. You don't know much about their friendship, but they appear tied to the hip at school. 

Ned's a nice guy. Reliant to a tee. You had the pleasure of partnering with him on an art project in Kramer's class a few weeks back, spending a considerable amount of time joking while diligently rendering an interpretation of Van Gogh's A Starry Night on a five-by-five foot canvass. During that time, he often complimented your paint-smeared overalls and your hair's ever-changing up-dos. He seemed like such a great friend to have.

Peter, on the other hand, is a tough nut to crack.

You only ever shared one class with Peter Parker. Spanish last semester. You remember him being too antsy for your liking, always checking his watch impatiently, answering questions too fast, bouncing his leg up and down, acting like he had someplace better to be and better things to do. His impatience never made sense to you until you heard some girls in the locker-room whispering about his Stark internship and how lucky he was to be working for the Tony Stark. 

When the internship suddenly halted, and Peter landed himself in the longest detention sentence you'd ever heard of, you started to take more notice of him only because he was around more often. He was sort of cute in a boy-next-door kind of way with his science pun tee-shirts and smooth, tousled brown hair. For a brief time, you fleetingly considered asking him to Homecoming, but the futility of such a question wasn't lost on you. He noticeably crushed on Liz Toomes, and you were confident Peter's pining for her meant destiny twined their paths.

But Liz is gone now, and there's a growing 90 percent chance Peter's set his sights on MJ. Brooding quirky girl ending up with boy-next-door, now that match made perfect sense, just like a rom-com, or even better, an 80's teen romance.

Manda tugs on your arm, her hands forming a shackle around your wrist. "Come on. They're getting back on the bus without us."

Sure enough, you two were nearly the last ones in the entrance, the remaining students filing out of the door. You rush after them and reach the bus doors right before they shut, huffing in unison. Manda doubles over and grasps her knees, heaving.

"Here," you gasp. "We're here."

Your driver tuts, swinging the doors back open. "Good thing you two made it in time. This bus waits for no one, not even me. Come on," he says, waving you inside. "Let's get this show on the road."

You trudge back to your designated seats, collapsing against the plastic covering as the adrenaline subsides, replaced with the forgotten dread of the trip's abrupt end. You lean over and peer out the left side windows when the bus rolls over the bridge again, surprise rattling ominously over your bones as you find the metal donut gone from the sky.

Where did it go? Did the Avengers get rid of it?

Your hand still clamps your phone. An annoying, slight tremble in your hands trips up your fingers as they try to type in your passcode, but you succeed on the fourth try. You scroll through your social media, hoping beyond hope that someone captured the Avengers' victory or something close to a victory, something that proves the news headline wrong. Stark's probably lying low, too beat down to show his face to the press.

The far-fetched lie makes you internally flinch. You don't know much about the guy, but you're more than a thousand percent sure Stark wouldn't hide from the press if he won anything.

A sinking horror clogs your chest as you obsessively watch clip after clip, onlookers recording some unconscious guy in a red cape being invisibly bound and trailing after the commanding hand of an elongated, greyish-blue alien. Spider-Man tries to get the red-caped guy back, swinging through the city and dodging billboards, his webs clinging to the departing ship's underside, Iron Man flying into the sky after them.

It’s bad. Oh, sweet heavens, it’s bad.

Maybe it’s not that much of a big deal. Yeah. Yeah, it’s probably nothing. The end of the videos suggested the Avengers gained the upper hand on the fight, so maybe, just maybe, the alien was fleeing—fleeing… with a captive. Hurtling off into God knows where with Iron Man and Spider-Man onboard.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. 

Your back flattens to your seat and your unseeing eyes meld to your phone, the thunderous beats of your heart stifling the rest of the world into silence. The air is thinning. 

Your ears are buzzing. 

A vice clenches your chest.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. 

The dubious mantra and vague words of your Soulmate blend into an all-consuming cacophony of words, gelling together in a chant of solace. 

It’s fine. I’ve got you. It’s fine. I’ve got you. It’s fine.

By the time the bus drops off the students at Midtown and you and Manda quietly walk in the direction of home, the mixture of affirmations fans away the panic settling around your chest, bringing back a semblance of your earlier confidence, or rather, what was left of it, which wasn't much.

Outside the apartment complex, an overwhelming amount of residents’ windows glow, most of them probably stuck to their couch, replaying the recent events on any major news network and speculating the whereabouts of our mightiest heroes.

It takes a while to dawn on you that you and Manda are the only ones standing outside. On the entire block.

Nothing stirs. Even the bodega on the corner appears closed for the day.

It's five o'clock on a Friday afternoon and there’s plenty of light left.

Emptiness pours out of every alley like ink spilling from a broken bottle, blotting the whole surface of the street with the absence of human activity. A tree's rustling leaves are so startling your breath locks up and you jump. Manda doesn't say anything, recovering from the sudden noise herself.

Leaving the deserted streets behind, you and Manda glumly walk up the steps of your apartment complex and up to your residence on the third floor. The apartment is eerily silent as you toss your keys on the kitchen counter and lock the door behind Manda.

"When are your folks getting back from their honeymoon again?" asks Manda, shrugging out of her jacket and toeing off her sneakers, leaving them propped against the wall by the door.

Habit controls your body as you open the fridge, grab two Sprites, set them down on the counter, then reach for the half-finished bucket of Red Vines from the top cabinet shelf. "Sunday morning, I think. They only have the weekend off. Want some pizza? I can call up Joe's."

"Please and thank you," she says, plopping down on the couch. The old thing croaks, its springs wheezing under the unwelcomed weight.

The maroon monstrosity is a family heirloom, dating back to your grandparents' time. Mom loves it, claiming it adds the right amount of character to the drab living space, knowing fully well that anyone with fashion sense would never describe any space she inhabits as drab. Dad is adamant that it's one spill away from handing in its resignation.

Picking up your house phone, you confirm, "Extra-large cheese and olives?"

You don't know why you ask. Ever since the inception of your infamous best friend "crash-overs," cheese and olive pizza starred as the staple meal: that, and a bucket of Red Vines your dad occasionally steals from. Maybe you asked for normalcy or maybe to confirm Manda's plan to stay for the rest of the night. What you do know is you don’t want to be alone.

She hums a distracted yes, turning on the TV and upping the volume to listen to Channel 10's news reporter recount the fight between Iron Man and the alien.

Though already burned in your memory, the images douse your body in bone-chilling fear.

You turn your back and dial in the order, not at all surprised that Joe's is still up and running. Once the employee confirms your order and promises a speedy delivery, you grab the drinks and candy and place them on the coffee table, ignoring the TV.

"C-can you turn it to something else?" you quickly pipe up as you sit next to Manda, unsuccessfully hiding the tremor in your words. "I don't think I can stomach the news right now."

"Yeah, sure." Slow and reluctant, Manda switches the input and goes into Netflix. "Anything you wanna watch?"

"Teen Wolf."

Manda groans, "Again? We've seen that a million times."

"Oh, come on," you groan back, playfulness strained in your words. "It's a classic. You can't say no to a classic."

She gives you a dour frown, one that still couldn't land an inch of seriousness on her amber-colored cherub cheeks, until she relents from the weight of your puppy dog eyes.

"Fine, but only because of Michael J. Fox. Next time, I'm picking."

Neither of you really pay attention to the movie or touch the pizza when it arrives. In fact, for most of the night, Manda scrolls through her social media, watching what you can only assume are today’s events. Sometimes she’d put the phone down when you politely asked, but it unfailingly ended up right back in her hands, so after a while, you stop asking. When the movie’s end credits roll around, and you dress into your pajamas, put away the remaining slices of pizza, and call it a night, both of you climb into your bed. She is still scrolling.

You try and force yourself into REM sleep, keeping your eyes shut until you hear Manda’s heavy breathing beside you. The clock on your nightstand reads 9:53 p.m.

Yawning, you curl up into a tight ball on your side of the bed and wish your mom and dad were here to help you get out of your head. Manda can’t do it when she’s so caught up in hers, and you don’t think you’d be able to tell her how scared you are. It’d only scare her more.

Tony Stark is missing. Manda would have screeched her head off by now if anything changed.

I’ve got you.

Yeah, but Tony Stark, the freaking Iron Man, is missing.

I’ve got you.

You can’t possibly understand how bad this is.

I’ve got you.

You audibly huff against the reassuring words, but they eventually do the trick in temporarily pushing the worry away, allowing you to fitfully slip into dreamless oblivion.

Seven hours later, you wake to a text from your mom. The sunlight is so bright in your room you lower your phone’s brightness all the way down, squinting at the small letters.

-Coming home early bbygrl. Dad says hi and he misses you lots hunny bun. xx

A titanic-sized weight lifts off of your shoulders—something you hadn’t even known was there until you re-read your mom’s text and verify the timestamp.

They’re on their way home, where it’s safe and you can all keep an eye on each other. Niagara Falls is just a six and a half-hour drive from here and Mom texted two hours ago, so they’ve got a couple hundred miles left. You don’t care about the distance. As long as they’re coming home, you’re fine. You can wait.

The morning’s activities in your residence pass into a weird déjà vu of last night. Manda is awake before you, sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal in her lap and the TV turned on to Channel 10, the volume slightly lower from last night. A bit peeved, you ask her to switch it to some cartoons while you pour yourself a bowl of Frosted Flakes.

She goes back to scrolling on her phone, sparingly taking bites of her soon-turned soggy cereal. You perch on the arm of the couch, far away from Manda's screen, and munch on your cereal in silence. This whole situation sucks enough without Manda’s constant doom-scrolling, but her utter silence is wearing your nerves thin.

Three full episodes of SpongeBob play on before you heave tempered sigh and set your finished bowl of cereal on the table and face Manda.

“Do you have to do that?”

She doesn’t even spare you a glance. “Do what?”

Unbidden anger flows through you like magma spewing from a freshly erupted volcano, flaming into your veins and flaring your heart rate as you yank her phone away and toss it behind the couch.

Manda stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. She may be partially right.

“Why the hell did you do that?”

You scoff, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe I like talking to my friend once in a while. Maybe it’s mentally damaging to watch the same thing over and over and over again, and I was just trying to save you from brain rot.” You stand up and cross your arms over your chest, letting the rage propel your words. “Seriously Manda, give it a damn rest.”

“Why?” Manda crosses her arms too, glowering up at you, close to achieving a convincing frown. “Because you’re ‘positive’ nothing’s going to happen, right? It’s just aliens. No prob.”

You hold your tongue, waiting for her to air out all her frustrations because she’s right. She’s right to throw your words back at you. Yesterday morning you were totally sure of the Avengers, and not much has changed. You still firmly believe they’ll win whatever this fight is with the aliens, but you know scrolling through your phone for updates won’t do anything but boost your anxiety, like it’s doing to Manda.

When you think the coast is clear to speak, you lowly say, “I get it.”

“You get it? You get it? No, mama, you don’t get it. Because, see, if you got it, my phone wouldn’t be collecting dust behind your couch!”

“You needed a break, Amanda!” You shout back at her. “That phone’s never left your hand since you got here.”

She snaps her fingers as if she reached an epiphany. “Attention. That’s what it is. I haven’t given you enough attention today and you’re feeling left out of the spotlight. Newsflash, hon, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Other things are happening besides you hearing your Destined Words.”

“Wh-what?” you balk. “That… no, that’s not what this is about.” You’re not even sure where she even came up with the conclusion that you needed something as stupid as attention right now. Did she think you were that self-centered?

She cocks her eyebrow challengingly, “Alright, then tell me what it is. I’m all ears.”

“Me hearing my freaking soulmate has nothing to do with this! Nothing! And I’m not some attention-starved lunatic. Christ, Manda,” you roll your eyes, letting your hands fall with a slap against your sides. “It’s about you watching the news all day like… like this is the end of the world or something. We’ve gone through this. New York has gone through this. Alien attacks are nothing new, and I’m tired so sick and tired of you…”

You slow down, raising a soft hand to your chest—strange, tugging sensations sprout somewhere deep, deep down within you. So deep you're not sure it's actually there.

“Sick and tired of me what? What?” Manda pressed, the almost-frown lessening as your head tilts. “What’s wrong?”

You gradually shake your head. There’s no conceivable way to articulate what’s happening to you because it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You feel… tingly, like every single hair follicle on your arms and legs rise, standing on high alert.

“Something’s not right.”

The tugging intensifies dully. You gasp against it, desperately clawing at the front of your shirt with the pads of your fingers, seeking to protect something tangibly nonexistent. It’s like someone’s fingers pinch a taut guitar string inside your chest, pulling on it with increasing pressure, pulling it further and further until it can’t move an inch, holding it the apex in a deathly promise that, with one final tug, the string will give.

I’ve got you.

Everything happens within a second.

You whimper out an anguished yelp as the string abruptly snaps.

Manda leaps to her feet and grasps your shoulders, begging to help.

Then, right before your eyes, Manda’s body begins to dissolve.

“M-Manda...? Amanda, wait! NO!”

She falls away into a pile of ash on your floor.

You drop to your knees, screaming.

And so does the rest of the world.

...

Part II

[oh-theatre]

Livin’ It Up: Chapter 2

Chapter title: To Build it Up and Break It Down

A/N: IMMMM BACCCCK!! Loook i know this chapter is stupid! and it sucks! But its finished and like actually here! Also!! the whole thing about Logan having no feelings and hating them is not what it reads as and im not trying to fall into that cliche!! But youll have to keep reading!!

words: 2682

summary: Patton finds himself allowing a slight detour in his plan and allows himself one night to...explore. He wont be doing that again. 

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, eventual demus, eventual Moceit (Which then goes back to Logicality and Demus)

warnings: Swearing, alcohol, underage drinking, drinking, parties, kissing, throw up, slight self harm, emotional abuse

Ao3 Link  

“He kissed me!” Virgil cries, Patton kicks him softly from under the table. “He kissed me” He whispers once more, shushing his words. Apologetic glances to the people around him and Patton looks back to his friend.

“We are in the library” Patton eyes, Virgil shrugs but nods returning to his doodles he calls work. Patton finishes his work, packing up neatly each and every aspect of his belonging. Panic sets into once he realizes Pattons finished his work and is now preparing for leisurely reading whilst Virgil hadn't even begun. “Virge, I love you but if you don't hurry up or make a plan I'm leaving”

“You're going to leave anyway, you have cheer” Virgil mutters, rushing through his work. Patton sighs, he squeezes his friends hand before quickly leaving him alone. Once settled on the bus his pockets buzz gently.

“Patton!” He greets, he ruffles through some of his things as he gets off the vehicle, thanking the driver kindly. He walks into the school he had become ever so familiar with after all these years. He watched as the sports team made their way out to practice on the field and found his path into the locker rooms as he listened to yet another telemarketing call. He hated them sure, but he felt guilty hanging up. Especially when it was just spoken by a real human, so he listens, nodding along until they go through the niceties and say goodbye with awkward persistence. Finally changed and in his navy blue uniform, he approaches the field. Instantly he's greeted by his friends, giddy jumps as they babble on about whatever they can muster.  

He allows the team to get set up, run out their talk before calling attention forward. He ignores the rampant football team that plays behind them. Though they reserved the field Patton allowed them to use it for practice.

“Alright squad! Listen up!” He claps, a cheery grin and catching his pom poms from his friend Fiona, it begins

~~~

“I simply do not understand” Logan huffs, simply bundling himself tighter into his jacket. He follows a sweaty Roman out of the boys room, as he waves goodbye to his fellow teammates they make their way home. “Why must I have attended this practice?” Logan inquires

“Because you need to get out of the house, fresh air, you can't be huddled all day drinking away until your dad gets here” Roman explains, they stop at his locker on the way back through the school, the sounds of giggling call his attention but both continue with themselves.  

“My father returning is truly not the optimal circumstance” He sighs but shrugs, puling out a small bottle from his pocket he takes a swig before a disappointed Roman snatches it away from him. They swivel and resume their trail before a quick crash decides to tumble things down. “Ah apologies” Logan decides before even looking, but his eyes dart and land his eyes on the top of a bouncy and bountiful head of hair, a sweet blushed bow and when the boy looks up he meets his eyes through his round rimmed glasses.

“You going to help?” Roman whispers, nudging his friend adamantly. Logan furrows his brows. “Obviously not” Logan continues staring, they stand frozen while Patton reestablishes himself. “Sorry Pat” The cheerleader finds Romans eyes, “-On...Patton” An awkward moment before someone taps behind Patton.

“Right well, I have to go” Patton shuffles awkwardly, his deep blue uniform fitting him comfortably. Why Logan was eyeing him was a different topic. He begins to walk away but Logan decides he’s not finished, taking his arm with a quick snap as Patton pulls away “Yes?” Logan continues his scan, a smirk.

“Go out with me”

“Cute!” Patton giggles before his somber tone returns “Bye now” he rolls his eyes, Roman can’t help but snicker, clutching to the lockers as he regains his breath. Logan scowls as he watches the man walk away, he decides to abandon his friend and follow Patton.

“Why not?” He questions, skidding in front of him. Patton, though taken aback, nods. “Give me a good reason as to why you wont entertain my company for a night?” Logan pushes. Patton adjusts his glasses, putting away his folders he clears his throat.

“You want one? Ill give you about a million” Patton smiles “First off, even if i was interested I have about a million things to do. I never have a moment off and I'm not so sure I want to spend my only freetime with you” Patton admits, why did that hurt Logan.

“Awe, that hurt” Logan hides

“Moreno im not stupid, I’ve seen how you work around here” Patton scoffs, he checks his phone, quickly replying to many messages.  “You're charming! And honestly...kinda cute” Patton smirks, his small freckles dance upon his cheeks. “But i'm not a one night stand kind of guy” He shrugs

“Well, what if that's not what I want to do” Logan proposes, he pulls out his notepad scribbling done something before tearing a carefully neat crease and handing it to Patton. “You'll never know, if you don't give it a chance”

“I don't have time to give it a chance” Patton refuses the paper and decides the conversation has concluded. Logan flicks the note anyway, watching it land perfectly into his bag pocket. This satisfies him, now...to Roman.

~~~

“He asked you out?” Virgil inquires walking alongside Patton to their lockers.

“Eleven times” Patton sighs reaching his locker, he opens it up groaning at the sound of his phone. “Make that twelve” He looks to delete the message but quickly giggles. Virgil looks over his shoulder, quickly looking back as he meets Romans eyes and decides against it. “I have dance today” Patton notes, scribbling neatly in his planner, Virgil nods, squeezing his shoulder for luck as he walks away. “Tap shoes, tap shoes, tap shoes” He mutters searching through his bad waltzing into the auditorium.

“Morning Pat!” He looks up smiling as he greets the students. Walking backstage he fits his shoes on, tying his jacket around his waist.

“Alright students!” The teacher calls over the sound of the children warming up, Patton being the TA goes around checking on everyone and helping them out. He works with some students, holding them up as they work through his warm up. “Alright today's plan is partnering up and working through your partner dance!” Patton waits for everyone to partner up, going to the teacher. “Oh good, Patton, this is Logan Moreno, hes new but hes going to be your partner”

“What?” Patton turns, a smug Logan stands his hand extended and his feet ready. “Delightful” He sighs, he takes Logans hand and waits for the music. Once it begins he leads, and shockingly….Logan can dance. “Where’d you learn how to tap?”

“My mother wanted me to have a plethora of skills, so dance” He replies, spinning Patton in a quick circle. They dance around the room, Patton laughs as the routine moves, Logan feels a genuine rise in him as the smile flashes on the bright eyed boy's face. “Pretty…” He breathes

“What?” Patton wonders, they slow and close the gap between them. A slow dance as their taps echo carefully. “You're not bad” Patton  compliments, Logans never heard it sound so genuine.

“Thank you, although you're quite advanced” Logan notes.

“I've been dancing since I was two years old” Patton epxlains, cheering the class while they take a break. “Ballet’s next” He notes, changing his shoes, Logan flicks his hands away helping him tie the bows. “Thank you” Logan helps him up.

“Go out with me” Logan inquires, Patton chuckles. He hadn't realized they had begun a slow waltz around the room. The space between them closes further, Patton doesn't quite mind the proximity. A quick spin before Logan pulls the boy back in. “If you say no, Ill stop”

“I doubt that” Pattons been here long enough, he heard the horror stories. “You're charming, I won't lie, but I'm not a shop and drop kinda person” Patton fiddles with Logans hand, they seperate landing on their own squares. He begins his pirouettes, focusing on a specific spot. Logan comes behind him, taking him by the waist as he dips perfectly.

“Give me a simple chance, Sorian” Logan begs “Im being serious about this, I don't typically pursue but...there's something I want to explore” Patton finds it sweet, his breath gasping on his neck definitely trying to persuade him.

But he wasn't someone's pawn, and he certainly wasn't trial run.

“I'm not going to be your test dummy” He pulls away, why did this spark excitement in Logan. A quick twirl before they finish their dance, a slow dip before they stand face to face. A smirk from Logan. “However, there is a carnival on friday, I plan to attend...should you be there...” Patton trails off, suggestive glance. Logan nods with quite an understanding, the bell rings and through Patton's rare impulsivity he places a gentle kiss on Logans cheek before he's onto his next class.

“Ill pick you up at eight” He calls, Patton rolls his eyes.

Subtle

~~~

“Well well well, look at you all dressed up!” Virgil mocks from Patton's bed. His fingers tap violently on his console. Patton rolls his eyes playfully, brushing off his outfit. His flower printed shirt complimenting a simple pastel overalls. His legs, though exposed, were warmed by socks.

“Super cute” Patton claps “Ugh, remind me to thank Remus when he calls next” Patton requests, Virgil shoots a thumbs up focusing more on his game. He really went all out, he missed the more chaotic of the twins but alas a parents choice isn't always something he could understand.

“Virge what do you want for dinner?” Patton's dad knocks, leaning into the room. “I can whip up some mac and cheese” Virgil smiles delighted, nodding at the delicious prospect. “Peaches you look great” He moves his attention to his son, the boy giving him a thankful stare. “You be careful ok? Text me when you're on your way home” A nod confirms it and it's just the friends once more.

“Are you sure I can sleep over?” Virgil throws his console to the end of the bed, grunts as he loses. Patton laughs, turning to his friend.

“V, of course” Patton lays on the bed, his back sore from practice. “Never are you not welcome here ok?” his phone buzzes, drawing attention to his home screen. His smile sinks, his two fathers smile bright while he sits a giggling baby in the middle chewing on his dad's tie. Virgil continues playing and the quiet game noises bring Patton back.

Logan: I have arrived at your place of residence

Patton couldn't help but smirk, he really did come to pick him up.

Patton: Ill be out in a moment

Logan: Wonderful, its cold so bring a coat

Patton: Thank you channel five, weather report

“Alright gloom, I'm out, see you later” a peace sign as his farewell and Pattons out and ready.

~~~

“Where were you?” Logan blinks as he enters his apartment, setting his coat away. His father stands in the den, disappointed. When was he not? Seems like the man had finally reached home, no doubt his private jet was stalling on the roof ready to whisk him away just as soon as he lectured Logan.

“Madrid, it took longer than expected, but I picked up some spanish” Logan retorts, the amusings were not met well by his father. “At the school's carnival with a friend” He admits, a bored sigh. Everything was so straight forward with his father, nothing ever sparked Logan with excitement.

“I expect you to be home, ready to greet me and tell me of your school life when I return from a trip. Then promptly go to sleep. Not out with a…friend” He snipes. Logan groans slouching as walks, or at least attempts to walk by his father. Hes exhausted and truly wishes the elation of his night wouldn't be tarnished by his father's own wishes.

But of course when did Logan ever get to do things of free will or without the rest of the few seconds dictated and planned out

“Logan Moreno you will stop right there, you will not be going on any more outings, and tomorrow at seven am sharp you will be ready to meet with my sales team to discuss opportunities. A short lunch then you will meet with my associate planner, and from there you will spend as much time as he wants discussing what you will do once you graduate” He finishes, not a breath wasted, or energy. “Goodnight Logan” he disappears into the shadowy darkness of the house leaving a sickly feeling in his son.

Once the house settles and he hears his father locked away in his office for the night, Logan on an impulse grabs an almost empty bottle of the vodka and stuffs it into his jacket pocket before retiring to his room for a night of sickly drinking, binge watching tv until his boredom reaches a peak of exhaustion. His eyelids close and the world sinks into a void of vast expanse where his pain feels numb.

~~~

“It was actually sweet Virge” Patton swoons, stabbing at his salad for another delectable bite. Virgil gleams at his friend, the actual happiness is undeniable. “I know its stupid and I know im defintely falling into his trap but...i dont know” Patton sighs

“Maybe theres something there” Virgil proposes, watching his eyes gaze over to a confident Roman, flexing at a table a few miles away. “Maybe hes serious?”

“Guess we’ll find out” He shrugs, mid bite he stops feeling his phone buzz. He checks dropping his food quickly. “Crap! I forgot I had a council meeting” He rushes to pack his things, giving Virgil a little pat on the head much to his friends' amusement. “See you!”

Maybe Logan was messing with his mind, he couldnt remember where the meeting was being held. God, he wishes he had written it down.

“You're the president Patton” he scolds himself racing through the metal halls lined with lockers. Science room or Astrology...he paces. He decides a fifty/fifty chance won't matter, he’ll just end up in an empty classroom or late for his own meeting. He chooses the astrology door, texting rapidly at his phone with severe apologies, the door creaks open but its not an empty room. “Oh! I'm so-” He begins finding he's interrupted a couple and a rather...steamy encounter. But his embarrassment quickly fades and turns to anger.

“Mind closing the door?” Cynthia, Patton recognizes from the cheer team, requests. Her arms and legs wrapped tightly around Logan. He wipes at his lips turning to face Patton. The teen expects some kind of remorse, some kind of apologetic look but his eyes are glazed over. Bored with the world, devoid of emotion.

“Door...please” He basically recites. Patton takes a quick breath, a smile creeps upon his face.

“Of course, pardon the interruption” He apologizes. He may have slammed the door harder than necessary but his fuming was visible. “I will not cry, im ok” He promises, clutching deeply at his palms, feeling his nails pierce the skin.

“Patton! There you are sunshine!” Greta laughs popping her head out of the science room. “Come on! Meetings chaos without you” She beams, motioning him in.

“Coming” He mumbles weakly, one more breath and his smile returns to his face. Plastered. He puts Logan out of his mind, and begins his speech. Completely unaware of the screaming that engulfed Logan's brain. Seeing Patton shouldn't have hit him so deep, but a punch to his gut and a sickly feeling.

What was this?

As the teen walked away feeling shameful for what the planets had seen, he catches a quick glimpse of the cheerleader leading the meeting through the door.

Feelings?

Disgusting…

A genuine smile flashes across Pattons face

Do it again...

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Pas De Deux - Chapter 2

Title: Pas De Deux

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel 

Rating: not really needed for this fluff lol

Tags: fluff, pretty much just a whole lot of fluff XD

Summary: Dean is a closeted ballet dancer, and Cas is playing the Nutcracker Prince in the Kansas State Ballet. When the ballet loses their Clara and Cas confronts Dean about taking the part along side him, will he be able to put aside his fears and let everyone know who he really is? All to help the man of his dreams?

MASTERLIST

AO3

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Two

     Since the first night Dean had danced with Cas, it was all he could think about. The intensity of their chemistry, even after only a few hours, was a feeling he would never forget, and one he had never known. It became something he craved all day long when he wasn't at the studio, and weekends were pure torture for him. And every night after the first night, when Dean would sneak his way into the dance studio, rather than going upstairs to his usual room, he had started going straight to Cas's practice room on the first floor. 

    The two of them practiced together every night for almost a month, and with every night not only did Dean's dancing improve, but so did their unspoken bond. They could both feel it. And by the end of the month, they had just about made it to the last dance between Clara and the Nutcracker. A dance Dean was very much looking forward to, especially since it called for a great deal of intimacy between the two leads. He was anxious to dance it with Cas, and they were almost there. 

     It was nearing almost three in the morning by this point, the two of them were sweaty and sore and all danced out for the night, so they decided to pack it in. Dean had to get home anyways, Sam would be waking up very soon and the last thing he needed was his little brother asking questions. 

     Cas walked over to his bag as Dean sat back against the mirror at the front to take off his shoes. He grabbed two bottles of water out of his bag and tossed one to Dean. 

     "Heads up!" Dean caught it, giving him a nod in thanks, before opening it and practically downing it in one go. Cas walked over to sit beside him, and decided now was as good a time as any to ask. "So Dean, we have stage rehearsals at the theater tomorrow night, so I won't be here to practice with you." He could see the disappointment Dean tried to hide, and hoped that it was a good indication that he would get the answer he was hoping for. "I was wondering if you'd like to come to the theater tomorrow night, sit in and watch the rehearsal. The doors are guarded while we are in there rehearsing, but I can leave your name with security if you would like to come."

     "I would actually love to come and watch!" He nodded enthusiastically, "It's been so long since I've been to the theater to see a performance, and I would love to see you in action with actual professionals."

     Cas nearly sighed in relief, he was so hoping Dean would say yes. "Great! Rehearsals don't start until seven tomorrow night, so come any time after that."

     Dean just smiled, took off his shoes, and hurried out of the studio. He just wanted to get through tomorrow so he could go to the theater and watch Cas.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Dean was sitting in the parking lot of the theater, had been for the last fifteen minutes. He was excited to watch Cas dance with the ballet, but he was also super nervous to be there. What if someone saw him, told his mom or brother that he was hanging around the theater. But after a few more minutes of deep breathing, he finally gathered up enough courage to practically run across the parking lot, praying that he wouldn't be caught. But his urge to see Cas seemed to be out weighing that little bit of fear, that and the thought of seeing Cas on stage. 

     When he made it to the front doors to the theater, he was very quickly stopped by the guard placed there. A very large, burly man who almost growled at him, "Sorry, Sir, you can't be here. Rehearsals are going on at the moment."

     "Actually I was invited here tonight," he shifted nervously from foot to foot as the guard stared him down," Castiel Novak said he would leave my name with you, it's Dean Winchester."

     The guard held up a finger to him, then turned a few steps away from him to speak quietly into a mouth piece on his jacket. After a few agonizing moments and the sudden worry that maybe he should just turn and run, he finally turned back to him. "Dean Winchester, you said?"

     Dean nodded. 

     "Got some ID?"

     He nodded again and hurriedly rifled through his wallet for his driver's license, holding it out for the guard to look at. Once he was satisfied, he pushed the door open and held it for Dean, "Go on in, just try to be quiet and sit wherever you'd like. Enjoy."

     He nodded at the man as he walked by, practically ran past him and into the theater, quickly finding his way to the stage and quietly going inside. He was hit instantly by the all too familiar music he and Cas had been practicing to all month, and crept slowly to the front row to sit and watch as they finished the scene. 

     His eyes were fixed on Cas the entire time the dancers moved around the stage. He looked amazing up there, powerful, completely in his element and owning every inch of the stage with every move he made. It was hard not to watch him. 

     They finished the dance a few minutes later and the directors rushed the stage to chat with the dancers. Cas took that moment to finally glance towards the seats and saw Dean. He gave him a smile and a small wave, which Dean returned both.

     A few minutes later the directors called for everyone to get back to their places and rerun the scene. 

     Everything was going great. The dancers were hitting every step perfectly on cue, everyone was expertly coordinated, and Cas looked great as hell. Until suddenly things took a hard right mid dance. 

     The girl playing Clara stumbled halfway through the dance and nearly fell flat on her ass center stage. Cas tried to reach out and steady her but she just angrily pushed him away and shouted to stop the music. 

     "Stop! Stop everything!" The music paused and the entire hall went silent as she then rounded on Cas, throwing her hands in the air and yelling, "Seriously, Castiel, you messed up the steps again?! Am I expected to work with amateurs my entire life?!"

     Cas merely rolled his eyes and in his regularly calm voice answered, "I wasn't the one who confused the steps, Ruby. You should be at least a foot ahead of me, you're too close, which is why you keep stumbling."

     She scoffed and crossed her arms, "Just like you to blame it on me. You think you're the best dancer here just because you practice night and day, you think you're better than us."

     "Castiel is right, Ruby," the director stepped in, "you're too close to him. This whole thing could be fixed if you just take one step forward."

     "Why is this utter fiasco being blamed on me?!" She turned on the director. "Why don't you tell your precious golden boy here to properly learn the steps!"

     "No one is blaming you for anything. It's an easy fix, just one step forward."

     "You know what?" She shook her head and placed her fingers on her temples. "I am done with this poor excuse for a ballet! Good luck putting on this shit show without me!"

     Everyone remained still and silent as Dean watched in complete horror while Ruby grabbed her bag from backstage, and promptly stormed down the stage steps and out the door. His eyes followed her all the way until the door slammed shut behind her, then he looked back up at Cas. He just shook his head, completely exhausted. Obviously this wasn't the first time they had to deal with an outburst from her. 

     "Great! Just great!" One of the directors, the taller one, threw his notes in the air and ran tight fingers through his hair, "We have less than three months till the show debuts, and now we have to find and train another Clara for the show! It's impossible, we can't do it, show’s over!"

     "We’ll find a way," the shorter director said, trying to calm the other, "we have to. Tickets are going on sale very soon and we are already expected to sell out. We can't cancel now, Chuck."

     "Then what, Metatron, what do we do? Start auditioning again? Call back the people we rejected the first time? I’m sure they’ll love that!"

     Metatron just shook his head and walked away, leaving Chuck to panic as well as the dancers on stage, who were all now gathering in groups and chatting frantically. Dean didn't know what to do other than just sit there in shock, he couldn't believe he had just watched one of the ballets lead roles walk out like that.

     “Wait!'' Dean looked up to Cas with a start, and everyone else in the theater followed suit. “I may have someone who could help.”

     Both directors gave Cas a skeptical look and waited for him to continue. Before he answered, Cas looked down at Dean with a frightening glint in his eyes that gave Dean the most frantic butterflies he had ever felt. 

     “You know someone?” Metatron asked, almost slightly impatient.

     “Yes, they already know all the parts of the ballet, all the acts and all the steps, start to finish.” Dean perked up a bit in his seat, not liking the look in Cas’s eyes at all. That sudden feeling to get up and run had returned to him again, but he was also frozen in place. Seemed his brain and legs couldn’t come to the same conclusion. “They are talented beyond all belief and absolutely perfect for the role of Clara.”

     Dean finally found a little control over his limbs and managed to stand, letting out a low warning as he did. “Cas.”

     Though Cas ignored it and continued on, “I have seen them perform the ballet numerous times. Their execution is perfect, flawless, seamless, the perfect lead for this ballet.”

     “Cas…” Dean took a few steps toward the front of the stage, speaking his warning a little louder this time but still getting no reaction out of Cas.

     “And our chemistry in the roles is already… intense, electric,” he then looked over at Dean who was staring back at him with a lust he could feel across the room, “even outside of dance we have a profound bond.”

     “Cas…” He breathed, almost completely breathless. 

     The two just stared at each other, the bond Cas had spoke of lighting the room with a fire that everyone there could feel.

     “Well,” Chuck interrupted, pulling Cas's eyes away from Dean, “don't leave us in suspense! Who is it?!” 

     “Though, bringing this person in to play the lead role would change the dynamics slightly, but it might end up being a good thing.”

     “Who is it, Castiel?!” Chuck was nearly pulling his hair out. 

     Cas turned back to look at Dean and everyone's eyes followed him. Dean just stood there, even more stunned then he was before, and now suddenly feeling trapped.

     “Him?!” Metatron turned back to Cas who nodded. “Who even is he?”

     “His name is Dean Winchester.”

     “Let me get this straight,” Chuck took a few steps forwards, taking a second to rub a hand down his face before asking, quite annoyed, “you want us to let some random man off the street, someone I've never even heard of before, not only join our highly respected and prestigious ballet, but also play the lead?!”

     “He is an amazing dancer,” Cas argued, “and he already knows the role, he would need very little training. Much less training then having to hire someone who might be a known dancer, but has never before danced The Nutcracker. And as you said, we don’t have much time.”

     Chuck shook his head at Cas then rounded on Dean, “Where did you train?” Dean just opened his mouth and closed it again. “Who trained you?” Again, Dean wasn't able to say anything, just stand there awkwardly. So Chuck turned back to Castiel and threw his hands in the air, slapping them on his legs as he let them fall.

     “I trained him,” Cas answered for Dean.

     “You?!”

     “Yes,” Cas nodded.

     “So you mean to tell me that he has had no formal training?!”

     “He's an amazing dancer,” Cas repeated, enunciating every word.

     “No,” Chuck closed his eyes and shook his head, “no, no, no, no, no! Absolutely not! No!”

     “At least let him show you what he can do. Let us dance the finale together. Once you see his skills and our chemistry, I promise you will change your minds.”

     Chuck looked over to Metatron who gave him a shrug, “What harm could it do at this point.”

     Chuck looked between Castiel and Dean, then just waved his hands and said, “Fine, do whatever you want then,” and threw himself in a chair in the front row and waited.

     Cas walked down the steps and over to where Dean was still frozen in place and stood in front of him. 

     “I… I can’t dance in front of people, Cas! Are you insane?!” He shook his head, breathless with nerves. “I’m a closeted dancer, not even my own mother or brother know that I dance! And now you not only want me to dance in front of the people in my own town, but then also travel around with you and dance in front of people nationwide?!”

     “Dean, calm down,” he ran his hands down Dean's arms and it seemed to help a bit, “I know you have never told anyone about your passion for dancing before, but perhaps this is a sign. Maybe now is the time to just finally be you, to do what you love, to dance freely. At least give it a try, come on stage and dance with me and I promise you will love it.”

     Dean just stared at him, mouth open and head slightly shaking. 

     “Dean,” Cas breathed, stepping closer and placing a hand on his cheek which Dean turned into, closing his eyes, “just let go, fall with me.”

     After a moment of just soaking Cas in, and feeling the comforting warmth on his skin he nodded, taking one last shaky breath before he opened his eyes to gaze at Cas once again.

     “Good,” Cas breathed, and he could feel the warmth ghosting over his lips, “do you have your duffel with you?”

     “Yeah, it's in the trunk of my car.”

     “Go get it, change backstage, and meet me center stage when you're ready.”

     He nodded again then shook his head and whispered, more to himself then to Cas, “I can’t believe I'm doing this,” then turned and left the theater.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     A few minutes later Dean was standing just off to the side of the stage, in the shadows behind the curtains, taking deep breaths as he watched Cas standing in the center. After one last breath he stepped out, slowly, cautiously, eyes wide as he saw everyone sitting in the seats below the stage, the directors dead center and eyes on him. He stopped walking and froze before he made it to Cas. 

     “Dean,” he heard Cas’s voice, but couldn't even move to look up at him, “Dean.”

     He heard his voice that time and looked up. Cas was holding out a hand to him, waiting patiently for him to walk over, which he eventually did, very slowly. 

     He reached out and took Cas’s outstretched hand, allowing Cas to pull him in close to his chest, pressing their foreheads together. “It's just like at the studio, Dean. Dance like it's just you and me up here, together and alone. Just focus on me, nothing else.”

     “But Cas, we haven't done the final dance together yet,” he risked a glance over to where the directors were sitting, looking a bit impatient now, “it's the only part of the ballet we haven't gotten to yet.”

     “But you know the steps, Dean.”

     “Yeah, but.”

     “But nothing,” he reached up and ran the back of his hand down Dean's cheek, “you can do this. Show them just how amazing you are, how amazing I know you are.”

     Dean nodded, then he and Cas separated to stand in their positions. Cas looked down to the composer with a nod to signal him to start the music, then looked over to Dean. He could tell Dean was nervous, shaking slightly and fiddling with his hands, so he called over to him and got his attention. “Just you and me, Dean.”

     He swallowed hard but told himself that Cas was right. He just needed to pretend that no one else was there, the theater was empty, it was just him and Cas same as it was every other time they've danced together. So he closed his eyes, erased everything and everyone from his mind except Cas, and as the music started he smoothly transitioned into the steps he knew so well. 

     It was an almost instant change from Dean to Clara as he practically jumped into the roll, and he and Cas were moving as one. Despite the two of them having never actually practiced this dance together, they were in perfect sync, it was as if they had danced it a million times together. Every move they made, every step, every breath was taken as one, right up until the final note and they were standing frozen in their final position. They were chest to chest and nose to nose, a breath away, breathing hard after having given the most amazing performance together. And they had been here before, Dean thought, pulled together feeling this fire between them, and every time he waited for Cas to take that final step. To close the gap…

     “That! Was! Magnificent!” Clapping from the seats below them had them turning their heads away from each other snapping back to reality, still breathless from the dance and pure intensity between them, their chests heaving together. “I… I am absolutely blown away! You were splendid, Dean, splendid!”

     “Especially for someone who has never had any formal training before,” Metatron joined Chuck in his standing ovation, “where did you learn to move like that?”

     Cas nudged a blushing Dean forward to the edge of the stage and urged him to answer, though he could tell that he was still nervous and obviously not used to the attention and praise over his dancing. “I… I taught myself, actually. I used online video tutorials, and also just watched and studied other dancers. And Cas, he's helped me to perfect my moves, I wouldn't be anywhere near this good if it wasn't for him.”

     Dean turned to gaze at Cas with a smile. He still had an arm wrapped around Dean and was looking down at him with as much adoration as Dean was at him. 

     “And you were right, Castiel,” Chuck nudged Metatron beside him, and the two of them smirked as they looked up at the two dancers wrapped in each other on stage, “the chemistry between the two of you is perfect!”

     “Chuck’s right,” Metatron spoke as he started walking up the steps to join them, and Chuck followed, “who needs that stuck up, snobby diva Ruby when we have you, Dean!”

     “I-”

     “And you are right, Castiel, bringing Dean on will change the dynamic of the original story, but this could be a monumental step for us!” Chuck then turned to Metatron as the two of them both started getting very excited about the thought of two male leads. “The first Nutcracker with two male leads! This could be big! We could be big!”

     “So what do you say, Dean? Take the position!” Both of them locked their eyes on Dean, almost boring into him with an intensity that he felt in his soul. 

     “I…” He looked up at Cas, then just shook his head, “I don't know.”

     “W-what do you mean you don't know?” Chuck was baffled, “People would kill to be in your position right now. An unknown dancer, picked off the streets and given the opportunity to play one of the lead roles in what is surely going to be a ballet to remember?! You could become a legend in dance.”

     “I’m a bit of a closeted dancer. No one knows that I dance besides Castiel, and now you guys. It's…” He took a hard breath and let it out slow, “It's hard to openly be this person after I've been someone else my entire life. People expect me to be a certain way, and this sudden change could cause me to lose so much.”

     “But also gain even more!” Metatron reached out and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder.

     “I…”

     Cas pulled Dean closer to his side, shielding him from his directors who he knew could sometimes go a little overboard. Not to mention the fact that he knew pressuring Dean like this was only going to make it worse, make his nerves worse. “We don't have another rehearsal for a few days. Let's give Dean some time to think about the offer before anyone makes any decisions.”

     “You’re right, you're right.” They both raised their hands and took a step back. “Think about it Dean, take some time to make your decision, but while you think about it, know that we would absolutely love to have you with us!”

     “If it's alright, I'll let you know by the next rehearsal.”

     Chuck and Metatron both told Dean to take his time with the decision, but they both were praying that he would agree. Seeing the two of them dance together was an opportunity they really didn't want to have to pass up on. After which, Dean changed backstage, said his thanks to the directors, and then Cas walked him back out to his car.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

     Dean plopped himself hard on the floor and sat back against the mirror of the dance studio he shared with Cas. He was sweating and panting, he had been working harder this week then he ever had during practices, and he was more than sure that it was because he was trying to keep a certain decision from creeping into his mind every time he let it wander.

     Cas came over to sit next to him, passing Dean a bottle of water as he did, and sat in silence for a few minutes. And though he knew that Cas was trying to give him as much time as he needed to make the decision about the position at the ballet, Dean could feel the tension and curiosity radiating off of him the entire night. 

     He took a drink then huffed to try and catch his breath before eyeing Cas from the side, “Alright, ask me.”

     “Ask you what, Dean?” He tried to feign innocence but it was not fooling Dean.

     “Don't try to play me, Cas,” he shook his head and shifted to turn towards Cas, “I know you want to ask me about taking the position, if I've made my decision yet. And I guess I should give you an answer, considering the next rehearsal is tomorrow night.”

     Cas nodded, then he also turned so they were now facing each other, and tangled their legs together, “Well then, have you come to a decision?” Dean just sighed and lowered his head. “If it helps any, I would be there with you every step of the way, quite literally. Not to mention that I would love to be performing the ballet with you.”

     “It helps a little,” he couldn't help but smile a bit, “but I… I don't know, Cas. If I do go through with this then eventually, at some point, my family is going to find out one way or another. Either I'll have to tell them, or someone in town will tell them, and I… I just don't want them to be disappointed in me.”

     Cas shuffled closer to Dean, the two of them wrapping their legs around each other as Cas placed his forehead to rest against Dean’s. “Perhaps they will not be disappointed, but proud.”

     “But what if they aren’t proud? What if they think my dad was right? That I should be playing sports not dancing around a stage in tights?!”

     “Dean, calm down,” he smoothed his hands down Dean's neck, “you will never know until you try, and if they end up being angry or disappointed then that's their loss. No matter what happens I will still be right beside you. But it's time to stop hiding it, Dean, it's time to be you.”

     “Yeah,” he swallowed hard, but nodded, “you're right. It's… it's time I think about what I want and not what my father would have wanted for me. And… and if someone's upset about that then that's not my problem.”

     “Exactly. You are an amazing person, Dean, anyone would be a fool not to see it.” Dean smiled and ran his hands up and into Cas’s hair, the two just sitting there for a minute before Cas asked, “So, does that mean you'll take the part?”

     “Yeah, I'll take the part.”

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

     After Dean went back to the theater with Cas and accepted the part, the directors were thrilled. Dean was extremely nervous, but as Cas had promised he was right there beside Dean through every step. 

     They had been rehearsing for a few weeks now, and Dean had taken to his new role splendidly. Everyone in the theater was more than pleased with his performance during rehearsals, many of them gushing over the fact that it was going to be the best rendition of The Nutcracker to be performed in years, even decades maybe.

     As Castiel had said before, they did end up making a few alterations to the ballet, one of them being that they changed Dean's role from Clara to Charles, as well as a few alterations to the ending. But despite the last minute changes that were made after Ruby's abrupt exit, the entire cast was very excited to be finally sharing their hard work with many people all across the country. 

     They had just finished up with one of their last rehearsals before the tickets for the show were to go live, and Dean and Cas were getting ready to leave for the night when their directors came over to them, each handing them a bundle of tickets.

     Dean took them and rolled them over in his hand before asking with a raised brow, “What are these for?”

     “Castiel told us you live with your mom and brother, right?” Chuck asked.

     “Yeah…” He drawled, now a little worried.

     “These tickets are for them,” Chuck confirmed Dean's fears, “front row seats for the debut show. Word has been getting around about our ballet having two male leads and the theater is already getting calls about buying tickets. We are expecting to be sold out of all shows within a day, so we reserved a few tickets for the families of each of our cast and crew members.”

     “Oh...wow, I…” He stuttered, not really knowing what to say. Not to mention that his heart was now down in his feet at the mere thought of even humouring telling his mom and brother about the show. Was it naïve to think that he could just keep it a secret forever?

     “No need to thank us,” Metatron smiled at him, not knowing how much dread was running through his veins right now, “We hope to meet them on opening night. Have a good night you two.”

     Dean just kind of nodded as they walked away. He was unusually quiet as Cas walked him out to his car like he did every night after rehearsals. Then sat in his car for a few minutes before finally driving home, trying to figure out exactly how he was going to do this without either crying, throwing up, passing out, or quite possibly all three. It was bound to be a super fun weekend.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     When Dean got home from rehearsals that night it was still pretty early. His mom and brother were still asleep, which he decided was for the better, seeing as his stomach was still turning pretty bad. The tickets were weighing heavily in his duffle that was slung over his shoulder, he could practically feel them burning a hole through the bag. But he pushed the thought aside for now since they were still passed out in bed, and decided to occupy his mind with doing some laundry instead. His tights were a complete mess from rehearsals this week and he would rather just get it done now before his mom and Sam woke up. 

     He went straight to the laundry room as soon as he got inside and tossed his duffel bag on top of the washing machine. Before he threw it in the machine he quickly bound up the stairs to his room to grab the special fabric softener he had bought for himself, partly because he liked the smell, but mostly because he knew Cas liked it.

     He grabbed the fabric softener then took a moment to sit on his bed, rehearsals lately had been taking a lot out of him. As it got closer and closer to opening night, rehearsals got more and more intense. He placed the bottle on his nightstand and before he knew it, he was laying back on the bed. Just a minute, he thought, then he would get up and do his laundry. Then his eyes were closing and he decided he would let them, just rest them for a few seconds then he would get up. But before he could even stop himself he was passed out with his legs hanging over the edge of his bed, laundry completely forgotten.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

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A/N: One more chapter to go after this! 

Tags: @thebridgekid 

[stayforya]

[3:06pm]

it was almost Christmas and you didn’t have any plan. since you couldn’t go back home to see your parents (tickets are so expensive nowadays), you’d have to find your own way to celebrate. maybe not even celebrate, just watch some holiday’s romantic comedy and chill by yourself. however, miracles still happen even when we don’t pay attention.

early that morning your friend called you, super excited. you weren’t excited like her simply because you just woke up and your mind was so confused you couldn’t even remember your name.

“y/n!”

“yeah?”, your husky voice greeted her.

“what are your plans for today?”

your brain was still trying to get back to work.

“uh... what? I mean, today? I don’t know”

“let’s travel with me, then”

“wait, where are you going?”, your eyes widened for some reason and you started getting out of bed.

“we’re camping for two days”

“camping? but it’s cold”

“not in a tent, but it’s a place people go for camping”

you waited for her to continue:

“remember when I asked if you wanted to come with me to the mountains? you said no because you had no cash, but now you have no excuse, sweetie”

“alright, keep going”, you opened the curtains and the sun came in. it was still cold, though.

“two friends gave up and aren’t going anymore. so there are not only two spots free in the car, but also a free room in the hotel”

you were interested, not gonna lie.

“what do you say?”

“when are you travelling?”, you asked.

“in, like, thirty minutes”, by her cautious voice you could imagine her face.

“how am I supposed to be ready...”, your started running around your room to find your backpack, “okay! I’ll go”

“I knew it! we’ll have so much fun!”

she was definitely much more excited than you could ever be, but let’s be real here – you just woke up.

now you had twenty five minutes to finish everything. firstly, you tucked clothes into the backpack because that was the most important. then you took a three minute shower just to make sure you were clean enough to travel, and when you finished, you had to eat something. you found bread on the table and looked for coffee somewhere, but right when you started eating, you heard your phone. it was a message from your friend and you had to close the door and go downstairs.

with an empty stomach and a sweat drop on your forehead, you grabbed the backpack and opened the front door. your friend didn’t tell you she bought a new car, this one was different. it was black and hers was white.

you knocked at the window and she opened the door. you didn’t even look at her, just got inside and started complaining.

“I think I lost weight just by the amount of times I ran around my apartment during these thirty minutes”, you sighed.

“excuse me”, a masculine voice came from her. oh. it wasn’t her. it was a guy. you definitely got into the wrong car.

“oh, sir, I’m so sorry, I’ll leave...”

you could feel your face burning and turning red just like your coat.

“no, wait, you’re y/n, right?”

when you finally looked at his face properly, you got surprised. he looked so good you almost thought it was a prank.

“who are you?”

“oh, I’m seokjin. you can call me jin, I’m somin’s friend too”

“I thought she was the one who’d pick me up. oh, sorry. nice to meet you”, you were so confused at the moment.

“she’s going with her boyfriend and there are a lot of people in their car already. the spots free were in mine”

she didn’t give any detail. clever. she knew you’d give up if you knew too much.

“now it makes sense. anyways, I’m sorry for being messy right now”

“do you need help with the bag?”, he pointed to the heavy backpack. as you said yes, he put it on the backseat, where his bags were too.

when you finally stopped to think and put the seatbelt, you started to panic just by imagining what you and a strange boy would talk about in a whole hour of trip.

he turned on the radio, which made you feel thankful since the space wouldn’t be in full silence. you even thought you should sit on the backseat, but come on, he wasn’t your cab driver.

“she just gave me your address and told me to pass by”

“that’s so her”

he laughed and you looked at him. he was paying attention to the traffic so he didn’t notice when your eyes were on him.

“how do you know her?”, you asked.

“from college. and I’m also a friend of her boyfriend. you?”

“from college as well”

you knew he was trying to figure out what to say to keep the conversation going on.

“who else is coming? are there only couples or...?”, you asked, saving him from his thoughts.

“not only, but majority couples”

“I should have known”

“they say Christmas is a very romantic holiday so I think that’s why”, he said and you giggled a little just to not sound awkward. you didn’t know if it worked.

“yeah, I just came because I didn’t want to stay at home. alone. you know, it can be a little bit sad”

“definitely. mainly because it’s Christmas”

you nodded, feeling sad for a moment when you thought about your family. jin noticed you leaned your head on the window and became more quiet.

“I’m sorry-”

“it’s okay”, you smiled again, “it’s just that I couldn’t see my family this time. but it’s all good now”

“you can talk about that if you want to”, his voice gradually lowered and he was being careful.

even though you weren’t looking at him all the time, you could feel when he looked at you.

“don’t worry, it just became too deep”, you made him laugh and it broke the ice again.

jin and you didn’t stop talking the whole trip. it was meant to long one hour, but because of the snow on the road, it ended up taking one hour and a half.

you didn’t feel like you were strangers. his laugh made you feel comfortable and he paid attention to everything you said. he even put some of his favourite Christmas songs, which made you laugh because he was quite cheesy when it comes to it.

“I just like the classic”, he defended himself.

“I see”, you replied.

“alright, we are arriving”

the little lights and decorations were all over the place, on the trees, on the rooftops – everywhere. it felt like a movie, those Christmas romantic comedies you like to watch.

“wow, it’s so beautiful here”

“they didn’t arrive yet”, jin said, looking at his phone.

“somin also sent me a message. they’re fifteen minutes away”

jin nodded and for the first time in a while you two became silent. only the music filled the car, you closed your eyes and let yourself listen to it.

“so why didn’t you want to spend Christmas with your family?”, you asked.

“there’s no special reason. I just wanted to spend time by myself”

“that’s funny”, you said, “you wanted to be by yourself, I wanted to have company”

“you know what they say, we’re never satisfied with what we have”

you two looked at each other and smiled.

“well, I’m okay now”, your voice was as low as the background music.

“but I bet you’re hungry”, he took a package from the backseat and opened it. there were some snacks that would finally calm down your hungry stomach.

he made a fail dad joke that made you laugh just by how silly it was. then you opened the door, but a very cold air came in, blowing your faces and making you shiver.

“it’s cold outside”, he reached out to close the door you opened. you felt another shiver, but not from the cold. for a second jin was too close.

the song on the radio changed and you two finished the snack. your friends were almost arriving, but for some reason you didn’t want to get out of the car.

“you know what”, he started and you looked at him, “I’m okay too”

you didn’t understand what he was trying to say. then he continued:

“maybe I don’t want to be all by myself. I think I wanted company like you”

“are you sure? I can leave right now”, you joked.

“I am. I really am”

then you noticed he wasn’t kidding – by the way he looked at you he was genuinely fine, glad to have a company, even when his initial plans were to be by himself.

the atmosphere became more serious than it was before, and you probably wouldn’t know what to do if your friend didn’t knock at the window. the other cars arrived and she called you two out. it felt like coming back to reality.

“sorry! you guys waited a lot, right?”, somin said.

“not at all”, jin answered.

“next time tell me every detail, okay?”, you whispered to her.

“nah, I know you’ll thank me”, she winked.

[13parkfilter]

a wangxian playlist no one asked for

These are track notes for a wangxian playlist no one asked for, because CQL / mdzs fandom ate my life and I somehow needed to make a super dramatic 28 song playlist that follows wangxian’s love in (extremely loose) chronological order, from their first meeting as cute battle teens all the way through the depths of angst and eventually to becoming cultivation partners and (I’m positive) really great co-parenting dads. 

Because I’m like that ™ , you can find notes for each and every song below. Any weird song choices are entirely my fault. Spoiler alert: Frank Ocean.

This is a real long playlist and you could definitely break it into shorter stretches by mood. For the happiest and most in love vibes, hit the first 6 songs and the last 6 songs. Dramatic Burial Mounds vibes are from 7 to 13. It may be very satisfying to go from the depths of sadness and grief (~16) through to the end. 

1.  Don’t Know What to Do | BLACKPINK

Inspired, of course, by WYB and XZ’s demonstrated love of Blackpink in the CQL BTS videos. For a little while Stay was on this list instead, but I kept coming back to this song because to me it gets at that excited “everything is new and I’m young and so in love” feeling. Two people could certainly have a playful duel under the moonlight to this song, if they wished.

2.  A Loving Feeling | Mitski

Something about Mitski’s melancholy, slightly maudlin and self-deprecating vibe in this song is just peak “I wasn’t flirting… unless…?”

3.  Self Control | Frank Ocean

Somehow this playlist ended up structured around two overlapping arcs carried by Frank Ocean and Lykke Li, respectively, which makes no sense in theory but maybe kind of works? Idk, let me know if it works. If it does, maybe it’s because so many Frank Ocean songs are incredibly raw love songs about loss and the work that memory does to keep your love alive, and so many Lykke Li songs are about trying to slog through all the pain and bullshit without losing sight of that kernel of untarnished brightness, whatever it was that made you want to love in the first place.

I love this song for many reasons, but in no small part for the sorry-not-sorry vibe of apologizing for making someone lose their self control.

4.  Look After Me | Cub Sport

This song is real honest and tender about people taking care of each other and it messes me up. 

“There's something in the way you look at me

Like I've never done wrong

There's something in the way you look at me

When I was wrong all along.”

5.  We Could Run | Beth Ditto

Ok, imagine this playing in the background during LWJ and WWX’s first meeting with Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan. A good song to play as you run into the sunset holding hands with your cultivation partner, is what I’m saying. 

6.  Unconditional Love | 椎名林檎 (Shiina Ringo)

This is just a super sweet and painfully dramatic love song, the kind of song that plays for a man who makes grand unsung gestures like composing magical love songs and secretly adopting your child after you’ve died. This is before the latter part of that, though.

7.  Bad Religion | Frank Ocean

This is the first turning point on the list, the fading of youthful optimism and the start of choices that there’s no going back from. This is when you start to realize that you really can’t please everyone, and you can’t do what you believe is right without someone hating you for it. It’s also the point at which your neuroses and blind spots start to go from being quirky and cute to a cage of your own making. You have to deal with the bad shit you inherited from your parents eventually. If you don’t you’ll either make the same mistakes they did or make different mistakes because you’re fighting so hard to keep your head above water. 

I really like the part when Frank Ocean asks his taxi driver to outrun the demons. Feels like something a modern AU WWX might say. 

8.  Silent My Song | Lykke Li

I didn’t want to go full angst here because this playlist is about *cue Westley bellowing in the Princess Bride* TRUE LOVE and so I didn’t go as hard as I could here, but this is the start of the golden core +  first Burial Mounds arc. 

9.  Figure 8 | FKA twigs

I can hear the resentful energy swirling in this one. This is probably the most abstract choice on the list but to me something in it evokes the curdled rage and seething of an unquiet spirit. 

10.  Fantasmas | Ambar Lucid

This is a song about living with ghosts: of a failed relationship, and the mistakes that it took to get there. 

11.  Green Grass | Cibelle

I love this song because it’s a little sweet and a little scary at the same time. It’s gentle and haunting and the lyrics are as unforgettable as poetry. 

Is this a love song that a corpse is singing to someone visiting their grave? I like to think so. 

12.  I Bet on Losing Dogs | Mitski

In spite of the dog reference (lol) this whole song is a super WWX trying to live with the Wens in the Burial Mounds mood in my opinion. It has turnip energy. Trampled yet undefeated lotus energy, if you will.

13.  Godspeed | Frank Ocean

This song is the essence of heartbreak and knowing that you have to finally let go of someone. Am I imagining LWJ and WWX singing this back and forth to each other at the Burial Mounds, depending on which line it is? Am I crying about it a little? Maybe.

“I let go of my claim on you.”

“There will be mountains you can’t move.”

14.  I Know Places | Lykke Li

This is the “Come back to Gusu with me” song, even though it’s coming later in the timeline than it should. (I sort of compressed all the Burial Mounds-set songs together for a better flow). Anyway I feel like this captures all of those unspoken desires, that frustrated feeling of caring about and believing in someone so much without being able to protect them from all the people and powers that want to hurt them. But you have to try.

15.  Deeper Than Love | Antony and the Johnsons

This song is almost. Too dramatic. This is meant to be at Nightless City / WWX’s fall. I originally had 2 completely different songs here but I ended up liking the arc of this song and where it ends up. The two songs I originally had here were a much more bitter feeling, but I like that this song is tragic and painful and is still a kind of love song at the same time. I really wanted this playlist to be all love songs, some very different from each other, some more about pain and loss and regret than the good parts of love, but still love songs.

“And I have tried to shine in the darkness

Entertaining vanities in vain…

Hold on

And hold on

And let go

Let go

And fall deeper

Even than love.”

16.  Days of Candy | Beach House

To me this song is very evocative of the mingled feelings of grief in the immediate aftermath of a loss. Grief is never a pure, singular feeling, but a sticky amalgam of missing and wanting and sweet memories and a deep pit of pain. The sort of slow, half-asleep sadness full of watery light that this song evokes really takes me there, to the place where the grief is real but the loss is still almost unreal, where the feeling of that person still hasn’t left, your senses are still full of them, you just heard their voice yesterday, they might come into the room at any moment. It’s the almost— joyful?? part of grief that you don’t realize has any joy in it yet because you haven’t yet started to forget. You can’t imagine being able to forget, and you have no idea how much worse it will be when you can’t immediately evoke their presence anymore to comfort yourself. When you can’t pretend anymore that you’ll be able to see them again.

17.  Last Song | Gackt

Idk why exactly but Gackt is very yearning LWJ vibes in this song. Is it the earnestness? The intensity? The incredibly romantic lyrics? The deep, smooth voice?.. All of the above?

Anyway, if the previous song was nonverbal grief, this song is the start of the solidifying of grief, moving past rage and disbelief and self-destructive denial and gradually into a crystallization, a narrative of what the loss meant. Instead of a great crushing thing that blots out the sky and swallows your entire life, the grief becomes just another part of you— a defining part, maybe, but still part of a greater whole. And you move on. Or you try to. 

18.  Sleeping Alone | Lykke Li

This is 13 years of going where the chaos is, searching and playing Inquiry and never giving up, resigned to sleeping alone in strange places but still just never ever giving up. 

“Now was not our time, no, I let you down. 

Someday, somehow, somewhere down the line… we’ll meet again.”

19.  Busby Berkeley Dreams | The Magnetic Fields

Does every deep-voiced man singing a dramatic love song remind me of LWJ now? Maybe. At least I refrained from filling the entire playlist with Stephin Merritt songs. 

“I should have forgotten you long ago, but you’re in every song I know” is just… the most Wangxian sentiment. 

This is a bit of a modern AU LWJ, one who would definitely cry into his True Romance magazines. I do still think that this song very much captures how he must have felt hearing the song he wrote played on a terrible flute after 13 years, though. It definitely doesn’t have a flute solo in it, either.

20.  Ivy | Frank Ocean

This song is peak WWX in a mask, trying to hide from LWJ and his own emotions at the same time. But also, maybe, the start of some emotional awareness and genuine communication. Thanks to Frank Ocean for this entire playlist, practically.

21.  Fireworks | Mitski

Another song about memories and dealing with the past even when it comes back to stab you in the side. (s/o to Jin Ling, low key my favorite character, never afraid to cry in any situation) 

“I will be married to silence

The gentleman won't say a word

But you know, oh you know in the quiet he holds

Runs a river that'll never find home.”

22.  Hell | Waxahatchee

This is a song about apologizing to someone for putting them through hell. To me it’s a very adults-in-love song, and there’s a sort of gentleness to acknowledging the pain and mistakes of the past while still having hope that maybe love is really worth it after all— especially if you’re “one of those who canonize a love so true it never dies.”

23.  A letter to my younger self | Ambar Lucid

I have to admit that the title of this song makes me think of yiqie’s truly excellent time travel fic that is very heartbreaking and very beautiful. I don’t want to spoil it if you haven’t read it (go read it), but it’s safe to tell you that it grapples with and transcends all the reasons I usually avoid time travel fics, like the idea of helplessness in the face of fate, and how much control we really have over our own decisions, and what it means to let people make their own mistakes. 

24.  Let’s Pretend We’re Bunny Rabbits | The Magnetic Fields

This one really speaks for itself. 

Besides, “Let’s pretend we’re bunny rabbits until we pass away” is just a cuter way of saying “Everyday,” right?

25.  ”愛してる”からはじめよう  (“Let’s start from ‘I love you’”) | Miyavi

I personally feel that Miyavi has big sunshine WWX energy. This is just. A very cute and soft love song. Feels like napping in some tall grass in the summertime. Waking up next to your lifelong crush and remembering how lucky you are. Wandering from town to town with your true love and your donkey. That type of energy.

26.  Angels | The xx

The last three songs on this list never fail to give me Big Dramatic Feelings. 

I think what this song captures well is the feeling of just drifting along, lost in your thoughts, showing up somewhere— and suddenly seeing the person you know to be the love of your life at an unexpected time or place, and being struck all over again with… all of it. Your heart stutters, everything slows down, and for a second you forget to breathe. Like: Oh yeah. Oh shit. I remember why I love you. I remember how it felt when I was first falling in love with you. And I never want it to stop. 

“And with words unspoken, a silent devotion. I know you know what I mean.”

27.  Love Me Like I’m Not Made of Stone | Lykke Li

I think of this as the quintessential WWX love song, from the title to the sentiment of the lyrics to the moody burning joy of the sound of it. It’s demanding and soft and confident and raw all at once. 

Props to Lykke Li for the redemption arc of this playlist.

28.  Good to Love | FKA twigs

MAKE MY BODY COME ALIVE. This is the song that really says the most to me about the pain and beauty and the vulnerability and intimacy of being in love. What I love about all of FKA twigs’ music is how beautifully she merges and intertwines the messy physical and spiritual aspects of love. Her music is a sexy secular prayer to Eros imo and I’m here for it. 

[ligne-noire]

LAB.ORATORY LIFE - Faust. Anal deep throat. Fist-fuck party, Lab.Oratory, 12.01.2018

Lab.Oratory spoilt me for all other sex clubs. I have been there plenty of times, but the last occasion was at Silvester with my wife, our honeymoon in fact, when Berghain, Panorama Bar, Halle and Lab.Oratory were all open and every form of hedonism was possible as the new year slid in. Boris -> Mykki -> Marcel.  Guten rutsch. Now I am back for a fisting party – my fantasies become reality the more I visit this city.  I can’t live here, because I don’t want to run out of things to want. But I had wanted to go to a Lab fisting party since I first saw it on the flyer. Waiting makes wanting.

* * *

I always walk around first, seeing who I want, seeing what is happening where.  I need to know if there are any cocks being sucked in the glory holes; if there are any men being pissed on in the pissoir. What will I smell? What will I taste? I look around at the metal frames where I have been deeply fucked, at the walls that my head has been pressed back against while a large cock is rammed down my throat.  Everywhere I look I remember the faces of men whom I had fucked, whom I had made throw up on my cock. I remember the man whose face I never saw but whose arse I fucked for a very long time, never slowing, too high to come, too hard to stop, too entranced by the sounds of his grunts and moans as he would spasm from orgasm to orgasm, his limp dick leaking onto his thigh, but without me stopping the rhythm I was using him for. When I pulled out, his arse was gaping and did not close before I walked off, leaving him stretched open for the next man who wanted to fuck something. Who was he? What did he look like? We could be sitting together on the train and never know that we had fucked. Was he back here tonight?

The room is filled with tender scenes. I catch glimpses of long hugs in slings, of huge, hairy men tenderly touching their lovers, of anonymous kissing and rimming and sucking and fucking, and of men looking into each others’ faces and smiling and laughing and being in love for that moment.I'm lounging on a couch where I've been fucked before, smoking a joint, looking around from this little corner.  The music is good.  The air is blood warm. Hash-blue smoke coils through it as I look around and breathe in the heavy scent. Flesh is everywhere. Over there is a German bull in leather shorts with a huge strap on, thicker than my wrist and 30cm long.  He is about 60. He is fat. He has a big, fat head and large, ugly hands. He looks so average except for his glorious toy, too big to be real. An unrefined bus driver endowed like a king. He sneers as he rubs lube over this monstrous rubber dick, holding it like it is his own flesh. Polishing it. Proud of it. Looking around to see who is sizing it up, wondering if they can take it.  He looks at me, but I don’t catch his gaze. I am not here for him. I wonder if he is impotent; if he has lost the ability to get hard because his prostate became malignant, or if his heart medication broke his dick when it saved his life. I wonder if he really just enjoyed having the biggest cock in the room. I admit that I am tempted, but mostly out of disgust. I question myself: who would have to be on the other end of this ludicrous dick to let them break my arse with it? I imagine the flashes of pain as I would stretch further than I thought I could, at the point where I might panic only to realise that it was already in. The higher I get, the more my mind wanders into this labyrinth of gaping arse. It would be the same dick on anyone; who would make me overcome myself?

For a while he disappears, though comes back with another man, perhaps a little younger, stockier, shorter. It is not going to be pretty sex, but I want to watch anyway. I am lazy. I am comfortable.  There is so much going on that wherever I am I will miss something.  So I sit and smoke and watch these men prepare to fuck. The smaller man looks wired. He is looking around, head flicking over his shoulder like a nervous dog, like he was looking for someone that he did not want to see him here, ready to hurt himself on this huge dick. He is chewing gum, but spits it out when the bull bends him over a large iron bathtub in which other men have been pissing. He pours too much lube over his arse and begins stretching him open with his fingers. The two men seem like they are in worlds of their own, only connecting through penetrating fingers feeling their way inside. He pours more onto his dildo and pushes its blunt thick head against this willing arse hole.  The man bent-over holds a bottle of poppers, which he inhales deeply and then calls out as the toy pushes into him. The bull has his hands on his partner’s cheeks, pulling them open to take more, coaxing his cock into him.  Once the head is all in, he holds him by the hips and plunges his hips forward, grunting, snarling, pushing through anything that gets in his way. The cries are almost excruciating. I wonder if this is tearing him open. I almost want him to bleed, just to witness someone going too far in this pursuit of pleasure.  He doesn’t. He is the loudest person in the space by far; he winces but wants it. Soon the bull is pounding the man until his nose starts to bleed a little, perhaps from too much poppers, or from drug burns, or too much strain as his body tries to expel this huge toy that only pleasure is letting in, making him scream until he orgasms and constricts this dildo back out, immediately bending back over the bath tub to take it all again like a well-trained creature desperate to be filled. Every time his bowels reject it, they recommence; more screams, more thrusts, more rubber until finally it is buried harness-deep in his guts, thrusting into him until his body clenches tight and squeezes him out powerfully.  I can see how loose he is, how dark and swollen the folds of his rectum are, splayed open like a ripening rose when the bull pulls out, a wall of red flesh to be re-opened and re-entered. A trail of slimy lube drips out of him and glistens in the red light as it splashes on the dark floor. The bull watches it drooling off his rubber cock, and appears satisfied, sneering. The man who had just been fucked walks slightly stiffly. Something must have caught my eye, as when I look back, the men have gone. The bull is walking around, looking for the next hole to destroy with his dick that will never go soft. He takes a handkerchief out of his little leather handbag and mops his sweaty hair from his lined, sweaty brow. It’s older guys who really love fisting, when they have pushed through all of the other boundaries and are still looking for more to satiate their sex.  A tall old man with a massive leather collar and short grey hair climbs into the gynaecological chair that is a few metres away from me. He has an impressive face, almost noble.  His hair is very short; his beard, too. His eyes are clear and focused; his nostrils flare slightly as he breathes. Already his hole is stretched and wrinkled, much like the rest of him. I focused on him more than the man fisting him; more than on his sub who kneels on the floor like a pup, watching the scene from below.  I look at him and I imagine myself in the future. It is impressive how easily the old man’s arse is to penetrate.  Four fingers slowly press against him and opening him and enter straight up to the knuckles.  Then the thumb disappears.  Soon it is just a veiny stretched arse hole gripping a thick wrist pushing in and out and the sagging flesh giving way. Soon he is being punch-fucked, pulling out and then thrusting the clenched fist splashing back in.  The old man’s face is serene, he is in a state of ecstatic reverie, mouth half-opened, eyes half-closed, a beautiful saint worshiping with his anus. He is so present in his body that he seems almost able to transcend it. Every penetration squelches into him and his breath exhales harder. His long legs in leather chaps clench back on his bare chest. I keep watching as he shakes with every orgasm, which keep getting more and more powerful as his arse tightens and softens and lets more in, deeper and deeper and deeper. When they stop the man’s arm is almost elbow deep. When he pulls out, the old man’s anus is gaping and wrecked, his bowels prolapsing slightly, red and flushed and engorged. His lover rubs his fingers gently over it, tenderly coaxing it back inside him, folding the old man back together. I look on, wondering how he would taste right now. I could feel myself getting hard at the idea. Sometimes I want to lose myself in the grotesque, to see what beauty can be found deep within it.

We were steeped in fetish worlds that over-lapped. Men wearing leather chaps and big boots; men wearing jock straps and sneakers; all of them here to worship anal pleasure. This is sex beyond fucking.“What all these people are doing is not aggressive; they are inventing new possibilities of pleasure with strange parts of their body — through the eroticization of the body.” (Foucault, 1982).  Now there is a man wearing a mask and a heavy shiny black latex cat suit getting fisted in the gynaecological chair by another man in a rubber mask. They're looking into each other’s eyes and caressing each other's shiny black faces. When they are finished, they remove their hoods and joyously get into each other until again he's being fisted. Good house music is playing - I want to dance, but I have smoked too much hash and I am enjoying the view of men pushing their arms deep into other men, plus some super-skinny twink is dancing and I don’t want to encourage him. I decide to go for a walk.

* * *

I need to piss, so go to find the pissoir, the famous structure with the mesh floor above a chamber where sometimes men wait underneath to catch the dregs of any golden showers above them. The metal walls hold in the warm wet air. The smell of piss is so strong that it opens my nostrils as I breathe in.  There is no one wanting to swallow my piss this time, so I watch it drip through the grated floor onto the tiles below. I walk on until I see a hot tall German in leather chaps and a leather vest being fisted by a Turkish top who is drinking beer with his left hand while he moves his right in and out. The German wears black leather Adidas sneakers, sporty leatherwear, keeping all options open. First he is on his back with his long legs up in the frame, then he is on his knees, stretched out like a slut. His strong face is softened by a stubbly beard. I take out my cock and start stroking it while I watch. He is a good looking man, and his expressions are fascinating. He watches me between groans of intense painful pleasure that force his eyes shut. I come closer, and when the Turkish man takes his hand out and leaves, the German pulls me closer and starts sucking my cock, his face vanished in the shadows. I get fully hard in his mouth but I can't see what he's doing, so I rock my hips and lose myself in the excellent music while he keeps me on edge. He then moved his arse and takes my hand and pushes it against his gaping hole. I can feel how open he was around the bearded Turk's hairy wrist. His hole is a thick, stretched rim. Inside, his bowels are soft and delicate.  He is purple and swollen and sensitive but hungry to be filled again. I finger him with three fingers, feeling the stretched folds of his arse. He indicates he wants more, and pours lube over my hand and wrist. I push all of my fingers inside him, feeling his body open up to me. He is in an inverted position. I'm plunging my hand straight down into his warm bowels, my hard cock is rubbing against his leather vest, leaving shiny streaks of precum glistening on the black, but I can't see his head or chest as he is curled up under the metal bench moaning as I rub against his prostate. He is just an arse. A beautiful, gaping arse in leather chaps that is pulsating around my wrist and drawing me back in as I pull out, opening wider and wider and taking me in, a stranger giving warmth and softness with his body. Anonymous intimacy. I push in deeper, his muscles softening and letting me further into his body until I'm past my wrist, and half way up my forearm. His sphincter is stretched but makes a seal around my arm where it starts to thicken. He is warm and soft and his body spasms around me as he has orgasm after orgasm, his colon soft but strong as it squeezes me like soft lips that stretch on forever. He cums for me and cums for me and I keep fucking him until his voice is going hoarse and his body is starting to fatigue. I slow down and stop, letting his body pulsate and come to w=rest around my hand.  Every movement I make is amplified.  He is twitching electrically from the pleasure he has endured. His head comes out of the darkness and he looks at me as I watch my hand come out of his body. His eyes are dreamy and half closed and his smile is relieved.  I rub my fingers over him, and he starts to lose himself in the thought that I am going to fuck him again, but I stop. The Turk is standing behind me watching and drinking. I go to wash my hands. I have no idea if there is a connection between them, and no need to know. My moment has passed. I come back to the scene and the Turk is deep in him again, his arse so stretched it makes sloppy, sucking sounds as he is punch-fucked. He watches me watching him moaning. I go back to my sofa to smoke another joint. A beautiful black man walks past in a red jockstrap, the best-dressed man in the room. Soon after, a chunky young Turkish cub gets into the gynaecological chair with his arse hole at my eye height for a tall German to fist him. It's hot to watch from so close. I can see his arsehole stretch as the German coaxes him open. It is intense. He's shaking with orgasms from just his lover’s fingers, but soon works his way up to the whole hand. He squeals like a little girl in cute high-pitched noises and nervous giggles, gripping the wrist of the top as if to gain the nerve to let him all the way in. Every now and then a guttural groan is released. He relaxes and his body opens up. He lies there, spread, receptive, relaxed. And then it starts. Large hands in black latex gloves are alternating their way into his arse. I can see his pink anus stretched around the man's wrist. His balls are weighed down with a heavy steel ring. His thick cock twitches and swells as he comes through his arse over and over. Precum is hanging in long strands that glisten in the red light. Ugly men become something beautiful when they let their bodies open and they are taken over with intense pleasure. Beautiful men become ugly as they pant and beg for more pleasure, to be pushed deeper into intense sensations.  Destruction and rebirth. Limits being broken, over and over. This is how we grow. The scene continues as a German man walks over to me. He is exquisite. His clear blue eyes meet mine and he squats down and leans in. "Du bist ein schönes mann," he says, and asks if I was good. I smile and he touches my beard. He walks away and I get a good look at him, his round arse framed by his leather chaps - fuck he is hot. He is wearing black leather Adidas shoes. He is the man I had fisted earlier.

I have been here for four hours and it is emptier now. Before I leave, I take one more look around the space.  I am not sure when I will be back, or what I will be seeking next time I am here.  A middle-aged guy who might have been Italian has been creeping around me all night, slinking by with long stares in his leathers.  I see him again, still prowling.  He slips over in the lube that I had seen dribbling out of the man whom I had fisted. It was time to go.

[poppyssupergirl]

It Wasn’t Meant to Be a Love Letter

This is for Kim, @hypnobyl , who is super great and a superb writer and it is their b-day!!!! I hope your time in Florida is super great yo!! 

May this silly little b-day fic brighten your day, just a lil :D

Also, thank you to @the-queen-of-the-light for betaing the first 3 sections, you da bae!! 

The complete story is below the cut, but you can also read this on AO3 

Cat doesn't hide her birthday, not really. She just doesn't find it professional to celebrate it on company time. There was far too much to do before worrying about her birthday.

However, nearly every CatCo employee receives a signed birthday card from their esteemed boss. Kara's got all of the birthdays right in front of her, in a calendar.

And Kara's looked, multiple times, but Cat's birthday isn't there. She's done digging on the internet, she's even looked at Cat's Wiki page and even there the date changes every few days.

Heck, maybe Cat's changing it because Kara just can't find the right date.

She's there, again, prepping a card for Cat to sign, when it really hits her. She's been Cat's assistant for well over a year and she still doesn't know Cat's birthday. Kara'd gotten a card on her arrival-to-Earth day, hand-picked by Cat, but she still doesn't know Cat's birthday!

Carter. Carter is her only option. Lois might know but… the things she would owe the woman.

Kara clicks her pen and pushes back from her desk. She knows Carter’s nanny. She can definitely get another evening with the boy. She snatches the card off her desk and waits as the last of the board members exit Cat’s office.

Cat doesn’t look too haggard and there’d been no yelling, but either way, signing the card will brighten her mood. It always does. It’s kind of cute really. Big, bad boss enjoying the little moments where she can brighten her ‘minion’s’ days.

She can’t really wipe the smile that the thought triggers off her face, so, instead, she just smiles all the wider and walks into Cat’s office. Cat gives her the signature eyebrow raise, but she just hands the card over.

“Here’s the card, is there anything else you need right now, Ms. Grant?” She bounces on her toes. She just can’t help it.

“No, not right now. Just make sure I have the layouts from advertising by four.” Her pen glides across the card, her usual flourish giving the whole process an air of elegance. She’s rather beautiful to watch. She holds out the card and Kara reaches to take it. “What has you so bouncy on this fine Wednesday, Sunny Danvers?”

Ah, whoops, but oh well. “Just a new project, Ms. Grant!” Her eyes trail to the card and really, Cat’s handwriting is magnificent.

Kim H. Nobyl

The name swirls under the printed ‘Happy Birthday’ with Cat’s own signature under that. And, oh, Cat is in a good mood; she’s used her extra fancy pen.

She doesn’t press for any more explanation, just waves Kara out the door. It’s for the best, Kara has lots to do now. She needs to call the nanny and arrange a day with Carter… and also figure out how to get Carter to tell her what Cat’s birthday is.

Well, food would work on her…

It’s about three months until she can finagle her own, Cat’s, and Carter’s schedule to where she and Carter have an afternoon alone. Cat thinks she’s running errands… technically it’s not a lie. Not really.

Cat just deserves something nice, she does! Cat's quite nice under her prickly exterior and her eyes are always so gentle. This will be good for her… it’s a white-lie, right? She’s heard from Alex that those aren’t bad.

Yeah, a white-lie.

Carter walks over to her when she waves. They’ve interacted before, just not a lot. He’s a smart kid and maybe she can convince him that her cause is worthy.

“Hi, Carter! I came instead of your nanny, sorry for the surprise, but I’m here to spend the afternoon with you!” She puts on her best smile but Carter just nods. That’s… well… kind of to be expected. He’s a shy kid.

“Okay then, the car’s right over here.” She leads him away from the school and he remains silent. “How were classes? Did you learn anything new today?”

She gets another shrug and a mumbled, “Plants follow sunshine.” Well… that’s something to work with, right? Better than nothing at least.

“Oh yeah!” She plops down in the backseat next to him and smiles at Raeni, the only driver she trusted to keep this mission secret. “It has something to do with water right?”

Carter turns toward her a little, his shoulders relaxing back and oh, he’s such a good kid. “Yeah, the cell walls use water pressure to grow toward the sun.”

No wonder Cat’s so enamored with him.

“Really?” There weren’t many plants on Krypton, but Earth science always fascinated her. Botany though… it’s not that plants are boring, but, how could she be interested in plants when there were birds around? “How does the plant know where the sun is?”

Carter lights up a little more and oh no, this boy, he’s truly his mother’s son. Adorable.

“Well, there are little receptors in the plant that take sunlight in and turn it into a chemical that…”

She’s fifteen wiki articles deep before Carter is satisfied with their explanations on botany. It’s nearly five in the evening and Kara’s stomach is being rude at the moment. Honestly, if it could just calm down, that’d be great.

Carter laughs and ouch, ouch, but he takes her hand and leads her to the kitchen so all’s forgiven pretty quickly. Quicker when she realizes that Carter’s pulling take-out menus from the drawer he’s just opened.

“Pizza or Chinese?” He glances up and golly, this kid’s a keeper.

“Both?” She shrugs and Carter rolls his eyes. That’s far too much like his mother, and gosh, he’s got Cat’s eyes too. Gorgeous.

“You’re calling it in then.” And that same bargaining that quickly turns to commands… he’s learned from the best.

She reaches for her phone and Carter points to the circled items on both menus. The line clicks through to-

“Hello, this is National Pizza, what can I do for you?” and she nods to Carter before replying.

“Hi, I’m ordering for delivery to the Grant residency.” Carter trundles off as the woman on the other side of the line forgoes her ‘we don’t deliver speech’ in favor of the 200 percent tip Cat always sends back.

She hears the soft ‘shhh’ of water running and good, she doesn’t even have to convince him of a shower. That’s always nice. Now, for the best potstickers in the whole city…

“So, how’d you convince Nan to take the day off? And why did you?” Carter’s got half a slice of pizza shoved into his mouth and it’s the first truly disgusting thing Kara’s seen from him.

She coughs, because, uh, why would he think that? Her eyes must say her question well enough because this… what is he? 12? 13? 47? year-old rolls his eyes again and Kara’s pretty sure he thinks she’s dumb.

“Nan never takes off unless mom asks her to or it’s her kids’ birthdays.” Yeah, he definitely thinks she’s dumb, ouch. He crams another slice of pizza into his mouth, and she must wince because he grins at her and, ew, ew that makes it so much worse, ew.

“Uhm, ew, and well…” He’s probably going to find it out anyway. Plus, how is she going to get him to not tell his mother about Kara being here? “Okay, so, y’know your mom, right?”

O-kay, that’s definitely Cat Grant’s child. Wow, and she thought she had laser vision.

“Okay, yeah, so, anyway. I can’t find her birthday.” His look darkens and she backtracks, raising her hands to placate him. “Not her birth year! Just the day! See, well, she gives cards to all her employees, and it’s actually really sweet. Even though she pretends to be mean, she’s really not. But the point is, she even got me a card! And usually I get the card for people and take it for her to sign, but she got me one on her own which is really nice, especially since I hadn’t even been her employee for very long so I wanted to get her a card or maybe like, a little gift or something to show my appreciation because she can be hard to work for but she’s also really great and kind and inspiring so I wanted to, y’know, get her a birthday card like she did for me….”

Carter’s just looking at her. That’s the same stare that Cat gives her. Oh, it’s just as disquieting. Why are Grants like this?

“So, I need her birthday for that… which is why I wanted to talk with you… not that! Not that the rest of our day wasn’t nice! I’m not trying to use you to get to your mom! Or… oh no, that’s kind of exactly what I’m doing. Oh no, that’s terrible, I’m so sorry. I can try to find her birthday elsewhere, I just wanted to get the date right.” Oh she’d royally messed up, oh golly, he’d probably kick her out and-

“It’s April 24th.”

Oh? “Oh? Oh. Oh, okay.” She blinks and he looks like he’s holding back laughter and that’s just what she needs, fantastic, a 13-year-old laughing at her. Alex will never let her live this down. And- “Shit, that’s next week.” Oh crap, golly -darn “I mean, crud! I meant crud! Don’t curse, it’s really rude!”

Carter laughs, head back and, grand, now he really is laughing at her. But Kara can't help her own laugh. This 13-year-old with far too much sass, goodness.

She has seven days to decide what to get for Cat. She takes six of those seven.

It's… difficult. There's nothing she can get for Cat that Cat can't just go out and buy. So, she makes something instead.

Maybe it's dumb but… well, it just sort of fits Cat because Cat loves what she does and loves what she's built so? Kara can't help but agree; Cat's done amazing things and she's an amazing person.

But the small, wrapped present in her hands feels so, so underwhelming. The card's fine, a basic Happy Birthday with Kara's signature and a small note wishing Cat a nice day. She's just nervous because Cat might get angry?

Or hate it?

But she still leaves the card and wrapped canvas on Cat's desk while she's at a meeting. She keeps it discrete, of course, no need to draw attention to something Cat wants kept on the down-low. It wouldn't be professional at all if she went about making a scene.

She places the package in the middle of Cat's deck. But no, it's not that important. Not that Cat isn't important, just that the present isn't that important. So maybe to the side a little… yes, just beside the layouts for the opening of the new high school next week.

Golly, why the butterflies? It's just a small painting. A painting of CatCo at high noon, the sun shining over the multitude of glass windows and CatCo is beautiful and powerful, just like it's creator. So the painting fits, yeah.

But it isn't as realistic as some of the paintings Cat could go out and buy… but, no. No, it's a nice painting, it really is and Kara shouldn't be doubting herself like this. She should trust Cat. Trust that Cat might just appreciate the thought?

Yeah. Yeah and maybe find something to eat because her stomach really needs to settle.

“No, Brian, I’m not following another one of your ponzi schemes. Now out with you.”

Welp, there she is. Kara scuttles back to her desk, standing to see if Cat needs anything. She gets a distracted wave as Cat answers a call on her cell. She won’t need anything for a while then…

Oh, except the edited version of Snapper’s newest updates! Woops, should have gotten that earlier.

Cat makes it to her desk and flops in her chair, ah, the phone call isn’t a pleasant one. Not that Kara would ever eavesdrop, just, if it’s Carter, Cat’s always so light in her movements. She should get Cat some water.

Cat’s fingers ghost over the layouts and skip to the letter, sitting on the covered canvas.

Oh golly.

Cat finishes her phone call and Kara can’t move now. She doesn’t want to attract attention. Oh golly, those butterflies are back. She can’t help but watch though, Cat’s curious look is… cute, really.

Oh golly, Cat’s cute. Oh but no, she’s not just cute, she’s gorgeous.

Oh no.

No. No.

Her fingers peel back the envelope and oh, she’s so graceful and her eyes flick over Kara’s handwriting and a tiny, soft- oh gosh, so soft- smile spreads over her face and her lips are so-

No.

No, Rao, no.

Her hands cover the canvas and oh gods above, the ocean is pounding around the building. There’s definitely got to be a problem with the cooling system. That can’t be a sound a heart can make.

The paper slips off the canvas and her lips part and all the air rushes from the room. Her eyes rove over the painting, the strokes in fine grey and gold, and her smile can’t be kept tamped down. Though the muscles twitching in her cheeks show how hard she’s trying and those green, green eyes that can swallow space and time and -

Oh shit.

Cat looks up at her and blinks and Kara breathes in so sharply she’s pretty sure Winn hears her. She swallows but those eyes are still staring at her and her mouth is moving and…

Thank you.

Oh.

Oh, all the weight of the world dropping from her shoulders couldn’t make her feel like this. Golly, the butterflies are gone and there’s just tingling through her whole system. She tries to squelch her smile, especially when Winn asks what’s going on but…

Golly, wa-pow, indeed.

You can also find this on AO3

[dandelion-girl]

Our first Valentine - Simbar

A/N: Hi, everyone! So to celebrate Valentine's Day, I decided to write a one-shot about this amazing couple! ❤️ It is kind of big because I am not good with short stories xD! Plus I took so long to post because I worse than Ámbar while choosing a drink. But it only 7 pm here so it's perfect to celebrate the evening of this day of love. Hope you like it! Please tell me what you think! Anddd if you have ideas of your own, feel free to tell me! 😉

Ámbar's POV I take another look in the mirror and snort, still not satisfied with how I look. My next step is throwing myself on the bed (yes dramatically). I have tried at least 100 outfits but all of a sudden they seem to have shrinked, gotten baggy, out of fashion or simply make me look bad. Ughhhh, I have absolutely nothing to wear.

I hear a knock on the door and hopelessly shout "Come on in!" I hear the door be opened, then closed and a pair of feet walking in my direction, but my eyes never open. I feel the mattress giving up and check who is here. "Heyyy!" Luna greets me, a strange smile in her face. "Hey..." I whisper, rolling my eyes. "What's happening? Isn't Simón picking you up in a bit?" "Don't talk about it... I think I am going to cancel!" "Ámbar, you cannot cancel Valentine's Day!" She exclaims giggling. I roll my eyes again and sigh, sitting. "I can if the other option is going out naked..." Luna laughs and I shot her a death glare, making her press her lips together, trying to control herself. "I am sorry, Ámbar but that's super super unlikely! You have so many clothes! I am sure there is one you like!" "I do but then I don't and then I like another one and the next second I hate it..." Luna shakes her head and for the first time I notice she is all dressed up. "See! You look amazing! Why can't I look that way?" I whimper, and yes I know for a fact I am being a drama Queen. But I like being a Queen of something. "Ámbar, this isn't about the clothes it's something else. Tell me, what's happening! I am all ears! Or will try!" I sigh and give in. "It's just I am really nervous..." "Okay, I already noticed that... But why? Is something going on?" "Other than the fact that I am going out on a date with Simón to God knows where because he doesn't tell me anything, being our first ever Valentine's Day which means I cannot mess up or be stupid or anything like that because it will completely ruin the whole relationship, and the fact that I couldn't find a gift good enough for him, yup everything is amazing!" "Okay! I see what's happening! Ámbar, Simón loves you, like really, really love you. So honestly he will think you look beautiful no matter what you are wearing. Which means that part is up to you and you only. Don't stress so much, I know you will love what he has planned!" "Oh My! Luna, you know where we are going? You have to tell me like right now!" Luna laughs and shakes her head. "No, way, Ámbar! I promised him I would not tell you!" "Please, I am desperate... I need something to guide me!" Yes I beg, because that was just how much this was affecting me... "Okay. Okay! How about I help you chose your clothes?" "I am not sure that's a good idea... No offense!" We both giggle and she sighs. "I know our styles are very different! So, what about this: I am giving you a clue! You should not wear something fancy, but more like something comfortable!" "Comfortable? Okay... I guess I can work with that." I get up and face my closet again.

Ámbar just make up your mind for once...

I start looking around the closet and after digging on some of my drawers, I feel kind of satisfied with what I have. After putting on my choice I turn to the mirror. I went for a light blue shirt, because I know much he loves seeing me in this color. For the bottom, I chose a silver skater skirt, which actually is a pair of shorts, with a little bow in the front. I added bracelets, earrings and, of course, the necklace we gave me with a piece of amber. I turn to Luna who is now facing me, hands covering her mouth. "Ámbar! You look... Amazing!" "Are you sure? Maybe I should change the skirt..." I start but she shushes me. "Okay, okay. I look at my watch. Just on time then. I only have to finish my makeup." "Great! Speaking of which could you borrow me a lipstick? I wanted to wear a red one but I don't have!" "Sorry! I forgot you had come here with a reason! Of course I can! Follow me! Trying to impress Balsano, hum?" She giggles blushing and we go to my makeup table. I help her give the final touches to her makeup and then finish mine, trying to keep my first plan going, without changing my mind a 1000 times...

When we are both ready, we get up and look at each other. We both look beautiful. Even though she clearly is all dressed up because she knows she is going to an Italian restaurant (typical Matteo) but I only know I should wear "something comfortable". For as far as I am concerned, as long as I am feeling beautiful, I am comfortable, but I know that's not what Luna means. "Any other advice?" I ask, after we made sure we had everything settled for when the boys arrive. "Yes! Relax and enjoy, Ámbar!" I take a deep breath and nod. I am trying. It's just really hard to be calm when the love of your life prepared a surprise for you. I am really not a fan of surprises... Just then, the bell rings and we both get up excited. Thankfully my godmother is away for some business meetings so she can't boss me around about what I can and cannot do. Luna heads outside and I tell her I will be right behind her. I just have to grab my purse and Simón's present. When I get to the top of the stairs there are two things I notice. One: Lutteo is already on fire. And most importantly, two: Simón is waiting for me at the bottom, looking super cute and hot, more than usually because he is looking rather fancy. He has a pair of dark blue jean and button up light gray shirt. Oh he looks nice. I am starting to doubt my choice of outfit, but throw those thoughts to the bottom of my mind. Simón has a smile from hear to hear, his eyes sparkling. I smile back and when we are finally just a step of distance, he grabs my waist and lifts me up, pulling me down in front of him. He picks my hand and leaves a soft kiss there. Oh how I love when he does that. I thenwrap my arms around him and peak him the lips, rubbing our noses together. "You look amazingly beautiful, Miss Ámbar." He whispers in my hear. I smile and whisper back. "You don't look so bad yourself, Álvarez. We match!" I giggle back. He takes my arm and after saying goodbye to Lutteo, we head outside to his car. He opens the door for me and after making sure I have my seatbelt on he says "I need something. I will be back in a minute. Don't move!" I follow him with my eyes and see Amanda handing him something that looks like a bag, but I cannot be sure. He then puts it in the truck and in a few seconds is sitting by my side. I have to bite my tongue not to ask anything. "Where are we going?" I ask, curiosity filling me, when he turns on the engine. "It's a surprise. You will see!" I sigh and roll my eyes. What can I do?

On our ride, we there is no moment of silence ever. Simón is one of those people which always has something to say. He rambled about how the day in Jam and Roller was, and by the way he is talking I understand he is probably just as nervous as I am. I grab his hand and squeeze it, making him turn to me and give another of his glorious smiles, I feel myself blush. He takes our hands to his lips and again kisses my knuckles. Making me smile like a fool. Oh, how I a love him. "What about you, princess? How was you day?" "Oh, nothing special, it mostly consisted in me freaking out about this. Specially because you gave me soooo much information..." He chuckles, while taking a right turn, letting go of my hand. "You did nail the outfit!" He winks and again I smile stupidly.

Is is going to be like this all evening, Ámbar?

"I had a little help..." I confess shrugging. "Well you won't have to wait any less longer because we are a minute away. Because close your eyes." I do as he says and in a few seconds I feel his turning off the car. "Can I open now?" I ask. "No!" I roll my eyes mentally. One second Simón is on the drivers seat, the other he is opening the door for me. He helps out of the car, and for one moment I wonder if I should have chosen high heels. I mean they are comfortable enough... We will see... "I am carry you not, if you don't mind." He whispers in my ear. If I mind him carrying me? Not a chance. I nod and he picks me up, bridal style. I wrap my arms around his neck, leaning my head in shoulder and notice his perfume is rather nice today. He always smells nice, like Simón, like home, but today he is all of that and more. Simón walks with me in his arms for no more than 1 minute and before he puts me down he says. "I am sorry but your shoes will have to go!" "What?!" He giggles. "When can I open my eyes? This is killing me!" "Now!" He answers and I cannot hold one second more. I open my eyes, still in his arms and gasp. We are standing on this cute little beach, so mini it could be a private one. In front of me is a super romantic scenario, one of those which you only see int the movies. There is a huge blanket on the floor, a basket decorated with a blue bow. Behind there is this enormous blue tent, decorated with fairy lights. A few pillows are thrown inside. I fell my feet reaching the floor, touching the soft and warm sand. I gasp and turn around, facing Simón. He is scratching the back of his head, meaning he is nervous about my reaction. I consider for a moment playing and pretending to hate everything but then I pity him. "You don't like it?" He asks, his facing reminding me of the disappointment and sadness it showed when I "rejected" his second kiss on our first date. I throw myself in his arms and kiss his, framing his jaw with my hands. He wraps his arms on my waist, pulling me up, since now that I don't have my shoes, we have quite a height difference. I let go of him and his eyes show that he isn't convinced with my reaction. "Simón? I loved it! Don't look like that! It's amazing!" I pick his hand and drag him with me to the blanket. I sit facing him and he smiles. "I know I could have taken you to a fancy restaurant. To something glamorous and the kind of thing you are used to, and I know you were expecting. But I decided I wouldn't do any of that. Every guy can take a girl out for dinner any where, but I wanted to do something special. Just for you. Just for us." I smile as well and nod, trying to control the tears in my eyes. He comes close and whispers. "Hold those tears, bonita. Don't get emotional just yet." "Now I am going to show what I have prepared for us! So, I have four options of everything from the starters to dessert." "Simón!" I pout, rolling my eyes and smiling at the same time. "Anything for my indecisive girlfriend!" He winks, kissing my cheek. He starts taking things from the basket and he wasn't kidding when he said he had four of everything. We start eating remembering all the good moments we have shared and he keeps making fun of how indecisive I am. "Ámbar, I am telling I counted. You changed your drink 7 times and then Nico, Pedro and I were discussing which one you wanted because you had said something different to each one of us." He laughs and I playfully hit him on the chest. "Maybe I changed my mind a bit but it's not my fault you guys didn't pay me attention!" "Not fair! I always pay the most attention to you! That's why instead of asking you, I just prepare a bunch of choices so that you can really choose which one you want." He says, squeezing my nose and I blush. "And that is one of the reasons why I love you so much!" I admit, giving him a tight hug. "I love you too, bonita! Now, I have a surprise for you!" "Another one? Please don't tell me you want to go to the water!" He chuckles and gets up. "No, no. I just need to get something." I follow with my eyes as he slides inside the tent and comes out with his guitar in his hand. He sits next to me, our legs pointing to the waves, our shoulders touching and he kisses my hair. "Sing with me, bonita?" He asks whispering in my ear. I turn my head to him, locking our eyes. "Always." I give him a quick kiss and then lean my head in his shoulder. "So what are we singing?" He winks and starts playing the guitar. I hear the first moments of the slow version of "Cómo me ves" and smile. He smiles, encouraging me and I start singing, being followed by him.

Lo que quiera puedo ser ¿Cómo me ves? Cuando piensas que me iré Todo al revés

Un espejo, una señal ¿Que pasará? Me preguntas que será Lo verás

Lo que todos quieren ser ¿Cómo me ves? Lo que siempre quieren ver No fallaré

Un espejo, una señal ¿Que pasará? Me preguntas que será

Nada cambiará Esto es lo que soy Mirarte a los ojos sin perdón Mi fuerza, mi destino, es mi canción

Voy a salir de tu espejo Tu voz que a lo lejos me encontró Palabras que envuelven mi corazón ¿Cómo me ves?, soy tu reflejo

Siempre estará en mi tu amor Quiero decirte Cómo me ves, yo soy

Voy a salir de tu espejo Tu voz que a lo lejos me encontró Palabras que envuelven mi corazón ¿Cómo me ves?, soy tu reflejo

Siempre estará en mi tu amor Quiero decirte Cómo me ves, yo soy

When we finish the song, Simón puts the guitar down and picks me up, sitting me in his lap facing him. I embrace his neck and pull him for a kiss. "I love singing with you." He says when I let go of him, still on his lap. "I know. Everyone loves singing with me." I mock, playing with my hair. "But it's with me you  sing..." He teases, placing his forehead in mine. "I do have a favorite singer. And to make matter worse he can play the guitar, skate, dance and prepare amazing dates." "Oh My... He sounds terrible! You should dumb him and stay with me..." "Hummm... No! I can't live without my Simón!" "I cannot live without my Ámbar as well. You know she has the most beautiful eyes in the whole world? Not to mention she is perfect in everything she does even if it's simple being indecisive!" I hit him again. "You were going so well..." "Sorry, sorry! Soooo do you want your other surprise now?" "No! First I give you my surprise!" I open my bag and take out a blue box. Yes blue it's Simón's favourite color. "Open!" I command, a bit bossy because I am super excited to see what he thinks about his present. He picks the box and starts unwrapping it slowly. "Simón! Open it for once!" He takes his hands up in defense and do as I said. When he finally sees what's inside the box, he picks his present and turns it in the air, examining it with a serious look. I am biting my lips, waiting for him to say something, anything. He frowns, and then gives me his golden boy smile. I let out the air I was holding. "Is this what I think it is?" He asks, his eyes never leaving his present. "Do you like it?" "If I like it? Ámbar, I love this so much! Thank you!" He pulls me closer and I hug him from behind. We both look at the silver chain with two blue guitar picks. Each one has the inicial S. and A. in the front. But it's the back that it's the most important part. One of them has written "#Simbar" because that's what they call us on the Internet and the other one has a picture of us, we took on my birthday a month ago. "S and A? Simón and Ámbar?" He asks, turning to look at me. I chuckle. "Actually it was Simón Álvarez. But I guess it can be that too." "I like Simón and Ámbar better!" He admit winking, making me blush. Simón puts the chain on and I nod, happy with what I chose. "I will never take this off!" He promises, wrapping his hand around the guitar picks and bringing them close to his heart. "I hope you do. Because I want to hear you play and sing again." "You know what I mean. Now, it's time for my gift!" He takes a pink box from the tent and I start wondering what else he has hidden in there. "Here. I hope you like it!" Curious, I unwrap the pink shinny paper only to reveal a silver box. I hope it, wishing that it isn't something rose gold and smile. "Simón!" I gasp turning to him. Inside there is a silver bracelet with a single charm, a pink heart. "This has a meaning! The bracelet is our story, so every meaningful moment we spend together, you will be adding new charms to your bracelet. That one is for our first Valentine's day!" "Simón..." I whisper, tears in my eyes and I cannot control myself so I start crying. "You are so good! What have I done to deserve you?" "What have I done to deserve you?" I giggle in the middle of my happy tears and hug him. He kisses my neck and I inhale his smell once again, feeling calmer. His kisses turn to my jaw, my cheeks, cleaning my tears and then finally to my lips. We share a sweet kiss which shows our love for each other. When we separate from one another, Simón picks the bracelet and puts it in my left wrist, placing a kiss there. "I cannot wait for more charms, because that means the future has so much planned for us." "It sure does and right now what the future has planned is for a first for you!" He tells me and I raise my eyebrows, not really sure what he meant. "Hum... Simón, I am not... We are not..." "Okay... Oh, I am sorry. This sounded really bad. That's not what I meant. I don't want that. I mean I want but not now and I was not going to force you. I would never force you. You know that. Right? Right?" He starts rambling, making me chuckle. "Simón, calm down! I know you and I know you would never do that. So what did you mean?" "You know when the guys and I were homeless and you said you had never camped and it didn't sound interesting?" "Yeah..." "Well, I am going to prove you are wrong. You, Miss Ámbar Smith are going to 'camp' with me tonight. Only we are not on the woods, we are on a beach because here there are no bugs, the humidity is way better andddd it's much more romantic?" "What? How?" "Well, Amanda prepared that bag over there for you so you have PJ's and a change of clothes for tomorrow!" "Simón... I can't believe you right now!" "You are staying with me, right?" "Of course, I am silly!" I kiss him and sit in front of him, my back against his and his arms around my waist, his head on my shoulders, kissing me on the neck. We stay like this for a while, not saying anything just enjoying each other's company, admiring the starts. Later that night, after attacking desert and having changed clothes with Simón on the other side of the beach, while I am lying with my head in his chest, and he is playing his the locks of my hair, I smile at how perfect everything turned up. "Thank you so much for everything, baby. I loved it all. Good night. I love you!" "I love you too, bonita. Sweet dreams." I tighten my arms around his dorso and plant a kiss on his shirtless chest, enjoying the warm and comfort of being in his arms. How I love this man... ❤️

A/N: So here it was! Hope you liked it! Let me know!!!

[isabelringing]

Helpful Thoughts

I am super adamant on answering that pesky “Why does God send people to Hell” question becuase I really think that it represents a line of thinking that is meant to challenge Christianity and nothing else. 

WHAT I MEAN is I think there’s more to it than that; God doesn’t simply send people to Hell; we have mre choice in the matter. I’ve been trying to answer this specifiaclly for one person but in that search for answers I asked Mr. Lundy (super cool dude with plenny deep thought to share) what his thought were on the matter. I really liked what he said, so HERE IT IS YO

Thanks so much for giving me the opportunity to respond to this question! It’s a good question, a meaningful question and that I myself struggled with for a good long while before I found answers that were satisfying to my heart.  I don’t know what I have to say will be satisfying to anyone but me but I will offer my thoughts and let you do with them what you and your friend do with them what you will. I’ll begin with myself and my own heart.  During my time apart from God, I was never at peace.  I was fine as long as there was a new video game, movie and whatever to indulge myself in but when I found myself alone in the quite, I was restless.  More than this my unbridled mind, having no reason to be restrained, gave birth to truly horrible thoughts.  I remember sitting in a classroom in high school and just pondering what it would be like if acid poured from the ceiling enveloping the teacher to bring untold sufferings.  The teacher wasn’t doing anything but their job but my thoughts were of evil unspeakable.  In other words, apart from the love of Jesus Christ in my life, my heart birthed hell right here on earth. I do not think my experience is unique and let me offer some evidence for thinking so.  To begin with, take a look at the horror movie section of Netflix, Amazon or the like.  I offer for your consideration, Saw, the hills have eyes, the silence of the lambs, and on and on and on.  These movies have nothing to do with God and everything to do with the Hell inside the human heart. My next illustration comes from the former soviet union, Stalin’s great Russia.  An interviewer once asked Stalin how it was that he could be so hard and cruel to his own people.  His answer was to have a waiter bring a chicken to him.  He defeathered the chicken right in front of the reporter.  Then he has the chicken, broken and bleeding down on the floor, grabbed a hand full of bread and held it out.  The chicken hobbled him and began to eat from his hand. “people are like this” Stalin said.  I can’t speak to the truthfulness of this account, it is something I’ve heard over the years but it illustrates a common condition of the human heart, and indifference,  lack of consideration, a hardness without just reason that permeates humanity, hell on earth. Now, what of God and His love and Justice?  I begin with a question, can a husband FORCE his wife to love him? The answer is, of course, no.  Love must be freely given and freely received to be of any worth.  It is in that choice to will good, acceptance, mercy and peace into the life of another that births True and meaningful Love.  If God where to simply proclaim that all have entry into heaven as their transgressions have been forgiven them by the salvation of Christ, the immediate and right response would be for those who have not chosen to love God to feel as though they are being oppressed.  I can’t speak for everyone, but I know that for myself, I could be taken to the most amazing place but if I have no choice in the matter, I will resist, I will fight it, I want a choice.  And  treason is, the choice gives it meaning to me.  In other words, heaven has no meaning to me, if I have no choice in going, it’s just somewhere that I have to go.  But if I get to choose it, heaven can be a blessing, a hope to look forward too, a place to at long last find rest for my soul and not something that is simply hoisted upon me. Wait, won’t EVERYONE choose heaven?  Well, in heaven there are going to be rules, someone other than you is going to be in control.  In heaven, all will be equal in the inheritance that Christ offers to them.  Jesus talks about a farmer who goes out in the morning and hires hands to come and work for him.  Then again in the midday and again at the days close.  The farmer pays them all equally and Christ says heaven will be like this.  But at the end of the story, the workers who began the work early are discontent because they worked longer and harder than those who came at the end.  There is something in people that’s makes them want to be BETTER than others.  The reasons people will not choose heaven are many and complexes but they are real so what of them? Should God remove their free will and simply destroy them?  Would a swift and painless death be merciful?  Were God to do this, the right and good cry would flood through heaven that God had violated their free will, their personhood and that which gives existence meaning.  No, for God to be Just there must be a place for them to go where they are allowed to exist but not forced to be with God.  We were made to be eternal beings, having free will so that our existence has meaning, not just to God but also to ourselves.  As such, hell, is the most loving course of action. But wait, isn’t hell supposed to be full of fire, torment and suffering?  What do you suppose people would do to each other if they were truly immortal? Think Grand Theft Auto in real life.  Not everyone in Hell will long to see flames, but some will and so fires will be set.  Not all in Hell will want to violate the personhood of others, but some will and so pain will come.  For those who flee, for those who manage to escape the wrath of the others in hell, restlessness, unquenchable desires because they will not choose the one who can fulfil the longings of their hearts.  God will not be the one who makes Hell what it is, He will not need to, those who reject Christ, His love, his forgiveness, His mercy, they will give birth to hell all on their own. So, what about the eternal nature of it, is there no hope for anyone after they go to hell? I remember praying as a child, for God to heal my eyes.  Discovering when you 8 that your eyes can’t be fixed and every dream a little boy hopes for is out of grasp is crushing.  No, you can’t do like your dad and join the air force, you can’t see well enough.  No one will want you to be a doctor, who wants someone who can barely see cutting on them?  Truck driver, you’re never going to be able to get a driver’s license.   So I prayed, God please heal my eyes, every night, for years and when there seemed to be no answer I cursed God, I Cursed the idea of God and the poison of my own selfish desire to be the same as everyone else embittered me to God. Yes, the people who go to well will be there forever, and it will be their choice.  I say this with certainty, not because God will need to keep them there, but because they will be their own prison keepers.  (Side note, ask me some other time why I’m so very glad God did not heal my eyes) Some closing thoughts. “two things fill my heart with wonder, the starry sky above and the moral Law within”. From the study of nature I can come to the reality of God but it is the reality of the moral Law that leads me to suppose that God is good. That your friend, myself and others have had questions about the goodness of God, His Justice and the concern for those who may not find His love is an evidence for the goodness of God and a reason to have hope that whatever God’s reasoning may be, it is noble and right. Jesus quenched the fires of Hell in my heart, here, in this life and replaced those flames with Joy, Hope, Peace and Love.  Nothing in my life got easier, but everything was made better because in Christ, every moment of my existence has been given meaning and worth.  Even the storms in my life have become a reason to be thankful because I know they will pass and no matter how broken they leave me, Jesus will help put me back together once they have gone.  Do not wait until you are dead to ask Jesus to quench the fires of hell in your heart, do not wait until life has passed you by to embrace the Joy and Peace that Christ has for you.

strength for today, bright hope for tomorrow

1 Timothy 2:3-4New King James Version (NKJV) “For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.”

2 Peter 3:9New King James Version (NKJV) "The Lord is not slack concerning His promise, as some count slackness, but is longsuffering toward us,[a] not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.

Hell is not the desire of God, hell is born from the desires of men….

[dust2dust34]

Pieces of Always: May 10, 2022 (FICoN ‘verse)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated (and @dust2dust34)

Summary: Ellie's fourth birthday brings along with it more than some members of her family had considered.

An ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. (You do not need to have read FiCoN to enjoy this, but it will spoil the end. Please see the first installment for additional author notes. Thank you @jsevick and @alizziebyanyothername for the amazing beta!)

A/N: Please see the first chapter for an important Author’s Note, as well as under the cut for an additional one.

A/N: The effervescent @so-caffeinated is fully in the driver’s seat and she’s kicking all the ass, so please go send her your love!

(read on AO3)

May 10, 2022

The first thing that strikes Will as strange is that his mom intends to stick around. That’s unusual. She and his dad get along okay, but it’s not like they spend time together except for his sake. The second thing is the grim, anxious press of his father’s smile when he answers the door. That’s enough to set off alarms in Will’s head and make him a whole lot more alert of what’s going on around him.

But, Ellie is clearly, blissfully unaware.

“It’s my birthday!” she announces, barrelling through the room and launching herself at him when she gets close. Luckily, he’s well prepared and scoops her up from mid-air, leaving a loud, wet smack of a kiss on his newly-four-year-old sister’s cheek.

“Happy birthday, Ellie-bug!” he tells her. Her answering smile is blinding.

“I’m four, Will! Four whole years old,” she reminds him.

“I know,” Will laughs. “I remember when you were born. You were early. You scared your mom.”

“Well, we had it on pretty good authority what day she’d arrive on,” Oliver points out. His voice is grumbly and tight. Will’s a touch surprised to see his mom grip his dad’s shoulder in a quick moment of solidarity. They aren’t close, after all, but his father glances back with a grateful look on his face. Will holds Ellie a little tighter at that, because what exactly is going on?

“Is everything okay?” he asks, looking between his parents.

“Of course it is, silly!” Ellie declares. “It’s my birthday!”

That’s not an answer, of course, as much as she might think that it is, and Will is hyperaware of the hesitant glances between his mom and dad. But, ultimately, distraction comes honestly.

And loudly.

“Oh thank god,” Felicity announces, hand to her chest as she pushes down obvious panic. She’s enormous these days, less than a month away from giving birth to Will’s baby brother, and he’s kind of amazed that she was able to waddle into the room as quickly as she does. But he’s also got far too much sense to say that aloud. “Ellie, baby,” she says sternly. “You can’t run off like that.”

Ellie’s head quirks to the side and her brow furrows in clear confusion. “We’re at home…” she replies, looking from her mother to her father like none of this makes sense at all to her. That’s fair because it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to Will either.

At least, not right away.

“Just for today, Ellie-bug,” his dad says, brushing his fingers through the little girl’s curls. It’s the motion of his dad’s hands that draw’s Will’s attention, but that’s not what keeps it. No, what keeps it is a brand new, shiny necklace his little sister’s wearing.

Will’s heart drops to the floor at the sight and his head spins with the implications, but Ellie’s grinning widely, holding it out for him to see, clearly having caught on to what he was looking at.

“Isn’t it pretty?” she asks, her eyes bright and innocent. “It’s all shiny! Cisco made it for me. He came for my party, too. So did Barry and Caitlin and Iris and everybody’s here.”

“Yeah,” Will says dimly, forcing a smile a moment later as he swallows and meets Ellie’s eyes. “Yeah, I bet they are.”

“Will…” his father says slowly, obviously realizing that his eldest has caught on to exactly what his littlest sister is wearing and what it means.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Ellie says seriously, kissing Will’s cheek. “I gotta get down, though. Barry said he was super hungry from running here and I need to protect my cake because you know how he gets.”

“Barry is not going to eat your cake,” Felicity huffs, rolling her eyes and holding out her hand for her younger daughter as Will puts her down. “But let’s go make sure he doesn’t go through the rest of the snacks on his own, okay?”

Even at not-quite-fourteen, Will’s incredibly aware of what’s going on with the people around him. That’s doubly true when it’s his family. And he doesn’t miss when Felicity grips Ellie’s hand tightly enough that her knuckles lose some color and her thumb soothes over the back of the little girl’s hand like she’s trying to prove to herself that her daughter is still there.

Will waits for his stepmother and sister to leave the room before turning to look at his dad. “You could’ve told me. I’m not an idiot, you know.”

Annoyance creeps up quickly. He’s a teenager, damn it. Practically an adult. This is his family. If his baby sister might be in danger, he ought to know about it.

“We didn’t want to worry you, honey,” his mom says, butting in. And that tells him a whole lot right there. It’d been his mom’s decision to keep him out of the loop and his dad had gone along with it. He wonders what his father would have chosen if he’d had his way.

“I’m not a little kid!” he insists, hating that it sounds petulant and a little whiny, completely contradicting his point. He takes a deep breath and looks back to his dad, making an effort to keep his voice serious and level. Adult. “I’m not. I deserve to know things, too.”

Hesitance greets him in response. His dad takes a slow breath and licks his lips, casting his eyes briefly toward Will’s mom. Will’s pretty sure she’s not gonna cave, so he pushes whatever advantage he’s got.

“Dad,” he stresses. “You wanna tell me if Zoom’s showed up or am I gonna have to find out when time rips in half right in front of me.”

It’s a low blow - but an accurate one - and Will feels more than a little bad when his father flinches and blinks too hard, too fast, like he’s trying to banish an image imprinted on his mind’s eye.

“No,” his father replies. “There’s been nothing, but-”

“But today’s the day the other Ellie got sent back in time,” Will finishes for him.

It is.

He knows that.

But it still feels like a punch to the gut when he watches his father nod slowly in reply. “Better safe than sorry,” he notes.

“And that’s why you’re staying, right Mom?” Will demands, turning to face her.

“I didn’t want you here at all,” she replies. Will wants to protest immediately, but keeps quiet, tightening his jaw and gritting his teeth as she continues. “Your sister’s birthday or not, I wanted you far away from all of this. But your father pointed out enough has changed that we can’t know who, if anyone, will be in danger. You’re safer here where there are a lot of people to protect you, too.”

“I can protect myself,” Will answers, unable to hold his tongue any more. He’s so indignant right now. His mom is treating him like a baby - like he’s the one turning four instead of Ellie - and it makes him so angry because that’s just unfair. “I can protect myself and Ellie. I’m her big brother. It’s my job to help keep her safe.”

“Will...” his dad says slowly, putting a hand on his shoulder. It’s not without sympathy, but Will’s not satisfied by unspoken support.

“No,” Will insists, stepping back and crossing his arms in defiance. “You’d have wanted to protect Aunt Thea when you were a teenager, if she was in danger.”

His dad winces at the mention and Will feels a touch guilty about bringing up Aunt Thea, but his point is completely valid and he knows it.

“I still want to protect your Aunt Thea,” his father says solemnly. His face is grave at the words and he looks so much older for a moment that it’s startling. “I get where you’re at, Will. I do. But you’re our son. The view looks different from our perspective than it did when I was your age. Maybe you’ll understand that one day.”

“That’s not fair,” Will protests, thoroughly unsatisfied with the answer. “You know if you were in my shoes, you’d-” But anything else he’d been about to add gets left unsaid when Jules steps into the room.

Everyone freezes.

“What’s going on?” she asks, a suspicious line to her brow as her eyes dart between the three of them.

“Nothing, honey,” her father tells her. “Nothing you need to worry about.” The qualification means he’s not lying, exactly. He definitely thinks it’s nothing she needs to know about, but Will is positive that his seven-year-old sister won’t see it that way at all. She’s been more vocal these past few months about her thoughts, but she’s also lashed out a lot more. Not at him, though. He’s been lucky. Some days it feels like she’s got a chip on her shoulder toward everyone but him, and Will’s both grateful for that and wishes he knew a way to help her. Jules has a tendency to see slights against her where none are intended.

“Sure,” she says dryly, clearly not buying her father’s denial in the least. Their dad looks hurt at the response and Will knows full well that he’s mentally scrambling to try and repair things with Jules as best he can.

“I promise, Julie-bug,” Oliver says heavily, watching his older daughter. “It’s grown up Arrow stuff, okay? Nothing I want you worried about. I want you to have fun and enjoy the party.”

“Is that why Barry’s here and Uncle Digg has a gun?” she asks, cocking her head to the side and raising an eyebrow at her father. She’s perceptive to a fault, sometimes. And when she latches on to something, she’s unlikely to let go.

“We’re just being careful,” he replies, which is sort of confirmation but also a dismissal of the conversation. “Why don’t you go show your brother the decorations out back?”

“Sure,” she replies sharply. “Maybe I’ll show him the best places to play hide and seek, while I’m at it.”

Lord, she sounds childish right now. She’s being petulant and difficult on purpose - fully aware that the adults are hovering like something might strike and put them in danger at any moment - and Will can read the frustration on his father’s face like it’s spelled out in words. Jules voicing her mistrust of her place in the family a few months ago had thrown him and Felicity for a loop. They’ve been walking on eggshells ever since, trying to repair what they didn’t even know was broken. Sometimes Will thinks that does more harm than good. But, then, he’s never been in their shoes. Jules seems to trust him, to lump him into a different category than the rest of her family.

“You like making Dad and Felicity panic, don’t you?” Will asks her.

“It’s a hobby,” she replies, offering him a smile.

“Come on, Brat,” he says affectionately, walking over and ruffling her hair. “Hey!” she protests loudly. But it’s half-hearted at best and he keeps his hand atop her head as he says, “Lead me to the food. I’m starving.”

“You’re always hungry,” she counters as they head through the kitchen. He drums his fingers along the top of her skull just to annoy her. It works, of course, and she swats at his hand with a, “Quit it, dorkbrain!” after a moment.

“Dorkbrain?” he asks with a laugh, letting his hand fall away. She just shrugs and sticks her tongue out at him as a reply. He laughs harder at the sight. “We need to work on your insults, Brat.”

“I’m not a brat,” she insists, pushing open the back door. He blinks as sunlight invades his eyes, momentarily blinding him.

“All evidence to the contrary,” he quips. But he puts an arm around her and tugs her close in stark contradiction to their banter. He loves the hell out of his sister, but she accepts that best with a bit of snark attached to it. And he’s happy to provide that. “Wow, so… like everyone is here,” he adds, slowing his gait to a stop as he steps into the yard.

It’s true. Practically everyone ever associated with Team Arrow is on hand, filling the backyard of the brownstone. And, in spite of the balloons and streamers and pin-the-tail-on-Rascal-the-Racoon, he can sense the uneasiness of the space. Everyone is alert and, even though it’s more obvious with some than others, everyone is armed. Ellie doesn’t seem to notice - she’s too wrapped up in the joys of turning four, twirling in circles in front of Aunt Thea so that her party dress billows out - but it’s not going to escape Jules or Little Sara.

“So… this is a fun party, right?” Little Sara asks. Her tone is insincere and she trades knowing looks with Jules. While the two aren’t especially close, in spite of being the same age, when they are in sync it’s like they’re two-of-a-kind.

“I really like how Dad’s bow is leaning up against the house,” Jules agrees. Her voice is all sass. “Very festive.”

“My favorite might be how Big Sara’s twirling the stick for the pinata like it’s her bo,” Little Sara adds.

“It’s multipurpose,” Jules muses. It’s like she’s trying to sound older than she is and her voice makes Will shake his head in disbelief.  She’s seven. What the hell is she doing using words like ‘multipurpose?’

“So, you’re going to tell us what’s going on, right?” Little Sara asks, suddenly drawing his attention back to the girl.

It’s only when Will takes a moment to look between the two girls that he realizes he’s been played. By two first graders. When, exactly, they decided he was the weakest link in the information chain, he’s not sure, but they definitely did. They look at him with twin expectant gazes awaiting an explanation and all Will can do is laugh nervously.

“We’re not babies,” Jules points out, crossing her arms in front of her and cocking her head to the side. “We deserve to know.”

It does not escape Will that her rationalization sounds a whole lot like his and realizing that is a bit jarring. But, in his mind, he’d very much had a point - he’s a teenager after all - where the girls are just a bit deluded about how ready they are for the realities of the world around them.

“It’s, uh… it’s Ellie’s fourth birthday,” Will tells them, sort of hoping they’ll do the math themselves and figure things out without him saying anything that implicates him of clueing in his baby sister on information their dad and Felicity had obviously kept from her intentionally.

“So that’s a reason to hit DEFCON two?” Jules asks, looking up at him in disbelief, clearly not buying his words in the least.

“Where did you get the term DEFCON from?” WiIl questions, blinking back at her.

“I watched movies with Uncle Roy last weekend,” Jules informs him, which thoroughly explains that, anyhow. “Don’t dodge the question, Will.”

“We are not at DEFCON two,” Will tells her firmly. Surely it’s no worse than three, right? It’s not that bad. It’s not like…

“Nyssa is in full League armor and hasn’t taken her hand off of her sword since she got here,” Little Sara deadpans.

Will looks across the yard to find that’s true. The assassin currently eyes the pinata like either she can’t figure out what it is or possibly it might attack at any moment, but she’s on high alert, too, and it’s very obvious that she’s highly aware of everything going on around her.

“You… might have a point,” Will allows with a wince.

“So, are you gonna tell us or are you gonna be like the adults and treat us like we’re toddlers?” Jules demands. It’s a test. She’s asking Will if she can trust him or if she should lump him into the same group she’s relegated everyone else. Will can’t tell her everything. He can’t. But he also can’t tell her nothing and he knows it.

“I’m going to tell you that it’s Ellie’s fourth birthday. It is May tenth of 2022. And because of that, everyone is here,” Will tells her. His voice is pointed and his eyes intense, like he’s trying to drive that point home without saying anything at all.

Jules’ brow furrows at that, clearly trying to interpret what he’s trying to tell her without telling her, but missing the significance of the date. Sara’s clearly at a loss too and Will’s hard pressed to decide who amongst the three of them is the most frustrated.

“What’s with the grouchy faces? You’d think you were Oliver’s kids or something.”

All three of them turn to Roy at the same time.

“Hilarious, Uncle Roy,” Jules says with an unimpressed air.

“Thanks,” he smiles. “I thought so. But, seriously, what’s up? Did Felicity cut you off from fruit juice already?”

“Well.. yes, actually,” Jules grumbles. “She said there’d be enough sugar with the cake later.”

“I’ll sneak you some,” Roy tells her, risking a glance in Felicity’s direction before winking at Jules. Will’s eyebrows shoot up at that as he gives his uncle a wary look. He considers himself a brave guy, but he’s not foolhardy and he’s not about to go up against Felicity’s rules. Not ever, but especially not when she’s eight months pregnant and he saw her cry over dropping a strawberry on the floor by mistake last week. Pregnancy makes women crazy, Will’s decided.

“This is why I love you, Uncle Roy,” Jules says sweetly. Sara’s wearing the same exact look. They might as well have identical fake halos hanging above their heads. It’s obvious to Will that they’ve redirected their focus on Roy to pry information out of, but his uncle has no clue what’s coming.

“I got your back, kid,” he promises with a grin.

“I know,” Jules agrees. “You always do.”  Her eyes are huge, adoring, and while some of that is honest, a much bigger part of it is Jules playing her advantage to get what she wants. Roy is unsuspecting enough that Will sighs and shakes his head. So, that, of course, is exactly when Jules strikes. “That’s why you’ll tell me what’s going on today. Right, Uncle Roy?”

Roy freezes. Nothing moves at all except for his eyes, which dart back and forth warily between Jules and Sara, who have him absolutely pinned with their expectant gazes. Really, he should have seen this coming, in Will’s opinion.  But, it’s clear that he’s completely unprepared.

“A… uh… a birthday party,” Roy tries lamely. Will actually covers his face with his hands so he doesn’t have to look at the completely disbelieving look on Jules’ face that he knows has taken it over.

“Only in my family does a party mean all the adults carry around weapons,” Jules huffs out in frustration. “Come on, Uncle Roy. Don’t lie to me. Everyone keeps things from me or lies to me, but you don’t.”

“Hey!” Will protests, letting his hands fall away as he looks at Jules. She seems a little abashed by her words when confronted with his annoyance.

“Okay, not everyone,” she amends, tilting her head to acknowledge her big brother.

“Your parents don’t lie to you, Jules,” Roy counters, looking a whole lot more serious than he usually does. “They don’t even keep much of anything from you. They never hid that your dad was The Arrow from you. They never lied about the first Ellie coming back in time. That’s why this is bothering you so much today. Because they don’t lie and they don’t keep things from you. Give them some credit. They deserve it.”

Sometimes Uncle Roy seems like an overgrown teenager. He’s fun and lighthearted, someone Will wishes he had more of a chance to see because he seems like the kind of person he could just goof off with. But then there’s moments like this one - or moments where the weight of Thea’s medical problems weighs down on them all - and he’s suddenly serious, focused, entirely an adult, and it gives Will a bit of whiplash because he never expects it.

“Give them a break, Jules,” Roy orders. “Today isn’t easy for them. They’re terrified and putting on a happy face for your little sister, so lay off them today, would you?”

That snags Jules’ attention and something about the wording clearly tickles at the edges of her understanding. She quirks her head to the side and her brow pinches as she mulls things over.

But, in the end, it’s Sara who catches on first.

“The first Ellie,” she realizes aloud, grabbing onto Jules’ elbow. “This is the day she went back in time, in her timeline.” Jules says nothing, but that’s typical when she’s deep in thought. She worries at her bottom lip with her teeth and her eyes turn guarded. Sara, in turn, is the exact opposite. “They’re worried it’ll happen here, too,” Sara realizes aloud. “They’re afraid Zoom is gonna pop up and grab Ellie.”

It’s not Roy or Sara that Jules turns to, seeking confirmation; it’s Will. Because she always turns to him first. Most of the time, that’s a point of pride for the teenager. He loves that his sister knows she can rely on him. But today it just hurts because she’s as closed off as he’s ever seen her and he can see shades of the same fear that lives in her parents’ eyes living in her own. Jules, however, is not about to acknowledge that.

“She’ll be fine,” Will promises, resting a hand on Jules’ back. “The yard is overflowing with assassins and metahumans and vigilantes ready to protect her, but there’s nothing to worry about because nothing bad is gonna happen, anyhow. This isn’t the other timeline.”

He can practically see her force down her worry and hone in on her snark. It’s easier for her. A defensive Jules is a difficult one. It’s so much easier for her to pretend she doesn’t care, that nothing can hurt her. But Will knows that’s only because she feels everything so deeply.

“Whatever,” she says after a minute, folding her arms in front of herself and hunching her shoulders. Suddenly, Will wonders if they hadn’t told Jules what was going on because it would have been too much for her. “Of course they’re making a big deal out of Ellie. I’m gonna go get some food.”

She’s gone before Will has a chance to even sigh in frustration, making her way across the yard to a big table with an impressive spread of food laid out atop it. She grabs a plate right away, but makes no move to fill it up. Instead, she stares at Ellie who laughs unreservedly a few feet away as her Aunt Thea blows bubbles that she tries to catch. Each and every one pops the instant her fingers touch them, but that doesn’t seem to bother her at all. The sisters are like night and day, sometimes.

“I’m gonna stick with Ellie,” Sara decides aloud, suddenly drawing Will’s attention back to the girl. “You know, just in case.”

“Don’t tell her anything,” Roy tells her. “She won’t understand. She’s too little for that and it would ruin her birthday. You got me, little Diggle?”

“I got you,” Sara confirms with a firm nod before heading over to join Ellie. She tries to help catch the bubbles and Ellie is obviously delighted to have her best friend playing alongside her, but Will can easily see how much more alert the seven-year-old is than usual. Just like the many adults in the yard, she’s keyed up for something to happen, for anything to go wrong.

Jules is, too, he realizes. She’s just a whole lot more subtle about it. She hovers nearby under the shade of the big tree that houses their fairy castle, not joining in. Everything about her projects that she wants to be left alone, but she’s as aware of her surroundings as can be and she rarely lets her gaze drift from Ellie. Jules cares. She cares so much that she doesn’t know what to do with it sometimes and a big part of Will wants to go hug his sister and tease her until she smiles and rolls her eyes at him.

But this isn’t the time for that. Sometimes Jules needs space, time to process, and he’s learned to read her well enough to know that this is definitely one of those times.

“Should I have lied to them?” Roy’s voice is unsure and when Will turns to his uncle, the other man is still looking at the girls with a furrowed brow. “I know your dad didn’t want Jules to know, but she’s got more figured out than her parents wanna realize.”

“Lying just makes things worse,” Will tells him. Roy looks at him expectantly, waiting for more. That his uncle has never treated him like he was a little kid whose opinion doesn’t deserve consideration is one of Will’s very favorite things about him. And, that’s on full display right now. The older man is clearly not just hearing him, but also listening to him. Will likes that. A lot. “Jules’ trust isn’t easily earned and it doesn’t take much to break it. She’s… she’s got a lot going on in that head of hers right now. She needs to know there are people who have her back who she can turn to. That’s you and that’s me. It needs to stay that way.”

Roy thinks about that for a minute before nodding and looking back to his niece. “I love that kid… and not just ‘cause she’s making her dad’s hair turn gray, but that’s a big plus, too.”

“It’s pretty funny when she makes his eye twitch, too,” Will agrees with a grin. Sometimes Jules’ sass is a lot more palatable than others.

Roy doesn’t say anything to that, but the grin on his face and the way his eyes light up absolutely say that he agrees completely. Will doesn’t linger on the sight, though, because something catches his eye from behind his uncle.

“Hey, do me a favor and keep an eye on Jules?” Will asks. “I’ve got something I need to do real quick.”

“Yeah,” Roy agrees, giving him a guarded look. “Everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Will tells him. “I’ll be back in just a few and I’m just stepping inside. Just… if Jules needs anything or if she’s looking for me, let me know?”

“You got it,” Roy agrees before clapping him on the shoulder and making his way over to Jules’ side, sitting next to her on the grass and stealing a piece of fruit from her plate. She scowls at him and gives him a hard time about getting his own food, but it’s half-hearted at best and Will feels a lot better about stepping away after seeing it.

Which is good, because someone else in his family needs him right now.

While pretty much everyone is mingling outside, there is one person who’s wound up back in the kitchen. Will steps into the room, quietly shuts the door behind him and stops, not entirely sure what to do next.

Felicity is one of the strongest people he’s ever known. She is fiercely protective and loyal, endlessly accepting and loving. But, through some combination of pregnancy hormones and stress, today has clearly overwhelmed her. She’s standing near the sink, close enough to the party outside that she can watch Ellie through the window, but far enough away that she can let herself be a wreck without anyone noticing. She grips the edge of the countertop with one hand and presses the palm of her other to her mouth as she sucks down a ragged sob.

Even though he knows what this is about, Will’s instinct is to ask her what’s wrong. He doesn’t though.

Instead he crosses the room toward her. She spots him, jolting in surprise when he’s about halfway there, and she goes to say something, but he doesn’t slow his stride at all. Instead, he closes in on her and pulls her into a tight hug.

She sags against him almost immediately, holding on like he’s the only thing keeping her upright. He’s nearly as tall as her now and her faded blonde hair tickles his nose when she rests her chin on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she sniffles. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“It’s okay to be scared anyhow,” he says. “You’re a good mom. You’re gonna worry.”

The noise she makes in response is somewhere between a laugh and a cry, but she loosens her hold on him and pulls back until she’s looking him in the face. She cups his cheeks and kisses his forehead. She has to push up slightly on her tiptoes to do it, these days, and the baby bump housing his little brother makes everything awkward, but that doesn’t matter so much.

“You’re the best, kiddo,” she tells him when she sets back down on her heels.

“I know,” he says with a cheeky grin, just to make her smile. “So… are you really okay? Did you need me to get Dad?”

“No,” she says immediately. “God, no. He needs to be completely focused on Ellie today. That’s why…” She stops and shakes her head, like she’s trying to rid the thought from her mind, but Will knows the rest of what she didn’t say. That’s why she’s in here. That’s why she’s stepped away. That’s why when she got overwhelmed, she disappeared but kept everyone in sight. “Today’s just hard,” she continues, taking a deep breath. “I keep remembering… I keep seeing… and it’s not just her, you know. It’s the other Ellie, too, because today was…”

She can’t even quite finish a thought. She’s that overwhelmed right now and it leaves Will just wanting to protect her more, to make things better.

“Our Ellie is fine,” Will reminds her, tilting his head toward the yard where Ellie is pelting adults with exceedingly well-aimed water balloons. “And it’s okay to miss the other Ellie, still.”

“I do,” Felicity admits. “Not like I used to. And I know she’s where she belongs. But that’s not quite what I meant.” Will waits, watches, gives a little nod to prompt her to continue. “It’s the other Felicity,” she confesses. “That first Ellie’s actual mom. If I’m this much of a mess when nothing’s even happened, what was it like for her? And, God, to have had her missing for the next month? To give birth to Nate without knowing where my little girl is? To not even know if she’s safe or if I’d ever see her again? I can’t even imagine it. I don’t want to. But, back then, I wanted to keep her, Will. How could I think that way? I didn’t want to give her back.”

“You did, though,” Will points out immediately, even if he’s a bit uncertain he’s saying the right thing. It feels right. But he’s only thirteen, after all, and his understanding of how his stepmother feels is theoretical at best. “And that other Felicity was so lucky to have someone who loved her Ellie so much taking care of her, right?”

Felicity must pick up on his hesitance because she sighs hard and kisses his cheek before stroking the hair back from his brow. “You’re such a good kid, Will. I love you. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I’m sorry, honey. You should go back and enjoy the party.”

“No!” he protests immediately. His voice squeaks a little and he flushes as he clears his throat. It’s incredibly annoying how that seems to happen whenever he really, really doesn’t want to seem like a little kid to someone. “No,” he says again. “I came in here because I saw you through the window and I knew you were upset. No one should be alone when they’re upset… unless they really wanna be, anyhow, but especially not you.”

“You’re such a sweetheart,” she sniffles. It’s probably the pregnancy, for the most part, but Will’s pretty sure she’s about to burst into tears again. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Karma,” Will grins brightly at her. She hiccups a laugh through a little muted sob and nods her head. “You feel a little better?”

“Maybe a bit,” she agrees. “Thanks, kiddo. I… am gonna go pee for the fourteenth time this hour since your little brother has decided my bladder makes an amazing thing to bounce on. And I’m gonna splash some water on my face so I don’t look like the crying preggo that I am. How about you head back outside and look after your sister.”

“I’ll keep her safe,” Will vows immediately.

“Oh, honey…” Felicity smiles, shaking her head at him. “Will, every person here can do that. You can make sure she has fun, make sure that turning four isn’t about heavily armed vigilantes surrounding her. I want her to have the best party ever, even if… even if something does happen, even if he…” She can’t finish the thought, pinching her eyes shut and turning her face to the side as she exhales out a long, steadying breath. “Well, I still want her to have this, you know?” she finishes a moment later.

“Yeah…” Will agrees, glancing toward the yard where he can see Ellie looking curiously at Nyssa - who showed up with a stern face in full assassin gear. “Yeah I can do that.”

And he does.

When his stepmother winds up back in the yard a few minutes after him, he’s already making crowns out of balloons for his little sisters and Ellie is giggling, declaring herself the ‘birthday fairy princess president.’

It’s a nervous afternoon and evening for all of the adults, but Will concentrates on what he does best - keeping his siblings happy and entertained. And when the clock strikes midnight many hours later, with Ellie and Jules and Sara all fast asleep in a pillow castle in the living room, all of the adults sag with relief. But Will smiles through a yawn, fully aware that what Ellie will remember from today isn’t the fear that had surrounded her, but the fun she’d had. And he knows, without a doubt, that today he made a difference.

*

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[sending-the-message]

DOG by Ilunibi

So, I’m a found object artist, specializing in assemblage and creepy fucking sculptures. Not one that you would have heard of, just one with a day job and a weird hobby. I spend a lot of time at flea markets and peddler’s malls, because they’re the one place you can go with fifty bucks and walk out with a mummified deer head and a crate of old, rusty kitchen knives, all of which fit my motif to a T. Courtesy of crazy country folk with enough money to rent booth B-4892, I have done such magical, artistic things as help build a monster out of dog jawbones and scrap metal and shove a cow skull in a box with serial killer scrawlings, the latter of which is set to glow bright red at night because Christmas lights were on sale and I didn’t realize how tacky it would be until after the fact.

I don’t always make wise decisions.

But, yeah, you can gather that I gravitate toward creepy things. Sometimes, though, I’ll drift toward the stalls colored bright pink with fluffy stuffed animals and old McDonald’s toys still in the bag, if only because a touch of cute to something unsettling can make it ten times more powerful. Desecrating something wholesome and pure elicits a lot of uncomfortable feelings in people, and trashing those tiny plastic Furbies that came with Happy Meals in the ‘90s is super satisfying. They’re terrifying.

Fortunately for you, though, this isn’t a story about Furbies. This is a story about Dog.

Dog was the denizen of one of those pastel toy booths, crammed so far into an Easter basket that it was like somebody was trying to bury him out of sight for the rest of his little puppy life. One look at him and it was evident that he was probably older than my mother, crafted of a ragged brown fabric that was threadbare in places with wide, orange/pink eyes that gleamed red in the fluorescent light. He was bottom heavy, the majority of the sawdust inside of him crammed into his legs from what I assumed were years of sitting on his ass. When I picked him up he felt gritty and made my hands uncomfortably dry.

A tag was dangling from his wrist. Typically, ancient stuff in this particular peddler’s mall would have the year printed on it to entice antique hunters, but all his said was “DOG, $5.” Strange, but hey, maybe they didn’t know how old he was.

I instantly liked Dog, though. He was strangely cute and, despite my art’s subject matter, I’m secretly a glitter-loving, cat-snuggling pushover. As I wandered around looking at old Coke bottles and rusted traffic signs, a part of me regressed to being that softhearted five-year-old who was paranoid that if she didn’t have all of her stuffed animals on her bed that the ones left behind would be scared and alone at night. My mind kept drifting to Dog, crammed in that basket, looking vaguely afraid, probably overlooked because people thought he was ratty and gross. He wasn’t even disgusting, really. He was just slightly terrifying and showing his age.

I must have looked like a sight, walking up to check-out with a goddamn meat cleaver and a ratty toy dog, but I couldn’t resist in the end. I didn’t want Dog to be alone. He was older than the hills and had made it this far, so it’d be a shame if he didn’t sell and ended up in a landfill somewhere. Dumb to be concerned about an inanimate object, I know, but again, I’m a fucking pushover.

So, I brought Dog home to my apartment, much to my roommate’s delight. He loves creepy things and old things and Dog fit both of those bills. He originally expressed some concern that my cat would be a little too interested in him because he was filled with sawdust and smelled like outdoors, but thankfully she didn’t really want anything to do with him. Safe from being a scratching post, he found a new home nestled on the row of stuffed animals that we had gradually been accumulating on the back of the couch: souvenirs from zoo and aquarium trips, geek toys from our favorite games, that sort of thing. Dog became the semi-permanent neighbor of an ESO mudcrab and a bushbaby.

Notice I said “semi-permanent.” I say this because it didn’t take long for Dog to start traveling in instances my roommate and I originally blamed on the cat. It started with him being behind the couch, then dragged outside our bedroom doors. Then, it evolved to him teetering on top of our headboards while we slept or peeking from behind the milk in the fridge. We assumed the other was just messing with us until, finally, I got a call at work after my roommate dropped me off. His voice was shaken and I could hear the sound of traffic rushing behind him.

Apparently, after dropping me off, he caught a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision. He checked once, and there was nothing. He checked once more when it happened again, and Dog was sitting in the passenger’s seat. It startled him enough that he pulled over to call me, convinced there had to be some sort of explanation, but what explanation could there be? I was at work, Dog hadn’t been in the car, and then he was. Not like I could will him inside of it.

I got periodic text messages throughout my shift. How my roommate got stuck in unexpected traffic because he pulled over and his twenty minute commute turned into an hour. How uncomfortable he was being in the car with Dog. How he put Dog back in my room to keep from having to look at him but he was back on the couch after he took a shower. The kicker came in the last hour of my workday, though.

“I missed a six car pile-up at our exit because I stopped. FedEx semi. Rolled over and caught fire. Eight dead.”

The traffic my roommate was stuck in was the result of an inexperienced semi driver trying to illegally change lanes at our exit. I don’t know the logistics of it, but apparently he somehow managed to tilt his cargo while trying to overcorrect and wound up crushing the cars in the lane next to him. It caused a pile-up because nobody on the interstate actually drives the speed limit, then, bam. Gas and sparks ignited and the entire thing went up in smoke. It wasn’t anything my roomie saw, mind you, because he got impatient and got off at the previous exit, so it took him by surprise to read the local news later and realize that Dog’s miraculous intervention saved him from burning alive. Potentially.

Needless to say, Dog got a lot more respect after that. Back on the couch he went, with the occasional head pat for good luck and just to let Dog--or whatever was in Dog--know that we appreciated whatever it was that he just did. We didn’t even sit in front of him when we played video games or watched Netflix, just in case Dog wanted to watch, too. Whenever he’d disappear and pop up someplace else, we always acted happy to see him, like he was a kid playing hide and seek or something.

It sounds crazy, but we didn’t regret it when we began to notice patterns in where he popped up.

Shows up in the fridge? He was next to expired food. Saved me a morning of rancid cereal. An appearance under the sink? We had a mild leak and mold was beginning to grow. That could have been bad for my allergies. We still didn’t know why he showed up on or near our beds or outside of our bedrooms, but we thought he may have believed that the cat was a threat and was trying to protect us from her. He is a dog, after all.

Then? Dog stepped up his game.

It was one of those days where you come home from work and are just done. Eleven at night and it was all I could do to get out of my uniform and walk to my bed. My typically nocturnal roomie was in the same boat, having “accidentally” stayed up for a good forty-eight hours playing goddamn Fallout 4 because he has the self-control of a kindergartner on his days off. We high-fived our Dog buddy on the couch and were out by midnight.

Now, normally, I’m a deep sleeper. Being a deep sleeper does not keep you from being woken up by the sound of “What the fuck!” ringing through your apartment in a voice you, unfortunately, don’t recognize. Then, I heard barking, loud and furious, ripping through the air at a volume that seemed unnatural. It was like cranking up Cujo on an old television as high as it would go. There was growling and snarling, cussing and fussing, then the sound of my cat bolting under my bed. Heavy footsteps thundered down our hallway, then back. Our bookshelf of knicknacks rattled, I heard the door to our balcony squeak open, some rustling…

… Then, a thud.

A male voice screamed on impact and I bolted out of my room, meeting my roomie in the hallway with the best weapon we own in the goddamn apartment: a fucking broom. While I’m not sure what he hoped to accomplish with that, at the time he seemed like a knight in shining armor. I hid behind him while we edged toward the living room.

It took extreme courage to flip the light on. We both half expected to be attacked as soon as an intruder saw the whites of our eyes. But, there wasn’t an intruder.

The balcony door and screen were open, and lying in the middle of the living room floor was Dog. A seam on his leg has split, sawdust scattered around him. While my roommate assessed the damage, I poked my head out the balcony door and took a look-see. It took a little help from my phone’s flashlight, but I could assess the damage as one broken branch on the dogwood tree beside our balcony and one grown-ass man sniffling on the sidewalk right beneath our third floor apartment. He’d attracted quite the audience of pajama-clad neighbors with his screaming and, after a quick phone call, the cops were in attendance as well.

He wasn’t anyone I knew and he wasn’t there to burgle anything. The police seemed to recognize him almost instantly, and I got a pretty stern warning to keep my balcony door locked because apparently the dude had been gunning for me for a while. He had a car parked around the block, and a nasty assortment of objects that spelled a bad time for me. They didn’t tell me much more than that, which I was fine with, but they did ask me one weird question before the left.

“What did you hit him with?”

I told them the truth: Nothing. Which the officer found mighty suspicious because the guy’s hair was full of sawdust and he was adamant that I had thwacked him with a sock full of something. Right before my dog tried to attack him, apparently. A dog I technically don’t have.

I spent a lot of time patching Dog up after that--not so easy, given his age--and both my roomie and I sat around trying to figure out the how or the why of what happened or, more importantly, how long that dude had been creeping around inside of our apartment while we slept. After all, Dog always showed up whenever danger (however minor) was near. How many times had we woke up in the morning to find him sitting vigil on our headboards, nestled beside our heads, sitting at our doors? Honestly, I don’t want to think about it.

Lately, he’s been pretty stationary, save when we forget to clean out the fridge or the cat knocks something over and breaks it. I’ve occasionally found him staring wide-eyed out the balcony door, which is unnerving, but I keep it locked up tight anymore and we’ve upgraded our home defense from “broom stuffed in a closet.”

I’m not too concerned. Maybe he’s just keeping watch, since rotten yogurt and broken glass seems to be the most he has to worry about anymore.