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reidgraygubler · 3 years

Text

goldilocks (reid/reader)

Title: Goldilocks Request: no Couple: spencer reid/gen-neutral!reader; spencer reid/ethan; spencer reid/lila archer Category: fluff Content Warning: bi!spencer, kissing/making out, Word Count: 2,102 Summary: spencer recounts all his first kisses A/N: thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

When Spencer was 12, he had his first kiss. He was with his only friend, Ethan, in his backyard. They were playing cowboys versus pirates- Spencer being the cowboy rightfully so. Whenever Ethan was over Spencer knew he could be himself, he didn’t have to worry about his mother, or school bullies, or anything else. Ethan was his safe space. Ethan knew that, too.

It was nearing dusk. Ethan was up in a tree, pretending it was the crow’s nest of his pirate ship. Spencer was on the ground, dressed like a cowboy, complete with the lasso and cowboy hat. Their play fight would soon come to an end, and they would have to go in for the night. The two friends knew that their fight would come to an end like it usually does. With Ethan winning and Spencer losing.

Ethan had jumped from the tree, landing beside Spencer before tackling him to the ground. Spencer looked up at his friend, trying to fight him off his body. It was obvious that the smaller of the two boys would lose a fight. The smaller boy knew that too. Although maybe he wanted to lose to Ethan.

“What are you doing?!” Spencer said through giggles. Ethan returned the giggles as he pinned Spencer’s hands to the ground above his head. Ethan looked down at his friend, a smirk growing across his lips the longer he stared at him.

“I won,” Ethan whispered as he lowered closer to Spencer’s face.

Spencer’s eyes widened as he looked at his friend. The young boy knew for a long time that he had a crush on his friend. He’s never acted on his feelings before. The thought passed his mind many times, but he didn’t want to risk losing his only friend.

Until that day. Until the day he and Ethan were playing pirates and cowboys, when he knew the cowboys had really lost (for the hundredth time too). When Ethan still had Spencer pinned to the ground and he was rubbing it in his face that he had won. It was then did he realize he wanted to kiss Ethan. It was something he wanted, a curiosity that would kill him if he didn’t just do it. And it was a risk, a calculated one, but he knew he wanted to take it.

When Ethan had gotten low enough, Spencer lifted his head and quickly pecked his lips to Ethan’s. After the briefest moment, Spencer dropped his head back to the ground and stared up at his friend.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and looked away when he realized he might’ve messed up. “I was… I was just curious. That’s all.”

“You were just curious?” Ethan asked as he crawled off his friend and sat on the ground beside him. Spencer slowly sat up and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. J-Just curious.”

Unfortunately, this kiss with Ethan was too soft. But Spencer was too young to know that. He’d learn one day that even though he had the smallest crush on Ethan, that they’d be better off as best friends than anything else.

{***}{***}{***}

When Spencer was 24, he had his second kiss. It was with Hollywood star Lila Archer. He was working a case, and protecting Lila from a possible stalker she had. The two were outside, Spencer was watching Lila swim in her pool. Spencer was very adamant about Lila getting out of the pool, so they could be in the safety of her home. But Lila wasn’t having any of it.

“Five minutes,” Lila begged as she swam up to the edge of the pool. Spencer was standing close, watching her with a worried crease in his brow. “Go get a suit in the house!” She nodded towards the open sliding doors of her home. Spencer looked over at her house and then quickly back at her with a scowl.

“What?! No! I don’t wanna grab a suit! Are you kidding me?!” Spencer shouted, his voice cracking out of annoyance. “Please let’s just go in.”

“Join me,” she pressed as she looked up at him. For a small moment, Spencer considered it. But it wasn’t long enough for him to actually go inside and change.

“No, I'm not gonna join you,” Spencer eventually said. Lila rolled her eyes before pouting.

“Why not?”

“You're being pursued by a psychotic killer who shoots people in the head!” Spencer shouted, again, his voice cracking, again. Lila pushed off the wall of the pool and floated on her back, away from Spencer.

“I'm not gonna stop living my life. I'm just not,” she stated firmly as she closed her eyes. Spencer stared at the woman in the pool, shock growing across his face. Any normal person would be scared, hiding for their lives when they hear that there’s a psychotic killer after them.

“This woman is insane,” Spencer thought the longer he stared at her. Although he was extremely cautious about his surroundings and who was around, he could feel a strange carelessness grow in his stomach.

“Lila, please, I'm begging of you. Will you please get out of the pool?” Spencer pleaded as he squatted down to the pool.

“Really, Spence, you should live a little.”

“Live a little? I've known you 48 hours, I feel like I've already aged 10 years.”

“I can't be that bad,” Lila mused as she swam back to the edge of the pool.

“Yes. no, you are that bad,” Spencer said as he stood back up.

“Fine, can you help me out at least?” Lila asked as she lifted a hand up to Spencer. Spencer stared at her hand for a moment before grabbing it. As he went to help her out, Lila pulled on Spencer’s hand, pulling him right into the pool.

Lila was instantly thrown into a fit of laughter as Spencer re-emerged from the water. He glared over at the girl as he pushed his hair away from his face.

“Yes, very funny. Laugh it up, Lila. Hilarious. My gun's wet. So great. My clothes,” Spencer’s tone was very clearly annoyed with what just happened.

‘I should have seen that coming,’ Spencer thought to himself as he looked at the woman. She smiled as she swam closer to him.

“You should have worn the suit,” Lila giggled as she grabbed Spencer’s tie and pulled him closer to her. Spencer swam closer to her, allowing her to pull him as close to her. She brought her hand to rest on the nape of his neck. And when he was close enough, she pressed her lips to his, quickly deepening it.

Spencer ended it just as fast as Lila started it.

“This is completely inappropriate,” Spencer said as he swam away, leaving Lila behind.

Spencer found a certain attractiveness in Lila, he wouldn’t lie about that. The moment wasn’t right. Would there ever be a right moment between Spencer Reid and Lila Archer? The pair had two wildly different career paths, and two wildly different lifestyles… There would never be a right moment for the two.

Even though Spencer enjoyed this kiss with Lila, it was too rough. It was very heated, and a moment of intense feelings. He began to wonder when he’d find the person who would give him the best kisses, and how long he’d have to wait for that moment.

{***}{***}{***}

When Spencer was 34, he found the person who gave the best kisses. There was more than one factor for why Spencer loved this person, their kisses were just a bonus. Like with Ethan, this person was Spencer’s safe space. He could be himself and not worry about anything. And like with Lila Archer, this person made Spencer feel free and near careless.

His first kiss with this person was… gentle, and sweet. Unlike with Ethan, this kiss wasn’t a quick peck to the lips. It wasn’t out of pure curiosity. Unlike with Lila, it wasn’t rushed and heated. It wasn’t because they wanted it. It was because they both wanted it.

It wasn’t their first date, not even their sixth date. In fact, they weren’t even on a date. Spencer had invited the BAU team over to his house to meet this person. The team had been excited to meet them since Spencer first spoke about his person. And after the team left, it was just Spencer and his person. Their first kiss just happened. They weren’t expecting it.

They were sitting on the couch, a movie playing- though neither of them were watching it. The couple was too busy talking about cleaning up the mess their dinner party had left behind, and when a good time to clean it would be.

“Do you want me to get ants? Because this is how I get ants,” Spencer said as he gestured towards the coffee table and the several plates and cups that occupied it. His person laughed before moving even closer to him. Even though they were already pretty close to cuddling, his person wanted to be even closer to him. “But what’s stopping us from taking care of the mess in the morning?” they asked as they looked up at Spencer. He sighed before looking back at his person. “I’m just saying, Spencer,” they whispered before shifting to his lap. Spencer’s eyes met theirs, and a small smile grew across his lips.

“Okay, okay, we can take care of it in the morning. If I get ants though I’m blaming you,” he laughed as he wrapped his arms around his person’s waist.

“I’ll take full responsibility!” they shouted, jumping and nearly falling backwards off his legs. Spencer laughed before pulling them closer to safety. Instead of falling off his legs, his person fell closer to him. “I’ll clean up first thing in the morning. Promise!” They wrapped their arms around Spencer’s neck.

“So now you’re spending the night?” Spencer raised an eyebrow as he looked back at them. They smiled before nodding lightly. The couple drifted closer together.

“If that’s okay. If not, I can go home after the movie is over,” they whispered before cocking their head to the side. Spencer looked at their eyes before glancing at their lips for a brief moment.

“It’d be the first time you spend the night here.”

“I don’t have an issue with that,” they shook their head and smiled. “Only if you don’t have an issue.” It was his person’s turn to look between his eyes and lips. They both wanted to kiss each other, but were both afraid. Spencer knew his person wanted to kiss him. And his person knew he wanted to kiss them.

“No issue here,” Spencer replied, although he wasn’t sure if it was a response to them spending the night, or giving them permission to kiss him. But he replied...

“Good,” they whispered before pressing their lips to Spencer’s. He hummed before bringing his hands to their cheeks. It only took a moment before he deepened the kiss.

Spencer had never kissed a person like he kissed his person. He could feel a fire grow in his chest. His arms wrapped around their waist and he pulled them onto his lap.

It felt like ages before they broke apart. In that moment, all they wanted to do was just be with each other and be in each other's space. But they knew they couldn’t. There were still things they had to do before they went to bed.

“We… We should clean up,” Spencer whispered, just so the silence would go away. His person laughed before tumbling off his lap. His hand caught their’s, stopping them from going any further. They turned around and looked down at him.

His person admired how his cheeks were flushed, his hair was tousled just right, and his lips were still pink from being kissed raw. He had a slight dazed look in his eyes.

“I like it when you look like you kissed someone. I like it even more when I know I’m that someone you kissed,” his person whispered. Spencer laughed and nodded.

“I like it even more when you’re the person I kissed, too,” he whispered as he pulled them back down to his lap. “What’re you doing?”

“Going to clean, like you said.”

“We can clean in the morning.”

There was no curiosity with this kiss, and he wasn’t hesitant. Spencer knew, 100%, that he wanted this kiss. And he was happy that this kiss was perfect. Better than the kiss with Ethan. Better than the kiss with Lila.

Spencer was happy he’d be spending the rest of his life with his person.

if you have any comments/questions about this part, let me know here! please consider reblogging or leaving a comment if you're a part of the taglist. it's so much work tagging everyone.

taglist: @thebluetint @mggsprettygirl @muffin-cup @misshale21 @spenciegoob @reidspoet @kuolonsyoja @broken-stardust @rainsong01 @beepboopboopbeep @babebenhardy @flipperpenguins @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @ash19871962 @samaraaaaa

tags that didn’t work: @isabellasimps

#shadow writes stuff #masterlist #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds fan fic

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castielsbeeslippers · 3 years

Text

Part I

Summary: Dean regrets it instantly. The way he snapped , the words that tumbled from his mouth. The small argument between him and his little brother had escalated into a full blown screaming match , and now Sam was gone. Dean takes off to clear his head and ends up in an erie cemetery where he believes he is alone.

On ao3

Thank you to @wantstoflyafraidtofall for being beta 🖤you’ve helped me immensely! 🥺

The rumble of the classic car’s engine shook the stillness of the cemetery grounds rustling the leaves and still the air hung heavy.

With a soft screech of it’s black tires the car came to a stop. Dean must have driven over thirty odd miles to get away from that old motel that his younger brother had already abandoned. Dean just had to get away to anywhere but there.

He closed his tired eyes , feeling them sting.

He killed the engine and let himself go.

His guilt escaped from his gut-wrenching sobs. He was truly alone.

(The dead would never tell.)

Dean ran his callused hands over his soft eyes and sighed into them. He drug himself out of his classic car and did his best to pull himself together with each step.

He looked over his shoulder... nothing but the empty road.

He didn’t want to face the world or the reality of it all....His brother was god knows where because of him and that absurd fight. Dean had really crossed the line this time. A knot formed in his stomach as he recalled his harsh words.

The emotions bubbling inside him didn’t have a name. Frustration and fear didn’t seem to even scratch the surface.

His boots crushed the moist earth beneath them with unforgiving force.

A distant snap jolted Dean from his thoughts.

Dean without hesitation ripped his gun from his pocket aiming directly ahead into the stillness.

“Show yourself.” He spit into the air.

Whatever ghoul or spector was about to rue the fucking day. Dean was ready to whiplash himself from numbness to rage.

The wind only whistled in reply. It was probably just some wild animal. He let the mind drift for a moment keeping his defensive stance , still unwavering not letting himself be convinced.

Something far off rustled like a scared flock of birds, a whooshing sound rushing all at once into Dean’s ears.

Dean spun himself around only to see again the empty road that was now laden with a thick white fog... that Dean knew had to have just crept in.

It sent a chill down his spine.

‘Haunted cemetery, no shit’

He tensed his shoulders, mentally cursing himself. He already felt like roadkill and this was just adding to the fun.

Dean whipped his head back leering into the cemetery, his eyes catching on a shadowed figure.

Dean held his breath and crept forward his gun leading the charge.

The figure moved from darkness laying steady steps.

“Stay right there.” Dean warned through his clenched jaw.

The figure did not. His looming shadow turned to a man in a soft dirt colored trench coat, his hair a black tussled mess.. and his eyes pure electric.

Dean’s breath hitched , his eyes searching the man frantically.

His gun, unamused and unmoving.

“Hello.” The man spoke with a gentle monotone.

“Stop.”

“You can lower your weapon , I bear no ill intent towards you or any other human.” The man's voice boomed again.

Not human. Dean figured as much. He tore his eyes away from the man's eyes and steadied himself again.

“What the hell are you?” Dean growled. The figure's calm demeanor only pushed his buttons more.

“I’m Castiel, Angel of the Lord , Thursday’s Angel if you prefer a shorter title.” The self-proclaimed Angel said with a shrug.

“Yeah okay , and I’m Queen Elizabeth.” He chuckled darkly.

The Angel’s blue eyes gleamed as he tilted his head at the man's comment.

“You’re looking much younger.” He told the hunter flatly.

“Tryin’ to mess with me?” Dean snapped back.

“He’s not dead, Dean.”

“Excuse me?” Dean’s stomach lurched.

“I’m not supposed to be here, Dean.” The angel shook his head softly with a frown.

“I’m not even sure where “here” is.” He admitted.

Or when. He didn’t add.

Dean grit his teeth , the way he said his name with a familiarity on his tongue made Dean’s whole body tense up.

“Start talking , you’re acting like you know me.” Dean demanded no question in his tone.

Castiel smiled. A wide smile.

“I’ll tell you everything Dean, assuming you can do the same ”

Dean’s jaw clenched.

Castiel tilted his head to the right , careful to keep his lips in a line leaving his eyes wide, unblinking.

This Dean stood before him, turmoil swirling beneath his skin. Castiel felt Dean’s mind rapid fire, laden with guilt, which was so familiar, lost and searching.

How desperately the angel wanted to part the dark clouds and bring comfort to the man before him.

‘Gently , slowly. ’ He thought to himself , he didn’t want to approach this the wrong way.

“Would you sit with me?” Castiel asked cautiously.

His trench coat flowing softly after him as he turned on the ball is his dress-shoes.

Dean's eyes ever glued to the angel before him.

Dean held right to his pearl gripped pistol, still heavy in his right hand, he nodded and swallowed his protest.

“Sure.” Was the only thing he could muster.

They sat in silence for a while before Cas broke it with a soft boom of his voice.

“Dean,”

Dean's body thrummed again. The way his name was said made something deep inside flutter.

Dean only looked at Cas in wait for a reply.

The prominent sensation was still buzzing , the tickle of electricity on Dean’s skin that grew stronger with each step he took towards the angel-shaped man.

The metal bench was cold and damp beneath them. Castiel gave no reaction to this and Dean chose to ignore the damp spots forming on his jeans.

Dean carefully tucked his gun back away against his better judgement in an attempt to be polite, but something deep in his mind felt this “Castiel” could be trusted. He felt like he was losing it.

“I haven’t met you yet. This you….in the time I’ve come from we’re, and I quote “best friends… if you can believe it.” Cas started off slow with caution in his low tone.

Dean so far wasn’t buying it.

And Cas knew it just by the look in his eyes.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how much more I can say ,without upsetting the cosmic balance Dean...but I hope you can at least trust I care for you a great deal.”

A beat.

“You and your brother.”

That woke Dean up.

“Sam,” Dean grit out.“You mentioned him before, what do you know about my brother you holy tax account stalker.”

“I know he’s safe, I’m afraid I-“

Before Castiel got the rest of his sentence out Dean had jumped from the bench and was now standing in front of his eyes.

“Tell me.” he demanded.

“Dean please, you need not worry let me continue.”

“Please” he huffed softly.

And with that Dean did. He sat back down, still tense as he had been.

“He’s simply ‘blowing off some steam as you would put it.” Cas said softly.

“Yeah real awesome intel. Where ?”

“Not far, but please Dean give him some space lets-“

“Space?” Dean snapped.

“I can personally assure his safety… after we converse we can even go to him.” Cas said calmly.

“You want to just talk?” He raised his brow.

“I do.” Cas replied.

Dean swore he could see the gears turning in the dark haired angel’s (man’s?) head.

Reluctantly Dean gave in he really wasn’t sure what was coming over him. No matter how sincere those baby blue eyes were, he shouldn’t trust him. Not this quickly.

“Alright then start talkin’” Dean gave a huge sigh, his shoulders still stiff and unflinching.

“Please allow me a moment of just being… we’ve been through much...” the familiar words he’d spoken, and yet to speak forming on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah… sure” Dean’s tone softened without permission.

He felt those damn eyes again all over him.

Castiel drank in this younger Dean. Still tough as nails, still loved his brother more than his own hide, but still, while familiar, Castiel couldn’t get enough. Not that he kept his eyes to himself at any point but this was something else. A Dean before perdition, before he’d rebuild his soul… his every fiber and cell.

“Listen .” A hard swallow. “I don’t know what we’ve been through in the future, but I’m not really getting this whole “Angel of the Lord shtick.”

Cas laughed lightly. Not at Dean, it was too gentle.

“You never really had faith in them.” Cas found himself putting emphasis on them…

It was them not him… Dean has faith in him. He was sure of that, even if he hasn’t always been.

“But you’re... Different?” It came out innocent.

A nod. “It’s the cracked chassis.” He said plainly.

Dean didn’t fully understand but he got a pretty good idea.

“You called them dicks with wings.”

“The other angels.” Cas added after a moment of silence.

Dean huffed. That did sound like him.

There was a lull in the conversation, the fog still thick around them.

“So... you really don’t know how you got here?” Dean finally settled on what to say.

“I have a working theory.”

“Which is?”

“I’m simply supposed to be.”

“That’s not what you said earlier.” Dean reminded him , not the slightest convinced.

Cas let himself smile again, his crows feet visible and crinkled.

“Changed my mind.”

“Alright.” Dean said standing up from the bench.

“Let's get a change of scenery, this place isn’t exactly what I’d call a hang out spot.”

Cas’ chest got tighter with a small rush of nerves.

“We can head towards wherever my dick brother is hiding out.”

“Alright, Dean.” Cas conceded , he really wasn’t in any position to argue with him.

This is part one ✨I might be posting this on ao3 but I’ll be and part two to tumblr soon ~ this should only be two or three parts in total ✨🖤

Tag list : @my-favourite-hellatus , @nguyenxtrang , @i-dont-even-wanna-know , @withclawsandsympathy , @sideofangels , @hazel-eyed-bi @lilac-void ,

🖤Feel free to ask to be added or removed ✨

#destiel #deancas #destiel ficlet #destiel fanfic #cillabeefic #hunter!Dean #Angel!Cas #comfort #cannon!verse

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tae-cup · 4 years

Text

.hamartia. ‘Part 2,

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (f) x Taehyung (?)

Genre: Mafia!Au, Fluff, Angst (Mostly angst oopsies) I DO NOT CONDONE BEHAVIOR DISPLAYED IN THIS, PLEASE IT’S FICTION AND DON’T DO STUPID THINGS THANK YOU

Plot: Y/N is a skilled, well, torturer, though you don’t like to call yourself that; it makes what you do too real. When mafia boss Yoongi wants information or wants a hostage to suffer, you step in. However, one fateful day you are thrown Taehyung, another person who does your line of work. You need answers, he is determined not to give them to you. That’s when you try...a different approach, and Yoongi is not pleased.

Rating: TV-MA

WARNINGS: YO IF YOU’RE NOT COOL WITH SUBTLE BI AGENDAS THEN I’M SORRY THIS IS NOT THE PLACE FOR YOU, Blood, torture, mafia things (ya know?), drugs alcohol, sadistic tendencies, a fundamentally flawed main character (I’m sorry i’m just writing myself pretty much), assault, harassment, stalking (not bad), romance (somehow), Maybe stockholm syndrome???

Word Count: 2.2k Words

A/N: Okay I need to make up my mind if this is yoongi x reader x taehyung x jimin or just taehyung and yoongi. Please help me- also I haven’t read this over so...I’m sorry if some sentences like don’t make sense

I’ve had Heather by Conan Gray stuck in my head all day. Anyway...I’m not sure if I like this chapter, but it’ll do haha

Other:

Masterlist

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Next

self·ish/ˈselfiSH/

adjective

(of a person, action, or motive) lacking consideration for others; concerned chiefly with one's own personal profit or pleasure.

You took a deep breath in.

“Okay, Y/N, you’re going to try Jimin’s approach, just this once.” You muttered to yourself. You searched around your mind, begging that innocent girl from a year ago to come out. You found her hiding in the closet, door shut, and light off. Her eyes were dark, but her body still radiated a pure glow. She looked up hopefully at you.

“I always knew you’d come back!” She squealed.

“right...” You spoke to yourself. Then you scolded yourself, promising you’ll lock her away for good once this is over. For the last time, you handed her the reigns.

Your hand opened the door quietly. You still had yet to apologize to Jimin, but you decided to get to that later. Of course, when you looked up at Taehyung, he was already awake. Did this man ever sleep? It was still rather early in the morning; around 4 A.M.

“Hello!” You chirped. You sat down, trying to make conversation. “Are you hurt? Do you ache?” You asked, taking on the caring tactic in full force. You had tugged along a first aid kit to really help solidify trust.

He didn’t answer, of course. But instead of getting annoyed, you simply smiled warmly at him.

“It’s okay! Take you’re time. I understand this is all pretty crazy.” You continued, hoping he would see you trying to be genuine. However, trying will never be the same as actually doing it. The dark haired male looked...confused, to say the least. His head tilted to the side, observing you, picking apart your words and trying to understand where this sudden kindness was coming from. There were a million red flags, but you didn’t seem to want to harm him...yet.

“I see there’s a pretty bad bruised.” You pointed towards his cheek.

He didn’t respond, then going on to drink in your outfit. With that, he let his lips tug up into a smile. That outfit gave him hope, it made him start believing you weren’t there to hurt him after all. After a moment of thinking, he nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” His voice was deep and smooth, almost melodic. It soothed you to listen to. “Your friend decided to give me a nice wake up.”

“Ah, I’ll tell him to stop that. I apologize for yesterday. I had been informed of your arrival so suddenly. I was,” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I was nervous, a little frazzled.” You sat very innocently, unlike yesterday. He felt he could trust you as you were right now, but it was still terrifying to know that girl yesterday still existed within you.

“I also think...I think the rope is too tight.” He mused, seeing how far he could push it. This didn’t faze you. You simply nodded, stood, and, almost hesitantly oddly enough, went to loosen his ropes. After you had sufficiently loosened the bindings, he grasped your wrist tightly.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked.

“I had a moment of clarity, yesterday.” You explained lamely.

“Hmph.”

“Why do you trust me?” You cocked an eyebrow up, your face somehow shifting to allude to the monster below. It was to your surprise when he chuckled.

“Your outfit.” He said slowly. If there was anything he learned in his short time being in this room, it was that black was for blood. Leather meant blood and gray meant bruises. “Your outfit is white.” He breathed. His words were light against your neck where you had crouched to loosen his ropes. How did he know about your outfit coordination? You assumed he was very observant.

You stared at him this time. He was almost devastatingly handsome. Dark eyes and pitch black hair. It made your heart flutter. You quickly put your beating heart into check. Monsters don’t have hearts. You stood, tearing your wrist away from his grasp.

“Well, I’ll try to make you comfortable.” You said quickly. You wanted to leave the room as soon as possible. Something about being near him made you feel ill.

“If you really wanted me to feel comfortable, you’d let me out.”

“You know I can’t do that.” You whispered more to yourself than anything else. You knew he heard it when he let out a little sigh, tossing his head to the side to move his bangs.

You left in a hurry, feeling him stare at your back.

Yoongi didn’t seem pleased.

“Please, Y/L/N, tell me why you let Jimin talk you into this idea.” He sighed. He looked exhausted, but he always did. You found yourself wondering if he had eaten and slept well. You shooed those thoughts away, not wanting them to distract you.

“Oh drop the formalities, Yoongi.” You sneered. Yoongi didn’t respond, but his eyes did narrow at yours. You didn’t feel intimidated. You knew that look, you’d seen it a million times.

After a brief pause, you continued, “I felt...I felt bad for something I said to him earlier. I thought I could give it a try, but it’s harder to build trust than I thought.” You trailed off, thinking to yourself: It’s so much easier to just break it.

He nodded slowly, listening to your explanation. The pale man sat in his leather chair. He was a laid back sort of man. One leg was crossed over the other as he leaned back lazily. A drink of whiskey was in his hand. He swirled the brown liquid around in the glass before setting it down. Now he leaned forward, seeming to ponder the idea.

“I think it might work, actually.” He wasn’t entirely sure, but he liked watching you squirm.

“Really?”

“Is there something wrong with trying a new tactic? Your job is to get information, I never said how.”

This was the sort of argument often used in the other direction; the argument that allowed you to do whatever twisted thing came to mind.

“But, Yoongi,” You pleaded. “I’m not cut out for this. I was just not made to love.” You looked down at your twiddling thumbs, feeling yourself turn back into that little girl from a year ago. You hated her. You should have just put her back in that closet, but here she was, popping out to say hello again. “You should know that better than anyone else, Yoongi.” Your voice was soft, but it held a certain steel to it.

He softened instantly. That voice was all too familiar; that tone.

“Y/N.” He cleared his throat before looking you deep in the eyes. “Every human being is made to love.” He turned around, facing the windows at the end of the office. “Sometimes, you just don’t know how to.” His mind was slowly getting lost in grief. He was grieving you, us, together. “Dismissed.” He couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy at the thought of you being close to another man other than Jimin. He had to let it go though, you guys were over and you have been for a few months. Besides, you never showed any signs of liking him still so he had to let go of you a little.

You didn’t even bother trying to argue. You could sense he had become distracted, lost in thought. You were glad for the dismissal as you could feel yourself getting lost as well.

“Oh god, please, no.” The young girl shook like a leaf. She looked to only be a year or so younger than you. “Please, you don’t have to do this.”

The sound of a gun cocking shut her up. Hesitation flickered through you. You thought of your own family, now dead, and your own morality. Ever since coming to the mafia, you had refused to hurt anyone. Now you were being forced to. It was your humanity, your sanity, V.S. a new found family known as the mafia.

In contrast to her sister, the girl who was actually in danger, Hwayeong, stood absolutely still. You didn’t plan on humiliating her. You just wanted the job done and over with. She was directly involved in the murder of Yoongi’s father. It seemed insane, but she did have nerves of steel, despite her angelic face. You swallowed thickly, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

“I know you’re scared.” Hwayeong had a soothing voice, like a calm lake that washes over you. “And I know you were forced into this life, but you can change.” She didn’t sound fearful, though you knew she must be. “I’d welcome you with open arms.” She didn’t sound concerned or even pitying, she just sounded genuine. The dark haired girl sounded understanding and compassionate.

“I have to do this job.” You said quietly, gun still pointed at her, but now shaking. Hwayeong seemed to understand because she nodded her head, stepping forward. She grabbed the gun’s end and moved your arm so it pointed at her forehead. Her eyes stared into yours, pools of obsidian.

“Then do it. I have nothing left to bargain and I’m not going to deny the killing of that cruel man.” She held her head high. She seemed a proud woman. “But for the love of god, stop shaking, I want the shot to be clean and the death soon and blessed.”

You couldn’t help but gape at her request. She wrapped her slender fingers around yours on the handle.

“Shoot me.” She didn’t break eye contact, and you didn’t either. “Shoot me and we’ll all call it a suicide. I know how it feels to be in your position.” That raised a million questions. Was this the right choice?

“I-” The bang of the gun shocked you. You jumped, stumbling back a few steps as you stared at the body before you. You had held the gun. She had pulled the trigger. While her family screamed and sobbed, tied up and terrified, you ran outside and heaved the contents of lunch onto the lawn out front. You brought your sleeve up and wiped away the food around your mouth. Then you went back inside.

The house felt so small now. It was almost suffocating as you untied the family members. They stood in silence. You picked up the gun and slowly rose. You looked each member in their eyes, barely acknowledging their hollowness.

“This was a suicide.” You nodded at each of them. They nodded slowly back. “If I hear otherwise, you’re all dead.” And that was the last straw. The last humanity left in you. Those obsidian black eyes still burned into you.

Unlike last night, you jerked awake with this one, your heart racing. Why now? Why were you reliving these painful memories now? For the past few months it’s been so easy to just push and push the memories deep down. You had locked them in your basement. So how had they flooded back up so suddenly. They were suffocating you.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You reached out for someone to hug, someone to hold, only to find no one. Instead, you curled up, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as possible. You weakly hit your head with a fist as if to release these memories. You let your mind to turn to something else. The reality of the dream slowly slipped away. Her eyes left your mind temporarily; it was something you had sworn you’d never forget.

Fuck. You still needed to apologize to Jimin. He would probably be upset to know that you didn’t even notice that he wasn’t there all day. But the point was that you thought of him now. Only now did you realize how much you missed his company.

He would have known what to say to Taehyung to get him to talk more. Jimin, yes, helped you get information, but he was also a silver tongue. He could talk his way into and out of most things. That’s how he was “hired” for this mafia. He actually had been kidnapped, much like Taehyung. But, he managed to talk the, much more naive at the time, interrogator to move him upstairs. Then he talked them into letting him borrow a car. By the time he could escape, he knew too much and he knew the other members too well. He didn’t want to leave them.

You suddenly felt very sympathetic for him. Maybe it was because the old you had the reigns. So now here you were, standing outside his room, lost in thought. You didn’t even knock when he opened the door.

“I suspected you would come.” He scoffed, trying to look indifferent. You didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence as you engulfed him in a hug.

“I’m sorry, about everything.”

He carefully hugged you back, hands going to your neck to pull you in closer. “I know.” He whispered.

ahhhhhh that’s it for part 2, I’ll make part 3 soon! Let me know what you

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#bts #yoongi #taehyung #bts mafia #taehyung mafia #yoongi mafia #taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #fluff #angst #hamartia

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katymacsupernatural · 4 years

Text

In Your Mind Part 4

Dean Winchester x Reader

Story Summary: During a witch hunt, you and Dean become spelled together in a way you had never imagined. You just hoped that he wouldn’t figure out the secret you were hiding from him.

Catch Up Here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

You didn’t care what thoughts raced through your mind. It didn’t matter that Dean could probably hear everything loud and clear. What mattered was getting away from the witch with all three of you alive and back where you belonged.

The witch slapped you again, your head jolting back at the motion. Cackling, she crouched over you, her breath stinking of garlic and other disgusting herbs. “Damn it, where is Sam?” Dean exclaimed in your head, his pounding footsteps echoing the ache from the witch’s slap. “This isn’t how this was supposed to go down!”

With stooped shoulders, the witch moved over to the counter, her steps full of excitement. She had you right where she wanted you. Just another playtoy to keep her occupied. “It gets rather lonely out here in the woods,” she spoke with her back turned, her body swaying as she stirred something in a handmade pottery bowl. “By myself with just animals for company. Sure, they aren’t as wicked or horrible as humans, but they also don’t talk back, or run from me because I’m different.”

“What’s your point?” You asked. You could see movement in the corner of your eye. Sam was hiding in the shadows, barely seen in your peripheral vision. He held the gun tightly in his hand, aiming it right at the witches back.

“Does there have to be a point?” She asked, turning on her heel. “Hello Sam,” she sighed dramatically. “I should have expected you would join us eventually.”

“Of course I would come to the aid of my brother and friend,” Sam exclaimed as he stepped further into the tiny room of the cabin. “Now fix them.”

“Why should I?” She challenged, continuing to stir whatever was in the bowl, acting casually as if a gun wasn’t currently being pointed at her heart. “If it wasn’t for hunters I wouldn’t have to live in this run down cabin, afraid at every turn.”

“You’re the one killing people. The one shoving other people into their minds. How can you think you’re the innocent party in this?” You exclaimed, Dean, giving you an agreeing humph in your mind. “Y/N, what’s in the bowl?” He asked the same question you had been wondering.

From your vantage point, you could only see the bowl, not what was inside. But she continued to mix it, holding it close to her body.

“I’m not calling myself innocent. Just annoyed at hunters in general. And as much as I enjoy inflicting pain on you, I think it’s time to call a truce.”

Reaching into the bowl, she pulled out a handful of a green slimy mixture. It oozed between her fingers, slowly sinking back down into the bowl. Smiling gleefully, she took a step towards you, but Sam cocked the gun back, stopping her. “Oh, Sammy, why don’t you just take a nap?” Quietly she spoke in Latin and before Sam could get a shot off he was slipping to the floor, the gun falling from his hand. Within seconds he was laying on the floor, sound asleep, leaving you once again at the mercy of the witch.

“There, that’s better. Now I can get down to business.” Standing over you, she held the green slimy mixture over your head, letting it drip all over your hair. “As much as I want you and Dean to suffer, I now realize this is not the way.”

You could feel the mixture coating your hair, tingling at your scalp. It turned warm, the smell a cross between algae water and sulfur. It was disgusting, and you sneezed, almost knocking the witch over. “This shall do the trick.”

Your head pounded, feeling as if it was going to split open. Squeezing your eyes shut, you struggled against her hold, the warmth quickly turning to pain. “Y/N!” Dean exclaimed, fading in and out of your head.

“Dean, what’s happening?” You exclaimed, screaming as the pounding became too much. Lights flashed in your mind when suddenly everything calmed. The ache, the lights, everything went back to normal. Even Dean was gone, which scared you immensely.

“Dean?” You thought out loud, but your thoughts were your own. No one else was in your mind. It felt weird. Even though Dean hadn’t been in your mind very long, he had been a somewhat comforting presence.

Opening your eyes, you watched just as the witch’s eyes opened in surprise. Dean stood beside her, the gun still smoking from the bullet he had placed directly in her heart. “No,” she muttered, taking a step back. “This is not how I had this planned! You were supposed to be locked over there!”

She pointed to the cabinet in the corner as she fell to the ground. “How did….,”

“Just fools luck,” Dean answered, shooting once again. This time it landed right between her eyes, killing her instantly. You watched in horror as she faded to dust.

“Y/N!” Dean came rushing over, as you realized you were no longer being held against your will. Standing up, you threw your arms around him, crushing yourself tight against him. “How are you?”

“Well, I’m covered in disgusting slime, and you probably know every thought in my mind, but we’re alive and that’s what matters,” You muttered into his t-shirt.

“Yeah, you stink,” he agreed. “But Y/N? I’m strangely grateful for this freaking witch and her spell.”

“Yeah?”

Reaching down, he tilted your chin up so he could catch your gaze. “Yeah. Because you were horrible at hiding all of your feelings. And it gave me the chance to realize how stupid I’ve been?”

“You’ve been stupid?” You repeated as a blob of green slime dropped down your cheek.

“Can we have this talk after you’ve showered?” He suggested, but you shook your head no. “Fine. I was stupid enough to think that a girl like you could never be interested in a wreck like me. And now I’ve wasted so much time.”

You grasped his neck, pulling him down until his lips were a breath away from yours. “Well, let’s not waste anymore.”

“But first...shower,” he insisted just as Sam started waking up.

You took a towel from the cupboard as Dean helped his brother up. Quickly they took all of the witch's belongings, throwing them in a pile and lighting them on fire while you got the worse of the sludge from your head. With only a pile of ash left as evidence, you let Sam lead the way away from the cabin as you walked beside Dean. “Y/N, I actually am a little disappointed.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” You asked, smiling as he pulled you against his side.

Leaning down, he wrinkled his nose at the smell leftover from the slime. “A woman’s mind is never easy to understand. And when I was in there, I had first-hand knowledge of your feelings, and...well, what man wouldn’t want that type of glimpse into how to interact with a woman? Now I’m back to square one.”

You shook your head. “You know, you could always just talk to me.”

“Yeah, because that’s always worked with a woman,” he muttered.

“We will make it work. After all, as much as I’m glad that you being in my mind led to this, I still don’t want you knowing my every single thought.”

Winking at you, he leaned down, whispering in your ear. “Why? Are they going to be that dirty?”

Slapping your hand on his chest, you strode forward, even though you couldn’t help but smile. Having Dean in your mind had seemed like such a problem at the time, but it had turned out to be a blessing.

THANKS FOR READING!!!

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @bebravekeeponfighting @bi-danvers0 @brindz30 @burningcoffeetimetravel @cap-just-said-language @colette2537 @deansgirl215 @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller @krys198478 @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @mrspeacem1nusone @nothinbuttrouble2 @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @team-free-will-you-idjiot @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

In Your Mind Tags: @maddiepants @lilulo-12 @deans-baby-momma @jensensammy @beachy2014 @rh-girlonfire

Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @chelsea072498 @closetspngirl @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @esoltis280 @foxyjwls007 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork @lowlyapprentice @maui137 @mogaruke @monkeymcpoopoo @musiclovinchic93 @nanie5 @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25 @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek @thewinchesterchronicles @vvinch3st3r @wecantgiggleitsafandom @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

#in your mind #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #katy writes #spn fanfic #dean fanfic #dean x y/n

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shadow-of-a-whisper · 4 years

Text

The Sentinel (series) Ficlet, Rated: M

Naomi waited until her son's mug of chamomile tea was half empty by her estimate, and most of the tense lines around his eyes had smoothed out. Then she pounced. "Blair sweetie, what's going on with you? And don't tell me it's nothing. Even Jim has noticed, and we both know how... unobservant he can be sometimes." That was rich, coming from her, but Blair didn't point that out. She was right, Jim had been side-eyeing him with concern for days. The man wasn't as subtle as he liked to think he was. Still, Blair just shook his head. "It's not something anyone can help with. I just need to figure some stuff out by myself. You wouldn't get it." Naomi huffed and drew herself up to her full height. Damn, he should've seen that coming. He really was slipping. "Try me. Even if I can't help, I can still listen. You need to get this off your chest, it's obviously eating you alive." Blair ran his fingers roughly through his wild curls in frustration. "I'm in love with someone, okay? I love him, and he's straight. I'm a fucking idiot, is that what you wanted to hear?" Naomi's jaw dropped, but Blair didn't stop. Now that it had started, it was all pouring out. "You never wanted to be tied down to one person or one place, and I get that. You never met anyone you wanted to stay for, despite it all. Someone who made staying feel like it was a gift, not a sacrifice. Good for you. But that's not what I want for my own life. I want stability, and connection, and happily ever after. I want that more than anything. So it doesn't matter if he doesn't love me the same way I love him, that he can't love me that way. Just being by his side is enough. It has to be." Naomi was already shaking her head, clearly flabbergasted. "What does Jim have to say about all of this? Does he know this guy?" Blair stared at her blank-faced, and waited for the penny to drop. After a few moments of honest bewilderment, her eyes slowly grew to the size of saucers. "Oh!" "Yeah Mom, 'Oh'. That pretty much sums it up. I haven't even dated any guys since before I met him." He didn't tell her that he'd figured Jim might be able to smell them on him or something. Turns out, he would've been right about that. "At first I just didn't know how he'd take it. By the time I realised that he'd be fine with me being bi, it felt like it was too late to bring it up. It's not like that would've made any difference. He's never looked at me like that. I don't think the idea has ever even crossed his mind." On the other side of the loft's front door, groceries in one hand and some mail in the other, Jim remembered the occasional whispers he'd overheard at the station. Uniforms gossiping about Blair, speculating about whether or not he was gay. Using words far less kind than that. Jim had glared them down when he could. He didn't care what Blair might or might not be, that was his own business, but those bigots didn't get to talk about his partner like that. Naomi's voice was achingly soft when she spoke again. "Baby, why would you do this to yourself? It just isn't healthy." Blair's smile didn't reach his watery eyes. "He's worth it. He's worth everything, every bit of pain and sacrifice, and so much more. He's strong, kind, beautiful. I'm not blind, I know he's an imperfect asshole, but that works out because I'm one too. We all make mistakes. He's suffered so much pain and loss, and he still lights up the world just by being in it. Sometimes I look at him, and I just want to tell him, show him how I see him, because I know he struggles to see that in himself. I want to make love to him, because he deserves to be loved. I don't know how anybody can fail to love him. I want to give him reasons to smile, to keep glowing like he does. I want to light him up every day for the rest of our lives. I can't walk away from that Naomi, I just can't. I'm strong enough to live with this pain, I'm not strong enough to live without him." Naomi set her jaw in a hard line, as outside the door Jim slid boneless down the wall, parcels forgotten. God, he'd been so blind. Blair's distress, something he'd been catching flashes of here and there for the last several weeks, was so visceral right now that he could feel it buffeting him all the way from the hall. A hummingbird heartbeat, accompanied by the rasps of harsh and shallow breaths, fulled his ears. The hint of salt from the beginnings of a cold sweat, along with the indefinable scents of misery and slight panic, flooded his nose. The cacophony of sensations washed over him with all the force of a crashing wave. Blair's emotions had always been a bit... louder, for lack of a better word, than other people's. To him, at least. But they'd never been anything quite like this. Distantly, his ears ringing a little, he heard Naomi start talking again. "Blair, you deserve that kind of love too. If you walk away now, you can always hold onto your golden memories of Jim, and pretend that he might have loved you back someday. If you stay and wait until he finds out, until he throws you out of the loft again, it'll break your heart. I honestly don't know if you would ever recover from that. Please baby, let me help you pack your things." The door slammed open, bouncing off the wall with a reverberating thud, as Jim stalked over to where they were sitting. Without saying a word, face expressionless, Jim pulled Naomi up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Before she could do more than let out a startled bleat, he'd dumped her on the threshold with the abandoned groceries and slammed the door in her face. Nobody was packing a goddamn thing. He slid the recently installed deadbolt home, just in case. He went back to the sofa where Blair had just made it to his feet, his face pale and drawn. Jim wanted to die for ever putting that look on his Guide's face. Naomi didn't have a Goddamn clue what she was talking about. Of course Jim was in love with Blair too, *of course* he was. Oh. Ooooooooooooooh. Huh. Well, that was a surprise. In hindsight, it really shouldn't be. Some Cop Of The Year he was. Actually, it probably explained a lot. It definitely explained the way his heart was pounding, his veins filled with adrenaline at the thought of Blair slipping through his fingers. Blair let out a small, uncertain "Jim...", eyes lowered in mortification. That wouldn't do at all. Jim lifted a gentle hand to Blair's jaw, his midday shadow barely perceptible even to his sensitive touch, and encouraged Blair's face to turn to him. He was shit with words, but he tried to let everything he was feeling shine from his eyes. Whatever he saw there, Blair slowly went slack and open with wonder. Jim's breath left him in a quiet rush, as he let go and followed his instincts the way he only ever did with Blair there to Guide him. His eyes fluttered nearly shut as he leaned close, brushing his nose to Blair's cheek as he breathed him in. His senses were flooded with Blair's unique scent, mingled with the faint hints of 'unscented' shampoo and soap, the mild herbal scent of chamomile tea and the honey Blair had sweetened it with. The combination was heady and soothing all at once, the headache Jim had been sporting for half the day fading almost instantly to a barely-there throb. That was nothing compared to the tightness he felt in his chest as his lips gave chase, Blair's rising timidly to meet them. He kept it soft and chaste to start with, a little hesitant himself, uncertain how he'd feel about this new thing he was trying. He needn't have worried. The taste of Blair, added to his enticing scent, and the somehow unexpected scratch of the hint of stubble, punched the remaining breath from him in a shocked groan. He pressed his mouth hard to Blair's as heat shot to his groin. Blair whimpered, his lips falling open in response without thought or hesitation, his body pressing as close as it could get from the knees up. As if that had broken the spell somehow, Blair jerked back. "Jim, man, you have to be sure. I can't do this if you're not totally sure." Jim rested his forehead against Blair's, not ready to lose that precious closeness yet. "I want this, Chief. I have no idea what I'm doing here, but I know that I want to be doing it with you." Blair trembled with temptation, but he had to be strong. He couldn't afford to be careless with this. "And when you wake up tomorrow, with me in your bed, both of us naked? When it hits you, what you've done, and what it could mean for you? What then, Jim? I need you to really think about this. Think about who we work with, about your family. If we do this, I'm not gonna be able to hide it anymore, I wouldn't want to either. You know what that'll mean? Forget discrimination and unreliable back-up, we'd be breaking fraternization rules. Simon would have no choice but to separate us. We can't ask him to risk his career and IA's wrath for us. How long do you think you'll last before you zone or spike at the wrong moment, and people get killed? Even if you somehow survived that, you'd never forgive yourself." It was true, every word of it, and it was a hell of a lot. It was obvious that Blair had been thinking about it for a long time, Jim had some serious catching up to do. But he knew one thing clearly. "We'll figure it out like we always do, together. If we can't stay on the force, then we'll both go. I know that you mostly only joined for my sake. Yeah, you enjoy the work, but you still hate the violence of it. You're never gonna be happy about pointing a gun at someone, even for me." Jim wasn't wrong about that, but it wasn't the whole story either. "Jim, I could've worked things out at Rainier if I'd really wanted to. Edwards didn't have a leg to stand on when she ran me off like that, and my friends there all knew it. Academia had been losing its shine for me for a long time by then, the politics of it all. It just wasn't fulfilling anymore, not the way working with you is. What you said to me at the hospital about being a good cop, and offering me that badge, it meant the world to me. That you trust me to watch your back as your permanent partner, just blows me away." Jim acknowledged those words with another soft kiss before responding. "I do trust you Chief. That's why I don't want you at my back for the rest of our lives." He held on tight when Blair tried to pull away. "I want you at my side instead, where you belong. Between my skills and your smarts, we've got options. We'll find one that works for both of us, where we can be the team we're supposed to be, and still help people. One that doesn't have us both dodging bullets every other day. It's not like I'm gonna be young enough to pull that off forever." Blair's knees went weak, Jim's firm grip on his lower back and the base of his skull the only thing keeping him standing. "You'd do that for me?" Jim shook his head once, slowly. "I'd do that for *us*. Just like you would, like you did with that press conference of yours. You're not the only one who can pull off a grand gesture, Chief. Maybe Eli can find a spot for you on his next expedition, and I can finally take a turn following you around for a bit. I could be their security detail." Blair searched his face, but found only honest sincerity there. His love for the man in front of him, always a warm flame in the hearth of his soul, blazed through him in a rush of desire. His mouth crashed hungrily against Jim's without conscious thought, almost reflexively. Jim's body welcomed him back, pulling them tightly together again, legs tangling with each other. Somehow, that still wasn't close enough. When he pulled back, this time he pulled Jim with him. Jim followed him without question, like he always did, not caring where they were going. As long as it had a flat surface, even if that was just a bare bit of floor, then it would do.

#The Sentinel #Jim Ellison #Blair Sandburg #Naomi Sandburg #Fanfiction #Ficlet #The Sentinel fanfiction

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christophersymes · 4 years

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Celebrity Status

Celebrity Status, an ongoing L(G)B(T)+ story also on Wattpad and Quotev.

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Chapter Four

A month later, Jules had been down for a while. His depression was in full swing, with a baseball bat full of nails, directly in his face. He'd hardly even made it to class that day, let alone online, and hadn't even gone to work yet and felt like crying. It was taking a lot to do anything, and he felt awful because he wanted to talk to Not-Elías so bad, but couldn't think of words to say aside from

good afternoon

. And he'd hardly spoken yesterday or the day before either. He hated it.

Mason had been hearing less and less from Jules the past few days, even though he'd been sending an embarrassing amount of messages. Jules did message back most times, but when she did she was curt and sounded... off.

masonfucker1000: jules

masonfucker1000: hope ur days going okay

masonfucker1000: hey what if humans were like bees and we had smth like a fucking stinger and if we killed someone w it we died and it was the only legal way to murder

masonfucker1000: i was hanging out w some friends and we ended up playing nerf guns and i somehow got a foam bullet down my pants

familyjules: ah, the only other thing you've ever gotten down ur pants.

masonfucker1000: hey are you okay? im kinda getting worried

masonfucker1000: if someone else threw a salad at you ill kick em

familyjules: afternoon, not-elías.

masonfucker1000: afternoon!! FINALLY!! juliet hath emerged! hey what's been going on???

♦️

Juliet.

He called him Juliet.

Jules froze, staring at the message, feeling tears pricking at his eyes. He hadn't told him, no, but still... He was Jules. Jullian. Anything except Juliet.

He stared at it, then grumbled to himself. "Juliet. Not. Fucking. Juliet." He got out of the truck and slammed the door, angry now that he even had to go to work. He stood by his truck, still staring at the message, then accidentally threw his phone on the concrete in the parking lot and stomped on it.

Then he realized what he'd done. Fuck. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. God damn it! Whatever." He picked up the pieces and pocketed the SIM card, telling himself he'd just buy a new one tonight after work and ship it to his house. He was enough of a dumbass already.

He tossed them in the dumpster as he went inside.

Mason frowned when there was no reply. An hour passed, even. Nothing.

A day.

masonfucker1000: jules? are you okay?

Jules was still upset, and still had no fucking phone.

Two days.

masonfucker1000: jules, please if i did something just talk to me

And a day after that, he was still upset, but at least he had a phone.

Three. Jules had never gone three days without at least a half-assed two word message.

Whenever he was home, he just stared at the message, fuming. Not-Elías had called him Juliet. He had to know him somehow, then, and by his deadname.

On the third day, the anger got bad enough he ended up messaging.

familyjules: how the fuck do you know my name and why are you doing this

Mason had been having lunch with the band when he got the message. He dropped his slice of pizza, mouth still open in shock. His eyes widened, and he excused himself, muttering under his breath that he'd be right back.

masonfucker1000: shit dude, what? juliet?

masonfucker1000: I just sort of guessed that's what it was short for

masonfucker1000: what do you mean???

Jules scoffed, opening Rabbit as fast as he could and sending Not-Elías a link.

As soon as he entered the room, Jules glared at the camera.

"My goddamn name is not Juliet, so stop calling me that. I don't know who the fuck you are, but you must know me and want to get to me now for some reason, so just... fucking stop being a dick—"

Mason gaped at Jules as she immediately started yelling and threatening at him. Jesus fuck.

"—and tell me the truth before I have to figure it out myself and beat your fucking ass. I'm not in the goddamn mood to be led on some goose chase and deal with bigots like you or deal with people who hold some stupid grudge against me. Leave me alone if that's the fucking case, or I will figure shit out and do something."

Not-Elias: jules geez

Not-Elias: holy shit

Not-Elias: i dont understand why youre so angry but im sorry if i pissed you off okay?

Not-Elias: i wont call u that anymore

Not-Elias: message me when you've calmed down

Not-Elias left the room.

Jules was still angry when he left the room. He ended up closing it too, only to reopen it later that night, as well as the fansite. He private messaged Not-Elías a link, promising in some garbled text not to yell again.

familyjules: rabb.it/familyjules pls cone ib i promize not to yellll i midd u

familyjules: misa u

Mason had been thinking about.... whatever that had been with Jules. She'd called him a bigot and talked about grudges. And Juliet was a definite no. He had a theory he was a bit too freaked to think much on. He frowned when he got a just barely comprehensible message. God, was Jules crying or something? He immediately clicked the link.

Jules was leaning back in the chair, pouring himself a shot from the bottle of vodka, singing a Nosam song along with the YouTube video. "Not-Elías!" he exclaimed, speech a little slurred, grinning. He leaned forward too fast and spilled half the shot on his shirt. "Whoops."

He downed the rest to prevent more spillage and then took a sip of Coke. "Hi, I wanted to say I'm sorry for earlier and yelling at you because it's obvious you're not anyone from high school because you're good unlike them. They couldn't even fake it. And I wanted to explain— I'm trans and I was bullied, and I miss you a lot but I've been sad a lot lately and it's cold and cold is triggering and I'm gonna drink more now." He poured himself another shot.

Mason's eyes widened in surprise at the state Jules was in. And then he was concerned. Very concerned.

Not-Elias: is that vodka?

Not-Elias: careful!

And then he froze as Jules spoke. Trans.

Fuck. So, okay. Mason didn't know himself that well after all. That's fine. It was okay. He tried to convince himself of that even if he felt a little nauseous and increasingly out of control.

He'd been such a dick when he was younger. Defensive, reckless, disrespectful, not caring about anyone else and keeping emotions bottled in. He had pretended to be confident, created a version of himself for everyone else and believed it. And once he'd been called out by so many, by Chris, he'd realized what he'd turned into: this sexist, queer-phobic prick, like a jock straight out of a movie.

He worked so hard to figure out why and relearn how he thought about things, about people, thinking about things he said to make sure he wasn't hurting anybody. He spent so much time learning himself inside and out. Actually starting to like himself for once, no more surprises. And even if his chest was aching and he couldn't breathe from hearing Jules say that, he knew he liked Jules a lot. He knew he had to deal with it.

He wasn't straight.

But he didn't know what to think— his own secrecy had been different— but— of course they weren't dating, and online— and Mason couldn't possibly pretend he knew what being trans was like. Whatever reason Jules had had for not telling him was probably a good one, even though it hurt. Mason realized he hadn't responded, and frankly didn't know how.

Not-Elias: okay

Not-Elias: youve def been drinking too much

Not-Elias: jules

Not-Elias: why didnt you tell me?

Mason paused, biting his lip. He didn't want to sound mad, but he was kind of upset. And he deserved to know why, didn't he?

Jules knocked back the shot, then leaned forward to read his messages. "I said I was bullied... They did some online too and I'm super scared about the fansite being a lot of people who could gang up on me sometimes—" Jules's lip trembled a little and he shook his head and touok a deep breath. No crying in front of Not-Elías.

"I was scared when I started thinking more and liking you, 'cause you were new and different and I was having fun talking to you, but you said you were cis and straight and it was actually real hard to even tell you I'm bi. And it's okay if you don't like me now cause you're straight and I'm a dude, I understand that."

Mason frowned at how Jules looked close to tears, instantly angry at everyone who'd hurt her— who'd hurt him.

His stomach turned as he thought about all the times he misgendered him. Oh God, he suddenly felt really sick. All of those shes and hers crawling up his throat.

Not-Elias: oh jules

Not-Elias: no i

Not-Elias: i like you

He bit his lip. Get over it, Mason.

Not-Elias: i guess i'm just gay. go figure

Jules wiped at his face with his shirt, then remembered there was vodka all over it and pouted a little, staring down at it.

Whoa, there was a flash. Mason's breath caught. He definitely saw a nipple and— fuck. But, oh God, was Jules drunk.

Not-Elias: listen do me a favor, baby, no more shots, yeah?

Not-Elias: put the vodka away

Yes, it felt a little weird calling Jules baby for a moment, knowing he was a guy, but it still felt right. Mason was fucking gay.

Oh, poor Andrew. All alone.

Jules read the messages and wanted to cry even more. He felt so silly for hiding it for so long, especially if it was going like this. "Are you sure?" he asked, staring at the messages.

And then the few about the vodka came through and he pouted, though he was blushing a bit at being called baby again. "But I don't wanna. Tomorrow's my day off and drinking is fun!" He grabbed the bottle, cradling it against his chest. "'S like my baby."

Not-Elias: im sure

Not-Elias: a hundred percent

Not-Elias: even if youre a complete mess

Not-Elias: and you've drunk

Not-Elias: youre drunk

Not-Elias: too much more and youll be poisoned

Not-Elias: ill be your baby instead

Jules grinned, leaning forward. His leg was bouncing now. He set down the bottle. "All right," he said. "But you're my baby now. You gotta come hug me."

Not-Elias: nice okay thank you

Not-Elias: u should drink water if you can

Not-Elias: oh i want to. i will

Mason hated this, not being able to talk to Jules. Especially when he was in this state. He needed comfort, and Mason wanted to give it and— damn it, he wished he could just turn on his camera. Maybe he should. He seriously considered it and— no, not right now, when he was drunk.

Jules tuned into the music again and gasped, grinning. He sang along a little, nodding and getting up to get water like he was told, completely forgetting he was in just a tank top and underwear— not even boxers, just underwear. He came back still singing, then lifted the water so Not-Elías could see it. "Water."

Mason whined a bit as Jules stood up, looking away a second later, staring at the tour bus ceiling. Why did the world want to be so generous yet so cruel?

Not-Elias: and you said you're not a singer

Not-Elias: good! drink up!

Jules grinned, taking a drink and leaning back a little in his chair. "Oh—uh— is there anything you want to listen to? Or watch?"

Not-Elias: uhhhhhh

Not-Elias: spongebob?

Jules nodded, opening up Amazon Prime and attempting to search for it. He misspelled it a few times, but got it in the end. "Oh, this is the best episode," Jules said, grinning and hovering over the Bubble Bowl episode.

They watched one and a half episodes, during which Jules had moved from the chair to his bed, putting the laptop on the chair. Mason honestly wasn't paying all that much attention to Spongebob. Jules was so cute, his drunk commentary endearing.

At some point Mason realized Jules had fallen asleep. He smiled, eyes going soft.

He barely thought about it when he turned on the mic.

"Goodnight, Jules."

Jules, fast asleep, groaned a little. "G'night," he mumbled. "Lub you."

Mason's heart jumped to his throat.

"Jules? Are you awake?"

He blushed hard, cheeks hot. He probably wouldn't mention that part to Jules in the morning.

"Nuh uh," Jules hummed, pulling the blanket over himself better. "'m sleep."

Mason laughed lightly. "Really? Sleeptalker, huh? I'll let you sleep. Talk to you in the morning."

Mason had turned off his mic and hadn't even noticed he had fallen asleep.

"Mason? Why're you still on your computer? S' the middle of the night."

Mason jerked awake, blinking as he looked at Jules on-screen and then at Chris on the top bunk across, leaning over the bed and frowning at him sleepily.

Mason sighed, rubbing some sleep out of his eyes. "I think I'm gonna tell Jules," he said.

"What?" Austin grumbled from below Chris, turning and blinking wildly at Mason. His wavy hair was sticking up in all directions, like static or that kid from Meet The Robinsons.

"He said he's gonna tell Jules," Andrew growled from above Mason, grumpy from being woken up, but listening, blankets tugged tight over his otherwise naked body.

Chris supported his chin on his hand as he tried to get a better look at Mason's face. He was serious. "What changed finally?"

Mason sighed, panic returning as his brain turned the lights back on and told him he was supposed to be freaking out. "It keeps getting harder. And we didn't talk for a bit and— last night— tonight he— he's trans. And he was drunk— "

"Wait— "

"Did you say— "

Mason groaned, dropping his face into his pillow. "Don't--"

Andrew wheezed from above him. "Fuck."

"You're— "

"I get to say it! You dumbasses got to come out," Mason whined as he sat up. "I'm not straight. Probably, uh, pan."

Austin started laughing sleepily as he leaned up on his elbow to properly make fun of Mason.

"I saw it coming," Andrew mumbled. "But fuck you."

Chris bit his lip worriedly. "Okay, but remember when that one fan gave out your number and address even though the address was fake, but you had to change your number and— "

Mason sighed loudly. "Yes, I remember."

And he did remember. He'd thought about it quite a bit, all the worst case scenarios. Jules being pissed off at being royally catfished and outting him to the world in the worst way possible, or Jules being way too happy and outting him and not really caring about him, or Jules just completely cutting him off in shock and outrage. Mason shook the thoughts away. "Jules isn't like that. I just— I want her— him to know, I'm sick of lying."

Austin shrugged. "Okay. Your choice, man. Go for it."

Andrew hummed in agreement, giving the idea a thumbs up that Mason didn't even see, already falling asleep again. Chris sighed and smiled, "I'm sure you're right. You're a good judge of character."

Mason smiled, "Thanks."

In the morning, Jules woke up to find he'd fallen asleep on Rabbit with Not-Elias. He smiled, nuzzling his face against the pillow. He was so cute. So good. He remembered getting drunk and telling him everything, and he'd taken it in stride, just accepting...

He sighed, staring at the icon of Mason on the screen. He wished he knew him. This was just making him want to date him more, though he knew his own rules and didn't want to break them. It felt kinda shitty to feel like that, though, especially since Jules wanted to just... live, really, but it felt like there was always something holding him back. He wiped at his eyes, realizing he was crying a little. God, he was so pathetic.

Mason woke up again to see that Jules was awake. He smiled, then noticed he seemed kinda sad. Mason got up, washing his face and brushing his teeth, looking at himself in the mirror for a moment. Well, he looked as good as he usually did, he guessed. He guessed? Fuck. He was nervous. He groaned and put on a hoodie, yawning as he walked past the bunks and sat down, putting his earphones in.

Not-Elias: good morning! how're you feeling?

Jules jumped a little at the message tone, wiping his eyes again to make sure any trace of tears was gone. He disguised it as sleepy rubbing his eyes and smiled. "Morning, Not-Elias. I feel..." Jules considered telling the truth, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. He settled on one thing. "Hungover. Kinda tired. My head hurts a little. How are you feeling?"

Not-Elias: a little flipped upside down, honestly

Not-Elias: but uh, overall, pretty good

Not-Elias: okay, actually im a little nervous

Not-Elias: hey

Not-Elias: do u know what would be cool

Not-Elias: u should play me some bass

Jules smiled. "I'm glad you're feeling okay, though. I mean— What happened is... a lot, probably. If you need to talk, I'm here. And you really want to hear me play right now? I— uh— okay." He leaned over, picking up his bass from the stand by his bed.

"I wonder if I can play it laying down." He plucked a few strings, then shifted his hands to play it. He laughed a little. "I guess I can... God, you have no idea how many times I've dropped this thing. I'm shocked it still plays." He lifted it up, grinning.

Mason smiled, watching him fondly as he grabbed the bass and played around with it, rambling and laughing. What was he even going to say? 'Hi, I'm not Elias, I'm Not-Elias, with a dash' or 'I'm Not-Elias, AKA Mason Hill AKA masonfucker1000 AKA an asshole?' or even 'Hey, it's Mason, please don't be mad at me or post about this?'.

God, everything he could think of was woefully lame. It was like his nerves had turned him into Chris.

"There's actually a really bad scratch somewhere on here, I think it's on the back... I dropped it when I first got it because my parents told me some shit, I don't even remember what, but it scared me. Oh— oh, I think it was when my grandpa died. They told me and I just... dropped it. It's funny now, because like... y'know, that was my grandpa, but— "

Mason couldn't take it any longer. He moved the mouse, cursor hovering over the camera icon. It seemed easier to do it when Jules was occupied, it made Mason less nervous than when he was looking at the screen. He turned his mic on first, then his camera, smiling. "Uh, hey," he said softly to get his attention. Hey wasn't exactly what he had wanted to say first, but fuck it. His heart was thumping in his ears.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #lgbt stories #trans stories #lgbt writers #celebritystatus

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sunshineofthegroup · 7 years

Text

It’s Not My Fault I’m a Maniac

Geoff and Gavin try to recruit Jack for the crew, but little does Gavin know, there's a good reason she doesn't want to join. ** 'I'm outside the door, invite me in, so we can go back and play pretend' - Fall Out Boy, Alone Together ** Part 2 of a pre-FAHC/FAHC series based off FOB songs (primarily from Save Rock and Roll) [jackeoff, ~1.6k] [read on ao3]

“Does every bartender in town know your order?” Gavin asked Geoff as Geoff picked up yet another glass of whiskey he hadn’t necessarily ordered. Geoff shrugged and knocked back a good portion of the liquid.

“This one does,” Geoff said, eyeing the bartender in question. She was pretty, brownish-red curly hair, but also looked like she could easily break Geoff in half. Exactly Geoff’s type – though he generally stuck to blondes.

“She’s not another one of your ex-wives, is she?” Gavin asked.

“She wishes,” Geoff scoffed.

“You wish, Ramsey,” the bartender shot back. Geoff raised his glass in a toast.

“The offer still stands, Jack,” Geoff addressed her. “I still need a pilot. You look like you could use some cash besides what I leave in tips.”

“Yet you’re the one wearing the same dirty tuxedo every time I see you,” Jack replied coolly.

“I need a pilot,” Geoff insisted. Gavin nodded emphatically. “I’ll buy you anything you want plus one quarter of the profits from the job. One job, no contract. Please, Jack.”

“Fine,” Jack agreed. “I’ll be at your penthouse at 11:30 to discuss specifics. And you know what the ‘anything I want’ is going to be.”

“Yes, I do,” Geoff replied. “Come on, Gav, we have things to do.” He dropped a fifty on the bar as he and Gavin left the building.

“What does she want?” Gavin asked Geoff curiously. Geoff shook his head. “Come on, then.”

“It’s expensive, but it’s worth it,” Geoff said.

“So who is she, though?” Gavin asked, always so eager for any gossip.

“I’m not allowed to know women now?” Geoff responded.

“Geoffrey, the only women you know do not talk to you anymore,” Gavin pointed out. “You have three ex-wives.”

“And each one of them left with half my fortune,” Geoff said. “Not doing that again. No more Lady Ramseys.”

“Except Jack?” Gavin asked, grinning.

“Jack would never settle for being the Lady Ramsey,” Geoff said. “Trust me.”

“What are you drinking?” Jack asked him.

“Whiskey,” Geoff grunted.

“Let me guess,” Jack said, pouring a few shots. “Lady troubles.”

“I wish, dude,” Geoff sighed. “Dudette. Lady-dude.”

“Dude’s fine,” Jack said.

“Thank god, because I don’t have time for any more girls,” Geoff said, knocking back two shots. “They break your heart and take your money.”

“Yes, I hear we’re good at that,” Jack said, rolling her eyes.

“You are,” Geoff said, nodding.

“You’d think men would learn after the first two divorces, but they always go for number three,” Jack said, with the knowledge that comes from being a bartender.

“We do. We’re idiots!” Geoff exclaimed.

“More whiskey?” Jack offered.

“Sure, and your phone number, if you’re giving it out,” Geoff said.

“Hard to believe you’ve been married three times with lines like that,” Jack laughed, pouring a few more shots.

“Dude, trust me, I’m not looking for my fourth ex-wife, not tonight. No more Lady Ramseys. Though the ex-Lady Ramseys could tell you, it certainly pays well. Each better than the last.”

“You can call me Jack, if you want,” Jack told him. “Dude’s still fine, if you prefer.” She slid a napkin across the bar with her digits on it.

“I’m Geoff.” He took the shots remaining on the bar.

“Right, my future ex-husband,” Jack nodded with a laugh.

“No, no, not again. I can’t have a fourth ex-wife. The next one won’t be satisfied with my money, and she’ll take my empire too,” Geoff whined. Jack snorted, pouring two more shots.

“Gosh, I can’t imagine why they keep divorcing you,” she said.

“Exactly! I’m a nice guy! I deserve love,” Geoff said.

“If being a bartender has taught me anything, it’s that people always find love in the place they least expect it,” Jack said.

Geoff called her three days later. Standard.

“This is Pattillo,” Jack answered.

“Hey! Jack, dude. It’s Geoff from the bar. Do you want to get dinner?”

“I thought you weren’t looking for ex-wife number 4?” Jack said, amused.

“The only one saying you’ll be the next ex is you,” Geoff replied.

“Why should I go out with you? Besides it’s free dinner and you’re rich and not ugly,” Jack said.

“That’s exactly why you should go out with me,” Geoff said.

“I’m going to regret agreeing to this,” Jack said.

The first date went surprisingly well, so they proceeded to the second and third dates, and more dates after that. Jack wasn’t necessarily opposed to Geoff’s life of crime, but she wasn’t necessarily going to join him either – though she would never turn him over to the LSPD.

Soon enough, it had been three months and Geoff finally decided to stop being a huge pussy and go for it. He picked up the keys to his bright pink Zentorno and headed for Jack’s apartment across town. He knocked in an upbeat rhythm.

“Who is it?” Jack yelled from inside.

“It’s Geoff! Who else are you expecting?” Geoff replied.

“Shit… Uh…. Hold on a second…” Jack responded. Geoff was instantly suspicious. He almost dropped the bouquet of flowers he was holding in favor of his pistol, but decided against it. She finally came to the door, unlocked it, and threw it open, before pulling him inside violently, and slamming and locking the door again.

“What’s going on?” Geoff asked, his instinct that something was wrong definitely proving correct.

“Can’t be too careful,” she replied. “I don’t… uh… right. Hang on.” She disappeared back into the bathroom, of all rooms, and Geoff heard the voice of another man, one clearly in pain, so he did the only logical thing and followed her. “He’s fine, he’s not here to kill either one of us. I’m not a surgeon, but I do believe you’ll live.”

“What would I do without you, Jack?” the strange man responded.

“I don’t know, bleed out on street corners bi-weekly?” Jack said sarcastically. “Geoff, this is Ryan. Rye, my future ex-husband…”

“I pictured him different,” Ryan said, giving Geoff a once over before trying to stand. “You guys got plans? Sorry, man, I never pick a good night to get shot.”

“No night is a good night to get shot,” Jack reprimanded him. “If you’re headed for my bedroom, you better not get blood on my sheets again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan muttered, staggering his way out of the bathroom and out to the living room.

“Rye’s fine… um… just let me clean up and we can go,” Jack said. Geoff agreed and went to find the flowers he’d brought some water while she cleaned up and changed.

“How did you meet Jack?” Ryan asked from the couch.

“She’s a bartender. I’m an alcoholic. It was inevitable,” Geoff said. Ryan nodded. “How’d you get shot?”

“Assholes these days, always pulling a gun,” Ryan said. “Can’t even make a dishonest living.”

“You got shot doing petty theft?” Geoff asked, unimpressed.

“He always get shot doing petty theft!” Jack chimed in from the bathroom.

“Not always!” Ryan complained. “Not always petty theft, anyway.”

“Dude, you should not be getting shot at all,” Geoff said. “Any friend of Jack’s is a friend of mine. I’ll give you some pointers sometime.”

“Don’t recruit Ryan!” Jack said loudly. “He’s clumsy and no one is afraid of him because he can’t get through two sentences without messing up a word.”

“What is he, your brother?” Geoff asked her.

“What if he was?” Jack asked, sticking her head out from the bathroom.

“You don’t look alike,” Geoff said, looking between them.

“We’re not related,” Ryan assured him.

“Good. Then she won’t mind if I try to fix you up,” Geoff said. “A month, maybe two… I have a pretty fast turnaround rate.”

“Yeah, because they end up dead,” Jack said. “Future ex-husband or not, I’d rather lose you than Ryan.”

“That’s harsh,” Geoff frowned. “Only the temps get dead. The interns usually make it to full-time staff. Rye-bread’ll get the friends and family discount. Straight upgrade to full-time staff with benefits.”

“What are the benefits like?” Ryan asked.

“No suicide missions,” Geoff said.

“What about medical?” Ryan asked.

“We’re working on hiring a new nurse,” Geoff said.

“Did the last one die?” Ryan guessed.

“That’s a safe guess,” Geoff replied. “But no, he had to step down. It was a legal thing.”

“So he’s in jail?” Ryan guessed.

“It’s not really relevant,” Geoff waved it off.

“You could do that, Jack,” Ryan called over to her. She was glaring at him from the kitchen now.

“I’m not a nurse, I’m a bartender,” Jack said.

“Are you ready?” Geoff asked her.

“I’ve been ready,” Jack said, rolling her eyes. “If you hadn’t told me I could drive the Zentorno, I’d be calling this entire date off.”

“If you crash my baby, you can say goodbye to being the future ex-Lady Ramsey,” Geoff shot back.

“I’m more of an Entity chick myself,” Jack shrugged. “Don’t burn the house down, Ryan.”

“That was one time!” Ryan insisted.

“So what happened?” Gavin asked.

“What do you think happened?” Geoff asked.

“Well, it’s you, so I’d say you probably divorced her,” Gavin said.

“I did propose, but she said no,” Geoff said. “She was mad because Ryan decided to take my offer. They had a falling out, it was a whole big deal…”

“That’s awful,” Gavin said. “If you stole my brother and nearly got him killed on a weekly basis, I’d be pretty minged off, too.”

“Ryan isn’t her brother,” Geoff rolled his eyes.

“Really?? I was convinced,” Gavin exclaimed in surprise.

“What’s the deal on that friend of yours?” Geoff asked.

“Who, Michael? He’s got some things to take care of, then he’s going to make his way our direction,” Gavin said.

“Excellent.”

#jackeoff #jackeoff fic #fahc #fake ah crew #save rock n roll series #is this formatting better? does it matter at all?#i dont know because i just read on ao3 and the formatting looks good there?#is it the comic sans? does that bother people?#i did it for the meme #editing out notes i accidentally left in posting this three months ago YIKES

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stuffingprize · 7 years

Text

@agonhirublog

here’s the fic! It’s been ages but I still find it hilarious so I hope you enjoy it too. Also, the print didn’t have the author name so ;;;; so sorry author-san!! thank you for writing this story ;;; anyways, NOT MINE, just archiving this for personal AgonHiru enjoyment~~

Title: Death to All Rating: M, Humor/Romance Summary: Sort of Agohiru. Just another day in their life. Y’know another day where Unsui claims he’s going to go insane.

The apartment showed all the signs of being occupied by three lazy teenage boys.

Dishes mounted precariously in the sink. Clothes thrown over all the furniture. Mixed smells of sweat, burned food, and too much cologne. And a dent in the wall where Agon finally got fed up and put Hiruma’s head through it.

They had what could so loosely be described as a routine. Hiruma screamed about cthulus, Agon acted like a vain little girl, and Unsui pretended to be the sane one. Indefinitely, until death do us part, but preferably before.

Today, however, there was something new added to the décor. Instead of the usual, oppressively frightening ‘cult’ movie playing on the teevee (Donne Darko, Clockwork Orange, Rocky Horror Picture show, etc.), Agon was slumped on the couch watching MTV with the sound turned off.

Actually, he wasn’t watching the teevee at all. His head was resting on the back of the couch, an icepack pressed against the left side of his face. His trademark sunglasses were temporarily stashed in his thick brown dreadlocks.

“I tried watching it with the sound on, but I hate all the music,” He said when his one free eye landed on his brother, gesturing vaguely to the teevee. A blonde black woman wriggled her voluptuous bottom at the screen.

“Nothing like Bob Marley, huh?”

“Hey! Bob Marley was more than just another get-rich-quick superstar, okay? He had vision. Not like any of these-” More vague gesturing- “-Wannabe five-second ‘pop’ stars. Whatever. Nobody respects reggae anymore,”

“Huh,” Unsui said, less then interested about his brother’s fetish for slow-beat Jamaican music. He tried to peel the icepack away from his face and saw enough of the angry red bruise to get a quick summary of what happened. “So how hard did he deck you?”

Agon made a face and flicked a handful of dreadlocks over his shoulder. He and Hiruma had a weird relationship to which there was no description. They screamed, they yelled, they tried to tear each other’s faces off. It was pretty amazing to watch- weapons flew overhead, blood splattered onto the walls and every weapon at their disposal exploded in a fiery display of testosterone-fueled frustration. Most of the time, Unsui let them go at it and then quietly cleaned up the disaster when they’d fainted from bloodloss, but when the fights got particularly gory (the time when Hiruma succeeded in ripping of Agon’s nose being the most memorable and recent), he figured it was best if he intervened. Still, when the screaming stopped, whoever was in the best condition staggered to his feet and patched the other one back up.

“Not too hard. It wasn’t so much to break anything as to distract me- he’s gone, if you didn’t notice,” Agon said. He picked up the remote and turned the sound back on. A high-pitched, out-off-tune whine oozed from the screen, followed by repetitive hiphop beat. He shuddered. In a quick flurry of buttons and remotes, the teevee turned off and the CD player turned on. Immediately, one of Hiruma’s Gorgoroth CDs came on. Agon groaned and sunk deeper into the couch.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Unsui said instinctively, although he had no idea whether his statement was true or not.

“I know that,” Agon snarled, gnashing his teeth and pressing the icepack against his face. “Motherfucker freaked out and trying to get out of the apartment anyway he could. He even tried jumping out the fuckin’ window,”

“Huh,” Unsui said, trying to remain unattached to the human drama. What he remembered from past dramas was that Agon liked to exaggerate. It was easier to just stay in the dark and accept that what was directly in front of him was all that he would ever know about what had happened.

“I tried calling him, but he isn’t answering his phone.”

Pause.

“What was he upset about?” Unsui asked, fully aware that Hiruma didn’t always need a reason to blow his top. Agon snorted.

“‘Upset’? God, you have no idea. He was ready to explode. Fucker was waving every gun he had around. When that didn’t work, he tried clawing out my neck. Look at this- look at it!”

Agon peeled his shirt back to show deep, angry red gashes on his neck. It did indeed look like Hiruma had tried to peel out his vocal cords.

“But why?”

“When I get my hands on him, he is so dead. But what to do with him? I could always try cutting off his thumbs...”

“You pull that stunt again, I’ll do the same thing I did last time you tried it. Why was he so pissed off?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him, it’s like no matter what, he just-”

“AGON!”

Agon jumped in his seat.

“He found out about Reiko,” He whimpered pitifully.

“Reiko who?” Unsui snapped, in no mood for his brother’s innocent act.

“Reiko Yamamura. She’s this girl I’ve been seeing for a couple of weeks and-”

“Oh my gawd,” Unsui groaned. He threw his bag as hard as possible on the floor. “That’s it- I don’t care anymore. You two can kill each, for all I care. Just don’t get any blood in my room,”

“What? What?” Agon barked, jumping to his feet. Gorgoroth CD and icepack suddenly forgotten. “Don’t tell me you’re seeing his side of the argument!”

“I, personally, think it’s rude to cheat on someone, particularly with a member of the opposite sex,”

“Oh come on. It’s nothing serious, we just go see a movie once in a while and- Holy shit, this is the same conversation I had with Hiruma.”

“It isn’t making too different an impact on me, either,” Unsui snarled.

“It isn’t a big deal!”

“You keep saying that- that big bruise on the left side of your face is saying otherwise,”

“Gimme a break- it’s just so people don’t start rumors behind my back. I don’t want to deal with stupid questions and stupider people. Reiko’s more like protective camouflage than anything,”

“The fuck are you talking about, ‘protective camouflage’? You hold his hand in public!”

“So?”

“So if you don’t want people to start rumors, maybe you should dump the bitch and cut back on the gay PDA,”

“But I like holding his hand,” Agon whined. Unsui rolled his eyes.

“Make up your fucking mind! Do you want people to think you’re gay or not?”

“No,” Agon said, a little too quickly.

“And yet you are,”

“No I’m not. I like girls,”

“And guys,”

“And guys, yes,”

“That makes you gay,”

“That makes me bi,” Agon said defensively.

“Y’know, I hope Hiruma kills you,” Unsui snarled. “You’re slime. You don’t deserve to live,”

“Fuck you! You’d say that about your own brother?”

“If he turns out the way you did, then yes!”

“We have the same DNA!” Agon proclaimed dramatically. Classic tactic.

“But not the same ego,” Unsui shot back.

“Unsuiiii-ii-iii,” Agon whined, the huge bruise on the left side of his face disfiguring his ‘pleading’ look.

“What?” He snarled.

And then, like a sign from God signaling Unui’s temporary dislodgment from the argument, the phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

“I’ll get it,” Agon mumbled, staggering over to the phone. “Hello...?”

Unsui took the break in the conversation to toss his bag onto his bed and inhale a handful of aspirin from the industrial-size bottle Musashi had so kindly stolen from the pharmacy across the street when he saw the state of the apartment. Most of it was already gone.

When he walked back in the the living room, Agon was arguing with whoever was on the other end of the line.

“What? ...but baby- No, I’m- But I thought- Look- Look- Let me finish my goddamn sentence!”

The high-pitched howling coming from the other end of the tiny speaker didn’t let him finish his sentence. It didn’t even let him start one. Unsui watched Agon’s face twist into a whole spectrum of emotions as the screaming went from fury to desperation to dejected sobbing, without him having to say a word.

And then the phone abruptly cut off and Agon was left staring at the receiver like it had the plague.

“God-”

Agon lifted the receiver over his head, his knuckles turning white from the tension. Unsui quietly shuffled out of tantrum range.

“DAMMIT!” He howled, throwing the phone full-force at a wall. It shattered like glass, raining phone organs onto what Unsui immediately recognized as the ominous Pile of Unpaid Bills.

Unsui counted to a high number, took a few deep breathes, went back into the bathroom, swallowed some more aspirin, and tried to summon up enough rage to match Hiruma in a screaming match.

When he walked back into the living room, Agon was throwing himself against the wall and screaming obscenities. He kicked the Pile of Unpaid Bills and stamped his feet like a little kid who’d just dropped his lollipop.

His sunglasses fell out of his hair and to their doom under his pounding feet. Cheap plastic sliced into his foot and he howled, throwing himself theatrically back against the couch. Unsui waited for the bawling to die down.

“SHUT UP!” He roared.

Agon’s mouth clamped shut instantly. Unsui massaged his forehead. When he looked back up, Agon was picking plastic out of his foot.

“That’s gross- knock that off. I’ll get some antiseptic,” Unsui grumbled. He slammed the industrial-sized aspirin bottle on the nearest flat surface and stormed back in to the bathroom. The antiseptic was waiting for him, perched in the medicine cabinet expectantly. He swore the little can looked smug.

“You shut up, too,” He growled at it, snatching it up and storming back into the living room. Agon was picking at his foot with a pair of tweezers.

“Didn’t I tell you to knock that off?” Unsui snarled, snatching up the tweezers out of his hand. “You’re gonna get it all infected and shit,” He sprayed some antiseptic on the cut, then handed Agon the tweezers.

“There- knock yourself out,”

“What, that’s it?” Agon whined.

“Yes that’s it! I’m not digging around in your nasty foot just to peel the plastic from your sunglasses out of it,”

“Damn, I coulda done that myself,” Agon grumbled, bending back over his foot.

“But you didn’t,” Unsui snapped. He slammed the antiseptic onto the table and snatched the aspirin up in the same movement.

“So what happened?”

“Now Reiko found out about Hiruma! Jeezus. I can’t believe this,”

“How?”

“How do you think? Next time I see him, I’m gonna kill him. Oh, and you won’t believe this- she was going on and on about how much she liked me and how many of her friends she was going to tell and shit like that. Like I fucking care!”

“Wasn’t the whole reason you were going out with her in the first place because you cared about people starting rumours?”

“Traitor! Judas! You’re next, y’know that? After them, I’m coming after you! You’re all gonna die!” Agon roared, waving the tweezers like a baton. “Right after I’m done picking plastic shit out of my foot,”

“Shut up,” Unsui advised. He slumped on the couch next to his brother and waited for him to finish picking plastic out of his foot.

He let his head fall back and stared quietly at the ceiling, doing his best to ignore Agon’s muttering. He didn’t need this. Not every day, at least. Maybe every once in a while he could pack up a change of clothes, some money and his toothbrush and go crash at a friend’s house. No need to sit here every night and wait for the roof to finally give up and cave in.

And the whole thing was Agon’s fault. Completely and totally. Unsui would never have offered that Hiruma sleep on the couch, no matter how cold the weather outside was getting. In fact, he probably would have let the fucker freeze. But Agon was insistent about the fact that Hiruma be given a place to sleep.

The original arrangement was that after school, Hiruma would unrolled the sofabed and then protected his personal space with homicidal ferocity. Then Agon convinced Unsui to sleep on the couch and Hiruma’s highly-protected personal space started to shrink rapidly.

Agon poked him in the ribs.

“You hear that?” Agon hissed.

Unsui sat up a little straighter.

“Hear what?” He asked. That was a stupid question. He knew exactly what he was supposed to be listening for, because he could hear the footsteps storming up the stairs just as well as Agon could.

“It’s him. I know it’s him,” Agon snarled, setting down the tweezers with every intention of walking over to the door and smacking whatever was walking past clean through a wall, regardless of foot injury or the possibility that it wasn’t Hiruma.

“Sit down!” Unsui barked. “You were in too much pain to so much as pick up the tweezers five minutes ago, remember? Stay that way!”

Agon snatched the tweezers back up and gave Unsui a look of pure loathing. Unsui ignored him, turning his attention back to the sounds of footsteps in the hall way. Please keep walking, he prayed silently.

The feet stopped at their door. Unsui squeezed his eyes shut and gave God one last chance to prove to a life-long atheist that he really did exist. Maybe it was one of their parents.

Agon rose slowly to his feet, hissing softly.

“Sit. Down.” Unsui said dangerously. Agon glared at him, then sunk back into this seat. Someone was rattling with the doorknob. Mr. and Mrs. Kongou had keys to the apartment, but Agon had never bothered getting Hiruma a key. Either Agon dragged Hiruma back into the house, or he picked the lock open. And somebody was picking the lock open.

Unsui dove for his room. The door slammed open.

“Bastard!” Agon roared, tossing the tweezers full-force at the entrance. Unsui hit the floor and rolled into the doorframe of his room.

#that's it! that's how it ends! but i just.. i laugh every time #such chaotic bfs #YoiAgo #fanfic

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impatient14 · 7 years

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Plot vs. Theme: There is no BBC’s Sherlock without JohnLock

I’ve seen so many people pointing out how the show just doesn’t make any sense without TJLC, and as tinhatters, we instantly agree, but series four just legitimized that theory. That’s what all the confusion, plot holes, OOC moments, and inconsistencies are ultimately about.

If you think about it, when did the feeling of something’s just not right first happen? Most people would agree that feeling began right after Mary shot Sherlock.

Enter Extended Mind Palace Theory.

(Here are some metas on that, in case you haven’t read up on the theory yet. Original Masterpost by @monikakrasnorada @gosherlocked @the-7-percent-solution, EMP is Alive and Thriving, Comprehensive EMP Analysis, The Three Sherlock’s, TST = TLD+ TAB, The Final Problem: Oh Sherlock, You’re Dreaming by @jenna221b)

In my opinion, EMP is still the only theory that could account for all of the fuckery, but also the only theory that simultaneously makes a concrete statement.

Nothing makes sense without Johnlock. The writers have said over and over again that the point of the show is not the cases. Its John and Sherlock’s relationship.

EMP may be how the writers are choosing to connect dots that are seemingly unable to be connected, but that isn’t the entire story. EMP is the plot or more specifically the plot device, but Johnlock is the theme and NOTHING makes sense without it. Infact, every time we could have gotten canon Johnlock, but we don't, things get even more strange. When the theme is ignored, the plot becomes senseless.

I’m going to break this down into segments of when JohnLock could have gone canon to make this easier to digest.

1.) What happens after Mary shoots Sherlock? He dies. Of course, he remembers his beloved childhood pet first…*cough* There is no Euros *cough*…but then he dies. What brings him back? His true love for John. (Hello, Princess Bride parallel)

Okay, JohnLock on track here…but then what happens? Who does Sherlock wake up to- or more importantly, who does he NOT wake up to?

John. John was not shown at Sherlock’s bedside, which is odd because we know he was there in the hospital and we know he cares for Sherlock. If we had been given a scene with John at his bedside, it would not have been unrealistic to have a canon Johnlock moment there. John crying, Sherlock awakening to a kiss on his forehead, the truth comes out. But that’s not what happens.

We get Sherlock’s fake ex-girlfriend, Janine there instead. It doesn’t make sense. John should be there, but he isn’t. His replacement is. She has, at this point, already been told that Sherlock isn’t really into her, already conducted multiple interviews, and all of the interviews have already gone to print, none of which include a bi-line about Sherlock having been shot. There’s no Johnlock and the scene doesn’t make any sense. When the theme is ignored, the plot is senseless.

Then what do we have?

2.) Watson domestic, where John is very angry and yelling about the entire situation, placing the blame almost entirely on Mary but lashing out at Sherlock too. At first, it feels genuine in a lot ways. John’s anger, Sherlock’s glibness, Mary’s inability to express any kind of emotion. However, that is because the theme of Johnlock is present in the line, “Because you chose her.” We feel the love Sherlock has for John in that moment, and we see the range of emotions that John goes through right afterwards. Its an honest scene up until this point. This is when John could have easily said, “well I’m choosing you now”, or something along those lines, and refused to listen to Mary. Canon Johnlock.

But what happens instead?

Sherlock pushes John back into his wife’s arms because, apparently, he has no reason not to. Mary’s gunshot was “surgery.” It saved his life. She’s just a victim. The innocent wife. The symbol of John’s heterosexuality. Sherlock props up the Watson marriage and then John forgives Mary for shooting Sherlock. He doesn’t read the USB despite his extreme trust issues. He doesn’t burn the correct or the same USB drive that Mary had given him. We are shown that clearly, over and over into the fourth series that he didn’t burn the right copy, but we were never given a resolution to this glaring plot point. When the theme is ignored, the plot is SENSELESS.

3.) Off to Appledore we go.Where John and Sherlock aren’t patted down, Mycroft is well aware that he is being drugged but does nothing to stop it, and CAM tells Sherlock it was very hard to find a pressure point on him, despite having seen a list with seven different pressure points listed when he meets Sherlock in 221 B. Why is it fucky? Because Sherlock and John are risking their lives and reputations to save a women who tried to (and successfully did) kill Sherlock, which doesn’t make a lick of sense.

There are two Johnlock moments within the scenes of Appledore. One very honest moment, which is followed up by very a realistic plot point, and then we have one Johnlock moment that seems very honest until it is tainted by Mary. Then the resolution of the second Johnlock moment seems genuine at first, but then gets fucky as well.

The first moment is when CAM points out that John is Sherlock’s “damsel in distress”, his pressure point- right before he realistically comes to the conclusion that he has been set up. The second moment is when Sherlock stares at John lovingly and then kills CAM. The loving look makes us think he is doing it for John, but then the line, “tell Mary she’s safe now” tells us that he was actually doing it for both The Watsons. At first it looks like we will have a realistic resolution to Sherlock murdering someone in front of a dozen people. He is sent to solitary confinement for a week before being banished, but then, big brother Mycroft comes in to save the day. Murder, Shmurder! & “That’s not how it happened at all” and so on. In short, it doesn’t make sense because Sherlock killed CAM so the Watsons could be happy and in love with each other. When the theme is ignored, the plot is senseless!

4.) The Tarmac is an extremely realistic and heart wrenching scene, where no fuckery (aside from Sherlock’s BFF status with Mary) takes place. Why? Because of the presence of Johnlock. You’ll notice that their entire exchange on the tarmac has no other people in frame. Its just the two of them, so its honest. Its so honest that Sherlock nearly tells John how he feels about him…but it isn’t to be. Mary is right out of frame. Its real, but its not enough. Sherlock doesn’t tell John how he feels, Johnlock still isn’t canon, and what happens? Dead Moriarty hacks the entire country and Sherlock has a drugged out gay Victorian fever dream. VERY REALISTIC GUYS!

At this point, after the Tarmac when we have the biggest aborted love confession in the history of television, NOTHING makes sense. I’ll refer you to this list, because the entirety of series four’s insanity is the result of Johnlock not going canon when it should have in series three. The plot holes, inconsistencies, OOC moments, and down-right falsehoods build on top of each other, each one a result of the failure to have John and Sherlock come together when they should have. All of it is an elaborate way of showing that the story doesn’t work without the theme. Without the point. And the whole point is Sherlock and John’s relationship.

WHEN THE THEME IS IGNORED, THE PLOT IS SENSELESS!

5.) After Mary’s “death” Sherlock went to John to comfort him, but John wouldn’t have him. There’s an opportunity for Johnlock to go canon, but instead, we get a mysterious note we never see or hear of again and more sharks, followed by The Lying detective, which was phenomenal in many respects but still riddled with plot holes and oddities. See aforementioned list. In that episode, we have another opportunity for Johnlock to go canon, probably the most blatant in the entire show aside from the tarmac scene.John and Sherlock share the most beautiful hug in all the land, tears are shed, tender touches are felt and sweet words of comfort are murmured… but no canon JohnLock.

And what happens? Oh, just normal stuff…like..

John is shot in the head by Sherlock's psychopathic genius sister who he repressed and has no memory of. Her name is weird and Greek and happens to be the same name of the monster Mycroft created to scare Sherlock as a child. The Wind Monster apparently likes to shoot people with tranq guns then run away, leaving them to hire clowns to attack Mycroft, who updates his Lady Bracknell impression. Sherlock’s secret sister Jigsaw makes him, John and Mycroft run through a maze of mind and murder games that ultimately lead to Sherlock discovering that little sis happened to kill Sherlock’s dog, Redbeard, who was actually a representation of his best friend, Victor Trevor, whose bones John couldn’t ID as human and who also ate out of dog bowls. John gains the ability to remove his foot at will and Sherlock forgets he has a reflection.

WHEN THE THEME IS IGNORED, THE PLOT IS SENSELESS!!!

Basically, The Final Problem is the most purposefully ridiculous piece of fiction ever put to screen. And why is that? Because at this point in the story, without Johnlock, the plot is completely incomprehensible. You can’t have a sound plot without the theme. The theme of romantic Johnlock is so thoroughly buried in lost opportunities at this point, its barely scratching the surface. Deep waters, indeed.

7.) The ending of TFP is ambiguous though, which tells me that we are not done with our plot device just yet. There has been no resolution to EMP. Something even more fucky is going to happen at the beginning of the lost special (theories about that here, here, and here) something that makes Sherlock break the cycle and do something about his true feelings. This will wake him up, and we will get canon Johnlock at the point that makes the most sense in the timeline.

When Sherlock wakes up in his hospital bed and finds John sitting at his bedside. That’s when things went wrong. That was the first thing that never made sense. And you know why? Because in his head, Sherlock believes John incapable of loving him the way Sherlock wishes him to. Just like the casual audience believes Sherlock and John are incapable of loving each other the way they actually do.

What we’ve seen from Sherlock getting shot until now, is what the show looks like without canon Johnlock. Its nonsense. Nothing makes sense, no dots connect, too many spinning plates, and no satisfying resolutions. But if we go back to that moment, the moment Sherlock opens his eyes and the first person he sees is John? All will finally be well in the world.

When the theme is embraced, the dots will connect. The plot will finally make sense.

@loveismyrevolution @ebaeschnbliah @angatita @welovethebeekeeper @teapotsubtext @graceebooks @gregoryhouse @loudest-subtext-in-tv @yan-yae @jon-lox

#sherlock #johnlock #tjlc #the final problem #lost special #mofftiss #tst #tld #tfp

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lets-be-real-biscuits-blog · 6 years

Text

January 14th, 2018

Dream Log Entry #2

I had a badass dream, that I could totally turn into story. It starts out as a few friends from a college campus go into the woods. Turns out that a black ops mission is going on there, but the soldiers that are on the mission are there for one of them. One of them turns out to be a psychopath, with multiple personalities. So you know, half of the people that came to forest for a camping trip, die. And so does of few soldiers. The rest team up, but they still don’t know who the killer is, until he or she reveals themselves and tells them that they’ve been killing all those peeps in the woods. Then one of them loads a whole bunch of bullets in the killers face, and they think it’s over, until they realize they’re haunted by the killers ghost. And that’s how my dream ended. Let me know what you think?

***

I’m gonna give you guys a story today, so here it is.

“

The morning sun is shining through my window, it’s rays of light making little specks of dust in the air noticeable. Stretching, it dawns on me that I never set my alarm and it shouldn’t be this bright out. I bolt out of bed just as Dad knocks on my door. Feeling more capable to face them, I open my door. "Audrey, we need you to come downstairs for a family meeting.” I say “Okay, Dad, I will be down soon.”

I step back in my room to collect my thoughts. I feel awful about yesterday. Everyone has cancelled their day and is downstairs waiting on me. My whole family must have been worried sick. I don’t know what’s worse; telling them the truth or lying. Either way they are going to be concerned. Although, the truth may just get me locked away and that isn’t going to help solve anything.

Breakfast has been prepared and the family is waiting for me at the table. Hopefully, this doesn’t take too long, I’m supposed to be meeting the guys later. I sit down and everyone is silent for the first fifteen minutes or so. Mom seeing more than just my frustration finally begins. “So, sneaking out, or staying out past curfew can really worry me and your father.” I apologize again and mention that I need to be somewhere soon.

“Is it more important than this?” Mom asks. If they would just let me go it would be a lot easier for all of us. I need to meet up with them and I really don’t want to be late, or have them thinking I ditched them. “Can we just finish this later? I really need to go.”

“My God, Audrey, why can’t you stop being such a stuck up, little bi-”

“Eva!” My mom interrupts before she can finish. “No, Mom! She’s been ignoring all of us and acting like we don’t exist. It’s time for her to know what she’s doing and how it’s affecting us.”

“Audrey, your little attitude is really starting to tick me off and your worrying Mom and Dad to no end. You’re not going to therapy, you’re giving everyone the cold shoulder, and you’re staying out late; what has happened to you? You act like you don’t care at all. You’re basically a whole entirely different person, I don’t think I know you anymore.” This, coming from my older sister that I look up to and that stood up for me in my times of need. She has been hurt the most and I’ve caused it.

“Jesus, Eva! Knock it off! Quit giving her a hard time! You would act the same if you were in her place! She’s going through something no one should ever go through. Wouldn’t you want to stop worrying others about you losing your sanity and distance yourself?” Alec - who has been quiet this whole time - broke his silence. “She’s probably scared, Eva. At least try and put yourself in her shoes.”

Tears were brimming my eyes as I listened to Alec stick up for me. I’m causing my family to fight and I’m hurting everyone around me. My friends too. I put my head in hands - forgetting about being late – and a large crash comes from the kitchen. My dad instantly shoots up out of his seat, “What was that?” Eva asks. We all look towards the commotion and hear shuffling and footsteps.

“Hello, is anyone there?” My dad asks and takes a step forward. My mind goes to Nicklaus’ message of the impending danger. Could this be it? Could this be the thing he was warning me about? All of a sudden the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and an uneasy feeling comes over me.

“Hello?” my dad says again. I look up to see him by the kitchen door. “Dad, wait! No! Stop!” I yell, but it’s too late. The door slams open and my dad flies through the air and up against the wall. My mom screams, as he falls to the floor. “Dad!” Eva cries and they run to him. Four men step out of the kitchen and into the dining room, all of them with black eyes.

DEMONS!!!

I feel no pain this time but sense his presence. “Nicklaus?” I mumble under my breath.

“Call out my name when you need help. Just remember, you can handle this.” He says.

What? There’s no way I can handle this.

The demons move in closer as I take steps back. Come on, Audrey think! How am I supposed to know how to kill a Demon? Then I remember, Sam and Dean hunt these things. They can help me. My phone should be on the table near where dad landed, so if I can get over there and discretely grab my phone I’ll be good.

I hesitantly take a step closer to my family, before I bolt towards them. Dad is still conscious and looks alright, but the rest of them look frozen in terror. Appearing to run to my family’s side, I manage pick up my phone. Pretending to hide from them, I call Dean. I glance up to realize they are now only five feet away from us. “Who are you? What do you want from us?” Alec asks. The Demons smirk, “She knows what we want.” One of them gestures to me. Looking down I see that Dean has answered.

I have a plan. All of my family members look at me, I continue the stare down with the demon that spoke. “Are you sure I know what you black eyed jerks want?” I ask them loudly. By the look on their faces, my boldness isn’t pleasing them. I want to redirect their attention away from everyone else. I know Sam and Dean can hear what’s was going on, I just hope they aren’t too far away.

“So,” another of them spoke up, “Let’s get down to business.” The demon walks up to us and snatches Eva, putting a knife to her throat. “You’re gonna do what we say, or your dear sister’s throat will be sliced.” Eva panics in his arms as I glare at him. Sliding my phone in my back pocket, stand up, holding my hands up in surrender. Two demons grab ahold of me and the other stands over my parents and Alec.

The house suddenly begins to shake and a light shines through the windows. Overwhelmingly bright, delivering a peace into our home. The demons did not have the same reaction. They seem alarmed. “Call him off!” one demanded.

“What do you mean?” I ask. The light growing more and more intense.

“Call him off! Your archangel! Or your sister gets it!” He yells.

“Nicklaus, stop!” I yell over the rattling. The light dulls and the shaking settles. Everything calms and the demons seem more relaxed. Eva looks at me, confused. I look over at the rest of my family and their horrified faces were upsetting. We’re in trouble and we need help, badly. I pray that they’ll get here soon, I can’t handle this on my own.

I know Nick told me to call for help, if needed, but I’m afraid he’ll be too late and Eva’s throat will be slashed before he can get here. I need the element of surprise and hopefully the Winchesters had it. They told me they’ve been hunters all their life and that they’re professionals, my faith in them is at high right now. I just hope that they’ll make it before anything else happens.

Like an answered prayer, the door was swings open; Sam and Dean walk in holding guns up and aim at the demons. The one holding my sister pulls her in tighter and the knife lightly pierces her neck. A small line of blood trickles down her neck and suddenly something I’ve never felt before stirs in me.

Rage. It isn’t just any normal kind of rage, it’s a rage that can kill with no mercy, a rage I’m absolutely prepared for. My rage grows as my families’ cries of terror fill our home. A loud crash and a sizzling sound of sparks erupts behind me, making me close my eyes as more crashes fill the house. “What the-” Dean says and I open my eyes. I push a demon away from me and hit one in the head with my elbow. The lights flicker and more sparks come from the lamps. I grab hold of the demons head and a bright light breaks from his eyes and mouth.

He falls to the ground lifeless and the other one grabs ahold of me from behind. He has me trapped in his hold before he falls limp to the ground. Sam and Dean had stabbed him with a knife. I quickly look back at the demon holding Eva and the other demon by my parents and Alec.

“Get away from them!” I growled lowly before shoving them against the wall with an unknown force. Not knowing what was happening or how I was doing this, it was working. My family ran away once they were free. Black smoke seeping from their mouth and down into the floor, the possessed bodies became limp.

I let out a heavy breath and felt something trickle down my nose. I put my hand under my nose and wiped it. Red liquid stained my fingers; blood. I wiped it on my pants and looked over at my family, they were standing together closely, afraid if one of them were to stand too far away they would disappear.

Sighing, I say, “Now you know why I was distancing myself. This is exactly why I ignored you guys and kept to myself.” Looking at me, trying to comprehend what was going on. “What exactly just happened?” Alec asked. Before I can say anything, Dean interrupts. “You were attacked by demons.”

My parents look at each other like they couldn’t believe it. “And who are you? I’m sorry I don’t think we’ve met before.” Dad said, looking at Sam and Dean. Both of them look at my dad, “I’m Dean Winchester and this is my little brother Sammy, and no we haven’t.” Dean explains and focuses his gaze onto me. “You okay, kid?”

“Just peachy.” I say, sitting down on a chair. Eva has been quiet this whole time, staring off into space and hiding by mom. I feel horrible. My plan to not involve them in this failed and Eva is hurt. I need to make sure this doesn’t happen again.

There’s a strange flutter. Looking up to see a man dressed in a suit and trench coat in my living room. “Uh, Dean?”

“Sorry I’m late.” The man apologizes. Another familiar stranger. It clicked, like a million different puzzle pieces fitting together.

“Castiel?”

“

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