#Publisher: Deep Hearts YA

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello! I've read your soap and price fics and you are amazing!!!

I had an idea for a fic for Ghost. The reader would be Soaps slightly older sister who isnt like Johnny at all. Im thinking she either picks up soap from base after an op or from the bar. I'll leave alot of this up to you but i just wanna see Soaps Sister meeting Ghost!!

Brother's Coworker

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Soap's Sister!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the dim illumination of the streetlights, Ghost lays eyes on a woman leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp.

WORDCOUNT: 4.2k

WARNINGS: Little bit of angst, but mostly fluff and pre-relationship pining, loads of sibling banter, conflicting emotions, etc.

A/N: Finally able to use my sibling experiences for a fic lmfao, enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The woman was leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp, the custom color a deep forest green along the sides and a cream white coating the upper third. Ghost stared at her as the rest of the men filed out of the bar one after the other—Johnny and Gaz being especially loud. He blinks slowly, hands inside his blackened pockets.

Across the way, your ears perk slowly at the sound of rapturous shouts, but you only continue to look down the sidewalk at the long illuminations of street lamps and the glints of broken bottles on the ground. Over your chest, your hands shift in their hold on your biceps, your thin jacket crinkling. Light dances in your irises.

“Oi, is that who I think it is?!” Familiar Scottish drawl brings a smirk to your face, and you turn slowly to huff, snapping out of your silent thoughts. 

“Who else would it be, ya bloody git,” your voice carries, but it lacks the sheer volume of your brother’s; the great boom that reminds you of the bombs he’d used to make out of your mother’s hair spray bottles. 

Never a dull day in your childhood home, really.

“‘Bout gave me a heart attack, not answerin’ my calls like that!” Johnny laughs loudly, obviously drunk, and stumbles over merrily. You’re taken into a chest-breaking hug in mere moments, leaving you squirming with a deep grunt. “Should have your head, MacTavish.” You manage to squeak out, “Put me the fuck down, you horror. And what in the hell have you done to your hair?!”

“Oh, my dear sister.” Your brother lets you go as the three other men slink over, amused with the scene but some momentarily confused by the sudden introduction. Gaz laughs, and the Captain huffs a chuckle before fixing the position of his beanie on his head. 

Ghost, as always, chooses to watch like a looming shadow above the rest. 

Johnny puts a hand to his chest, the other remaining on your shoulder, “You wound me. Such cruelty stuck in your black soul; I say now, mother was always right—”

You smack the side of his head and Johnny grunts. 

“Ow!” He yells, glaring at you. “What the fuck?!” 

“Open your mouth again and I’ll wring you out, you arse. You know I will.” Grumbling, the Scot rubs the side of his head as you raise a brow at him. The stare-off lasts for a decent bit, and before the rest of the group knows what’s going on, the two of you are embracing each other once more; laughing loudly. 

Ghost’s eyebrows pull in slowly.

“Ah, it’s good to be back!” Johnny chuckles, holding you close as you pat his back.

“Of course, I’d find my kid brother at a damn pub on his first day home.” Taking a step away from the hulk of a boy, you brush down your shirt and jacket with a scoff. Looking up, you come to face the remaining men with an exasperated look. “He’s full of shite half the time, y’know, now. Can’t imagine what he puts you all through.”

“Bloody hell, Soap, you were holding out on us,” Gaz chuckles loudly, sticking out a hand for you to shake while he glances at the mohawked Scot who looks giddy despite being insulted by who’s very obviously his older sister. “Never knew you had siblings, Mate.” You take the man’s hand as he smiles brightly at you. 

“Kyle.” He says, and you beam back, “But Gaz’ll do just fine.”

“A pleasure,” your voice carries to John who you raise a brow at teasingly. “Well, look who the Reaper’s yet to drag down…Good to see you again, Captain.”

Price shakes his head, a smirk peeling his lips as Gaz steps back. 

“Still on that land of yours, then, Love?” The brunette asks gruffly, leaning back on his heels for a moment while you sag your side into Johnny’s arm. Your brother scoffs and loops his limb over the bridge of your shoulders as you nod. 

“You know it. Proper quiet when the neighbors aren’t up to a ruckus racin’ down the streets. Christ, those kids are devils—worse than Johnny and I when we were young.”

“Now that’s hard to believe, eh?” The man beside you laughs through his slurred words and you roll your eyes. 

Chuckling in return, you blink, spying on the intent black figure behind everyone else. Piercing brown eyes dig past flesh like a scalpel while you tilt your head to the side, interest alighting behind your skull. He doesn’t move or even greet you, just looks over you and then turns his attention to the street like a roaming bear would; hell, he certainly could be a bear with how big he was. Bigger than Johnny, even. 

This stranger wears a large brown leather jacket, the hood of his underclothes pulled up to cover most of the pale skin that would otherwise be visible. The long swish of light lashes captures you as you study the way he blinks slowly across the road. On his chin and on the top of his forehead, the fabric of a skeletal-painted balaclava shrouds him. Cargo pants and large black combat boots sit on his feet. 

He stands like a statue. 

“Who’s this then?” You call easily, and those eyes travel back to you even as the head doesn’t. It’s strange the way you seem to brush aside the blatant intimidation he exudes simply by standing.

“Ah,” John grunts, chuckling, before stepping to the side. “Simon, introduce yourself.” 

A low voice lowly wafts after a moment to silence, Manchester accent spearing you in the ears with its rough make-up, “Ghost.” 

You blink over at the Captain, but he just shakes his head and you move on. Johnny chuckles and whispers to you, “Don’t mind ‘em, Lt’s a bit rough around the edges.”

Plastering on a polite smile, your chin moves in a nod, “Pleasure to meet you, Ghost. Good to know the other two who look after Johnny out there.” The man beside you feels his face burn, free hand going to itch at his neck.

Ghost grunts and shrugs off the veiled praise, large muscles stiff.

“You’re actin’ like I’m not the one savin’ their skins half the time,” Gaz interjects on the Scot’s point.

“Is that what you call it?” You share an amused glance at John. 

Though, your eyes always sway back to Ghost, or Simon, depending on who you ask. He listens to the chatter, obviously, but he seems much more content to only stay with his hands inside of his pockets and study the street for...what exactly? The beast wasn’t shy, no, just…silent. If you didn’t know better you’d call him aggressively casual with the way his shoulders sit.

Stance relaxed but the underlying threat was palpable on the wind. Like a wolf rubbing his cheeks on the ancient trees of his territory. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ - it seems his very DNA states that.

Brown eyes suddenly lock with your own as if snapping into place and before you can release a squeak of alarm, you swiftly dart your gaze away back to the arguing Sergeants; face burning.

Christ, how long had you been staring at him?

“Alright, you two, ease off it!” Trying to distract yourself, you wave a hand. “You’re both too drunk to be gettin’ into street fights at this hour. Johnny, into the car ya fool.” 

Your brother slashes you with a grin.

“Fuckin’ finally, a decent bed!” It was tradition to give Johnny the spare room when he was back home—proper meals. 

“You’re callin’ mother, y’know.” You unlock your car and motion to the passenger seat with a frown. “I dinnae care if you’re trapped for hours—give the woman a rest of all her worrying.” 

“You heard the woman, Sergeant,” John forces the gravel out of his throat, rubbing at his beard. Something hits your chest as your brother opens his door as you stand in the cold. You glance at each man in turn; eyebrows pulling in with thought.

“Ah, what the hell,” your voice huffs out. Ghost watches you closely, blinking as he lifts a hand to itch at his neck from under his hood. The leather jacket crumples with tiny shifts of worn-out material. 

“Don’t suppose you boys need any good beds to rest your heads on for the night?” Wiggling your keys, you pat the top of your Hillman as you slide to the driver's side. Johnny slinks inside his own and chuckles as he closes the barrier with a careful thunk. 

“Hospitality finally leakin’ in?”

“Next time I hit ya,” you send him a bland look, “I’ll aim for the neck.” Fake flinching towards him, the man squeaks and snaps quickly back into the car door as you snicker lively. 

“Beast!” Johnny exclaims. You roll your eyes and shimmy down the window behind him, calling out as the rest share glances.

“Get in if you’re comin’ over! If not all the food I made yesterday’ll go to waste!” That seemed to get Gaz into the back, with only Price and Simon left behind. 

Brown meets blue and John’s beard pulls back with a smirk. He clears his throat, “Well, I’m not one to spit in her face.” The Captain walks over and grunts as he bends down. 

Ghost sighs under his breath and follows, impartial as to where this night is going. He wouldn’t sleep tonight, no doubt. The hard and unforgiving beds on base were the only things he could rest on now save the ground. And food? He could go without food for days.

Though, being Johnny’s sister bought you some favor, trust wasn’t something that Simon gave around freely. But the car you drove was nice, and the company of his Task Force was easy to basque in until they shipped out again. 

Simon sits down on the refurbished seat and softly closes the door behind him. Dead-eyed, he stares at Johnny’s headrest as you glance at him from the rearview mirror—seeing his shoulder dig into the glass of the window. 

You shove down a joke and hum. “Good, then, it’ll free my fridge at the very least.” 

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Gaz offers as you start up the engine, “it’s awfully nice of you to do this for us.”

“Ah,” Simon hears you dismiss as he turns to stare out of the window; so often feeling his gaze drawn back to you as a leaf attached to a tree might act. “Don’t worry your head about it. I like the company.” 

“Aye, just how she is,” Johnny says earnestly. “Was always the one to let me over with my pals when the football games were over—’cept we were usually covered in mud.”

“I’m still finding grass in my rugs, Johnny Boy,” you mumble, focusing on the road as a slight squeaking emanates from the front of the car. Simon picks up on it easily, not preoccupied with speaking. He glances at you but mentions nothing beyond a shuffling of his thighs. 

Outside the land slides past in shades of verdant green and gray as the town falls away. 

He was confused, rightly. You’d seen his standoffish nature but had chosen to extend hospitality as the old Greeks did just off a growl of his name. But maybe it was just because he was your brother’s coworker. 

Simon grunts to himself and rubs at his wrist. Throughout the ride, the two of you would glance at each other and try to forget that you had; when the long driveway of a large secluded home expands out above the car, Gaz whistles lowly.

“Bloody hell, Ma’am,” he states and John chuckles. You easily smile and roll your eyes. 

“Trust me, it was more work than it was worth.” Ghost’s attention is slightly peaked.

“You worked on it?” His tone implies he doesn’t care, but his eyes gore into the mirror to lock with your own. Blinking in surprise, even the others seem to be taken aback by the man's lack of venom in his speech. 

Ghost wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when he needed to, but he didn’t do mindless chatter. Your eyes cycle between the driveway and the masked Brit before you clear your throat. Johnny glances at you with a raised brow, slight confusion in his brows. 

“Mostly—left the nasty bits to people more knowledgeable than I am, but I did most of the grunt work, eh?” Simon hums as the car pulls to a stop inside the garage, eyes not leaving the back of your head. 

Your neck bristles at the sensation of unrelenting contact, but the burning that joins it is telltale. Licking your lips you twist the keys out and quickly shuffle out of the door to dispel the electricity in the air. 

“Alright,” you say, “out. All of ya…Johnny, you’ll be helping me with the bedding.” 

A groan is cut by an unimpressed glare. “...Yes, Ma’am.”

You huff and smirk. 

“Trainin’ him well I see,” teasing John as they all file out of the car, he shakes his head at the two of you as Simon scoffs. Gaz openly laughs as Soap’s offended look grows. 

You all enter the house as you direct them to the kitchen after they’ve taken off their boots and hung their jackets. “It’s all in the fridge, heat what you want, and don’t bother fightin’ Johnny if he takes too much. Tell me and I’ll make him sleep in the back near the chickens.” Your voice tells them as you pat your brother on the shoulder. 

Johnny grumbles and kisses the top of your head. “You’re horrible to me,” He jokes but his eyes shimmer with affection. As you leave to get a head start on the rooms, you smile and call out to him.

“That’s my job!” 

Backing out into the hallway, you leave with a deep well of happiness in you. You don’t even realize that the party had only contained three men instead of four until you’re in the linen closet and a shadow suddenly blacks out the light from the bulbs. Jumping slightly, your head swivels as you carry very many sheets and pillowcases in your grip. 

“Oh,” you mumble through cotton, smile growing as the flip in your stomach does, “Ghost! Done eating already?” 

The man is still and silent as he glances from your face to the sheets. Without a word, he halves the load and steals them as your jaw loosens in shock.

“Johnny’s outside callin’ your mum.” Ghost turns and walks out, but waits for you in the hallway to be directed. 

You push down the tightness to your throat and see the man’s feet shift on the hardwood. He looks funny, such a big man carrying bed sheets. His actions make your heart speed up. Brown eyes blink at you like a cat. 

“Well,” you chuckle, “always was one to get out of housework.” Trying a smidge more, you shift past him and turn off the light. “His barracks room dirty?”

“Pigsty.” Simon blandly states, walking slightly behind you. Your pace slows so you can stay beside him. He side-eyes you but says nothing. 

Leaning in slightly, you quip as Ghost tenses, “Can’t say I’m surprised. The man’s used to me bailin’ him out.” Chuckling, you go into the first bedroom and put everything on the bed. 

Simon grabs the pillows and starts to dress them quickly and efficiently. 

“But thank you,” you say, and the Brit pauses to look up at you, something swirling in his murky gaze. Earnestly, you tilt your head with a smile. “Ya can go back and eat more if you want. No need to help—you’re a guest.”

“Not hungry,” is all he answers, and gets back to work. You watch for a moment, perplexed, but not at all about to deny the assistance. A genuine grin twitches your lips. 

“Johnny writes about you, y’know,” your fingers pull at the fabric and you chuckle as Ghost’s incredulous look turns to you—face hidden but confusion is obviously seen. “Says he looks up to you quite a bit; something about Mexico.” 

Your face dips slightly, and Simon’s body stills. Along the pillow, his grip carefully tightens. He can’t find it in himself to walk out of the door and stand outside even if he knows he should. 

“I really can’t imagine what it’s like,” you mutter, shaking your head. Gazing at him, you study his wound muscles and secret flesh like a tapestry—wondering if he hides himself because of the safe anonymity or a sense of numb fear. 

He wouldn’t admit to either, you know. But something about Simon had captured your attention and now you had a face, or just a body really, to put to the written name like a puzzle piece. 

You take a long breath, “But you’ll never know how grateful I am.” 

By the way his chest stops moving and his body goes frozen, you think you hit something inside of him; the minute widening of his eyelids like pedals opening in the light. Simon peers at your expression, his eyes sliding from one point to another. 

Like he can’t really pinpoint what you want. 

Ironic really, because you didn’t want anything. 

“Don’t thank me,” is what he settles on, moving back to the pillow as if your words hadn’t stabbed him. “Johnny knows what he’s doing.”

Your small snort enters the air above the sliding sheets. “There’s no argument there.” A sigh echoes as you finish up, putting your hands on your hips. Across the bed, you two stare as Simon tosses down the pillows. The remainder of the sheets sit on the end of the bed. 

The man’s eyes narrow on you, and he clenches his jaw under his balaclava. 

“The only thing that I do know is that every time my brother comes back he smiles less than he did before.” You side-eye him seriously as you move. “I can only guess what all of it does to the others who don’t have anyone else to go back to.”

Simon’s breath halts in his chest before he finds the means to take down a slow inhale. Brown eyes glare intently, jaw tight, but it’s not the fire that gets to you…it’s the lack thereof.

Ghost doesn’t like this feeling, and your candidness was something he hadn’t expected.

“So,” you drawl, “I’m thanking you for giving him someone to joke around with—a distraction,” a teasing smirk, “no matter how blunt.” 

“I just told you—”

“Well, I don’t bloody care, do I?” Huffing, you smirk and tip your head back before snatching the rest of the sheets. “C’mon, we have three more rooms.” 

Simon watches you leave and tries to fight the rampage in his chest; the merciless slam of his heart to his ribcage. What had you done to him? A hand comes up and rubs into the bridge of his nose, fingers heavy and tight. 

What in the hell was going on? 

Growling under his breath, Ghost stalks out of the room only to see your back disappear into the next. In the hallway, he takes a long inhale and closes his eyes to steady himself. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man grunts. The tension in his shoulders was plainly visible. 

For the remainder of the room, Ghost would send you tight glances as he worked but didn’t utter another peep. You had taken his voice, or what little left of it there was. 

In many ways, you were like your loudmouth brother—your snark and your stubbornness. But you were different too. 

He feels his eyes trail down your form slowly from time to time. Capable; hardy. Simon blinked away and grunted under his breath aggressively. 

When everyone was done with their food and Johnny had come back in from his call to his mother, with a soft smile on his face, you knew it was time for bed. 

“Alright,” you strut into the kitchen with Ghost on your heels—his large arms crossed over his chest as he caught Soap's intense stare. The Lieutenant's brow raises, but Johnny only frowns in conspiracy before he looks over to you and itches at his chin. “Beds are made. You can all thank Simon for that, seein’ as Johnny used our mother as an excuse yet again.”

“And she was very pleased to hear from me!” Your brother points to you.

“She’s our mother,” you deadpan, “It’s her job to be, ya arse-face.” 

The boys all follow you down the halls as you point to the rooms. Gaz shakes your hand again and gives you a tiny hug in thanks while John pats your shoulder and calls a soft, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.” 

Both close their doors and you hear the large sighs through the wood. You have to wonder when they’d had a good bed to sleep on and a good meal. Last was your brother and Ghost, the latter of which kisses your head and hugs you tightly. 

“It’s good to see you, truly. Been missing you, little Hen. Thanks for lettin’ me over all the time when I’m home.” You melt and grip his shirt. 

“You’ll always have a place here, you know that. One call away…Now go to sleep. You smell like a pub.” He lightly chuckles against you. With a bond this tight, the two of you never had to say that you loved each other—it was just known.

Johnny squeezes you one last time before pulling away and slinking into his room, giving an unrecognizable glance to Ghost on his way in before the barrier slips into place with a quiet thunk of wood. The two of you look at and stare for a moment. 

“Lucky you,” your voice is quiet but easy to hear, “you get the room with a view of the field.” 

“Color me surprised,” he mutters, not looking enthusiastic. Against the tone, the look makes your mouth jerk in a laugh, and you cover your lips after a moment. 

Simon’s eyes unconsciously soften. 

You wave a hand, chest light, “Let’s go then, you brute.”

“Brute?” Simon grumbles, “Gettin’ familiar?” 

“Please,” you shake your head and walk to the last door in this section of the house. “You all became familiar the second we met.” 

The man rolls his eyes but has his smirk hidden as you open the door for him. He tilts his head in thanks and strolls inside.

You hum, crossing your arms ahead of you and leaning on the doorframe as he looks around, “Don’t think too much over it… The baseline is, you’ll always have a bed here if you need it.” 

Ghost slips out, “What are you? Bloody boarding house?” The swelling in his chest made his words harsher than intended, but you just smile cheekily at him as eyes lock.

“Hell’s bells, if you want ta’ get me a business card just go ahead and print ‘em off already. I’ve no problem with it.” He stares and you laugh, shrugging. “Makes me feel good.”

Splaying your hands, you back out. 

“I know you probably won’t sleep,” Simon pauses, feeling caught but not showing it. “Libraries down the hall—if you smoke, use the back door. Kitchen is free game.”  

“Why?” He asks and you blink, confused.

“Well, why not?” Simon glares.

“You shouldn’t trust people like that.” A loud laugh echoes and makes the man annoyed with you.

“Simon,” you say, and he finds himself hanging on every word that falls from your lips in the moonlight. “Not everyone is out to get you. If you’re friends of Johnny’s, then you’re friends of mine. That boy can sniff a cheat faster than a hound can find a hare.” Perhaps it was the way his shoulders went back at that, or how his brows loosened, but you finish off with a soft explanation. “You’re safe under this roof.”

You wondered, not for that last time that night, if he’d ever been told that. From how his balaclava moved with a sharp jerk of his jaw, you assumed never. It made your lungs hurt. 

With a few more seconds of quiet gazing you nod and move back. 

“Goodnight, Simon.” You leave him staring at the door as you close it—eyes boring into the grain so harshly they might catch fire. 

Ghost doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but his ears twitch at the echo of running water and soundless footsteps. He should leave, he tells himself; this is dangerous, a voice hisses. It’s not safe here, how could it be? There were no guards—no weapons. If someone were to sneak in there wouldn’t be an alarm. 

A secluded home. Nothing around. 

Then why had your words seeped into him?

“You’re safe under this roof.” Simon closes his eyes harshly.

—

In the morning once everyone’s gone back to the base, you admit you don’t know if you’ll see Simon again; you probably won’t. But you find that you can live with that. The memory of his loosening tension is all you need to feel special in your own right. Those brown eyes that, if but for a moment, had bled so effortlessly feelings of something other than blood and death. 

As you sigh a dreamy chuckle to yourself, you get ready for the day before heading to your Hillman. The silent drive to work joins with the strange mix of weight and levitation to your chest. But halfway into town, it hits you. 

Silent.

There is an obvious lack of squeaking from under the hood of your car as you slide along the countryside. 

The smile doesn’t leave your face for weeks.

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[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in your Area 9

masterpost

“Good morning!”

Jason winced and moved the phone a little further from his face. “Is this Doctor Fenton?” 

“It's one of them! What can I do ya for?” Jack Fenton boomed, just as bombastic as his newsletter made him seem. Jason knew, deep in his heart, that Jack Fenton was indeed the one who had selected green neon bold for his headings and borders. 

Angels wept. Jason scrubbed his palm over his eye. This man had no poetry in his soul. “I, uh, had some questions about a ghost. I've read some of your articles and your most recent published paper on the topic.”

“We love ghosts!” Fenton bellowed. “Ask away!”

“Do you know a ghost called Phantom?” Jason tried.

“...Sure do,” Jack Fenton said. “Whatcha need?” 

Jason cleared his throat. “It's somewhat complicated,” he said evasively, because he didn't need these people to know he was the Red Hood. Fuck. He should have either gotten his helmet stored away or not given his real name. Phantom knew his face and that his name was Jason. Any information that got around via Phantom might tie his face to his alter ego. If Phantom said he got married to Jason, the Red Hood, that could lead to the end of the Bat family vigilantism.

“...He cause you trouble, sport?”

Jason let out a slight laugh. “You could say that, though it wasn't really his fault,” he admitted. He cast a paranoid eye out the window to be sure no siblings were creeping on him. “No, it's really more that…” Fuck, he should have planned this better. “Is there any information you can give me about how a human could contact him?” 

Not that Jason didn't have a phone number for the guy. But it made him very uncomfortable to have any basic knowledge or way to track Phantom down if he decided to leave Jason to whatever was going on. 

“I could probably do that,” Jack Fenton said slowly, now sounding like an entirely different human being. “Say, you wouldn't be Jeremy, would you?”

Jason blinked. “...How did you know?” He went with. Phantom had contact with a human guy named Jeremy? That might be his in.

“Oh, well then, you've definitely got to come over,” Dr. Fenton wheedled. It somehow came across as shifty. “You'll be wanting a whole primer on how the Ghost Zone works, won't ya?” 

“That would be immensely helpful,” Jason agreed. “But I'd hate to take up your valuable time.”

“Nonsense!” Fenton bellowed. Jason nearly lost his grip on his phone in surprise. “Come over Jeremy, I'm dying to meetcha!” 

So, there was a plan. Jason packed for a day trip and dialed up his travel agent. 

“Fuck off,” said Tim. “I'm busy. Christ.” 

“I need an airplane ticket and a rental bike to Illinois,” Jason continued. He tossed his mostly full bag on the sofa and went digging for the socks he knew he had washed the other night. “I'm going to go see some nerds about my impromptu adventure the other day.”

Tim groaned. That was the first Jason had given any hint at all about what had happened to him when he'd been ‘sacrificed.’ “What nerds?” He asked wearily. 

Jason grinned into his sock drawer. Gottem. “Why, do you all know each other?” He asked blithely. 

“Do you always antagonize people you want favors from?” Tim whined. A keyboard clacked rapidly in the background. “Jason, I swear to God, you massive bitch. Cut the crap and communicate, or I'm hanging up.” 

Jason frowned at his socks and grabbed a random pair. “You don't gotta be like that,” he said sulkily. He slammed the socks into his bag with a very unsatisfying silence. “So, the ritual doohickey sent me to the infinite underworld, I met a guy there actually and we are magically connected because he's who that dumb ritual matched me up to. He doesn't want to be stuck with a human so we are on the same page about breaking this. We started looking for answers and he took me back to Earth since it's not good for humans to be in the green dimension for too long.” 

There was silence from the other end of the line for a few seconds. “You're fucking lying,” Tim said. 

“Only by leaving things out.” A bit stung, Jason pulled a hand through his hair and accidentally ruined his good hair day. 

“What are you leaving out?” Tim rejoined swiftly.

Jason laughed at him. “You think you're getting that kinda information in exchange for plane tickets?” He asked incredulously. 

“You are the most annoying person who has ever tried to kill me.”

Ouch. That genuinely stung.

“Fuck off.” Jason slammed the drawers shut. 

“I could guess aliens or supernatural off of what you just said.” Tim ignored Jason’s very good point. “Based off of your trip to the Gotham U campus and-”

“Are you still stalking me?” Jason cut him off, incredulous. He scoffed. “Little buddy, you already got my pixie boots, Red Robin costume, and my Dad. What else do you wanna take from me?”

“I think that you were there to assess Daniel Fenton,” Tim ignored him.

Jason was silent for a moment. There was probably no point in pretending that Tim was wrong. “You already knew about the Fenton’s connection to the supernatural.” He was suddenly tired.

“His older sister is an intern at Arkham, she stepped out of line to get a chance to talk to Jeremy Waters.” Tim didn’t seem to notice that the mood had changed. He was caught up on whatever twenty level plan was whirring away internally.

Jason looked at the wall for a moment, not bothering to think about why that name was familiar. “...and that is…?”

“The guy who kidnapped you, keep up,” Tim snarked. “Her supervisor guessed what she was hinting at, shut her down, put a note about it in the private server so there was a paper trail if she turns out to be a collaborator.”

““Private” is a strong word to describe that server.” Jason rubbed at his jawline and hefted his bag out to the bathroom to gather his shaving kit. 

“Mmhm,” Tim said blandly. “I bugged her phone. The signal is absurdly bad, unexplainably bad. She doesn’t send a lot of messages, but she had a very suspicious call with Daniel Fenton where, among other things, she hinted she had inside knowledge regarding some kind of local mystery, possibly criminal activity. Her brother accused her of supporting crime.”

Jason groaned. “I’m going to interview their parents.” He checked that the razor blades were stowed away correctly before snapping shut the travel case. Then he noticed that his bathroom mirror could use a wipedown. He left his bag for a moment to dig for the cleaner.

“Probably for the best,” Tim said, definitely misunderstanding his purpose. “They seem…” He trailed off when he couldn’t find an appropriate adjective.

“You should read a book,” Jason said, because he saw an opportunity to be an asshole. “Anyway, I wanna get out to the area tonight and see them in the morning. What’s my flight?” He spritzed the glass and watched his reflection blur. It was oddly comforting to not have to stare at his green eyes.

‘That ghost zone was the same green as the Lazarus Pits,’ Jason thought dully. He didn’t really want to think about it. But he had a pretty good idea why he hadn’t had the reaction to the place that Danny expected a human to have.

“Kon could take you,” Tim said sweetly, which was basically a death threat. It was enough to jar him back to the real world. Kon was still not feeling chill about the Titans Tower scuffle. It probably wasn’t good for him to be so petty, but Jason was not going to be the one to tell baby Superdork that.

Jason winced. “I was thinking more like United.”

Tim snickered. 

[impala-dreamer]

Everything Has Changed

A Supernatural Story

~Sometimes, the person you fight alongside is also the person you with the most. And sometimes all that fighting is hiding other feelings, other desires...~

Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

2,615 Words

Warnings: Frenemies to Lovers. Talk of hunt gone wrong. Mentions of blood. Angsty fighting. Sexy kissing. PG-13. Young, cocky Dean.

Originally Published to Patreon May 2023

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

The tension inside of the Impala was just as thick as the mountain fog rolling across the winding country roads. The woods were as dark as Y/N and Dean were silent, neither wanting to speak again for fear of screaming once more.

The day hadn’t been great.

A simple hunt turned a little bloody on the wrong side and Y/N was hiding an almost certainly fractured wrist behind a mask of annoyance and self reliance. Dean was bruised and battered; various shades of red outlined his face from temple to jaw as the blood dried from claw swipes he failed to dodge.

They were a mess, but they were fine.

Physically fine.

Mentally, emotionally- things were rough.

For the better part of a year, Y/N had been teaming up with Dean whenever he called, easily slipping into the passenger seat when the Impala swung by. She was good, but not great. Eager to learn but annoyingly stubborn, often, like that afternoon, ignoring Dean’s warnings.

He shifted in his seat and gripped the wheel tight, his knuckles paling over the old leather. He sighed heavily, loudly, purposefully.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath and crossed her arms over her chest, wary of her wrist. She sneered but refused to look at him.

“Got something else to say?” she growled, prepared to pick up the fight if need be. She’d been rehearsing some biting remarks in her head for the last three and a half miles.

Dean clicked his tongue and set his right arm at twelve and his left hand dropped to his thigh. “No.”

Her neck nearly snapped as she whipped her face to look at him. “Ya sure? You’re a bit huffy over there.”

His jaw twitched. “So, what, now I can’t breathe? Is that a freakin’ crime?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Should be the way you do it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“I think you know.”

It meant absolutely nothing, but she had to say something, poke at him more.

“Ya know…” He took a breath and then shook his head, ignoring the impulse to explode. “Nah. Forget it.”

Y/N was enlivened, pulse rapid and eyes focused. “No, no, go on. Tell me more of what I don’t know, Dean.”

The way she enunciated each letter of his name made him shiver. It was hidden hatred shooting from her lips like poisoned darts to stab him in the chest.

He swallowed hard and scratched at his cheek. A cut reopened and his fingernail came back tinged in red. He rubbed it off on his jeans.

“You’re just- You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days and I won’t be around to jump in front of the bullet again.”

Y/N cocked a brow, shocked and enraged. “Seriously? Again with this?” She let out a curt laugh and turned away again, staring out of the side window. “You are so fucking sexist.”

Dean gasped. “Excuse me? Sexist?”

“Yeah. Sexist. You think because I’m a woman I can’t take care of myself. That I need a big, strong man in flannel to come save me everytime we’re in the weeds. Well, guess what, fucko- I can handle myself just fi-”

As Y/N ranted, her voice rising in volume with every word, a shadow passed in front of the car and Dean slammed hard on the brakes. The headlights barely helped guide them through the thick fog and he panicked, throwing his right arm out across the car. His hand landed on Y/N’s chest and he pushed her back against the seat, barring her from the force of the sudden stop.

The tires screeched, gravel hit the undercarriage.

Y/N’s breath stopped as her back hit the leather seat.

Dean’s heart was racing, his body tense and damp with sweat. His eyes were wide and he stared out at a giant buck who stared right back, black eyes unblinking and unconcerned about how close to death he just was.

“What the… fuck…” Y/N gawked at the deer and then Dean and then down at his hand that was still quite stuck against her chest. “What the fuck?” She swatted at his hand and he pulled it back, clutching it to his own chest. “What the fuck!”

Dean shook himself and ran a hand down his face before gesturing at the deer. “He just- out of fucking nowhere. I-” He took a deep breath and watched the deer finally move from the road and disappear into the trees. “Wow. Are you OK?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. I… I think so. Yeah.” She rubbed at her wrist and winced. “Let’s just get to the motel, please.”

Dean grabbed the wheel at ten and two and steadied himself. “Good plan.”

The motel room was quiet; dark. They hadn’t even left a lamp on before they’d left that morning, so Y/N stepped into utter blackness. Not even the broken, blinking neon vacancy sign outside the window could permeate the thick curtains, and she nearly tripped over Dean’s discarded dirty jeans.

“Son of a cu-”

He came in slowly behind, shutting the door behind him and flipping the light switch. “You OK?”

The lights flooded her eyes and she groaned, lifting a hand to shield her eyes as she very dramatically stepped over his pants.

“Yeah, sure. Just trying not to get myself killed tripping over your damned jeans.”

His sigh was deep and he threw the deadbolt as if he were wishing it death. “Are we gonna do this all night?”

Y/N grit her teeth and tugged off her jacket, refusing to turn to look at him. “Do what?”

“Fight.”

He sounded sad suddenly and the pain in his voice made her pause. She held her breath, thinking, deciding if a fight was what she truly wanted. It wasn’t, but she couldn’t admit that even to herself, let alone say it out loud- to him.

“Yeah.” She looked back over her shoulder. “Yeah. I wanna fight all night. Because I have nothing better to do. Like wash this blood off of me or close my eyes for five seconds or stitch up that gash on your throat. Or-” She turned and her eyes landed on his throat. Her stomach tightened at the thought of laying her fingers there, of feeling his pulse beneath her hands. “So yeah, let’s fight.” She let the sarcasm out like a lion and Dean flinched.

He licked his lips slowly and shrugged his coat off, tossing the oversized leather onto the sofa. He bowed his head and sighed again. “I don’t wanna fight with you.”

She held her ground, arms tight around her middle as he looked up at her, green eyes shaded by thick lashes. He bit his lip, holding in a frown, keeping his face steady.

“I never wanna fight with you, Y/N/N,” he said softly.

“Sure got a funny way of showing it,” she grit. “Yelling at me constantly.”

His shoulders tensed up. “I don’t- yell at you constantly. Just when you’re doing something stupid.”

Y/N threw her hands up and spun away. “There it is! Dean Winchester calling me stupid again.”

“I didn’t call you stupid! I said you do stupid things.”

Her lip twitched. “What’s the difference?”

He hissed, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed and intense. “There’s a big difference.”

The air sizzled between them and Y/N gave up. She rolled her eyes and turned away, heading for the bathroom.

“Ya know what? Fuck this. I’m taking a shower. You can sit in your filth for a while.”

Dean scoffed, done. “Fine. Good. Go.”

She took a step and then turned back, fist clenched and unfair rage boiling in her gut.

“No. I’m not done. While we’re at it-”

Trying to ignore her, Dean bent at the waist and untied his boots. “What? Wanna tell me how sexist I am again?”

She reared up, standing as tall as she could and still not casting a shadow near him. “Kinda. But since you mention it- What the hell was that back in the car?”

He stood, confused. “What was what?”

“Trying to cop a feel?” She gestured to her chest and raised a brow.

Dean laughed, disgusted at her accusation. “You idiot.” He waved her off and turned, sitting down to yank his boots off. “I was trying to keep you safe. That’s all I ever do anymore. Keep you safe!”

She clicked her tongue and sneered at him. “I can handle myself, you dick.”

His boots thudded on the bare carpet and he shook his head. “No. I don’t mean- I didn’t mean you can’t take care of yourself, I just mean-”

She didn’t let him finish, stepping closer and letting her voice grow. “What? Keep digging the hole deeper, Dean. Go on!”

He floundered. “I mean I… I’m just- I don’t want you to get hurt. OK?” He stood, unable to reason with her or himself. “Is that enough for you? Is that what you want to hear?” He ran his hand down his face, exhausted and hurting. “I’m scared you’ll get hurt or get yourself dead and then where will I be?”

She softened, but the fight was still tingling inside of her. “What would you care?” she spat.

He stalked towards her, fingers twitching at his sides; his annoyance with her at its peak. “Oh, I’d care, Y/N/N.” He stopped when his toes hit hers and he stared down, done with fighting, verbally and otherwise. “I’d really fucking care.”

The gentleness of his confession and the heat pushing off of him made her shiver.

She looked up, confused and a little scared. “You’re being weird.”

He laughed under his breath and lifted his hand, letting it hover over her cheek. “And you’re being a fucking… clueless… idiot.”

He leaned in and kissed her, exhaling hard against her lips, cradling her face in his big hand. The shock of it all closed her eyes and she held her breath, struggling to process. When he was done, he backed up an inch and looked down with a proud smile.

“I’ve been wanting to do that forever.”

She breathed again, taking in the scent of him, the heat, the desire. Her body ached but she refused to give in, confusion and self-doubt swirling in her head.

She tugged away from his touch. “Holy shit! You can’t just-”

He licked her taste from his lips. “You didn’t like it?”

Her stomach flipped and her heart pounded in her ears. “I mean, I did, but you can’t just- kiss someone like that!”

“So… I can’t do it again?”

His grin was devastating and she fought the smart voice in her head and dove into the stupid. She tugged on his collar and leaned against him.

“You better fucking do it again…”

This time, she breathed with him and he licked into her mouth with tentative curiosity. He tasted like the pile of onions he’d stacked on his burger at dinner, but in a strangely good way. Onions and whiskey and stale smoke. It should have been disgusting but on him it was special. It was Dean. He was kissing her. He was caressing her shoulders, dragging a hand slowly down her spine.

She broke away to breathe, a little dizzy, a little warm. “What the fuck are we doing?”

He dropped a kiss to the side of her mouth and his left hand fell to her ass. “Something we should have done forever ago.”

Y/N slid her hand from his collar down his chest, marveling at the tightness of his ribs and the softness of his belly.

His fingers curled at the nape of her neck and he tugged her closer as he hummed into her mouth.

She trembled, hooked a finger into his belt loop. “This is insane.”

“Is it?” He smirked and trailed his kiss down her jaw, stopping every other inch to enjoy her delicate skin. “I’ve been fucking dreaming of this. Of you.”

“Really?” Her head fell back as he licked at the dip of her throat. “I thought you hated me.”

“Could never hate you,” he whispered; teeth scraping her flesh. “Every time you get into a mess I go crazy. Don’t wanna lose you.”

She pushed at his chest and made him stop and look down at her. She bit her lip and blinked to clear her head.

“You never had me to lose, Dean.” She batted her lashes and jutted her hips forward just enough to make his eyes flutter.

He wrapped his arms tight around her and grinned. “Pretty sure I always did.” He kissed her again, shutting her up and leaning over her. She dipped backwards, clawing at his shoulders for fear of falling. “And if I didn’t…” He pecked her lips and let her go, leaving her cold and starving for him. “I do now.”

He walked away as if nothing happened, turning away from her and moving towards the bed. He shed his flannel and tugged his belt from its buckle.

“You’re a real asshole,” she whispered, mouth dry and thirsty for him. She spun to watch him, wondering what his game was.

He tugged his zipper down and let his jeans fall to the floor. “Am I though?”

She tried to think about it, to think about anything but the thick thigh muscles appearing beneath his boxers. “Um… Yes?”

“Not so sure anymore are ya?”

With one hand over his head, he tugged his tee shirt off and balled it up, tossing it into the bathroom. Her mind went blank for a long minute as she stared. He was cut up and caked in blood, but beautiful. She chewed her lip.

“Not so sure,” she admitted. “I think…”

His fingers teased at the hem of his shorts and he turned his right ear towards her, waiting. “You think what?”

Her mouth flooded as he inched the boxers down.

“I think…uh…”

Dean bent at the waist and yanked the thin fabric away. When he stood, he found her staring and his cheeks burst with heat.

“Tell ya what,” he said, stepping out of the shorts and toeing off his socks in the same movement. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. You can stay out here and keep thinking or-” He licked his lips and her thighs clenched. “You can join me.”

He disappeared into the shadow of the bathroom and Y/N stood staring at the place he’d left, her mind flipping over the last few minutes.

She heard the light flip on, the squeaky taps turn, the water start to rush onto the tiles.

The curtain shifted and steam appeared, billowing out into the room.

She was still thrumming from his kiss, burning from his touch, but her thoughts were a jumbled mess. If she went in there, she was gonna let him kiss her again. She was going to let him touch her, strip her clothes off, run his hands and eyes over her naked body. If she went into that bathroom, she was going to fuck Dean Winchester, the boy she’d been fighting with forever, the man who continually stepped in to save her ass from disaster. The annoying asshole with the perfect smile and cocky brow. The boy in the oversized leather coat and jeans ripped at the knees and a knife in every pocket. The hero she’d wanted since the first time they’d met.

Everything was going to change.

“You comin’?”

His voice startled her from her thoughts and Y/N sighed.

She kicked off her shoes and took a leap, walking into the steam and his waiting arms.

if you enjoy, please let me know! Feedback goes farther than you think, and reblogs are love

[loomiseater]

Request: Dilf! Billy Loomis x fem!reader x Ethan Landry

Plot: smut, go wild (not too wild)-bonus points if they bring the knives out to tease her

Blade

warnings: smut ofc!, knife play, ass eating, oral m!receiving, blood mentioned, sub ethan, scream au, plot twist, and intercourse.

Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.

Dilf! Billy Loomis x fem!reader x Ethan Landry

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A/N: This took me so long to write omg 😭 I hope u enjoy this <3

Written: August 28th, 2024- September 1st, 2024

Published: September 1st, 2024

Summary: You're teacher and boyfriend want to fuck you.

wc: 3,557

It was finally the last class of the day. I was so excited because I love this class, Mr. Loomis lets us do whatever and my boyfriend, Ethan, is in this class. Ethan was still making his way up to the classroom while I was already here.

My outfit was basic but cute today. High waist jean shorts, an oversized Obx shirt, and some all white dunks. ( I am the most basic black girl you will ever meet 😭) As I walked into the classroom I noticed Mr. Loomis eyeing me..hopefully he doesn’t say anything about my shorts.

But deep down I secretly hoped he noticed it.

As I walking to my seat I could feel his eyes staring holes into my back. My back was turned but I could just feel his stare. Mr. Loomis is pretty chill but he also has these intense glares to where you can’t tell the emotions he’s feeling.

As I was putting my stuff away I didn’t even notice Ethan. He sat down next to me and welcomed me with a warm smile. “Hey babe, how was your day?” He asked me while he was getting his laptop out. I smiled back at him before answering “It was good! And yours?”

“Kinda sucked, had a bunch of tests today” he responded. I frowned a bit since he didn’t even bother to look up at me. He was still rummaging in his backpack looking for something.

At least ten minutes into class, Ethan got up and went to the vending machine to get us snacks. I started scrolling on my phone and saw a post about the recent Ghostface killings. The shits terrifying, especially since it’s in Woodsboro.

Of course my parents choose to be out of town a lot when there’s murders going on, lucky me. I was looking into more details about the killings as Mr. Loomis came up to me. He took a look at my phone and his whole demeanor changed. It was almost as if he was…excited?

He pointed to my phone before he spoke up and said “ya know, I was around for the first killings” my eyes widened. I heard about the killings but I didn’t know Mr. Loomis was apart of the “Woodsboro Massacre” in the 90s. “Was the killer ever found?” I asked.

He stared at me for a bit before answering. He looked as if he was trying to figure out what to say. “It was actually two killers but, I guess they got away” he replied whilst shrugging his shoulders.

Before I could say anything else he went back to his desk. He looked like he was texting someone.

Weird.

I checked my phone to see if I got a text from Ethan, nothing from him but I realized my phone was on 10% so I decided to grab his backpack to look for his charger. I unzipped Ethan’s backpack and stuck my hand in the big pocket and all of a sudden I felt something…sticky? “What the hell?” I said to myself. I was so confused.

I took my hand out and saw red stuff on my fingers. My eyes widened and my heart was beating fast. I didn’t react as much because I didn’t wanna make a scene in front of everyone. But why the hell does Ethan have blood in his backpack?? He wouldn’t be a killer, right?

Ethan’s too dorky for that! He’s sweet and caring! The boy wouldn’t even hurt a fly. And besides, Ethan has a bright future ahead of him so I don’t think he would do anything to jeopardize that…right?

Okay, I could just be overreacting. Maybe its a prop! He is in drama class so that could explain. I want to look deeper in his backpack but I feel like thats an invasion of his privacy..but somethings telling me to keep looking.

I looked around the classroom first before digging in his backpack again. I felt something sharp and metallic like I didn’t pull it fully out the backpack but just enough to where only I could see.

It was a knife.

Why does he have a knife in his backpack? Is he gonna kill someone? Is he gonna kill me? But why would he kill me? I’m his girlfriend, of course he wouldn’t kill me. But then Randy’s words popped into my head.

"There's always some stupid, bullshit reason to kill your girlfriend."

In the corner of my eye I saw Ethan walking back into the classroom. I hurried and put everything back but I still had some of the blood on my hand. “Shit!” I said to myself. I hurried and wiped the blood on the inside go my shirt.

Before he walked over to me, he went to Mr. Loomis’s desk. Looks like they’re having a serious conversation, I wonder whats it about. Mr. Loomis looks angry and Ethan looks annoyed.

I saw Ethan walking back to our desk so started acting natural, acting like my boyfriend didn’t have a knife and blood in his backpack.

He threw the snacks on the table and sat back down in his seat sending death glares to Mr. Loomis.

“So..whats that about?” I asked him. He turned his body in my direction and now had a fake smile plastered on his face. “Just talking to him about a test” Ethan said. I knew he was lying, it was clear as day. I just nodded my head, I didn’t wanna make an argument about this.

I went back to scrolling on my phone, the classroom door opened and it was Sam Loomis. She’s Mr. Loomis daughter and also my best friend. She waved at me before she walked over to her dads desk to talk to him about something.

I know I have a boyfriend and everything but..Mr. Loomis is kinda hot. I don’t know how Sam’s mom left that. The way I would let that man do the most nastiest things to me and- oh my gosh stop it Y/n! You have a boyfriend. I always think these things about him and it’s so hard to stop.

I was pulled out of my thoughts as I saw Sam walking towards our table. “Hey!” She said happily. “Hey, I haven’t seen you in class all day, where’ve you been?” I asked with a slight frown. “Doctors appointment” she answered as I nodded my head. “Anyways..I asked my dad if you could stay with us until your parents get back and he said yes! He doesn’t like the idea of you being alone while a killer is on the loose” Sam told me.

Ethan’s eyes widened at her statement. I noticed this but I didn’t say anything. “Aww that’s so sweet him! Tell him I said thank you” I warmly said. “You can tell him yourself” she giggled.

“And stop making googily eyes at my dad..you’re drooling” she whispered in my ear as she walked away smirking. I scoffed at her little comment. I didn’t know my little crush on him was that obvious.

“So you’re staying over there tonight?” Ethan asked. “Yeah, its scary being in that big house all by myself” I nervously answered.

He looked down at my phone and his eyes eventually trailed over to the charger that was plugged into my phone. “Is that my charger?” He asked lowly. Anytime Ethan speaks to me in that tone it terrifies me. He has a bad temper..

“Um- I uh got it from your backpack..” I answered hesitantly. His eyes turned black if thats even possible. Before I could even defend myself the bell rang, signaling its time to go home.

He gripped my hand tightly coming face to face with me. “Don’t even think about leaving this classroom” he sternly said. I felt shivers run down my back. Maybe he really is gonna kill me.

Ethan made me stay in my chair while everyone got up and went home. After everyone left it was just me, Ethan, and Mr. Loomis. I got out of Ethan’s grip and ran to Mr. Loomis. “Please! You have to help me! Ethan’s the killer, Mr. Loomis” I begged as grabbed his arm but all he did was turn around and smile.

“I know, sweetheart” he said as I froze.

The hell does he mean he knows.

I looked back at Ethan as he now had his blood covered knife in his hand. I didn’t hesitate, I ran towards the door and tried to open it but it was locked. Shit!

“Help!” I screamed and banged on the door. “Please you think they can hear you? Everyones going home and the hallways are loud. No ones getting you outa here, doll” Mr. Loomis announced.

Im so confused. My teacher and boyfriend are the killers? I don’t get it! This has to be some sick joke.

I tried to run to the window but Mr. Loomis grabbed me from behind and placed me on his desk. “Let me go!” I shouted as I tried to get out of his tight grip. I hit, punched, slapped, but he didn’t budge.

Ethan was walking up to us with the blood covered knife. Ethan gripped my chin tightly as I felt tears began to come down my cheeks. “Please don’t do this” I begged as he let out a dark chuckle.

Mr. Loomis let me out of his grip so Ethan could control me now. “Relax, Y/n, we’re not gonna kill you…right now. We gotta have our fun with you first” he laughed.

Ethan smeared the blood that was on the knife onto my face. My body was shaking and my blood ran cold. This has to be a dream.

“Who’s blood is that?” I whispered. “It’s Tara’s” Ethan answered. “No!” I sobbed. My friend was probably murdered by these two. How did I not see the signs earlier that Ethan was this way.

“Stop your bitchin, she’s not dead yet” Mr. Loomis scoffed. “Where is she?” I asked as more tears ran down my face. “You don’t need to worry about that. What you should be worried about is if she’s gonna live or not” Mr. Loomis said with a grin.

“You two are psychotic!” I shouted angrily. “Were gonna play a little a game… if you answer correctly, Tara lives, if you answer incorrectly, Tara dies” Mr. Loomis explained.

“Mr Loomis-“ I started off but he cut me off. “Ugh call me Billy, Mr. Loomis makes me feel old” he said while rolling his eyes. “-Billy why are you making me do this? I’m innocent!” I cried. “You’re boyfriend came up with the idea, not me. Besides I already did this in the 90’s “ he laughed.

“Whats the question?” I asked trying to change the subject back to Tara.

“Who was the original Ghostface” Ethan questioned as I rolled my eyes. “It was this psychotic man, he basically just told on himself a couple of minutes ago” I answered as Ethan smirked. “Billy Loomis is your final answer?” He asked as I nodded my head.

“Thats incorrect” Ethan stated. My heart was pounding like crazy. “What do you mean incorrect? Billy basically just snitched on himself!” I said back. “The killers were me AND Stu Macher” Billy replied as I turned my head towards him.

“You didn’t say anything about two killers! And how the hell am I supposed to know who Stu Macher is?” I shouted. I tried wiping my tears but it was no use. Nothing was gonna stop them from pouring down.

“Oh please he was one of the prime suspects. I just killed him off because he was too fucking stupid” Billy stated. He was all nonchalant about this- like this was all normal.

“And since you were incorrect..your friend dies” Ethan said as this dark smile was plastered all over his face. My blood went cold, my mouth became dry, my friend was gonna die- because of me.

“Please don’t do this” I sobbed. How the hell do I even get out of this situation? Tara’s dead and its all my fault.

“We won’t kill her…unless” Billy started off. My head raised to the sound of his voice. This is my chance to save Tara and get out of this classroom. “What do you need? Money? My parents are loaded, I can get you-“ I was cut off by Ethan who looked at me with a smirk.

“You have sex with us. Both us” Ethan said as he tilted his head. “I-I can’t” I stuttered. I know I should do whatever to save Tara but having a threesome with my boyfriend and our teacher?

“Oh, please. Don’t act like you don’t wear those tight shorts for nothing” Billy said as began to light his cirgerette. “I wear them for my boyfriend, not you. Well, ex-boyfriend now” I explained. Ethan then looked at me with a nasty snarl.

“I am still your boyfriend, do you understand?!” He shouted as he gripped my arm. I nodded in response. Before I could I even react, Billy was pushing me flat on my back onto the flat surface of his desk. “Been wanting to do this your pretty little ass since I first laid eyes on you” Billy states before he leaned into kiss me.

I can’t lie..I always found him hot and wanted to kiss him, but I can’t believe this is happening. It’s all so surreal. I kissed him back as pushed my legs apart, groping the skin around it. I moaned into the kiss, the sloppy kiss where our tongues collided together as he groped my body everywhere.

“Thats how you kiss a woman, Landry” Billy stated as he smirked after breaking the kiss up. “Relax, she’s still my girlfriend” Ethan irritately said. “No, I’m not” I snapped back. Billy laughed at his Ethan’s reaction whilst I unbuckles his pants. I could see the outline of Billy’s dick in his underwear. I pulled his boxers down and man was he huge.

It was so girthy and his tip was leaking with pre cum. He was way bigger than Ethan. I looked at it in wide eyes as he grinned. “What?You never seen a real mans dick, sweetheart” Billy cockily stated as I rolled my eyes. “Just shut up and fuck me” I demanded before stroking his dick some.

“Shit!” He moaned to himself. I wrapped my hand around his dick even tighter, squeezing him some. I smeared some of his pre cum from. His tip all along his dick as he groaned in pleasure. “You like that?” I teasingly asked as I could see it was ticking Ethan off.

“I don’t have time for this teasing shit”Billy grunted as he grabbed me by the waist and bent me over his desk. He yanked my shorts down and was now in the crook of my neck. “Lets see how good this pretty pussy taste” he lowly said before giving me a slap to the ass. I shrieked since the the sting was still there.

He then slid my panties all the way down and I felt the cool air hit my sopping heart. Billy got down own his knees as I felt his hands spread my ass cheeks apart. I looked back down at him as he stuck his face in between my ass. “Ahh-mhhm!” I moaned.

Ethan has never done this to me before so its definitely a new experience. My hands gripped the desk as he began thrust his tongue in and out of me.

Ethan started walking towards me and I let out a little giggles. He grabbed my shin before he spoke sternly to me. “Have your little while you can” he said before roughly letting me go.

Billy placed a kiss to my my asshole one last time before standing up to his full height. I felt his tip poking at my entrance from behind, and after a couple seconds of teasing he pushed himself in all the way as I let out the most pornographic moan ever.

“YES!” I screamed.

I heard Billy chuckle from behind me as he pulled out and thrusted himself back in. He placed his large hand on my back which let me to arch it some.

Ethan was sitting at one of the tables in front us watching the whole thing. He was angry.

I put my attention back on Billy. My pussy was literally soaking. He was sliding in and out of me so easily. He grabbed my pulled my hair into a makeshift ponytail and started pounding me even harder. It was like he was on some type of mission.

It was silent, nothing but the sounds of our skin slapping.

Here I am fucking my teacher who’s a murderer. I really lost all of my self respect.

The stretch from his dick was amazing. He then lifted one of my legs and placed it on the desk. My eyes fluttered from the pleasure. “You fuck me so good!” I breathlessly said. “I know, fuck! You’re so wet!” He said to himself.

I felt my knee buckle as he rolled his hips into me. “Billy- I can’t take it-“ I moaned. “Stop your whining and take this dick” he said back. He moved his hand in front of me and began rubbing my clit while he pounded from behind.

My friend is probably dead right now and while I’m about to get an orgasm from her murderer.

I couldn’t control it. I felt myself tightening around his dick. The feeling in my stomach all of a sudden snapped.

I squirted.

That was the first time I’ve ever done that.

Billy was still thrusting in me as I could feel his breath in the crook of my neck. His dick began to twitch so he hurried and pulled out, turned me around and pumped himself a couple of times before cumming on my stomach.

He was out of breath just as I was.

“I didn’t know old men could fuck that good” I joked. He playfully rolled his eyes at my comment.

Before I could even turned around, Ethan yanked my arm around to look at him. “Since you wanna be whore, get on your fucking knees” he commanded. I didn’t bother to argue back so I just did as told.

He hurriedly unbuckled his belt and pulled hisself out. He slapped my cheek with dick. I can’t believe how hard he was. I didn’t have time to react, he just shoved his dick in my mouth.

I started sucking him while looking into his eyes. Nothing but pure evil. He really has gone off the deep in. Ethan grabbed the back of my head and shoved his dick down my throat all the way.

He then pulled the knife out from his back pocket and lightly ran it across my face. “So pretty when my dick is shoved in your mouth, baby” he commented. He had that evil smirk across his face that I just wanted to slap off.

I took him out of my mouth and started sucking on his balls. “Good girl” he grunted.

From the corner of my eye I could see Billy sitting in his chair with his legs sprawled out, stroking himself.

I gave a hard suck to Ethan’s balls one last time before I deep throated him. “Oh, fuck!” He mumbled. He even stumbled a bit. The room was filled with my gulps of me taking Ethan down my throat along with his whimpers.

“You’re doing so good, Y/n” he whined. “Yea, take that dick, just like that, fuck!”

I fluttered my eyes at him and thats what set him off. He exploded inside my mouth, almost falling but managed to keep his balance. He pushed my head all the way down on his dick so I could swallow every last drop.

He sighed in relief with his head thrown back.

“Stand up” he said.

I stood up and Ethan grabbed his knife, which weirdly turned me on. He held onto the blade part and rubbed the handle onto my wet slit. He rubbed it around a bit on my clit as I moaned in pleasure.

He pulled the knife away from my heat and shoved the handle part into my mouth, making me taste myself.

“Taste good, don’t it?” He asked as I nodded my head.

Ethan took the knife from mouth which made a pop sound. I grabbed the knife from as he watched me intently.

The knife was in my hand…so I did it.

I forced the blade into Ethan’s stomach.

He started couching up blood from his mouth and there was blood spilling out of his stomach pretty fast.

“How could you?” Was the last thing he choked out of his mouth before he fell to the ground. I stood over his dying body as his eyes were filled with betrayal. Good.

I smiled at my work as Billy came up from behind me brining me into a hug.

“We did it baby” I happily said as he picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist whilst still holding the blood covered knife. “Yes we did” he said back with a smirk.

He placed a kiss to my cheek before brining me back to his desk.

[ilovegrumpyoldmen]

LOGAN HOWLETT X M!READER

PART ONE: THE BAR.

Btw: I’m also on wattpad, @ilovegrumpyoldmen. This story will be published in parts but shouldn’t take to long. They will come out faster on wattpad tho :3

——————————————

I walked into the local bar, bored and pissed off from a recent breakup. I sat down, popping my neck, sighing, and ordering my usual. As I was drinking I looked around the bar. That's when I saw him, THE hottest fucking guy I've ever seen. I started internally freaking out. I used my phone camera to fix my messed up hair. I've never bothered styling it, I typically just let it do whatever... but for this hunk? Shit, I'll style my hair however he wants.

I chugged the rest of my drink and slid off the barstool, popping up the collar of my jacket and confidently striding over to the hot guy. As I walked closer I noticed his hair, it was styled with these small, almost cat like, little flippy pieces. Cute, like blowjob handles. I took a final deep breath and tapped his shoulder. He turned to me. Holy fucking piss. He's so goddamn pretty. His eyes? Heavenly. I stood there just staring at him.

"Y' got a starin' problem or somthin, bub?" The wildly attractive man said in a gruff tone, worn down over the years from excessive drinking. I quickly cleared my throat. "No! No.. sorry just uhm.. drunk?" I tried to make an excuse. The man just sighed. "I don't do autographs anymore kid." He shook his head. "No!!! No I don't want an autograph.. uhm.." I trailed off, his handsome face making me forget the lines I practiced in my head.

"Uh.." My mouth felt dry. God just spit it the fuck out. "Fuckin' kids..." The man grumbled to himself, downing a glass of whiskey like it was water. Fuck that was hot, seeing his Adam's Apple bob when he swallowed. I made an exaggerated cough just to make sure I had his attention. "Uhm, hello.. I'm Y/N." I gave my best smile that I've been workshopping in the mirror damn near daily. The man just chuckled a little. "Logan." I watched his eyes look me up and down.

After some mildly awkward conversation I got to know all about him. He used to be an X-Man. How epic was that!? "So.. jus' been takin' it a day at a time." Logan hummed while downing his 7th glass of whiskey since we started talking. I stayed quiet for a moment. "You're gonna kill yourself if you keep drinking like that." I said quietly so no one else would hear, not wanting to embarrass him on accident. I was getting worried with his drinking habits, watching him basically be a garbage disposal for whiskey. "I'll be fine, thanks bub." He rubbed his face, setting down the glass on the bar with a loud clink.

He sighed deeply. "I gotta go kid, it was real nice meetin' ya." He got up, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. "Uhm.. wait." I said, getting up as well. He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue. "Can I have your number?" I finally managed to ask. "Sure bub." He wrote his number on a napkin and handed it to me. He ruffled my hair and left. I stared at the napkin, my heart racing faster than a damn bullet train.

[your-girl-mj]

morning after [1610!miles × f!reader]

summary: morning after with hangovers and your sweet boyfriend miles

warning: mama rio in early mornings /jk

note: she/her for reader, he/him for miles. aged up!miles and reader <3

created: august 10, 2023

published: august 15, 2023

first part | second part.

[name] woke up feeling wasted the night before, which is true. she blinks the lights out until she gets used to it. looking around, she just figured out she's in miles's room.

she was scooted to the far corner of the bed, blanket neatly tucked her in, with an empty side of the mattress.

the girl slowly sat up, and she was hit with a major headache. hammering into her brain. a groan left her lips before she lay down again to make it stop.

[name] was rubbing the side of her head when miles came into his room. "hey. morning, baby." he was holding a bowl of freshly made soup, with a towel hanging on his arm. he spoke so softly to her, scared that any loud sounds would make her hangover worse.

"hi," matching his tone, she looked confused at the bowl in his hands as miles gave her a peck on her crown. "what's this?"

"breakfast, i made it." he grinned proudly. with a twip sound, he shot a web to glass of water at the table across the bed. when he retrieved it, the water spilt and wet the floor, "oh shoot—!" he was quick to send a sheepish beam

a giggle erupted from her throat, "you're such a dork." miles laid the towel on her lap and put the bowl in her hands.

"don't eat it yet," then taking off to get towels on his drawers, muttering; "didn't think that one through."

"¿mijo, estás bien por ahí?" mrs morales' voice is heard from outside the room, [name] peak at the agape door she saw her cleaning the kitchen. she's cleaning the mess miles made. [son, are you okay over there?]

"buenos dias, señora." the girl greeted, slowly sitting up again, as mrs. came in the room. not noticing miles hanging the now wet towel by his window sill next to his newly washed jacket. [good morning, mrs.]

"¡buenos dias, mija!" her voice made a slight knock on the brain, but [name] smiled warmly at her mother-in-law. "¿ya te lo comiste? miles lo hizo solo para ti." [good morning, daughter!] [did you already eat it? miles made it just for you.]

"not yet, but i'm sure it's good—" the girl was about to sip, but mrs. morales stopped her before she could get a taste. the spoon full was frozen in mid-air as she waited for the woman's words, thinking she did something wrong.

"ah!" a single sound makes it feel like you did something you should've. "mijo, feed her. i'm getting her some aspirin." with that, she left the room, leaving the door open for reasons.

"i was gonna before you came in," miles muttered a comment, rolling his chair closer to the bed, smiling at his girl who mirror it back.

"what did you just say?" mrs morales swiftly turned to face where his room is. her tone is blaring enough to be heard loud and clear. hands rested on her hips with a deep frown.

"i said, i was already planning to, mama!" miles cupped a hand over his mouth, not wanting to make [name]'s hangover worst. "sorry 'bout the noise, [nickname]." he sends a sheepish grin, stirring the soup, then scooping a spoon full and feeding her.

the two can hear mrs. morales muttering along the lines of, "if i heard one bad mouth, i'll ground him for three months. mummbling and muttering, i will woop his—" and the rest is mystery.

"its okay," she replied once swallowed, "i like lively mornings with you," [name] rested her hand over his, a beam never seems to left her features, "any morning with you, to be honest. it's been a while since i stayed over." with that, she continued to eat as he fed her. mrs. morales order's.

miles feel the same warmth in his heart at his girl. thinking about it, it's been a while since they spent the night together, and it's because he's busy being spiderman, a son, and a student all together. he only has a little time to be her boyfriend.

he soon feels guilt in his chest once again, the same one he felt last night. he now knows what she meant when she said he cancelled another date. sober [name] said it was fine while drunk [name] is saying she feels unloved.

they do say drunk words are sober thoughts.

before miles can bring up the topic, his dad already there to join the chaos. "what's the fuss all about?" he gave his wife a bear hug from behind. he's already in uniform, ready for work.

"my daughter has a hangover," mrs. morales stated, she finally found the medicine, and strolled her way back. those words never fail to make [name] melt on the spot.

"kidnapping is illegal." mr. morales reminded her, making himself a cup of coffee. his wife ignored his words and set water on the table as well as the aspirin the girl needed.

"drink this once you're done eating. miles, you're in charge of her." she gave him a firm look before pulling the door to only a few inches open.

"i'm starting to think she loves you more than me," miles shrugged, taking a few sips on the soup as well before feeding his girl. his eyes are literally heart-shaped as he looks at her lovingly.

"sorry, you have to find it this way, babe," [name] matches his tone, drawing a chuckle from her s/o. after a short moment, she leaned to his headboard with a sigh. "sorry, i got drunk. you probably had a hard time getting me home," she refused to meet his eyes, playing with the helm of the blanket on top of her.

"nah, it's cool. you're adorable when you're drunk." he kissed her on the nose, which she crunched up in process. "do you remember anything yesterday?" thinking she might be able to recall what she said to him.

as miles fetch her water and medicine, she couldn't help but get curious. "no. did we swing to your room?"

"if we did, the streets in brooklyn will be close for major clean up." his hand was fast to catch the thrown book at him, just seconds after his spider sense activated. he spun to face her, dorky beam is present to his face.

his girl only narrowed her eyes at him, "i don't know if i should be pissed or attracted to you right now." miles only shook his head with a laugh.

he thought back what her words were about last night. he wanted to make things clear and apologise for cancelling his dates with her more often than he intended.

she did say she doesn't drink, but why change that last night? he thought about it. clogs working on his brain before he was hit with reality. but he wanted to confirm it before assuming.

"is there any reason why you..drink last night?" miles asked gently and worried at the same time, not wanting to make her taken back with the sudden question.

"uh.. i kinda wanna know what it tastes like and... i guess i lost track.." it was the hesitancy in her voice that made his assumption higher. "this thing tastes amazing, by the way. i didn't know you had a chef dna in your blood." [name] smiled lightly, holding the bowl up then setting it to his bedside table.

changing the topic, he thought. "what can i say? i'm a genius," he hid his flustered expression with a smirk. miles hand her the aspirin, sitting beside her on his bed. miles watched her chugged up the water. once she was done, he started, "y'know, you can tell me anything, right?" taking her hand in his. miles' other hand put the cup away, right next to the bowl.

as the heat of his palms envelopes hers, it made her lean her body to him, swallowing the heat of his body, head on his shoulder. miles gladly accepts the gesture, wrapping his arms around her. "i know you basically know all my secrets." chuckling, she played it cool.

miles rest his head on top of hers, breathing out a sigh, "not all of them.." pulling her to his lap, just letting her rest. he peaked the crown of her head. "¿Por qué bebiste hermosa?" [why did you drink, beautiful?]

[name] can tell he was worried, she also feels a little guilty. miles let her play with the helm of his shirt, folding and unfolding, tugging it, wrinkling it. whatever made her to process her words to say. "i don't know.."

"you don't know?" his hands tapping on her thighs, before drawing — doodling on her back with the tip of his finger. they're completely relaxed to each other, to the point they didn't see mrs. morales sneaking a picture of them, then letting them be.

"i was... feeling kinda lonely, i guess.." she crumbled the bottom of his shirt, "i don't really know.." she whispered, dancing around the truth. she's too embarrassed to admit that she misses him dearly,

they've been like this for almost a year. few months after miles became spiderman, he's always there for her.

they still have time together, but after a few times of miles missing a date or hangout... those few times became often. and she feels like she's his best friend again, just.. hanging around for a short while before he leaves.

"y'know, you told me you feel unloved because i always cancelled our dates..." miles feel her hands stopped fidgeting, her state completely frozen. "is it true?"

when [name] only stayed quiet, he suck his teeth. "hey, it's okay if you do. i won't cancel on you again, i promise you."

"...i—" she took a breath, "i don't want to feel like a priority to you..." miles frowned at that, "you're already busy being spiderman, and with your studies not to mention with your parents, i don't want to squeeze myself in there—"

[name] was unable to finish as his lips pressed into hers, miles pulled away from a second, looking at her briefly before locking their lips in a kiss again.

once pulled away, the girl is in awe for a short amount of time before hiding into his neck. miles gave her ear a kiss, whispering. "you don't have to squeeze yourself in. you're already in it." sighing, disappointed to himself, "it was my fault.."

"miles..." she shook her head, ready to deny his words.

"no, don't deny it." he pulled away, looking at her beautiful face, cupping it in his hands. "I've been a bad boyfriend to you for so many months now... and i'm really sorry, sunflower.." [name] feel her heart skip a beat at the old nickname he always call her when they started their relationship, where everything was perfect.

the nickname brought both nostalgia.

"i wanna make it up to you, and not just flowers, chocolates, and some drawings." holding her hands in his, he kisses each and every finger and knuckles, "i want to make it up to you in a real date, without any interpretations. just me and you." his eyes held hope and determination. he doesn't want to mess this up.

[name] feel a smile crept to her lips before it was wiped out and worry was replaced. "but miles, what if—"

"dad can handle it." miles immediately answered, but her expression didn't change, she feels like she would be the reason why someone would get hurt because spiderman didn't show up. "they'll be okay. it will only be once in a while. there are no super villain on the loose for them to need me. dad can handle a few criminals."

the smiled he adored came back, making him mirror it. "okay," she nodded, pulling him into her once again, "i missed you."

"i missed you too, sunflower."

sorry for not posting sooner, writer's block beat me like miguel beating miles (child abuse /jk) 😔

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 5

Aria

It's been a month since I got married, I didn't properly speak to Chris after that moment in the kitchen that morning, just occasional Good Mornings and Hi's whenever he passed by. For 4 weeks he had been ignoring my presence, the only reason why I'm still alive in this huge ass mansion was because of Deliah's company.

I tried my best within these weeks to try to talk to Chris, but he didn't even bother, he claimed he was busy or arrived home late every night. Pain stung in my chest. I don't know why I still had unwanted hope running in my heart, knowing he'll be himself when he's home and we're only pretending to be people we truly aren't when we're are in front of judging eyes.

I had enough of his bullshit and needed air, I grabbed my handbag and exited his mansion, hoping to find some peace outside of these walls. I called one of my close friends, Leia, she answered after a few rings.

"Hey baby girl" Her voice was warm and cheerful, a stark contrast to my own. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my emotions.

"Hey babe, you free today?" I asked, hoping to see her. She sadly missed my wedding as she was having a book tour in Europe, her debut book was a huge success after finally publishing it last year.

"Sure I am, wanna grab boba?" I chuckled behind the phone, "Absolutely"

"Send your loc, be there in about 15. See ya" She assured before hanging up. I sent her the location to Chris's mansion and waited for her to come. Even though I was all alone in here, I did roam around the enormous gardens and other places of this mansion and even took a swim in the pool, all while Chris wasn't at home.

I got down the small steps and walked to the infinity pool in the back, I spotted Daniel, he turned to me as soon as he saw me standing and raised a gentle hand smiling softly. I waved back at him, returning the smile, turning around to inhale the fresh of the autumn morning.

The sound of a car honk pulled me out of my reverie, I turned to see Leia's car approaching the gate. Relief washed over me as she parked and stepped out, her smile as radiant as ever.

"Aria! Baby girl I missed you tons" she called out, rushing towards me. We embraced tightly, her warmth and familiar scent instantly comforting me.

"Leia, it's so good to see you," I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady.

She pulled back and looked at me, concern etched on her face. "You look like you've been through the wringer. Let's get that boba and you can tell me everything." We headed to her car, and soon we were driving through the city towards our favorite boba tea spot.

The familiar sights of the city and the anticipation of spending time with Leia helped ease some of the tension I'd been carrying. We reached the best boba spot in the city and placed our orders and sat down at a comfy spot, I finally felt like I was out of a prison.

"Alright, so spill the tea, what's up"

I took a deep breath and told her everything meeting Chris for the first time and how he didn't look so intimidating. The night before the wedding, the contract and how he's been avoiding me for the past weeks and that little incident in the kitchen. He told me no one should know about the contract but fuck it. It was driving me insane.

"Wait. So this guy had you SIGN a contract BEFORE you exchanged your vows? What in the God's name is this madness?!" Her eyes kept widening as I kept talking, she was finally updated about everything.

I nodded, feeling a mix of frustration and helplessness. "Yeah. It was all part of the agreement. And, it's only valid for a year" I said, looking down at my boba, unable to meet her eyes.

"And you agreed to this?" She shook her head in disbelief.

I hesitated for a second, then added "I had to. I didn't have a choice. After my last relationship, you know how my parents said they will get me married. And Chris's father somehow has blackmailed him or some bullshit," I caught a breath, trying to keep my voice steady.

"I didn't want this marriage and neither did he. But now I feel like I walked into trap and I'm unable to escape."

She tilted her head, "How did you meet him?" I looked up from the table, remembering when I met his father before I met Chris.

"You know my father works as head accountant for Aurelius and is well known among Mr.Bang's top employees," I told her how the CEO personally met with my parents and and convinced them into arranging this marriage. My parents were thrilled. They saw it as a golden opportunity for me, a way to secure my future.

After breaking up with my ex, a betrayal I never saw coming, I didn't want to wait for "my one" anyway. But this...this wasn't exactly what I envisioned either.

I wanted stability, but not at the cost of my own happiness. I could see the concern etched on her face as she listened to me recount the events leading up to this point.

Leia's hand gently touched mine, her eyes soften with sympathy. I looked at her trying to brush away the tears and thankfully this time I had control over them.

"Baby girl this isn't right. Even if whatever this hell is only for a year, you must speak to him" Her hand squeezed mine, her voice firm yet filled with compassion.

I nodded slowly, grateful for her presence. She was one of the fewest people I trusted and vented to, the first being my mother. I didn't have the heart to burden my mother that my marriage wasn't even a happily ever after. Chris's mansion was an hour drive from my mom's place. With the crazy traffic in the States, there's no way I could go and come back alone and also the fact that the driver only works for him.

Besides I can't leave without informing Chris anyway.

"You deserve clarity, Aria," Leia affirmed, her gaze unwavering. "You deserve to know where you stand and what this marriage really means."

She leaned forward, her eyes locked onto mine. "But more than this. You deserve someone who truly loves you, not someone bound by a contract."

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them away. "I know, Leia. I just... I don't know what to do. Part of me wants to break free, but another part of me feels like there's something worth fighting for."

Her squeeze around my hand tightened, "Whatever you decide, I'm here for you. Always."

We finished our boba tea in silence, lost in our own thoughts. I felt a renewed sense of determination building within me. As we left the café and Leia drove me back to the mansion, my mind crawled with thoughts on what I had to do.

When we arrived, we shared a tight hug and I watched Leia drive away before heading inside. But when I entered, I wasn't expecting the stoic, cold heir to be home by noon. I thought he'll come home late like usual.

My heart pounded hard in my chest as he was sitting on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, scowling and scrolling his phone. When I entered the hall, he laid his phone. I looked at him and headed to the stairs, when his rough voice called out my name.

"Where were you?" Irritation crawled up my skin. He didn't give a shit about me before, why does he care now?

"Somewhere with a friend" I said without looking at him, clenching my bag as I heard footsteps behind me.

"Somewhere? Where exactly? Don't you think you should tell me before you wander in the streets with someone?"

I turned to him glaring as he stood so close to me, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "Why does it matter to you, Chris? You've been avoiding me for weeks. You barely acknowledge my existence and presence in this house unless it's absolutely necessary. Now suddenly why do you want to know where I've been?"

His jaw clenched at the tone of my voice. I didn't care if I pissed him off. His expression was unreadable, his eyes were burning fire as he glared back at me, I was sure that stare itself could burn upto a thousand degrees.

"I have every right to know where my wife is."

I scoffed. "Oh, now I'm your wife?" I retorted, unable to hide the bitterness in my voice. "Funny how you remember that only when it's convenient for you."

"Don't speak me to me in that tone" He warned me. I took a step back, my hand clenched the strap of my bag more tightly.

I squared my shoulders, refusing to back down. "Or what, Chris? What are you going to do? Ignore me some more?"

His nostrils flared, his patience clearly wearing thin. "You know what, Aria? This attitude of yours isn't helping."

"Oh, I'm sorry. So now my attitude is the problem?" I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe if you actually talked to me instead of treating me like a stranger, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Chris took a step closer, his voice low and controlled. "I've been trying to give you space, Aria. That's what we both needed."

"Space?" I scoffed again, my frustration reaching its peak. "Is that what you call it? Ignoring me? Avoiding any real conversation? That's not space, Chris. That's avoidance."

"I fucking told you not to have any expectations of me. This is who I am alright? If you find this behaviour annoying, you shouldn't have agreed to this in the first place" His voice was thick, filled with anger as he growled at me, I began shaking, trying to stop myself from falling down.

"I'm not having any expectations of you or of us. But just—" I sighed. Whatever I say wasn't gonna change his mind.

"But what sweetheart?" His head tilted, a mocking smirk playing on his face. I hated when he called me that when he didn't mean it.

"Stop calling me that" I said pointing my index finger at his chest. "And yes I did expect more," I continued, my voice gaining strength despite my shaky resolve.

"I expected us to at least try to make this work. To communicate. It's fine if you don't want to treat me like a wife in these walls but I thought at least we could be friends"

Chris's face hardened at my words, a mixture of frustration flickering in his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to respond, then closed it again, his jaw clenching visibly. The air around us felt heavy with unspoken tensions and unresolved feelings.

"I didn't agree to this marriage expecting a fairy tale," he finally said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. "I thought we both understood what this was."

"I do understand," I replied, my voice steadier despite the storm of emotions raging inside me. "But understanding doesn't mean I have to accept being treated like I don't matter."

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of irritation. I had enough of his bullshit. I turned away from him and walked upstairs to my room. He grabbed my wrist but I twisted it off his grip, running to my room and shutting the door behind me.

Throwing my bag and phone onto my bed, I pulled my hair down from my ponytail and headed to the shower. The lukewarm water cascading down my body felt better. Like a hug.

I stood in the shower for good half an hour before coming out wrapped in my bathrobe, to find Chris SITTING on my bed.

What the fuck

"What are you doing here?" I snapped at him, keeping my voice calm yet mixed with irritation.

"Waiting for my wife to come out of the shower" He looked at me, a sly grin playing across as his eyes roamed my body. Water was still dripping down my hair and droplets sliding down my chest, his eyes were on my cleavage before it met mine again.

Why didn't I lock the god damn door

"It's rude to enter someone's room without permission" I stated firmly, my voice laced with annoyance as I tightened the belt of my bathrobe.

"Didn't need permission since this is my house" He said coolly.

"But it's my room. You assigned this to me, so I want you to respect my privacy"

He scoffed and met my gaze again, he got off the bed and walked to me, closing the distance between us slowly. I stood where I was, feeling exposed under his scrutiny. "Your room or not, I will do whatever I want. You live in my house"

His tone was smooth yet edged with arrogance, each word deliberate and cutting through the air with a sense of entitlement. My hands curled into fists, I knew arguing with him will only escalate the tension between us further.

"You might own this house," I retorted, trying to keep my voice steady despite the unease churning inside me, "but that doesn't mean you can disrespect boundaries."

Chris's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "Boundaries?" he echoed, his voice low and dangerously calm. "You don't get to set the rules here, Aria. You're here because of the agreement, remember?"

His words stung, reminding me once again of the contractual nature of our marriage. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that our relationship was based on anything but love or mutual respect.

"What do you want?" I asked, closing my eyes and turning away from him, having enough of his shit for the day.

"To fuck that little attitude out of you" Chris replied sharply, his voice cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. His words held a cold edge, filled with frustration and impatience.

Don't slap him. Don't slap him.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself before I turned back to face him. "My attitude is a direct result of your behavior, Chris. If you want it to change, maybe you should start treating me with respect."

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Respect is earned, Aria. And frankly, you haven't exactly made it easy."

I shook my head, disbelief and anger mingling in my voice. "You think I owe you respect after the way you've treated me? After all the times you've ignored me, dismissed me when I tried to talk to you, or made me feel like I'm nothing?"

Chris's expression hardened, his jaw tightening.

"This marriage was never about love. We both know that. You and I were both pressured by our families and here we are. It's a civil arrangement, and in a civil conversation respect is earned through cooperation."

"Only 335 days more of your bullshit and I'll be out of this hell" I walked away from him to my wardrobe, indicating that he should leave.

He laughed a cold laugh before he left my room saying,

"Can't wait for the day"

------------------------

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

Next Chapter

[lola-andheruniverse]

Fix It Wednesday - Caryl Fanfiction Rec

Dear fellow carylers, today's fix it is another beautiful take of Carol telling Daryl about the Groove and accepting that he loves her no matter what.

Burn, written by @sira01, is posted on 9Lives and AO3. Summary: At the kingdom Carol finally opens up to Daryl, allowing herself to feel the pain buried for way too long. Rating: E Word count: 7.167 Published: July 30, 2016 (one-shot) This a raw, honest and beautiful story. Carol's suffering cuts deep, but, oh, Daryl's love shines through. I particularly love this piece of dialogue: “I need ya. I… love ya.”

He is looking into the distance, retreating into himself while he keeps holding on. Her heart breaks a little for him, knows he fears her rejection. Yet, he's still here. He’s facing the music and a measure of pride surges through her. He’s come so far and she wishes he could see what she sees.

“You shouldn’t, Daryl.”

She speaks softly and his eyes find hers and there’s anger and desperation.

“It’s not up to ya if I love ya or not.”

It sounds and feels real, doesn't it? I can see a caryl scene just like this playing on my screen. I don't know if there's a bigger compliment to a fanfiction author than this one. Truly amazing story. Please, read and review, dear fellow carylers. It deserves the love.

[richincolor]

Book Review: How the Boogeyman Became a Poet

Title: How the Boogeyman Became a Poet

Author: Tony Keith Jr.  

Genres:  Memoir

Pages: 341

Publisher: Katherine Tegan Books

Review Copy: ARC by publisher

Availability: Available now

Summary: Poet, writer, and hip-hop educator Tony Keith Jr. makes his debut with a powerful YA memoir in verse, tracing his journey from being a closeted gay Black teen battling poverty, racism, and homophobia to becoming an openly gay first-generation college student who finds freedom in poetry. Perfect for fans of Elizabeth Acevedo, George M. Johnson, and Jacqueline Woodson. Tony dreams about life after high school, where his poetic voice can find freedom on the stage and page. But the Boogeyman has been following Tony since he was six years old. First, the Boogeyman was after his Blackness, but Tony has learned It knows more than Tony wants to be the first in his family to attend college, but there’s no path to follow. He also has feelings for boys, desires that don’t align with the script he thinks is set for him and his girlfriend, Blu. Despite a supportive network of family and friends, Tony doesn’t breathe a word to anyone about his feelings. As he grapples with his sexuality and moves from high school to college, he struggles with loneliness while finding solace in gay chat rooms and writing poetry. But how do you find your poetic voice when you are hiding the most important parts of yourself? And how do you escape the Boogeyman when it's lurking inside you?

Review: I will admit that I’m a huge fiction girly and very rarely read memoirs. However, the title and the book cover caught my eye at NCTE and I took a look. I love books in verse and when I saw this was a memoir in verse by a spoken word poet I was even more interested. I flipped through the pages, read a few of the poems and I was all in. I grabbed a copy and looked forward to reading this memoir when I had some time. I was not disappointed. 

“How the Boogeyman Became a Poet” reflects on Tony Keith’s senior year of high school and his first year of college as he struggles to figure out who he is. It is during this time that Tony is struggling with what he would like for his future and struggling with his sexuality. He opens his memoir with giving a bit of background about his childhood before diving deep into the numerous insecurities young teens may have as they face their last year of high school where the constant talk is about “which college are you going to go to”. Teenage Tony is struggling with the last few months of school as he doesn’t think he has the grades to go to college but knows everyone around him expects him to. He also feels that he is continuing to live his life as a lie as he has a girlfriend, whom his parents know and love, while going to church, and maintaining an image of a “cool, straight Black teen.” It’s this performance he puts on that he calls the Boogeyman because the Boogeyman shows up to remind Tony that he is living a lie. Tony does express himself though his poetry and one highlight from the book is Tony sharing the poems that he wrote during this time period. There is a distinct difference in the style and tone of these younger poems, from the rest of the memoir, that reminds the reader that Tony will eventually find his way. As Tony attends college and is exposed to a wider world, friendships change, he breaks up with his girlfriend, and does begin to be true to himself. He also begins to find his voice in his poetry as he begins to accept who he is. 

Overall I enjoyed “How the Boogeyman Became a Poet” as Tony’s voice as a confused teen growing into a confident young man moved me. There were so many passages that were truly moving and drew me into Tony’s story. Tony’s poems are lyrical with a flow that moves with a smooth beat. He weaves imagery into pictures the eyes can see and moments the heart can feel. I hope that this book becomes an audio book and that Tony is the narrator as his memoir was an enjoyable read, that I can only imagine how it would sound. 

Here is a taste of Tony Keith's poetry. 

[love-kurdt]

what’s your favorite story you’ve written? love ya <33333

this is me trying, hands down.

that story holds a place very near and dear to my heart. i was going through hell— long story short, college was a disaster; far too many loved ones died in a very short time frame, and it’s a miracle i graduated considering the deep depression i was in (and kind of am still in tbh). i’ve always used writing as therapy, and that story is essentially me projecting the past four years onto mike. that was the fastest i’ve ever written anything and actually felt comfortable enough with publishing, and the response i got was something out of a dream. i’m so glad that the story helped not only me, but other readers who have experienced similar circumstances or know someone who has.

and right back at ya !!! 🖤

[mikhailwrites]

The Silence in Between / Ghost x Soap

The final two chapters of The Silence in Between are coming on Friday! In the meantime, have a little appetiser.

Soap shakes his head in disbelief. "God, yer so thick it almost hurts, Ghost."

"What did ya just say to me, Sergeant?" Ghost levels him with a hard stare, leaning closer. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off of Soap. Johnny looks up, eyes wide with surprise and uncertainty. Ghost savours the moment.

"No idea how ye could make a Lieutenant. Ye put yer nose so deep into my business and still manage to get it all wrong," Soap says, not quite repeating his previous statement but not correcting it either. They’re so close, Ghost’s fingers twitch with a desire to touch, to grab and hold. Some of it has to show on his face because there’s a subtle shift in Soap's demeanour. Not so much braced for impact as much as straightening up. A yield turned into a challenge.

"How so?" Ghost inclines his head, studying Soap’s face. The dark stubble that would scratch Ghost’s palm, old scars catching the light, lashes framing those bright eyes, the mischievous glint in them. He can also smell him. A whiff of sweat and cheap deodorant, traces of detergent, something bitter and metal-like, which Ghost learned to associate with the army. Ghost could fucking eat him right here.

You can check out the 7 already published chapters here on AO3.

Also, the early access to MWIII Campaign drops tomorrow. I am so not ready to get my heart broken but I'm still looking forward to see what's gonna happen. Let's hope all will be well but if not... well, that's what fanfics are for, isn't it?

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in your Area ch 9 PREVIEW

In which Jason makes not a single good judgement call.

“Good morning!”

Jason winced and moved the phone a little further from his face. “Is this Doctor Fenton?”

“It's one of them! What can I do ya for?” Jack Fenton boomed, just as bombastic as his newsletter made him seem. Jason knew, deep in his heart, that Jack Fenton was indeed the one who had selected green neon bold for his headings and borders.

Angels wept. Jason scrubbed his palm over his eye. This man had no poetry in his soul. “I, uh, had some questions about a ghost. I've read some of your articles and your most recent published paper on the topic.”

“We love ghosts!” Fenton bellowed. “Ask away!”

“Do you know a ghost called Phantom?” Jason tried.

“...Sure do,” Jack Fenton said. “Whatcha need?”

Jason cleared his throat. “It's somewhat complicated,” he said evasively, because he didn't need these people to know he was the Red Hood. Fuck. He should have either gotten his helmet stored away or not given his real name. Phantom knew his face and that his name was Jason. Any information that got around via Phantom might tie his face to his alter ego. If Phantom said he got married to Jason, the Red Hood, that could lead to the end of the Bat family vigilantism.

“...He cause you trouble, sport?”

Jason let out a slight laugh. “You could say that, though it wasn't really his fault,” he admitted. He cast a paranoid eye out the window to be sure no siblings were creeping on him. “No, it's really more that…” Fuck, he should have planned this better. “Is there any information you can give me about how a human could contact him?”

Not that Jason didn't have a phone number for the guy. But it made him very uncomfortable to have any basic knowledge or way to track Phantom down if he decided to leave Jason to whatever was going on.

“I could probably do that,” Jack Fenton said slowly, now sounding like an entirely different human being. “Say, you wouldn't be Jeremy, would you?”

Jason blinked. “...How did you know?” He went with. Phantom had contact with a human guy named Jeremy? That might be his in.

“Oh, well then, you've definitely got to come over,” Dr. Fenton wheedled. It somehow came across as shifty. “You'll be wanting a whole primer on how the Ghost Zone works, won't ya?”

“That would be immensely helpful,” Jason agreed. “But I'd hate to take up your valuable time.”

“Nonsense!” Fenton bellowed. Jason nearly lost his grip on his phone in surprise. “Come over Jeremy, I'm dying to meetcha!”

So, there was a plan. Jason packed for a day trip and dialed up his travel agent.

“Fuck off,” said Tim. “I'm busy. Christ.”

“I need an airplane ticket and a rental bike,” Jason continued. He tossed his mostly full bag on the sofa and went digging for the socks he knew he had washed the other night. “I'm going to go see some nerds about my impromptu adventure the other day.”

Tim groaned. That was the first Jason had given any hint at all about what had happened to him when he'd been ‘sacrificed.’ “What nerds?” He asked wearily.

Jason grinned into his sock drawer. Gottem. “Why, do you all know each other?” He asked blithely.

[impala-dreamer]

Stay With Me

A Supernatural Story

~Dean is into his second bottle of whiskey, desperate to drive his problems away. But he knows deep down, the booze isn't what he truly needs...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

1,390 Words

Warnings: Bittersweet Angst

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

In one fluid motion, he cracked the seal on the new bottle of whiskey and plopped back down into his chair. The old seat groaned and the wheels rolled back a bit, sliding with the force of his weight over the polished floor.

Dean poured himself another healthy shot and stared down into the glass, enjoying how the light from the glowing table beneath set the crystal aflame. His lips turned in a half smile and he sighed.

“If you hold it up to the light at the right angle, you can see a rainbow.”

Y/N’s voice hit his ear and he lifted the glass to his lips, smiling even wider as she came into view.

Dressed in his old green flannel and seemingly nothing else, she leaned against the archway, arms and bare ankles crossed. He looked up and licked a drop of drink from his lips, savoring the taste and the way she looked. Her hair was a beautiful mess, the day’s makeup smudged around her eyes like she had meant it to look that way. Her mouth still held a faint stain from her faded lipstick and she pouted as he stared, driving his mind towards unholy thoughts.

“Rough day?” she asked, pushing off the tiles to walk slowly towards him.

“You should know,” he sighed around the rim of the tumbler. “You were with me.”

Y/N nodded and pulled out the chair across from him. “True.”

He eyed her over the glass, loving the way she sat down so delicately only to slump against the back of the chair. She leaned back and kicked her feet up onto the map, toes casting a shadow over Brazil.

“But really, it wasn’t that bad,” she teased. “Not bad enough for a second bottle of bourbon, anyway.”

“It’s whiskey,” he corrected.

She shrugged. “Same thing.”

Dean shook his head and set the glass down, fingers lingering on the sharp edges of the design. “Not true. Bourbon is always whiskey, but whiskey ain’t always bourbon. This is just straight up, get ya drunk, forget your life for a few hours whiskey.”

She knocked her feet off the table and turned to face him head on. “And why would you want to forget your life, Mr. Winchester? What’s so horrible lately that you’d want it to go away?”

He laughed sadly, bowing his head, avoiding her eyes. “Oh, you know me. Just being overdramatic.”

Y/N leaned forward and set her clasped hands in front of her. The ring he’d given her glinted in the warm golden light from below and Dean’s gaze was locked on the antique silver and brilliant red stone.

He remembered when they saw it in that little shop outside Paramus. The old hippie behind the counter told them that carnelian was special, used for protection and to ward off evil spirits. Y/N had laughed so brilliantly when she heard that, rolling her eyes at the thought of a cheap little ring keeping the demons away. Her smile had been so beautiful that Dean doubled back later that day and purchased the ring for her.

She never took it off.

“Dean Winchester, you are never overdramatic,” she asserted. “Medium dramatic, sure. A little crazy sometimes? We all are. But never overdramatic. Under dramatic if anything.”

She winked and Dean’s shoulders relaxed, his heart melting for her like it did every time she was close by. He was quiet for a long moment, just studying her face. Memorizing the way the lights and shadows played on her cheeks, the unique line of her nose, the fan of lashes curved over her pretty eyes. She was engraved in his mind, her face always hiding just behind his closed eyes.

“Under dramatic, huh?” He took a sip and let the whiskey burn his tongue a bit before swallowing. His mouth was mostly numb by now, but the little bit at the roof of his mouth still felt and that feeling needed to be punished.

“You know I’m right,” she grinned and sat back. “I always am.”

Dean chuckled and drained the glass. “Sure are.”

It was an old joke between them. She was always right no matter the situation, no matter the topic being discussed. The unwritten rule was that even when wrong, Y/N was always right. She also seemed to win every single competition and argument. A smile could get her out of trouble, a pout would break him enough to roll over and let her win. Every single time.

“You’re damned right, Winchester. I’m always right.” She dipped her chin and stared at him, gorgeous eyes peeling back the mask he so often hid behind. “So, spill. What’s wrong?”

Dean licked his lips and tried to look away. “I’m fine.”

She clicked her tongue. “Bull. What’s going on?”

Again, he tried to tear his eyes away, but he was locked in her gaze, trapped by her voice. “Nothing.”

With a huff, she stood up and kicked the chair away with her right foot. It coasted across the floor until it hit the wall and spun around on itself.

Slowly, she walked around the table and perched on the edge next to him. He closed his eyes for a second, breathing in the sweet smell of her. Faint coconut and something sugary filled his senses and Dean leaned back with a squeak of antique coils.

Y/N reached for his glass and Dean watched as she lifted it to her lips, held her breath, took a long sip. She shivered as it burned down her throat and coughed gently.

“This is terrible,” she laughed, setting the tumblr back down.

He nodded. “It’s not great.”

“So, what’s got you trying to kill your liver with the worst fucking whiskey I’ve ever tasted?”

She wiggled a bit to get more comfortable, spreading her knees just enough to touch his leg with her toes. He melted into the touch and fought back a fresh wave of tears.

He knew she wouldn’t let it go until he confessed, knew she’d keep on teasing and prodding until he gave her what she wanted. But he couldn’t say it aloud, couldn’t let the words leave his head and fly out into the world.

If he did, she would leave.

He needed her there, just for a little while longer.

Needed to smell her coconut lotion, feel her toes on his thigh, see her sweet smile. He needed to hear her say his name in that sweet, secret tone she only used with him.

A single tear slipped through his defenses, sliding carelessly down his cheek.

Y/N gasped under her breath and reached for it, wiping the wet away with the soft pad of her thumb. “Oh, baby… it’s ok.”

Before she could pull away, Dean grabbed her wrist. He wrapped his fingers tight around her arm and held her there, letting her heat fill his mind, soothe the pain.

“It’s not OK, Y/N/N,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and took a breath, one last drink of her air, her being. “I- I don’t want you to go.”

She leaned forward, dropped a kiss to the top of his head. “I have to, Dean. You know that.”

Drunken tears flowed freely; his throat closed tight. “Please,” he begged, close to choking on his grief. “Stay with me. Just a little bit longer…”

Y/N sighed and slid down off of the table, her hand still locked in his. “I’m sorry, baby. I have to go.” She chewed her lip and smiled softly. “But I’ll always be with you. I promise.”

Green eyes rose to her face. She was haloed in something brighter than the Bunker’s lights, something sacred, some glow cast down from Heaven.

“Please… Stay with me.”

Her image began to fade but her smile never did.

Dean closed his eyes, kissed her hand, whispered her name into the empty room.

She was gone again, drawn back into his memory, a ghost only in his whiskey addled mind.

He knew she wasn’t really there when she appeared- he’d set the pyre ablaze himself. But still, whenever he met the bottom of a bottle, he’d dream her up and feel her spirit around him. Nights like these he wondered if maybe, if somehow… she had stayed with him.

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!) @alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05   

[elm-writes-stories]

Cuphead: Isle of Memories (Rewrite)

*Hey guys! Happy New Year! I'm sorry that I've published this late! I've been busy with work and had been running into a writer's block, but I'm back! Anyway, this episode is published on January 1, 2024. If you guys like this chapter, don't be afraid to heart, reblog, and comment! That would be greatly appreciated! Happy New Year and let's hope this year will be a good year! Enjoy!*

Episode Eleven: Turning Up the Charm

Today was a relaxing day for once in Mugman’s life.

No demons. No Tremaine.

Just him reading a story with Cassidy sitting on his lap to read. Her purring were the only sounds that he could listen to all day. Now, he wished every day could be like this. It didn’t help he was sitting on the bean bag in the corner of the library Djimmi made.

She was resting her eyes while they were reading, which was causing him to fall asleep reading the story with her. And he didn’t mind as long as she was in his arms. But he could’ve sworn he would accidentally drop the book falling asleep like this. He started to move around to close the book, which woke her up a little.

“Oh, sorry,” Mugman whispered to her while putting the book back on the shelf.

“It’s okay,” she said tiredly, cuddling her head on his shoulder. Her paws were making biscuits on his shirt with a content smile.

Once he put the book away, he leaned back so that she could get comfortable laying on him. A smile formed his face. He began resting his eyes and holding her in his arms.

Before he could sink into a deep sleep, Chalice appeared by his side as a ghost.

“Mugsy!” Chalice shouted with a sudden urgency, waking both Mugman and Cassidy up with yelps and jolts.

Mugman took a few deep breaths with a groan. “Chalice…”

“I have a crisis,” Chalice replied. “It’s urgent…and, uh, private.”

“Private?” Mugman questioned.

Chalice nodded her head. “I promise it’ll be real quick.”

“Okay…” Mugman moved a little while Cassidy scooted off of him. “I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” Cassidy said while watching him get up from the bean bag.

He felt his legs ache from letting Cassidy sit on his lap for too long. He shook off the aches and followed Chalice around the corner away from Cassidy.

“So, what exactly do you need from me?” Mugman questioned.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Chalice stated. Once they got away from Cassidy, she turned to him. “Okay, there’s been something that has been bothering me and you’re the only one…well, besides Cuphead by now, that knows what to do.”

“Uh…know what to do about what?”

“Ya know? Uh…this…um…well, you know how you are when ya first met Cassi.”

Mugman tilted his head for a moment until he realized what she was talking about. Then he smirked teasingly at her. “Yeah?”

“Well, let’s say that there’s a fella who knew how to play the violin, fix some things, and he’s a nerd when it comes to myths and legends. I dont’ know if he likes me back the same way though,” she responded.

He blinked in shock. “I thought he already likes ya.”

She blushed. “He does?!”

“Yeah, I thought that was obvious.”

“Wait, we’re talkin’ about the same guy, right?” she asked.

“Canteen Hughes?” Mugman inquired.

“Yeah, we’re talkin’ about the same guy,” she said.

He arched a brow. “And you like him back.”

“Well, yeah…I mean, I think he’s neat. I dunno how this works. You and Cuphead might be the only two ding-dongs I know that knows about this kind of feeling,” Chalice replied. “Ugh, now I realize why Saltbaker kept saying he’s my future boyfriend.”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Mugman responded while rubbing his hands. “Maybe you can ask him out on a date.”

“Oh, like you did with Cassi?”

“Yeah.”

“Good one. But if I were to ask him out on the date, it has to be spectacular!”

“Uh, well, it doesn’t have to be—”

“I know! We can start arguing and then not getting along until finally we confess our feelings for each other and we are dating officially!” Chalice replied.

“Uhhh, I’m not sure that’s how romance works—”

It was sudden that Cuphead zoomed into the scene with a panicked look on his face. “Hey, Mugsy! I just asked Nat out on a date and she said yes! What do I do now?!”

“Whoa, whoa, one at a time!” Mugman shouted until he noticed his brother’s legs bruised. “Wait, what happened to your legs, Cuphead?”

“Uh…it’s a long story,” Cuphead answered nervously.

“Wait, you asked Nat out on a date?” Chalice questioned with a gasp.

“Yeah,” Cuphead responded nervously.

Chalice’s smile brightened. “Way to go, Cups! I knew you had it in you! Now, I have a question for you. How did you do it?”

“Do what?” Cuphead asked.

“Ask her out on a date?” Chalice persisted.

“I dunno. We got ourselves into a dangerous situation and kind of confessed our feelings to each other. I mean, we kissed on the lips first and then I asked her out on a date,” Cuphead responded.

“Wait, what?!” Chalice and Mugman gasped.

“You jumped into it?!” Mugman shouted.

“No, she kissed first!” Cuphead said immaturely.

“Aww,” Chalice replied. “Wait, you said you were in a dangerous situation?”

“Yeah?” Cuphead uttered.

“And you confessed to each other about your feelings?”

“Yes.”

She pondered for a moment and then smirked mischievously. “That gives me an idea.”

“Wait, Mugman, which one of you kiss on the lips first? You or Cassi?” Cuphead asked.

“We haven’t kiss each other on the lips yet,” Mugman answered sheepishly.

“WHAT?! You two have been together all this time and haven’t kissed each other on the lips yet?!” Cuphead yelled.

“Not so loud, Cuphead!” Mugman whispered harshly to his brother.

Chalice groaned impatiently. “Can we get back to the matter at hand?”

Mugman nodded. “Yes, yes, please.”

“How did you two ding-dongs get those girls to like ya? Let alone letting girls kiss ya first?” Chalice asked the brothers.

The cup brothers were silent for a moment while looking at each other. Then they glanced back at Chalice.

“I dunno,” Cuphead responded.

“Yeah, me neither,” Mugman replied.

Chalice slapped her forehead with a sigh in discouragement. “I thought you both would be more experts on romance.”

“Chalice, I just asked Nat out on a date. I don’t know how I got her to even like me,” Cuphead responded. “I mean, I did tell her how I feel about her.”

“Yeah, I did the same to Cassidy…although I thought I was confessing it to you,” Mugman said while looking at his brother.

“Hey, at least, you got together with Cassi thanks to me,” Cuphead replied with a smirk.

“So, I guess I got to tell him how I feel then,” Chalice replied, pondering. “While turning up that charm of acting like a ding-dong! That’s what I’ll do! I get him to come with me on a perilous journey, get trapped in a cave with him, confess to him on how I feel, and then ask him on a date. Or kiss him on the lips first and then ask him out on a date. Whichever works!”

“Uh,” the brothers uttered.

“Thanks, fellas! Wish me luck!” Chalice said as she flew away.

Cuphead and Mugman froze and looked at each other.

“Should we go after her?” Cuphead questioned.

“Nah, she’ll be fine,” Mugman responded and shifted his attention back to Cuphead. “Soooo, you asked Nat on the date, huh?”

“Uh, yeah,” Cuphead said with a blush. “Mind helpin’ me out?”

“Helping out?”

The cup brothers turned to see Cassidy walking to them.

“Oh, Cassi,” Mugman replied excitedly and hurried over to her. “Sorry I was taking so long to get back to you.”

“It’s okay,” she said with a smile. “I was wondering about what’s happenin’ with Chalice.”

“She’s on her own journey. Say, maybe you could help us,” Mugman suggested to his girlfriend.

“Ooh, help with what?” Cassidy asked excitedly.

“You see, Cuphead just asked Nat out on a date,” Mugman replied.

“Hey, no need on tellin’ the whole world about it,” Cuphead responded defensively.

“Shush,” Mugman replied, continuing to talk to Cassidy. “I’m going to get Cuphead a nice suit for his date. Do you think you would want to help Natalie with getting ready for the date? Kind of like what they did with us?”

Cassidy seemed uneasy for a moment, which was noticed by Mugman.

“Oh, you don’t have to help if you don’t want to,” Mugman replied.

“No, I want to,” Cassidy said. “It’s just…I’m never a fashion expert. Natalie knows more than I do and I feel like I’m going to mess it up for her.”

“You won’t,” Mugman said softly. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Cassidy thought about it. Her ears perked as soon as an idea struck her. “Ooh! I know someone else who’s a fashion expert!”

The red feline kissed Mugman on the cheek and ran off with a newfound determination.

Mugman gazed at her with a lovey-dovey smile.

Cuphead rubbed his arm. “So, are you gonna help me pick out a suit?”

“Yeah!” Mugman said excitedly. “Right this way, my dear brother!”

Cuphead walked with Mugman while rolling his eyes.

~.~

 Canteen had been trying to get back into building things in his tent.

Ever since he was a kid, he had a mechanic family that didn’t have a happy family. Remembering those families that died all those years ago still brought him back to that trauma. However, he wanted to build something…something like a plane.

Canteen had been drawing on a blueprint paper of all the screws and parts needed to build a plane on his wooden desk, but his mind started to drift off today.

Instead of drawing screws, he drew a face on the blueprint. His pencil outlined the details of the person’s face and he found himself drawing Chalice. It appeared to be accurate to the detail. He kept drawing her face, including her eyes and her dimples when she smiled. Then he drew her torso and a skirt she always wore since he first met her. Her heels were last. A smile came on his face as he drew more in detail.

“Whatcha drawin’?” A familiar cheery voice spoke beside him.

Canteen jumped with a yelp and covered the drawing of Chalice. He looked over his shoulder to find Chalice floating next to him.

“Uh…nothing. Nothing…j-just working on a new project,” Canteen stuttered with his face red.

“Ooh, can I see?” Chalice asked excitedly.

“Uh…i-it’s not really complete yet.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind seein’ it anyway. Unless you don’t want me too—”

“No! No, uh, I just…uh, haven’t sketch the full picture yet.”

She turned into her physical form with a bright grin. “Well, you can show me it when you’re ready! But, on a fun side of things, I got an adventure we both can go on! Together!”

“T-Together? As in me and you together?”

“Yep! I heard that there’s a really cool place that we can explore together! It’s about…maybe thirty miles from this place. What d’ya say we go and see what’s there?”

Canteen blushed at the thought of going with Chalice someplace. “Um…yeah, sure.”

“Alright! Let’s go!” Chalice started to walk away.

“Wait,” Canteen urged while leaving the blueprint behind. “Where are we going exactly?”

“Well, that’s for me to know and you to find out,” she said with a wink.

He blushed and followed her out of the camp.

~.~

Natalie had been pacing in front of the ship with her anxious thoughts running through her liquid mind. She couldn’t believe she said yes to dating Cuphead. First, she kissed him and then she accepted his offer for a date.

She had been many dates before because her mother forced her too and most of them were little boys richer than her. Or guys that were way older than she liked to admit. And of course, she chased away the dates who were boys her age. She always thought it was them, but now she believed it to be her once she realized how badly she mistreated Cassidy. Natalie couldn’t believe that it took Cassidy being under the Devil’s control to wake her up.

“Natalie—”

Natalie screeched and spun around to find Cassidy behind her. She grabbed her chest and sighed in relief. “Oh, Cassi, it’s just you. Sorry, I was thinking about stuff.”

Cassidy gave her a smirk. “About your date with Cuphead?”

Natalie’s face turned redder than a tomato. “How did you—?”

“Cuphead told Mugman and Mugman told me,” the red cat said.

“Oh,” Natalie uttered while rubbing her arm nervously.

“And I came to help you get ready for your date. You know, the same way you helped me get ready for a date with Mugman.”

Natalie frowned. “You remembered that?”

“Of course I remembered,” Cassidy said. She noticed Natalie’s frown. “Are you okay?”

“I didn’t think you would remember what I’ve done that was good.”

Cassidy softened her gaze. “Well, I would be lying if I said that you never did anything to help me.”

“Yeah, but I—”

“I want to forget the past.”

Natalie glanced up at her friend in shock. “But—”

“You have done horrible things to me in the past,” Cassidy said softly. “I stuck around you, because you were the only friend my age who even tolerated me at the time. I feel like I have to want to do things with you so that I can be around you. Or do the things only you want to do just to be around you. But you’ve changed. I’ve noticed that you’re not like that anymore.”

Natalie widened her eyes more.

“I don’t hate you, Natalie. I’ve never hated you. I’m always going to be your friend…I’ve always made that promise to you. But I want to forget about what happened in the past. It brings pain to even talk about it.”

Natalie softened her gaze and nodded. “Okay. I just want to say I’m sorry…for everything.”

“I forgive you.”

There was silence as both of the friends exchanged soft smiles.

“Now,” Cassidy began excitedly. “Let’s pick a cute dress for you.”

“But you don’t like clothes shopping,” Natalie pointed out.

Cassidy grinned. “Well, I know someone who knows about fashion. C’mon!”

She grabbed Natalie by the wrist, pulling her away from the ship and hurrying away to pick a cute outfit for her.

~.~

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Canteen asked while strolling through the forest with Chalice.

“Oh, I’m sure of it,” Chalice said while looking for a cave around them to get trapped in.

Canteen didn’t seem convinced by Chalice’s answer. He looked around the forest to hear the pretty birds chirping and the sun shining through the leaves of the trees. The branches swayed to the gentle breeze, setting chills down on his spine.

He glanced at her and softly gazed at her. “Sooo, are you going to give me some hint as to where we’re going?”

She turned back with a small smirk at him. “It’s gonna blow your socks off.”

“That’s not a hint,” he teased with a blush.

“It’s some hint,” she quipped.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Look, if you think it’s my birthday, you’re way off by two months and twenty days.”

Her smirk widened. “I’ll be sure to note that. But it’s not for your birthday.”

He dropped his playful look. “Then…what are you taking me out for?”

“Well, there’s something I oughta show you and I thought you would like it—”

Both Chalice and Canteen stopped when they noticed a temple ahead of them. For some reason, the white stoned temple seemed familiar to her.

Canteen gasped in recognition of the temple. “Whoa.”

“Whoa what?”

The silver canteen headed off towards the temple, taking the lead now with fascination in his eyes.

“Canteen, wait!” Chalice chased after Canteen towards the temple.

The kids reached to the bottom of the steps, looking up at the two front statues.

Chalice softened her gaze at one of the statues of a cup woman with long wavy hair resting on her shoulder and her name engraved under her feet of her name.

“Esther Cupchal.”

Chalice frowned at the name and then looked at the other statue, a man with a cup for his head that was chipped on the side. His name was engraved under his feet as well, but it was barely readable.

“Chester Cupchal.”

Canteen focused on the entrance of the temple with an awed look. “Is this what you’re trying to show me?”

Chalice faked a smile. “Yeah, definitely. Definitely! Since ya like myths and stuff, you might like looking at a mausoleum.”

He turned to look at her and saw her fake smile. “Are you sure this is the place you want to show me?”

She waved off her emotions and took him by the hand. “Yeah. C’mon. There’s so much to look at.”

They head into the mausoleum. Once they were inside, Chalice found herself more familiar with her surroundings. She looked at more statues of familiar friends, remembering their dead bodies in the glitch of her memories. She moved her eyes away from the statues and focused forward, leaving Canteen in confusion.

Canteen noticed one of the statues that was a spoon with the name under her feet:

Silversmith Spoon.

The canteen realized that Chalice was trying to keep her gaze away from the statues. He frowned at the sight of her and hurried beside her, faking a grin.

“Hey, if you want, we can find somewhere else to explore. I’m sure there are plenty of things in the forest we can explore other than this mausoleum,” Canteen said.

She faked a smile. “Aww, I thought you liked myths and legends.”

“I do,” he replied with a blush. “But I’m sure there are more adventures out there than this old mausoleum.” As he was saying the last part, he stepped on the floor plate that sunk below his foot.

He widened his eyes in shock and looked down to see that he pressed the floor plate.

The ground began to open under their feet as they wrapped their arms around each other and fell into the dark abyss with screams. 

~.~

Cassidy was guiding Natalie through the village, looking for this supposed “fashion expert” to help her find her friend a perfect dress for the date.

Natalie was surprised to see this side of Cassidy, the one who was all giddy and excited for her best friend’s date. Not that Cassidy had never been happy for Natalie before, but Natalie could see a gleam in her eyes that were filled with pure genuine joy. She knew Cassidy didn’t like clothes shopping as much as Natalie, but it didn’t feel like Cassidy was sacrificing her own happiness for Natalie’s sake. Or forcing herself to dangerous situations to please her best friend. Maybe because this time…Natalie didn’t ask her too. And maybe this time…Cassidy wanted to do this.

However, Natalie felt a slight disappointment when she was taken to Porkrind’s shop. She blinked in confusion and glanced at her best friend.

“Why are we—?”

The answer was revealed immediately after Cassidy opened the door. The girls noticed Dice leaning over the counter and talking to Porkrind, who seemed to lean a bit towards the former gambler in interest of what he was saying.

“So, here’s the thing, if we can make your shop just a tad bit fancier,” Dice began while gesturing to the shop without looking at the girls. “You should be getting more customers and more customers means more money.”

“Make it fancy?” Porkrind questioned. He crossed his arm with a brow raised. “How fancy are we talking?”

“Well…” Dice looked around the shop until he noticed the girls. “Oh, hey, girls.” He glanced at the pig to whisper, “You got your first customers.”

“Actually, Dice, we’re looking for you,” Cassidy clarified.

“Me?” King Dice glanced at Porkrind, who shrugged his shoulders. Dice shifted his attention back at the girls. “Why me?”

“We need your fashion expertise,” Cassidy replied excitedly.

A smug smile formed on the die’s lips. “Well, well, you came to the right place. So, who do we need to dress up?”

Cassidy glanced at Natalie, who waved at Dice nervously.

“Hi,” Natalie uttered.

“Hello,” Dice responded.

“She needs a perfect dress for her date with Cuphead,” Cassidy said with a bright smile.

Natalie’s entire face turned red and she smiled nervously.

“Oh,” Dice responded with a small chuckle. “I didn’t think that cup is gonna get a girl because of his lack of…well, intelligence. But I see he’s got you fallin’ for him.”

“Hey, Cuphead is not stupid,” Natalie argued with Dice in a defensive manner.

Dice blinked in shock.

Porkrind put his hand on his hip and looked at Dice with a teasing smirk at him. “Better not talk bad about her man.”

Dice giggled and glanced at the one-eyed pig. “He ain’t a man just yet.” He shifted his attention to Natalie while rubbing the bottom edge of his square face. “Buuuut…I can get you pretty up before the date. You know, if we put some light make-up and a pretty pink dress on ya, you would look fabulous. It’ll even knock Cuphead’s socks off.”

Natalie suddenly became uncomfortable when Dice offered his hand to guide her. Cassidy noticed the discomfort in her friend’s face along with Dice and Porkrind.

“You okay, Nat?” Cassidy asked with a brow raised.

Dice blinked in realization and frowned for a moment. He shook off his frown and gave Natalie a comforting smile. “Would it better if you have a lady help getting you ready for your date?”

Natalie glanced at Cassidy for a moment and then back at King Dice with a small nod.

“What—?” Cassidy seemed confused until Dice pulled her aside and whispered to her about what happened to Natalie before they went to rescue the feline from Hell. The red cat gasped in shock and glanced at her friend with a soft look.

Natalie looked away in shame and embarrassment.

Dice turned to Porkrind. “Hey, Porks, you got a phone? I gotta make a call real quick.”

Porkrind darted his gaze at Natalie and then back at Dice. He pointed at the phone hooked on the wall next to him. “Knock yourself out.”

Dice nodded and headed to the phone. He dialed the number and leaned against the wall, holding the speaker.

“Hello, is this Sally?” Dice called. An answer came, causing him to smile. “This is Dice. Uh, say, someone needs your help in dressing her up and getting her ready for her date. Do you mind helping her out?”

Dice smiled when he got a response he wanted to hear. “Great. We’re right inside of Pork’s shop. See you soon.”

He hung up the phone and glanced at the ladies. “So, I got someone on her way to help ya out.”

“Thanks, Dice,” Natalie said with a weak smile.

Not even a minute later, Sally entered the shop with a bright smile and dresses on her arms.

“I heard someone is trying to get ready for a date,” Sally replied excitedly.

Natalie rose her hand slowly. “I am.”

“Ooh, I got a bunch of pretty dresses that are not costumes. Wanna try them on?” Sally asked while showing many dresses on her arms.

Natalie nodded her head. “Sure.”

“I can come with you if it’s okay with Dad,” Cassidy said while looking at her father.

Porkrind smiled. “Yeah, yeah. Just stay safe out there and have fun.”

The feline grinned and stayed by Natalie while they walked away to go with Sally to try on dresses.

Once the girls left, Porkrind huffed a sigh and looked at his desk.

Dice noticed Porkrind’s sigh. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” Porkrind said.

“You sure?”

The one-eyed pig glanced at Dice to notice the former gambler leaning forward a bit in interest.

“It’s nothing. It’s just that…she keeps reminding me too much of an old friend I had once.”

“Shayna, right?”

Porkrind glanced at Dice in shock.

“Uh, Jerry told me about you lost her. I’m sorry for your loss.”

The pig waved it off. “It was years ago.”

Dice frowned to notice him looking away. “But it still hurts you to this day, right?”

“Sometimes.”

Dice tilted his head. “Is she Shayna’s daughter?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…well, that puts things into perspective than.”

“What?”

“Well, most people hate red cats back then. But you didn’t because your friend was one of them. I guess it’s why you cared so much about Cassidy since she’s your friend’s daughter.”

Porkrind huffed a laugh. “You’re a detective now?”

“You can say that I’m connecting the dots here. Am I getting any of it right so far?”

The pig looked away sadly again. “Yeah, you’re getting it right.”

There was a brief silence while Dice frowned and looked away.

Porkrind noticed Dice shifting his glance away and cleared his throat to get his attention back. “You know, I’m wondering what the boys are even doing to get Cuphead ready for his date.”

Dice huffed up a laugh. “Yeah, I wonder that too.”

~.~

Mugman searched through the closet of their new home, finding a bunch of clothes he didn’t know they even had. Suits, shirts, shorts, and pants. Heck, even coats with two pairs of winter boots for the snow.

Cuphead sat at the edge of the bed while staring at his brother looking through the closet.

“Man, to think Djimmi would add clothes on top of giving us a house to live in. Oh! There’s that red suit I was lookin’ for!” He turned to show the red suit to Cuphead. “What do you think, Cuphead—?”

Mugman noticed Cuphead looking at the ground without lifting his eyes up to see the suit. He tilted his head in confusion. “Hey, aren’t you excited about your date?”

“Huh?” Cuphead snapped out of his thoughts and looked at his brother. He faked a smile. “Uh, yeah, I am.”

Mugman wasn’t convinced. “Cuphead, the date is gonna be fine as long as the Devil, the demons, and the infectees won’t find us here. Which they won’t tonight. Or any other night hopefully—”

“I ain’t worried about the date.”

“Then…you’re worried about something.”

Cuphead rubbed his hands without saying a word.

Mugman set the suit aside and sat by his brother. “Hey, if there’s somethin’ bothering ya, you know you can talk to me about it, right?”

Cuphead nodded his head, but there was no response still.

Mugman looked ahead with a sad look. “Did I…do anything that made you feel like you can’t talk to me?”

His brother shook his head. “Nah, you did nothing wrong—”

“Are you sure?”

“Mugman, it ain’t got anything to do with you. I just—” Cuphead couldn’t finish the sentence without hugging himself.

“You just what?”

“I just thought about how I was trying to help you set up for your date with Cassi. Now you’re trying to help me set up for my date with Nat. It’s kind of nice, you know? Like how you were trying to keep me from losing my soul to the Devil. And now, sometimes I feel like I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt.”

Mugman frowned while listening to his brother.

“I’m sorry I hadn’t been the best brudda to you in a past,” Cuphead said.

Mugman chuckled a bit. “I hadn’t been the best brother to you either.” He placed a hand on Cuphead’s shoulder, getting his brother’s attention. “It’s okay, Cuphead. You don’t have to feel guilty about it anymore.”

“I know…I just…can’t help but think about what it could’ve been if I ain’t so stupid.”

“Well, what you did a lot of stupid things,” Mugman corrected his brother. “Going to that carnival where the Devil tries to steal souls, getting answers wrong on Roll the Dice, stealing cookies from the cookie factory, getting ourselves arrested being in that said cookie factory, almost getting yourself injured at every turn, blowing up wood for the winter, stealing the Devil’s pitchfork—”

“Are you trying to make me feel better? Because it ain’t workin’ so far.”

Mugman sighed. “But besides all of that, Cuphead, I couldn’t have asked for a better brother who is also my best friend. You annoy me and irritate me, but you also taught me a lot of things….good things! Like being brave and making decisions that were opposite of yours when situations arise.”

“Okay…”

“You also were there for me when I’m hurt, sad, lonely, and when I needed you the most. You get me into a lot of trouble and it was all fun while it lasted. What it could’ve been doesn’t matter now. We got each other and right now, I’m gonna help you get ready for that date of yours. Just like how you helped me.”

Cuphead smiled softly. “Thanks, Mugsy.”

Mugman nodded and skipped off the subject. “Say, you want to wear the red suit or…any other suit?”

“I’ll stick with the red one since it suits me more.”

“Perfect.”

Cuphead pondered for a moment. “I wonder how Chalice was doing confessing to Canteen.”

“Oh yeah. I’m sure they’re fine.”

~.~

Canteen and Chalice were laying on the ground with groans of pain from the fall.

Chalice sprung herself up on her feet and dusted herself off. “Well, that was quite a fall—” She noticed Canteen barely standing up with wobbly legs. “Golly, Canteen, you okay?!”

“Yep…” Canteen answered with a thumbs up. “Are we still at the mausoleum?”

Chalice looked up at the hole they fell from. “Looks like we’re under it now.”

“Geez…”

“Hey, we got ourselves trapped in the cave.”

“Uh…yeah?”

“Ooh, okay. Um…how should I—how should we—?”

“We just look for the way out,” Canteen said with an obvious tone. He pointed straight ahead. “There might be something ahead. Let’s go.” He limped forward, causing concern for her.

She clenched her teeth. “Man, I didn’t think about the injuries for this trip.”

Both of them walked through the cave, shivering in the soft breeze. Canteen’s limping started to bother Chalice to the point where she contorted her face in guilt.

“Man, this is not how I would imagine this.”

“Imagine what?” Canteen asked with confusion.

“Well, you see…um, I was thinkin’ that we go on a perilous journey—without gettin’ injured…and, you know…say our deepest feelings.”

“Deepest feelings?” Canteen questioned.

“Yeah. What’s your deepest feeling right now?”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Well, I’m the one that got us trapped here. I didn’t think there was a pressure plate.”

“Yeah, I didn’t see that either. Don’t feel bad. It happens.”

He frowned.

She noticed it with a curious look. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Canteen…”

He went silent for a moment until he glanced at Chalice. “Have you ever felt like…?”

She leaned a bit to listen what else he had to say.

“You know…have you ever felt like you’re a bad omen?”

Chalice blinked at the question. “A bad omen…?”

“Yeah.”

She pondered for a second. “Well, before I met the two ding-dongs, I did feel like a bad omen. But when I did meet them, I didn’t feel so…alone. I felt like I gained something that I’ve lost a long time ago. It’s…hard to explain.”

He reached his hand out for hers to comfort her until she noticed. He pulled away, blushing in embarrassment. She gave him a warm smile and held his hand. He was shocked at the gesture for a moment until he exchanged a warm smile back to her and held her hand a bit tighter.

“Soo, do you feel like a bad omen?” she asked softly.

He lost his smile. “Well…yeah. I get called ‘Bad Luck Hughes’ growing up.”

“Oh golly! Why?”

“Heh, it’s complicated.”

“I’m all for complicated, you know.”

He paused for a moment and then sighed. “Whenever I get adopted…my parents just died…”

Chalice blinked in shock.

“Like…one of the parents who adopted me got into a car accident. The other parents got themselves killed in a fight…Heck, the third time I got adopted, my parents just got jumped by a gang and died. That’s when the rumor started to spread by the caretakers in the orphanage. They would tell the parents who would think about adopting me that I was ‘Bad Luck Hughes’ and to not adopt me if they don’t want bad luck in their houses. Then the kids became afraid of me…like I was going to hurt them…and I would never hurt anyone…ever…” He started to choke out the words at the end.

She widened her eyes in shock to hear this from him. Then she watched him trying not to sob in front of her with a frown.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone ever…not even you.”

She smiled softly and held his hand tighter while listening to him break down and cry.

“Now I got us trapped in this cave and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t brought the best of luck with the group…it’s almost like every bad thing happened and I’m scared that if I lose you…I-I don’t know what would happen. I just…I guess I don’t want anything bad to take you from me.”

She blushed at his words.

He shook his head while wiping his tears away. “Sorry…that was pretty stupid thing to say.”

“It ain’t stupid. Out of all of the things I’ve heard in my past lives, you ain’t saying anything stupid.”

He glanced at her and sniffled. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she said while leaning her head against his.

He smiled softly and let her lay her head on his. They continued to walk through the cave and saw a door ahead.

“Is that the way out?” Canteen asked timidly.

Chalice opened the door. They both widened their eyes to discover there were three orbs resting on both sides of the wide hallway. One was glowing pink, one was glowing bright green, and one was glowing dark blue.

By the end of the hallway, there was a glowing pool. She stepped forward towards the pool, followed by Canteen.

“Chalice?” Canteen called, but she didn’t respond.

Her eyes started to tremble as she continued towards the pool. She looked down to find that there was no bottom of the glowing pool. She didn’t want to jump into it, but she remembered something about it…something familiar.

“I—I remember this place…”

He looked at her in shock. “What?”

She tilted her head and got on her knees, trying to find the source of the glow in the pool. “I remember this pool.”

He arched a brow in confusion. “What are you remembering?”

She glanced at him. He could see the tears in her eyes.

“I don’t know…” she said sadly.

He frowned and looked at the orbs. He was curious about the dark blue orb, but he didn’t draw near it when he turned to look at her. He came by her and sat next to her to stare at the glowing pool.

“Canteen…there’s something I oughta tell ya…and I need you to not tell the others about it,” she said finally. “Not until I can be brave enough to tell them.”

He looked at her and nodded. “I won’t, I promise.”

She smiled at him softly. “You read the legends of the Legendary Chalice, right?”

He nodded his head.

She continued, “Well, what those legends didn’t tell ya was a long time ago, the Calix Animi were supposed to serve the Most High and protect mortals from dealing with demons, but the gifts from the Most High became their own gifts when the members of the Calix Animi became prideful. The members say that only people who are chosen by the Most High and worthy will obtain the last two gifts. Then a ding-dong thief managed to mix the last two gifts together and became one of them.”

Canteen tilted his head. “ The two gifts mixed together? Wait! Are you talking about the Eternal’s Orb?”

She smiled. “Yep. That’s how the Eternal’s Orb was born. Anyway, the other members didn’t react too kindly when they saw a thief having the Eternal’s Orb inside of him. Of course, that caused a lot of division between them. The Devil sees this and well…took advantage of it. There was a battle and…let’s say that the Legendary Chalice lost everything. She’s the only one who survived the battle.”

He frowned when listening to the story. “She must have felt alone.”

“And a bad omen too.”

He perked his head up.

She sighed sadly. “She decided to do something that she regretted and caused her to reincarnate so many times. She threw her spear down into that pool, gather the powers of her dead friends, and hid them away in this place…except for one.”

“The Eternal’s Orb?”

“Yeah, she placed it over at the other mausoleum at someplace different that eventually became Sugarland,” Chalice replied. “Don’t ask me why…I still didn’t get why I decided to place Eternal’s Orb to this day. Probably scared that the demons might find it…? Not sure.”

He frowned. “And now you’re here.”

“Yep…”

He held her hand, catching her attention. “I won’t say anything to anyone. I promise.”

“I know. I trust you, Hughes,” she said with a soft smile while she grabbed his face and kissed his lips. He widened his eyes before melting into the kiss. He grabbed her face to keep the kiss going until they broke away to look into each other’s eyes. Their eyes suddenly broadened cartoonishly as Canteen let go of her face.

“Whoa,” he uttered.

She felt sudden chills coming down her spine. “Wow…heh, I’ve never felt this before.”

“Me neither…” he said while blushing madly.

She got excited and kissed his lips again, almost knocking him down. He gasped in shock once her lips crashed into his again, but his shock melted away as he caressed her face.

They both broke away, causing Chalice to bounce away like a little kid.

“Whoa, wow! Wow,” she responded, trying to keep herself together.

He giggled giddily. “Yeah…” He realized that they were still in the hallway. “Uh, should we get out of here? Maybe later we can…you know, find someplace to hang out and…”

“Date?” she finished with a smile.

“Yeah.”

She came up to him and helped him up on his feet with a lovesick grin. “I would love that.”

They both turned to look and found a door to the side. They went to the door and opened it to find that there was a way out from under the ground. As they went up the stairs, they were holding hands and walking as close to each other as they could.

~.~

The night was young.

Cuphead had been standing outside of the theater with his red suit after the brothers were told by Cassidy through the phone that they were getting ready at Sally’s theater.

The cup became impatient, which was noticed by his brother.

“She’ll come out. Don’t worry,” Mugman reassured his brother.

Cuphead looked away ashamed. “I know. I’m just…well…you know how it feels, huh?”

“Anxious, impatient, nervous, and excited all mix together?”

“Yeah.”

Mugman smiled softly. “Welcome to dating.”

They heard heels clicked and turned their heads to notice their girlfriends coming out.

Cassidy let Natalie walk towards Cuphead.

Cuphead’s pupils dilated when he saw her wearing her dark pink dress with a skirt that appeared to be fluffy and with feathers dragging on the floor. She had only light make-up with light pink eyeshadows and light blushes on her cheeks. She had her brown liquid hair up in a bun, pinned by the dark pink feathers. She had long light pink gloves on that went up to her elbows and heels.

She seemed nervous. “Heh, I don’t know if I picked the right dress for the date—”

“Pretty,” Cuphead blurted out.

She stopped her sentence and blushed. Then she gave a smile. “You think so?”

He nodded his head. “Yeah.” Then he noticed Natalie wearing the pink pearl necklace that Cuphead gave to her when Mugman was first dating Cassidy. “Hey, you’re wearing the necklace I gave ya a long time ago.”

“Yeah…you don’t mind, right?”

He shook his head. “I bought it for you. I don’t mind at all whether you wear it or not.”

She grinned at him. “Ready?”

He nodded and held his arm out. “Ready.”

She wrapped her arm around his and stayed close to him.

Mugman watched them with a proud smirk at his brother. He felt someone lean against him and looked to see Cassidy rubbing her head against his with purrs. He wrapped his arm around her waist while her tail embraced around his waist.

“Are we going to spy on them like they did to us?” she whispered against the side of his head.

He giggled. “Maybe. Maybe not. I ain’t too worried about them.”

She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. “You know, since everything is getting calmer, do you think we can try another date?”

He looked at her. “Like going out to eat kind of date?”

She nodded her head with a ‘Mhm’.

He gave a small chuckle. “I would love that.”

Chalice and Canteen approached them with bruises and scratches, which were noticed by Mugman and Cassidy.

“By golly, what happened to you both?” Mugman questioned Chalice and Canteen.

Both Chalice and Canteen exchanged glances at each other and snickered a bit.

“Well, let’s just say that we went on a perilous journey,” she said with a shrug.

Mugman looked to see Chalice holding Canteen’s hand. “Oh. Well, congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Canteen answered bashfully.

Chalice looked to see Cuphead and Natalie going to Fly Trap and sitting at the dock of the ferry ship. “Did I miss anything with Cuphead and Natalie?”

“Other than them getting ready for a date, not that much,” Mugman answered.

They watched as the cups were going on date. By the end of the date, Cuphead and Natalie danced with each other to the music played by Ribby and Croaks.

As Mugman watched on, he felt something strange in his body. His vision became a blur for a moment. He almost stumbled, but he felt Cassidy holding him up. He glanced at her to notice her concern look with a clearer vision.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said.

His friends and his girlfriend didn’t believe him, but they didn’t push further.

As they watched, Mugman couldn’t help but felt like something was calling him. It was calling his name. He tried to ignore it, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore. A vision of a pool came and went for a second. He became light-headed from trying to ignore this weird vision. He felt like he was going to throw up, but he couldn’t. His legs were shaking and he was breathing shallow breaths. He could barely hear Cassidy’s concern tone, but it was muffled. He could assume that she was asking if he was okay. He gave a slight nod to her as his vision became a blur. Then the blur became black. He lost his balance and collapsed onto the ground.

He could no longer hear the voices asking him if he was alright. It was just him and the darkness. 

To Be Continued...

[googleitlol]

Okok idk when this flashback will be published in the fic officially and I rlly wanna share it so ima leave it here for now.

This is for my ao3 fic from my masterpost, the idea for it came suddenly and I needed to get it written out before I forgot abt it

Monkey See, Monkey Do

The boy sat there, face blank.

“There wasn’t anyone else around?” I looked back over the counter to Pigsy, who was in the midst of shrugging on his coat.

It felt like only a moment ago, I was flipping through channels on the tv upstairs, struggling to find something I actually wanted to watch when the man who ran the shop below me sent me a text asking if I had any stuffed toys. Now, here I was, watching a strange little boy while that same man was preparing to go out into the rain.

Pigsy huffed, peeking out to gauge the weather. “Didn’t see anyone. I tried asking him if his parents were around but he hasn’t said a word.” He was already tired enough from a long day of work, and it was evident that he didn’t want to go out in the rain.

Swiftly, he turned to grab an umbrella. “Keep an eye on him, will ya, Lian? I’ll see if I can find anyone looking for him.”

I nodded, turning my attention back to the little boy. His hair was a tangled mess, either jutting out in every direction or being caked down by layers of dust and dirt. His face and arms (from what I could see under Pigsy’s work jacket) were greasy, as though he had spent an hour shovelling unholy amounts of fried food into his mouth. But he looked much too thin for that to be the case.

As if that sight alone wasn’t enough to break my heart, the blank expression that remained on his face did. Shouldn’t he be concerned? Scared? Upset without the presence of whatever guardians he had looking after him?

…Did he have anyone looking after him?

He showed no signs of being interested in the bowl of noodles in front of him, so with a sigh, I walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a clean cloth. Wetting it over the sink, I moved around the counter to take a seat next to the boy. He followed me with his eyes, a silent observer that left me slightly unnerved. How old was this kid? Three? Maybe four? Shouldn’t he be, y’know, loud?

“Hey, there, bud. I’m just gonna clean you up a little, okay?” I hummed, holding up the cloth before moving closer. With caution, I began to wipe away the grease and dirt that stuck to his face. The boy hardly moved, allowing me to clean off the grime before moving to his arms. He was just so… quiet.

Once I was finished with the cloth, I threw it into the sink and took back my seat next to the kid. His noodles were getting cold, but he was still staring at me.

He blinked.

I blinked.

He blinked again.

And slowly… so did I.

There was a shift, a hint of understanding. He blinked again. I copied, slowly and overly-exaggerated.

Now recognizing the game, his head tilted slowly to the left. So did mine. His head slowly tilted to the right. So did mine. He blinks twice, I blink twice. He blinks faster, and so do I. His expression turned quizzical, as though he was working out a math problem, deep in thought. It was pretty cute, the confusion on his face, better than that blank look from before.

I cleared my throat. Slowly… he does the same, his little voice soft and kind of squeaky. With a smile, I blink quickly, three times. He copies without hesitation. The little boy was good at our game of monkey see, monkey do. Hmm…

Pigsy’s pot of noodles was still on one of the counters in the kitchen. Swiftly, I jump up to grab myself a bowl. Sitting next to the boy again, I slowly began to eat. When I glance back at him, I see his eyes still on me, though the thought behind them was now much more clear.

He looked to his own bowl, then back to mine. I blow on the noodles before eating a little more, letting out a slightly exaggerated sigh of content as I did.

And as the little monkey saw, he did.

The boy pulled the bowl closer to himself, taking his first bite of the noodles. His eyes widened ever so slightly when he did, sighing with content just as I had done before taking another bite. And then another. And another. I rubbed my belly over-dramatically, the boy following my movements. In the blink of an eye, his bowl had not a smidge of food left in it.

He was a mini-vacuum. “You must’ve been hungry, huh?” I hummed to myself before pushing my bowl over to him, it still had some more in it. “Go ahead, I already had dinner.”

The boy looked up at me again before his gaze fell on his own empty bowl. Only a second passed before he pushed the empty dish over to me as I had done to him. The gesture made a soft laugh bubble from my chest.

“No, I’m not… nevermind.” I gently shook my head, amused by the little smile of pride that began to show past the child’s surprisingly stoic face. It didn’t take long after that to get him to eat more of Pigsy’s food. Those noodles were heavenly, the kid learned that pretty quickly.

Once he had finished my bowl, I took the dishes back into the kitchen and began to wash them. Occasionally, I glanced back at the kid to see he was still watching, following my movements. When he saw that I was looking at him again, he started blinking.

I laughed at his silent question to continue our game and blinked back at him. His gaze scanned the counter, searching for something he could use next for the game while I went back to washing the bowls.

It wasn’t long before I was able to put the dishes onto the drying rack next to the sink. Unfortunately, it was more than enough time for the boy.

By the time I turned around and saw the blue crayon in his hand, the counter was too far gone.

I scrambled around the counter to the boy. “No, no, nonononono! Aagh— Pigsy’s gonna ki—“

My thoughts were put on pause as the kid stood on his stool, holding out another crayon.

I blinked, struggling to process my thoughts for a moment. Only a few seconds passed before I slowly accepted the orange crayon. Content, the child sat on the stool and turned to continue his art. Before he could, I quickly held up his hand. “Ah, let’s use some paper.” I sighed, looking around the counter before my eyes landed on the paper I assumed the boy had found the crayons with.

Placing a sheet in front of the kid and one in front of myself, I pointed to the paper with my crayon. His eyes went to the paper, and then back to me. Hoping he understood what I meant, I began to sketch the little boy— as well as I could. I hadn’t really done any sort of art recently, not in the last few decades anyway. I was a little rusty.

The boy watched with wide eyes before taking the crayon in his own hands and began scribbling down my own features. Occasionally, I glanced over to see my wobbly eyes looking back at me from his page, or my elongated smile as thin as a noodle.

By the time Pigsy returned, he was welcomed to the sight of a child’s small smile and several pages of drawings littered around his shop.

[stesierra]

How would you like to see the book I can't publish? It's a book about disability and societal injustice and gay teenagers and terrible diseases. I'm proud of it but I wrote it in a time before OwnVoices and I don't want to take money away from writers who actually are physically disabled. But maybe it's okay to share it for free. YA fantasy that would definitely be banned in Florida.

CAST OUT

CHAPTER ONE

The smell was like nothing I'd ever encountered. It filtered through the hood of my cloak and the silk mask over my nose and mouth, and it filled my lungs the way the sun fills your eyes when you stare at it.

On my shoulders, my parents' hands weighed heavy and warm. My father's trembled.

I was not trembling. I was sixteen today. Full-aged. Full-aged women walked with their heads held high and uncovered. They looked at the world around them, at anything they liked, without worrying they'd see something that would blight a growing mind.

It wasn't gawking to stare around at the gold-plated columns, the silk-draped ceiling, and the obsidian stairs. It was being adult.

We mounted the stairs, my parents a step ahead of me.

At the top, sentinels framed the ivory entrance. Straight whole tusks made up the door, each twice my height and lashed together with silver wire. As we reached the top landing, the sentinels seized silver handles and pulled. They moved like mirrors.

The doors swung wide. A fire smoldered in the entryway, set in a grate lined with silver fish. We walked around it, onto a tiled platform that stretched into the heart of a triangular chamber. Down below, twelve robed men and women sat cross-legged on the floor. White triangles of linen capped their heads.

The Justry.

I took a deep breath. The smell was stronger here. It was a mineral scent, but sweet, almost cloying. I felt a little dizzy.

My parents' hands squeezed my shoulders. Then Father pulled my cloak away. Mother stripped off my mask. For the first time outside of my home, I stood exposed in nothing but my linen camise and baggy calsounds, which belled out all the way down to my slippers. My scalp felt the kiss of fresh air, even with my black hair braided and bound tight to my head. I stood proudly. I wore my best clothes, dyed red with madder and embroidered by Father's hand. I'd even scraped the paint from under my nails.

When my parents returned to my side, smoke choked the air, and the cloak and mask were gone. I would never wear them again. I wanted to skip and jump, but the eyes of the Justry were on me.

The youngest of the Justry rose, a woman no more than seventeen. The justa's skin was the same brown as the powdered cuttlefish ink Mother bought me. A touch lighter than my own.

The woman spoke, but I fixed my eyes on the crimson pillow she held. On the pillow sat a little golden jar.

Mother nudged me. I looked up.

The justa's mouth moved with ritual words Mother had already taught me. "As I have seen revelations, dear one, and been made pure, so will you. The first revelations are always the strongest." She smiled, revealing teeth a shade brighter than her white lip salve. "Are you ready?"

I nodded.

The justa reached down with white-nailed hands and lifted the golden lid. I caught a glimpse of a little cone, which sent up tendrils of glowing green like the essence of life itself. Oracle ore.

Then the smell caught me.

It swept me out of my body and up to the ceiling and through it, like I was no more substantial than a soul. It sparkled and churned and danced in my lungs, and I danced and churned and sparkled in the air above the city, a leaf on the wind. A grain of sand being melted to glass.

I felt as though I could shatter.

Lights burst behind my eyes like lost stars, and they showed me wonders that flashed by so fast I missed half of them. Underground caverns and winding tunnels that burned with their own greenish light. Gold-fronted mansions that lined the curve of a manicured hill. Huge automas, in shapes of animal and human and nothing living, with joints that moved smooth as oil. Their intricate, glowing guts.

A pale-faced woman with a jutting chin and stub nose, her low cheeks framed by mousy brown hair. Her eyes were the green of malachite pigment and old copper and the little cone evanescing on the pillow in front of me.

I fell into them.

I fell into myself.

I knelt between my parents on the platform. I had not moved except to fall. The justas still surrounded us, and the woman with white lip salve had replaced the lid on the golden jar.

Her smile at me was tender. I was too dazed to read her lips, but I could envision in signs what she said; Mother had drilled it into me. "Well? Child, tell us of what you have seen, and be welcome to adulthood."

I let my parents haul me to my feet. My knees felt like pudding. I closed my eyes, and Mother and Father steadied me with their hands.

"It was amazing," I said to the justa. And I laughed. "It was beautiful. More beautiful than anything I've ever seen. And the taste– it was like waterfalls in the mountains, or the way a diamond must taste. I've never seen either, but I've read–"

Mother's hand clamped down on my shoulder. Father's had fallen away. Something was happening. Something was wrong. I opened my eyes.

The justa's mouth was moving. I'd missed the first part of the sentence. But I read the last of it on her lips and guessed the rest. "–She will be cast out."

My hands clenched in dismay. "What? No, you can't! I saw the revelations! I saw!" I needed to taste it again. I needed the justa to lift the cover over that little glowing cone and let me suck its magic into my lungs.

The justa shrouded the golden case with a sleeve and stared at me with narrowed eyes. "Silence your child, perfectas. Her voice saddens this body."

Mother pulled me close. She spoke – her chest reverberated against my back – but I couldn't see, even without my hood. My eyes had frozen on the justa's mouth. I caught every twitch of her lips, as though I had known and read her face for years.

The justa replied, "She is an imperfecta. The law has no leeway." Her eyes turned towards Father. He must have said something. "Take comfort. There are always miracles. Perhaps the Great Unknowns will hear your prayers and cure her."

I set my jaw. "I don't need to be cured. There's nothing wrong with me."

The justa ignored me. "You may have one night with her before she is escorted from the city. With our blessings."

A drop splashed the back of my neck. Mother was crying.

The justa lifted a hand. "Walk in perfection."

My parents led me away.

#

They didn't speak to me until we were home, inside our own entry chamber, which I'd painted myself a year ago. I stopped just over the threshold, brushed by the draft of the door swinging shut behind me. My hands swept the air, agitated, too fast. "They aren't really going to make me leave, are they?"

My parents turned towards me. Tears glistened in the cracks of wrinkles that hadn't been there that morning. "Zisha," Mother said, her hands cupping my face. Was this the last time I'd see my name on her lips?

"They can't throw me out," I signed. "Not just because I talk strangely."

Father and Mother exchanged mournful glances. Father signed, "Little bird, they knew it wasn't only your voice."

"Just because I'm deaf? Because I can't hear?"

Mother stepped back, freeing her hands. Her fingers twitched a subdued answer. "Yes, dear one."

My face felt hot and sticky. Tears ran down my cheeks. "All those years you spent coaching me on how to talk properly, how to read lips. They were for nothing?"

Father signed, "We hoped your training would fool them. But–"

"It didn't."

"You have a beautiful voice, dear one," Mother signed.

"The Justry didn't think so."

Mother bit her lip. "They are all fools."

I signed, "Tell them I'll stay inside. I won't take revelations again. No one needs to see me–"

"They know you are here now," Father signed. "They won't let you hide."

I swallowed. Sniffed. "It isn't fair."

Father shook his head. "I will pack a bag for you, little bird. Go pick your favorite books from the library." He strode away, his back as stiff as the benches lining the entry hall.

I sank into one and signed weakly, "He's thinking of books? Now?"

"You will want them," Mother signed. "You will not find any outside the Plenary Cities. They cannot read, out there."

"Can they even paint?"

"Not like you, love."

I hugged my knees to my chest, pressed my face against them. Tried my voice. "I don't want to go there."

Her hand brushed my back, but I did not look to see her reply. I didn't want to see it.

I wanted to stay.

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