#for real though Jerry knows what’s up

[yellowharrington]

wildflower and barley -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 5k+ oops

warnings/notes: smut smut smut!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. age gap (it's implied reader is in her 20s while joel is 45) and mentions of joel being kinda perverted and liking it lol. drinking (both reader and joel, not excessive), use of a dating app like tinder but not specified, unprotected PIV w creampie and oral (m+f receiving), do not fuck your tinder hookups without protection i'm just horny and gross. excessive use of darlin' as a nickname. implied that reader likes men. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: heavily inspired by this post by @yesttoheaven about joel's tinder profile!! it has been rotting my brain since i saw it which literally inspired me to write my first fic in the tlou fandom ever so please be gentle with me. i imagined show!joel because i've never played the game so do with that what you will. please reblog and leave comments if u enjoy it <3333

divider by @cafekitsune

summary: after deciding to change your age range on a dating app in hope of a change of scenery, you stumble across joel miller.

No one likes using dating apps.

Swiping left, left, left mindlessly at troves of men holding fish, showing off their trucks, or with deer heads mounted to the walls behind their selfies holding guns.

This was Texas, after all.

Having just moved here, it was a little shocking, to say the least. But you were getting used to the “eligible” bachelors that were your age generally looking and acting the same. When you did end up finding someone of interest, you were usually turned off pretty quickly by whatever shitty pick-up line they had chosen. Or, your personal favourite, “wanna fuck?”

No thanks.

It was an idyllic summer evening, the hot stuffy air of Austin flowing in through your windows. You laid in bed, propped up on the pillows against your headboard and sorting through the faces that adorned your screen. No one particularly interesting, as usual, and every profile was starting to melt together to look the same.

You sighed, looking into your settings, adjusting and increasing different metrics to hopefully change the pool just enough for there to be someone new or interesting. 

Age range: 25-30

Your eyebrow cocked as you looked onto the screen, pulling the slider more to the right experimentally. No one was here to see you, and even though it was slightly embarassing to be interested in older men, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t pique your interest to imagine it. Even just to try, and see, if they ever really did grow up. You imagined it was wishful thinking, but increased the range anyways.

Age range: 35-45

Feeling the need to throw your phone across the room after doing that, you placed it face down under your pillow and slid out of bed. No use in swiping through them now, and you were getting tired of looking. A pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a new episode of your favourite show was waiting for you downstairs.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel Miller does not use dating apps.

He barely knows how to send a text on his phone, let alone navigate the world of online women. Not to say he didn’t explore the options, so to speak, but they usually were not ones that were single, his age, and in his area. Unless the ads on those sites were real, that is.

“It’s starting to get sad,” Sarah had remarked at breakfast, when they got on the topic, and Joel feigned hurt. Hand over his heart, he dropped his fork onto the plate. “It’s not sad, Jesus. I’m just busy, is all.”

“Busy not gettin’ busy,” Sarah remarked, and Joel’s eyes widened. “Hey now! None of that.”

A blush spread up his cheeks and ears as they continued to eat breakfast in slightly awkward silence, before Joel took his plate to the sink. “Okay, off to school, you. And no more conversations about my dating life. Ever.”

Sarah laughed as she finished off the last of the juice in her glass. “I’m just saying, dad. You can if you want to. Might be nice for you.”

Joel planted a soft kiss to her head before she bounded out the door, rolling his eyes and calling out a ‘love you’ before she closed the door swiftly behind her. Joel stared at his cell phone on the table. Maybe it would be nice.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

The following evening, you were a little too excited to see the dating app specimens you had acquired. Not sure what to expect, really, and you went in with no expectations. It’s not like they’d magically all be tall, dark, and handsome, but some variety never killed anybody.

Paul, 41

Daddy, but not yours. No libs allowed. 6’ because that matters.

You sighed deeply. Some things never change. 

After swiping through much of what you were used to, a profile managed to catch your eye among the sea of disappointment.

Joel, 45

Just a Southern gentleman trying this out for the first time. Contractor of over 10 years. I love my daughter, BBQ, strong coffee, and sleeping in. 

Now that was the most interesting thing you’d seen in a while.

He didn’t look a day over 40. His eyes creased at the corners when he smiled wide in his photos. He looked tan, a product of the Texas heat and his job, you thought. His features were accompanied by salt-and-pepper facial hair and messy curls that looked soft and pliable. His photos showed off his physique incredibly, tight wash-worn t-shirts pulling over his arms and shoulders, looking big, broad. He was no doubt the most handsome man you’d seen on an app, maybe ever.

When you swiped right before you could think too hard, you were surprised to see the green “Match!” Flash across your screen.

Your fingers ghosted over the keyboard on your phone, thinking of a witty thing to say, probably for too long.

Your phone buzzed as you saw a notification pop up.

Joel has sent you a message.

Hey, darlin’. How are ya?

You felt your face warm at the sweet message, when was the last time someone had called you darlin’? Ever?

Hey cowboy. I’m great, how are you?

He was certainly an eager responder, taking only a few seconds to reply. You found yourself smiling down at your phone screen.

Cowboy… I like that. I’m better now that I’m talking to you.

Oh, Joel, who told you to say that? 😂

No good?

Not bad. 6/10. 

Only 6/10? I’ll work on it. I like to think I’m better in person. 

I would love to find out. 

You found yourself emboldened by how easy the conversation was flowing. Joel was certainly easy to talk to, easier than the other matches you had going for you, and infinitely more handsome.

Oh, would you? Alright. I’d love to take you to dinner sometime. If you don’t mind being seen with an old man such as myself in public. Or meeting a stranger from the internet.

He’s a very handsome stranger. I would love to go to dinner with you. Know any good spots? I’m new around here.

There’s a great barbecue spot in downtown Austin. If you’d prefer something fancier, let me know.

I love bbq. Just tell me where and when, cowboy.

Tomorrow, 7pm ok?

You sent him your phone number in the message. Fuck it.

Sounds great. Text me the address, I’ll be there. :)

Joel’s reply didn’t come. Instead, a text appeared at the top of your screen with an unknown number. 

It’s Joel. This the right number?

Yup. You found me.

Great. Talk tomorrow sweetheart. Looking forward to it. :)

He texted you the address of the restaurant, right before you opened the contact card, saving his name as “cowboy ♡”.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Cowboy. Cowboy. Cowboy. It was playing over in his head like a broken fuckin’ record. 

Joel was positively freaking out about this date.

Sarah had managed to secure a sleepover at her friend’s place, so the house would be empty for the night. He had been busying himself with cleaning the entirety of the house, even taking the time to mow the grass before work and vacuum the family room. He can’t remember the last time he vacuumed anywhere.

Would she even make it back here? How does this work? Will she want to sleep over or hang out on the couch or should he be making a dessert for after?

His mind was brought out of it’s craze by Sarah jumping down the stairs. She plopped her bag down on the freshly wiped countertop.

“Careful,” he warned, putting a hand up. “I just cleaned that off.”

“I can tell. It smells like the cleaning aisle threw up in here.”

He smirked before patting her head with his hand, as she aggressively smoothed out her hair. “Dad! Don’t!”

“When do you wanna go to Ellie’s?” He asked, more gaging how long he has left to get ready than actually asking.

“Probably soon. Why? Tryna get rid of me?” she poked her dad in the side, but when she flinched away instead, a large smile spread across her face. He was tense.

“What’s your deal?” Joel hated the way she knew him so well sometimes.

“Nothing.“

“Are you going on a date?”

Silence fell over the kitchen between the two of them, as Joel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “How did you know?”

“Oh my god, you actually took my advice,” Sarah laughed, watching her dad’s face burn red with embarrassment. “Just don’t do anything weird on communal surfaces, please.”

Joel shook his head at her suggestion, already becoming annoyed with the whole prospect. He was so nervous, about what to wear, how to act, what the expectation was… let alone, what would happen if they made it back to his place at all. 

Although, when he was able to shake his nerves for a second, he was just really fucking excited.

“Wear those dark jeans, and that green shirt you wore to Tommy’s last week. Looks good on you.” Sarah smiled as she put her arms around Joel’s middle, while his worries melted away with her touch. “She’ll love you, I promise.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

It had been such a long time since you’d been on a proper date, you were starting to lose your mind at the simple process of deciding what to wear.

Clothes were strewn across every surface of your apartment, shoes matching with jeans that matched with cardigans, tops that matched with belts and jackets.

It’s 87 degrees at 5 o’clock, idiot. You’re not wearing a jacket. Relax.

Exhausted of picking out outfits and making decisions, you collapsed on your couch and took a look at your options. You landed on an easy sundress, putting the rest of your clothes back in their respective drawers, and pulling out all of the products you were expecting to use to get ready.

You scrolled through your phone aimlessly as a notification bubble popped up on the screen.

We still on for tonight darlin’? Or did you change your mind?

No worries if you did. I respect that.

You let out a cackle at the message, thinking about how he must look right now. Was he nervous? Scared? Was he just looking for a controversially young fuck?

You weren’t… completely against that.

Didn’t change my mind, wouldn’t in a million years :)

Meet you there. Can’t wait to see you.

His eagerness to meet up would’ve been a red flag if it were any other run of the mill guy, but something about Joel felt special. There didn’t seem to be any funny business with him; too sincere to try anything other than just a good old fashioned date.

You too, cowboy.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When Joel showed up at the restaurant, he clenched a small bouquet of pink peonies in his right hand and checked his watch obsessively. The minutes ticked away, as he kept a high alert for anyone who could be his potential date. He knew what you looked like, of course, but this being his first time doing anything of this sort is making him hyperaware of anything going awry.

When he does lay eyes on you, his whole gaze softens. A pink sundress, hair pristinely styled and a bounce in your step that reminded him of summer. You looked like an angel, the sunset behind you painting the sky tangerine, which reflected off of the shine against your supple skin. So young, beautiful, it was taking his breath away.

“Joel?”

Your voice matched your sweet demeanour, and he was taken out of his waking daydream.

“Hi,” is all he can say, letting his breath out as he relaxed. “Yes, hi, sorry. I’m Joel.”

“Hi,” you laugh back, eyes darting to the flowers in his hand. They matched your dress.

“These are for you,” he gets the hint, extending his arm out, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearm. He looked so much stronger in person, it was making your knees go weak.

“Thank you, wow,” you held them up to your nose to smell the sweet aroma. “I love peonies.”

“Me too,” he smiled, showing off a string of pearly white teeth, that contrasted with the pink of his lips and the even tan of his skin.

“Shall we?” He extended his arm to you for you to grab onto, and you got to feel the warmth of his skin for yourself. Your hand wrapped around his forearm as he opened the door of the restaurant for you, leading you inside and catching a glimpse of the backs of your thighs as you walked in front of him.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When you were finally sitting, the conversation flowed easily. He was truly a Southern gentleman, like he had said. It wasn’t normal for you to open up so quickly, but Joel was so easy going and smart, he asked the right questions and knew when to listen. He knew how to listen, a warm gaze and a nod along, asking follow up questions to your answers and easily getting to know you.

You asked about his daughter, his family, his work. He was happy to tell you. 

“So, what’s a man like you doing being single in this city?” You take a sip of the wine in the glass in front of you, burgundy staining your bottom lip. 

He takes a bite of the food in front of him, a napkin pressing to his lips quickly after. “Been busy,” he started to say, honey brown eyes meeting yours for a second. His gaze sent an electrifying pulse down your spine.

“And, well, when Sarah’s mom left there was a ton to do,” he says it nonchalantly, as if that should be something normal to happen. “House, work, school, she keeps my hands full. Hasn’t been a lot of time.” His syrupy drawl is pulling you in, you’re enticed by the way he speaks to you. So easy, warm, soft. You wonder what his hands feel like on your body, lips pressed to your neck, torso pressed against yours.

“Sorry, that’s a lot of information for a first date,” he laughs to cover the awkwardness, and quietly curses himself for going into so much detail about his precarious family situation and basically admitting to you that he hasn’t fucked anything other than his hand in the last 5 or so years.

“No, it’s okay,” you slide your hand across the table, palm up, urging him to slot his hand into it. He takes it, easily, enveloping yours. His fingers find the pulse point on your wrist. You let your eyes drift up to his, drinking in the way his chest fills out the shirt he chose.

“What’s your story?” He asks earnestly, giving your hand a squeeze. “Can’t imagine there isn’t a long line of people outside waiting to take my place, darlin’.”

You blush furiously at the nickname, and let your eyes meet his once again. “You have no idea the… mess that is out there,” the wine is calling your name to take another sip at the mere thought, but you refrain. “Certainly not too many I am interested in.”

“So, is that why you’re on a date with an old man on a beautiful summer night in Austin?”

You could tell Joel, in a twisted way, liked that you were younger than him. It made him feel younger by admission, that you’d want to spend time with him. 

“You’re not that much older,” you laugh, not even believing it yourself as the words left your lips. “And I like to try new things. Don’t you like trying new things, sometimes?”

It was his turn to let his face go red at your insinuation. If only you knew how ‘new’ this really was for him, how much he was pushed out of his comfort zone right now.

You didn’t notice. 

A little more polite small talk and exchanging of stories was all you could take before the tension was becoming too much. After another glass of wine and a shared plate of sky-high chocolate cake for dessert, you were enjoying his company and could tell he was enjoying yours all the same. When you met his gaze again, hands still intertwined, you could tell there was a question on the tip of his tongue.

“Would you want to…“ - a nervous pause, with a halo of lust - “come back to mine for a nightcap? I’ve got an empty house this evening.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, knowing in your heart that Joel must’ve made arrangements for his family not to be home in anticipation. He had to have planned for you, known in his heart you’d say yes.

“I’d love that.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel’s home is unmistakably him. It smells like a pine candle that sits near the front door and a faint aroma of laundry detergent. There’s photos everywhere, him and his daughter, his brother’s family. Big windows were letting in the twinkling lights of the city outside, the inky sky making them look brighter against its canvas.

“You have a beautiful home,” you say, although it seems a little formal for the situation. What else do you say to a grown-up in their house?

“Thank you,” he takes a bottle of whiskey from the bar cart and pours two rock glasses, handing you one. He flicks on a lamp, ambient light filling the room and painting his skin amber orange, as he joins your side by his kitchen table.

“I did a lot of the construction myself, the decorations are my daughter.” He points lazily to the trinkets on the shelves and photos on the wall. “I don’t really have a good eye for that type of stuff.” 

You take a sip from the drink and it coats your throat, burning down as you suppress a cough at the taste. You nod along as he explains the design choices he made in the home, and you play along, knowing it’s likely out of anxiety.

“What about upstairs?”

Your eyes are innocent as they meet his, although you understand the implication you’re making whole-heartedly. He puts his glass down on the kitchen table and you follow his lead, his strong hand around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs wordlessly.

“It’s not anything,” - he clears his throat - “special,” he shows you around the second floor, finishing at the door of his bedroom that has been left slightly ajar. 

You step in quietly, leading him inside as you take in the bedroom. Neatly folded clothes, a made bed that looks well loved. Blue sheets and fluffy pillows, big bay windows that let the moonlight in.

“I think it’s nice,” you say simply, letting yourself turn around to meet his broad frame. He looks down at you slightly, eyes meeting yours as your hand drops from his grasp and snakes around his neck. His hands come up the sides of your dress, pulling it up slightly, but landing on your waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks tentatively in the dark of the room, his lips so close to yours already you can practically taste the whiskey on his lips for yourself. You answer him by pressing your tentative lips to his, slotting them together easily.

Joel’s grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he takes you in, pulling you as close as he possibly can. He can smell the perfume on your neck and the wine on your lips from earlier, and it’s making his need for you increase tenfold. 

You pull him into you as you stumble back to let your knees hit his mattress, sitting down and letting your hands come to his belt buckle. Your hands came to undo it as he pulled his t-shirt off to throw onto the floor beside him, bending down to help you pull the dress over your shoulders to meet his t-shirt.

You made quick work of his jeans, pushing them to the ground and looking up at him with a keen glance. You could see the breath making his belly rise and fall, anticipating your touch on him any second.

When your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his breath hitched and his head rolled back. He was already half-hard only from kissing you, so a few pumps made him easily ready for your mouth.

“You’re so big,” is all you can think to say, head spinning from the sheer size of him right in front of your face. Your mouth watered at the way his hand palmed through your hair, pulling you in closer to him for some relief.

It was intoxicating to him, the way your mouth fit around his cock. Such a beautiful sight to see, your head licking and sucking at his tip, gathering spit there to lubricate him. His knees were going weak as he watched intently, no thought able to cross his mind, other than maybe how long it had been since he’d had anyone to do this with. He was going to have to pace himself if it was all like this.

Your mouth constrained around the length of him, taking him deeper and deeper with every bob of your head. Filthy sounds were filling the room now, of your eager mouth pulling him in as best you could. His hand stayed steady at the back of your head, not pushing, just softly pressed there for support. His other hand found your shoulder, pushing down your bra strap.

“God, darlin’,” was all he could choke out, using his hand to pull you off of him. Your hand lazily stroked him as you looked up at him, spit collecting at the corners of your mouth. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that,” his laugh eased some of the tension in the room, as you took your other hand and wiped the spit away.

He leaned down, pressing a fervent kiss to your lips before using his own hands to unclasp your bra and let your breasts free. His lips traveled to the side of your neck, before he was kneeled down between your legs, sucking your nipple into his mouth. He lapped at you, all consuming, as his hand came up to grasp the other breast that wasn’t being serviced. He moaned at the noises you were making, lewd whines into the night air that only encouraged him. 

His lips made their way down your body to your clothed centre, your back against his soft sheets. You looked down at him intently, watching as he pulled your panties down your legs and immediately delved into your pussy with broad strokes of his tongue.

Your body jerked upwards at the contact, hand fisting the sheet beside you as he lapped at you, like a man starved. His expert tongue found your clit easily, sucking and licking at you for what felt like hours. You thought about his heavy cock between his legs, begging to be touched, hard as ever as he licked at you desperately.

“Joel,” you whined out, feeling your hand reach down to grab at his curls and push him deeper into you. That only made him moan, one hand lazily fisting his cock as the other came up to dip a finger into you, allowing you to see stars when you screwed your eyes shut.

His fingers were so large, pressed into your core as you fucked yourself on them and his tongue in tandem. He was groaning and grunting, and you hoped his neighbours couldn’t see into the window at the desperate filth that was going on in his bedroom.

“Fuck, Joel, please,” you begged, but he had no mercy, and your orgasm was creeping up on you. He was ready to watch you come undone, pushing a second finger into you and furiously sucking on your clit. His other hand left his own pleasure and wrapped around your breast, pressing and playing with the hard nub there, pinching to provide a little bit of sting to it. It was sending you into another dimension.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” and his voice is gravely and debauched, enough to send you into your first orgasm, chanting his name and pulling on his hair. He was happily licking at you, fingers still pressing in and out as to not mess up the rhythm, as you rode out your orgasm against his face. 

When you started to come down, he finally detached himself from you before standing up between your legs and pressing his broad palms to your thighs. He stayed there for a moment, cock still hard and heavy between his legs as you gazed up at him, out of breath from his work.

“You’re really good at that,” was all you could think to say, head clouded with arousal. You moved up on the bed a little, opening your legs and pressing your knees apart to show your pussy to him again.

“Please fuck me, Joel,” you breathe out, letting your hand find your own clit to rub it teasingly for him. It was still so sensitive, but the way he was looking down at you, eyes dark and stormy with need, you could almost come again just from that.

He put a knee down on the bed and crawled on top of you, his lips finding yours once again as your hands found his face. You held him there, savouring the kiss as his tongue crashed against yours, all warmth and spit and the taste of you. His hand found your breast and continued to play with your nipples, softly, coaxing more moans into his mouth from yours.

He leaned back and slipped his cock inside of you, filling you up immediately and making you gasp. He groaned into the side of your neck, tonguing the side of your ear and kissing you feverishly as he pumped in and out of you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly close, your moans filling the room as he rocked in and out of you. He kissed your jaw and chest, before reaching down between your bodies and pressing his thick finger to your clit again, using the wetness there to draw circles around your sensitive nub.

“So pretty,” he smiles into your neck, your hand on the back of his, playing with the now-sweaty strands of hair on the nape. “So pretty for me, taking my cock,” the dirty talking is welcome as he continues to bring you closer to a second orgasm, your breath hitching once again.

“Come inside of me,” you say it like a whisper, a secret in the stillness of the room, and Joel is unsure he even heard you correctly.

“Are you sure?” He says it not accusingly, but in a way that conveys he feels like he just won the lottery.

“Yes, please, fill me up.”

You can see the way his eyes darken more, shifting so he’s on his knees and using your body to fuck himself on his thick cock. His hand continued to play with your clit, bringing you so close to your orgasm that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. His cheeks were getting hot as he thrusted in and out furiously, and you could almost see the stress melt off of his face as he came close to his own undoing.

The white-hot feeling washes over you once again, eyes shutting before you’re back on your elbows and watching intently. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as his thrusts become sloppy, your name pouring out of his lips like a prayer. You’re clenching around him and letting him ride out his high alongside you, slowing after his hot cum coats your walls and leaves you full of him.

He collapses on top of you, cock softening inside as you both catch your breath together. Your chests are sticky with sweat as you breathe, taking in the smell of him, and the feel of his warmth on your body.

He pulls himself from you and flops beside you, still taking a moment to admire you. You look over at him, a lazy smile on your face as your hand reaches out to caress the skin of his chest. He takes the time to run his fingertips up your arms and back as you lay there in silence together, just soaking in the moment in a post-sex glow.

“I guess I should get going,” you say after a few beats, sitting up to grab your dress off the floor. You cringe at the thought of throwing your underwear on and leaving, this being just another random hookup for you that never lead to anything. Joel was sweet.

A confused look spreads across his features and his brows knit together, before sitting up next to you at the edge of the bed.

“I mean, I don’t know how these things usually go,” he laughs, as his hand finds your lower back. “But you don’t gotta run outta here like a scared animal or somethin’.”

You look up at him again, unsure of what to do next. In your, albeit limited, experience with dating app hookups, you were expected to leave pretty much right after.

“Oh, um,” you look around the room at the soft worn-in sheets and the TV across from Joel’s bed. You take a look at him again, your eyes meeting his to match his gaze, where you can tell he’s mentally begging that you’ll stay the night.

“I mean, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to stay.” Joel smiled lopsidedly and let his hand rub soothing circles at your lower back. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he laughs, stepping over to go into the bathroom and warm up a cloth for the mess spilling out from between your legs. “I wouldn’t mind wakin’ up and doing all that again tomorrow.”

You laugh and lay back onto his bed as he presses the warm cloth to your pussy, his lips once again finding yours to pull you in for a sweet kiss. 

You nod, sliding between the comfortable sheets as Joel runs downstairs to grab your abandoned drinks as well as a couple of bottles of ice cold water. He slips into the sheets next to you, not bothering to throw on any pajamas (not that you were complaining), and settling in beside you. After a few gulps of water, you nestled into his chest and let your hand find his tummy, resting on it as you listened to the even pattern of his breath.

“We should do this again. Like, after tomorrow morning.” you say quietly as you’re drifting in and out of sleep. His fingertips continues to slide across your arm and give you goosebumps as you snuggled closer into him, hearing a laugh exhale out of his nose and feeling a kiss press to the top of your head. 

In his sleepy, deep southern drawl, he replies. “Don’t have to ask me twice, darlin’.”

[pedge-page]

does tommy ever feel the wrath of joel’s pregnant wife or does she reserve that specifically for joel? I feel like tommy would get on her nerves a little bit 😂

I was waiting for someone to ask this! Tbh I think preggo wife saves her wrath for Joel simply because shes comfortable with him and can relax and let her guard down. With Tommy alone....

Tommy Dealing with Preggo Wife

Warnings: just language and Joel and Wife being insecure in their own (slightly toxic) ways

- - - -

You were super pregnant at this point. A couple weeks away from making Joel a doting husband to a doting father, and he was probably more on edge than you were. Your anxious little poor husband Joel, freaking out that he needed to take a weekend trip away, and the only person he can rely to watch over you--

"I don't need to be fucking baby sat--!"

-- his sweet, helpless, innocent little pregnant wife, is unfortunately, Tommy.

"Ok listen very carefully," Joel starts, now having Tommy's full attention like he's about to ask him to do his first heart transplant. "She doesn't go anywhere unless you decide. She eats what you put in front of her, and you don't take her shit. She's gonna be bitchy and whiny and crying. She needs to rest. Rub her shoulder, put her feet up, whatever. But you gotta tough through and just make sure she understands that you're in charge. And what you say, goes. Got it?"

He knows Joel is relying on him to take care of his most precious belonging...who also is the devil. "Ok...ok. I mean it's like a... like watching a toddler, right?" Tommy asks, unsure about the whole thing.

"Yeah... a pregnant one that weighs more than ya and swears and probably will slap you a lot."

Joel smacks Tommy's shoulder lovingly with an encouraging smile.

Tommy feels even more hesitant. but he knows that he just needs to channel his inner Joel this weekend: stern, unmoving, and commanding, and he'll do just fine navigating you.

Joel hugs you real tight and kisses your forehead, inhaling your hair deeply as if to etch it into his brain. "I love you, baby, I'm gonna miss you so--"

"Later fucker." you pat his bum and wave him off as you waddle away in his large T shirt towards the freezer drawer, pulling out a Ben and Jerry's fudge pint with wet lips and a grin.

Tommy shrugs and helps Joel out to the truck with his bag. he waves goodbye as his brother backs out the driveway, shouting "YOU'RE IN CHARGE!"

I'm in charge, I'm in charge, he chants to himself, taking a deep breath before entering your house again.

"Alright!" he claps his hands together awkwardly but with a tone leadership. "We are going to stay in bed today,"

"Mall," you grump though a big scoop of ice cream.

"W-what?"

"M'goin ta mall. Yur takin mee," you nod towards him casually, gulping another spoon.

"uhh-h." Tommy looks around anxiously. Was this part of the test? He should put his foot down, yeah, Joel said you go no where unless Tommy explicitly said so. "N-no."

you swallow. "'Scuse me?"

"N-no? I mean... no! I said, we are putting you in bed, and what i say, go--"

"Thomas Miller," you say, and an eerie sense of fear swallows Tommy, sending shivers all over his body. Despite the 90 degree forecast, its like someone just tossed his insides into a freezer, and you were locking him in.

"Y-yes...maam," he whispers, feeling small.

"We can either do this... the hard way," you tilt your head with a sinister gaze towards him, as if referencing that bit of "Joel" he's trying to channel inside. "Or, we can do this... my way." The way you smile at the end is somehow even more threatening than the chilled tone you're having with him.

It was like when he and Joel broke his grandma's vase, and rather than yelling at them, she had the exact same terrifyingly threatening voice, and it made Tommy sleep with one eye open for a week.

"What will it be, Thomas."

He remembers to breathe shakily through his nose, licking his parched lower lip.

He doesn't want to be known as the guy who got beat up by his pregnant sister in law.

-

"Do you want a pretzel?" you ask kindly.

"Ah... no--no that's okay--"

"I'm getting you one, honey, just say Thank you."

"Okay. T-thank you."

Tommy bites into the cinnamon sugar one with the extra glaze you had ordered, and he had never felt such sweet heaven.

"Joel used to yell at me for my sweet tooth," he admits as the two of you stuff your faces and waltz slowly down the mall halls.

"Me too!" you bump his shoulder heartily.

Tommy lets out a relaxed sigh. From the moment he agreed to do whatever it was you wanted, the weekend had been fantastic. Turns out, you're not only super fun to blast kareoke to the worst songs in the car, but also all full of warmth, laughter, and even more suprisingly, extremely generous at offering to spoil him rotten like a mother with her favorite child.

"What can I make you for dinner?"

"Wha--no I'm supposed to cook for you--"

"Tommy stop please. I want to make you something. You have to be stuck with me all day walking like a slow penguin. I want to do something for you. You deserve it. "

You hadn't noticed Tommy pausing along your walk, watching you in awe as you waddled about, gently caressing your tummy absentmindedly as you window shopped.

This was the demon that Joel complained about every hour of the day???

And even more concerning was: how did someone like JOEL manage to score a girl like YOU???

You were so peaceful, generous, kind, loving, all smiles and willing to take care of him.

Was he doing everything right or everything wrong?

The two of you return home, with Tommy hauling more gifts that you had bought him. He really wasn't able to protest, with you somehow disappearing from sight conveniently, to his horror that he somehow lost you like a puppy in the park, and then finding you suddenly swiping your card at a register.

He should feel bad, truly, but you were just in such a good mood, he didn't want to seem ungrateful. And he also.... really liked all of it.

"Oh these are so fuckin nice!" He cheers, pulling out the new sneakers you had just bought in it's wrapping paper. "Mine are--"

"Old and ratty, yes I know that's why I bought them. Sick of your nasty shoes trailing my house--"

"S-sorry--"

"Bought you some fuzzy slippers too so you can switch out when you come in."

"Im not really a slippers guy..."

"You are now."

You ended up making a quick spaghetti, slapping him away every time he tried to hover in the kitchen. "I wanna stand! good exercise!" you nod with a smile.

And it seemed like you meant it. Despite babyzilla cooking and ready to burst out, you were light on your feet in the kitchen. Like a ballerina dancing and swaying, you hummed to a tune in your head as you tasted the sauce on the spatula. You were in the zone, in your world. and it was genuinely... beautiful. He understood it now, when people say pregnant women glow. the entire time, Joel always said you did, but he only ever saw how tired the pregnancy made the both of you.

Was... Joel the problem?

After a hearty dinner, Tommy washed up the dishes. You said your goodnights and headed to your master bedroom, tucked in, and lights off just as Tommy gathered his pillows down the hall in the guest bedroom.

He sighs, laying on his belly and inhaling the fresh linen before closing his eyes.

Not more than a few moments pass before he hears some sniffles down the hall. Then again, a cough and whine.

He sits up and heads down to your room, the door cracked and dark. he flips the light switch on to see you sitting upright in your bed, rubbing your eyes.

"You okay?" he asks softly.

"M'good!" you give him two thumbs up. "Night!"

He nods and flips the switch off again, turning away. he doesn't make it two steps before he hears your unmistakable crying.

He turns the lights back on to see you wiping fat tears from your cheeks, sobbing into your shirt--Joel's shirt.

"Hey...what's wrong? Are you okay? ya in pain? What can I--"

You pull your face up, lips trembling and all tear soaken. He sees your clutching one of Joel's jackets in your hands, wrapped tightly like you don't want it to leave you. A completely emotional mess as you huff and puff.

He puts the pieces together. "Ya miss Joel, don't you--"

"I MISS HIMMMMMM!!!!!!!!" you wail, erupting into a long cry into the air with slunked shoulders and larger tears strolling down from the creases of your closed eyes.

He tightens his lips awkwardly, not wanting to let out a chuckles. Turns out big scary pregnant "later fucker" wife really did love that dumbass. Its also probably the first time he sees bags under your eyes, like you were hiding your exhaustion. When Joel is around, you almost never looked tired. Just pouty and groutchy like a spoiled senior cat.

Maybe Joel wasnt the problem, but the solution. He knew how to take care of you, knew what you needed when you needed it, knew when to put his foot down, and even when hed watch you two bicker and bitch, joel knew exactly how to get you in bed wrapped around him like gumby. Every. Single. Night.

He rubs your arm soothingly.

"Why"-hiccup--"did he"--sniffle--"leave me!"

"He aint leave ya, just had some work."

"HE HATES ME!!!!!!!!!"

He shakes his head, knowing you're inconsolable. rather than trying to reason, he brings you to his shoulder so you can cry your heart out on him as he hugs you. "There there," he hums, swaying you two side to side.

like a crying toddler indeed.

"M'sorry," you whimper, rubbing your eyes with your balled fists. "Wakin' you up, me crying like this. I can't--I can't help it some times..." your voice waivers, face warm in embarrassment that you're burdening Tommy so much.

"Don't sweat it. You did a lot today. Can I get you anything to cheer you up?" he suggests, expecting a trip down to the freezer for a nice tub of Ben and Jerry's Ice Cr--

"Can you get the jar of pickles?"

That...is fine too.

He brings up the largest jar of dill pickles he's ever seen in his life, sets them in your lap. He pops open the sturdy lid for your eager fingers to pull a long dill out and slink it into your lips. the satisfying crunch echoes in the room as you munch.

You start crying again. "I Fucking HATE Pickles!" you groan angrily before taking another generous crunch with a confusingly delightful hum. "Like--I hate it, but they're good?"

He chuckles, taking a piece. He pauses, eying you fearfully as if he made a wrong move not asking your permissions to take one of your hated yet coveted pickles. You nod, and the two of you crunch down on the peculiar snack.

"It's probably from the baby..."

"Fuckin' weirdo." you pat the rounded hump of your tummy and swallow the rest of your slice. Though, the way you stroke along the skin so delicately with a little smirk, he knows you're already in love with your "fuckin weirdo" baby more than anyone could love anything in this world.

Tommy never really thought about the word "uncle" until this moment, and the first emotion he has to associate it with, is excitement.

"Mkay. I'm done now." You hold the jar out to him so he can close it. "Thank you, Tommy," you say sweetly with the gentlest, sleepiest smile. "I really appreciate it."

THIS IS THE ANGEL JOEL HAS THE NERVES TO COMPLAIN ABOUT????

He swears, if Joel comes back and calls him up later saying how insufferable you are, he may just have to size up and smack his big brother.

Tommy pats your head, tucks you in again and turns of the lights.

-

The next day you make Tommy take you to breakfast and get him as many pancakes and French toast he can stuff his face with. A spoiled little brother indeed, and as he swallows another lump of the best breakfast eggs he's ever had, he wonders how sweet life would have been with a big sister like you spoiling him every day instead of Joel making him do chores and shit.

Its not until Joel is meeting the two of you at a lunch spot that Tommy remembers exactly what Joel always groans about.

"Hi baby!" He grins, rushing to give you a big hug for the first time in two days.

And despite your crying for him last night, you only retort with "sup fucker" casually and near bored, as if you weren't sniffing his jacket and Wagging your imaginary tail in disguise.

Joel purses his lips sarcastically, knowing you mean well, and Tommy laughs. You two definitely understood each other way better than he thought.

"Im gonna wash my hands, you two get a table," Joel says, and disappears down the back entrance.

Your waitress greets you just as Tommy is helping you slide down into the booth, big baby belly and all.

"Just three waters, please,"

"And a pepsi! Lots of ice. Two pepsis actually. And bread. And maybe like uh milkshake to start off?--"

The waitress glances at Tommy with a raised brow, wondering if you're genuine or not. He shrugs and nods, noting "she's pretty far along if ya can tell."

"My older sister was the same way. I'll get that in. You two...sorry I shouldn't say it but you two make a cute couple--" she says kindly.

Unfortunately, its exactly at the same Joel returns and hears that last bit, directed towards you and Tommy.

She walks away just as you catch Joels bewildered expression, conveniently with Tommy's hand on your bump and another around your lower back (supporting you into the booth of course but JOEL doesn't see it that way with this new context).

You and Tommy open your mouths to dismiss the claim and misunderstanding, but ever defensive Joel just shoves Tommy aside, slides into your booth next to you and slams your hand into his lap, his bear paws enclosed around yours. Tommy quietly slides into the opposite end, met with Joels flaring nostrils and billowing steam coming out of them.

The younger Miller realizes that slapping some sense into Joel and "sizing him up" was a total pipe dream. He'd be lucky to live long enough to an uncle at this point.

You gotta defend your poor brother in law. "The waitress just saw--"

"Cute couple, huh," he seethe with gritted teeth his entire seething focus at Tommy rather than paying any mind to you.

"Joel stop, Tommy was REALLY great to me this weekend--"

"Oh I BET he was," he grunts, turning towards you with a scowl. "S'that why he got new shoes on?" Joel damn well knows Tommy didn't just pony up and buy new shit for himself this weekend, given he refuses to buy himself anything new for years past it's expiration.

Tommy knows he's never allowed to baby sit you alone again at this rate.

"She was crying last night saying how much she missed ya," Tommy blurts.

You kick his shin under the table, not wanting to let Joel know what a pathetic groveling mess--

"Wait really!?" he nuzzles closer to your, as if all the anger in his body dissipated at the notion his poor little wife was calling out for her hubby.

Tommy chuckles and nods. "We shared some pickles in bed, ain't that right?"

You slap your face just as Joel rears his once again flaring red face towards Tommy. "You did WHAT in WHERE????"

- - - -

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Phantom Traveler | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, namecalling, typical Dean and reader

Word Count: 8289

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You were sound asleep, curled up into yourself when a knock on the door brought you out of your slumber. 

“(Y/N)?”

‘Sam.’

“I got coffee, thought you could use some,” he called through the door.

You pushed yourself up out of the bed as you yawned, and walked over to the door of your motel room to open it for Sam. 

“Dude, you realize it’s six in the morning, right?” You scratched your head as you let Sam into the room.

“You sound like my brother.”

You playfully glared at him. “Don’t compare me to him.”

“Here.” He handed you a coffee and a bag of what you assumed was a pastry.

“Thanks,” you replied, sitting on your bed with your stuff in hand. 

Sam sat on the chair across from you. “Still haven’t warmed up to Dean, huh?” 

“Well, he hasn’t exactly warmed up to me,” you reminded him, thinking of the fight you got into yesterday over his reckless driving.

“Guess that’s true,” he conceded. “It’s weird, though, you guys are so much more alike than you let on.”

“Tell that to him. He started it.” You took a big bite of your pastry.

“Seriously?” Sam laughed, “ ‘He started it’?”

You shrugged, smirking. 

He seemed to remember his original intention behind disturbing your slumber. “Hey, he found a case, though.” 

“Oh, yeah? What’s up?” You licked the pastry cream off your thumb.

“We don’t know. The guy on the phone didn’t say.” Sam raised his coffee cup to his lips.

“Guy on the phone?” You took a sip of your coffee as you let Sam answer.

“Yeah. Some guy my dad and Dean worked a case for a while back’s got another one for us. He called Dean.”

“Ah—” you nodded, “—gotcha. So, where’s he live?”

“Pennsylvania,” Sam responded. 

“Okay, not too far,” you noted. “I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

***

“Thanks for making the trip so quick,” a short older man named Jerry told you and the boys. “I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out.”

You were walking beside Sam as you followed behind the man who was having you do this job. You were being led through a warehouse past planes as well as their parts and people hard at work.

“Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?” Sam asked the older man.

Someone walking in front of your group was eavesdropping on you. “Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie.”

“Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking,” Jerry stated authoritatively to the man. He turned his attention back to the conversation. “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart.” He addressed Dean. “Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?” He’d turned to Sam.

“Yeah, I was. I'm— taking some time off,” Sam explained.

“Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.”

“He did?” Knowing what you knew about Sam’s relationship with his dad, you found this surprising, too.

“Yeah, you bet he did,” Jerry nodded. “Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?”

“He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now,” Dean lied. 

“Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam and— what’s your name again?” he asked you.

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N). Even trade, huh?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that,” you laughed.

“Say, (Y/N), how’d you get wrapped up with these two?” Jerry asked.

“Oh, uh—” you began, searching for an abridged version of the truth, “—I met them on a hunt in California. They decided to drag me along with them.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. The guys are gonna need backup with this one,” Jerry said. 

“Why?” 

He did not give a direct answer to your question. “I got something I want you guys to hear.”

He led you to his office where you and Sam took the two chairs and Dean stood behind his brother.

”I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley,” Jerry stated, putting a CD into a drive. “Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

A frantic voice immediately rang out from the speaker as soon as the recording started. “Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britannia 2485—” the recording cut out with a static sound, “—immediate instruction help! United Britannia 2485, I copy your message—” and cut out again, “—May be experiencing some mechanical failure—” and then cut out one last time. The man’s voice was completely drowned out by static, whooshing, and growling sounds.

“Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south,” Jerry continued. “Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh… well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.”

“You don't think it was?” Sam questioned him.

“No, I don't.”

“Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors,” Sam listed.

“Alright,” the man replied.

“And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?” Dean inquired.

“The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage… guys— and gal— the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance.” Jerry shook his head.

You frowned.

“No problem,” Dean declared.

You gave him a questioning look to which he shrugged off.

***

“How fucking long does it take to make a fake ID?” you groaned, falling back across the backseat of the Impala. You and Sam had found a way to isolate the EVP on Sam’s computer, having gotten a copy of the tape from Jerry.

“I don’t know,” Sam responded. “But I’m gonna lose it if it’s much longer.”

“Same here.” At that moment, Dean walked out of the Copy Jack the Impala was sitting in front of as a pretty woman walked into the store. They greeted each other before Dean walked over to you and his brother.

“Dude,” you started, “You’ve been in there forever.”

“Wah-wah,” he whined, mocking you. “You can’t rush perfection.” He held up three IDs.

“Homeland Security?” Sam questioned as he took one of the IDs. “That's pretty illegal, even for us.”

“Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times,” Dean pointed out as he got into the car.

“Alright, so, what do you got?” Dean asked his brother as he flicked your ID back at you. It hit you square in the side of the head. 

“Dude, really?” you hissed, aggravation clear in your tone.

“Shh,” the older Winchester hushed you as he waited for Sam to answer.

“Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder,” Sam explained.

“Yeah?”

“Listen.”

The isolated voice of what you were dealing with came through the recording scratchy and backed by demonic growling sounds. “No survivors!”

“ ’No survivors’?” Dean asked. “What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.”

You shrugged.

Dean let out a sigh. “So, what are we thinking? A haunted flight?” 

“There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers,” Sam began.

Dean hummed in affirmation. “Or remember flight 401?”

“Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights.”

“I don’t know, guys,” you stated skeptically. “Ghost just doesn’t feel right.”

“Well, thanks for your optimism, sunshine,” Dean quipped.

“It’s not about optimism, you asshole, it’s about being right and dealing with whatever we’re up against properly,” you pushed back.

“Know-it-all,” the older Winchester replied. 

“Fuck off, Winchester.”

He let out a breath and turned his attention back to the case.“Alright, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?”

"Third on the list: Max Jaffey,” you said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, but why him?”

You glared at Dean. “Because if anybody saw something weird, he did. I talked to his mom while you were spending forever in the store. She said some pretty weird shit and told me where to find him. He was so screwed up, he checked himself into the hospital.”

***

You and the Winchesters walked beside Max Jaffey, who hobbled on a cane, through the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital’s garden. 

“I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security,” Max told your trio.

“Right. Some new information has come up,” Dean lied. “So if you could just answer a couple questions...”

“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything… unusual?” Sam questioned.

Max looked confused. “Like what?”

“Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices,” Dean offered. 

“No, nothing.”

Seeing as no one was getting anywhere with this investigation, you tried your hand at it. “Mr. Jaffey, you checked yourself in here, right?”

He nodded at you.

“Why?”

“Uh, I was a little stressed,” he said sarcastically. “I survived a plane crash.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded. “And that’s what scared you? That’s what screwed you up so badly?”

You could tell you were close to the answers you were after as he swallowed uncomfortably. “I— I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“I know, but I also know you saw something up there,” you continued. “We need to know what.”

“No.” Max shook his head. “No, I was… delusional. Seeing things.”

“He was seeing things,” Dean half-mocked him.

You shot a warning glance at Dean, hoping to get him to shut up. 

“It's okay,” you coaxed. “Just tell us what you thought you saw, please.”

“There was… this—man. And, uh, he had these… eyes—these, uh, black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him...” he trailed off, stopping as he recounted the events.

“What?” Dean asked.

“He opened the emergency exit,” Max explained. “But that's— that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door.”

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, clearly confused. 

“This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?” Sam asked.

Max quirked his head at the younger Winchester. “What are you, nuts? He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”

***

“I think we can rule out phantom traveler,” you noted as you got out of the car in front of the Phelps’s house. You were going to visit the wife of George Phelps, the man who opened the emergency exit. 

“Why?” Dean asked.

“You heard Jaffey. He said the dude had black eyes. Opened a fucking emergency exit on his own. ‘Black eyes’ points me to demon.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Demons?”

“I mean, it makes sense,” Sam shrugged. “He could be a demon. He might be some kind of a creature, too, in human form.”

“Does that look like a creature's lair to you?” Dean questioned as he gestured toward the house that was representative of the essence of suburban houses. From its beautiful garden to the cobblestone steps to the beige paint coating the outside of the two-story building.

Sam shrugged and began leading your trio up the steps of the house. 

Once inside, you three sat across from Mrs. Phelps on the couch while she sat in an armchair. 

Sam picked a picture of Mrs. Phelps and an older man up off of the side table. “This is your late husband?” he asked.

“Yes, that was my George.”

“And you said he was a dentist?” Dean questioned. 

She hummed in affirmation. “He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that...”

Sam asked another question. “How long were you married?”

“Thirteen years.”

You could tell Sam was contemplating how to ask his next question. “In all that time, did you ever notice anything… strange about him; anything out of the ordinary?”

She paused for a moment. “Well, uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean.”

You nodded, clicking your tongue. “I think that’s all we have for you, Mrs. Phelps. Thank you for your time.”

She showed all of you out, and you piped up as you walked down the stairs outside of the house. 

“Demon’s sounding more and more correct all the time,” you smiled, trying to joke around.

“Jesus, you’re annoying,” Dean groaned.

“And you’re a misogynistic dick that can’t handle women with brains,” you responded. 

“What, are we gonna duke this out now?” Dean stopped by the door of the car, facing you. 

You stood by the backseat’s door. “You started it,” you taunted childishly, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared back at him. 

“Really?” he leered. “You’re gonna pull that card? Mature.”

“You act like you’re any better.”

“Guys—” Sam tried to cut in, but Dean continued to fight with you. 

“You’re such a bitch.”

“Wow, haven’t heard that one before,” you drawled.

“Guys! You can fight later. Wrong place, wrong time to sort this out,” Sam chastised you and Dean like you were children.

You got in the car and slammed the door behind you.

“Don’t hurt my baby ‘cause you’re pissed,” Dean scolded you as he started to pull the car away. 

“Just drive, asshole,” you grumbled in frustration as you slumped down in your seat. The rest of the car ride to the local outlet mall was silent.

***

You had never felt more confident. Despite the fact that you could have worn the one dress you already had to pose as homeland security, you decided to treat yourself to a new outfit to distract from your aggravation with Dean. 

The boys had gone to a suit shop called “Mort’s for Style,” and you went into a dress shop called “Betsy’s.” It was a cute little shop with a lot of great dress and pantsuit options.

You had picked out a navy blue pantsuit. You wore a white button-up underneath the blazer with the top two buttons undone to accentuate your breasts. The blazer was unbuttoned, and the high-waisted, straight-legged pants you wore matched the black color of your blazer. With the white button-up tucked into your pants and the small amount of makeup you threw on to draw attention to your eyes and lips, you felt good. 

Once you had paid for your clothing, you walked out of the shop and back to the Impala. Surprisingly, the boys were not there waiting for you. 

You leaned your back against the car, picking out the grit from under your nails.

You looked up when you heard Dean’s voice. “Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers.” 

Both of the boys were dressed in sharp, black suits. You almost lost your breath at the sight of Dean, but fought yourself to keep your composure. You would not give him the satisfaction of knowing you found him attractive. 

“No, you don't,” Sam told him. “You look more like a seventh-grader at his first dance.”

You laughed at the younger brother’s jeer. “What took you girls so long?” you asked once you got in the Impala. “I thought you two would’ve beat me out the store by a long shot.”

“Dean wouldn’t leave the dressing room,” Sam said dryly.

“Seriously?” you droned.

You and Sam both looked to Dean, who did not answer immediately. When he finally spoke, he complained, “I hate this thing.”

“Hey,” Sam stared. “You want into that warehouse or not?”

Dean rolled his eyes as he continued to drive along.

You steeled your nerves as your black, pointed-toe pumps clicked across the warehouse floor. Your trio was headed to the security guard that would allow you in to see the wreckage.

You held the clipboard you had stowed in your bag close to your chest, acting as some sort of a recorder for the boys. The three of you flashed your badges at the security guard, who nodded and allowed you into the hangar where the wreckage was being kept.

There was a large map of what the plane should look like painted onto the floor, and the parts that corresponded to the different portions of the map were laid in their proper spots. There were wires hung on fences and broken interior parts of the plane laid on tables. The most heartbreaking things for you to look at were the torn passengers’ seats because most of the people who had been in them were now dead.

You looked over at Dean, who had earbuds in and was moving a small box over the tops of the wreckage.

“What’s that?” you asked him.

“It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies.”

You got closer to him, noticing what the object appeared to be. “I know what an EMF meter is; I’m not stupid. But why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?”

“ 'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade,” he grinned.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you quipped. 

His grin disappeared. “Bitch.”

“Dick.”

You once again fought the pain in your chest when he called you a bitch. In all honesty, you thought his homemade EMF meter was cute. However, you were too far gone in your war with him to surrender now.

Dean ran the Walkman over a piece of the wreckage with black spores and yellow dust on it. You could hear the faint sound of a spike on the meter through Dean’s headphones.

“Check out the emergency door handle,” Dean called to Sam. 

Sam came over to where you and Dean stood as the older brother scratched at the dust to get some on his hand.

“What is this stuff?” Dean asked.

One way to find out.” You saw the younger of the two brothers start scraping some of the dust into a small bag.

“We need to go,” you told the boys. You weren’t sure what told you that, but you just suddenly felt unsettled. The hairs on the back of your neck stood at attention, and every muscle in your body tensed. You started off toward the exit in the back of the warehouse. 

“Wait, (Y/N), what if we’re missin’ something?” Dean questioned, clearly aggravated you were ready to ditch already.

“Too bad, we gotta go.” You kept walking toward the exit, making it out of the door and around the backside of the building. 

At that moment, an alarm started blaring through the area surrounding the warehouse.

You turned around to look at the boys as you gloated, “I’m not gonna say, ‘I told you so’!“ Not bothering to rip your shoes off of your feet, you took off running to the gated exit. 

Sam and Dean were quick to follow you and soon passed you up. The older brother took off his suit jacket and threw it over the barbed wire at the top of the fence. You did the same with your blazer. After quickly taking off your pumps to avoid hurting yourself when you jumped from the top of the gate, you threw yourself over the fence. The other two did the same.

Sam grabbed your blazer that you were too small to reach from the top of the fence as Dean found it within himself to remark, “Well, these monkey suits do come in handy.”

You ran after the two boys, heels and blazer in hand as the jagged rocks in the cement cut into your feet. As soon as you shut the door to the car, Dean slammed on the gas pedal.

He tore out of the warehouse’s parking lot, speeding down the road to head toward Jerry’s workplace. 

"(Y/N),” Sam started, turning in his seat to face you with a curious expression on his face, “how did you know that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. My intuition’s just always been pretty sharp.” You were being honest; there had been a few times on hunts previously when you’d known it was time to get the hell out of dodge.

“Hm.” You could tell Dean still didn’t trust you.

“Dude, I don’t know what else to tell you. That’s the truth,” you countered. “I’ve been helping you guys with your dad for almost two months now, and you still don’t trust me. I don’t know what more to do for you.”

“Maybe because I don’t know you,” he responded, never taking his eyes off the road. 

“Maybe if you tried to know me, you’d find it a little easier to trust me,” you answered.

“Not interested,” came Dean’s grumbled response.

You tried your best to ignore the pang that went through your chest once more. “Of course not.”

***

You refused to speak to or even look at Dean; your frustration with the fact that he had no desire to know you and his general existence boiling to the surface. You could feel his stare burning into the side of your head as you focused on Jerry, who sat in front of you. He was looking through a microscope on his desk at the yellow dust Sam had collected.

“Huh,” Jerry remarked. “This stuff is covered in sulfur.”

“You're sure?” Sam asked.

“Take a look for yourself,” Jerry offered, getting up from behind the desk so Sam could take his place. 

Banging sounds along with a string of curse words caught your ear as Jerry sighed. 

“If you guys will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire,” he dryly stated, walking out of the office.

You got up from the chair you were sitting in next to Dean. “See?” you started excitedly, gesturing toward the sulfur, “Demons.”

“That would explain how one guy had the strength to open up the emergency exit,” Sam added.

“This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?” Dean put his hands on his hips as he stood. “You ever heard of something like this before?” 

Sam looked over at his brother, who responded, “Never.”

“Well, I have,” you said simply.

They both looked to you to continue.

“In NYC a couple years back. Some cabbies had gotten possessed and were takin’ girls left and right.”

“Those were demons?” Sam asked, standing up from behind Jerry’s desk. “That was a huge deal on the news while I was at Stanford. Police thought it was a serial killer. You took ‘em on all by yourself?”

“I’m a big girl, Sam,” you chuckled. “I can handle a few demons. But, yeah, that was me. That was probably the toughest case I’ve ever been on. Finding where those demons had taken those girls after they drugged them in the cabs... where they were raped and murdered...” You shook your head, your cheery expression gone. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Sam told you gently. 

Your eyes were glued to the floor, hands on your hips with not a bit of life in your voice as you muttered, “All in a day’s work.”

Sam had asked you to tell him and Dean everything you knew about demons once you got back to the Winchesters’ motel room. Sam sat at the table close to the window while Dean sat on the bed closest to his brother. You stood in front of the two as you spoke.

“Demons exist in every religion in every world culture. With the ones that I was dealing with up in New York, they were most similar to Incubi from early Christian religion. Incubi raped sleeping girls. These demons drugged the girls to put them to sleep, then they raped them, and then they murdered them. What I’m thinking for these demons is that they’re most similar to certain Japanese demons. I had to look into these when I was trying to figure out how to kill the NYC demons. The Japanese believe demons cause certain disasters, whether it be natural or man-made. Some cause earthquakes, others cause disease—”

“And this one causes plane crashes?” Dean deadpanned, cutting you off.

You ignored him. “Demons are having to find new ways to ratchet up the body count. Like with me in New York, Incubi can’t go about their old methods anymore. This demon probably evolved with the times like the Incubi did, and so it figured plane crashes were the best way to get its job done.”

Dean snorted, getting up from. the bed and turning away from you and his brother.

“What?” Sam asked.

He turned around, scratching the back of his neck. “I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death, and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here.”

“Yeah. Me too,” the younger Winchester admitted.

Dean’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Hello?... Oh, hey, Jerry… Wha— Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?... Where'd this happen?... I'll try to ignore the irony in that… Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon.”

He hung up the phone. 

“Another crash?” Sam questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. Let's go.”

“Where?”

“Nazareth.” 

‘Ah, there’s the irony.’

***

After leaving the horrendous scene of Chuck’s plane crash, you and the boys went back to Jerry’s office. Once again, Jerry confirmed that the dust you had taken from the steering wheel of Chuck’s plane was, in fact, sulfur. 

“Well, that's great,” Dean sassed. “Alright, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.”

“If that's the case, that would be the good news,” you chimed in. You looked up to the sky, addressing the pilot. “No offense, Chuck.”

“What's the bad news?” Jerry asked you.

“Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into the flight, just like 2485,” you informed the older man.

“Forty minutes?” Chuck inquired. “What does that mean?”

“It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death,” Dean said.

“I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in,” Sam explained.

"Any survivors?” the older Winchester questioned his brother.

“No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason.” Sam turned to you after thinking for a moment. “On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?”

“ ‘No survivors,’ “ you realized. “It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job.”

Dean drove the Impala down an empty highway. 

Sam was on the phone with one of the survivors from the plane crash, the conversation almost over. “Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “All right. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon.”

“That leaves the flight attendant, Amanda Walker,” you commented.

“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight P.M. It's her first night back on the job,” Sam told you and his brother. 

“That sounds like just our luck,” Dean grumbled.

“Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel,” Sam said worriedly.

“Call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass,” Dean tried.

“I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off.”

“God, we're never gonna make it,” you shook your head, leaning back in the seat as you scrubbed a hand through your hair.

“We'll make it,” the older brother countered, slamming his foot on the gas. 

Somehow, someway, Dean had managed to get to the airport at ten minutes to seven. 

You jumped up out of the car, taking your gun out of your pants and stashing it under the backseat.

“What are you doing?” 

You still did not feel like talking to Dean but answered him shortly nonetheless. “We’re going into an airport.”

Dean finally caught onto what you meant and took all of his weapons off of him, too. “I feel naked.”

You fought the smile threatening to creep up your face.

You rushed into the airport just behind the boys, squeezing your way through the crowd of people to get to the departure board.

“Right there,” Sam pointed out. “They're boarding in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. We still have some cards to play,” Dean paused, thinking for a moment.  “We need to find a phone.” 

He found a courtesy phonw on the wall, picking it up. “Hi. Gate thirteen… I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um… flight 4-2-4.”

He waited impatiently for Amanda to pick up the phone. When she finally did, he began speaking again.

“Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here… Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so—” His face fell, his eyes widening a touch. “You what?... Uh, well… there must be some mistake—”

Sam went around his brother to try to get a closer listen. 

After a longer pause, Dean let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “...Guilty as charged… He's really sorry… Yeah, but… he really needs to see you tonight, so—... Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic… Oh, yeah… No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda!” Dean slammed the phone back onto the receiver. “Damn it! So close.”

"Alright, time for plan B. We're getting on that plane,” you stated firmly.

“Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second.” For the first time since you met him, Dean looked scared.

“Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash,” Sam argued.

“I know.” He looked conflicted.

“Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You and (Y/N) get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

Dean looked at Sam blankly, evidently a little anxious.

“Are you okay?” the younger Winchester asked.

Dean hesitated. “No, not really.”

“What? What's wrong?”

“Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh...”

“Flying?” you cut in.

“It's never really been an issue until now,” he told you.

“You're joking, right?” Sam huffed.

“Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?” he spat.

For the first time since you met him, you didn’t feel like mocking him about his fear of planes.

“Okay, then (Y/N) and I’ll go,” Sam proposed.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

“We’ll handle this one.”

“What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash.”

“Dean, we can do it together, or I can do this one with (Y/N). I'm not seeing a third option, here.”

Dean scratched his head. “Come on! Really? Man...”

Dean walked much faster than you did toward the car to get supplies, clearly trying to leave you in his dust.

“Would you slow down a bit, please?” you asked.

“Why should I?”

“Because even if you get to the car before me, you’re not gonna have a fucking clue what to use to deal with a demon,” you reminded him, your words a bit more venomous than need-be.

He stopped, turning to face you. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“No,” you told him. You truly weren’t.

“Definitely sounds like you are.”

You walked past him to the trunk of the Impala. “I wasn’t, I’m simply pointing out the fact that I’m the one who knows how to deal with demons, and you don’t.”

“There you go again. Acting like you know so much better than I do.” His attitude was truly exhausting.

Your voice rose as you defended yourself. “Because I do! In this case, at least!”

“But it’s not just this one time that you acted like you’re better than me,” he argued. “Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with your smart ass?”

“Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with yours?” you threw back. You sighed, putting aside your anger for now. “Look, we don’t have time to talk about this.” You shoved holy water, a rosary, and the EMF Walkman into Dean’s hands. “Now, let’s go.” 

You shoved past Dean and headed back to the airport.

***

You sat between Sam and Dean, completely at ease. Dean, however, was losing his mind.

"Just try to relax,” Sam whispered from the window seat 

Dean’s voice came back harder and slightly louder. “Just try to shut up.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” you scolded playfully.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Dean clapped back using the same tone with you that he had with Sam. He took in a sharp breath when the plane began moving a second later.

You gathered your courage and grabbed his hand. He jerked away from you and looked at you in surprise. When the plane took off, though, his hand rejoined yours, squeezing tightly. You giggled to yourself.

“I’m so glad this is funny to you,” Dean hissed.

“It’s not,” you answered simply.

“Then why are you laughing?” His grip tightened once again.

“It’s just,” you considered your next words carefully. “It’s kind of cute, that’s all.”

Dean was caught off-guard by your response. He eyed you quizzically, unsure of what to say. You just shrugged, settling the back of your head against your seat with your hand still in Dean’s. It was much larger than yours, and you fought the urge to run your fingers along the calloused ridges. 

Moments passed in a bit of an uncomfortable silence before Dean spoke again, not a trace of bite in his tone. “Why are you doing this?”

You rolled your head toward him. “Everybody’s scared of something,” you quietly replied. “It helps me to know I’m helping you. Even if you do hate my guts.”

“I don’t hate your guts.” He spoke so softly you almost couldn’t hear him.

“Pfft, could’ve fooled me,” you answered. 

“You just…” he started, “...get on my nerves. ‘S all.”

You giggled. 

A few minutes later when the plane had fully gotten up in the air, you heard the familiar sound of a song you had heard many times before in the Impala coming from the man next to you. 

“You're humming Metallica?” Sam asked Dean monotonously.

“Calms me down,” the older brother replied. 

“ ‘Some Kind of Monster’? Really?“ You raised a brow at him.

Dean did not respond to you.

“Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused,” the younger Winchester reminded his brother.

“Yup,” you chimed in. “We only have thirty-two minutes to track the bitch down and full-on exorcise it.” 

“Yeah, on a crowded plane,” Dean commented. “That's gonna be easy.”

“Just take it one step at a time, alright?” Sam said calmly. “Now, who is it possessing?” 

“It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress,” Dean stated.

“Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up,” Sam told Dean, who hummed in response.

Dean sat up stiffly, his body still tense as he turned to the blonde flight attendant walking past.

“Excuse me. Are you Amanda?” he asked her.

“No, I'm not,” she answered with a smile.

"Oh, my mistake.”

The flight attendant hummed in agreement.

He peered into the back of the plane, finding the other blonde flight attendant. “All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state.”

“What if she's already possessed, genius?” Sam asked.

“There's ways to test that,” Dean responded, pulling the holy water out of his jacket. “I brought holy water.”

“Correction, I brought holy water—” you leaned forward, gently taking the bottle, “—And that’s for when we try to exorcise the demon. She’ll flinch at the name of god if she’s possessed.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean replied, getting up from his chair. You could tell he had not. You already missed the feeling of his hand in yours.

He turned to go, but you stopped him.

“Dean!” you whispered.

“What?” The annoyance in Dean’s voice was back. 

“Say it in Latin.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then what is it?” you smirked, quirking a brow.

“ ‘Christo!’ I’m not an idiot!” he hissed back. Dean turned away from you and headed to the back of the plane. 

You slumped down in your seat, closing your eyes as the copilot began speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your first officer speaking...” you tuned out the rest of his message.

A few minutes went by before the older brother returned.

“Alright, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet,” he sighed as he flopped back into his seat.

“You said ‘Christo’?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her.” 

“So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere,” Sam explained.

The plane shook, causing Dean to tense up. He grabbed your hand once more. “Come on!” he whined. “That can't be normal!”

“Hey, hey, it's just turbulence,” you coaxed.

“Sweetheart, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm fucking four.” He went to drop your hand, but you tightened your grip.

“Okay,” you started, changing tactics. Your tone became harsh. “You need to calm down.”

“Well, I'm sorry, I can't,” Dean sassed.

“You didn’t want to be treated like you’re four, so stop acting like it,” you commanded. “Be a man, Winchester. If you’re a basketcase, you’re wide open to possession. Get your shit together. Right now.”

Dean took a deep breath.

You smiled. “Great. Onto the Rituale Romanum.”

“The what?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

“The exorcism ritual,” you elaborated. “It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful.”

“More powerful?” Dean questioned, his voice strained and eyes wide.

“Yup.”

“How?” He was starting to get panicky again.

“It’d just be able to wreak havoc on its own without a vessel,” you informed.

“Oh. And why is that a good thing?”

“ 'Cause the second part of that sends the bitch back to hell once and for all.”

“First things first, we got to find it.”

“There ya go,” you chuckled.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, getting up from his chair with the EMF Walkman.

You and Sam let him walk down the aisle by himself for a few minutes before the two of you got up to go talk to him.

You tapped his shoulder.

“Ah!” Dean jumped back, wheeling around to face you. “Don’t do that!”

“Anything?” Sam asked.

The older brother shook his head. “No, nothing. How much time we got?” 

“Fifteen minutes,” Sam told you and his brother. “Maybe we missed somebody.” 

“Maybe the thing's just not on the plane,” Dean shrugged.

“No way. Dean, it’s gonna be here,” you protested. Just as you spoke, the EMF meter spiked. 

You looked up to see the copilot coming out of the bathroom.

“What?” Sam asked. “What is it?”

You stared at the copilot. “Christo.”

The man’s head slowly turned toward you and the boys, his eyes black.

You wheeled around to face Sam. “We gotta talk to Amanda.”

“She's not gonna believe this,” Sam contested.

“You’re probably right, but we only got twelve minutes,” you reminded the younger brother. You walked ahead of the boys into the concessions area where Amanda busied herself.

“Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope,” she smiled politely, clearly caught off-guard by your presence.

“Actually—” Dean began, “—that's kind of what we need to talk to you about.”

Sam closed the curtains behind you as Amanda answered Dean. “Um, okay. What can I do for you?”

“Alright, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole ‘the truth is out there’ speech right now,” Dean rushed out.

She looked confused but kept her smile painted on her face.

“Alright, look, we know you were on flight 2485,” Sam continued for Dean.

Her grin disappeared. “Who are you guys?”

Sam ignored her question. “Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure.”

“We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now,” the older brother told her.

“I'm sorry—” she started, attempting to move past you, “I— I'm very busy. I have to go back—”

“Chuck Lambert’s dead, Amanda,” you cut in, effectively stopping her from leaving. “The pilot from 2485.”

“Wait. What?” She turned to face you, her eyebrows furrowed. “Chuck is dead?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “He died in a plane crash. That’s the second plane crash in two months. Doesn’t that strike you as weird?”

She shook her head in complete disbelief.

“Look, there was something wrong with 2485,” Sam added. “Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too.”

Dean made a last attempt to drive the point home. “Amanda, you have to believe us.”

The blonde looked to the ground. “On… on 2485, there was this man. He… had these eyes.”

“Black eyes?” you asked.

She nodded.

“That’s exactly what we’re talking about,” Sam clarified.

“I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?”

Dean answered before you got the chance to. “Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here.”

Amanda looked between the three of you, confused. “Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

“Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay?”

“How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot—” You could practically see her mind running a mile a minute. 

Even Sam was getting impatient. “Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit.”

“Do you know that I could lose my job if you—”

“Babe, you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't go get him right now,” you remarked.

She looked at you and nodded, turning to leave for the cockpit.

As soon as Amanda made it out of the curtains, you fished the holy water out of your hoodie’s pocket, moving to press your back against the wall next to the closed blue curtains.

A few moments later, you heard the copilot say to Amanda, “Yeah, what's the problem?” Just outside the curtains. As soon as the demon ducked into the small room, Dean punched him in the face. He then shoved the demon to the ground and slapped duct tape over his mouth. 

“Wait,” Amanda protested as you got down on the ground beside Dean, “What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him.”

“We are gonna talk to him,” Dean replied simply as you splashed the copilot with holy water.

The demon groaned under the duct tape, his skin sizzling and burning holes through his shirt.

“Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?” Amanda cried.

“Look,” Sam started calmly, “We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain.”

Amanda’s breath quickened. “Well, I don't underst— I don't know—”

“Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?”

She gave herself a pep talk before heading outside of the curtains.

“Hurry up, Sam,” Dean groaned. “I don't know how much longer I can hold him.”

The demon went to kick the older Winchester in the back, but you dove to grab his legs.

Sam began reciting the Latin ritual written in his father’s journal. “Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—”

The demon kneed you in the forehead, causing you to fall back and got a few good swings at the boys in as well. You clambered on top of the copilot, sitting on his stomach with his arms pinned by his sides under your legs.

Sam continued with the ritual before the demon threw you off of him. He ripped the tape off of his mouth and turned to Sam. “I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!”

You attempted to recover from getting slammed into the wall while Dean focused on attacking the demon.

Sam sat there in shock, so you grabbed the journal and tried to finish the ritual.

The demon hit Dean again, effectively getting the young man off of him and knocking Dean into you. The book fell from your hand, and the demon kicked it out into the passenger’s cabin.

A cloud of black smoke flew out from the copilot’s body and into a vent while Sam went out into the aisle to find the journal. 

Suddenly, the plane shook violently and took a nosedive. The lights in the plane flickered and you and Dean were thrown to the back wall of the concession’s area. 

You and Dean screamed as the plane went down. Dean held onto the emergency exit door for dear life as you pressed yourself into the corner opposite from the older Winchester.

Your yelps were cut off when the plane leveled out following a surge of electricity coursing through the aircraft. You assumed Sam was able to finish the ritual and the pilot was able to regain control of the plane. 

You shakily stood up from the ground and dusted yourself off, tugging on the sleeves of your large hoodie.

You stepped out into the passenger’s cabin, heading to Sam as people began asking their neighbors if they were okay.

You wrapped Sam in a short, tight hug as you thanked him for keeping his head level enough to finish the ritual and trying to comfort him after what the demon had said. When you had made your way back to your seats, a slight rumble went through the aircraft. Dean grabbed your hand once again, and kept it there for the rest of the flight. A small smile tugged at your lips. 

After landing back at your original airport, you stood beside Sam and Dean as you watched the swarms of EMTs, FBI agents, and FAA agents go from person to person. They questioned or looked over each one, and your focus bounced between them.

You found Amanda in the crowd talking to an FBI agent, and she turned to the side to mouth “thank you” to you and the Winchesters.

“Let's get out of here,” Dean said firmly.

You began to head to the exit when Dean asked Sam, “You okay?”

You turned back to Sam, who reminded you and his brother, “Dean, it knew about Jessica.”

“Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. Alright? That's all it was.” The older brother attempted to brush Sam’s concerns off.

“Yeah.” The brunet didn’t sound convinced.

“Come on.”

***

The next day, you and the Winchesters visited Jerry at his workplace to give him the final mission report. Jerry showed you and the boys out and escorted you to the Impala parked outside of the warehouse. 

“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed,” he acknowledged. He shook your hand before turning to the boys. “Your dad's gonna be real proud.”

Sam gave him an awkward, tight-lipped smile. “We'll see you around, Jerry.”

You turned to the car, as did Dean before he turned back to the older man. 

“You know, Jerry—" he began.

“Yeah.”

“I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway?” the young man continued. “I've only had it for like six months.”

“Your dad gave it to me,” Jerry explained simply.

“What?” Sam exclaimed in shock.

“When did you talk to him?” Dean questioned.

“I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call.” He took a pause. “Thanks again, guys— and gal,” he grinned.

“Bye, Jerry!” you called after him as he headed off.

“This doesn't make any sense, man. I've called Dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service,” Sam told his brother.

Dean dials what you assumed was his father’s number. However, instead of the out-of-service message Sam had described, a voicemail began to play.

The two boys leaned into the phone so they could hear it better.

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, the voice hard to hear, but you were still able to make out the words. “This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.”

Sam fumed, shaking his head in frustration as he got in the car. He slammed the door behind him. You looked over to Dean, who did not meet your gaze. He got in the car following his brother. You took one last look at the setting sun as a plane flew over your head. 

“I fuckin’ hate flying,” you muttered.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel

[wintfleur]

👩🏻‍🎨 ͡ ꒱ STELLAS RELATIONSHIP WITH HER BROTHERS

au masterlist — you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

°. — QUINN!

Quinn is honestly the best big brother ever, they are extremely close.

Quinn took her to one of her middle school dances, after Jack scared off her crush who asked her.

Quinn is Stella’s safe place and vice versa

growing up when ever the siblings played hockey together, she always teamed with Quinn because Jack and Luke didn’t want to team with her.

Quinn ugly cried at the long and sweet message Stella sent him to congratulate him at becoming captain

Always sits next to each other on movie nights, sharing the snacks Stella steals from a sleeping Luke

She gets sister privileges with all her brothers, but the most from Quinn, he can’t say no to her

He teared up when she got accepted into umich, he’s so proud of his baby sister!

They always find time to FaceTime every week

Quinn finds it tough to be so far from her

Stella once called Quinn up when she was drunk at a party when he was out with some of his teammates, and Quinn had to use one of his teammates phone to call Luke to go pick her up because Stella started to cry when Quinn said he was going to call Luke real quick and call back.

Quinn and a few of Stella’s closest friends are the only ones who have access to her secret secret insta account, Quinn always questions why he’s added because she posts some questionable things

Quinn is honestly her pillow whenever there close

Whenever Stella would get sad and miss there dad because he’s away, she would always go join Quinn in her room, not wanting to be alone.

Quinn always pushed stella on the swings when they were kids.

°. — JACK!

They are honestly like Tom and jerry

they definitely argue the most out of all the siblings

Jack is the only one who can tease/make fun of Stella, he’s gotten into many fights over the years defending her. Physical and verbal

When stella was younger she would get really scared of the thunderstorms and couldn’t sleep, so she would always go to jacks room.

Stella has different ways of showing that she’s angry at her brothers, for Jack it’s the silent treatment and he absolutely hates it!

When the siblings have there prank wars, they always team up to mess with Luke

Stella and jack always cheat and help each other when they have family game nights, mostly because they love pissing Luke off

Jack makes sure to keep all the artwork Stella has given him safe, he loves them all. He’s really proud of his talented little sister!

Jack hates the small crush Stella has on nico, and all the comments she leaves on his pictures. Stella even once wore nico’s jersey to one of the games and Jack glared at nico and a smiling Stella as he watched nico sign it for her. (Nico could just look at Stella and she would be a flustered giggling mess)

Jack definitely gets worried the most about her anemia, keeping extra iron pills and making sure she’s getting enough iron and sleep.

Whenever he had a bad game he always would see a sweet and encouraging message from Stella when he got back to the locker room, Stella try’s to watch all her brothers games.

Jack will always feel guilty for the amount of fake friends that tried to use Stella to get closer to him.

Even though they have there arguments, Stella knows that Jack will be there for her no matter what. Jack will always have her back.

they have there moments, but Jack really is the sweetest brother

Jack is her designated sleigh, pusher 

Jack pretends that he hates when Stella has aux, but he always sings along to her music

°. — LUKE!

They are honestly more like twins, everyone always assumes they are at first.

Luke honestly tells Stella everything, so they get hurt if the other is hiding something from them.

They hate keeping secrets from each other, and most of the time they end up cracking and telling the secret.

Luke feels the most comfortable talking to Stella about his feelings and his struggles, he knows Stella will never judge and is always there for him.

Stella gets a lot of hate from the internet and her brothers try their hardest to protect her from it, but sometimes it really gets to her and Luke is always the first one to realize somethings wrong and comfort her.

They know each other so well and can read each others body language, very useful when they want to get out of things. (Ex;Luke can tell when Stella wants to leave a party)

Luke is very protective of Stella and always keeps his eyes on her during party’s, he takes holding her drink very seriously.

He’s protective of Stella but not as intense as Jack.

He genuinely hates how all his friends had a crush on Stella growing up.

Literally acted like her body guard in school.

He has also gotten into a few fights defending Stella.

Stella always forced Luke to play just dance with her, she always won of course, except at the Brittany spears songs, for some reason Luke always won at those

Stella found her love for art when she was a kid, finger painting with Luke

Luke would always come and sit next to her whenever she had to rest from playing with the other kids because of her anemia, he didn’t want her to feel left out.

Luke has a habit of just coming into her room, not saying anything and just laying in her bed and going on his phone.

Luke and Stella love messing with Jack during the holidays, especially when all the cousins get together.

Luke and her are a unbeatable team at Mario kart

Piggyback rides are there thing

Luke and Stella cried and had a movie night in her dorm when he told her he would be leaving umich.

Luke felt guilty knowing that he was leaving her at college while he left, but she reassured him and said she’s so happy that his dreams are coming true.

Stella definitely misses Luke so much, but she’s so proud of her brother and would never want to hold him back.

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I can’t wait to write more of Stella’s dynamic with her brothers! I love writing sibling relationships, helps me heal my sibling trauma lowkey…anyways! Who’s relationship with Stella do you like the most so far? )

I JUST LOVE STELLA AND HER BROTHERS 😖☺️

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the taglist! )

[darkbluekies]

What If the darling gives the Yan's a paper ring and tells them "Marry Me!"

Silas:

He'll be ridiculously happy. You want to marry him as much as he wants to marry you. Can it be better? He'll reach out his rough hand and mess your hair up with a wide, fond smile. You're so adorable, he can't handle it.

"Of course I'll marry you, but I'm the one proposing, got that? And we'll use a real diamond ring, although I think this paper one is quite cute … fuck, the entirety of you are too cute for your own good. Come here, give me a hug."

Dr Kry:

When he gave you the box of colored paper, he thought you'd make some cute cards … not a ring. And he certainly didn't expect for you to ask him to marry you. He doesn't want to get his hopes up. You're most likely just doing it for fun, you're not actually in love with him. After spending do much time alone with him, you must have gone a tad but insane. But … pretending doesn't hurt. He can still make the most of it.

"You're very sweet, Y/N, but I can't accept a paper ring, and neither will the government. We can pretend to be married though, would you like that? Yeah? Very well, as your husband I will go get you some flowers."

King Edmund:

He chuckles and takes the paper ring, twirling it between his fingers. He wants to laugh at the ridiculousness, but his heart is so swollen at the sweet gesture that he only grins.

"Did you forget that we're already married, my queen? Or did you want to get married twice? We can do that, you know. I can make anything happen. Whatever your heart desires, I will make sure you get it. Would you want a second wedding?"

Jerry:

She's had the shittiest day in mankind. But the moment you hold out the paper ring, she can't help but smile. She has to look away when tears of guilt and love form in her eyes. Jerry knows that she doesn't deserve you, and it only makes her want to keep you even more.

"You're adorable, do you know that? But I'm not a woman of the marrying kind, babe. I don't do weddings. We don't need that, you already know that I'm yours and you're mine. Everyone else does too. But I will keep this ring. Just for fun."

Hedwig:

She almost faints. Having a traditional family with you is her biggest dream. She wants to get married as soon as possible and here you are already suggesting it! She starts to cry and hug you tightly.

"Yes! Yes, we will get married! I love you so much, Y/N! Do you promise that you'll propose for real soon? I will pay for the ring, the wedding, everything. Just promise me you'll actually do it …"

[strxwberry-milku]

𝐌𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐀 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧 ?

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 @trc-punzel ✰part3 of the Gif euphoria series

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Roomate!Jimmy x Reader x Twin!Jey

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You always had a thing for twins…

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,006

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Daddy k*nk , Gagging , Cream Pie , Spitting

Looking for cheap apartments were really hard to find especially when you just recently moved into Las Vegas. For the past couple of weeks you have been staying in a motel browsing the internet in search of an affordable apartment . It was now night time, and even though you were tired and exhausted you still decided to keep doing your research. Low and behold you found yourself a perfect apartment with everything you needed in it,the only slight problem was that you’d be sharing it with a complete stranger….. you would deffo have to pad lock your room or sumn cause you can’t trust people nowadays. Being sneaky and shi you opted to find out who you were sharing your apartment with, so you searched up this app called “ roommate finder”.

Typing up the apartment complex info that you’ll be moving in too, it was able to spot the resident you would be staying with. “ So his name is Jimmy huh ?” you smirked and kept on scrolling through the pictures he added unto the website . “ He’s so fineeee Lord help me” you took a deep breath as you could feel your cooter mama starting to get a bit wet, laughing at your own stupidity you closed your laptop and sat it aside on your bed side table and proceeded to go to bed since tomorrow would be an eventful day seeing as though ur moving in with the roomate.

THE NEXT DAY

“ Thank you so much ” you smiled to the man who helped carry your luggage up to your apartment door, “ No problem Miss ” the man called “Jerry” presuming from the name tag clipped onto his milky, white shirt, he smiled and then turned around to head back to his truck. Taking a deep breath you finally examine the exterior of the building infront of you.

( pick which one you like )

Smiling you pick up the keys from your back pocket and push it into the key hole , rotating it to the right , the door slightly opens signifying that you can go in. Upon entering, you see…..

୨୧ JIMMYS POV ୨୧

“ Ay! Yo Uce! pass me the salt real quick” I say and continue to stir the pot of spicy, authentic Jamaican soup I made. Just as Jey was about to pass me the salt , I hear the front door squeak open. Halting my movements I quickly turn around attempting to catch whoever was brave enough to enter this house , knowing damn well I got my strap on me . ( boy please 🙄) I make eye contact with this very pretty woman “ Damn she sexy asf” I thought in my head ;forgetting that a complete stranger was in my house, biting my lip I futher study her curvaceous figure . I could deffo tell she keeps up with her maintenance because her skin was flawless and glistened like gold in the sunlight , not a single imperfection to be found and her long pink bow decorated nail set , sat perfectly on her delicate fingers.

“ And who tf is you ?” my brother rudely interupts. Visbly taken back from his sudden outburst she meekly responds “ I’m Jimmy’s new roommate…” Poor thing , she must have to be confused and have the wrong Jimmy because from what I know of, the app that I have on my phone ( Roomate Finder ) hasn’t notified me of any new incomers.

୨୧ JEY’S POV ୨୧

I had to laugh because ain’t now way this bitch gon come up in this house and claim to be my brothers new roomate when he doesn’t even have one , she must be drunk or sumn, though now that I’m looking at her properly she does look kindaaa…..Sexy . “ Bitch, get tf out!, you ain’t nobody’s roommate “ I said harshly as I place down the salt on the kitchen counter and hastily make my way towards her shy form. Now you can say that I’m a bit of an asshole for shouting at her ( ya think? 🙄) but what would you do if a random stranger randomly came inside your family’s house ? the same thing right ? mhmm thought so .

୨୧ JIMMY’S POV ୨୧

quickly grabbing my brothers arm , I drag him back “ Chill out bruh , clearly this is a misunderstanding ” I said and sat my brother down on one of the high top chairs around the counter . Turning my attention back towards her I gesture her to come inside. “ Jimmy are you dumb ? she could be a murderer for all we know !” Jey whispered aggressively making sure to keep a close eye on her every movements . “ Relax, I got this” I say and leaned back onto the fridge . “ Sooo you said you were my roommate. Is that correct?” I questioned with a straight face.

୨୧ YOUR POV ୨୧

I sure as hell wasn’t expecting this.Why is this man acting slow ? and who tf is that other midget shouting at ? anyways lemme keep my cool. “ Yes I just recently moved into Las Vegas about four weeks ago, I found a perfect apartment , which is this one and saw that I would be staying with a roomate , so obviously I had to check that I’m not bout to be living with some mad person, No offence” I paused and made eye contact with the man supposedly named Jimmy . He chuckled a bit “Nah it’s fine, I understand ” Smiling at his response I continued my story. “ Being noisy and shi I browsed the internet until I came across this website called ‘Roomate Finder’ and typed up the name of the apartment I would be staying in, I saw most of your pictures pop up and information about you, You seemed kinda cool and not weird so i decided to take the risk and live here.” There expressions were nothing short of confusion, I wanted to laugh so bad.

“ Hollup, lemme see sumn real quick ”…..

PT2. WITH THE SMUT SCENE COMING NEXT

[exceptionimagines]

Meeting and Dating Jerry Dandridge

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(The real ones know about the struggles of the meeting scenario. They also know that I'm kind of referencing the original fright night with the whole 'reincarnated lost love' thing. Also, sorry that this ones kind of horny, guess I just had that dawg in me at the time lol.)

- When you tell people you're not the type of girl to get noticed, it's not some lame attempt to garner sympathy or an admission of low self esteem. You're not pouting at them and crying out for help, begging them to tell you otherwise or to comfort you about the unfortunate state of your love life.

- No, you're simply stating a fact: one you've never really deemed as the end of the world or some egregious issue that you must work to overcome. There's nothing wrong with being the way that you are and no amount of magazines or movies or books will convince you otherwise. You've come to terms with being plain; with being easily ignored, and at this point in your life, you don't really notice it anymore.

- It's only when Jerry Dandridge moves into your neighborhood that you find yourself reconsidering this once definitive description of yourself....

- Due to your lifelong experience of being overlooked, you've grown used to interacting with everyone around you as a sort of sexless being. You don't overthink things when meeting someone for the first time, you don't try to flirt or expect them to find you so attractive that they'll have no other choice but to ask you out. No, you view yourself the same way a little old lady would, expecting people to treat you in a platonic, "well isn't she sweet" kind of way; liking your company but never considering you as an option when thinking of a potential future partner.

- It's why you're so casual when meeting your new, incredibly attractive neighbor for the first time: shaking his hand and welcoming him to the area with a polite smile instead of the lovestruck and giggly grins of the other women around you. You keep things cordial and you think nothing of it when he first starts focusing in on you, always bringing the conversation back to you as you stand amongst a couple other neighbors; the same ones who called you over to greet the man when they noticed you returning home from work.

- At first you think he's trying to be nice, that he notices you're a little reserved and wants to keep you included whenever you seem to get lost in the chaotic cacophony of voices. But then you notice that he isn't really addressing anyone else in the circle directly, that he's seemingly only interested in what you think of things and what you want to say; almost to the point where the conversation is beginning to feel like a one on one talk with spectators.

- You're not used to the attention, not used to having someone specifically drawn to you out of everyone else in an entire crowd; a crowd that includes far more conventionally attractive women than yourself. You're confused when he keeps looking at you, sharing little smiles with you while your other neighbors speak, like you're the most important one there and that he wants you to know that. Your mind races when trying to figure out why he's behaving in such a way....

- It isn't until one of the older lady's on your street nudges you and coos about you having a "new admirer" that you actually consider the idea. You brush it off at first, refusing to think that that's the case; especially when you're talking about someone like Jerry. You argue to yourself that this sort of thing doesn't happen to you, men like him don't go for women like you.... But apparently they do....

- Jerry continues to pay special attention to you, continues to seek you out even when he's certainly not hard up for choices; as though the other girls on your block aren't throwing themselves at him. When he leaves his house, he looks out for you amongst the sea of people, giving your other neighbors a small smile and nod of acknowledgement as he makes his way over to you, meeting you at your car or your mailbox and starting a conversation.

- He hops from topic to topic, anything to prolong your time with him, to give him an excuse to be closer to you, to touch you in some way. You leave your interactions with him flustered, your skin still tingling from where he held your wrist to look at your bracelet or brushed his fingers across your own when exchanging mail. You feel silly for it, feeling like you're too old for all of this giddiness, this school girl sort of crush that's making you weak in the knees and tying your stomach in knots.

- Not long after you meet him, he asks if you'd want to get together, smiling at you charmingly, a touch of shyness on his face as he glances to the ground and then back up at you. You quickly agree, faltering only a little when he chuckles and tells you that "the only problem" is that his house is still a mess from moving. You invite him over to yours and he promises to bring over some wine/beer, telling you he'll "see you then" as the two of you part ways.

- When he comes over to your place, he brandishes the alcohol with a smile, complimenting your appearance as you invite him inside; his smile growing just a tad bit more as he steps over the threshold of your doorway. He looks around, makes a joke about having you help him decorate his own home and follows you happily as you lead him into your living room.

- As your date progresses, you start to think that Jerry is the closest thing to a perfect man that you've ever met. It's like he was handcrafted with the extent purpose of making you fall for him: every little thing he says or does making you like him even more. It's like you've known him for forever and yet it still feels new and exciting.

- When you're ready to call it a night, you're ecstatic to hear him say that he had a great time, that he wants to see you again soon and that next time, he'll invite you over to his place.

- He does so not long after, meeting you at your car one evening and asking if you know anything about painting. When you give him your answer, he invites you to help him decide on a color for his walls, taking you with him to the store once you get a tour of his home, making a date out of picking out the perfect shades. You end up back at his place when you're done, drinking together and watching reality television as you roll different colors across the blank drywall of his home.

- The two of you share your first kiss that same night after he points out that you have some paint on your cheek. He reaches out, smoothing your hair from your face and swiping the fleck of color from your skin with a gentle touch, his hand lingering on your cheek as he stares down at you with an affectionate gaze. Before you know it, you're both leaning in and sharing a short and sweet kiss, smiling at each other happily once the two of you pull apart.

- It all feels too good to be true.... And maybe it is, because not long after, you notice Charley; Jerry's next door neighbor, staring at the two of you when you meet up for another date. You take in the way that he's looking at Jerry and then the way that he's looking at you, at the way he hesitates like he wants to say something. You turn to Jerry and asks what's up with the boy, to which he merely chuckles, telling you that it's nothing while he throws an arm around your shoulders, leading you inside and casting a dark glance towards the boy before he closes his door.

- The next morning, Charley knocks on your door. He tells you that there's something wrong with Jerry and that you should stay away from him. You question him, wanting to know exactly what he thinks is wrong with your boyfriend, not knowing Charley to be the type of kid to make stuff up. He finally admits that he thinks your boyfriend is a vampire and you laugh a little, thinking he's joking.

- He doesn't laugh with you though, instead, he takes his phone out and swipes through photos: photos of scrolls, and antiques, and suspicious belongings. You grow even more confused, asking where he's taken all these pictures and why he's showing you all of this ...until you're shut up by the sight of a painting, a painting of ...you.

"What is this Charley?" You ask, chuckling somewhat incredulously, weirded out and confused.

"It's Jerry's, it's in his house. Just see for yourself, y/n. You'll find it there and you'll see that I'm telling you the truth. Just be careful, alright? He's dangerous." You're baffled by his words, baffled by the entire encounter. Your neighbor has broken into your boyfriends house and found an antique painting of you, or, at the very least, someone who looks identical to you.

- You want to put the whole thing out of your mind, but you cant. You have to find out the truth, so late in the evening, you go to knock on your boyfriends door. You hesitate on his front step: moving to knock then chickening out then moving to knock again. Finally, you decide to just leave, decide that you can't do it, but before you can walk off his front step, the door behind you opens and Jerry asks if you're alright.

- You assure him that you are, telling him that you just wanted to see him and apologizing for bothering him as he shakes his head and smiles, inviting you in as you swallow down your nervousness.

- You try to act normal but you doubt that you're doing a good job, sitting stiffly on his couch while he fetches you a beer. He presses the cool glass to your temple when he comes back, the icy feeling making you flinch, tearing you from your thoughts as he asks if you're alright again. You want to confess everything, to purge yourself of your newfound worries, but instead, you ask to use his restroom, feigning being overheated like he seemed to think that you were; probably from the flush of your cheeks and/or the light sheen of nervous sweat on your forehead.

- You head towards the room you recognized from the photos, remembering it well considering the fact that you picked out the color that's seen on the wall behind the painting. It was a bare bedroom back then but it must be furnished now: furnished with shelves and trinkets and antiques. And a painting of you, framed in aged wood and sealed in yellowing varnish, standing tall against the wall, staring back at you like a mirror, right down to the last freckle and eyelash. It was obviously painted centuries ago, and yet you can almost remember the moment, as though that were even logical or possible.

- You turn to leave, knowing you don't have much time to pretend you're in the bathroom splashing a bit of water on your face or neck in order to cool down. But when you turn, you see that Jerry is already standing in the doorway, watching you as you stand paralyzed in the middle of the room. He tells you that he was worried you would pass out, chuckling almost bitterly, devoid of any cheerfulness.

"What is this Jerry?" You ask confused. You're not upset, not scared or hurt or anything, just confused; baffled.

"It's a long story," He tells you. "Much longer than you think."

- When you finally go to leave, you're somewhat in shock, mind swimming with everything you've just found out. Jerry watches you closely as he walks you to the door, trying in vain to read your expression, to try and see what you think of everything; what you think of the truth. You pause on his front step, turning back around and looking at his face, at the almost imperceptible signs of worry. You gently pull him down by the back of his neck and press a kiss to his cheek, feeling him grip you in return, hold you against him for a moment as you tell him goodnight.

- When you begin walking home, you happen a glance at the Brewster's house, your eyes catching sight of Charley as he stands at his window and watches you. You look away just as quickly as you looked towards him, suddenly feeling guilty; like you've betrayed the boy in some terrible way.

- But you just can't help it. You can't help the fact that you love him....

- Due to his ...affliction, it isn't often that you and Jerry are seen out in public together, so while he's an incredibly affectionate boyfriend, pda just isn't very commonplace. When it does occur, however; depending on your personality, you might just wish that it hadn't.... Jerry is well aware that it isn't appropriate for him to practically fornicate with you on his front lawn, but he simply doesn't care. He enjoys showing off and he enjoys seeing peoples scandalized reactions; especially when they're people who are suspicious of him.

- On that same note: Jerry is definitely a bit of an exhibitionist so you're gonna have to be okay with people seeing you in various compromising positions. Sometimes you'll be aware of it, sometimes you won't, but if you really aren't comfortable with it, he'll try to keep it to a minimum.

- Jerry is oftentimes a great example of raw, animalistic want. He's a very touchy, very affectionate, and very dominant kind of person, so don't be surprised when he's constantly wanting to be close to you. He'll wrap himself around you continuously, kissing your skin and nuzzling into your flesh. The two of you come together and pull apart like magnets, like your bodies are naturally drawn to each other, needing to glide against one another in order to survive. He's admittedly a little obsessed with you, but it's certainly not unwelcome.

- Temple and hairline kisses. He also occasionally kisses you right at your pulse point; though you should definitely make sure that you can trust him before you just let him do it.

- I firmly believe that the way Jerry kisses in the film is not just done to rub his success in Charley’s face, but because he’s genuinely just that kind of guy. When he kisses, he aims to devour you whole: kissing you like you're the only thing that can ever truly satiate him. His kisses are dominating, deep and rough and bruising, and they're always just so ...hungry. He'll oftentimes have to pull away before you're finished with him because he has to try to control himself; his fanged teeth and darkened eyes on full display as he keeps his shred of distance with a lustful smile.

- Getting hickeys from him is a very dangerous game but Jerry is always glad to be on the receiving end; probably even more than the alternative. They typically fade quite quickly due to his healing factor, but he simply uses that as an excuse for you to give him more, lounging around open shirted in hopes that you'll pounce, or teasing you about how they're starting to fade, urging you to do something about it.

- He has a slight obsession with touching your ass but you generally allow it because he lets you touch his in return. Ass smacks are a sign of affection in your household, but they're also a very dangerous game. Your boyfriend can get a little feral sometimes and your voluptuous backside has become his favorite victim.

- Laying your head in his lap as he cards his fingers through your hair. Jerry kind of likes using you as a weighted blanket so it's also quite common for you to lay across his chest, relaxing against him as he absentmindedly traces patterns on your back.

- Definitely has a habit of toying with your hair: absentmindedly twirling strands of it, brushing it back from your face, smoothing it down, etc. He isn't even shy about it, making it blatantly obvious that he enjoys what he's doing and that he see's nothing wrong with it. But it's also so ingrained in him that he doesn't even realize he's doing it sometimes.

- He calls you "bunny" a lot: "my little bunny" or "my little mouse". But he also calls you more common things like angel, baby, babe, princess, and/or honey.

- He likes pretending to be distracted by something, only to grab you and pull you down on top of him whenever you get too close. He likes the little rush of adrenaline that courses through you, feeling your heart beat wildly in your chest and/or smelling the ounce of fear that permeates the air whenever you react to the sudden "attack". It's like micro dosing a drug to him, and it's a fun way to get his hands on you.

- He finds your scent, in general, to be incredibly intoxicating. So, if you're ever wondering why he doesn't just change you right off the bat, it's probably because he doesn't want to lose your uniquely godly scent to plain old generic vampire musk. Be prepared for him to bury his face in your hair, your neck, or your clothes because it definitely happens fairly often. Depending on the day, it either relaxes or riles him up, so you might as well make a game out of guessing which one it'll be.

- You cannot be around him when you're on your period; regardless of how much he may claim otherwise. So much of his personality is animalistic and horny: if it isn't the blood that gets him going, it's the hormones, and when he says he's fine, he's lying. He's also unapologetic about being on demon hours so you can't even successfully shame him for it. Don't trust him to contain himself. Do trust him to furiously jerk it after he catches the scent of you.

- Going for night drives.

- Convenience store runs.

- Laying in the bed of his truck or sitting up on the tailgate and watching the stars. There's a lot of big deserts where the two of you live, and they're all nice and peaceful, providing a scenic atmosphere and a clear view of the unpolluted sky.

- Watching Desperate Housewives together. Jerry finds reality television to be particularly amusing: it's like modern society; particularly the parts of it that he's not able to interact with, all wrapped up in a chaotic and entertaining bow. To some extent, it's like a scientific study, but he's also just a messy bitch himself so it all appeals to him on a very deep and personal level.

- Not having many choices when thinking of date ideas because he's only able to go out at night or in indirect sunlight. You usually go to different movies, bars, carnivals, and occasionally the odd casino or club; if you're interested in that sort of thing.

- Showering/taking relaxing baths together.

- Loves when you wear his clothes.

- He literally smells so good and nothing can convince me otherwise. He talks about your scent, but his scent makes you feel like you're ovulating: out here fully ready to start mating whenever you get a hint of his cologne.

- Getting each other special and/or matching jewelry. He's literally never seen without his, and whenever the two of you are in a fight; or even breaking up, he checks to see if you're still wearing yours; thinking of it as proof that you're still at least somewhat in love with him. He's very smug about it.

- Unapologetically steals things from his victims and gives them to you. Thankfully for you, he typically spares you from the truth and tells you that he simply bought them.

- Always keeps your favorite things on hand and in stock. He survives off of beer and apples like 90% of the time, but his fridge and pantry are full of random goods, entirely because he knows that you like them. Rest assured that if you don't drink liquor, he's got at least one Snapple or water or whatever in his cooler or fridge at any given moment: and that he thinks it's cute that you're so "feminine"/innocent. He just likes looking after you without making a big deal out of it.

- Jerry; probably, literally stalked you before the two of you started dating so try not to question it when he reveals that he knows things that you've never told him before or guesses what you're going to say before you say it. He loves you enough to listen to you tell the same stories over and over again, but just know that he's already memorized every little detail of them; and that he's probably just focusing on how cute you look instead of exactly what you're saying.

- It doesn't matter if you're all dressed up and looking drop dead gorgeous, or if you're looking like you're about to drop dead: he thinks you're adorable at any given moment, and he wants you bad. He also thinks you're especially adorable whenever you're sick, but that's neither here nor there.

- He's constantly acting like your knight in shining armor, using his inhuman speed, strength, and reflexes to make up for any sort of clumsiness that you might display while being in his presence.

- Helping him with his little projects. You know, he always claims that he needs your help, but when he says that, he always just means that he wants you to sit and look pretty while he does all the work. Although that's honestly a win-win for you.

- Jerry has centuries of experience when it comes to learning the ins and outs of appliances, so you can rest assured that he can fix literally anything that you're capable of breaking. A lot of this experience comes from wanting to get the upper hand when catching "prey", but you don't have to know that: you just have to stop worrying about everything and reap the benefits of his labor.

- Making jokes about him being an old man or a cradle robber; considering the fact that he's like 400 years old. Expect him to either raise a brow at you, smirk, or make a downright sleazy comment. *cough, cough* daddy *cough, cough*.

- You can honestly get away with so much just because he likes you; even when the two of you are technically broken up. You'll literally be trying to kill him and he'll act as though you're simply being difficult, smiling at your petrified friends as he says something along the lines of "can't live with them, can't live without them". It's partially because he finds it hot that you're a worthy opponent and that you can occasionally manage to best him: thinking of it as a reason for why he loves you so much.

- You're a victim of the sassy man apocalypse. Jerry seemed like such a masculine sort of person when the two of you first started dating, so you really didn't expect him to be as unserious or as shady as he; occasionally, is. His personality can make him seem a lot less dangerous than he actually is: especially when he's mocking and teasing and making quips at people. It makes staying mad at him or serious in a situation pretty hard since he's actively just being ...kind of a little shit. He's a comedic genius, but when it's in the middle of you convincing him not to kill someone, you tend not to appreciate it.

"I repel you with Christ our lord."

"Do you? ...Really?"

- If you have pets, be prepared for them to absolutely despise him; so much so that the two of you probably have to hang out at his place almost all the time. They simply recognize that he's a dangerous creature and distrust him from the get go, growling or hissing at him before dashing away or trying to protect you. He occasionally mocks them when you're not around; playing into the legitimate rivalry that they have going on, but once he realizes how important it is to you for them to like him, he tries to bribe them into acting nicer towards him; which ends up partially working so yay.

- He can literally lift an entire car, so expect him to treat you like you weigh nothing, regardless of your actual size; especially when he's horny....

- Speaking of: he sometimes gets legitimately feral after feeding, so don't be surprised when he returns home or finds you somewhere in town and behaves as though he needs to jump you immediately; and passionately at that. One minute you'll be cooking dinner and the next, you'll be on the counter with a tongue down your throat. ...You're truly a victim.

- Sampling his blood from time to time; though it's a dangerous game: both because it's addictive and because Jerry goes feral for blood drunk you. It becomes really hard for him to control himself so it can easily lead to him actually turning you.

- Expect your boyfriend to ask for selfies whenever you text him that you're going somewhere or doing something. He gets legitimately grumpy over the fact that he can't take selfies with you. Like he lowkey sulks a little whenever he has to politely decline someone's offer to take photos of the two of you together, or when he overhears you telling your friends that he really doesn't like pictures. He just wants to take middle aged man pics with his PYT!!

- His entire phone is full of photos of you; so is his Facebook, and everyone thinks that it's absolutely adorable, calling you so lucky to have a boyfriend who loves you enough to only have photos of you on his wall. They might be a little confused, because you'd expect someone as attractive as Jerry to post himself, but they certainly don't tell you that.

- When Jerry picks you up from work; a fairly common occurrence, you always just assume that it's because he wants to be a good boyfriend and make sure you that get home safe. And while that may be the case, he also has some ulterior and self serving motives as well. Jerry; while a loving partner, is also still a monster, so when he comes to your place of employment and charms your coworkers, he's not only being friendly, but also trying to ensure that they trust him enough to let their guards down; which is especially handy when the two of you get into a fight. He also just likes flaunting your relationship and making people jealous so....

- Jerry loves you with every fiber of his being but he simply doesn't get jealous over you. A big part of it is the fact that he takes pride in having things that other people want; takes pride in winning, and he knows that none of them have even a fraction of what he does; that the two of you are made for each other. He's a very "I know she loves me" and "how could you ever think that she'd be interested in you?" kind of person.

- Regardless, he still enjoys rubbing his relationship in other people faces and passive aggressively bragging whenever he knows that someone is interested in you; or giving them a knowing look that tells them that he's well aware of their feelings for you and that he finds them very amusing. He's a smug bastard.

- It isn't often that Jerry worries about your safety, mainly because he's an immortal demon who's capable of doing terrible things in order to take care of you. But, occasionally, he'll find himself worrying about not being able to look out for you whenever you're out in the sun. To combat this, he makes sure to take care of all of your issues during the night; or makes you convert to his nocturnal schedule. You're looking at a man who can pick off half a town in a single night just because he wants to: rest assured that he's doing the utmost when faced with someone threatening your safety, comfort, or happiness in literally any way.

- Jerry always tries to stay calm whenever you're in an argument or a fight; he doesn't like losing his temper with you or making you feel hurt in any lasting way. So while he'll occasionally be a little rude or downplay your feelings, he's typically a pretty easy person to resolve an issue with. He lets you rant when you need to and listens to you be a little ridiculous at times; even if he might make a couple of incredulous faces, so you'll usually just tire yourself out to where you're ready to apologize or listen to him explain.

- Because he can occasionally downplay your feelings, you sometimes opt to give him the silent treatment, which he tolerates for a day or two before he's coming over and demanding to talk because you're "being ridiculous and you know it". He'll knock on your door and sigh, and while his apologies might occasionally sound a little insincere; very "alright, alright, I'm sorry, okay?", he usually genuinely means them; even if it's just because he doesn't like hurting your feelings or because he didn't mean for things to come out the way they did.

- He can occasionally be a little manipulative, but that's only because he really loves you and doesn't want you leaving him whenever he scares you with his vampirism or makes you question his character. He's a cold blooded killer so you'll occasionally have some differences of opinion and morality; which is when he turns on the charm and tries to sway you towards forgiving him or otherwise not breaking up with/leaving him.

- He usually tells you that he loves you in response to hearing you say it, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't genuinely mean it. He simply tends to prove his love instead of outwardly saying it; unless he wants to reassure you that he cares for you whenever you're feeling a certain type of way.

- Jerry definitely intends on turning you sometime fairly soon, wanting to spend the rest of eternity with you and guarantee your safety. It's up to you to decide whether you're interested in that. But if you really aren't, I'd suggest getting as far away from him as possible because he's definitely not against turning you "for the greater good". One day, you'll understand why he had to do it; even if it takes a little time....

[wannaeatramyeon]

Yo! I'm in love with your writing 😍 I hope you have a nice day

Btw can we get how all of the lookism men (and htf if it okay) would react dating/crushing on reader with big 3? (Huge tits, thick thighs and big ass). Please I'm begging you 😭🙏

lmao. semi-related: lookism hc - boobs, ass, thighs or...? Sorry anon, this is probably a lot less spicy than you were hoping, or maybe I'm too delulu with how gentlemanly some of these idiots are.

Lookism/HTF crushing on 'Big 3'

DGAF

Beauty is fine. But beauty fades and there needs to be something else there. You're never gonna turn their head with just a tight bod. They would notice something like your smile first, your wit and intelligence, your fighting prowess rather than your figure.

Zack Lee: Ride or die, loyal to a tee. Your body is just a tiny part of your overall package. In fact, feel free to lose your corporeal form. It doesn't make a difference to Zack, he will love you all the same.

DG/James Lee: He's one of the hottest, most sought after idols in South Korea. He has seen a lot of bodies. There needs to be something below the surface for his interest and attention to truly take hold.

Gun Park: Ok fine, but what can you actually do with that body? (Heh. Intepret that how you will...) If the body is just for show, then Gun is not going to be impressed. Follow it up with fighting skills and talent then this man is swooning. And also moves into the pure pest category.

Seong Taehoon: Classic friends to lover. As a friend he barely takes note of your figure. He's not blind. He knows you have a great body but this guy is a bit of a romantic, no matter how cringe he thinks that is. He'll be attracted to your personality traits, your loyalty, your kindness. Your body can be whatever. If he's fallen for you, then it's not going to make a huge difference to him.

+ Daniel Park, Jay Hong, Eli Jang, Warren Chae, Sinu Han, Xiaolong, Hudson Ahn, Kwak bros, Jason Yoon, Jerry Kwon, Baek Seongjun, Ji Yeonwoo, Seo Haesu

Doesn't even notice... at first.

"What do you mean 'huge tits, thicc thighs, big ass' on Y/N? Huh?" Once they notice, they cannot stop looking. Tries to go for a sneaky glance all the time. Puts up some pretence of being a gentleman but bro is too weak for the curves.

Jake Kim: Will absolutely notice the way your eyes light up first, how your smile warms his heart. Sure, sure. This man may play it cool(ish), but once he notices your body - it drives him wild. Finds it hard to concentrate with you around. Finds it even harder to concentrate without you around as his imagination runs wild. "Sorry Jerry, can you repeat that?"

Vasco Tabasco/Johan Seong: Thinks they are being subtle with their glances. They are not. Especially if you consider the way their face lights up bright red anytime they check you out. And if you catch them, then you can literally see them shrivel up and die before your eyes in real time.

+Jace Park, Lineman, Brad Lee, Han Wangguk, Kim Munseong

Pure pest

These guys will not keep their hands off you. Public decency be damned. The kind of bastard that will tell others to "GET A ROOM" even if they're the ones being completely inappropriate. Better keep a leash on them if you're not into being an exhibitionist.

Goo Kim: The body is a bonus. Nevertheless, it's a pretty big bonus. You will be spoiled to high heavens with clothing that this pervert likes to see you in. Figure skimming, curve hugging. Assuming you're comfortable with it. Don't be mistaken though, Goo likes seeing you in these clothes but he believes in dressing for yourself as much as for anyone else.

Samuel Seo: the most reserved out of these terrible four. He has appearances to keep up, and cares about propriety... to an extent. But will always keep a hand on your thigh or your ass. A way to claim what is his, if you will. Once he gets you on his own, his hands are roaming.

+Vin Jin, Ryuhei Kuroda

[baxndaid]

rick sanchez x reader

headcannons or something idk i like old men read my stanford x readers here too x <- POLL AT THE END !!

- you’re probably a family friend, you come over every once in a while to supervise morty and summer while jerry and beth try to rekindle their failing marriage

- you do a horrible job because the kids always end up sneaking out with their grandpa to kill some god or something absurd like that

- your oblivious, rick isn’t necessarily cold towards you, just indifferent

- he would rather be elsewhere than in the living room talking to some random person that beth insists on having in her house

- one day you catch them sneaking out and probably hide inside of the trunk of ricks car(?) because curiosity killed the cat or something like that

- the cars system would probably inform him that he has an unexpected visitor and your caught red handed, now inside the passenger seat with morty and his grandfather

- awkward would not be enough to describe what that whole journey was

- rick would berate you for being so stupid, telling you that you had no survival skills getting into strangers cars like that

- morty sat in silence, disappointed that he couldn’t go to “boob world” or whatever he called it

- you see, you’re a professional glazer

- it’s not even unintentional like you’re genuinely super impressed by this guy what the fuck do you mean he’s fucked a planet?? crazy work me next

- he decides to keep you around to stroke his ego, it’s refreshing to have someone who’s not always busting his balls about morality and space laws

- and having someone as attractive as you worship him like a god sounded good to him

- after a while he’ll definitely enjoy your company but pretend he’s super cool and suave , pretending that he’s not excited to spend some time with you

- morty gets a little concerned at the fact that his grandpa has taken a liking to you, with with beth

- they know what he’s like, he’s brash and cold one minute, and a little normal the next

- they eventually give in though, they’ve never seen him so calm before, maybe you’ll change him and his chaotic ways

- (you can’t and you won’t)

- he’s super distant when he realises he might have genuine feelings for you, it’s not like him at all to feel all mushy

- truth is, he’s lonely, he’s sad, he’s afraid that things won’t work out, something bad happens to you etc, then he’s back to being lonely

- yeah he’ll probably be a little mean to you at first, to try and scare you off

- doesn’t work, so he gives up with the sass

- definitely builds you little trinkets and machines now and then

- you have no time to mow the lawn? he’s going to build self mowing grass for you (it’s a little sad)

- always stuck in traffic? he’s tinkered with your car and now whenever you drive by a traffic light it’ll always be green (so many casualties)

- too cold today? he’s going to discreetly push the sun a little closer to the earth, juuust a smidge

- he definitely butt dials you when he’s drunk only to cry on your lap until he sobers up and then pretends nothing happened, if he tells you anything particularly sensitive then your memories about it are going bye-bye

- it would take a lot for him to confess, for real

- normally though you’ll probably find a bunch of voice mails from him, he sounds rough and panicky, like he’s about to die in some stupid mission (you could always near morty crying in the background)

- he’ll tell you that he loves you, and that you make him forget about how much he hates himself

- forget about that though because in the very next voice mail he sounds normal again and is telling you to ignore what the last message said

- do not ignore it pls

- do something subtle but nice, like bake or cook him something, or buy him a new lab coat, anything

- he’ll probably get the hint soon

[dusty-pistol]

DIALTOWN ELECTROBASIS AU DESIGNS!!!

The Manager: Callum Crown

He/Him, Cisgender male, Bisexual

CALLUM is the man that keeps the casino up and runnin! He loves her to death and cares for his employees and customers as an extension. (But, mostly the casino.) He's expressive and has a good head on his shoulders. Which is an old handmade rotary phone, along with phone cord wings and a coiled tail!

(For his design, I wanted somethin between his Canon outfit and The Manager's outfit and decided to mash em together. But instead of orange, I chose to replace it with yellow to reflect the Dialtown flag. I think it works well for him. I'll admit, I didn't know what to do for the wings, so I just made them bundled up phone cords, and I thought it'd be cool to have his tail coiled.)

August: Randy Jade

She/Her, Transgender female (MtF), Pansexual

RANDY is the beloved bellhop at the casino! She's quiet because, well, she's got selective mutism. But she CAN emote via sound effects! If Karen isn't around to translate, she often doodles in her notebook. Her head is a Nokia phone, and her wings are the chargers for it. She also has a long tail that she trips on often, so watch out!

(Here's where I started with the staff uniforms. It's the same as the basic Electrobasis casino staff uniforms, but with yellow instead of orange, to reflect back on Callum's design. Also, Randy is a girl in this AU cuz transfem Randy is real. I also had her keep the handages and undershirt cuz there's some leniency with the uniforms. She doesn't have the bandage on her head though cuz in this universe, she didn't crack it open. I kinda didn't know what else to add. Which is gonna be a reoccurrin thing sorryyyyy)

Clara: Karen Dunn

She/Her, Cisgender female, Lesbian

KAREN is the front desk lady at the casino. Despite... well, everythin about her. Snappish and blunt, she mostly clicks with the other staff. Close with Randy and Pierre! Her head is a printer and is often jammed due to her irratability. Her wings are sheets of printer paper. She may or may not have a grudge against the resident in Apartment 204...

(I don't really have many notes on Karen's design, tbh. But I do think she looks nice in a long skirt. Didn't know what else to add.)

Simeon: Pierre

He/Him, Cisgender male, AroAce

PIERRE is both the barkeeper and complaints desk manager. One of these jobs he's more passionate about than the other. He's laid back and more passive leanin, especially in comparison to some OTHER cherubs... His head is a desk phone, and his wings are paper shredders as that's where he puts the complaints.

(And here's the worst design, in my opinion. The pinkish grey with yellow doesn't look very good, but it's the uniform color I went with, so I had to go through with it. Halfway through, I was considerin swappin Pierre out with Jerry, but I'm still on the fence with that. I also didn't know what to do with his pose. He's the most out of place, and I hate iiitttt uhggggg...)

Tycho: Peter Kennedy

He/Him, Cisgender male, Bisexual

PETER is a full-time employee, part-time "best bud" to the resident in Apartment 205, A.K.A. his boss. He himself stays in Apartment 201. When he's not workin, he's attemptin to motivate his boss to actually get his work done. His head is a red rotary phone, and his wings are phone cords.

(I wanted to keep his main design, but switch up the outfit just a little bit. So I added a suit coat. Kinda givin Steven DSaF vibes, but eh. His quest would be helpin Roger with his quest. Once you finish Roger's, go back to Peter and tell him of your success. Will probably change this.)

Lady Lashes: Madame Mediocre

She/Her, Cisgender female, Straight

MADAME MEDIOCRE, also known as MISS Mediocre, is a celebrity! Basically. If you think about it. She's always on top of her game, that game bein fortune tellin. She stays in Apartment 203, and her head is a crystal ball with light bulbs as wings and a bulb shaped tail!

(My absolute favorite design outta all of them!!! I'm so proud of this one. I think she looks great. It was hard to come up with an outfit for her, but I think I did well! It's pretty fun humanizin an inanimate object character tbh. She's so pretty... Her quest would be to find a necklace of hers, as she's lost it somewhere around the casino.)

Jeri: Oliver Swift

He/Him, Transgender male (FtM), Gay

Say, what's up to OLIVER! He's a totally radical guy who digs films, monsters, and usin (totally not outdated) 80's slang! He stays in Apartment 202, which is now the most thematic room, thanks to him, of course. His head is a wall phone, with his wings bein film reels. Don't forget his fez, too!

(I also like how his design turned out too! Despite not changin much. I just gave him a vest and headphones, but I think they work pretty well. I think the red and browns really pair well. I'm not sure what Oliver's quest would be...)

Rexla: Curie

They/Them, Nonbinary, Unlabeled

CURIE is a chill art curator, straight from Heaven! They're laid back and perhaps a liiiiittle bit of an alcoholic. Or constantly high... Maybe a mix of both. And right now, they're crashin in Apartment 204. Their head is a typewriter with a phone dial slapped on the top, and their wings are blank canvases.

(I took the most creative liberties with them. Cuz their Canon design is so bland... I decided to make them punk in reference to Rexla's rocker vibes. Kinda unsure about their design since I winged it... Curie's quest would be to give them somethin to inspire them. Which you go to Karen, ask her to print out one of her pictures, and bring it to Curie. I think..)

Michealwave: Roger Jones

He/Him, Cisgender male, Pansexual

ROGER is a self-proclaimed boss at the factory both he and Peter work at, also known as clumsy and even lazy to most people. And cherubs. He's got a strange appreciation for gnomes, but he's... fine. He holds up in Apartment 205. For a head, he has a flat orange rotary phone, and his wings are phone cords.

(Legit didn't change anythin, but I did make his coat longer. Also I gave him and Peter matchin wings if that's anythin. Roger's quest would be to find his gnome figures. They somehow mysteriously went missin and can't find them. [Peter hid them so Roger would focus on plannin his work instead of lookin at the gnomes...])

That's all!! I know some designs are atrocious, but if yall ever wanna draw them, feel free to change them up however you like! These are just to get a good idea for how they look in the Electrobasis universe!!!

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Fight Club

Pairing: Matt Murdock x (AFAB)Reader (with platonic Frank Castle x Reader)

Summary: @hellskitchenswhore is killing it with the prompts lately. Per her request: Matt's freaking out thinking you might be cheating on him because for the last few weeks, you’ve been coming home smelling like Frank. What he doesn’t know is that you asked Frank to teach you how to fight and didn’t tell Matt.

Warnings: 18+/SMUT. No use of Y/N. Female/AFAB reader (use of terms like girlfriend and female anatomy.) Established relationship. Brief mention of an active shooter at an office, Frank and Matt using pet names like sweetheart, mentions and accusations of cheating but no actual cheating, Unprotected sex, Fingering, P in V, Creampie, and Possessiveness from our dear Matt. Sort of getting caught after the fact.

Notes: I started taking kickboxing like three weeks ago, so I like to pretend that qualifies me to know what I'm talking about (It doesn't lol). So apologizes if I got any of the terminology wrong. UPDATE DEC 2023: I wrote an alternate ending to this fic that ends in a threeway with Frank that you can read here

WC: 5,000

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

“That’s it sweetheart, last round I promise.” Frank encourages you as you take swings at the bag in front of you. 

You’ve been at this for at least an hour and your arms feel like jello. You can’t remember the last time you were breathing this hard that wasn’t from Matt bending you in half. Jumping directly into the Hudson would have kept you drier than the amount of sweat currently pouring down your face and exhausted body.

“Atta girl, atta girl!” Frank praises as you take your last few swings, arms too weak to make any real movement of the bag

“Alright, you’re getting the hang of it now. Few more sessions and you’ll be out there with Red every night.”

“Pfft I don’t know about that, Frank. I’m just trying to make sure I can protect myself is all.”

“So remind me again why you didn’t ask him to teach you this?”

It started last week. One of your favorite coworkers was going through a bitter divorce and her estranged husband decided to confront her at the office and pulled a gun. You heard two shots ring out from your desk and feared the worst - all the active shooter situations you'd seen on TV were happening live in your life. Fortunately, as you fled for safety, Jerry from accounting was able to disarm and tackle the guy before he could hurt anyone thanks to his black belt in Jiujitsu.

Even though the incident ended okay, it had spooked you enough to get yourself some defense classes, for all those times when your vigilante boyfriend was too far uptown to protect you at a moment’s notice and Jerry wasn’t around to save the day.

Matt was always overprotective of you and you hated to think how he’d react to the incident, so you hadn’t told him. When the story hit the news, you lied (via text so he couldn’t detect it) and said it happened on a different floor and you didn’t even notice. 

You also didn’t tell him about your decision to learn self-defense. Matt was more than qualified to teach you, but for some reason, you just didn’t feel comfortable asking for his help with this. Maybe it was his propensity to throw himself into helping those he cared about, you especially, that gave you hesitation to give him another thing to prioritize over himself. Maybe it was just how good he was at fighting that made you not want to “be a beginner” in front of him (not that Matt would ever judge you about anything.)

In fairness to you, you hadn’t intended to learn it from his frenemy and former client, but you’d showed up at the boxing gym near your work and the gruff men inside intimidated you so much, you bolted out the door before signing up for a class, tears welling in your eyes when you quite literally bumped into Frank on the street.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, nodding towards the door of the boxing gym

“I thought… Look I want to learn how to fight. Or at least how to defend myself. This place is close to work but um… might not be the right fit for me.”

“Why don’t you just ask Red?”

“It’s a long story,” you replied with a sigh “but I really don’t want to ask him. Or for him to even know about it. So can you please not mention you saw me here or we had this conversation?”

“Okay, can I ask why not?”

“You can but I’m not gonna answer.” 

Frank chuckled and shook his head

“Well if you want to learn to fight, this isn’t the best place. I know Vinny the owner and he’s a shit teacher. But if you want to learn for real, I’m happy to teach you.”

“What? Wait really? Wait, Frank you know how to fight?”

“Sweetheart, I was a Marine for over 15 years, ‘course I know how to fight.”

“And you’d do that for me?”

“Course. You’re Red's girl. What times’ he leave for his little night job?”

“9:00”

“Great, meet me here at 9:30. Tonight.”

And that was how you ended up here, collapsing on the gym mat beneath you with a groan.

“Not bad for your first time. We just gotta get you in the habit of resetting your hands after every hit, and you’ll be golden” Frank praises again

“Oh yeah, I forgot, always protect the face so I don’t end up lookin like you.” you jest

“Ouch” he feigns hurt with a smirk on his face “Red teach you to swing low like that?”

“Nah Castle, that’s all me. It’s part of why he loves me. Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure. See you then.”

By the time Matt returns home, you’re showered and in bed, sore muscles pulsing every time you twist and turn in your sleep. Between the smell of sweaty clothes in the hamper and the scent of your freshly washed skin rubbing against silk sheets, plus the heat radiating off your sore muscles as he crawls into bed silently beside you, Matt figures it out pretty quickly.

‘She started going back to the gym. Hmm. Have to ask her about that in the morning.’ he thinks as he drifts off beside you.

You awake in the morning to gentle hands rubbing at your back. 

“Mmm morning Matty” you mumble, still pulling yourself out of sleep

“Morning sweetheart.”

“What are you doing?” you ask as he works a little lower down your spine

“Giving you a massage. I can tell you’re sore. When did you start going back to the gym?”

“Just yesterday. And you’re right I’m super sore. Thank you, this is a nice way to start my day.”

“Of course sweetheart. What gym did you go to? Did you have fun?” he inquires

His innocent prodding has you waking fully quickly, trying to cover your tracks without outright lying and getting caught.

“Oh this gym near work. Couple people in the office recommended it. And yeah I had fun.” 

All truths.

“That’s nice. Mmmm do you want to start the coffee or shower first?” he asks, seemingly letting the subject go

Perfect.

As you rush around to get ready for work, Matt grabs the laundry hamper from the bathroom, walking it over to the washing machine. Your dirty workout clothes from the night before sit on top, now less potent that they have completely dried. But he can’t help but feel like something smells off.

Sure it smells like you - natural scent mixed with your fading sweat, but there’s something else. Something familiar. A very subtle hint of spiciness mixed with… is that gunpowder? 

‘Weird’ Matt thinks to himself, but brushes it off a moment later, the smell not strong enough to really garner more than a passing thought.

But three times he does the laundry in a row, he smells it. It’s so subtle, he might not even give it another thought, but it’s just so damn familiar. 

It takes another week for him to ask you about it.

“Hey sweetheart, you’ve been going to the gym a lot lately,” he mentions over dinner 

“Mmmhmm. Yeah, can you feel my muscles growing? I’m feeling stronger.” you reply

“Yeah. What exactly are you doing at the gym? It’s really working.”

“Oh a little cardio, a little strength, you know…” you skirt around, being intentionally vague

“That’s good. Is it like a class or?”

“Um sort of. Just this guy at the gym, he’s been helping me. You know, walking me through the exercises.” 

Also technically the truth.

“That’s good. Well, I’m glad you found something you like.”

‘Okay, so that guy must smell like this. She’s close enough to him in a warm sweaty gym, so there’s a little bit on her clothes. Makes sense.’ Matt thinks to himself. But he still can’t shake the feeling that that smell is so familiar.

Two weeks later, Matt is out on patrol when he hears a familiar heartbeat on the fire escape a few floors down from where he’s perched.

Frank.

“You just gonna sit there all night, listinin’ Red?” Frank asks

“Very funny Frank.” Matt says, hopping down to Frank’s level

“Haven’t seen you in a while” Matt comments

“Been busy. Madani’s been usin’ me more.”

“Oh don’t tell me you’re going legit Frank.”

“Not a shot in hell, Red. But gotta pay the bills somehow.”

And then a strong breeze blows. Frank’s signature blend of sweat, aftershave, and metallic mixed with gunpowder from all the weapons he handles overwhelms Matt’s nose. Matt cocks his head in confusion. It’s so damn familiar. But of course it is, it’s Frank. How many times has Matt been on a rooftop with him like this, bs-ing the night away while monitoring the city?

After catching up for a bit, they go their separate ways, the rest of Matt’s evening turning uneventful.

He returns home to you shortly after 3 am, your soft breathing as you sleep calms him as he strips off his suit. 

You hadn’t met with Frank tonight. He said something about following a lead and you were perfectly fine with that, you needed an off day. 

Matt curls up in bed beside you, resting his head on your back and falling asleep quickly.

The next night, Frank is really putting you through your paces and you swear you’re ready to collapse when he finally calls it for the night. 

Per usual, Frank offers to walk you home when you’re done and for the first time since you started coming here, you accept the offer since you stayed a bit later than usual tonight. At least until you can make it to Hell’s Kitchen and within range of Matt. 

You and Frank make small talk as you go and eventually, the chill of the autumn air has you shivering in your still-damp-from-sweat workout clothes. 

“Here sweetheart,” Frank says with a lopsided smirk, slinging his worn jacket over your shoulders. 

“Thank you Castle. Always a gentleman.”

“Course, ‘specially for Red’s girl.”

You make it to 35th and 10th, close enough to home and hand his jacket back to him, parting ways with a nod and a polite “goodnight.”

The later hour coupled with the particularly intense session has you collapsing into bed without even removing your shoes, let alone your gym clothes.

When Matt returns a few hours later, the smell hits him like a truck. 

‘I swear to god Frank, if you’re bleeding on my couch again…’ Matt thinks to himself. 

But when he enters the apartment the only heartbeat he can hear is yours. He inches slowly toward the bedroom and rolls the door open gently. He reaches down to feel the soft lycra of your leggings on your body, careful not to stir you from your slumber. The smell of your sweat clinging to your clothes fills his senses, way more potent than normal plus that other scent you’re bringing home from the gym. Matt pauses to wonder why he thought Frank was here but then it hits him. 

Oh my god. The mystery smell from the gym you’ve been bringing home is Frank. 

But how could you smell like… 

And then the gears in his head start turning. And he feels like a goddamn idiot. 

You had been going to the gym. But not to work out. You were cheating. With Frank of all people. And you’d made the critical error of not showering when you got home. 

Matt begins to pace the apartment, rubbing at his chin as his thoughts move a million miles a minute about what to do. 

Did he confront you? Did he confront Frank?! What should he even say?

The sun rises and he’s still pacing and contemplating when his alarm rings out. He shuts it off before it can wake you too. He needs more time to think about his next move. He gets ready for work quietly and slips out the door before you awake. 

You find it odd you haven’t heard from Matt all day. When you woke up you saw his Devil suit in a heap in the living room and there was no damage to it or blood on it. So you knew he had come home and was relatively okay. But it was so odd for him to leave without a goodbye kiss or go this long in the day without so much as a text. But he had been busy with a heavy caseload lately. You finally break shortly after lunch and text him first. 

“Hey Matty. Know you’re busy but I miss you and I love you. Dinner tonight?”

“Can’t. Working late. Don’t wait up.” He responds

That was… oddly curt. But again you figure he’s stressed and busy. 

Matt on the other hand has been wracked with stress all day. It only took an hour of his constant pacing and fidgeting for Foggy to break and finally ask.

“Matt. What’s up?”

“I think… I think I’m being cheated on.” Matt confesses. He leaves the Frank part out of the equation, wanting Foggy to be as objective as possible about his response. 

“What could possibly make you think that?”

“She’s been going to the gym like every night for a month now right when I leave for patrol and she came home last night smelling like… another man. And she’s been smelling like it a little the whole month but last night it was all over her”

“So did you ask her?”

“Well no but…” 

“Matt you are literally a human lie detector and yet here you are jumping to conclusions instead of doing the rational thing and just asking her.”

And maybe Matt would have taken Foggy’s advice if he thought you were just cheating with your gym trainer. But this was Frank. And that made it all the more complicated. 

Matt decides finally what he’s going to do. He’s going to follow you tonight, catch you in the act and confront both of you together.  

Matt still hadn’t come home when you depart for your nightly workout session, but little did you know he’s there. Pacing on the roof, waiting for you to leave. As soon as he hears the lobby door shut behind you, he springs in to action, taking the stairs two at a time into the apartment and changing out of his lawyer suit and into his devil suit as quickly as possible, making sure not to lose your heartbeat now a block and a half away. He makes up for the lost distance quickly and is practically on top of you by the time you enter the gym. 

“Hey Frank” you call out as you enter

“Hey. I’ll be over in a second.” he replies from the locker rooms

Matt crouches down by the side of the building, just close enough to the windows to hear everything going on inside. 

You’re almost done wrapping your hands when Frank emerges from the locker room. 

“Alright let’s start with our usual, then you can have a go at me again.”

“I don’t know Frank. You really wore me out last night. I woke up still in my clothes and shoes.”

Matt knew it. He fucking knew it. 

“Tough shit sweetheart,” Frank responds with a chuckle. “And what did your boyfriend think about that huh? He got any idea what we’re doing here yet?”

“Honestly I don’t know. I didn’t see or hear from him at all today. Which is weird even for him. And no I don’t think he’s figured it out yet.”

“You’re gonna have to tell him eventually”

“No, I don’t”

“So what you’re just gonna keep sneakin’ around, becoming a prize fighter without him gettin’ suspicious? Shit even a regular guy would raise some alarm bells by now, but especially Red and all his … shit”

“Frank, I am not here trying to become a prize fighter. I’m just trying to get strong enough to defend myself if he’s not around to do it. That’s all”

Matt’s heart drops. 

How could he possibly think you were cheating? And with Frank of all people. He felt like an idiot. Like a total asshole. Sure you had lied, well, technically withheld the truth and he’s sure you’ll explain why. And he’s hurt if you wanted to learn to fight that you didn’t come to him.  But this was not nearly as egregious a stain on your relationship as he thought it was. 

“I don’t know. Think you should tell him. Show him your moves. Shit, you’ve gotten a couple good hits on me these last few days I’m sure you could give Red a run for his money.” 

“I am not fighting Matt, Francis.” You say with an eye roll

Matt listens for the next hour as Frank talks you through a few hitting drills, then the two of you sparring. Frank is clearly taking it easy on you, but Matt is still impressed by what he could tell of what you were doing. He absolutely would need to take you on to really gauge your skills. 

Franks's phone rings out just as you’re cooling down with some stretches. 

He answers and speaks for a few minutes. 

“Alright sorry to jet out of here but Madani has somethin urgent for me. You good to get home alright?”

“Yeah, thanks Frank. See you tomorrow.”

Frank gives you a fist bump and then disappears through the front door. Matt uses the opportunity to sneak in just before the door slams closed behind Frank. 

You’re sitting on the floor undoing your wraps as he finally speaks up. 

“If you wanted to opportunity to hit Frank, I’m sure I could have arranged it some other way”

Your spine goes icy cold at the sound of the voice behind you. 

“Matt… I” you stumble to explain. 

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Matt says, hands up in surrender before reaching up to remove his mask

“What are you doing here?” You ask, ready for him to chew you out for your little secret. 

“Alright if I’m honest, do you promise you’ll be honest?” He asks

“Yes.”

“I followed you here because I thought you were cheating. With Frank. And I know now that’s not what’s happening. And I’m sorry for not just asking you.” He confesses with a sigh

“Oh Matt. I’m so sorry that I did anything to make you think that. That’s not at all what’s happening here.”

“I know. Been listening all night so I know. But I have to know why. Why are you doing this and why didn’t you tell me? And Frank? Really?”

“It’s a long story. Can I tell you while we walk home?”

And so you do. By the time you make it home to your apartment, you’ve come clean about the incident at work and running into Frank and how he’d been coaching you the last few weeks, and why you were so hesitant to ask Matt to be the one to do it.

Matt is oddly quiet through your explanation but nods as you speak. He finally speaks up just as you’re unlocking the front door. 

“I forgive you. And I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t ask me. But now that I know, I am curious…”

“You want to see how much I’ve learned?”

He nods enthusiastically 

“Fine. I guess since now you know you can join us tomorrow. If you want.”

“Perfect, I’ll be there”

He tucks you in to bed with a gentle kiss before heading out on patrol again, no longer clouded by doubts about your relationship. 

—

When you arrive at the gym the next night, Matt is already there, looking extra adorable in his gray sweatpants and messy hair. 

It’s all so familiar to him - the buzz of the fluorescent lights, the smell of sweat and heat, the gym mat sticking beneath his bare feet with every step. Just like Fogwells when he was a kid. He feels at home here.

“Hey sweetheart” he greets you with a kiss

“Hey Matty” you can’t help but smile whenever you see him after a long day “Frank texted me, he’s running late, but um do you want to help me warm up?”

Matt’s face lights up with excitement. “Yes. Okay. What does Frank normally have you do?”

“Two rounds of jab crosses on the bag. Three minutes each.”

“Okay, have at it”

You wrap your hands and begin hitting the bag. Not even thirty seconds in, Matt speaks up.

“Woah woah woah. Frank has been letting you hit like this and not correcting your form?”

“Yes. Wait, what the hell is wrong with my form?”

“You’re too far away from the bag. I can hear your shoulder joint rubbing every time you jab, which means you’re over-extending that left arm. Makes you put way too much energy into each hit, you’re gonna wear yourself out way faster. Here. Step closer.”

Matt moves behind you to help you correct your position, then lets you take a few more punches.

“See? More power, less effort.”

“Yeah. Any other pointers?”

Matt places his hands on your shoulders and places his feet right beside yours, pressing his body tight against your back. You never thought of boxing as particularly erotic, especially not with Frank teaching you. But with Matt’s breath against your ear, you can’t help but feel a chill run down your spine straight to your core.

“Go ahead, gimme a few more, I want to feel how your body moves. See just what else Frank has been teaching you wrong.”

“Matt…” the words die on your lips. You want to speak up and defend how kind Frank has been these past few weeks to spend the time to teach you, but Matt’s sweet whisper of encouragement has you forgetting anything else but him.

“C’mon sweetheart, don’t get all shy on me. You hesitate like this for Frank?”

“N..no.” you stutter, then weakly throw out a few more punches

Matt chuckles, knowing just how much he’s winding you up with so little. 

“Put a little more power behind them. Don’t let me being here hold you back.”

You try to do as he says and throw some real hits, but Matt is still pressed right against you.

God, his body is warm usually, but being flush behind you as you move and hit, he practically feels like white-hot iron against you. Your heart is thumping out of your chest, and it’s not just from the few minutes of warming up you’ve done. You know Matt can hear it and is going to play you like a fiddle. His own wicked form of punishment for not telling him about your training.

His hands drop from your shoulders, running down your back lightly and coming to rest on your hips. He plants a soft kiss right under your ear.

“You’ve been working hard. Maybe Frank does know what he’s doing.”

He places a second kiss a little lower down your neck.

“You throw any actual punches at him yet?” he asks

“A few. Landed some of them too.”

A third, fourth, and fifth kiss down your neck, working his way toward your shoulder. His stubble is coarse against your skin, sending goosebumps across your flesh, your toes curling into the squishy mat beneath you.

“Mmm that’s my girl.” he says, as he begins sucking on your neck, his right hand snaking around to your front, tickling at the top of your leggings.

“Matty” you chastise

“What?” he feigns ignorance

“Matthew. Do not start something you can’t finish. Frank will be here any minute.”

“You said he’d be late.”

“His text said ‘a few minutes’ and that was already several minutes ago.”

“Well I can’t hear his heartbeat yet, so we’ve got at least five.”

You want to protest more, you really do, but you just can’t resist Matt. 

Laughing low, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his steady breath against your exposed skin a stark contrast to the growing labor of your exhales. You spread your legs a little wider. He takes the invitation and reaches his hand fully into your leggings, using a finger to circle your sensitive bud.

You throw your head back onto his chest with a moan, his name falling from your lips in a breathy whisper.

He continues to suck on your neck as works at your core, finally sliding a finger inside you, then another.

You reach forward to grab the boxing bag for stability, Matt’s touch causing you to writhe enough that you’re not sure you’re able to stay standing without it. As you thrash against him, he inhales deeply, a mix of your natural scent and your arousal consuming his lungs. 

In order to get you exactly where he wants you, he keeps a quick pace, knowing he does not have a lot of time. His rhythm never falters, stroking you over and over in that perfect spongy spot inside you. It’s not long before you're coming apart with a cry of his name.

Just as your head stops spinning and you’re returning to earth, Matt is turning you around and connecting his lips with yours. So hungry to have you, he guides you back a few steps, never breaking his lips from yours, and pushes you against the wall behind you.

His kisses grow more and more desperate, sending an electric tingle down your spine, though that could also be because the wall behind you is made of mirrors and the glass is cool against the heated skin not protected by your sports bra.

As soon as you make contact with the wall, his hands are back on your hips, pushing your leggings and panties down in a heap on the sticky mat beneath you. His clothes soon follow.

You throw your leg up and around his hip, opening yourself to him. An offer he quickly accepts. A soft gasp simultaneously escapes both your lips, the relief between the two of you as he guides himself slowly into your wet and eager core until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Restless fingers reach down to wrap your other leg around him, now fully holding you in the air against the mirrored wall behind you. 

He repeats the pace of his fingers only moments ago and slams into you harshly and quickly, over and over again, desperate to feel you release around him again, knowing Frank could appear at any moment. 

God, your familiar warm heat is absolute perfection, he thinks as he continues to bury himself into you over and over again. You’re still incredibly worked up from your previous climax and it takes just a few thrusts for you to be close again. The way your body is clamping around him and tensing lets him know just how close to ecstasy you are again.

Matt leans forward and you can feel his quickening breath against your ear once more.

“Damnit sweetheart, you scared me so bad. Made me think I was sharing you with someone else.” he grunts as he continues to drive his hips against yours.

“No Matty. I’m yours. Only yours — oh God. I promise.” you whimper back, arching into him further.

“Good. But to make sure you don’t forget, I’m gonna cum inside you, right now and every single night before you leave. So I’m dripping out of you after every hit, every kick. No matter how much Frank trains you. So you remember exactly who. You. Belong to.” he growls lowly against your skin, pushing you even more firmly against the cool glass with every thrust.

“Yes. Please Matt — Fuck. I’m all yours. I promise. Please.”

He thrusts one more time before he cums with a rumble of your name, his arms tightening around you, holding you impossibly close as he releases inside you just as he promised.

As he grinds against you in just the right way to hit that perfect spot one more time, your own orgasm sweeps over you. Your nails dig into his back, holding on to him as you let go, his harsh thrusts now slowed just enough so he can keep the both of you upright.

He feels you release, causing a final low groan from him, slowing down his pace, as your molten pleasure fades away. Still consumed by him and the feel of him holding you close, you lean your head back to rest against the mirror behind you as you catch your breath. Just as you feel like fully slumping against him, he sets you down gently.

You don't even really register him pulling away from you until he speaks. 

“Might want to put your pants back on. Frank’s a block away and I don’t think you want him to know how I warmed you up before he got here.”

You open your eyes and see that Matt is already dressed, a smirk painted across his face as he listens to you scramble to put your clothes on.

Just as you’re adjusting your leggings back in to place, Frank and his large frame enter the gym.

“Hey –” he pauses at the sight of you and Matt in front of him, both sweaty and still panting a little.

“Hmmm. Guess Red knows now.” Frank grumbles

But then his eyes go wide.

“You wanna tell me what that’s about?” he asks with a point of his finger.

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you turn behind you to see what he’s asking about. The mirror is covered in smudges that look vaguely like the outline shape of your body.

“We don’t talk about what happens at fight club…” Matt jokes as you bury your face in your hands in embarrassment.

My Masterlist

[whitemancumslut]

BEST OF FRIENDS….

summary actress!singer!reader is best friends with the one and only harry styles. many suspect romance between the two… but can you blame them? here are some of their birthday post for each other throughout the years💕 face claim, gracie abrams

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, liampayne, and 2,626,002 others

harrystyles Happy birthday i guess…

view all 4,000 comments

yourinstagram you love me tom

harrystyles Hate to admit it

harryfan101 you don’t hate to admit it

harryfan2 you love her you know it

harryfan3 tom????

harryfan4 it’s their nicknames😭😭 she’s jerry he’s tom and they both call each other ‘stinky’

ynfan1 y’all are in love admit it

ynfan2 HAHA “I GUESS” THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS SO CUTE

ynfan3 LITERALLY!!!

harryfan5 AWW

yourinstagram

liked by taylorswift, zendaya, and 3,339,000 others

yourinstagram happy birthday stinky!! i love u lots

view all 7,229 comments

harryfan1 STINKY!! AH THE NICKNAMES

ynfan1 AWWW HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY

ynfan2 YALL ARE SO CUTE

harryfan2 i aspire to have a friendship like theirs

harryfan3 same tbh

harrystyles Kisses to my Jerry❤️

harryfan3 KISSES??? HES TOO CUTE

harryfan4 i know she wishes they were real kisses..

yourinstagram you’re not wrong

ynfan3 WHAT .

harrystyles

liked by camilacabello, yourinstagram, and 3,993,727 others

harrystyles Congrats, you’re a big girl now! Happy birthday stinky!

view all 5,557 comments

yourinstagram Thanks big dog😊

yourinstagram my Tom so sweet

ynfan1 YOUR TOM😩😩 YOU GUYS ARE ADORABLE

ynfan2 DATE ALREADY HELLOOOO

ynfan3 LITERALLY LIKE

harryfan1 y’all they have a platonic relationship

harryfan2 almost siblings

ynfan4 WOAH…

ynfan5 siblings is pushing it

harryfan3 SIBLINGS?? THEY FLIRT WAY TOO MUCH TO BE SIBLINGS BYE

ynfan6 you’re in denial

harryfan4 OH MY GOSHHHH

harryfan5 i’m obsessed with you two

yourinstagram

liked by sabrinacarpenter, harrystyles, and 2,999,431 others

yourinstagram EVEN THOUGH YOU DONT LIKE COOPERATING OR PAYING ME ANY MIND WHEN I SAY POSE— KISSES AND KISSES TO YOU!!! TO MANY MORE TOM<3

view all 4,080 comments

harrystyles Thank you, Jerry x

harryfan1 Omg the nickname still stands yall!😭

harryfan2 I KNOW MY HEART!!!

ynfan1 TOM AND JERRY😭😭

ynfan2 HAPPY BIRTHDAY

harryfan3 no because he looks rlly good here

ynfan3 LITERALLY- THE HAIR😩😩

harryfan4 the way he’s just sitting there looking so fine😩😩

ynfan4 so effortlessly

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, louis91, and 3,007,909 others

harrystyles Throwback to one of your first rehearsals! you were small!!! Happy birthday, tiny.

harryfan1 TINY?? A NEW NICKNAME GOD

harryfan2 IM CRYING THIS IS TOO CUTE

yourinstagram Very wholesome of you

harryfan3 MY HEART

ynfan1 MY BABIES OH MY

ynfan2 😭TINY

ynfan3 ik they are so cute irl with these nicknames

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, niallhoran, and 5,000,907 others

yourinstagram Happy birthday sexy!!😊😊😊

view all 10,007 comments

harrystyles Oh you’re too sweet angel!

yourinstagram Sense the sarcasm.

harryfan1 HAHAHA

harryfan2 SEXY??? OH GOD HERE WE GO

ynfan1 NO WAY THE VIDEO HAHAHA

ynfan2 okay but you’re right he’s sexy

harryfan3 now… at this point they’re feeding into it

ynfan3 okay and we’re hungry. they’re giving us what we need

harryfan4 THE VIDEO😭😭

harryfan5 NOOO I CANT HEAR IT WHAT DOES IT SAY???

harryfan4 it’s just y/n saying “stinky look at the camera.” and he just turns and smiles with a thumbs up that’s it😭😭

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, annetwist, and 5,000,999 others

harrystyles Happy birthday pretty angel❤️

view all 12,828 comments

yourinstagram THANK YOUUU GORGEOUS BOY

harryfan1 y’all are in love

ynfan1 😭😭😭😭

ynfan2 I’m melting

ynfan3 PRETTY ANGEL. PRETTY ANGEL. I REPEAT PRETTY ANGEL.

harryfan2 GOSH SHE IMA CRY

harryfan3 NO WAYYY

harryfan4 she’s getting more attention/post then any of harry’s girlfriends ever

ynfan4 plot twist: she is the girlfriend

yourinstagram’s stories

harrystyles

liked by mitchrowland, yourinstagram, and 5,992,283 others

harrystyles Missing you a little extra right now. Happy birthday, pretty.

view all 7,838 comments

harryfan1 i’m so emotional right now.

harryfan2 i can’t do this

ynfan1 PRETTY?? MY HEART GOSH IM MISSING TOM AND JERRY AND STINKY!!!

harryfan3 ME TOO

ynfan2 LITERALLY IM MISSING THE NICKNAMES

harryfan4 HE POSTED Y/N OH MY GOD

harryfan5 what’s sad is that they hardly see each other anymore. she’s filming more and he’s touring. she posted on her story this year. NO EVEN A POST.

ynfan3 the second slide is recent though right??

harryfan5 yes. that’s when they saw each other at Sarah’s birthday party.

ynfan4 OMG THE TEXT😭

yourinstagram ma stinkyyyy❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

harryfan6 THERE IT IS OMGG

ynfan4 BABIES OH MY GOD

ynfan5 i’m crying i’ve missed them so much. i can only go so long without them

ynfan6 this relationship is too good to be true

harryfan7 RELATIONSHIP???

harryfan8 platonic .

ynfan7 yeah they’ve been hanging out a lot since tour came to an end… very little details hint they’re definitely more than what they’re claiming

harryfan9 they aren’t claiming ANYTHING.

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles and 6,008,917 others

yourinstagram stinky is old now:( happy birthday i love you. i love you. i love you. this is your year, H x

view all 3,930 comments

harrystyles i love you.

harryfan1 okay now there’s no way that y’all rekindling ain’t make y’all realize your feelings.

harryfan2 wattpad shit for real

ynfan1 no way… WE SEE THE SAME THING RIGHT???

ynfan2 YES OH MY GOSH.

harryfan3 THIS IS NOT THE SAME WAY ANYMORE

ynfan3 AWEEE

ynfan4 YALL ARE TOO CUTE

harryfan4 MY HEART IS BURSTING

ynfan5 “your year” yeah i’m sobbing

harrystyles

liked by lizzobeeting, yourinstagram, and 9,000,000 others

harrystyles My soul. My muse. My best friend. My everything. Happy birthday, my angel.

yourinstagram baby i love u

harrystyles oh how i love you

harryfan1 OH MY FREAKING GOD

harryfan2 NO WAY.

ynfan1 NO WAY NO WAY NO WAY

ynfan2 BABY??

harryfan3 WE WON

ynfan3 IM CRYING HARD

ynfan4 OH MY WORD

harryfan4 😭😭😭 END ME NOW

harryfan5 MY PARENTS

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, tomholland, and 9,029,003 others

yourinstagram everyone wake up, my love—my manchild is twenty eight today

view all 14,929 comments

harryfan1 Manchild😭 MY LOVE

harryfan2 MANCHILD AHHAAHAH

harrystyles ❤️❤️❤️

ynfan1 THE FACT THEY ARE THE IT COUPLE

ynfan2 NOT HIM STEALING YOUR STRUNCHIE????

harryfan3 THIS IS TOO WHOLESOME IMA EXPLODE

[darkness-follows]

hey! i love your writing! there’s so little for Boyd x reader out there, so if you’re up for it could you maybe write something for him? maybe a little hurt/comfort and smutty?? he’s such a weirdo and i love him sm

thank you! and have a nice day :)

Thank you, thank you !!!! And of course!!! I hope the changes I made and the idea it turned into still all work for this !

Boyd x Female Reader

I'm still not over the end of City Primeval because it was so perfect and makes up for how in my opinion the other 7 episodes were a bit of a tough chew. Not bad! But not fantastic either.. but still, consider giving it a watch especially for the end of episode 8 for this mini multi part fic might spoil some things!!!!

It hurts so good aka a Justified: City Primeval sequal to the OG show with older Boyd and a Prison Guard reader who falls madly in love with him.

TW: Blood. Wounds. Prison stuff. Smut (cavity/strip search). Gross other prisoners.

Enjoy PART 1:

First day on the Job. A Female prison Guard in a men only Penitentiary, it takes a lot to stomach everything, the comments, the looks, the disgusting things prisoners say to you. But you prepared for this, you got trained for this and hell you will make the best of it! You get to meet the non violent prisoners first, the ones who aren't arrested for rape or torture or anything of that kind. It's also the first time you meet Boyd Crowder. Your family being from Harlan Kentucky you heard some stories..

You know of him, but not a whole lot about him.

Though mistakes happen in prison especially on a first day. Your partner accidentally left you alone with Boyd and another prisoner in the back of the kitchen. And men who were locked up for a long time...don't exactly behave the best towards a young, pretty attractive new Guard. "Didn't know they hire models" the prisoner says, it's a mild start but it gets worse and worse. Until he makes a move towards you, he grabs your wrist and tries to pull your hand towards his crotch "let go! Let go of me!!" You try to pull away but he's twice your size.

You hear a loud bang and all of a sudden the prisoner has his eyes snapped on Crowder.

"Jerry! That ain't how we treat women now is it? You better confess what you've done if you wish to sleep in peace tonight" Boyd turns to take the man's shoulder, guiding him slowly out of the kitchen. "You don't want any suprise visits tonight do you Jerry?" He whispers before he shoves him out of the kitchen.

Shaking his head "I'm sorry about that, some of em really don't know how to behave. You okay?" He asks and when your eyes meet his it's almost..magnetic. "hm? Oh! Yeah! Yes thank you, I was ready to get that taser out" You huff.

"Oh please there is no need to thank me, I'm sorry your first day went like that, I sincerely hope one bad Apple doesn't spoil the whole bunch for you now. There are some good men in this place." He points out. The way he speaks and the methaphor.. you heard he has a certain charm to him but seeing it in real life, hearing his buttery accent and the way he carries himself despite the orange prison attire? He's a bit Interesting..

"I'm known to hand out a few chances" You smile and open up the knife drawer with your keys. Your duty is to observe their cooking and Crowder was listed as green when it comes to kitchen supplies such as knives.

"Gotta admit I might be the same way, Lord knows I've been giving away chances like free candy" He takes one of the bigger kitchen knives to start cutting the vegetables Jerry was supposed to take care of. The way he keeps looking over his shoulder at you to talk makes you feel a certain kind of warmth. He's really making sure to adress you respectfully, keeping eye contact and not looking you up and down like the rest of em in this place.

"Well, thanks again Crowder." You nod. Keeping it professional.

🕐

2 weeks into a new job and it's safe to say that you adjusted well, you know who to trust and who to get along with, which prisoners are the nice kind and which ones are the bad. This place works like a perfectly oiled machine, everything is time based and the system of the prison works. You shouldn't have a favorite prisoner but this Crowder guy doesn't seem too bad. You've been through his file a little, it's a hefty record for a man who seems so nice and collected. You also stumbled across some pictures of an injury he got inside.

Graphic pictures of a mean looking burn on his upper arm, investigation showed second degree burns to apparently scorch a hateful Tattoo off of his skin. Ouch. Yet no agressor is listed, apparently, he wouldn't say who did it to him. It was his first week of kitchen duty too.

You see Crowder again in the kitchen, it's easy for New Guards to be posted at Lunch and dinner. Observe everything.

"You've got to try this! For prison chow it really is somethin' " Crowder points out, stirring a pot.

You hesitate at first but you are pretty sure he wouldn't try and poison you. Not like this anyways. "I don't know If..- I'm allowed to" You frown but with a smile. Though no other guards are around so maybe it's fine. The smile on his face when you step closer is almost sweet, he takes a spoon and puts some of the food onto it, holding it out to you. You don't even really think about it when you open your mouth and your lips move around the spoon that he's holding. Too distracted by the taste.

"Wow!" You huff suprised, chewing slowly. "That really is good" How on earth does prison food taste better than the food at your own table at home?

"You like it? It's a old Crowder family recipe. It's easy to make but got quite the kick to it!" He throws you another rather off putting smile, why is he so nice? You read his file you know he's not violent for no reason but it's still a bit unusual.

"Yeah I do like it! You gotta give me that recipe" You take a few steps back again, licking your lips softly. That was really tasty.

"Is that an order, Guard?" He asks, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel and turning to face you. The tension in the room is suddenly different, heated, you don't know what he's getting at but it's best to put a cork in it, now.

"No?" You question. "Now get back to work" .

"That was an order" You tease.

His chuckle rings in your ears for a moment, you really do have a strange relationship with him.

🕒

Its not unusual to play favorites in a place like this but you and Crowder became..close. It's been a month now for you in Kentucky's Tramble Penitentiary. Everytime you interact with Boyd you laugh, you smile, he smiles, it really feels like you starting to develop a crush. Which is bad. Biggest rule in the game. Don't fuck the inmates. Ever. Cooking duty for him means you can always watch him fix up something nice for the other inmates. He really always takes his time, he always makes it great.

Up until today.

"God! Fuckin' damn it!" You hear Boyd curse loudly and when you rush to the kitchen to take a look you can see blood. Your hand moves to your taser.

"Easy! Didn't stab nobody, just cut myself, the fucking cucumber slipped off the board." He holds his fingers and you can see blood slowly running down his hand and arm. Luckily you have some mild medical training.

You radio in the incident and your current Boss gives the clear, your allowed to take care of the injury and put someone else on cooking duty.

You swap out inmates and a coworker takes over the Observation while you take Crowder to the small medicial room at the end of the hallway. A own room for minor things so they don't all end up clogging up the only Hospital wing in the entire prison.

But you've never been in this area or this room before and suddenly it dawns on you, you are new and your alone here with a prisoner known for Manipulation tactics. The fear becomes reality when you finally take a closer look at his injury. No way in hell was that an accidental cut, the placement is way off.

"What's the plan Boyd? Jump me. Take my keycard, my taser, make your way out the back?" You huff.

You hope you are wrong but when he starts to chuckle you can feel your stomach turn.

"No darlin' not quite." He points out.

"God and here I was thinking you weren't like the other's" your hand reaches for your Radio again to call it in when he's suddenly a few steps too close.

"It ain't like that" Boyd takes another step closer.

"Come one now, you need me to spell it out for you?" His voice...his smile.. he's...- is he trying to seduce you?!

"What? Yes. I think you do" your hand leaves off the radio.

"We have been dancin' around reach other for a month now, as nice of a dance as it was, you wanna leap off that stage now don't you? See the Real Deal." He suggests.

You can't help but to burst into a soft laughter "You think I want to sleep with you???" You shake your head and turn away from him, grabbing some rubbing alcohol and a Band aid for his self inflicted dumb cut.

"I don't just think so, I know so" He points out. Stepping behind you while you gather the supplies.

"Your crazy. I really underestimated your Level of crazy. Now give me that hand and then I'll take you back to your cell" You chuckle again. Staring at him when you turn around and he holds up the cut in his hand. Your hands tremble while you pour the alcohol onto a cottonball. Taking his hand into yours, cleaning the cut and then the rest of the blood from his hand and arm. His fingers, his breathing.. He takes another step forward and you take one back. Feeling the wall against your back, shaky hands trying to hold still while you slap the band aid onto his wound. Once that's done his hand closes around yours.

"You mean it? I've been imagining things... you don't want me?" He tries to confirm that he actually might have been wrong about you.

But you can't help it, you let his hand take yours.

Your hesitation speaks volumes.

Your hand presses against his chest, but he leans in to kiss you anyways. His lips are so gentle, so careful, he's not aggressive or demanding. It's almost sweet if you don't think about the fact that this could get you fired and that having a crush or fling with him won't work. Because at the end of the day he's in here and you are out there.

You break the soft kiss with a sigh.

"No..- I don't want to sleep with you, now take a step back Crowder" You raise your shoulders, making yourself a bit taller.

He nods. And he does.

"Apparently im off my game, it's been a while" He frowns. "I deeply apologize." He keeps his head down for a moment.

He genuinely seems sad. As if he can't believe he made such a mistake.

"Your not off your game." You finally say. "Imma have to get a uh, a transfer I think, to another ward, having feelings for an inmate is unacceptable."

His head lifts up slowly.

"Here I was thinkin' all these little things were signs you wanted my flesh. But it aint just that huh?" The smile on his face makes you roll your eyes. "You like me" He grins. "Shut up" You groan.

"As in, a little crush! Or a big crush? Good Lord! Are you in love with me?!" Now he's just being mean.

"I said shut up!" You chuckle.

And then he hugs you.

You expected everything but that...

His arms around you feel so strangely comforting, you know this is wrong, you read his charges, you know very well why he's in here and yet here you are, in his damn arms. Your hands are hesitant, but slowly you stroke your palm over his back and your other holds onto his upper arm, where you feel the scar tissue underneath your finger tips.

"Why did you never tell who did this to you?" You ask, hand soothing over the uneven skin. It's a really bad burn scar, thick and leathery almost in it's texture.

He slowly lets go of your frame, placing his palm onto your face. "Cause I did that myself." He tugs a piece of your hair behind your ear before his lips place a kiss onto your head. "They woulda thrown me into isolation for it, marked me up as a danger to myself, couldn't risk that...-" He adds. Taking a step back then.

"Why did you do it? Apart from the obvious.." your skin feels on fire, you want more, your lips are dying for a kiss that takes your breath away and your hands are aching for a body to cling to.

"Form of self punishment, I guess." Incredible how sane and yet insane such a Statement sounds, you kind of understand. Pointing to his hand "And you did that to sleep with me?" You huff. It's a strange way to go about things, that's for sure.

"Well, had to get you alone somehow didn't I?" His face changes when he looks at you a little while longer, taking a deep breath. "But I gotta admit, this was quite the suprise, might be even been better than a simple, fleeting, lustful exchange. I deeply honor that you.. care about a man such as myself." He likes it, he wouldn't have it any other way actually.

"Doesn't matter much does it? Not like there is anything to be build here" The alarm starts blasting which means Lunch is over and it's back to the cells.

He missed Lunch for you.

You take a hold of his shoulder to walk him back to his cell, his cellmate not being there yet you step inside for a second.

"Don't request a transfer.." He whispers. "Seeing your face every day for the last month while cooking has been the happiest I have been in a while, don't take that from me, please." He seems really sincere.

You nod "Okay." Then you leave his cell.

Fuck, you can't believe you have a crush and that he kissed you, and that he hugged you, hell he even knicked himself with that knife to get to be alone with you and then also asked to not stop seeing you everyday.

Falling for an inmate was not on your list, especially not THE Boyd Crowder.

🕔

Fights happen very very often in tight spaces like these with a bunch of criminals. Unfortunately Crowder was in the room where it happend, which means by the damn book, strip search. Someone could be hiding a self made knive, razorblade glued to a toothbrush..hide drugs.. anything.

"Crowder. Room 3." The guard yells, FUCK. You were hoping he'd be called to a different room, you change your gloves from the last inmates search, leaning against the medical shelf when he steps inside. The instant smirk on his face makes you flush Red.

"Well ain't that somethin' , guess it's your lucky day" He closes the door and takes off his shoes. Not his first strip and not your first search but.. this is pretty damn intimate. Even if you try to not treat it that way, you like him, and he knows you like him, and now you get to do a body search on him? It might really be your lucky damn day.

"Hey now! Im a pro" You wiggle your gloved fingers.

"I bet you are darlin' " He steps closer, opening the buttons on his orange prison jumper. The reveal of his chest and his shoulders is already pretty nice to see but when he drops it lower and you get to see his abs and his hips and his V line it's starting to get steamy in the room. He Strips the jumper and stands in his white boxershorts.

"Don't you worry now, I think I'd be quite alright with a bit of touching" He clicks his tongue, taking off his boxers. And Jesus christ. Seems like Boyd Crowder isn't just all talk, he really got the package to back it up. Good for him!

"You are staring" He comments.

"No! What? Im not! Turn around" You huff, watching him turn around and place his hands against the wall. Fuck, this shouldn't be so damn hot.

"Bend uh, bend over...you know how this goes come on Boyd" You sigh.

His chuckle makes your head spin, you really didn't think this would happen today. But you got a job to do, it's not like you don't trust him but .. you have to do this right?

You take a deep breath before you step behind him, patting down his hair first, armpits, his hips, people get creative. Some even hide blades in their own damn skin. When your hands move to his pretty nice butt you hesitate.

"Oh come on now sweetheart. Ain't my first rodeo. Let's go" He huffs. You nod. Taking the lube from the medical cabinet, you hands spread his buttcheeks apart, when you don't see or feel anything it's time for the uncomfortable finger. You apply enough lube and with a soothing hand on his hip you gently push a finger inside of him.

You don't take him for the type to shove drugs up his damn ass but this is simply part of the job. Of course you don't feel anything so you move to take your finger away again but then he..moans.

A long deep right out of his lungs kind of moan.

You move your finger slowly again in the same motion and his body tightens. "You uh, you okay?" You ask.

He nods. Which is not a yes and not no to you.

"Bit sensitive are we Crowder?" You ask and you could swear to god that he pushes back against your hand. "I think I have to be really thorough here." You slowly push a second finger inside of him.

"Fuck...-" He moans deeply.

"I'm so sorry!" You panic a bit.

"No your fine..- just god please don't stop".

"Don't stop what? That?" You move your fingers the way you did before again and again..- getting a bit deeper each time. His head is resting on the arm that's holding him against the wall, you can tell he's breathing faster, his skin is flush. Someone likes a bit of a prostate massage.. Interesting.

Boyd's breathing sounds so insanely erotic, you never heard a man make these noises before.

His other hand spreads him open a bit, watching your fingers move in and out of him. You never thought you'd be into that but? The way he sounds so broken by how good it feels? The fact that it makes him feel so good makes you feel good in return. That's all that matters right?

You step closer to him, placing a gentle kiss onto his back while your free hand reaches around him. Stroking over his Rock hard cock.

"Good lord, Ain't that some kind of abuse of Power?" He comments but he likes it, he could easily make you stop if he wanted to. Looking at you with big desperate beautiful eyes.

"You wanna file a complaint?" You kiss his shoulder and his back again. His hips starting to meet your pace is incredible.

"Phew aren't you all wound up, how long has it been Boyd? Since you felt a womans touch? Soft lips against your skin, delicate hand around your cock?" You whisper and it feels as if he's crumbling at your words. All desperate and defeated. That certainly is a new look for Boyd Crowder.

"Too long way too long" He breathes out.

"Am I doing a good job?" You ask hopeful.

"The best..." his voice is dripping with something sweet, he sounds so thankful.

When you push your fingers into him harder you can feel his hips shiver. He likes it a little rough too apparently.

You keep the stronger pace of your fingers, hand stroking his cock in the same motion.

The orgasm you get to witness is stunning, breathtaking. He tries to swallow his moans but his body clenches around your fingers and his cock throbs in your hand while rows of cum spray the wall in front of him. It's easy to tell without a vocal Orchestra that he really enjoyed himself. Carefully letting go of him and taking your gloves off.

"God damn Baby." He chuckles when he turns around.

He picks up his clothes and gets dressed again fairly quickly, closing the buttons on his prison jumper. He even has the damn courtesy of taking some paper towels and cleaning up the mess he made, tossing them and washing his hands before he looks at you.

"You really have me question what we are here..." He tilts his head and you can still see the remains of a blush on his skin.

"I've never done this before, all these other guys they are so...uptight, uncomfortable, and then you come along moaning around" You huff.

"Which I never done before either!! No other guard has ever gotten me like this, I think it's more of the person, the person being a woman I rather fancy" He smirks a bit. "I bet any touch of yours would make me sing such tunes darlin' " God the charisma of this man is teeth rotting sweet.

"Your ridiculous" You comment, but you should move on now, you don't want people to question why this is taking so long.

"Ridiculousy smitten, correct." He nods.

"Go now, smitten or not this is still a crime" You nod towards the door but instead of him going both of his hands take your face. Kissing you slow and sweet before he has to let go. "Might get myself into some more trouble if that means I get to be seein' you" he winks before he opens the door.

He's such an idiot but...god you too are pretty damn smitten.

💞🕒💞🕒💞🕒💞

To be continued...

Hey thank you for reading. I hope you liked it. And I hope you are excited for more !

Tags:

@justme12200 @cat-shepard @megangovier

@ivyinthesun @catclaw12

If I wrongly tagged someone or forgot someone im super sorry !!! I gotta start making a damn list hahaha.

[sourrpatched]

pt. 0̷ ~ introducing yn and friends

Y/N~ An introvert with a severe yapping problem. Currently working at a coffee shop that’s way too understaffed. Please don’t ask her what she’s studying for, she will have a breakdown. Very Sarcastic but very loving as well. There’s nobody she adores in the world more than her friends.

Karina~ 1/2 of Y/Ns closest friends. They met back in Freshman year of high school but only until their sophomore year did they develop a close friendship. She adopted introduced Y/N to her friend group. She has a more bold personality not being afraid to speak up for her friends but she is also very logical, she’s the peacekeeper in the friend group most definitely. She’s Y/Ns biggest supporter and a hard working law student.

Chenle~ 1/2 of Y/Ns closest friends. They met originally in Y/Ns kindergarten class throughout the rest of elementary before being sent off to different middle schools and only reunited freshman year of high school after they were paired for a project. Y/N is Daegals unofficial God Mother (though if u ask chenle to his face he would disagree). His friendship with Y/N is more of a tom and jerry one and he would never admit it sober but she is someone he would protect with his heart and soul.

NingNing~ If Karina is the angel on Y/Ns shoulder, NingNing is the devil on the other side. She is who they would call the mischievous one of the friend group. Her and Y/N met through Karina, who had introduced Y/N to her. They bonded over SZA and Rihanna. She also runs a youtube vlog channel full of random videos and especially ones of their hangouts. Would also kill for Y/N.

Aeri (A.K.A Giselle and/or Gigi~ That one Med Student in the friend group. She is a RIDE OR DIE. Very much hot girl energy. She’s the one to help Y/N step out of her comfort zone but ofc she knows her limits and would never go overboard. She’s Y/N’s biggest supporter pt.2 (both Rights and Wrongs). She loves her friends with her whole heart and WILL cut a bitch who tries any of them.

masterlist next

Author’s notes ➼ Hii I’m so excited to start this i’ve never made one of these before 😭😭😭 I hope I will be able to complete this cause stg my attention span is soooo horrific. But i’ll try my BESTEST🫡 In the next part posted you will be able to see more of the tweets that i worked hard to make silly enough to show the friendship dynamic before we get into the real story 😁 TYSM hope u guys enjoy!!

[stupidfuckingwindow]

One NSFW hc for (almost) every character // Part one

Notes: This was my attempt at a solution for writer's block. Let's hope it worked. Also I will NOT be writing a headcanon for Jerry later on because he was a real guy and that feels.. Weird.

Word count: 789

Richard Haywood

Absolute whore at every turn or time. Oh, you're away and in class, not paying attention to your phone? Well, look at that. There's an unsolicited dick pic from Richard's contact. That, or you and whoever you're showing something to is getting an eyeful of sexts that are meant to piss you off. That, or you're going to hear all about when he snuck off to go fuck either Justin or some random girl, all to get you jealous. When pissed off during an argument, Richard probably will grab you by the throat or shoulders and lick your face out of some strange, gay little impulse. What a weirdo.

Henry Letham

A lot of painplay with Henry is expected. He'll often cry during sex and needs both a cigarette and a minute to himself. By the time you come back to check on him with a warm rag and towel, he's quiet and there's another burn to his skin. It isn't that Henry hates the touch or attention- He's just overwhelmed at sudden want and tends to overthink things. Henry often backs himself into a corner on accident, and a bit of reassurance is all that's needed to help him, even if it seems like he's not listening or doesn't respond. Henry tends to remember every little thing about you and what you do, keeping it in mind for if he ever needs that information again. Severe thigh kink. Likes fucking your thighs, painting them, and touching them. Looks yummy in thigh highs as well.

Officer K

Considering that he's a robot, there's so much potential here. His dick vibrates, for one, and his cum is just neon colored lube. It takes a little while for him to get hard, and a fuck ton of stimulation is going to be needed. K also prefers sleepy sex, being able to hold you and have his cock warmed while the two of you just quietly unwind in one another's presence. He also enjoys long, hot showers with you for the same reason of getting to relax and being able to feel you close to him. You'll often cockwarm him while he works, especially when you're both not feeling particularly up to actually fucking. Sex with K is rare, and when it does ever happen, he takes his time.

Colt Seavers

Thick, tall, and heavy. Hoooh boy, Colt is big. He's muscular in his arms and thighs, with a belly and hip dips. Colt has a lot of hair, as well, and you best believe it's long and messy. He's so warm. Colt also has to eat a lot to maintain his energy, and his metabolism is high. He's the one who introduced food play into the bedroom, liking how it combined many of his interests. Colt loves it when you ride him. He knows he barely fits, and foreplay is always needed before anything happens between the two of you. Sex usually ends in him getting overly excited and a little rough. Colt falls asleep pretty quickly afterwards, and needs a little help staying awake long enough for Aftercare.

Noah Calhoun

Smells like pine, tree sap, and sawdust. Expect long, slow, and sleepy sex on the couch with a blanket thrown over the two of you. He usually does this with you late at night or in the afternoon, when neither of you have responsibilities. He likes moving your hips while you bury your face in his neck. That, or fucking you to sleep until he's too tired to keep going. Constantly touching you, whether that be your hips or tracing patterns into your skin or simply holding you. Noah likes feeling strong, and often carries you around the house for fun all while making excuses. The floor’s too cold for your feet, you'll freeze to death! even though it's hot as hell outside. Also makes excuses to take care of you at all times. You're getting his god awful ‘random things found in the fridge’ soup when sick whether you like it or not.

Julian Thompson

Number one bondage fan right here. Julian likes the restraint put upon either you, or himself. He feels safe when you tie him up, and revels in the rare control he can get when you're tied up instead. It's a common joke that Julian sits in the corner and stays quiet, but the cuck chair was made for him. You're usually tying him to the chair while he watches you touch yourself, or touching him while he's restrained. Julian also isn't opposed to you leaving him with just a vibrator for hours at a time, as well as having a cock cage outside of the bedroom. He feels secure whenever he's restrained.

[swaprandaljade]

SWAP! RANDAL JADE / BLUEIVER TRIVIA (HCS)

This is all for funsies, and for those who are liking the blog so far, now you're getting cheeky little trivia for your FAVORITE blue moron. Have fun :] -☎️

Randal has a very specific aesthetic core and style of clothes they wear.

They have very bad commitment issues, thus why they haven't been in a long-term relationship, Randal also tends to be pushy and needy and isn't very observant of some boundaries.

Randal wants to start testosterone or estrogen but doesn't have the funds to pay for it. Though, their therapist has recommended it several times to help with their body dysphoria.

If you catch Randal outside of the cinema, they will do the Bigfoot Pose (tm).

Despite what they say, they're starved of all kind of interaction; that's why they put up with the anons instead of ignoring them.

Randal has mentioned the other swapped characters before but I'll use this chance to specify to you who is swapped with who; Randy is swapped with Oliver, Karen is swapped with Jerry, Norm is swapped with Bigfoot, Little Billy is swapped with the ghost twins, Mingus is swapped with Hobo, Mr. Dickens is swapped with Gabby, Callum is swapped with Marla, whilst Gingi is generally the same despite physical appearance and attitude. The reason Gingi hasn't been swapped with another character is because, well, they're the customizable protagonist you play as, I didn't see a real need to change them too much.

Gingi (or the one we know, in this universe) isn't one-of-a-kind, as their species are actually quite common in this timeline. And, I mean, so are dinosaurs; so is that really a surprise?

Randal is very good friends with Jerry. (Hey ranjerry fans..)

OK that's all 👍