#it's like pouring gasoline on my writing engine

[porgthespacepenguin]

Hi, i just wanted to pop in and say that I've binged read your north star fics and i absolutely loved it, I really enjoyed your writing style and quite literally couldn't put it down and kept reading until the end, it was really sweet and brought genuine tears to my eyes thank you for writing it :]

-Sido

(I'll be here, on the floor, sobbing my heart out, in case anyone needs me)

[bvidzsoo]

Grease and Oil

⨳Mechanic!Mingi⨳

TW: cursing, smut wrap it before you tap it

Word count: 5,6k

A/N: I don't think I'll ever let go of bleached spikey haired Mingi. It changed something in me, I'll never be the same. I have nothing to say except...why did I even write this? Song Mingi stop haunting me, thank you. It's not the best, but the best I can write lol. Feedback is very much appreciated!

            The smell of grease, oil, and gasoline weren’t something unfamiliar to me, nor were they nauseating. It was something I was used to. These were familiar scents; scents which I have started associating with home. Cars, too, were something I associated with a feeling of familiarity, of something dear to me. Walking inside my father’s car service was like a second home, a place I knew like the back of my hand. I wasn’t huge on fixing cars, but I knew a few things here and there. Despite my father’s attempts at making me a great mechanic one day, I struggled to understand the in-depth parts and mechanism of a car, therefore I settled on appreciating their beauty. Can’t say my father was too happy about it, but his concerns faded away when I found a path for myself. I applied to a college, choosing to study literature as I struggled finding anything else I liked. Perhaps creative writing was a subjected I happened to enjoy too, but I had no idea where my degree would take me one day. I had no intentions of teaching English literature, the children these days were awful and very disrespectful. My short temper would’ve surely gotten the worst of me if placed in a situation where I had to deal with rude kids. And so, I settled on reading my books and pouring my feelings out into short poems when I wasn’t at college. Or by wasting my time away at my father’s car service. It’s not like I had anything better to do—I actually did, but procrastination is my best friend. Besides, most of his employees are above the age of thirty-five, and two of them I have known since I was a little girl, they could be really fun to hang around…and it’s not like I would often stop by because my father has an employee who is barely a few years older than myself. And it’s definitely not because he is the hottest man alive I have ever seen. He’s a tall and lean guy, his posture immaculate with his shoulders always pulled back, his long legs worth envying and shoulders so broad you could hide behind them and nobody would see you. In the summer, he usually wears tight tank tops, showing off his humble muscles, biceps finer than most guy’s of his age. And his pants, which are fireproof, cling onto his body, showing off his narrow waist. This guy was a sight for sore eyes and I couldn’t blame the few ladies who would occasionally stop by, completely taken aback by this guy’s visuals. It wasn’t fair that he had a perfect body, especially when his face was good-looking too. God sometimes had favorites and Song Mingi definitely was one of them with his long nose, sharp eyes and cherry red lips, a singular mole underneath his left eye decorating his flawless skin. His personality also made him desirable and that just made him a dangerously charming and handsome human being. Perhaps my frequent visits to the service during the summer were sort of his merit too, not just the want to spend some quality time with my father as he spent little time at home. I knew he was busy; I couldn’t blame him. His service was one of the best in our little town and money didn’t just magically appear, you had to work hard for it and that’s what he did, he worked his ass off all the time. The fact that he has employed Song Mingi was just the cherry on top, the little motivation I needed to perhaps learn more about cars.

I was settled on top of my father’s working desk, tools pushed to the side, feet dangling as I watched him work on a car’s engine, getting more and more furious by the second as he couldn’t find one missing screw. I watched quietly as his phone rang again, making him sigh loudly before he straightened himself up and took the call, eyebrows furrowed. It was a hot summer day, the AC did little to nothing inside the hot service, and the use of different electrical tools only created more heat inside the spacious room. I had started fanning myself, overhearing my father make an appointment as an obnoxiously loud engine whirled past the entrance to the service, making my heart skip an excited beat. It was lunch break, and Mingi had just returned from eating his meal. He was gone by the time I had arrived; I was rather lazy this morning and thus didn’t bother getting out of bed before 12 pm. My father turned towards me as he finished his call, looking rather irritated. It wasn’t directed at me; however, I still knew a lecturing would follow because I sat on his tool desk…again.

“Get off, Y/N, I asked you so many times not to sit there,” He sighed tiredly as he headed for the exit, “I have to examine a car, are you coming to the front?”

Certainly not before I have seen Mingi, “I’ll wash my hands first, they feel slimy, meet you at the reception, dad.”

He nodded once and hurried outside, phone already ringing once again. Summer seasons were always busy, work pilling up quickly. I started fanning myself with my hands as another heatwave hit me, making me sigh. Not even a tank top and shorts were enough to stop me from sweating buckets. I pushed my hair behind my shoulders and gripped the table, about to jump off it, when the man I stayed behind for finally showed up. He walked through the open garage door, having to duck as it wasn’t raised enough for his towering height. He had his back to me as he walked inside, carrying two boxes, muscles of his arms bulging as a few guys greeted him, instructing him where to place the boxes. However, nothing could’ve prepared me for the wave of shook which rooted me to my spot. My mouth hung open as my eyes remained trained on Mingi, and I could only hope nobody noticed my shameless gaping. Three days ago, when I have stopped by last, the man’s hair reached his shoulders almost and was a faded light brown. Now, his hair was completely bleached blonde and stood up in all places, spikey. A hairstyle definitely shouldn’t have made my tummy do flips, yet I had nothing to swallow as I watched Mingi laugh with a fellow mechanic, explaining something to him animatedly. His black tank top was tucked inside his beige pants, a black belt holding it against his hips securely. A black bandana was tied to his left bicep and I licked my lips as my eyes ran over his frame, stopping for a second too long on his ass. Perhaps crawling onto the wall sounded like the most normal thing to do right now. Just as I was about to look away, the man he was talking to briefly glanced at me and Mingi suddenly turned his head, eyes falling on me. Looking away right now would mean admitting that I had been staring at him, so I forced myself to smile nonchalantly at him and blame the flush on my cheeks on the extremely hot weather—which combined with Mingi’s presence only made my body heat up even more. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I’d do anything to get railed by Mingi while he wore his working clothes with grease smeared on his cheek. My heart skipped a beat as a lazy smirk appeared on his lips as he took off towards me, making me gulp in panic as I straightened my posture.

“Hello, princess.” He called once he was close enough and I rolled my eyes at the nickname, acting as if I totally hated it. It did bother me at the beginning when he started calling me that, but I didn’t mind anymore. And it certainly shouldn’t have made me blush.

“Hi, Mingi.” I greeted him back, smiling as I crossed my legs and leaned forward, holding myself up by my hands. My knuckles hurt from the grip I had on the table, but I ignored that.

“What brings you here today?” He asked nonchalantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. I didn’t want to look, but his biceps were bulging and I’m just a simple woman, “Thought you washed your car when you stopped by last time.”

Ah, yes, the good old excuse of washing my car when it didn’t need washing yet. To be fair, I had a cleaning problem so that was the main reason why I washed my car so often, Mingi being here was just another thing to motivate me to stop by more frequently.

“I did, I’m not here for that.” I admitted, clearing my throat as Mingi’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. He hummed shortly, the sound deep in his throat, reminding me how hot I found his raspy and deep voice. He had once whispered in my ear as he snuck up on me, wanting to scare me, and I swear to God, I almost reached Heaven that day.

“Are you here for me then?” The cute pout of his lips and the finger he pushed against his cheek definitely didn’t match the sultriness of his words and the look in his eyes. It made me take a deep breath as I forced myself to roll my eyes, embarrassed that he had a feeling I was only here to see him. I mean…I did wear my favorite off-shoulder top just because I knew we would see each other.

“Why the sudden change of hairstyle?” I decided to change the subject, but it only made Mingi smirk as he looked at me almost victorious, almost as if he knew I didn’t answer him because he was right. Mingi ruffled his already spikey hair with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Just wanted something new,” He answered, “besides, it’s so hot these days, my long locks only made me sweat more. I feel like a new man right now. What do you think, do I look nice?”

Nice was little said, I would’ve described him more like: hot, sexy, attractive, gorgeous, mouth-watering, “Yeah, you look nice. It suits you.”

Mingi smiled happily and bowed lightly before his phone beeped. I didn’t understand how a man like him could be so cute while looking like a Greek God. My eyebrows slightly furrowed as I watched Mingi chuckle and smile down at his phone, quickly typing something on it. Perhaps he was seeing someone? Of course, why would a man like him be single? It shouldn’t come as a surprise; I should have thought about that sooner. But then again, he never mentioned a significant other. With a sigh, I jumped off the table and dusted off my shorts, running my hands through my hair. Mingi paused, looking up at me through his long lashes. I forced a smile on my face, suddenly discouraged by my own thoughts, as I grabbed my phone off the table.

“Got to go, dad’s waiting for me.” I mumbled as Mingi’s eyes slightly narrowed, eyes swiftly running over my body. He nodded wordlessly and I turned around, taking off towards the exit.

“That top looks really nice on you.” My steps halted for a second as I looked back at him and chuckled before exiting the garage, walking towards the reception, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach at the simple compliment. I should probably download a dating app and find someone available to obsess over.

            The blaring music and blinding disco lights in the living room were becoming too much as my tipsy head swirled around like a disco ball, throat parched up and dry from the lack of water. Certainly the amount of alcohol I have had was enough for the night as I pushed people out of my way, slightly wobbling as I headed for the kitchen, desperately needing water. A super rich guy from college threw a huge ass party and invited some guys over from our college, one of them being one of my close friends. I wasn’t one to turn down a good party, and when the alcohol was free, I would certainly attend it. Seonghwa and I had teamed up and played beer-pong together, kicking Wooyoung and San’s asses, but losing to Hongjoong and Yunho. We should have known better not to challenge those two competitive monsters. All in all, the night was fun and after having lost Sooyoung to some hot guy, I hit the dancefloor with Wooyoung and San, the three of us dancing our hearts out to every song. After a while, I grew concerned and started calling Sooyoung, making my two dancing companions almost take my phone away after six missed calls. But it didn’t take long for Sooyoung to finally text me, telling me she was upstairs with a Yeosang named guy smoking some weed, and that she’d be down in no time. I rolled my eyes at the text, huffing as I handed Wooyoung my phone to take care of. My skirt had no pockets and I forgot to bring a fanny-pack, I have grown tired of holding my phone, Wooyoung’s back pocket would do the trick until Sooyoung returned and I could give my phone for her to put in her little purse. The music wasn’t as loud in the kitchen as it was in the living room and it was also less packed, which made me grateful as I walked over to the window and pushed it open, smiling contently at the cool air which hit my face. I certainly needed to cool down. I grabbed a red cup which looked relatively unused and filled it with tap water, downing it in mere seconds only to fill it up again and again until I felt satiated. I threw the cup away and leaned against the counter, holding my thumping head in my hands as I closed my eyes for a second, thinking it would help. But it only made me more nauseous and I quickly opened my eyes as I massaged my forehead, still leaning slightly over. Somebody next to me asked if I was okay and I quickly nodded, telling them that I just needed a moment to regain composure again, and I’ll be off dancing once again. However, a weirdly familiar deep voice suddenly filled the kitchen, some high-pitched giggle following straight after the ridiculous joke the guy told. My nose scrunched up at the very cheesy pickup line which followed and I snorted, unintentionally catching their attention as they didn’t stand too far away.

“Y/N?” The deep voice asked surprised and my eyebrows furrowed as I finally raised my head, smoothing down my hair as it fell in my face.

“Oh, Mingi.” I muttered just a little surprised by his presence here. I wondered how he knew about the party, however, the black-haired girl by his side was a tell-tale. She was a student at my college and she was pretty as fuck. I sighed, and unintentionally glared at her, unimpressed by her presence next to Mingi. It’s not like I knew her well to form an opinion about her, but personally, I didn’t like her that much. Especially since Mingi seemed to be here with her. My eyes fall back onto him and my brain blanched for a second, never having seen him outside of the car service up until now. Him not wearing his tight-fitting clothes was something new and I couldn’t help but let my eyes run all over his body, taking in the sight in front of me. He wore a loose-fitting white t-shirt, the front slightly tucked inside his grey ripped jeans which were baggy. He wore a black pair of convers, and a black fanny-pack was pushed around to his backside to not bother him. However, what made me take a second to process what I was seeing were his accessories. His necklaces were layered as he wore a red braided like material which sat snugly against the base of his neck, then a silver chain followed, and a silver cross which reached just bellow his collarbones. His wrists were decorated with silver chain bracelets, matching the chain around his neck and he wore various rings, some bigger than the other, his right-hand sporting four meanwhile his left three. If all of that combined with his hair wasn’t enough, his fingernails were also painted black, albeit already coming off in some spots, but still painted black. He was a sight for sore eyes and it took everything in me to not grip his arm and walk us upstairs, completely disregarding the girl he was here with.

And she just had to speak up, “Oh, you two know each other?”

“Yeah, her dad’s my boss.” Mingi answered before I could and I raised an eyebrow as the girl took me in, unexpectedly smiling at me as she placed an arm around Mingi’s shoulders. My jaw tensed subconsciously and I licked my lips as I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“We go to the same college,” She told Mingi, offering her hand to me, “I don’t think we’ve ever really introduced each other, though. My name is Jennie, I’m Mingi’s cousin.”

“Cousin?” My eyebrows raised as I shook Jennie’s hand, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Mingi playfully pushed Jennie off himself as he answered my question and Jennie just rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, giant, if I leave you alone with Y/N, will you behave?” She raised her eyebrows threateningly at Mingi and he just chuckled, raising his hands in surrender.

“I always behave.” He defended himself quickly, but sounded like he didn’t mean it at all.

“No, you don’t.” Jennie rolled her eyes then looked back at me, “I have to find my boyfriend, he’s somewhere here around, probably drunk off his ass. If Mingi bothers you, just knee him in the stomach really hard and come and find me, I’ll kick his ass for you—”

“I’m right here, you know.” Mingi rolled his eyes and ruffled Jennie’s hair, “Get lost before I chase you away.”

Jennie scoffed but walked away after she waved at me, leaving me alone with Mingi. My hostile behavior slightly dropped, but I couldn’t help look at Mingi with narrowed eyes. I knew what I heard while I was fighting the urge of throwing up. Why would anyone flirt with their cousin? That was disgusting.

“If Jennie is your cousin…why would you say a pickup line to her?” I couldn’t help but ask him accusingly. It made Mingi laugh as he stepped closer, smiling cheekily.

“Eavesdropping, weren’t you?” I opened my mouth to deny his claim, but Mingi didn’t let me, “First of, ew, that’s literally my cousin do I look like I fuck with family? And second, that pickup line was actually sent by someone whom I have been talking to, and I was just reading it to Jennie.”

“How many girls are you talking to currently?” The question tumbled past my lips before I could even think about it. I only could blame the alcohol for making me so straightforward and embarrassing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” Mingi chuckled and stepped closer, invading my personal space. I gulped and pressed myself harder into the counter, hands coming to grip the edge of it. A smirk appeared on Mingi’s lips as he leaned down to be eye level with me, eyes searching my face before they settled on my lips briefly. My head was spinning and perhaps I was seeing things, but his tongue poked out for a second, “You look really hot.”

I gulped and let out a quiet breath, looking down at myself. The leather skirt clung onto me like a second skin and the flower decorated corset did little to nothing to cover what I would usually hide. It was Sooyoung’s idea to dress up like this, she wore a matching set except her corset was green meanwhile mine pink.

“Uh, thanks.” I whispered and didn’t dare move as Mingi lowered his head even more, looking through his lashes as he looked me in the eyes. He’s never stood this close to me before; it only now made me realize the height difference between us. And I couldn’t help but faintly smell gasoline despite his strong cologne.

“Dressed up for someone?” He muttered and I felt a warm finger lightly trace the skin of my right arm. I gulped nervously and ignored the goosebumps on my skin.

“I didn’t know you’d be here—” I tried changing the subject, it seemed to be a habit of mine lately.

“But if you did know, would you have dressed up for me?” Mingi’s raspy voice whispered in my ear as he leaned closer, my mouth opening without a sound coming out. My tipsy brain didn’t exactly know how to function in that moment and that meant I had nothing to say. But as he pulled back, we made eye contact, and his intimidating gaze pulled an answer out of me instantly.

“Yes.” I would totally hate myself in the morning for admitting that, but I couldn’t help myself. Not when he was standing so close and saying things like that. A smirk pulled onto Mingi’s lips and suddenly his hand raised as he gripped a strand of my hair lightly and twirled it around, brushing it behind my ear. I watched him mesmerized, body slightly trembling because of different things. The opened window brought in the chill breeze and we stood close to the it; Mingi’s closeness and touch made me want to crash my lips against his, and I was fighting every fiber in my body to stop myself from doing that, thankfully not tipsy enough to lose all rationality.

“I think I know about your little secret, princess.” Mingi’s tone was playful as he suddenly cupped my cheek and tilted my head back, hovering his face over mine, eyes tracing my features slowly. I hoped my red lipstick wasn’t smudged and that it would be smudged in no time.

“What secret?” I asked confused, biting my lower lip as Mingi’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, his fingers slipping towards my nape as his thumb pushed against my cheek.

“About your little crush—” He barely whispered, eyes on my lips as my mouth parted, heart beating like crazy, “on me.”

Before I could answer him, his teeth caught my lower lip between his and he sucked on the flesh, making my face flush as I mewled, hand holding onto his waist for more stability as the counter wasn’t enough anymore. He held eye contact as he released my lip and I felt like crumbling onto my knees and giving him anything he wanted as my grip tightened on him, head pulled closer to his by the grip he had on my nape. Mingi’s lips barely brushed against mine and I tried to close the impossibly little distance between us, but he just tsked and smirked.

“Good girls eventually get what they want, princess, be a bit more patient.” I couldn’t help but groan in frustration as Mingi released me and took a step back, smirking as he swiped his thumb over my lower lip, smudging my lipstick. I threw him a glare, but he just laughed and then turned around and walked off with a cup he grabbed off from the counter. I couldn’t help but lick my lower lip, pressing a palm against my racing heart as I tapped the sweat off my forehead, needing another cup of water to cool off.

            And I didn’t even have to wait for too long. Four days after the party, my father asked me to stop by the car service because he couldn’t decide what color to choose for the tuning he was doing for one of his friend’s car. I couldn’t have been happier to stop by as I made it my personal mission to stay away from that place for as long as possible, embarrassed by what happened between Mingi and I at the party, but also because I wanted to torture him a bit too. I could only hope he yearned to see me as much as I yearned for him. My father was out, having to pick up some pieces in the nearest city, which was half an hour away, so that meant he’d be gone for approximately an hour and a half. Everyone was gone by now from the car service as working hours were over, everyone except Mingi, of course. He had to catch up on his work as he had to skip a day for some undisclosed business. And yes, Mingi should’ve been working right now on that old car nobody actually wanted to fix, but here he was, balls deep in my pussy, thrusting into me like his life depended on it. I guess he was just a simple man too, and he fell exactly into my trap as I walked through the garage door wearing my little sundress, high heels elongating my legs. It didn’t take long for Mingi to stop whatever he was doing as he dragged me to the backroom, where there were no cameras, and pushed up on the table, wasting no time in undressing himself and working up the both of us. My head was thrown back from the constant pleasure his movements brought, his length reaching places no one else has before, my right hand gripping his bare waist as I rolled my hips to meet his thrusts. Mingi was biting his lips hard, holding onto my hips as I had to hold myself up with one arm, muscle straining with each strong thrust. Perhaps I should have expected him to be vocal, but the whines he would let out every now and then only turned me on even more, dragging my own moans out of me. Grease stuck to his left cheek, just underneath his mole and his already sweaty body from working was glistening once again, smelling strongly of the substance he has been working with to clean rims of the old car.

“I bet you’ve been fantasizing about me fucking you covered in grease and all sweaty from the long day I’ve had.” My only answer was a loud moan as he hit the sweet spot which made me see stars, and for a second, all I could hear were his own pants and the table squeaking louder and louder with each thrust.

“You have no idea—” I moaned as I clenched around Mingi, mind blanching for a second as he hit that spot again, “How fucking hot you look—like this.”

My fingertips dug into his hips and Mingi suddenly leaned down, pressing my back flat against the wooden table, rotating his hips as he suddenly slowed down. My mouth opened in a gasp and my legs went around his hips, one hand tangling in his blonde spikey hair as the other went around his shoulders to anchor myself. Mingi groaned in my ear as I clenched around his length again, his thrusts painfully slow on purpose, making me try to move my hips, but he had me pinned down by his heavier body.

“Fuck, please—” My whine was muffled by his lips as he pressed them against mine, pushing his tongue past my lips as I kissed him hungrily, wanting to feel more and more of him. Our lips moved messily against each other as Mingi slightly quickened his pace, but it still wasn’t enough. My eyebrows were furrowed as it started becoming unbearable and I whined, pulling my head away and choking on my words for a second, “I’m going to fucking die if you don’t go faster.”

I couldn’t believe Mingi had the audacity to smirk as he bit my lower lip harshly, making me push his head away as he chuckled amused, fake pouting at me.

“Thought I said good girls get what they want—” He completely stilled, bringing tears into my eyes out of frustration as I gripped his nape, trying to move against him to no avail, “And you’re being rather impatient right now.”

But before I could say anything, the slightly stood up and pulled almost fully out before slamming in again, his pace relentless and thrusts sharp as he threw his head back, moaning, making me grip onto his lower arm as he hit my g-spot over and over again, making my back arch as broken moans left my lips, nails digging into his skin. I was going fucking insane as his thumb found my clit and he started rubbing circles on it, making me cry out as I felt my orgasm building up, ready to snap any second as Mingi’s moans got higher and higher, my walls clenching tightly around him, bringing him closer to the edge as well.

“Fuck.” He hissed at a particular sharp thrust, his hips almost stuttering but I managed to meet his movements, desperate for my own release as I clawed at the wooden table, back arching as the pleasure became unbearable and the knot in my stomach snapped, making me let out a high-pitched moan, only for Mingi’s lips to muffle it as his hips stuttered, his own release following mine, filling me up. My body trembled and my lungs heaved for air as I came down from the high, our lips touching with Mingi as we both panted into each other’s mouths. His scent was intoxicating and I couldn’t help but burry my head into his neck and lightly bite down on his perfect skin, making him shudder. He didn’t pull out yet and I felt him twitch slightly, making me chuckle.

“So, I’m hot when I’m all sweaty and covered in grease?” He spoke up, voice raspy, and his words made me laugh as I allowed my head to rest against the wooden table, throwing an arm over my eyes. I could feel Mingi’s smile as he pressed a kiss against the corner of my mouth, swiftly pulling out.

“I said it once, I won’t say it again.” I peeked at him as he quickly pulled up his boxers and tight pants, adjusting his tank top.

“If I knew all I had to do was change my hairstyle for you to finally let me fuck you—” Mingi shook his head as he helped me off the table, smirking when I had to lean against it for support, my legs having gone numb, “I would’ve done it a lot earlier.”

“Perhaps if you weren’t so oblivious,” I threw him a glare and pulled up my panties, adjusting my dress, “You would’ve noticed how badly I wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you, idiot.”

Mingi laughed and threw an arm around my shoulders as he pulled me into himself, “Now that that’s out of the way…do you want to date or do you want us to just fuck?”

His question made me pause as I looked up in his eyes, biting my lower lip in thought, “You want to go out with me?”

“I sure do.” Mingi said it like it was the most obvious thing, then he jutted his chin towards mine, “What about you?”

“What do you think?” I asked with a chuckle.

“That we should go for a second round—”

“Mingi!” I pressed my palm over his mouth and threw him a little glare, “My father could be back anytime, you know. And yes, I do want to date you. Unless you’re always this annoying.”

Mingi fake laughed as he pushed my hand off his mouth, “Aren’t you just so funny?”

I stuck my tongue out at him and he tried kissing it, making me yelp and push him away, which made Mingi giggle as he placed his hands in his pockets, “So, tomorrow at six?”

“But you better shower before you come pick me up.” I pointed a finger at him as we went to leave the room.

“I thought I smelled hot—”

“You can’t smell hot, so just—” I sighed and looked at him, “Just—dress up. You—I mean, you know, you looked really good at the party. I haven’t seen you out of your work clothes before.”

“Aw, aren’t you so shy right now and stuttering all of a sudden?” He cooed and poked my cheek, “As if I wasn’t inside you—”

“Y/N, you still here?!” I heard my father’s voice shout from afar and I threw Mingi a warning look as I pushed him away. He walked towards the car he had to fix defeated, throwing me those sad puppy eyes and a pout as my father walked inside the garage.

“Hi.” I waved at him and he smiled, glancing at Mingi.

“You can fix it tomorrow too, you know?” My father said as he went to put his own utensils away. Mingi hummed but said he didn’t have much until he was done, liar. My father glanced at me and I looked away from Mingi, smiling at my father innocently. He just shook his head and threw his keys at me, making me clumsily catch them.

“Go pick up your mother, I’ll stay behind and help Mingi fix the car.” He muttered tiredly as he walked up to my soon-to-be-boyfriend, oblivious to what Mingi would soon become to him as well. Not just an employee, but perhaps a part of our family too. I jokingly saluted my father as I stopped in the doorway, turning to look at Mingi, who was already watching me.

“Goodbye, Mingi.”

“Bye, Y/N.” Mingi tried to fight the smile off his lips as I turned around and ran off with a giggle, cheeks burning suddenly with embarrassment.

Good girls eventually get what they want, don’t they?

Masterlist

[ckret2]

YO it's been so long but I just want to say i still really adore your writing style. Sometimes I'll remember your KOTM fics exist and re-read every fic in the master list again in like a day. Idk, there something intriguing about how you write language and culture differences, between humans, titans, and the different extraterrestrials.

(Honestly sometimes these fics remind me of alter-human experiences, which might explain my attachment for ur fics lol.)

Anyway, I was wondering what your plan was for the series? (And if u were just waiting for prompts, I got ideas. just wanted to make sure first lol)

Anyway thanks for tolerating my rambling 😅

Oh, thanks so much!! I'm glad you still enjoy them! :) I think that's some of my best work to date on writing inhuman/alien cultures.

Okay so, here's how writing works for me: I pour brain gasoline into my writing engine and then the words go brrr.

A huge, long-term writing project is like an SUV. I have to pour a whole lot of gasoline into the engine, but then it can go very far.

I get brain gasoline from things that mentally energize me. These things include going out to restaurants, cafes, and libraries to write; going to movie theaters and concerts; doing other art projects (like leatherworking or sewing) that require going out to craft stores or classes; getting furniture & decor to improve my home; going to festivals, conventions, or other fun events; and even just getting to walk around malls and downtown areas.

I ain't done shit since early 2020! Any writing energy I had toward the start of quarantine has gradually depleted. I know most of the planet has gone back to treating covid like it's no big deal because it's not as fatal anymore, but long covid is still a thing and my household has health conditions that would make gallivanting around in public actively self-destructive, so I still ain't doing shit.

So it's not a matter of not having ideas. I actually have a list of—let me check—twelve fics on my to-write list for the Rodorah plotline, and that's just to finish the current plot arc before launching the next phase of the plot.

But I'm just not getting the kind of brain gasoline I need to run the SUV-sized engine of a project like No Kings Only Monsters. I'm getting enough gasoline to power a moped. Right now my moped is a writing/art roleplay blog in another fandom where I'm working on an ongoing plot. For me a roleplay blog takes a lot less sustained mental energy than writing whole fics, much less a running series of fics.

So, the technical term for what I'm doing right now is "biding my time." I kind of just have to wait until I reach a more energizing period of my life, and look for opportunities to make that happen.

Within a couple months I'm going to be finishing up the most writing-intensive part of my current RP blog plot, and (fingers crossed) I'm going to be moving into a house. (I bought a house.) The new house is over twice as big as my apartment, and I actually OWN it, which means I can do a LOT to make it my own. I'm hopeful that the process of moving will energize me enough to start working on the place (painting walls, getting furniture, etc), and then the ongoing progress of fixing up my place will further energize me enough to return to fic writing.

That doesn't mean I'll immediately hop back on No Kings Only Monsters. I first want to do some more recent fic ideas that have been percolating in the back of my head. But No Kings Only Monsters is on my "by god, I'm gonna finish this" writing to-do list, so after I've gotten back in the swing of writing things I may revisit a writing strategy that served me well in 2018-2019: "write X amount of words on this project and as a reward you can spend the rest of the day writing whatever you want."

I'm hopeful for the future! But for now, I just can't focus on something that big.

(Hold on to your ideas though; flinging them at me now when I don't have any brain gasoline wouldn't do much good, but I'm not opposed to someday taking reader requests again.)

[dcforts]

[like today]

ao3

Dean wakes up without a weight on his chest.

He stretches on his bed, rolls on his stomach and smiles into his pillow that smells of fresh laundry. He feels comforted by his room, and the simplest event of finding his slippers right next to his bed.

On an off day like today, he usually puts on his robe and makes his way down the chilly hallways with only the sound of his steps and the faint buzzing of the generator for company.

Some days, like today, Cas is already in the kitchen. Dean makes eggs while he sits at the table munching on cereals. It’s just a habit he picked up from Jack; he can’t really tell what they taste like. Dean used to snap at the kid for the constant crunching in his ears so early in the morning - now he’s used to it. He sits across from Cas and eats his breakfast.

Every other day, Sam walks in and wants to talk about a weird dream he had and what it could mean. Rowena tells him he’s got a gift he needs to learn to control, but Dean is not sure there’s much to interpret about a cart full of expired food. Sometimes Sam talks about a case he heard about or an article he read.

Some days he says there’s case not too far from there, and he’s thinking of going ahead, check it out, see if it’s something up their alley. Some days Dean even agrees to let him go alone without putting up a fuss.

*

Today, Sam leaves and Dean asks Cas, “You sticking around for this one?” – back turned, eyes down, hands busy. Sometimes he doesn’t feel brave enough to do that either, so he just goes back to his room and hopes to find him there when he returns.

He makes his bed, carefully smooths out all the creases. He takes a long hot shower, humming a song he got stuck in his head, styles his hair, puts on some clean clothes.

Then he goes to the map room where Cas is usually squinting at Dean’s laptop screen. Not too long ago, he used to knock on his door and ask, “May I borrow your laptop?”; now Dean just leaves it around, and Cas doesn’t ask anymore. Dean doesn’t mind.

It’s curious – he uses only three fingers as he types, one index of his left hand and the index and middle finger of his right hand. Dean had been about to bring it up to Sam one time, but then he thought of all the things Cas knew about him and never mentioned and decided to keep this one about Cas for himself.

While they research, they’re quiet for the most part. Some days, the table between them is covered in books, in pizza boxes, in weapons, in blood. Some days, they argue and storm off and some days, Cas makes Dean laugh and Dean makes Cas do that face that Dean likes.

If he's had a long night, sometimes Dean dozes off with his head on his hand and his gaze in Cas’ general direction. Bitter thoughts drift him away, like, how Cas probably shouldn’t be there, and how this was never a place for an angel.

A titan of the sky, confined in a human body, squeezed on a chair in an underground box. How his skin must prickle, and his wings long to be stretched. How long it will be before he won’t take it anymore.

Dean doesn't like those days. He gets snappy and irritable and Cas leaves and it makes everything worse.

Most days though, like today, he looks like he's exactly where he's supposed to be and when he meets his eyes across the table, maybe even exactly where he wants to be.

Sometimes Dean relaxes a little too much and he’s woken up by the sound of the coffee mug Cas puts down next to the book he fell asleep on. His brain register a looming presence and his insticts tell him to jerk away, but before that can happen, there’s Cas’ hand on his shoulder, heavy and familiar.

Dean heart slows down, he sits up and drinks his coffee.

*

Today is peaceful, but Dean feels a little more alive, like on those blue early mornings on the road that make you regret stepping out of your car without a jacket and the smell of gasoline filling your nostrils seems stronger than it’s ever been.

Dean opens up the police scanner on Sam’s laptop and checks his texts. Most days there’s one from Jody who just wants to check in, like she’s patroling outside of their bunker. Today there’s one from Claire, replying to a text he sent her the night before.

you on a job?, he asked

no, just finished one, is what she wrote back.

He writes, come by for the w/e. Then adds, he wants to see you and sends attached a picture of Cas that he snaps on the spot without him noticing.

A few seconds later Claire writes back, just admit you miss me. And right after, ok. And then again, kaia wants burgers.

Dean grins and shots back, just admit you love my cooking

She sends a rolling-my-eyes emoji. Dean snorts and Cas looks up.

“Claire and Kaia are spending the weekend,” he explains.

"Good," Cas smiles and then says, “You should make burgers. She loves them.”

*

Some days Sam calls and says there’s nothing for them, and some days he calls and says there’s something for them.

Today Cas is typing away and Dean has just sat down with a fresh cup of coffee when Sam calls and it’s something.

Dean is not too bothered. Outside the weather is bad, but the place it’s nearby, the job seems easy and they can be home in time for dinner. And if they hit the traffic, well, Cas will be there. They will be fine.

He will roll down his window a little even if it rains and Dean will turn the radio on, and a familiar track will start in just the perfect spot, right before the chorus, and Dean will sing along quietly, tapping his fingers on the wheel, under the grey and the wet and Cas’ gaze, curious and slightly amused.

*

Cas asks again if they have everything, like he’s packing for a kid going to summer camp (Dean tells him), and takes one of the duffel bags from Dean’s hand without asking, and walks past him, like he’s used to carry Dean’s clothes and weapons. “Do you have your snack for the road?,” he asks, climbing the iron stairs and Dean stops in his track, glosses over the snarky suggestion that he’s the kid going to summer camp in the scenario, and instead actually wonders if he’s got time to run to the kitchen real quick, but then he shrugs, shoulders his bag and says “We’ll stop along the way.”

They can stop along the way, like they sometimes do. He will get a hot bagel and Cas will down half his coffee, and they will stand right outside the store, where they can’t get wet but they can breathe and hear the rain. And Cas will say – well, Dean can never anticipate what Cas is going to say, but that’s the good part.

*

Dean tells him to wait for him outside as he brings the car around but when he does, Cas is not there. Dean turns off the engine just as the first raindrops hit, hit, hit the windshield. Today there’s something different, he feels, in the familiar, comforting smell of the Impala, something fresh, new, something that whispers to him that he’s got the whole day ahead and all the time in the world after that.

By the time Cas gets out of the metal door, rain is falling heavily all over the roof and Dean feels nowhere on Earth, surrounded by water. Dean doesn’t hear the door shutting, but spots the blurry silhouette of a trench-coated figure approaching. He turns the key in the ignition and as the lights go up, he’s on Earth again.

Cas is unbothered by the rain, as he is unbothered by most natural events. He takes his time opening up the backseat door to toss the duffel bag in, before slipping in the passenger seat, trenchcoat soaked, hair dripping and raindrops running down his cheeks. Dean’s lips quirk up. Cas says, “I had forgotten a book.”

Dean doesn’t care. He says, “You should dry your hair,” but Cas shrugs, “There’s no need.”

Dean reaches towards the backseat to take a t-shirt out of his bag. He throws it on Cas’ head and starts rubbing his hair and he's so startled that for a moment just lets him.

“Dean,” he complains then and pushes his arms away, “I’m not a child,” he says. His face is red and his hair wild. Dean counters his annoyed look with a grin, “What?” he says.

Cas shakes his head, “Can we go now?”

But Dean is not ready yet. Sometimes, when he's alone with Cas like this, he feels something grip his insides and tug at him to say something.

He usually wants to say, I’m glad you’re here, but today he also wants to say, we could let Sam handle this one and just go for a ride, we could stop only when we get out from under the clouds and we could watch the rain from a distance and we'll be standing in the light, and if we’re lucky it won’t be too cold but if it is, who cares? You won’t be bothered by that and I won’t be bothered by that either cause you’ll be there, he wants to say aren’t we lucky? aren’t we lucky that you’re with me and I’m with you right now? and I have this feeling swelling in my chest, I don’t know what it is.

And I wish everyday was like this, exactly like this, but I’m not sure what this is.

But when Cas’s expression blends into confusion and he blinks, “Dean?”, he shakes his head.

They’re fine. With the whole day ahead and their whole lives after that. He feels like tomorrow he can have anything, but today – he likes today just the way it is.

“Just thinking,” he says, starting the car and taking the road, “Having a good day, is all.”

With the corner of his eye he can see Cas dubiously looking out at the pouring rain and back at him.

Dean meets his eyes and gives him a smile to see if he can prompt one in return without saying anything.

Cas’ lips twitch for a moment and then he smiles back.

_

*about Sam's dream: to my knowledge expired food in dreams mean unfinished business and stuff of the past we carry with us (sorry sammy i thought it was fitting - i had the same dream if that's any consolation)

[cherrychonk]

The Transfer part 11

You were back reading the diary of the victim. You could see the progress of the ship and many other details. Reading took you longer, you would occasionally peek and look at what the Chief was doing. She would answer dozens of calls and do overviews of many reports. While you watched her quietly.

Her brows were furrowed down, eyeglasses hung perfectly balanced on her nose as she wrote something down.

“Do you have a problem with my face officer?” Lin asked without looking at you.

You felt your face blush at being caught. “Huh?!”

She didn't look up from her work. “If I wanted a stalker, I could've asked Korra to leave her mutt here.”

“My apologies Chief! I just- You look- I…!?” Your mind short circuited as you went back to your papers. You buried your head in the notebook to hide the embarrassment showing in your face.

The next few days you spent reading the journal and writing anything significant in your notepad. You had fallen into a routine of coming early into the office with breakfast and coffee for the both of you and eating in comfortable silence. She would do paperwork or help the rookies with their work. Sometimes she would help Saikhan with operations and other times she would have meetings with President Moon. Lunch was spent with Jia or Mako, sometimes both. Other times Korra would come along too if she was free at the moment.

Coming back every day after lunch break you would resume your work, some days Lin would arrive an hour before your shift was over or even after it. You liked to stay longer to see her return and to make sure she had eaten. If she had a lot of paperwork (almost always) you would stay with her and help her after ordering some dinner.

Coffee was the go to every night when there was too much paperwork. The beverage keeping both of you going like gasoline. Sometimes you would have to fight to keep your eyes open and after a shot of coffee your eyes would open wide like dinner plates. She never seemed faced about it though. Probably since she had been doing this for years. But you smiled, she wouldn't have to be doing things alone now that you were here, you would help her.

________

Tonight both of you had finished dinner and were working on a lot of documents. Classifying and ordering forms, placing them in boxes and organizing everything. When the clock hit midnight you went to the break room and retrieved two coffees, handing her one. You brought the sugar jar and placed it on the desk, offering some to her before sitting down. You gave your coffee two spoons of sugar before stirring it, raising the cup to your lips and taking a sip. You always enjoyed the late night cups, they always seemed to taste better. You weren't sure why, it was the same cup you drank in the morning. Something, however, made it taste especially good at this time.

You watched as Lin did the same, two spoons of sugar and a few sips. You continued with the work when you heard the metallic sound of the spoon clicking in the jar. You looked up to see the spoon completely still but positioned differently than before. You decided to ignore it and went back to work, instantly the sound was back and you snapped your head to the jar.

“You alright?” The Chief asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, oki doki.” You replied, narrowing your eyes at the jar before looking back at your work.

This time when you heard the sound you didn't move your head, you listened carefully and looked from the corner of your eye to see the Chief pouring an ungodly amount of sugar into her coffee. You slowly and carefully moved your head so now you were staring at her. She took a sip, looking up she saw you staring and her cheeks turned red.

“What?!” She snapped.

You chuckled. “You know, you can put as much as you like. No shame there.” You said pushing the jar closer to her.

“You're making fun of me now, officer?” She growled, still embarrassed.

You quickly waved your hands. “No! No! Seriously, take as much as you want. I just didn’t know you like your coffee so sweet.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “It’s not a big fucking deal…”

You chuckled as she glared at you. “Well, it’s a big deal for me. So, how do you like your coffee?”

She looked at you dumbfounded, her arms softened and she grabbed her coffee looking at it, the dark liquid staring back at her. “Ummm well… I like my coffee lighter, with cream and a few spoons of sugar. I’m not a fan of the bitter taste.” Lin said, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Okay, I’ll be right back” You said standing up leaving the confused earthbender on her desk.

After a few minutes you came back with a new coffee, making it as she described and settling back on her desk. “Here, I hope this one is more of your liking.” You smiled.

The blush was still on her cheeks though more subtle now. She grabbed the coffee, taking a sip and she tried hard not to smile.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to.” Lin said softly.

“Nonsense!” You smiled. “I’m enjoying my coffee, you should enjoy yours too.”

With a smile you continued with your work as the earthbender looked at her new coffee. You would occasionally look up at her, sometimes meeting her gaze, you could've sworn that she blushed every time, because you sure did. Something inside you made you feel warm seeing her so soft around you and you couldn't help but smile.

Both of you finished the last of the paperwork, you stretched out and yawned. It was already three am and you had to wake up at six. You prayed that tomorrow would be slower.

“Spirits, what a long day we had.” You chuckled walking out of the office.

Lin hummed in agreement. “You want me to take you home?”

“It's okay, I can walk, go home.” You said walking down the station’s stairs and into the sidewalk.

She grabbed your arm roughly. “You are not walking home! Are you insane?! Come on, let's get you home.”

You laughed at her frustration but followed her into the patrol car, you sat comfortably as she turned the engine.

“Have you been walking alone all this time?!” She asked, irritated.

You yawned. “I didn't want to bother you and the exercise is good for me anyways.”

“I'm driving you home myself from now on, you're asking to be mugged by walking home alone for fucks sake.” She huffed, pissed by your antics.

Her ranting was stopped when she felt your head on her shoulder as you slept quietly by her side. She was stiff as a board on her way to your apartment, not wanting to wake you until she got there. Once she arrived she gently nudged you.

“Hey, we're here, wake up.” She said firmly.

“Ten more minutes…” You yawned, getting more comfortable on her shoulder.

“Y/N don't make me carry you.” She growled.

You didn't respond too far gone in sleep to care. She sighed, grabbing your bag and looking for your keys, with them in hands she grabbed you and carried you bridal style up your apartment stairs. Carefully unlocking the door she walked in, the place was neatly clean and it had a few more plants than last time, she noticed.

She carefully opened the bedroom door and laid you on the bed. She took your jacket off and rocked you a bit rough to wake you.

“Y/N if you're going to sleep in your uniform at least take your belt off. Also, you can come in at ten so you have a few more minutes of sleep.”

You didn't open your eyes though you have heard her. Instead your tired brain forced your hands to pull the belt off before you started to pull your pants down.

The earthbender quickly grabbed your blanket covering you in panic. “Well okay bye!” She said flustered as she hurried out of the room and out of the apartment, using her metalbending to lock the door.

She got into her patrol and started to drive away. Her mind was flooded with thoughts of you. She tried to think of anything else but failed miserably. Once in her building she parked her patrol and went up the front stairs where the doorman awaited her.

“Miss Beifong, more late paperwork I see.” The doorman spoke gently, opening the door and accompanying the earthbender to the elevator. He was an older gentleman, probably in his late seventies. Still he was strong and healthy. He was old fashioned and a person Lin considered a close friend.

“Yes, like always. Though I've been having help these past few nights. The transfer, Y/N has been helping me lately.” She asked.

“Ahhh I see, the hero cop.” He hummed.

Lin nodded softly. “Yeah, the crazy reckless one.”

“She must take after you.” He said in a chuckle.

Lin smirked. “You insult me Delun?”

“Oh of course not, she's a hero just like you. It brings me happiness to see you less stressed. She must be a huge help.”

Lin blushed, quickly scoffing to recover. “She's fine.”

The man raised an eyebrow and smiled. “She must be.”

Before Lin could ask what he meant they arrived at the elevator and he pressed the elevator button. “Good night Miss.”

“Night Delun.” She said softly.

Landing on her floor, she walked to the front door of her penthouse and settled her armor on the stand. She went straight to the bathroom where she undressed and turned on the shower. She allowed the water to fall on her face, trying to find anything to distract her thoughts. She cleaned herself with no urgency, finishing and dressing herself on a night gown.

Lin laid on her huge bed all alone while her mind was drowning with the thoughts of you. You were so thoughtful, maybe for you it was a simple act but for her? It was the most meaningful thing that had happened to her. She felt herself blush thinking of your smile and care, the fact you stayed to help her whenever she needed or that she even asked what she wanted and made it for her. The breakfasts and dinners to make sure she had eaten every day, made her heart warm up too.

Then Lin frowned, why would she keep thinking of you. Your kindness, the way you talked or acted. She reasoned she was just getting used to you being so open and different. Nothing more, she just appreciated your presence, not like she had a crush. Absolutely not, she was just thankful for your help, that's all.

Lin groaned, wrapping the blanket around her. “Snap out of it Lin.” She said softly before snoozing off.

________

Morning arrived, a little too fast for Lin’s liking. She arrived early at the station like every day. Feeling tired due to the late night work the other day. She watched the clock before sighing and walking around the station to mentally prepare for the day. She talked to Mako for a bit before checking the other officers and talking to Saikhan about a sting operation that would be happening in a few days.

After everything was said Lin walked back to her office, you weren't there yet. It was still seven fifty and the Chief told you to come in at ten so you could rest. You on the other hand had other plans as you all but burst through her office doors.

“Morning Chief!” You said with a wide smile. You were holding breakfast in one hand and a coffee holder on the other.

Lin was surprised to see you, most officers would kill to come in a bit later but here you were, bright and early with bags under your eyes just like hers. “Y/N, what are you doing here? I told you to stay till ten so you could rest.”

You settle everything on her desk, handing her a coffee cup. “Had to make sure you had breakfast, it's the most important meal of the day!” You said happily.

“What? Don't think I can take care of myself?” Lin raised an eyebrow.

“Did you have breakfast?” You deadpan.

She stayed silent and you smiled.

“Ahh yes, that's what I thought.” You sat on your desk eating away your sandwich.

Lin shook her head before sipping her coffee. This time she couldn't help the smile on her face as she tasted the sugar and cream.

“Lunch is on me.” She said, grabbing her sandwich.

You nodded and went back to your notes. Lin sighed contently, your presence bringing her unprecedented calmness.

[sadman-morgan]

soak up the sunshine

pairing: arthur morgan x neutral!reader

category: Modern day AU

summary:  After working your strenuous jobs during the weekdays, the weekend was the best way to unwind with your husband. Sunday mornings like this were always your favorite.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none, other than kissing a sleepy Arthur.

---

A nearby clock ticked to 6 am as the early morning sun shined through the curtains. After working your strenuous jobs during the weekdays, the weekend was the best way to unwind with your husband. Sunday mornings like this were always your favorite. 

You were a writer and never failed to find beauty in anything your senses could detect. Writing was your passion. You were always bursting at the seams with new vivid and creative ideas. Hearing you gush about your writing was music to your husband’s ears. It didn’t matter if it was a novel, poem, academic essay, or blog post. Arthur held any words you wrote down near and dear to his heart. 

Your husband was an auto mechanic. Sometimes you wondered if he loved cars more than he loved you, but he would laugh and debate otherwise. He always had an appreciation for the roars of the engine, and the sweet stench of gasoline. Arthur and his car were one and the same. Other than you, there was nothing this man loved more than driving and working on cars. He put nothing less than blood, sweat, and tears into his hard labor. Cars were his passion since he was a boy, seeing so much life burst from him because of his hobbies would forever keep your soul warm. 

He worked hard during the long days, but you felt oh-so spoiled whenever the tall, grubby stains and aromas of motor oil and sweat returned to your doorstep every night. Arthur couldn't resist keeping his hands off of you before he even came through the door. You were always greeted with a deep, greasy kiss when he returned home from work. He would hold you tightly in his arms to the point where the smell of motor oil was permanently ingrained in your clothes. His bodily scent of sweat and motor oil was a place you loved to call home. 

On this calm morning, you rose early to write, and let him sleep in. After sitting down to write a couple of lines, the bedroom door creaked open as a sleepy Arthur stumbled out with a deep yawn. 

As he stumbled outside the bedroom door, you had a moment to admire him. You couldn’t choose your favorite sleepy Arthur trait if your life depended on it. There were too many to choose from: the scruffy bed head, the tired smile, the worn-out sweatshirt and sweatpants, or his gorgeous voice. When your eyes greeted him, he smiled as he walked to stand behind your chair, wrapping his arms around you as he lovingly kissed your head, and played with your hair.

 “mornin’ sunshine” he mumbled. 

You turned around and quickly greeted him on the lips while tracing his jawline with your hand. 

“Good morning sleepyhead,” you said as you pulled away from his handsome face.

“How did her royal highness sleep?” You teased.

“Pretty good...considering I had a gorgeous partner in my arms all night,” he said with a grin. 

“Stop, you’re making me blush!” You said as you gently whacked him on the arm. 

“Mission accomplished.” He teased back. 

He pulled out the chair across from you and sat down. As you struggled to continue to write, Arthur rested his chin in hand as his eyes gazed up and down in admiration, wondering what he did to end up with such a loving partner like you. Nearly everything about you was perfect to him. The way your hair would blow in the wind, the way he could lose himself in your eyes, and especially your smile. Holy shit, your smile caused Arthur’s heart to pound out of his chest, and him to melt into the floor. You made him feel so warm, he swore he could explode. 

Arthur scratched the back of his neck and yawned. 

“I’m hungry. do you want anything, love?”

You nodded “Yeah, I can cook if you w-.”

Arthur shook his head. “no can do. You just sit there and look beautiful as always, I wanna cook for you.”

“Hmm~ go ahead,” you said with a yawn.

Arthur stumbled into the kitchen and turned on the stove. After gathering ingredients, a pan, and a few utensils, the man was off to work. 

Now was your turn for chin in hand admiration. 

As he began to cook, the sunlight gleamed through the curtains and bounced off his hair and face. The sunlight revealed a special glow in his eyes and highlighted each freckle on his face.

He looked so handsome when he was perfectly at ease. As he cooked, he happily hummed and whistled various songs he picked up from his friends. He looked adorable in his baggy sweatpants and sweater while sunlight gleamed against his freckled skin, and his light scruffy hair. 

The happy whistling continued for a moment until the stove was shut off. Shortly after, the coffee maker was turned on, getting ready to brew more caffeine than both of you should ever consume in one sitting.

With coffee brewed, and breakfast prepared, Arthur returned to the table and placed a delicious looking plate of french toast in front of you, along with an oversized cup of coffee. 

You both ate quietly, taking your time to soak up the sunshine, and each other’s sleepy company. Sometimes you would take turns making goofy faces at each other. You would catch Arthur gazing a bit too intently at you from time to time. When you playfully called him out, he would protest that “it’s not his fault that you’re so gorgeous”. 

When you both finished, you took the plates and silverware and left them in the kitchen sink to be cleaned later. 

After stocking the sink with dirty dishes, You poured another two cups of coffee and returned to Arthur’s new position on the couch. 

You placed the cups down on the coffee table and curled against Arthur’s torso as his strong arm wrapped around you. 

You both silently laid still for a moment. With heartbeats in unison, you felt a mutual calm. A rare time in your lives when everything fell perfectly into place, nothing could hurt either of you in a tender moment like this.

You rested your head in his shoulder as he carefully ran his hand through your hair. 

“Let me get a look at ya” he sleepily said.

You slid off his shoulder and changed your position to be in front of him, practically straddling him. Once you got comfortable, he raised his fingers to trace your jawline, motioning your face to look him in the eyes.

He exhaled softly as he continued to trace your jawline. “God, you’re so...fuckin stunning,” he said. 

You smiled in his hand, which pushed him to compliment you further.

“You’re gorgeous when you smile, y’know that right angel?”

You raised your hands to play with his hair, which made his face turn a mild pink. Then slowly leaned into him, and locked your lips together. 

Without breaking the sleepy kiss, he pulled you closer to his chest. You slid a hand under his clothes and slowly dragged your fingertips across his lower abs, to which he exhaled in approval. 

You pulled away from his lips as you began to leave kisses on his jawline, followed by his neck. 

You pulled away from his neck and grazed your fingertips across the tender skin, admiring the red spots where loving bruises were soon to form.

 “You really love me, huh?” He said.

You nodded and quickly kissed his cheek. 

“You and only you, handsome.” You said with a giggle.

You leaned back into his chest as he wrapped you in a tight squeeze. 

“I’m so lucky to have you...so..so lucky” He sleepily cooed into your ear.

You nearly fell back asleep in his arms as the sound of your slowing heartbeats were the only things audible. 

“Ugh. I’m exhausted” He said with a yawn. 

You rose from his chest and nodded. “I wanna…go back to sleep. Too sleepy to function” you responded. 

As the sun continued to shine, you returned to burrow deep into his chest as he wrapped his strong arms back around you.

Then you both fell back asleep in each other’s arms on this calm Sunday morning with the coffee cups on the table, completely untouched.

---

an: I hope you guys enjoyed. If you have any fic requests, feel free to leave em in my inbox!

[breakthefifthwall]

I wrote another ending. This isn’t an official ending, it’s just one of the many character outcomes I have to write, and I just liked this one so much I decided to post it.

Background: So far everything has happened as in the musical, except Paul was able to save Bill at the school. Bill makes it to the helicopter with Emma and Paul, but is knocked unconscious during the crash. He wakes up a short time after Paul leaves to destroy the meteor.

The good guy who’s do or die

Bill woke up, his head hurting like mad. The last thing he remembered was the helicopter pilot singing while pointing a gun at Paul. Now here he was, alone in a wreck. Helicopter debris was everywhere.

He walked out of the wreck and looked around. He flinched as he saw the pilot’s lifeless body. It didn’t matter that her wounds were blue, the sight itself was more than unsettling. There was nothing more in the wreckage than some debris, the pilot’s body, and Emma.

Emma? Did she survive? Was she okay? Bill had to know. He ran over to her.

“Emma? Is that you? Are you okay?” It was at that point he noticed her leg. His stomach wrenched as he saw the metal pole piercing through Emma’s thigh. “Oh my god...”

“Bill! You’re alive! And yes, it’s me.”

“What the hell happened?”

“My infected manager hijacked the helicopter, and we crashed. Paul came out okay, so he went to destroy the meteor. And now I’m here with this.” She pointed around her leg.

Bill took a step back. “But we’re stuck out here. Those aliens could be anywhere.” He remembered the invasion started downtown. “Maybe there’s somewhere safe uptown. I’ll go look up there.” He tried to help Emma to her feet, but she screamed in pain.

“No! No! Ow!” Emma couldn’t bear the pain of trying to stand, and she sank back to the ground. “Bill, I’m not gonna make it. Just go.”

Bill could tell by the look in her eyes that she meant it. He took one last look at her, then ran off to search uptown Hatchetfield.

He walked along the familiar streets of his hometown. On any other night this would have been a pleasant evening stroll. But the city was quiet, empty, and dead. He came across his old office building. He chuckled at himself, finding it humorous that about fourteen hours ago, he had been up in that building thinking that today would be a day like any other.

A noise came from inside the building. Before he could walk closer to see what it was, the front doors opened. Out came General McNamara with a dozen or so soldiers, blue shit dripping from their hands and mouths. They knew he was here.

Bill chose to hide. He knew he couldn’t outrun them. He crouched down and hid behind a parked car. He sat and waited for them to leave. If he tried to get away, he knew they’d find him. After a few minutes, he carefully stood up to see if they were still there. His heart nearly stopped when he saw them marching straight toward him, singing the same dreadful tune they had sung when they murdered Ted. Bill shuddered.

Bill chose to move. If he stayed hiding, he knew he’d be caught. He stood up and ran from the car. As he looked back, he saw how close the soldiers were to finding him. They were punching in the car’s windows, pulling the doors off their hinges, raiding the car in search of a survivor.

As he watched them tear the car apart, something inside Bill’s heart changed. He had to do something. His last living friend, Paul, was downtown risking his life to save Hatchetfield. Bill knew he had to do something.

He got an idea. A stupid idea, maybe, but it would mean a dozen or so less aliens for Paul to fight off.

He stood up and yelled “Hey!” The infected soldiers looked at him. Bill’s heart filled with dread. He knew there was no going back now. It was do or die.

Bill chose the former, and ran to his car behind the building. He unlocked the car and opened the trunk, where he took out his emergency gas can. He kicked out the headlights and taillights, then poured gasoline all over the car. He opened the fuel cap, then got in his car. The smell of gasoline hung heavy in the air.

The soldiers were only a few yards away. Bill started the car, and the engine revved. Even in the dark of night, he could see the infected coming toward him. His heart filled with dread again as he saw more people. Civilians, innocent people, all fallen victim to the apotheosis. The infection was making its way uptown. At least fifty musical zombies stood before him, advancing toward his car.

A million emotions and memories flashed through Bill’s mind. The kiss on his wedding day. His first coffee break at work with Paul. The first time he held Alice. His wife slamming down the pen after signing the divorce papers. Every look of hate and disgust on Alice’s face every time he said something about Deb.

The look on his daughter’s face at the school. The sight of his daughter being shot dead by the soldiers.

Bill shook his head and wiped the tears from his eyes. He was filled with a heartbroken anger. He had to do this. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal, and the car lurched at the crowd of aliens. He rammed into the center of the crowd, running over a few people. The aliens swarmed around his car.

Bill watched the aliens pound at his windows. “This is for taking my daughter from me” he angrily sobbed through a face full of tears as he slammed his fist on the four-way flashers.

The filaments on the headlights and taillights lit up, igniting the gasoline vapors surrounding the car. The ignition reached the fuel tank through the open gas cap. The car exploded into a gaseous fireball. Not even the healing power of the spores was enough to save the hosts from being blown to bits. The soldiers, the civilians, all dead instantly, not a single survivor.

Not one.

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

Not His Fucking Prostitute

silwrFandom: Queen/ Bohemian Rhapsody

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Brian May X reader

TW: language, Freddie’s a fucking dick, slut-shaming I guess????

Genre: ANGST, tiny bit of fluff

Word Count: 1.6K

Requests: OPEN

A/N: So, this is more of a lazy write, because i wanted to get a fic out, considering that the last chapter of Child Of Mine is taking forever. Because it’s a lazy write, I kind of took my favourite scene from the movie. Sorry if this annoys anyone. This was fun to write and if y’all like it, I’ll probably write a part 2!

You clutched the two boys hands tightly as you were led into the living room by Paul. Your brother, Roger, let go of your hand as he wandered over to one of the chairs, collapsing into it lazily. You shook your head lightly before taking a seat next to your husband, Brian, but still close enough to Roger just in case either of you lashed out. There was a pit in the bottom of your stomach and you could tell that your bandmates felt exactly the same. Roger quickly lit a cigarette, taking a drag before handing it over to you. Brian sent Roger a disproving glance. He didn't care that both of you smoked, it was the fact that you shared cigarettes that he found peculiar. It was something you'd started doing in university. What was the point in wasting money buying two packs for two different people? You both pretty much went everywhere together anyway. Deacy was lounging on his seat, perching his head on his hand. Brian took your hand as you passed Roger the cigarette back after taking a drag. Suddenly, Freddie strolled in trying to look casual, but it was obvious he was on edge. Your fellow lead singer poured himself a drink as Paul took a seat in the corner with a cup of tea. Roger quickly extinguished the cigarette, placing it in the ashtray. Freddie kept his back to the band as he began to speak.

"MTV banned our video. The Youth of America. We helped give birth to MTV." Freddie announced, swiftly spinning on his heel to face you all, annoyance clear on his face.

"It's America. They're puritans in public, perverts in private." Brian reasoned, leaning back slightly.

"I'm never touring in the US again. And I'm the one being blamed for it. Not you dear, whose idea, I believe, it was to dress up in drag." Freddie gestured to you and Roger, who immediately exchanged glances " And not you." he looked at Brian " Not even you, who wrote the bloody thing."Deacy was next to be aggressively pointed at " No. Crazy, cross-dressing Freddie. Freddie the freak. Freddie the fag.  I'm tired of touring, aren't you? Album, tour, album, tour. I want to do something different." Freddie huffed and your friends shot him an exasperated look.

"We're a band. That's what bands do. Album, tour, album, tour." Brian responded, raising an eyebrow

"Well, I need a break. I'm sick of it." Freddie turned to the window harshly.

"What are you saying, Freddie?" Deacy questioned, voice clear of any emotion. There was a pregnant pause, doing nothing to relieve any of your nerves.

"I've signed a deal with CBS records."He finally admitted. Everyone shot up in their seats, faces showing both surprise and anger

"You've done what?" Roger snapped, glaring daggers at Freddie's striped shirt.

"Without telling us?"You added, voice rough. Brian squeezed your hand. You had an identical temper to your brother. Short, explosive and sometimes terrifying.

"Look, I'm not saying we won't record or ever tour again. Queen will go on. But I need to do something different. Do you know what I mean? I need- I need to grow. What's-what-what's the song? "Fly Away"?" Freddie tried, swivelling around. Out the corner of your eye, you could see Paul's beady eyes watching the band's every move, his mole-like face failing to hide his joy.

"Spread my wings and fly away" Deacy quoted, his eyes narrowed slightly. You were shaking at this point, anger coursing through you. Brian was watching you carefully, just as Deaky was watching Roger. One Taylor's temper was one explosion on its own. But two? It was like a world war.

"Spread my wings and fly away" Freddie parroted, a small, awkward smile on his lips.

"A solo album?"Brian asked in disbelief, both his eyebrows raised. He couldn't believe that this was happening.

"Two, actually."Paul chimed in and your head snapped in his direction, fire in your eyes. However, Roger managed to voice his annoyance first

"Another word out of you and ill throw you out the bloody window." Roger barked, his hands formed into a fist

"But that's years Freddie. I mean that'll take years" Deacy stated, resting both his elbows on his knees.

"Ye of little faith, "Freddie remarked

"I don't believe this." Roger huffed and you twisted your torso to look at Freddie.

"How much?" You questioned, voice hard. Even Roger was scared, underneath his own fury. "What did they pay you?" You recieved no response, so you stood up, your knee catching the coffee table, causing it to scoot back. Roger stood up too, prepared to stop you if you tried to hit someone. "I wanna know how much they paid you!"

"4 million dollars!"Freddie yelled and your eyes widened and you began pacing, Roger close behind. He leant on the back of Deacy's seat and you were leaning on his shoulder

"That's more than any Queen deal." Deacy murmured, shock lacing his voice.

"Look the routine is killing us. I mean, you must all want a break from the arguments. I mean, whose song gets on the album, whose song's the single, who wrote what, who gets a bigger slice of the royalties, what's on the B-Side, all of it! You must need a break!"Freddie exclaimed, his tone surprisingly light

"Freddie we're a family."Brian snapped, edging on a hiss.

"No, we're not! We're not a family. You've all got families, children, wives! What have I got?"Freddie shouted suddenly, making you tense. He gestured at you as soon as he said wives, glaring at you slightly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you gripped Roger's arm to stop yourself from doing anything irrational.

"You've got 4 million dollars, perhaps you can buy yourself a family," Deacy remarked, clearly trying to stand up for you considering that your vexation was rendering you speechless for the time being.

"I won't compromise my vision any longer."Freddie growled, bringing his cigarette to his lips as he snapped his body back to the window

"Compromise? Are you joking?" You piped in, unable to bite your tongue

"You were working at Heathrow before we gave you a chance!"Roger continued, usual soft voice turning bitingly cold

"And without me...you'd be a dentist, drumming 12/8- time blues at the weekend at the Crown in Anchor." Freddie stormed over to Roger, getting right up to his face " And you. Well, you would be Dr. Brian May, author of a fascinating dissertation on the cosmos, that no one ever reads." Your grip on Roger grew impossibly tight as Freddie began targeting your husband "And Deacy, for the life of me...nothing comes to mind."Freddie finished, letting out a small breath of air

"I studied electrical engineering, does that meet your standards?"Deaky sighed. You saw Paul hide a laugh. You really wished Roger had thrown him out the fucking window.

"That's perfect."Freddie chuckled before finally looking at you.

"And (Y/N). You'd be sharing an apartment with your brother in a failing theatrical career, standing on street corners to earn extra money. Because you wouldn't have Brian to feed on or to become his prostitute." You felt yourself falter. That's when Brian and Deacy stood up. Deacy held Roger's arms as he lunged at Freddie. Brian began walking over to the group. Brian had a lot of patients... but hearing someone who was supposed to be his and his wife's friend basically call her a slut... it put gasoline on an otherwise calm fire. That's when you suprised Brian. You reached up and landed a harsh slap to Freddie's cheek. Freddie's cheek burnt and he gave you a flabbergasted look.

"You can say a lot of things to me. But never, ever say that I'm using my husband just to get money or fame. Just because you haven't realized that that is precisely what someone is doing to you. There's a lot of things that I am. But I'm. Not. His. Fucking. Prostitute. The fame has gotten to your head Bulsara. " You hissed and Freddie simply replied with a blank stare before beginning to head to the door.

"You just killed Queen."Roger snapped before he could leave.

"Oh give it a kiss one day. She might wake up."Freddie stated cockily.

"You need us, Freddie. More than you know."Brian tried one last time.

"I don't need anyone."Freddie then took his leave. Paul followed, after putting his hand on Roger's should, which was instantly shoved off. Deacy finally let go of Roger who immediately pulled you into him.

"I should have fucking killed him,"Roger mumbled into your shoulder

"Yeah, I should've too," Brian replied and you could see on Deacy's face that he agreed.

"So what do we do now?" Deaky asked and you pulled back from Roger's hug.

"We can't make music without Fred. It wouldn't be the same. I suppose we just continue on with our lives as best we can." Brian sighed and you glanced between your three boys.

"I'm sorry guys. I shouldn't have gotten as angry as I did. And i shouldn't have hit him." You apologized quickly.

"Don't apologize (Y/N). Shit-faced or not, Freddie should never have said that. You have every right to be angry." Deacy replied, running a hand over his face.

"I guess we should probably get out of Freddie's house," Brian suggested and you all nodded in agreement. After leading yourselves out, you and Brian got in a cab, wishing Deacy and Roger goodbye. They were both heading back to their own families. As you and Brian began your journey home, he wrapped his arm around your waist, resting your head in his neck and placing his own head on top of yours. He loved you so much. Freddie could say whatever he wanted. But he was yours, just as you were his.

Tags: @dusthas-beenbitten @writingfortoomanyfandoms @queens-n-roses @silvver-rose @benhardyjones

i think tags are broken again. Also, i know this isn’t everyone but tumblr is super glitchy and and my google docs keeps crashing.

[teaspoin]

What You Have is Faith (1/?)

a/n: The beginning of a new mini series! I actually edited this twice (go me! I hate editing so I don’t really do it!) and let me tell you, I actually feel better about my writing now. Who knew? This has been beta read by my dear friend, Alex. Thanks Alex!

A simple vampire hunt could never change your life, right?

Pairing: none... yet

Word Count: 1580

It was a delicate task- get in, take out the 6 vampires yourself while not dying or being turned in the process. Something about hunting vamps always made your adrenaline pump. Maybe it was because they were your first hunt at 17, or maybe it was something else. To you, hunting was all about taking the power away from creatures who used their ability to hurt humans. 

You tiptoed into the abandoned house, your katana gripped tightly in your hands. Most hunters preferred having a machete to take out vampires, but you found yourself more effective with distance between you and your prey. The vampires had found themselves a good house to hold up in. Based on the chipped paint and rotting floorboards, it was probably built in the late 1800’s or early 1900’s, making it a fairly creaky place. This allowed your targets to detect anyone entering the property just by noise. It made your job harder, but it caused you to feel more determined. 

You stood by the front door, your katana held by your side with a tight grip. In front of you, there was a hallway to the left and a staircase to the right. The hallway led into the kitchen, which connected with the rest of the rooms that were to your left. There was a living room and a dining room, as well as a bathroom connected off the kitchen. 

Even though you heard the vampires conversing, that wouldn’t stop you. You entered the room closest to you- the living room. There were 2 of the creatures sitting across from each other, playing a game of chess as a dead body laid on the floor. In one swift motion, you detached both their heads from their body with your sword, and their heads fell to the ground. The thump alerted the rest of the nest, as two more vampires made their way into the living room. 

The adrenaline was coursing through your veins as muscle memory kicked in. Without hesitation, you ran towards the one vamp who was standing in the doorway between the living room and entryway. You removed his head before running to the other, repeating the same action on her. You heard two more vamps trot down the stairs. You quickly moved to stand by the doorway where you had just killed one of the creatures. You pressed your back against the wall and waited for the others to arrive. Once they were standing above the dead body, you jumped out from behind the wall and removed their heads in one motion with your sword.

Their heads rolled on the ground like bowling balls, blood trickling on the floor as they moved. You searched the rest of the house carefully, as you had to make sure it was clear before you left. As you exited the house, you heard an engine roar from the driveway. You had researched the nest thoroughly, and you were sure there was only 6 in the group.

 You had been tracking the nest since it first appeared in northern Washington. The nest was originally compiled of 15 vampires, but they split up after a fight about who deserved to lead the nest. Other hunters were tracking the larger group, but you decided to track the smaller group that had the newborns in it. 

The car that you heard approached the house and parked a sleek black 67’ Impala. You were envious, your 2010 Prius had nothing on that- besides the gas mileage. 

  The two men exited the car and grabbed some bags from the trunk. You snuck back inside and tiptoed to the kitchen. You pressed your back against the wall right next to the doorway, then waited. 

“You check downstairs, I’ll check up,” said one of the men when they entered the house, his voice gruff. As the footsteps got closer to the kitchen, you gripped your sword tight. The tall man walked into the kitchen with a machete in his hand. You jumped out and kicked the blade from his hand, then pressed him against the wall with your sword pointed to his neck.

“Who are you?” you whispered.

“Same as you, I’m assuming,” he struggled. You squinted at him, but he did have the hunter appearance. 

“Prove it.”

He reached for the collar of his shirt and pulled it towards his shoulder, exposing an anti-possession tattoo on his pec. You lowered your sword to your side and let go of the man.

“Precautions,” you shrugged, then walked back into the entryway, the taller man following you.

“It’s clear!” you heard a different man yell from upstairs. He retreated downstairs shortly after, and saw you and the other man standing next to each other. 

“Who are you?” he said, raising a gun up at you.

“Obviously one of you so put that damn gun down,” you snapped. 

He put the gun down, then looked in the living room, seeing the 3 dead bodies lying on the ground. The man who searched the downstairs wasn’t as shocked, as he had already seen the mess you made. 

“Wow,” the man from upstairs said. He was very attractive. He had shorter hair that was longer than the other guys,and it was a beautiful dark blonde or light brown color. His eyes were like an emerald, and the beauty in his face was completed with a slight trace of freckles and short stubble. 

“Impressed?” you giggled at him.

“Pshh, no,” he defended. He was definitely impressed, even if he wouldn’t admit it. “I’m Dean, and this is my brother Sam.”

You looked up to him with wide eyes. “The Winchester brothers, huh? Not everyday you get to meet a celebrity.” 

“You know of us?” Sam questioned. You didn’t know this at the time, but Sam thought of every single bad thing he had done since hunting with his brother again. He thought of the demon blood and Lucifer, then of his soulless journey and leviathans, and more. You could see the dread and regret in his eyes, so you didn’t want to make things worse. You were a hunter, but you still knew how to read social cues, something many hunters didn’t know how to do. 

“You boys are quite the treat,” you smirked, then started to pile up the dead bodies. “I’m Y/N.”

“Alright, Y/N, what are we doing?” Dean asked, helping you.

“We gotta burn them, and I’m sure as hell not dragging 6 bodies and carrying 6 heads out to the fireplace. The house will just have to do,” you chirped up. 

Once you finished with lugging around dead bodies, you went to your car to grab a gas can from the back, but Dean followed you. You unlocked your car and grabbed the can, as Dean stood just inches from you.

“Something you want, hot stuff?” you flirted as you turned to face him.

Dean was taken aback by your comment. No one had been this up front about flirting with him before, but if he was being honest, it was a nice change. “You want to get dinner after this? Not a lot of time to talk after we burn them, so figured we should talk now.”

“Depends,” you said, setting the gas can down onto the ground. “Is it a date?”

“Do you want it to be a date?” Even though it was dark out, you could still see the smirk spread across his face.

“No,” you replied, then picked up the gas can. “Where are we meeting?”

“Diner about 4 miles from here on the main road?” he questioned.

“Alright, I will see you both there,” you wiggled your eyebrows at him, then walked back to the house. Once you were in the living room, you poured gasoline over the mass grave of vampires. When you were satisfied, you lit the match and threw it onto the pile. The three of you walked out of the burning house and headed towards your car. Both cars peeled out of the mile long driveway, and made your way towards the diner.

After you arrived, you parked your car and wiped the dried blood off your face with some baby wipes. Sam knocked at your car window and you flicked him off, then rolled it down.

“You know, Sam, some of us actually did work tonight and can’t go into a public place with blood all over,” you scolded and he held his arms up in surrender. You heard Dean laugh from the drivers side of the car. 

“We’ll meet you in,” he replied, then walked away. You finished cleaning yourself off and threw on a leather jacket over your flannel, hiding your blood stained shirt. You reached into the backseat and pulled out a pair of white converse you replace your brown utility boots. You looked into the rearview mirror and noticed something was missing. You decided to pop on a layer of mascara when something caught your eye. 

There was a squad car parked on the street, with its lights flashing. You observed closely and saw that a police officer was walking both Sam and Dean out in handcuffs, then stuffed them in the back of the car. 

“Those suckers,” you laughed to yourself. You knew they were probably caught for the fire, but you still wanted to get to know them. You decided you would let them sit for the night, then pick them up in the morning. 

[roxyspearing]

A Bad Call

Written for @spngenrebingo...this is angsty AF so be prepared!

Word count: 1,277

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam, reader’s family (mentioned), something that goes bump in the night. (no pairing)

Warnings: ANGST, major character death, big old plot twist, betrayal and deceit, descriptions of major injuries

Square filled: Wrong Number

Stomping downstairs, you tried to decide which of your favourite curse words you were going to use on whoever this person ringing you non-stop for the last ten minutes was. Just as you got to the hallway, the phone cut off once more. Glaring at it, you stood and waited, minutes ticking past, but the phone stayed blessedly silent. With a sigh of relief, you turn to head back upstairs to your lovely warm bed, and have one hand on the bannister when -

*ring ring......ring ring* With an almost inhuman growl, you grab the receiver.

“Who the HELL is this and what exactly is the life or death situation that has you ringing me incessantly AT 2AM IN THE MORNING! And it better be a life or death situation or I’m gonna make it into a death situation. YOURS!!” Your scream peters off, and you’re met with silence. “Well?! Speak UP, dammit!!”

“Um...I’m so sorry. I must have the wrong number. I was trying to call my brother, Sam?”

“I am definitely not Sam.” You say between gritted teeth.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry. This handwriting got all smudged, I’ve been out in this rain for the last hour...”

“Well, boohoo- hello?” Your eyes widen at the sounds of groaning and crashing that comes over the line. “Hello? Sam’s brother? Are you OK?” Oh shit. Is this man actually in a life or death situation?

“Shit. OK. This is gonna sound insane. But I need you to get to this address, right now.”

“Excus-” Almost dropping the phone at the yell, you grab the pen and paper next to your phone and write down the address.”

“What do I do when I get there?” You ask.

“Tell you when you get here...gotta go!” The disconnect tone clicks in, and you slowly hang the phone up. This has got to be a dream, surel- you yelp as you pinch yourself. OK, definitely awake. Looking at the address, you frown at how familiar it looks...

The cemetery. The goddamn cemetery. You drive past it to and from work every day. No wonder that address looked so familiar. Pulling in through the gates, which you could’ve sworn are usually locked at this stupid o’clock time of the morning, you wonder where to start looking for this mystery man. Cutting your engine off, you’re reaching for your jacket when you hear it. Stepping out into the cool night air, you wait for the sound to come again. Very faintly, you can make out the same crashing sound from earlier. Following it, you find yourself outside one of the mausoleums, only the door has been smashed in. With a shaky hand, you push the splintered remains open, and take a step inside. The air is dusty, more so thanks to the broken open tomb in front of you, a pickaxe, a poker and some cannisters lying on the floor next to it. But your gaze is fixed on the wall opposite you, which a man has just been thrown against by a shadowy figure.. which just disappeared?!

“HEY!” You yell, running over to the guy trying to catch his breath back. “What... what the hell was that? Where’d that guy go? And why the hell are we in a damn mausoleum??”

“I’ll explain everything.” Mystery man says, his green eyes meeting your disbelieving gaze. “But first, I need you to get that poker, and watch my back. Gotta burn that bastard before anyone else gets hurt.”

“WHAT?!” Following mystery man, you take the poker being offered to you. “Wait! Give me one good reason why I don’t hit you with this and go get the police?”

“Because if you do that, more people are going to die. This spirit is vicious.”

“SPIRIT!?”

“Yes. Spirit. Now shut up and keep watch.” Mystery man turns away from you, and you watch incredulously as he picks up the cannisters, and pours gasoline and what looks like salt into the open tomb.

“Jeez. Mausoleums are cold.”

“That’s not the mausoleum. Shit where’s my lighter?” Mystery man starts patting himself, and you gasp as that earlier shadowy figure appears right behind him.

“Watch out!!” Instinct has you swinging the poker in your hands, but you almost drop it as it goes through the shadow figure like he was air. “I...WHA???”

“Got it” The yell comes from the other side of the mausoleum, where mystery man ran to at your earlier yell. Glancing over, you see him fiddling with a shiny object. A shiver runs through you, and you turn back to find that figure stood right next to you.

“ARGH!!” The poker drops from your hands as the figure grabs you by the throat. You claw at his grasp, but to no avail. You’re almost unconscious when a strange warmth meets your body. As you get much needed air into your lungs, you watch in shock as the figure burst into flames, before fizzling out of sight for good.

“Shit. You OK? Here, sip this.”

“I - Start explaining.”

Monsters are real. Holy shit. Once Dean, as you found out mystery man was called, had explained, your first question was to ask if he was crazy. When he assured you he wasn’t your next question had been for booze. A lot of booze. Leaving you inside the mausoleum, Dean had gone and grabbed a bottle of whisky from his car.

“So, I owe you a massive thank you.” Dean says, taking a sip from the bottle and handing it to you. “There’s not many people who would’ve done what you did tonight. I just don’t understand how I got the wrong number.” He continues, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket.

“Let me see that.” Taking the paper, you glance at him. “What number is that?”

“A seven.”

“That’s a four.”

“Dammit. Excuse me a second. Taking another sip, you watch as Dean talks to who you assume is Sam. “Well, he’s on his way over. We weren’t sure which cemetery was right so we split up. You might waiting til he gets here, then we’ll drop you home.

“Sure. So, what other monsters are real?”

About half an hour passes, and then you hear it.

“Dean?” You keep silent, and watch as Sam walks in and around the tomb. “De- DEAN!” Sam drops to his knees besides the bloody and broken body of his brother, his green eyes now blank and unseeing.

“Sorry. I had hoped to kill you both together, but Deanie boy worked it out.” You chuckle as Sam turns around, but before he can reach for his gun you wave your hand, pinning him in place against the tomb.

“Who the hell are you?” Sam grunts.

“You know, it is so offensive that neither of you recognised me. Bet you wouldn’t even recognise my family if I told them their names.”

“Your family?”

“Well, you would refer to them as a coven. Let me clear the cobwebs for you. Boston, couple of years back? All we were doing is killing the odd douche bag jerk, making the world a better place, and you and your brother came and I’murdered my entire family! You’d have killed me if I hadn’t been in the hospital. Who’d have guessed that burst appendix would be my life saver?”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh I know. But the problem is, I want to do this. I’ve waited, and I’ve schemed long enough. I was the one who made that spirit, and I was the one who made that sudden thunderstorm come along. And now I’m the one who killed the Winchesters. Say night-night Sam.”

Forever and evers:

@like-a-bag-of-potatoes  @thing-you-do-with-that-thing  @jayankles  @grace-for-sale  @atc74  @mrsbatesmotel53  @gryffindorofcabin21  @dolphinpink310  @goldenolaf25  @kdfrqqg  @ellen-reincarnated1967  @fictionalabyss  @heyitscam99  @just-another-busyfangirl  @amanda-teaches  @tn-grayson  @girl-next-door-writes  @feelmyroarrrr  @blacktithe7  @masksandtruths  @maui137  @holyfuckloueh  @tina8009  @polina-93  @emoryhemsworth  @whimsicalrobots  @x-waywardaf-x  @be-amaziing  @horsegirly99  @bitterstar88  @hunterswearingplaid  @deangirl7695  @thisismysecrethappyplace  @calaofnoldor  @randomparanoid  @flamencodiva  @beththedemonhunter

[squirrelnotsam]

Ghost Rider

Ship: Reader X OMC; Reader X Dean?

Characters: Reader, William (OMC), Dean, Baby

Warnings: I don’t know TV show violence, cheating, let me know if I forget something

Summary: Your boyfriend, trying to get into your pants, buys you a ‘67 Chevy Impala. Little did he know the past owner; Dean Winchester’s soul is attached to it.

Word Count: Approximately 3,290

Created for @sdavid09 #Tale Teller’s Plot Bunny Challenge 2019

A/N: I have this recurring dream of Dean’s ghost leaning against Baby just waiting for me. When I read the plot bunny, I just had to use it. As I was writing this piece, I realized all the different possibilities the story could have gone in. I am not happy with the ending it’s not the one I envisioned for this piece. I am making do due to time constraints. I would appreciate any kind of feedback both positive and negative.

Image lifted from Super-Wiki

𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲

Chuck Shurley once said, “This 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car…no, the most important object in pretty much the whole universe.” That is why it is such a shame to find it on a used car lot in Phoenix, Arizona.  William crawled around under the Impala, checking hoses and clamps. He opened the hood and checked the fluids. The engine compartment appeared clean. “How many owners did it have?”

“Two has far as we can tell,” the salesman replied, “originally from Kansas.” He shoved his hands into his plaid trousers and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“It looks clean, but the mileage is high. How much were you asking for this again?”

“Fifteen thousand. It’s a classic. Don’t find to many like this anymore.”

William ran his hand over his buzz cut hair. “I don’t know man. It’s more than what I wanted to spend on the little lady. Would you take ten for it?”

“Let me run it by my manager and see what he thinks,” the salesman ran into the trailer that was being used as an office leaving William out by the car.

He hoped she would put out after all the money he was spending on her. So far, she was nothing but a wet blanket. He wined and dined her. Bought her clothes and jewelry but still she kept blocking his advances.

Buzz, Buzz the sound pulled him from his thoughts. Buzz, buzz he pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at it. Abitch displayed on the screen. If it wasn’t the little lady. The salesman came out of the office waving him over just as he was going to accept the call. Instead he swiped decline sending her to voicemail. William slipped the phone back into his pocket and ran up to the salesman.

“I can go as low as thirteen. Just need you to fill out some paperwork and we will get you on your way and to show there’s no hard feelings I’m throwing in a few coupons for a free steak dinner.” William shook his hand and followed him into the trailer.

They sat down at a small table with a laptop on it. “Just need a copy of your driver’s license.” William pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. Opened it and slid his driver’s license over to the salesman. The lights started flickering, “that’s been happening a lot lately,” the salesman smirked, “hope the power doesn’t go out before we finish the paperwork.”

𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲

Y/N heard a rumble coming down the road. When it stopped in front of her house, she looked out the window and saw a gorgeous black car. She let out a groan when William stepped out of the vehicle. He was starting to get on her nerves. She had tried calling him earlier to cancel their date tonight, but he never returned her call. After the crappy day she had she didn’t want to put up with his unwanted advances. She was seriously considering breaking up with him, but her parents had their entire retirement riding on the business deal with his parents. If she broke up with him now the deal falls through and their retirement is gone.

The doorbell chimed as she was trudging down the stairs. She plastered on a fake smile before opening the door. “William, so nice to see you.”

He looked her up and down, then frowned. “You’re not ready.”

“You didn’t return my call earlier today. I’m really not feeling that well.”

“I got stuck in a meeting. We can always stay in tonight. Cuddle up with some movies.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the suggestion.

She looked around him to the driveway. “Did you get a new car?” Her eyes going wide.

“You want to go for a ride?”

“Give me a minute,” she said aloud. What are you doing Y/N thought to herself? You were just trying to cancel a date with the sleaze ball and now you’re going for a ride with him. Remember your parents. “It’s all about the parents.”

“What was that?”

Oops that wasn’t supposed to be said aloud. She was having problems keeping thoughts in her head tonight. “How are your parents?” She quickly covered as she finished slipping her shoes on and grabbed her wallet and keys.

“They’re doing good. There is some charity event coming up. They would like us to attend,” he replied.

She rolled her eyes as she locked the door. Y/N turned around and walked over to the car. She ran her finger across the hood and along the side following the contour of the automobile. “Hello, baby.”

William looked at her from across the top of the car. “Did you just call her baby?”

“Yeah, that’s her name.” She shrugged

“You name your cars?” He gave an incredulous expression. Y/N open the passenger side door and sat down on the bench seat. She rubbed her hand across the worn leather and caressed the dash.

“Doesn’t everyone? Who wouldn’t name their trusty steed?”

“You know it’s a car not living thing?” He scoffed. Starting the car up the engine roared to life. The vibration of the engine sending waves of pleasure through Y/N’s bones.

Y/N reached over and turned on the radio AC/DC’s Back In Black playing through the speakers. She starts headbanging to the beat of the song fingers tapping out the rhythm as she sings along. “You like this crap?” He questions as he changes the station.

“Let me guess you like Jazz music?” She looks over at him. His eyes stay on the road.

“Actually, I prefer Hip Hop.” The radio starts changing again and stops on Highway to Hell.

“Y/N would you please stop that,” he said irritated.

“That wasn’t me.”

“My hands are on the steering wheel and the only person in the car is you.” Y/N shivered. She turned on the heater. “What did you do that for?”

“It’s cold in here,” She said rubbing her arms.

The lights started flickering on and off in the car. “What the hell? I can’t believe that sleaze ball would sell me this piece of crap.” The car stalled in the middle of the road. William started banging on the steering wheel. Y/N opened the door. “Where are you going?” He growled.

She got out of the car and opened the hood. She started wiggling the wires around on the battery terminal. It all looked good. “You know I checked all of that before I bought the dumb thing,” he said. “There was a store a couple of miles back. I’m going to see if I can get some help.”

“Yeah you do that,” Y/N mumbled. Something was off and she was bound and determined to figure it out. “I haven’t spent most of my life learning about cars just to be stuck on the side of the road.” She opened the trunk up to see if there were any tools she could use.

She wasn’t expecting to find anything useful and was shocked to find a false bottom. When she lifted it up it was full of weapons. She began to wonder about William and if he was really a mass murderer. She was so lost in thought she never heard the footsteps coming up behind her.

“Where’s Winchester?” A voice snarled. Y/N turned around at the voice. A willowy man approached her.

“Who?” She questioned. Everything within her was telling her to run away.

“Dean Winchester, that’s his car.” He kept approaching her.

She looked confused. “Who is Dean Winchester?” She gulped as he stopped inches from her.

“Oh, this is sweet.” He ran his finger down her cheek. “You’re driving his car and you don’t know who he is?” He sneered at her. His gaze vacant and dead. Her eyes darted around looking for a way out of the situation. The air around her cooled. “Don’t even think about running, hun.” There’s nowhere to go and there are more creatures like me out in the woods.”

“Cr-crea-creatures like you?”

“I was just going to end this quickly, but perhaps I’ll keep you around. You’re fun to play with.” This time when he smiled, she could see his fangs. The vampire went flying against a nearby tree as Y/N’s body shuddered.

She doesn’t know how it happened, she couldn’t control her body. It was moving on its own. She grabbed a machete out of the trunk then stomped over to the vampire slicing his head off. She poured gasoline on his body and lit a match. “Adios bitch,” her voice was deep and gravely.

She put everything back in the trunk of the Impala got in the driver's seat and drove off into the night. She drove for sixteen hours straight and didn’t stop until she got to Lebanon, KS. She pulled up to a large building, its entrance was rather small and nondescript. It was located near the road but was almost below ground level. She opened the door and entered the room standing on a balcony.

Y/N was blown away by what she saw. There was a room filled with old electronic equipment. A table with the map of the world on it that glowed. The room adjacent to all the computer equipment contained a library and was decorated in lavish style. The walls were covered with bookcases and filing cabinets. At the end was a very large telescope. The central area featured a long wooden table and much of the furniture and decor were from decades past. She sat down in a comfortable looking chair and fell asleep.

“What happened?” Y/N groaned as she woke up. “And where the hell am I?” She looked around at her surroundings. The lights flickered and the air in the room chilled.

“Sorry about that,” a gravelly voice said. She looked to the source of the sound and saw a tall bow-legged man materialize out of thin air.

“What the…,” she said as her eyes grew wide. “Please don’t hurt me!” She yelled.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said raising his hands up in a placating gesture.

“You’re...you’re...you’re a gho...ghost,” she stuttered.

“Yeah, I wish you didn’t have to find out like this.” His face looked sad. “But all the things that go bump in the night. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, they’re all real.”

“Werewolves? Is that what...”

“No that was a vampire. My name’s Dean by the way.” He placed his hands in his pockets.

“Hi, Dean, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” She stuck her hand out to shake his hand. He grinned and shook his head to indicate no.

“I’ve used too much energy as it is now. If I tried to shake your hand I would just phase through.”

“Oh,” she replied. “No offense but where am I?” She glanced around the room.

Dean got a gleam in his eye. “I like to call it the Batcave, but really it’s a Men of Letters bunker. The safest place in the world.”

“The men of who?”

“Men of letters. It’s Illuminati for the supernatural. I want to show you something.” Dean flickered.

Y/N stood up and followed him down a hallway he stopped in front of a door with an Aquarian star with the number 11 in the middle of it. “It should be in here,” he said. Dean phased through the door. She turned the doorknob and entered the room.

There was a bed along with a desk and reading light, against it was a photograph of a blonde-haired woman. The room was decorated with guns and weapons. On the back wall hung an axe like weapon with a bone handle fastened to a long obsidian blade with a piece of leather. “Wow,” she said.

“In the desk drawer is my journal.” She could now see through Dean. He was fading fast. “It should answer…” He was gone.

“What have I gotten myself into?” she mumbled aloud. She went over to the desk and opened the drawer. Inside she found a leather-bound journal. Sitting on the bed she flipped through the pages she realized it was all about different types of monsters and how to kill them. Before Y/N realized it, she was fast asleep on the memory foam mattress.

The sound of the Imperial March from Star Wars woke her up. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes with the palm of her hands and pulled her cell phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. She missed a call from William and just like always he didn’t bother to leave her a message. Y/N rummaged around in the dresser and found a pair of sweats and an AC/DC tee-shirt that she changed into.

Feeling a little more presentable she found her way to the kitchen and surprisingly it was stalked with canned and dry goods. She placed some coffee grounds into the coffee maker added some water and flipped the switch to on. Coldness wrapped around her.

“You look good in my clothes.” The whisper in her ear sent a shiver down her spine. She closed her eyes wishing she could see the handsome ghost with the pretty green eyes again. “Did you read the journal?” She heard.

Y/N turned around and slowly opened her eyes. Dean stood in front of her she noticed the freckles on his face. “I did,” she replied.

“So, you sacrifice yourself to save the world, thank you by the way. What happened to your brother?”

“Sam? I’m not sure. Thought he would be here.” The Imperial March started playing again. Y/N rolled her eyes and declined the call. “Shouldn’t you answer that?”

“He can’t bother to answer my calls I’m not going to answer his.”

“Won’t he worry about you?” Dean asked concerned.

“I figure it’s been roughly three days since the night with the vampire.”

“About that yeah,” Dean agreed.

“And he is just now calling me after leaving me stranded on the side of the road. What the hell kind of douche is that?”

“You can do so much better than him.” Dean smirked.

“Tell that to my parents. They’re the reason I’m with him to begin with. Some sort of business arrangement with his parents.”

“We should get you back to Phoenix, sweetheart. To your family and friends.” He pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. She sighed at the gesture. We can stop at a diner in town for some food.” He tossed her the keys to the car. “You can drive. Don’t scratch my baby.”

“So, I was right, about her name.”

𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲

It was late as Y/N passed the welcome to Phoenix sign. The windows were rolled down and the radio turned up loud. Dean kept her company on the trip sharing stories and singing aloud to classic music on the radio. She turned down the radio as she turned down the residential street and pulled up to William’s house. She turned off the car and faced Dean. “It was a pleasure meeting you Dean. Will we see each other again?”

“I’m attached to the car. I have to go where the car goes?”

“And the car belongs to William,” she sighed. Dean leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. She could feel the coldness of him along with something tingly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s okay Dean. I wanted it also. I really should go and return the keys to him.”

Y/N walked up to the door. Her mouth went dry, so she licked her lips and swallowed down a gulp of air. She knocked on the door.

“Y/N/N, sweetheart,” she could hear Dean’s voice in her ear, “you should really just take the car and leave.”

“What’s going on Dean?”

“Trust me, the guy's a douche.” She rang the doorbell then knocked on the door as loud as she could.

“William!” She frantically kept pounding on the door. “Answer the door!” She rang the doorbell a few more times for good measure.

“Who’s trying to break down the door?” She heard a female voice say.

“William are you in there?” Y/N said. She heard a click as a lock was undone and a tall, thin woman with blonde hair appeared as the door cracked open.

“What do you want?” She was wearing a button-down shirt that barely covered her ass. Her legs were bare and no underwear on. Y/N took in her appearance and the disheveled look of her hair.

“I want to talk to my boyfriend,” Y/N said pushing the door open and walking into the house. “Where is the bastard?” She walked past the woman to the master bedroom. “What the hell she yelled?”

“Y/N what are you doing here?” William looked at you, confusion on his face. “Thank goodness you’re okay. I’ve been worried about you.”

“I can see that,” Y/N said. “How long have you been fucking her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking.”

“The blonde slut that answered the door.”

“Oh, that,” William replied.

“I’m not a slut,” the other woman said.

“Can it!” Y/N glared at her. “You might as well go home nothing here for you anymore.”

“This is my home,” she mumbled.

“What did you say? Oh, that is just...Ugh! I just can’t right now.” The lights flickered. A small smile spread across Y/N face as she thought about Dean. “You know what you can keep the no-good low life son of a bitch. Slick Willie just answer this one question, did you even bother to go back for me, or did you leave me for dead?”

“I had to get it from somewhere. You weren’t putting out frozen queen that you are.” Willie snarled.

“I only came by to return your car, but I think I’ve changed my mind.” She twirled the keys around her finger listening to them jingle.

“You go ahead and keep that piece of shit.” The lights flickered again. This time she could smell leather, gunpowder, and mint in the room.

“I know Dean. You know you really shouldn’t talk about Baby like that,” Y/N said.

“Who the hell is Dean? There is no one else here except for us three.” Y/N glanced at the blonde and shrugged.

“He’s the former owner of the car that’s going to haunt your ass if you don’t behave.”

Willie rolled his eyes and scoffed. “You know there is no such things as ghosts, right? You have definitely lost your damn mind.”

“Boo!” Dean said as he flickered next to Willie. Willie jumped and the blonde’s eyes got wide with fright and she ran out of the room crying.

“I don’t even want to know how you pulled that trick but keep the car. You’ll be crawling back before too long.” Y/N turned and left the room.

She saw the blonde in the living room sitting on the couch. “Sorry I scared you. Won’t happen again,” Y/N said as she walked out the door slamming it shut behind her. She got into the Impala and drove away into the night blaring AC/DC’s Shoot To Thrill.

𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲 𝒲

 Pond Tags:  @chelsea-winchester @bennyyh @fandommaniacx  @supernatural-jackles @winchester-writes  @deanwinchesterxreader @evilskank-inthemegacoven   @emoryhemsworth  @manawhaat @quiddy-writes  @memariana91 @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @plaidstiel-wormstache @there-must-be-a-lock  @frenchybell  @notnaturalanahi @thing-you-do-with-that-thing  @roxy-davenport  @impala-dreamer @waywardjoy @maraisabellegrey @wevegotworktodo  @nichelle-my-belle @wi-deangirl77 @samsgoddess @mrswhozeewhatsis  @deandoesthingstome @deansleather @kayteonline   

[wintersxsoul]

Fire Meets Gasoline (3)

Summary: You leave your city to start over in your best friend’s town, oblivious to the fact that you have an unexpected roommate. What will happen when fire meets gasoline?

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1513

Warnings: idk

A/N: This will help the plot hopefully. Don’t murder me for being a chaotic writer.

Part 1 - Part 2 / Series Masterlist

“Welcome to the Blood Moon, what would you like to drink tonight, asshole?” You spat at Loki, who was sitting down next to Valerie at the barstool. He smirked at you and you smiled back, faking it of course, since your boss was staring at you, as always. Jerk.

“What would the kind lady recommend?” He said ironically, Valerie was frowning, confused looking at you and Loki, back and forth.

“Y/n, I should really go, I have an early meeting at work.” You looked at her, disappointed at yourself for making her waste her time listening to your banter with your annoying roommate.

“Sure, would you like to grab a coffee soon, though?” You asked her, hoping she would agree and give you her number. She shot you a bright sincere smile and nodded, taking out from her bag a pen and taking your hand, writing at your palm her phone number.

“Call me or text me, okay?” You nodded and leaned in, giving her a kiss on her cheek. Valerie said goodbye to Loki and left, leaving you a bittersweet feeling about the encounter. You watched her leave, waiting for her to turn around or something, but that never happened. You were staring at the door when someone cleared their throat quite loudly. You sighed and rolled your eyes, looking back at Loki, who was now staring at you with a surprised expression. You frowned and asked him what was his problem, to which he answered that he would get cavities after seeing your little show.

You took your phone and wrote down Val’s number and texted her so she could save your number as well. Once you were done, you decided you could face the annoying asshole in front of you. The annoying hot asshole.

“I recommend you to have a glass of bleach, but since I wanna drink too, I will just mix some stuff. Is it okay?” He opened his mouth to answer but you cut him off. “I actually don’t care, I’ll do it anyways. Be right back.” You smiled at him sardonically and turned around to pour the drinks.

You handed him his shot, raising your own and downing it at once. You shivered as the cold fluid burned your throat, an amused Loki staring at you, his drink still untouched.

“Too much for you, or what?” You teased him, knowing for sure he would take that as a challenge. He rolled his beautiful green eyes and downed his shot, his face scrunched due to the strong liquor.

“Another.” You said while you turned around to refill the shots, not waiting for an answer.

After a few hours and almost a full bottle of vodka, you found yourself ordering french fries with mayonnaise. You sat on the curb on the sidewalk, in the parking lot where Loki had his motorcycle parked. He sat next to you and ate one of your fries, you glared at him but offered him more.

“So, Loki, why do you hate me so much, uh?” Your stupid inebriated brain asked, but you kept staring at your fries. He didn’t answer immediately so you looked at him, finding him staring at you in awe.

“I tried so hard to make you like me. I even cooked for you for a full week, and I hate fucking cooking. And you are just an asshole all the time. Do you want me to leave?” Loki was speechless, the guilt he felt that same day growing back on his chest. He was about to answer, when the words you spoke about him came back to his mind.

“Do you even care about what I think? It’s not like someone asked me if I was okay with a total stranger living in my apartment.”

“Well, sorry for messing your important and private life. Thor never told me about you being back.” You stood up and lit a cigarette, the toxic smoke relaxing your senses. So he finally told you why he hated you. Now you knew what he really thought about you, and if you were being honest, it was better than being ignored. What a pity he said it when you already were settled and had nowhere else to go.

Loki shrugged his shoulders and looked at the night sky, wondering if that really was the motive of his hatred towards you.

“Whatever, Y/n. I won’t kick you out if that’s what worries you.” He sounded...sad? Or was it the alcohol, playing tricks with your own mind? You wanted to go home, you wanted to forget everything for a night. You crossed your arms while smoking, thinking about what Loki said. He was right, he had all the right to be pissed because someone intruded, but it was not your fault, you didn’t know about his existence until you saw him at the apartment, and you really thought Thor talked to him about it, but he never did apparently. You turned around to face Loki, who was staring at the pavement intensely. He looked so beautiful under the pale moonlight and the street lights, his hair covering his face as he stared down and you suddenly felt the urge to ran your fingers through his raven locks. What the hell was going on in your mind? You threw your finished cigarette and started walking away.

“Hey, hey. Where are you going?” Loki stood up and grabbed your wrist, stopping you. You shook your arm trying to get rid of his grip and he let go of you.

“I’m going home, where I can’t bother you.” You turned around again and started walking, but he stopped you again. You sighed, slightly pissed.

“Let me give you a ride. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He said way too fast, not even thinking about what he was saying. You opened your mouth but he spoke faster than you. “Thor would murder me if something happened to you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, I can take care of myself.” You huffed, tired of men thinking they were actually important and relevant in a woman’s life.

“I know you don’t need me, but please, let me take you home.” He said, sincerely. So Thor really did scold him.

“Okay, fine. Are you drunk, though?” He shook his head and pointed to his bike with his head. He walked to the vehicle and you followed him, unsure about all this situation. Loki opened the seat and pulled out his leather jacket, handing it to you, since you just brought your sweatshirt. He got on the bike and waited for you to get up to start the engine, leaving the parking lot behind.

You snuggled into the jacket and used the opportunity to smell Loki’s scent, which was a mix of cinnamon and lavender. He accelerated, so you grabbed his waist and pressed your body against his back. You’ve always been scared of bikes, and you just realized you were in one, with someone you didn’t trust the slightest. Loki felt your tight grip around his body, so he slowed down, feeling you relax against his body again, but never letting go.

Your not so drunk self decided it was a good idea to explore his chest with your palms, going up and down, a small smile forming on your lips, knowing what that did to a man’s body. You rested your hands on his lower belly, your pinkies almost touching his bulge. Loki’s body stiffened at your contact, but he soon reacted and took your hand in his, placing it right above his crotch.

You moved your hands again and placed them on his back, under his clothes, his cold skin reacting to your hot one. Goosebumps erupted on his skin, and he knew right away this night was going to be a huge mistake.

“You still want to drink?” Loki asked, already in your room. You arrived to your apartment and decided to keep drinking, so you invited him to continue the little party. You shook your head and sat, Loki looking at you in awe, laying across the bed beside you. In a shift move, you were straddling him, your fingers gracefully tracing patterns on his chest, until you reached his waistband.

You groaned in pain when the sunlight hit your face, the strong headache numbing your thoughts. You moved and stretched your arm, making you panic when it touched something more than just pillows. You shot your eyes open and looked over your shoulder, your blood running cold when you realized who was beside you, sleeping soundly.

Fuck. You stood up and ran to the bathroom, emptying the nonexistent contents of your stomach. You slept with Loki. This was not happening. You had just one rule, no sleeping with someone who didn’t mean anything to you and you just fucked that up because of one stupid night. Loki didn’t mean nothing to you, he was just your roommate, not even your fucking friend. What have you done? Why the fuck were you overreacting?

Tag list is OPEN

@trashpandabarnes /  @sideeffectsofyou /  @madamefresa / @lilypalmer1987 /  @gravedollie666 /  @sarahivi /  @gummiwormsandonedirection / @deamstellarus /  @zeilenkrieg /  @lokixme /  @unicorn-princess-1999 / @look-to-the-stars-and-wish / @speaknowsparkly / @thatchick147 / @idenythis / @hiddlestoner3059 / @deannaraquel/ @fire-in-her-veinz / @youveseen--thebutcher / @tribbles-have-feelings-too / @godhateskyleigh / @calliope-musings / 

[thelioncourts]

KIRSTEN!!!!!!! Do you have any Captive Prince fic recs?

oh, i very much do. i’ve been slowly but surely making my through the wonderfulness the capri fandom has offered thus far, and here are some of my favorites:

No Rush by blacktofade

Laurent is eleven when he’s introduced by his brother to Prince Damianos.

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 13625; Warning(s): None

The Consummation by Josselin

“The king’s marriage has not been consummated,” said Herode.

“It has!” Damen said.

“So the king would be within his rights to put aside his spouse from the first marriage and to take a second.” Herode spoke calmly, as though his words weren’t directed at the spouse from the first marriage.

Damen stood, and leaned forward, resting his fists upon the council table. He opened his mouth.

Said Herode, “To be recognized by the council, and to bestow legitimacy to its issue, the king’s marriage must be consummated in front of witnesses.”

“Damianos,” Laurent said, quietly, a third time.

Damen still did not listen. “Then I will consummate it, and you will witness, and there will be no further discussion,” he said.

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 4091; Warning(s): None

In a New Rhythm by talithan

Laurent and Damen decide to have sex. And decide, and decide, and decide.

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 10683; Warning(s): None 

run all the lights by Fahye 

He’s a slim, too-pretty boy of twenty, and the men of this particular underworld talk about him as though he’s an open flame, a sparking engine near a pool of gasoline: volatile, and not to be handled. Kid’s got balls of sheer fucking steel, Damen’s contact said.

Which must be true, because having just lost a race against Damen for pink slips, Laurent looks him straight in the eye and says, “Double or nothing?” in a voice like vodka poured straight from the freezer.

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 8587; Warning(s): None

Size King by magisterpavus

Halvik slapped his knee. “Good! Lucky for you, men are not rare. Easy to replicate.”

Laurent’s eyes narrowed. “If you are suggesting that I fuck another man –”

She waved a hand. “No, no man needed. Just the cock.” Halvik grinned. “You have them here, no? Wood, stone, glass – fake cocks. Until your Akielon king returns.”

Laurent opened his mouth, then closed it, his mind suddenly filled with very, very explicit visuals. “Glass? Is that…safe?”

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 9982; Warning(s): None

you’re always waking in the night by ThankYouMerlin

“I missed you,” Damen admitted, overwhelmed by the feeling. He pressed his lips to Laurent’s hip, the jut of it sharp and strong beneath his lips. Again, in Veretian, “I missed you.”

“Your accent is stronger,” Laurent said, tilting his head to the side as he studied Damen. “Your time in Ios was successful, I trust?”

“We can talk of Ios in the morning,” Damen told him as he kissed his way slowly up Laurent’s chest and up to his neck, lower lip dragging gently along the edge of his jaw until they were breathing the same air.

----

five times they were, at some point throughout the night, alone in bed, and then one time they were in bed together the whole time

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 17502; Warning(s): Somnophilia

A Point to Happiness by idratherhaveyou

Damen texts the wrong number. They end up talking. Then they flirt. Then they fall in love.

Rating: Teen; Word Count: 68432; Warning(s): None

Courts, Crowns, and A Little Game of Chess by waywardwriter 

In an attempt to diffuse the rising tensions between Akielos and Vere, Prince Auguste invites a group of Akielon ambassadors to the Veretian court. He expects many things to come out of this visit: trade agreements, festivities and celebrations, and perhaps the emergence of better diplomatic relations between the two nations. What he did not expect, however, was for his younger brother to take an interest in the Crowned Prince of Akielos.

Rating: Teen; Word Count: 55116; Warning(s): None

Lovefool by Kittendiamore

It starts, embarrassingly enough, with an ad from Craigslist:

"I’m a 21 y.o art student (male), writing a thesis on the relationship between performance and the awareness of the audience. You don’t care about that. I’m an actor offering to give you the most dramatic night of your life. I’ll be your date to any event/function/family gathering, and convince your friends/family members that I’m either: the biggest mistake of your life or the best thing that ever happened to you. Up to you. I’m very good at what I do."

Rating: General; Word Count: 4909; Warning(s): None

Brute by exyking

“You know the rules?” Damen asks, careful to keep a patronising tone from his voice, though Laurent still rolls his eyes.

“When will you learn?”

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 9909; Warning(s): Rough Sex, Degrading Praise

there are so many others, but here’s a good start! there are a lot of much much much longer ones i haven’t gotten around to solely because i want to give them the attention they deserve, but when i get to those, i can rec some as well

[clatteriing]

The maids were ordered to descend to the garden, and give some water to the insects. At 1:25 pm on Tuesday, July 22, Kyoto time, we visited the grave of Lady Murasaki Shikibu: a large weed-covered mound of earth with a small stone marker at the head and a small stone altar at the base, one white teacup filled to the lip with water. A small tree was growing, its leaves reflected, without color, in the cup. I still my eyes. I see ants … We had three copies of The Tale of Genji in our house (growing up); I remember one hard cover edition in particular, with torn dust jacket … I can hear it now: bells hanging soundless at the limits of creation. Isn’t the creation a response to what is felt already to exist but as of yet without shape? Lady M died one thousand years ago, though no one knows for sure. Even her name is in dispute, so how can we trust the mound of earth? The mound of earth was growing grass and weeds with tiny, even unsightly, flowers. Maybe it was the influence of the mound of earth next to Lady M’s mound, smaller, more exposed, with fewer weeds and less grass, more dirt … it was the grave of someone who was related to a poet, not Lady M, who/where was the poet? Someone had visited the graves that morning: the white teacups were filled; someone had touched the blue hose. Gods of mercy, with curative powers, what if they, the gods, are obstructed by people; godly power is radiant, sensitive in a penetrating way, to atoms, cells, cell structures, the human body. Someone had watered the cups, the weeds were growing thick over Lady M’s feet, dust on the heads of the gods of mercy. The environment was termites and mold … the gods will know what it means to be sentient: to be forgettable, neglected, to molder on the altar … The stone structure on top of Lady M’s mound resembled a small hat, the pressure centered between the eyes, the sinuses; the voice swampy, pinched, elevated, filled with gas, the body revealing itself to be mysterious to itself as a structure within a structure (pond in a pond). In the sinuses flow one’s dreams as mucus, which, when inhaled, disperse into the mind as a light lifting off the frenetic behavior of the constituents who hold the world in transit. It took Lady M ten years to write The Tale of Genji. Black ink poured from my navel. Did you get your period? DD asked. She was worried. What is black that pours from the body? There was a pond. I don’t remember where it was or what it was doing. What does a pond do? … The light that reaches into the pond is from the universe; there are no ponds in a pond, unless the pond is space and there are holes … Appreciation and/or admiration: to enter into a third space which is a permanent reprieve made temporary: what are the looks? Being is not always looking up. The gradual blinding of looking up is familiar … But what was the pond? The sides of a pond have ears.   But in the same way the hysterics of hell can be heard just below the horizon, concealed within the lower registers of a photograph are the sounds of hell, the cacophony of the underworld. As if hell could no longer wait for its patrons to arrive, but sought to expand its dominion into the world, to select its sinners preemptively. Chaos prevailed, and the gates of hell not only widened, but became all-encompassing. A steamship comes to a stop in the middle of the ocean. The engines, that have been occupying, however faintly, the sleep of young women and children, die. (Emptiness is on the ceiling.) The water settles? The ship … No more white around the ship. Gasoline between continents … I hear the water on the shore: the tide is coming … And birds, positive engines. The ants on Kurosawa’s rose … the rose is young and the consequence of a strange effort at beauty. The ants are compelled: warriors on pilgrimage to the heart (head) of fertility—a break in the war, or the ravages … No one remembers the adults enough to make use of the trauma in poems or pictures; only children peregrinations and not melancholy but the homesickness of adventure. Homesickness feels home is at the end, melancholy is waiting for not knowing what—dull smoke grows into orange. Or: you have a parasite so must remain then you are homesick for what you do not know. Some children are your siblings you will never know again, something has broken something has been invaded. If you are sick you remain childless, I swallowed the ocean unless you renounce you are a child you can go anywhere but have not trespassed the emptiness so as an immigrant are already forgotten, no trauma’s traced to you. You can carry a parasite into a new country if you renounce the country where it entered your body   Or hold a jar of honey in front of your mouth. IMPLANTATION OF A LIQUID ELEMENT: The real diseases would arrive   The old diseases were prohibitive   The new diseases would be permissive, you have to forswear the old diseases and pledge allegiance to the new diseases. The bible is jingoism   A family lived beneath the floor: in darkness but where daylight penetrated the seams of the house. They never spoke. Thinking was their creation. They were perfecting the memories of experiences from former lives they wanted to make whole and perfect for the next. A lake set into the crater of a mountain, the crater with an island, the blue blood of a horseshoe crab, atmosphere doubled upon itself, a small mound of pink camellias on a rock beside the water, teeth marks in the petals, and when a wind rides up the mountain and down into the crater, sweeping pollen across the water, the air above the lake is charged with a clarity to highlight spinning before the dark green pines rising from the island, a pair of teeth, the suggestion of a mouth bearing the teeth, a face bearing the mouth, a head the face, a body the head, an individual stormed out of the void, the accumulated life of each thought, faces once known, spinning out of the debris, lives spent in the dark beneath the feet of giants thinking of images fashioning into the space shared among the people who will make use of them, children around a fire. Children are waving long glow sticks and throwing the plastic wrappers on the ground. It is the anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima. There is going to be a reenactment: at 9:30 (it should be 8:15), a fake bomb will be dropped. It is called a spectacle bomb. Everyone says it is going to be blinding; you can look, but everyone is cautioned not to. I separate from the crowd—there is an amusement park atmosphere—and stand on a hill to take notes. I discover strange sores and welts, abscessed, on my body, especially my arms, as though my body is reacting to the radiation, though the spectacle bomb is fake, and has not yet been dropped. I go back into the crowd to look for something to eat: soda, potato chips. Later, school buses bring people to the bomb reenactment site. It is 9:00. I hold my hand over the fish’s mouth—its eye grows larger. The fish breathes through its gills, my stomach knows … its condition as the grave— Rice paddies folded out from the center like petals from a single spike. The graveyard was the rice paddies folded in. Bleeding (flow) of characters moving (bleeding) down the mirrors and the wall try to speak (intone) the characters: arrested speech: You are exposed to a refrain of deep resentment. Sitting in front of a long rectangular mirror, I heard a woman’s voice talking (speaking) to someone who was not me and was not there (here). The moment I was drawn into the conversation, the woman’s voice disappeared. The mirror, an old, wise animal … 

from The Grave on the Wall by Brandon Shimoda

[bthenoise]

Celebrate 10 Years of ‘Constellations’ With August Burns Red’s 10 Favorite Moments From The Writing, Recording & Touring Process

When it comes to most album anniversary tours, some fans tend to think those 10, 15 or even 20-year treks are just for the longtime listeners and nostalgia chasers. Instead, many seem to forget about the bands actually playing those beloved records on a nightly basis. 

Take metalcore juggernauts August Burns Red, for example. Gearing up for their 10-year anniversary tour for 2009′s groundbreaking LP Constellations, the seasoned outfit has thoroughly enjoyed tour prep as they’ve run through songs like “The Escape Artist” and reminisced about some of their fondest decade-old memories.    

Be it playing tour games on the road, surviving terrifying snowstorms or the impact of playing “Indonesia” live for the first time in the Southeast Asian country, looking back on 10 years since Constellations was released, JB Brubaker, Brent Rambler, Matt Greiner, Dustin Davidson and Jake Luhrs have all accrued memories that will last a lifetime. 

Speaking with The Noise about some of those life-changing Constellations moments, Brubaker, Rambler, Greiner and Davidson compiled 10 of their all-time favorite memories from the writing, recording and touring process dating all the way back to 2007. To check out the list to get you even more pumped for August Burns Red’s upcoming tour, be sure to see below. Afterward, to grab tickets, head here.      

Lastly, if you’d like a chance to win free tickets – yes, FREE! – head here.

Brent Rambler

The Constellations recording process and touring cycle houses many fond memories for all of us. Here are three of my personal favorites that stick out. Let’s get cracking in chronological order!

“White Washed”

The lyrics for “White Washed” were some of the first more aggressive and “angry” lyrics that I had ever tried to write at the time. However, the words flowed like water because they were very in the moment. I started working on them immediately after a youth pastor surrounded me with a group of teenagers directly outside of our tour van. He proceeded to condemn [me] and the other members of the band simply for having a case of beer on our [tour] rider. He wanted to try and make an example of me in front of all the kids he brought with him. The whole thing was super inappropriate and out of line, BUT the lyrics for one of our most popular songs came out of it so it was worth it!

First Home

The recording process for Constellations was extra exciting for me because literally a week before we left I had an offer accepted for my first house. I remember being very proud because it was a big moment in proving to everyone that I could earn a living off of making music. For weeks while we recorded, I was heading to notaries and post offices to work on the closing process of the home, and since we were in Florida while making the album, I had to sign over power of attorney and do the sale over the phone. We returned home super late from Florida, but instead of crashing at my parents where all of my things were, I grabbed the keys and just sat in my new house.

Chicago House Of Blues

Constellations came out while we were on tour in the summer of 2009. The tour had some cool highlights, but I think the biggest one was selling out the Chicago House of Blues for the first time. At that moment it was our biggest headline show ever and packing such a notable venue felt amazing. Afterwards, we had a big celebration with the other bands backstage and it capped off a great night!

JB Brubaker

“Put Him Up!”

In December of 2009, we were on the road with Underoath and Emery. We became really good friends with the guys in Emery and would hang out with them every night after the shows. They had purchased their own passenger bus and gutted it and turned it into a tour bus. It was DIY but so cool. We’d hang out, drink beers, have dance parties and tell stories. Emery taught us one “game” that we still play on our tour bus today. Occasionally, when someone new would walk on the bus, Toby (Emery’s bassist/vocalist) would slowly start chanting “Put him up! Put him up!” The chant would catch on with other people on the bus until everyone was shouting it, at which point the newcomer would be picked up and crowd surfed to the ceiling of the bus. It was basically a “welcome to the party” greeting and always got a good laugh. We are happy to continue to carry the tradition on a decade later.

Touring Australia 

It was August of 2009. Constellations had recently come out and we were invited by Parkway Drive to support them on a tour across Australia. It was our first time in Australia and an honor to be supporting them. They were the hottest metal band on the continent and drawing huge crowds. After the monster travel day to Australia, we arrived to find a bunch of luggage didn’t make it. Qantas Airlines outfitted us with small care packages to keep us afloat until our baggage was recovered. Inside were heather gray sweat shorts and matching t-shirts. The first show was in Brisbane at an outdoor hillside [venue] called Riverstage. They were expecting 7,000 people which was more people than we had ever played for at that time. When we were setting up our equipment on stage before the show, I failed to take into account the voltage difference between Australia and the US. I plugged in my pedal board and heard a pop followed by the smell of burning electronics. I had fried my pedal board’s power supply, rendering my pedals useless. I had to borrow a pedal board from Architects, who were also playing on the tour. (I think we need to do this same tour lineup again!). When we took the stage that night I was a ball of nerves. I unfortunately played sloppy for the large Australian crowd, but I don’t know if anyone actually noticed or cared. We debuted our song “Meddler” for the first time that night. (I played that song particularly poorly.) The tour was overall a great experience. I have very fond memories of hanging out with the guys in Architects and playing massive shows in every city.

Touring South America

In August of 2010, we were doing a tour of South America. It was our first time traveling there. Our buddies in Blessthefall were coming with us and it was going to be awesome. The first show was in Sao Paulo, Brazil and over 1,000 people showed up. We were treated like celebrities and it was a completely surreal start to the tour. The final show of the tour was scheduled for August 28th in Caracas, Venezuela. About a week before the show, we learned of political unrest in Venezuela. The president there was known for being a hot head and pulling stunts like closing down the airports. It was determined to be unsafe for us to travel to Caracas because of the possibility of getting stuck there should the president lock down flights out of the country.  Instead, we booked a last minute show in Quito, Ecuador. With a week to get the word out, we weren’t expecting much. The show was held in a small youth center. There couldn’t have been more than 150 people there but it was such a special show for us. The appreciation and enthusiasm the crowd showed us was unmatched. We felt honored to have been received with such open arms and on such short notice. What felt like a disaster waiting to happen turned out to be one of the biggest highlights of our South American tour.

Dustin Davidson

The Day The Van Died

Thankfully I found a journal entry from Thursday, April 16th, 2009 so that I can write accurately with every detail about the day that our van died. We were pretty early into a tour with All That Remains and Born of Osiris when as you may have guessed -- our 16 passenger Chevrolet van (unnamed to my knowledge) took its last breath of air and sipped its last ounce of gasoline (which in those days contained 0% ethanol for you engine nerds). According to my journal, we woke up at a decent hour, grabbed continental breakfast from the hotel and headed out on the road for the next show. I was first up to drive on that day and while on the road about 60 miles away from our departure our sound engineer Jade asked me, “So how long do you think this van is going to last? Do you think it’ll make it through the rest of the tour?”

“Yeah, I think it’ll last for the rest of the tour - at least I hope so,” I replied. Just as I finished that thought our speed began to decrease rapidly while ascending a hill on the highway. I let off the gas and the engine shut off. As I was pulling over to the shoulder the temperature gauge shot up, the breaks were extremely hard to press because the brake booster went out and smoke poured out from under the hood when I was finally able to bring the vehicle to a stop. “Well, I think we need a new van,” I said.

I don’t remember how many miles that van had but it was surely over 200k so something like that was bound to happen at any time. Born of Osiris was able to pick us up so that we could make the next show which was in Syracuse, NY and after the gig our friend Ricky picked us up and drove us back to Lancaster so that we could van shop the next day and get back out on the road to meet up with the tour again.

The Storm That Left Us Stranded

In the winter of 2009, we did a short tour with Underoath and Emery. It was a very fun tour filled with hangs and packed shows. However, the drive home was something that I hope to never be a part of again. After the tour ended in New Orleans, JB and Brent flew home while the rest of us (Matt, Jake, TM Josh, merch guy Mychael and myself) opted to save some bones and drive the van/trailer home. We knew there was a huge rain storm coming but we had plenty of time to beat it home by getting on the road directly after that last show - or so we thought.

Sometime in the early hours of December 18th during our drive home, we blew a wheel bearing on the trailer and had to pull over to take a look at it. This was an ongoing problem for us back in the day. You see, this was a time before the Axe-Fx / Kemper. A dark time when we carried many guitar/bass cabinets. Our trailer was always filled to the brim. We were simply carrying too much weight and would blow out wheel bearings left and right no matter how we packed the trailer.

This blow out was one of the worst ones we ever had. Since it was still dark outside, whoever was driving the van couldn’t see the smoke so they ended up driving for a while after the bearing gave out which led to the bearing fusing to the spindle which meant that we couldn’t fix the problem ourselves. We had to wait for a small repair shop to open up so that we could have the bearing fixed and while waiting to have everything repaired the storm passed us. It was only rain at the time but we knew it would turn into a mild blizzard. We finally got on the road in the early afternoon but it was too late - the damage was done.

I don’t recall which highway we were on, but it indeed was shut down and we ended up spending the night in the van on the highway until we could get moving again early the next morning. Around 6am when traffic started moving again, we opted to drive to the next closest exit and get a hotel since the roads were still covered in snow. Our drive home was supposed to be about 18 hours without stops and it ended up taking us 3 days. It’s fun to reflect on it now and talk to those that I share that memory with, but it’s safe to say from that day on, I never drove the van home from the end of a tour again.

Matt Greiner

Constellations Artwork

It was December 2007. I was getting inspiration for album artwork from the most unassuming source, a black and white movie from the 1940s. It's A Wonderful Life is a movie about a supernatural intervention in the life of a frustrated businessman. In the movie, an angel is sent from heaven to show George Bailey what life would have been like had he never existed. At their high-school graduation party, George is reintroduced to Mary who has had a crush on him since they were kids. Under the moonlight, they're walking outside when George suddenly turns Mary towards the sky and asks, "You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."

As I watched the scene unfold, I played out the idea of a rope tied to a star in the sky. I put pen to paper and ran with the concept, pulling inspiration from Matthew 6 where the idea of Heaven coming to earth is introduced. The stars represented steadfast anchors by which we find direction throughout our lives. The kites represent our own fleeting emotions that will alter direction just as the wind changes. I remember getting on the phone with Ryan Clark, the creative mind behind the company Invisible Creature, and explaining the artistic concepts that would eventually come to fruition in the pages of Constellations.  

“Indonesia” 

In 2007, I awoke to find that a relative had died in a plane crash. David Clapper had always been passionate about flying. It wasn't uncommon to see his single-engine Cessna flying over our family farm in Lancaster County, PA. He devoted his time assisting those in need in Southeast Asia by flying the sick and dying from the bush to the nearest hospital, which often times was a several hour flight. On one of his return flights to the bush, he encountered a storm that blew his plane into the side of a mountain. I remember going for a drive after finding out the terrible news. I was so upset that someone doing such a good thing had died in such a terrible way. Here was a man who gave his time and energy to helping others and, in the end, sacrificed his life doing so. I remember wondering what his last words might have been as the plane spun out of control, crashing into the side of the mountain where it still resides today. I learned an important lesson that day. That is, not every question in life has an answer, at least not one that will satisfy. "This is the time to turn down our heads and turn up our hearts."  

I remember traveling to Indonesia on the Constellations Tour. We played an outdoor venue for a large group of excited fans who were seeing us perform for the first time. When it came time to play "Indonesia," a feeling came over me that I'll never forget, an overwhelming sense of humility. The band I helped start in my parent's basement in Lancaster County, PA was playing in Southeast Asia performing a song written about my relative who had passed away on that very continent just the year before. The fans in the crowd seemed to sing about him like he was their relative, not some stranger who's name they merely read in the liner notes of a CD. Near the end of the song Jake screams the words, "David, rest in peace." I'll never forget hearing the crowd sing those very words so loud they could be heard over the amplification of our own instruments. A story goes a long way, sometimes even to the edges of the other side of the planet.  

[mattness]

Space Dementia

Here we go again, my friends ^^  OTP: Jenniwise   And another chapter of my fanfic! Hope you enjoy IT! :D  //// Chapter IV. "Are you sure that I can get to the airport in Bangor on this wreck?" questioned Jennifer, standing in the garage near the old Audi, which occasionally went grandmother. The car didn't start for the last three years because Christine didn't see the need to go anywhere far. Now the car was covered with a layer of dust and quietly waiting in the wings, and Jennifer very much doubted that it would start at all. She ran her hand over the silver bonnet, noticing the rust on the wing. 

"I already started the engine", smiled Chester, throwing the keys with her daughter, and she somehow managed to catch them. "It remains to pour gasoline, and you can safely get to Bangor." "Somehow I very much doubt it, dad", chuckled the girl and sat down behind the wheel. In the salon it smelled terrible rubber mixed with gasoline. Jennifer wrinkled her nose, placing her hands on the steering wheel and looking through the dusty windshield. She immediately adjusted the rear-view mirror to make herself comfortable. The rear window had to be wiped as well as the front, otherwise the road will not be visible. The girl put the key in the ignition and turned it. As expected, the first time the car engine didn't even think to start. It just rattled piteously, and Jen had to re-turn the key. On this time the motor earned, loudly growling on the whole garage. The brunette smiled, and Chester standing in the garage near the car, a fairly clapped her hands. "Why don't you take it for a couple of blocks?" the father offered, having approached the car from a driver's seat. "You said there was no gasoline", Jennifer recalled and turned off the engine. "In the canister just for road in Bangor. Maybe we shouldn't waste it?" "As you wish", he shrugged. The girl got out of the car and smiled at Chester. He adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose and flipped his daughter on nose. "You're so happy to be back in the big city. I thought we'd spend more time together here in Derry. Still, the repair is not finished yet." "I'm leaving only for an internship. You will not notice how the week will fly", assured Jen, hugging dad. "It isn't a fact that they will be taken me there. I'm not ready to write articles about girls’s problems all the time." He laughed, patting his daughter on the back, and looked into her eyes. "Don't doubt yourself and your powers, Jen." "I have no doubt. I'm just sane estimate about my chances." Chester was again pulled her to him and sighed. He still could not accept the fact that his little Jennifer was no longer such. And it was that horrible day when she is forced to leave home to begin an independent life. He knew that sooner or later this day would come, so now it was only necessary to accept. He will be crazy miss her and ask her to come to Derry often. "I'll miss you, Jenni", voiced his own thoughts Chester, tightly clutching her in his arms. "Me too, daddy. But I'll be calling, and I'll be back soon. You'll see", smiled sadly Jennifer and stepped back. "Okay, okay. No more veal tenderness! Let's clean this old lady up." The girl found among a heap of garage trash bucket with a sponge and immediately ran to fill it with water. It turned out that under a layer of dust was hiding a beautiful silver-white paint, and a little later, in the sun, Audi already glistened with purity. Jennifer smiled at her own reflection in the windshield, wiping it with a sponge while his father was at that time a hose was watering the trunk and the roof of the car. She even thought about what this piece of junk now after the water treatment, looked quite passable. On such a machine is not ashamed to appear in Bangor. From her own thoughts Jen snorted. * * *  That evening she packed all the necessary things for the first time in a compact suitcase. MacBook fit in the bag, which was a cosmetic bag and other important things. Then she gathered herself: wearing blue jeans with a black t-shirt, and over it threw a warm red bumper. Quite nodding to her reflection, Jennifer looked out the window. Weather by the evening spoiled, that doesn't surprise Wright. The clouds in the sky were gathering and a strong wind was blowing. Seems, the storm coming, thought she. But even this storm will not prevent her from leaving Derry for an internship to New York. Money for a high-speed train, a ticket which cost three times more expensive than the plane, wasn't at all. So Jen decided to save money and get to Bangor, and there from the airport to fly to New York. The flight will take about the same time as a high-speed train ride. "Are you sure you want to go now?" asked father, as Jennifer has already sat in the car and drove it out of the garage. "Maybe you should wait out the storm?" "It'll be fine, dad", Wright waved, smiling at him. "Here to go something quite nothing." "All right", he sighed, and leaned over to his daughter, who sat behind the wheel, to kiss her cheek goodbye. "Good luck. Call me when you get to the airport.” She nodded and closed the window, gently pressing the gas pedal. The car slowly drove to the roadway and drive away from Derry, yellow headlights illuminating the way. The city was rushing through the window. There were lights everywhere and no one in the streets. Began to drizzle rain, so Jen included "janitors". A pleasant feeling of euphoria did not leave her. The mood was great in such nasty slush. The brunette felt that she was about to start her independent life away from her parents and some stupid obligations. If she initially didn't want to leave father alone in Derry, after a month realized that there is nothing wrong. Jennifer saw how happy he was here. He liked his work and quiet lifestyle. She even didn't interfere in his routine, afraid to break this silence. And now, when the girl left home, he probably will come off in full. He will call his local friends to visit and maybe then be able to find love after a long ten years. Jen really wanted this. Rain gradually intensified, and outside the window began to hear thunder. "Janitors" almost could not cope with the amount of water that continuously flooded the windshield. Jen cursed under his breath, trying to focus on the road. The suburbs of Derry has ended and the car drives on the broad highway along which, every ten meters stood a tall poles with lights and covered the road. But even that didn't help much. Already began a real downpour, and in the sky and then periodically flashed lightning. Jennifer continued to swear under his breath, thinking about what a hell it's like something was trying to keep her in Derry. As if bad weather forced to return back. But to return back already was too far. To Bangor had another half hour of the journey, and machine, to the surprise of the hostess, still driving on the highway without any interruption. It worked almost like new. However, Jen occasionally heard some rattling from under the hood, but it's not enough, for disturbing. Probably some kind of old piece is trying to fall off, but the car was still on the go. Wright quietly concluded that hammering stuff under the hood isn't so important for the operation of the motor. Again rose a strong wind and into the oncoming lane wide highway suddenly a tree fell, breaking a few wires and blocking the path of cars. Several lights immediately went out. A real hurricane started, why Jennifer was seriously scared. She grabbed the phone, which was lying on the passenger seat, and with GPS began to look for the nearest motel or hotel to wait out the storm. The brunette sighed with relief, knowing that the nearest town was quite a bit. Orono was literally one mile off the highway. On the map she immediately found a good hotel, which is located in the center of the village. Throwing the phone to the side, Jennifer turned the steering wheel to the right, and the car turned off the highway. The clock ticked loudly and a unpleasant along with a running "janitors" was terribly annoying her. For an hour drive the mood was spoiled, and the weather outside continued to rage. The machine arrived in Orono and rushed to the three star hotel, which girl planned to wait out the hurricane. However, inside something suggested that she would have to stay in the hotel for the night, because such a storm is unlikely to end in a couple of hours. On top of that, the tank ran out of gas, and the knock in the hood intensified of the car. Coupled with the "wipers" and the hours, too, began to irritate Jennifer. She exhaled with relief, noticing the right sign. Finally, you can take a breath and freshen up, thought the brunette. The car drove into the hotel territory stopping at the entrance. To the surprise of Jen, to the car ran over the doorman with an umbrella and kindly opened the car door for her, holding out his hand. The girl used the help and, having grabbed a bag, together with the man ran in a spacious warm hotel. Even having been on the street just couple of minutes, Wright managed get wet. "Did you reserve a room, miss?"- asked the doorman, removing the umbrella. "No, I would only..." she began her long story, but was interrupted. "We have affordable rooms available. Go to the reception", the young man smiled at her friendly and returned to the front door. Jennifer blinked, staying in a light stupor a few seconds and then followed his advice. The girl immediately looked around. She stood in the middle of a spacious living room, done in warm Reds and golds. For a three-star hotel, the place looked quite good. Under the white ceiling hung a magnificent chandelier, and the floor was parquet and carpets. To the right of the entrance there was an area for tourists, where there were small sofas and chairs with coffee tables. Even now, at nine o'clock in the evening, it was crowded. All sat in phones or watched TV, or read books. To the left of the entrance was a small shop with Souvenirs and other trinkets that would remind you of the arrival at the hotel and Orono. In front of the entrance there is a reception, to which Jen after a couple of minutes of inspection of the lobby confidently went. The same young girl as Wright stood behind the reception and is already warmly smiled at her. Jennifer uneasily smiled and pressed the little call tweaked for the whole hall and attracting the attention of some visitors of the hotel. "Sorry. I always wanted to do that", honestly admitted the brunette. "Good evening. Can I help you?"- politely asked the administrator, pushing the loud bell to the side, away from the new visitor. "I need a cheap room for one night", Jennifer said in a slightly husky voice, but immediately cleared her throat. "Double or single?" "Do you see anyone else here besides me?" said the girl quipped, propping head with hand. The administrator nodded and buried her nose in a computer monitor, starting to look for a vacant room. Jennifer again began to explore the hall, suddenly felt someone looking at her. She tried to find this man among the campers, and her attention was attracted by a young man who immediately looked away. From afar, she could not really see him, so the brunette smiled and turned back to the administrator. "We have rooms from the fifth to the eleventh floor. They all cost 150 $ a night." Jennifer nodded and, selecting a room on the ninth floor, with a backpack and a keycard walked quietly toward the elevator, located at the end of the corridor. Clicking on the call button, she turned round and again looked at the hall. The feeling that someone watched closely, not left her. Elevator arrived, and she confidently set foot in a spacious cabin. * * * As soon as there was an unpleasant ringing at the reception, he immediately distracted from the boring book and looked at the new guest of the hotel. Imagine his surprise when he saw a young girl of twenty-five, soaking wet from the rain and like a child smiling to the administrator. She looked as pitiful as a kitten who was thrown out on the street. Wet black hair stuck to a pretty dark face with freckles, and blue eyes began to explore the luxurious hall. Inside slowly grew so familiar feeling of hunger: still, he has not eaten for several days, and maybe this person is quite suitable for dinner. In his head began to mature brilliant plan to lure another victim, which eventually should end with a good dinner. On his mouth smug smile appeared. However, it instantly disappeared from the face, he took notice how the girl managed to track down his gaze. Only now he realized that he indecently staring at her thinking through every paragraph of his cunning plan. The stranger received a keycard and quickly went to the elevators. He never took his eyes off her. Probably should have found out what floor her room was on. Right now it was worth getting up and catching up to get acquainted and instantly penetrate the unprotected human mind. But he didn't do it. Something stopped, and, dissatisfied with growling to himself, as he buried back into the book. "Mr. Grey", said the doorman, touching his shoulder. "Yes?" "Dinner will be in half an hour. You asked for a warned", explained the hotel employee, and he nodded in response. "The new guests will also be at the dinner?" the left corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. A man in red uniform followed Grey's gaze, noticing a black-haired girl near the elevators. He smiled contentedly, realizing the true intentions of a wealthy guest of the hotel. "I think so. I can tell her to go down to the restaurant for dinner." "Don't say anything," he waved, drawing attention to the book again. "If she wants, she will come." The doorman nodded and left, continuing his work. * * * Jennifer, taking off her wet clothes, threw on the shoulders of a bathrobe that was in the room. She sat down on a soft double bed, picking up the phone and immediately wrote to his father that she stayed the night in the hotel to wait out the raging hurricane. The answer wasn't long in coming. She smiled, rejoicing that forced dad not to worry. A cozy room with a great view from the window of at a small Orono pleasantly relaxed. The room was warm and dry. The rain outside the window poured like a bucket, the wind howled, and bright flashes of lightning periodically repeated with deafening thunder. It seemed that the hurricane would sweep away everything in its path, and even this is a temporary shelter for Jen. Thoughts about the trip to New York warms the soul, and the dream gradually took possession of the mind. The brunette did not mind to disconnect right now. She don't have to go anywhere anyway. She closed her eyes, making herself comfortable in bed, and preparing to plunge into the Kingdom of Morpheus, but a loud knock on the door disturbed her calm. Jen jumped out of bed and pulling on the face of his most polite smile, already opened the door. On the threshold stood one of the porters of the hotel. His an important kind of a long embarrassed the girl. "What can I help?" she asked, coughing softly in her palm. "Miss Wright, come down to our restaurant for dinner," a smirk appeared on the old man's face and he walked slowly back to the elevators. "Dinner? At half past eleven in the night?" said Jen, looking out into the corridor. "Is that necessary?" "Your dinner has already been paid." The girl raised her eyebrows in surprise, not understanding anything. Was liked her the doorman at the entrance or to the girl-administrator at the reception that some of them decided to pay for her dinner at the restaurant? In any case, Wright was not a fool and miss this opportunity - to eat for free - certainly not going. Slamming the door in the room, the brunette pulled out of the bag dry clothes: regular jeans and a decent white sweater. Looking at the reflection in the mirror, Jen appreciated her appearance: for a restaurant, of course, it was no good. Her black hair still not fully dry, slightly curled and fluffed. She smoothed them over and sprayed them with varnish to avoid sticking out in different directions. Make up the lashes mascara and highlighting the eyes with eyeliner, Jen smiled to herself. Now she can go to a restaurant, she thought. By taking over phone and the keycard, Wright locked the door and go to elevators. In the spacious cabin, except her, went down an old man she didn't looked. The stomach growled for the whole Elevator, causing the girl's cheeks suddenly acquired a pinkish hue. She heard the old man burst out laughing. Finally the cabin was on the first floor, and Jen hopped out of the elevator, stepping confidently in the direction of the restaurant. Before it opened doors, and she again felt, that proved in some very expensive hotel, not in the usual with three stars. Maybe this place has struggled hard to get two more stars to raise the prices of all its services? Stepping on the threshold of a large hall, Jennifer unwittingly opened his mouth. Perhaps, in such places she has visited extremely rarely. Money never be enough for this. The room was slightly dimmed light, and each of the white tables were compact lamps. Somewhere in the background played nice classical music, and the number of people forced Jen to doubt that she was in a small town of Orono. Can be, it all of this dream? Anyway, have this dream a very good start, thought the girl, and sat down at a free table. To her immediately the waiter came, saying that dinner tonight at the expense of the restaurant. Flattered by such attention, Jen smiled and shyly took the menu. While she was choosing her dishes, the waiter filled the empty glass with dry white wine. The brunette looked through the prices of food, realizing that she was very lucky. In her purse was not half of the money for which it would be possible to order at least one dish. "Empty place?" suddenly a pleasant male voice rang out over her ear, and Jen was immediately distracted from the menu. The tall young man smiled at her amiably. His dark brown hair was perfectly combed, black suit emphasized broad shoulders and at the same time terribly beautiful thinness. Large gray-green eyes slowly studied her neat snub nose, nice cheekbones, and plump lips that were meant for kissing. Jennifer blushing, suddenly understanding, that sees in him very similar traits with its former classmate Roy. She swallowed and turned around, looking around. Not wrong by any chance this handsome? All this must be a dream, again thought Jen, embarrassed stronger. "Uh, aren't you at the wrong table?" voiced his thoughts out loud the girl. "No", now the smile on his face was two times more charming. "Can I sit?" "Yup. Please", mumbled red as a lobster Jen nervously he picked up the glass and drank deeply. The man boldly sat down opposite, his hands folded in the lock on the table. He continued to study Jennifer, without ceasing to smile mysteriously. From such turn of events the head of the girl literally went dizzy. She was in a panic, not knowing how to behave with a person who is in financial position stood clearly above her. "And what made you sit at my table? Looking for a one-night stand? So I told you right away that I had the wrong table..." immediately quipped the brunette finally looking into the large eyes in front. "I can't just acquaint with you?" sprinkled with laughter handsome, leaning back in his chair. "For some reason, people, as soon as they find out about my wealth, immediately try to lick my ass. This is terribly annoying, especially if it’s done by females. I hope you're not like that." Jennifer chuckled, shaking her head. She's certainly not the one he meant. Dreams of a rich prince on a white horse or a white Maserati, no matter what, never visited Wright's head. Girl perfectly understood, what wants from life. And these plans certainly never had to "find a rich handsome guy to hang around his neck for the rest of her days." "What's your name?" continued guy. "Jennifer", she introduced herself, and thought that he looks an awful lot like Roy and it doesn't let her rest. "I'm Robert Grey. Nice to meet you, Jen." The girl was surprised, as he forcefully cut her name without even asking permission. And it's on the fifth minute of the meet! On Robert's face appeared again smile, but this time it was something dangerous and a little frightening. However, the brunette did not attach much importance to this. After all, she still thought that was fast asleep in my room, fantasizing about Roy, that he suddenly became fabulously rich prince. "It was quite crazy!" flashed in the girl's head, which barely withstood the gaze of the green eyes opposite. "You know, you're terribly similar to one of my friends", couldn't resist, honestly admitted Jennifer, when the waiter came to the table. "Really?" willfully surprised Robert did the ordering for both of them. "Yeah. One in one virtually. Maybe you're his lost twin brother." sneered Wright, what caused another chuckle of a mystery man. After a few minutes of silence, she added awkwardly, "It's nice to meet you too, Robert." "Just call me Rob." He watched as Jennifer looked away sheepishly and smiled. A strand of black hair she gently brushed behind her ear and reached for a glass of wine. Behind her was damn interesting to watch, and madly tossing of thoughts in her head made him difficult to know more about her. Before Robert Grey, Jen was just an open book, which he silently read, learning more and more details of her life and not forgetting to talk to her aloud, otherwise a long silence would have aroused suspicion. It's a pity she'll never know who he really is, thought Grey. Although carry on a conversation with his next victim, oddly enough, was very interesting. Perhaps the massacre of Jennifer Wright should not be rushed. On the lips of men again appeared sinister grin. It will be a small and exciting game. Definitely.