#ly cause I like never take it OFF. it’s not like it got worn down or anything. anyway please pray for my black copic I love her dearly

[theexorcistiii]

Does any1 here use copics one of the caps of my black copic just. Doesn’t go on right anymore for some reason n I didn’t notice so it DRIED up is it salvageable. Please say yes

[shyoko]

★ How ENHYPEN would react if you wore his clothes ★

Note: This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. (English is not my first language.)

¡~Heeseung☆~!

You were hiding behind the sofa when the front door made a noise, announcing Heeseung's arrival home.

When he came in and saw that all the lights were off, he assumed that you were already sleeping peacefully in your room, so he walked towards it, being careful not to make too much noise as he passed.

When he was about to open the door to the room, a small body jumped on his back, making him jump a little. But he quickly realized that it was you, so he relaxed instantly, and a sweet smile appeared on his lips.

He turned around to meet your face and bent down a bit, grabbing the sides of your face to give you a small kiss on the lips. Heeseung broke away for a few moments to turn on the light. A few seconds later, upon noticing what you were wearing, his eyes widened, as you were only wearing his oversized T-shirt that fell below your thighs.

"You look beautiful in my clothes, honey," he said sweetly, unable to take his eyes off your body. "I'm going to have to put my clothes somewhere more visible for you to wear."

After that day, Heeseung started occasionally leaving his clothes neatly folded on the bed or on the couch, waiting for you to put them on so he could enjoy the view again.

¡~Jay☆~!

Jay had spent almost an entire week locked up in the studio, forgetting to eat properly and only leaving when the streets were dark, illuminated solely by the streetlights.

Because of this, you prepared some food and placed it in a bag along with a bottle of water and a few snacks you knew he loved. With everything in hand, you walked through the streets until you reached the company where Jay spent so much time alone.

You had memorized the path to his studio from the countless times you had visited him. Standing in front of the door, you knocked softly.

"Come in," Jay's tired voice called from inside.

You entered the room calmly, setting the food down on the table before noticing the sweet expression on Jay's face. He stood up from his seat and carefully wrapped his arms around you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away. But as soon as he did, the loss of his warmth sent a chill through your body, causing you to shiver—something Jay didn't miss.

"Are you cold, my love?" he asked in that soft voice he reserved only for you.

You gave a small nod, making him smile. Without hesitation, he walked over to the couch where his favorite leather jacket was lying. He grabbed it and helped you put it on. A small laugh escaped him as he saw how oversized it looked on you.

"Hey! Don’t laugh at me," you said playfully.

"I'm not making fun of you, it's just funny how big it looks on you," he chuckled, making you frown.

"Don't be mad, I never said it looked bad on you… In fact, I don’t think there’s anything that could ever look bad on you."

You felt hundreds of butterflies flutter wildly inside you. He had no idea the effect those little words had on you.

¡~Jake☆~!

After a quiet and cozy movie night with Jake, it was time to head home—if it weren’t for the heavy storm that had started pouring down just a few minutes ago. Jake didn’t see this as a problem; in fact, he thought it was a good thing since it meant you’d be spending the night with him.

After tidying up the living room, you both got ready for bed. Luckily, you always kept a set of pajamas at his place for nights like this. Before anything else, you tossed your clothes into the washing machine so they could be cleaned in the morning and worn again.

The moment you slipped under the covers, a warm body wrapped around you carefully, radiating a sense of peace that made you drift off to sleep almost instantly.

The soft morning light filtered through the thin curtains, casting a golden glow on the parts of your body left uncovered. You turned to your side, only to find that the warmth that lulled you to sleep last night was no longer there. Stretching a little, you got up and walked toward the kitchen, where you spotted Jake making coffee—the special one he only prepared when you were around, as he claimed it was just for you.

You tiptoed behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, making him jump in surprise. He spun around so fast that some of the coffee spilled from the cup, landing on your pajama shirt.

"Jesus! You scared me! Are you trying to kill me or something?" he gasped, still catching his breath. But then his eyes widened when he saw the stain.

"Did you burn yourself?" he asked, now concerned.

"No, no, I’m fine. You just spilled a little," you reassured him.

Jake disappeared from the kitchen for a moment and returned holding one of his shirts.

"I know it's not a big deal, but you can wear this while your clothes get washed," he said, handing it to you.

After slipping it on, you were about to leave the room when you bumped into Jake, who was now looking at you with a faint blush on his cheeks.

"You know what? Keep it," he suddenly said.

"What?" you asked, confused by his unexpected offer.

"Because it looks way too good on you. And besides, this way, I’ll get to see you wearing it more often—not just today," he chuckled softly. "If I’m being honest, I don’t want this to be the last time I see you in my clothes."

¡~Sunghoon☆~!

You and Sunghoon were at a restaurant with some friends. After spending the evening strolling through the city’s new shopping mall, you had all agreed to grab dinner together. You ate calmly, laughing occasionally at the jokes being thrown around. Beside you, Sunghoon did the same, his hand resting casually on your thigh.

Once everyone had finished eating, you paid the bill and stepped outside. Night had fallen, and the temperature had dropped significantly. Goosebumps spread across your skin, and small shivers ran through your body. But you refused to admit you were cold—doing so would only give Sunghoon the satisfaction of teasing you. He had warned you about the cold and told you to dress warmly, but you had brushed him off.

You tried to ignore the freezing air and kept walking, your hand still intertwined with Sunghoon’s. The two of you wandered aimlessly, which was slowly killing you inside because all you wanted was to get home, change into your pajamas, snuggle into warm, fluffy blankets, and sleep until the next day.

"Can I ask you something?" Hoon whispered near your ear.

"He-huh? Yeah, of course," you answered, trying your best to keep your voice from trembling.

"Would you care to explain why your body is shaking, your hands feel like ice, and your voice is unsteady?" he asked again, his tone now dripping with amusement.

"I-I have no idea what you’re talking about," you said, quickly picking up your pace, slipping out of his grasp, and crossing your arms in an attempt to trap some warmth.

"Come on, sweetheart. If you admit I’m always right, I’ll give you my warm, cozy jacket," he teased, taking your hand and slipping it inside his jacket for a moment so you could feel just how warm it was.

You shook your head and turned away stubbornly.

"Oh, come on… I know you want it. Don’t be like that," he smirked.

The cold was starting to seep deep into your bones.

"Fine, you win. I’m really cold…"

"And…?" he prompted, clearly enjoying himself.

"And… you were right," you mumbled, frowning as Sunghoon burst into laughter.

Before you could say anything else, he had already slipped off his jacket. Moments later, warmth spread through your body as he draped it over your shoulders, wrapping it around you properly so it could shield you from the cold.

"I hope you’re warm now because I’m the one freezing," he chuckled.

Without thinking, you quickly unzipped the jacket, stepped in front of him, and stopped him in his tracks. You spread your arms wide, pulling him into a hug, wrapping both of you in the jacket’s warmth.

"I have a feeling we won’t make it home like this, but I appreciate it," he laughed softly, pulling away slightly.

You resumed your walk home, but just a few seconds later, he grabbed your wrist and leaned in close to whisper in your ear.

"Oh, and by the way… my clothes look really good on you."

¡~Sunoo☆~!

For a while now, the students at your university had been begging the professors to throw a party since the end of classes was fast approaching. The professors and the principal kept refusing, worried about how many people might show up or what could happen. But after countless attempts and some pretty clever persuasion tactics from the students, it finally happened—the party was set for tonight.

There was only one rule, aside from behaving properly and not bringing alcohol: a dress code that would distinguish each year. Each class was assigned a specific color, making it easier to identify who belonged where in case things got out of hand.

Your class got orange.

You were in your room, rummaging through every drawer, sending clothes flying in all directions, but still, no sign of anything orange. A surprised gasp escaped the lips of the person you assumed was Sunoo.

“What is this disaster?” he asked, eyes wide as he took in the scene—your room completely covered in scattered clothes, draped carelessly over the floor and furniture.

"You do realize I didn’t get an easy color like you, right? Red? Seriously? Why couldn’t I have gotten that?" Sunoo smirked as he crouched down, gathering your discarded clothes and folding them neatly before placing them back where they belonged.

“I just came to remind you that we have to leave in fifteen minutes… and well, you’re still not dressed,” he pointed out. Your eyes widened in horror.

"Sunoo, please tell me you have an orange shirt," you pleaded, sticking out your bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, clasping your hands together as if you were making a desperate wish.

"Hmm… I might have one. Hold on, I’ll grab it," he said before disappearing out the door.

When he returned, you felt all your worries fade away the moment you saw the orange T-shirt in his hands. A relieved smile spread across your lips.

"Sunoo, you’re a lifesaver!" you gasped, rushing over to him, cupping his face, and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Give me a second to change, and then we’ll head out,” you added, taking the shirt and shutting the door right in front of his now flushed face.

You paired his T-shirt with a skirt, white shoes, and a few accessories to complete your look. Grabbing your bag, you rushed out of your room.

"Alright, let’s go! I’m ready, and we’re running late!" you called, stepping outside.

A few seconds passed, but Sunoo still hadn’t followed you. You frowned and leaned back inside the house, peeking to see what was taking him so long.

"Baby, why are you just standing there? Let’s go!" you whined, stepping toward him to pull him along.

"You look…" he trailed off, scanning you from head to toe.

"I look…?" you prompted, raising a brow.

"Stunning," he murmured, his fingers gently lacing with yours. Then, with a small, almost bashful smile, he added, "If I had known my clothes looked this good on you, I would’ve given them to you way sooner."

¡~Jungwon☆~!

It was your first time going to one of Jungwon's concerts. A few days ago, the upcoming tour dates had been announced, and Jungwon had insisted that he would love for you to be there. Honestly, you were just as excited about it, so you gladly accepted.

With only a few days left until the concert, you were already picking out the perfect outfit. You spent the entire afternoon thinking about what to wear and searching for something you’d like until you came across a T-shirt that the members of Enhypen had worn. It had a picture of the boys on the back and a phrase printed across the top.

You immediately started searching for it online, determined to buy it. But after looking everywhere with no luck, you decided to call Jungwon and ask him about it. He suggested that you stop by the company so you could ask a staff member where to find it. You quickly agreed, hung up, got dressed, and headed out.

When you arrived, a smiling Jungwon was already waiting for you at the entrance, his arms open wide for the hug he had been anticipating. As his warm embrace wrapped around you, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Alright, shall we see if we get lucky?" he asked sweetly, intertwining his fingers with yours.

You nodded excitedly, letting him lead the way.

After asking around, you both came to the conclusion that the shirt was an exclusive item for the members and that they likely hadn’t made any extras. You felt a little disappointed, but you still smiled at Jungwon.

"It's okay, I’ll find something else to wear," you said casually.

"No way, I’m not giving up just yet. Wait here for a second, okay?"

He didn’t even give you a chance to respond before disappearing into a room.

A few minutes later, he walked out with something hidden behind his back.

"What is it?" you asked curiously, tilting your head to try and catch a glimpse.

Then, with a wide grin on his lips, he pulled out the T-shirt from behind him. It was noticeably oversized, so you immediately assumed it was his.

"I love it… but wait, isn’t this yours? I don’t want you to feel like you have to give it to me," you said hesitantly.

Jungwon’s eyes widened in disbelief.

"Have to? Who do you take me for?" he scoffed. "I’m giving it to you because I want to. I’d love to see you wearing this at the concert, and I know how much you want it."

Before you could say anything else, he gently pushed you into an empty room and followed you inside.

"Come on, try it on," he urged.

You took off the shirt you were wearing and replaced it with his. The moment you did, his smile grew even bigger.

"I can’t wait for the concert so everyone can see you in my shirt," he murmured, staring at you in awe.

"Oh, and by the way," he added with a playful smirk, "it looks really good on you."

You couldn't help but laugh at his words.

¡~Ni-ki☆~!

One of Riki's favorite hobbies, besides dancing and playing video games, is taking various pieces of clothing from his closet and putting together outfits for the upcoming days.

You were walking down the street with a box of pastries in your hand, heading to Riki’s house to give him a little surprise. Once you reached his front door, you rang the doorbell, which was positioned on the right side of the entrance. A few moments later, a pajama-clad Riki opened the door with a bright smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, beaming.

“I bought some pastries, and I figured you’d probably hate me if I ate them all by myself,” you joked, holding up the box before stepping inside.

As usual, you headed straight to his room, but you froze in place when you saw his bed completely covered with clothes. Each piece was laid out strategically to form outfits—caps at the top, followed by shirts, pants, and finally, shoes neatly placed on the floor below them.

“Closet makeover?” you asked.

“Oh! No, I was just picking out what I’ll wear this week,” he replied casually.

“I didn’t know people planned their outfits days in advance just to go grocery shopping,” you teased, laughing.

“Shut up,” he said with a grin. “I actually enjoy doing this.”

He walked over to his carefully curated outfits and added, “Besides, I have to say, I have a real talent for this. But my style is unique—you wouldn’t understand. And honestly? You could never pull it off like I do.”

A burst of laughter escaped your lips.

“That’s not true! It would probably look even better on me.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenged.

“Yeah.”

“Alright then, try this on.” He grabbed one of the outfits and placed it in your arms, daring you to prove your point.

“But Riki, this isn’t even my size,” you frowned.

“You said it would look better on you, didn’t you? Come on, let’s see it,” he smirked, ushering you into the bathroom before shutting the door behind you.

With a bit of reluctance, you changed into his clothes—which were way too big for you. The pants dragged across the floor, the oversized shirt nearly reached your knees, and the shoes… well, they were a lost cause. The only thing that actually fit was the adjustable cap.

After catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t stop laughing. And when you finally stepped out of the bathroom, Riki took one look at you and immediately burst into hysterical laughter, dramatically collapsing onto the floor as he clutched his stomach.

“Y-you look so ridiculous,” he wheezed between fits of laughter.

Once he finally calmed down, he walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you.

“At least you look adorable,” he chuckled.

“I think I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore,” you pouted.

Riki swiftly scooped you up in his arms.

“You should’ve thought about that before saying yes,” he grinned. “There’s no escape now.”

[corrosionbunni]

The Secret to Happiness

One shot

Summary: After being found wandering empty roads, you’ve found home at a prison. You’ve grown a reputation of being a constant beam of happiness. After a spontaneous night of drinking and a game of truth or dare, one question burns bright. What is your secret?

Fluff/slight angst

Word count: 1443

Pairing: Daryl x female reader (or not female only gendered term used once towards the reader is ‘miss’)

Setting: prison era - season 4

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cigarettes

A/n: this is my first time writing in years, but it came to me in a dream. It’s also partially proof read but done so with the lack of sleep and the lack of glasses.

The night is cool as you sit cross-legged in the grass. Your skin heated from the heavy amount of Jack Daniels you have already downed. It’s safe to say, you are border-lining drunk. A constant smile is spread across your lips as you look at the group around you, illuminated by the small fire you’ve gathered around.

Maggie sat across from you. With one arm planted behind her to keep her up, Glenn lying on his side beside her, hand placed over hers. Sasha was on the other side of Maggie, with Rick beside her. On the other side of Glenn, Tyreese sat with an arm around Karen.

And finally, Beside you was Daryl. Silently taking sips of his whiskey.

“Okay!” Sasha chuckles, having just answered a question of ‘truth or dare’. “Who’s next? Daryl?”

“Nah, I’m not playin’”

“I know!” Maggie speaks up from where she’s sat, “How about little miss sunshine over here” She gestures towards you.

You lean forward slightly, grinning wide at Maggie. “Alright, give it to me!”

“Truth or dare?”

You cross one arm across your chest, the other being upwards as you tap a finger to your chin.

“Hmm. Let me think.. dare. ‘Cause I ain’t no pussy!” Laughter is heard from around the group. You keep smiling Maggie’s way. Drunk. You are definitely drunk.

“Okay,” Mirroring your grin. “I dare you… to kiss the hottest person here.”

“What are we, high schoolers?” You laugh, “Either way, I can’t do that. I’m already certain they can’t stand me, and I don’t want to do anything that’ll make them hate me more.” You say giggling, taking another sip.

“Okay then,” Maggie shifts slightly, “what’s the secret to being so happy all the time?”

“Well the thing is…” you draw your words out. still smiling wide, moving to position yourself on your knees, you can feel the cool grass making an indent on your knee where a hole has formed in your worn out jeans. “Secrets, are secret for a reason.” You beam widely.

“it’s the game, choose one.” Sasha chimes in.

You debate with yourself for a moment. Everyone awaiting your response.

“well, in that case.”

You turn to your side and place a hand under Daryl’s chin, stabling yourself as you place a short, yet sweet, kiss on his cheek.

Silence.

A surge of electricity goes straight through your chest as you quickly stand to your feet. “Well!” -anxiety- You exclaim, clapping your hands together, “I’d say that’s my queue to head off.” -panic- You brush off some grass that stayed sticking to the skin of one knee peaking through your jeans.

Everyone stuck in a trance of stunned silence.

“Goodnight!” You give a wave and make your leave.

Heart racing, your legs pull you across the grass, up through the gates. You don’t realise you’ve stopped until you’re planted on a bench in the courtyard.

You sit in a rigid silence for a few minutes. Internally screaming at yourself.

Why would you do that?

You can’t believe your actions.

You’ve had a crush on Daryl for a while now. But you never had any plans to act on it.

You were certain he could not stand you.

Anytime the two of you were left alone he’d not utter a single word. He wouldn’t even look at you.

And then there were the times you’d say something in your overly happy tone, he’d shake his head and you swear you could hear him scoff.

It seemed like he would avoid you at every chance he got, so it’s a surprise when the body that sits next to you belongs to the man himself.

You stay silent. Staring ahead. For once, not smiling.

Your peripheral vision allows you to see Daryl lighting up a cigarette. Taking a deep breathe in, exhaling the grey smoke.

He clears his throat slightly.

“Ya think I hate ya?” His voice low.

You nod, not knowing if he’s even looking at you to see, as you keep your stare ahead.

“How could I not? It doesn’t seem like you enjoy my presence very much.” Your voice is also low, a little defeated. “You won’t even talk to me.”

“Nah, I don’ hate ya. S’just- you’re so damn happy. It’s blindin’. Your blindin’.”

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything. The smell of his cigarette wafting through the air.

“So wha’s the secret?”

“Hm?”

“Ta happiness.”

“Oh.” You let a small breathy laugh, looking down shaking your head.

“Uhm… I guess,” You pause, thinking for a second. “I Uhm, I don’t really know.”

Your voice gets quiet. “If I’m being honest,” you start picking at the frayed fabric of your jeans, “I don’t think I’ve ever truely felt happiness. It started as a way to distract myself from feeling any of the bad things. I somehow convinced myself that if I was going to put energy into anything, it may as well be a smile.” Daryl stays quiet beside you, “and it sorta just stuck.”

You finally turn your head to look him, but he’s already looking at you. The eye contact you hold felt heavy.

“Plus,” you break the eye contact to to stare ahead, “I think it’s better to have everyone see me endlessly happy than have them see me for what I really am.”

You both stay silent for a second before Daryl speaks up “And wha’s that?”

You turn your head to regain eye contact, your voice comes out soft, while with a small, a sad smile you state “a truely broken person.”

The two of you stay staring at each other, the faint sound of laughter can be heard from the group as a slight breeze carries the noise. Daryl bites his lip in that way he does, as his eyes flicker between yours and anywhere but you, simultaneously.

You clear your throat “I also want to say sorry.” “What for?” “For kissing you. I know it was just on the cheek, but still. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I am sorry”

“nah,” he shakes his head slightly. “Don’t be.” He moves his gaze ahead of him. “Was nice”

you feel your chest flutter for moment.

Staring at him, a lopsided grin growing on your face. “Yeah?”

He gives you a side glance before nodding again “yeah.”

With a new found confidence, carried by the work of Jack Daniels still in your system, your usual cheery persona returns.

“Well, if you liked that, I know a better place.”

He turns his head to you, confusion littering his expression.

“Better place?”

Your lips stretch into a wide closed mouth smile, as you gently tap your lips.

His eyes widen slightly, staring at where your finger now rests softly upon your lips.

“Would that be okay?” You ask, softly, but still confident. His body is a still as ever, eyes lifting to make eye contact once again.

He softly nods.

You turn your body to him, taking the hand that had once been pressing a finger to your lips, and use it to rest gently against his left cheek. His eyes flutter shut as he ever so slightly leans into your touch.

Your other hand moving down to rest on the bench infront of you to aid you in leaning closer to him.

You stop just in front of his face, looking to his still closed eyes and letting out a faint breath, before your own fall shut as you close the gap. Lips pressed together, gentle.

One singular kiss causing your whole body to send signals of pure joy throughout your entirety.

You part, faces still close, eyes still shut. The soft exchange age of air passing through both of your lips, the smell of whiskey and tobacco fill your nose.

He reaches a hand up to hold you. His index finger lay just below your ear, as your jaw rests just at the base of his thumb. Pulling you back in. This time the both of you lips move together, slowly, softly.

You both stop, lips still touching. Hands still placed on either one’s face. Slowly pulling away your face away, eyes opening.

The pair of you stare at each other, not saying anything.

Hands drops as you move back to your original position, both staring ahead. A small smile stuck in place.

Beside you, you hear a soft chuckle. You turn your head to look at him “what?”

He looks at you with the faintest smile, “nothin’.. just.” He lets out another chuckle as his smile grows a little more.

“Im thinking’ I just found my secret to happiness.”

[atleastpleasetelephone]

I love your stories so so so much and I’ve been looking for a writer to write smut for me…. My request is reader pinning Elvis to his vanity and she’s behind him and she reaches her hand down his pants and like jerks him off … and he gets all flustered and stuff.. and it leads to maybe bigger things but sub Elvis would kill 😩😩

A/N: Thanks anon for this fun request!! I have incorporated it into kinktober.

Kinktober Day 11 - Leather/latex

Pairing: 1968!Elvis and dom!reader

Word count: 927

TWs: Dominant reader, submissive Elvis, hair pulling, handjob, humiliation kink, degredation kink (ish), praise kink, reader calls herself mama, bit of name-calling.

Kinktober masterlist

Part 2 is here

“What do you mean, you have to go to the aftershow?” You call into the closet where Elvis is currently changing. 

“Just what I said, baby. I won’t be long. You know you can come with me if you want. I’d love to have you on my arm.” Elvis calls back. 

He knows you don’t like schmoozing so the suggestion is kind of pointless, but he asks anyway. He’s not lying about wanting you on his arm. You’re so pretty you tie the Mafia up in knots even in your casual wear. 

You groan. “Not that boring shit. No thank you.”

He chuckles as he walks out of the closet and over to the vanity to look at himself in the mirror. You do a double-take. He’s wearing what looks like a latex suit. A latex suit to go to an aftershow he knows you won’t want to attend. Just what is he planning on doing?

His eyes flick up to look at yours in the mirror. He notes the shocked look on your face with some amusement as he applies the tiniest amount of mascara to his lashes. He’d worn this outfit deliberately, hoping to persuade you into coming with him. 

“You okay, baby?” He teases. 

“Why’re you wearing that?” You ask, with a frown. 

“Why not?” He straightens up and pushes his hair back from his face a little. 

You stand, moving behind him. You’re almost as tall as him in flats and you still have your heels on from watching him at his show that evening, so your head easily goes over his shoulder. 

You put a hand on his chest, looking at him in the mirror. “Because you already have me. You don’t need to attract any other girls.”

“Baby I’m not trying to-”

You cut him off by pushing him roughly against the vanity, making his upper thighs collide with the edge and causing him to overbalance, his hands catching himself on the table top. He looks up at his reflection through his hair but doesn’t move from the position you’ve put him in. He’s breathing hard, slightly overwhelmed at your sudden show of dominance. You’ve always been a little feisty but this seems different. 

You run a hand over his latex-clad ass, then both hands firmly over his hips and waist. 

“Stand up.” 

He does as he’s told, face a little flushed now. 

“Why’re you dressed like such a little slut?” You ask, your hand running down his bare chest now, heaving under your touch. 

“”M not… I just… I wanted…” he pants, feeling himself getting hard in the confines of the suit. 

Your hand slides down his chest and then into his pants, wrapping around his dick. His face gets redder and he starts to huff and puff. 

“H-honey… what’re ya… I have ta…”

“If you’re gonna dress like a little slut, I’m gonna treat you like one,” you tell him, starting to move your hand on him. 

He groans, wondering what has got into you. You usually want to be on top and you have been known to spank him occasionally but… this seems different somehow. You’ve definitely never called him a slut before. But… he… likes it? 

You grab a fistful of his hair and pull his head back, kissing and nipping at his exposed throat, tonguing his Adam’s apple as it bobs uncertainly. You’re not sure what’s come over you. You like being in charge in the bedroom but it’s always been a bit of a tentative negotiation with him. You know he likes to think he calls the shots, but you choose when and where sex happens and you’re always on top unless you decide otherwise. You have to admit you’ve had some pretty nasty thoughts about him from time to time, imagining him following you around on his hands and knees, begging you for it. This outfit though, it’s doing things to you in real time. He’d look really good with a collar and a lead right now…

“Honey, I’m g-getting close…” he stammers. 

You run your teeth down his neck, growling into his ear. “Good. Cum for Mama.”

Elvis is torn between the desperate need for release and the feeling that he really shouldn’t cum in this outfit. He’s supposed to be going to the afterparty, and he’s already showered. Your hand starts to move more quickly on him, and the combination of the sweet friction and the way your other hand continues to pull his hair is making it very hard for him to resist his climax. 

“H-honey, my pants…” he tries, biting his lower lip hard to try and stop himself from cumming.

“You’re gonna cum in them,” you tell him, your voice low, humming in his ear. “Like a dirty slut.”

He groans loudly, the words turning him on more than he thought was possible. 

“And then you’re gonna go downstairs and talk to all those pretty girls,” you continue, your hand moving somehow even faster, “knowing I made you make a mess in your pants.”

The noise he makes in response is almost inhuman. “Y-y-yes,” he stutters, eyes squeezing shut as he feels his release in the base of his dick. 

“Good boy,” you tell him and he cries out, tumbling over the edge into ecstasy. 

Pulling your hand back out of his pants you shake it almost disdainfully, trying to get the cum off. You look at him in the mirror, hands on the table top, gasping for breath, and slap his ass.

“Go on. They’re waiting for you.”

***

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[6ix9inewiturmom]

Tummy Hurts- Christopher Sturniolo

Summary: when Chris falls in love with another woman while being in a rocky relationship with you, and dating you on and off

Warnings: cursing, crying, feelings on envy, yelling, use of Y/N, angst

A/n: TUMMY HURTS BY RENE RAPP>>>> also I got this idea while taking a beach nap lol

My relationship with Chris was always rocky but at the end of every day we always told each other that no matter what it would always be us, no one could turn our heads, and we always promised that after every fight.

When Chris and I first started dating I knew he’d be doing collabs with girls and be around girls on the occasion, which I typically wasn’t the jealous type but Chris is an amazing man and very attractive.

Chris had been hanging out with his friend Sam a lot, which didn’t bug me much if not at all, Sam was always respectful of my relationship with Chris and always made sure Chris would text me if they did anything sporadically, sometimes Chris would even spend the night there if I was working overtime.

Tonight I had originally told Chris I was working a little over but I wasn’t, I wanted to surprise him with a new set of lingerie I bought specifically for him, I know our 2 years isn’t till next week but our schedules don’t line up enough to see each other so I’m celebrating with him today.

I just pulled into Sam’s house to pick up Chris, and to say I was excited was an understatement, I was ECSTATIC. For obvious reasons I couldn’t just walk in Sam’s house with lingerie on so I was wearing some of Chris’ new fresh love set, I know it gets him excited every time I’m in his clothes or his brand, no matter how many times I’ve worn them.

I knocked on the front door eagerly waiting for someone to answer the door, and to my surprise it was Sam. “Oh hey Y/N” his eyes widened when he saw me at the front door, he was stuck like a deer in headlights.

“Hey Sam, is Chris here?” I had a small smile on my face hoping the reason for his sudden facial expression was because he wasn’t expecting me.

He scratched the back of his head nervously “he uh- he just- he actually left here to go to his house like uh- 30 minutes ago?” He stuttered.

“Oh, I’m sorry for bothering you then.. he just said he’d be here all night…” my voice trailed off.

“See you around Y/N” he quickly replied shutting the door.

Weird. Very weird. Chris never leaves Sam’s house without telling me. As soon as I got in my car, I opened Life360 to find Chris’ location was off, he never turns his location off, EVER, even when we were in arguments or on our ‘breaks’ we never turned that off.

I decided to do what anyone else would do and text him. ‘Christopher’ my message read. He immediately read my message. His bubble would pop up and then go away, that went on for a good few minutes.

‘Yea?’ He replied. No joke about how I used his ‘government name’ as he calls it? Funny, but not funny haha funny WEIRD.

‘Is there any specific reason why your location is off? Or is Life360 just messing up again? I know it does it from time to time’ i wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and maybe his phone was acting up.

Once again his bubble would pop up and down. ‘Idk ma, I’m at Sam’s house so could jus be the app IG’ there’s no benefit of the doubt anymore. He’s straight up lying.

‘Funny cause I got off early and wanted to surprise you by picking you up and celebrating our 2 years early and he said you weren’t there that you left to go back to the house… soooooooooo’ why would he be lying? This is not like Chris.

This time I was left on read. No bubble just read. I wasn’t just fucking pissed i was ENRAGED. Call me a crazy girlfriend but after all we’ve been through you’d do the same thing.

My drive home from Sam’s was filled with road rage of idiots who can’t drive, screaming song lyrics, etc. as soon as I reached home my blood was boiling. I spammed Chris with impulsive messages.

‘Where the fuck are you?’

‘Christopher Owen sturniolo pick ur lying ass phone up’

‘Ur the biggest lying fuckass person I know’

‘You know nevermind keep ur ass wherever your at, i don’t wanna see your ass again’

After 45 minutes to an hour of pacing my shared apartment with Chris my phone finally rang, I picked it up to see it was Chris.

“Where the fuck are you Christopher?” My voice was cold and filled with rage.

“Ma, lis-“ I immediately cut him off “no you’re not gonna ‘ma’ me Christopher.”

“Y/N… listen I-I can explain” he stuttered “I lied.”

“Aren’t you Albert fucking Einstein?” I snapped.

“Y/N will you fucking listen to me, god damn all you do is yap and bitch and groan” he lets out a sigh and I quickly made an ultimatum of let him finish or bitch him out.

“Go on” I forced myself to calm down for a split second because after acting the way I did I knew I needed to at least hear him out.

“So a while ago while you were on that girls trip, I was at Sam’s for his release party right before summer smash in Chicago, I uh I ended up running into this girl from high school, we talked the whole night and we ended up hooking up and she’s- she’s pregnant… Y/N, I love you I really do I always will but, I’m not IN love with you.. uh anymore.. I realized our love wasn’t healthy, it was toxic and I’m sure you can agree” he took a deep breath out like a weight was dropped from his shoulders. My jaw was on the floor. I was astonished by the words coming from his mouth.

“I just need a minute Chris…” my voice broke when I spoke and he and I both knew I was hurt. He made a little ‘tsk’ with his mouth and I hung up. My body hit the floor besides the couch I was uncontrollably ugly crying. My hands were shaky but I picked up the phone to call the one person I knew I could trust, my best friend, Riley.

“Hey bitch what’s up?” She answered.

My voice broke with her, I couldn’t bear to break her happy mood with my awful news. “Chris is in love with a girl from high school it’s been- it happened when- when we went to Hawaii together wi-with Whitney, Mayci, and uh um Taylor, and she’s- she’s fucking pregnant” I immediately started sobbing.

“Okay what the fuck? Maybe you should try religion cause Jesus he’s hard to rely on” in the mist of me sobbing my eyes out I managed to let out a soft giggle.

“Now my tummy hurts, he’s in love with her, but-but um- for- for what’s it’s worth they’d make beautiful babies” my sobs became harder and harder.

“Okay just breathe, I know this is a lot. Have you ever heard of the players curse?” She sounded awfully calm for someone who just heard her boyfriend of 2 years cheated on her and got another girl pregnant.

“N-no?” She laughed. And immediately got excited.

“The players curse is when a man did terrible things to a woman/women and run through them treating them worthlessly. In turn these men normally have daughters, their punishment is that their daughters will experience everything that they did to women.” For some reason this little peace of advice and knowledge helped me a tad.

“So eventually 2043, someone’s gonna hurt their little girl like their dad hurt me? And raise em’ up to a couple of fucking monsters like their mother and they father.” I couldn’t help but cry thinking of someone living my dream I wanted to live with Chris. I wanted to carry his children, I wanted to marry him, all of his dreams involved ME, not her.

“EXACTLY! Keep that mindset girl and you’ll be perfect” she cheered as if I just said I won the lottery.

“When will he pay for what he did to me. I’m fucking broken Ri, I don’t know what the fuck to do” I kept sobbing and sobbing. Chris was the love of my life.

“Never cause that’s just boys being boys girl” she breathed out. “Why don’t we go out tonight and party and get hammered”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea Ri, I don’t think I can handle drinking and stuff” I bit my lip nervously thinking about everything that could go wrong while drinking.

“You know, your probably right” she gasps “oh my god do you remember when me and you got super drunk that first time you and Chris were on a break? You ended up drunk calling him and he had Matt come and pick you up?” Her laughter always lit up my day. No matter how sad I was I was always smile every-time I heard her voice. “So what are you gonna tell Chris?”

“Chris and are done, he’s not in love with me anymore. I’ll always be loved by him but I will not be someone he’s in love with unless things change and even if it does change, I don’t think we’ll ever be in a relationship again” I felt oddly and strangely content with that thought of never having to fight with Chris or wonder if I’m saying the wrong things, speaking wrongly, or vise versa.

“Does he know yall are done? Or is it YOUR done?” She spoke softer hearing my content voice of my current situation with Chris.

“Text him” was the two words she spoke. “He broke up with you over phone, you confirm the breakup over text, and you text me if you need anything girl, I love you, and you know this,”

“Love you too girl,” I sighed and opened my messages I knew I had to do it but couldn’t push myself to do it.

“Chris, though I’ve enjoyed the two years with you, and I can agree it was toxic and should’ve been done a long time ago, however you’re not in love with me I am with you and I will always be. I’ll always be here for you as a friend because essentially that’s what we were before dating. I love you Christopher.”

Sending that message broke me into a million pieces. Now my tummy hurts, he's in love with her But for what it's worth, he's her problem now And she'll stay with him 'Cause she made with him a couple monsters Like their mother and their father, eventually, 2043 Someone's gonna hurt your little girl like he hurt me.

HELLOOOO EVERYONEEEEEEEE!!!!

So sorry for lack of inactivity but I would like to say this is one of my favorite fics I’ve ever written and if you haven’t heard the song please listen now!! I love you all and thank you for the patience!

XOXO

Gabs!

[rockscanfly]

i'm here from ao3 and your writing zoomies!! could you do charles discovering (early on in their pining/not yet couple days) that arthur frequently draws him in his journal? 💕

Charles knew, objectively, that Sean MacGuire wasn’t the cause of all of his problems.

Subjectively…

He was one more bout of annoyance from tying the little shit up in a tree and using him as panther bait.

Sean’s latest assault on Charles’ peace—and there’d been many, since rescuing the red-headed menace—began when the gang’s loudest braggart approached Charles at the guard outpost outside the gang’s camp at Clemens Point.

“Charlie! Top of the mornin’ to ya!” Sean sing-songed, holding something aloft, waving it about like a prized catch.

Charles squinted through the glare of the sun, then scowled, raising the guard rifle slightly. “That ain’t yours,” he said, indicating the worn, leather-bound journal dangling from Sean’s fingers.

Sean shrugged, scrambling briefly for a high seat atop a nearby boulder. “Big man came into camp at the tail end of my shift,” he said, pulling a corncob pipe from his pocket. “Needed to work on my reading to get Summers off me back, didn’t I? And King Arthur’s wee book here’s the only one in camp with pictures.”

Charles guessed the boy thought the pipe made him look sophisticated. In reality, it deepened the already strong impression that Sean was an overgrown kid playing at a man’s game, trying desperately to fill the bloodied boots his father had left empty.

Everyone in the gang knew everything there was to know about Darragh MacGuire and his fight for a free Ireland. It was hard not to, considering Sean never shut up about his old man.

It seemed to Charles, who had a much more complicated relationship with his own dead, twice-damned father, that Sean was forever trying to take on the guise of his father’s ghost. A way of honoring him, maybe.

His father’s memory was certainly the only thing Sean knew how to honor. As made clear by the mocking, lackadaisical way he held Arthur’s journal aloft.

Charles took a deep breath, forcing the anger building in his chest down. Sean had perched out of reach, and Charles didn’t want to risk damage to the journal before he wrangled it from the little thief’s hands.

“Give that here. Please.” Charles tried, gritting his teeth.

Sean laughed. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t ya? Admit it, Charlie. You’re as curious as anyone about what the old man scribbles down in here.”

Charles sighed, pulling the rifle’s sling from his shoulder and leaning it against the boulder.

“You’ve got ten seconds,” he said, not dignifying Sean’s jab with a response.

Of course he was curious. But Arthur was his friend, and Charles knew to respect the man’s privacy.

Charles drew his knife from its holster on his thigh.

Sean smiled, a little nervous. “C’mon, Charles,” he said, scrambling a little higher on the boulder face. “Take it easy now, big man!”

Charles took a few steps forward, placing one foot on a foothold in the rock. Sean was scrappy but Charles was stronger. And he knew he had much, much more experience grappling than the skinny outlaw.

“Five seconds,” Charles warned, brows furrowing in a scowl that had sent grown men soiling themselves across ten state lines. “We can do this the easy way, Sean. Hand it over.”

“Don’t you wanna know what he wrote about you?” Sean squeaked, voice high with panic.

Charles paused. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I don’t know what he wrote,” Sean backtracked, a little confidence slinking back into his tone. Charles had flinched, and that was enough for him to get back on the front foot. “But there sure are a lot of sketches of you in here, big fella. Some might say more than strictly friendly, in fact.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “You’re lying,” he said. It wasn’t even a particularly good lie. Arthur had no reason to sketch Charles. Least, no more reason that he had to sketch anyone else in the gang. Sean was attempting to instigate mischief, per usual. “Time’s up.”

Charles stepped up, climbing the boulder one-handed. He paused when Arthur’s journal was suddenly in his face, thrust forward by the panicking Irishman.

“I ain’t no liar!” Sean exclaimed. “Look here!”

Charles blinked.

Taking up two pages, rendered beautifully in soft pencil lead, was a full body sketch of a man riding a horse, hair flying behind him in the wind.

It was cleverly rendered. Clean, dynamic lines gave the sketch a sense of forward momentum. The rider’s expression was joyful, grin wild and free as his eyes fixed on some distant point in the horizon.

It was also, undoubtedly, a picture of Charles riding Taima. Sketched with what could only be described as a loving hand, every detail captured, down to the precise curves of the scar on Charles’ cheek.

continued here on ao3

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and the Witch: Dean Winchester x fem! reader

Description: When Dean gets a call from a friend the boys and Y/N go to investigate a plane that crashed under mysterious circumstances.

Warnings: cannon violence, talk of plane crashes, demons, exorcism, reference to sexual themes (but nothing sexual happens at all like not even a little bit), comfort, aerophobia, one bed trope 🤨

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld, @okayiamkassandra, @fablesrose

Word count: 7,792

Authors note: I am so so sorry this took forever to get out, and i’m not even that happy with the turn out at least for some parts of this chapter. I will be working harder to make it better, please let me know what you guys think: criticism is welcome

The Phantom Traveler

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter)

The sound of the door opening along with movement beside me wakes me from my sleep. My eyes flicker open slowly only to be met with Dean prompt on one arm practically leaning over me with his hand underneath his pillow.

“Morning, Sunshine!” I hear Sam’s voice call out.

I rub my eyes, turning my head towards Sam’s voice who’s standing in the doorway with a tray of drinks and a baggy of something.

“Hi Sammy” I responded lightly, still adorned with sleep.

“What time is it?” Dean asks him. Which reminds me of the fact that we slept in the same bed the night before, there was only one room left and we were all too tired to go looking for another motel so Dean suggested I bunk with him. And it’s not like we hadn’t slept together growing up, whether on purpose or during a movie.

“Uh, it’s about five forty-five.” Sam answers, kicking his shoes off.

“In the morning?” Dean asks again.

“Yep” Sam answers simply.

“It’s too early” I grumble, sinking further into the hoodie I had worn to bed.

Dean huffs a laugh, “Where does the day go?” He sits up leaning on the headboard, “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Yeah, I grabbed a couple of hours.” Sam responds.

“Liar. 'Cause I was up at three, and you were watching a George Foreman infomercial.” Dean confronts.

“Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV.” Sam reasons.

“Lying again!” I add, still lying down.

Dean looks down at me before looking back at Sam, “When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?”

“I don't know, a little while, I guess. It's not a big deal.” Sam shrugs.

“Yeah, it is.” Dean answers and I nod my head in agreement, well the best I can nod lying down.

“Look, I appreciate your concern—“ Sam started getting cut off by Dean, “Oh, I'm not concerned about you. It's your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp.” Dean lies, he is most definitely worried.

But Sam just shrugs. So Dean pushes further, “Seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess?”

Sam crosses the room, sitting on the other bed, handing Dean two drinks. I sit up quickly taking my drink from Dean as Sam responds, “Yeah. But it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job. Man, it gets to you.”

“You can't let it. You can't bring it home like that.” Dean tells him, taking a sip of his drink that is most definitely coffee.

“So, what? All this it...never keeps you up at night?” Sam asks, leaning forward.

Dean shakes his head.

“Y/N?” Sam asks.

“Yeah…It does. I mean you can try to not let it bother you but it’s not so simple, not healthy either” I take a deep breath, “Man, we need therapy”, looking down at my cup instead of confronting the boys directly. I take a careful sip from my drink, hot chocolate, making a mental note to thank Sammy for it.

“Exactly. So Dean, really you’re never afraid? Never?”

“No, not really.” Dean replies the same answer.

Sam gives him a look reaching under Dean's pillow, pulling out a large hunting knife holding it up as evidence.

I almost spit out my drink, “When did you put that there!”

Dean takes the knife back, looking between Sam and I as he spoke, “That's not fear. That is precaution. And also when you went to change in the bathroom”

“All right, whatever. I'm too tired to argue.” Sam answers, leaning back on his hand while the other holds his drink (also probably coffee).

“Amen.” I add, focusing on my drink now.

Suddenly Dean’s phone rings, he answers it almost immediately.

“Hello?

…

Oh, right, yeah. Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing. It's not back, is it?

…

What is it?”

The conversation ends quickly and Dean explains that some guy he helped a while back named Jerry Panowski needed our help.

We change and pack up our things, heading out to this Jerry guy.

“Thanks for making the trip so quick. I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out.” Jerry, a short guy who’s balding, speaks

“Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?” Sam asks him, causing a random guy to call back a response, “Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie.”

Jerry snapped at the worker, “Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking.” He sighs continuing, “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?”

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

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

“He did?” Sam asks.

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

“He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now.” Dean responds, coming up with a quick lie.

“Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam and, uh, Y/N right? More than an even trade, huh?”

Dean laughs and I nod my head in conformation on the name bit.

“Well anyways I got something I want you guys to hear.” He leads us into his office nearby.

“I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley.” Jerry explains putting a CD into a drive.

“Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.” He presses play

“Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britania 2485—immediate instruction help! United Britanis 2485, I copy your message—May be experiencing some mechanical failure…” The recording ends with a loud whooshing sound.

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

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

“No, I don't.” He answers simply.

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

“And would it be possible for us to take a look at the wreckage�� I add on asking.

“The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage...fellas, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance.” Jerry tells us, and despite not being able to see the wreckage he’s extremely helpful. What a kind man.

“No problem.” Dean frowns.

Sam and I wait outside a Copy Jack for Dean, already having waited for maybe forty-five mins. Dean finally exits.

“You've been in there forever.” Sam complains and I nod in agreement.

“You can't rush perfection.” Dean smiles holding up three ID’s, fake ones at that.

Dean hands us our respected ID’s with a fake name, fake information but actual photos of us.

“Homeland Security? That's pretty illegal, even for us.” Sam comments, looking at his ID badge.

“Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times.” Dean reasons, rounding the car to get in.

“It’s not like you haven’t been FBI Agents” I remarked as I got into the car.

“I get it. We’re criminals.” Sam responded monotone.

“Yeah we are!” I celebrate.

Sam huffs a laugh, an almost disappointing laugh.

“All right, so, what do you got?” Dean asks, changing the subject.

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

“Yeah?” Dean asks.

“Listen.” Sam plays the tape, which he had edited to pull out a scratchy voice, “No survivors!”

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

“Maybe there wasn’t meant to be any survivors and it could be going back to, you know, uh, take care of them” I suggest.

“Maybe.” Sam adds. The car went quiet as if the boys were going over the possibilities in their heads.

Dean breaks the silence, “Are you thinking a haunted flight?”

“There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers. Remember flight 401?” Sam informs.

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

“Right. So maybe we got a similar deal.” Sam adds.

“All right, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?” Dean asks.

“Third on the list: Max Jaffey.”

“Why him?”

“Well, for one, he's from around here. And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did.” Sam lists out.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I spoke to his mother. And she told me where to find him.”

Max walks with a cane slightly in front of us, having joined him in the garden of the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital.

“I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security.” He tells us.

“Well, some new information came up. So we’d just like to ask you a couple of questions.” I answer softly.

“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything...unusual?” Sam adds jumping right into the questions.

“Like what?” He asks.

“Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices.” Dean lists out.

“No, nothing.” Max answers, though not very convincingly.

“Mr. Joffey—“ Dean began getting cut off,

“Jaffey.” Max corrects.

“Jaffey. You checked yourself in here, right?” Dean asks and Max nods.

“Can I ask why?” Dean pushes.

“I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash.” Max answered simply.

“Uh huh. And that's what terrified you? That's what you were afraid of?” Dean presses further.

“I...I don't want to talk about this anymore.” Max stammers. But Dean keeps pressing, “See, I think maybe you did see something up there. We need to know what.”

“No. No, I was...delusional. Seeing things.” Max answers, eyes wide.

“It's okay. Then just tell us what you thought you saw, please.” Sam offers, going the much nicer way.

“There was...this—man. And, uh, he had these...eyes—these, uh...black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him...

He opened the emergency exit. But that's...that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door.” Max explains, tripping over his words.

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

“What are you, nuts?” Says the guy who believes he was delusional and needed to check himself into a psychiatric hospital.

“He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”

Our questions ended soon after we got the name of the passenger in front of Max.

The Impala pulls up in front of his house.

“Here we are. George Phelps, seat 20C.” Sam announces.

“Man, I don't care how strong you are. Even yoked up on PCP or something, no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight.” Dean announces as we get out of the car.

“Opening the door while the plane is at an altitude of 10,000 or more, is impossible. I mean that’s an added 24,000 pounds of pressure, to a door that’s already on average 34 pounds, as a result of air pressure.” I inform, reciting something I had read.

Both boys turn to me with a questioning look, “I like fun facts” I shrug.

“Well that would be possible if you weren’t human. So maybe this guy George was something else. Some kind of creature, maybe, in human form.” Sam suggested.

Dean deadpans, looking at Sam, “Does that look like a creature's lair to you?”

Sam looks at the house, an ordinary white paneled home,and then back at Dean shrugging.

Sam rings the doorbell, a woman with shoulder length brown hair invites us in.

“This is your late husband?” Sam asks Mrs. Phelps, picking up a frame photo of a brunette man.

“Yes, that was my George.” She answers sniffling.

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

“Mm-hm. He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that…” Mrs.Phelps admits.

“How long were you married for?” I ask.

“Thirteen years.” She smiles sadly.

“In all that time, did you ever notice anything...strange about him, anything out of the ordinary?” Sam adds.

“Well...uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean.” She answers maybe a little too truthfully, and I have to stop myself from laughing.

We come down the front steps, having no helpful information.

“I mean it goes without saying. It just doesn't make any sense.” Sam announces.

“A middle-aged dentist with an ulcer is not exactly evil personified. You know what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage.” Dean suggests.

“Okay. But if we're gonna go that route, we'd better look the part.” Sam adds with a smirk.

My face breaks out into a smile, “Cue the montage!”

My new heels click loudly on the pavement, catching the eyes of onlookers.

I had wandered off to find a clothing store for women that would have more professional clothing that I was looking for, while the boys were at some store called “MORT’S for style”.

I retrace my steps back to where I had left the brothers, seeing them standing outside the store fixing their suit jackets. Even though I only saw some of them from where I was walking from I had to say they cleaned up nice.

“What the hells taking Y/N so long?” I hear Dean complain his back towards me as he fidgets with the cuffs of his sleeves.

I approached closer only stopping about four feet behind Dean.

Sam’s eyes caught mine as he looked behind his brother’s shoulder, his eyes widening.

“Sorry, Dean.” I say looking up through my eyelashes, even though his back was towards me still.

He turned towards me, his lips ready to form words that never left his mouth, whatever he was going to say died on his tongue the second he had seen me.

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before turning to a more lidded stance, accompanied by a devilish smirk as his eyes ran up and down my figure. I hadn’t thought there was anything special about wearing a white button up and a black pencil skirt that ended near my mid thigh, but the way he’s looking has me questioning my knowledge on such things.

I feel my cheeks turn hot and I suddenly feel exposed by the way he’s looking at me. I tug on the hem of my skirt, pulling it down slightly, seemingly pulling Dean out of whatever odd trance he had been in.

He clears his throat and yet his voice still comes out a little tight, “We should go”.

I hum in agreement, only now realizing that Sam was already ahead of us and getting into the car.

We enter the warehouse, my heels still noticeably clicking, showing our “homeland security badges” to the security guard who nods and lets us in.

The warehouse is huge and yet still cluttered with plane wreckage.

Dean pulls out an odd device, plaguing the attached earbuds in his ears.

“What is that?” Sam asks the question we’re both thinking.

“It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies.” Dean informs, holding up a rackity device.

“Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?” Sam questions further, eyebrows scrunched.

“'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade.” Dean grins, shaking it a little.

“Okay D.I.Y King.” I laugh, nudging his arm.

“I’m just going to accept that” Dean nods, going off to move his creation around for EMF readings.

“Check out the emergency door handle.” Dean calls out revealing a yellow dust like thing on the handle.

“What is this stuff?” Dean asks, scratching at the odd yellow substance.

“Why would you touch it?” I ask him, he looks at me and shrugs.

“Well there’s one way to find out what it is.” Sam scrapes some of the yellow dust off with a pen putting both into a little clear baggy.

He puts the bag in his pocket when suddenly the door we entered slams open, several security guards with guns enter. We all share a panic look before swiftly sneaking out of the room.

With our backs pressed to the walls tightly we found a way outside. We peer around a corner seeing no one in sight, giving us the go to start walking towards the gated exit. Then suddenly a loud alarm blared, turning our “causal” walking into a run.

My heels hit the ground hard with every stride I took, hoping they wouldn’t break. But with each careful movement I knew my heels were slowing me down. I stopped a brief moment kicking them up before carrying them in one hand as I continued after the men in front of me.

Reaching the gate Dean took his suit jacket off, his muscles flexing under the white button shirt he wore. He threw his jacket over the barbed wire at the top of the fence, Sam already climbing the gate.

Dean makes eye contact with me, and without words he gets down on one knee offering me his cupped hands to lift me up the gate. I accepted it and with one hand carrying my heels I hurried up the fence, swinging my leg over the jacket covered bar wire, and despite the shorts I wore underneath the skirt I still hoped I wasn’t flashing him.

I feel Dean following closely behind me as I land, stumbling slightly, on the hard concrete my feet aching from the drop without shoes.

“Well, these monkey suits do come in handy.” Dean says, having grabbed the jacket on his way over the fence. He takes a half a look back and takes off running, Sam follows closely behind being able to catch up with his long legs as I hurry after the boys.

Jerry looks at the yellow stuff through a microscope, hunched over. We watch the screen that's projecting what the microscope sees.

“Huh. This stuff is covered in sulfur.” Jerry announces.

“You're sure?” Sam asks.

“Take a look for yourself.” Jerry offers but before anyone could move there’s sounds of banging coming from outside the office as well as a voice cursing out, “You effin' piece of crap…”

“If you fellows will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire.” Jerry huffs, teeth clenched.

As Jerry leaves Dean wanders over to the microscope looking into it.

“Hmm. You know, there's not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue.” Dean mumbles.

“Demonic possession?” Sam asks.

“Oh, that would definitely explain how a regular dude would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch.” I answer.

“This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?” Dean stated.

“You ever heard of something like this before?” Sam asks him.

“Never.” He replies

“That’s comforting” I remark.

We were in full research mode, the motel room walls taped with article clippings and images. Papers strewn access the beds and tables. Sam’s on his bed researching on his computer, while Deans reading a book on demon mythology sitting on his bed.

I’m sitting at the small table in the room with a notepad and two open books in front of me, with titles I'm not entirely sure of.

“So, every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right? I mean Christian, Native American, Hindu, you name it.” Sam speaks out.

“Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this.” Dean adds.

“Well, that's not exactly true. You see, according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease.” Sam informs

Dean gets up,“And this one causes plane crashes?

All right, so, what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?”

“I guess there isn’t really a way of knowing just how many planes it’s brought down before this one.” I answered

Dean snorts, turning away.

“Hey” I whine thinking he’s poking fun at what I said, my eyebrows scrunching.

“I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here.” Dean announces, my face relaxing at the clarification.

“Yeah. Me too.” Sam hums, looking back down at his computer just as Dean’s phone rings.

He answers,

“Hello?

…

Oh, hey, Jerry.

…

Wha—Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?

….

Where'd this happen?

….

I'll try to ignore the irony in that.”

Me and Sam throw each other a questioning look.

Dean’s conversation continues,

“Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon.”

As he hangs up Sam asks him, “Another crash?”

“Yeah. Let's go.” Dean confirms.

“Where too?” I ask, closing the books and my laptop.

“Nazareth.” He answers.

Jerry is again looking through his microscope.

“Sulfur?” I ask, wanting to confirm. Jerry nods, simply.

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

“With all due respect to Chuck, if that's the case, that would be the good news.” Sam adds, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“What's the bad news?” Dean asks him, turning in his direction.

“Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into flight. And get this, so did flight 2485.” Sam answers, my eyes widening at the realization.

“Forty minutes? What does that mean?” Jerry questions, looking between the three of us.

“The number typically symbolizes a period of trial or testing, like in Noah’s Ark it rained for forty days and forty nights.” I recall, speaking with my hands.

“Along with death” Dean joins in.

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

“Any survivors?” Dean asks him.

“No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason. On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP Said?” Sam adds.

“ ‘No survivors’… Y/N you were right, it’s going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job.” Dean recalls.

Darkness surrounds the car, our only source of light being the headlights as we drive through the night.

Sam’s on the phone contacting the survivors.

“Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.” Sam says, sounding peachy as he lies to the woman on the phone.

He hangs up, “All right. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon.”

“So our only wildcard is the flight attendant Amanda Walker.” Dean acknowledges, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight pm. It's her first night back on the job.” Sam adds.

“You know I can’t decide if that’s really brave or stupid of her.” I say

“Either way, that’s just our luck” Dean grumbles.

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

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

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

God, we're never gonna make it.” Sam sighs.

“We'll make it.” Dean answers, pressing down on the gas pedal.

We rush through the airport, stopping only to look up at the Departure board.

“There! They’re boarding in thirty minutes.” I point at the screen above us, trying to catch my breath.

“Okay. We still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone.” Dean adds, turning in a circle until he spots a courtesy phone.

He picks up the phone while Sam and I wait on standby, “Hi. Gate thirteen.

I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um…” He trails off.

Sam quickly pulls out a marker writing numbers on his hand before holding it up for Dean to read, “flight 4-2-4.”

Dean taps his finger on the phone as he waits,

“Come on.

…….

Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here.

….

Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so—“

Dean pauses and I know something got messed up, “You what?

…..

Uh, well...there must be some mistake.”

Sam looks at me with confused eyes and I shrug not knowing either, he gets closer to Dean trying to listen in as best as he can almost right on top of him.

Dean laughs, uncomfortably, “Guilty as charged.

….

He's really sorry.

….

Yes, but...he really needs to see you tonight, so—

……

Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic.

….

Oh, yeah.”

I have never been more confused about a conversation before.

Dean suddenly calls out, “No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda! Damn it! So close.” He puts the phone back on the hook with a defeated sigh.

“All right, it's time for plan B. We're getting on that plane.” Sam says quickly.

“Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second.” Dean holds out his hand in defense, eyes wide.

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

“I know.” Dean mumbles.

“Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You guys get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through the security. Meet me back here in five minutes.” Sam explains and I nod along with him.

But Dean remains quiet looking between us anxious. I place my hand on his upper arm, “Are you okay, Dean?”

“No, not really.” He answers truthfully, which I wasn’t quite expecting.

“Oh…what’s wrong?” I ask, concerned.

“Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh…” He starts getting cut off by his brother, “Flying?”

“It's never really been an issue until now.” Dean explains his body tense.

“You're joking, right?” Sam smiles, and I hit his arm lightly.

“Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?” Dean whisper-shouts.

“How come you never told either of us?” I ask him, bringing my arm back to my side.

“Well I don’t exactly make it a point to tell people, it’s embarrassing.” He explains, becoming quieter as he finishes.

“Hey we all have our fears” I say, giving his upper arm a little pat, trying to comfort him though I’m not sure if it was helping.

“Ok, uh, Y/N and I will go then.” Sam comes up with.

“What?” Dean asks, looking between us as if we had grown another head each.

“Me and Y/N can do it on our own.” Sam states.

“Yeah! It’s no biggie! And it will mean no plane time for you.” I add on.

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

“Dean, we can do it all three of us, or me and Y/N can do this one together. I'm not seeing a third option, here.” Sam proposed.

“Come on! Really? Man…” Dean complained.

The intercom rings out, “Flight attendants, please cross-check doors before departure.”

I sat snuggly between Sam and Dean, the later being in the aisle seat anxiously reading the safety card.

“Just try to relax.” Sam tells him.

“Just try to shut up.” Dean snaps back. I roll my eyes at their banter with a huffed laugh.

The plane takes off, Dean jumping at every little rumble the vehicle makes. He clutches his armrests tightly, the knuckles of his hands turning white from the grip, I place my hand on top of his. The hand I was touching quickly released its death grip on the armrest, now having a firm grip on my hand instead. His body was visibly tense as he leaned back, strigidly, humming a song to himself.

Sam leans forward to see Dean, “You're humming Metallica?”

“Calms me down.” Dean answers through clenched teeth.

“Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right?” Sam sympathized, “But you got to stay focused.”

“Okay.” Dean replies simply.

“I mean, we got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it's possessing, anyway, and perform a full-on exorcism.” Sam explains.

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

“Just take it one step at a time, all right?” Sam reassures, “Now, who is it possessing?”

Realizing what Sam’s trying to do I keep quiet and let him work.

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

“Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up.” Sam adds.

“Mm-hm.” Dean hums, turning to a brunette flight attendant who passed by, “Excuse me. Are you Amanda?”

“No, I'm not”,she answered, looking at him just a little bit strangely.

“Oh, my mistake.”

“Mm-hm.”

Dean stretches his neck to the back of the plane, still trying to look for Amanda, “All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state.

“What if she's already possessed?” Sam asks him.

“There's ways to test that.” He answers, going into his bag and diving out a flask looking bottle with the Virgin Mary on it. “I brought holy water.”

“No” Sam snatches the bottle tucking it inside his hoodie, almost hitting me in the face as he took it. “I think we can go more subtle. If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of God.”

“Oh. Nice.” Dean turns to go, letting go of my hand in the process.

“Hey.” Sam calls out, stopping his brother in his tracks.

“What?” Dean asks

“Say it in Latin.” Sam reminds.

“I know.” Dean leaves again, only making it a few steps before Sam calls out again, “Okay. Hey!”

“What?!” Dean almost shouts, annoyed.

“Uh, in Latin, it's ‘Christo’” Sam answers.

“Dude, I know! I'm not an idiot!” Dean snaps back, this time being able to walk away without restriction.

I turn my head to Sam, “I feel like I should be going with him.”

“Yeah…probably” He answers.

With a nod I unbuckle myself getting up to follow after Dean.

“Dean!” I call out touching his arm as I catch up to him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks me.

“I’m here for moral support!” I say smiling as we enter the back portion of the plane seeing a blond woman fussing with a cart of drinks and napkins.

“Hi.” Dean greets her awkwardly.

“Hi. Can I help you with something?” She asks us, her eyes suddenly widening, “Oh, wait, are you guys trying to join the Mile High Club?” She adds looking uncomfortable now.

“What’s tha-“ I try to ask, getting cut off by a frantic Dean.

“No! no, no, no. I, uh, I'm just a bit of an uneasy flier. It makes me feel better to walk around a little bit, and she’s here for moral support.” He stammers out, eyes wide.

“Oh, I'm so sorry for the confusion. But flight anxiety happens to the best of us.” She offers, meanwhile I'm still confused on what this club is.

“Of course, you being a stewardess, I guess flying comes easy to you.” Dean replies, getting back on track.

She laughs, “You'd be surprised.”

“Really? You’re a nervous flier?” I ask her, even though I know anyone would be after experiencing what she had.

“Yeah, maybe, little bit.” She answers.

“How is it that, being a stewardess, you're scared to fly?” Dean chimes in, scratching his chin.

“Kind of a long story.” She responds.

“Right. I'm sorry for asking.” Dean apologized.

I have to say this is the most awkward conversation I’ve ever witnessed Dean be in, especially when it came to women as much as I hate to say it.

“It's okay.” She says.

“You ever consider other employment?” Dean asks her, and I'm starting to wonder if she thinks this random guy talking to her is strange.

“No. Look, everybody's scared of something. I just, uh...I'm not gonna let it hold me back.” She answered confidently, shaking her head.

“Huh.” Dean hums.

“So…” She trails off, probably wanting this awkward encounter to stop.

“Christo.” Dean mumbles quietly under his breath.

“I'm sorry. Did you say something?” Amanda asks him, looking between us.

Dean hesitates, “Christo?”

“I—I didn't, I didn't…” She stutters, clearly lost. If she hadn’t found him strange before she definitely did now.

“Yeah, nothing. Never mind.” Dean answers, turning around swiftly, grabbing my hand in the process as he leads us back to our seats.

“All right, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet.” Dean informs, sitting back down.

“That was the most awkward conversation I have ever been a part of. I mean seriously what is this ‘Mile High Club’ and why would we be joining it?” I ask no one in particular.

Both boys are quiet, oddly quiet so I turn my head first towards Sam seeing his eyes wide as he holds back a laugh between tightly closed lips. I give him a weird, questioning look before turning towards Dean who also has widened eyes as he makes a throat cut gesture towards his younger brother. He spots me looking at him strangely and immediately drops the motion, smiling at me instead.

“Ok then, weirdos.” I scuffed, “Back on the topic of the hunt there’s definitely no demon in her, Dean did the whole ‘Christo’ thing. And there's no demon getting into her”

Sam clears his throat as if he was getting rid of whatever came over him, “So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere.”

“Exactly, so not very helpful” I add.

The plane suddenly shakes again, “Come on! That can't be normal!” Dean shouts his grip back on the arm rests.

“Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence.” Sam reassured, and I nodded along with him.

“Sam, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm friggin' four.” Dean exclaims.

“You need to calm down.” Sam tells him.

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

“Yes, you can.” Sam reassures him.

“Yeah, you can take deep breaths, we'll do it with you if that helps” I add.

“Guys, stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap, it's not helping.” Dean grumbles

“Sorry” I whisper.

“Listen, if you're panicked, you're wide open to demonic possession, so you need to calm yourself down. Right now.” Sam orders, and a little surprisingly, Dean follows, taking a long slow breath in.

“Good. Now, I found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work. The Rituale Romanum.” Sam notifies us, pulling out his Dads journal. “It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful.”

“More powerful?” Dean asks him.

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“Well, it doesn't need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreak havoc on its own.” Sam explains.

“And why would that be a good thing?” I ask, chiming in.

“Well, because the second part sends the bastard back to hell once and for all.” Sam finishes.

“First things first, we got to find it.” Dean gets up from his seat walking slowly up the aisle with his DIY EMF meter. Sam and I get up following him, I allow Sam to get in front of me. He claps a hand on Dean's shoulder, making him jump, “Ah! Don't do that.”

“Anything?” Sam asks him.

“No, nothing. How much time we got?”

“Fifteen minutes” I chime in, calling out from behind the two taller men.

“Maybe we missed somebody.” Sam adds.

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

Sam gives him a pointed look, “You believe that?”

“Well, I will if you will.” Dean comments, looking down at the EMF as the meter suddenly spikes.

The copilot exits the bathroom, heading towards the cockpit.

“What? What is it?” Sam asks.

“Christo.”

The Copilot turns slowly, facing us. His eyes turning black as he peers behind his shoulder, he turns back around going into the cockpit.

We head to the back of the plane, back to Amanda.

“She's not gonna believe this.” Sam warns.

“Twelve minutes, dude.” Dean points out.

“Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope.” Amanda greets sweetly despite how odd her last conversation with us was.

“Actually, that's kind of what we need to talk to you about.” Dean begins, as Sam closes the curtain.

“Um, okay. What can I do for you?” She answers looking at us weirdly again.

“All right, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole "the truth is out there" speech right now.” Dean explains

“All right, look, we know you were on flight 2485.” Sam adds.

Amanda's smile disappears, “Who are you guys?”

But she does not get the answer she’s looking for as Sam explains, “Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure.”

“We really need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Right now.” I plead.

“I'm sorry, I—I'm very busy. I have to go back—“ She stammers, trying to brush past Dean who stops her.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second. I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? But listen to me, uh...The pilot in 2485, Chuck Lambert. He's dead.”

“Wait. What? What, Chuck is dead?” She exclaims, eyes wide.

“He died in a plane crash. Now, that's two plane crashes in two months. That doesn't strike you as strange?” Dean asks.

“I—“ Amanda starts getting cut off by Sam, “Look, there was something wrong with 2485. Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too.”

“Amanda, you have to believe us.” Dean urged

“On...on 2485, there was this man. He...had these eyes.” Amanda tries to explain.

“Yes. That's exactly what we're talking about.” Sam responds.

“I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?” She looks between us.

“Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here.” Dean explains.

“Why? What does he have to do with anything?” She asks him.

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

“How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot—“ She tries to ask getting cut off yet again by Sam, “Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit.”

“Do you know that I could lose my job if you—“ She tries again this time getting cut off by me, “Please, Amanda your job isn’t going to exist in a couple minutes if you don’t bring him back here.”

I feel bad for having to scare her like this but we don’t have a choice here.

She hesitates and I can see her considering her options in her head, “Okay.”

She leaves us, heading to the cockpit as we get in position. Sam pulls out the holy water and Dean pulls out his Dads journal handing it to Sam who opens it.

“Yeah, what's the problem?” A male voice rings out, the Co-Pilot walking through the curtain.

Dean launches forward, punching him in the face. The man stumbles back, Dean uses that leverage to grab the guy and slam him to the ground. Pinning him down as he puts duct tape over his mouth.

“Wait. What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him.” Amanda exclaims.

“We are gonna talk to him.” Dean answers, Sam splashing the holy water on the man’s skin, making it sizzle and bubble at the contact.

“Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?” She stammered, backing up.

“Look. We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain.” Sam commands.

“Well, I don't underst—I don't know—“ Amanda whispered, fearfully.

“Sam start reading” I order taking over the role of getting Amanda out, “You can’t let anyone in, Amanda please. Can you do that?” I ask her, leading her closer to the curtain.

“Okay. Okay.” She finally agrees, leaving. Meanwhile Sam began his reading kneeling down near the Demon, “Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—“

The demon manages to break free, swinging his arm out at Sam causing the holy water to go flying, in that one moment of distraction the demon manages to shove Dean backwards and hit Sam back into the wall.

I launch into movement, pinning his arms to the side of his head. I'm not physically stronger than Dean but I’m not exactly going to wait around either.

Sam leans up, picking up where he left off. Dean kneels by my side holding down the arm of the demon who lashes beneath me. He breaks free again shoving me off, the side of my head hitting into the wall of the plane hard, and backhanding Dean in the face making him stumble back.

He rips the tape off his mouth, grabbing Sam by the collar, “I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!”

Dean recovers much quicker than I, punching the demon and pinning him down once more.

“Sam!” Dean yells.

Sam begins reading again, putting the book down to help Dean pin down the Demon. I pick myself up, ignoring the spinning of my head to hold down the guy's other arm.

The demon lashes again, when finally black smoke leaves the Copilots mouth and disappears.

“Where'd it go?” Sam asks, looking up.

“It's in the plane. Hurry up. We got to finish it.”

We all stand up, determined to finish this when suddenly the plane dips and heaves violently. The movement successfully threw me to the ground, every time I tried to get up or move the heaving threw me down again like a baby who’s just learning how to walk. Meanwhile Deans splayed against the exit door screaming.

Sam somehow manages to keep moving despite the violent movement, army crackling into the aisle looking for the book.

A sudden bright electrical charge runs through the entire plane, which ends the hectic movement.

I hear chatter and sighs of relief, even though I'm all the way in the back of the plane. I stumble as I stand, walking over to Dean who still remains splayed against the door despite the plane flying as normal. I place a hand on his arm, as to say without words he’s okay, he looks down at me, his eyes wide and full with fear.

He carefully removes himself from the wall to enclose me in a tight hug, his head coming down to rest on my shoulder. I wrap one arm around his back, the other going to hold his head to me, my fingers in his hair, his breath heavy as I feel it fan on my neck.

I don’t mind the fact that I had to stand on my tippy toes for his head to be on my shoulder more comfortably, not when I got to hold him so close and give him a moment of peace.

————————————————————————

Back at the airport all sorts of departments surrounded everyone, FBI, FAA, Paramedics, etc.

We headed for the exit, Sam walking just a bit ahead of us, his body and every movement was tense. Dean looks at me, asking without words if he should say something I nod in confirmation.

“You okay?” he asks, Sam stops and turns.

“It knew about Jessica.” Sam seethes.

“Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. All right? That's all it was.” Dean explains and I nod along with him.

“Yeah.” Sam breathes out.

“Come on.” Dean slaps a hand on Sam’s back, leading us out of there.

————————————————————————

“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed.” Jerry shakes each of our hands, “Your dad's gonna be real proud.”

“We'll see you around, Jerry.” Sam said.

We begin to head off when Dean stops short, “You know, Jerry.”

“Yeah.” He answers.

“I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway? I've only had it for like six months.” Dean told him.

“Your dad gave it to me.” Jerry responded.

“What?” Sam and I say almost at the same time.

“When did you talk to him?” Dean asks, looking at Sam and then back to Jerry.

“I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call.” Jerry explained, “Thanks again, guys” and he left.

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

Dean pulls out his phone in response, dialing a number and putting it on speaker phone for us to hear too.

“This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.”

We all look at each other, Sam huffs storming off to the car slamming the door behind him. I didn’t know what to say, and I don’t think Dean did either. With no other words we followed getting into the car and with a sigh Dean drove off.

[barnesboo1967]

The Farmer’s Daughter - 2

Summary: After Tyler’s last ride, he’s been lying around the house. His parents decide he needs a summer job. Lucky for him the owner of the town rodeo needs a new farm hand. But just when he thought it couldn’t no hotter the farmer’s daughter comes home from Aggie Land. Will they have a sweet summer lovin’ or will they break up in a small town

A/N: Wow this is a long one. And it took a while as I have been horible. Sickness is not for the weak. And I would like to thank my best friend for helping me so much with this chapter, cause I am so indescive. I honestly dont know when the next chapter will come out (or what happens next) so um lets see what happens.

Grace had been home for two weeks and was finally going out with her friends. They were going out to the only bar in town. It was built to be for the older crowd, but the kids wanted somewhere to hangout so they took it over. Grace had turned 21 over the school year so she could actually enjoy going to a bar. She had gotten small town done up, completely different from college town done up. She sported an off the shoulder black crop top, with some cut off blue jeans, and of course her cowgirl hat and boots.

Ever since working at the Campbell farm, Tyler had finally been talking to his old riding buddies. They were able to convince him to go out for a night. He had never been a bar type of guy, spending most nights as the DD for everyone. But tonight was different, tonight he wanted to cut loose with his buddies. He went for a casual look, a simple black shirt, jeans, and his worn down cowboy boots and hat.

Grace was a few drinks in when he saw her. She looked gorgeous, well ok he always thought that but even more so tonight. The way she glowed in the neon lights of the bar, surrounded by her friends. Seeing her letting loose with her friends was a complete difference than seeing her being a family girl at the house. He wanted to go over and talk to her, but what would they talk about? How her dad’s cows were doing? How the vegetables in her ma’s gardens were coming in? Instead of growing some balls, he stayed on his side of the bar, eyes wandering to her every now and then.

It had been an hour or maybe two, she had lost count of time and drinks, when she finally noticed him. Sitting at a high top table with his buddies. She recognized some of them from school or coming to talk to her dad. Seeing him in the dark bar instead of the golden sunshine was different, but she was happy to see the difference. She was taking in the sight as her friend pulled on her arm. “Girl, it's our song!” that was when she heard the strumming of the one song that could get her on the floor in 0.1 second. Her and her friends made it out to the dance floor. Even a year in college couldn’t make her forget this dance.

Tyler recognized the song the DJ played, a classic line dancing song especially for this bar. He looked up from his Jack and Coke up to see her. She was dancing perfectly with the music. He was memorized but the way her body moved in time with the music. She was laughing as she danced with her friends. He wished it could’ve been him out there with her, but he barely knew her. He couldn’t ask her that. Right?

She was laughing with her friends when she looked up at him. He was staring at her. She smiled at him. She imagined what it would be like if he was out there with her. But that would be wrong. He worked for her father and they barely know each other. She shouldn’t be thinking of him like that. Right?

He was up at the bar getting another round when she finally got off the dance floor. Without realizing it she walked up right beside him to order another drink. He glanced over to see who just showed up beside him. Of course it had to be Grace, the person he had been getting the balls to talk to all night. “Oh hey, Grace.” He finally said. “Oh hey Tyler, how are you?” She was more talkative the more drunk she got, and she was definitely on her way there. “ ‘M good, hanging out with some buddies. What ‘bout you, Sweetheart?” Neither of them could believe what he just called her. She was looking down at the bar blushing about the fact a man as fine as him just called her sweetheart. He was freaking out in his head over the fact her called a girl he barely knew sweetheart. “I um, I’m good. Catching up with some old friends, having a good time.” She answered, finally looking back to him. “Well that’s good, sweetheart.” He wanted to say more, but just then one of his buddies came up and slapped him on the back.

”What is taking so long, Ty? We are dying of thirst over there.” His buddy said before seeing who he was talking to, “Oh hey, Gemma? Right?” Grace chuckled a little, “No its Grace, Boone. We were in band together all four years.” “Oh shit you’re right. You were a clarinet, right?” He says, in excited and loud Boone fashion. “Yes sir, and you were trumpet or trombone…?” “I was a loud and proud trumpet.” He says, putting his hands on his hip. She giggled a little, which made Tyler’s heart soar. “Oh yes, how could I forget. Well um I better get back to my friends. It was good to see you, Boone. And I’ll see you around Ty.” Grace grabbed her drink before heading back to her friend’s table.

As Tyler and Boone headed back to their friends, Boone couldn’t resist giving Tyler a hard time about Grace. Boone knew about his friend's little crush on his boss's daughter. And the fact he just fumbled so hard with her was hilarious.

Grace stayed until closing with her friends. With a certain cowboy on her mind the rest of the night. Her friends noticed her behavior change since she had come back from the bar. They had also noticed the fine ass cowboy at the bar with her. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

Tyler and Grace both just happened to go to the bathroom as their friends were waiting in the parking lot. They also just happened to walk out as the last song of the night started. This song just happened to be “Tennessee Whiskey” By Chris Stapleton. To get out of the bar you just happened to have to cross the dance floor. And of course they just happened to walk up to each other.

“Hi.” Grace said as they approached each other. “Hello, Sweetheart. You enjoy your night?” Tyler responds. “It was fun. What about yours?” “It was a good time. But uh, there’s this really pretty girl I wanted to dance with. Never got the chance to.” Tyler responds, leaving Grace blushing. “Well, uh I think you still got a chance. If you ask nicely.” Grace says, looking up at him through her lashes. “Good to know. So, may I have this dance ma’am?” Offering her his hand. “You may, sir.” She accepts his hand and lets him take the lead.

Tyler wraps his arm around Grace’s back as her hand rests on her shoulder. They moved slowly, together in time with the music. Both being able to feel the other’s heartbeat. She slowly rested her head on his shoulder, his breath got caught in his throat as she did this. But it felt right to both of them.

“You know I wanted to ask you to dance all night? My friends were giving me shit for it all night, but I never grew the balls to.” Tyler chuckled a little at his embarrassing confession. It caused Grace to even chuckle a little. “Well, I am glad you did ask me to dance, even if it did take all night.” She said, looking up at him. He looked down at her. Maybe it was the song. Maybe it was the neon lights. Maybe it was the drinks he had. But he had never seen anyone so gorgeous before. Someone so breathtaking. Someone so kissable.

But of course the moment had to be ruined, once again. “Dude, how long does it take to piss?” Boone’s voice echoes through the mostly empty bar. As he realizes what he has walked in on, Grace and Tyler step away from each other. “Ooooh, excuse me.” Boone says with a smirk on his face. “No no it's ok. I should get going. My friends are waiting for me.” Grace says, feeling awkward. She reaches up on her tiptoes to give Tyler a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you around.” Grace walks to the door, giving a small smile to Boone as she walks out. “I hate you and your timing.” Tyler says, hitting Boone upside the head before leaving the bar.

[ynbabe]

Batfam x male reader

Jason: How did you know there would be an extra uniform in the bag?

Tim: Everyone knows flight attendants are required to carry extra uniforms, in case they get called to work unexpectedly.

Dick: Or if something happens to the one they're already wearing.

Tim: Everyone does not know that. How did you both know that?

Roy (yes he’s a bat now, no idgaf abt queen): Worked airport security.

Jason and Y/n: *Simultaneously* Slept with a flight attendant.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Jason: *sighs* I have no friends...

Y/n:

Y/n: *coughs* Bitch, what am I? A roach?!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Tim: I can’t go, Dick’s mad at me 

Y/n: Why?

Tim: Well there was too many people watching on the Netflix account so I texted him and told him to check the news ‘cause Batman was dead and when he saw I was lying he couldn’t get back onto the Netflix because I had taken his spot

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Jason: [on the phone] Hey do you remember when I said that me and Y/n were gonna have a calm night out?

Steph: Yes?

Jason: How much bail money do you have?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Jason: [takes off his shirt and jumps into a fighting stance] Fight me you bitch

Y/n: [picks up Harley’s shirt and puts it on] What’s your next move?

Jason: Wait what-? Gimme my shirt back

Y/n: No you’ve made your decision 

Jason: L/n I’m cold

Y/n: Should’ve worn a shirt then

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Dick: Damian loves the outdoors

Dick: That time we went camping he was like Mowgli running around those woods

Dick: I swear Y/n, he was that happy that I honestly thought about just leaving him there

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Are you all caught up on homework?

Tim: I have a project due on Tuesday and I’m not saying I haven’t started but if you ask to see what I’ve done so far there wouldn’t be anything 

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Pete, why did you put syrup on the shopping list?

Steph: Cause I like syrup

Y/n: Yes but now it’s all sticky

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n, serious: Don't go falling in love with me

Jason, also serious: Yeah, that's not a problem

*A few days later*

Jason: *yelling as he runs to Dick's room* DICK, I HAVE A PROBLEM

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Dick: Do NOT drink the night before the awards ceremony 

Jason: Yeah yeah, be on time, don’t mess things up

Dick: NO. Alfred’s booked a bagpipe choir. You do NOT want to be hungover for a bagpipe choir

Y/n: Oh fuck

Dick: We’ll go out AFTER the ceremony

Dick: When the bagpipe choir has left the premises 

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Tim got so drunk last night he puked all over my living room

Tim: It was the laughing! You made me laugh and I threw up!

Jason: Yeah it wasn’t the nine vodka sodas, it was the laughing

Y/n: “Oh my god! I drank so much laughter before this!”

Tim: 

Jason: You owe us a new rug

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: [climbing down the side of the building]

Tim: Y/n!

Tim: Y/n come back! You’re gonna miss your cocoa!

Y/n: [in the distance] I know!

Tim: Well can I have it then?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Jason, after getting Tim duty: Horror movies don’t scare Tim

Dick: But Chuckie is so creepy though

Tim, spending wayyy to much time on Y/n with this: If I had to fight Chuckie I’d stand in an open field and kick him like a soccer ball every time he came towards me

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: We need to find Dami, do you have a picture of him?

Tim: No but I can draw him from memory 

Tim: How tall is he? Like 2 feet?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Have fun at your party

Tim: Thanks

Y/n: You know what they say: “Liquor before beer, never fear. Don’t do heroin”

 Tim: It’s a parent-controlled sociale for rich kids in Gotham I’ll be back before 9

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Fuck sake Bruce you said I had to babysit one kid

[Dick, Jason, Steph, Cass, Tim, Duke and Damian waving]

Bruce: They don’t exactly come separately... and you only need to look after Damian

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: [waking up from a near death injury] You were scared

Jason: Nah, I was waiting to inherit your millions

Y/n: Let me know where you find them, huh?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Bruce: Can’t you leave Damian alone?

Tim: I got all the Justice league, young justice, teen titans, titans, everyone at WE and a bunch of interns to sign this notebook I had and then I wrote “Sign here if you think Damian is stupid” on the cover

Tim: He almost cried 

Tim: It was great

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Dick: Kid, could I have a moment in private with Y/n?

Tim: Sure, I’ll just plug my ears and sing an old sea shanty

Dick: Wait-

Tim: There once was a ship that went to sea-

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Tim, crushing on Y/n: Can I just say that I’d love to listen to you talk about Hell all afternoon Y/n

Jason, dating y/n and having met in hell: And can I just say that if I had my guns right now I’d shoot myself

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Uhhh

Damian: *scoffs*

Y/n: You want a beer?

Dick: He's ten!

Y/n: I don't know, what am I supposed to do with him!?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Damian: I wanna ride a horse

Y/n: Alright sweetie here’s the horse

Damian: That’s a horse? 

Damian: [picks up book] I thought this was a horse?

Y/n: Damian that’s a cow

Damian: I wanna ride that

Steph: Me moo

Y/n: You’re not helping 

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Tim, clearly drunk: I don’t even know how to drink! I’ve never had one! Like what do you even mix vodka with?

Y/n: A straw

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n, at a PTM meeting: Wait- that guy is the bullying you?

Cass, under strict orders from Bruce not to fight: Hmm 

Y/n, knowing Bruce can’t say shit to him: [powering up] Not my first human, doubt it will be my last 

[lewisdeklein]

I’ve seen other people make their own MHA x MP100 aus so I thought I’d give it a try, staring with Ritsu and Shou

I made Ritsu and Shou more or less the main focus, but to be fair it just depends on what part of the story you would want to focus on. Making Mob and Teru apart of class 1A feels like it takes the focus away from Deku so they are both in the year above.

In this AU psychic powers are different from quirks. They existed much longer that quirks and don’t cause someone to have any physical differences than normal people.

Ritsu and Mob’s story is pretty much the same up till the clean up arc. They both live in an area with a low amount of quirks so their story isn’t affected by that much. When Mob finds Ritsu in the ally towards the end of the arc Ritsu agrees to stop what he’s doing but their relationship never really gets repaired in anyway. If anything I could it’s gotten worse. Mob gets into UA by recommend due to having very strong psychic powers. This would make Mob (and Teru) the first quirkless kid to get into UA, not Deku. Ritsu ends up getting into UA due to recommendations as well but has the grades to get in by himself. He becomes a Hero in hopes to be like his brother. Just like how Ritsu wanted powers to stop his brother in mp100, in this au he wants to be a hero to make sure he could stop his brother if he ever got out of control. Ritsu struggles with finding any actual reason for being a hero other than that. It was just mostly expected that he’d be a hero. Ritsu’s hero name is just his name. It’s like how Todoroki used Shoto as his hero name. They both don’t have much creativity

Shou is a bit more different in this AU. Claw still is a thing but it’s much more careful when it comes to exposing their existence. The reason Ritsu never got kidnapped by Koyama was because quirkless areas tend to have more heros. Claw and the League of Villains are friendly with one another due to them both being a potential threat to one another. Both know fighting each other would end in too much lose for both parties but both still believe they are better than the other. Shou, like most kids, wanted to be a hero. Unfortunately for him he would have gotten no quirk but his father told him that he was going to have something much more powerful, psychic powers. Shou’s mother found out that Claw was associated with the League and left. She didn’t take Shou with her because if Claw found them both they’d take Shou back anyway. She was a pro hero but retired after leaving her family since she felt so guilty for abandoning her son. Shou began to grow a resentment toward heros due to his mother leaving. His father put him through training to make sure he could become the perfect little soldier for Claw and perfect heir. Shou hated his father more than he hated heros so he began to plan to take down Claw. He didn’t trust heros so he decided to do it all by himself. Shou got into UA because his father told him to. He is a spy for Claw and the league. One of his jobs is keeping tabs on the kageyama brothers due to their strong abilities and potential. He got in by lying that his quirk was Fire to throw UA off from thinking he was his father’s son. This version of Shou has a more worn out and dark vibe to him due to how much long he’s worked for Claw. His Hero name, Pyro Mask, is actually a hint that he is a psychic. Pyro means fire so Pyro Mask is suggesting that he is using fire as a cover, or mask, for his psychic powers. Also I used pyro instead of Fire because it suggests that he has pyrokinesis, which is a form of psychic powers.

I’ve got hero outfits in the works and Teru and Mob.

I am cringe but I’m free

[fanfictionsrookie]

Got any thoughts/headcanons on how fallen petals, cinwin, spicecream would find out about Cinder's neck scar?

Sorry this took so long. I definitely ended up overthingking this but here you go!

:)

...

Neo

I think out of the three Cinder wouldn't care as much to hide it around Neo, even if its not something she'd purposefully try to bring attention to. On one hand Cinder knows that verbally asking isn't much of an option. But at the same time, because of their shared lives of crime they know better than to ask about past details or the story behind one scar or another. Cinder doesn't ask about Neo's past or her scars and neither does Neo.

While Neo wouldn't actively try to uncover what Cinder's neck scar was caused by, as a child she has been part of high society and it's criminal underbelly to know what things could have caused an injury like that. Neo knows to avoid touching or asking but Cinder also knows Neo well enough to wager that the secret behind the state of her neck isn't much of a secret anymore.

Cinder doesn't mind it as much as she thought she would. If anything, Cinder almost prefers it, having such a vulnerable part of her exposed to someone who takes care not to shine light or take advantage. With Neo it almost feels normal. In the quiet moments lying down together, when Neo does gently trace over Cinder's scars with that deep, contemplative, but no less caring look in her eyes, Cinder doesn't feel as alienated by it. If anything she feels understood.

Around Neo, Cinder doesn't have to feel any different about the remnants of her past. It feels like her. With Neo, someone who can change the appearance of their skin on a whim, Cinder feels at home in her own skin.

...

Winter

Because Winter is Atlesian and her family sits at the highest echelon of society, Cinder is near obsessive at making sure that Winter does not see her scar. Her neck is always covered. Or rather she's always wearing a choker to cover it up. She prefers it on, she has an embarrassing birthmark, maybe Cinder of handedly mentions that it hides a scar she doesn't like with the hopes that the admission and Winter's familiarity of scars being a source or brand of shame, would placate her.

It does for the most part. Cinder's neck stays covered and Winter respects the boundary without further question. That is, until she sees it. Winter doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but she is keenly aware of what goes on in the shadows of Atllesian society.

Winter tries to approach it from a logical stance in what she thinks Cinder's reasons for hiding it are. She thinks Cinder would feel ashamed, for a woman as powerful as her to have been treated like that, perhaps Cinder distrusts her on some level which is understandable, even if it hurts. But this could also backfire very easily. So Winter does her research and makes sure she has all her facts before she tells Cinder directly, but softly, that she knows what caused her scar.

Cinder's immediately reaction is explosive. It is one of sadness and repressed anger but once Cinder has calmed down, worn herself out, it's as if a weight has finally been lifted from her shoulders. It is never brought up again, but it also stops being a wedge between them. Cinder knows Winter and knows that she has someone who understands on some level and that everything will be alright is she has to let her guard down once again.

...

Ruby

Because of the way she was brought up, her outlook on life, Ruby hadn't considered that there might have been a sinister reason as to why Cinder has those scars. Maybe it was a grimm or some accident with weapons training or something it happens all the time. So Ruby would half excitedly ask what awesome story lead to Cinder having such a cool scar. Because to Ruby, there is no shame behind scars, maybe a well learnt lesson at worse. So when Ruby asks her, Cinder was completely caught off guard, silent for a moment before muttering about how it wasn't a story she liked to share.

Initially Ruby assumed that Cinder was feeling some kind of shame at not being able to defeat some kind of enemy. She knows how Cinder feels about being vulnerable. So with the best intentions, Ruby ends up pushing a bit harder. No asking her about it. But maybe more affectionate around her neck, peppering her with compliments and reassurances. Cinder is uncomfortable with attention around her scars at the best of times. So in a moment of frustration Cinder told Ruby exactly how she got her neck scars. It was an attempt to get her to stop talking about it, to make Ruby see that it was nothing to be proud off, that is was disgusting that Cinder herself should remain ashamed about it.

Cinder is quick to leave in the stunned moment of silence that follows and when she returns, it is with an ashamed apology. Saying that she shouldn't have lost her temper, that she knows Ruby meant well. Ruby, equally sincere in her apology, kissing Cinder and telling her that she loves her, that she's story for pushing Cinder to talk about or accept her scar, that Cinder has the right to feel how she want about her scar and that Ruby would love her regardless.

Ruby never does draw attention to Cinder's scar from there on out, only tought and kissing when lead to or urged on in rare moments of vulnerability when Cinder briefly believes that those parts of her deserve

[autisticandoddlyspecific]

It's 2:40am and I just imagined a bunch of shit about Sun and Moon in the world of fuckin Hazbin Hotel of all things, specifically to build up to the dumbass ship of DCA/Alastor. So yea here are my notes.

Sun suddenly wakes up in like an alleyway or something in hell. The sound of the city – including the anguished screams, drunk arguments, and the occasional distant gunshot or explosion – overwhelms him. Sun, dazed and confused, is probably harassed by somebody lying around in that same alleyway and quickly darts off to avoid further issue. He’s immediately horrified by the grimy and gore-stained state of the streets, and decides to just keep running. Still in shock, he notices a few posters scattered about on the ground. One’s a very worn and barely legible one drawn in what used to be a fun handmade drawing of the “Happy Hotel”. He figures based off the name and the art that it might be in a cleaner state than his current location. He finds his way to the hotel, noticing it’s new name, “Hazbin Hotel”. He wonders for a bit if they went under some kind of rebrand, and if this change means it isn’t the happy place he was hoping for, but he decides to knock anyway just to see. He’s greeted by Charlie, who welcomes him in. 

At some point, he gets a moment to sit down, and starts coming out of shock. Probably whilst talking with Charlie. He starts to break down, crying he doesn’t know where he is or how he got here. He learns he’s in hell fairly quickly, and is unsure as to why. Does that mean he has a soul? Upon being asked, he simply answers that he is not human, that he never was. Just created as a theater robot, then a daycare attendant, and suddenly he was here with no warning. Charlie takes compassion on him in his distressed state, and assures him that the hotel is safe, and he is welcome, soul or not. Based off what we see in the end of the first season of the show, Lucifer probably lives at least part time in the hotel to be part of his daughter’s life and all, so it could be this soon that Lucifer is prompted to take a look at Sun, revealing a sort of soul, not quite like the human souls or the smaller sparks of life in beings such as Razzle and Dazzle(r.i.p). Also it’s a sort of dual-soul thing going on where it’s like two cells not quite done with cytokinesis. Sun isn’t sure yet that he’s okay with people knowing about Moon, so he doesn't give that away. The exact moment is pretty flexible and I could also hc that Charlie possesses the same ability so it doesn’t really matter if Lucifer actually stays there lol.

Sun gets along with Charlie, and is given a room despite his insistence that he doesnt need to sleep. She’s all like “You still need a place to yourself to relax!” so he relents. He’s pretty amazed at having his own fully furnished room. Even in its best state, Sun and Moon’s room in the ‘plex was just storage basically. Boxes.

I also imagine that he’d clash a little with Niffty, as they both have their own ideas of how things should be done to keep an establishment in working order, and neither likes their work being interfered with. Sun is also both disturbed and disgruntled at the fact that Niffty hunts down bugs with needles, intending to stab them, rather than use anything like bug traps or poisons.

Even more, Sun’s put off by Alastor, as he literally cannot look at him with his robotic eyes without visual distortion and glitches. At some point he’s gonna ask if Alastor can make it stop and he will, but I don’t know how long that’d take.

Before long, some unexpected event occurs, and the lights go out. Until this, he’d never been in any area too dark. He’s in some room alone at this time, and someone hears odd noises or something and either checks on him or just runs into Moon. Moon is immediately ready to fuck shit up, and unable to think clearly. He causes some drama and mild property damage, but fails to seriously hurt anyone before being trapped by at least one of the powerful magic users in the building. Charlie probably summons a light source, which upon realizing Moon reacts negatively to, brightens it enough to bring Sun out. Sun is probably nearly inconsolable and at least half-expects to be thrown our or decommissioned for what just happened, and Charlie asserts she wouldn’t, immediately understanding that Sun is suffering and unable to control what happens when it's dark, and offers to help. During this conversation, Sun either intentionally or accidentally lets it slip that something is wrong with Moon, and that he isn’t supposed to be like this.

This is the latest possible moment the existence of some sort of soul-like essence in Sun and Moon can be discovered, as Charlie asks to see what’s inside them to make Moon act this way. Sun is hesitant, as it requires turning off the lights to get a good look, but is assured by those present that now that they’re not being caught off guard and already have their weapons/magic at the ready that they will be able to handle it. Sun also needs to be reminded that Charlie genuinely wants and likes to help people, and Sun is gonna be a little caught off guard by being indirectly referred to as a person. He probably hugs Charlie, and asks her to be careful. Moon is like a rabid animal, but ultimately helpless with Alastor there, keeping him in like a barrier or whatever. Charlie examines the infection on Moon’s half of the dual-soul thing, and Vaggie and Angel taunt Moon with anything that triggers more aggression to make the infection more apparent/distinct and easy to remove without collateral damage. Vaggie just points her spear more aggressively at Moon, awkwardly shouting that she’ll hurt him and other people, and Angel goes like “OoOoOh I have a gun! And drugs!” Which sets moon tf off. "And sex toys!" and Moon isn’t having it and does more rabid animatronic shit which is funny as hell tbh, and was the intended effect. Charlie starts separating the infection from Moon, causing him to screech, flail around like that slug that touched the salt in that one tiktok, and claw at his face before going still. His red eyes fade as he goes quiet, before his hands slowly twitch, and his eyes light up blue. 

Moon is free from the parasite in his head, and falls to his knees. As the magical barrier recedes, he has no idea what to feel. He also just isn't sure what’s going on because he hasn’t had much of a coherent thought of his own since arriving in hell, but he has the vaguest idea. Moon’s like “How could I ever repay you” And Charlie’s like “All you have to do here is try your best.” and I think now’s a good time for Moon to get his turn to cry into her shoulder.

Over the course of the first few weeks at the Hotel, Sun, and eventually Moon, realize they are doing things they never were built or programmed to do. They learn they can emote with their faces much more than they ever could’ve before. They can cry with tears. They can get sleepy, and sleep like human sleep. They can even eat and drink somehow.

The first few interactions with Alastor are brief, most likely, the few words they do exchange being somewhat frustrating. Alastor doesn’t have any interest in associating with Sun and Moon, mainly as an extension of the general distaste he has for modern technology, partly because Sun said some passive aggressive things about/to Niffty. But a few taunting words with a thin veil to sound like a mockery of encouraging words is totally on the table still. 

Yea idk im going to bed.

[a-complex-joke]

Manifestation and Rebounding

Chapter 3

MASTERLIST

Brian POV

We had been chatting a ton since that night.

I was able to move back to my apartment which was nice since Sam's couch was starting to give me scoliosis.

I did tell him about the event. He was really chill about it.

“Good for her, just don't let her fall in love with you while you're just in it for a friend,” he said letting me like some overly protective dad. 

We agreed to meet at a local park and walk over to Harris’s diner.

When I pulled up I could see Emily standing next to a bench.

She had worn a casual outfit. Jeans, a t-shirt, and A sweater with strawberries, her rustly hair in a messy high ponytail.

“Ahh there you are, I was starting to think you’d died or something” she joked as I walked up to her.

“And here I thought I was overdressed,” she said looking me up and down, refusing to look at my face.

“I thought my outfit was pretty casual” I pouted.

“Don’t get me wrong it’s nice, you just seem more ready for a tv interview and not a hang sesh”

She started walking away waving me to follow.

We soon fell into silence walking beside each other, occasionally having to squish together to avoid the opposite side foot traffic.

Causing the invisible tension to grow bigger.

“So… you go to Harris’s much?” I attempted to make small talk

“Yeah, their food is pretty good but they have a chill aesthetic too.”

“Oh and why’s that?”

“You’ll see… so how long have you lived in town?”

“About six years, I was really busy my first year and by the next, I was dating Clara, My ex. She lived here way longer, and only liked to go to certain places so I never got the chance to explore”

Private school and having a full-time job at 15 didn’t help, not that Dad would care if I only did part-time.

“Im kinda the same way, I have my favorite stores that I like, and I've probably not been in most of these places, half of them are bars anyway, but sometimes you got to just figure out what a store is before you judge” she looked over to me as if searching for my reaction. “Now that I say it out loud it sounds pretty stupid huh” she nervously chuckled.

“No, it makes sense” Back to awkward silence

I eventually made it to the diner, and we both seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

“Welcome to Harris’s diner, im Betty ill be your happy helper today, can I start you two off with some drinks”

“They sure are cheery here” I commented

“Nah that's just Betty, made of rainbow kittens and glitter” Emily retorted

“Did you just come up with that, or just save it for a time like this” I laughed

“Yeah just said the first thing that came to my mind,” she said looking to her feet and blushing.

“And here are those drinks for you guys. Em im assuming you’ll have your usual chicken plate, but what can I get you pretty boy” Betty said setting down our drinks.

Emily nodded to Betty.

“Oh, I'll take the umm, Crow's burger” I answer quickly.

“Coming up butter cups”

“This is, so awkward. Like over text we can just talk and talk but, right here and now I feel im at a loss for words” she said staring out the window we were sitting by.

“Same here, I mean it’s been forever since I've been on a first date, I mean if that's even what this is, I have no idea what to do or say,” I said feeling my face grow warm.

“Ok so like don’t think im weird for this but, I bought this card game I bought a while back on a Wim. pretty much you and another person each get a set of cards, there are doubles for every card but for the opposite deck, you take turns asking the other the questions on the card. You can pass on any card as much as you want but the goal is to answer the most questions” 

“An ice breaker, what do we really have to lose, hand me those cards!” I said tring to break the tension.

“Ok first question for the nice lady, what is the last big mistake you made?”

“Oh, I left my Painters tape lying out and my dog tore it apart, it was a new roll” she answered. “Ok, what's something you did more of when you were younger?”

“That's a hard one, i guess explore different hobbies and such”

“Oh trust me when you’re friends with me, you are practically my unpaid volunteer in art” she joked

“Alright were on a roll, net question. When did you…  have your first kiss? You know what you can skip this if you want”

“No, it’s fine. I haven’t, im the 19-year-old super virgin, barely held hands with anyone” She dryly laughed.

Awkward.

“Did you regret your first love?” she read off the card

“No and yes, he made me realize a lot of things about myself, but the way he treated me made me regret it”

“What would you say your relationship with your parents is like? Ok, these questions are getting weird” I said raising an eyebrow.

“I think they are narcissistic and I've known for years that as soon as I could get away I would never come back. im still working on saving up enough money to move out with my friend” she gave flat smile.

“Do you want to quit the game, I guess it was kind of weird to bring” She looked away, shameful

“No, it was actually a great way to ask each other things, but maybe we should stop. It looks like our food is coming out,” I said, placing my hand on hers.

She looked up at me, “y-yeah”

The rest of the time in the diner was a lot less awkward, There were some moments of prolonged silence but otherwise, it seemed to go well

[texshire-books]

The Stanger by Anietta Strong

A week later. Mid-afternoon on what was an indifferent day. I decided to walk the shoreline. I liked to do this. No two trips were ever the same and today was no different. I normally looked down searching for treasure. I never found anything of any value but taking material values aside there was always something of interest. Things which had washed off shipping and floated to the shore from God knows where. I found a beer keg. I rolled it home and levered open the top. I had no idea who’s make of beer it was, but it tasted great for days until it went off. Now I use it for vinegar! I found a pair of women’s rather risqué panties! That set my mind thinking, who’s were they, how did they get to be floating in the sea and lying on the shoreline. I kept them, I washed them. I even wear them now! They don’t cover much but they were never designed to do that or worn for warmth.   

One day as I walked, I looked up along the beach. I saw what looked like a figure sitting down. I moved slowly closer – observing. I realised it was a young woman. She was seated, knees up, her arms clamped around her legs. Her head was down. I knew that stance, the same empty stare I imagined too. Here was a woman deep in thought, someone seeking an answer which wasn’t immediately available.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked the young woman who looked at me after Misty had bounded up and disturbed her train of thought. She’d been crying. She just nodded and continued her long stare.

‘I’ve been where you are.’ I responded boldly, knowing that statement was impossible because everyone had their own reasons for where this woman had ended up.

‘I doubt it.’ She replied.

‘We could compare notes, I don’t live far away, I’ve got unopened bottles of wine. I hate drinking alone.’ I paused; I didn’t want to pressure her. ‘I’m heading back anyway, you’re welcome to join me, if not it was nice meeting you.’ The ending sounded a bit naff; I knew fuck all about her. Anyway, it worked because I’d only gone a hundred metres or so and I looked back; she was following. Strangely enough Misty was walking next to her, maybe ensuring she arrived.

‘You live here?’ She asked incredulously.

‘Why not, the rent is fucking cheap!’ I replied bluntly with a smile.

‘But it’s in the middle of nowhere?’ She still didn’t seem convinced.

‘An even better reason don’t you think. You found me, didn’t you? What’s your excuse?’ Our replies were clipped and inviting hostility.

‘You found me remember. I was sat minding my own business.’ Oh my god I loved the mouth on her!

‘Nobody travels along here without a fishing rod unless they are seeking to escape from something. That’s why I’m here. You could tell me what brought you here? Let me fetch the bottle and some glasses, take a pew, sorry it’s only a chunk of log, but my furnishings are limited.’ I made to go inside.

‘Where do you pee?’ She asked.

‘Well, Misty here just squats where it takes her, you can too if you wish but I do have a loo! Fuck all else but you’re welcome to use it.’ The young woman followed me in, and I pointed to a door. ‘There’s no lock on the door but I’m not into watching people pee, you’re quite safe.’ She smiled and disappeared.

‘God, I’d love to live here.’ The woman spoke after a period of silence where we both looked out at sea.

‘I hope you’re not going to say I’m lucky.’ I replied.

‘Well, I’ve never had much luck, so no, that might seem a bit judgmental.’ I nodded.

‘Me either. I long ago stopped believing in luck. I was just fortunate that the day I spotted this magnificent dwelling I had decided to walk along this stretch of beach. Had this not been here I doubt I’d still be here either.’ She laughed.

‘Isn’t that a bit obvious?’ She asked.

‘I mean still living and breathing. I’d pretty much decided there was little left for me to live for. I think I would have settled down by the shore, just like you were and wait for the exposure to the chill wind to cause me to shut down. Nobody comes here. I’d never have been found, okay I would have eventually, but not in time.’ I think I shocked her.

‘So, you really have been where I was.’ I just nodded slowly and sipped my wine. ‘I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I still don’t.’ She reacted.

‘You can stay here until you work out what you want. You’ll have to share a bed with me and a dog that farts!’ I replied.

‘I fart too!’ She replied.

‘So do I.’ We both burst out laughing.

‘You going to tell me why you were sitting looking like your world had ended. Are things that bad?’ I asked as we sat eating a snack later.

‘We all have a past.’

‘We can choose to have a future too if we desire it badly enough.’ I reacted.

‘I guess I’m at that point right now, I still haven’t decided. What made you decide?’ She was a struggle, a closed tap, not a single drop leaking.

‘Do you always deflect, answer a question with a question?’ I asked.

‘Depends on the question.’

‘I bet there is a man behind where you are now?’

‘Isn’t there always, I bet men have caused you problems too.’ Another question of sorts.

‘Men destroyed my career then I got raped.’ I concentrated my woes into a short, simple reply. I saw fear on her face. Suddenly, I wish I knew her name. When she didn’t respond I continued. ‘I call myself Storm. We had one of those a few days ago. I thought it wouldn’t end. I was pretty much trapped in here. I decided to do a reset on my life, not identify traditionally. I had a name, a normal past. I turned my back on that. I decided to be whoever and whatever I chose. It’s important for you to know this, should you choose to stay.’ I felt that statement might be hard to deflect or reply with another. I was wrong.

‘Would you like me to?’ I shrugged. I caught the habit.

‘Would you like to?’ I watched her reaction. She looked down and sadness dripped off her very being.

‘Yes, I’d like that very much. I feel welcomed. I know I’m hard work as a conversationalist, but I’ve learned the hard way the need to be wary.’ She replied softly.

‘This shack was in a right state when I arrived. The front door was hanging by one hinge. It seems some old man lived here but he died. He was found half decomposed just outside. I took it on. I think it’s a dwelling which attracts victims. I arrived, then days later Misty walked in, literally out of the mist. Maybe that’s how the old guy arrived too. Perhaps he built it, obviously someone did, I have no idea why. There are the remains of others littered around. Most just wooden skeletal remains. Why they were built is as much a mystery as this one is?’ The woman digested my words then answered in a way I could take or leave as a question.

‘I guess I’m its latest victim then.’ I shrugged.

‘You could be. The big question is whether you choose to remain one. Do you?’ I looked into her green eyes, beautiful eyes which actually sent shivers down my spine.

‘I was a victim, Storm. I don’t feel like I’m one here.’ I smiled. I welcomed that response. I felt the barrier she had put up now had a brick or two removed.

‘Can I call you something, it doesn’t have to be the name you used in a different life.’ She shrugged now, then made a suggestion.

‘Call me Vicky. It derives from victim. I was a victim until Misty stuck her cold nose on my face, then you appeared. Do you mind?’ A strange question.

‘Mind? Oh goodness no. All our names here derive from something linked to an event. A fog blowing in from the sea, a howling wind in my case. Your name results from what I suspect were a long train of events, most likely all unpleasant. Just so long as it doesn’t remind you of any. Moving forward means not looking back. Feel free to change it at any time if your past starts to catch up.’ We shook hands on that. Clasping her hand was a strange experience. Hers was tiny, her fingers long. They were smooth and not used to hard work. Mine were hard and gnarled, but they hadn’t always been so. I held it and neither felt any inclination to let go and release our physical contact. ‘Are you hungry?’ I asked which broke the spell and our hands parted.  Our eye contact remained while she considered her reply.

‘What is there to eat? I don’t see a fridge or a freezer, how do you decide?’ I hoped my reply wouldn’t turn her off and she’d be on her way. I’d got used to her company and I didn’t want that to end.

‘Do you like fish?’ I asked. If she said no, I was fucked.

‘I’ve eaten fish, yes. Mainly a takeout from the local chippy. Otherwise, not often, it’s so expensive.’ That reply gave me hope.

‘There is no chippy around here and the fish is free. All you have to do is catch it.’ Her eyes opened like saucers.

‘Really, I’ve never caught a fish.’ She reacted as if I’d just suggested the impossible.

‘Well, we better go and get dinner then, the great thing down here is you don’t have to queue at the checkout.’ We both got up, I brought a sharp knife from a drawer, and we headed to the shoreline.

‘Wow, that was good, the bones take some getting used to but that is a small price to pay for something that good.’ Vicky complimented me an hour later. The trot line I’d put out earlier had produced a treasure trove of mackerel which I gutted at the shoreline, washing them too in the oncoming tide.

‘The diet might become a bit monotonous. I haven’t mastered too many baking skills, do you cook?’ I asked Vicky.

‘I do actually, I came to believe that was all I was good at.’ That sounded a blessing, I imagined hot fresh bread, baked in the Aga.

‘Was that really your opinion or one you eventually found yourself forced to conclude?’ I suspected I knew the answer already.

‘You can only be told you’re fucking useless so many times before you become forced to believe that you are.’ I got my answer, I didn’t push to found out who had decided that. I assumed the truth lay more with the person who doubtless made that comment often. The corrosive words dripping poison drop by drop until the person hearing the words had to concede they were true. We cleared up and sat close together on the only comfortable seating available.

‘You sure this will be enough for you?’ I asked. I had felt my lifestyle had become austere; dare I say extreme. I didn’t wish to force this on my guest.

‘You mean no telly to watch Eastenders?’ Her reply delivered with a smile.

‘I was more a Corrie fan to be honest.’ I replied in similar vein. ‘Do you have a phone, social media, all that. Won’t you miss it?’ I asked.

‘Did you?’ The inevitable question disguised as a reply.

‘I was never a great fan. Like email, it’s far too easy to become an armchair warrior. Saying things about people you’d never say if they stood facing you.’

‘Tell me about it, that reason alone makes life here so appealing. I heard of people sitting as close as we are texting each other. People will soon forget what their tongues are for!’ Vikki replied.

‘Unless you’re a man, they usually know what theirs is for.’ That caused a smile of sorts.

‘You sure you don’t mind me sleeping with you?’ The subject was abruptly changed. This seemed to happen every time the word man was uttered.

‘Does it worry you, sleeping with a same sex person?’

‘Good god no. The clothes I’m wearing is all I own now. I can’t even thing of returning to pack my things, besides, I expect they are strewn down the road. He’d have cleared any trace of me by now.’ For the first time she’d opened up. She had been living with a man but in totally different circumstances to me. I owned the house I live in; I suspect she didn’t.

‘I did bring my stuff.  Or at least I went back for mine. We have a similar build, feel free to rummage through my knicker drawer.’ She still looked worried.

‘I need a bath, I rather stink!’ I shrugged.

‘I’m a bit rank myself. I wasn’t planning on oral sex tonight if that worried you.’ I saw shock appear on her face, then disappear in an instant when she responded.

‘Thank God, we can leave it until tomorrow then?’ I wasn’t sure if she was being serious. What if she meant it?

‘Sorry, I was being frivolous.’ I decided to shock her.

‘I wasn’t, I meant what I said.’ I delivered that with a broad smile.  ‘We could continue this conversation in bed.’ I made the suggestion because I suspected facing this part of the evening was bothering her.

‘I don’t want you going to bed early just to please me?’

‘I’m not. Misty and I often go to bed early. Your problem will be to claim enough space on your side of the bed. She will sleep down the middle of the bed if you get in before her, otherwise you’ll have to cosy up with me.’ I saw a nervous look appear.

‘I don’t wear anything in bed.’ She delivered that as if she had an infectious disease.

‘Neither do I, but I won’t tell anyone unless you do?’

‘I’m a shy girl Storm.’  I now saw why she was nervous.

‘We can get round that. You get in bed first then once you’ve chosen your spot, I’ll let Misty in. Once you’re settled you close your eyes while I hop in?’ She looked at me in amazement.

‘You make it sound so clinical?’ I shrugged.

‘Well, it’s you bothered about me seeing your scrawny arse!’ She pouted.

‘It’s not scrawny. I’ll have you know my bum has received compliments.’

‘For Christ's sake take the fucking kettle into the washroom which is off the bedroom through that door. Wash your bits and get into bed. I’ll clear up and let Misty out for a final pee.’ Vicky got up. I wasn’t sure what she was used to, but she’d have to learn fast.

‘Shut your eyes, you’ve been warned.’ I walked into the bedroom after my own wash was completed. To my surprise Vicky was sat up in bed, her breasts on display. I shrugged and walked to my side of the bed. Misty provided separation. ‘I thought you were shy, what are those.’ I looked closer now and saw bruising I hadn’t noticed earlier. I realised she wasn’t shy at all. She was very likely ashamed. She noticed I’d seen the bruising and I suspected there was a lot more. I slid into bed and sat up too. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air like a bad smell.

‘I hoped you wouldn’t see the marks.’ She spoke softly, submissively.

‘You can show me the rest, I’m not shocked or surprised, just resigned.’

‘What do you mean?’ She asked me.

‘It’s what I’ve come to expect in a male dominated world.’

‘You really don’t like men, do you?’ It seemed a rather strange question to ask as she peeled the bedcovers back to reveal extensive bruising which extended down her whole body to her legs. I encouraged Misty to get off. I needed to see this.

‘I don’t think either of us have benefited from our association with men, do you?’ I suggested.

‘They are not all like the animal who did this to me.’ Vicky replied. She knelt with her back to me and the full extent of a sustained beating over an extended period was on display.

 ‘The question is, how can you tell? Okay, the waste of space I lived with appeared to be non-violent, but when I left my job and the gravy train he was on hit the buffers, he raped me. So, when did you realise?’

‘Pretty much from the off if I’m honest. At first, I convinced myself it was my fault, then I realised it wasn’t, but I remained in denial. He was like them all, they say they are sorry, it won’t happen again, but it did. Then one day I just left, decided to have a day out. I caught a train without any planned destination. I then caught a bus. I couldn’t return, I had no money. I found myself walking along this beach, I sat down. You know the rest.’ I reached out and ran my hands over the dark bruising, I saw her shudder as my hand made contact with her skin. ‘That’s nice, I can’t remember when I was touched rather than slapped or punched.’ I realised what I was about to do carried risks of being misconstrued. I decided to chance it. I pulled her close and lay down next to her. I had my arm around her. She tensed at first, possibly questioning my motives, but she relaxed when she realised, I was just offering her basic human contact. We were both naked and our warm skins blended, I knew the end result of feeling wanted by another human being would have been the same had we been fully clothed. It was just intimacy without a sexual connotation. She started to cry, and I pulled her even tighter. I dragged the covers over and Misty took that as meaning she could rejoin us again. She lay next to Vicky and the sandwich was complete.

I woke several times in the night. Vikki was holding onto me and snuggled against me tight like a frightened child. The room was in total darkness, but I could still see her sleeping face in the gloom. She looked happy and relaxed, and my shoulder felt wet where I suspect she had dribbled. I’d never been this close to a woman. I had wondered how I would feel in such an event. I assumed I would reject such closeness as an unwanted sexual advance but her being this close didn’t feel like that at all. Besides, I hadn’t I pulled HER in close? I had seen the physical abuse showing on most parts of her body previously covered by her clothes. I’d felt a mixture of rage and compassion, anger towards the beast who had punched and probably kicked her, but also the need to comfort a young woman who had lost her way. Nobody had beaten me like this. Okay I had been raped but I didn’t put up a fight, I had struggled and said no, but he ignored me and still had his way. In one sense it had been a blessing because I knew this would be the last time and he’d then be out of my life. I had been planning to part company anyway, but this had given me the perfect excuse to do it now rather than procrastinate. Maybe it was my concern he’d see his action as a rite of passage and that he’d now feel he owned my body when I had never doubted for a minute I did.

I was woken another time by movement. Her movement. She was crawling across me, her sweating skin now sliding over mine.

‘You, okay?’ I whispered in the darkness.

‘I need a pee; I can’t see a thing.’ She replied.

‘Hang on, I’ve got a torch.’ I leaned over and found the small flashlight I’d kept for this very purpose. She switched it on, and my eyes were blinded by its brightness. I watched her stand and move away towards the door. I noticed then her beautiful silhouette, a perfect shadow cast on the wall, her small tight bottom and pert breasts which turned upwards slightly. I could see what a man could feel arousing towards her; I was quite surprised to feel some attraction myself. I smiled and put it aside in my thoughts, something else I imagined? I’d curled up and got back to sleep, then I felt her body against mine once more, she was returning. ‘Here, I’ll slide over, come where I’ve been sleeping it’s warm, you’re freezing.’ I slid back, in turn pushing Misty who typically had taken advantage of vacant space and tried to stretch out, as dogs did on a bed. I now had Vikki facing me, looking at me, her breath minty fresh.

‘I borrowed your toothbrush; I hope you don’t mind.’ I realised there were lots of personal items she would need including a toothbrush. That announcement felt so intimate. Of course, I didn’t mind, I just hoped my own breath wasn’t going to put her off.

‘No, feel free. When a girl turns up with as little as you did, you’re bound to need everyday things. I’ve got other things a girl needs should it be that time.’ I left her to work that out which she obviously did by her next comment.

‘No, it’s fine. I’ve just finished. That was what the row was about, he wanted sex but said I was disgusting. He kicked me out of bed, told me to get out of his sight. I think this distance is far enough, don’t you?’ I laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. I realised immediately what I had done.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.’ I reacted quickly hoping she’d understand.

‘It’s fine. I didn’t mind. You express your kindness in a lovely way. I like that.’

‘I know but I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.’ I replied, still feeling the necessity to mitigate my action.

‘What idea is that Storm, that I’d think you were coming onto me?’

‘Something like that.’

‘I’ve wanted to kiss you several times. To thank you for taking in this waif from the storm. I’m quite tactile, I often kiss girls. Women are like that aren’t they? It doesn’t mean I’m a lesbian.’ I was breathless after that reply and to reinforce her answer she kissed me gently on my lips. ‘Thank you, I wanted minty breath when I did that. See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ I realised now using my toothbrush had a motive.

We settled back to sleep, or at least she did. I lay awake looking at her. I tried to imagine her age. I had assumed early twenties, but I suspected she was possibly younger. I didn’t know her real name, but I’d buried mine, so it didn’t bother me. I wanted her to stay, I felt a growing connection and I sensed she liked me. My fear was I wouldn’t be enough for her, that the primitive lifestyle I had chosen and embraced would slowly lose its novelty. I decided I’d invest in a small wind powered generator. There was plenty blowing in from the sea. At least she wouldn’t have to pee by torchlight.  I hoped I could find an electrician to carry out the work, I wouldn’t know where to start. I knew I was a worrier.  Spending too much time worrying about things which might never happen. I thought about those kisses earlier. Mine a simple peck, more mischievous than with any intent. Hers felt more intentional and was more than a peck. Her soft lips lingered a few milliseconds too long, it was an indication of affection. I was staring at her contented face, her arms moved around involuntarily as she slept feeling my breasts, almost like she was feeling her way, exploring the unknown. At one time her hand went lower. It didn’t travel between my legs, but it brushed me low enough to wonder if she might. What if she had and I looked and found she was no longer asleep. That she was staring at me? My make your mind up moment. I wondered how I’d react. I looked back to my first ever sexual experience. I’d never imagined for a moment it wouldn’t be other than a boy. Hadn’t my brother sexually abused me? I had decided that didn’t count. So, when a boy at school kissed me, I decided that was the moment to chalk up as my first encounter. I went through each thereafter; I remembered every one. That wasn’t too difficult because they didn’t happen with regularly. The thing is I never for a single moment imagined ever kissing a girl. Yet I just did, however briefly and on an unlikely place, her nose for fuck’s sake! Another slightly troubling thought was I’d never had a satisfactory sexual relationship. I’d masturbated to a climax often, but I’d never had one while engaged in sex. There was a message there surely, but was I making far too much of this? I even wondered whether sleeping naked with Vicky was a great idea? But what if I gave her a message of rejection should I suggest wearing clothing in future. It felt like cutting off my nose to spite my face. I rather liked her soft warm skin against mine. As if by some means of telepathy, she turned over. I now felt her bum pressing against my hand. I found to my horror I was feeling its rounded contours. I moved it away as if I’d just had an electric shock. She moved herself back and fitted herself into my lap. I felt contented and tried to sleep.

A week went by. Vicky realised how different her life was now, even simple day to day matters such as going to the supermarket or local Indian run convenience store wasn’t possible here. We cycled to the nearest store, her seated on the saddle while I stood on the pedals. I decided then and there I’d get her a cycle too. Soon after finding the store for the first time, I learned the owner had adapted to the different needs of his local clientele. A man of wisdom who realised most of them were in fact like us, living effectively off grid. Obviously, nobody was quite as isolated and living basic with a capital B as we were but when he realised, I had no means of communication with the outside world, by that I really mean an internet connection and links to my Amazon account and others, even EBay, he pointed to an area set aside at the far end of the store.

I still had my bank card which paid for essentials, but I was invited to log in and use his system. Anything I ordered would arrive at the store and I’d cycle out to collect it. I let Vicky loose ordering what she needed, there was reluctance which I welcomed. She said she was no freeloader, possibly nervous after me having discussed in depth the character of the man who had raped me. We had a frank discussion over money. So, the sale of my house and visible assets had made me comfortable financially. But as I pointed out, she was a vital link missing in my life now and money was just a means of its continuation. We were together by circumstance and even if she desired to work, she couldn’t, there was nowhere to employ her although out of the blue the local shop owner solved that problem in an instant. He asked if either of us needed a job. Vicky took his arm off in an instant.

The cycle arrived within a few days, and I got used to seeing her cycle off several mornings a week. I always had a feeling of unease in the pit of my stomach when she left, always looking back to see if I was still watching her distance herself until she was out of sight. I got used to the time of her return and I’d bring a drink out onto what we described as our porch and sat at a table which had two chairs. An addition which replaced an old log which still remained for our imaginary guests. During that week, while we cycled together, I noticed a house in the far distance that had a windmill turbine. We diverted and paid the owner a visit. He said a local man specialised in installing these systems. I explained where we were located. He seemed surprised we lived there now, he always felt it was uninhabitable. I assured him it most certainly wasn’t, but its features took some getting used to. As we were leaving, I noticed a box on wheels sitting neglected in the corner of his yard. It had an extended arm and was clearly designed to fit behind a cycle. He didn’t want it, so we now had the means to carry our goods back home rather than struggle on the cycle. I recalled getting the table and chairs home, a chore made over several trips which had we had this makeshift trolley could have been achieved in one.

Bathing was simple too. Natures bath awaited us twice daily at high tide. We got used to seeing each other naked. Thankfully Vicky’s bruising was fading and as long as I could prevent it, she’d never have another unwanted mark on her beautiful body. I was also more relaxed about lying in bed together. Our intimacy had increased too. We hadn’t touched each other sexually, I mean between our legs, but we did stroke each other, while we talked in bed. Vicky had commented on my interest in her bum. I often stroked it absentmindedly while she’d run a finger round my often-erect nipple. I wasn’t sure if either of us even noticed. The swim was a race from the shack to the shoreline. We’d toss our towels down as we reached its edge and kept running. The water was cold but so invigorating, we’d both swim out and look back. We often played grasping each other and wrestling, one trying to duck the other under the water. We didn’t stay long; we’d swim back and dry each other off. The man who had brought the fish often saw us; he’d returned following the storm. He would wave as we walked back quite oblivious that we both naked and frolicking up the beach to return inside.

A van appeared mid-morning the following week. I know its driver stood back and shook his head. He gave us both that “are you sure” look. I rather doubted he’d been asked to install a wind turbine on a dilapidated shack before. Certainly not one like ours. When he realised, we were dead serious he went ahead and even ran some rather untidy wiring to key locations inside. He explained its functionality and its limitations. There was a more costly battery system he could add to ensure we had power when the wind didn’t blow, but I said we’d try this first. I couldn’t recall many instances when the wind didn’t show its power so I was sure it would suffice.

Then one morning after a storm so powerful the wind turbine shut down automatically, we walked down to the beach and in the far distance a large, strange object has been washed up on the beach. As we got closer, I realised it was a huge shipping container. We walked around it’s perimeter. There were two heavy doors which were bolted and padlocked. It had a customs seal too. I looked around, somehow expecting others to have noticed it. I realised nobody came this way. Even the man who fished didn’t stray far from his Enid spot. We looked at the object intrigued about its contents. I looked closely and examined the padlock. I knew the same crowbar which had so successfully dismantled the wooden crate would deal with that so giggling like a couple of silly girls we ran back to the shack to fetch it.

We carried the crowbar between us, we joked about it being a joint conspiracy, so we had to share the burden of carrying the means to lever off the padlock. We decided to take the broken object out to sea at our next swim and drop it into deep water. Whatever was inside was the only thing of interest and we needed to be in a position to say the padlock was missing and the customs seal was broken when we found the container. Who could prove otherwise. We decided to wear gloves. Fortunately, I’d purchased some thin rubber gloves to unblock the toilet the previous week, so we donned them and between us set about levering off the lock. This proved to be tougher than I imagined. The main problem being to get enough of the end under the padlock hasp and staple. In the end we hooked part of the splayed split end in between and with both of us hanging on to the crowbar end and combining our weight, there was a bang as the padlock broke in two and both of us landed in a heap on the sand. We lay there together for a minute, catching our breath and laughing. We’d become so natural together. It felt each couldn’t bear the thought of each other ever being parted or not in view.

‘We better get this thing open.’ I slapped Vicky’s leg.

‘Come on then!’ She rose to her feet. We moved closer and using the crowbar with total ease I snapped the seal. We both looked at each other and turned our attention towards a lever handle. I shrugged grabbed the handle and pulled it back. The lever drew locking bolts down which freed the heavy metal door. We both grabbed the handle now and pulled. Immediately we were overwhelmed by a putrid stench which caused us both to stop and move away. Vicky retched and I went forward to check she was okay. I knew the smell of death and decay; the only question was what we’d find if we opened the door enough to look inside. Vicky was reluctant to go back so I suggested she keep away while I swung the door open. I’d barely moved it before it opened itself further under its own momentum. I ran, wondering what was coming after me. Vicky screamed and started to run, I looked at her fleeing back towards the shack, I stopped and looked back. The door had stopped moving and the reason for its movement was clear to see. I stood, my mouth open with shock. Lying in a heap were perhaps a dozen bodies, I suspected behind the other door which had its own securing bolts were perhaps the same number again, but I certainly wasn’t prepared to find out. I quickly realised what had happened, then with Vicky having returned and gripping my arm so hard it hurt, I blurted out my suspicions.

‘They must be illegal migrants; the container must have been washed overboard. God knows how long it’s been floating like a cork, but clearly, they ran out of air, they have huddled near the door hoping to find the merest draught, a vain fight for survival. It seems time ran out!’

‘What are we going to do?’ Vicky asked.

‘We can’t leave it; we have to report it.’

‘Won’t that rebound on us?’ Vicky asked.

‘I doubt it. We just opened it didn’t we?’

‘You have the padlock?’ I raised my hand and showed her the lock.

‘We need to get rid of that!’ Vicky sounded nervous.

‘Fancy a swim?’

Available now on Amazon

[tenthcrowley]

BINDER

Bucky Barnes x Trans!Reader (he/they)

Request: None.

Fandom: MCU.

Genre: Little angst but fluff at the end.

Words: 1370

Summary: You haven't been feeling great lately, you haven't been feeling any positive at all. After a rough day at work someone finally notice your mood.

TW: Faking happiness, intense crying (just the noise of throwing things and groans), old binder not binding enough now, reader's looks like a MESS, and just fluff? idk

This was just awful. Since you woke up you knew the day will suck. You didn't have motivation for anything and you were just sick of feeling like this. You sighed now laying down on the couch of the living room in the Avengers building. You remember the first time you entered hhere, it was like a kid with a bunch of brand new toys. Just that the kid didn't had to fight constantly.

"You okay?" You didn't realize when you had closed your eyes, wow you must be really exhausted. You open them and look up at Steve who had a concerning look in his face.

"Yeah, yeah, just... very tired." You try to smile at him but it's most like a disgusted face. He chuckled. He knows you, he knows you're stubborn and never admit you're dying to have some rest. You remind him of his younger self. Younger in like before he was frozen, but technically he hasn't changed because, again, technically he's still a young man. Never mind, he thinks you look like him when he was trying to join the war, strong, insistent, brave and a little (much) stubborn.

"Go on. Get a shower and sleep. Some rest will do you well."

You roll your eyes as you got up from the couch.

"Yes, dad." He laughs while you're leaving to your room.

You were really good at faking, lying. Everyone would think you're living the best moment of your life while you're internally dying. You're so good to put a fake smile on your face and hide all of your pain. Pain. God, when will you stop feeling pain? When will you feel free, happy.

Steve looked at your way still when you had left. Bucky placed a hand on his shoulder to get him off of his trance.

"You okay?"

Rogers nod. "I am. He's not. They say they're okay but it's just not true. I don't know why he cannot trust me yet." He's sad. Because he really loves you, you're like kind of a little brother to take care of and seeing you this way, seeing you in pain but not telling, faking, hiding it, not trusting him. It hurt his heart a lot. "They will tell you, tho." That's true. (Y/N) is always honest to Bucky. When (Y/N) opens to him, they ask him to remain silence about it. He does. But Steve wasn't born yesterday, he knew they tell each other almost everything. Didn't know what exactly but that's not of his business and he gets it.

"Uh, I can't try." The black haired man left his friend alone in the living and made his way to your room. He wasn't gonna show it, but he was very worried about you. You are really important to him, you take a big place in his heart and viceversa.

Before he can knock, he hears groans and sobs with violently punches to things, not things that can break tho. Bucky sighs and finally knocks, instantly the noise stops.

"It's me."

The door immediately opens and (Y/N)'s hand reaches him to pull him inside the room and closing the door again. When Bucky turns, your eyes are red and swollen from crying, dried tears on your cheeks being replaced by new ones, your hair is all messed up like you just got out of a street fight, but what caught his attention the most was that you were shirtless, scratching your arms without causing any injuries but leaving your skin red and burning, you were in just your binder, in your old and worn binder. Now he knows why you were all shut the entire day, you were having dysphoria the whole fucking day. He understood, being around cisgender men all day could be tough for you, he didn't know you feel, but he understood. Plus you haven't bought a binder in like a year so it's stretched out and old, which means it doesn't tightness like it used to.

No words needed for when he opens his arms and you ran to hug him. He squeezes you and puts his nose on the top of your head. You love that. His hugs are different than the rest. Despite his metal arm, his hugs are comfy and warm, it brings you back to Earth instantly, they make you feel safe and like home. Minutes passed and you just hug. He never let you go making you the one to break the wrap when you feel it's been enough. So he just stays, smelling your hair knowing you just showered and maybe that's another reason why you're like this, since your binder it's not wet you didn't wore it to get showered. Finally you pull out the hug now calmed.

"Do you want to explain it me? If not, that's okay, I understand." He smiles at you, looking directly at your eyes.

You feel your heart warm and you sigh. You've been in the Avengers for like a year now and it's been impossible to not fall for Bucky. You avoided him, all the time! But that bastard always found a way to come back to your life. Until one day you stopped fighting and just gave up to the idea of having him around almost all the time, making you fall really hard. And stuff like this, this situation right now, everytime he comes and calms you down, he gives you a kiss on the forehead, when he hugs you, when you compliments you, stuff like this makes you confuse and it's like playing with your emotions. You know Bucky doesn't realize that so at least you can be obvious about your feelings for him and he will just never know.

"I need a new binder." Being honest? That's the only thing you could say right now. You wanted to explain to him but... you couldn't. It's like if you say how you feel, all the calmness he gave you would fly away like a feather in a rough wind. Simple as that.

"Okay. We can get you one." He smiled again and you felt melting. You adore the way he smiles. He stepped closer and gave you a kiss on your forehead but staying inches from your face.

You looked at him. You wanted to kiss him so bad. So so bad. So you did, excepting that could say all your words can't. For your surprise he responded the kiss with the same sweetness and caring. You both blushed because you understood each other. This kiss speaks more than a million words and you get it. It feels like you both needed it, you both needed to let out all the sentiment you've been keeping and couldn't express. Your hands were at the sides of your body and so his. You didn't want to touch each other, at least not yet. The kiss finally broke and you could look at each other's eyes, another thing you understood.

"So you...?" He said.

"Yes." You answered fast. "You?"

"Yeah." You both giggled and finally looked at each other. You saw his blue eyes that were like a sky in a plenty summer, clear, shining and beautiful. There was love in his eyes you could tell. You smiled for real for the first time in days. You felt happy after so long. You wanted to cry of happiness, not just because Bucky feels the same way about you but because you're finally feeling good, at least for a moment.

"Go on, put a shirt on and we will go out to buy you a new binder." He said giving you a kiss on the forehead and then walking to your bedroom door.

"Really?" You said trying to hide your excitement.

He looked at you and nod smiling before leaving.

You smile got even bigger as you grabbed any t-shirt you liked to put it on then fix your hair to finally come out. You're being happy. Even if Bucky was already there for you before, somehow, now it feels even better, have him by your side like more than a friend it felt different. You felt different. Different good.

[cardanloveclub]

Picture perfect.

Cardan Greenbriar.

If a month ago you told me I'd be here right now, posing for a painting with the youngest prince in the Greenbriar line, I wouldn't believe you. I'd laugh at you, while feeling sickened by the simple thought of it.

But here I am, betrothed to the one and only, Cardan Greenbriar. I'm not happy about it, the only plus I've thought of at the moment is the endless supply of hot towels.

Two weeks ago my father came into my room, I was lying on my bed, reading some old folk tale, it was about a girl and a dragon, I can't remember much about it. But he came in, my mother latched onto his arm, my sister leaning against my door frame, wanting to hear whatever it was they were going to tell me.

"We have some news for you."

"I gathered by the way you waltzed in, you weren't just going to tell me dinner is ready."

"He'll never put up with her." My mother not so discreetly whispered to my father.

"It's for her own good, she should be put in line, not to mention the other benefits." He replied, side eyeing me as he did.

I looked at my sister who was looking straight at me and shrugged. She seemed just as confused as I did.

"You're engaged, I trust that you'll take it upon yourself to talk to us respectfully about it. There's going to be no debate, we're not changing our minds, everything has been agreed already."

If I was mid drinking, my bedsheets, corset and blouse, parents and pillow would have been soaked.

"To who?" I asked, frantically. I wish my sister wouldn't have been there to see me panicking, but siblings are siblings and will always be nosey.

"The youngest son in the royal family."

"You have got to be kidding me." My sister squealed from the door.

"Yeah, what she said. How did this happen, and why?"

My mother looked at me, up to my father, nodded and focused her attention on me again, seriousness in her eyes.

"It's not at all ladylike to be asking so many questions about this, you'll go through with the wedding, with the terms that come with it and you mustn't fail us. Or yourself."

"Did nobody think to ask me about this, marrying me off to a boy, I can't stand? It seems like a stupid, obvious way for you to get power, surely there must be-"

"Enough." My fathers quiet, threating whispers are worse than his shouting. Not quite however worse than being hit. It's not uncommon to be slapped silent by a parent or partner. I've seen him do it to my mother. Only once, he was drunk, he promised it wouldn't happen again, he never has laid hands on her since. I've been slapped a few times, so has my sister but we move on from it. It's hard to get caught up on those feelings, after all, it's your family, you always come around, you always love them.

But at that moment I was livid. I couldn't argue against them, I knew it would cause more problems than it would resolve. There was nothing I could do about it. I was tied up with Cardan Greenbriar. Royal Prince and pain in the arse.

But here we were now. Dressed up in the fanciest clothes I have ever worn. A burgundy velvet dress, laced with golden silk, tied at the back with ribbons, and cinched at the waist, with yet another corset, it was an elegant piece and despite the slight discomfort, I felt beautiful in it.

Cardan was dressed in a cream shirt, black trousers that were slightly baggy at the ankles, rings adorning his long fingers and pointy ears. We looked like a rich couple, but far from happy, thankfully we didn't have to smile for this painting.

We were draped across a plump, rich purple coloured couch. Half empty wine glasses in hands. My heels were slipping off my feet and he was barefoot. He smelt like alcohol, smoke and blood, it was all I could think about. I didn't know if it was my mind telling me that or if he actually smelt like a murder scene from a book I would have read in the past.

I felt something wrap around my ankle and looking down I saw what it was. His tail. Wrapped, possessively around my ankle.

"Greenbriar, take it off." I warn

"No, I feel like it fits, me, around you, reminding everyone who you belong to." He whispers, slowly.

"I don't belong to you." I hiss at him.

"Sure, but it wouldn't harm to have the folk believe that. They'll love it, they love a happily ever after."

"Oh we're far from a happily ever after."

"Whatever you say, but you're always here with me, and when this is finished, we'll eat together, we'll retire to the same bed, wake up, me around you, just like now. You'll get used to it sweetheart. Don't worry your pretty little head about it now."

I couldn't speak, I just nodded along, doe eyed, feeling like I was a mouse and he was a snake. But he wouldn't just eat me straight away, no, I could tell this snake loves to play with his food.

And no one could tell him not to, after all, he's royalty.