#out side waist bad concealed carry holsters

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Genji Heavy Industries (Part 1) Preparations

The MC doesn’t play a major role here, because there’s not much role to play. But she has a lot to say and lots of THOUGHTS.

The book is funny and I’ve kept the humor of the original novel. I also like that the MC here has a genuine sense of humor that makes her likeable and relatable to the rest of the boys.

ENJOY

There are several luxurious private rooms on the third floor of the Takamagahara for private party guests, and the spending amount is, of course, much higher than the card seats on the first floor. A guest can't go to the third floor without throwing a few million yen a night. 

The music inside the room where Chu Zihang and Caesar were hosting was deafening. You knock loudly to be heard.

"Little Sister, is that you? Don't come in!" Lu Mingfei yelled from inside. He sounds breathless, panting. In fact, when you press your ear to the door, all you hear is his heavy breathing and grunting from physical exertion. Your heart beats faster and your cheeks flush as your imagination runs wild with what must be happening. You back away from the door. You've been up to your ears in man-meat for hours so it wasn't a stretch to conjure images of Chu Zihang and Lu Mingfei embracing passionately. Poor Nono. Surely Caesar wouldn't be unfaithful to her, right? You bring your fist to your lips and your heart squeezes in sympathy. 

The door swings open and Caesar appears. He's stripped down to his underwear. Your eyes snap to the gentle curve of Caesar’s crotch, which, in your alcohol-addled mind, seemed to bulge out to enormous proportions!

 He grabs your arm and drags you inside, slamming the door behind you.

Women were lying side by side on the floor, their dresses in disarray. Lu Mingfei and Chu Zihang are breaking a sweat to drag all the bodies around. 

“What do you need me to do?” You stammer and glance away. Were you going to end up on the floor too?

“Just wait until we’re finished. How was your time downstairs? You seem a little tipsy. How much did you drink?” Caesar picked up a woman and settled her gently back on the couch.

“I’m not sure. I think someone kept refilling my cup.” You twine your fingers. You can't turn around and look at him in his skivvies. Nono would probably laugh at you and the rest of the girls in the Student Union might resort to mob violence!

Lu Mingfei hissed. “What? That’s awful! Someone should do something about that! Those brutes didn’t do anything to you, did they?”

You shake your head. The room tilts and you try to hide it and the fact that youre suddenly breathless. “No, nothing like that. They were just… um… Are those women drugged?” You change the subject as the memories of the physical proximity of Diamond's and Chance's lips to yours, Calypso’s unopened rose and Armani’s lustful glare spring back to mind and combine with Caesar's sudden full frontal to create a sexual kaleidoscope you couldn’t handle.

"Strong sleeping pills plus strong alcohol. They have to sleep at least until tomorrow morning." Caesar shook a small pill bottle.

“Isn’t that a little dangerous? Sounds like a great way to make them sleep forever!” You recalled heroin and vodka was strictly forbidden because combined someone could easily commit suicide.

“I made sure it was alright.” Chu Zihang said, straightening a girl’s skirt. "We have about eight hours between now and tomorrow morning, enough time to get to and from Genji Heavy Industries. We ordered enough champagne before we came in so that no waiter would come in to check on us during that time. And these women were so drunk before they arrived, they won't remember what happened tonight." 

 He straightened his back and moved to the next. “By the way, did you give out any Star-flower tickets? I would have watched but, as you can see, I had to work.”

“No… no tickets.”

“Little Sister’s purity is as strong as Fort Knox! I’m so happy!” Lu Mingfei sighed with relief. “Don't worry, we’ll be out of here before anything happens!”

“That’s a good strategy in any case. You don’t want to show your favor to anyone in the first episode…” Chu Zihang gave a sage nod and moved to the next lady.

Lu Mingfei bristled. “What kind of lewd advice are you giving, Senior Brother?”

“So what’s the plan for the Genji Building?” You ask. You calm down and feel tired and tense, but seeing them working so hard despite having one of the busiest nights at Takamagahara was inspiring. The couches looked soft and inviting but you wouldn’t look weak in front of them so you continue to stand and try to look energetic.

"Uncover the skeletons in Hydra’s closet. And while we’re there, blow shit up." Caesar lit a cigar, the firelight illuminating the colored makeup on his face. 

"There are 15 pounds of C4 explosives in the equipment box, is that enough?" Chu Zihang took out a packet of Play-Doh-like stuff from the box. 

You recognize the packets. They’re dark green and can be arbitrarily pinched into any shape. They are easy to carry and easy to use. As the world's worst terrorists, according to Hydra, C4 plastic explosives would fit your needs. 

"Hey, hey, hey, hey! What are you doing with explosives out? We are turning into the kind of people on the wanted list step by step!" Lu Mingfei exclaimed. 

"We are wanted by the police department for smuggling nuclear fuel, terrorist attacks and raping young girls. As long as we don't do that last thing, we're not on the wanted list yet." Caesar fastened the leather sheath of the Dictator on the outside of his thigh, the Desert Eagle in the holsters on both ribs, and the eight magazines filled with Frigga bullets on the side of his waist, "It won’t be that bad. Chu and I are just going to blow up Kaguya's storage core. Kaguya is the first line of defense for the Hydra Clan. We blow it up and Hydra will go blind. Norma can take advantage of the opportunity to regain control of the network within Japan." 

“Caesar?” You ask.

“Yes, hun?”

“Am I also wanted for raping girls?” You give a dry smile.

He shoots you a genuine grin and snorts.

"Do not rush to change clothes, we have to leave some evidence." Chu Zihang said. 

"Almost forgot." Caesar took off his weapons and re-dressed in the slim purple suit, "Good thing I didn't take off my makeup." 

Chu Zihang fished out a cell phone from a guest's bag and handed it to you. “Here, take our picture.”

“Got it.” You say.

Caesar sat down on the sofa, dragged a woman to his side and pressed her to his body. He stuffed a microphone in her hand, and took a microphone himself, as if he was singing. 

Then Chu Zihang sat in the middle of the guests wearing a conical hat singing birthday songs, and Lu Mingfei pretended to accompany guests drinking and playing craps. Chu Zihang and Caesar pantomimed topless arm wrestling.

For each photo, Chu Zihang and Caesar adjust the phone time, so that the guests will wake up and, after checking their phones, they’ll think they spent an unforgettable night with the beautiful boys! But, unfortunately, they can't remember any details because they drank too much and can only imagine. Looking at the phones, you’re filled with a sad sort of regret that the boys actually didn’t have fun like this.

Lu Mingfei is full of panic, "If these photos leak out our reputation is finished! But we didn't do anything at all!" 

"MC, help me check the fuses on this C4.”

You scurry over without hesitation. Caesar leans in close to you. “You know about this too, huh? First shooting, now explosives…?” He says with a grin.

“I can hotwire a car… or I used to be able to. Not sure if I can do it with the newer models. I can’t fly a plane though.” You look up at him. “I’ll be the cutest little terrorist right?”

“Are you hearing anything I’m saying?!” Mingfei whines. 

“Are you sad because you didn’t do anything, but you now have a bad reputation?" Caesar looks bored. "Then do you want me and Chu Zihang to go out and wait for you for a while, so you can earn your bad rep?" 

"Bullshit! From now on I'm going to fight alongside you guys every step of the way! You guys aren’t going to leave me to take the blame alone!"

Caesar hands you a bundle of clothing. “Here. Put these on and get ready to go.” 

You take them and quickly duck behind the couches, pulling your dress over your head and slipping out of your heels. You unfold a skintight black bodysuit that fits you near perfectly and a trench coat with the splendid Ukiyo-E on the lining, made to look like they are from the Japanese Executive Department.

“Here. Don’t use them all at once.” Caesar draped a belt with a pistol holster and pouches of ammunition over the couch. Your heart warms at the side of this deadly weaponry more than the rose of Calypso. You were finally being trusted with a gun. 

When you step back around, you're fully equipped. Your tired haze is gone and your mind is only on the mission again.

Chu Zihang put his sword on his back, slipped into a black trench coat and screwed a black baseball cap on his head. Caesar is also in a black trench coat and was covering his face in dark makeup to conceal his fair skin.

"Isn’t it a little too risky? We can barely speak Japanese. How are we going to impersonate the Executive Board? People just have to ask us something complicated and we'll be exposed!" Lu Mingfei said. 

“I know it’s hard but you could try keeping your mouth shut…” You grumble, screwing on the belt. Just putting on these dangerous weapons brought you away from the Takamagahara summer of love to the cold winter of Siberia.

"MC, be nice…” Caesar chided. 

“Of course we can't break in. Genji Heavy Industries is a heavily fortified building, as tight as the Japanese Self Defense Force headquarters. Caesar and I spent a few days researching. It is a general office building from the first floor to the twentieth floor, and above the twentieth floor is the office area used by the Hydra. Access is by access card, and there are security guards patrolling. Those security guards are all armed. Even wearing the clothes of the Executive Board, an unfamiliar face may be questioned. Not to mention, that without the help of Norma, I cannot make access cards." Chu Zihang spread out a hand-drawn map, "The only possibility is to sneak in from the sewers and enter the so-called 'inner district'. There is no access control system in the inner district." 

You remembered that they had taken the elevator down below ground when you visited the Genji Heavy Industries and you saw the huge sewer system in Tokyo. The submarine dock of the Iwarui Institute was located in a giant twelve-meter diameter pipe. 

“Shouldn't the inner district have a tighter security network than outside?" Lu Mingfei looked completely unsure. 

You’re not confident either. Looking at the map, with only one way in and one way out, you get the sense that the moment something goes wrong, you’re going to be trapped inside with the enemy. The pipe was deep and led to the ocean. Given the volcanic activity down there, if you had an opportunity to use your soul skill you might be able to open an alternate tunnel like a lava tube to escape or even block this pipe with lava on the way out. The problem is your Soul Skill is not instantaneous.

"No one knows what the security system in the inner zone is, but at least we can avoid the people coming and going by going through the inner zone passage." The map Chu Zihang drew by hand was a map of the sewer system in Shinjuku district. His finger moved along the spider web of sewer pipes, "There's a sewer right below Takamagahara. We'll follow it east, bypass under the Shinjuku subway station, and shortly after entering the main channel, we'll see Genji Heavy Industries. Total length is two kilometers." 

"It’s like we’re just going to wing it right? But come on, This isn’t some My Little Pony Ride. Genji Heavy Industries is like a rushing river, we'll be up a creek if we make one misstep." 

"How can we know if we don't try? If we get caught, we’ll kill our way out." Caesar said gently.

"Hey! Of course you two Robocops can easily kill out! Have you considered that there are still civilized and weak students in the team?”

“Mingfei,” You say softly. He looks over at you, genuinely frightened. "You think I'm weak? Who has the biggest body count for this mission?"

“Little Sister, how can you smile in such a situation. Have you lost your mind? You of all people should be on my side…”

“Don’t you remember what I did in the streets of Chizuru?”

Mingfei frowned, recalling how you killed over and over. “But it’s not right for you to be doing things like that.” 

Chu Zihang confirms your assumption. “Her Soul Skill is the first one that I’ve witnessed that is truly S-Grade.” Chu Zihang rolled up the map. “Her control of it is impressive. Her ability to misshape the earth will help us find a way out by creating a new tunnel underground if necessary, and we have scouted several promising escape routes. Not only that, Royal Fire could take down the Internet Cafe’s wooden structure, but it wouldn’t be able to shift the Genji Heavy Industries building. But her ability is likely to do it. Right, MC?”

You nod gravely.

“If it comes to that, we can threaten the entire building. They were extra proud of that building and probably wouldn't want to lose it in a tragic earthquake..” Caesar smirks.

“I still don’t like it.” 

"Then you'd better stay and take care of the girls. Watching over a dozen unclothed and sleeping women alone in a room late at night is a job for a frail scholar, right?" Caesar shrugged.

"Am I such an unkind and unrighteous person? Can I watch you two go into the dragon's den and wait here by myself? Don't answer that. Just give me a gun!" Lu Mingfei was once again bold and firm, though he gave an owlish glance at the women.

"Very well! We in the Student Council never back down from a fight!" Caesar drew out a heavy Beretta 92FS and threw it to Lu Mingfei, "I”ve been waiting to give this to you. Thirteen-round magazine, the first nine rounds are Frigga anesthesia ammunition. The back four rounds are specially designed to deal with dragons. Mercury core, blunt armor-piercing ammunition. Don't use that kind of bullets against humans or hybrids. Although mercury is not that deadly to humans, it’s troublesome after contamination, and the armor-breaking warheads will leave penetrating wounds on ordinary bodies.”

"Will there be any dragons in the Genji Heavy Industry?" Lu Mingfei thrust his gun into his back waist, "I say just load them all up with Frigga tranquilizer rounds." 

“MC was the last witness to Lenin's last voyage when a dragon embryo was sunk in a Japanese trench. They tried to kill her once before to hide what happened that day. The Japanese Hydra  leader speaks with the same Russian Accent as the MC and then turns on the Academy as soon as he thinks we’re dead at the bottom of the sea? And then tries their hardest to capture us in Chizuru? And now tries to pin us down in Japan…”

Caesar looks down at you. “MC… you were invited on this mission for a reason. I intend to find out why. I think they’re after you… more than they are after us.”

[rebelbyrdie]

Person of Interest AU Story Idea:  Codename Christmas

This is an idea for a Shoot AU or possible Hallmark Movie.

Codename Christmas:  A little town in Texas becomes the center of mystery, intrigue and unlikely love.

Sameen Shaw had exactly three goals this Christmas,  Keep her head down, drink as much as possible and sell her family’s Christmas trees.  It was simple enough.  She liked the idea of simple.  Since her return from Iraq, she needed simple.  Her time in the Marines had come to a jarring end when a firefight had gone FUBAR.  Three people out of twenty-five had survived, barely.  Now she had shrapnel in her leg, back and head, lots of medals, PTSD and a dog.  

She had joined up at eighteen and had only one place to go, home.  So she was back in Englewood, a town almost too small to be on the map in East Texas.  Everybody knew everybody, including her.  She was either the Shaw’s prodigal daughter returned home a hero or the newest town drunk.  They were about half-right.

Still, Englewood was home and everybody knew everybody.  So when someone new came to town, it was big news.  When someone new, pretty and female came to town, everything came to a screetching halt.

Shaw had clocked her months ago.  

Her mother and father thought it would be good for her to work at the Farmer’s Market at their booth.  Why?  Only they and God knew, because Shaw hated it.  She felt like a zoo animal on display.  She’d been thanked for her service so many times that she would punch the next person who wanted to shake her hand.

So when tall, dark and pretty wandered by, Shaw had noticed.  Hell, even Bear had noticed, and he was usually only interested in food and chasing rabbits.

There was something about the woman that didn’t sit quite right with Shaw.  It was the way her big brown eyes took in everything, always scanning for something.  Danger, an exit, a distraction.  She was too cautious to be just walking around the Farmer’s Market on Saturday morning.  It was the way she carried herself, like she was always ready to run or fight.  She was thin, built more like a dancer than a brawler, but Shaw had a feeling she could handle herself.  Basically, Caroline Turning was trouble.

It was an almost-cold Saturday in December, and Shaw was busy.  Her small lot was packed with families looking for the perfect tree.  The three men in dark boxy suits sporting Army haircuts and tactical boots were not her usual customers.  They weren’t usual for Englewood at all.

Shaw watched them, instantly alert.  Army Rangers.  She would know them anywhere, in or out of uniform.  It was their walk.  They had a very specific way they carried themselves.  Their suits also did a shitty job at hiding their guns.  She would bet big money that they were packing M9 Berettas.  SHe knew damn well that they weren’t the only armed people at the market, they were in Texas after all.  They were the most dangerous, though.  Besides her.

She had her own service weapon, a Sig Sauer, strapped against her in a concealed holster against her hip.  Her jacket, more for cover then warmth, fell over it so it really was invisible.

“Bear.”  The dog perked up.  “Bewaken.”  She gave him a guard command.  He was instantly up and at her side, ready for the next command, which was usually attack. She walked around the trees, hiding herself among them so she could track the Rangers (probably ex-Rangers to be honest) easier. 

The last thing she expected was to find Caroline Turning hiding amongst the pines.  Even more unexpected was that she could clearly make out a double-holster against the small of her back.

What was a middle school computer science teacher doing with that kind of fire power?  She didn’t know the specifics, but she had confirmed all of her suspicions.  Turning had brought trouble to town.

“Why-”  She pressed up against the woman’s back.  To her credit, Turning didn’t flinch.  “-are those Grunts looking for you?”

The woman turned around slowly and she, wisely, had her hands out to the side to show that she wasn’t pulling her guns.

“That’s a little complicated.”

No shit.  Shaw stared into the other woman’s eyes.  There was a spark of mischief and interest.  Maybe some adrenaline.  No fear.  This woman was not a school teacher.  Not by a long shot.

“How complicated?”

Bear’s warning woof was quickly followed by the cocking of a gun.

“Very.”  

Fuck.  Shaw let Turning go and pivoted around.  Her bad leg screamed in protest at the maneuver.  She also reached for her gun, but Turning grabbed her wrist and wrapped her other arm around her waist to hold her in place.

“John, stop.  She’s not with them.”

The man was also wearing a suit.  He was also Army.  His suit was tailored, though, and he didn’t hold himself like a Blackwater thug. There was something else there, not quite civilian.  Cop.

“John, I’m fine.”

Turning was still holding her.  Now in any other circumstances, Shaw would not mind having a beautiful woman holding her.  Not now.  Not with guns involved.

“Let me go or you’ll lose those hands.”

Everything, all their words, were barely whispers.  The whole little drama was fast, quiet and hidden in the trees.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,  Sergeant Shaw.”

Really?  Her rank?  Who was this guy?

He looked around, then opened his coat to show a gold star.  Well, that solved that.  He was a Marshall.  Which meant that she had been right all along.  Caroline Turning was not what or who she said she was.  She was in the fucking Witness Protection Program.  Of all the small towns in all of Texas, she had to walk into Shaw’s.

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Do My Hands Deceive Me (1/5)

Summary: After leaving the military, Ethan takes a job as a bodyguard.

Warnings: Drug usage, unhealthy coping, self harm via sex

REBLOGS > LIKES

When Ethan first applies to the job, he definitely doesn’t know what he’s getting into. 

He just needs something to do with himself, after the navy, and his skills lend well to being a bodyguard. He has a concealed carry permit, he’s trained in hand-to-hand combat, and he’s got amazing reflexes. Not to brag, of course, but he’s good at what he does, and this feels like the logical next step. Here, in front of a large intimidating desk, wearing his nicest suit and keeping his posture military rigid as he’s asked question after question by the senator.

“You do need to know,” she says, “that my son is… difficult.”

“Difficult how?”

She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “He’s about your age, but he- he never really matured, if that makes sense. He’s impulsive, and he likes to party, and his last three or four bodyguards have just quit. Crockett doesn’t think. He gets in a lot of trouble and he likes to ditch security.”

Sounds exactly like the sort of rich, spoiled little bastard Ethan figured he’d wind up looking after. This isn’t just a job, though, it has become a challenge. The people before him couldn’t handle Crockett Marcel, but Ethan will. He’s dealt with his fair share of entitled assholes who think they no best. 

“I’m sure it won’t be a problem, Ms. Marcel. I’m known for my patience.”

“I hope so.” She sends a message on her phone. “Crockett’ll be here in just a minute. I’ll have the contract emailed to you to go over. If you decide to stay at the end of the month, we’ll make things official.”

One month to prove he can handle Crockett Marcel. One month of making four thousand (four thousand!) dollars and if he’s still up for it, it goes up to five. Plus health care, and a car, and he gets to live in the senator’s mansion so he can keep an eye on Crockett. It’ll be demanding, but Ethan has always loved a challenge. Worst thing that happens is he declines the contract in thirty days. 

And then Crockett arrives, walking lazily through the door in a pair of oversized sweatpants slipping down his body, mismatched socks, and no shirt. There’s a tattoo on his arm too. And he’s beautiful, for lack of a better word. Wide eyes and heavy lashes, smooth skin, full lips, nose and jaw cut from the finest marble, bedhead messing his soft hair. He’s like something out of a film. And with the way he lets the waistband of his sweatpants slip down a little more, probably an adult one.

Ethan gets to his feet and holds out his hand. “Ethan Choi, nice to meet you.”

“Aren’t you polite?” Crockett shakes his hand. “Crockett Marcel. You this month’s lackey?”

“Bodyguard.”

“Hmm.”

Crockett turns on his heel and walks out, leaving Ethan to trail behind at Ms. Marcel’s nod. He walks like he knows all the attention he commands, like he expects everyone to watch how his waist tapers and disappears, like he knows people are desperate to see beneath the waistband. Brat. But a beautiful one  who yawns as they turn down a hallway.

“I give it a week.”

“I’m sorry?”

He looks over his shoulder as he opens a door. “I don’t think you’ll last a week as my new bodyguard. You’re too uptight.”

Ethan laughs and follows Crockett into the room. It’s a bedroom, kept clean undoubtedly by a maid, but it screams Crockett. The covers on the four poster are dark, and there are posters and pictures up on the wall. An ashtray beside the bed still has a home rolled joint sending smoke up into the air, bringing a heavy scent into the air that makes Ethan want to cough. And then, of course, Crockett drops his pants to the ground and steps out of them, definitely not wearing any underwear.

“Woah.”

“If it bothers you, don’t look.”

He starts rummaging through his dresser for clothes, tossing them one by one toward his bed with little accuracy. Skinny jeans, a mesh top, and something that’s probably underwear but isn’t that much fabric. Because of course Crockett’s like this. Difficult may be an understatement.

Crockett starts with the underwear, a jock strap, as it turns out. It frames his ass beautifully, making it look round and perky and Ethan really wants to just get his hands on him. Thinking about it makes him feel like a pervert, so he focuses his gaze on the wall. 

“I’m going to a party tonight. Don’t scare off my friends.”

It takes him a lot of jumping and wiggling to get his jeans up his legs. The mesh top only takes a second, and somehow feels more illicit than a bare chest as Crockett ruffles his hair again. The mess must be part of his look. Then, as Ethan watches, he picks up his joint and takes a long drag before blowing smoke up into the air, furthering the stuffiness of the room. Someone should open a window from time to time.

“You can have anything you want from the bar,” Crockett says, leading the way back out of the room. “They’ll put it on my tab. You can let loose, have a little fun.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I won’t be drinking.”

Crockett rolls his eyes and grabs Ethan’s hand to pull him along faster. He’s warm to the touch, deceptively strong. And these jeans really do look good on him. Right now, still smoking on his walk through the house, Crockett is a disaster waiting to happen and a pretty boy who knows exactly how he looks to the world.

The SUV they get into already has a driver waiting, and Crockett winks when Ethan opens the door for him. Going out in a suit isn’t ideal, but if all goes well, he’ll be able to pay for dry cleaning, and probably even a new suit. And he has his gun holstered at his side in case of emergency. This won’t be too bad, even as Crockett decides to use Ethan’s lap as his own personal foot rest.

“So, Ethan Choi,” Crockett says, snubbing his joint in the cupholder, “how did you wind up here?”

“I used to be a SEAL, and an old friend of mine said your mother was hiring. I thought it might help me settle in,” he answers. Instantly Crockett’s eyes light up and he leans forward. “What?”

“You could probably break me in half,” he says dreamily. 

There’s got to be something seriously wrong with this man. “You need to calm down.”

Crockett waves a hand dismissively and relaxes again, humming to himself until they arrive at the club. It’s just past dinner time, a bit early to go clubbing, but Crockett is practically bouncing as Etha lets him out of the car and trails him to the door. He leaves a respectful few feet between them, but watches closely. This is a test, a chance for everyone to find out how seriously he takes his job and if he can actually protect Crockett. If not from others, then from himself. 

The bouncer waves them both in immediately, and there’s a surprising amount of people already on the floor or at the bar. It’s loud, between their conversations and the music, and for a moment Ethan loses track of Crockett. It makes his heart stop. But he quickly finds him again, standing at the edge of the dance floor with his arms around some man’s neck. It’s not enough to worry yet, but Ethan keeps a close eye on them from against the wall. He doesn’t blend in, but that’s because he had no warning. So he watches, and he thinks. Was Crockett already planning on coming here, or was it an impulse decision? He doesn’t know him well enough yet to be able to tell.

But he’s able to notice that Crockett’s doing something he shouldn’t be. He hands a couple crisp bills to the man he was dancing with and, in return, receives a little baggie of white powder. Their deal finishes with a kiss, sloppy and dirty with the other man’s hand grabbing Crockett’s ass hard for the duration. Jesus. Ethan shakes his head and approaches, holding his hand out expectantly when Crockett notices him.

“Want a line?” Crockett asks, half smiling. His lips are swollen and his eyes alight. “You’ll have to roll your own little straw, sharing is gross.”

“Hand me the bag.”

Crockett scoffs, but places the drugs in Ethan’s open palm without much of a fight. “You know, you’re no fun.”

“Behave.”

“Gonna do something about it, sweetheart?”

He rolls his eyes and Crockett goes back into the crowd. Ethan keeps an eye on him, but his thoughts stray to what it is that made Crockett this way. The drugs, the partying. According to the senator, he’s about thirty, thirty five. He’s acting like he’s still in his early twenties. Something had to have happened, or not happened, to make him like this. He doubts Crockett will open up about it, just like that. 

The rest of the night, Crockett drinks, smokes, dances. He doesn’t buy any more drugs, at the very least. It goes on until even Ethan is tired, and then Crockett is stumbling to the door on the arm of a guy who’s tipsy, but nowhere near as shit faced. Ethan walks after them, all sorts of alarm bells going off, as they make it to the car. He lets Crockett into the car, and is about to shut the door, but Crockett whines and bats lightly at Ethan’s arm. 

“Nooo, he’s coming home too.”

Against his better judgement, Ethan lets the man in.

And then spends the twenty minute ride sitting beside the two as they make out, Crockett occasionally moaning, the man’s hand down his skinny jeans. Difficult. Ethan stares out the window and pretends not to notice, and when they get home, trails them up the stairs to Crockett’s room.

Crockett closes and locks the door behind them, keeping Ethan out.

He stands there, on guard, waiting, and listens for an hour as Crockett moans and screams, as the headboard slams against the wall, as the man moans too, as the sounds get quieter and then, the door flings open. The man looks Ethan up and down, nods, and leaves. 

Ethan peeks into the room and his heart breaks. 

Crockett’s shirt is still on, his jeans halfway off. There’s a mess all over him. His face has a bright hand print on it. It looks like a crime scene, not the aftermath of sex, but when Ethan approaches, Crockett smiles up at him and wipes the mess off himself with one of his plush pillows.

“Are you okay?”

“Never better.”

Somehow, he doesn’t believe him. “Did that man hurt you?”

“First time around the block?” Crockett sits upright and reaches into his nightstand, pulling out a plastic lighter and another homemade joint. “Some people like it rough, Ethan. Get used to it.”

[punkpoemprose]

Little White Lies & Little Black Dresses

Oneshot

Universe: Modern AU- Investigative Journalists

Rating: T (Teen & Up)- Guns & Crime

Length: 1917 words

A/N: @thesvenqueen​ You know my brain works in weird ways, right? So you said “hurt/comfort for sure but also pretending dating and also secretly dating AND the whole “I hate you” but ends up hooking up/getting together” were your favorite KA fic tropes and somehow that turned into this mess with journalism and fake dating and guns and drugs. It makes more sense when you read it, I swear! I hope you like it!

A very merry unbirthday to you!

Kristoff would be the happiest man in the world when the week was over. He still couldn’t believe that he had gotten himself into such a mess. It had been easy for the past year or so to pretend to hate Anna Arendelle. Her parents had been corporate royalty and he was certain that was how she’d ended up as their team lead fresh out of college when he’d been working for the tribune for three years longer than her. His articles were well thought out, hard hitting pieces of classic journalism, and hers were the world’s fluffiest puff pieces about the state forest queen’s three-legged dog or an ice-cream parlor worker who gave a kid a fresh cone when he’d dropped his. It didn’t make sense to him that she’d been immediately hired on as the head editor of the investigative reporting team.

It was easier to pretend that he hated her than to admit to himself that he actually liked her work. She picked light subjects, but she reported on them well. Her voice was clear and trustworthy when she wrote, and people liked to hear what she had to say. He liked to hear what she had to say, and that he also liked the way that she looked when she was saying it was a coincidence. A simultaneously fortunate and unfortunate coincidence given their current assignment.

He hadn’t expected Anna to take such an interest into his article proposal when he brought up the idea of an in-depth hard-hitting investigation into local restaurants that were doubling as fronts for various seedy and otherwise illegal activities. He had expected her to turn the thing down or turn it into something like “The Top Ten Drug Front Restaurants In Town” or something equally as “buzzfeed-esque”. What he hadn’t been expecting was for her to insist upon joining him with an explanation of “My parents loved this city, I became a journalist to make it a better place” and “We’ll be less conspicuous if we pose as a couple”.

It had all made sense at the time, but now he was walking into their first restaurant, a fancy Italian place that was rumored to hold high stakes poker in its backroom. It was one of the least worrying places they’d be hitting, what was illegal gambling and maybe a few respectable mob ties next to places who were possibly involved in human trafficking or gun running? It wasn’t the poker game that had him on edge of course, it was Anna in her little black dress.

She was a strictly oversized cardigan and leggings girl in the office, but here she was in a dress that showed off just how small her waist was and how the freckles on her cheeks also dappled her shoulders and chest. He couldn’t get over it, as much as he was trying not to think of how gorgeous she looked or how he could probably map constellations on her skin with his lips, he couldn’t stop thinking it.

“You look nice,” he finally choked out as they were seated. It made sense to say it because she did and they were meant to be dating, but it was about more than that and he knew it.

She flushed a bit. She often did that. He told himself it was because she was so fair in complexion. He let himself pretend, for the moment, that it was because she was interested in him. It helped him with his act, and it was nice to pretend that a girl as pretty and smart and sweet as Anna would get all dolled up to go out with him.

“So do you,” she said in response, speaking to him over her menu as if the tiny paper could hide her blush.

He was a gentleman, even if his thoughts were erring on the side of rakish. He pretended not to notice her blushes and glances towards him as he looked at his own menu. He knew it was likely an act anyway. They were faking a relationship for an article and it was going to kill him.

The waiter interrupted their solitude with the wine list and Anna froze up. He knew what she was thinking, he could see it on her face, the conflict between “we’re on a date and that means wine” and “we’re on the job and drinking is not a good idea”.

“None for us thank you,” he said with a smile, “We’re celebrating a reason not to drink for the next nine months.”

With that the waiter provided them with a congratulations and two glasses of water. Kristoff got a look from Anna, and while it didn’t look upset or even annoyed he had already begun the process of beating himself up for the answer. He could have said anything, they were nondrinkers, it was a religious thing, they didn’t serve the one single random wine she liked and he wouldn’t drink in solidarity. He could have picked one of many convenient excuses, but he’d said what he’d said.

Now he wasn’t just fake dating his boss who he was pretending to hate when they weren’t fake dating even though he found her extremely attractive and intelligent. No, now he had also gotten her fake pregnant from their fake sex life that he secretly wished was a real sex life. He secretly wished that someone would shoot him while they were working on this story just so that he wouldn’t have to make it to the end of the week.

“Cheers?” she asked, holding up her water glass with the same odd look on her face that he now read as amusement.

“Cheers,” he replied, clinking his glass into hers before taking a sip. This week was going to kill him one way or another.

                                                          ***

As it ended up most of the places they’d ended up at were busts. It was Friday and despite the divine torture of seeing Anna in various little black dresses every night, they’d only had two illegal gambling situations to show for their work. One had been just kitchen staff running a football betting situation without dispensation from the state. The other had panned out to be an actual high stakes poker game as they had expected, but really it wasn’t a secret at all and while they’d report on it, they didn’t really expect anything to be done about it.

Tonight, however had been different. So different that the whole plan had gone sideways.

It had been easy enough in the beginning of the night. A nice steakhouse, no wine because Anna was still fake pregnant. It was getting so easy for them to fake date, he’d even accidentally pulled her chair out for her at the office out of habit that morning. She looked beautiful as always, her hair pulled back to reveal her long neck. He’d barely slept Wednesday night imagining kissing it. They’d laughed and smiled and toasted with their water, had eaten some good food and were about to call it a night when Anna had decided to take a trip to the ladies room that had somehow landed them where they were now.

They were in a back room, far less glamorous than the elegant dining room they had been in just shortly before. There were cases upon cases of what appeared to be cocaine around them and by some miracle, no alarm had been raised that they were present. Anna had pulled a snub-nosed Glock from somewhere under her skirts, which Kristoff would have thought was immensely attractive in a spy movie sort of way if it weren’t for the fact that they were in deep shit.

The police were on their way, and Kristoff, also armed was trying to remember when he’d thought this week was going to end on a dull note for their story. Anna had her gun trained on a man who was standing with his hands up. He hadn’t made a move since he saw Kristoff was packing and Kristoff was quietly praying and thanking whatever God that would listen that they had stumbled upon the greenest drug runners in the business. It would make for a great story if they made it out in one piece. Realistically he already knew that if they survived this they were going to hand the story over. They’d risk the danger of putting their names on an article about backroom gambling that got a business in a bit of trouble but pissing off people selling coke was bad enough without sticking your name on a front-page story about it.

They’d been lucky. The police arrived and stormed the place. Kristoff was right about the operation being the least experienced one in the history of the city and everyone involved on either side made it out unharmed.

Kristoff spoke to the police as did Anna, and it felt odd to him to be the one getting interviewed. He was usually on the other end of questions, which was odd enough, but in conjunction he realized that he could barely focus. He was watching Anna from across the way and she was shaking.

By the time they were both done being interviewed and had been cleared to head home, unsurprisingly without police protection, it was 1am. Kristoff draped his coat over Anna’s shoulders. It was a reflex, but also something he wanted to do.

“Promise me you’ll never do that again?” he asked her gently.

“What the gun?” she asked, seeming a bit shaky still, but present. She was tough. “I have a concealed carry don’t worry about it.”

He watched her fake a smile and he shook his head. Almost everyone in the department had a concealed carry, he was hardly worried about that. Though he had seen her put it back in a thigh holster when all was said and done which had brought a very fleeting return of the “spy movie sexy” thoughts he had before.

“No Anna, I meant… Don’t go into back rooms without me… without a partner. I’m just saying, you don’t know what might have happened if I didn’t come looking for you. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

Anna shook her head, “I thought you hated me?”

They were in front of his car now. He was going to drive her home, he was supposed to anyway. Everything felt twisted now, especially after he heard her say that she still thought he hated her when he’d never really hated her at all. It was easy to be confused he supposed, given that they’d spent all week faking being in love, but he wasn’t sure that it was fake either now.

He sighed, “I’m not good with talking. I can write words that make sense Anna, but I can’t…” he trailed off for a moment looking at her, really looking at her before he picked back up. She looked so small covered up by his jacket, but despite her size and the fact that she was still shivering from the adrenaline rush, she looked formidable and strong and beautiful. “I had to tell myself I didn’t like you to get through the day. You… I just never thought that there was a chance…”

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Her eyes were wet, but when she spoke she sounded clear and confident.

“There’s a lot more than a chance Kristoff.”

[flourialkpop]

What's the best holster in Best Price?

In the wake of purchasing your weapon… settling on which holster you will purchase is a standout amongst the most essential choices you can make.  There are a variety of sorts and styles of holsters available at the present time. Tragically, huge numbers of them are not perfect for disguised convey.

Be that as it may, no stresses… we'll clear up what makes a decent holster, the sorts of conveying (inside belt, lower leg, and so on), and individual proposals for each kind.

Best Concealed Carry Holsters

Alien Gear Cloak Mod

Crossbreed Supertuck

Concealment Express

Urban Carry G2

Crossbreed Belly Band

Sticky Holster

Galco

Relentless CCW

[cleighwrites]

Till Sex Do We Part

SPN Fanfic

Characters - John Winchester x Reader, Dean and Sam (minor)

Summary - A strange case finds you working with the infamous Winchesters to save newlyweds from cashing in too soon on their vow of “till death do we part.”

Word Count - 2,971

A/N - This was written for @annablack1102​‘s Teeny Tiny Writing Challenge; my prompt was Accidental Marriage, and the character I chose was John Winchester. This fic fills my Sex Pollen square on my @spnkinkbingo card. Beta assist by that awesomesauce @deanwinchesterswitch, thanks again!

Warnings - Smack (emphasis on the crack part... it’s trash), sex pollen and the weird actions that go with that, pseudo dub-con because of the sex pollen, fingering, jerking off, unprotected sex (don’t be dumb, wrap it up!), John Winchester being a sexy ass bitch, that voice alone...  

You couldn’t believe the situation you found yourself in. Not only were you on a hunt with the infamous John Winchester, but the thing you were hunting seemed to be going after newlyweds. Six couples in the last month had been found dead the day after getting married; with various causes of death, ranging from dehydration to heart attacks. The only problem was that someone was going to have to get married to set the trap.

You were the only female on the case, which meant that you were going to have to at least pretend to get married. Dean was more than eager to volunteer his services, and having just turned twenty, he was technically old enough. John was quick to shut Dean’s offer down, citing that he didn’t want his eldest son to play the bait in case things went sideways. You were slightly relieved, given that you were twelve years older than the young hunter. Granted John was more than ten years your senior, but the age difference wasn’t as noticeable between the two of you.

So that was how you found yourselves at the courthouse filing for a marriage license with your aliases, since this was just a cover. Whatever it was that was after newlyweds didn’t seem to care how they got married, just that they had. So instead of trying to put together an actual ceremony, it was quicker, and more cost efficient, to go to the Justice of the Peace and get it over with. In the county that you all found yourselves in, the Justice happened to be located in the county jail. Why that seemed like a good idea for them, you could only guess.

After you got your marriage license you made your way back to the motel to get changed. It was very important, since you had no idea who or what you were looking for, that you looked as believable as possible going into this. You had found a simple white cotton dress at a local shop which hugged your form perfectly. It was flattering, yet comfortable and functional, easily concealing your holsters for your gun and bowie knife. You did your hair and makeup simply, yet still looked like you put a little effort into it. Once you deemed yourself ready, you made your way to the boys’ room.

Sam opened the door and immediately dropped his gaze to take in your full look. His cheeks flushed pink and he quickly looked away as he held the door open to invite you in. Dean was sitting at the small table and also did a double take at the sight of you in a dress. It was the most leg you had shown in years, and it helped to boost your confidence that you could still pull off looking like a girl.

Dean cleared his throat then whistled. “Looking good, Y/N. Dad’s finishing up in the bathroom, now.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“Doesn’t she look good, Sammy?” Dean teased his little brother.

You turned to face Sam, letting your dress bell out as you moved, and smiled at him.

Sam nodded and squeaked out a shy, “Sure does.”

You laughed, smiled wider, and thanked him. Dean laughed at Sam’s awkwardness and still changing voice. You felt a little bad for Sam, he wasn’t quite sixteen yet, and his body was still going through the more challenging stages of development. Constantly being around such men as John and Dean couldn’t have made his situation any easier.

Just then the bathroom door opened, and you had to control your eyes so that they wouldn’t bug out of your head. “Dean, what have I told you about teasing your brother?” His voice was equal parts gravel and molasses, and did things to you that you swore to take to the grave. He was clean shaven, with his hair combed back, and was dressed simply in a nice pair of dark slacks and a white button up shirt; he was devastatingly handsome.

“Sorry, sir,” Dean apologized.

“Well sweetheart, look at you.” John took in the look at you in much the same way as his sons had; only his gaze seemed to light you on fire as it moved down your body.

You tried to laugh off the compliment and made a half-assed, joking attempt to pull out the bottom of your dress and curtsy. John, imitating your formality, pulled himself to his full height, tucked his arms in at his waist as he walked over to you, and offered you his elbow. “Shall we?”

You prayed that your cheeks weren’t noticeably burning as you accepted his arm and headed to the car. Quick words of warning were given to Sam, who was staying behind, to properly seal off the room and get his homework done. Dean hopped in the backseat, you in the front passenger, and John into the driver seat of the sturdy old Impala. You all went over the plan again on the way out to the jailhouse.

It was easier than it should have been to pretend to be an excited bride with John touching you and looking at you the way he was. You never pictured that you would make a blushing bride, but there you were, standing in front of the Justice, cheeks aflame, with John’s hands holding yours, his eyes boring straight into your soul. You were honest to God shaking as you exchanged the simple, silver, thrift store bands you had found, and your heart leapt into your throat when John leaned down to seal your fake new bond with a kiss.

His lips were soft on yours, and his kiss was firm. You gasped at the overwhelming sensation, and he took the chance to slide his tongue over your bottom lip. You leaned into him, trying to deepen the kiss and John smiled against your mouth, leaning away. “Let’s save some for later, Princess.” He winked at you, and you almost swooned on the spot.

The Justice smiled at you knowingly, and slid the paper across the table for you and John to sign. There was some yelling out in the corridor, the sounds of a fight starting up, and Dean stuck his head out the door to check on it. He shook his head and came back over to the desk. Without putting too much thought into it, since you were having to focus on breathing, you signed your name on the line the Justice indicated, and played with your ring, as John signed his, the fight still going on outside the little room.

All the paperwork was split between you after everyone had signed, Dean and another clerk acting as your witnesses, and you were officially fake married to John McAllister. When everyone was loaded into the car, you now sitting in the middle of the front bench seat, John’s hand on your thigh and your head on his shoulder, you made your way back to the motel.

Once there, John threw the key to his room to Dean, and walked down the corridor to your room. Once you managed to get the key in the slot and unlock the door, John surprised you by lifting you into his arms to carry you into the room, then heeling the door closed behind you. The lights were still off, and you landed unsteadily on your feet when John sat you down. Luckily his arms were still strong around you and you were able to regain your balance.

“Easy there, Princess.” You could feel the rumble of his words as they radiated from his body into yours. “You good?”

Unable to trust your voice you nodded, and pulled yourself away from him. His hands lingered on your arms before slipping free, leaving behind a warmth that was more than just his body heat. You made your way to your bag to grab a change of clothes and John flipped on the lights. You put down all the paperwork and everything on the bed, kicked your shoes off and made your way to the bathroom to change.

Slipping out of your dress and into your shorts and tank top you pulled your hair into a haphazard ponytail and washed your face. Your head seemed clearer with the door closed between John and yourself, what had made you feel so giddy and frazzled. Sure John was an attractive, capable man, but you had worked with him before. Why would this case be any different than any other one?

When you opened the door the breath, as well as all rational thought, left your body as you took in the sight of John, shirt unbuttoned, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, laying on your bed. He had a puzzled look on his face as he was reading the papers you had sat down.

“Y/N, Darlin’, I think we might have a probl-” He cut himself off when he took in the sight of you in your lounge wear.

You took a few steps forward, and John swung his legs over the side of the bed to face you properly. His hands reached out to grab your hips and slot you in between his knees. He rested his head on your chest, and flexed his fingers on your hips, bunching up your shorts. Your breaths came in infrequent short bursts, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut as he held you close.

Your hands moved from John’s shoulders, when had you grabbed him?, to run your fingers through his hair. He groaned at the touch, and the combination of the sound and feel of it dampened your panties. His hands slid their way up your tank top, and lifted your arms so that he could remove the excess layer. As soon as your shirt hit the floor your hands were back in his hair, and his mouth was on your breasts alternating between the two with his hands and mouth. He quickly had your nipples freed from the cups of your sports bra, and lavished them each with opened mouth kisses.

Struggling to stay standing, your knees buried into the edge of the bed between John’s legs, your body held tight in the circle of his strong arms. One particularly exquisite bite from him had your fingers pull tight on the back of his head which caused you both to moan aloud. Taking his cue, John lifted you off the floor and rolled so that you were pinned to the bed under his weight.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’ve wanted this for so long. Can’t even tell you.” His mouth was all over your neck, nibbling on your ear, trailing down to your clavicle.

“Mmm, John!” He was hitting all of your most sensitive spots; it was as if he had a road map to all of your innermost desires.

John’s hands made their way down your body and he hooked his thumbs into your shorts and underwear; taking the hint, you lifted your hips so that he could rid you of the bottom layers of clothing. Once he had shed you of your shorts, his mouth slammed into yours in a bruising kiss. All sense of propriety forgotten as you ravaged each other. Your hands were much less graceful as you shoved his shirt the rest of the way off of him, and fumbled with his belt to get his pants off. You needed him, skin on skin, just as much as you needed air.

John chuckled softly against your neck before bracing himself up on one arm to undo his belt and undo his pants. Once the zipper was most of the way down, you regained your senses enough to pull them down under his ass. Your fingers brushed against his cock as you pulled your hands back up, and you felt it twitch at the touch. You wrapped your fingers around his impressive girth, and John bit down on your neck, hard, causing you to scream out.

He continued to bite and lick and kiss at your neck as you stroked him to full hardness. At some point one of his hands had ventured south and he began to work you open for him. You could hear the wet sloshy sounds of his fingers slipping in and out of your soaked cunt, and it only made you work him faster. With your free hand you grabbed the back of John’s head and pulled his mouth to yours.

The kiss was frantic and messy and by far the hottest thing you had ever done. After a moment he slipped his fingers out, and replaced your hand with his to line himself up. You braced yourself, grabbing his shoulders from underneath his arms, and holding on tight. Your brain registered some sort of noise outside your room, but not enough for you to linger on it. Just as you were about to ask John what was taking him so long, he shoved in. Your rarely used muscles burning at the desired intrusion as he slid all the way in, the head of his cock pressing into your cervix.

John paused for a moment before he eased out, and pushed back in again; setting a languid, steady pace. He filled you so wonderfully, and every stroke hit that sweet spot at your core and sent sparks flying behind your eyelids. His muscles flexed under your fingers, and his breaths were hot and heavy in your ear, he was building you up quickly; quicker than anyone had before.

You could feel your orgasm getting closer and closer, and you squeezed your eyes shut, clamping your inner walls tighter around John’s already thick cock. He moaned into your neck and the vibrations were the last stimulation you could take before you let go, exploding around him. He was only able to hold out for two more thrusts before he slammed in deep and stilled, pumping you full of his cum.

Before he was finished, and before you had truly regained the ability to breathe, it was like a cloud had lifted from your brain. You were suddenly very aware that John Winchester was naked above you and had just come inside of you. You both made eye contact at the same time and unceremoniously jerked away from each other; you flying to the head of the bed, flipping the edge of the comforter to cover yourself with, and him to the foot of the bed where he knelt on the floor to cover himself as well.

He looked at you, stricken. “Y/N,” you could hear the fear and regret in his voice, “please tell me we didn’t… ”

You weren’t sure who felt sicker about what had just happened. “We did.” Your stomach rolled, what the hell was going on?

Just then there was a loud bang on the door, John quickly slid into his pants and got them zipped and buttoned on his way to answer the door.

Dean came bursting in yelling, “Where the hell were you two?” Once he was in the room, he took in the state of his dad and you and his lip snarled into a disgusted look. “Uh, should I come back…?” he asked, equally mortified and confused.

“No,” both you and John answered at the same time.

“Yeah, well, it was a witch. It was that other lady at the Justice’s office, she was creeper stalking you guys outside the window, had a video camera and everything.” He shivered, then moved on. “I was able to get the drop on her, but she whammied me into the wall, luckily Sammy had snuck out and had those witch killing bullets from Uncle Bobby locked and loaded.” He rubbed the back of his head, no doubt waiting for John to lay into him about getting his little brother involved in the hunt.

“That actually makes sense now. You did good, Dean.” Dean’s eyes went wide when John put his hand on his shoulder, and you felt bad for him, not for the first time. All Dean ever seemed to want was John’s approval.

“But, Sammy-”

“Went against orders, and saved your ass. But you got the job done.” John looked him right in the eye, and Dean stood a little straighter. “Now, me and Y/N have some things we need to sort out, if you don’t mind.” He emphasized his point by nodding toward the door.

Dean’s face flushed and he glanced at you, then all but tripped over his feet trying to get out the room. Before the door had even shut, John had tossed you your tank top and shorts to slip back into. Luckily your bra was still on, but you weren’t going to fuss about missing underwear at the moment. John had his back to you as he slipped his shirt back on, and you stood to pull your shorts up. You both turned to face each other at the same time.

“So…” you started, not knowing exactly what needed to be said.

“Um, yeah. So, I noticed something while you were in the bathroom, before that spell took hold.”

You tried not to feel disappointed that the spell was the only reason that had happened. “What’s that?”

“Well, it seems that with all the commotion at the Justice’s office, and with that witch being there, that we both signed our real names to this marriage certificate.”

You choked on your intake of breath. “We what?”

“Y/N, looks like we just consummated our actual, legally binding, marriage.” His brows furrowed as he looked to you for your reaction, he didn’t even really sound disappointed.

“Well, hell, guess I’m a Winchester now, huh?” You shrugged it off, and watched as that sinful Winchester smile spread across his face.

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[irisfarms]

Wrote a fanfic Vel’s hitchhiking AU. Had this awesome backstory all written up and then tumblr deleted it... so enjoy a messy and shitty rewrite. 

Mentions of suicidal thoughts, homophobia, and violence. 

Iris had spent 2 days trying to hitchhike by the side of this highway before a tall, handsome stranger had stopped on his motorcycle.  This was his last resort to get out of this small town and escape his homophobic family and dead-end dishwasher job. Maybe this man would try to pimp him out (like his ex-Jerry did) or murder him, but this was his only way out.  

The man introduced himself as Lillium and immediately tried to shake his hand. When he asked Iris where he was headed, Iris responded simply with "anywhere away from here". Real sympathy shone in his eyes and he extended his helmet to Iris, stating that he could get one for himself in the next town. Iris figured that someone who just planned on killing him later wouldn't offer him the only helmet. He took a moment to reflect on how shitty his life had been so far just because he liked dudes and not chicks. He was beat up by his peers, kicked out by his parents, emotionally abused by his religious aunt so that he could get his high school diploma, and then groomed and betrayed by a man who he thought he loved. It would be hard for life to get worse in another town.  

Lillium explained that he was headed to Oregon. "It's a super tolerant state unlike Alabama here". Iris gave him a questioning look and Lillium pointed to the gay pride flag on his backpack. "Plus, it's got way more to do than this middle of fucking nowhere town... It's a few days ride away, but it's worth it."  

"Whatever. As long as it isn't here, I'm sure it's great." Iris climbed on the back of Lillium's bike and put on the helmet Lillium was making him wear. He had never been on a motorcycle before and the thought of being so exposed to the elements and venerable in a crash terrified him.  

"There should be a shop somewhere not too far from here where I can get another helmet. Oh, and you'll want my jacket to protect you from sun and wind burn... I'm used to both by now."  

Lillium flashed a dashing smile at him, taking off his jacket off and handing it to Iris before he turned around and started the hog. He made it clear that Iris would have to hold onto him really tight so he wouldn't go flying off the bike. Iris wrapped his arms around him and noticed this man was more muscular than he looked slouched on the bike. If he was going to be murdered later, at least it was by a beautiful man.

They drove for around an hour, before he pulled into a large gas station. Lillium explained that he really needed a helmet before the cops pulled him over. Iris wandered around the store and felt his stomach rumble at the food he saw. He was debating his chances of getting caught stealing a candy bar or two before Lillium put a hand on his shoulder. He had found another helmet and assured Iris that they would stop later for real food.  

They were back on the road for another two hours when Lillium pulled up to a Waffle house. Iris was starving so he only gave a mild complaint of "A Waffle House, really?" Lillium's response was that Oregon didn't have any, and he'd been craving it forever. Once they were seated, Lillium made up for all of the talking that they couldn't do on the ride. He talked about the weather in Oregon, dogs, and how happy he was that Iris joined him. Why on earth would anyone be happy to have a hitch hiker? I'm just bumming a ride. Iris pondered while drinking his water and eating his omelet as Lillium inhaled his coffee, OJ, bacon, eggs, and two waffles while still talking.

When they were almost finished with their meal, a methed out man briskly walked into the restaurant and screamed that he was going to rob the place while waving a gun around. The cashier pulled out her own gun, and suddenly they were in a standoff. Lillium looked right at Iris and put his finger over his lips warning him to be quiet. He drew a gun out of a holster on the side of his belt. How had he not noticed that this dude had a gun on him before now?! Am I the only one in this fucking Waffle House without a gun? Lillium snuck up behind him and put the gun to the back of the robber's head and the man froze and tried to see who had the gun behind him. Meth man made a move to try and turn around so that his gun was facing Lillium. Lillium kicked his knee, which caused him to crumple onto the ground. The cashier shot the man on the floor, then calmly called 911.  

Iris was trembling when the cops interviewed him later that evening. He told them what happened, and then they told him that he was free to go. He hadn't been able to look at Lillium since the incident and was seriously considering trying to catch a ride with someone else. He felt a hand on his shoulder.  

"Hey, Iris. I'm sorry all of this happened. Didn't know that my craving for waffles would risk our lives." He gave a humorless laugh while looking at Iris. "I've had self-defense from an early age and have a conceal and carry. My dad was a paranoid. He thought the zombie apocalypse was coming soon and wanted me to be prepared."  

Iris had no idea of what to say, so he just nodded. He didn't know what to think of this guy. But clearly, he had a gun and hadn't threatened him with it or killed him yet. He could have ignored the gunman and cowered, but he didn't.  

"It's late and I'm very tired. Let's just say in the hotel over there for the night."

The man at the desk only had one room left and that next closest hotel was around 70 miles away. They accepted the room since they didn't feel like driving another hour after the shit that went down at the waffle house. The room had one queen sized bed and a tv with a chair. There were mysterious stains on the carpet and hair on the shower walls. Lillium immediately began tearing apart the bed.  

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Checking for bed bugs! You can't be too careful! Plus, even the nice hotels have them now. They could be anywhere in the bed, even around the headboard!"

"Okay, while you're doing that, I'm going to take a shower."

Iris tried to enjoy the shower, but it was hard when he just kept replaying the day's events in his mind. Day one of being out of his little town and already saw a man try to rob someone and get shot. Life is just too much. Maybe I'd be better off dead. I can ditch Lillium tomorrow and tell him I'm going to catch a ride somewhere else. He won't ever know that I'm dead.

Iris dried off and walked out to try to find a shirt that wasn't super dirty in his bag. Lillium was casually laying on the bed writing in a journal, or maybe doodling? He was clearly absorbed in whatever he was doing and didn't notice Iris digging through his clothes. He figured he would just sleep in his boxers since he was going to end up curled up on the chair anyway.  

He slipped his underwear on under his towel and threw a blanket that was folded on the foot of the bed over himself. Lillium stopped writing and looked up. "Dude, do I really smell that bad?"

"What are you talking about? I've been wearing your jacket since I met you."

"You're gonna try to sleep in that tiny, scratchy chair?"

"Yeah. There's only one bed."

"Iris, you just spent hours holding on to my waist on the bike. It's too late for me to play coy." He patted the bed. "I'm not gonna get weird or try to grab your junk in your sleep. It's dumb for you to be miserable and cramped when we can share."

Iris walked down and sat on the bed. "Guess that makes sense. Need to warn you that I drool though."

Lillium grinned. "Who doesn't? You wanna be big spoon or little spoon?"

"What."

"I'm kidding man. 'Night."

"Goodnight."

As he turned off the light, Lillium thought about how happy he was to see Iris again. Maybe he should have told him that they had met before. Too late for that. Just be content that he is safe and here with you now. 

[yoonia]

Nocturne | Prologue

Character: Jungkook x OC (feat. BTS)

Type/Genre/words: Angst, Alternate Universe (Hitman!au, Assassin!au), Future Smut Scenes / 3,712 words

Prompts: “What would you find when you keep chasing over the ghosts of your past?”

Summary: It took only one night, one event, for the fate of two children to change. And it took another night, and another event, for Jungkook to finally met her.

| Prologue | 01 |

| Music Playlist | Characters |

15 years ago

It was one quiet night, when the air was still with silence. No wind dared to pass by between the trees. The grey road was wet from the remnants of rain that had fallen hours before. Somber lights from the lines of houses illuminated the residential area as the night kept still, with every being within each house fast asleep. Not a single person, vehicle, or nightcrawlers appeared to and fro, not a single movement appeared to break the eerie silence—until the sound of a few gunshots echoed in the frozen air.

The silence was broken in an instant, and the night changed rapidly as vehicles came in speed not a moment too soon. They came screeching to a halt, painting the dark with lights of red and blue in front of the tallest wooden house in the neighbourhood with its walls painted white. The sounds of car doors opening and closing shut, followed by frantic footsteps and lines of orders occupied the whole area instantly. The intruders of the night moved in sync as they broke through the front door effortlessly, occupying the space within with the loud noises they carried with.

The house stood still yet trembled with the presence of intruders as they entered the realm which concealed all the secrets that were hidden within every inch of the walls, every nook and cranny. Too loud to be able to hear their screams of help for the very soul they were protecting between their wooden walls. The footsteps moved to the top of the stairs, ignoring all the signs and all the whispers that were spreading in the air until all motions came to a halt at an opened doorway. All voices stopped immediately, finally realising that they needed to bring the silence back to be able to find answers.

The only voice that was heard came from one man; one of the intruder in uniforms who was now standing steady in the middle of the room as he calmly spoke,

“It’s okay, little girl. No one is going to hurt you now. It’s okay—”

He put away his weapon, hiding them back into the gun holster by his waist before he bent down with both arms extended, reaching out carefully towards a small girl that was kneeling on the floor, right in the corner of the dark room. White cotton nightgown covered the small body of the young girl which appeared to have not even reached her teen years of age. Her shoulder-length black hair was messy and soaked with sweat. Her chest heaved for air as she took fast and shaky breaths. Her pale skin appeared in contrast to the dark room and the pool of dark half-dried blood surrounding her, while her cheeks glowed as moonlight fell on the tears that kept on falling continuously over her skin. Her jade-coloured eyes were opened wide, alert and afraid, as she kept staring straight with her ice-cold stare at the gun that she was holding tightly in her grip, her fingers positioned firmly on its trigger as the tip was aimed straight at the dark empty space between herself and the line of policemen before her.

Jungkook was awakened from sleep when he heard noises echoing from the first floor. He wasn’t quite the light sleeper, yet there was something different that night. He could feel it creeping underneath his skin that something was not quite right. Jungkook had a knack for paying attention to details even as a little boy, noticing the small things that might have slipped from other people’s attention, and perhaps that was the reason why he caught on so fast to the foreign noises that were piercing through the depth of silence in his house when people were supposed to be asleep.

After waiting for a moment, focusing on the noises with his eyes closed to make sure that they were not merely his own imagination or part of his dreams, he finally left the bed the moment he heard more shuffling sound from the floor below moving in more rush. Doing his best not to wake his older brother as he passed the room next to his, he sneaked out, tip-toeing his way to the stairs and made his way downstairs. The house was pretty quiet, aside from the rackets he was faintly listening to, and it didn’t take him long to figure out where the noises had been coming from.

He walked through the main living room, making his way towards his Father’s study at the opposite wing of the house. He found the door slightly ajar, allowing the light from within to illuminate the dark hallways. He walked carefully as to keep himself from startling whoever it was moving about in the study, rummaging through his Father’s belongings, until he finally reached the door and managed to take a peek inside.

“Da— Dad?” he called out instantly the moment he recognised who it was in the middle of throwing folders of papers into a carton box, one amongst the many that had already been scattered about around him completely sealed. The man himself jolted in surprise at the young boy’s voice before turning abruptly. “What are you doing?” the boy asked again while rubbing his sleepy eyes.

The older man looked flustered and took his time, throwing the papers he had in his hands into the box before he walked over to his son. “Jungkook, why are you up? It’s really late,” he bent lower by the waist to speak to his son, lowering his own voice to avoid waking up others.

“I can’t sleep,” the boy answered with knitted eyebrows, keeping his eyes to study the tired lines on his father’s face before looking inside the rummaged room. “What are you doing? Why are you making a mess in your office? Are you looking for something?”

His father sighed with his hand ruffling his already messy hair, before lowering himself to his knees. “Jungkook—” he began to speak before he stopped, biting his chapped lips as he worked his mind for an answer, “—you’re a big boy, so I know I can’t lie to you.” He reached out to hold Jungkook by his arms, forcing the boy to look into his eyes. “Something is about to happen, and I’m worried that I might put you and everyone else in a bad position. So I’m going to go away for a while, at least until I make sure that everything is going to be okay. But I need you to promise me to not say anything about this to anyone. Can you do that?”

Jungkook kept his eyes on his Father as he listened carefully to every word the man had said to him. He let the words sink in for a few seconds, but the simple mind of the young boy could not register everything so easily. “Where are you going? When will you come back?”

“I— I don’t know yet,” the man answered him, completely uncertain, yet unwilling to let his boy worry far too much. “I will be back as soon as possible, after I finish what needs to be done and make sure that we are going to be safe, but I need you to do one thing for me, okay?”

Jungkook nodded his head with his eyebrows knitted as he was still lost and confused, still hardly able to grip on the situation except for the fact that his Father had the usual creases on top of his face which he always had after staying up all night working. “I need you to keep this as a secret. Don’t tell anyone that you saw me tonight and about everything I said, alright? Can you do that?”

“But— what about Mom? Can I tell her?”

The man shook his head instantly. “No, not to anyone. Not to your Mother, and not even your brother. Tell no one, okay?” Jungkook faltered for a moment, and the man reached for the boy’s head, cupping his cheeks to force the boy to look at him. “Jungkook, do you understand what I’m saying? Can you promise me to keep this as a secret?”

The boy hesitated. Afraid. But he cared for his Father more than the world, and he understood how much this meant to him. “Yes, Dad. I promise.”

The older man sighed in relief, before pulling the boy into a deep hug. He thanked the boy repeatedly and kissed the boy’s head gently, urgently, and Jungkook finally noticed how the man was completely filled with worry and deep fear. Yet the boy kept silent, and only nodded his head when the man asked him to go back to bed.

Jungkook turned and stopped before he reached for the stairs. “Dad?” he called out to the older man, stopping him from entering the room once again. “I love you,” the boy said with a smile.

The man stood in the doorway with his eyes locked on his young boy, tears forming subtly as he answered with, “I love you too, Son.”

Jungkook answered with another smile before he turned around and walked away. The man kept staring at the boy’s back until he disappeared up the stairs, unaware of how the boy kept walking with his hands clenched on the sides of his body, as the young Jungkook realised that the night would be the last time he was able to say those words to his Father.

Jungkook came home from school the next day to find a group of men in suits, uniforms and badges coming in and out of his house, some were searching through his Father’s study room as the others kept pacing about between the rooms at the first floor. One of the men helped the boy find his Mother who was sitting in the dining room with another man in suits, as she was answering questions while fidgeting on her dress. Jungkook kept his eyes on the men that were searching through his Father’s files and computer, blocking his senses from the conversation that was happening between his Mother and the stranger sharing their table, until the man leaned down to speak to him.

“Jungkook? Is that your name?” he asked the boy to grab his attention. Jungkook turned his head and stared right at him to answer, “Yes, that’s my name.”

The man smiled at him. “Hello, Son. I know this is pretty confusing. But don’t worry, this will only take a few hours, maybe less, and everything will be alright.” He stopped and leaned forward. “So, Jungkook— When was the last time you meet or talk to your Dad?”

Jungkook looked at the man and turned to look at his Mother. The woman gave him an encouraging smile before the boy answered, “Uh— Last night at dinner, and then before I went to sleep.”

“Did your Dad say anything to you? About where he was planning to go? Did he leave you with anything?”

Jungkook kept his eyes on the man, staring at him in silence for a brief while. The voice of his Father echoed inside his head as he was about to answer.

“Can you promise me to keep this as a secret?”

“No, Sir. We only talked about the baseball match we watched yesterday. Dad didn’t say anything about going anywhere.”

The man pursed his lips and nodded. “If you remember anything, can you please tell your Mother or call to talk to me about it?”

Jungkook nodded. “Is my Dad in trouble?”

The man smiled. “No, Son. We’re just here to make sure he is safe. Along with everyone else.”

Jungkook excused himself to his bedroom when the man had to leave and make a phone call. The boy ran up to his room, looking around before he closed the bedroom door as gently as possible. He went straight to his wardrobe when he knew it was safe, opening one of the drawers to retrieve a small metal box he kept inside. His Father’s hard drive. He opened his backpack quickly and placed the small device inside before leaving his bedroom, careful enough to avoid from getting caught by the men that were walking around the first floor of his house.

He could faintly hear the voices of the men speaking— “Should we search in the bedrooms?” —as he swiftly made his way towards the kitchen and slipped away from everyone’s sight. He made sure no one saw him as he made his way out through the back door, and made sure nobody caught the sight of him before he ran as fast as he could with his backpack, far away from the house.

Present day

Jungkook stretches his body on his seat while he waits for his computer to switch off completely. He glances over to the empty workstations around him, enveloped by the silence of the dimly lighted office as he found himself being the only one left that is still around. He glances over to the only bright light that still illuminates his surroundings coming from the private office at the other side of the floor. Checking on the time, he finally starts collecting his belongings and reaches for his backpack, before he walks over to greet the man seen standing in the middle of that small editing room.

He knocks on the door, catching the attention of the tall slender man standing by his desk with his eyes locked on the screen of his tab, who then raises his face and greets Jungkook with a smile. “Are you done for the night?”

“Yes, I have,” Jungkook answers him while fixing the slings of his backpack over his shoulder. “I published the article just as you told me to on the website, and sent the finished layout down to the printing division.”

“Good,” the man nods as he turns his tab off and puts it away into his own bag. “That’s all for today, then. You did a great job as always, Jungkook.”

The younger man smiles widely at the compliment. “Thank you, Sir. Are you heading out too?”

“Yes, but you can go ahead. I’m still waiting for my driver. I’ll lock up the office right behind you.”

“Okay then,” Jungkook starts turning around to leave. “See you tomorrow.”

His editor only answers with a simple wave by his hand, already having his attention on his phone that suddenly rings at that same moment. Jungkook zips his jacket while he walks over to the elevator, and soon he is on his way down to the ground floor. He puts on his earphones and listens to the music he has playing from his phone as a companion as he walks out of the vacant lobby, only giving courteous nods to the security officers sitting on the front desk as he passes by.

The cool air of the night welcomes him the moment he steps out of the front door, and he can see his motorcycle waiting for him at the corner of the parking lot. He can imagine the safe shelter of his apartment as he walks over to his vehicle, already can’t wait to finally lie down on his comfortable bed after the long day, surely not before having a warm dinner and perhaps spend a few hours watching some movies to help him rest for the night before actually sleeping. The calm walk that is being accompanied by the sullen music audible through his earphone is suddenly interrupted by the sound of his phone chirping, a sign for a message being received.

He stands to lean on his motorcycle as he opens the messages, already half guessing the sender as he reads through the text—

[09.45 PM] From KYG: Subject is seen leaving his building. Last seen address will be sent soon.

Jungkook sighs, knowing that his night is not over yet. He reaches for his helmet and puts it on after taking off his earphones. Two other messages come into his phone right away; the first contains a picture of a man standing outside of his black car with some other men in suits, all their faces seem blurry except for the folders and leather bag the man carries on his side, while the second contains an address, certainly one that he is supposed to head on to. He takes a moment to browse through the map on his phone to find his destination, figuring the time he would be needing to reach the place he is sent to.

“I guess sleep can wait,” he mutters to himself while he puts away his phone and hops on his motorcycle. The sound of the engine pierces through the still night as he speeds out towards the main road.

Jungkook reaches the address within five minutes with his speed and thanks to the streets being void of traffic due to how late the night already is. He turns off the engine long before the motorcycle reaches for the designated building, opting to park the vehicle under the shadows of the neighbouring building instead to hide it from anyone’s sight. He makes sure no one is around to catch him while taking off his helmet and glances around, until he can see the light coming from one of the upper floors of the building he is heading to. Taking his time to make sure that the coast is clear from any intruders, he makes his way up through the emergency stairs of the building right across where his target is, until he reaches the safest spot where he can get a clear view into the room at the other side of the windows.

He can see clearly of what is going on inside. His eyes quickly catch the sight of a few men standing in circles around one desk, and the man he had seen on the picture that was sent to him standing in the middle with an opened folder in his hand. He reaches for his backpack and retrieves his camera, choosing the long ranged lens to place on his camera to help him zero in on his target and have a better look, and of course, allow him to capture everything that is happening through pictures which he would be sending later to the people who had sent him here.

Through his lens, he is able to see the faces of the men in the room more clearly even from the distance, and he expertly takes shots of pictures, capturing images of the men as their conversation turns into heated arguments, and he manages to get a clear view of what is written on the paper in the man—his target, who also seems to be their leader—is holding in his hand.

A slight movement appears suddenly from the other side of the room he is surveilling, which Jungkook catches from the corner of his eyes. He glances around the room through his lens, and before he can even catch a sight of the masked intruder, the men that he’s been spying on react to the situation first. Some of them are already raising their guns while the others are scattering to find safe spots to hide and to keep their leader safe. They try to move and react as fast as they could, yet, unfortunately, a little too late.

Chaos happens instantly. All guns are fired. People are screaming and shouting before falling to the ground. The floor is soon covered with blood, while Jungkook’s initial target hides away beneath the desk, after being shoved away by one of his own men to safety. Jungkook keeps his eyes peeking through the lens, while his finger keeps pressing the shutter button expertly to never miss out a moment. Soon the intruder comes into view, as they make their way closer to their main target.

Jungkook lets his finger hover above the shutter button, carefully taking a few shots while hoping that the intruder would not spot him as he does his job, but still let him get a clear view of who they are. The mysterious person seems to have their focus set completely on their target, however, that not only they are unaware of Jungkook’s presence right across the building, they are also unaware of another intruder coming from behind. Jungkook keeps taking pictures of the first intruder as they raise their gun and aims at the target, only to be stopped as gunshot echoes loudly and the masked stranger immediately drops to the floor.

Jungkook sits still at where he is, never once turning his eyes away from the viewfinder nor moving his finger off the shutter button even as the second intruder steps into the view. The next person—dressed in all black and leather jacket with its hood covering their head and their face covered in black mask reaching the bridge of their nose—stands firm in the middle of the room, glancing around to look at the victims that are scattered around on the floor and watches at their own victim lying right in front of their feet.

Everything goes silent for a moment, and Jungkook tries his best to fight off his hesitance in taking another picture as he freezes still lat the heightened tension that he felt from watching the scene that was unfolding before his very own eyes, until his body reacts exactly how he has been trained, after taking a long deep breath. The sound of the camera that has been subtle suddenly sounds a little too loud compared to the silence that is taking over the air after all the chaos has subsided. His breath hitches the moment the figure in black halts their steps and turns their head towards the window, before slowly lifting their face and stares right into Jungkook’s lens.

Jungkook’s body becomes frozen still at his hiding spot the moment his eyes met theirs through the lens. Yet he is still able to press down the button and take another last shot, capturing the pair of jade-coloured eyes that is now staring straight at him, as if piercing through the lens and into his mind with their ice-cold gaze.

“Shit.”

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: I’m still not sure about the header. I might change it if I feel unhappy with it. But please let me know what you think. Please keep in mind not to ask for updates, because I will always add the progress on my WIP LIST. Thank you for reading^^

a/n 2.0: In case you’re a long time follower and wondering why this seems familiar - yes, this is a revamped version from the old Nocturne (Jungkook hitman!au) which I posted last year and took down months ago. I hope I can actually be inspired to write and finish the series this time :)

update: re-edited by author 23.02.2018

[naruto-oc-critiques]

Michiyō Madoka

Here’s your OC review, @michiyomadoka  Sorry for the long wait! I’ll be putting it under a Read More since it was/is so long.

Name: Michiyō Madoka - “Michiyō” means “sunny path” (道陽) and “Madoka” means “circle” (円). Note: The sun is used as a plot device as she associated it with Pain after he stopped the rain in Amegakure and only after his death was able to let go of her hatred of the sun. While the rain in her story is used as a symbol of the “genjutsu world”, the sun is used as a symbol of the “real world”, which she has to make peace with in the end.

C: My Japanese isn’t the best, but I think Madoka is 円か. There’s probably another blog on tumblr that could help you with the translation if you’re interested in knowing the kanji, but I imagine that in most cases you’ll stick to saying Madoka in romaji and not using the kanji so it’s not massively important. There’s also Japandict which I find rather helpful.

Syn - Pain didn’t stop the rain though? It’s near constant downpour there throughout his reign. The only times he stopped it were on Sundays and when he left the village. It was/is used as a sensory jutsu to check for infiltrators.

Gender: Female

Age: Part I: 13-14 and Part II: 17-18

Time set in: Naruto and Naruto Shippūden

Birthplace: Harawa Village, Land of Rain

Lives in: Amegakure

Appearance:

Michiyō is 174 cm tall and weighs 64 kg in Shippūden. She has pale skin, grey eyes and waist-length blonde hair with blunt bangs.

Syn- Weight according to height and gender are good! The hair could be an issue though; such long hair could be problematic; especially if she has it while she’s still young and new. It takes a degree of skill to fight with long hair, especially with close up styles. Even then it’s not very recommended.

C: Details on her actual build would be helpful too. Is her hair usually loose or tied up? As Syn mentioned, long loose hair can get ninjas into all sorts of trouble.

In Part I Michiyō wears a black skirt that reach her mid thighs with slits on both sides and the kanji for dream (夢, yume) in yellow and a sleeveless black crop top with a zipper in front. Underneath she wears a sleeveless mesh suit with black lining, covering her from the neck down to the thighs. She also wears grey shorts and short grey fingerless gloves in rubber with black-lined mesh underneath and has her grey Amegakure forehead protector tied around her hips, as well as a grey shuriken holster on her right thigh. She wears a pair of regular black shinobi sandals with knee-high black-lined mesh stockings and has black nail polish on her fingernails and toenails. She also carries a grey and yellow tantō strapped on her back.

Syn - Yellow seems a bit out of place in a darker village like Ame. Most colors you see there apart from Yahiko and Konan’s hair are dark and dull. Also, why with the rubber?

C: The reason behind the kanji for Yume would be nice to know.

In Part II she wears a pale grey sleeveless, knee-length dress with slits on both sides and the kanji for dream (夢, yume) in yellow, with a narrow low-cut V-neck almost reaching her navel. Underneath she wears a sleeveless mesh suit with yellow lining, which covers her from the neck to down the thighs. She wears still grey shorts but has replaced her short gloves with long grey fingerless gloves in rubber with metal plating on the backhand and yellow-lined mesh underneath as well as a pair of matching, knee-high grey rubber boots with the same yellow lined mesh stockings underneath. She wears a grey belt around her waist with her Amegakure forehead protector plate on and a grey shuriken holster on her right thigh and now has yellow nail polish on her fingernails and toenails. She also carries her sword strapped on her back, which is concealed inside a grey and yellow oil-paper umbrella. As a member of Amegakure’s Anbu unit Namida, Michiyō wears a grey, hooded, ankle-length rain cloak with a zipper in front over her usual outfit and a metal mask designed with slanted eye-holes with four dots trailing down from each corner, the kanji for “tears” (涙, namida) on the forehead and four vertical lines in place of the mouth, resembling the Amegakure village symbol. Her mask uniquely has yellow markings around the eyes and trailing down the cheeks. During the Fourth Shinobi World War, Michiyō wore a standard Amegakure slate grey flak jacket with swirls on the chest, on top of her normal outfit.

Syn - Why the kanji? What kind of swirls on the flak jacket? Why did she have a special flak jacket? I do like the idea of different ANBU divisions though.

C: Is the rain cloak and mask the standard ANBU uniform for her division? How come they don’t have a full standard outfit/style like other ANBU?

Michiyō is also noted for always wearing a simple silver necklace with a small teardrop-shaped pendant around her neck - a gift from Hanzō that is actually a concealed vial containing the only known antidote to his poison, which she usually wears tucked away underneath her shirt for protection.    

C: You’ve not mentioned what this vial is made of, but I’d advise making it metal or similar rather than glass so that it’s not easily breakable.

Family:

Rin Madoka (mother, deceased): Her only living family, the relationship was very poor as her mother drank and neglected, as well as verbally and emotionally abusing her. When she died Michiyō did not mourn her and only felt relief when thinking about her death.

Unknown father (father, presumed deceased): The relationship is non-existent as he left her when she was a baby. When confronted she blames him for not taking care of her, but never really thinks about him otherwise.

C: It’d be handy for us to know who he is, even if Michiyo doesn’t.

Occupation: Anbu captain

Rank: Part I: Genin and Part II: Anbu

Team:

Team 4: Michiyō Madoka, Natsuko Long, Kai Jakushi and Sensei Kinichirō Togawa. Michiyō’s assigned genin team. I was thinking about this team having a dynamic similar to Team 7: Michiyō/Naruto was in love with Kai/Sakura and Kai/Sakura was in love with Natsuko/Sasuke, while despite their differences Michiyō/Naruto and Natsuko/Sasuke were best friends.

Syn - It’s important to think of team dynamics, but this seems like too much of a Team 7 parallel to me.

C: I would also avoid spelling out where your inspiration comes from in general, as then the parallels become particularly obvious. If your OCs would genuinely have that kind of dynamic then that’s fair enough, but I still feel like there should be some differences between your team and team 7’s.

Team Akuma: Tsuyu Saitō, Kohaku Itō and Captain Michiyō Madoka (codename Akuma). Anbu team within the Anbu unit Namida, specialized in ambush/protection and serves as bodyguards for the village head.

Syn - Somehow I kind of doubt Pain would want/need an ANBU protection squad? None the less one ran by Hanzo’s “daughter”. The general Ambush/Protection classification is generally fine though!

C: I’m not convinced on the team name either. Team Michiyo would be better, or an entirely different codename for the team as a whole.

Syn - Like going by Alpha, Beta, ect. Something like that.

Friends:

Hanzō (caretaker/father figure): After Hanzō took her in and made her his student Michiyō came to love him as a father figure and was devastated when he was killed by Pain. His death had a profound impact on Michiyō and afterwards she gave up on the idea of peace and bonding with others and bended down to Pain in order to survive, trying to let go of Hanzō. When she later met the reanimated Hanzō she admitted that she had not been able to let him go and despite all the bad things he had done she still loved him.

Syn - I just...don’t think of Hanzō as the type to take someone in. I could see him hearing about an oddly talented civilian and conscripting them to the academy though.

C: Shouldn’t Pain have killed her if they were close? From the wiki “the Six Paths of Pain confronted and single-handedly killed Hanzō, systematically slaughtered every person he was ever in league, or affiliated with; from family and servants, to even ambassadors of the villages who he was associated with”.

Natsuko Long (best friend/teammate): Was her best friend, but they grew apart in the Academy when Natsuko became popular and Michiyō as the outsider began isolating herself becoming solely focused on getting stronger. When Natsuko died, Michiyō did not go to her funeral as she at that point had suppressed her emotions completely, something she later regretted and after the war was finally able to mourn her.

Syn - How can they be best friends if they grew apart in the academy and never reconciled?

C: It’s nice to see her regretting her past actions, though I realise that may sound awful.

Kai Jakushi (friend/childhood crush/teammate): Due to Michiyō being an outsider and he was popular, Michiyō was forced to pretend that they were not friends in the Academy, while hiding her crush on him. While team mates her feelings for him disappeared as she suppressed her emotions and they grew apart when team disbanded and after Natsuko’s death they never spoke again.

Syn - So, she and Kai stayed friends but not her and Natsuko? Why?

Kinichirō Togawa (sensei): She liked and admired him, and felt sad when he drank himself to death not long after his retirement when Team 4 disbanded, but tried to let it go and not think about it.

Syn - Why did he become an alcoholic? Because Natsuko died?

C: It would be nice to have a bit more detail here, like why she admired him, and more details on her feelings rather than just “sad” when he passed away.

Kakashi Hatake (friend/romantic interest): When they met in Part II after Pain’s defeat, she came to respect and admire him during the preparation for the war and slowly developed feelings for him. However she hid them as she still feared they made her weak and vulnerable. Note: I’m not sure whether to just leave it at a crush/friends or to have them become a couple in the end after she breaks out of her emotionless shell - I don’t plan on them getting married or having children or anything like that, I thought of them more as lovers/partners and I am still not entirely sure whether she would move to Konoha for him – any advice on if the relationship even seems plausible would be fine :)  

Syn - honestly i think konoha shinobi would be wary of most ame shinobi. Also, i don’t believe Ame participated in the fourth war, as they’d just lost their leaders. They would have been too embroiled in finding a leader, likely through civil war given the country’s history.

C: It was just the main 5 villages and the samurai who participated in the war. We could really do with more detail on how they actually meet, and how any kind of relationship has time to develop.

Personality: As a child she was happy, cheerful and stubborn with a fierce temper much like Naruto Uzumaki, but due to the lack of love in her childhood she became introverted, reserved and taught herself to supress her emotions and put up a façade.

C: Becoming introverted and reserved makes sense if she had a difficult childhood. Does she still have the same temper “under the surface” then? I’m curious as to whether or not she has any “ticks” that give may away her hidden emotions to anyone who knows her well enough.

After Hanzō’s death, she lost all hope in other people and believed that bonding with others would only make her weak. Though she hated Pain, she never sought revenge, as she was too afraid of him and believed that he could never be defeated.

C: It’s good to see that she understands the limits of her power, though I’m curious as to why she lost hope in other people at this time too. Logically speaking, if she could gather up a reasonably large band of at least semi skilled people, then she could have had a chance at beating Pain. If she was that attached to Hanzo I feel like she would have tried to do something, though obviously not if it was a lost cause.

Trapped under Pain, unable to deal with all her anger, hatred and sorrow she instead chose to completely shut off her emotions and slowly turned her own heart into ice. Michiyō came to believe that the only way she could survive and become strong was to let it all go and forget about the past and everything that had happened and she willingly bended down to Pain in order to survive. The past became a taboo which she never thought or spoke about and her only focus was to keep moving forward at all cost. She became obsessed with getting stronger and all her waking hours she trained her genjutsu, which with time became the only way she could express her emotions. Most of the time Michiyō is calm and composed, with an aloof and confident attitude. However she is also talkative, strong-opinionated, and can also be funny and charismatic at times, but her cheerful exterior is often only a part of her facade and she always keeps people at an arms-length, never showing her true emotions.

C: To be honest, being charismatic at times gives off something of a manipulative vibe to me, though I’m not sure if you were aiming for this.

Syn - I could see the manipulative side developing after all that she’s been through though.

She is extremely enduring and also adaptable under extreme circumstances, unflappable and very good at keeping her cool in any situation. She is very determined and ambitious, but can turn obsessive under too much pressure. Due to her upbringing she is also quite mature for her age and very independent as she is used to relying only on herself and can therefore also be very selfish, always putting herself before others.

C: Selfishness is a good flaw, and makes sense for her too.

Syn - Makes sense with the manipulative vibe too!

As she prefers her own company most of the time, she has very few friends and when not on duty she spends her time alone in her apartment painting or reading as she likes being creative, which helps her develop ideas for her genjutsu. The thing she fears above anything else is being vulnerable and weak, opening up and then being betrayed or exploited, which is why she trusts no one and keeps to herself. Her fear is her weakest point, as she has never learned to be brave and has had to flee and hide her entire life to survive.

C: I like these fears.

Syn - Sounds very much like someone who grew up so close to the center of a war-torn country.

However, after Pain’s death everything changed for her and her meeting with Naruto and watching his refusal to give up made her realize that she had been wrong to despair and give up on other people and she regained her hope in a better future. This helped her break out of her emotionless shell and shed her façade, no longer believing bonds and feelings is just weaknesses and she began creating new bonds and also finding the courage and will to fight for her village and others than herself.

C: It’s good to see her grow and move on from her old feelings. Naruto has changed so many characters in canon though, so it can feel a bit stale when he’s the reason for an OCs change too. I would consider linking it to the actions of her friends, fellow villagers or something, so it feels a bit fresher (I hope you get what I mean here).

Abilities: Despite her being born into a civilian family, Michiyō was born with immense genjutsu powers. Learning the basic theory behind chakra by years of listening in on the shinobi teams passing through her village, she was able to teach herself how to mould chakra and create genjutsu and even before she joined the Academy she had surprisingly good control of her abilities. She was even able to catch a fully-fledged shinobi in a Genjutsu Binding when she was 8 years old, which were enough to catch the eye of the legendary shinobi Hanzō, who took her as his student.

Syn - That’s a little over-powered, for some civilian kid with not family history of shinobi. I could see maybe a Kurama kid being able to do this.

C: This is definitely beyond the realm of what an untrained child could be reasonably expected to learn without some kind of formal tuition. If you want Hanzo to take an interest in her, why not wait until they start to teach genjutsu at the academy?

As she has trained herself to suppress her emotions her entire life, with time her genjutsu became the only way she could express her emotions and therefore became very dependent on them. Her powers are so strong that overuse eventually breaks down her mind and personally, so that she at last is just an empty shell.

Syn - I can see the becoming dependent of genjutsu thing, as that seems like a viable side effect from emotional suppression. But by that last sentence do you mean she ends up killing herself with her genjutsu? Or at least puts herself into a vegetative state?

C: I’m guessing that you’re aiming for a ROOT style personality, though I feel like if she loses too much then she won’t care about missions, or even self care and could just fade away, or die due to carelessness on a mission.

Note: I am still working on the mechanics of her genjutsu powers as I don’t want it to be just a copy of the Kurama Clan’s genjutsu, but I still want it to be something that defines and shapes her throughout the story, so any suggestions is very much appreciated :)

Syn - I just don’t see how the genjutsu could be developed into something that isn’t too close to the Kurama clan’s. Strong genjutsu like that just screams Kurama. C, you got any ideas?

C: To be honest, I feel like your best route might be to just have her being distantly related to the Kurama clan (maybe by a grandparent or mystery dad). Ame is basically a mixing pot of the surrounding countries, so it wouldn’t be a stretch for someone from Konoha to wind up there. I just think that at the moment, what you’re aiming for is too similar to the Kurama clans KG to try and make it something different, and there’s nothing in canon stopping you from borrowing it.

Syn -  Yes. Mystery Dad. But, yeah, Rain is basically the New York of Naruto. Lots of refugees from other nations.

As she has chosen to focus almost solely on her genjutsu, her other skills have naturally suffered and she is quite average in other general shinobi skills. She is amongst other things unable to use any elemental chakra natures only Yin Release and because she was born a civilian she naturally has a very small amount of chakra which gives her a low stamina.

C: Her maximum amount of chakra can be increased with training (to an extent), so I wouldn’t make it too low as I think it’s something that she would spend time developing. She should also have a natural element which would be nice to know regardless or whether or not she can really use it.

As she has been naturally focused on her mind and on studying, she is particularly weak in terms of physical strength and endurance and taijustu. As she is usually extremely well-protected by her genjutsu powers this does not normally pose a problem, but in a taijutsu match she could easily be beaten by someone like Ino Yamanaka and if ever punched directly by Sakura Haruno or Tsunade she would properly be killed. However, to make up for this she has worked on her speed and evasion and she is very quick. Michiyō is also extremely skilled in kenjutsu, wielding the ninjatō Tīdaami meaning “sunshower” (太陽雨), which she can use to induce her genjutsu when infusing it with her yin chakra-flow.

Syn - So her lack of elemental jutsu is due to her focus on genjutsu? I can see that, but I think at least one or two low level ninjutsu would be a good idea. Besides, if genjutsu was literally the only skill she’s good at I could hardly see her making it past being low-leveled chuunin. Though, I really do like the idea of the tanto/genjutsu combination. But if she’s good with kenjutsu then I think she should be at least decent with taijutsu as well.

Also, on the chakra front, she won’t be able to use a lot of strong genjutsu without a decent bit of chakra, or one of those that consumes it over time. So Id’s do what C recommended and have her train it up some.

Due to her training with Hanzō, she also has great knowledge in creating poisons and antidotes and she can use her umbrella both to release a hallucinogenic Poison Mist that she uses in her genjutsu, while she is also able to use a unique summon – an earthworm, which she is able to ride on top of, is poisonous like Ibuse and can also consume physical energy. Due to her training in the Anbu she is also a very capable assassin.  

Syn - Earthworms are also different, which is nice, but they’re not really poisonous creatures. Caterpillars might be a better choice on that front.

C: You could also go for a parasitic worm of some kind. I don’t know much about worms, so you’ll have to do the research on it though.

Stats: Part I: 14 Part II: 24

Ninjutsu: Part I: 1 Part II: 3

Taijutsu: Part I: 0.5 Part II: 1

Genjutsu: Part I: 4 Part II 5

Intelligence: Part I: 2 Part II: 4

Strength: Part I: 0.5 Part: 1

Speed: Part I: 2 Part II: 4

Stamina: Part I: 1 Part II: 2

Hand seals: Part I: 2 Part II: 4

Syn - Hey, don’t these stats actually make her weaker than Sakura overall? I don’t see how she could be ANBU with these? Kurenai is a Jounin specializing in genjutsu and her overall stats are almost 30 in total.

C: Naruto had total stats of 14.5 at the age of 12, and was rock bottom of his class. He also doesn’t have any skills below a 1, and his genjutsu goes up to 2 by part II despite him being hopeless at it. I’d shift her stats up to at least 18 or so, with none lower than 1 in part I. I’m not sure if you want Michiyo to be on Kurenai’s level, but if that’s the kind of skill you’re aiming for in part II, then you need to be around the 29 mark. If not, 24 is pretty reasonable for an average shinobi of that age, and is on par with Shikamaru in shippuden.

History:

Background: She grew up in the small village Harawa born to civilian parents, her father left her when she was a baby and her mother began drinking after that. She had no friends and was bullied, until she used her genjutsu to scare the other children away, resulting in them leaving her alone and giving her the nickname Akuma meaning “demon/devil”.

Syn - Why was she bullied in the first place? And this is where you got her squad name, yeah? I don’t think someone would use a childhood insult as their team name unless they were sadistic with a good dosage of self-loathing.

C: I’ve personally seen this nickname too many times, and would advise picking something else, if you even need the nickname at all.

When she was 8 years old, a battle between Hanzō’s forces and the Akatsuki burned down her village, killing her mother. After Hanzō watched the young Michiyō stop one of his shinobi who mistook her for the enemy in a Genjutsu Binding, he decided to make her his student and use her in the civil war. When she was 10 years old Hanzō was killed by Pain, however Michiyō was lucky to escape through a secret pathway through the sewers. After that she lived on the streets – I am thinking of placing her in an orphanage instead where she perhaps is recruited into Namida, but I’m not sure whether Amegakure even had orphanages at this point?

Syn - Once again, I think Hanzo pulling her to to academy would make more sense, rather than making her his student. This would also rectify the “Akatsuki killing everyone Hanzo is connected to” problem as well. She could still admire him for giving her a new chance at life or a new purpose maybe?

C: If Hanzo wanted to use her as a weapon some kind of ROOT equivalent would make the most sense if he wanted her trained quickly, though you’d need to bump her skills up. It’d also mean quite a bit of rewriting. With Nagato and co’s experience of Ame, I’m not convinced that there would be any orphanages. Also, with Pains sensing abilities, I really doubt that a 10 year old would be able to escape him. If you want her to live she can’t be that close to him.

One day she met another girl her age named Natsuko and they became best friends. Together they started in the Academy, but Michiyō was an outsider and was bullied due to her ragged looks from living on the streets and kept to herself. While she was extremely skilled in genjutsu, she lacked any other shinobi skills and it took her three tries to graduate, but she managed to graduate as the top kunoichi on her third try. She was put into Team 4 with Natsuko and their mutual friend Kai under the jōnin sensei Kinichirō.     

Syn -  Most Academy classes start when the kids are six, not ten. That would be far, far too late for them to develop skills in time to graduate at 11 or 12. Also, with her lacking in so many of the other skills I don’t see how she could have possibly been kunoichi of the year.

C: With the state of Ame, I feel like there would be a couple of street kids in every class, so it wouldn’t be that much of a reason to bully someone. Taking three attempts to graduate and then being the best kunoichi don’t fit together either, unless something happened to really aid her development in that time period.

Part I: Team 4 participated in the Chūnin Exams in Konoha. They passed the written exams due to Michiyō using her genjutsu on the other students while collecting the answers. During the Forest of Death challenge they came across Team 7 and a battle between Kai and Sasuke ensued, ending with Kai being seriously injured. On the last day Team 4 was able to secure the earth scroll and passed, however in the preliminaries Kai’s injuries were so serious that he was forced to withdraw by their sensei. Michiyō and Natsuko then met each other in battle, with Michiyō winning due to playing on Natsuko’s fears with her genjutsu, causing her rift between them. During the finals, Michiyō was assigned to fight Dosu Kinuta, however as Dosu was killed by Gaara they never got to fight. After Chūnin finals were stopped due to the invasion of Konoha, Shikamaru was the only one who was promoted chūnin and Michiyō and Team 4 travelled home to Amegakure.  

Syn - Being in the same chuunin exams is fine, but the battling your own teammate thing is kind of cliche. Why not go further and mix up canon by shifting fights around? Also, why did the other members of the teams not fight? Why just Sasuke and Kai? And wasn’t there already a rift between Michiyō and Natsuko? I thought that you said their relationship pretty much started and ended in the academy.

C: Dosu was meant to fight Shikamaru in the finals as far as I’m aware. I’d personally be inclined to use more OC teams for Michiyo and co to fight against rather than fiddling around with the canon fights, but as long as you leave the ones with the most plot in canon intact you can fiddle with them as Syn said.

Part II: Despite failing to make chūnin, the superiors in Amegakure had taken notice of her exceptional genjutsu skills and she was recruited into the Anbu sub-division Namida (seen as Amegakure’s equivalent of Root) which takes in orphan children and trains them as weapons to protect the village. Michiyō underwent 3 years of gruelling training, becoming a skilled and ruthless assassin and at some point passing the chūnin exams at age 14. At age 16 Michiyō was promoted to Anbu captain and was assigned to lead her own three-man team, which specialized in ambush/protection, serving as bodyguards to the village head.

Syn - Wait, wait. They (Konoha’s Rookie 9) were 12-13 in part one. Probably around 13 by the time they took the chuunin exams, which means Michiyō would be late 13s, early 14s at the time of the chuunin exams. So she’d be 16/17 by the time she finished those three years of Anbu training. Though becoming an Anbu Captain at sixteen is some sort of Kakashi level thing; I probably wouldn’t advise it. Not with her point allocation. And probably late into her 14th year or early in her 15th for becoming chuunin if she didn’t pass the Konoha exams.

But if the initial thought was to train her as a weapon, why wasn’t she dumped in this division from the beginning?

C: I really do think that she should have been put in this sub division when Hanzo found her originally, as waiting ages to create a weapon for a current war through the academy doesn’t make sense.

After Pain’s death during his invasion of Konoha, Michiyō was shell-shocked that he could ever be defeated and wishing to meet Naruto who had defeated him, she volunteered her team for the mission Protect Naruto, which Konan had started as a way to ensure that Pain’s faith in Naruto would not be wasted as well as an attempt to reach out to Konoha to make an alliance – which however failed as the new Hokage Danzō was distrustful of Ame’s alliance with Naruto. In Konoha Naruto told Michiyō Pain’s story and also what Hanzō had done to him, while she was shocked she shook it off and declared that she had let him go many years ago and that her hatred for Pain was no longer necessary as he was dead.

Syn - There was never any sort of official “Protect Naruto” mission, and I very highly doubt Tsunade would let them anywhere near Naruto for an extended period like that. Plus, I don’t think Konan lived long enough to give any sort of official declaration or mission regarding Naruto. There’s also the fact that Ame was left without any leader at this point in time, so no one would be sent out on mission for a while I would think.

C: Ame also tends to get run over by the larger nations on a regular basis so don’t really have ninja to spare, especially when they don’t have a village leader.

Following Naruto with her team to the Land of Iron and later watching the battle between Team 7, Michiyō was reminded of the old Team 4. At last watching Naruto’s resolve to never give up, also seeing her early self in him, made her realize how different she could have become if she had not given up, Michiyō decided to change her ways and began to believe in peace for the first time since Hanzō’s death.

C: As a mentioned earlier, lots of characters have changed because of Naruto in canon. I also feel that changing simply because of watching him is a little weak, for lack of a better word. I could understand it better if it was something that she had been considering for a while, but this was the last straw, though that’s not the impression that I get.

Syn - If anything, watching him might bright to light a seed of doubt, but beyond that it would take something more significant and impactful.

Deciding, like Konan, to put her faith in Naruto, she became determined to make a difference and persuaded her team to travel back and try to rally Amegakure to fight with Konoha in the upcoming war against the Akatsuki. However, when they arrived Konan had been killed and the village was scrambling to mobilize their defences. But due to Michiyō’s words and refusal to take no for an answer, feeling that her village is responsible for the Akatsuki, she eventually succeeded in convincing her superiors and they decided to dispatch the Namida forces of the Anbu to join the Allied Shinobi Forces, keeping the rest of the shinobi in to defend the village.

C: How big are the Namida forces anyway? As horrible as it sounds, I’m not sure that they’d be a big enough power to really sway the outcome of the war, while on the other hand they’d be a big enough power to make a difference to any issues at home. It doesn’t make sense to me from a logical perspective for them to be sent off, and not stay around Ame keeping the peace and protecting her superiors.

Syn - Konan would have been killed long before this, unless this is an AU. And it’s really doubtful “superiors” or “elders” would heed to the pleas of one girl; they’d probably be too busy fighting amongst themselves for the position of leader.

The Ame forces arrived in Kumogakure at the nick of time and though initially met with hostility, with the support of Naruto, Kakashi and the newly awoken Tsunade they were permitted to join the Surprise Attack Division. When they were attacked by the Surprise Attack and Diversion Platoon, Michiyō came face to face with the reincarnated Hanzō and due to her knowledge of him she was quick enough to escape Ibuse’s paralysing poison but the others were caught, leaving her all alone. Forced to confront Hanzō, she was out of chakra and also too emotional unstable to be able to do much and broke down in tears for the first time since Hanzō’s death. Recognizing her Hanzō taunted her for showing her weakness and still holding on to useless ideas of peace, he charged at her and beat her severely. As she was seriously injured by having been infected by the poison on his kusarigama and on the ground nearly unconscious, in spite of his taunting words, to Hanzō’s shock Michiyō was able to get up and cure herself of his poison with the antidote inside her teardrop necklace she still carried, a gift from him when she was 10. She told him that she was done running and also that he had been wrong to give up on his dreams, what he could have accomplished if he had not given up so easily and that she pitied him for what he had become. As he charged at her again this time she met him head on and after beating her nearly to death, but before delivering the final Mifune arrived just in time to intervene.

C: I’m really struggling to understand the last sentence here.

Syn - Still don’t think Tsunade would trust them, or Kakashi. Regardless of if Naruto did or not. And I’m guessing Mifune saved her life?

After Hanzō was defeated by him, he repeated Michiyō’s words that he had been wrong to give up on his conviction and remembering his past and also his memories of Michiyō; Hanzō placed his faith in her and pleaded with Mifune to save her life before he committed seppuku. Afterwards Michiyō was taken to the medical unit for treatment and was unconscious for the rest of the war. While trapped in the Infinite Tsukuyomi, Michiyō dreamed that she sat by the lake in Amegakure with all her dead family and friends enjoying the sunshine. After the war, Michiyō travelled home to Amegakure to help rebuilt the village and the efforts of the Ame-nin were one of the key factors in repairing the diplomatic relationship between Ame and Konoha, resulting in the village standing stronger in the following years of peace than it had ever done before, eventually joining the newly formed Shinobi Union. Michiyō also carved a grave for Hanzō by the lake, which she visited in the years after. She also often came to visit her new friends in Konoha often, her life forever changed because of them.

Syn - This is, quite frankly, out of character for Hanzo.

First of all the emotional suppression needs to be addressed a bit - though it’s not anything against it, just expanding on it as something you may want to tweak a little bit:

Effects of consistent emotion suppression include increased physical stress on your body, including high blood pressure, increased incidence of diabetes and heart disease. In addition, people who engage in emotion suppression regularly are more likely to experience stiff joints, bone weakness and more illnesses due to lowered immunity.

Other than that little tidbit of information, you’re doing just fine when it comes to her personality!

Now regarding the genjutsu - we mentioned the Kurama clan above, and you did too. We believe the best course of action here is to just make her related to the Kuramas - Mystery Dad and/or through her paternal grandparents. They are all about strong genjutsu, so it’ll be far easier on you to just have her be part Kurama than try to make a workaround to make it something different.

Now, the part regarding her history revolving around Hanzo. If this was canon-verse Michiyō would be dead - slipping through the sewers wouldn’t be enough to save her. It’d have to go AU somehow for it to work, otherwise we’d advise him recruiting her for the academy, or rather those Namida you mention. She could still admire him for giving her a new life, or a new purpose, but this way she has a better chance of not getting killed by Akatsuki.

Her skills also need a bit of tweaking, like we mentioned above. General numbers and sprucing up her abilities all around will do Michiyō some good - maybe expand a bit on her tanto/genjutsu combination.

Syn & C

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Drawing a Devil's Attention

The hooded man stood there, refusing to raise his hands. Despite the many barrels of guns, rifles, and hand cannons all trained on him. As his head slowly turned, some of the men pointing their weapons at him could see the shadows cast by his hood shift, revealing an expressionless mask upon his face—one half of it painted stark-white, the other pitch-black. His hood had a funny shape, one with two small bulges, suggesting the presence of small horns. Whether the horns were part of the mask or part of the man’s forehead, they could not discern.

All of the people present knew though: this was no man. This was a devil.

The dark sockets where eyes should be looked hollow, as if only unfathomable darkness lied behind the mask. The hooded devil’s head came to a halt and he locked eyes with one of the warriors. The knees on that gunmen buckled, the weapon shuddered in his shivering hands.

“Only shoot on my command”, spoke their captain.

The warrior who struggled to keep his composure inhaled sharply and held his breath while splaying his fingers and readjusting his grip on the gun. All humans present here, in the entry hall of the ruined shopping center, now held their breath. Expecting the worst.

Although a tattered coat and dusty boots concealed most of the tall devil’s features, he was of gangly physique, with stringy, wire-like muscles that allowed bending iron bars with bare hands. His demeanor gave off a deceptive air—frail and ragged at first blush, but with something terrifying hidden underneath it all.

Finally, he raised his hands. Many fingers tensed around the triggers of their firearms, the stink of fear erupting from their pores and betraying their willingness to ignore the captain’s order and open fire. Instead of keeping his hands raised, he used them to pull back the hood, jettisoning a cloud of grit and dirt from the Gray Wastes that had caked its fabric.

The two small and slender horns now proudly protruded from the devil’s mask. Its texture appeared smooth for the most part, with subtle cracks showing in the coating of its paint. His hands lowered to his sides, where a brass sickle and a holstered sleek handgun hung from his belt. The warriors could practically hear one of their own shaking so fiercely that the ammunition in his slapdash rifle clattered.

The mask covered the devil’s face, making it impossible to look at. There was something terrifying about its emotionless expression. The emerald green eyes glinted in its shadows, always allowing the warriors a brief glimpse as the devil’s gaze swept across them one more time.

When something hit one of the sharpshooters on the head, he almost took a shot. But the thing that hit him got harmless company—wet and heavy and oppressive as it always was. Tingling with a mildly acidic burn, slightly unpleasant on the skin.

It began to rain. Lonesome drops transitioned into many. Soon, everybody standing out in the open would find themselves drenched.

Outside the circle of warriors surrounding the devil, other onlookers hid behind crates and crumbling pillars and the waist-high walls of their shacks. They shook like dried leaves in the wind.

As if the devil’s presence was not already a bad omen in itself, a lightning bolt streaked across the drab sky. As brief as that flash of illumination was, it revealed a ghostly image looming over the fiendish stranger in their midst.

Almost everybody gasped in horror at what they believed to have seen. Thousands of claws and one gigantic coiling mass, like a colossal serpent. Whether or not it was the fear in their minds playing tricks on them, or they had caught a glimpse of this devil’s true being, they recoiled, flinched, backed away. None of the hardened warriors with their mighty guns dared to be the first one to take the first shot.

The devil stood tall and defiant in the rain as it swelled to a torrent, a righteous downpour. The cold raindrops collected and trickled from the pointy chin of his mask before plummeting to the ground. He took a first step towards the edge of the circle.

No one proved bold enough to stop him. He closed the gap with one fluid step after another. Before he could push past them and break the circle, they raised their weapons skywards and stood out of the way, staring at him, all wide-eyed and terrified.

The devil walked like he owned the place. In a way, he did, for they had taken up camp here long after he had deserted this husk, countless moons ago. The few eerie lights from fires in all the barrels and sconces made out of scrap metal throughout this shopping center made the place look like a gigantic Gothic chapel—and a place that might become these people’s graves should they get in the devil’s way.

His long coat with its frayed edges billowed behind him in a violent gust of wind as he strode past them, deeper into this derelict refuge.

The warriors who had felt very sure only mere minutes ago, prior to witnessing the fiend’s arrival, now felt like they were little children again. A tear even ran down the cheeks of two, hidden by the raindrops streaming over their skin. The sight of this figure and the sense of powerlessness they felt in his presence grew to be unbearable, because they felt this was not just any devil.

This was one of the arch-fiends of legend. A duke of hell. A chosen one who only ascended from the fiery pits to lay waste to the decaying world they lived in. The ones who had transformed it into the wasteland where they now eked out their pathetic existence. Thunder rolled in the distance, sowing more doubt and fear.

They felt it down to the marrow of their bones. And impotent rage. And a thirst for vengeance, to pay back what had been dealt to mankind by the devils. They all trained their sights on him once more.

And yet, while he set his first steel-tipped boot inside the ruin’s roofed and dry interior, accompanied by the sound of little metal pieces jingling within his equipment, they could not muster the courage to harm him. With their weapons aimed directly at him, he moved unfazed. The devil’s footsteps resonated with the deep thumping of his heavy boots that hit the ravaged marble floor of the entry hall. Crunching on the gravel and rubble underfoot.

“You are,” the human captain began.

“Indeed,” the fiend interrupted him. With slow-paced words drawn out in a dark and smoky voice, like the crackle of tinder and twigs in a smoldering fire.

The captain gritted his teeth and he jutted out his jaw before beginning again, “Fine, I’ll get straight to business.”

The fiend stopped walking but did not interject. Some of the warriors took cautious steps towards him, maintaining their aim. Still scared to the bone by the long, nerve-wracking silence that followed. After what seemed like an eternity, their captain—a hulking, bearded man wearing fierce armor with spiked pauldrons, who could scare the living daylights out of common folk with just a glance—cleared his throat before beginning his speech.

“Leave this settlement quickly. Your kind is not welcome here,” he commanded.

The steady and relentless downpour of rain filled the awkward silence that followed. The devil’s mask moved ever so slightly as he replied, shifting with the movements of his chin.

“I only want supplies and ammunition—and I have the Sol to pay for it,” he said.

“Who—who the h-hell do you th-think you are,” one of the other warriors stammered back at him.

The stranger did not deign to respond to that question and left it hanging in a growing void. The absence of any answer lent him a dark and majestic air.

“Shut up, you fools,” barked a voice that trembled with old age. A gaunt and gray-haired man appeared from one of the shacks near the entry hall and aimed a three-barreled shotgun—at the captain. He punctuated his words by pumping the weapon’s loading mechanism.

CLICK-CLACK.

The captain growled with a mixture of fury and disbelief, “What in the seven levels of hell? Old man, what do you—”

The masked devil tilted his head back to gaze at the captain. The captain himself could not see anything behind the darkness that was inside the holes of the masks, where the eyes should have been. It was like those piercing green eyes were only there sometimes, and other times, there was nothing behind that mask. When he realized he had been wondering about it for too long and his words had trailed off without weight, the old man spoke again.

“He said he has Sol, and he only wants to trade. I think it would only be polite to indulge our guest.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Tom,” the captain said. But not one bit of it rang defiant or carried any air of authority—the uncertainty rendered any refusal in his voice meek.

Another long quiet followed. The rain beat down continuously outside the ruined human monument and was the only sound that kept the silence company. Then the masked devil broke the tranquil that was beginning to torment the warriors—by reaching for his belt. Once more, fingers curled around triggers, squeezed just hard enough to be ready to shoot but not enough to unleash their bullets.

The fiend plucked a small leathery pouch and tossed it over to the feet of the old man, where it landed with a jingling sound and opened, with shiny coins rolling out of it.

“That’s sixty Sol. I need twenty shells, forty-eight nine-millimeter bullets, and rations for five days, good sir,” the devil said. The precision in his demands sent chills down the spines of anybody hearing it. Anybody but the old man, who kept a steady aim at the warrior captain.

“You’ll find all o’ that in my stuff over there,” said the old man. He nodded to a bunch of wooden crates stacked up in the shack he had emerged from. “Help yourself, but make it fast—my weary bones are tired and old, just like this jackass over here aptly observed.”

Spellbound by the old man’s display of courage, the devil took a moment before casting another sweeping gaze over the warriors. Then he advanced to Tom’s shack with those menacingly thumping loud footsteps before he paused and began rummaging through their contents. He picked out small objects and cardboard packs and pocketed them in his coat.

The captain’s voice trembled with anger when he spoke up again, “With all due respect, Elder Fuller, but helping a fiend is wrong.” The trembling in his voice made way to a steadier stream of words, spat out in greater volume. “This is unholy. We cannot allow a fiend into the lands of our forefathers.”

“You are utterly wrong, Captain Moore. You so-called ‘fighters’ stand here like useless toy soldiers, wiping the crap from your asses every time you shit your pants in fear of the mutants and freaks encroaching on our settlements,” said Old Tom Fuller. Captain Moore was taken back by Fuller’s choice of words—they had left him slack-jawed. “You are a bunch of boastful buffoons, pretending to stand tall in the ruins that were once most holy to our pitiful ancestors. Our pleas of mercy to a God that has forgotten us may be touching, but I’m going to be blunt so it gets through your thick shiny skull. This devil here is unlikely to ever warm his heart for close-minded dolts like yourself. You just don’t get it, Moore—you don’t understand that when something needs to be done, that we gotta do it ourselves.”

Captain Moore’s brow furrowed in confusion before he asked, “What are you babbling about, you old fogey?”

The devil continued to fill his pockets until he paused and produced a small sawed-off shotgun from the inside of his coat. He cracked it open and loaded two shells into it. The weapon clicked shut and vanished again.

Fuller blinked. The glasses slowly slid down the ridge of his nose and prompted him to wiggle it to stop them from sliding farther down. He countered the question by asking, “When you were growing up, Moore, weren’t you ever told the tale of the last fiend who destroyed Node?”

“Yes, the Dragon. What about it?”

The captain’s discomfort grew, though the fear that still gripped everybody else aside from Fuller made way to agitation for Moore. His muscles tensed. He refused to believe that the old man would shoot him, and the captain now stared daggers at the masked devil.

The rainstorm dominated not only the atmosphere, but the emotions that begin to stir in the room. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the inside of the ruined shopping center, causing an unarmed onlooker to gasp and cower down deeper with his children in their hiding place.

“The Dragon. The monster who laid waste to this place. All the more reason to not allow a fiend onto the grounds of man. And we will not allow a fiend to commit something like trade in this city!”

“Look around you”, said Fuller. “This is a former temple of commerce that lies in shambles. Our kind worshiped this. A mundane sacrilege, a spawn of our vicious greed—and it had finally grown into a deadly cancer we could not amputate ourselves. So we were cowards and turned to a fiend to do what had to be done—or so the tales tell us.”

The hands of the devil balled into fists. It had come to his attention alone that someone of singularly powerful essence was now watching this conversation play out. A young woman stood in the shadows of the ruin’s pillars, hugging the towering structure in hiding and silently watching the scene unfold. The masked one felt her eyes piercing through the darkness of his mask—and for the first time in centuries—the devil began to feel unnerved himself. It reminded him of the little girl he had taught in the ways of magick, all those decades ago. This one was different. Just as determined, but different.

“Spare us your silly old tales,” the captain groaned.

“Listen now, welp. The tales also tell us that the fiend did what we were afraid to do. Destruction was wrought upon us once already—and he was the instrument. We could never outgrow our own selfish needs, and he shouldered the burden of what we were supposed to be doing ourselves. But I remember from back in the days of the War of Node, Moore. I—I was there.”

The captain’s eyes went wide with growing comprehension, gears visibly churning behind his forehead. His mouth opened and closed, but words refused to pour out. The devil paid no attention to the bickering between the men. He stared into the darkness betwixt the warm orange glow of fires, the shadows dancing amidst the flickering lights.

“This devil’s a monster, sure. But so are men. And I saw the fiend save women, children, and numerous innocents from Node before he laid waste to the towers in the capitol. I’ll never forget such a mask. And even if anybody can wear such a mask, I’ll sure as hell never forget his voice”, the old man added.

Some of the warriors lowered their weapons again. Others followed suit. All ceased aiming at the devil, all but the captain. Mouths gaped in disbelief. Still, the other settlers in their shacks stayed hidden and anxious.

“And that’s not all. After the dust had settled, people blamed him for everything that happened. They called for his banishment, and nobody had a lick of God-damned decency to even thank him. I’ve always felt bad about that, because I was one of those children,” Fuller said. He exhaled deeply and released a hand from his rifle to push the glasses back up the ridge of his nose. Then the hand went right back, making sure to continue aiming at Moore. “Thank you—friend, fiend—whatever you are. Now please go—you must have some reason to have returned to this dump.”

The masked devil continued to stare towards the woman who spied on the conversation from afar. Despite the distance and the impossibility of seeing each other’s eyes through the shroud of shadows, their stares met, piercing the darkness. Finally, the devil wrenched his gaze free and turned to look at the old man.

“Indeed,” the masked one hissed. “And thank you. Thank you for remembering.”

The devil let his head hang and began to walk. Past the warriors who shifted uncomfortably, stepping out of the way once more. Defiantly, Captain Moore stood in the devil’s way. The devil stopped in front of him, just within arm’s reach. Close enough that the barrel of the captain’s gun hovered a finger’s width away from the devil’s chest. They stared each other down for the next few moments. This man’s mind was feeble, his soul weak—tattoos on the fiend’s skin glowed with a sinister red light as his magick exerted itself over the man’s essence. The green in the devil’s eyes emitted a soft glow. The captain’s will broke.

The captain stood aside and then collapsed to his knees. His weapon clattered as it hit the ground. He buried his face behind his big meaty scarred hands and bawled like a little child. Fear-filled murmurs rolled through the warriors and other spectators. But nobody had the guts to act.

The devil shot another glance over his shoulder, back to the woman who watched. But instead of seeking to confront her, he walked away. Back out into the unforgiving mists and the icy acid rain that draped itself over the ruined city of Node. The people huddled together in this human ruin. They continued to stare out there, uneasy, unwilling to go back to their daily business until the shifting fog enveloped the devil’s figure completely.

The woman that had been watching now turned around as well. She leaned against the pillar and crossed her arms. The sigh that escaped her lips filled her with a sense of insecurity—uncertainty of whether she felt relief, or grief upon watching the devil depart. Then she glanced around the curve of the giant pillar and over her shoulder, quietly staring out into the mist-riddled streets where the fiend had disappeared.

Her grip tightened around the hilt of her deadly, jagged sword. She would kill this devil. She would pour all her soul into getting revenge. But now was not the time.

Not yet.

—Submitted by Wratts

[cajunquandary]

A Curious Case and a Boat

The Cannon Ball Series

Series Warnings: Alcohol use, implied smut, mentions of abuse, PTSD, scars, canon level violence, some torture, probably equal parts angst, fluffiness, and plot.

Series Pairing/Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel, Crowley, Rowena various characters

A/N: This series is the brainchild of my love for Rob Benedict’s version of Dink’s Song and began as my second ever attempt at writing fanfiction. After realizing that I should probably edit it (due to the excruciatingly painful amount of errors I found), this is the third-time re-write of the story. Questions, comments, and suggestions are always welcome! Enjoy J

Part One: A Jukebox and a Lose-chester

Part Two: A Curious Case and a Boat

Summary: You’ve been living with the Winchesters and Castiel at the Bunker for over a year now. Everything is great until a case goes very wrong.

Word count: 6400

“Anything interesting in the news, Sammy?” You slung your arms around his shoulders from where you stood behind him in his favorite swivel chair.

Sam leaned his head against your arm for a moment. “Good morning. Coffee’s on.” You released him from your hold, scuffling towards the coffee pot in the library, favorite mug already in hand.

Dean entered, freshly showered and wearing nothing but his dead-guy robe.

Sam turned to him, “Actually, yeah, in Texas. There’s been freak electrical storms, mysterious deaths, and get this—a few high schoolers have been freaking out about demons among them in the town and all over social media.”

“It might be our kind of thing. Any cattle deaths? Crop failures?” You asked as the first sip of blessed warm liquid rolled through your chest, making you feel more alive.

“No, nothing like that has been reported. But this is an area of east Texas that is all forest or farmland. Some of these small towns aren’t even on a map. Who knows if they are able to even report it?”

“Or maybe,” Dean interrupted, voice still rough from sleep, “It’s just a bunch of hill-billy wackadoo church people going crazy and killing people.”

Sam scoffed. “Then what about the storms?”

Dean gave his brother his trademark ‘seriously’ face. “Uh, have you BEEN to Texas? They get more lightening than rain most of the time. Lightning is electricity. Your welcome.” Dean continued through towards the kitchen to cook breakfast.

“What’s his problem?” Sam swiveled in your direction.

“Hungover. Ain’t as young as he used to be,” You winked. Dean often teased for you being younger than Sam. The gap really wasn’t that bad, but you and Sam loved to pester Dean about it anyway.

You plodded off to the kitchen to help Dean make breakfast. He was at the sink rinsing out a pan, and you set your coffee on the island and snaked your arms around his waist, laying your head between his shoulders. He put the pan aside to be dried and turned in your arms, a smile on his face at last. He leaned in for a kiss, sweet and gentle, unlike the needy, passionate one from your rough late night escapade in the garage. You grinned and giggled at the memory, Dean pulling back from your embrace and booping your nose.

Breakfast was made quickly, you and Dean moving about the kitchen with familiar grace. Dean felt better after eating, made obvious when he cracked a joke at how tight Sam’s pants were getting.

“Well, it’s been nice having awesome home-cooked meals. You’re the perfect housewife, Dean,” Sam teased his brother back.

It was true though—as great of a cook as you were, Dean far surpassed your skills. He had a natural talent, and all you had to do was keep him company while he worked.

You sat silent, soaking the moment in. It was so domestic—none of you had ever thought this kind of peace would ever be. It was meant for civilians. No doubt, moving in with the Winchesters was the best decision you’d ever made. At first, you had your own room and only meant to stay long enough to get your own place. After a few hunts with the boys, they insisted you remain in the bunker for safety. It had become more of a home than you’d ever had before, so you were grateful to have their blessing to stay (as if you really had a choice.) You still had a room across from Dean’s, but mostly it was a closet and extra storage. You hadn’t slept in there in months.

The moment was so beautiful, you noted again, as the boys continued to banter back and forth, only ending in their typical “jerk,” “bitch,�� responses.

You locked that away in your mind to hold onto during those rough hunts, the ones where the three of you had to split up and you felt exposed and alone, like all of it had been a dream. The darkness of some of the places you went reminded you of a time when you were a lot more helpless. When monsters weren’t the only things that went bump in the night. You shoved the thought from your mind.

“Well, I say we should still go check out that potential case in east Texas,” You directed at Dean.

Sam nodded, and Dean swallowed the last bit of his food. “Fine.”

After the cleaning from breakfast had been done, you showered and packed. Tossing a few shirts, jeans, sweatpants, FBI pantsuit and the basic essentials into your duffle bag, you paused before adding your truck keys. You didn’t know why, but something told you not to pack them. Knowing you would misplace them otherwise, you went out to the garage to leave them in the front seat.

Dean was out there already, making sure Baby and the weapons in the trunk were ready for the trip ahead, including a few gallons of holy water and extra paint and salt for demon traps.

You eyed the excess, Dean getting defensive. “Hey, if Sammy’s right, then there’s more than one, and they’re pretty powerful. It can’t hurt to have back up.”

You shrugged and walked away. Sam was in the kitchen packing water and a few basic provisions for the possible stake-outs ahead, his pack already by the door. You picked it up and went to retrieve Dean’s and your own from the bedroom. Everyone ended up at the Impala within minutes, ready to hit the road. Your skin tingled with excitement—you loved road trips with the Winchesters, and it had been a few weeks since your last trip.

Baby purred to life, Dean popping in a tape. “Ramble On” began to play and he turned it up until the car vibrated as you rolled out of the bunker, bound for one of your favorite states.

A couple burgers, an emergency stop at a diner that boasted Best Pie in the County, and about twelve hours later, you rolled into the small town… again. The first time, Dean was so used to driving through one-stop towns that he accidentally passed through it. A few minutes after, Sam’s GPS regained a moment of service long enough to get you back to it within minutes.

Broaddus was truly tiny. The only place to stay was on the outskirts of town, a Country Inn. It read “No Vacancy,” to which you all groaned. You were missing your truck about now. It was easy to camp out in it—comfortable even with two people. You and Dean had taken it out several times on hunts when Sam needed the Impala.

Dean turned down a side road and pulled over, turning off the car. “Welcome to the Winchester motel.” The three of you piled out of the car, more than ready to stretch your legs. The forest around you loomed tall, pitch black even in the light from the near-full moon above. It was quiet… Too quiet. Dean put his hand on your shoulder and you jumped.

“Woah, are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you,” Dean pulled you in close, the first time since before you began the trip.

“Yeah, I’m just exhausted, and these woods are giving me the creeps. I’m gonna hit the sack,” You leaned up and kissed him, wanting to prove that you were fine. You were never this jumpy, but something about this place left you deeply unsettled. As you climbed back into the rear seat of Baby, you wondered why your skin was still buzzing after all these hours. This was no longer from excitement, as you’d realized hours ago. The buzzing had slowly melded into something more akin to a fire under your skin, an itch you couldn’t scratch. Something about this was wrong, and you hated that Castiel wasn’t able to join you immediately on this case. You prayed to God that he’d get his feathery ass down here quick.

Dean came in behind you, kicking off his shoes as he shut the door. You curled against his chest as Sam crawled into the front. “I think I saw a diner just down the road. We should start there in the morning,” the younger brother suggested. Dean let out a hum in agreement. It wasn’t long before the three of you were fast asleep, light snores filling the cab.

TAP, TAP, TAP.

You jerked awake, blinking hard against the seep in your eyes. Thankfully, it was just Sam knocking on the window. He was usually up first. Heart pounding, you untangled your limbs from Dean’s and got out of the vehicle. You stretched your limbs, an occasional loud pop sounding as you greeted Sam. You changed quickly behind the cover of the Impala’s open trunk, having decided that plain clothes would probably be better received in a town like this than Fed clothes. You double checked the fake badge and open carry license in your flannel pocket, a demon-killing knife strapped to your ankle, and the loaded gun holstered on your belt. God bless Texas, you thought. It was nice to be able to open carry for a change. Your normal concealed holster rubbed sores into your side if you wore it too long. The boys finished double checking the gear bag, Sam tightening the laces on his shoes. You’d just gotten to town and it already felt like you were prepping for war. If this demon problem was really as big as Sam feared, then it would be a battle.

“Ready?” You asked. Dean slipped in the driver’s seat and jingled the keys in response.

The diner was so close, you could’ve just walked. During breakfast, you learned that your waitress’s oldest kid was one of the teens ranting about demons. “He just lost his mind. We’ve gone to that church since he was born. He and the others in his Bible study group. The other parents and I just don’t understand what’s gotten into those kids. Pastor Tim has been with the congregation for thirty years, and practically raised a few of them. Now they won’t go to church, they skip school, and three have killed themselves,” She choked, involuntary tears welling in her eyes.

“Whatever it is, ma’am, we’re going to get to the bottom of it,” Dean tried to reassure her.

“I think…” She sobbed, “I think it’s… d-r-u-g-s.” She leaned in and whispered, then sighed and went to tend to her other tables, wiping at a tear with the back of her hand.

Dean’s brows went up then pressed forward, and he mouthed “Wow.”

Sam shrugged, looking down at his half-eaten food, moving his fork aimlessly.

“Dean, these towns are very tight knit,” You recalled, thinking of the various places in Texas you’d lived before you became a hunter. “Drugs, among many other things, are completely taboo in places like this. We need to be careful. Is everything okay, Sam?”

“Oh uh, yeah. Well, no. Something doesn’t feel right here.”

“I can second that,” Dean agreed.

From the diner, you went to interview the kids of the study group. The parents all said the same thing, but the kids wouldn’t talk, like they were too afraid. Eyes wide and wandering, never making contact with you or the Winchesters. Until…

Sam and Dean were in the living room of the last person on the list, a young girl, no more than sixteen, speaking to her parents. You broke away to speak to her in the privacy of her bedroom. The girl had practically pulled you there. She closed the door behind her and made sure the window was tightly drawn. She was shaking and rubbing her arms. “What’s going on, honey?” You asked.

“We were told you’d come. We were told not to speak to you, but I’m scared. I’m so scared!” She spoke barely above a whisper and collapsed into your arms. It was slightly awkward, as she was taller than you, but you held her anyway.

“Who told you, dear?”

She pulled back. “The girl with black eyes.”

You stopped breathing and the girl sat on the edge of her bed, burying her face in her hands.

“And what about Pastor Wayne?”

“Sometimes, he has black eyes, too. He’s different, he makes us do things in study now. He—he stares at us in church a-and… He’s a demon, we all know it. He threatened to massacre the whole town if we didn’t do everything he says.” She was bawling quietly now, her thin frame racking in fear.

“Okay, don’t worry. We’re here and we aren’t going to let that happen. We handle this stuff all the time, okay?” You reassured her, even as goosebumps dispersed in waves over your skin.

“Really?”

“Yeah, just don’t tell anyone, okay? Don’t even think about it.” You gave her a sincere smile and patted her shoulder.

“Okay,” she sniveled.

You thanked the parents on your way out, meeting Sam and Dean back at the car. Heading back to the Inn, everyone was glad to see the sign was off from the night before. Dean secured the only room available—a king suite. Even if you had to rotate who got left off the bed, it was still better than being cramped in the Impala without a proper bathroom. You took turns showering and sat around the tiny table, discussing your findings from the day of interviews.

“So it’s definitely the pastor. Who is the woman though?” Sam pondered.

“The girl didn’t seem to know. But the suicides are definitely tied to this sicko.”

“Yeah, sounds like it,” Dean pitched in. “Well, let’s stake out this guy and see if our mystery woman shows. Maybe we’ll see just how many we’re up against.”

“Okay. You and Sam do that, and I’ll go talk to the coroner. Let’s meet back here after.”

“Wait, Y/N, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We should probably stick together on this one.” Sam looked worried.

“I’ll be fine, promise. I can hold my own, and besides, it’s the two of you who will be in the thick of it. Y’all promise me to be safe and not rush in—call me first, okay?” You grabbed each of their hands and squeezed.

“Alright, fine. But you call us if you even think something is off.” Dean commanded.

“Yes, sir.”

Sam smiled.

The boys dropped you off at the coroner’s office. The coroner was an attractive woman, not much older than you were. The bodies of the teenagers looked like they’d been beaten and tortured before they died. “And you said they each threw themselves off the roof of the high school? Any way they could have died from these other injuries?”

“No, the only cause of those injuries is from the fall… it’s been very hard for the town,” She looked down at them sadly.

“Were they in fights prior to their death? I understand they fell a good distance, but not all of these wounds are consistent with a fall. Look at their hands—defensive wounds. Whatever it was, they fought back, hard. All due respect, but I don’t believe these were suicides.” You flipped through her report on the latest victim again.  You looked up from the papers to ask another question about the sparse documents, but the coroner was gone. You dropped the papers and withdrew your gun loaded with demon-trapping bullets. You cleared the room, and moved to the hallway. You sent a quick prayer to Cas and planned to call the Winchesters as soon as you made it to a safe place outside, but you would never get there. The coroner came out of nowhere, slamming something cold and hard into the back of your head, knocking you to the ground, vision swimming in the crack of pain. You looked up at her through squinted eyes, reaching for the hidden knife inches from your fingertips. Before you could grasp it, her foot met your nose, and your vision went black, the last thing you heard being a muffled, “Hunters, can’t ever leave well enough alone.”

Sam and Dean sat, growing weary of watching Pastor Wayne. His eyes had flashed black, confirming the girl’s testimony. It had been hours, though, and all the pastor had done was drink a few beers and watch TV. Y/N hadn’t called, so they suspected that nothing was off. They decided to attend church in the morning to get a closer view of the situation and headed back to the Inn.

“Honey, I’m hooome!” Dean called into the room jokingly as he flipped on the light. Sam closed the door behind them.

“I’ve got dibs on the bed tonight, man,” Sam said.

Dean waved him off, walking to the restroom to greet you. He knocked on the door, and it creeked open, the light off. Dean began to panic. He flipped on the light and slammed the door all the way open, calling out your name. He continued to call for you, growing louder and more crazed as he threw open the shower curtain and running back into the room. “Sammy, she-she’s gone. Sammy, where is she? Where’s Y/N?”

Sam’s face fell, and he grabbed Dean by the shoulders to keep him from exploding. “Hey-hey, let’s go to the coroner’s office. Maybe she’s still there. We’ll find her, I promise.” Sam tried to remain calm for his brother, but panic was rising in him, too. You were never late.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let her go alone!” Dean threw the keys to Sam, knowing he couldn’t drive in this state. They made it to the morgue in record time—no more than 45 seconds. Dean jumped out before Baby had even rolled to a complete stop. He had his gun out and charged into the building, Sam shortly on his heels, watching the blind corners and behind them, his gun drawn now as well. Dean found the room, bodies still laying on the tables, the papers from the files scattered about from where you’d dropped them. There wasn’t a living soul in the entire place. Dean stopped abruptly in the final hallway, next to the back exit. There was a small puddle of blood left from the wound on your head. Sam ran into the back of him, then clenched his jaw and swallowed hard when he followed Dean’s gaze. Dean couldn’t breathe. He broke his gaze, and ran out the door, looking for any sign of where you’d gone. “Y/N!” He screamed into the still night, only his own cries echoing back to him. “Y/N! CAS! Cas we need you! Y/N needs you!”

Just in case the angel didn’t get his prayer, he dialed him quickly, throat quickly threatening to close up in fear and guilt. “C-cas, they took her. Get down here, NOW!”

Sam lowered his gun and looked to his brother. He hadn’t seen Dean this hurt in a long time.

The boys went back to the pastor’s place, kicked in the front door, ready to torture the demon until he told them where you were, but were too late. The pastor was dead, a sickening message written in his own blood on the wall above his body—follow us and she dies.

Dean collapsed to his knees. He would come for you, but he would need to be careful and stealthy about it to keep you safe. He wasn’t going to give up.

~

It had been months. Spring had turned to summer, and fall, then winter began to close in. The boys had gained a few leads in that time, but they lead to dead ends—literally. Anyone that seemed to be involved with these demons ended up six feet under pretty quickly. Even Crowley did his best to help. He didn’t owe the Winchesters anything, which he made very clear, but even he missed your sass. No one dared to berate and poke fun at the King of Hell quite like you did. Not even Dean. He secretly had every demon under his command on the lookout for you, and a price on the rogue demons’ heads. No one dared defy the King and get away with it.

~

They never let you out of the cage except for an occasional hose down or special torture session. You were weak now, months of starvation, torture, and cramped quarters depleting your muscles to a ghost of what they formerly were. The only thing that kept you sane was imagining Dean bursting through the doors and coming to your rescue. The latest preferred torture of your demonic captors was sleep deprivation however, which left you pliable, your vision fuzzy and mind in the weeds. Slowly, you began to forget the Winchesters and your life before. You remembered the last morning you spent with them in the bunker, but you couldn’t recall the conversation, or the color of their eyes. Eventually, their faces began to fade altogether, merely blurs in fleeting memories.

On the hardest nights, you sang to yourself. Like the Winchesters, the lyrics of your favorite songs began to slip, too, until you could only hum. One song though, you sang every day when you realized everything else was slipping away. You hated that it always made the demon’s laugh, that it made them happy that the song you remembered was one of pain.

You began to drift to sleep at last, but another zap from the cattle prod made you whimper and roll to the floor from your bed mat.

“Sing, little bird, I haven’t heard you today,” The demon sneered. He was still wearing the female coroner from the case back in east Texas.

You slowly sat up, getting onto your knees as you were expected, wanting to please the demon enough to let you sleep afterwards. He smirked and walked away, shouting, “Sing!”

Your voice was small and scratchy from screaming and dehydration, but you started anyway after an attempt to clear your throat. You closed your eyes and tried to remember what the Winchesters looked like, what your Dean looked like.

“If I had wings like Noah's dove

I'd fly up the river to the one I love

Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

-

I had a man, who was long and tall

He moved his body like a cannon ball

Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

 -

One of these days and it won't be long

You’ll call my name and I'll be gone

Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

 -

I remember one night, a drizzling rain

Round my heart I felt an achin' pain

Fare thee well, oh honey, fare thee well”

A tear rolled down your cheek as you finished, unable to remember your family. It was in that moment that you lost hope, a cold breeze drifting in from somewhere you couldn’t see. The summer had been blistering hot, and had it not been for the harsh, fluctuating temperatures, you would’ve thought they’d drug you straight to Hell. Judging by the sweltering days and freezing nights, you were in a desert somewhere, but it’d been a long time since you felt the heat now. It was mostly just cold and colder. Before you could brace yourself, you fell forward, exhaustion taking over. Finally, the demon allowed you to fall into dreamless sleep.

~

Dean was beside himself, drinking himself stupid every night. He wouldn’t speak to Sam, Cas, Crowley, or anyone unless he had to on the rare occasion he would work a case. Even then, he was mean, short, and all shoot-first-ask-questions-later. Still, he left the questions part to Sam.

Everything was as you’d left it in the bunker. Dean refused to go into either of your rooms—not that it really mattered, since he would get too plastered to get much farther than the couch anyway. Sam had to put a cover over your truck before Dean could even go into the garage. Even Baby was suffering. Her brakes needed replacement, her belt was squealing and threatening to snap at any moment, and the air in her tires was low. Sam and Cas had to fix these things themselves. Dean had never been like this.  

~

It was a few weeks after you lost hope, an emptiness replacing the weak heartbeat in your chest, when the demon, who you’d come to call Jeremiah allowed you out. He’d hosed you down, given you fresh clothes, and even given you a brush, scissors, and a mirror to clean up your appearance a bit. You hadn’t recognized the face staring back at you. It was pale, sunken and lifeless. Your hair was darker than you could recall it being, and much longer. You chopped until it was manageable, and brushed it out of your face. You didn’t care to look at the ghost staring back at you, and abandoned the items in a corner of your cage.

Jeremiah instructed that you would be a liaison, a messenger between him and a man whose contract he held. You were to report back everything that you saw, and deliver commands. He told you that the man was very powerful and wouldn’t think much of your life, and to not piss him off. If anything happened, you were to remind the man of the hellhound waiting to drag him to his eternal fire. You nodded. He handed you a piece of paper with an address in case you got lost and gave you directions to the meeting place. You stood in the doorway, sunlight so bright you cried out and covered your eyes. When they adjusted, you walked out, legs still slightly wobbly from disuse, everything around you bleached white. The wind nearly knocked you over as you pressed on. You flipped the hood over your face to help block out some of the glare, and stuffed your hands in your pockets.

Approaching the dock, you took a moment to stare out over the lake. It was such a stark contrast of vibrant blue against the sun-bleached, barren land around it, and it sparkled incredibly, tiny waves white-capped. The moment gone, you looked back at your feet, the caliche sticking to your shoes already. For some reason, this lake was familiar to you. You couldn’t remember why.

You got in the boat, disconnected from the rickety dock, the engine spurring to life after a few tugs. The little john boat propelled forward and you steered it expertly around the underwater trees. You knew how to drive a boat? Huh.

The wind was unforgiving, going straight through your thin clothes, the cold seeping into your bones. You reached your destination after about ten minutes, pulling up to a much nicer looking doc, with huge, expensive looking boats tied to it. You cut the engine, hands expertly securing the boat to the dock with the rope.

A man in a white suit was standing there, expecting your arrival. He wore a red tie. It was very distracting. He held out his hand. Reciprocating, he caught yours and brought it to his lips, kissing it lightly in greeting, but you didn’t even feel it. “Hello. They call me El Jefe Rojo—the Red Boss. You can call me Red. And what, mija, is your name?”

Your mouth opened but you couldn’t remember. The syllables were there, but they were jumbled. “You can just call me Mija,” You said after a moment.

You’d just noticed the four men surrounding you, wearing all black and holding rifles, machetes and other various weapons strapped to their waists. “Don’t be alarmed, they are merely here to ensure that our meeting goes smoothly.”

You met Red’s eyes. They were a honey brown, wide and beautiful against his tanned skin and thick, dark locks. His accent was soothing in a way. He waggled his finger, and another man in black came forward, carrying a wrapped box. “Please send Jeremiah my thanks, and that I hope this satisfies his needs. Also, I have a gift.” A young girl was drug forward, fighting halfheartedly against her bonds. She was tossed in your boat, nearly falling overboard. She screamed into her gag upon impact, something making a sickening snap noise. Red looked at her, and she immediately quieted to a whimper. “Tell him that business has never been better, and we will surely have the rest of his request by next week.”

“Yes sir,” You replied. Somewhere in the back of your brain, you thought that you should be freaking out, looking for an exit, anything. But nothing phased you. Not the large men and their weapons, nor the man in front of you. You understood that he was meant to be intimidating, but you felt nothing. Just… emptiness and distance, like you were watching from behind a screen.

“I like you, Mija. Respect. That is hard to come by these days. I look forward to seeing you again…” He nodded and turned his back, walking away dismissively. You climbed back into the boat, without looking at the broken girl. It barely even registered on your radar. The trip back seemed faster. You reattached to the rickety dock near the storage unit that was your new home. The girl struggled to get up, and you helped support her for the walk, but did no more than that to help her. When you reached the unit, you set the girl on the floor and set the box on Jeremiah’s desk. You glanced around the fairly large unit. The demon wasn’t in. You closed the door and crawled back into your cage and curled up on your mat, watching to make sure the girl didn’t try to escape.

What must’ve been hours later, you heard the demon approaching. You sat up.

“What do you mean, ‘Crowley offered you a better deal’? No. No. I won’t have it. I’ll top that. Yeah. Yep. I’ve got it. Well, I have half of it. I’ve sent the girl for the other half already. Uh huh. Yeah she should be back… The Winchesters? Please. They haven’t found her yet and they won’t. If-If they do, I’ll kill them. And her, for good measure…”

The demon’s conversation drifted out of range again. Winchester. Crowley. It was coming back to you. Before you could close your eyes and try to imagine your family again, the demon burst into the room. You jumped.

“Good girl,” He snarled, coming to lock your cage on you again. He picked up the box off the desk and eyed the girl. “Who’s this?”

“A gift, sir. Red sends his thanks. He hopes this satisfies you and will have the rest of your request by next week.”

The demon nodded. “I will send you to collect in two days.”

You gulped. Jeremiah grabbed the girl by the broken arm, dragging her screaming from the unit and left you alone again.

Two days later, you made the same trip as promised. When you arrived, Red was not at the dock. Instead his minions were yelling at you in Spanish and brandishing their weapons at you. Glad that you understood most of what they were saying, you got on your knees and placed your hands on your head. A few minutes later, Red came out of the mansion on the hill and down the walkway. He looked pissed. His nose was bleeding from one nostril and his suit looked slightly disheveled. “I told you next week! I thought we had respect, Mija!” He spat at your name. He slapped you hard out of nowhere, but you only slightly lost your balance, hands still on your head. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been through this before.

“Jeremiah sent me, sir.” You spat blood from your mouth into the water below. “He says he needs it now.” You kept your eyes cast down as the demon had conditioned you.

Red grabbed you by your suspended arm and pulled you to your feet. “Fine. But you must wait here until I get it.” Not having released his grip, he towed you towards the mansion. He sat you down at a table in the screened-in porch and paced, making a few calls, but speaking to quickly for you to keep up in the foreign language. After a long while of screaming into the phone, he threw it across the room in a fit, slumping into the chair next to you, legs still shaking wildly. When had he drawn a revolver? It was white and silver, with a red stripe down the center, to match his suit probably. He tapped it against his shaking leg. You zoned out a few times, just watching the light waves on the lake slopping against the shoreline and boats. The names came back to you as you dazed—Crowley, Winchesters. Cassie… Castile… Castiel. Your vision narrowed, and at last you remembered their faces. Not well enough to give specific eye color, but you could remember the boys’ smiles, most importantly, Dean’s.

Red snapped your attention back to reality as he jumped to his feet. One of his men held a long, narrow, wrapped rectangular box. Red ripped it from his hands and shot the man. You flinched as the dead man fell in a heavy thud. Red practically threw the box at you. It was getting dark.

“Go. Get out, NOW!” He kicked at you, narrowly missing as you obliged and ran as fast as you could down the stairs, pathway, and dock. He chased you all the way to the boat, screaming in Spanish. As you maneuvered the boat away, you sighed. The sun had set, the last tendrils of light peeking over across the lake. You shivered in the darkness. You looked up. Stars. How long had it been since you’d seen them? You forgot how beautiful they were. You felt the flutter in your stomach, remembering how tiny you were in this universe, insignificant, and you smiled. It was the first time you’d felt something in ages.

You laughed loudly, relishing in the moment, then refocused on your journey. It was going to be harder to find your dock, now. You did though, only taking slightly longer than last time to do so. You took the odd box back to Jeremiah. As you approached the storage unit, you could hear him on the phone again and timidly slowed your step, not wanting to make him mad.

“Thanks for the heads up, we will move out as soon as she gets back. Yeah, she’s getting it but she’s been gone a while. I’ve already sent the Hellhound to take care of him. No, no you listen to me—I’m the boss now. I say when we kill the Winchesters. She’s almost ready. Yes, very complaint… Okay. Meet me there at dawn.” His conversation finished and you picked back up your pace.

“You’re late.” You rounded the corner, eyes cast down, holding out the package. “Very good. We’re leaving.”

Panic raised in you. You didn’t want to leave. Not now that you had the boat, the lake, the stars… Jeremiah threw you into the unit but didn’t bother with the cage as he slammed the door behind you. You froze in place, unsure of what to do as you heard him walking away quickly. Minutes turned to hours, and you daydreamed of your family… There was a world out there, you remembered.

Grasping onto the strength the stars had given you, you stood up and jimmied the door open after a few tries. You peered out, clearing the corners. You grabbed the can of gas by the door and ran to the dock as fast as you could, careful not to shake the gas can too much. You jumped into the boat and drove as fast and far as you could. About an hour later, the wide open lake faded behind you as it narrowed into a tall canyon. The moon was overhead now, lighting your way. You continued on until the first morning rays peaked above one side of the canyon. You slowed down and steered into an alcove. At the base of the canyon, there was brush that you used to conceal the boat, and an old cave that looked undisturbed, Native American pictures still on the walls. You let your hands glide lightly across them, then sat down, looking out over the water. You knew this place.

The memory came back to you in your sleep: Your dad smiling as a much younger version of yourself touched the walls of the cave. You looked back at his bass fishing boat, as shiny and sparkly as the crystal water beneath it, fishing poles slung lazily across one of the seats. Del Rio. The Rio Grande. Lake Amistad. The names flooded back to you, and you woke with a start, expecting to be back in that cage. To your relief, you were still in the cave, the sun beginning to set on the other side of the canyon. If you remembered correctly, the 1st and 2nd railroads of Texas were close, and just beyond them would be a boat ramp you used to put in at those years ago. You smiled, jumping back into the boat and topping off the engine with the last bit of fuel. You prayed that it would get you there.

The only problem would be getting past border patrol. There were two stations, and you had no identification. Even if you made it past them, how were you going to walk all those miles back to town? Back home? Where was home? You couldn’t remember yet.

You drove on anyway, the stars comforting you as they came out. You’d never seen so many stars—not since you were here as a child.

When you got to the ramp you’d remembered, you breathed thanks into the cool air of the canyon. You did your best to wash out the gas can until it didn’t smell like fuel. You rinsed and rinsed until your arms and back ached and threatened to give. Trying to save some of your strength, you settled with what you had, and filled the can with water from the fountain.

~

You didn’t know, but the moment you remembered Castiel’s name, he was able to locate you. Almost instantly, the boys piled into the car, a frantic Cas gripping the dashboard and cramped Sam sitting in the back. The Impala roared forth and Dean dialed Crowley.

“We’ve got a lead.”

@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @aseasyasdeanspie @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79 @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @deathtonormalcy56

[coalcreekarmoryz]

Best Cross Draw Holsters | These Will Fit You Like a Glove I Bet

While often getting a bad rap, there are a lot of fans of cross draw holsters that find that it serves them well. While there are plenty of holsters on the market to choose from, cross draw holsters can often make a lot of sense for certain users. 

Here are a few tips on using a cross draw holster and a few reviews to help you find one that fits your needs and your style best.

What is a Cross Draw Holster?

It may not be very versatile, but it definitely fills a niche for many gun owners. Basically, a cross draw holster will position your firearm so that you have to draw across your body.

This position is great for those that have restrictive movement on their strong draw side. You can also position your cross draw holster on the back or front of your body and use it for either concealed carry or when on duty.

Many people remember cross draw holsters originally used by cowboys and outlaws. This design allowed them to have a comfortable draw while they were riding a horse.

Cross draws were pretty popular for those in a seated position that needed a better balance orientation that made them pretty popular if you rode a horse frequently.

In today’s world, those that prefer the cross draw holster style now ride cars and bikes with their firearms. Think of law enforcement officers and professional drivers that use a duty car or carry a concealed weapon most of the day while they are seated.

Advantages of a Cross Draw Holster

Loaded with lots of benefits, a cross draw holster is mostly centered around accessibility and comfort as well as those moments when a strong wide draw would be hampered.

Anyone that frequently carries in a vehicle like a law enforcement officer.

A person that sits in a chair most of their day that wants a holster that is positioned correctly when you are seated.

When you don’t need your fastest draw and can be delayed in your draw, but might have a straight draw that is impeded.

You are a good candidate for a shoulder holster, but need better concealment.

Typically, a cross draw is perfect for those that want a good level of concealment but still need to access their gun easily while also considering their logistics and comfort level throughout their day.

While a law enforcement officer doesn’t need to conceal their firearm, they may still want the ability to wear a sidearm without it getting caught in the buckle or seat belt in their vehicle.

Why should you Cross draw Carry?

Combining safety with draw speed, carrying a gun cross draw has an appeal to those that want their muzzle aimed away from their body.

When your appendix carry, it isn’t uncommon for a wearer to shoot themselves more often than other carrying positions. 

With a cross draw carry, the muzzle of the gun is pointed away from your pelvis while still giving you a fast draw time and a good level of concealment than a typical strong side holster will. 

Combining accessibility, safety, and speed, the cross draw holster is often an underappreciated carry method.

The 4 Best Cross Draw Holsters

Galco Dual Action Holster- 6 Inch

Nice quality product with an easy draw

Made using the finest materials

Used by Law Enforcement, Military, and citizens alike

Tested for durability and quality

​

S&W L FR 686 6-Inch

​View Current Pricing

PROS

This Holster is Perfect for field carry, the Galco Dual Action Holster is a great choice if you are hunting or peace of mind when walking in the woods.

It can be worn either as cross draw or strong side, depending on your preferences. Providing a custom fit are two included tension screws that you can adjust to your preferences.

It features an easy to use retention strap that adds both security and simplicity while you are outdoors. 

The large polymer tab on the retention strap is a great aid when you are unsnapping or snapping your holster with a gloved hand. Made with premium saddle leather, this high-quality holster will fit in a belt up to 1 ¾ inch.

Perfect for citizens, law enforcement, and military, the Galco Dual Action Holster can be used by some semiautomatic pistols as well as double-action revolvers.

Tested for both quality and durability, this holster is available in tan and comes with both left and right-hand designs making it one of the best revolver holster for concealment on the market.

CONS

It is smaller than some users like and won’t fit a six-inch revolver.

It doesn’t work as well as a right-side cross draw.

Master's Holsters Cross-Draw Holster

It fits well, especially when driving with a seatbelt on

This holster has a nice finish and good construction quality

It uses good quality leather and strong stitching

Comes with 2 belt slots

Hand-molded and perfect for concealed carry

​View Current Pricing

This right-handed cross draw holster is reliable and stylish. Expertly crafted, the Master’s Holsters Crossdraw Holster is made from heavy genuine leather that is a top-grain that comes with beautiful stitching. 

It has a low-profile design that keeps the trigger and barrel totally covered and can hardly be seen with an untrained eye.

Including a highly-functional design that is open at the top, the Master's Holsters Crossdraw Handgun Holster is more than just aesthetically pleasing. It also gives you a fast draw when you need it. 

This is a beautiful holster that is hand-molded and perfect for concealed carry or use at competitive matches. Allowing you to grip your weapon securely, the Master's Holsters Crossdraw Belt Holster can be placed at an angle so that the grip and the opposing side facing the strong side hand.

 It is comfortable to wear when sitting or driving and comes with 2 belt slots that can fit belts that measure up to 3/8 inch thick and 1 5/8 inch wide for stability. This holster has a flat back for comfort and is hand-molded to the gun’s shape.

Pros:

It fits well While you are driving.

This holster has a nice finish and good construction quality.

It uses good quality leather and strong stitching.

Cons:

It isn't canted far enough for a Cross draw Holster that is also concealed.

It would be nice if the holster was lined to protect the finish.

BLACKHAWK! Leather 3-Slot Pancake Holster

Fits Beretta 92/96

Covered trigger guard for safety and security

Three-slot design allows for strong-side, behind-the hip, appendix, and cross-draw carry

​Left handed

Good quality holster for the price

​View Current Pricing

Made with premium leather, the BLACKHAWK! 3-Slot Pancake Holster gives you great concealment of your weapon comfortably contouring to your body.

This two-piece holster is wet-molded and features a covered guard over the trigger for security and safety.

It also has a three-slot design that provides you with cross-draw, appendix, behind-the-hip, and strong-side carry.

Featuring double contour-stitched construction, the BLACKHAWK! It is very durable and also includes a thumb break that is reinforced for ease of draw and durability.

This left-handed holster will fit a Beretta 92/96 and is a great product for the price.   

Pros:

This is a good quality holster for the price

The thumb break works great, and it fits perfectly

It fits snug and is concealable

Cons:

If you place the holster in the bottom two belt slots, it will wobble since it becomes top-heavy

It won’t come close to being able to snap the restraint correctly

Galco Cop 3 Slot Holster

Made using the finest materials

Used by law enforcement, military, and citizens alike

Tested for durability and quality

​GLOCK 19,23,32

Comes with useful break-in instructions that only take a few minutes

​View Current Pricing

If you are watching your budget, but still want a high-performance holster, you need to check out the Galco Cop Series. 

The 3 Slot holster is comfortable to carry in either a cross draw or strong side position with its precision-molded design. Made with premium cowhide, it fits belts that are up 1 3/4 inches wide.

Using a tension screw near the trigger guard, you can adjust the holster for the best firearm retention.

The rear sight has a wide safety strap for protection while the thumb break is reinforced. With the low cut design on the Galco Cop 3 Slot Holster, you get faster and easier draws for double-action revolvers and semiautomatic pistols.

Tested for both quality and durability, the Galco Cop 3 Slot Holster is available in both left and right-hand designs. Featuring a black finish, this holster is perfect for citizens, law enforcement, and military use.

Pros:

It comes with useful break-in instructions that only take a few minutes.

This is a nice quality and durable holster that is easy and fast to use.

The three slots give you the opportunity to carry it canted or vertical

Cons:

The unfinished leather interior is pretty rough

It collapses in on itself making reholstering difficultEnter your text here...

Top 3 Cross Draw Holster Shooting Techniques Concealed Cross Draw:

When you cross draw carry, you are carrying the gun butt-forward on one side of your body, typically the side that is opposite your dominant hand. This allows you to reach across your torso to draw, typically at waist level or under your opposite shoulder.

In a perfect world, a cross-draw will start with the side of the holster edged toward the threat or target. Raise your support hand as the gun hand moves toward the cross draw holster.

Using the support arm to block, but making sure it is clear of the muzzle, you want to make sure it is in the right place before you grasp the gun.

When the muzzle is brought in line with the target, the holster should be cleared allowing you to fire if it is a close-quarters target or to thrust your firearm forward while your support hand comes down behind it allowing you to take a two-hand firing stance.

Calvary Draw:

Typically used to remove a pistol from a holster, the calvary draw was created to carry your firearm butt-forward.

Named after the gun leather holsters that were used by the cavalry on both sides of the U.S. Civil War, the pistol was used as a secondary weapon by both armies and carried in a covered holster high on the cavalryman's right side.

Placed butt-forward, this allowed the soldier to cross draw with their left hand since they used their right hand to draw out their firearm only if their sword was lost during a battle. Even though this was considered an alternate method, it becomes standard practice with soldiers leaving their swords in their sheaths until after their firearm and ammunition had all been used.

Later on, it was discovered that using a reversed holster is more comfortable, particularly when you are sitting down, in comparison to the normal type holster.

Plus, you can use cavalry draw when you are sitting and still be able to retain your original off-hand cross draw capability. It is for this reason that the FBI used cavalry draw when they used short .38 Special revolvers.

If you practice enough, you will find that you can become faster drawing with a Calvary draw than a typical cross draw due to the placement of your hand on the stocks of the pistol.

Women’s Cross Draw:

Women also find that cross draw works well for them since their body shape, in general, doesn’t work well with a strong side holster. Unless a strong side holster is specifically made for a woman, it will actually force the butt of the pistol into a women’s body.

Cross draw allows a woman to safety and comfortably draw out their firearm in comparison to the other draw techniques. When considering these four holster models, My Pick for Best Cross Draw Holsters is the Master's Holsters Cross Draw Holster. 

Not only does it fit well and have a nice finish, but it has strong stitching and uses good quality leather.

It can be positioned at the correct angle to that it faces the strong side hand with its grip. It comes with two belt slots, and it’s pretty comfortable to wear when you are either sitting or driving. 

Here You Have it! Let us Know what are some of your favorite cross draw holsters, and what techniques do you use for shooting with your holsters.

Related Readings

Top Kydex Holsters

The post Best Cross Draw Holsters | These Will Fit You Like a Glove I Bet appeared first on Coal Creek Amory.

[gunnersalley]

Nexbelt Leather Concealed Carry Gun Belt Review [VIDEO]

Nexbelt: A Gun Belt For the Modern Times?  Every so often a product comes along that has the capability of really changing your world … and by that, I mean that this concealed carry belt, from Nexbelt, is one of those products that has had a subtle, but significant change in my day-to-day life.  Nexbelt released their unique ratcheting belt system a few years ago. It is truly revolutionary because it gets rid of the centuries-old method of relying on holes punched through leather. Of course, we also have belts that are infinitely adjustable via the use of cam buckles and/or loops.     Nexbelt takes it all a step further. It is almost infinitely adjustable … okay, maybe not infinitely, but at least in 1/4” increments. It is user adaptable and sizable, as it incorporates a clever ratcheting mechanism that is embedded into the back side of the belt opposite its seamless, uninterrupted front.     Cinching this concealed carry belt up is, well … a cinch! All one must do is insert the end into the buckle. As you continue inserting the end through the buckle you will hear and feel the teeth on the backside of the belt click their way through the catch inside the buckle.  Just keep drawing the belt end through the buckle until you are satisfied with the degree of tightness on the waist. Tightened the belt too far? Simply grab the release (you’ll love this … they call the release a “trigger!”) at the bottom side of the buckle, pull outward and the mechanism will release allowing you to adjust as necessary until you are satisfied with the fit.  *Speaking of the buckle, when you buy a Nexbelt, you can select whichever one fits your particular style or taste from a multitude of different, available designs.  Trimming Nexbelt to Your Waist Size  The belt comes in the unique clear plastic packaging sized for 50 inch waists. The belt actually measures 54 inches but the proper way to cut and size it for you is to take your current waist measurement and add 4 inches to it, then cut at the corresponding mark on the back of the belt. You want a little leeway so that you maximize the adjustability.     Instructions are included detailing how to go about removing the buckle from the belt, cutting it to the correct length, and then reattaching the buckle. The buckle is fastened with two Allen set screws that pinch the belt inside the buckle. An Allen wrench is included in the packaging. Once the user has trimmed the belt down to size and refastened the buckle to it, you’re good to go.  Features & Options  The belt I received from Nexbelt was the black leather 1.5″ width gun belt with what they call their Defender Buckle. It’s stylish, and looks good with my various clothing choices whether it be jeans, khaki’s, or a suit … especially with a suit. I might select one of their nylon versions of the same belt for day-to-day use.  I have really been enjoying using the leather Defender belt for the past couple of months. It’s hard for me to remember what it was like to use “normal” belts because this is the new “normal” for me. This concealed carry belt is just so fast to put on and adjust exactly to where I need it whether I am carrying OWB or IWB for the day, or if I am going to wear a spare mag IWB as well. The belt covers the entire gamut.     “So what?” Says some of you operator belt fanboys (of which club I also claim membership). The Nexbelt really is faster to put on, faster to take off, and faster to adjust, by far. I understand that putting on a belt is really not a complicated process, but I’m a busy guy, and I like convenience. Anything that helps me get more done, faster, I am a fan of.  As previously stated, each one comes from the factory sized to the 50-inch length, and I’m not sure if there’s an option to have a custom order made for larger waists. I didn’t find anything on the website suggesting a custom option. So if you are over 50 inches, sorry, but you’re out of luck.     I also mentioned a few minutes ago that there are many different buckle options for you to choose from. There are even some nice patriotic-themed buckles incorporating American and Gadsden flags. I really like the look of the first responder-themed ones which incorporate a Thin Red Line (Fire) one and a Thin Blue Line (LEO) model. Very cool!  Also, don’t think you’re limited to the buckles in the Gun Belt Series of Nexbelts. You can actually order “Separates” including different belt options (albeit without extra gun belt stiffening material) and many different styles of buckles. This ability also makes Nexbelt one of the most customizable belts out there on the market.  Color options for their leather concealed carry belts are simple—Black and Brown. But there are quite a few color options in the nylon gun belts: Black, Coyote, OD Green, Tan (Khaki), and Realtree Xtra Camo. You should have no problem finding a color and buckle option that will work with any wardrobe combination.  Durability  I’ve been wearing my Nexbelt nearly everyday in a variety of conditions. I have not tried to be kind to it. It has seen about a dozen different holsters used with it, and it is none the worse. I have no doubt the Nexbelt will hold up to solid use and last you a long time. Mine has a few scuffs and minor scratches (no doubt due to loops and clips from holsters), but honestly none of them are all that bad. Hardly noticeable. I have to really look in order to find them.     Summary  Ignoring the clever patented ratcheting buckle, by itself the Nexbelt is a top quality belt product. Put that together with the brilliant innovation, and you’ve really got something special. I would highly recommend Nexbelt to anyone looking for a fast, easy to use, quality gun belt.     If I had one critique it would be the lack of a 1-3/4 inch wide belt option. In my opinion a true gun belt comes in a 1-3/4 inch width. The Nexbelt is plenty stiff to keep your holster and gear secure and from twisting or “rolling” the belt. But I appreciate the ability to use a wider belt especially with some holsters like those that LEO’s might use either undercover or off duty. Some of these holsters have 1-3/4 inch loops or clips, and I hate having extra space and play in the holster on the draw.  But if you think the Nexbelt Gun Belt series might be a good fit for you, I would encourage you to check them out at  www.nexbelt.com .

https://www.concealedcarry.com/gear/nexbelt-leather-concealed-carry-gun-belt-review-video/