#sorry about the nightmares at the end there

[sinsirellaxx]

Toxic!Slytherin boys when they realize that if they don't make an effort to change, they will never fully win the heart of the person they believe to be the love of their life.

Slytherin Boys – when they realize that they could lose you if they don't make an effort to change

Warnings: toxic boys, being their toxic selves.

Mattheo …

… would struggle so much. He would be in complete denial and think that everyone else was trying to force you apart until you finally broke down in front of him because of something he had said. His eyes had widened when he heard you whimper as you cried. And that was the first time he actually questioned himself.

…  was plagued by nightmares that night, when he laid in bed. Nightmares of losing you. In the morning, he had to accept the truth: He was going to lose you if he didn’t change.

… would change slowly, as it proved to be more difficult to let old habits die than he expected. He wouldn’t talk about it or apologize to you in fear of making you realize what big of an asshole he had been to you – he couldn’t risk losing you. He would only apologize and tell you he’d change if you were to fight.

Theodore …

… is confused when you angrily shut the door behind you, standing in the middle of his room, all alone, with his mouth agape.

… would immediately take it back a notch and suppress the urge to control and manipulate you.

… would apologize to you with tears in his beautiful eyes as he lifted your hands to his face to press kisses onto every single finger.

… would not be as cocky and arrogant as usual after being ignored by you for days – because for the first time ever, he was scared of losing you.

… would buy you flowers every day – he would even make the lemon biscotti his late mother used to make him to cheer him up.

“My mother used to make these for me to express her love for me and I hope it conveys the same message to you. I’m so sorry, amore. I was wrong – please forgive me.”

Lorenzo …

… would be dead-serious when he realized you were drifting away.

… would try everything to tighten his grip on you – which backfired at first. While he was trying to pull you closer, he pushed you even further away with his clinginess.

… would have to confide in his friend, for he couldn’t find a balanced way to change but he wouldn’t be satisfied with their feedback.

… in the end he would sit you down and talk to you – heart to heart. He would push aside his pride and talk about his insecurities with you and tell you that he wanted to change.

… had been scared at first – thinking you would laugh into his face. However, it seemed to be the right thing to do as you seemed to melt away at his vulnerability, throwing your arms around him in a warm embrace.

“Thank you, love. I’ll be better, I promise.”

Draco …

… panics.

… is frantic because he does not know what to do. What were you expecting of him?

… would be too proud to ask you.

… asks his mother instead, who is disappointed by her son’s behavior.

… will think about his mother’s words after the hour-long lecture that he had to sit through and will try to apply some of her advice.

… will work really hard to make things right.

“I’m sorry for neglecting your feelings, princess.”

Blaise …

… knew it was coming.

… knew that you were smart and that you would probably be fed up with him if he went too far – which he apparently did.

… he’d be at your door the next morning after the fight, ready to do whatever you asked of him.

“Babe, I truly love you – please forgive me. I know you love me too. So, please … give me another chance.”

Tom …

… refuses to change.

… does not recognize his mistakes or wrong-doings – he thinks you’re being overly sensitive and dramatic.

… is a legilimens and uses his abilities to his advantage – if he finds out that you are too weak to leave him – too in love – he’ll never change.

… however, if he is worried, he’ll entertain your wish for him to change occasionally.  Giving into some of your demands once in a while if it works out for him only to go back to his usual ways.

… will have you trapped that way. If you somehow try to leave him, he’ll still have his trusted wand to assist him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, doll. Now be a good girl and come here – you know I’d never harm you in any way.”

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys imagine #slytherin boys headcanons #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #mattheo x you #blaise zabini #blaise zabini x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #slytherin #toxic slytherin boys

[kiss-inthekitchen]

favorite insomniac | spencer reid

a little warm-up exercise i just finished <3 you can't sleep, so you decide to call the only other person you know who would be awake at this hour. ~500 words

You don’t get insomnia. Usually, you fall asleep quickly and easily, and then devolve into any number of nightmares or vivid dreams or somethings that cause to you wake up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all. 

Obviously not great. But not insomnia.

You roll over once again, after what feels like hours but is probably only twenty minutes of lying as still as possible and trying to will your body to be tired. You check the time on your phone; 3:14 AM. 

Ugh. You have to be at work in less than 6 hours, awake in less than 5. Closer to 4, if you want to actually look presentable. 

You groan, scrubbing your hands over your face and barely resisting the urge to start punching your pillows. 

And then you give up. 

There’s one insomniac you know who’s got a pretty good chance of being awake right now. You've dialed the number before you can even think about it. The line rings once, and you realize what an inappropriate, quite possibly disrespectful choice this had been. You’re about to hang up, hovering over the red button, when you hear him. 

“Hey,” he says, voice raspy. 

Oh god, oh god. “Please tell me I didn’t wake you up.” 

“No,” Spencer chuckles bitterly, “You didn’t. What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t sleep?” 

His eyebrows raise halfway to his hairline. “So you called me?” 

You and Spencer are coworkers. You’re friends. You just don’t really hang out much outside of work and work-related events. Not that you haven’t wanted to, you just… don’t really know how. Or if you should. Or if it would be particularly smart. 

“I’m so sorry. I figured if anyone was liable to be awake right now, it’d be… I wasn’t thinking. I’ll let you go, I’m–” 

“Hey, it’s alright,” he says, amused. You’re the only person he ever gets the opportunity to calm down; he’s usually the most nervous person in the room. “This doesn’t usually happen to you though, does it?” 

“No,” you huff, flopping back against your pillows. “I’d ask you for tips, but whatever you’re doing clearly isn’t working.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“Am I wrong?” 

“No, you’re not wrong.” 

You make a self-satisfied little “hmph” sound. 

“What did you call me for then?” 

Something in the timbre of his voice makes your heart speed up. “I don’t know, human connection across the ether that is 3 AM?” The sense that you’re the only two people in the universe. The sound of his voice. Not that you could say that part out loud.

“Wanna go for a drive?”

Huh? “Wh– We have work in, like, 5 hours.” 

“Oh, you haven’t been counting, have you?”

“You mean like thinking ‘if I fall asleep right now at this moment I could get 5 hours of sleep’ but then I still don’t fall asleep and I watch the minutes go by until it’s only 4 and a half hours and then I get angry at myself for being awake and then I’m somehow even more awake?” 

He chuckles, dark and rich through the phone. “The classic trap. Never count the hours.” 

“Now you tell me.” 

“Alright,” he grunts, and you hear him shuffling around, “I’m picking you up.”

“You're what?!"

"I'm picking you up," his voice lilts up, almost like a question. But not like he's asking for permission, more like he's teasing you. Like he knows your answer anyway.

"Now? You have a car?” 

“Yes, now. And yes, I have a car,” you hear jingling on the other end. “You’re gonna like it.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds drabble #my fics #couldn't find a cuter pic of spencer on a phone so its payphone image u have to suspend ur disbelief

[grimesgirll]

rickyl x reader but with rare jealous!daryl

daryl shouldn’t be seething at the sight of rick’s head in your lap.

there’s no reason at all he should be thinkin’ about skinning his best friend. it’s jealousy at its finest.

he can hear merle now, taunting him. he wonders if his brother would call him a “fuckin’ pansy” or a “pussy” first. fuming inwardly all by himself on his recliner. the piece of furniture begins to feel like an island. it’s even worse imagining he’s just watching you and rick.

once upon a time, daryl got a kick out of seeing you get those pretty, big brain thoughts fucked out of your head for just a moment while rick splits you open. there’s something in seein’ you all fucked out, thinking about fueling the fire between your legs only. the legs that daryl often threw over his shoulders, diving tongue first in your paradisal cunt. that would be before rick rolled his way in and insisted he be the first to stuff your tight, yearn slick pussy.

merle would rag on him for that.

“aw, poor cucked, fuck,” he’d try to stifle his laugh but end up roaring in laughter.

daryl does the same thing he did when his brother was alive and ignores the thought. the thought of you can’t be banished from his head though.

no, not when you’re running your hands through rick’s hair and looking down at him, lips moving in sweet muted conversation that daryl is too green to comprehend. he’s feeling selfish now and wishing you two could go somewhere alone.

moments alone with you hit different now. they’re rare but they exist.

like after he and rick spend the better half of the night taking you apart from the inside out, and you and him sneak out to the porch for a cigarette once rick’s fallen asleep.

sometimes daryl thinks rick sleeps worse than judith - the sheriff is basically an insomniac without you. you’re the miracle cure for the horror induced nightmares. it’s like a good spooning with you clears his head, but daryl can’t really fault rick for that. he does however absolutely loathe the sixth sense the constable has for when you’ve strayed away from his arms in the night.

the man’s head is swimming at the thought of you in his arms when there’s a knock at the door.

your glinting eyes are rolling but you’re calling out for your guest to, “come in!” rick’s scowl couldn’t be larger but he fixes his face once maggie comes into view.

maggie looks between you and rick, even sparing a glance at daryl before attempting to stifle a laugh and clearing her throat. “i’m sorry to interrupt, but deanna needs you at her house to discuss important matters.”

you feel rick tense beneath you. barely able to contain your own pouts, you gaze back up at rick and he takes that as his signal to connect your lips one last time. shining under the living room ceiling lights, the two of you mash wantonly wetted lips. lost in each other, you don’t feel the pissed off red rock across the room.

finally breaking apart, you whine and rick almost scolds you, wondering if you have any respect for maggie’s image of you. when he glimpses over your shoulder and catches sight of maggie’s grin, he’s smirking. daryl wants to go out into the woods and shoot something.

“well, duty calls.”

rick’s rolling you off of him, leaving you with another breathless kiss and nodding daryl’s way.

daryl struggles to maintain a cordial smile. this doesn’t go unnoticed by rick, who would’ve asked what was up with his typically mellow friend had he more time. the younger man’s more than relieved to see rick and maggie meandering out the door.

“dare’.”

damn, he almost forgot about you.

blue irises meet your dilated centers. the darkened, passion cast pupils beckon him to resume where rick had left off. a hand pats the patterned sofa.

that stirs him from his moodiness - slightly.

you’re assuming your position in his lap once his ass hits the cushion. hands gently wring around his neck until you’re sat firmly on top of him, gaze unmistakable.

“what’s goin’ on with you?”

startled, his breath hitches in his throat. his adam’s apple throbbing uncomfortably peaks your attention. you frown at him until his pink lips move slowly.;

“i feel like i haven’t even seen you lately, baby. and we live in the same fuckin’ house.”

your face falls at the words. “really?” you ask, wanting him to go on. the distraught look painting your typically sunny face has him not wanting to, but he does because you asked.

“you’re always on him, he’s on you. you touch me too and i know you love me. i know you like goin’ out in the woods with me but you feel so fuckin’ far away when you’re right there.”

“i’m so sorry, dare’.”

he’s quick to stop you. “it’s not your fault, baby, it’s not rick’s either-,”

“-no!” you interject, grinding down onto him by accident, eliciting a groan from him which you quickly apologize for.

daryl slaps your fleece covered ass lightly. “don’t apologize for being fuckin’ hot, baby.”

you giggle, leaning down to kiss him. he’s slowly but surely fading into this fairytale kiss you’re bestowing upon him until he hears another apology on your lips.

“baby, it’s okay.”

“no, it’s not.” you’re almost in tears now. puffy lips quake and purse. “you should never feel that way.”

“it’s fine, hon’, i feel better just telling you, an’ gettin’ it off my chest.” he assures you, playing with the top of your fleece shorts.

your eyes trail down to the drawstring of your shorts, and you wipe away a tear, revealing a yearning smile.

“would this help?”

daryl suddenly rolls into you, pelvis pistoning against the pillowy fabric of your shorts. he shrugs. “i don’t know.” he grunts. “maybe.”

you laugh. angling your hips, you dial up the pressure you’re coasting against beneath you when you come closer. daryl straightens to meet you for a kiss, succumbing to you, immersed until you whisper against him, “c’mon, i wanna feel you inside of me.”

daryl raises an eyebrow. “baby, i haven’t stretched you out.”

you shake your head, laughing. “you and rick already took care of that last night. you could stop fucking me for three days and as long as i’m wet-,” you get a blushed out look on your face. “-which isn’t hard around here.”

your lover’s face turns cocky. “you like being ready after being stretched out by two cocks?” pride laces his question. rick could irk him but he did love sharing you with his best friend more than anything.

that pretty little head nods up and down like it’s obvious.

“you gonna take me out and sit on me, baby?”

you’re nodding even more obediently now. falling into the instructions that have your pretty little clit swelling beneath your bottoms. that sends your hands racing to tug down daryl’s jeans, circling your hips as well to quickly spare a hand and work down your shorts. the sight has daryl straining.

“don’t make me wait, you know i can’t,” he complains with a kiss to your neck.

“mhmm,” you hum in agreement and tug down the waistband of his underwear, allowing him to help you with your peach pantone panties.

you involuntarily lick your lips upon seeing his gorgeous cock. the gigantic head primarily has your attention. has it always looked this big? you wonder. you want to take it into your mouth but the urge to give daryl that comfort he deserves has you hovering your already slick pussy above his hardened cock.

all at once, you let your hips descend and the first inch or so of daryl disappears inside of you.

“damn, girl.” the sensation has him crooning and singing your praise as you waste no time rocking up and down to develop that sloppy wetness on him - like you’re greasin’ a fuckin’ pole.

“mhm,” you whine. daryl’s awestruck face, scrunched from how tight you are despite your words, suddenly clears any stress or unease. he’s loving this, you remind yourself. an idea fills your head and before you know it, your begging for a hickey.

“huh?”

“a hickey!” you groan, bouncing with your hands firmly on his chest.

“then c’mere, baby,” and daryl’s clutching you down towards him as soon as you lean in. “i’ll mark you up however you want.” those thoughtful lips imprint into your skin immediately.

you gasp and wriggle against his loving mouth. he feels so wonderful, playfully bruising you with light scrapes of teeth and a roving tongue so well that your thought almost gets fucked out of you.

“want you to mark me up for when rick gets home,” you tell him, panting and squirming with pleasure on top of him.

length brushing against your walls which are flush against him like quicksand, those words are dangerous. he does his best not to fuckin’ jackhammer you to oblivion just at the thought of rick comin’ home to you all purple from daryl’s mouth - the mouth that was already obsessed with your pretty girl clit and taking a vacation between your legs.

“yes, whatever you want, baby.”

“ah!”

you’re not ready for the bite that isn’t as light as you’d expected.

“so tight on me.” daryl chuckles, suckling on the sensitive skin. “felt you clenchin’ like you’re ready, baby girl.”

“does my pussy feel good? squeezin’ you?” you ask, eyelashes fluttering.

daryl almost finished in you right then and there.

“course it does.” he replies without missing a beat. “what kind of question is that?”

the answer and the pace daryl is adopting has you seeing stars. heat is what you plunge into as you slide up and down on daryl. he’s dragging you up and down against him, hands burying fingernail marks in your soft hips while he fucks up into you and worships your shoulder.

the bite to your shoulder is what sends you tumbling into the tirade of pleasure that’s your orgasm.

on the living room sofa, you gasp and cry, tears falling into daryl’s hair as he takes a tit into his mouth, biting down. it’s a soft graze of cautious teeth but you yelp, startled by the pleasure and the spurting of warm come in your tight little cunt.

foreheads bowed against each other’s, you both find a rhythm in your breath - and each other’s lips again.

it’s when you and your lover are unsurprisingly making out again, once you take just a moment to breathe and pull apart, the question’s blurting from your lips;

“you know i love both of you, right?”

daryl softens beneath you. the hands on your waist rub languid, lazy patterns as daryl nods at you. “i do, baby.”

the twinge of a smile is on your lips until you’re suddenly remembering how you got to asking that question and straddling your dare’ like this in the first place. “but you shouldn’t feel that way.”

daryl’s shaking his head, ready to tell you that it’s fine, he’s fine but then you’re saying;

“how could i ever make it up to you, dare?’”

a million possibilities filter through his mind at once. there really isn’t an apology he won’t accept from you.

“how about a hunting trip? just the two of us.”

“i love your mind, baby.” he grunts, bucking up into you with that seemingly impatient, girthy rod.

you giggle in triumph, letting a pretty grin overtake your face. “alright now, back to where we were, huh?” you bear down to capture daryl’s mouth in a kiss, tonguing your way inside for just a brief moment before parting lips. “rick will be back from watch in an hour. how many hickies do you think you can give me before then?”

#the walking dead #rick grimes #daryl dixon #twd smut #andrew lincoln #norman reedus #rickyl #twd #twd imagine #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon smut #twd rick #not beta read #reader has rick rabies #and loves her daryl too #getting the hang of daryl’s internal monologue #p in v sex #reader is down bad for both of them as per usual #ditzy thought fr #hot idea anon!! #late night tumblr #ghost of merle #not exactly what was requested but more rickyl + jealousy including more rick will be coming #the people speak #grimesgirll

[spacesodaa]

Hi there! I saw that you accept requests! So, I was thinking about Wriothesley having a special person who is basically a sunshine, who loves nature, seeing the sky, singing and basically being a darling, but who has experienced very traumatic situations. But despite this they don't lose their innocence and warm smile.

I would love to read something like that.

Thank you, and take care!

Helooo, this sounds absolutely adorable! I will do my best!

Sorry if this took a bit long, I hope you like it ^^

Wriothesley x Reader - Brighter Than The Sun

Characters: Wriothesley, Reader

Summary: Reader is a little sunshine and Wrio is down BAD

Warning: unadulterated fluff bro

A/N: I posted this without text by mistake lmao

Wriothesley sighed heavily as he read the same sentence for the third time. He had been on the same stack of papers for about an hour with scarce results. He couldn't seem to focus and the more he willed the clock to go faster the slower the hands seemed to move. Tea break felt ages away.

He let his head fall into the desk with a thick thud and groaned in frustration. What was this? The fourth break he took? Today there seemed to be no way to get his work done.

Oh how he wished he could hear you sing, maybe it would reset his brain. Unfortunately for him you had gone out to the court of fontaine to run some errands, his valiant attempts to keep you glued to him in bed proved to be futile.

Sometimes he struggled to believe you were real and right at his side. You always had a soft smile on your face, eyes shining. To him your eyes weren't the only part of you that shone, in fact he saw all of you as a star. You went about your day shining with the force of a thousand suns, comforting whoever was around you simply with your reassuring presence. The first time he had experienced this quality of yours was also the first time he had met you. He was having a bad day and he was this close to punching whoever rubbed him the wrong way first, you on the other hand were happily chatting with a friend of yours at the reception desk. You didn't belong there, instead having come to visit said friend at her new job. Hell he wouldn't believe you belonged in the fortress even if he saw you commit a crime with his own eyes.

The receptionist had gone in fight or flight mode as soon as she had seen him, stammering a greeting. You turned and met his gaze, following with a polite greeting and that warm smile of yours. There wasn't any fear in your shiny eyes, nor pity for him being there for that matter. Your relaxed demeanor intrigued him, he was used to people feeling tense around him, yet you didn't seem to be. You then asked him about the fortress, roping him into a conversation he didn't think he needed. He realized at the end of it, that he was much calmer than before and even though the conversation was one he had had many times, he felt refreshed.

Later he had summoned the courage to ask the receptionist about you and the rest became history. He still looked back fondly to that day, as he did with every memory he had of you. There was this warmth about you and everything you did, he simply couldn't get enough of it. It wasn't surprising he had fallen head over heels for you. You had accepted every part of him without question, even the darkest corners, so much so, that your light had made those corners a little less daunting. What had surprised him though, was that you yourself had dark corners. He struggled to believe someone who shone so brightly as you did, had such big of a baggage to carry around.

Later he had witnessed when your light dimmed as you cried in his arms about the same reoccurring nightmare, about all the blood you had seen spilled, about the fear you had faced. Yet even if dimmed, you never stopped shining.

A knock at the door made him almost jump out of his chair. He was so engrossed in the details of your radiant face in his mind that he had gotten distracted. Wriothesley sighed yet again. He figured he couldn't get more distracted than this at that point so he answered.

"Come in" he absentmindedly ordered the stack of papers on his desk, swearing to himself he would get to them at some point.

What he hadn't expected, was for you to show up into his office, at least not at this hour.

"Wriooo" you sang cheerfully as you skipped towards his desk with your hands behind your back.

"Welcome back, I wasn't expecting you to be back so early" he got up from his chair, maybe a little too eagery, pulling an amused chuckle out of you.

"I finished all my commissions" you said "missed me?"

"Of course I did" he admitted and pulled you in for a hug. You responded right away, burying your head in his sculpted chest. When his muscles were at rest he made a damn good pillow and you loved it.

"I brought you something!" You beamed, letting him go briefly to hand hin a small green bag "I hope you don't have this one yet"

"Thank you darling" he took the bag from your hands and pressed a kiss to your cheek, followed by one on your lips. You hummed contently in response.

"Well, lucky for you I don't have this tea yet. I've actually wanted to order this for some time" Wriothesley studied the tea bag intently "how about an early tea break? I want to try this with you" he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles.

"Absolutely, I've also brought pastries!" You gestured to a colorful paper bag you had left by the door when entering.

"Oh how lost I would be without you" the duke said in a rather dramatic tone.

"I bet" you poked at his nose, grinning.

Your light was almost blinding. Nonetheless he would still keep staring at his sun even if it blinded him.

#wriothesley x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin drabbles #genshin impact x reader #wriothesely genshin #genshin fluff

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f! reader

Description: Sam's nightmare leads the group to Saginaw Michigan. But it's more than a nightmare and it's more than any ol' hunt. Things are revealed about the past as it sends them barreling into the future.

Warnings: Cannon violence, I might have gotten a little too carried away with the beginning scene sorry not sorry! flirtation, banter, mentions of su!cide, gore, mentions of child abuse, mentions of past abuse, guns, a roller coaster of emotions, and a lot of angst (no one can be happy...sorry!)

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara

Word Count: 9,912

Nightmare

(Masterlist, Prev Ch, Next Ch)

I turn over in my bed, burying my head deeper into the pillows to ignore the loud and insistent banging from my door. I mumble incoherently into the covers, sleep having its claws so deep into my brain. “Please open the door, sweetheart. ‘m tryna give you privacy here but if this door isn’t open in five seconds I’m gonna use my key,” Dean warns loudly, his voice raspy. I hum softly into the bedding but make no move to get up, instead snuggling deeper into the blankets. The remains of sleep creep into the corners of my mind, hazing the rest of my brain.

Suddenly a gentle calloused hand is on my bare shoulder, “Come on baby, as much as I wanna let you sleep Sammy needs us to hurry.”

“Mhm,” I hum halfheartedly, digging myself further into the bed if possible. “Alright that’s it,” he says finally. There's some shuffling before the covers are pulled back, a rush of cold air prickling my exposed legs followed by the warmth of his hands dragging up and down my calves slowly before leaving to pull down my slip nightgown further past my butt. That wakes me up. My eyes flutter open, and as much as I loved my little cotton nightgown every time I wore it to bed I woke up to a full tit out and the bottom up at my hips. Luckily this time I didn’t think it rode up so high, it had only felt like it was just barely covering my butt, so at the most, he saw a flash of my underwear which is not the most ideal thing to happen, and also insanely embarrassing but at least I was wearing one of my cute pairs. And at least he didn’t comment on it, except he did pull it down further which means he probably did see…oh god. 

“Okay! I’m awake Dean!” I say, my words half mumbled by the bed but if I turned over he would also be seeing a boob today and he had seen enough already. His hands grip my ankles, his thumbs rubbing my skin, oh lord. No. I have to focus…and not on how butterflies are erupting in my stomach, fluttering around frantically, “Not convinced baby, not until I see you get up,” he conceded. He was really playing with my resolve and it was a very fickle thing to begin with. 

“Yeah, so if I flip myself around you’d be getting flashed. These nightgowns…just you know…” I admit, my face warm for two different reasons. His thumbs pause and I can practically hear the arch of his brow and that devilish smirk, “By all means, continue…”

“Dean,” I warn.

“I really wouldn’t object to it, wouldn’t complain one bit,” he comments, his voice dripping with amusement. “Dean!” His hands leave me entirely and I suddenly miss the warmth he brought, “Alright, alright,” he gives in, “I’ll go, be waitin’ in the car. I’d hurry though Sam’s freaking out about needing to leave but won't say anythin’ more.”

The initial embarrassment of being woken up the way I was or at least the result of that, as well as being a little “late” had long worn off except for when Dean caught my eyes in the rearview mirror then it all came rushing back. But I needed to screw my head on right, and not get distracted by his playful teasing manner, he was most likely compensating for the fact that he had to say goodbye to the woman he loved again. Ending on good terms aside those feelings don’t just magically disappear especially when it only happened recently. Either way, I was thankful for the nightfall's darkness, because with each gaze my face heated up even if it was against my better judgment. 

I needed to focus.

Sam had his ear pressed into his phone, reading from a fake ID to potentially give real information, “McReady. Detective McReady, badge number 158. I’ve got a signal 480 in progress, I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven…Yeah okay, just hurry.” 

Dean glances over at his brother, concern written in his eyes, “Sammy relax. I’m sure it’s just a nightmare.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam remarks. 

“You know considering he was right about your old house I’m pretty much convinced he’s right about this one too,” I add. Dean adjusts his hold on the steering wheel, “It could also just be a dream. Y’know, a normal everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare. This license plate, it won’t check out. You’ll see,” Dean tries to reason though I can't understand why he won’t accept that Sam has been right before and will be right again, my only guess would be fear.

“I mean I suppose,” I shrug, “but even just logically speaking unless you’re lucid dreaming you can’t read in your sleep, as the part of your brain that’s responsible for logic and intellect shuts down. So following that logic, he wouldn’t have been able to read or understand that license plate, that fact must hold some merit here.”

“Alright, maybe he was lucid dreamin’ then,” Dean suggests instead, finding any reason for his brother not to be a psychic. 

“It felt different Dean. Real,” Sam shakes his head, eyes focused as he tries to explain, “Like when I dreamt about the old house and Jessica.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense. You’re dreaming about our house, your girlfriend,” Dean points out, “This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before?”

“No,” Sam responds. 

“It doesn't matter if you've actually seen someone they can still be in your dreams because when you're walking around you're subconsciously watching and cataloging them,” I explain, “Though of course you're most likely to have dreams about people you see or think about more often, but still people you pass in real life can be in your dream.” Dean catches my eyes again in the mirror, gazing at me questioningly, “Why do you know so much about dreams?”

I shrug, “I don't know, it’s interesting so I just go down a rabbit hole of information. Plus there are a lot of psychological aspects to dreams which can make them important to analysis.” Dean shakes his head as if shaking away the information, “So why would he have premonitions about some random dude from Michigan.”

I rub my eyes, tiredness still trying to cling to me to the point of my eyes aching, “Yeah I don’t have an answer to that one.” Dean turns his gaze to his brother, silently asking him the same question, “I don’t know,” he answers. “Me neither,” Dean shrugs with one shoulder though it was more done to prove his point.

“Yes I’m here,” Sam says suddenly, pressing the phone closer to his ear. He goes silent, listening, then throws a glare at Dean and picks up his pen, “Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. ‘You have a street address?… Got it. Thanks.” He moves his phone away from him, clicking a button, most likely hanging up, “Checks out. How far are we?”

“From Saginaw? Coupla hours,” Dean answers. “Drive faster.”

The Impala cruises to a stop, Emergency vehicles lined up followed by two medical examiners pushing a stretcher with a body bag on it just being zippered. We were late and it was hard to know whether it was by a couple of minutes or hours, but it didn’t matter because we were late and someone was dead. 

We approach the crowd, a couple of neighbors dressed in their pajamas and a coat watching the scene from behind a line of caution tape. “What happened?” Dean asks a nearby woman. 

“Suicide,” she answers, “Can’t believe it.”

“Did you know them?” Sam questions, moving to the woman’s other side. 

She frowns, “‘Saw him every Sunday at St. Augustine’s,” she replies, oversharing to a couple of strangers but it was helpful so there was no way we would tell her to stop, “He always seems…seemed so normal. I guess you never know what’s going on behind closed doors.”

“Guess not,” Dean acknowledges, looking straight ahead.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say softly, maybe she didn’t know the guy so well but seeing him weekly still meant something. She nods in thanks. 

“How did…uhh” Sam stammers, “How are they saying it happened?” It was a total conversation turn but once more it was necessary. “I heard they found him in the garage, locked inside his car with the engine running,” she answers. Carbon dioxide poisoning from a car makes it hard for it to be an accident so of course the initial thought would be suicide and I doubt it would be easy to prove otherwise with a death like that. 

“Do you know about what time they found him,” Sam pushes and I hope she doesn’t think we’re being weird about this and asking a little too many questions. “Oh, ‘just happened about an hour or two ago,” she says. Frick, frick that wasn’t long ago at all. “His poor family,” she continues, “I can’t even imagine what they’re going through.” I follow her gaze to a woman standing on the front steps crying against a middle-aged man. A young distraught man stands behind them. I could imagine what they were feeling and it was horrible. Grief was not pretty and those feelings were even uglier, leaving a permanent mark on your heart. 

Someone tugs on my sweatshirt sleeve, I follow the motion watching Dean walk away following his brother who had stormed away. I follow them, making the quick walk to the Impala. 

“Sam we got here as fast as we could,” Dean reasons. 

“Not fast enough,” Sam shakes his head, a pained look painted on his face, “It doesn’t make any sense man. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn’t a chance I could stop them from happening.”

I bit my lips, thinking for a moment before speaking, “Maybe it wasn’t about him exactly, like maybe it’s bigger than that. Sometimes that happens, remember what I said about oneiromancy or using dreams to predict the future? Well sometimes it’s not so literal, sometimes it serves as a warning or pointing you in a specific direction for whatever reason. Now I know your whole thing is different and more detailed than that but do you get what I mean?”

He nods, clearly thinking it over. “I don’t know though, I’m no expert but I’m just tryna say to keep it in mind,” I add. He shakes his head and sighs, “So what do you think killed him?”

“Maybe the guy just killed himself?” Dean suggests, “Maybe there’s nothing supernatural going on at all.”

“Then why would he have such a vivid dream of just some random dude dying?” I point out, immediately realizing my contradiction. “I dunno,” Dean shrugs, “Maybe it’s like you said, it’s pointing to somethin’ else.”

“I watched it happen. He was murdered by something. I watched it trap him in the garage,” Sam explains.

“What was it, a spirit, poltergeist, what?” Dean asks in rapid succession. Sam huffs, “I don’t know what it was. I don’t know why I’m having these dreams, I don’t know what the hell is happening!” He was freaking out, totally and utterly freaking out and he had every right to be. “It’s alright Sam,” I say softly, “We’ll figure this out, I promise. ‘No matter how long it takes.”

He sighs, mumbling a “Thanks.” I couldn't imagine what he was feeling, I always knew who I was even if nobody else did. To know one thing your whole life just to be thrown onto a totally new path with no explanation must be terrifying. “What,” Sam says suddenly throwing a look at his brother who was just staring at him. Dean shrugs, “Nothing. I’m just, I’m worried about you man,” he confesses.

“Well don’t look at me like that!” Sam yells. Dean looks away, “I’m not looking at you like anything,” he retorts, glancing back, “Though I gotta say, you do look like crap.”

“Dean. Really?” I say.

“Nice. Thanks,” Sam replies, pursing his lips. With a small smile, Dean moves to the driver's side of the car, pulling the door open, “Come on, let’s just pick this up in the morning. We’ll check out the house, talk to the family.”

“Dean, you saw them, they’re devastated. They’re not going to want to talk to us,” Sam reasons. Dean pauses in thought, “Yeah, you’re right. But I think I know who they will talk to.”

I scoff, “Who?”

I pull open my motel door, the sun shining brightly behind the man in front of me highlighting his stunning green eyes. His arms are hidden behind his back, “What do you have there?” I ask, squinting at him suspiciously. “Oh, just a little somethin’” he smirks devilishly, gazing down at me. 

“You’re scaring me,” I admit, “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” he grins revealing what he was hiding. He holds up a rectangular Halloween costume bag, the classic orange logo on the top, and a blonde woman in a nun costume holding a ruler on the other side. I look between him and the bag his smile never leaving his face a mischievous sparkle in his eye, “Sam and I are going as Preiests so we need our nun,” he explains.

“Tell me you're joking,” I say blankly, my face falling.

“Not at all sweetheart.”

I huff a laugh, pointing at the bag, “I’m not wearing that.”

“You gotta,” he replies.

“No offense to the nuns of the world, but I would rather be shot dead than wear that.”

“‘Cause it’s not cute?” Dean asks though it comes off more like a statement as he knows my answer. “Yes,” I answer flatly, “I’m not wearing that.”

“Maybe I shoulda picked up the slutty one,” he retorts, thinking he got me there. I cross my arms across my chest, wetting my lips, “You should’ve, ‘be good for Halloween,” I counter. Checkmate. He drags his eyes across my frame. my face heats up, “While I’d love to see to that, Halloween is months away and you’re being ridiculous.”

“Still not wearing it,” I say as sternly as I can manage, which isn’t very considering my mind trying to compute what he said. “Come on,” he grumbles, “what am I gonn’ do with a nun costume now?” He pushes past me, stepping deeper into the room. I close the door, turning around, “I don't know, return it? Or use it for one of your one-night stands, I’m sure you’ll find someone kinky enough.”

He looks at me blankly, deadpanning, “You’re wearing it.”

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes”

“I’ll just sit this one out, wait in the car or something ‘till you’re done,” I say.

“You’re wearing it,” he repeats.

“No”

“Yes”

“You’re not winning this one!” I throw my hands up.

“Y/N come on!”

“No!”

He groans, annoyed, “If you wear it I’ll buy you whatever book you want.”

Oh. I mean it’s only a couple of minutes of embarrassment and ugly clothing, “Okay, deal. Fine.” His wide grin returns, he throws the bag at me and I catch it, looking down at it with disgust. “‘Not gonna bite sweetheart,” Dean says as he heads out. 

“Yeah, but I might,” I mumble.

I fixed the Coif on my head for the hundredth time, I should’ve put more bobby pins in my hair. God. How did Nuns wear these? It just digs into your scalp and the most hair you could show was just the very top, probably about three inches, the rest of your hair was hidden along with your ears. It was the least cute or sexy thing to ever exist, faces were not being framed. 

“Quit poutin’, you're supposed to be a Nun, be happy,” Dean comments as he rounds the car.

“I look like I'm going to burn myself at the stake,” I huff.

Sam laughs, having to bite back the noise. “You look fine,” Dean says. I look down at myself, the long black dress covering everything down at my ankles and a strange-looking white squared bib thing around my neck, “Who are you lying to right now!” 

Dean huffs frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“At least you guys look good, like really good,” I say maybe a little too honestly. Sam had his hair all jelled back in a cute little hairdo, he was quite adorable. And on the other side, it really must have been the all-black attire, forget about the clerical cuff and that damn silver ring on his finger that made Dean look so good. Otherwise, there was something deeply wrong with me and I’d have to reevaluate my life, ‘cause there should be no reason for a “Priest” to look so damn fine. Lord, I need help. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” Dean declares. He leads the way crossing the street and walking right up the porch, he rings the doorbell that silver ring glinting in the light. Sam sighs, “This has gotta be a whole new low for us.”

“Amen,” I mumble.

The door opens slowly and I throw away my pout replacing it with a kind smile. The older man from yesterday stands at the door, blocking our view of the rest of the house. Now that it wasn’t dark out and I was far closer, I was able to take note of him: a round-faced man with dark eyebrows and a sort of buzzcut.“Good afternoon,” Dean starts, “I’m Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley, and this is Sister Kathern We’re new junior priests over at St Augustine's. May we come in?”

The man nods, stepping aside. “Thanks,” Dean says entering first. I give the man a polite nod, “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“It’s in difficult times like these when the Lord’s guidance is most needed,” Dean adds.

“Look, you wanna pitch your whole ‘Lord has a plan’ thing? Fine. Just don’t pitch it to me. My brother’s dead,” the man spits, his face wobbling with choked emotion. An older blonde woman appears, her soft hair only reaching her shoulders, her eyes etched in sadness, “Roger. Please!” she lectures. Roger moves away, escaping to some other part of the house, “Excuse me.”

“I’m sorry about my brother-in-law. He’s…he’s just so upset about Jim’s death,” she explains.

“You don’t have to apologize, we completely understand. Everyone grieves differently,” I say sincerely. Her eyes soften, a sad smile on her face, “Would you like some coffee?”

“That would be great,” Dean answers.

****

I sit next to Sam on the loveseat, Dean beside him in an armchair. Ms. Miller pours coffee gently into a couple of little white mugs, she hands one to each of us, “It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now.”

“Of course. After all, we are all God’s children,” Dean replies smoothly, taking a sip of the black coffee. She stands up taking the coffee pot with her. Dean takes that opportunity to shove a bunch of cocktail sausages into his mouth, he was really taking advantage of her leaving food out on a little platter. “What?” he asks with a mouthful of food, responding to his brothers staring. “Just…tone it down a little bit, Father,” he responds.

Ms. Miller returns then, emptyhanded, she sits back down. Dean swallows his mouth full of food before talking again, “So Ms. Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?”

“Nothing like that,” she answers her eyes already tearing up, “We had our ups and downs like everyone but we were happy,” the tears run rapidly down her face, “I just don’t understand…how Jim could do something like this.”

“I’m so sorry you had to find him like that,” Sam replies sincerely. She wipes her tear-stained face, gesturing behind her, “Actually, our son Max, he was the one who found him.”

“Do you mind if maybe, I go talk to him?” Sam asks. 

“Oh thank you, Father,” she musters a sad smile. He rises, following the direction she pointed. 

“Ms.Miller you have a lovely home. How long have you lived here?” Dean inquires.

“We moved in about five years ago,” she answers. 

“The only problem with these old homes, ‘bet it gives you all kinds of headaches,” he comments. Her face washes over in confusion, “Like what?”

“Well, weird leaks, electrical shortages, odd settling noises at night,” he lists, “That kind of thing.”

She shakes her head, “No, nothing like that. It’s been perfect.”

“Huh,” Dean hums, “May I use your restroom?”

“Oh sure, it’s just up the stairs,” she says. He nods, rising and taking another cocktail sausage before leaving. Now I was left to fend for myself in a social situation I wasn't totally prepared for. What do I say? “Is there anything I could do for you that might make you feel better? I understand how hard it is now.”

She tears up again, “I don’t know.” I lean over placing a gentle hand on her arm, “It’s okay…it’s okay," I say softly.

I enter the boy's motel room, following Sam. We had just come back from researching about the Miller’s house. I close and lock the door behind me, so grateful that I had been out of that nun outfit for more than an hour. “What do you have?” Dean asks, his entire arsenal spread out around him as he sits on the edge of the bed cleaning a gun. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he works the weapons, I have to force my gaze away. Men should not be allowed to look good doing random tasks, it wasn’t fair.

“A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built,” Sam answers sinking onto his bed. 

“What about the land?” Dean questions further.

“Nope,” I say, “There were no battles or graveyards, it’s not tribal land and no kind of atrocities happened on or near the property.”

“Hey man I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfer scent. Nada,” Dean adds.

“And the family said everything was normal?” Sam checks.

“Well, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there you think somebody would have noticed something? I used the inferred thermal scanner man, and there was nothing,” Dean answers.

I sigh moving to sit at the end of Sam's bed, “Back to square one.”

“So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?” Sam questions.

“I dunno,” Dean answers truthfully, “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing supernatural about that house.”

Sam gets a pained look in his eyes, bringing his hand up to rub his temples, “Yeah. Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house,” he inhales sharply holding his head, “Maybe it’s just…Gosh,” he clutches his head, “... Maybe its connected to Jim in some other way?”

“Sammy you okay?” I ask, placing a careful hand on his bicep just as Dean says, “What’s wrong with you?” I throw him a sharp glare, way to word it. Sam makes strained pained noises, sinking to the floor, “My head.”

Dean practically jumps from his bed, “Sam? Hey,” he sinks right next to his brother in a crouch grabbing Sam’s arms, “Hey! What’s going on? Talk to me.”

I stand up concern running through my blood, “Sam! Come on!” I've never seen something like this before, it was completely foreign which only made it more terrifying. Dean throws a pleading look at me and I stand not knowing what to do, “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry.” He turns back to his brother, not saying anything as he holds on to him. 

Then, Sam slowly removes his hands from his head, focusing back on reality as he warns, “It’s happening again. Something’s gunna kill Roger Miller.”

My leg bounces in the back seat. once more we were running against an invisible and unknown clock, running to save someone with little to no information given. And once more Sams is on the phone trying to get information quickly that will help us, “Roger Miller. Uh no no, just the address, please. Ok, thanks.” He goes quiet with the information before hanging up and reciting it, “450 West Grove, Apartment 1120.”

“You ok?” Dean asks, eyeing his brother in quick succession.

“Yeah,” he answers in the least convincing tone possible.

“If you’re gunna hurl I’ll pull the car over you know, cause the upholstery…” Dean says, not really joking.

“I’m fine,” Sam answers still not convincingly enough.

“Alright,” Dean shrugs, dropping it.

“Just drive,” he says, looking away. He sighs, “Look, I’m scared, alright? These nightmares weren’t bad enough, now I’m seeing things when I’m awake? And it’s painful.” 

“Come on man, you’ll be all right. It’ll be fine,” Dean comforts in his own way. I wet my lips, choosing my words carefully, “Whatever these abilities are, they’re advancing which is why it’s breaching into day. And because it's leaning more toward psychic abilities it takes a great amount of will, and concentration, and puts a horrible strain on your mind which is why it's painful. But the more you work on it the better it’ll be.”

He turns around in the passenger seat, facing me, “You have telekinesis, right?” I nod, his eyebrows scrunch together, “It hurt when you were first started?”

“God, yes,” I laugh bittersweet, “It just requires so much focus, more so at first, that I had headaches constantly. I tried not to use too much Advil, but they were definitely making a profit off of me, that’s for sure.” He seems to consider the information, turning back in his seat, “Then what is it about the Millers? Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?!”

“I don’t know Sam but we’ll figure it out,” Dean answers, “We’ve faced the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing.”

Sam shakes his head, “No. It’s never been us. It’s never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can’t tell me this doesn’t freak you out, Dean.”

Dean looks straight out the windshield silently, he couldn’t lie because Sam and I both witnessed him freak out before over it. Of course, then we’d all been younger, and he lashed out at me and when he left he hadn’t talked to me or apologized for months, I think it was about five. These sorts of things do freak him out, and sometimes I think the things I’m capable of doing still scare him sometimes, and that's just with someone he's friends with. With his brother, that fear must be a million times worse. “This doesn’t freak me out,” he finally says, lying. 

****

The Impala pulls up across the street from Roger, who approaches his apartment's entrance with a bag of groceries in his hands. Sam rolls down the window swiftly yelling for the man, “Hey Roger.” The man turns around, the annoyance on his face clear as day, “What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone.”

I lean over rolling down the window opposite of where I sit, “Sir this has nothing to do with religion! Trust me.”

“Please,” Sam adds. But Roger is already gone, walking closer to his building. Suddenly the car jerks into motion the engine gunning as it makes a quick turn around, and with a bump Dean jumps the curve hurriedly parking as Sam jumps out running after the man, “Hey. Roger. We’re trying to help! Please! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.”

I get out of the vehicle, round the black car, and head to Sam’s side, Dean following. As Sam reaches the entrance, Roger closes the door behind him, “I don’t want your help.” He walks deeper into the building and in a last-ditch effort Sam yells, “We’re not priests or nuns, you gotta listen to us!”

“Roger, you’re in danger!” Dean yells after him. But of course he doesn't hear them or if he does he just ignores the warnings. God people are so stubborn. “Come on,” Dean suddenly says looking towards a back entrance, he leads the way as we run around the corner of the building to the back entrance, a door in the way. With a quick look around Dean steps back and kicks it open, the door bursts open with a crack. 

Sam jumps for the bottom ladder of the fire escape, using his tall frame to easily reach it, he pulls himself up and starts running for the stairs. Dean turns to me offering me a cupped hand, “You comin’?” he asks. I shake my head, pushing strands of hair behind my ear, “No you go, there isn't enough room for the three of us on that thing, you go. I’ll keep watch. He needs you.”

He looks me over, before nodding and jumping for the ladder, catching up to his brother swiftly. Against my better judgment instead of keeping watch, I look up at them, a hand blocking the sun as they make it up to the second floor. Then all of a sudden there's a heavy squeak and slide of a window followed by a wet squelching noise. Sam freezes, Dean sprints past him and stops looking down at something I can’t see from down here but even so, I know it is Roger’s severed head. 

****

“I’m telling you there was nothing there. No signs either, just like the Miller’s house,” Dean informs, once more the three of us in the car this time driving back to the motel. Sam squints his eyes, slightly, in focus, “I saw something, in the vision, Like a dark shape. Something was…something was stalking Roger.”

“Whatever it was, are you sure it’s not connected to their house?” Dean asks, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. 

“You know that argument doesn't really hold up anymore considering Roger died in his apartment,” I answer fidgeting with my fingers, “So it could be the family itself.”

“So you think, like a vengeful spirit?” Sam questions.

“Well yeah,” Dean responds, “There’s a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years.”

“Angiak. Banshees,” Sam lists out examples.

“Wouldn’t you have still picked up on something when you were snooping around?” I ask this time, looking up from my hands. “No, I was thinking somethin’ more like a curse,” Dean explains, “Maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse-worthy.”

Sam hums, adding to the working theory, “And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying…Hey, you think Max is danger?”

“Let’s figure it out before he is,” Dean remarks. Sam sighs, “Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people.”

“What’s that?” Dean asks.

“Both our families are cursed,” Sam says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. I frown, one because he feels that way and two because I dislike when people say that. Dean huffs, “Our family’s not cursed! We just…had our dark spots…”

“Our dark spots are…pretty dark,” Sam nods slowly. Dean eyes him, “You’re….dark.”

I scuff, “Well as dark as it was you don’t have to worry, curses aren’t real.”

Sam turns around in his seat, facing me, “You’re a witch and you don’t believe in curses?”

I tilt my head giving him a ‘really?’ look, “That’s not what I meant, of course those kinds of curses exist they are very real and palpable things,” I wet my lips, “What I meant is that this curse you suggest to be the reason why you suffered misfortune isn’t real and that goes for everybody. Bad things just happen. And I know you probably weren’t being too literal but still blaming bad things on curses doesn’t help you in the long run it just serves as an excuse for you not to face your problems and acknowledge the real issue.”

Sam looks at me with slightly wide eyes and when I look at Dean, his expression is more or less the same if not even more, “What?” I ask eyeing the two of them. Sam turns back around in his seat a small smirk on his face, Dean gives a little shrug, “Nothin’, just someone’s using their psychology degree.”

I snort, suddenly getting shy, “Shut up,” I mumble. The thing was I wasn’t using my psychology degree this was just me, not that I was embarrassed by my degree. I took education very seriously, especially college. So of course I wound up double majoring, one in criminal justice and the other in psychology, but could you blame a girl? Either way, I didn't like when people said things like that, blaming something on a force they didn’t understand and had no real play in any of it.

I pull down the sleeves of the black Nun dress, readjusting the material, “I hope you know this is another book,” I say closing the car door behind me. Dean seems to round the Impala quicker at that, “What?! No, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

I purse my lips, “Yes, but when we made that deal it was under the presumption that it would only happen once in this case. And yet, here we are again.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something more but his brother cuts him off, “Wait, you guys made a deal?”

I smile triumphantly, “Yup!”

Sam frowns a little pout to his lips, his puppy-dog eyes turned down, “Man,” he whines, “I should’ve made a deal.”

“You should’ve,” I respond, thinking for a moment, “You know what? I will extend my second book to you, you are now included!”

He shakes his head, “No Y/N it's okay, have your books.”

Now I shake my head, “No no I want to, nothing would bring me more joy than the three of us going to a bookstore, and while Dean impatiently waits for us and grumbles to himself we get to wreak havoc and choose books!” Sam smiles with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “That does sound like a good idea.”

“You’re an evil woman,” Dean grumbles.

I smile sweetly at him, “I prefer ‘wicked’ but I guess that’s close enough.”

He eyes me for a beat, tongue against cheek as if he is contemplating saying something but ultimately he looks away, “We’re meant to be checking in on Max.”

Oh, “Yeah,” I say leading the way. “See, this always happens,” he states, reaching my side in one stride.

“What happens?” Sam asks.

“Whenever you two are together we get nothing done,” he elaborates. I fake a hurt gasp, “That’s so not true!” I mean we could be annoying, sure, but that was our whole job especially since we’re younger siblings it’s just how it works. 

We reach the door and he knocks before anyone can say anything more on the topic. Instead of Ms. Miller answering the door her son, Max, does. He opens the door wider, “My Mom’s resting, she’s pretty wrecked.”

“Of course,” Dean nods, stepping deeper into the house.

“All these people kept coming with like, casseroles?” Max says, making small talk, “I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know 'cause nothing says I’m sorry like a tuna casserole.” I bite back my laugh, very poorly, he caught it giving a smile back to me and Sam who was also grinning at the joke. Max gestures to the seating area his mom put us just earlier today, and just like then we all take the same seats, but this time it's Max in front of us. 

A beat of silence goes on before Sam sighs, speaking softly he asks, “How ‘you holding up?”

His face drops a little, answering with a small, “Ok.”

“You’re Dad and your uncle were close,” Sam follows up, stating instead of asking.

He shrugs, “Yeah, I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little.”

“But not much lately?” Sam asks.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” he shifts in his seat, “We used to be neighbors when I was a kid before we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time.” 

“Right. So how was it in that house when you were a kid?” Sam questions further. 

“It was fine. Why?” Max answers, dismissively. He was uncomfortable, something about that old house made him uneasy. 

“All good memories? Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?” Dean asks this time, skepticism written in his voice. Max shakes his head, slight panic crawling in his irises, “What do yo…..why do you ask?”

I recognized that panic. Knew it well. I remember wearing it, how it crawled over my skin. “Don’t worry it’s just a question,” I nod, noting his behavior.

“No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy,” he replies suddenly more sure of his answer.

“Good. That’s good,” Dean answers, “Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off.”

Catching on Sam nods, “Right,” he looks back at Max, “thanks.”

Max eyes us, something between panic and questioning, “Yeah.”

****

We make it to the Imapla before debriefing, the panic in his eyes burning into my retinas. 

“No one’s family is totally normal and happy,” Dean starts, pointing out the faults of Max’s response, “See when he was talking about his old house?”

“He sounded scared,” Sam answers sadly.

A chill runs up my spine, “More than that, he was petrified. And I don’t think it has anything to do with the house…”

“Yeah, Max isn’t telling us everything,” Dean agrees, “I say we go find the old neighborhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers.”

I shift my footing, fixing my pants (which I was glad to be in again) as I watch the older man named Rob in front of us. “Have you lived in the neighborhood very long?” Sam asks him.

“Yeah, almost 20 years now. It’s nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy,” he answers and I can’t tell if he wants us to be interested or wishes to keep out outsiders. Maybe the earlier, he seems kind.

“No, no,” Sam smiles, “Actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street I believe.”

“Yeah, the Millers. They had a little boy called Max,” Dean adds.

“Yeah I remember,” he responds, “The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what’s this about, is that poor kid ok?” That makes me stumble over my thoughts, “He….um, I’m sorry why did you word it like that?”

Rob frowns, “Well in my life I’ve never seen a child treated like that. I mean I’d hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street, he was a mean drunk.” My skin curls up, my fears confirmed. My heart recoils, cowering away from the information and the thoughts. “He used to beat the tar outta Max. Bruises. Broke his arm two times that I know of,” Rob continued. 

I take a subconscious step backward. I don’t understand, if he knew why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he call the police?

“This was going on regularly?” Sam asks, his voice firm.

“Practically every day. In fact that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy but the worst part was the sepmother. She’d just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good.”

I suddenly feel nauseous. He was finally free now but that was too many years too late.

“Now you said stepmother,” Dean says for confirmation. How could he not be reacting to this information?

“I think his real mother died. Some sorta…accident. Car accident I think,” Rob answers.

Suddenly Sam clutches his head again, grimacing. Rob looks at him strangely, “Are you okay there?”

He winces, “Uh, yeah.” Dean holds the crook of his brother's arm, leading him away as he throws back a “Thanks for your time.”

I blink out of what feels like a daze, mustering a smile for the man, “Have a nice day,” I say before catching up to the boys. But my feet feel heavy, as if cylinder blocks had been tied to my ankles. My intestines seem to twist itself into a knot, wrapped around like a bow. I clutch my shirt where my stomach is, my heart seems to beat faster an unnerving feeling settling itself into the vessels. I could hardly focus on my tense body and anxious thoughts when Sam’s head lulls back, his eyes doing that thing where you can tell he isn’t here with us right now. He’s somewhere else, having a vision.

****

I want to curl into myself and shy away from the current case. But we were in the Impala driving back to the Millers house and Sam still had to tell us about his vision. “Max is doing it. Everything I’ve been seeing,” Sam reveals. I should be surprised but I’m not, maybe it’s because of the newfound information.

“You sure about this?” Dean asks, almost skeptical. 

“Yeah, I saw him,” he confirms.

“How is he doing it?” I ask carefully. 

“I think telekinesis,” Sam answers. 

“What so he’s psychic?” Dean questions, definitely skeptical.

“I didn’t even realize it but this whole time, he was there. He was outside the garage when his Dad died, he was in the apartment when his Uncle died,” Sam elaborates, “These visions, this whole time–I wasn’t connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. I guess—because we’re so alike?”

“What are you talking about? The dude’s nothing like you,” Dean responds firmly.

“Well,” Sam tries to reason, “We both have psychic abilities, we both…”

“Both what? Sam, Max is a monster, he’s already killed two people, now he’s gunning for a third,” Dean exclaims. This was all getting very complicated very fast. “He’s not a monster he’s a kid. It isn’t his fault, he’s a product of his messed up childhood,” I defend, my voice filled with perhaps a little too much emotion.

“With what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people? I’m sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it’s not that insane,” Sam adds, agreeing. I nod vigorously, it isn’t insane, not one bit.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t justify murdering your entire family!” Dean yells, his voice louder than needed.

“No of course not. But clearly, no one else was caring about him. No one made any effort to help him, not even the police! So you must understand why he felt like he needed to take justice into his own hands,” I argue. This was complicated, this was human. And humans, human feelings get messy very quickly.

“You're suggesting he's a necessary evil?” Dean counters, his voice gruff and on edge.

“Maybe, yeah,” I answer, crossing my arms across my chest. The car jerked right, driving up to the curb in front of the Miller’s house. “He’s no different from anything else we’ve hunted, all right? We gotta end him,” Dean lectured.

“We’re not going to kill Max,” Sam and I say at the same time, our voices overlapping. “He’s a kid!” I add.

“Then what?” Dean counters, “Hand him over to the cops and say ‘Lock him up officer; he kills with the power of his mind.’” 

I huff, “That’s not the point and you know it. We can talk him down, he isn’t a monster and I highly doubt he would kill just for fun. He’s angry and he’s hurt, he needs help. If we do that then we are just as bad as his uncle and his dad and the cops that refused to help.”

He shuts the engine off, pursing his lips and shaking his head, “All right fine. But I’m not letting him hurt anybody else.” Yet, despite his words he leans over to the glove compartment and pulls out a pistol. He glares at Sam as he gets out of the car. I catch his eyes, “Dean.” He looks at me, challenging me, before ultimately getting out and tucking the gun into the back of his pants. I roll my eyes, tongue in cheek, pissed. I get out of the car, joining the boys but not before slamming the car door behind me.

We run up the porch, Sam in the lead. He knocks on the door, and when no response comes he leans over the railing peeking in the window. He looks back at us and he does not have to say anything for us to know what was happening. Max was going to kill his Stepmother.

Without thinking any further, Dean raises his leg to kick the door in. I stop him, “Dude way to be inconspicuous. Let me.” He backs up a few steps, hands raised in defeat. I grasp the cold knob of the door, not needing to put much effort into getting the door unlocked. We rush into the kitchen, where Sam said Max would do it. Ms. Miller presses her back closer against the counters, her eyes wide and filled with tears and fear as she watches her son in front of her. Her eyes snap to us, “Fathers? Sister?” Ironically enough, we weren’t dressed up instead in normal clothes which I wasn’t sure if priests and nuns ever did. Max spins around, poorly concealing the large knife behind his back, his hair is a mess and his eyes match his stepmothers in fear after all he was caught. “What are you doing here?” he asks, afraid.

“Uhh, sorry to interrupt,” Dean answers awkwardly. 

“Max, can we, uh, can we talk to you outside for just one second?” Sam leads, fumbling for an excuse. He eyes us, he doesn’t trust us, “About what?”

“It’s….it’s private. I wouldn’t want to bother your mother with it,” Sam lies, “We won’t be long at all though, I promise” he says directing it to Ms.Miller. Max looks back at his stepmom and then at us, “Ok.”

“Great,” Sam smiles. 

We turn to leave, making it out of the kitchen and to the front door. Dean takes the lead with his hand grasping the doorknob, pulling it open he smiles back at Max awkwardly. Then all of a sudden the doorknob is pulled from his grasp and the door slams shut, followed by the dropping of all the blinds for each window. Impressive. I turn around swiftly watching Max as he backs up, “You’re not priests! Or a nun,” he yells. 

Dean draws his gun quickly, but without even moving a muscle Max uses his powers to pull the gun away, it slides across the floor and he crouches down to take it. He stands up tall, pointing the gun at us. Dean nudges me slightly behind him, I want to shove my way in front of him but he holds his arm out in front of me and I don’t feel the need to argue now of all times. Ms.Miller appears in the archway between where we are and the kitchen, “Max, what’s happening?”

“Shut up,” he bites.

“What are you doing?” she repeats, approaching carefully. Removing one hand from the gun he swings his arm towards her, using his power to send her flying back into the kitchen, she hits her head against the kitchen bench before sliding down to the floor. “I said shut up!” he yells at her unconscious figure. 

“Max calm down,” Sam says steadily, holding his hands up in defeat. 

“Who are you?” Max snaps.

“We just wanna talk,” Sam responds with instead. Max scuffs, “Yeah right, that’s right you bought this!” he motions with the weapon. Sam takes a careful step forward, “That was a mistake, all right? So was lying about who we were. But no more lying Max, okay? Just please, just hear me out.”

He eyes us carefully, “About what?”

“I saw you do it,” Sam explains, carefully, “I saw you kill your Dad and your Uncle before it happened.”

“What?” Max questions.

“I’m having visions Max, about you,” Sam elaborates.

“You’re crazy,” Maxx huffs.

“So what, you weren’t gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?” He challenges, taping his eye, “Right here? Is it that hard to believe Max, look what you can do. Max I was drawn here, all right? I think I’m here to help you.”

His hold on the gun tightens as fresh tears run down his face rapidly, “No one can help me.”

“That’s not true,” I say softly, “I know it feels that way now, and I’m sorry it does. But if anyone can help,” I look at Sam, “It’s him,” I look back at Max, “Please.”

Sam nods, wetting his lips, “Let me try. We’ll just talk, me and you. We’ll get Dean, Y/N, and Alice out of here.”

“Uh-huh. No way,” Dean intervenes. The chandelier above us rattles, “Nobody leaves this house!” Max yells. I want to cut in, I could contain him in a matter of seconds a minute at best. He was skilled, but I certainly knew more than he did. Yet I know I can’t do anything, he’s scared so rushing him with my abilities won’t help. Treating him like a monster won’t help. 

“And nobody has to, all right? They’ll just…they’ll just go upstairs,” Sam reasons, but the light fixture continues to rattle.

“Sam, I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Dean mutters.

“Yes, you are,” Sam answers firmly, “Look, Max. You’re in charge here, all right, we know that. No one's going to do anything that you don’t want to do but I’m talking five minutes here man.”

“Sam!” Dean intervenes again. I place a hand on his upper arm, gaining his attention fast and without words, not wanting to scare Max off, I give him a look and a nod silently telling him that his brother will be okay and that he can handle himself. His lip twitches as if he’s fitting off a scowl.

“Five minutes?” Max asks, the chandelier stops shaking, “Go” he nods to his stepmother.

I walk carefully behind Dean, waiting for him as he picks up Ms. Miller, I lead the way up the wooden stairs entering the master bedroom. Dean lays her down carefully, and I find the bathroom attached to the room. I quickly go through the drawers finding a small washcloth, carefully I wet it and ring it out before walking back into the bedroom to find Dean pacing the room, hand by his face. I approach him carefully, he stops his pacing when I step in front of him but worry is written clearly in his eyes, and in the way he hasn’t stopped biting his thumbs nailbed, a habit he exhibited only when he was worried about Sammy. 

I raise my free hand to him, pulling it away from his mouth, “He’ll be okay, he knows what he's doing.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything as he takes the washcloth from me before moving past me, he crouches in front of Ms.Miller, lightly pressing the cloth to the small wound on her forehead. He was distracting himself.

I frown. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in his brother, he was just worried. For as much as this was for Sam it was nearly too much for Dean too, he might not be going through it but he was watching someone else navigate the messy plains of powers and the pain that came with it…that was scary. Especially since Dean has always taken his job as an older brother very seriously, doing anything and everything for him no matter the cost, he was meant to be his protector but with these newfound abilities Dean didn’t know how to help, how to protect his little brother– and that scared him.

I cross my arms across my chest, trying to think of what to say when I hear movement heading towards us. I turn towards the door, it creaks open slowly, Max’s figure standing right at the doorway the gun clutched in his hand at his side. I give him a questioning look, but his face is determined and there’s no Sam.

There’s no Sam.

Panic settles in my veins and before I can react Dean is standing in front of me, pushing me further behind him before he takes purposeful steps towards Max. The door slams shut and suddenly Dean goes flying left, barreling into the wall. Oh, two can play that game.

“Max!” Ms.Miller yells from behind me, having woken up in the short time her son arrived. Max points the gun at me with shaky hands, “Move,” he commands. I bring my powers forward, flicking it on, “Do you want to try?” I warn bitterly. He laughs, shaking, “Do you think you’re like me too?”

I assume Sam must have said something about that to him downstairs, “No,” I answer softly. He raises his other hand at me, flicking it to the left trying to send me flying too but I don’t budge. He looks confused and tries again but once more I don’t move. “Max please just put the gun down, this isn’t the way, I promise you,” I reason.

“You don’t get it!” he yells, shaking. I smile at him sadly, holding up my hands in defeat, “Dad drinks and he gets mean,” I say, “You think he doesn’t mean it, he’s just grieving. But it happens one too many times and you get scared.”

His resolve weakens and tears run down his face, “Your Dad?” He isn’t sure whether he should believe me or if I'm just lying to talk him down. I take a quick look over at Dean, who still lies on the floor looking at me with eyes wide, I never told him and I don’t think he ever knew.

I look back at Max, “Yes. My brother took most of it for me, but I reminded him too much of my mother and she was gone while I lived and that was not fair,” I swallow roughly, “I didn’t think he was capable. My mom loved him and he was never like that when she was around, but they did always say she softened him so maybe that’s why.”

“What did you do?” he asks, lowering the gun just a little. I go quiet and he does not like that, he raises the gun again, “Did you kill him?!” he screams.

I shake my head, “No. He managed that all by himself, he grew very careless.”

His eyes scrunch together in confusion, “Did you want to?”

I shake my head again, “No, I didn’t want to be like him. Didn’t want to stoop to his level. My brother though…he, um, I think he wanted to. But he didn’t. When he died, I didn’t cry at his funeral, I wasn’t as sad as I knew I should’ve been, and that alone makes me feel so guilty…” I take a careful deep breath trying to blink away the tears, “Please put the gun down, I know you're angry, you have every right to be. And I know you’re scared but doing this. It won’t help.”

“How do you know!” he screams, his face red, but it comes out weak.

“He’s dead and I’m still scared sometimes,” I admit out loud for the first time, tears slipping down my cheeks as my powers revert to it’s resting stage, “I think I hear his voice or that I see him in a crowd, and I know it’s not really him. But my heart picks up and I think he’s there, and I know what that means and I get scared.”

He looks at me, really looks at me and it is like looking in a mirror, our pain reflecting in each other. He lets go of the gun, but it doesn’t hit the floor instead it floats in front of him, “I’m not you, I won’t sit back and take it. She has to die, they all had to.”

His words feel like a stab to my hurt but I ignore them, “No, Max, please. It won’t help.” I don’t look away from him but even so, I hear Dean standing up and I can feel him getting closer. He puts himself in front of me again, I try to get him behind me, a gun wouldn’t exactly kill me, but he looks down at me his green eyes hard. He moves me behind him, looking back at Max, “You wanna kill her you gotta go through me first.” 

“Fine,” he says. Just as the door busts open, Sam comes barreling in, “No don’t! Don’t! Please. Please,” Sam begs, “Max. Max. We can help you. All right.”

I move away from Dean despite the arm that he holds out to stop me from getting closer. Max is shaking, and sweaty, and tears run down his face rapidly. He looks at Sam with anguish, then his gaze turns to me eyes filled with a familiar pain. But his shoulders suddenly drop, and his face clears, “You’re right. It won’t stop.”

The floating gun points at himself. A loud bang rings in the room. Bits of blood splatter on my face. His body crumbles to the floor, a hole in his head.

I stare blankly at a spot on the floor, a small swirl in the wooden floors. Sirens whirl just outside, and cops stand all around us. His body was brought out in a bag. Yellow caution tape sections off parts of the house. Something light was placed in my hand, something to clean the…

Muffled voices sing near me.

He’s dead. I couldn’t convince him, if anything I made it worse. I should’ve said it gets better because it does and it’s not that common that I get scared, I can’t. Not with this job. But I didn’t want to lie and I made it worse.

I feel sick. 

I couldn’t help.

He didn’t want to be like me. He’s dead.

He didn’t want to be like me and I didn’t want to be my father and he’s dead. They are both dead and I live.

I live and Dad would say it’s not fair. He’s dead. 

A familiar hand nudges me forward, I walk automatically without hearing the voices. Something about…

He’s dead.

The car door opens and I sit inside, automatically putting the seat belt on. Someone says something and the door closes, voices say something outside, and then doors open and close. The car moves forward, the sirens get further away. Eyes look at me and I look at him.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

His body floats away as it burns like a Viking. He hugs me closer to him and we do not cry. We are free sometimes.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

He said it won't stop and there’s a bang.

#supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #the hunter and the witch update #slow burn #john winchester #dean winchester x witch reader #the hunter and the witch #angst #sad reader #dean winchester x f!reader #dean winchester x reader series #dean winchester x you #banter #flirting #dean winchester flirting #dean winchester banter #sam and dean #dean winchester as a priest #dean winchester being sexy

[annawayne]

TOP 10 favourite AA fanfics?

Hello!

Thank you for asking me too, since I saw the answers from the dear comrades in AA fandom, and I'm very touched you also asked me. Thank you!

As for TOP, it's going to be my subjective taste and, sorry, more than 10, so without further do, in no particular order:

The whole AruAni in Fort Salta, with the leading role of Village By The End of The World by @moonspirit. The true treasure for the AruAni fandom, but, in my opinion, even for the whole AoT fandom as an incredible and impressive post-canon tale.

Phenomenally written with complex, layered narration and excellent character analysis and exploration of various topics - outside and inside, past and present, and the sheer beauty of human lives with all the struggles, traumas and nightmares, tangled with the incredible moments of mundane and peaceful life. This story makes you love this life and see the beauty in the smallest of things - both the characters and the readers.

(but honestly, read all Moon's works)

Black Water and the whole collection by @distortedclouds

A very precise dive into Annie's (and Armin's) relationships through the lens of the family - Annie's father and the one Armin and Annie try to build on their own. It's a fresh and solid exploration with a fantastic character analysis without any restrictions - raw and honest, in all glory. Fantastic style, impressive depths, and a story that leaves a huge impact.

Little Bird by @aquietjune is, perhaps, one of the best Annie-centric fics ever written with a unique post-canon setting and a very sharp, in the most wonderful ways, writing style, that immediately steals you away from this world, and you're caught hostage by June's imagination and mysteries.

Legends by @mimiwrites2000 is an impressive, emotional rollercoaster of canon-divergence with heart-wrenching twists and a beautiful writing style that makes you feel longing for something that you don't even know a name. I would describe this fic as "bittersweet nostalgia".

(just like with Clouds and Moon, go and read everything, honestly)

By Each Crime and Kindness (I'm bound to you) by @aruanimess, in my opinion, is one of the best Cadets AruAni stories I've ever read - the story holds the tense melancholy of the canon with the bittersweet moments of adolescence which was forced to live and to love in their cruel world. But the world is also beautiful, and, I suppose, this is exactly what this story is about.

on the path that led me to you by @the-last-thread-of-my-sanity is another perfect example of one of the best Cadest AruAni fics, in my opinion. Very honest, and fragile, just like the first love and the first leaves in the spring, story, that, however, holds a very deep analysis of AruAni moments during their time as Cadets - and what lies beneath the surface.

The Difference Between Us by @/BreakingSanity - maybe, the most unique AruAni fic ever written. I mean, where else would you find Human!Annie and... Tiny!Annie 4 inches tall romance with unique, complex story-building and universe, plot twists and a lot, a lot of emotions? The story hooked you just from the very first chapter.

Wait By The Ocean by @/SirCookieton is absolutely stellar exploration of the grief and denial, love and hope, that is already doomed from the start, but the sheer longing, the raw emotions that etched every word through the course of the story, leave huge scars in your heart as a reminder that, sometimes, the most difficult part is accepting the inevitable.

Nothing Sweeter Than You, A Perfect Love by @dude-why-3 are my personal favourites and the stories that are very dear to my heart. This is a magical tale of star-crossed lovers in a Romanian village, set in the 1950's, and these stories are a wonderful example of how to write romance stories in general. But let me also mention Who painted the sky? - a story that granted me an experience I never had, but it's so well-written, that it feels like I experienced something like this. It feels like a memory from a summer.

A Force To Be Reckoned by @luciensdefenseattorney a solid historical AU, with mysteries, tension and great background stories! And as for the similar vibe, I would also mention The Viscount and His Silent Ballerina by @/cherriesinmoonlight

These City Lights by @annieleonhardt was one of the first AruAni fics I ever read, and it's still one of my favourites, even if it's not finished. Silent movie director Armin and silent movie actress Annie, set in the early 1920's? Yes, please.

Tater Tots & Heavy Thoughts by Anonymous is still one of the most honest, of the most delicate stories I've ever read, written with a lot of care, attention and love for the details. This story had a huge impact on me, and it still has, so if you want to dive into a fantastic character study through the perspective of some very heavy topics which are explored with a lot of care - this story is exactly for this.

Coveted by @/honeyriot is a majestically written exploration of intimacy and how two ruined souls find solace in each other embrace. 11 chapters of sensuality, honesty, bravery and vulnerability.

On freer seas by @/astralcrow is a very solid Pirate AU, with incredible and stunning world-building, great character analysis and development, and the tension that don't leave you several weeks after you finish this mind-blowing story.

And, some incredible oneshots I really liked a lot:

Tangerine Skies and Muffled Cries by @midnightraine131

A River, An Ocean by @yourmaejesty

Dawn by @/aikrm

okay by @lunamoon1233

Deep Cuts by @dude-why-3

A glimpse of us. by @/Decoii

invisible strings by @diam-etrical

If our love is tragedy why are you my remedy? by @aruxani

But let me summarize that eveyone who creates in AA fandom is incredible, and I'm forever grateful for all the content we have in fandom.

You all are wonderful and thank you a lot!

#aruani #aruani fanfiction #aruani fanfic #aruani fic #arminarlert #annie leonhardt #annie leonhart #armin x annie #answered ask #ask

[hazbinswappedau]

Chapter One

✩░▒▓▆▅▃▂▁𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ▁▂▃▅▆▓▒░✩

*+:｡.｡Hazbin Hotel Swap Au｡.｡:+*

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"Charlie! I know.. I havent spent time with you- but please.. Y-your all I have left!" Lucifer stammered, reaching for Charlie as she stepped through the portal. Before it closed up, Charlie looked over her shoulder to laugh at her father- no. Lucifer. "Your pathetic, honestly. I should be ashamed to call you my father. Sinners cant be redeemed, Lucifer."

╭─〔❨✧✧❩〕─╮

Would you like to continue?

"Charlie! I know.. I havent spent time with you- but please.. Y-your all I have left!" Lucifer stammered, reaching for Charlie as she stepped through the portal. Before it closed up, Charlie looked over her shoulder to laugh at her father- no. Lucifer. "Your pathetic, honestly. I should be ashamed to call you my father. Sinners cant be redeemed, Lucifer." It pierced his heart like a knife. She spat out the words condescendingly, before continuing with, "Mom was right about you." Walking away, Lucifer watched as his own daughter left him like he was nothing. His own that he raised, the one he loved so dearly, the one he spent, and gave his life for.. Just to leave him. Lucifer felt his heart shatter into a million pieces, as his hands grabbed at the floor, the one where Charlie once stood. How he wished he never gave her that opportunity to meet with heaven, how he wished they never gave her the offer to stay in heaven. Lucifer broke out in sobs, clutching his heart as he fell to the ground. It hurt. He had nothing left. Noth-

"Luci? Where the fuck- what the hell are you doing now?" A cracked voice interrupt Lucifers trip down memory lane. Adam, former angel, now fallen angel muttered as he walked into Lucifers room. Yesterday was the extermination, and Lucifer gets reminded of Charlie everytime, the nightmare never ending and repeating like a mantra.. "Uhm, nothing. Im fine. Hows the hotel going?" Lucifer asked, remembering how he found Adam all bloody and scarred after an extermination. Lucifer had no clue what led Adam to fall.. And Adam would never say, but he's glad at least one person approves of his dreams that were crushed one too many times.

Lucifer never knew why Adam chose to support his dreams, but ever since Adam fell from heaven he was acting... Strange? Adam was still injured with his wings cut off and a broken arm. He wore a red suit which was all he could find at the moment to wear, in contrast to Charlie who mostly wore the color blue most of the time despite being in hell, she made it work.

"Oh. The hotel. Well... I guess they still need a little getting used to seeing more of me." Adam answered Lucifer while glancing around his room. The very room Charlie had spoke her final and harsh good-bye to Lucifer.

"It could be worse." Lucifer chuckled.

"You know Vox? Yeah the tall creepy radio demon guy?"

"What of him?"

"He visited the hotel a few hours ago."

"WHAT." Lucifer said in surprise, his voice raising.

"Yeah...." Adam nervously chuckled.

Adam fidgeted around a little before speaking once again.

"He... He... Asked to help me manage the hotel... And I y'know accepted his offer."

Lucifer was speechless. THE Radio demon was interested in the hotel? It seemed so unbelievable that he almost didn't believe Adam.

Lucifer took in a deep breath, his eyes clenched shut before he suddenly yelled out, "Why would you trust the radio demon?! Let alone a random sinner known for causing havoc!" Pacing around the room, his hands in his hair as he tugged on it in frustration. Adam scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, and gulped. "I mean, I never knew. Sorry dickbuddy."

Lucifer suddenly paused in his frantic panicking and stared at him with wide eyes. "Did you just call me- Nevermind.." He sighed, flopping down onto his bed face first and let out an exasperated groan. How could Adam be so naive to accept the RADIO DEMONS OFFER? When Adam least expects it, the sinner would probably turn against him! Lucifer starts breathing in a pattern, trying to calm himself as he straightens his clothes. Adam walked over to Lucifer, patting his back with a smile. "Cheer up dickbuddy! Come on, isnt this shit all about redemption? Give that fucker a chance!" Adam exclaimed, before taking an infuriatingly long sip of his drink that he was holding. Sighing, Lucifer sat up and rubbed his eyes as he gently shoved Adam aside. "Lets just get to business. This place looks shitty enough.."

As Lucifer walked into the Lobby, he was surprised to see Vox, the radio demon pop up right infront of him.

"Oh golly, is that the king of hell I see?" Vox tapped Lucifers head with his microphone, cackling very loudly. "And if it isnt it his majesty himself! Trying to fix his own mistakes, what a hilarious sight to see!"

Lucifer only rolled his eyes, glaring at the freakishly tall demon in front of him. "Your criticism isn't needed right now, demon. What do you want?"

"And your suspecting I want something? What do you take me for? Oh no dear, I'm just a business man helping out a poor angel in need.. Or should I say, fallens?" Vox started walking around the hotel, observing its fine details before suddenly fixing some small trinkets here and there, putting them to his taste. Lucifer, watching Vox do this, was obviously not pleased.

He stormed over to vox and pushed him. "Dont touch my rubber ducks, asshole." Lucifer hissed, putting the trinkets back to their original spot. Adam was watching the whole ordeal, feeling uncomfortable in this situation. After a bit of contemplating, Adam decided to step in and break them apart. "Anyway, sooo Vox.. Robo dick, yeah? Your tryna help me and Dickbuddy or somethin' right? So, whats your plan?" Adam said, laughing and elbowing Vox as he said 'Robo dick'. Vox narrowed his eyes at Adam and moved away, but still kept his professional composure.

"...Please do refrain from talking about my genitals when we are discussing business. Nonetheless, yes! I do have a plan!" As Vox said this, he snapped his fingers and the tension in the air seems to grow more mysterious.. Suddenly, an extremely tall moth appeared, holding a sex toy. Vox rolled his eyes, smacking the object out of the moths hand as he spoke. "Meet Valentino! He'll be taking over the convenience store!"

"Convenience store? We dont even ha-" Vox shushed Lucifer by putting a finger to his lips, and with a flick of his wrist, a tiny shop appeared inside of the hotel. It wasnt anything big, just sold some candy.. Snacks.. Drinks.. Condoms- Which is completely irrelevant. Lucifer was surely a wee bit amazed but didnt admit it, as he didnt want to feed Vox's already big enough ego. Of course Lucifer knew about demons like him! Greedy and selfish, only caring about themselves and their rise to fame.. He just wondered how Adam thinks this piece of trash is able to be redeemed. Sure, he loves the idea of redeeming sinners but him?! The radio demon?!

"Holy shit, robo dic- I mean Vox! That was fucking sick!" Adam praised, clapping his hands. Adam had a gleam of excitement, and he thought maybe, just maybe after accepting Vox's offer.. Everything will be working out! Which.. may be the case, or the exact opposite, and everything may start going down hill from here. But things couldn't get possibly worse... Right?

"I know, I am quite impressive.. Dare I say, even more impressive than his majesty?"

"Quit taunting me." Lucifer sighed and sat down on a nearby chair, crossing his legs. Hes already sick of the robotic demon.

Vox chuckled at the irritated Lucifer. To Vox, everything was all fun and games and he rarely took anything seriously. After scanning and examining the room once again, he noticed the dusty books that were sitting on the shelf. he swiped his finger on the dust of the shelf and with a disgusted face and wiped it on his shirt. "Ew, well looks like this hotel is in need of... A little cleaning session." He sighed.

With another snap of his fingers a girl with pigtails that almost reached the floor appeared. "Vox? What is it now?" The lady asked in an annoyed tone of voice, obviously and very clearly not wanting to be here. "Now now, don't speak to me like that." Vox replied giving the girl a warning glare. The girl groaned, looking around the room with distaste. Eyeing the entire place up and down, the girl walked around the lobby, beginning to judge every detail she doesnt approve of. "What is this? The 1900's? This hotel needs an honest big glow up." The lady trotted forward with strides and confidence as she started with her work, she went from rearranging things to ripping down the wallpaper, which left Adam and Lucifer absolutely flabbergasted.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING???" Adam yelled, leaning down to be face to face with Vox. Vox may be tall, but Adams taller. "Meet Velvette! She can be the hotel cleaner and renovator!" Vox said, almost ignoring the protests that Adam was yelling out to him. Before any further arguements could be made, the door slammed open to reveal the hotels very first guest, Molly.

You've reached the end of this chapter. Thanks for reading

*+:｡.｡★ written by mods Xyra and Shello

#*+:｡.｡★Xyra #*+:｡.｡★Shello #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin #fanfiction hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel swap au #hazbin swap au #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel charlie #charlie morningstar #hazbin charlie #fanfiction #fanfic #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox hazbin hotel #writing #fanfiction writing

[touyazbbygirl]

the lights in the Wind

Per requested here's part two. this is part one

Dabi x reader Happier ending? still bittersweet

talks of death, spoiler warning still and still not proof read so if there's typos my bad

A gasp was torn from your body as you shot up. Seeing Touya next you asleep his head resting against your shoulder, or was until you shot up from the nightmare that had infested your thoughts. Touya stirred a bit as he looked at you with a raised brow, “what’s wrong Doll?” He spoke voice gravelly from sleep. “J-Just a nightmare” You spoke, voice wobbling with each word. Taking in his appearance, hair still black he was perfectly fine. 

“We need.. we need to talk Touya..” His eye widened as he looked at you. “How.. did you?” He trailed off as he swore, damn dream walkers. “Listen I-“ he was cut off as you shook your head “No Touya you listen. You’re going to fucking die. You’re going to die and leave me because of your past.” You barked at him as he was taken a back by your outburst. They were talking about kidnapping a student from U.A. He didn’t think that taking the kid was going to cause him to end up in a grave. 

“Listen.. I don’t know how far this is.. but, you release a statement on live TV that you are Touya Todoroki. Outing yourself and your family about this. You have a DNA test to also show this.. and you fight both Shoto and your father.. you hurt Shoto really bad Touya.. I know.. I know you have your problems with your family but you’re going to end up dying. Not by them, but you.. you kill yourself Touya. Please, you need to promise me you won’t do this.” You looked at him with a teary expression as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your head to his chest. “How did you know..” You sniffled as he spoke looking up at him “I had a dream about it. Just now. I held you in my arms before.. the last time.. I felt you.. in my arms Touya.” He sighed deeply as he pulled you into his lap, rocking your frame in his arms as he pressed a kiss against your head. 

“Id rather you be locked up and having a hard time seeing you than never see you again. To never hear you calling me again.. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lost you, don’t you understand that Touya? You’re my everything, you saved me, I was about to die and there you were. I could still feel the warmth of your flames against my skin when you killed them. I know that guilt from killing them eats at you every single day. You’ve cried to me over it, I know it’s haunting, and Im sorry for that but Im not sorry for trying to save you. Please don’t go through with this. I don’t know If I could lose anyone else.” You confessed, words stern as the tears that you tried your hardest to keep at bay. Gripping the collar of his jacket tightly in your hands as he looked at you shocked. You had never taken such a tone with him, let alone been so aggressive before, not that he minded. 

“Listen doll-“ he was cut off again as you spoke again “Don’t Touya, I will kill you and bring you back to life to kill you again. It’s not happening do you understand me. I don’t care how badly you hate your family, I don’t want you to kill yourself. They already think you’re dead, is not that enough for you? Listen.. Im sure.. you have your own reasons Touya I do. But I can’t lose you.” You would say it as many times as you needed to get it through his head that you weren’t going to let him leave you for his own self fulfillment. “I will say, I do like the hair white too, I like the black.. but something the white makes you look like an angel.. you’re my angel Touya..” You sighed softly as you leaned down pressing your lips against his own. Cupping his cheeks stroking his skin with your thumbs “Listen Touya, I know youre hurt by your past, but right now, I need you to think about me and you. Do you love me?” 

Touya looked at you with a softened expression, cupping your cheek now. “I love you more than anything, I may have my own.. plans and self fulfillment for validation..” He sighed softly as he pressed a kiss against your head before leaning back against the couch. Bringing you with him as he rubbed your back tenderly, reassuringly. “I can maybe rethink my plan or think of another way to get back at my family.  Just.. won’t go too far. I don’t want to lose you either, you.. made me feel things that I never thought I would be able to feel. You made me realize that its not so bad to be around other let alone be alive. You.. have shown me that loving someone doesn’t have to hurt and love shouldn’t hurt. Ive been happy because of you, all those happy things that make me feel alive. Dreams.. that aren’t just dreams and having you stay by me.. I just want to make you smile, I just want to make you smile even through the tears. I never..” He trailed off trying to steady his breathing as he leaned his head back, the red blood filling his lash line. Sniffling as he pets your head gently fluttering his eyes shut. “I thought.. I was just some damaged goods, I thought that I was.. a lot of things but then you cried out for help that day.. you waltzed into my life and changed me, ripping my heart right out of my chest and held it captive ever sense.” His voice trembled before he sighed “When I feel you and hear your voice calling me when we first wake up.. fills me. With so much. I can’t.. when you say those words of love and when Im feeling insecure.. you know exactly what to say, where to touch, how to kiss me. I love you. I love you so much.” He felt your hand reaching up to his cheek, wiping away the blood stained tears. 

“Do you promise me?” You spoke softly as you stood on your knees, cupping his face in your hands his blues starring back at you. “I promise to keep going, just for you.” He spoke, a sniffle coming from the both of you as you pressed a kiss against his lips. 

That night the wind was as gentle as the gentle touches against each others skin. Whispering calls of each others names in words of affirmation. He was like the whispers in the wind, but at least he kept you by his side even on the stormiest of nights. 

tags: @artemida88929

#dabi x reader #Touya x reader #toya x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha dabi #dabi x reader smut #my hero academia x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #mha x you #mha angst #mha #bnha #mha fanart #boku no hero academia #bnha manga spoilers #my hero academia #bnha fanart #bnha spoilers #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto x reader fluff #shoto x reader smut #shoto torodoki #todoroki family #touya #todoroki #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki

[willboland]

A dumb little thing about who i think the f1 boys would main in overwatch based on my own perception of the idiots.

Max - Absolutely the annoying Genji main who spams I need healing but will also get a 5 stack on his own when he's on crit bc he's just that good.

Sergio - Mercy bc he'd just pocket Max all game and heal NO ONE else and get angry messages from the rest of the team about him not healing them. There's two healers for a reason in his eyes.

Carlos - Reinhardt but he's very chaotic and charges in swinging his hammer on his own and then kicks off when he immediately dies.

Charles - He'd play Echo and always flank the enemy healers when they were out of position so the rest of his squad can capitalise on capturing the point.

Lewis - Sombra bc he loves hacking everyone and pissing them off and then just yeeting out of there with his translocator. Absolutely stands invisible next to the enemy team spamming boop

George - He'd be that annoying Lucio that just wall rides everywhere and boops everyone off the side of the map and then do the dj emote he paid 8 quid for.

Lando - Widowmaker for sure. He's got a really good shot on him and would terrorise the poor enemy Mercy and snipe them out of spawn all the time.

Oscar - Junker Queen. Half bc she's an aussie and half bc no one else will play a tank. He only hopped on the game one time with Lando and now he's 400 hours deep.

Daniel - I think he'd like Orisa. He's definitely played a few different tanks bc he hates playing healer and Lando and Max would always hog the dps roles.

Yuki - Definitely DVA. He loves getting play of the game with his DVA bombs that he definitely just yeets into the enemy team and hopes to get a few kills.

Kevin - Torbjorn. He'd run around with his little hammer trolling his team and the enemy team and get no kills himself whilst his turret has 100.

Nico - Moira but a dps Moira. He hates playing healer but its the only role left so he picks the most dps healer and is a nightmare. Gets the most kills on the team and has 800 healing in a 10 minute match.

Esteban - Wrecking ball. He's actually good at him too but will still just swing around a point and keep hitting the enemy team off to stop them contesting.

Pierre - A really REALLY good Tracer. He jumps around everywhere and knows exactly which target to go for and when to back out and use his recall.

Zhou - Life weaver bc he isn't the best at aiming and wants to help the best he can so he plays healer. He's pretty good at prioritising his tank and other healer and lets the dps just do what they usually do.

Valtteri - Symmetra. Definitely spams the sentries outside of spawn so the squishes will just instantly die and the team gets staggered. Actually pretty good and skilled with her.

Lance - Junkrat bc he's annoying af and he loves just standing behind a wall spamming his bombs into the air in the hopes he might kill someone. Would only end up with like 3 kills too.

Fernando - Mauga. Man's a machine and so is Fernando. You know he loves terrorising tf out of the enemy team with his massive machine guns.

Alex - Reaper main through and through. He's really good too which makes it even more annoying bc he can wipe a full team on his own if he really tries. Definitely in a mini war with Max to get the most kills in a game.

Logan - Soldier 76 sorry not sorry. He's not very good at OW and is more of a COD boy so picks the most generic easy to play hero he can.

#this is so silly im sorry #max verstappen #sergio perez #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #lando norris #oscar piastri #george russell #lewis hamilton #daniel ricciardo #yuki tsunoda #valtteri bottas #zhou guanyu #logan sargeant #alex albon #nico hulkenberg #kevin magnussen #fernando alonso #lance stroll #pierre gasly #esteban ocon #f1 #mine

[sonarspace]

warmth, satoru gojo

a/n: a case of listening to don't let me go by CAS on repeat :D content: angsty wc: 440

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ��｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

"satoru," you whisper. the room lit by the full moon peeking through the curtains. he hums sleepily. "can you hold me" your voice quivering with so much emotion his eyes shoot open and he immediately wraps an around your waist.

your back to his chest. "don't let me go. stay with me. i've missed you, satoru." you cry into the pillows. he kisses you on your temple in return. "i'm here," he speaks into your hair.

you turn around in his arms. "so many years satoru. we wasted so many years" you speak through the tears. he doesn't speak, just keeps holding you. his hand moves under your shirt to comfort you. his cold hand against your warm skin.

"i know. i know. i'm sorry. i'm here now, aren't i?" he smiles. beautiful smile. oh how you miss his beautiful smile and that mouth that spoke sweet words like honey. only reserved for your ears. the mouth that left sweet kisses all over your skin.

"no." you speak into the empty room. and just like that satoru's ghost is gone. you curl further into your self and remember his words. when he held your hands with his bloodied ones. you remember how his warmth vanished and was replaced by unbearable cold. how his once blue gleaming eyes that could challenge the stars went blank.

you remember your youth with satoru. how easy it was when you didn't have to worry about anything. everything had to come to an end. no one else could share the love you had. a knock on the door brings you out of your thoughts and you quickly wipe your tears.

"come," and in walks your daughter. her hair white like satoru's, her eyes the exact shade of blue. she was a carbon copy of him. "had a nightmare, again." she hiccups.

"aw baby, come here." she runs into your arms. "i miss daddy," she whispers and your heart clenches. "me too, sweetie." you lay her on the bed next to you. "he's in a better place now" you smile. "he was in a lot of pain, baby. but he's okay now." wherever he was in the afterworld. you prayed and prayed he was okay.

"look, daddy sent the moon again." your daughter points at the window. "you think he's watching us?" she asks you with sweet innocence. "yeah. i think he is." you hold your daughter close to your chest. you fall asleep thinking of satoru and his warmth.

just as he promised, satoru watches you two from the afterworld. he lays down and wraps an around you both, hoping you could feel his warmth.

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

© SONARSPACE 2023 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

#✎ luna.writes #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk angst #jjk fic #jjk drabbles #jjk drabble #jjk satoru gojo #jjk gojo satoru #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fic #gojo satoru drabble #gojo satoru angst #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #gojo #gojo jjk #satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk x reader

[anon-sect]

As requested by @gangesqueen for a Part Two

Lial was in a sweaty prison around Trey, the team captain's waist. He could hear the team celebrate their victory on the bus ride home. He could even hear their coach joining in on the celebration. He so wanted to scream for help for the coach to convince the team captain to let him go. But as an article of clothing, he couldn't do anything but cradle the waistline of who wore him. The sweaty prison was a nightmare. He was completely saturated by Trey's sweat and started to smell like the musky odor he was attached to.

After a two hour drive back, Trey got to his car and drove home. It was then he realized the sentient underwear he was wearing. They were enjoying the celebration so much he had forgotten about the special trophy the losing team gifted them. "Sorry to say, but your old life is over, buddy. My team and I get to have all the fun with you." He gloated over his transformed underwear.

Once home, Trey decided to let his transformed underwear know just how much of an object he was. He got undressed with just only his underwear on. He went to his computer desk and put on a porn video. As the action in the video intensified, so did his dick. He stroke and stroked it through his underwear until his load spilled on the inside. The release felt so wonderful. He gained a sense of superiority as he saw the underwear front wet with hot cum. The thought that he just did that to a former human actually felt great to him.

Lial felt so disgusted at his face being rubbed around Trey's dick. Feeling the warm cum wet his face made his feelings even worse. The guy literally ejaculated in him as though he was a simple object, a simple article of clothing on his body. He no longer felt human anymore. "I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, underwear bitch. I think I will sleep in you as well. You need to truly realize what your teammates did to you." He heard Trey laugh at him. Trey took a shower and put him back on his body, much to his disagreement.

The next day, Lial found himself turned back human again. He still smelled horrible from the musk from being Trey's underwear. He looked up at another of Trey's teammates. "I want a pair of bitch socks, Trey" Antoine spoke to his team captain. Lial thought being underwear was bad enough, but being socks on the jock's feet didn't sound pleasant. "Please, just let me go, I promise I won't say a word about what you have done to me" Lial pleaded, only to see Trey flash a light at him from his TF phone. He didn't have a chance to say another word.

Antoine picked up the Nike socks off the floor. "You have him for one day, then another person gets to play with him next." Trey spoke as he left Lial with Antoine to use as he pleased. He really was looking forward to this. He quickly slips him on his feet. It felt wonderful on feet, unlike normal socks. The former human was super comfortable to wear. Antoine decided to go on a five-mile jog for good measure on the transformed human. He didn't even get the guy's name, but that really didn't matter. He was socks now and socks don't need to have a name.

Lial saw this new experience was far worse than being wrapped around Trey's waist. Each step brought on levels of pain he never thought was possible. He mentally screamed in agony as Antoine started his jog. The pain seemed never ending. The pain wasn't the only thing he had to contend with. The sneakers he was shoved in smelled so bad, he wished he could have passed out just so that he didn't have to smell the foul stench. He mentally begged that he was having a bad nightmare and could wake up from it. After twenty minutes, he saw his nightmarish hell go from bad to worse. He was now tasting the foot sweat that was saturating his sock bodies. Being a transformed object heighted his senses 500% beyond normal. Every smell, touch and taste made his hell a place of torment. The jog seemed never ending.

Antoine returned from his jog to relax. His feet didn't hurt one bit. In fact, they have never felt better. He knew it was all due to his current socks. He wanted to thank his socks for doing such a good job. He knew one special way to do just that. He took off one sock and placed it over his dick. While watching porn, he ejaculated in it for good pleasure. With the other sock, he used that to clean his dick off. He didn't formally thank his socks, because who really speaks to their socks as though it's a person.

For the next several months, Lial was treated to being an object for each member of the team as something that person wanted him to be. He had been shoes, socks, underwear, a dildo, a condom, insoles, boots. He just wanted his nightmare to end. He was finally given back to the team captain after everyone had their fun with him. He was so hoping he would at last be free. He found himself human once again, not sure what was going to happen next.

"I give you the option, I turn you into a permanent pair of Nike Air Jordans for my feet forever, or you can suck my cock and be set free afterwards. Your choice." Trey told Lial. What Lial didn't know was that Trey had a devious plan if he chose to suck his cock.

Lial saw this as his opportunity to return back to normal life, even if that meant he had to suck the jock's sausage to get it. He quickly put Trey's dick in his mouth and started sucking it. He wasn't paying any attention to what Trey was doing above him.

Trey had the setting on the TF phone and snapped his picture. Lial vanished before him. All that was left was an extra six inches to his dick. He laughed as he realized that the guy was permanently his cock now. There was no way to reverse what he had done to him. Yet, he didn't want to reverse it. The loser was given to his team, so they got to do whatever they wanted with him. He pulled up his underwear and pants, trapping his new cock in darkness. He promised he would give the guy some action soon enough. There would be plenty who would want to suck his new dick or an ass he could be shoved in. The thought of subjecting the former human to that made him laugh

Lial realized that Trey had lied to him as he now found himself as the man's dick. His fate was sealed; his humanity was permanently gone forever. He was now the jocks sex tool for the rest of his life. He could only weep and feel contempt for his former teammates, who put him in this predicament.

#inanimate transformation #transformed underwear #sock transformation #cock transformation #permanent transformation #tf story

[emxritus]

re: ur post about criticizing the wealth of the watcher boys and that they’re an “indie company” i agree that I always feel uncomfortable when ppl try and frame them as starving artists. Idc if they’re not millionaires, if they’re not the 1%, they (to ME) are still considered rich. (Also, indie doesn’t mean poor??? Just independent?? Plenty of “indie” companies are fucking rich okay guys?) like, teslas may be “more common” but it’s still a luxury car. The cost of buying, (even the cheapest) maintaining, insuring, and charging one is worth more money than I could fathom spending on a car. It’s a luxury that I (also an artist here!) could never even dream about affording as of now. Idc if they own a business and therefore the thousands they make doesn’t all go to their pockets. Their business = their responsibility to run it properly and finance it smartly. If you own a Tesla I consider you rich (and a bit out of touch if u wanna support musk financially but that’s a whole other can of worms) if you think a Tesla doesn’t make someone rich (even a little bit) I encourage you to examine the privilege it takes to own one and to have that perspective.

I won’t speak to moral standings or anything like that. From a pure money perspective, Teslas are a luxury. Hundred dollar designer bags are a treat many ppl would have to think VERY HARD ABOUT before purchasing. Buying those things without a thought is a privilege.

Sorry for this rant, I’m too scared to say this on my own blog, but I’ve appreciated a lot of your posts on this situation and I hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself!🥰

Absolutely, anon! You completely nailed it! Thank you for sharing, I'm glad to see others agreeing too because it is absolutely ridiculous to see the mental gymnastics people are going through on here to try and find a way to defend them or justify this all.

Ryan, Shane, Sara, and Steven, are all extremely privileged people who are not struggling for money in any sense of the word. They like to say and act as if they are, but they're not. Nobody struggling or level headed person would ever buy a Telsa and support the nightmare that is Elon. No struggling person would behave and guilt trip others this way, or manipulating their majority struggling fanbase and so arrogantly state that "6 dollars is nothing, you can pay it." No struggling person would sit and behave this way, engage in the lives and activities that they so casually do. They want to pull the whole "We are artists and need to be paid." Okay, I get that, and I agree that artists NEED to be paid, especially struggling ones, but the way they went about this is NOT it. And the fact they lied and acted as if they were barely hanging on and struggling, basically pretending to be poor, is extrenely tonedeaf. They also were and still likely are, getting a shit ton of money from patrons, ads, tours, merch, etc. As an actual struggling artist, it is offensive and pisses me off.

I'm well aware they've apologized, but IMO it doesn't truly fix anything. At the end of the day, they're rich and clueless to the privilege they hold, and that makes them both arrogant and dangerous.

#buzzfeed unsolved #watcher #shane and ryan #ryan bergara #shane madej #sara rubin #steven lim

[actuallyalright]

You Had A Bad Day

Frustration radiated off Gary Neville. Today was an absolute nightmare, the kind that made him want to scream and bawl his eyes out. He could almost picture the terrified look on Carragher's face if he did unleash those emotions, which would be the only silver lining to this whole mess. But Gary held it in. No screams, no tears. Just clenched fists buried deep in his pockets, eyes squeezed shut, and his head tilted back as if in silent prayer to the ceiling.

The thoughts in his head rattled around frantically, overwhelming him. He tries to focus on his breathing. A therapist of his had taught him about box breathing. Inhale for four, hold for four, exhale for four, hold for four – with each repetition,his body softens.

He feels a bit better. Until he opens his eyes and sees Carragher’s face, inches away from his own, looking at him curiously. Gary startles upright and screeches, “Dick!” Carragher smiles a little and takes a step back.

“You okay, mate?”, asks Carragher, his voice a little lower than it usually is. 

Gary nods in the affirmative. “All good,” he mutters.

Carragher's gaze lingers for a beat too long, silently scrutinizing him. Gary, desperate to deflect attention, fumbles for his phone and buries himself in composing an email, blinking back the traitorous tears that well up again. 

*

They walk out of their shared dressing room at Sky, towards the MNF studio and it’s the quietest walk they’ve ever shared. No last minute thoughts about the prepared pieces, or arguing over a silly detail, nothing. Carragher is all too aware of the silence but doesn’t break it. Gary, on the other hand, can’t hear the silence over the cacophony in his head. 

*

The show is going well, Gary thinks. Carragher does most of the talking. Roy does most of the glaring. Micah does most of the laughing. And Gary does most of the listening.  He can sense Carragher looking at him when Roy and Micah are talking and he doesn’t look back. He finds that he wants to close his eyes and look at the darkness behind his lids again. When it finally ends, he shakes everyone’s hands, and Dave gives him a funny look and tells him to, “stop working so hard”. 

Gary’s stomach churns. He smiles politely at Dave, anger beginning to simmer in his blood. 

A hand squeezes his shoulder and Gary turns to see Carragher by his side. “We’re headed to the pub. Roy’s buying!” 

Roy grunts a strange sound but doesn’t refute Carragher’s claim. The four of them walk towards the dressing rooms together, and the corridors echo with Micah’s booming voice drowning out all the other voices. Carragher walks in step with Gary, his hand still around Gary’s shoulder and Gary still wants to cry but doesn’t feel like screaming quite so much anymore.

* Gary is at home in his pajamas when he finally allows himself to cry. He turns on the television; an old cricket match, India versus Australia, fills the screen. Maybe the pub, with the camaraderie and distraction of his mates, wouldn't have been so bad after all. Maybe it would have distracted him. Nah. He would have probably depressed everyone. This was for the best. He lied to them but with good reason. 

“Sorry, I can’t ‘av drinks tonight – got the kids tonight, Emma’s got a thing and they’re staying over at mine.”

Nobody could argue with that. Although Carragher had looked at him as if he couldn’t believe his ears. Stupid scouser. He needed a drink.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself to the kitchen, the weight of his steps echoing in the quiet house. As he began to make himself a drink, the doorbell rang, shattering the fragile peace of his solitude. Irritation flared within him. Who could it be at this hour? Didn't people have any manners anymore?

Gary considers ignoring the doorbell, retreating further into his cocoon of misery. But curiosity gets the better of him. Who could possibly be knocking at his door at this hour? He opens the door and finds a silver haired scouser with a light smile on his lips. 

"Jamie?" Gary's voice wavered with surprise as Carragher breezed past him into the house.

"Kids in bed, then?" Carragher's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Gary’s ears turn pink and he begs his body not to betray him. “Yeah. I was just making meself a drink. What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d come give you a hand with the kids since Emma’s at her thing.” He looks at Gary evenly and Gary starts walking towards the kitchen again.

“All under control, Carragher. Maybe find some other kids to take care of?” 

Carragher chuckles, “You’re a terrible liar, you know?” 

Gary's cheeks burned. "What'll you have to drink?" he deflected, eager to change the subject.

“I’ll have what you’re having.” Gary now really wants to scream again. He mumbles under his breath and goes towards the fridge when he hears Jamie break out into hysterical giggles. “Is this your drink, mate? A h-h-h- hot chocolate?”

Even with his head stuck in the cold fridge, Gary can feel his face burning up again. He doesn’t respond and continues to move things around in the fridge. 

He feels himself being steered away from the fridge, a pair of hands gentle on his waist, the fridge door clicking shut softly behind him.

He makes another hot chocolate and hands it over to Jamie who accepts it with no further comments. They stand in the kitchen, the only sound the quiet clinking of spoons against ceramic.

Gary doesn’t know where it comes from and why he chooses that moment, but the words slip out of his mouth before he realises what he’s saying.

“I got asked to step down as Salford’s CEO today.”

Jamie’s hand, holding the mug, freezes mid-air.

“There was a board meeting and – “ Gary's voice cracks, choked by a sudden wave of emotion. He trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

In a heartbeat, Jamie is by his side, gently taking the drink from his hand and setting it down on the counter.

He pulls Gary into a hug and holds him tight, running a hand up and down Gary’s back.  A choked sob escapes Gary’s lips, quickly followed by another, and then another. Jamie rocks him gently. His lips brush against Gary’s temples, and his fingers find themselves drawing little circles at the back of Gary’s neck.

After a long moment, when the ragged gasps for breath subsided, Jamie pulled back slightly, his hands cupping Gary's face.  His eyes, usually filled with mischief, are now tender with an emotion Gary did not have guts to name.

"Alright, mate," Jamie says, his voice low and gentle.  "Let's hear what happened."

#carraville #gary neville #jamie carragher

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Spencer Reid x Autistic son reader

So sorry for taking so long to write this oneshot!

Requested by : Larri6ox

Request: Spencer is a dad to a 14 year old boy he is autistic and someone was stalking Spencer and yn one day after school he gets kidnapped Spencer was spiraling and the team searched for yn while that was going on yn was tied to a pole beaten and tasered it took the team 4 days to find yn Spencer ripped to the ropes off yn while the rest took down the unsub yn clung to his dad crying and overwhelmed he couldn't even speak Spencer comforted yn as the paramedics fixed him up yn slept in Spencer's arms when they got home yn was to scared to sleep by himself around 3 am yn woke up screaming from a nightmare Spencer woke up and held yn to comfort him yn was muttering about an accident Spencer got the hint that yn wet himself Spencer calms him down and helps yn get cleaned up they slept on the couch watching Tom and Jerry.

This is a long request, hope you like it.

Third person pov...

In the twilight's embrace, as the city buzzed with activity, a sinister plot unfolded, targeting an innocent youth named Y/N.

Y/N Reid was walking home from school when he found himself the unwilling target of a sinister stalker. Unbeknownst to him, a shadowy figure had been pursuing Special Agent Spencer Reid's beloved child, leaving Y/N vulnerable.

On that fateful day, as Y/N strolled home along the familiar path, a sudden chill ran down his spine.

A figure emerged from the darkness, his movements purposeful and menacing. Y/N's heart pounded with fear as he realized he was being followed.

Panic consumed him as he broke into a desperate run, his small legs carrying him as fast as he could.

But the unsub, his relentless pursuer, was closing in. The air grew thick with terror as Y/N's cries for help went unanswered. "Help me! Please!" He cries though knowone could hear him.

In a secluded alleyway, the unsub lay in wait. With a swift and ruthless move, he snatched Y/N and disappeared into the night.

Spencer, at his wits' end with worry, spiraled into a desperate search. The BAU team rallied around him, leaving no stone unturned.

Bound and helpless, he was tethered to a desolate pole, his body wracked with pain from relentless beatings and electric shocks. The cruel tormentors lingered nearby, their twisted minds devising further atrocities.

The unsub laughed as the boys screamed echoes through the dark warehouse.

The piercing screams of the taser echoed through the desolate space, leaving his body battered and broken. Fear gnawed at his soul as he endured unimaginable pain.

Y/N thought of his dad, he thought how he wouldn't give up on him, he knew he would save him he had too.

For days, the BAU searched tirelessly, their hearts heavy with each passing hour, Y/Ns absence tugged at their very souls. Especially Spencer, the man had forgot to sleep, eat.

He never left the bullpen he his only thought was Y/N, he had to find his son, then finally on the fourth day, a breakthrough emerged from the darkness. A tip led them to the warehouse where the H/C boy was being held captive.

With lightning speed, Spencer raced through the labyrinthine corridors, his determination fueled by the desperate hope of finding his child alive. As he burst into the warehouse, a sight met his eyes that sent shivers down his spine.

A pipe stood in the middle of the dark room, the smell was awful filled with sweat and dried blood. His eyes filled with anger. "Y/N!" He yells racing over to the likp body.

"Don't be dead don't be dead" he muttered as he neared the limp body of his Son.

Y/N was tied to the pole, his body bruised and battered, hung helpless from the pole. Spencer's heart shattered as he ripped the ropes from his son's frail body.

The boy fell limply into his Dad's arms, Spencer quickly covered the boy and held him tightly. "Shush shush its okay Baby, I'm here I'm here " he mumbled in the H/C hair dried blood stuck to the strands.

He held his son in his arms, the boy shaking as if it was winter, the agent could tell his was overwhelmed and didn't push him to talk only happy that he was alive.

As the boy was cut from his bonds the rest of the team swiftly apprehended the unsub, their rage a palpable force in the air.

Spencer held his precious boy close, offering him a safe haven from the nightmare he had endured, he continued to carry the boy out of the warehahouse and outside where the paramedics were waiting, they had been called before hand.

As they worked Spencer held his son, the boy had found solace in the gentle presence of his protector, grateful he was safe and finally not being hurt.

The warmth of his dad's arms and the gentle sway of their bodies brought a sense of serenity amidst the turmoil, he fell into the light sleep.

Back at home, it took Spencer a few hours to get the boy to sleep, Y/N had been on edge and awake for four days straight, but once he was asleep it was almost 1am, Spencer kept the door open slightly so he would hear if the boy had a nightmare.

The man situated himself in the living room, on the sofa he sat with a book in his hands, hearing any sounds that came from his son's room, he was ready to leap up and go to his son if he needed.

Hours later he awoke with a scream of pure anguish, A nightmare had gripped him, his body jerking and his voice filled with anguish as he whispered of an accident.

Tangled in his sheets he attempted to run but couldn't, bejng stuck reminded him of the ropes.

After hearing the scream Spencer had leaped from the sofa throwing his book away he ran to his Son room, throwing the door open he saw the boy was stuck, the covers had wrapped around his ankle.

Seeing the problem Spencer quickly unwrapped the blanket trapping the boy, leg now free Y/N woke up fully.

Looking around breathing heavy. "Daddy!" He cries hands out reaching for his Dad, Spencer quickly sat down next to the boy and pulled him into his arms.

"It's okay N/N, it's me its Dad" at that Y/N relaxed and slumped into the man's arms, Spencer rubbed his back before pulling the boy into his arms, appealing enought pressure that made Y/N feel safe.

After a few minutes Spencer tried to get Y/N to release him but the boy wouldn't budge. "Y/N, is something wrong?" He whispers, the boy nods his head. He mutters something into his Dad's shoudler.

The young Dr is confused before he sees the wet ost where his son was sleeping, he then realises, comforting the boy he clean up the remnants of his nightmare, changing his soiled clothes and tending to his shaken body.

Once he was done Y/N still wouldn't let go of him, realising he was still scared Spencer took him to the living room. He also grabbed numerous pillows and soft blankets for them and set them on the sofa.

As they settled back on the couch, Reid held Y/N close, his heart aching with both love and protectiveness, he put on Y/Ns favourite cartoon Tom and Jerry.

Together, they drifted off to sleep on the couch, Spencer laying his back to the arm of the sofa, on top rest his son tucked into his chest breathing normal, no longer shaking from the nightmare, the animated antics of Tom and Jerry providing a soothing backdrop to their weary minds.

The end!

Finished hoped you liked this oneshot so sorry for the wait, as usual sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes!

Requests are open!

Word count : 1365

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #x child reader #fluff and comfort #oneshot #light angst #x teen!reader #father son fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x son reader #x autistic reader #x autistic teen reader #kidnapping mention #bed wetting #trauma

[catgirlforeskin]

I have a fear that our time will be remembered as Golden Age of humanity, and justly so.

Sorry I am just too scared of future

By the end of the century we will see on a global scale what unfolded with the overthrow of French Algeria.

There will be an international Pied Noir settler class who bitch about how they can’t have a servant deliver them burger on DoorDash anymore and that they have to take the train instead of driving or flying everywhere, but these people will be widely mocked and ultimately defanged and forced to live normal lives with the rest of us

There will be great upheaval and it will be scary and by the time it’s over we’ll be laughing at the idea that anyone would think of the hegemonic nightmare machine built for alienation and destruction as anything but a gilded cage

#asks

[hlvrai-stuck-together]

He's late.

It's the big day, and he's already fucking it up. Awesome. Leave it to Gordon to continuously make everything harder for everyone around him.

Under stress, panicking, and annoyed to hell and back, he pushed the cart into the beam. As soon as the crystal touched the laser, it sparked, electricity zapping out across the large chamber. Smoke started to rise from the machine, and the creak of radiation filled the air.

Gordon took a few steps back, looking up at it in horror. Shit, they did it too fast, didn't they? They could hear their coworkers screaming behind them, but their attention was locked on the giant machine.

The security guard who'd followed him in suddenly vanished from his peripheral. Gordon looked away for just a moment to try and find him again- there! Standing on top of the platform where the controls were, there was the "non-human" guy who'd been following him all day. The radiation beams were shooting right next to him, ohh fuck he was going to die up there.

"Get off the top of the- you're gonna wanna be on the floor, what if the fuckin' rafters fall?!" they shouted up at him. "You gotta-"

With a flash of light, the test's sample started glowing an intense, neon green color, cutting Gordon off. He threw his hands up over his eyes, catching a glimpse of the chat as he did so. He couldn't make out any of the words, but he could see that people were speaking in all caps now. He yelled a swear at the pain.

He spun around to look at the window, shouting for help, only to watch helplessly as one of the other scientists overseeing the project launched himself down into the chamber. He shouted in fear, running around in panic before seemingly tripping over his own feet and knocking himself out on the floor.

The guard was just fuckin' gone by now. He must have gotten trapped in the beam or something, there was no way to tell and no time to find his body. The crystal started rocking in the cart, and with each shift there came another explosion, with atoms crashing into each other and splitting in ways that should not have been possible with humanity's current tools. Gordon could only look up at it, frozen in fear.

With one final shift of the crystal, it shattered. With it went the whole experiment, lighting the entire room up in harsh green. Gordon threw his hands up in front of him, screaming as his world was changed forever.

Then... nothing.

Gordon blinked a few times, looking around themself at the pitch blackness that had enveloped his world. He couldn't even see himself in it.

...Was he dead?

No, that couldn't have been right. He was still breathing, right? That had to count for something.

He squinted into the dark, trying to see anything. As his eyes adjusted, he swore he could see faint lines of green running lengthwise down his vision. Whether that was caused by the bright light of radiation or if that was actually SOMETHING, he couldn't tell yet.

He opened his mouth to yell, but instead of screaming out into the dark like he'd planned, he let out a simple, friendly greeting.

"Howdy."

No one answered him.

As his eyes continued to adjust, he began to make out what the lines were- numbers. They were lines and lines of numbers, wrapping all around him.

...Where was he?

"Howdy," he continued to call out. "Howdy. Howdy. Howdy. Howdy."

Still, no answer.

The world around him began to flash, green as the radiation from the test gone wrong. Gordon spun around, trying to find the source of it. The numbers lit up under the flashing lights- illuminated by shots of lightning- ones and zeros.

It was the same light from the Resonance Cascade. Aw fuck, was he still in the test chamber? Shit, he had to wake up, he was going to get hit.

He struggled to move, only to realize there was a pull on his arm. Looking towards it, he could see green strings attached, pulling him nowhere and in five different directions at once. It hurt, oh GOD it hurt, but no amount of pulling was freeing him. He pushed against it with his left hand, his free hand, and no avail. Nothing.

Before he could do much else, the strings yanked, and with this tug went his hand. He screamed in pain and surprise, everything going dark again, but only briefly.

He was in the garbage compactor. His hand was gone.

He wanted to stop, but something compelled him forward. He wanted to lay down and go back to sleep, but something wouldn't let him. He wanted to give up. Something in him made him grit his teeth.

He kept going through Black Mesa, lead on by Tommy this time. He wanted to collapse. Something forced his legs forward.

He kept getting kicked back down when he tried to climb out of the water, the clone's heels relentless. He yelled for Tommy, trying in vain to pull himself out. He only could with Tommy's help.

His friend was caught up in the tide of clones, too, and was quickly shoved away from Gordon. The shots from his gun continued to echo through the room, adding to Gordon's massive headache.

"I've unleashed the power of all 300 clones," Dr Coomer's voice boomed from somewhere. It was near impossible to tell if he was far away or close by with all the noise. Gordon's head swiveled quickly, trying to pinpoint where the hell he was.

"There's an entrance in your suit, Gordon, AND I WANT IN."

There! He was shoving his own clones aside, slowly making his way closer. He had the look of a crazed man about him, eyes too wide, grin too large. He was shaking, too, like he was high on adrenaline.

Green lines were starting to creep along the walls, down down down like a watercolor painting. Gordon squeezed their eyes shut, shouting Tommy's name.

He was backed into a corner, swarmed by clones as the real- main?- Coomer crept closer and closer. "I've been outside Black Mesa, Dr Freeman. There's nothing there. But you..." He shoved his way in front of Gordon, grabbing his stub of an arm. "I KNOW there's a world in your dreams, AND I NEED TO GO THERE."

Gordon screamed.

Berdey shot up, startled out of xeir nightmare. Fuck... nightmare. At least it wasn't real.

Just to be sure, they pinched themself. Yep. That hurt.

They flopped back down on the bed with a sigh. Gordon could never escape these, either- of COURSE Berdey would inherit them from him. Couldn't catch a break, in this life or the next.

It was still dark under the door, implying the darkness outside, too. Night. Well, they didn't wanna go back to sleep, not after that.

Looking at xeir left hand, they saw no new messages aside from the "goodnight"s that had been there before they drifted off.

They didn't wanna get up, but they also wanted to check on Coomer, just to make sure he was okay. Gordon had never managed to figure out what the fuck he'd meant by the whole "world in your dreams" thing. His dreams were a nightmare. Literally this time around. Why would Coomer want to go there?

It was anxiety talking. Coomer hadn't brought it up in a long time. Maybe he'd finally gotten over it. Besides, he didn't exactly want to see him right now.

With a sigh, he laid back down. It was gonna be a long night.

#st au #stuck together au #part 1 #part 1 story #nightmare #HOLY SHIT DAY ONE IS OVER *(falls over and explodes comedically)* #anyway HIIII #it's four am and i'm gonna sleep as soon as this is posted #BUT YEAH #sorry this took so long but i promise i am alive #but yeah! each day will end with a dream or a nightmare (unless specified otherwise) #i wanted this one to be more chaotic but it's about the themes and i honestly am ready for day 1 to be over so i can stop withholding info #lol #day 2 i have two events planned so i guess we'll see #anyway GOODNIGHT