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#I'll be rereading who knows how often
m1ssunderstanding · 1 year
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Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: The Beatles (Band) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney Characters: John Lennon, Paul McCartney, Denny Laine, Ringo Starr, Linda McCartney Additional Tags: Post Beatles break-up, Wings UK Tour 1979, Fix-It, POV Alternating, Pining, Jealousy, Eventual Smut, Eventual Fluff Summary:
During the Beatle years, John left a jumper at Paul's house, and Paul kept it and started to wear it. Now, in 1979, John sees a picture in a magazine of Denny Laine wearing the jumper. HIS jumper. John decides to go meet up with Wings to get it back.
No words for my love of this fic!!! I just finished it and it needed to be shared. Everyone should read this ASAP. 
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ddarker-dreams · 6 months
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Can you please rate the current husband rotation (scara,blade and chrollo) based on highest sex drive to lowest?
Btw i love your work your amazingggg <333333
thank you very much!!!!!!!! i'll throw gojo in there for good measure. whether anyone wants him, that's up for debate, but he's slapped into the mix now.
warning for not SFW beneath the cut, obviously, and afab reader. dubcon if you squint.
alright, so, this'll be ranked from 10 as the highest and 1 as the lowest.
scaramouche — 9.
it's bad. it's real bad. you weren't expecting it either. from what little scaramouche has allowed you to know about himself, you considered him the type to look down at sex as debased and pointless. this assessment of yours would've been accurate had you not been in the picture. sadly, you are very much in the picture, and it's a picture he'd stare at until his eyes ceased functioning.
he is clingy, he is needy, he is relentless. it's embarrassing and he'll never admit it, but he views sex as the ultimate connection lovers can experience. two becoming one. he places far more sentimentality on it than you'll ever be privy to. or so he'd like to think, because the tears he sheds into your neck as he enters you for the first time give him away. he'll hold you in an uncomfortably tight grip, almost in a trance. he's inside you, the closest anyone can physically get. sure, there's pleasure to be found, but that isn't the main allure. he can move forward and you'll gasp. pull back and feel how you squeeze him, as if you couldn't bear to let him go, not even for a second.
deep down, does he know this is an involuntary muscle spasm and not some long-awaited reciprocation of his awful love? yes, he knows. he ignores that rational explanation, as he so often does when you're involved. from the second his tip began pushing in, he knew he'd become addicted. for you to encourage him, declare your undying love between moans and gasps, reassure him that he's all you can ever think about.
he'd deliver the seven nations to your feet if it meant experiencing that.
if anyone were to interrupt his time with you, even if it's a report that the sky itself is cracking open, he'd kill them for the infraction.
basically, every second that passes without him being inside you further sours his mood. his underlings dread long missions away for this very reason. one of them made the mistake of consoling his lord that it's just a few more days until he can see you again. scaramouche ordered that his tongue be cut out for daring to speak your name. he's the only one who deserves the privilege. anyone else is entirely unworthy of the right.
when he comes back, you won't be leaving the bedroom for hours. he cannot detach himself from you. he's insatiable, utterly insatiable.
gojo — 8.
satoru thinks you're hot. like really hot. call-to-wake-you-up-at-four-in-the-morning-for-phone-sex hot. he cannot behave and he doesn't want to. if he's driving you somewhere, his hand is on your thigh. when you're taking an important phone call, his fingers will rub circles into your clit through your panties, no matter how desperately you try and shoo him off. the type to send you those memes that if he died in between your thighs, it'd be a happy death. he loves your body, how his name sounds when you sigh it, the scent of sweat on your skin, the taste of your favorite cocktail on your lips.
for as long as he can remember, he's never been the type to resist doing what he wants. he'll be late to meetings with the higher-ups because you fell asleep in his arms and he refused to wake you up. he'll tell a special grade curse he's fighting to wait a second because you sent him a cute text he wants to reread. should he notice someone checking you out, he'll appear beside them, praising their excellent taste. throw in a comment that they can have your phone number if they just approach you. then, every time they try, he'll warp them back a little further at a time.
this isn't to say no one is allowed to admire you, though. that wouldn't be fair. he likens it to if leonardo da vinci kept the mona lisa hidden in some dark, dusty corner. others can appreciate your beauty, so long as it's on his terms. poor nanami gets texted to pick between what dresses he should buy you, with the unnecessary addendum that 'it'll get ripped off at a later time wwww.' the very first time nanami heard gojo speak your name, he knew the strongest sorcerer was going to become infinitely more grating.
satoru just finds every second he spends with you worthwhile. whether it be the two of you lazing around in pajamas and watching a b-movie, or if you've been teasing him relentlessly all day, earning you a sleepless night. you're like air to him. there's something about being around you that has him hooked. which is why he never wants to put out that lovely flame burning within you. no, he stokes it, savors the burn that only you can leave on his skin. if you're his world, he has to be yours.
chrollo — 6.
you can call this man all sorts of negative labels and each one will apply. immoral? depraved? a murderer? all are perfectly true, he won't claim otherwise. from all the potential insults to sling his way, however, impatient can't be found among them. he's anything but that. his patience is impeccable. otherworldly, at times. he will sit there with a soft smile as you get upset in any manner you wish. he doesn't rush you or interrupt, you're allowed to get it out of your system. it's then that you realize the threat you're dealing with can't be properly understood.
from the list of real winners here, chrollo is the closest to being 'classy.' he holds doors open for you. takes your jacket off when you walk inside. pulls your chair out on dates. for anyone else, these acts would be hollow performances, but for you? oh, he adores every second. he wants to make your heart flutter. feel how your breath hitches as he clasps a necklace around your neck, the chain cold against your clammy skin. observe how your pupils dilate when he rolls his sleeves up to help cook, revealing toned arms.
he takes his time with you. would he love to bend you over and rail you against the nearest surface? absolutely. what he absolutely loves, though, is foreplay. testing how long an indulgent man such as himself can deny his base urges. chrollo wants to see the exact moment you realize that despite everything, you want him. you want him bad enough to discard your pride and accept the affections of someone you once called the devil. the thought alone makes him shudder with anticipation. it's how he maintains control when your skirt rides up or when you brush against him in your sleep.
eye contact is a must when you abandon your inhibitions and let him bed you. the expressions you make when his fingers curl against your walls, as he sinks into you for the first time, when you clench and come undone around him; everything is a delight that gives him such a rush. then there's your visage after you're done. how you wince when he pulls out, his cum seeping down your legs. it's like he can hear each neuron of yours firing away to form a rationalization for why you just let him fuck you.
he's patient, but that just means when he does get what he wants, he'll be starved for everything you can give.
blade — ???
blade either wants to go at it like rabbits or has the self-restraint of an ascetic who committed themselves to celibacy for life. there is no in-between.
his mara suggests that he break your legs and fuck you until eternity itself comes to an end. he possesses enough lucidity to realize he shouldn't do that, regardless of the tiny part of himself that coos over the idea. due to the extreme fantasies that'd cause you irreparable harm should he ever carry them out, blade shoves down his desire that's become intertwined with his mara. this works for a time. sure, you might be unnerved by how he's always staring at you, but at least the integrity of your legs is ensured. how romantic.
because truthfully, no matter how curt his words are or sharp his glare is when you test his patience, he likes you. it's such a childish sentiment that it makes him want to groan with embarrassment. he tried suffocating the budding attachment, going as far away from you as he could, only to come crawling back each time. what if you fell in love? what if you opened your legs for someone else? these fears grow to such a degree that it influences his swordplay. he may or may not have allowed his opponent to skewer his heart, to see if that'd get the traitorous organ to stop pounding away at the thought of you.
this cycle of denying himself of you -> returning with an intensified obsession carries over to his sex drive. even blade doesn't know what will tip him over. it could be you saying his name in a particularly cute voice, how you bite your lip while thinking about something, or just him getting a whiff of your shampoo as he walks by. the next thing he knows, he's throwing you over his shoulder and taking you to the closest bed. or couch. even a countertop will do. the abundance's curse on his body extends to his refractory period as well. he gets hard again almost immediately after he cums. especially because you'll be underneath him, out of breath, looking like you're meant to be ravished.
he'll do all the work, you don't have to move a muscle if you're too exhausted. he gives you his release in every way possible. inside you, on your chest, face, mouth, and inside your stomach from all the times you've swallowed his spend.
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keerysfreckles · 3 months
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Hey! Dan I request a Luke castellan x reader where reader is the daughter of hades and Luke has a crush on her? Though, reader has major trust issues, and often feels like she doesn’t belong on camp because people are either scared of her, or don’t like her (and soemthing shows that to her) because of how her father is viewed (negatively), so she’s pretty much alone. Especially since she has no siblings at camp, so it’s just lonely and cold in her cabin.
burn — luke castellan
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pairing: luke castellan x hades fem!reader
warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, angst at the end
a/n: rereading tlt and im giggling so hard BABY PERCABETH UGH
masterlist !
꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱
y/n l/n always felt like she didn't belong at camp half-blood. ever since she stepped foot into the idiotic summer camp, all eyes were on her. the campers, and even herself, could feel a negative aura around her. no one knew why.
until she got claimed by her father, hades.
y/n felt like a bigger outcast than before when a large black glowing scepter appeared above her head after fighting off a hellhound that got into the camp. as soon as she looked up and saw the message from her father, campers around her instantly backed up. the older ones had looks of disgust on their faces, while the younger ones seemed more scared of the girl.
the only camper who didn't view y/n differently was luke castellan. he believed the half-bloods were nothing like their godly parent, so why would his mind change for y/n?
cabin thirteen was off to the side of the rest. it made y/n feel like even more of an outcast, again. the walls, columns and roof were all black wood. they were fading and each corner had cobwebs. maybe y/n would finally feel at home once she stepped inside.
she was wrong.
the inside looked even sadder than the outside. there were six bunk beds, three on each side. y/n didn't know why. she knew she wouldn't be getting any siblings any time soon. the lighting in the cabin was grey, the dusted windows were barely letting in sunlight.
that night at dinner, y/n felt even worse. she sat at table thirteen, getting even more stares than normal. the only person who looked at her like a real human, was luke. his eyes were soft, while the other camper's eyes were still filled with fear.
luke stands from his table. all eyes drift towards him as he walks towards y/n's empty table. even her eyes follow him with worry.
"you know if you sit here it's practically suicide," y/n watches as luke sits across from her.
luke shrugs, "i know you're not as bad as everyone thinks you are."
luke saw the faintest smile appear over y/n's features.
"you know everyone's going to start some dumb rumor about you now, right? all because you're sitting by me," y/n messes with her half eaten mac and cheese on her plate.
"so i'll let them talk. they don't know the truth about you. they can start whatever rumors they want, but i'll know the real you," luke smiles.
"you're brave castellan, for thinking there might be a friendship here," y/n chuckles, gesturing between the two.
a small horn echoes through the outdoor mess hall. all the campers walk by the fire with their plates with their offering to the gods. no one dared to stand next to y/n at the fire, besides luke. the two kept brushing shoulders and if you squinted you'd see a blush forming on both camper's cheeks.
for once, y/n felt normal. she only felt normal when she was around luke. he stayed by her during archery lessons, and talked to her while they waites for their turn on the climbing wall.
the feeling didn't last long. y/n was walking back from the girl's shower room. it was late and she figured no one would be out of their cabins. she had her pajamas on, and her clothes from today and towel were in her hands. she was so close to getting back to her cabin, when her things fell out of her hands, right into the mud.
just as y/n thought her night couldn't get any worse, she heard clarisse and her goons laughing behind her. she turned and her suspicions were correct. clarisse was holding a bow and arrow. that had to be what knocked y/n's belongings onto the floor.
"clarisse can you please just leave me alone? i've had a long week," y/n pleads.
before clarisse can get a word out, luke's voice makes the camper's head turn.
"she asked you to leave, so leave before this gets ugly."
"oh no," clarisse taunts, "the daughter of hades can't even fight her own battles. pathetic."
"leave," luke's voice is stern as he's now standing in front of y/n.
clarisse finally does as she's told, with the ares' sisters following behind her.
luke guides y/n back to her cabin in silence. his hand never leaves her lower back, and y/n could've sworn she felt jolts of electricity flood her veins at his touch.
"are you okay?" luke asks y/n. she sits on her bed, rubbing her face.
"i don't know," y/n's honest.
"is there anything i can do to help?"
"i don't know luke!" y/n exclaims, "i don't know how you could possibly help me!" y/n stands and walks closer to luke, her voice raising with every word. "i've felt like a loner ever since i got here, and having hades and my freaking father doesn't help. i'm stuck in this stupid cabin, all alone with no one to talk to. no other campers besides you talk to me. chiron and mr. d both look at me like i had something to do with being hades' daughter."
y/n takes in a deep breath, "i'm just so sick of this."
she hides her face in her hands as she begins to cry. with no words luke steps forward and brings the poor girl into his arms. he rubs his hands up and down her back while resting his chin on the top of her head. she can't remember the last time she was held.
"i know it sucks for now, but i promise y/n, things will get better," luke's voice is calm compared to the girl's outburst she had moments ago.
"i promise," he whispers once more.
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exhaslo · 6 months
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Kinktober Day 25- Kakashi x Reader (Threesome)
*Requested by reader and honestly surprised I didn't think of this first ;) *
        It was another quiet day in the Hidden Leaf Village. Ever since the war officially ended, life had been nothing but peaceful. Everything was so chaotic before that you had a hard time confessing to your long time crush, Kakashi Hatake. You were a sensei like him; however, you trained late bloomers. The two of you often had lunch together whenever you could escape from your students. You finally confessed to Kakashi once the war was over and the village was almost rebuilt.
        You found it quite hilarious how different Kakashi was when you started dating. You always took him as a quiet, lazy, yet charming man who kept his nose in his book. Once you were dating, Kakashi revealed to be quite open and kinky. You fell into his trap the first time the two of you had sex. He was soft and gentle, then each time after that he kept trying new things. You were down for anything since you were head over heels for him.
"Didn't you read that three times already?" You asked, poking your head over Kakashi's shoulder.
"It's too good to not reread." He hummed, placing his book down, "Are you going to tell me to get back to work now too?"
"I was," You chuckled, sitting at his desk.
        When Kakashi became Hokage, he got a little more restless. He jokingly said that he was stressed from the job and needed to feel you, or that he was so tired that he wanted to stay home and fuck you. Each time made your heart race. This was the side of Kakashi that you only knew. It was your personal secret.
"You look like you have a lot of paperwork," You glanced at the pile on his desk, "I can make you your favorite tonight,"
"You treat me so well," Kakashi smiled under his mask, "I'll be sure to come home early,"
"You're going to skip out on paperwork again?" You said with a small laugh.
        Approaching your loving boyfriend, you pulled down his mask to steal a kiss. That face was only for you to see. Kakashi tried to hold you back, complaining about work. He was so cute. You patted his head and told him to finish so he can come home early. 
---------------
        As usual, Kakashi managed to sneak off from his Hokage job. He claimed that he managed to finish his work, but you were still doubting him. Either way, that was his problem. You happily gave Kakashi his meal, helping him hang up his Hokage cloak. As you ate your dinner with him, the two of you showered and sat in his living room, watching some television. Kakashi had his nose in his book while you leaned against his shoulder.
"So, what cheat did you do to finish your work early?" You asked. Kakashi glanced away from his book to you,
"I can show you,"
        Interested, you leaned back and watched as Kakashi did his shadow clone jutsu. You 'ah' in response, completely forgetting about that jutsu since you could not do it. Like you mentioned, it had been a good while since the war. Kakashi had no need to be fighting or using any jutsus. Unable to resist a laugh, you stared at the two Kakashi's.
"What a cheater," You smiled. Kakashi hummed, sitting beside you,
"You know, I just had an idea." He leaned towards your ear, nibbling against the lobe, "You can say no, but what if I-we had some fun tonight?" He whispered, motioning towards his shadow clone.
        You could feel the blood rush to your cheeks. Kakashi's clone sat on your opposite side, his hands stroking your body as your Kakashi kept kissing your neck. This was new and different. You gasped lowly as both Kakashi's brought their hands up your shirt. Your Kakashi brought your lips to his, kissing you lovingly while his clone sucked against your neck. Tingles were going off everywhere as excitement started to pool down to your panties.
        Your shirt disappeared in an instant. Both Kakashi's had your breasts in each of their mouths. You muffled a whimper, not used to this kind of stimulation. You gasped again as your Kakashi started to rub your clit while his clone kept stroking your sides. Your mind could not focus on any one of them. Your hips started to squirm, trying to free yourself from the pleasure. Kakashi chuckled towards your reaction and took your pants off. 
"You seem to be enjoying this," He hummed.
        You just pouted towards him, wanting to complain but his clone swallowed your complaints with a kiss. Kakashi brought his head to your wet pussy, licking and sucking against your sensitive bud. You tried to moan, but Kakashi's clone kept swallowing your kisses as he continued to play with your breasts. His fingers pinching your nipples causing your body to arch slightly. Kakashi's tongue roughly flicking your clit as his fingers teased your hole.
        You started to moan as Kakashi held down your hips. Kakashi chuckled lowly as he entered a finger into your drenched hole. His clone sucking against your neck as your moans grew louder. Kakashi kept pumping his fingers as he and his clone watched you fall apart. You arched your back, feeling yourself about to cum. Kakashi removed his fingers right when he was about to. Placing you on your knees, Kakashi hummed as he started to press his cock inside your folds.
"A-Ah~ Kakashi~" You moaned.
        Kakashi grunted as he inserted his whole dick inside your throbbing pussy. His clone pulling his pants down, placing his harden cock in front of you. Knowing where this was going, you opened your mouth, sucking against Kakashi's clone's dick. You muffled a moan as you tried to focus on one thing. Kakashi's dick filling you or his clone's dick in your mouth. Two holes being filled by his large member.
"You know the safe word," Kakashi hummed as he started to thrust into you.
        You eyes widen as both Kakashi's started to thrust their dicks into you. Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as the pleasure was starting to overwhelm you. Kakashi's dick pounding into your throbbing pussy, reading your orgasm fast. His clone' dick pushing deep against your throat. Your mind started to grow hazy as you focused on both of Kakashi's dicks ruining you.
        Your body trembled as you reached your first orgasm. Kakashi grunted as your pussy started to squeeze him even more. His grip against your waist tighten as he started to pound against your cunt. Each thrust of his dick, hitting your cervix. You could feel your arms grow weak as drool rolled down your lips. You sucked against his clone's dick, the pain numbing from him deep throating you.
"I want to hear you moan, so we'll help you," Kakashi grunted as his clone removed his dick from your mouth.
        You cried out a loud moan as Kakashi ripped another orgasm from you. He fasten his pace, slowing down to give you a fill of his cum. Your breathing was heavy as Kakashi pulled out. He moved away as his clone took over and entered your drenched hole. Another moan escaped your lips as Kakashi's clone started to pound your already bullied cunt.
"Are you okay?" Kakashi asked you, playing with your breasts as he kissed your face.
"Mhm~ Y-Yes...s'much...mhm m-more," You babbled, moaning loudly. Kakashi chuckled as you reached for his dick, stroking him as his clone started to thrust deeper into you, 
"Hn, you're too good to me," Kakashi hummed, throwing his head back as you started to suck him off.
        Kakashi's clone groaned as he fasten his pace, cumming inside you. You body shook as you moaned against Kakashi's dick. Kakashi held your hair, watching you bob your head against him as his clone continued to pound you. Your face getting more blissed out by the second. Kakashi watched your movements as you started to slow down. Your moans getting sloppy as you moved your hips. Kakashi lifted your head, kissing you gently as you cam again. His clone moaning as he gave you another fill of him.
        Letting his clone disappear, Kakashi placed you on his lap, thrusting inside you. You leaned against him, whimpering in pleasure as your pussy got devoured by his cock. Kakashi stroked your waist, watching you get more cock drunk. He groaned lowly as you kept squeezing the life out of his dick.
"Would now be a bad time...to hn...ask you to marry me?" He said with a low chuckle.
"Hah, ah~ K-Kakashi~" You began to shake as your vision blurred, "Yes! Yes!" You cried as you cam again.
        Kakashi held you as you collapsed on him, panting heavily. He gave you soft yet deep thrusts, wanting to chase his final high. Stroking your head, Kakashi huffed as he poured one last load of his cum inside your womb. Sighing heavily, Kakashi held you in his embrace,
"So, was that a yes to marrying me...or me fucking you?" He asked out of curiosity. You weakly laughed,
"Both," You replied, nuzzling into his chest, "Both."
        Kakashi smiled as he kissed your head. He carried you to the bathroom, ready to take another bath. You mewled in response, enjoying his lazy, yet caring attitude. 
"Kakashi,"
"Hm?" He hummed, holding you between his legs.
"This was the one thing I don't mind doing again."
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hollowed-theory-hall · 3 months
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Harry Potter is Actually Really Clever
So often, I feel like Harry is underrated in his own series and I want to talk about how much I love Harry James Potter. Harry is my favorite character in the books and I want to showcase some moments of Harry proving the Sorting Hat knew what it was talking about when it comes to Harry possibly doing well in Slytherin and even Ravenclaw.
(I have more moments listed in my notes, and I'm in book 6 in my current reread, so I definitely am not covering everything)
Let's start then with the words of the Sorting Hat itself:
“Hmm,” said a small voice in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, A my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting….So where shall I put you?” Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin. “Not Slytherin, eh?” said the small voice. “Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that
(Philosopher's Stone, page 88)
The Hat says Harry is brave enough for Gryffindor, clever enough and talented enough for Ravenclaw and has the ambition and thirst to prove himself for Slytherin. And the hat isn't wrong about it's assessment of Harry. Harry is clever and talented and I so often find it underplayed in fics, or ones that do include it, acting like it's fanon characterization when it's really isn't.
Harry Potter is canonically a BAMF.
So, here I'm going to talk about his cleverness and give some moments of Harry being clever from the books.
(I'll have a different post for his magical prowess.)
Harry Has Brilliant Memory
So, Harry James Potter practically has close to an eidetic memory, and no one really seems to mention it.
An eidetic memory is described as an almost perfect recollection of images or events. And Harry actually shows himself as being very capable of it:
Angelina: “…Harry, didn’t you do something to your glasses to stop the rain fogging them up when we played Hufflepuff in that storm?” “Hermione did it,” said Harry. He pulled out his wand, tapped his glasses and said, “Impervius!”
(Order of the Phoenix, page 379)
In thus scene its raining during a Quidditch match and Angelina asks Harry about a spell he used a year before. Harry remembered that moment, remembered Hermione was actually the one who cast the spell, a spell he himself never cast before this moment, and he then casts it perfectly from memory.
Harry remembers the incantation and wand movement perfectly enough to succeed on his first try.
Actually, almost every time we see him cast spells he gets the wand movement and incantation right on the first try (even his first attempt at a patronus worked, the happy memory just wasn't strong enough)
In general, they moments we see Harry fail at casting spells on the first try is when he overthinks it and fails himself like that.
Harry stared at the letters in brackets. Nvbl . . . that had to mean “nonverbal.” Harry rather doubted he would be able to bring off this particular spell; he was still having difficulty with nonverbal spells, something Snape had been quick to comment on in every D.A.D.A. class. On the other hand, the Prince had proved a much more effective teacher than Snape so far. Pointing his wand at nothing in particular, he gave it an upward flick and said Levicorpus! inside his head. “Aaaaaaaargh!”
(Half-Blood Prince, page 239)
Harry tends to fail potions, and nonverbal spells when Snape is breathing down on him expecting him to fail, though, in this example, the moment Harry feels he can succeed the spell and isn't overthinking it, he casts it perfectly and nonverbally on the first attempt.
He is the same with potions:
Snape, meanwhile, seemed to have decided to act as though Harry were invisible. Harry was, of course, well used to this tactic, as it was one of Uncle Vernon’s favorites, and on the whole was grateful he had to suffer nothing worse. In fact, compared to what he usually had to endure from Snape in the way of taunts and snide remarks, he found the new approach something of an improvement and was pleased to find that when left well alone, he was able to concoct an Invigoration Draught quite easily. At the end of the lesson he scooped some of the potion into a flask, corked it, and took it up to Snape’s desk for marking, feeling that he might at last have scraped an E.
(Order of the Phoenix, page 660)
When Snape wasn't breathing down his neck and stressing him, even without the Half-Blood Prince's superior instructions, Harry is good at potions. He accomplishes the potion to a level of Exceeding Expectations easily. The problem is never his skill, memory, or talent; usually, it's stress, being stuck in his own head, or carelessness (did anyone diagnose him with ADHD?)
Another example of his eidetic memory in OOP:
“Well, you know, they do work well on non-magical wounds,” said Hermione fairly. “I suppose something in that snake’s venom dissolves them or something. . . . I wonder where the tearoom is?” “Fifth floor,” said Harry, remembering the sign over the Welcome Witch’s desk.
(Order of the Phoenix, page 508)
When Harry describes St. Mongos for the first time (about a week before the above scene) he reads a sign that describes what is located in each floor of the hospital.
A week later, without reading that sign again, Harry can recall where the tea room is since he has that sign he read once a week ago, memorized.
Harry is Sneaky
Harry is a proper sneaky slythein and actually has more cunning moments than some slytherins in the books. Here are a few examples I have from my notes:
“Should call Filch, I should, if something’s a-creeping around unseen.” Harry had a sudden idea. “Peeves,” he said, in a hoarse whisper, “the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible.” Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock.
(Philosopher's Stone, page 197)
Harry is a good liar and scared of Peeves like this in his first year.
“…He likes to keep in touch with me, though . . . keep up with my news . . . check if I’m happy. . . .” And, grinning broadly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon’s face, Harry set off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.
(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 435)
But their attitude had changed since they had found out that Harry had a dangerous murderer for a godfather — for Harry had conveniently forgotten to tell them that Sirius was innocent.
(Goblet of Fire, page 24)
Again, Harry lying and tricking the Dursleys so they won't hurt him. Leveling Sirius as a threat against them.
“Not unless you can answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess — I let you pass. Answer wrongly — I attack. Remain silent — I will let you walk away from me unscathed.”
[the riddle and Harry thinking through it]
“Spy . . . er . . . spy . . . er . . .” said Harry, pacing up and down. “A creature I wouldn’t want to kiss . . . a spider!” The sphinx smiled more broadly. She got up, stretched her front legs, and then moved aside for him to pass. “Thanks!” said Harry, and, amazed at his own brilliance, he dashed forward.
(Goblet of Fire, page 629)
I skipped the sphinx's riddle, now the riddle isn't a hard one, but still, Harry isn't stupid. But he thinks he is. He even tells himself during that scene:
Harry’s stomach slipped several notches. It was Hermione who was good at this sort of thing, not him. He weighed his chances. If the riddle was too hard, he could keep silent, get away from the sphinx unharmed, and try and find an alternative route to the center.
(Goblet of Fire, 629)
But it's just Harry and his low self-esteem. He solves the riddle quickly thinking aloud near the Sphinx and he does solve it, and is amazed by it because he doesn't think of himself as smart, even though he is.
Most of the riddles to the Ravenclaw common room are probably along this line of difficulty too. It just goes to show he isn't stupid.
“There,” she said, handing it to him. “Drink it before it gets cold, won’t you? Well, now, Mr. Potter . . . I thought we ought to have a little chat, after the distressing events of last night.” He said nothing. She settled herself back into her seat and waited. When several long moments had passed in silence, she said gaily, “You’re not drinking up!” He raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody’s magical one, and it had just occurred to Harry what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy. “What’s the matter?” said Umbridge, who was still watching him. “Do you want sugar?” “No,” said Harry. He raised the cup to his lips again and pretended to take a sip, though keeping his mouth tightly closed. Umbridge’s smile widened. “Good,” she whispered. “Very good. Now then . . .” She leaned forward a little. “Where is Albus Dumbledore?” “No idea,” said Harry promptly.
(Order of the Pheonix, page 630)
Harry is clever enough to recognize drinking anything Umbridge gives him is a bad idea, so he doesn't. And he does so without her realizing.
“even if you do cause a diversion, how is Harry supposed to talk to him?” “Umbridge’s office,” said Harry quietly. He had been thinking about it for a fortnight and could think of no alternative; Umbridge herself had told him that the only fire that was not being watched was her own. “Are — you — insane?” said Hermione in a hushed voice. Ron had lowered his leaflet on jobs in the cultivated fungus trade and was watching the conversation warily. “I don’t think so,” said Harry, shrugging. “And how are you going to get in there in the first place?” Harry was ready for this question. “Sirius’s knife,” he said. “Excuse me?” “Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that’ll open any lock,” said Harry. “So even if she’s bewitched the door so Alohomora won’t work, which I bet she has —”
(Order of the Phoenix, page 658)
Harry can and does strategies. He planned how to get into Umbeidge's office. He employed his friends and actually led them. Being a leader and a strategist — rules we see him grow more into later.
Harry’s mind was racing. The Death Eaters wanted this dusty spun-glass sphere. He had no interest in it. He just wanted to get them all out of this alive, make sure that none of his friends paid a terrible price for his stupidity . . . The woman stepped forward, away from her fellows, and pulled off her hood. Azkaban had hollowed Bellatrix Lestrange’s face, making it gaunt and skull-like, but it was alive with a feverish, fanatical glow. “You need more persuasion?” she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Very well — take the smallest one,” she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. “Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I’ll do it.” Harry felt the others close in around Ginny. He stepped sideways so that he was right in front of her, the prophecy held up to his chest. “You’ll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us,” he told Bellatrix. “I don’t think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?” She did not move; she merely stared at him, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth. “So,” said Harry, “what kind of prophecy are we talking about anyway?” He could not think what to do but to keep talking. Neville’s arm was pressed against his, and he could feel him shaking. He could feel one of the other’s quickened breath on the back of his head. He was hoping they were all thinking hard about ways to get out of this, because his mind was blank.
(Order of the Pheonix, page 783)
This is a bit of a long quote, but I really like it. Harry gets the Death Eaters at an impasse because they can't destroy the prophecy. Then, when they threatened Ginny, he changed tactics and got them talking to buy time.
And even when he says his mind is blank:
“What?” whispered Hermione more urgently behind him. “Can this be?” said Malfoy, sounding maliciously delighted; some of the Death Eaters were laughing again, and under cover of their laughter, Harry hissed to Hermione, moving his lips as little as possible, “Smash shelves —”
...
“NOW!” yelled Harry. Five different voices behind him bellowed “REDUCTO!” Five curses flew in five different directions and the shelves opposite them exploded as they hit. The towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart
(Order of the Phoenix, pages 785-786 and 787)
He's still the one coming up with plans and pulling them out of there.
And if we look at his grades:
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(Half-Blood Prince, page 102)
He is very far from failing academically. Actually considering how little studying Harry actually does, he receives very high grades, even for Hogwarts' abysmal education standards. Harry is naturally smart enough and talented enough that with the bare minimum of effort, he can get almost exclusively Es (his failing being in History, an exam he didn't finish, and Divination, which Harry has only been thought bullshit in).
Makes me wish we saw him put in an active effort. I bet it all would've been Os with his memory.
Even Potions, which Harry is supposedly bad at, he got an E...
I just... Harry is just really smart and it kind of frustrates me how I don't see enough fics that treat Harry being clever and with a cunning streak as if it's canon, even though it very much is.
I don't know, maybe I'm just reading the wrong fics...
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irondad-defensesquad · 3 months
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My Irondad fic recs!
I thought of doing this because why not? Admittedly, I'm not reading as much fanfiction as I did a couple years ago, but some fics have changed my life entirely. In case I forgot one, I'll add it later!
I would’ve organized this in a bullet list, but Tumblr hates me and invented a character limit for that. So this is going to be long and will be under the cut. Anyway, let’s do this!
Rare and Sweet As Cherry Wine by loubuttons – I've mentioned this one before, but this fic right here was what inspired me to write my own Irondad works. One very particular detail I like about it is how it portrays Maria, Tony's mother. It's not what I usually see in other fics about Tony's childhood, since they tend to make Howard the big bad parent. Of course, this is because I personally related to it, as I don't believe in the "bad parent vs. good parent". I also like that it praises Edwin Jarvis as the one who looked out for Tony the most. It's pretty realistic and a very melancholic character study, IMO. *TW for abuse and neglect*
You're Always Iron Man by madasthesea – a very short fic but I absolutely love the premise. Takes place after the big battle in Iron Man 2, and Tony finds little Peter again. They have a very endearing interaction. The following chapter is also very cute!
Nothing like a fresh cup of humiliation in the morning by madasthesea – Pure fluff! This one is probably a classic in the Irondad fandom. Tony kisses Peter's forehead without second thought. Shenanigans ensue. It's so adorable and funny. If you just want to read fluff without angst, this one is for you.
when my body won't hold me anymore (where will I go) by madasthesea - I think I heard about this fic thanks to @/irondadfics here on Tumblr, but I might be wrong since I already knew the Nice work, kid series. Anyway, Peter is believed to be dead, so Tony (and the rest of the Avengers team) is mourning him. In reality, Peter is astral projecting. You know, sort of like how Stephen Strange, in his first movie, was fighting a guy in the other dimension while his body on Earth was struggling to live. That's basically what happens. Strange appears, of course, and saves the day. And I pretty much LOVE the presumed dead trope. I don't know why. Maybe it's the angst of it all. *TW for grief/mourning and temporary character death*
The Reason by doctornineandthreequarters – I think I read this one when I was still writing Oh, take me back to the start. I was looking for fics for inspiration, and I found this one. During the Time Heist in Endgame, Tony remembers the reason he's fighting to bring everyone else back. It's very emotional.
Couch Cuddles by happyaspie – Classic sickfic, but with more fluff than anything. I like rereading it when I feel lonely and touch-starved, especially when I'm also sick like Peter.
You’re So Much Like Me (I’m Sorry) by SpaceCowboysFromMars – Irondad + Miles Morales! Peter is an adult in this, and he freaks out when an injured Miles arrives in his apartment. Tony gives him some wisdom about mentoring and parenting. I don’t usually find Irondad stories featuring Miles (and not necessarily a Spider-Verse crossover), so this was a nice discovery. Peter & Miles & Tony is a very underrated trio IMO. *TW for slight gore*
I'm Glad I Have You by punkybunny – Peter has been having a rough time, dealing with loneliness as Aunt May is not home often, and with bullying at school... until he finally has the chance to spend time with Tony. However, the demons don't disappear completely. Obviously, more Hurt/Comfort, lmao. *TW for nightmare/bad dream*
I Want to Trust You by punkybunny – Actually part of a series that, admittedly, I haven't read all the other stories. But even this one is a very interesting concept on its own. This is a Hydra Peter AU, after Peter has been rescued. He gets sick but given his past in Hydra, he thinks Tony is going to get angry. Peter is proven wrong when Tony helps him get better. The ending is very adorable. I'll see if I can read the rest of the series one day. *TW for past abuse and experimentation*
what you think I've done wrong by ironxprince – I don't often read Biodad stories as you all know, but I was, again, looking for inspiration for You keep me searching for a heart of gold, and I stumbled across this one. Basically Peter, as Tony's biological son, finally meets Howard. It goes as well as you think /sarcasm. *TW for physical abuse*
i, in time, will climb my mountain by ironxprince – This one is heavy. Once again, Peter is Tony's bio son, and he's suicidal. Every time Peter attempts suicide, he buys a new plant. Tony doesn't know this, so he's confused as to why there are so many plants in their house. I love this one, but of course, I try to read it when I’m not having a really bad day. *Once again, TW for suicide attempts*
how do you get that lonely (and nobody knows?) by parkrstark – Yeah... another heavy one. Peter attempts suicide but he saves himself before he reaches the ground. With that, he goes to Tony. This ends happily, don't worry. *TW for suicide attempt*
When You Can't Sleep by Emily_F6 – Pretty much Tony comforting a sleepy Peter, who has just had a nightmare about Thanos. Just Hurt/Comfort and domestic fluff. *TW for mention of death*
i get by (but it's eating me alive) by Livinei – Honestly, I think this is the BEST May's Abusive Boyfriend story I've ever read. For one, none of the characters are oblivious nor dismissive of Peter's feelings. May isn't neglectful and Ned actually tries to encourage Peter to tell someone. I also like that Peter isn't completely helpless. I don't usually see those things in other fics with this trope, sadly. And of course, Protective Tony is my weakness. *TW for emotional and physical abuse*
Hold Me Together by An_Odd_Idea – Post-Endgame where Tony is alive, and Peter and Tony are both trying to cope, so they rely on each other. Pure Hurt/Comfort.
A Tremendous Thing by ExpectoPatronum – Possibly one of my favorite Irondad stories EVER. Also post-Endgame with Alive Tony (though the author better explains it in the notes, it's supposed to be part of a series, but this story can be read on its own). There are a lot of references to Charlotte's Web if you're familiar with it. Basically, it's Father's Day and Peter is feeling guilty and out of place at Tony's lake house, even though everyone is readily trying to include him. It's absolutely beautiful and painful.
Hug You I Must by spiderwriting (catch_you_later) – Probably one of the first touch-starved Peter fics I've read. I like how it describes touch-starvation as this "itchy" current in your body, something that makes you anxious. Thankfully, Peter gets his hug later on. Plus there are some Star Wars references (the title probably is one, lol). *There's some minor violence here when Peter is fighting off some bad guys, but not the focus of the fic*
When You're There With No One There To Hold, I'll Be The Arms That Reach For You by Squibbles94 – Another touch-starved Peter fic. But I really like the references to Cast Away. Ironically I saw this movie in the same year the author published this fic (dare I say SHORTLY after it was posted). I also had no idea that Cast Away was entirely about isolation. Gosh, the main character's monologue at the end ALWAYS gets to me... anyway, yeah, the peak of the pandemic was awful to me, so reading fics like this one helped tons. It still does.
I am cold by N/A (orphan account) – Peter tries to visit Tony, but he gets lost in a subway tunnel on a freezing day. Eventually we learn why Peter wanted to see Tony, but overall this is mainly domestic fluff. Everything ends well.
Sorry Pedro by PinkEasterEggs – One of the first Irondad fics I read. Peter has a nightmare about Homecoming (mainly Toomes), but he avoids waking Tony for that reason. But thanks to F.R.I.D.A.Y's protocols, Peter goes to his mentor. Tony is also super soft here and it makes my heart swoon.
you are enough by diaz_evan – Another post-Endgame fic. Arguably I began reading Irondad fics only after Endgame released. Anyway, this one is short, kinda sad but it ends well. It’s Tony’s birthday and Peter feels very anxious about what to get him as a present. Thankfully, he doesn’t need to prove his love for Tony. *TW for panic attack*
Happy Father’s Day, Mr. Stark by downeylove – There are a lot of Father’s Day fics for these two, of course, but this one takes the cake for me. It’s simple but very endearing to me. Tony obviously doesn’t have good memories of this day, but Peter changes that for the first time. It’s really cute. Plus, Pepper is here, and I love her. I wish I could read more of her interacting with Peter. *TW for mentions of alcoholism and past child abuse*
5 Times Peter Didn’t Say He Was Struggling… And The One Time He Did by Bladam_Shevine – Again, an old fic I read years ago. I admit I haven’t re-read it in a while, but I remember enjoying it and even saving it to read offline. It’s basically what it says in the title: Peter struggles in many ways and he initially refuses help. Tony is always there to reassure him he can count on him. Bruce is here if you like him! And MJ helps Peter on one of the chapters as well. The chapters might get heavier as they go, but it ends on a hopeful note. *TW for injury, panic attack, suicide attempt (it doesn’t involve Peter), and depression*
The Good Days and the Bad by SoupGirlLovesSoup - Peter has had a bad day, now he's cuddling with Tony. It takes a while before Peter finally tells him what happened. It gets sad, but it's mostly fluff and it ends hopefully. I love re-reading it when I need the comfort. *TW for mention of suicide attempt, depression, and bullying*
Breathe Again by gwenoakley - Post-Endgame where Tony survives. He's recovering in the hospital and Peter finally reunites with him. Before that, though, we can feel the anxiety and trauma Peter feels. Definitely makes me emotional. It's the ending they deserved.
Well, for now this is it! Again, I might add more fics here. I think I also could make a list of what particular concepts I want to read more in Irondad stories, so maybe you guys could give me your own recs. I might try to resume my habit of reading Irondad fics, because they give me a lot of comfort. Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoy any of the stories I included.
(I'm aware some authors here have their accounts on Tumblr, but I didn't want to annoy anyone by tagging them, so yeah 😅)
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daisiescomelate · 24 days
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Hi I don't know if your requests are open or who you write for, but if you write for Shinsou can I get a Shinsou in love headcanon list? ♡
Hello!! I've never written Shinsou before but I'll try :3 It's a little bit longer than the post about Katsuki in love but I hope you like it ❤️
A/N: Shinsou always striked me as an overthinker.
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💜 Shinsou in love is very self aware. He was quick to admit to himself that you were his type since the moment he saw you from a distance, and even if it made him feel troubled, he noticed pretty much immediately when those feelings started to develop as something else, something more.
💜 Shinsou in love had never approached someone he liked before so he was kind of awkward the whole time until he decided there was nothing else he could do other than gather some courage and tap on your shoulder to just say whatever.
💜 Shinsou in love made a total of two attempts to strike a conversation with you, but because you didn’t completely understand how his quirk worked you got caught by it almost instantly both times. It was too embarrassing for him, embarrassing to the point he didn’t want to risk it again a third time; and to make things worse, it made him fall a little bit self conscious about his quirk like in the old times.
💜 Shinsou in love who dropped any thoughts of ever going to get anywhere with you because of this issue, and decided to let his crush die with time.
💜 Shinsou in love who never expected to be the type to experience a pinch in his heart when seeing his crush from afar.
💜 Shinsou in love who after a few months thought of a different approach because giving up so soon seemed a bit lame. He came up with the idea of getting closer to you by trying to get along with the people who were usually around you and with whom he didn’t mind messing up with. He failed. He had never been the popular type, anyways –people were usually scared of him for being the quiet, serious guy with the bad attitude.
💜 Shinsou in love who called it quits and told himself this wasn’t that big of a deal.
💜 Shinsou in love who eventually stopped checking social media as often as he usually did because you kept popping out on his feed. He didn’t want to block you or unfollow you because he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. He got a new hobby instead, doing crafts. He wasn’t that good at it either to be honest, but he needed something to kill time –and to keep his mind busy, distract himself.
💜 Shinsou in love who began to avoid places you usually frequented because any progress he felt he made about overcoming his crush shattered the moment he saw you somewhere.
💜 Shinsou in love who accidentally made friends with someone you knew on a random day. He found out when that person introduced you to him during a friend’s night out and he couldn't believe his luck.
💜 Shinsou in love whose heart squeezed and whose stomach did a little flip when after a few outs together he realized you had learn about how to communicate with him without falling for his quirk. He suspected your common friend taught you how, after noticing the way Shinso went quiet around you not to set you up by accident.
💜 Shinsou in love who made his best to keep his face from showing what finally being able to have silly, random conversations with you did to him.
💜 Shinsou in love whose number you got from the group chat and you messaged once to send him a video you talked about to him during lunch.
💜 Shinsou in love who, despite himself, since then tried to come up with endless excuses to keep texting you in your private chat.
💜 Shinsou in love who at last found himself staring at his ceiling at three in the morning on a random thursday, his phone screen lighting up the dark of his room. He had realized what he felt for you was beyond a crush after he caught himself rereading for the third time the texts you two had been sending to each other until late hours of the night, when it became too hard for you to stay up and you had to apologize to go to bed.
💜 Shinsou in love who felt his chest hurt, laying on his bed and covering his eyes with both hands, trying to think how to get himself out of this mess. What hunted him the most was the fact that you were as nice and dedicated to everyone as you were to him. It was quite obvious to him that you just saw him as a friend.
💜 Shinsou in love that couldn’t think of confessing without feeling like he was overstepping and putting you into an awkward position.
💜 Shinsou in love who tried once again to swallow his feelings but started to feel suffocated by them.
💜 Shinsou in love who never expected to be this kind of a coward.
💜 Shinsou in love who stood up, turned his nightlight on and grabbed pen and paper, and told himself to just ‘get it over with’.
💜 Shinsou in love who wrote his confession in the form of an apology and put it on his pocket. He told himself he had one week to give this to you because if he kept delaying this whole deal there was no way his feelings wouldn’t eventually mess with your friendship.
💜 Shinsou in love who gave you the letter feeling like an idiot one night outside of a restaurant after having dinner with your group of friends. As he handed it over, he told you that if you decided not to bring up the letter after that night he would know what it meant, and would do his best not to ever mention it again either.
💜 Shinsou in love who got startled when you suddenly jumped to hug him without even looking at the letter. You knew exactly what it said without reading it because of the way he avoided your eyes while he handed it to you, and because you felt exactly the same way.
💜 Shinsou in love who after his initial shock hugged you back and buried his nose on your neck.
💜 Shinsou in love who got just a tiny bit emotional about it but will forever deny it.
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dhmis-autism · 15 days
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im new to dhmis tumblr do you have any dhmis blogs you recommend i check out?
OH HIIIII HI HI HI OKAY SO. I HAVE A LOT OF FRIENDS IN THE LIL. tumblr dhmis sphere and theyre all great and lovely and I'll introduce you to them all and YOU can decide who you want to follow okay? OKAY!!
First up is my lovely friend Lulu @lulu-draws-stuff who has a cute very crayony pastelly style! :] They also have a keen fashion sense and love drawing the guys in new and fun outfits! They also have some very cute funny comics in there that I very much reccomend -v- )b
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Next is my good friend Sodie.. @mtsodie who also runs the account @dailydogdadduo and he has a very textured, experimental style with a lot of variety! Very fun! A lot of his pieces like, you could swear were by different people if you didnt know better, that's how good he is at it!
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Also my friend @its-mayo0 draws a TONN of great DHMIS stuff, their style is very loose and colorful! It's extremely funny stuff and I love the way they mix cartoonish antics/proportions with sincerity, their stuff is SOOO FUN!!
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theres also @carehounds which is run by my buddy Fio! Theyre most well known iirc for spurring off the little fandom thing of people making their own versions of the trios? Though if you're new you might not know that. Good stuff, esp if you want to see a new spin on the old guys!
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There's also all these great pieces from other friends of mine who aren't necessarily DHMIS centric blogs!
On the more written side of things, one of my friends Pere ( @marsupials-of-mars ) is actually writing a pretty good fanfic atm that's still currently updating- but they also do art as well if youre SOLELY looking for that.
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Then there's Am @gnomeniche who I believe is mostly well known for their DHMIS analysis posts, they break down a lot of different aspects of the characters and the show (usually with a twinge of meta in the analysis) and, like Pere above, also make fanart on top of that! Though I will warn you a bit that their analysis is very… academicy? Lots of complex concepts and big words that you might not fully get on the first go round. But thats okay! Theyre lots of fun to reread! ^_^ )b
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Also in the analysis sphere is my friend Gray @yellow-pig! They also do a pretty good job breaking things down and they talk often about theories and parallels and reoccurring elements in the show, some that I didn't even notice myself! Very fun. As with my other analysis friends, they ALSO draw some! Isn't that wonderful! How the love of this show supersedes mediums!
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Also on the writing side but more on the funny side I would say is definitely Roswells' DHMIS blog @joepelling , lots of headcanons and jokes and fun info about the people BEHIND DHMIS. Their side blog, @dailythreeofthem is also really good if you want references for drawing the main three yourself!
I hope this was helpful and I hope it was a good start!! :D
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spnhunter4life · 1 year
Text
Familiar
Summary: Sam, Dean and Y/N are on a case, and it turns out Y/N is just the monster's type.
Word Count: 8.2k
Warnings: reference to nonconsensual sex, canon typical violence
A/N: I've had this one done for a couple of weeks, but things have been very busy and so I just finally got around to doing a reread/edit of it. I hope everyone enjoys it!
This one includes the writing prompt "character A flipping positions and shoving B against a wall 'now this seems more familiar doesn’t it?'"
I don't remember where I found this. I have a list of prompts I saved, but didn't include who posted them, so if you happen to know where this came from, let me know and I'll give credit to that person.
Also, I've had someone ask me to be tagged in new stories I post. I am happy to do this, so if anyone else is interested in being tagged, let me know!
Masterlist
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I met the Winchesters for the first time five years ago when I was 22. I was in college and had just moved to a new dorm building that turned out to be haunted by a ghost. I had been the next intended target when Dean and his dad stepped in and saved me. That was the last time I would see either of them for a long time, but I never forgot the faces of the people who had saved my life.
After that experience, I was obsessed with the supernatural. Dean and I had talked a little bit before they left town, and he told me about how he and his dad traveled the country killing monsters. I wanted to do that too. I wanted to be able to save people’s lives the way they had saved mine.
So a couple months later I dropped out of school and started getting ready to hunt. I signed up for a gym membership and started going everyday as well as taking boxing and Krav Maga lessons. My life had given very little opportunity for me to build muscle or learn to fight. But I wasn’t stupid enough to go into a fight with a supernaturally strong creature completely unprepared.
I gave myself a year to get in shape and learn to defend myself. During this time, I put every spare minute I had into research. I looked into what kinds of monsters were out there, how to kill them, which ones were most common. While doing all this research, I ran into a man named Bobby Singer. He had all kinds of helpful information and taught me how to track them down. I started the process of purchasing weapons I would need and also saving up money.
Once I felt ready, I set off on my first hunt. The overwhelming satisfaction I felt at saving a person from the ghost that had been haunting them was too much to ignore. I knew without a doubt now that this is what I should be doing with my life. So I went on another hunt. And another. 
Things were a little rough going at first and I got more injuries than I cared to admit – fighting a trained professional in a controlled environment wasn’t the same as going up against an angry monster – but my fighting skills improved and things started going smoother soon enough. I didn’t regret my choices.
I ran into Dean a little over a year later. I was looking into what I suspected to be a witch and had stopped for lunch at a local burger joint when I saw him. I recognized him immediately and went to talk to him. It took a little bit for him to remember me, but he did. When he asked what I was doing so far from home, I told him what I’d been up to since the day he saved my life. He seemed surprised and impressed. Apparently the people he saved didn’t often take up hunting afterwards. 
When I asked after his dad, he told me that they were starting to work separate cases on occasion. They still hunted together too, but not as often. 
Since we were both in town for the same reason, we agreed to work the case together. It was difficult at times, learning to rely on another person and factor their thoughts and opinions into what we were doing. I’d never hunted with someone else before. In other ways, though, it was so much easier. I decided I kind of liked having a partner. Dean and I worked well together.
He must have thought so too, because the day after we finished that hunt, he asked if I wanted to come with him to look into a string of suspicious murders a couple states over. I’d been hunting with him – and occasionally his dad – ever since. 
About nine months into our new arrangement, his dad went missing and so we picked up his brother Sam from school to help find him. Adding him to the mix had been another adjustment. That was two years ago now though, and we’d all found an easy rhythm together.
“We should go check this out,” Dean said, sliding the newspaper he’d been looking at across the table to Sam and pointing at one of the articles.
We were at a diner waiting for our breakfast to be brought out. Sam scanned the article.
“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam said, passing the newspaper to me when I motioned for it. I skimmed the article Dean had found. 
“Come on, Sam. Three murder suicides in under two weeks. That’s weird,” Dean insisted.
“It is weird. I just don’t see how it’s our kind of weird,” Sam answered. 
“Y/N? What do you think? You agree with me, don’t you?” Dean asked, confident I’d back him up. We typically saw things pretty eye to eye. Not always though.
“Well, actually I agree with Sam. There’s nothing here that really makes it sound like our kind of thing. But,” I continued, saying the word a little louder to stop Dean’s protest. “It’s only a few hours away and we have nothing else to do right now. So we might as well go check it out.”
“Alright, fine,” Sam agreed, sighing at the triumphant look on Dean’s face. “But I really think we’re wasting our time.”
“Right. Because we’ve got much more important, productive things going on here,” Dean said sarcastically.
“It’s never a waste of time,” I said. “Even if it ends up being nothing, making sure people aren’t being killed by something supernatural isn’t a waste. What if we decide it’s not worth checking out and it turns out it is our kind of thing? Then those deaths would be on us.”
“Ok, yes, you’re right. I already said we could go check it out,” Sam said.
“Well thanks for the permission, Sammy. I really don’t think we could’ve moved forward without it,” Dean snarked.
“Bite me,” Sam answered.
“Alright, cut it out you two,” I scolded.
The waiter brought our food out and we spent the meal trying to come up with ideas of what we could be dealing with. We didn’t come up with much since we had so little information to go off of. Dean paid our bill and we were just heading out the door when something occurred to me.
“Oh! What if it’s a siren?” I suggested.
“A siren? From Greek mythology? Like in The Odyssey?” Dean asked. 
“What?” Sam looked at his brother in surprise. 
“What?” Dean asked, a little smug and a little offended.
“What do you know about sirens?” Sam asked me, moving past his shock at Dean’s knowledge.
“Not much,” I admitted. We reached the car and I climbed into my usual spot behind Sam. “All the vics have been couples though, right?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, turning in his seat to face me. “Is that important?”
“All I really know about sirens is that once they infect you they convince you to kill someone you love. The only siren case I’ve heard of had several husbands killing their wives before it was stopped. So maybe in this case once the men realize what they’ve done, they kill themselves.”
“Seems like the best theory we’ve come up with,” Dean said. He backed the Impala out of the parking spot and headed out of town towards the highway.
“Let’s get there and do some digging around before we settle on a theory,” Sam cautioned. “But say you’re right. How do we kill it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve already given you the extent of my knowledge on the subject.”
“Okay. Well at least we have a starting point. We can look into it more if that still seems like the most likely scenario after we’ve investigated things a little bit,” Sam said.
Apparently deeming the conversation finished, Dean turned up the music. I leaned my head against the window and watched the road blurring by.
~~~~~
The bar we were at was crowded, the music was loud, and the guy I was talking to was cute. Not stop and stare cute, but cute enough that when he came over to where I was standing at the bar and started flirting, I flirted back.
“So how long are you in town for?” Cute guy asked. I vaguely noted Dean in my peripheral vision, making his way to the bar. If I’d been paying attention, I would have noticed how irritated he looked. But I was trying not to notice him. He and I were just friends and would never be more. I’d accepted that. It meant I couldn’t let myself be distracted by him when there was a guy standing right in front of me who was interested.
“Don’t know yet,” I answered, giving him my best flirty smile. “I’m definitely here for the night though.”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Dean interrupted. “Come on Y/N. Sam’s waiting for us.”
“Woah, hey, come on man,” cute guy protested. “You can’t just come in here and force her to leave. We were in the middle of a conversation.”
“You were, were you? Sorry pal, but we’ve got important things to do. Go find someone else to bother.” Dean grabbed my arm and pulled me with him, away from the bar and towards the exit.
“Dean!” I hissed as I was forced to follow along behind him. “What is your problem?” I asked when we made it outside.
“What’s my problem?” Dean echoed, letting go of my arm and turning to face me. “What’s your problem? You know what we’re after here. What made you think it was a good idea to offer to go home with some random guy who for all we know could be the siren?”
I scoffed and started to walk towards the car, but Dean grabbed me again and pushed me up against the building. He stepped in close and put an arm on either side of my head, effectively caging me in.
“What are you doing?” I asked. It didn’t sound quite as irritated as I wanted it to. His close proximity mixed with the few drinks I’d downed had me too overwhelmed to hold on to my anger.
“Next time you’re wanting to scratch an itch in the middle of a case where the monster we’re after seduces people into murder, just save us the trouble and come to me instead,” he instructed. Then before I knew what was happening, he leaned in and kissed me.
I gasped in surprise and he used the opportunity to lick into my mouth. Finally catching up to what was happening, I wrapped my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair and eagerly kissing him back. I never could have predicted this, but I was so thrilled it was happening. 
He made his way to my neck. He kissed a couple of different spots before finding a spot he liked and starting to suck and nip-
I woke up with a jolt and a gasp. I quickly took in my surroundings and realized I’d fallen asleep in the back of the Impala. 
“You ok?” Dean asked, turning in his seat to look at me. I realized we were parked outside a motel. The engine turning off must have been what woke me. I briefly met his eyes and was immediately bombarded with the images from my dream. 
“Yeah,” I told him. I managed to successfully fight the blush that tried to rise in the presence of the very man I’d just been dreaming about. It wasn’t the first time I’d had this sort of dream about the older Winchester. I doubted it would be the last.
Dean went inside to get us a room. We unloaded our bags and made a plan. We decided the boys would drop me off at the police station to talk to the sheriff while they went to question the medical examiner. We would meet at a diner a few blocks away from the police station when we were done. 
“What’s the connection between all of these people?” I asked Sheriff Jones once I’d introduced myself and explained why I was there.
“Connection?” He asked.
“Yeah. This many murder suicides in this short of a time, there’s something going on here. Maybe you’re wrong about the suicide part and it’s just flat out murder. Maybe it’s some sort of messed up pact these people made. There has to be something that connects them though. So what is it?”
“As far as we can tell, there is no connection between any of them. Sometimes these things just happen,” he said.
“How long have you been sheriff?” I asked. He was starting to get up in age, probably in his mid to late 50s at a guess. I assumed he’d been a police officer for a long time.
“Almost 20 years,” he informed me proudly.
“And in those 20 years, how many times have you seen something like this? Three different couples killing each other and themselves. One after another.”
“Well… never,” he admitted.
“Right. So what’s the connection? Graduated from the same high school? Go to the same gym? In a bowling league together? There has to be something that connects them other than them all being married.”
“Actually, they weren’t all married,” Jones corrected.
“I was told they were,” I said. 
“The last couple wasn’t. They were roommates, but as far as I’m aware, that’s as far as the relationship went.”
Damn. Did this throw a wrench in my siren theory? Not necessarily. Just because they weren’t together doesn’t mean one of them wasn’t secretly in love with the other. Or maybe they were really close and loved each other in a non romantic way.
“Great. I’m gonna need a list of close family and friends of all the victims,” I requested.
“What for?” He asked.
“To find the connection. You figure out the pattern, you have a chance of stopping it from happening again,” I said frustratedly. How were these idiots not investigating this further? Did they really believe it was just all a coincidence? 
Jones gave me a list of names and I left. I scanned the list on my walk to the diner, trying to figure out where to start and how long it might take to talk to these people. I rounded a corner and ran into an extremely attractive man. 
“Sorry!” I apologized as he nearly spilled the coffee he was carrying.
“No worries,” he said, flashing a charming smile. “No harm done.”
Had I not spent every day of the past three years sharing close quarters with the most attractive man I’d ever seen in my life, I might have been caught off guard and turned into a mumbling mess. But my time with Dean mixed with the quick thinking and lying that was sometimes necessary for hunting meant I was able to keep it together.
“Still. I should have been watching where I was going.”
“Well in that case, I was just on my way to get some lunch. How about you make it up to me by coming with?” He offered. It only took me a few seconds of consideration to make a decision.
“Sorry, but I’m busy. I’m on my way to meet a couple of colleagues for a kind of work lunch,” I told him.
“Ah. Well, maybe next time,” he smiled.
“Maybe,” I agreed, knowing there wouldn’t be a next time. I sighed as I continued my walk to the diner. He was awfully good looking. Under different circumstances, I probably would have taken him up on his offer. 
I walked the last couple of blocks and noted that the familiar black car wasn’t in the parking lot. I went in, found an open table that would fit all three of us, and sat down. I had to wait about ten minutes before Sam and Dean walked in. 
“Hey. What did you find out?” I asked once they were seated.
“Not much. There wasn’t anything unusual about the bodies as far as anyone could tell. The ME did say that based on the most recent body, she wondered if the suicides weren’t actually suicides though. She’s looking over the other two bodies again to see if it could have been staged to look like a suicide,” Sam told me.
“That qualifies as not much to you?” I asked. “I mean, granted it doesn’t really up the weird factor. But what if they missed something else too? Something they wouldn’t know to look for?”
“That’s exactly what I said,” Dean said smugly.
“Whatever. I’m not having this discussion again,” Sam told his brother as the waiter came over. We rattled off our orders to him and waited for him to leave before continuing.
“Did you find anything?” Sam asked.
“No. I do have a list of people for us to talk to though,” I answered. I took the list out of the pocket I’d tucked it into after folding it up and handed it to Sam.
“What, the cops have a suspect list?” Dean asked.
“No,” I snorted. “Whether or not this ends up being our kind of case, I feel bad for the people in this town. Their idiot sheriff doesn’t even think it’s worth looking into. It’s an open and shut case as far as he’s concerned.”
“What’s your list then?” Dean questioned, leaning over to read over Sam’s shoulder.
“Close family and friends,” I answered. “I’m hoping we can figure out what connects them all.”
“Right,” Sam said. “It’s not like we can monitor every single married couple in this town on the off chance they might get murdered.”
“Actually, they weren’t all married,” I told him. “I guess the last two were just roommates.”
“There goes the siren theory,” Dean sighed.
“Not necessarily. It still could be,” I said.
“How?”
“Sirens don’t target married people specifically,” I explained. “They just make you kill someone you love.”
“So you’re saying they were living together as friends but secretly in love?” Dean asked.
“Maybe. Or maybe not. Love doesn’t have to be romantic.”
The waiter brought out our food and we made a plan as we ate. Dean wanted to check out the crime scenes first. Sam argued that we might get more information from talking to people. I wanted to side with Dean because I really wasn’t looking forward to interviewing ten different people, but I had to agree with Sam. Might as well get this part out of the way. We could look at the victims’ houses after.
~~~~~
Several hours and too many interviews full of crying loved ones later, we stood in our motel room going over the information we’d gathered today. The ME had called an hour ago and confirmed that it was flat out murder, not murder suicide. We hadn’t gotten any useful information out of any of the people we talked to today though, and we were all a little frustrated. 
“Alright, well the roommate vics were extremely close,” Sam recapped, thinking out loud. “Which means Y/N’s theory on them loving each other pans out, leaving a siren as the most likely culprit. But how are we supposed to find it? We still don’t have anything that links these people together,” Sam grumbled.
“And why is it killing people?” I added. “Usually they leave the killing to their victims. Maybe we missed something.”
“Or,” Dean cut in, standing up from the chair he’d been in. “We'll find the answers we need at the crime scenes. Which I said we should look at four hours ago.”
“Yeah, Dean. We know,” Sam snapped.
“Let’s just figure out our next step,” I interjected. 
“Maybe we should do some research on sirens. It would be easier to track it if we can figure out where they live, how they make people do what they want, that sort of thing,” Sam suggested.
“C’mon Sam, we’ve spent all day doing research on the victims. Now you’re telling me you want to do more research?” Dean complained. “What we should do is go to their houses. I’m telling you, if we want answers, that’s where we’ll find them.”
“Maybe, but we still have to know what we’re up against,” Sam pointed out. “Why don’t you and Y/N go check out the houses. I’ll stay here and research,” he suggested. 
“Fine. Let’s go,” Dean said, satisfied with this compromise. He went outside and I heard the Impala’s engine roar to life a few seconds later. 
Sam grabbed his laptop and settled in to work while I grabbed my coat.
“Let us know if you find anything,” I said. Sam assured me he would and then I followed Dean out the door.
We decided to split up to cover ground faster. Dean would drop me off at the first house and head to the second house himself. When he was done there he would pick me up and we would look at the last place together.
Dean parked outside the first house, a small blue one with a row of flowers planted along the front of it.
“I’ll call you when I’m on my way back,” he told me as I was getting out of the car. He drove away and I walked into the house, ducking under the police tape strung up on the door.
The first room I walked through was the kitchen. Other than a few unwashed dishes in the sink, it was spotless. I knew the murders had happened in the bedroom, so I didn’t expect to see much in the rest of the house, but I was looking for any sort of clue that would lead us to the siren. I took a quick look at the pictures on the fridge but didn’t see anything that would help.
The next room was the living room which was also clean. A cursory scan of the room told me these two were huge movie fans. There were several movie posters hanging up on the walls, an entertainment center overflowing with DVDs, and a little box full of old movie tickets. I didn’t know how this could be a connection with the other couples, but it was clearly a big part of their lives, so it was worth making a mental note of. Other than that, I didn’t see much. A brochure for a yoga class stuck underneath a pile of magazines on the coffee table. A framed picture of the two skiing was hanging on the wall. I noticed a coffee mug with what I assumed was the name of a local bar printed on the side. I made another mental note of both the yoga class and the bar just in case.
Then I moved on to the bedroom. Even if I hadn’t known ahead of time what happened in here, it would have been pretty clear. There was a bloodstain on the bed and the blankets were rumpled, like there had been a struggle on top of them. One of the pillows was knocked on the floor. The nightstand on the left side of the bed had been knocked over, a picture frame shattered beside it. And there was a second blood stain on the cream carpet.
I braced myself, turning off the part of my brain that wanted to be horrified and turn away from the scene. I looked around the room for any sort of clue as to who the siren might be or where it might have gone. It would be a lot easier if I knew what exactly I was looking for. Sam was right. We should have done the research first. 
After thoroughly searching the bedroom and the bathroom and finding nothing, I made my way back out of the house. I wasn’t quite ready to give up yet, but I was getting more doubtful that this wasn’t something the real FBI should be handling. I stepped back outside and saw the cute guy from earlier walking past. He heard the door close behind me and looked over.
“Oh, it’s you,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he answered as I walked towards him. “I do believe that’s a crime scene you just walked out of. Not exactly legal.”
“It is when you’re FBI,” I told him, pulling out my badge. It identified me as agent Y/N Perry.
“That explains why I haven’t seen you around before,” he said, not seeming overly surprised by the news.
“What are you doing here?” I asked again. 
“I live next door,” he told me. “I didn’t really know them. Terrible what happened though.”
“It is,” I agreed. My phone rang and I took it out of my pocket, seeing Sam’s name on the screen. I excused myself to answer it.
“Hey, Sam. What did you find?” 
“Have you heard from Dean?” He asked urgently. 
“No, why?” I asked, immediately worried. Before he could answer, everything went dark.
~~~~~
Sam’s POV
“What do you got, Sam?” Dean asked immediately upon answering my call.
“Not much, but I think I’m starting to figure out more about this siren,” I told him. I hadn’t had time to gather much information yet, but what I had found mixed with a quick phone call to the ME was starting to clear things up.
“Like what?” 
“So get this. When sirens… put you under their spell or whatever, it leaves high levels of a hormone called oxytocin in your blood.”
“So?”
“So, I called the ME and asked her about it. There were high traces in three of the victims. The female victims. For whatever reason, this siren is going after the women, not the men.”
“Son of a bitch! Please tell me you called Y/N before you called me,” Dean said.
“Why? Aren’t you together?”
“No,” Dean growled out in a tone of voice that suggested stress and frustration. “We split up to move faster.”
“Alright. Well don’t worry. I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll call her now,” I said, trying to calm him.
“I’m going back to get her. I’ll call her on the way.”
Before I could argue that he was already worked up enough and should just focus on driving I heard a thump, Dean grunting, and then the sound of his phone clattering on the ground.
“Dean!” I yelled. No response. I hung up and headed outside. I needed to find a car. Once I had one ready to go, I started driving to the closest address on the list.
~~~~~
Y/N’s POV
The first thing that registered in my mind was the way my body was shaking. I heard a distant voice calling my name as consciousness slowly found me. It took a few seconds for me to fully wake up and process what was happening. The shaking was due to the hand on my shoulder, trying to jostle me into consciousness. The voice was Dean’s, and it wasn’t distant. It was right in front of me.
My head was pounding. I tried to remember what happened. I was outside waiting for Dean. Sam called. Then what?
“Y/N!” Dean said a little louder. I opened my eyes and immediately closed them again, hissing at the pain that shot through my skull from the bright light in the room. Someone must have hit me over the head. Who? No one else had even been around. Except for that guy I bumped into earlier. He must be the siren then.
I felt a surge of frustration at my stupidity. How did I miss it? I knew it was weird that he just happened to be outside that house.
“C’mon. We should get out of here,” Dean encouraged, pulling me to my feet.
“Just a minute,” I pleaded as a wave of dizziness rushed over me upon standing. I braced my hand on the wall beside me.
“What happened?” He asked. “You didn’t answer the phone.”
Once the dizziness passed, I slowly opened my eyes. The pounding in my head was intense, but it was more manageable when I took things slow.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“Who, the siren? Dead,” he told me. That was good news I guess. I didn’t know how much help I’d be in a fight right now. He was almost entirely supporting my weight. Then something occurred to me.
“How?” I asked, looking up at his face. “We don’t know how to kill them.”
“Well I had a machete with me. I couldn’t walk in here completely defenseless. When I saw him standing over you, I cut his head off. Apparently that’s all it takes,” he explained.
I looked around the room, searching for the body, and realized this was the house of the first murdered couple. We were in the living room.
“He brought me in here?” I asked.
“Well. It was close by. And there isn’t much chance of anyone walking in. Made it easy for me to find you, too. How are you feeling? Ready to go?” He asked.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I told him. My head was still pounding, but the dizziness was gone.
“Good,” he said, carefully turning me to face him. “I was really worried about you.” Then he kissed me.
I so badly wanted to be able to enjoy this. I’d dreamed about it so many times but never imagined I’d ever build up the courage to tell him how I felt. Or that my feelings would be reciprocated. 
I placed one hand on the back of his neck and gave myself a couple of seconds to be sure my balance was good. Then in one quick motion I stepped to the side and used the hand around his neck to shove him face first into the wall.
“Ow! What the hell?!” He yelled, clutching a hand to his bleeding nose. 
“Where’s Dean?” I asked, watching closely for any indication he was about to run or attack.
“I am Dean!” He insisted. He held a hand out placatingly and took a step towards me.
“Stay back,” I warned him. I reached into my boot and grabbed the silver knife I kept there at all times. “I know a shapeshifter when I see one.”
He dropped his hands and stood up straighter, a cocky smile gracing his mouth. He started to walk in a slow circle around me.
“What gave me away?” He asked casually.
“A few things,” I answered, rotating my body to keep him directly in front of me at all times. 
“Like?” 
“Where’s Dean?” I asked again.
“Oh, he’s fine for now. Just a little tied up at the moment,” he smirked.
I lunged for him, hoping to catch him by surprise. He easily blocked the knife I had aimed directly at his heart and threw a punch that caught me in the stomach. The force of the blow knocked the breath out of me, but I recovered quickly and slashed out with the knife at the hand that was reaching for my hair. He hissed in pain and quickly withdrew his hand.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” the fake Dean growled. “You know you can’t win. Might as well save yourself some of the pain.”
My head was killing me and the dizziness was threatening to return and become a very serious problem. I waited for his next attack. I didn’t have to wait long. I saw his muscles tense to move and then he closed the distance between us quickly. 
He reached out for the hand that was holding the knife, trying to force it out of my grip without touching it. I took advantage of the way he focused on the knife to kick his knee as hard as I could. His knee buckled and I used all the strength I had to push him into the wall behind him. I pressed the knife to his throat.
“Where is Dean?” I demanded.
“What gave me away?” He asked again. I couldn’t believe the arrogance. Did he really not care about anything but the fact that I’d seen through him?
“I’m not going to ask again,” I threatened, pressing the knife just a little harder into his skin. “Where is he?”
“Quid pro quo,” he offered. “Answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”
I seriously debated just killing him, but decided to humor him just this once. He wasn’t going anywhere and I’d get the answer out of him one way or another.
“First of all, Dean wouldn’t just sit there waiting for me to wake up. He would have just carried me out. Secondly, he has a scratch on his jaw that hasn’t healed all the way yet. That particular scratch is missing from your face. Third, if he’s not sure which weapon to bring with, he always chooses his gun. Silver kills a lot of things, so it’s usually the safest bet. Also, where’s the body? You said you killed the siren, but there isn’t a body. And as far as that goes, you don’t have a machete either.”
“Hmm. You’re observant,” he said. “Not observant enough though. Otherwise you probably would have seen this coming.”
His hand shot up and grabbed my wrist, pushing the knife away from his neck. He pressed hard on the tendons there until I was forced to drop the knife. Then he spun us around, pressing me up against the wall. He pinned both of my wrists to the wall and leaned in close, his breath brushing my face.
“Now this seems more familiar, doesn’t it?” He smiled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I spat.
“No?” He mocked, pressing his cheek to mine and talking directly into my ear. “You’ve never dreamed about Dean pressing you into the nearest wall and kissing you breathless? I think you have. Many times. As recently as just a few hours ago.” 
I whipped my head to the side to look at him. He grinned triumphantly. 
“That’s right. I’ve been inside your head. I know exactly how you feel about this pretty boy of yours.” 
I bristled at the way he had stolen Dean’s face, tried to use it against me, and was now flaunting that fact.
“You don’t know anything,” I spat. He just continued as if I hadn’t said anything.
“That’s why I chose you. It was pure coincidence running into you, but you’re a very attractive woman, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”
“Give what a shot? Murder? News flash, you’ve already done that. I’d suggest branching out and finding a new hobby.” I pushed lightly against his hands, testing the possibility of breaking free. That wasn’t an option. He was holding on tight, and I wouldn’t be able to beat him in a battle of strength.
He smiled and kept ignoring me.
“You see, I had to turn into you first to get in your head and see if you fit what I was looking for. It was a shock, of course, to find out that you’re a hunter. But it turns out you did fit my needs, and you and your friends were so far off the mark, I knew I’d be safe enough.”
“What do you mean, I fit your needs?” I asked. I had a plan to escape his hold, but as long as he was content to talk, I wanted answers.
“Well you’re in love of course,” he said.
“So?” I didn’t bother denying it. Like he said, he’d already been in my head. 
“So,” he answered as if I was being extremely stupid. “Isn’t it so much better being with someone when you’re in love?”
I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. Being with someone? What was he talking about? What did it have to do with murder? 
I felt a wave of horror and disgust wash over me as I understood his meaning. He’d posed as the men the women were in love with and slept with them before murdering them both.
“If it’s any consolation, they died happy,” he told me. “Well,” he amended. “The women did, anyway.”
“So what?” I snarled. “You thought you’d come in here looking like Dean and I’d just take my clothes off for you? Just like that?”
“Well, not just like that. But I figured you’d be willing enough once I had some time to convince you.”
I remembered how he had kissed me before. I assume that was the kind of convincing he was referring to. 
“We still could, you know,” he offered. He brushed his lips gently against mine and I jerked away. “You can pretend I’m him and I’ll give you what you’ve always wanted.”
“Right before you kill me, you mean?”
“Well obviously I can’t let you live,” he said.
“I think I’ll pass,” I said. I drove my knee up as hard as I could into his crotch. He may not have been entirely human, but he still went down as hard as any human man.
I dropped down to pick up my knife, doing my best to ignore the pain the quick movement caused in my head. I didn’t give the shapeshifter time to recover. I immediately turned to him and drove the knife into his heart. He gasped in shock and pain and then collapsed, unmoving.
I rose to my feet and made my way – a little unsteadily – out of the house. I was pretty sure I had a concussion and that fight had taken all the strength and energy I could muster. As I stepped out of the house, a car came screeching down the road and parked next to the only other car on the street. I didn’t know if I could really handle it, but I prepared myself for another fight.
The driver door opened and a tall man stepped out. Sam, I realized when he called my name. And the car he was in was the Impala. How had he gotten it? Sam ran over to me and put a steadying hand on my shoulder.
“Are you ok? What happened?” He asked.
“Where’s Dean?” I asked, ignoring his questions.
“I don’t know. I’ve been looking for both of you,” Sam said. “I found Dean’s car at the second house, but no sign of him. I was hoping I’d find him here with you.”
Just then we heard a muffled banging noise coming from the other car on the street.
“Stay here,” Sam told me, drawing his gun as he walked towards it. I was in no position to argue seeing as the dizziness was returning and I was struggling to keep my balance. He stopped by the trunk of the car. “Dean?”
“Sam! Get me out of here,” I heard Dean say from inside.
“Just a second,” Sam breathed out in relief. He tucked his gun back into his jeans and went around to the front of the car in search of the keys. He pulled them out of the ignition and then opened the trunk. Dean jumped out, fuming. He was down to just jeans and a t-shirt, the shifter having stolen the rest of his usual layers.
“Where is it? I’m gonna kill it,” he seethed, marching towards the house. He paused momentarily when he saw me swaying on the sidewalk and then hurried over to me. He wrapped my arm around his shoulders and put his own around my waist to help me stay balanced.
“What happened? Did the siren do something to you? Where is it?” He asked.
“It was a shapeshifter, not a siren,” I told both him and Sam who had followed close behind his brother.
“Was?” Sam questioned.
“It’s dead,” I said.
“That explains why my clothes are gone,” Dean said irritatedly. “Why is it that we seem to be leaving behind a trail of shapeshifter bodies wearing my face?”
“Well, you’re an objectively good looking guy. Maybe they just can’t resist all the girls they know they’ll get with a face like that,” I teased.
“Alright, well you’re obviously in even worse shape than I thought,” Dean said, half teasing half genuinely worried. I guess I haven’t ever said anything to him before about him being attractive. This concussion was loosening my tongue apparently. “Sam, you mind getting the body? I’m gonna get Wobbly here to the car.”
“Why can’t we just leave it?” Sam asked.
“Because I want my clothes back for one thing,” Dean replied. “And for another, I don’t want to be blamed for yet another set of murders.”
“Good point,” Sam agreed. He headed for the house.
Dean turned us towards the car and the movement caused me to trip a little on my own feet. The adrenaline was fading away, leaving me helpless to fight off the dizziness that I thought had disappeared.
Rather than let me stumble my way to the car, Dean moved the arm he had around my waist a little higher on my back and put his other arm under my knees, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me. I couldn’t be bothered to keep my head held up and rested it against his chest.
“What happened?” he asked, referring to my balance issues.
“He caught me by surprise and hit me over the head. I think I have a concussion.”
“You thought he was me, so you didn’t see it coming,” Dean said. He adjusted my weight so he was able to open the car door.
“No. He looked like someone else. I turned my back to take a call and he hit me. When I woke up he was pretending to be you,” I explained.
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he sighed as he gently set me down, careful not to hit my head.
“Why?” I wondered.
“He took me out too. Only I didn’t even know he was there. If I’d been paying attention better, I could have stopped him before he got to you,” Dean said, ashamed.
“Not everything is your fault, you know,” I told him. I saw Sam step out of the house, a large body tossed over his shoulder. “This isn’t on you. And it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s over.”
I could tell he didn’t agree with me and he would beat himself up over this for a while. But he left to open the trunk for Sam and I was too exhausted to try and convince him otherwise.
~~~~~
An hour later Sam was watching over me while Dean went to take care of the body. I sat on the lumpy couch and held a bag of frozen peas to the back of my head in an attempt to bring down the swelling. I’d taken Ibuprofen as soon as we got to the motel and both the headache and the dizziness were slowly starting to fade. I’m sure finally sitting still helped the situation too.
“Why do you think it killed them?” Sam wondered aloud. “I mean, how did he choose his victims?”
“He chose women that he considered beautiful and that were in love. He turned into the man they loved and when he was done with them, he killed them,” I answered even though he hadn’t actually been expecting an explanation.
“He told you?” He asked, surprised.
“In way too much detail,” I said.
He was quiet for a moment.
“You know what I don’t get? If it wasn’t a siren then where did the oxytocin come from?” 
“The what?” I asked.
“Oxytocin. It’s a hormone that sirens infect you with,” he explained. “Actually, Dean was on his way to warn you when he got ambushed. I told him that all the women had high levels and so it looked like they were the ones being targeted.”
My face drained of blood at the reminder of what that thing had done to those women. Of what he’d tried to do to me.
“I know what it is,” I told him. “And it’s not specific to sirens. It’s a naturally occurring hormone in the body. Ever heard of the love hormone?” At his nod I continued. “It occurs during childbirth, breastfeeding… and sex. That’s why he wanted women that were in love. He said it’s so much better that way.” 
Understanding showed on his face alongside a mix of horror and protective anger.
“Y/N… he didn’t?”
“No,” I assured him quickly. “Not me anyway. I figured out what he was too quickly.”
Relief replaced the other emotions on his face and he stayed silent as he processed this new information. Then he wrinkled his brow in confusion.
“You said he chose women that were in love,” he said.
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
“So why did he go after you?”
I was practiced enough at hiding my feelings for the older Winchester from both brothers that I didn’t even have to hesitate to come up with an explanation.
“I guess he found me attractive. Per his usual pattern, he turned into me to see if I was in love with anyone and found out pretty quickly that I’m a hunter.”
“Then why did he turn into Dean?” He asked.
“He was pretending to rescue me,” I answered.
“Right, but why? What’s the point? If he wanted you dead, he had the chance. There was no reason for him to mess with you that way.”
I didn’t have a reasonable explanation for this, so I stayed quiet.
“He wasn’t just going after you because you’re a hunter. You fit the profile he was after and he wanted to-” he cut himself off and considered his wording. “He wanted to… complete his usual pattern. Because you’re in love with Dean,” he surmised, smiling a little bit at this conclusion. 
I decided silence was the best option here. I couldn’t possibly contradict his completely accurate deduction. I wouldn’t outright confirm it for him, but I wasn’t going to deny what we both knew to be true.
“Y/N.”
More silence.
“Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop it,” he promised. I sighed.
“You know you’re not,” I told him.
“Then why don’t you do something about it?” He asked.
“There’s nothing to do about it,” I answered. “He doesn’t see me that way. And that’s fine. I’ve accepted it.”
“How do you know he doesn’t feel the same if you don’t tell him?”
“Sam, I’m really not in any condition to do anything to you right now, but I swear if you say anything to him, there’s going to be hell to pay in a couple of days,” I warned.
“I’m not going to say anything,” he said, offended by my assumption. “But I really think you should tell him. You guys are so great together. I think you would be good for each other. And I would be very happy for you.”
“Thanks, I guess. My head hurts too much to even consider thinking about this right now,” I told him.
“Alright, fine. I’ll let it go,” he conceded. “For now.”
“That’s all I ask.”
After that we sat in companionable silence while we waited for Dean to get back. Sam turned the TV on. I closed my eyes to block out the light and just listened to it, finding it to be a suitable distraction from the day’s events.
Dean got back probably twenty minutes later by my estimation.
“Hey, how are you doing?” He asked as soon as the door was shut behind him.
“A little better,” I told him. 
“Good,” he said. He took the peas from my hand and gently felt the lump that had formed on the back of my head. “I think the swelling might actually be going down a little bit.”
He took the now room temperature peas to the freezer and switched them out for a fresh bag. He handed it to me and then sat down beside me, putting his arm around me. 
“Is this ok?” He asked. He didn’t know the details that Sam did about the shapeshifter’s intentions, but he knew that I had been attacked today by a guy wearing his face. 
“You don’t have to tiptoe around me,” I told him. “I know it wasn’t you. For the record, I knew the whole time it wasn’t you. I’m fine. I’m not traumatized and I’m not afraid of you.”
“A simple yes would have been fine,” he teased, pulling me closer into his side.
Movement from Sam’s direction had me glancing at him. He just smiled at me, looking meaningfully at Dean and then winking at me. I would have rolled my eyes if the action wouldn’t hurt my head. Instead I pointedly looked away from him. Things with me and Dean were fine the way they were. I wasn’t going to mess it up now just because Sam knew about my feelings.
A romantic relationship with Dean was something I wanted, but not something I needed. This right here – sitting together with my two best friends, knowing that even though I was temporarily unable to defend myself should it be necessary I was still safe and protected – this was all I needed. At least, that’s what I’d continue to tell myself.
Chapter 2
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@123passwort
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spennsrs · 4 months
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schlatt x reader that loves schlatt when he's put on a couple pounds :(( reader holding him from behind and just kissing his back when he doesn't have a shirt on in the kitchen or smth. "you're so beautiful, yknow that?" i have brainrot ‼️‼️ schlatt not believing reader so reader just has to keep praising schlatt every chance they get so they keep leaving little post it notes around the mirror about his body :(((((
(\ (\ („• ֊ •„) ━O━O━━━━━━━━━ ・:。YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ︳jschlatt x reader drabble ︳fluff ︳self indulgent bc i jst wanna tell schlatt how handsome he is :(( also MY BFFIE REQUESTING <3 /p + reader can cook rly well and they Feed our boy well
the house was quiet, the bedroom dark with drawn curtains. it was late at night... or maybe early in the morning?
schlatt didn't know, and frankly, he didn't care. he couldn't sleep. he didn't even know why he was up still.
it was probably silly. maybe it was the cause of his recent insomnia. there were great things about having a significant other who could outcook even the likes of gordan ramsey. well, at least schlatt thought so. said great things include being well fed and eating incredible food.
but there were also bad things. well, bad thing. he did let his walls down a little when he and [y/n] started dating, yet he wasn't one to voice his insecurities often. his main insecurity was the reason he was staring at the full-length mirror on the back of the door into the bedroom.
his weight.
schlatt stares at himself in the reflective object shirtless, careful to not break the silence the night brought to the shared bedroom. reflections were a weird thing, mirrors in general were weird. maybe vampires were on the right track with the no reflection thing. his hand rests on his stomach, pushing, poking gently... he wasn't necessarily angry or unjustly sad, just as much as he wasn't.. happy with how he looked. with a soft sigh, his hand falls to his side again and his gaze never breaks from the mirror. his eyes over examine every part of his body visible to his gaze, and oddly enough... that's when he spots it, on the corner of the mirror. was that... a sticky note? multiple? his hand reaches up to gently yank the papers down, reading the handwriting.
'you are so absolutely amazing' 'you're beautiful the way you are, inside and out' 'do you realize how incredibly handsome you are?' 'if you could see what i see, maybe you would understand why it is so easy to love you for who you are'
schlatt felt like he was going to cry. no had ever said such... gentle words to him, nor had words ever touched him like this did. he kept reading the words, then rereading... it was almost too good to be true. he knew he was way lucky in the significant other department, scoring someone as fantastic as [y/n] was a mystery he would never understand, and chose not to.
a warm pair of hands draw him from his train of thoughts, jumping a bit as his eyes are drawn to the mirror before him. schlatt could see the familiar arms of his lover wrapped around him, their left wrist adorned with the silver bracelet he had gotten them for their two year anniversary.
"did i wake you, sleepyhead?"
his voice is soft, and it's tinged ever so slightly with emotion as his hand comes up, gently caressing their arm. there's some movement against his back, and he deciphers its his lover shaking their head. that's good, at least he didn't disturb them.
"you're beautiful, jay." schlatt feels his heart constrict at those words. of course they knew. they had a way of reading schlatt like a book, often picking up on his turmoil on certain topics before he even knew himself. a small smile tugs at his lips as he pats their arm. no words came from him, none needed to. "no matter what you look like, what you sound like, or what you do, you will always be beautiful to me, and i'll always love you."
and maybe... just maybe... in that moment, schlatt could let himself believe it was true, because the love of his life said so. who was he to deny their words?
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one-flower-one-sword · 3 months
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"Gege, don't panic just yet. I'll repeat those words to you. Give them a listen."
"...Alright," Xie Lian said.
Hua Cheng's memory was exceptional, and he clearly and precisely repeated the words as soon as they left the area where the corpse-eating rats had gathered. Xie Lian stared intently at his lips as he pronounced a series of moderately paced and somewhat bizarre-sounding phrases. The words had a strange, ancient rhythm to them. Hearing them spoken with such steady control through Hua Cheng's lips made the notes deep, beautiful, and pleasing to the ears.
TGCF Volume 5, page 343
Mu Qing rolled all the silk veils into a ball and tossed them to the side, his veins popping slightly. "How would I know? Because all your clothes, accessories, and daily living needs were my responsibility back then. I washed for you, I mended for you - and every item in your wardrobe was unique. These statues are too detailed - everything is there, exactly the same, completely! When I saw those clothes, of course I knew which face they would have!"
TGCF Volume 6, page 50
For he had remembered something else: the tale of the red-clad ghost who set hundreds of civil and martial temples ablaze. Hua Cheng became famous overnight when he defeated thirty-three heavenly officials and obliterated every single one of their temples and shrines across the entirety of the Mortal Realm.
Xie Lian had long forgotten how many heavenly officials had fought him over that blessed land; their titles, their faces, and even the words they said were lost to him. He could only vaguely recall that there were about thirty of them.
TGCF Volume 8, page 24
Was thinking about Hua Cheng's memory while rereading these scenes and how he appears to basically have perfect recall. Yes, we know he can "record" things with his butterflies, but he only seems to be doing so during strategic moments. If he had recorded what the corpse-eating rats were saying, there would have been no need for him to repeat their words himself, but he does. And they were words in a language he could read but not understand when spoken, and he only heard them spoken once and when there was no reason for him to memorize them. And yet he can recall them perfectly.
Xie Lian wonders if the extreme accuracy of the statues' details is because the sculptor's mind was so filled with images of him and only him, and while that's not wrong, I do think it's remarkable that Hua Cheng was able to remember all those intricate details. After all, they're from a time where he mostly was only able to watch over Xie Lian from afar, and even when they were close for once, it was usually during very stressful circumstances. Yet years later, he can still recreate it all perfectly, to a point that, according to Xie Lian, not even Xianle's most renowned sculptors were able to.
Same with the thirty-three heavenly officials - Hua Cheng was a ghost fire during that time and again it were very stressful circumstances where he was actively trying to defend Xie Lian with what little power he had. And yet, even years later, even after he was almost dispersed as Wu Ming and out of his mind, he can apparently recall every single one of their faces and knows exactly who was there. It's a stark contrast to how Xie Lian has no idea anymore even how many there were, much less their names and faces.
Of course, at this point it's been several hundred years, so that's not surprising. Still, there are many moments like these where Xie Lian is confused and taken aback by Hua Cheng's strong reaction to things he himself can barely remember and often doesn't even really think about anymore. That's a multi-layered issue of course - for one thing, trauma messes with memory, and Xie Lian himself has stated things like that he'd rather remember the delicious meat bun he ate the day before than how he'd been trampled to death years ago. For another, Hua Cheng has reason to cling to those memories Xie Lian would rather forget because of his immense anger on Xie Lian's behalf.
This doesn't explain moments like with the corpse-eating rats though, since like previously stated there was no reason for Hua Cheng to actively try and memorize what they were saying. It can thus be extrapolated from these examples that he always remembers everything this precisely, whether he wants to or not, even if he only heard or saw it once, and no matter how much time has passed since then.
On the one hand, this would evidently serve him very well in cases like his worship of Xie Lian or his goals in aiding and protecting him. On the other, this would mean that every moment of suffering he went through - or that Xie Lian went through, which to Hua Cheng is the worst kind of suffering - will forever be present in his mind in perfect detail. To him, it will always be as if it happened just yesterday. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't forget, because there's no "off setting" to his perfect memory, it's always "on" and can't be overwritten.
I think this might also be a small but not insignificant part of what makes up Hua Cheng's palpable intensity and sharpness, and also contributes to the strong emotions he surpresses beneath his controlled exterior.
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superbattrash · 3 months
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Do you have any Superbat fic recs? Just kind of stumbled on the ship and am already excited by the notion.
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Hiiiii sweetheart! Welcome to the bright and sunny side of superbat shipping ~ *blows dust off my laptop that I haven’t turned on in a month* oh gross, there are actual spiderwebs on it... I'm so sorry, Maggie. Ahem, first of all. Any and all fics by these talented people: @frownyalfred, @superbatdisasterblog, @susiecarter, @sassyresacon1990 (I know I'm forgetting a lot of people but it's been a while okay)
This is just handful of my ultimate favs, if you need more I'm always more than happy to go through my bookmarks!
tell all the truth (but tell it slant) by susiecarter (rated M)
It takes a while for Batman and Superman to work things out, once Clark comes back from the dead. Pretending to date each other in order to explain why Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are in the same place so often? Doesn't help as much as you might think.
Condersing Conditions by LeCadavre_1904 (rated E)
Before Bruce and Clark fall into bed for the first time, Bruce has an unusual condition.
Clark is as obliging as always.
don't push me (cause I am close to the edge) by LinguisticJubilee (rated G)
Kara huffs out a breath in frustration. “Every Kryptonian has a heartsong. And they’re beautiful, but when you listen to one on its own it feels like something is missing. It’s like...they have something like this too, right?” She gestures outward impatiently, and Bruce forces himself not to flinch at her casual use of they. “Only they have words written down instead.” 
“Soulmates,” Clark says, his voice strained. 
The word hits Bruce like a bullet through the lung. He keeps his face perfectly relaxed, his heartbeat calm and regular, as he realizes (too late, he's always too late) that he should have expected this all along.
fallin' for him was like fallin' from grace by Resacon1990 (rated T)
“But Bruce isn’t gay?” Clark points out, and there’s an awkward moment of everyone clearing their throats and avoiding Clark’s eyes until he turns to stare at Bruce. “Are you?”
Bruce blinks for a moment before offering a sheepish smile. “I’m not… not?” he offers, and Clark feels his brain just about short-circuit at the news.
Or, five times Clark finds himself falling for Bruce, and the one time he does something about it
No Church in the Wild by TheResurrectionist (not rated but OUCH ANGST)
"I'll have a contingency plan."
"If you're the first face he sees, you'll need it."
Bruce brings Clark back by himself.
smokin' in the boys' room - by The Ressurectionist (not rated but both blood and dicks, so rated Misha HAPPY) (I cannot tell you how many times I've reread this one GUUUHHH)
Bruce Wayne -- billionaire playboy, owner of, at most, three brain cells -- beaten up at his own charity gala. Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises out of nepotism and dumb luck, whose business wasn’t touched by corruption purely because of incompetence -- Bruce Wayne, airheaded and still generous, still kind, bloody in a stall and trying to hide it. 
His hand clenched on the stall door, crumpling it between his fingers. His eyes weren’t burning yet, but barely. 
“Who did this to you?”
I Would I Might Forget That I Am I by susiecarter (rated T)
Clark Kent woke up, ate breakfast, went to work—the same way he did every day. Ordinary.
Except for the part where Superman hadn't been seen in at least a week and nobody knew why, Lois was acting kind of weird, and Bruce Wayne was insisting that Clark was the only reporter he'd allow to run a feature on the crashed alien ship in the park, since Wayne Enterprises had been granted control of the site. And the way Clark felt every time Wayne looked at him a little too long definitely wasn't helping.
But it was fine. Clark was normal, there was nothing wrong with him, and everything was fine.
Satisfaction Brought It Back by slippin_into_dakrness and SpiritsFlame. (rated G) (This one is my comfort comfort comfort read!!!)
Bruce always thought that Superman's cute shtick of rescuing cats from trees was a bid for publicity—until a confrontation with a magic user leaves him stuck as a cat. He learns how mistaken he was when Superman not only rescues him, but takes him back to a small Metropolis apartment. The opportunity to learn more about the alien can't be ignored, but is Bruce ready for everything he will learn about someone he has only ever regarded with distrust and dislike?
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nekassvariigs · 1 year
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Love doesn't go unnoticed
Mihawk x reader
Romantic fluff
For a long time you stood by his side as a friend an ally as he called it, due to his nature he wasn't one to proclaim having friends esspecially those who resided in his castle.
With every step you took overlooking the dark gothic palace you left a trace of yourself behind. The roses that you left on bookshelfs, their petals falling with just a simple touch if he ever attempted to move them, he sighed knowing the fragility these plants held and yet he set them down adding fresh water and nurtrients to make them last longer, to see them bloom, their crimson buds to produce a sweet floral scent all over his hallway.
What for did he take after these little things, he liked them yes, but there was no need for them. He often found himself contradicting his own ideals as he looked over your work, the many times he asked you to leave his place to stop decorating it like it was your own, and yet there he was staring at the ink stamped pages of his book unable to read anything, the words blurred no matter how much he tried focusing, rereading the same sentence that kept making zero sense to him.
You smiled tilting the edge of your hat, dirt smearing your brow.
He didn't expect for you to look back, he drowned the though with some wine having been starlted lightly with the way you looked back, the always expectant gaze that never asked for anything, the hard work you put in maintaining his lifestyle as he did nothing but flip through pages and drink his fermented wines.
He cleared his thoat, walking over to the guests room he prepared everything for a bath, setting up a candle on the large wooden holder, some soap on the handrails of the bath, conditioner scrubs.. he arranged it neatley. He walked back down to his cellar grabbing a fine choise of wine, he thought you could appriciate the fruity flavour of this particular choise. He screwed open the cork making sure to clean up the little crumbles that fell beside, he poured a glass setting it beside the candle leaving the water to run, steam scolding through the air it was about time until you came back.
He began chopping some vegetables, potatoes, carrots, you named it he sliced it. He put them to boil along the meat he had steamed before allowing it to soften the roots in the rich broth. Minutes later the air was filled with the scent of pleasant stock, the light linger of pepper and vegetable made its way through the hall.
He tasted it, it surely was one of the dishes he payed close attention to in a while.
He cleaned off his cooking utensils leaving the hot stew as he walked back to his seat trying to resume his pages. He was greeted with a creak in the door your body slipping inside the room slowly.
His eyes were on you already his mouth moving before you could adress your presence. "I want you to join me for dinner." he stated surprising even himself, such words would never come out of him.
Your eyes shot a little wider upon the request, you examined the state of yourself. The unruly clothing along mud stained boots and hands was no way to eat dinner with.
"I would love to, but give me time to clean up first." You spoke up watching the way he looked you up and down.
"I ran you a bath." The silence was heavy, the abashed look on his face the longer you looked back at him with surprise left him a bit uneasy.
Your heart swell up a little at the though of his kindness, he had a knack for keeping guests but felt different. He held no complaints at you, even though he was biting his own tongue the more you looked at him.
Your soft chuckle radiated though the room the tension in the air lessening the moment you saw his shoulders wind down. He was acting like a scared cat.
"Thank you, i'll be back as soon as possible." You slipped back out heading for your room. Mihwak took a drink of his wine, leaving a little red pool at the bottom of the glass he no longer felt like finishing.
He caught himself with frustration lacing his brows , he smoothed them out quickly wondering what's going on with himself.
Why was he so startled, biting his tongue and trying to hide the very way his words affected you. Surely he no longer felt calm his mind preocupied with setting the table lighting a few candles he could hear his own hammering heartbeat.
Just then you were washing yourself clean from the hard work, your entire body smelled of roses all too familiar. Had he taken the petals to create a soap with them you'll never know. Between lazy drags of the sponge over your skin you were throughroughly red in the face upon having walked into this setting.
He had done this only when you were sick and unable to move your aching body, however the more you toyed with the leg of the rather large wine glass the more you smiled to yourself. He was thinking about you.
You finished up, looking pleasantly radiant as you walked forward into the room, the silent warlord seemed to greet you with a small crinkle in his eyes.
You both sat down enjoying the food, the atmospehere colliding between the two of you in a mix of held back emotions and unspoken feelings seemed to crash into itself everytime you looked at eachother.
"The bath was really nice, thank you for thinking of me." you warmly spoke up breaking the man's thoughts.
He had entirely forgotten about that, a light red ghosted his face as he swallowed his food, taking a drink to mask it afterwards.
"Don't be so presumptious." His eyes slowly rose to took at you, the striking dress you wore seemed to match the accents of his current shirt. You continued to shock him.
He could never be honest could he? You sighed a little, your eyes closed as you smiled through with it.
With the meal finished you helped him clean up watching him rise up his sleeves as he began to wash the dishes. You stayed to help offereing to dry them off your mind wandered to an idea.
"Would you care for a dance later?" he was solemn continuing his work as he kept offering you plates and glasses, i guess not, you throught aloud drying the last of them and hoping to leave a bit sooner than expected.
He caught you in your haste feeling a little guilty for making you wait like this, truth be told words couldn't form in his mouth as he took in the idea.
You were about to leave the bitter feeling in your mouth growing he stopped you with a soft answer.
"I didn't mean to make you wait."
You turned around slowly the bitterness had left you the moment you saw him waiting in the middle of the enlightned space before his desk.
He looked stoic as ever hand outreached he waited for you to come up to him and take it.
You walked closer, your hand lightly brushing past his, you could feel how hot he was to the touch despite his cold nature, you felt your entire body respond to him a warm wave washing over you the moment he connected your hand to his slowly putting it over his shoulder.
You could feel the lean muscles covered by his shirt underneath the palm of your hand , his hands slowly moved around your waist gently he held onto you.
You could feel his eyes watching you, as per etiqutte for a dance you should be doing the same and yet it was so hard.
Knowing youd be holding his undivided attention for minutes that seemed to have stopped time itself you mustered up the courage to connect your gaze with his.
It was so intense, the gentle ruffle of your dress swaying, his boots placing light clicks on the floor, his hands moving to invite you for a spin to showcase the dress you had put on.
"You look good." The softness of his voice could never be matched with anyone elses. Your face reddened at the compliment as it was rare for him to ever speak up about your looks. His hands gently moved you closer causing your body to lean closer against his.
You didn't just look good, you looked stunning and he portrayed it in the ways of small stolen glances all over you, the redness in your cheeks the smile you kept biting back, he was begining to see why he kept letting you do what you please.
You finally broke, your smile gazing softly at him your hand leaned experimantally closer on his shoulder a gesture he seemed to not mind as you swayed with him.
The intimacy of this moment could never be written in words, his golden eyes were the only thing you could focus on. The way they softened as you leaned into his touch to finish off the dance in a longing fashion. Your face fell slowly, arms retracting from his shoulders he had feeling this would happen.
He lifted your chin upwards the alarming beat of his heart couldnt even stop him from what hes about to do. The silent longing on your face was enough to give him a push.
His lips connected briefly with yours the fall of your eyes lasted for only a second before he pulled away, the warmth of his touch never seemed to leave your lips as you sighed with a stuttered breath. You reconnected your lips with his kissing lightly over his bottom lip which only left him to stagger back a bit before he caught you in his arms.
His whole body felt static having reassured his feelings for you to be mutual, he waited for you to break the kiss watching as you swiped a finger across your lips.
For the first time you could see a genuine reaction from him, his high cheekbones had turned a little scarlet his eyes a little dreamier his posture a bit more relaxed as you smiled against him.
"You're not so bad yourself." you returned the late compliment brushing your hand softly over the side of his face, his eyes deepened a little as he stole a kiss to your knuckles.
He brought his hand up to yours cupping it against his palm, he guided you towards his desk sitting down by the red chair he gestured for you to share a seat atop him.
The following night was spent in alot of slow, deep and compassionate kisses without as much of a need for anything else.
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ceilidho · 4 months
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Do you have any advice or tips for writing dialogue? It's what I struggle most with 😩😩😩
haha I wish I did 😩 honestly this one sucks the most for me because I truly feel like I don't understand how people talk, or like, I'm really only beginning to get it. I remember spending most of my teenage years (I started writing fanfiction around age 13 or so) really not understanding how people talk to each other and being supremely confused about it.
Once again, the biggest help you're ever going to get is just watching a lot and reading a lot and paying attention to how people talk. I mentioned this in my other writing advice ask, so I'll just reiterate below and add some other observations I have on how people speak:
If you're writing fanfiction, watch or read the source material as much as possible, until you can almost hear the way the character sounds in your head. Take time to understand things like their accent and how they speak (do they talk a lot or very little? do they use slang or enunciate everything? do they speak quickly or slowly?). Here, you just want to concentrate on the cadence of their speech / their speech patterns. If they speak plainly or use lots of proverbs or turns of phrases, that sort of thing. If you have that down, you've honestly done half the work. Even I often reread my work and go "fuck, all of these people SOUND the same even though they're saying different things".
A super important point I should make before anything else is that dialogue is intrinsic to character. If you have a taciturn, sullen, aloof character, they probably won't be a very emotional or heartfelt interlocutor. The things (the content of their dialogue) they'll want to speak about will also reflect this - they might complain more often, might not offer praise as readily. They won't ask for help or share vulnerable parts of them.
A more positive character will be the exact opposite of that. They might be more eager to offer advice or praise. They might feel nervous or uncomfortable about confrontation or calling someone out if they're doing something the character doesn't like.
Essentially, when you're not sure what a character would say, think about:
Who is this person? What are their core attributes?
What is their end goal from this conversation? (or, if it's just chatter / conversation for conversation's sake, what kinds of topics might they be interested in?)
If there is a goal, how would this particular character achieve it (or would they be unsuccessful if they're too timid or mean about it)? Would they be blunt, circumlocutory, deliberately confusing, manipulative - would they get frustrated with themselves because even the character isn't able to say the thing they want to say?
Another thing you have to understand about the way people speak, even if this is VASTLY frustrating when writing because it takes you longer to get to the point, is that people rarely just outright say what they want. Sooommeeee people do, but even in your personal life you'll know those kinds of people to be blunt, straight forward, etc. Most people aren't like that. If you need to take the extra chapter or couple paragraphs to wrangle the truth out of someone, that's pretty natural.
I try to avoid clichés or anything corny in my dialogue unless it makes sense for that character (for instance, Price might be more likely to use like generic white guy colloquialisms like "you're barking up the wrong tree" or "let's rock and roll" lmaoo).
Anyway, I don't have much advice for dialogue because I also struggle with it, but one thing to keep in mind is that readers are very aware of characterization, even subconsciously. Don't sacrifice good characterization even if it means you need to redo a scene or take longer to get to something.
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spidernuggets · 5 months
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note: i thought your idea was so cool and wanted to write for it. it’s the way i said i’m writing this and not my papers due tomorrow. it's also not finished hence why it doesn't include all the plot points and i don't think i'll continue it cause it sucks but wanted you at least read it. i also noticed that you said the titan not the teen titan and that who I based this off of and then reread your plot again and realized (another reason why i feel like not continuing it) gosh this is mess but enjoy!
“tell me, are they going to be okay? 
the question is from starfire who carries a concerned look on her face while everyone else’s eyes are still glued to the tv screen. ��  
“don’t worry star, course they will. it’s just a movie after all, none of it is real.” dick’s attempt to comfort kori comes from a place of trying to remind her that movies are in fact not documented disasters but purely made for entertainment purposes.
“no.” beastboy blurts out out of no where, but is lucky that starfire is too focused to hear what he says.
both you and raven shoot him a look from your places on the couch, one that clearly reads ‘don’t you dare say anything that’ll even come close to spoiling anything again.’
“i mean no it’s not. the titanic was an actual thing that happened. it is real right?” he turns to you who’s plotted on the ground with him to defend his case.
you only shushes him with a hand gesture and signal to keep watching.
“—i see now. i believe i understand. titanic. titans. surely, a collective of superhero’s like us shall show up and rescue all in the ship.” star looks proud with her predictions.
everyone freezes.
you eye dick who’s next to you and his eyes are wide and saying ‘maybe showing her this movie wasn’t the best of ideas.”
you’re amazing with this eye reading thing.
you glance at raven. she shrugs.
“we’ll just have to se—.”
your voice is interrupted by what sounds like footsteps trotting up the stair. everyone looks back to the unthreatening intruder to only then look back when he’s identified.
he’s invisible.
he makes no effort to glance at anyone. you make no effort to look away from him.
the sticker of [blank] on jason’s room stares back at you. technically speaking it’s the spare room that stays vacant which he only uses whenever he’s around.
which is not often.
before you can raise a hand to knock, the door flings open and you’re met with an unexpected glare from jason.
“hi.”
“hey.” he looks out into the hall and back at you. “wasn’t expecting you.”
“sure you weren’t.” you poke your tongue out.
“of course I wasn’t.”
“says the person swinging open doors.” he needs to be reminded.
“to the person snooping around floors they have no business being on.” you need to remember.
you narrow your eyes at him, and smile starts to play on your lips. the one he’s been holding back since you came hasn’t gone unnoticed by you either.
“okay jason. i’m here for you because i miss you so much and maybe, just maybe, i want a hug, 4 kisses and 7 different responds to my question of ‘how are you doing?’”
jason’s can’t help but laugh at your admission. “yeah?”
“are you making fun of me?” you pout.
“i wouldn’t dream of it. c’ mere.”
grumpy and moody is what he is in others presence but for you he’ll show you any side. as he pulls you into a warm hug, you can’t help but feel a sense of victory. it might be your playful way of breaking down his walls, but you know that deep down, he appreciates your effort to bring a bit of lightheartedness into his world.
to you he’s never invisible.
you nuzzle your head into his chest as he wraps his arms around you.
“you took forever.”
“i know.”
jason’s room lacks curtains, a detail most evident in times like these when the sunlight infiltrates in and rouses you from your sleep.
you’d offered getting him a pair from the storage a couple of times, but his response was always the same: he wouldn’t be around for too long.
so you don’t need to turn around to know he’s gone.
...
U g hhhh!!! STOP they little cuties
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The two of you laid in his bed for a while longer, your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around your waste.
"I wish you'd stay longer," you say quietly. A wish, a hope, a desire you crave every day. You couldn't help but lean closer into his body as you whisper that, wanting to hold him tighter, closer, as if he would permanently fall off the face of the earth if you'd let go.
"I know, mama," He replies sadly. He mirrors your movements, arms holding you close. Holding on, rewinding the fantasy he's been playing in his head. The fantasy that he could just take you away with him. Settle down in someplace far from Gotham. Far from any worries. But that's all it was. A fantasy. A fantasy he couldn't make come true, and you couldn't either.
"We're going to be okay?" You ask. It was meant to come out as a statement. But though you gave so much faith in your relationship, you couldn't help but question how long you can hold on.
"We're going to be okay," Jason states. Neither of you make a promise. Neither if you can guarantee that you'll be okay. But for now, you cherish the moment. With tight hugs, lingering kisses, and fading fantasies.
Your hand trails down to his. Your thumb caresses his calloused skin. Reminding him he's not invisible. Not to you. Never to you.
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IK UR LIL STORY ISNT FINISHED N U WONT CONTINUE IT, BUT I LOVE IT SM STILL 🫶🫶 I WANTED TO CONTINUE ON LIKE A LIL COLLAB!
THANKS SO MUCH ANON, THIS HAS FILLED THE EMPTY HOLE IN MY SOUL THAT LACKED MY PROMPT, EVEN IF IT IS LACKING PLOT POINTS, STILL ADORE IT NONETHELESS!!!
HOPE YOU GET YOUR PAPER DONE!! I'M CURRENTLY READING YOUR SHORT STORY INSTEAD OF WRITING MY ESSAY TOO!! HAVE A GREAT DAY!
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Not sure if you can help but...
I used to write fanfic a lot (not just Johnlock, but other fandoms too) and I got a particularly nasty comment on a fic months back (almost a year ago now I think) that made me delete my entire AO3 and never write anything ever again.
But I miss it so much. And every time I go to write something, the magic is just gone and I get nowhere. It's like any joy I had in writing was just sucked out by one single comment. How do I fix this?
Hey Nonny *SNUGGLE BUGGLE HUGGLE*
I'm so sorry that the "magic" feels gone, and I am so sorry that you had such a terrible experience because of one entitled asshole.
Unfortunately, I am not a professional in this regard, so please take what I say as just a grain of salt and as someone who adores and supports all creatives in this fandom... I've gotten lots of nasty comments over the years, and honestly... I take more joy that I continue on doing what I'm doing and that they're SO bloody bothered by me that I just ignored them... because really that's all you can do online. And sites like AO3 now give you the option to have your fics only be commented on by registered users only, so if you get that hate comment, just report it, block the user, and laugh at them.
I know that it's easier said than done, but to me it seems like you want to do start writing again. I've found that I just stopped caring about who my content is for, because at the end of the day, I'm doing my content for me, and it has the side effect of other people enjoying it too. I've lived long enough to just... not give a shit anymore about asshats online, because honestly they're just sad, bored people who get a sick thrill from riling people up.
BUT AGAIN, Nonny, this might be deeper than "just writing and forgetting about it" because that one comment WAS traumatic for YOU and that's VALID. I think talking to other authors might be beneficial to you to help you overcome that hurdle. FOR ME, I've found just... doing my projects with me as the primary audience does wonders. I love going back to my SUPER old stories and rereading them, because I take a lot of joy in remembering that these worlds were created by me FOR me. And looking at my old art and seeing how much I've improved often is motivation enough for me to carry on.
Actually, thinking back to my college days (OOOOOOF I'm old), we specifically had classes where the profs would rip apart our projects during critique sessions, on purpose, because in the real world, unfortunately, it is stuff you have to deal with in real life and they didn't want us to have our first experience be on-the-job. So I MIGHT be a bit more indifferent to "critiques" than most people, I'm now realizing, so AGAIN, please take what I say with a grain of salt.
That all said, you know what, Lovely? You have a lot more fans than you know, I'm sure, and they'd be thrilled to have you back <3 I REALLY REALLY wish I was better at articulating just how much I really want to see you happy, and how much of the best I hope for you. I know that my words aren't going to make everything better, but I hope they helped a bit.
If there's anyone who struggled to get over that hurdle themselves, please don't hesitate to reply or send me an anonymous message and I'll paste it here so Nonny knows that they're not alone.
And if you do, Nonny, decide to return and post up your stories, I am ALWAYS here to promote them and boost them for you <3
Please take care Nonny, and I hope you continue to write again <3 But KNOW that if you inevitably DON'T, THAT IS OKAY TOO. <3
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