#❈ ( HC. ) have you come to raise the dead?

[kimberly-spirits13]

Growing Up in the Justice League HC

Purely self indulgence cause I've been on this and idk why so bear with me here

I can just easily romanticize growing up in the Justice League too easily and it would be a problem

you're brought in at as a baby to be trained by Diana

Apollo brings you to her and tells her that you are an ancient being that regenerates as a new person when you die and this is the form that you have taken. As you get older, you will remember the skills and memories of your past lives but you will have to be raised with someone who can handle you

Diana just loves babies so she had no problem with that

I'd say the league has been established for some time during this point and everyone knows each other's identities in the core group

You grew up in Paris and New York being raised as a mama's child

Bruce is the closest you get to a dad and he does his best

SPOILS YOU ROTTEN

all the Barbies and Legos and whatever toys you'd want as a child

They know that you've been trained as an assassin, wizard, queen, knight, sorceress, scientist, all of these other things that can be traumatic so they just want you to have a great, decent childhood

when you start remember things they begin training you to be a hero

It's like PE and recess all in one since they're really just trying to figure out what you can do

Clark treats you like a fragile piece of glass up until you're a teen cause teenagers confuse him and he just cannot not see you as an innocent beep boppin child sometimes

Barry keeps up with the culture and knows all the songs from your favorite childhood movies and tv shows that you grew up watching on the massive computer in the watch tower when you were up there

will dance to any Barbie song since he knows them all by heart

Hal makes fun of you two but secretly enjoys the movies and is very emotionally invested in Princess and the Pauper and Diamond Castle

Diana and Bruce make sure that you have a great education and training

They are the mature parents of the group and want to make sure you're a functioning member of society

you've got a bag full of grandparents in the Kents, Allans, Princes, Alfred and they all love you to death

Alfred teaches you to make the best tea and gardening, Ma Kent teaches you to quilt and make bread, Pa Kent teaches you how to drive a tractor and farm, Hippolyta teaches you about the Greek gods and ancient cultures and how to ride horses, the Allans would have loads of board games to play and love having you over

Once Young Justice or Teen Titans comes around you don't join since you're officially a Justice League member and get along better with the adults since you were raised by them

That doesn't mean that you don't like or hang out with the kids, it's just that you have better inside jokes with Hal and Barry

When Superboy comes around and the League disappears, you were the only one not taken by the portal since you were helping out some civilians

You knew that Clark wasn't dead and you knew the League was somewhere

What kept you afloat was humor and Kon attached to that since he just needed someone that wasn't insane in his life

you probably won't develop romantic feelings for each other but it's more of a camaraderie since you were both raised in a really unorthodox way

when the league finally comes back, you say it's the happiest day of your life and rant to them that you were the only one who knew they weren't gone but no one understood it

Hal and Barry are known for having a thing for chicken tenders and make sure to instill an addiction in you for chicken tenders

Arthur (Aquaman) really really really likes them too but he doesn't realize it until he comes to the League

Clark would be the one to take you out for ice cream randomly or if you're having a bad day

the mother hen therapist type

You're America's favorite Justice Leaguer and often go viral for in uniform interactions with the League

Dancing with Flash at a Presidential ceremony because the music is too beep boopin good and you can't help but bop around a little bit

Media also loves you as a civilian and it's been suspected that you are the love child between Diana and Bruce since I mean- that would make the most sense

it's a running joke in the league

[pomefioredove]

heyyy! i really love your writing🥹🥹 btw can i request a hc with riddle and jamil (separated) with gn!reader who’s very lazy and they have a test and only study the morning before the test? but somehow pass?? i wanna see their reaction

anyway sorry if i made any mistakes, this is my very first request and english is not my first language😔 it’s fine if you can’t do it!!

-🎲

no worries! this is a great request, their reactions would be very funny

summary: reader miraculously passes a test they last-minute studied for type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, jamil additional info: platonic or romantic, reader is not specified to be yuu, reader is gender neutral, not proofread

Jamil knew that it wasn't his place to judge

after all, being raised with the al-Asims, he'd been taught to keep his bitter thoughts to himself

but something about your carelessness reminded him all too much of Kalim

...okay... maybe you weren't exactly partying, or spacing out, but your complete lack of conviction is almost identical

and, so, Jamil decides to give you a word of advice the day before the big exam

"Worried about tomorrow's History of Magic test?"

he even gives you a big smile, trying to play it off as a casual question

you shrug. "Eh, not really,"

"If I were you, I'd be a little more concerned. The grading system is very strict at NRC,"

and with that, he's gone

his sly remark, spoken as if in friendly conversation, leaves him feeling a little more satisfied with himself

he doesn't even feel irked when Kalim nearly sleeps through the test, or when he forgets his notes, or when he absent-mindedly reads the questions aloud during...

in fact, Jamil is quite confident that in any case, you'll do much worse than Kalim, which saves the both of them

after the exam scores are posted in the hall, you find him

"What did you get?"

Jamil hates answering these kinds of questions, especially knowing that he could be in the top of the class if he was allowed to try. "Passing. And you?"

"Well..." you smile. "I really thought about what you said, so I studied this morning."

Jamil's sour mood at his own score seems to lighten

you studied the morning of the exam? oh, this was going to be rich

"...And I got full marks!"

...what.

you show him the paper and it takes all his strength to keep his usual poker face

otherwise, his jaw would drop

"How did... how?"

you shrug. "Good study plan, I guess,"

"Hmph," he crosses his arms. "Well, then... you'll have to come tutor Kalim sometime. What works for you must work for him,"

Riddle spends the entire week pestering you about studying

"I just don't feel like it," you groan

goodness. you sound just like that terrible Floyd...

"It's not a matter of want, it's a matter of need. This exam counts for a significant amount of your grade!"

"Eh... I'll just wing it,"

wing it?! oh, now you've really done it

"Consider yourself lucky for not being a part of Heartslabyul. I would have your head for that!"

and then he storms out. how graceful!

when he sees you the following afternoon, that calm, unbothered look of yours is still on your face. it drives him mad

"If I were you, I'd be praying," he says. he's almost smug about it

Riddle earns full points on every exam- it's just a given. he's sure that the two of you will be on polar opposites of the grade spectrum once the results are posted

you shrug. "Yeah, about that... I thought about what you said, and decided that I don't want to have to retake this class. So I studied this morning,"

he almost smirks. "One last-minute cram won't be enough to raise your grade above failing, I'm afraid. But perhaps this will serve as a lesson, next time you-"

Riddle stops dead in his tracks as Trein posts the exam results on the wall behind you

his eyes widen

"Full... full marks?! We're in the same percent!? How is that possible?!"

You chuckle as his face goes all red, both frustrated and flustered

"Hey, you should count this as a victory for yourself. You give great advice,"

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Ok so Harry has a tendency to blatantly state out loud just how much the Dursleys don't give two shits about him (to the point that the people around him think it's just a typical teenager over exaggerating their complaints), but... Does he realise that the way he is being treated by them is wrong?

Also like, I know that the way the Dursleys treated him plays a huge part in the way Harry behaves and views himself- specifically him not thinking an adult is a reliable source of help and protection + his disastrouly low self esteem + how he doesn't respond to Snape's everything (which is the exact opposite of what James would have done) ... But what are the other ways in which he got affected and it shows? (Someone once mentioned that they hc that when feeling extreme emotions Harry tends to skip out on food and may have nearly wasted away in his second year had it not been for Ron and Hermione- which is also why they act so much like Harry's bodyguards)

Yep, Harry put no effort into hiding his abuse. He literally told anyone who would listen. By 5th year, he was making jokes about it to Ron and Hermione who seemed used to it.

Now, you've raised a few questions and I'll try to answer them to the best of my ability.

Does he realise that the way he is being treated by them is wrong?

I think he does. Most of his comments about his relatives' treatment definitely sound like Harry is very aware that he shouldn't be treated like that.

“I told you, I didn’t — but it’ll take too long to explain now — look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won’t let me come back, and obviously I can’t magic myself out, because the Ministry’ll think that’s the second spell I’ve done in three days, so —” “Stop gibbering,” said Ron. “We’ve come to take you home with us.” “But you can’t magic me out either —” “We don’t need to,” said Ron, jerking his head toward the front seat and grinning. “You forget who I’ve got with me.” “Tie that around the bars,” said Fred, throwing the end of a rope to Harry. “If the Dursleys wake up, I’m dead,” said Harry as he tied the rope tightly around a bar and Fred revved up the car. “Don’t worry,” said Fred, “and stand back.”

(COS, page 31)

“It was cloudy, Mum!” said Fred. “You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!” Mrs. Weasley snapped. “They were starving him, Mum!” said George. “And you!” said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

(COS, page 39)

But Harry wasn’t going to stand for this. Gone were the days when he had been forced to take every single one of the Dursleys’ stupid rules.

(GOF, page 33)

“Excellent,” said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. “We’ve got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we’re ready. Harry, I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry —” “They won’t,” said Harry. “That you’re safe —” “That’ll just depress them.” “— and you’ll see them next summer.” “Do I have to?” Lupin smiled but made no answer.

(OOTP, page 54)

“You don’t seem to need many qualifications to liaise with Muggles. . . . All they want is an O.W.L. in Muggle Studies. . . . ‘Much more important is your enthusiasm, patience, and a good sense of fun!’ ” “You’d need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with my uncle,” said Harry darkly. “Good sense of when to duck, more like . . .”

(OOTP, page 657)

It seems Harry is very much aware that the way he is being treated is wrong. the younger Weasleys and Hermione are clearly aware of that too. Harry calls the Dursleys' rules stupid, he knows the Dursleys aren't treating him the way they should and that he doesn't have to take it. That he shouldn't have to take it.

Harry is kind of a best-case scenario of an abused kid and Dumbledore was so lucky Harry ended up functional enough for his plans. It could've so easily gone down differently.

Honestly, I'm enraged on Harry's behalf at how Arthur, Molly, and Lupin (and every other adult) just completely ignore his mistreatment. He really does just state plainly what's going on and has Ron, Fred, George, and Hermione backing up everything he says.

What are the other ways in which he got affected and it shows?

I do like when Harry's approach to food is affected by the Dursleys starving him, that being said, there isn't really any book evidence for it. It's an interesting headcanon to explore though. His low self-esteem, willingness to endanger himself, and his thinking that adults be counted on are definitely effects seen in the books. As for other things we do see in the books:

1. Harry is actually really quiet. He doesn't speak as much as Ron and Hermione and he's pretty awkward with social interaction. He mimics Ron in many ways since he never had any friends before him.

His approach to studying is one of the ways he mimics Ron socially. Harry actually read their school books before 1st year, he found Hedwig's name in a History of Magic. And he planned to study at the beginning of Philosopher's Stone. Then he meets Ron and realizes no one in Gryffindor except Hermione actually studies, and she is hated for it. So he didn't bother studying either, even though he planned to because he wanted to fit in.

2. Harry isn't great at emotional regulation, specifically anger. Harry is a pretty angry character and throughout the books, he actually has moments when he completely loses himself to a sense of anger.

A boiling hate erupted in Harry’s chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back in his hand, not to defend himself, but to attack . . . to kill.

(POA, page 339)

“Madame Maxime!” said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!” Somewhere under Harry’s numb disbelief he felt a ripple of anger. Little boy?

(GOF, page 275)

Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GOF, page 300)

If Dudley’s friends saw him sitting here, they would be sure to make a beeline for him, and what would Dudley do then? He wouldn’t want to lose face in front of the gang, but he’d be terrified of provoking Harry. . . . It would be really fun to watch Dudley’s dilemma; to taunt him, watch him, with him powerless to respond . . . and if any of the others tried hitting Harry, Harry was ready — he had his wand . . . let them try . . . He’d love to vent some of his frustration on the boys who had once made his life hell —

(OOTP, page 11)

He does calm down the older he gets. But he definitely has a lot of anger in him.

3. Harry, in general, has a disrespect for authority. I assume this is an extension of his distrust of adults, in that no teacher or nurse ever helped him. Harry is so anti-authority and anti-orders, that he can resist the Imperius Curse decently from the first try.

Harry just doesn't do orders or authority. Actually in the earlier books, and even in books 6 and 7, Harry has his doubts about Dumbledore. He repeatedly tells people he's Dumbledore's man, but in his head, he has doubts. Like he has for any other adult with authority over him.

“Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!” he hissed. “He’s not as gone as you might think!” Harry retorted. He was speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true —

(COS, page 282)

“Because the Ministry of Magic’s still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There’s not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix . . . or so Dumbledore feels.” There was something about the slightly flattened tone of voice in which Sirius uttered Dumbledore’s name that told Harry that Sirius was not very happy with the headmaster either. Harry felt a sudden upsurge of affection for his godfather.

(OOTP, pages 82-83)

He's very distrusting of adults and authority, but also his peers. He doesn't tell Ron and Hermione everything in the earlier books because he is very slow to trust. Which, makes sense for someone who grew up like he did.

4. His occasional impulsiveness is an extension of his issues with emotional regulation, I think.

5. I think Harry's cunning Slytherin streak is a result of his abuse. The Dursleys' mistreatment taught him to sneak around, to lie, to be clever. It taught him to keep a blank face when being yelled at because if he reacted it'll make it worse.

He learned how to insult the Dursleys in ways that go over Dudley's head. His little way to rebel.

6. His response to pain as well. We see it with Umbridge and the blood quill for example:

He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry’s right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel — yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth. Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile. “Yes?” “Nothing,” said Harry quietly. He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time

(OOTP, page 267)

Harry can hide his pain and not react to it, and he does it well. He learned from the Dursleys that she wants to see his pain, and he isn't going to give her what she wants. Instead, he grits his teeth through it and doesn't react externally.

Even later in the book when Umbridge threatens with the Crociatus Curse, Harry just braces himself for it, not planning to break (in later books too, Harry is very willing to get hurt and just deal with it). He is willing to take torture without reacting, and I think this is something he got from the Dursleys.

These are the some other things that came to mind regarding your question. There are probably more that I can't think of now that I might add later. Harry is who he is in part because of his nightmare of a childhood. So many facets of his personality just link back to it.

[juneberrie]

DATING APPLEJACK !

request || equestria girls!apple jack x fem!reader

author's note: everyone say thank you to mars for encouraging my delusions & to the person who requested this. also ive been picturing her the way @/cloiiiiii on tiktok draws her so like yeah

ⓘ word count : 0.8k || applejack masterlist

probably didn't realize she liked you until someone (rarity) told her

"what? no way, i don't like-" and then the "HOLY SHIT I DO LIKE HER!"

she was the last to know

rainbow and rarity have to give her advice on asking you out (rarity's is serious and helpful, dash's is just "ask her out dumbass")

probably asked you out with flowers.

"so uh– i was wondering' if you'd, uh, y'know, wanna go out with me sometime? it's fine if not– y'know what, nevermind its stupi–"

she's so nervous!!!

anyways onto the actual dating hcs

she was the one to say i love you first

you guys were probably taking a walk or something and you were talking and she'll like smile at you really lovingly and go "i love you, y'know"

calls you really cheesy nicknames — sugar, sugar cube, pretty girl, my girl, princess, angel, darlin', missy, sweetheart, sweet pea, honey, etc etc

would take you on the cutest dates!!!

sunsets, picnics, apple picking (duh), late night drives

if u like shopping then she's def the kind of girl who'll hold all your bags

she'll also walk you to all your classes / walk you home

also!!! kind of gf who won't leave u alone in public. like if you guys go out she WILL stay with you at all times cause yk 😕

she's such a sweetheart

will open doors for you and get offended if you try to do ANYTHING yourself

SHE WAS RAISED RIGHT 🗣

can and will give you her clothes to wear. PLEAAASE wear her flannels/shirts around her she will lose her mind

"well, darlin', don't you look nice?" whenever u get dressed up

she either gets flustered really easily or she doesnt

pls imagine her in like. a white tank and jeans and cowboy boots

1 million dead 4923 injured

her voice in the morning >>>>>

it has a little rasp and her accent is like ten times thicker and just ugh

she's jacked btw. apple jacked.

she grew up up a farm like what'd u expect

anyways imagine needing to get smth off a shelf or something and she just comes up behind you and reaches to grab the thing and her arms ohmygod

love languages are definitely acts of service & quality time

CONSTANTLY doing little things for you

holding open the door, getting you flowers every week, randomly cleaning your room when she's at your house, filling up ur drink, ordering for you, etc

such a "my girl" kind of gf

"attagirl" "my girl" "pretty girl" "sweet girl"

randomly gives u compliments

also!! i don't see her as the kind of gf who comments under ur insta posts but she's def the kind who'll post them on her story

she's not a very social media person in general, but any post she does make is probably of you

would def write you a sappy letter on your anniversary/valentines/christmas/new years/your birthday

basically any chance she gets she'll write u a long, sappy letter telling you how much she appreciates you and loves you and yap yap yap

i don't see her as a person who wears much jewelry, but i can definitely see her having a locket with your picture in it, or some kind of matching bracelet

randomly starts yapping about you to the girls

"she's so sweet and i love her an–" "SHUT UP WE GET IT." "dang okay"

they're your biggest fans!!!

pinkie probably made a fan account on insta thats just her posting cute pictures of you guys

rarity helps applejack plan dates and shit

dash playfully flirts with you any chance she gets because she finds it hilarious when aj glares at her

speaking of that, i can't see her being someone who gets jealous super super easily?

like, i can definitely see her sidling up beside you, putting an arm around your waist, and glaring at the person who's flirting with you

"who's this, darlin'?"

she has an rbf so if you're really sunshine-y you guys look ridiculous tg

scary guard dog gf!!!!

such an early riser but if you ask her to stay in bed with you she'll be so dramatic about it (she'll sigh and be like "alright, alright, but just this once" <- its happened multiple times)

apple bloom adores you!!! she'll randomly barge into aj's room to talk to you (aj thinks its cute how much she likes you but she does NOT appreciate her sister's interruption)

100% your biggest supporter

if you do theatre or choir or orchestra, she'll show up to EVERY. SINGLE. PERFORMANCE. you will ever have

if you do sports, trust she'll be at all your games yelling her head off and holding a big ass sign

she's really good at cooking so she'll learn how to make your favorite dishes!!! this also means you guys have cute little dinners at home a lot <3

© juneberrie 2024 – reblogs are appreciated!!!

[moonlit-imagines]

No One’s Sidekick

Jason Todd x teen!reader

warnings: needles and guns and death mentions ya know

a/n: ok i was gonna do headcanons for this but honestly it sparked a lot of inspiration so im actually writing a oneshot for it this is a ONE IN A MILLION CHANCE bc im very picky about when to write oneshots ily. might do hcs also just cuz arkham knight is my passion. (honestly i should have just done hcs idk if i like where i went with this LMAO)

prompt: anonymous: “hi idk if you write Arkham Jason Todd but if if you do is it possible if you can do a Arkham Jason Todd x fem teen reader and reader is his sidekick”

Imagine a life where you had nothing, you were the lowest anyone could go, and you were just a kid. Now imagine that there was someone standing in front of you, telling that same story, and offering you a chance to turn it all around because they knew how it felt to be you.

That someone was Jason Todd. You found each other by chance, somewhere in the Gotham slums. He walked past you down a dimly lit alley full of used needles and rotting trash, noticing a kid just a few years younger hiding from the world. You noticed a guy in a hoodie hiding a nasty scar on his cheek.

He reached out a hand, hoping you’d take it. He saw a look in your eyes that you’d been like this a while. And you might have noticed the same in his. Which is why after trusting nobody for years, you took this stranger’s hand. “I remember when I was a kid waiting in shitty places woth the hope someday it’d change. And it did one day. Someone found me and changed my life.” He explained after buying you a burger and fries.

“Was it for the better?” You asked him with a mouthful of food.

“I don’t know anymore.” He looked shaken himself, and you could tell by the bags under his eyes this may have been a subject that kept him up at night, maybe took up his waking moments, too. “How long have you been alone?”

“Practically forever. Every once in a while I felt like I was on steady ground and then…something always happens.” You sighed, taking a sip of your soda. “But I learned how to get by on my own. I had to. And I have to protect myself.” Jason raised a brow.

“You protect yourself yet you’re willing to go off with a stranger?” He asked, giving you a warm smile.

“Jason, right?” He nodded at the question. “Jason Todd?” His expression dropped. Before he could stammer out a response, you leaned back on your side of the booth and said, “everyone around here knows you one way or another, but everyone thought you were dead after you disappeared.”

“Did you know who I was when you came here with me?” Jason spoke lowly.

“Nope.” You flatly responded. “But I figured it out along the way. You used to live in my building when I was a kid, I knew I recognized you from somewhere.”

“3B?” He asked.

“That’s the one. You remember?” You smiled.

“I remember a scared little kid with dirt all over their face no matter what time of day.” You both chuckled. “Wow, it’s been a long time. I guess I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“It’s nice. I just don’t know where to go from here.” You took the last few bites from your meal, averting your eyes from his gaze, nervous for what was to come, but also hopeful. At this point, you didn’t care what you did or where you went, as long as you had some kind of purpose. Spending your youth in sleeping in wet boxes or crashing on a sunken-in, stained couch was no longer something you could stand doing.

“I had an idea. A while ago. But I just didn’t know how to go about it.” He revealed with a long pause, mustering up better details to share. “I dont know. It sounds crazy, but maybe not anymore.”

“Can you get to the point?” You tilted your head, eager for a bit more.

“Yeah, yeah…” He gulped. “I talked to this guy, it was after some really bad shit went down,” he brushed his scarred cheek, “this high-profile assassin wanted to train me—work with me. There are some demons I have to face, but I need some help to get ready.” You stared blankly for a minute, fingernail scratching the tabletop as you thought about his words. “It’s out of the country, somewhere in South America.”

“You’re crazy.” You stated. “I’m in.” Jason’s eyes widened. “Anything to get me out of Gotham. And you’re Jason Todd, I’d trust you with my life, even after all this time.” His expression softened and he kind of chuckled, in disbelief of you and himself.

“I—I guess I gotta go make a call.” Jason knocked his hand on the table. “Go ahead and order dessert, I’ll be back in a few.” He stepped out the front door and opened his phone, scrolling down to a contact labeled “S. Wilson.” It rang twice. “I’m in, and one more will be joining us.”

“I’ll make the arrangements for your travels, stay on the line.” Said Slade, there were faint keyboard clicks. “I have a private jet that awaits you at eight a.m. tomorrow. I will send you the address, don’t be late.” The phonecall ended abruptly and Jason went back to your table, finding you eating a slice of pie.

“Tomorrow morning we get to fly in a private jet.” Jason saw your face light up. “Never been?”

—————

Venezuela was incredible to you, even if it was a bit more humid than you were used to. On the plane ride, Jason told you everything. He didn’t spare one detail, he didn’t care. You were another Gotham City orphan with a dark past and a bright future. You two were ready for anything.

It was grueling. It was incredible. It was nothing you’d experienced before. Which was terrifying. But invigorating. You could tell Jason felt right back in his element, but you were desperately trying to catch up. He’d had much training before this, relevant to the current situation. You’re training went as far as standard Gotham Slums scuffling. Your skills included switchblade maneuvers, aiming for the crotch, running from trouble and climbing from trouble. Nothing like this ever seemed possible for you. But Jason knew what it felt like to be brought from your level to his. And as Deathstroke brought Jason to his level, he’d make sure you’d catch up.

—————

“I think you two are ready.” Slade announced as both of you stood before him. Straight backs, eyes forward, and arms behind your backs. “The plan is to be enacted soon, and you,” he turned his attention to Jason, “it’s up to you what we do from here. Gotham City finally meets its match?” He suggested. Jason nodded his head once and you followed. And so it began, the planning phase.

—————

You looked at Gotham from down below. Smaller than you remembered. The whirring of the helicopter blades lulled you away from reality for a few moments before Jason tapped you, motioning for you to come up front with him. You slid your headset on and heard him begin barking orders at the militia before setting your comms to private. “How’s it feel?” Jason asked you.

“I don’t know, actually.” You replied, doing a final check to make sure your guns were loaded and secured. “What about you?”

“It feels like I’m finally getting my revenge.” His voice modulator sent a chill down your spine and you soon landed in Gotham. The plan went off without a hitch. Gotham evacuated, scum running loose, Batman distracted, and his allies scattered. It was exciting, but something was off. Scarecrow’s plan didn’t sit well with you. It was gruesome, even to you. You never really cared about anyone but yourself, but as Jason lost his humanity, you gained it. “I’ve got your back, y/n. You got mine?”

“Always, Knight.” He chuckled as the chopper began to descend. “Let’s kill the Batman.”

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @deanzboyfriend //

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Why does Monkey live with Leah and not her own family?

— monkey's past | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

despite her wild and chaotic antics, the girl's background is actually pretty sad and she doesn't like to talk much about it.

the nightmares from monkey's past at night haunt her sometimes.

monkey always considered her relationship with her parents her father to be challenging and hard, while the relationship with her mother is pretty much non-exsistant.

she finds it hard to talk about them things.

her mother abandoned her only child when she was little, no explanation - one day monkey woke up and the women had fled.

there was no goodbye, no note, nothing.

the resentment for the women was still is there and whenever monkey is asked about her mother, she's always quick to drop the subject.

the team have learned that the hard way in the past.

"my mother is dead,"

"is she really?"

"no, but... well, she might as well be,"

monkey's relationship with her father was complicated to say the least, the man had to raise her alone when his wife walked out on them when monkey was just shy of 2 for a whole new family.

her father had a few various different coping mechanisms - throwing himself into his work and drinking, sometimes even drugs.

the man definitely did have a temper and the scars on monkey's back prove it, unfortunately.

"i'm sorry dad,"

"sorry isn't good enough. you should know better!"

"dad,"

"your nothing but a disappointment, your mother had the right idea to leave you when she did. get out of my sight, now!"

if the man wasn't passed out on the sofa drunk or lashing out at his daughter with his fists, he was throwing himself into his work.

monkey was completely neglected and alone, but he was clever and always made it seem like he was the caring doting father, so he was to never get caught out.

monkey never got to escape her fathers' clutches until she was 16

when arsenal scouted monkey, the man was more than happy enough to sign the papers and all but washed his hands off her.

"i've washed my hands off her, shes' your problem now."

there was never any contact from that day.

not even on birthday or christmases.

monkey should have felt a sense of freedom, but instead she was lost.

the man who had so much hatred for his daughter and all she wanted craved was his approval.

monkey has always been a life-long gooner, joining the academy when she turned 8 and it felt like a dream come true, her dad was a gooner as well - it's in her blood, she lives and breathes arsenal.

being only 16 when she signed, she was taken under the wing of the older girls, more so specifically leah who she moved in with, along with kim, the two she formed a pretty close bond with.

"your my person, you both are. i love you."

"we've always got your back here, monkey."

"and your never alone, you have family here."

"we love you too, menace."

it was at the age of 18 when monkey found out her dad died, not that it made any difference at all.

"ha, well guess that i really am an orphan now, right?"

"monkey,"

"was it the drinking or drugs that killed him? it was only a matter of time,"

after all, monkey thinks that dark humor is the way to make things better.

it's become her coping mechanism.

"should i care? he didn't care about me when i was alive, why should i care about him when he's dead?"

it's safe to say that monkey's past is pretty haunting to her, but with the stability that she has around her, its' better now she has the arsenal girls to look out for her.

monkey has her chosen family, she is protected and loved by all of the older girls, despite how much of a menace she can be at times.

I didn't plan for this to be so sad, but here we go. feel free to continue to send me hc's for this little world i'm creating!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can i please have shang tsung(mk1) when he was just a salesman, meeting reader(a kind village person) and them helping him with his wounds everytime he gets beat up and they actually show him that not everyone is mean? :> It can be a fic or just hcs, i just need shang tsung content :<

Does this contain dramatic ooc Shang Tsung? Yes. When I see him, all I see is the cat being held at knifepoint…also this is unnecessarily long.

You knew you shouldn’t spare Shang Tsung any ounce of sympathy nor remorse for his faulty practices and causing loss and suffering to spread evermore throughout your village then needed. But that didn’t mean you condom the call to violence from your fellow villagers, most of whom had grown tired of allowing themselves to become deluded to Shang Tsung’s lies, whilst others just wanted an plausible excuse to get their hands on the salesman for the longest time now and had finally found their excuse.

They all had valid reasons to return the harm Shang Tsung had put upon everyone tenfold but an entire village against one man wasn’t exactly the fairest of odds. Then again if you were to being this up to anyone and they would retaliate by saying that their current circumstances weren’t fair either, before going on a tangent of how Shang Tsung took advantage of a vulnerable backwater village that would firmly believe that pigs could fly.

And yet despite all that, you could never bring yourself to inflict physical harm on him, if anything you refrained from anything in relation to violence almost entirely; So when the mob of villagers went to gang up on the salesman, you would make sure that you were far away from it as possible not matter how well deserved it maybe…you didn’t want to bear witness to it nor encourage such ugly behaviour that every being in existence seemed to be cursed with.

Upon returning however, you were always met with a pitiful sight of Shang Tsung looking worse for wear with his injuries and disheveled and torn clothes. It tugged at your heart to help him, show him an ounce of kindness in a village filled with people unsatisfied with him still living. You wondered how much of a difference would it make for them had Shang Tsung did pass away, for you truly believed that harming him wouldn’t make the dead come back to life, it wouldn’t bring the sick and injured back to full health; nothing would undo what already had been predestined to occur.

However Shang Tsung was made aware of you presence almost instantly, you weren’t apart of the mob that come to beat him on a daily basis, he would know as those same angry faces were deeply engraved within his mind that he could tell when something amongst them was amiss and yours certainly didn’t strike familiarity within him; but that didn’t mean he was about to be seen looking weak and pathetic in front of an unfamiliar face.

‘If it is revenge you want,’ Shang Tsung began bitterly, ‘have at it. If it is restitution, there is nothing left.’

‘Oh, that’s not why I’m here-‘ you began.

‘I know, or else you would’ve been with that bloodthirsty mob earlier.’ Shang Tsung interrupts with a scoff, looking you in the eyes now. ‘So pray tell why are you even here? To brutalise me emotionally or mentally?’ He then questions before shrugging his shoulders and looking down to pick at the dirt beneath his nails. ‘Hate to be the bearer of bad news but I’m pretty sure your friends had that covered.’

‘If you would just shut it for a minute and let me speak then maybe you would know that I’m here to help you with your wounds.’ You said, not wanting to stand out in the pouring rain all night, listening to him go on a tangent about your backwater village as if you didn’t already know, your the one who lives here your entire life with no promise of a better one anywhere in sight!

Shang Tsung’s brows raised in surprise. Help? You’re willing enough to help him, despite everything he’s done? Now why was that simple sentence the most oddest thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. Was this a trick? A trap? Even as he’s looking into your eyes, Shang Tsung wasn’t quite sure what your motive in all this was.

Your eyes were so kind, genuine and honest that even if you were lying, you’d think he would have known better than to trust a beautiful liar. Not that he would admit to any of this, he had a reputation to uphold.

‘What’s in it for me?’ He asks, leaning forward.

‘You wounds won’t be susceptible to infection?’ You said. ‘I don’t have much else to give other then medical aid so…’ you trailed off as the sound of rain took to filling in the silence. Shang Tsung was silent for a while and you were bringing to feel stupid, you even began to regret offering him help and were about to call it a night, when Shang Tsung said something so quietly that you couldn’t quite hear it over the rain.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t catch that.’

‘I said fine.’ Shang Tsung said with a hint of irritation of having to repeat himself. ‘but don’t think anything of this, you are to patch my wounds as per your insistence. Nothing more, nothing less.’

After making a deal with seemingly the devil, you went ahead and lead him back to your place to heal him of his wounds and seeing him off, thinking it to be a one time only thing, before anyone got suspicious of your involvement with the man who had caused them so much grief and misery.

Unfortunately you were proven wrong as it seemed that either every time you healed Shang Tsung of his wounds, the next set he would obtain were objectively worse than the ones before and naturally, you began to worry that the villagers were taking it too far this time.

‘Oh my gods.’ You said from behind your hands upon seeing the state that the village had left Shang Tsung in this time, it almost brings you to tears. He looked utterly terrible and had an hard time trying to move from the doorway without wincing, allowing for a cold draft to sweep inside and bringing rain along with it.

‘Nice to know that I still leave you speechless.’ Shang Tsung teased but the smirk upon his lips was easily wiped off his face as it contorted in discomfort and his eyes clenched shut, he grit teeth to hold back a pained grunt. The villagers defiantly bruised something, how troublesome.

‘As much as I know that you love hearing the sound of your own voice, but I’m going to need you to stop unless you want to get even worse.’ You replied, already working on getting him sat down comfortably on the chair you had pulled from another room along with your medical equipment. Spending time with Shang Tsung would’ve drove anyone into a fit of rage either way how arrogant and pompous he sounded, but if anything you’ve gradually picked up some of his sass whilst patching up his wounds.

So whether he tried anything, you were able to throw it back at him, to which he would always reply with; ‘you dare to kick a man while he’s down my dear healer?’ Whilst his eyes shone mischievously.

‘If that man is anything like you then I’m sure he’ll survive.’ You responded back in kind, yet all the while keeping a gentle and steady hand when stitching his deeper cuts and gashes before coving them up. ‘Like a cockroach.’ You heard him sharply inhale and looked at him, worried that you might’ve pressed down too hard on one of his wounds and were about to ask, only to see him looking away from you with his nose up in the air; even when he’s injured Shang Tsung never fails to find the opportunity to be dramatic.

‘You did not just compare me to those vile things.’ He spat.

‘You say that now but cockroaches are notoriously impossible to kill.’ You said absentmindedly, having calmed down upon realising that he wasn’t in any sort pain that you didn’t noticed the sigh of relief that you had let out, not until Shang Tsung made a comment on it.

‘Were you worried about me, dear healer?’ He’d ask, seeing an opening to use to his advantage.

‘I thought I might’ve pressed too hard on one of your wounds or reopened them somehow.’ you shot him a small genuine smile. ‘I’ve never been more glad in being wrong. I don’t like seeing you hurt, not to this extent, it’s not like the villagers will gain anything from it.’ You didn’t think much when Shang Tsung remained uncharacteristically silent throughout the rest of the treatment, staring ahead at nothing, he didn’t say anything until he was about to leave where he flashed you a forced smile. ‘Thank you for healing me.’ Was all he said but it was enough to leave you stunned.

Shang Tsung was never one to thank you after healing him, ever, so much so that hearing him say that made you think that something within him had changed, but you weren’t the type to charge into a burning house just because you tricked yourself into seeing something; you were kind but to that degree.

Meanwhile Shang Tsung was mulling over your words in his head. Out of an entire village hellbent on seeing him dead, you were the only one to show him an ounce of kindness despite everything. At first he thought you were unaware of who he was and what he has done to your entire village but when he found out that you were aware, it made all your interactions with him up till now all the more questionable.

He didn’t understand what you think you’d get from being kind to him nor understood your motive, not even your intentions. Yet the more he came to you for healing, he gradually stopped being speculative and started believing that this was just who you were as an individual, it wasn’t a persona you put on for fun. You held a genuine sense of self that not many could claim to have, not even himself. He doesn’t like being vulnerable but he has found that he could do so fluidly when within your presence, sure it took awhile but in the end Shang Tsung knew that it was near impossible for him to be redeemed, he had hurt too many and push many more past breaking point.

Your kindness may have been a reprieve for him but it could never erase the blood off of his hands that will sooner or later taint you.

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Headcanons for the greasers x s/o who flinches when they raise their hand in a fight

Tw: Angsty ig, light potential violence, slight abusive

Ponyboy Curtis

-you two were arguing about his smoking again

-you really hates when he does it, and he does it too much

-so you express that one night when it’s just you two having dinner at the Curtis house, Darrys still working, and Soda is out with Steve

-“You need to quit smokin so much Ponyboy! It’ll kill you!”

“I can’t quit y/n, yk how I get without my cancer sticks, y/n, just lemme have one more!”

-soon it turns into a bigger arguement, and you both get into each others faces, yelling

-he raises his fist, not thinking, and pauses when he sees the fear in your eyes

-he feels immediately sick to his stomach, at the thought of scaring someone he loved so dearly

-as you run out of the house he yells “W-wait! Y/n! Y/n! I-i ain’t mean to I swear!”

-he feels horrible and definitely breaks down on his steps crying a bit and soda and carry find him there ask him what happened

-he explains and they exchange looks, and they make him go apologize

-he comes to your house with flowers and a handwritten apology, getting ready to leave them at your door when you open it

-before you can get a word in he’s already rambling “Y/n I-I am so sorry I would’ve never actually hit you, I hope you know that I’m so so sorry please don’t break up with me but I understand if you w-“

-you hug him

-“Ponyboy Micheal Curtis if you ever raise that fist again-“

-he never does

Johnny Cade

-it’s so hard to imagine him actually doing this

-I feel like the only way you’d get that kind of reaction out of him realistically is hurting his friends

-but for the sake of the hcs let’s say you both get into a fight and you try getting in his face or sum and he pushes you back, a lot harder then he meant

-you slam into the wall

-with tears down your cheeks, you always thought Johnny was your safe person, the last person on earth who would hurt you

-it wasn’t really about the pain, it didn’t hurt that much. But the fact he did it

-for Johnny, his world just shatters…. He just did what he swore he’d never do… lay hands on you

-he drops to his knees in shock at himself, feeling the worst pain imaginable looking at your wet eyes, your… scared eyes

-he knows that look so well, the one he’s had so many times himself and he feels his heart rip out when you run away from the lot

-in canon it takes a LOT to make him cry and this does it

-he cries in his hands, he can’t believe what he just did

-feels the worst out of all the greasers ☹️

-he lets you come to him, he doesn’t go to you, he wants to give you enough space from him

-when you come back and meet him at the lot his stomach does a flip

-“Y/n I didn’t mean to push you that hard I swear I wouldn’t ever hurt you I’m so sorry I’m just like my old man and ma…. I don’t ever wanna hurt you I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry….”

-practically drops to his knees before you

-you look at him, sighing, it’s impossible to stay mad at him

-you look him dead in the eyes as he gulps

“Johnny Cade you best never lay a finger on me again in that way y’hear?”

-he never comes close to doing that again, and even months later apologizes

Sodapop Curtis

-him doing this is so ooc like johnny lmao so it’s hard to protest and I think he’d again only ever do this if you attacked pony or sum

-you’re frustrated with him, he’s smart, dammit! Maybe a little slow, but when he gets things he gets them!

-and you really wish he could see that

-you both have enough collective money to push him through college to get a better job than a gas station

-and even if he is happy, he could be happier

-you both get into another arguement, and he grabs your arm, pulling you closer, and you squeal a little as your arm turns red

-he turns to you and meets your eyes, dropping your arm instantly

-you look at him in bewilderment and… fear as he starts

-“Y/n c’mon now please, wait…”

-but you’re out of that house faster than lightning

-he immediately goes to your house with flowers, and some jewelry that he’s been saving up to buy you

-you open the door “Soda, you can’t win my affection back with a half assed smile and-“

-he cuts you off with a sheepish grin “I- I actually intended to win you over in a different way…. Like an apology. I’m so sorry. I-After Sandy… I just can’t lose you too, to something so stupid. I’ll never do it again.”

-he is a man of his word

Darry Curtis

-one day he comes home, already tired from work and sees you there, crossed arms

-he forgot your anniversary… again

-he tried to apologize and you interrupted, furious

-he shoots back, arguing he can’t remember because he works all the time and actually does something with his life

-you get furious at this remark, and yell up in his face and he shoves you, (pb Curtis style 💀💀😭)

-you sit up, looking at him with tears because hell yes getting abused by Darry’s muscle mass hurts

-you look so scared and when darry meets your eyes his jaw drops, and he tries to apologize but you’ve already ran out of the house

-you head home and he comes to your door the next day, and the next

-your relationship takes the longest to heal

-about a month later you let him in and he’s mostly quiet, he feels horrible

-he lets you tell and scream at him and take out your anger, just so he can at least let you get it all out before he tries to apologize

-“Y/n I-i am really sorry. Sorrier than I ever have been in my entire life. I made one of the biggest mistakes I ever have and I am real sorry.”

-you stand up, and let out a teary sigh “if you ever lay another hand on me again I will leave you faster than you can’t count to three DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

-he nods

-it takes a very long time to repair your relationship, but once you do, he never lays a finger on you like that ever again

Dallas Winston

-one night, he gets a bit drunk and a girl kisses him

-you get mad, and see the whole thing before he pushes her away with disgust

-you think he cheated and yell at him about it when you both get home

-you both get HEATED and get in each others faces, this is definitely the most fast building fight

-he raises his palm up, nearly hitting you but taking a pause when he looks into your alone angry eyes, now with a layer of fear

-for a look the he’s used to getting so much his way, this hits differently

-he drops his hand, and looks down at it then back at you, and immediately tries to apologize

-“C’mon y/n I wasn’t actually gonna hit you you know that stop making such a big deal out of it-“

-you run out and he actually feels badly

-he won’t ever approach you first, he waits for you to come to him

-“Dallas Winston you NEVER do that again. Please.”

-he nods, and even, for the first time, apologizes sincerely

-he doesn’t ever do it again

Two Bit Matthews

-you two were joking around when suddenly he cracked a joke a bit too close to home

-you told him off and annoyed, he argued back

-pretty soon it was a full on fight, and he grabbed your hand and raised the other one

-you looked up at him “Two… were ya gonna hurt me?!”

-he snaps out of it, looking at you and instantly pulling away

-“Y/n, I’m so sorry… I-i don’t know what came over me. You know I couldn’t do that.”

-he looks into your eyes genuinely and you pause

-“Never again?” “Never again, promise.”

Steve Randle

-he left Ponyboy out of another hangout between him you and soda and you were mad, you knew it hurt Ponyboy

-you bring it up to him and he immediately deflects and rolls his eyes

-after a while things get pretty heated and he snaps, and grabs the collar of your shirt

-you gasp, and look down then up at him, and he looks at you, confused then guilty

-he looks at you as you back away “Y/n…… don’t be like that… I wouldn’t- I couldn’t-“

-you run out of the gas station and sit under a nearby tree, your head in your knees

-he runs after you, and squats down next to you, looking you in the eyes

-“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I know never do that to you. I’ll never do it again.”

[mirrology]

— Rowdy .ᐟ ☆

୨୧ rowdy: ( noun) a noisy and disorderly person. (adjective) noisy and disorderly.

Ft. boothill, gender neutral reader. platonic. Wc: 722

Content: short bit of hc's and a small fic at the end, readers age is not specified, boothill being a little shit, he cares abt u tho, typical sibling shenanigans, sibling bonding, cursing, boothill may be ooc.

A/n: first ever platonic boothill fic /j, also this is kinda lazy but whatever.

He would definitely be one of those annoying brothers that come into your room just to look at you, then leave without closing the door.

but he genuinely cares about you and your safety considering his job as a galaxy ranger.

Boothill also definitely calls you runt, squirt, & kid no matter how old you are or no matter how much you complain.

Frequently ruffles your hair as a sign of affection, although this ends in bickering when you do your hair before it.

Definitely can't cook for shit, every time he tries to make something for you out of the kindness of his heart, he absolutely wrecks it.

It ends up burnt and inedible, and a purple aura around in a cartoonish fashion. and oh, the poor kitchen, you can't count how many times you've had to fix something. it has gone through a lot.

The two of you have sleepovers where you do skincare, watch movies and gossip about anything and everything.

you would think that Boothill is more of a horror movie and/or action movies type guy but he has a soft spot for sappy romance movies and the saddest films possible.

and if you feel like it, both of you talk about your love life.

Trains you by sparring in hand-to-hand combat, he usually wins the sparring, but you've gotten close to beating him.

After your training session you flop on the floor like a dead fish and beg him to carry you back inside, he obliges but not before teasing you for falling to the ground.

he picks you up in a princess carry or in a piggy back ride.

Boothill gives you things at the most random times, "oh but it's not a holiday or anything special today!" you can say but he won't care. accept his gift.

If you just as much glance at something in a store for 1 millisecond you'll find said thing in a gift bag with a little note, handwritten by him.

Since he's part robot he can't drink water or even touch it or he will malfunction, even though he's made to sustain the harsh weather of the desert and attacks from the criminals he hunts down.

so if he's being stubborn and does go through with touching water, you're the one who (quite literally) brings him back to life.

and because of this you've become well-versed in technology. you constantly fix anything that is wrong, such as a jammed finger. Although can't seem to get rid of that swear filter that he's unfortunately stuck with.

Overall Boothill is a very fun elder brother who wants to keep you safe.

You woke up to the feeling of being moved from your spot on your desk. you had been working on one of your tech projects, spending hours on end tinkering away in your room. You cracked one eye open, sleep pulling at your eyes, wanting them to close one more. You were met with the familiar face of your brother above you. then you registered the feeling of his hand on your back and underneath your knees.

Boothill noticed your sleepy gaze on him, and he smiled cheekily, "Heya, runt. I see ya' woke up" he chuckled in amusement at your disheveled appearance. He laid you down on your bed and placed the covers over your body, you immediately sank into your mattress and the soft feeling of the blanket on top of you was making you sleepier.

"Jeez, how long have ya' been up?" His smile dropped a little as he noticed a faint outline of dark circles underneath your eyes. "dunno..." you slurred out and turned to your side, facing him. "Hey, big bro?" you quietly said, Boothill raised an eyebrow "yea?" he asked.

You softly grinned, "Love ya'" you said, then suddenly being interrupted by a yawn. there was silence as your eyes drooped and eventually closed as you fell into a deep slumber.

Boothill stared at your sleeping face, it wasn't exactly surprising that you had said that you loved him. It was just that you didn't say it often, it wasn't that you didn't want to. Boothill's schedule is almost always full, so spending time with him can be hard. A rare soft smile graced his features and he reached over to caress your head.

"I love ya' too, kid." He whispered.

[sundrop-writes]

hiya! Might be a bit broad of a request but could I get headcanons with jj x autistic female reader ?

Broad in the sense if I could get hcs of her reacting to reader with autism, how she helps reader with overstimulation and struggling with social cues and noise. If you wanna throw in smut hcs (jj being the dom) i’m also fine with that!

Basically anything with jj and autistic female reader, thanks!

I love this request so much!!! If you want smut/smutty hcs with JJ and autistic reader, definitely feel free to send in a separate request - I will come back for that in another post. For now, I hope you enjoy this!!

Requests are currently - OPEN.

Jennifer Jareau x Fem!Autistic!Reader (Headcanons)

(Warnings: typical CM themes, the reader is described as touch avoidant (with some exceptions); mentions of molestation and murder (related to a case, mentioned in passing); mentions of blood, mentions of someone being shot in the reader's presence. Idk, I don't think there's anything else. Not proofread.)

JJ was raised around everything (neuro)typical, so when she meets you, she doesn't quite get you. Not at first.

You are one of the smartest people on the team - that is why you're there. Your ability to pick up on patterns and bits of detail that others don't see is incredible, and your brain holds mass amounts of obscure information that she could never even dream of knowing.

But you are quirky. More than quirky.

You have difficulty making eye contact, you freak out if someone even motions toward touching you unexpectedly, you have very odd, specific little rituals with your snacks and meals (which JJ does come to find endearing over time) - you go from talking at incredibly fast speeds, blabbering out information to being silent and stoic for long periods of time.

When she finds out that you have autism, she is a bit surprised. She is one of those people who thinks that autism is a disorder related to school aged boys - but you explain to her how it affects your life. How it makes it difficult for you to relate to people, form close friendships, how it's difficult for you to focus on larger 'important' things when smaller details are bothering you.

(It's one of the reasons you're so good at your job - but it also makes it hard to focus on people's words if their shirt is wrinkled and it's distracting you.)

You act cold toward most people on the team, and it's one random day that JJ finally starts to figure you out. A day that you finally warm up to her.

You were helping Morgan escort a suspect out of the police station, to a squad car where he would be driven to jail to be processed. He had confessed to molesting and killing eight boys after being caught with a ninth, and when the father of one of the boys heard the BAU had arrested someone, he came to the police station with a gun.

When the suspect was shot, you were covered in his blood, and in horrible shock from hearing such a loud bang right beside your ear - from feeling the sudden dead weight drop in your arms.

You ran back into the station screaming, and JJ followed her instinct - followed you into the women's washroom, wanting to see if you had been hurt. She was surprised to see you pacing back and forth in front of the sinks, muttering something under your breath.

"L/N." She called out your name, trying to get your attention. "Y/N? Y/N? Hey? Are you hurt?"

You didn't look up, not for a second. But your muttering became louder. And it became more clear what you were saying.

"My pen, my pen, I dropped my pen..."

JJ had no clue why you were so concerned about a pen when you were covered in someone else's blood, your ears likely still ringing from the gunshot - but she knew that you had a pen-clicking habit. It was something that often annoyed Reid and Morgan - but from what she had observed, you did your best work when your thumb was twiddling, clicking the end of your pen insistently. It meant your brain was whirring hard, putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

JJ reached into the breast pocket of her blazer, and took out a pen that clicked on the end.

"Here." She offered it out to you. "You - you can borrow my pen." She said shyly, hoping it would help you calm down.

You extended out a shaking hand, and took the pen, and then began to click it harshly with your thumb. You gripped it so furiously, the skin around your knuckles so tight - but after a moment, you let out a tight breath. And then, for the first time since she had known you - you looked JJ in the eye.

"Thank you." You murmured, your voice ripe with tears.

"Keep the pen." JJ told you, feeling like it was a small consolation if it helped you calm down this much.

You reached up, petting a shaking hand over your face, and pulled back in disgust when you felt the sticky blood.

"Let me help you clean up." JJ said, grabbing some paper towels out of the dispenser and wetting them in the sink.

It was the first time you had ever let her touch you - you clicked the pen the whole time, and from then on, that sound became less of an annoyance and more of a comfort to her.

That was the day she realised one incredibly important thing:

To you, small things matter on such a big scale.

Coffee in your favourite mug instead of a random one she found in the back of the cupboard - that gets a smile out of you. Scones with blueberries instead of raisins - raisins get a shrug at best, blueberries get a giggle and a big 'thank you!'. Organising your files in alphabetical order instead of by date.

You and JJ became close after that day.

She wasn't a profiler, not in training, but she learned to read you like a book.

She knew that you bouncing your knee aggressively meant that you were becoming overstimulated - things in the room too loud, the florescents too bright, the day too overwhelming.

When this happened, she would take you outside for a break - often siting that she herself needed some air and she simply wanted your company. She knew you didn't like to be outwardly babied (who does?), but she also knew that you had a hard time self regulating. You had a hard time deciding when to take yourself out for a break, and if you didn't have one, then you would become irritable, have a hard time focusing, and hardly get any work done.

She also picked up on the fact that you just plain didn't get sarcasm.

Before, she thought you were being cool, or aloof. When someone said something sarcastic and you didn't understand, she thought that you were pretending not to get it in order to snub them or make a joke out of the whole thing.

But during one of your many conversations, you told her that you absolutely didn't understand sarcasm - you didn't get when someone was using a sarcastic tone, and you often took everything people said in its most literal interpretation.

So you and JJ developed a wonderful, silent system - if someone said something and you didn't understand if it was sarcasm right off the bat, you looked to her, and she would nod at you if they were being sarcastic, or shake her head if they were being literal. It was something people on the team picked up on, but nobody said anything about it - they just enjoyed the way you bonded with her, and how your quirky habits were spreading like a delightful little plague.

JJ knew that your life wasn't easy, living with autism, but she always tried to make it a bit easier. Because you were worth it.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

[yanderes-galore]

I really liked your Yandere Platonic Bewilderbeast. Could you make it in the version of a yandere Night fury with a darling mother (viking or dragon)? Being one of the most attached dragons to the mother in the franchise. 🥺

We haven't actually seen their dynamic with the parents of their species due to Toothless being the only one... but here you go :) Not fully proofread, expect mistakes.

Yandere! Night Fury with Viking Mother! Darling

Pairing: Animal/Pet-Like

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Clingy behavior, Isolation, Kidnapping, Blood, Violence, Possessive behavior, Forced companionship.

You taking care of a dragon egg in general was problematic as a viking.

Let alone a Night Fury egg.

As a result you may live isolated to keep the dragon hidden.

That or maybe this all takes place after an expedition with Hiccup, you already being a dragon rider.

Only to find an egg of a species you thought was nearly dead.

Either origin could work, either way you find yourself mothering the egg of a young Night Fury.

We do not know much about a Night Fury's relationship with their mother.

For this concept I will HC they get attached to whatever they see as their mother.

That means it's you due to being with the dragon since the Night Fury's birth.

Naturally this means the Night Fury never leaves you.

Night Furies even seem to age the same as humans, an example would be Hiccup and Toothless.

So, for example, maybe you find the egg as a teen... only for your dragon to be fully grown and rideable when you're an adult.

A Night Fury will no doubt be intelligent like Toothless.

However, similar to how Toothless takes on personality traits from Hiccup, your Night Fury matches your personality since you raised them.

They'd be protective but the degree depends on you.

Due to how you raise them they'll either avoid violence when protecting you or give into it.

After all... they don't want to make mother unhappy.

Naturally like most dragons raised from eggs... your Night Fury is affectionate.

As a domestic dragon all they really know is you.

Which means as you both grow up and you care for them... they never leave your side.

If this is around the time of Hiccup and Toothless, other vikings definitely note how your bond is similar to the older Night Fury and his rider.

However, while Hiccup and Toothless are most like brothers, your Night Fury sees you as their mom.

Your Night Fury looks at you for approval for everything.

As a dragon they are naturally possessive and protective.

Is they don't like someone around you... they're vocal about it.

Your Night Fury sees your home as your "nest".

As a result they defend it with their life.

Night Furies act like cats so your dragon curls on top of you and growls like a purr.

You may naturally comes to Hiccup for aid on the species.

Your dragon is hesitant about Toothless.

But your Night Fury starts docile around others.

Although as they get older they keep you in the house more often.

Soon the dragon won't allow others near you at all.

Especially not Toothless... the only other dragon if their species.

It gets to the point your dragon shoots off plasma bolts as a warning, sitting outside your hut for long periods of time like a guard dog.

You don't need other humans... you don't need other dragons...

You just need them.

If others try to pry you away from their claws... they'll move you.

If you raised them right they relocate you with as little violence as possible.

If you raised them to be more offensive... they cause chaos before taking off with you.

Perhaps you shouldn't have taken care of a Night Fury on your own...

If you didn't... maybe you wouldn't have to see your pet covered in blood as they nuzzle against you... alone on an island far away from your original home.

[spacebarbarianweird]

HC of Astarion x fem Elf Tav who’s a Druid, more specifically of the Circle of The Spores subclass. She wears skirts and dresses of dark teals and blacks with gold embroidery and legs round gold glasses, always travels with herbs and roots in her pockets and pouches, and is never afraid to raise an army of the fungal infested undead for the hell of it. Basically she’s the healer who puts on a neutral front but is begging for the chance to rightfully unleash chaos and destruction

Hi! Oh, this is a nice design of a character! And I am sucker for elf!Tav because they can live for many centuries. And Spore Circle is absolutely badass. It turned out to be weird, creepy and bittersweet and I hope you like it! I also tag @tolkien-fantasy since they love Spore Druids.

Astarion x Spore Circle Druid!Tav

There is a thing about Spore Druids.

Unlike your colleagues, you don't particularly hate the undead.

If anything, your magic is about death, too.

Mold and fungi transform lifeless material into something new and weird.

Death isn't the end, it's just a new stage.

The problem with the undead is that they often wish things would stay the same and never change.

Which is unnatural.

Life is about growth and death is about transformation.

You encourage Astarion to heal and grow.

The worst thing about his past was stability and the belief nothing was going to change.

But somehow he preserved his personality and now he slowly demonstrates his ability to "live" in his undeath.

Though, you scare him a bit.

You can resurrect the dead with spores, turning them into zombies, alive and dead, hungry and terrifying.

You infect the corpses and transform them into your loyal servants.

And you can use the same spores to make your enemies blind, deaf, or paralyzed.

Astarion calls you a walking hotbed of plague.

Though, of course, he is in awe - mostly because everything you do is between life and death, which is the stage he himself is stuck in.

But your magic is beautiful.

Mushrooms growing on dead bodies.

Mold desecrating the food.

Fungi bringing life to the most desolate places.

Post-game, Astarion doubts whether to go with you, but you assure him that the Spore Circle will accept him due to his ability to change.

You study the fungi to find answers to your questions and his problems.

The spores can make him more like a living person.

They can protect him from the sun, and they can let him eat normal food.

The prospect scares Astarion - he's seen the infected corpses. It's creepy.

And what if this magic fungi takes over his mind?

You don't insist. It's his choice, after all.

And you are an elf yourself, you have plenty of time.

But the life in the shadows and hunger take a toll on Astarion.

He doesn't want to be an undead. He wants to be alive.

And if his vampirism can't be cured, why not let nature change him?

At least, if you promise his personality won't be affected.

It won't, you are sure of that.

Astarion lets you infect him with the spores.

This transformation is nothing like becoming a vampire.

It's soft, gentle, warm.

Astarion feels like dreaming, sleeping in a warm bed.

The only thing he acknowledges is your presence. You check on him all the time sometimes meditating close to his "fungi grave".

It take almost a year for spores to finish their job, reconstructing his dead flesh.

A lonely year of being alone in your bed.

When Astarion wakes up, he doesn't feel the hunger anymore.

The sun doesn't burn him and he stays in the sunlight for hours before you come to take him home.

The symbiotic fungi has restored his organs to the point where they functioned as they are supposed to.

Astarion is scared to see himself in the mirror - but when he does he sees himself.

Though, there are some changes.

There are golden spots of spores in is eyes and barely visible cobwebs on his legs and arms.

And he is warm. He is so warm.

With his newfound "life", Astarion gets some new abilities, similar to the ones you have.

He can cast spores and rise up the dead, infecting them.

He can hear the fungi songs, connecting his mind with this ancient entity.

And he can feel you.

You know each other thoughts, each other intentions, and presence.

He always knows where you are. He feels your emotions, your sorrows and happiness and you feel him the same way.

You are more than thiramins, more than lovers.

But the best gift the spores gave to Astarion is mortality.

One day, the fungi will slowly take over his body and mind, transforming the flesh once again, bringing him mor, the final death.

And if you are still alive by this moment, you will let spores take over you so you can be together in this next stage of life and death.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce

[turbulentscrawl]

In the poly post you said that ithaqua is as close as it get to a yandere may I ask why you think that ? Or any headcanons related to that if that's okay with you (sorry if the English is bad )

As luck would have it, Ithaqua is one of the few Hunters I think I have a decent grasp on rn so I was also able to crank this out quickly! (To my other request-ees: I'm working on HC requests for several other characters rn! I should have them ready to spam-post sometime this weekend <3)

So here's some general and sfw relationship hcs for Ithaqua ;)

-A first small note, his exact age is not listed, but he’s described as a “young adult,” so I imagine him to be somewhere between 18-22.

-Ithaqua is a man who has entirely rejected society. He wants nothing more to do with it, with anyone, and any instance of breaching his territory is met with wind-swift punishment.

-It all fits when you consider the major events of his life. He was abandoned in a snowstorm, left for dead, because he was thought to be a devil. He was saved and raised by a “witch,” a kind woman who stood outside of society’s norms and was feared and hated for it. Their solitary home was trespassed on in the night, defiled, and his mother was kidnapped, tortured, and broken by a man with his exact face. Every small bit of comfort he ever had was destroyed by a mirror image of himself that was raised in “civilized” society. If that doesn’t cement the idea that people from that world can’t be given a chance, I don’t know what would.

-And I think on some level he questions the reality of it all. Did he do it? Did he destroy his own life? Was his so-called brother actually a copy of himself? Was Nathaniel supposed to be the better or the worse version? Was he himself evil before…or is he evil now? None of it matters in the long run, though. His only remaining goal in life is to defend his home and his mother’s resting place from interlopers. But he does get this distant, sour expression sometimes when he contemplates these things.

-I think he’s close to an as-is yandere because, if we assume he’s still capable of bonding with someone on a genuine level, that person would be a one true exception to his otherwise all-consuming distrust and hatred for society. He could not be “led to water”, so to speak, even by a partner who exemplified everything good left in the world. He’s just not capable of making that leap anymore.

-So again, he’s territorial, and that would 1000% extend to a partner. He’s not a master and you’re not his pet, but god would he try to keep you in his clutches. Use every sweet word and convincing anecdote in his arsenal to convince you to stay in the forest. The thing that keeps him from being all-out controlling is that his mother let him make his decisions for himself. She taught him how to survive in the wilderness, and she taught him about the rest of society, and she let him decide for himself if he ever wanted to get involved in it. He didn’t of course, because how could a place that shunned his mother be good for him? You deserve to make those choices too, even if he disagrees with what you pick.

-He will, however, watch you like a hawk. To not sugarcoat it, he’ll stalk you. Ithaqua wants to be prepared for the moment everything goes wrong. The moment he knows for certain will come, when you see he’s right about other people. When that happens, he’ll swoop in to save you. He refuses to be late again, like he was for his mother.

-He doesn’t leave the forest unattended often, but when you spend longer stints at your home in a village, you’ll notice the weather gradually becoming worse and worse. It seems to snow every day, and the wind is so harsh that walking outside is deafening and blinding. When you return to visit Ithaqua, the village mysteriously returns to its normal weather patterns.

-Ithaqua hates when other people interact with you. No one is no one is safe enough, trustworthy enough for him to not worry for your safety. They don’t deserve to even stand near you. But he won’t do anything until they do…or you say he can.

-Anyone he takes as a partner would have to remind him of his mother, at least a little. She’s the only example he has of a “good person” so he’s not likely to give people with divergent personality types much of a chance. He’s also more likely to trust a woman over a man, by a small margin.

-He won’t stand for being doted on or babied by anyone other than his mother or partner. he won't fall for other people's faux-gentleness! Don’t you know who he is? What he is? Call him cute or pitiful again and your blood will stain the snow red.

-His lips are always chapped to hell and back, sorry. Sharp kisses only for you.

[ghostlykeyes]

i rlly like your work, heartsteel needs more content tbh,, so ty!! ANYWAY,

i liked the general relationship/kiss hcs w kayn, would u be able to do that for the other two as well?? if that makes sense

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HEARTSTEEL YONE: RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW, with light touching/sensuality ♡ TW: Some alcohol usage/food mentions ♡ I've done Sett's kisses here (X) and relationship HCs here (X), and Yone's kisses here (X) ! (will I remember to come back and edit those links in??? only time will tell)

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YONE

No matter where you go, Yone brings you on fantastic dates. It's never popular tourist-trap type outings, either. If you ask how the hell he even found out about your date locations, he smiles coyly and says he can't reveal his sources. Regardless, expect lots of breathtaking, original dates—hidden trails that spill into breathtaking clumps of wildflowers, a hole-in-the-wall burger joint with the best fries you've had in tour entire life, tiny sculpture parks with some truly absurd statues (he absolutely refuses to delete the unflattering pic of you squatting next to a caked-up stone Sasquatch).

He isn't on his phone often, so don't be surprised if Yone doesn't text you back quickly or is overly-formal with his messages. Wild horses couldn't drag a silly emoji or a meme out of him. If you're lucky, you'll get a red heart, but that's about it. He tries not to make you feel neglected just because he's a dry texter, though. Especially when he's on tour, he calls you to check in whenever he's got a spare moment.

Yone's a chronic meal-skipper so he really appreciates if you share your food with him. Be warned, though, if you force him to step away from work and sit down for dinner you're either getting five minutes and a cup of instant ramen, or he's cooking you a three course meal complete with different appetizer, entree, and dessert wines. There's no in-between.

While Yone's not a fan of PDA, he holds your hand through every big event you're forced to attend. He doesn't appreciate the attention and flashing lights, but your warm, reassuring grip keeps him calm and relatively content.

Matching outfits are a little bit too much, but Yone is all for wearing clothing that compliments yours. Think similar textures, colors, and cuts. If you're wearing athleisure, he'll throw on a pair of stylish sweatpants. You're rocking the all black fit, so is he (with a pop of color in his earrings, probably—if he's completely monochrome, Kayn accuses him of "stealing his look"). Though he thinks it's a little cringy to be exact matches, he's definitely down to coordinate.

Whenever Yone makes himself a coffee, he whips up a glass of your favorite beverage as well. Nothing is too complicated—if you want a latte, he can make any flavor, and he'll pour the foam into a heart shape on top. Boba? No problem, he's got tapioca pearls in your favorite flavor and large straws on hand, to boot. A mimosa? Okay, he might raise his eyebrow at that one and point out that it's like eleven A.M.—nevertheless, if it's a mimosa you want, then it's a mimosa you'll get. Part of this is because he loves you, of course, but also? He hates sharing his coffee and figures that you won't ask for a sip if you've got your own drink.

Yone absolutely melts when you take care of him. He's used to looking after everyone else's wants and needs, so it's a pleasant surprise when someone extends that same care and attention to him. Cook him his favorite meal or take care of his laundry when he's been extra busy, and he looks at you like you're the eight wonder of the world. "You didn't have to do that for me," he cups your face gently, sweeping an appreciative kiss over your forehead. "But I'm glad that you did."

Chivalry is not dead and Yone's the man giving it CPR. Count on him to be the perfect gentleman. He opens every door for you, takes your coat whenever you drop by his studio, and no, under no circumstances will he let you pull out your own chair.

Yone's pet-names are sweet and classic. Most often, he calls you 'my darling', but he'll occasionally pepper in a 'dearest' or 'lover' for variety.

One of Yone's favorite ways to spend a free evening with you is sneaking into underground music shows. The two of you will turn up to somebody's house where the living room has been cleared to throw together a makeshift stage, or an abandoned warehouse with people clustering together and swaying to synthetic beats blasting through mid-grade speakers. More often than not, the musicians aren't that good (but that's par for the course with these kind of shows). The atmosphere can't be beat, though. And, when you do stumble upon somebody's garage band that actually goes hard, it's always an exciting surprise. Yone always keeps cash on him in case somebody's selling merch. He snags two stickers, one for you to keep and one to paste on his guitar case. What better way to commemorate shitty bands and crowded house shows than with matching stickers?

If you tag along with him on tour or business trips, Yone's first mission is to scout out a good coffee shop. Of course he takes you along, and buys you whatever little treats catch your eye. Sweets, sandwiches, snacks—anything he notices you ogling behind the glass, he orders for you.

Even with his massively packed schedule Yone NEVER, EVER forgets an important date. Expect gifts on birthdays and anniversaries, and extra love and support on dates that might be difficult for you.

Since Sett's a master crocheter, Yone pays him a frankly absurd amount to make you a plushie that looks like his fox mask. Yone knows that it can't be easy for you, with him away touring or on business so much of the time. The stuffed snuggle-buddy, he hopes, can ease your loneliness when he's away. Before he sets off on a long trip he makes sure to spritz your stuffie with his cologne, so that you can squish it in your sleep and dream that he's right there with you.

Yone's not a huge cuddler. Too much physical attention can make him feel smothered. The exception is when you sit on his lap. He loves when you settle onto him while he's working. As long as you're quiet and still (he doesn't want you to disturb his flow, after all), he basks in your comfortable warmth and the adorable way you tuck yourself into his chest.

[queenofallimagines]

Alexis ness x witch reader

A/N: WHY THE FUCK DID I NOT THINK OF THIS BEFORE?? I TRYING TO FIND A WAY TO MIX MY WITCH HCS WITH BLUE LOCK AND OFC THE EX HARRY POTTER KID WITH THE STEM CAREER PARENTS WHO CRUSHED HIS DREAMS WOULD FOAM AT THE MOUTH!! Was word vomiting onto a page and this came out and I’m like??? Fuck yeah??

TAGLIST: @priv-rose

Alexis Ness:

- I am SO excited for this🗣️

- First of all fuck Harry Potter and fuck JK rat ass Rowling

- Good now That’s that’s out of the way

- He would literally be star struck like he def wouldn’t tell you he believes in stuff like that bc of his childhood

- But like when he sees your so chill he might joke around with superstitions

- But when you know more of them than he does,,,,?

- “Don’t forget! Salt over your left shoulder!”

- “Plant rosemary by your garden gate,lavender for luck and blow cinnamon into your house on the first of the month.”

- “I- what?”

- Putting some sigils for focus and luck in the shoes

- In the inside of the compression suit

- Reading incantations before a game to help(aka mumbling them while pressing kisses to his face)

- Putting a hex on the other team or players you don’t like (Kaiser)

- Kisses as a good luck charm

- Kissing isagi eyelids and forehead so he can smell his goals😔💕

- Charming a necklace he wears during games

- Putting something in his phone case for good measure so he can accidentally not respond to his family or kaisers texts💕

- You could put a little soccer ball charm on your altar for him🥺

- Alexis ness: Love please don’t hex the opposing team I want to win on my own

- Also ness: so like if you COULD hypothetically make isagi twist his ankle,,,,,

- He’s so funny and silly

- Asking you to turn people into frogs

- “It doesn’t work like that beloved”

- I like to think he would go to haunted places and drag you along

- If this is before he knows you’re a witch

- He pretends he just wanted to see the location and he don’t belive in ghosts n stuff

- Even tho he researched like 600 ghost protection methods before yall got here

- The two of you go in, joking around and having fun in the worn down building but the two of you stop dead in your tracks as you hear something?Footsteps...that aren't yours or his.

- Ness clutching you like a damn lifeline

- Your hearts are both pounding in your chests as you walk through the halls, unsure of what is making that noise that doesn’t sound like it’s coming from an animal…

- Mama ain’t raise no Bitch

- So you just straight up yell💀

- “Fuck off! go bother someone else!”

- Poor baby Ness quickly clamps his hand over your mouth, his eyes wide at your outburst. Whatever was making noise in the abandoned hospital immediately stops making noise tho 💅🏿

- Ness gives you the “you’ve lost your damn mind” look

- “Hey! Maybe don’t make whatever it is more pissed off-!”

- “That’s how you banish ghosts! so unless it’s something more dangerous you can tell them to kick rocks! We’re technically on their territory but like same thing I guess. They can’t do much but scare us and I’ve got like 10 protection charms they can’t really do much.”

- Pause

- Rewind

- Excuse me?

- “Y’all got about three seconds to get the fuck up out my way and two of ‘em are already gone because I don’t count shit but money so get to stepping Casper!”

- He’s going to propose to you

- “ Wait! You’ve got protection charms-!?”

- Ness is side eyeing you hard asf rn😭

- Not in a bad way but a “when was this??” Type of way bc he knew nothing of this

- “Ok then…but what about those ghost hunting shows! like there’s those that say that if they get pissed off they can hurt you for being on their ‘property’ if I remember correctly..”

- Like he’s pulling out his ghost busters encyclopedia lmao

- “Those are fake and I’m a witch they can’t fucking touch me. I’ve talked to demons🙄Some old grumpy spirit can’t do much but give me nightmares and even then they’ll have to box me about it”

- Lmao he’s like full stop staring at you wide eyed

- Kaiser baby you’ve been dethroned I fear

- A new emperor about to spin the block😔✊🏿

- Oh! And not let him hear you WORK with deities

- He will be like a kid in a candy store

- Like trauma suddenly gone lmao

- His ugly ass momma saying all that vile shit to him as a baby suddenly never happened

- He’s living his Peter Pan dreams!!

- Ness’ jaw drops to the floor as he hears you list out the demons you’ve worked with.

- Kinda thinks you’re making fun of him at first so he bristles at you but when he sees you’re not even smiling about it he’s even more shocked

- “So..you made a deal with them or something-? If you did that’s like….your soul is basically his now, right!?”

- “Not really? I just had to ask nicely.”

- Lmao he’s like trying to rewire his brain right now

- Nagging voices at the back of his head telling him

- Magic isn’t real and there’s probably a logical explanation for all of this like you’re so clearly kidding

- “Y-You’re like…a legit witch? Like you can do magic and summon stuff!?”

- “Yep”

- He stares for another few seconds before a smile creeps onto his face, his eyes going wide with amazement?

- Like you can actually see the stars

- “Dude this is SO COOL! You’re like a bad ass witch! Wait…CAN YOU DO MAGIC RIGHT NOW!?”

- Dragging you through the hospital as suddenly he done forgot about the shorts or whatever

- You flinch at something dripping but he don’t even turn around to look at it he’s rambling to himself for the most part

- “Alex baby It’s not like Harry Potter but I do curse people and do old ancient spells and stuff. Like I’m technically doing magic right now? I have a protective charm on us so nothing can try anything funny-“

- “A PROTECTIVE CHARM?! YOU CAN DO PROTECTION MAGIC TOO!”

- Lord

- He grabs your hand and starts yanking it

- Chill out???

- he’s excited about this magic stuff and as he holds your hand, he seems so innocent and curious about all of this now.

- “Show me some magic…PLEASE?”

- “Like what spell do you want? And again not like flying magic. It’s more…I guess stuff close to that? Still within the realm of reality. But I mean technically your parents do magic too right? They’re scientists. And just before you know how something works doesn’t mean it’s less magical yknow?”

- Ignoring the fact that last part is what sparked this entire head canon I’m right leave me alone

- “Eh..scientists are just nerds who figure out how things work, not really magical.”

- He’s gunna start pouting, he didn’t really believe in his parents nerdy sciencey stuff

- but your magic that’s WAY more interesting! Magic! Actual magic! How cool is that!

- “Magic isn’t just something you can’t understand. Like think of it. We don’t know shit about gravity and it’s still just a theory but if I drop something it falls right? Same principal. Things seen and unseen in this earth are magic. Like you can use chemistry in spell work all the time. like urine and bleach make chloramine gas and I’ve used that in curses.”

- See he only heard that last part I’m afraid

- was DEF not expecting the last part to come out from your mouth

- “I’m….You…put piss…into your curses?”

- “I WILL call the ghosts to come jump you on my behalf…”

- That got his ass In check real quick lmao

- “like the possibility that I CAN. Like it could be for a nightmare curse. Throw in some poppy seeds for mental unrest and nightmares, vinegar to sour their mind and maybe black pepper to get them to leave your life really fast.”

- “Huh…so piss, seeds, vinegar and black pepper in a mixture makes a nightmare curse…”

- “Why did you write that down….”

- Hope your grimore or whatever isn’t like private bc he WILL dig through that every chance he gets

- Got all the books on your shelves unorganized and fucked up be he done ran through them

- Like can you have some class??🙄

- Sits and stares at your altar for hours

- Like he’s looking at everything on it to see if he can figure it out

- No that table cloth is blue because that’s all I had leave me alone!!

- Back to deities

- He will always be polite

- Nothing if not a gentlemen

- Will say hello to them before YOU walking into the crib

- Like you know when a boy is so polite he talks to your whole family before even remembering he came there for you?

- That’s him

- “Hi great grandma! I bought you some of that liquor you like”

- Leaves more offerings then you I’m afraid

- He’s so baby deer coded they love him

- Everyone and they momma will ride or die for him.

- So like don’t let Kaiser be within a one Mile radius of your house and talking bad to him

- Matter fact? Don’t even watch his games in your home

- Bc now everyone mad

- “Why is he disrespecting my baby like that?”

- Like house is in shambles

- “Go give this to him”

- “What? But wasn’t this mine-“

- “Did I stutter?”

- He’s so beloved

- “I call him old man a lot. Or like Lucy-“

- “Lucy….king of hell, devil incarnate, Lord of the Underworld, and one of the most infamous fallen angels. And you call him LUCY?!”

- Jokes that your food is made with love but like now he’s not sure it’s a joke at this point….

[hobiespick]

Heya! I was wondering if you got any headcanons for Sam Winchester x werewolf! Reader, except, reader can actually turn whenever she (or gn if you want) wants, and the only real thing a full moon does is force her to be in her werewolf form (aka force her to keep the wolf teeth and claws out for no reason)

The thing that should not be

Pairings : Sam Winchester x reader

a/n : FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HI, HELLO, IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG I SUCK SO BAD, IM SO SORRY. My requests aren't open (yet) but its not even your fault I should have 100% specified that, but this is my first ever ask and ur also one of my favourite moots and I didn't want to dissapoint so here are some fuckinf cute Sam x Werewolf!Reader. I felt the carnal need to write a metric fuckton of context before getting into the actual headcanons (which are very long I have no idea if they can be considered as hcs) so the reader gets beaten up by earth-shattering plot purposes :3. Sammy juicy headcanons start when you see the '🧿' emoji if you don't wanna read the context (melodramatic sigh). And yes the title of the fic is based on the metallica song :). as always, enjoy my shitty thoughts <3

Warnings: angst with comfort (no don't clap it's fine, omg ur makin me blush); guess who joined the cool kids club and uses "____." instead of "Y/n"; literally a flash of gore, shitty dad(s), fake death, mentions of suicide, Sam looks at you and goes DO YOU WANT M-; Dean being himself; reader is also a hunter and has been raised like that (fml); Dean makes a twillight refrence; reader is frankenstein coded in the most nuanced way, Mary Shelley please don't haunt me; Dean is very happy to have a bestfriend/sister :)

word count: 8,102

- Okay, so for starters, the fact that you aren't actually a monster (you don't get the urge to kill or wreak havoc) is actually a supernatural miracle.

Your parents haven't talked to you since you called them the night you were hunting a werewolf and told them, horror-struck between sniffles and voice cracks, that it bit you, and you’re going to turn, and you’re horrified, and you’re going to drive home to put a pistol in your father's hand and hopefully stop you from turning in the thing you shouldn't be.

Your father replied, after successfully not saying a word besides "Hey, kid-" before getting cut off by you and your hiccups. He sank his teeth into the inside of his cheek, enough to draw blood.

"You are not to come home; your mother won't bear to see you like this."

Your father objected before telling you you can finish the job by yourself; you always have.

He abruptly ended the phonecall like you weren't his daughter, more like an annoying salesman. You don't know what he'll say to your mother after that call; that was the hospital, and you tragically died? "Died a hero.." Your father would say when he described another hunter's tragic passing at the dinner table—paranormal tragic passing. So paranormal that your mother had knocked on wood and prayed it wouldn't get you or your family.

So you don't call, It's really me, dad. I'm fine, I figured it out by myself. How could you? after him suggesting it's better to kill yourself than take a shot at finding a solution together? You would rather have him believe you're dead. Or at least cry with you; it's okay, honey. come home; it'll be okay, spend the last days at home, please-

The last word you get from him is a text message you are too quick to open on your flip-phone to see the next day. When you rub at your eyebags after tracking down a witch, the witch. It was the second day when everything about you felt off; you were squemish, anxious, and haven't left your motel room all day. if you get this—the message read, "if you get this?!" if you get this, if you get this, if you get this—your brain repeats it over and over, taking the words apart and tattooing itself that phrase, because it held much more meaning to it than your father probably didn't intend; he would hear it if he read it before sending, you thought, that little 'if' haunting and tormenting like a damn demon. if you haven't already killed yourself; if you haven't already turned into something that took my daughter, my pride and joy, away from me; if you haven't already died–

- speaking to you like he's directly referring to the disease in your veins. Your brain moves on and reads the next ridiculous waste of your attention. I wanted you to know I told your mother that it was the hospital I was talking to yesterday, calling that you’re dead, house fire, so no remains to pick up—Damn, you know him or what? Even your fake death is stripped away from it's respect—"no remains to pick up"—like a toppled statue, a monument of what was once a hero (in dad's old-fashioned monster-hunting world), shattered and insignificant, no longer breathing or living, if you ever even had. Or a tree struck by lighting, again, "no remains to pick up" no meaningful remains or genuinely nothing, just a memory of another young hunter who died 'tragically'. You could imagine your tombstone with an even dumber epitaph to match it and an empty or nonexistent grave lying six feet underneath for closure. Your eyes move on, there will be a funeral with no grave, of course, I just wanted you to know that your mother and everyone else is devastated, we miss you, sugar. I love you, kid. Your father had overestimated your suicidal tendencies, and the way he didn't try to save his daughter in order to not go against the rules and possibilities of hunting only showed you how much he loves you.

So you track down the witch. You barely make it to her doorstep when she opens it with a too reassuring smile, saying your name and that she expected you, even going as far as offering you tea after opening the door and letting you in, to which you declined. You're not an idiot. But you do sit down, forced, when she, Willow Thorne, won't have you, a guest, standing up, a whole damn hunter being forced to sit down and accept being treated kindly like you deserve. When you walked in, the entire image of a satanic worshipper who sold her soul to demons and hexed everybody—that you betted all your life savings fitted the description of Willow shattered and laughed in your face.

Her home was filled with plants hanging and resting in every corner she could place; various crystals were sitting in cute porcelain plates like candy, candles of different colors on a bookshelf filled with books like The Language of Flowers, Astronomy for Beginners, and Sigils. Even more crystals, bigger and taller ones on a purple tablecloth. The house is adorned in shades of dark purple, violet, green, and warm colors. This home was a whimsigothic musem that would send your thirteen-year-old self into a shrieking, excited mess. Your parents never let you own crystals or a tarot deck; they were too afraid you'd turn darkside one way or another. well, mommy, daddy, if you could see me right now with lycanthrope blood pumping through my veins.

Willow Thorne is a wiccan type of witch; she does not receive her power from demons; she receives her magic from nature and probably practices her witchcraft the way she sees fit. This doesn't help build back the distrust you were trained to have in her. You flinch when you feel a tail curling around your bouncing leg; you glance down, and your eyes are met with a black cat's green ones—this must be her familiar—the little words on his purple collar reading 'Creek'. She gives you another flash of her warm smile and starts talking about her cat. This can't be real. Your every instinct screams that you should take her down or that she will take you down. Your options shrink the longer you stay. You keep a hand anxiously fiddling with your belt, thinking about the gun in your waistband. She's deceiving you with honeyed words and unassuming appearance; who the fuck knows, maybe the cat is manipulating you too. Throwing up would be the calmest reaction you could have right now, because the thoughts in your head started going at each other's throats and doubting in this situation could get you killed. Thoughts like, fuck her, her cozy house with purple witchy twitchy girl interior, and her affectionate black cat she mentioned she rescued when nobody would because of superstitions—you curse in your head, you're not actually upset at her although you do not let your guard down, you're upset at yourself for being so easily coaxed into trusting her, it's all too easy, and it is intimidating you.

You're pretty sure you're gonna rip your vocal cords out of frustration and an overall feeling of overwhelmingness; everything seems to piss you off today, even more than usual. How are you good?! All bright and beaming with nothing but positivity. You're not supposed to be good! I have believed all my life you aren't!..are you like me too? A thing that should not be? Before breaking down and crying about your situation, and if you did, she would make you that tea and rub your back with her hand that radiated ease and made you slump your shoulders with relief.

Before you get other fun thoughts like Am I on the wrong side of the war? You start discussing bussiness since you forgot that's what your here for. Even if your eyes water like a little kid after being scolded for something they didn't do, your voice is nowhere near close to sounding like one. You demand a cure, bargaining for a deal to stop the lycanthropy metamorphosis you feel taking over little by little and make you human again. If she can't, you have a gun with silver bullets in your trunk and your will written out, but by now it probably has no significance.

Much to your disappointment, she—Willow—insisted you called her, tells you she cannot take away your curse, but she can soothe it a little, keep it in a cage locked deep into your subconscious. In exchange, she could ask for fucking anything in the world, but she wants loyalty.

"Define, loyalty." You ask through gritted teeth, yeah, that will stop the tears, definitely, great intimidation skills, _____ .

"I'm talking about respect, mutual aid, when it all comes down for me, when I get threatened by a hunter, I want you to be there. I need you to have my back." She admitted, studying your eyes trying to reslove the conflict in them, anything that could give her hope. You couldn't explain this to anyone, ever, Yeah I almost turned into a werewolf once but my witch friend did a ritual on me, so i'm all good now.

Willow is now sitting on an ottoman facing her couch, where you're sitting. Her hands fidget with her bracelets until she clasps them together, and she is leaning towards you. Her gentle tone is imbued with gentle authority that commands her mutual respect without making her overbearing. Keeping steady eye contact, she is discussing serious matters with a serious tone like she should. You can't lie, it catches you off-guard, it herds you in the corner and softly shakes your shoulders, forcing you to listen.

You'd be every synonym in the dictionary for the word 'idiot' if you hadn't accepted this deal. You shake hands, and the warm smile she wears causes a domino effect, making you do the same, even if you had been crying.

It's a funky ritual. She makes you lay on the couch while she lights all sorts of candles; she closes the curtains even though it's already dark so light cannot come in. The only light present is the salt lamp in the far corner and the numeruous lighted candles. She even has to kick Creek out of the room, much to the cat's protests outside the door. They slowly come to a stop as he finds something that's more interesting than whatever ritual his owner is cooking up with a guest—that he feels drawn to for whatever reason. You feel nervous, and she feels nervous too, because you are. Willow reassures you and tells you that after it ends you will pass out for a while, but that's fine because she says you can spend the night if she isn't pushing it.

The celling becomes your newest fascination, and you study every small bump and gray spot in order to distract your mind from... well, thinking. Not for the ritual, but for reassurance, she lies and says you have to hold her hand. Her warm hand against yours seems to punch out of your lungs every doubt whether this will work or not and the sadness your father produced with an unfatherly amount of bluntness and cold parenting that was the verbal equivalent of stabbing your spine and twisting the knife, but you can't pull out the knife, well, you can try, but it will hurt even worse and it will infect spreading yellow or purple marks around it–. She—her hand—has the ability to make you breathe again without feeling like you have leg irons around your neck dragging it down and hands squashing your lungs to bits. She speaks incantations in what you know is latin and instructs you to close your eyes. You swear you hear a candle stop burning in the process—something you can't physically hear, but you had. You can make out a few words (your ears keep ringing and something is happening because you hear her voice; it's distorted and weird, but she told you, strictly, not to open your eyes, so you don't). Words like: lupus-wolf, tollere-take away? You're not sure on that one; that's what three straight days of crying might do to one, mutare- which means change. Okay, that was a nice distraction now what el–

You feel the imprint of a huge dog-like paw pressing into your Adam's apple and cutting off your breath. She obviously takes notice by the way you're writhing and choking and swatting away at nothing—something you're trying to fight even with closed eyes, but there is nothing there. Your palm doesn't make contact with anything. Quickly, Willow chants something you're too busy choking to catch. The pressure on your throat dissolves, and you can breathe again. She calms her own breath and squeezes your hand. When she doesn't feel you squeeze back, she remembers that you're supposed to pass out after the spell. Willow drapes a blanket on you and goes off to order something to eat. When she opens the living room door, Creek doesn't hesitate to run in and settle on your chest. The cat purrs as he patiently waits for you to wake up.

You wake up fifteen minutes later with the smell of food flooding your nostrils, stronger than it has ever been before. It's almost like it's sitting right under your nose. You open your eyes, and the smell has a color, and you can clearly see how it snakes its way in from the kitchen into the half-open door. Your nails feel heavier than usual. This is hopefully a fever dream. But the food isn't here, nor is Willow; you can hear her humming a song in the kitchen, Voodoo Chile by Jimi Hendrix.

The weight of the shadow on your chest brings you back to earth, and you run your hands through his black fur with closed eyes as your head falls back onto the couch. The feeling of fur on your fingertips feeding to your serotonin levels rising. Creek seems to know what it's like to be disowned by your own father and forced to have a fake death in order to 'die' in a way that won't make your mother think you were cursed, or worse, that the whole family is now. Creek notices you're awake and gets off you, but not before making biscuits.

"Thanks, Creek." You mumble before pushing yourself up in a sitting position with a groan.

You can feel the rich, velvety, dark green rug beneath your socks; you would have appreciated it properly if you could actually see the details woven into it. Your eyes keep focusing and unfocusing like they're getting adjusted, and the room doesn't seem so dark anymore. God, how long did you pass out? As you tried to gather your thoughts (if the spell was easy on you enough to actually leave some), memories of the ritual came flooding back—the chanting in latin, the flickering candle(s), the punching smell of herbs, the murder attempt from a wolf spirit/ghost?! who the hell knows anymore? Now you were wide awake, and everything felt different. If it weren't for the fucking ritual that was just performed on you, you would've blamed the faint ringing in your years, shitty eyesight, and banging headache on a terrible hangover or a cold so bad it would make your throat ache for the tea your mom would make you when your immune system failed you. She promised she would teach me how to make it. Your grief echoed to you.

You rub at your temples at thats when you notice why did your nails feel heavier than usual. You had fucking claws, well, not animal claws, but they are honorably elongated and sharper than they had ever been. As you looked up from your lap, your eyes fell on a mirror.

A tall mirror leaning on its back legs, with black edges and details on the rim, you would again appreciate if you had the ability to see a single thing in the distance.

Your eyes widened, mortified, seeing yourself. It looked like one of your parents's worst nightmares. Something out of a dream your mom would have—a nightmare so nasty and vivid she would be forced by her paranoia to get up and check that you're still in bed sleeping soundly.

Your eyes were no longer the familiar color you have seen in the mirror or in old photos of your family members you've grown to love. The shade wasn't even close to yours; crazy how one small change made such a big difference in your appearance. Your pupils were slitted vertically, shrinking only to dilate a little once again, getting adjusted. You slowly got up on foal legs and fell on your knees in front of the mirror. Even if you didn't think it was night because you weren't seeing darkness, the light of the moon shone down on the mirror and floor thanks to the now open curtains. That's when your vision stopped unfocusing and finally cleared.

You were now looking at yourself. It felt incredibly alien and familiar at the same time; you looked at yourself every day, whether it was the mirror in your bathroom at home, a crappy motel one that faced the bed (which you cover up with a scoff each time), or a reflection in the car of your vanity mirror checking yourself before going in a precinct, pretending to be a reporter (the things middle-aged pigs would confess to a doe-eyed girl from the press..).

You gently pulled the corner of your upper lip only to reveal your enlarged and sharpened front canines. Your hand fell and instead went to cover your mouth in order to muffle your sobs. You must have done a horrible job because the second you slapped the hand over your mouth, you heard Willlow gasp as if she felt it too.

She drops the food she was unpacking and runs in, taking a moment to calm her heaving chest in the doorway; her hands were holding it like an earthquake had shaked her up; even her round glasses had slipped and rested on the tip of her nose.

"_______, you woke up!" she exclaims cheerfully. "I was just—how do you fee-?"

She kept stuttering and cutting herself off. Willow didn't need to say anything else; she saw the tears welling up in your eyes and felt the same shock you did from the kitchen.

🧿🧿🧿- later on, you have to bump into the Winchesters one way or another

- and it's exactly on a full moon when this time the ball isn't in your court and you don't get to decide whether you turn or not.

- your claws are sharp, your eyes have changed their original color completely with your pupils vertically slit, and your teeth (conveniently) remain the same; only a few of your front canines are enlarged and sharpened.

- as for senses, it's downright spectacular.

- you can hear deer stepping on tree branches, foxes running, and owls hooting when you're driving by the forest

- you smell how many people are in a room

- you have night vision (yes, your eyes to the flashy thingamajiggy when someone blinds you with their flashlight).

- as a hunter, you already know that your claws and fangs can rip out a human heart.

- ironically, as this whole situation is, you hunt alone on the principle that you don't long for companionship as some lycanthropes do.

- you've turned into a literal killing machine with no instinct to kill, so hunting with others is off the table since at the first sign of a threat (they think you are one, but you really aren't), a hunter exterminates.

- you meet the Winchesters on a ghoul hunt

- you have taken the case before them, but when you couldn't get anywhere with identifying whatever evil being was tormenting the locals with their mere presence, you thought about ditching it since it doesn't look like your type of thing and took the consideration that maybe humans were fucking around this time.

- so when you heard the FBI are in town investigating the case (detective Page and Plant), you placed that town in your rear view mirror; they got it covered..right?

- but something didn't feel right- it wasn't the shame of leaving a case with your tail between your legs (pun intended) with the weak motive, 'Maybe humans are really fucking around this time.'

- something wasn't right, so even if you were tired, you abruptly stopped the car and went over your research spread out on the flat of your closed trunk

- the slits of your eyes dance over the words on your laptop, your papers, and an old lore book you fought tooth and nail for. When you realized it's a ghoul you're dealing with, you turned the car around and went over every speed limit like hellhounds were scratching at your tires. It was your job to not let anybody else get hurt or someone else's grave be violated

- as the light of the moon shined down on you and your wild eyes looked back at you from the rear view mirror, you knew you couldn't have anyone see you, you had to be invisible

- *time skip* (as much as it pains me 'cause i am a sucker for details :))- you swoop in time to save the Winchesters

- and if they weren't tied up, they would've started fighting you too, because why was there a whole ass werewolf fist fighting a ghoul?? John trained them like Spartan warriors, but nothing prepared them for something like this.

- so they sit there like:??????

- they watch you take out a fucking ghoul all by yourself

- the head of the ghoul's person they're impersonating rolls onto the floor. You have to remind yourself it's not a real person; it's an evil spirit who kills to feed

- by the time you wipe the blood off your face, smearing it a bit in the process, and cut the ties holding the hunters loose, Sam is unnable to look away from your slit eyes adorned by a strange color that strangely suits you

- literally hearts in his fawn brown eyes like you still don't have blood on your face and you aren't trying to catch your breath; also, you took a nasty punch to your cheek, and he's pretty sure it's gonna leave a bruise, but he totally doesn't care, why? why do you ask?

- by the way Sam is scrunitizing you, and oh yeah, Sam is scrunitizing you, you're sure you're gonna have to ditch since you've been in this situation before and you know how it always ends

- there was no 'explaining yourself' to hunters when they saw you under the full moon or when they saw you change because you had to.

Before you can even open your mouth they have their methaphorical pitchforks sharpened and torches lit up, prepared to slaughter you, and if you're honest, you can't even blame them for it because you would've done the same.

- Dean rubs his wrist with his right hand; the imprint of the rope is still fresh on his skin like a tattoo. Sam focuses on not choking when you catch him staring.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean thinks out loud. You take a big lungs-exploding sigh and give a shot at introducing yourself since they seem more civilized than most hunters are

- Sam geeks out about you

He doesn't question you because he is suspicious (he has the right to be but surprisingly isn't). He has to feed his noisy, information-hungry brain or he will spontaneously combust

- "Are your senses even more enhanced during the full moon, or are they the same?"

- "Can you smell when somebody is afraid? Like the hormones from their pores?"

- "Is it annoying to always have super hearing? Like has it ever caused you to be..I don't know.. Anxious? It did?" He mourns over you, trying to imagine himself in your situation but possibly can't.

- "I'm really sorry you had to go through a whole..change all by yourself, but it just shows how strong you are, some don't even make it 'til the end."

- After you were done explaining to Sam (to which he gladly sat himself down and listened) how sometimes you genuinely consider you're inevitably going to become what you hunt and how in the beginning you and your senses have butted heads, how you had no idea how to go through it without having panic attacks because the click of a doorknob was sensitive to your hearing like a veteran was scared of fireworks, how you accidentally ripped a motel door off its hinges, a result of you being slightly irritated, still getting acoustumed to your abilities. Dean would go.

"..Do dog whistles work on y–" Before getting an elbow in the ribs by a glaring Sam.

- more shit Dean would ask you for the sake of his own little curiosity

- "Is 'bitch' even more offensive now?"

- "Who do you think would win in a fight? You or Jacob Black?"

- "What do I smell like? Y'know, since you can pick up on scents and alldat."

- Dean calls you Cujo

- It's the one nickname you can get behind, asking him what he thought about the book, and he's like, "Oh, I watched the movie, but i know a little. Sammy used to rattle on and on about his books when he was younger."

- if you think about it, an alais doesn't sound so bad in theory or practice while hunting.

- it's secretive, the boys don't need to divulge your real name, and it's actually high-key kickass (I literally watched Cujo just so I know what I'm talking about, a.k.a. the second reason why it took a millenium and a half for me to post these; the first reason is that i suck)

- Dean is thrilled to get to call you that- he gets this fucking smirk, like a dad about to drop the worst joke ever made on everyone, you and Sam brace yourselves for what's coming with matching eyerolls-

"Let's fuck em' up, Cujo."

- "Cujo, dude, you're just itching to raise a little hell right now, aren't you?"

- "Uh- a bacon cheeseburger, soda, yo, Cujo whaddya want? My treat >:]."

- "Cujo, put on that song you were listening to; I had it in my head the entire hunt." (I didn't mention the genre or artist bc I like to imagine Dean listening to everyone's fav category; ex. I imagine Dean screaming bikini kill lyrics whenever i'm sad)

- if you thought the 'canine/wolf' teasing stopped here, you're so painfully wrong

- Dean made you a mixtape, because that's his love language apparently, with only songs that are about werewolves

- I feel like it took him a longer time to find a suitable title than the songs themselves

- he has all of the possible picks on a piece of paper that stays in the pocket of his fifty pound leather jacket.

- the titles are: Songs to transform into; The howlin' hits; Songs that will make you wag your tail—that one is crossed out because he knows you will make him eat the tape if he does settle on it; Love at first bite; and finally the one he settled for is Songs you can sink your teeth into. Dean smiled at his work, it didn't feel like a prank anymore it was more like a gift and he didn't feel any ugly emotion or insecurity try to pull him back into not getting attached to you.

The final touch was a note saying

"Hey, Cujo, thought you might want these howlin' hits whenever you need to tune the world out.

P.S. : Sam told me to add one of the songs, it's that punk stuff you like - Dean"

- The songs he prudently picked out are these : Of Wolf and Man by Metallica; Bark at the Moon by Ozzy Osbourne; I Was A Teenage Werewolf by The Cramps; Wolf Moon by Type O Negative; Witch Wolf by STYX; Run with the Wolf by Rainbow; Lycanthropy by G.B.H and others.

- you accidentally made a kid cry once- a ball was literally flying towards you and you caught it just in time, thanks to your reflexes

- instinctively, you turned around in time and caught the ball as your claws grew and sank into the inanimate object

- it's all "Nice relfexes, _____" praise from Dean and proud and shy smiles from Sam until the owner of the ball starts sobbing in front of you

- it's a kid, a boy with red hair, no older than six years of age

- but we all know Dean's charm is basically made for this

- so he handles both the kid and his mom (flirting with a milf all day, poor Dean)

- you keep apologizing to the kid and the mom, but Dean just waves you off; you don't understand his generosity until Sam tells you that you accidentally secured Dean's hookup for tonight.

- Since Dean is not coming, not until early morning, nor is he there to call you and Sam 'dorks', you and his younger brother take advantage of it.

- you guys have a movie night with the most random movies ever

- it is chaotic

- from rom-coms you switch to a world war II documentary, then you watch re-runs of House MD on tv.

- Dean stumbles in at like five something a.m. and takes a picture of you and Sam snuggling under a blanket while the tv light casts shadows of orange and cold colors on your defenseless expressions.

- but can somebody actually blame you? Or Sam, for that matter?

- honorably want to mention your body heat is also enhanced

- You and Sam were sitting with your sides pressed into each other

- you were radiating pure furnace body heat, how could he not be sleepy??

- but that's not the only reason Sam knocks out so heavily

- it's you he's sitting down with (relaxing for once in his life) watching a ridiculous episode of House with thirteen ads rolling every ten minutes accompanied by lazy talking as if you're not debating books only you and morally grey forty-year-olds read (where that Kansas drawl of his is much more audible and pretty), after a marathon of fatally random movies

- younger Sam who had trouble going to sleep/getting some shut-eye because Dean and John are out late on a hunt.

- Sam especially couldn't fall asleep because Dean wasn't there

- it was a different story when Dean was at the age where he couldn't hunt but he could use a pistol and take care of his little brother

- both of them in a relatively warm motel room, alone (since John fucked off to god-knows-where, to hunt a monster they are never to breathe in the direction of as a conversation subject.)

- little Sammy (age where he believed nothing could beat his older brother) could peacefully fall asleep knowing Dean stays up and watches over him like a hawke, reading comic books by the tv light

- where little Dean keeps chanting in his head what Sammy is supposed to do after eating his dinner.

- Watch tv or look at the comic with me (Sammy can't read yet), brush his teeth, then tuck him in bed.

- now pre-teen Sam can hardly sleep

- he is plagued/tormented by flashing images his overthinking big brain mades of a thousand situations where his family got hurt, if not even killed

- Sam's grip on the shotgun is shaking; it shakes even harder when John's bark booms over his shoulder, right into his ear.

- "Sammy, dammit, what are you going to do when a demon breaks through the door and me and your brother aren't there to protect you?!"

- but Sam isn't twelve anymore

- he's a responsible adult

- snuggled beside you and denying any eepy allegations you decide to accuse him of

- so, the heat you contribute, the soft speaking on the tv, the darkness of the room, you being there is enough to lull Sam to sleep

- studies show you feel sleepy around the people you trust ;)

- the position you two fell asleep in cannot be described in any other word than childish

- somehow you would catch two kids, sleeping over at one of the other's houses, knocked out, and snoring in the same bed after watching a horror movie

- on one of the two queens the motel room contributes (the one closest to the tv) you and Sam have made this fluffy nest full of pillows, a huge blanket, plus a random quilt Bobby pulled out of thin air and gave it to you when he heard you complaining about the petal-thin blankets motels have during cold ass weather.

- When you both lied down on the bed with your legs greedily streched out, backs pressed against the headboard, and your head is resting on the wall while Sam, magically, was still able to hold his up after the very long day all of you endured. You predicted one of you wouldn't survive being in each other's presence and make it out not asleep, and god, you hoped it was you.

- Sam's breathing slows down after a while of comfortable silence, and you’re sure he's dying until you spare one quick glance and see him, downright snoozing with his lips parted without a care in the world, ghosts and eerie phenomenons weren't bothering or needing him now.

- during all of the movies and documentary and fuckin lazy intellectual commentary nobody else would have the patience to discuss with you or Sam, he somehow migrated on the bed/nest with his side flush against yours, like a magnet to another; it was inevitable not to stick together, literally.

- your shoulder was now pressed into his forearm, your head no longer resting uncomfortably, and his temple is resting on the top of your head.

- but (unfortunately) you weren't hugging or anything- like a mirror or a copycat, Sam has his arms crossed, just like you, so maybe that's why you didn't wake up full on cuddling, that does sound good though your brain mourns

- When you do wake up, the only slight change you notice is that you're sleeping on your side..so is Sam. You're facing Sam's neck and chin, and up close and personal, you can actually count the too-sexy amount of moles he modestly posesses. His arm serves the role of a pillow underneath his head, and the other is resting with his palm down facing the mattress.

- with Sam taking up the entire attention of your senses, it takes an emmbarassing while for you to hear the shower running, Dean; did he see you both like this? Was he going to mention it? Your gut fills with a small dose of embarrassement, preparing you for what's yet to come, and it protests at that.

- much displeasure from your senses to your brain and your heart that wanted to breathe Sam in more as he (hopefully) breathes you out, you turn on your other side, unconsciously careful not to disturb Clifford over here, and you try to determine what time it is from your surroundings alone.

- the light blue sneaking its way through the dark closed curtains and the slight chill in the air points all arrows to seven or eight in the morning, you could go back to sleep.

- Dean wasn't just feeling gracious; he didn't and wasn't even planning on sparing you or Sam

- that day, when he separately gets the both of you alone, he has the exact same conversation with different but not so different people.

-"You should've seen the two of you this morning when I came in, two kittens snoring together, it was fuckin' adorable." Dean teased–

—Monday, 13:34 p.m. — as he tossed his clothes into one of the laundromat's washing machines, making Sam paralyze in his seat as his fingers started fidgeting with the edges of his hoodie.

"You did?.." He inquires, not knowing what exactly Dean saw just this morning. Sam only woke up a little after you went back to sleep. He swore his cheek must have burned a hole through the pillow with how hard he was blushing. You were so close. There was a good distance between the edge of the bed and you. So your back was flush against his chest. If you're wondering where his arm went, it was around your waist. Sam—your own personal seatbelt. He probably thinks it's his fault too. Dean never ceased to describe Sam as a 'cuddlebug'.

"Uh-huh" Dean hums a confirmation, acting casual, scarily casual. Sam feels the teasing in Dean's tone; it's there, but Dean is not fully teasing yet, like he wants Sam to confess something first after boiling in his embarrassement for long enough.

—Monday, 20:02 p.m. — as he pulled the Impala into the driveway of a fast-food place you were so invested in you even forgot the name of; you froze and looked at him, searching for any emotion that might give him away, but Dean was a brick wall, a slight very Dean siginificant parted lips smirk paired with squinted eyes over the wheel, carefully driving into the driveway. Even the car seemed to betray you in your moment of weakness because you swear the volume is lower than it was a few seconds ago. Ozzy Osbourne's laugh can still be heard from the speakers, even if it's barely audible over your racing thoughts or your hearing trying its hardest to pick up on Dean's thoughts. The rythym of the drums seems to sync up with your heartbeat, or the other way around, you're not sure. Over every little sound, there still seems to be a little silence to fit in. You swallow a lump in your throat.

"..We had a movie night, we just fell asleep like that, that's all." You mumble, and Dean starts to feel a little bad for letting you be a victim to his spotlight-teasing and giving you no shade to reprieve to or show his undying approval.

Somehow, you still worry if Dean believes you have ruined the dynamic, and now he's cornering you to tell you to stop it or something (overthinking anxiety worms are eating away at your critical thinking skills). You just worry about what he thinks of this. You still worry about the Dean who doesn't correct random people on cases who mistake you and Sam for a couple; the Dean who just has to leave some arsenal or luggage in the front, just so you are forced to share the backseat with Sam; the Dean who always has to group you and Sam in a category when he teases you both (Geeks, nerds, smartasses, etc.). Cupid works hard, but Dean Winchester works harder.

"Hey-, Cuj- Doll." Dean sputters, switching glances between you and the wheel.

This didn't go as he planned it would, and now he is facing the consequences. The way you shrink in your seat and the way you avoid catching his eye makes Dean feel like a douchebag. If he didn't know any better he would thinks he is, but then you would actually be able to read him like a book and tell him otherwise. You hear the desperation in his voice; your candle of hope comes back to life and lights up. Your head turns to look at him with pleading eyes. Please don't be angry, please don't kick me to the curb, let me stay in the backseat a little more. Dean lets out a shaky exhale that turns into a laugh; he runs a hand down his face. You've watched him do that every time he got jumpscared by the monthly spirit with unfinished business. It was something you imagined Dean picked up from John, the picture in your head so clear (at least from the pictures you saw)— a tired dad in an old squeaky motel chair with a whiskey glass in his hand doing the same motion Dean was doing right now. Dean would mimic his father's gestures to try to look more like him; he didn't have his brunette curly hair, his dark brown eyes, Sam did.

Dean never had his voice either; he only perfected his bark to match his dad's. Sam hated the way his reflection resembled his father, Dean was either jealous of him for it or couldn't wrap his head around as to why his brother hated being their dad, probably the latter. Dad, at least in Dean's eyes, was a hero, a figure to be admired and emulated. But Sam? He didn't even have to try. Sam and John were so alike that they clashed constantly like two stubborn stags locking antlers in a duel.

"..Dean?" You call him out; you had no idea what was going on in his head; it would be pretty damn nice if you could know. Dean shots his head up at the mention of his name.

"Yeah?—sorry, I just, you and Sam are just so—" He sighs. "it's about time you two crazy kids broke that touch barrier." He guffaws, slowly pulling up to the ordering kiosk.

A new song starts playing on Dean's "hot summa' nights driving" mixtape, Emmit Remmus by The Red Hot Chili Peppers, he added it when Sam said that's one of his favorites.

- do I need to talk about how much of an immense help you have been on hunts?

- you don't need to help out on every hunt despite Sam's disappointment and Dean's kid-like joy to have their friend help them out who is a professional/werewolf/hunter/geek, who kind of gets his references?? But you are geniunely so good it's funny to have the boys call you up and be like "..so we need help". They're happy you'll show up but there is still that lick of shame that taunts the Winchesters whenever they are forced to call for aid.

- this one time, you wanted to hug them after not seeing them for two weeks, and when you went to attack Sam, you heard his bones crack.

- your strength still surprises you and knocks other people off their feet

- it was so loud (atleast for you), you were sure you broke something

- Sam did nothing but give you his (killer) dimply smile and reassure you didn't do anything (even if he slightly grunted); while Dean whined like a kid saying (lying) he doesn't want a hug (you coaxed him into it eventually)

- Sam feels like he's not allowed to call you by your nickname, like he fears it's Dean's thing and not his

- so when he finally puts on his big boy pants, he's like, "Uhh–Cujo- 🧍‍♂️so get this.."

- all red and shy, trying to act casual, as if he doesn't wonder about the reaction you might have if he calls you other nicknames, like honey, sweetheart, even baby, or if he had the excuse to hold your hand, how would you hold it? Fingers interlocked or palms flat?

- Sam would also love to just marvel at your slit eyes; if he could he would take a picture and put it in his wallet; don't get me wrong if he had one where you were normal, he would cherish it just as much.

- Sam thinks your nickname is actually really cool (probably because it's a Stephen King reference, nerd), and you take that as a compliment. Sam is hard to entertain or please by his brother's antics.

- But he prefers saying your name

- there's something so intimate about the syllables rolling off his tongue so easily

- "_____, Are you okay? What is it? The soundproof earmuffs? I'll go get them." When everything, and I mean when every sound is just too much.

- Sam got them for you; he couldn't handle seeing you wince one more time whenever a car with a bad engine would pass by the motel (during a stressful hunt); its tires squealing under the concrete, making a faint sound for the boys, but for you so much louder.

- you know how pathethic it is to be affected by such small things when you're blessed with such powers? How can you call yourself a hunter when decibels, frequencies, and fucking tire squeals make you their bitch? You wish you could train yourself in a way that would make you less sensitive to certain sounds. It just adds to the reasons why hunters have the excuse or classify you as "the frail one" not only because you're a girl. When you used to hunt with your dad and sometimes mom, the amount of dog-shit comments from other hunters who had sons, were nothing but mysogynistic, curlish, and ruthless. "Are you sure the riffle isn't too heavy?", "Does she even know how to kill this thing?", "She's going to drag us down, do you want us to die?"— the type of comments that would make your dad shoot daggers into them, defend you "She's a goddamn ______, what do you think?", and whisper into your ear "Show em' what you're made of." and you would (stubbornly) listen to his advice to the damn letter after you almost mouthed them off.

Your dad believed in "Actions are sometimes louder than words." and all that adult crap, you were not as zen.

Your mom actually encouraged the sarcasm you have replied with in the past. The funniest memory your mother can recall is a story she tells at every gathering and every chance she gets to everyone, she praised you like crazy. When another hunter's son had the nerve to fuck with a twelve-year-old you. "Aren't you afraid of breaking a nail out there?" The boy sneered, puffing out his chest like a peacock. You stared at him with pure disbelief. "The only way I'm breaking a nail tonight is by kicking your ass, you cocky brainless jerk." You spat back, your mother and father were there and so was the boy's father; the gravity of the situation was on your shoulders, and their stares felt even heavier in comparison; intimidating him was 100% on the table. You felt like everyone had the same exact thought occuring them, an unspoken demand passed everyone there, even you: Do something. And you did. Your mother's jaw went slack; she doubled over, gripping whatever surface was near her and she started to chortle, with her shoulders shaking like never before. Your father was holding in a chuckle while massaging the bridge of his nose.

- Sam has to disagree with you whenever you complain about how your senses make you look or about the way you underestimate yourself. "What?! You can't be serious. _____, It doesn't mean you're weak. In fact, it makes you even more interesting. Everyone has an Achilles heel; yours is stronger because you're an amazing hunter who figured a way out. It makes you even stronger, I have no idea how you deal with this crap! Dean and I would've gone insane if we were in your shoes for more than a day."

- he is also forcing back his infamous (spectacular) bitchface

- he doesn't 'hold back' actually

- he geniunely cannot glare at you, not when you're like this. He can make a few exceptions, like when you join in Dean's teasing/joking (the silly rambunctious energy Dean carries around had, unfortunately, contiminated you or awakened yours)

- or when you start teasing Sam yourself, he shoots you a glare that classifies as nothing but hot (in your book at least), the kind of Sam glare that makes you flush knowing he doesn't mean it at all.

- Dean making you those fake ass I.D's like "Joan Jett", "Stevie Nicks", "Kathleen Hanna" and when you asked him to make more subtle ones he was like, bet. "Kelly Hammer", "Diana Bowie", "Laura Ulrich".

a/n: I wanted to apologize again for taking so long and for the unnecessary amount of context that literally nobody asked for. Uhh yeah and feedback would be very much appreciated<3, sava out *mic drop*