#and all this stuff has been floating around in my head since i started reading 2 years ago

[lovemybluebully]

It's For Science

This is just a little something I scrounged together, inspired by a post by @snugglyfluffle 😊

https://www.tumblr.com/snugglyfluffle/761535277842022400/since-logan-has-a-shorter-waist-then-wade-does-do?source=share

Damn, writer's block has been a biiiiiitch. I wrote a lot of this in the later hours of the night after my long workdays so sorry if it's nothing spectacular, or if there's any spelling/grammatical errors. 

Wade gets it into his head that maybe not all humans have the same number of rib bones. His logic being that since Logan has a shorter body then he may be an exception. Unfortunately for Logan this is far too ticklish of an experiment for him to bear.

A small bit of ticklish!deadpool at the end too. 😉

Warnings for foul language and other Deadpool-type stuff.

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

ler!Wade/Deadpool x lee!Logan/Wolverine

ler!Logan/Wolverine x lee!Wade/Deadpool

M/M Tickle Fic

Word Count: 4,234

"The skeletal system is comprised of bones that give structure to the body and work with the muscles and joints to provide movement. The human body contains 206 bones….," the certified doctor on the television explained as he gestured to a replica model human skeleton while Wade sat watching on the couch.

"207 if I'm watching Gossip Girl, hehehe. Shit, I already made that joke in the movie. Well it's still true anyhow, am I right?" Wade snorted a laugh as he turned from his position on the couch with his hand up for a high-five, but found his roommate leaned back in the couch with his eyes closed and his hands on his lap.

It had been a nice lazy afternoon for the two of them and Logan had KO'ed quite a few beers as the monotone voice of the television host was making him doze off.

"Pssht! Old man can't stay awake for five minutes," Wade waved him off as he turned back to the tv.

"The ribcage has an important job in providing protection to some of the most vital organs being the lungs and the heart. There are 12 ribs on each side, making 24 in total…"

The merc blinked in curiosity as he sat up tall and now slowly began to feel up each side of his body to count the ribs within, having to dig in pretty thoroughly to get through the muscle.

"Hmm I'm only feeling 20 here….," he rechecked to be sure, finding all the ones leading up to his collarbone.

"The 11th and 12th pair of ribs are called 'floating ribs' because unlike all the others they are not attached to the sternum but are still attached to the backbone….," the doctor went on as he pointed to two pairs of ribs on the back area of the skeleton.

Wade's hands wound around to his lower back and found the missing pairs right where the doctor said they'd be.

"Huh. What do you know, he's right. I mean, duh!" He bopped himself on the forehead, "Of course he's right. He's a fucking doctor. Hey Wolvie, you're missing some interesting stuff here."

"Mmph," Logan only grunted in response, not even hearing what Wade had actually said as he started to drift further into fully passing out.

Wade then had a thought pop into his mind as he looked over at his near-comatose friend. Logan's torso was a lot shorter than his own so he wondered if it was true that all humans had the same number of ribs. The doc hadn't specified if it was possible to have less and Wade's hyper mind needed an answer right away.

"Hmm. I suppose I could just Google it to find out for sure, but nah! I prefer to do my own field study. Plus you all need a fun little fic to read, and I know Logan won't mind if it tickles just a teensy little bit. Commence Operation How-Many-Ribs-Does-A-Wolverine-Have."

He slid over and wiggled his fingers up in the air before placing them on the bottom of Logan's ribcage, pressing in gently to feel the first two ribs as the man immediately jumped and blinked his eyes open in a groggy daze.

"Whatistha….Wade? What-heheh-What're you doin'?" He batted at Wade's hands with very little accuracy from being half-asleep, giggles escaping him as the fingers moved up to the next set of ribs.

"Well if you had stayed awake Peanut, you would have seen this educational program I've been watching about the human body. They say there are 24 ribs in a human, but I was curious if it applied to all body heights. Being that you're a little shorter than me I wanted to see if you had the same," Wade explained his current lunacy as Logan started to wake up a little more though it took him a moment to really process everything that had been said.

"Huh? The fuck are ya-eheheheehee-Ribs? Course I do, dipshihihit. Now stohahahop it," he was unsuccessful in trying to block out Wade's hands as they continued up his sides.

"I sure will. Once I have verified the facts. Though I'm pretty sure this would go a lot quicker if you would just hold still," Wade smirked big time, knowing there was absolutely no way Logan could ever stay still for something like this when his torso was so ridiculously sensitive, "Okay looks like that's number 5…..and oh, there's 6…."

"How abohohout I c-count your teeheeheeheeth after I knohohock 'em outta your fuhuhuhucking head?" Logan chuckled hard, taking a half-hearted and easily dodge-able swing with his fist towards Wade.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, muffin cakes. Come on, this is a fun game. At least smile, would ya?" Wade teased, looking down at his friend while increasing the speed that his fingers wiggled around against his sides.

The X-man's grin had lit up his normally stoic face while he made many attempts to shove Wade's arms away, but those nimble fingers were practically glued to his sides.

"Of ahahahall the stuhuhuhupid-Eeeheheheheheheh! Stahahahap, ya mohohohoron! Thehehehey're all thehehehere!" Logan was giggling uncontrollably and sinking back into the couch cushions, trying to will his body to phase through and escape but there was only so much give that he was allowed.

Truthfully after the relaxing day he'd had and the keg of beer in his belly he found that he wasn't too bothered about Wade waking him up with his dumb experiment.

"How can I be certain? Got any proof? Any reliable witnesses to corroborate your case? Hmm? Perhaps you have an x-ray of your body to show me? A scientific essay conducted by a world renowned researcher? Any of those would be acceptable."

Logan obviously could only shake his head.

"N-Nohohohohoo, buhut I can cuhuhut myself opehehehen and-ahahahahaa-you cahahahan loohoohook for yoursehehehelf!" He released one claw from his hand as Wade gasped in horror and quickly grabbed his wrist to pin it to the couch with his knee.

"Ohhh no you don't. You're crazy if you think I'm gonna allow my precious little badger to cause himself any harm. Besides my method is way less messy. Just wish I knew why you find it to be so funny," he stated, playing dumb as Logan attempted to growl through his giggles, though the intimidation factor was completely lost.

"Yohohohou f-fucking knohow why I'm lahahahahaughin', ya ihihihihidiot!" He retracted the sharp blade back into his body, trying to squirm free, "Now gehehehet outta thehehehere, ohohor ehehehelse!"

The threats were in full effect, but the claws remained sheathed.

Wade recognized that Logan was in a more light-hearted mood than normal, and he wasn't going to let it go to waste. If he had woken up with murder on his mind then Wade might have been more inclined to back off sooner. But now that he had the green light it was on!

"Or else what? Doesn't seem like you're trying too hard to stop me," he called his bluff and grinned at how the man weakly pulled at his wrists with his one free hand and was trying to curl up in defense.

He knew Logan would be fighting him a lot harder than this if he was really as disagreeable as he wanted him to think.

Actually, Wolverine had a little secret he was keeping. He would die before admitting it out loud, but there were times he found that he actually enjoyed this. Yes, enjoyed getting tickled within an inch of his life.

Definitely not at first though. And to fully grasp the situation we'll have to rewind the story just a…

"Aw nohohoo bub! Thehehey don't neeheed to hehehear all o' thahahat!"

Wade's heart skipped a beat as he gasped in excitement.

"Oh em gee! Your first fourth wall break! I'm so fucking proud of you!"

Shush, we're doing this.

Anyways Logan couldn't remember ever being tickled before so the day Wade had discovered that he was in fact quite ticklish he did everything in his power to fight him off and avoid it altogether. Wade wouldn't back off though and inevitably got him pinned down, even though it resulted in several stab wounds to his head and torso.

Having been alive for over 200 years Logan was very used to experiencing pain of some of the highest levels physically and mentally, but tickling was something very alien to him. Not surprisingly he struggled with processing the maddening, yet gentle touches.

He didn't like to show any signs of weaknesses, but being tickled completely overwhelmed his heightened senses, especially in the touch department, and it was impossible for him to not react to it. There had been feelings of anger and humiliation at how easily simple fingers were able to render him powerless, and it only got worse once he finally broke into agonized laughter.

Logan hated the feeling of not having control, especially over his own body. Once he had managed to break free, he had been extremely cross with Wade and went into one of his brooding moods for the majority of the day.

After giving him time to cool off, Wade eventually approached him to apologize, and Logan shrugged it off now that his temper had died down. Though he had been working on trying to better himself and he explained to Wade what it had made him feel and why he had reacted so strongly against it.

Wolverine being vulnerable enough to share his feelings with him was one of the only times Wade was ever completely serious and really gave his full attention. Despite getting a kick out of always annoying him Wade never wanted to cause him true stress and it made him feel like a real asshole when Logan ended up apologizing to him too.

Wade promised to never do it to him again but added that he just got carried away due to the fact that he really liked seeing Logan not only smile but laugh especially. Logan had become utterly stupefied by that confession. He thought Wade had only been trying to torment and embarrass him, which was what had really set him off.

He had then taken the next few days to reflect on that. He could definitely empathize with how good it felt to see someone you really cared about experiencing joy. Knowing that Wade's intentions were far from malicious had really put his mind at ease about it, realizing that his pride had gotten the better of him.

And the more he thought back on it it really wasn't that bad.

Which was why Wade's squawk of surprise when Logan tackled him from out of nowhere to attack his sides with tickles gave Logan the same fuzzy feeling he assumed Wade had had. Wade not only was laughing from the tickling, but from relief as well, realizing that he'd been unspokenly forgiven.

He didn't even fight it and just let Logan tickle him to his heart's content until finally the man stopped and grunted that he had hoped he'd "learned his lesson" while giving him a small smirk.

Wade was able to read between the lines and took the chance to pounce him the very next day, and despite some growling threats he received the older mutant didn't seem entirely displeased. Logan had completely let his guard down, which now enabled him to truly experience it in full.

Still, he made Wade work for it before he finally stopped holding in his laughter. The crazy merc then proceeded to make him laugh harder than he could ever remember doing in his past, and he found the brain chemical effects from that to do wonders for his mood.

The funny thing about it to Logan was that even though he was rendered helpless from tickling he realized that he was still 100% safe, and he found that to be a very comforting thought. It was a new experience for him to be in such a close proximity struggle where the end goal wasn't to try to hurt or kill him.

Sure, Wade would use tickling as a form of retaliation a lot of times, but it was all the same to Logan by now. Naturally he wasn't always in the mood for a tickle attack, but these days more often than not he didn't fight it too much and was quite content to let his roommate turn him into a squirming, wheezing wreck.

Of course, for appearances sake, Logan would still curse his head off and threaten the man's life at every turn. Up until the mischievous merc would tickle him to the point he could barely take it and turn that macho attitude into desperate pleas for mercy.

Which brings us back to our current situation.

"Dahahammit! I-I dihihihidn't ahahask for a wahahahaake up cahahahall!"

"No thanks needed! It's totally complimentary in el Casa de Wade. But don't mind me, feel free to go back to sleep. I'm just going to keep counting these ribs here until we get to the bottom of this. Ah, finally we found 7 and 8."

Wade was still acting as if this whole idea was just to count his ribs and hadn't even acknowledged that he was purposely tickling him and realizing that made Logan feel even more giddy as he let out a snort and shook his head.

"Wade c'mooon! Get ohohohoff! Ya-heehehehe-Ya know I'm ticklihihihihish, fucker!" His big-muscled arms were clamped so tightly against his sides, but there was no stopping the determined fingers crawling up his ribs.

"Whaaa? Wolverine? Ticklish? Ha! That's absurd! My guy Logan is way too mean and strong and tough to be affected by something so childish! Oh boy, and I thought I was the king of jokes around here. Now come on, stop messing around and just move your arms out of the way so I can finish this," Wade smirked, loving to tease him about his ticklishness in regard to his hard-core reputation.

"You fuhuhuhucking ahahahasshohohohole!" Logan snorted hard and now fell over to the side as he began scooting along the couch to get away.

"Heheh, where do you think you're going? Stop being so dramatic, Nancy Kerrigan. It's okay to make that joke now, right? 30 years later is fair," he shrugged at the camera, not letting up one bit as he followed along with his squirming prey, "I can feel 9 and 10 now. We're almost halfway there! Oooh! How exciting!"

"Cuhuhut it ohohohout! Heeheheheheheheh! Juhuhust drohop this stuhuhupid ideheeheeheea!"

The higher Wade went the stronger the tickling sensations felt, and Logan was pretty sure he was going to die before the last of his ribs were even reached, though in his mind it honestly wasn't the worst way for him to go.

"🎵 Ohhhh the itsy-bitsy spiders crawled up the waterspout….🎵," Wade effortlessly sing-songed with clawed fingers continuing their torturously slow progress, thoroughly scraping over every rib bone they came across, "🎵 Down came the rain….but couldn't wash the spiders out because they were having too much fun counting all these cute little ribbies. 🎵."

It always made Logan feel silly whenever Wade's teases took on a more juvenile form. He was the tenacious and deadly Wolverine and yet Wade was treating him like he was just some harmless little kid. He was never able to stop the blush from spreading across his face.

"Shuhuhuhuut uhuhuhup! Ohohor you're gohohonna haahahave another fuhuhuhuckin'-Hahahahahahehee-hohohohole t-to breheeheeheeathe outta yohohour fahahahat hehehehead!"

"Wow. We're body shaming now? I'm very sensitive about my fat head, you know. Well have you looked in the mirror lately, mister? Just walking around with those big, sexy arms and your handsomely chiseled jawline, and don't even get me started on all that sculpted beef that you're hiding in disgrace underneath this shirt. Yeah, doesn't feel so good now, does it, you absurdly attractive man? Uh huh….oh….yup, right there we got 11 and 12."

Wade was just so ridiculous sometimes, but when Logan was already caught in a laughing fit the merc's unstoppable blabbering only succeeded in making him laugh even harder. And unfortunately, he was slowly losing his will to carry on with acting tough through this tickle session.

"Fihihihiiine! I'm-heeheehehahahahaha-I'm sorrrrry! I tahahahake it bahahahaack! Just stooohohohoooop!" Logan didn't know how much more he could take of this. Actually, he did know due to having suffered under Wade's fingers for months now, and the answer was a lot.

"Why? I'm just trying to get a count here. 13……14…..It's for science. Hey look, I'm sorry……," Wade pretended to show some remorse before breaking into a huge smirk, "Sorry my wittle Wolvie-polvie is too freakin' ticklish for his own good!"

Logan's back finally met the armrest of the couch, preventing him from going any further as he leaned back over it to try to get away. Though this now had his ribcage fully stretched out as Wade stepped it up and dug his fingers in mercilessly between rib bones, making Logan positively howl in laughter.

"Ahahahahaa! Wade naahahahahahahaho! Pleheheease! Thahahahaat tickles!" He thrashed madly trying to wiggle away, but Wade had him pinned right where he wanted him as he just snickered at the situation.

"I think at this point you know that was part of my plan all along. Hehehe, but we're so close! Think of the prestige we'll get from this scientific breakthrough! Oh! I think I just found 15! Oooh! And could that be 16?! C'mon, buddy! Bear with me now!"

The upper ribs were basically in Logan's armpits that were covered with a more fleshy layer and Wade was really having to probe in there to actually feel the bones beneath.

"Not thehehehere! Noohot thehehehehehehhehehere! Haahahahaheeheeheeheehaa! Mehehehehercyyyyyy! Logan squealed helplessly with his head tilted back and showing off his elongated canine teeth; his face as red as a tomato as tears squeezed out of his tightly shut eyes.

The feral man's t-shirt had ridden up, exposing the lower half of his ripped stomach and Wade was currently in a position where it was at eye level. He smirked as he thought about how crazy Logan got whenever he would blow raspberries into his tummy, and he found the urge to do so was just too strong to resist as he took a deep breath.

"WAAAHahAHaHAhaHAHAAADE!!" Logan screamed with the first oral assault landing directly around his navel, breaking into silent laughter while wheezing desperately for air. Many more blows were delivered to his belly and ribs while the fingers continued tickling in his armpits as Logan summoned up any energy he had left and pushed with all he had in him at Wade's head and shoulders.

Eventually after being slapped and punched in the head so many times, Wade finally allowed himself to be pushed away, taking one last nibble at his hip bone.

"Geez, calm down Hugh, you over actor," he chuckled as he looked down at the man who was currently swallowing all the air he could and gingerly wiping away at tears.

"Okaaahaahay…..Fuckin' Hell……That's it…..for nohohow…..Y-You got me…..good……No more….right?"

"Weeeeeell if you would have just stayed still, we could have had this all over with. But noooooo, you just had to make me lose count," Wade sighed loudly in feigned disappointment, "Looks like I'm gonna have to start aaaallllllll over again."

With a wicked grin he began reaching out towards the still incapacitated man who was now shaking his head frantically as his hands raised in defense.

"N-No Wade. Not again. Stay back. Heehehehe-please. I can't take any more," he couldn't help giggling in anticipation as Wade hovered over him again.

"Hold still now…Don't worry Peanut, we'll get through this together. So that's 1……and 2…….and a coochie coochie coo…," Wade started again on his waist to get at his bottom ribs as Logan was already breaking into squeals.

"20?! Again?! For real?! I've counted three times already!"

Logan was hanging halfway off the couch; his hair sticking out in every direction and his cheeks slicked with tears as he coughed and tried to regain any hint of sanity he had left.

"It's……It's……fine…….Wade…..I'm sure……..they're in……there……somewhere……," he panted weakly, slowly starting to feel his energy revitalize.

"Or maybe you really do only have 20? My theory that you have fewer since you are shorter may be correct!" Wade was getting lost in his thoughts, but then at that moment a voice of reason sounded off.

"And remember, the 11th and 12th pair of ribs are referred to as 'floating ribs' and are only attached at the backbone….," the television was still on and by this point the doctor had gone back around and was summarizing everything he had just talked about.

The light bulb finally went on in Wade's head.

"Oh yeeeeah……forgot about those little buggers," Wade slowly turned to look at his friend whose eyes went wide as he scrambled to get away.

Five seconds later and Wade had Logan pinned on his stomach as his fingers wiggled into his lower back to find the missing rib pairs while Logan cackled wildly and pounded his fists with his feet uselessly kicking at the cushions.

"23…..and 24! Well would you look at that! I guess all humans are the same after all!" Wade declared happily as he finally climbed off of his roommate, signaling the end of his reign of terror, "Whaddya think, Wolvie? Aren't you so glad to have that useful little tidbit of information at your disposal?"

Logan gradually rolled over onto his back and raised an annoyed brow.

"Could've just fuckin' Googled it, bub," he growled, though a smile was still stuck on his face.

"Okay I admit waking you up may not have been the nicest way to go about it, but you know how impatient I am. And be honest, you really don't seem that upset about it," Wade grinned, reaching over to scribble fingers over his now exposed stomach while Logan snorted chuckles and tried to block him out with his knees before rolling away.

"You're lucky I didn't piss my pants, asshole. Drank a shit load of beers right before I fell asleep. I gotta piss like a fucking racehorse now," Logan stumbled to his feet and walked off to use the bathroom.

Wade grinned as he watched him walk away before turning to the audience.

"He's cute, ain't he? And I didn't hear any denial in that, did you? He doesn't know that I heard the author spill his secret earlier. It's nice to know that he actually enjoys it, even if he won't say it. I'm totally good with that."

The sound of Logan groaning in relief echoed down the hallway followed by the toilet flushing several moments later before he walked back out to join Wade on the couch.

"Did you make sure to put the seat back down? Althea won't be happy if she falls in again," he asked as Logan looked at him with a frown.

"That one was on you, shithead. I always remember to. You've lived how many years with this poor lady? I seriously don't know how she's put up with your stupid, inconsiderate ass for so long."

"Exactly the same way you do, sugar tits," Wade grinned and pinched his cheek, receiving an adamantium elbow into his side and grunting as the air was knocked out of him momentarily.

"It's a daily struggle that's for sure. But I owe ya a lot for breaking me out of my destructive cycle, so we'll call it even," Logan had softened his demeanor, knowing he truly owed Wade his gratitude as the other man noted this and took advantage of his guard being down.

"Awww there it is! Right there! I knew you loved me!" Wade squealed as he jumped onto Logan's lap and wrapped his arms around his head in the tightest of hugs.

"Gaah! Wade! Fuckin' dammit! Let go of me!" Logan struggled to pry Wade off of him until he was hit with a moment of inspiration as he latched his fingers onto Wade's unprotected sides to start tickling him with everything he had.

"Aahaahahah! Logan dohohohohooot! Thahahahat's nohohohot fahahahaaair!" Wade yelped with giggles as he quickly tried to escape, but Logan held him firmly in place.

"Fair? Okay, let's be fair. See we learned that all my ribs are there, but seems we've overlooked yours. Think it's best we check that out right away, don't you?" Logan asked with a crooked grin as Wade frantically shook his head while thrashing in his lap, "No? Well ain't that just too damn bad."

Logan dug right in with both strong hands, not even hiding the fact that his mission was to tickle the absolute shit out of his roommate.

"Okaahahahay yohohou cahahan cheheheck! Heheehhehahah! Juhuhust nohoho tihihihickling!"

"Now how do ya expect me to do that? You got an x-ray or some bullshit to show me? A fuckin' thesis paper on the matter? What? Ya don't? Well that fuckin' sucks for you. Looks like we're doing this the old-fashioned way. What number was I on? Oh yeah….1…….1…….1……1 again….."

"Cahahahahaaan't you fuhuhucking cohohount, you neahahahanderthal?!?!"

Logan smirked big time, repeatedly prodding into the same rib over and over.

"Guess not. Numbers apparently aren't my strong suit. Looks like this is gonna take alllll day then."

Wade could only laugh and squeal in response, knowing he had sealed his own doom.

[samsno1]

Hi, idk how often you do requests but could you do a mid season Sam fic. The reader is with the FBI with the unexplained cases and she meets the brothers. It would be funny if they tried to convince her that they are also with the FBI and she somehow catches them in their lie. They work together in the case and Sam and the reader end up falling for eachother. Thanks you so so much!!!!

Caught

Sam Winchester X F!Reader

this took me so long to write i'm so sorry. i don't reeeeally like the ending but i did the best i could. i hope this is what you expected bby <3

Summary: You were assigned a complex case and you end up meeting two very weird men who were, apparently, also FBI agents but...why are they named after famous rockstars?

Warnings: FLUFF, descriptions of murderer, murder scenes and violence (usual supernatural shenanigans), sam is an 'intimidating woman enjoyer™', use of Y/N, the writer (me) has no idea how fbi works because she isn't an USA resident, NOT PROOF READ, english is not my first language

W.C.: 8,8k

enjoy!

You had climbed the ladder in the world of criminology considerably fast considering your age. Getting into the FBI in your late 20s was probably one of your biggest achievements and, of course, men tended to make disgusting comments about how such a young woman got such a difficult job – including claiming you opened your legs to get this far. You didn’t mind, actually, it added to your ego to be above those guys – as if they even deserved to be in a job that required empathy towards the victims.

Still, even your superior was shocked at the case he found. A couple had been killed inside their room without any signs of forced entry. All doors and windows were locked and nothing inside the house had been stolen; the bodies seemed to be torn apart from the inside out since there were no knife or bullet wounds and he put you on the case. He thought you would have the abilities to deal with something like this – ‘you’re a prodigy’ he had said – and the guts. The crime scene was absolutely vile; there was blood everywhere and their faces had the skin peeled off to the point their cranial bones were visible. You had seen some stuff, but nothing like this.

The first thing that you did when you got to town was talking with the local police so that you’d learn more about the town’s history with murderers – especially the unexplainable ones. They told you something close to an urban legend: the house that the couple was renting was cursed according to the locals. Decades ago, three kids got killed by their parents in rage, who committed suicide afterwards. They never found the kids bodies and the case went cold after a few years, the police giving up on finding their remains. You found that absolutely unacceptable, giving up on children like that should be a crime, but it wasn’t up to you. Ever since the assassination, every person that rented or bought the house died in unexplainable ways and the police had started to practically ignore or do the bare minimum on the case.

“We’ve been having problems with that house for years” Said the sheriff, a man with a grown out beard, deep eyebags and average height. Not what you would expect for a sheriff given his dismissiveness towards you and the mess his office was. “The previous sheriff also received complaints from townsfolk regarding the place but we could never find out anything. There were no clues, no suspects, just…nothing” He finished, his arms waving around tiredly.

“This is probably why they put the FBI on the case” You said to yourself, guaranteeing the man wouldn’t hear you. You took notes on your notebook, your legs crossed as you sat in front of the sheriff, his table between both of you. You could sense his eyes on you and feel his unasked question floating around in the air. “Anything else, Sheriff?” You asked, looking up from your notes.

He seemed to wake up from his thoughts, shaking his head lightly at you. “No it’s just…Why do you need three FBI agents to work on this?” He asked, on edge, a worry line prominent in his aged face as he squinted at you. Three? You furrowed your eyebrows and leaned back on the chair, closing your notebook.

“I’m not aware of the other two working alongside me” You say. You thought about what your boss had told you and didn’t remember him saying anything about partners, especially two. You usually worked alone most of the time, functioning better on your own. Then again, this was a difficult case, maybe they thought it was better than one federal agent working on this.

“They came by earlier today, asking about the same house and the murderers. They were tall, one of them was…very tall and had long hair. The other one was less serious and, honestly, unprofessional. I think they said they were agent Page and Plant” The sheriff filled you in and now this seemed like a joke. You raised an eyebrow. You had a peculiar taste in music considering it was the 2000s and your father barely listened to anything further than the 90s, resulting in you growing up to know most of the rock bands that were at their highest from the 60s to the 90s. That included Led Zeppelin. And it would be too big of a coincidence for both guys to work together with last names such as those.

“I’ll talk to them about the case, thank you very much Sheriff” You say, raising yourself from the chair and extending a hand to politely shake his. You walked out of his office with a question in your mind and thought about looking up Page and Plant on the database to see if anything showed up when you got to your room tonight. For now, you had to take a look at the crime scene while it was still daylight.

–

Your car’s engine died down as you turned the key. You opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle, adjusting your suit over the white button down you wore underneath. You shoved your car key in your pocket and, when you looked up, you saw another car that easily stood out from the others around the street – a black Chevrolet Impala which you couldn’t guess the specific year just by looking. It was a very beautiful car and you secretly praised in your mind whoever owned it – it seemed well taken care of.

You walked to the crime scene, taking your badge in hand to show it to the police officer that took care of the place when you saw two men, also in suits, talking with one of the officers – two tall men, one had longer hair. The officer approached you as you got closer and you simply showed your badge to him before he nodded and lifted up the ‘crime scene’ tape for you to go underneath. You ducked down and mumbled a thank you as you made a beeline towards the two guys.

You wondered what you were going to say and how you were going to question them about their identity without seeming like you’re assuming anything. As you walked closer, they were finishing their conversation and were turning to leave making you almost bump right into them. They stumbled back and you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“Who are you?” The shorter one asked you and you took the badge out of your pocket again with a sigh, making sure he reads your name and sees the picture of you that clearly stated you were a federal. He hummed and looked towards his partner, a silent conversation going on between them. You interrupt.

“And you?” You ask and they get their own badges out. You extend a hand to the taller one, silently asking you if you could take a look at it. He gave it to you willingly, which was one less red flag to take into consideration. You looked through everything and it all seemed alright…until you looked at the name on the bottom. Jimmy Page. Is this serious? You look up at them with a judging look and you see the tallest swallow harshly. “Your parents were big Led Zeppelin fans I assume” You say.

“Yeah, yeah they– ha– they were” Jimmy says in a way that’s not believable at all, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. The shorter one closes his eyes and shakes his head discreetly in disappointment – which doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You give Page his badge back and turn to – apparently – Plant.

“I didn’t know that I would have partners in this case, but maybe it’s for the better. What did you find out about the case? Just so we are on the same page” You look between both of them. Plant nudges his partner in the ribs and, before mumbling somewhat of a curse to Plant after practically jumping in place, Page starts to explain to you about their side of the investigation. He seemed professional enough, with a notebook in his hands as he told you everything they could make up from what they knew so far, even sharing with you his assumptions. You were impressed as you started telling him about what you thought – a weird case, too many murders, few clues…Plant stayed quiet most of the time until about halfway through your conversation he said he was going back to his car and you took that as a hint to call it a day.

“Well, I think we are going to work well together, Agent L/N” Page says with a polite smile and you nod, smiling yourself. You took one of your cards where your professional number was written on along with your name and offered it to him. He gently took it from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Just in case you have anything else to share” You said and he nodded, a strand of his hair falling over his face, which he mindlessly put back with a brush of his hand. “It was great meeting you, Agent Page”

“You too” He said and, sensing the end of the encounter, you started to walk back to your car. You still couldn’t shake the thought of those two being too suspicious for your liking and you were determined to look them up and see if Agents Jimmy Page and Robert Plant actually existed. You walked fast, your heels knocking against the concrete and you didn’t notice Page’s eyes on you, lost in the movement of your hair as you walked away. What woke him up from his trance, though, was his partner honking and signaling for him to hurry up. He rolled his eyes and walked to his own car, stealing one last glance at you. You turned your head back right on cue, giving him a polite smile and a small wave. He awkwardly waved goodbye back and started to walk to the honking Impala.

You had assumed the unknown car belonged to them and you had written down the plate in your notebook discreetly – just in case. You were impressed by their ability – well, Page’s ability – to analyze crime scenes but you weren’t stupid. You couldn’t just erase the fact that you had no idea who those two were and you were determined to find out, one way or another.

–

Meanwhile, in the Impala, Sam got inside the car in the passenger’s side, almost hitting his head on the roof – like he did most days. Dean was impatiently waiting for him to get in until he saw something clasped in his brother’s hand, his eyes quietly scanning the white paper. In Sam’s distraction, Dean reached for it before he could react. “Hey!”

“You got her number? Wow Sam, never thought of you like that” Dean teased as he looked through your name written in cursive writing and your phone number right under it. Sam snatched the small card back from his brother and shoved it in his pocket, glaring at Dean.

“Shut up man, this is her professional number, she gave it to me so we could talk” He defended as he put his seatbelt on. He mindlessly brushed a hand through his hair again, getting it out of his face as he heard Dean chuckle to himself as Baby’s engine roared to life. Sam looked back to his brother and waited for more teasing to come – as it always did.

“Yeah, talk.” He said, the double meaning in his words floating around in the air but being ignored by Sam. Dean pressed his foot on the pedal so the car would start to move as he shifted into gear. “Besides, she’s an actual FBI agent, don’t you think she’s going to suspect that we aren’t?”

“Dean, I did go to law school, I can manage my way out of this” Sam said with a mischievous smile. He really thought he could, he knew he was smart and he was a damn good liar – he lied in college for a very long time about who he was and what his family did. Not something to be proud of but it came in handy, especially when both him and his brother were in trouble. He had practically lied his whole life about who he truly was, not entirely giving away specific details – especially those who involved his family. Sometimes he regretted it – like he did with Jess – but it was always safer not to know, for both parties. Or so he thought.

“Don’t think she’s stupid–”

“I don’t think she’s stupid–”

“Let me finish” Dean scolded, raising a hand to silence his brother, his eyes still on the road. It was often funny to pay attention to their brotherly behavior and how anyone could know who was the oldest just by these simple interactions. Dean raised his hand and Sam silenced, listening, like how it was when they were kids. “Don’t think she’s naive, she is in the FBI, working alone on a case. I don’t know much about federals but I’m sure that’s not for everyone”

Sam stayed quiet. He knew Dean was right but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Still, he really didn’t think you were stupid, it was impossible to. The way you talked about the case in detail, relating your point of view and what you could gather in a few hours was more than enough evidence to show him you deserved this job more than anyone. He wasn’t used to seeing women in this field, but everytime he did he was convinced that men were definitely unfairly placed higher. Yet, he still didn’t want to get arrested again so he needed to convince you that he and Dean were legitimately federals.

The conversation drifted away in another direction as Sam stared out the window and replied to the small talk Dean made with him every now and then – when he didn’t crank up the volume once Metallica came into the radio playing Creeping Death while they were talking. With a chorus of ‘Die, die!’ being sung by Dean while he beat his hands on the steering wheel to the drum rhythm, Sam’s mind drifted away and he fell asleep with a head against the window, the tiredness of sleepless nights catching up to him.

–

These fuckers. You thought to yourself as you stared mouth agape to the pictures of who you learned were actually Sam and Dean Winchester – not Jimmy Page and Robert Plant. Two brothers, presumed dead a couple years ago.

Your coffee sat cold over the wooden table of the hotel you were staying the night at. You had already changed into your pajamas and taken a hot shower when you decided to take a look at the case again. Two hours later you remembered the two men you encountered and, when you looked a bit deeper in the police files, the results were horrifying. It actually wasn’t that hard to find out about them, a quick look through the FBI database and you found their exact faces – even if Pag- Sam’s hair was relatively shorter then now. You were beyond pissed, especially at yourself, how could you not have known this? How could you let yourself get played like this? Just because the tall guy was a bit of a nerd and kind of cute? Ugh!

You started pacing around your room, not knowing what to do. Confronting them could kill you, they were murderers after all, according to the database, they had killed civilians and federal agents equally as much. You were strong, both physically and mentally, but there was no way you were escaping two guys that were over six feet tall and weighed about two hundred pounds each. You had to play smart, you had to catch them in a weak moment and then. Bingo. You stopped in your tracks and – like a lightbulb lightened up above your head – you had the perfect plan. You had to wait until the next day for you to execute it but it was going to be worth it. You sent their mugshots to your phone through your e-mail and any other evidence that you could use against them.

You still felt slightly weirded out about them. They didn’t seem dangerous, they didn’t freak out the moment they saw you and they were confidently adding to the investigation with actual useful analysis. You were looking deeper through their files and found out they lost their mother in a fire at a very young age – the youngest wasn’t even one year old yet – and their father had died a couple years ago, in ‘06. They had a pretty sketchy life, living off stolen credit cards and fake identities but something interesting you found out was that Sam Winchester actually went to college, he went to Stanford and your eyes widened at that. You wondered what made him quit, maybe his father dying and his brother needing him, maybe he got kicked out, still, going to college after having a childhood like that was more than impressive.

You kept reading about them until the late hours of the night and you only noticed you fell asleep over the papers you left on the table and your computer when a phone ringing startled you awake. The noise echoed inside your head and, as you lifted your head, the sunlight getting into the room through the curtains hurt your eyes. You only noticed how bad you’d slept when you felt a pain shoot through your neck and down your back as you turned your head to look for the phone – great. You groaned and felt around the table with your hand until you felt the square shape of the device and its humming. You clicked to answer after slightly clearing your throat so you’d seem less sleepy and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello, Agent L/N speaking”

“Hey Y/N, how are things going?” The voice of your boss made you unconsciously straighten your back and swallow harshly. You looked at the time on your computer and your heart fell to your stomach. 11:36AM – shit! 

“Hey Sir, everything is running smoothly. I’m currently collecting evidence and later I’m going to the morgue so I can look through the autopsy”

“That’s great, you always do a great job kid” He said and you could feel him smiling on the other side of the line. You felt bad for kind of lying but you had been worrying about other stuff last night.

“Thank you Sir, I’ll report back to you as soon as possible” You reply.

You talked for a while longer as you disclosed the case and, when he finally hung up, it was already past noon. As you got ready for your day, doing your daily morning routine as quickly as you could, you felt your stomach rumble when you got out of the shower, reminding you that you hadn’t had breakfast. You decided then that it was better to stop at a diner or somewhere so you could eat something to go on with your day – since it was already lunchtime you couldn’t necessarily call this brunch. You finished getting ready, putting on your shoes and grabbing the keys to your car while you looked up the closest place to eat something quick.

You drove to the nearest diner that had a decent rating and stopped at the parking lot. When you looked around, you couldn’t believe your luck – or rather the lack of it. The infamous Impala was parked a couple meters from you in all its glory. You audibly sighed but you couldn’t just find another place to eat as quickly, besides, you know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Maybe eating at the same place as them was actually a good strategy. You grabbed your wallet and locked your car, confidently walking towards the diner entrance.

The bells dinged above your head as you got in, some eyes looking your way with the noise – including Sam’s. Him and his brother were sitting in a booth in the far corner of the diner, Sam turned in the direction of the door and Dean facing away from it, in his brother’s direction. Sam had his laptop open in front of him as he ate a salad, Dean was eating a burger. Thay had probably been talking before you came in because when you came through the door Sam went quiet as he looked over his brother’s shoulder and Dean kept talking, hunched over his food. You couldn’t listen to their conversation but you gave Sam a slight smile and a nod, your stomach turning as you faked sympathy, as if you didn’t just friendly greet a murderer. He nodded back and that's when Dean slightly turned to look behind him and see you, nodding as well.

You started to walk towards their table, the weight of your hidden gun on your hip more than evident. Just keep calm, you were trained for this. You decided to keep to yourself that you knew their true identity, after all, you were one step ahead of them and, deep down, you knew they could be useful. Their intelligence was beyond impressive – faking your death wasn’t something easy to do. You stood above them with a gentle smile.

“Hello agents, mind if I sit with you?” You asked as politely as you could. Sam scooted almost instantly, changing the placement of his laptop to the side of the window. You didn’t miss the eyebrow raise his brother gave him.

“Hey Ms. L/N. No, not at all, make yourself comfortable” He said, smiling at you. He has dimples you mentally stated.

“Yeah, please” Dean agreed, stretching a hand to the seat beside Sam. His voice was slightly muffled thanks to the food in his mouth and you internally cringed as you could see the chewed food when he talked.

“Thanks. No need to call me by my last name, you can just call me Y/N” You simply said as you sat down, looking almost immediately to the computer screen open in newspapers that dated a couple years back. Murders in the same house all with the same time frame from each other. “I see you work even while you were supposed to be on your break, careful not to burn out Agent Page” You said, looking at his side profile. He seemed embarrassed as your sweet voice got to his ears and awkwardly laughed.

“You know…you don’t need to call me Agent Page, that is just an alias, call me Smith, Sam Smith. That’s Dean Wesson” He said. Huh, claiming aliases, smart move Winchester. “And yeah, I’ve been taking a look at the history of the place, apparently–”

“It’s timed killing” You finished. You scooted slightly closer, pointing your finger to the screen where the date of the newspaper was written at. “Every two years on the same date someone was brutally murdered in the house.”

“Yeah and inside the same room too” Dean pointed out. That you hadn’t noticed. A waiter coming to get your order interrupted the conversation you three were having to get your order. You quickly looked through the menu deciding to eat the quickest and most nutritious stuff there could be at a diner. You thanked the boy that took your order and he walked in long strides towards the kitchen. You came back to the talk you were having with the two brothers and Dean continued. “The master suite. And always couples, someone seems to hate true love” He joked.

“Apparently. Have any ideas for suspects yet?” You asked. If you were going to play pretend you might as well acquire some useful information with it. The boys shared a look between them that they thought you wouldn’t catch, but you weren’t FBI for no reason.

“None yet, still looking into it” Sam said, suddenly seeming on edge, shifting his placement on the booth. You were good at reading body language, it was one of the main qualities that got you in the FBI, interrogating criminals was easy exactly because they couldn’t lie. When you learned their behavior and played your way into their head it destroyed them because even if they were silent, even if they didn’t say anything, you knew what they were lying about – flinching when you mention a certain name or changing the leg they were crossing under the table when you named an address. So, Sam couldn’t hide from you earlier, imagine now that you were inches away.

“Really?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and turning your torso slightly more in his direction, leaning your elbow on the table. He was trapped. You thought about confronting them here, questioning them about their identity in public but you thought better – they definitely had guns on them and two beats one. Either way, you’d put him in a challenging situation, confronting him without even disagreeing verbally. He felt intimidated and now seemed unsure of his own conclusion – how you loved playing these games.

“I mean there’s barely any clues” He laughed nervously. “I was going to call you to see if you had any idea”

“I don’t either, as you said, no leads” You said. The waiter arrived with your food right then and you politely thanked him, drifting away from the conversation you were having with Sam as you started to eat. This time you weren’t paying attention and Dean questioned Sam with a look. What is she on? And the youngest shrugged. You swallowed your food with a pleasant hum, just now noticing how hungry you truly were. “I was thinking we could go to the morgue, if you haven’t already. Take a look at the bodies, see if we find anything”

You were purposefully playing right into their game, faking cluesness and at the same time taking advantage of their abilities to solve the case. It was more important to you to solve whatever was going on to bring peace back to this town than to arrest the brothers who were supposed to be dead. You’d learned that men tended to believe that you were stupid very easily, that you had no idea what you were doing and you started using that to have your way with them. With big doe eyes and feigned innocence you could get very far.

“That’s where we were going later actually. It’s good if you tag along” Sam tells you.

“I would even if you didn’t want me to” You said, joking, but not really. Your tone was humorous  but your smile was bitter. They didn’t seem to notice though and Sam even chuckled slightly at your sarcasm. You noticed the dimples in his cheeks and how boyish his smile was, full of bright white teeth and sincerity. You almost felt bad for being rude until you remembered they were killers – even if they didn’t look like it. Sam didn’t seem the type to brutally murder someone, Dean seemed too stupid to be able to get away with it for so many years, even faking his own death and walking around normally – you’d bet he was the one with the idea to put the name of famous rockstars as FBI aliases.

By the time the conversation was over, so was your food. You left enough money for the bill and a tip and stood up from the booth. “Okay, well, let’s go, we have a lot to do today boys” You said, adjusting your suit, unnecessarily dusting it off. You eyed Dean’s plate, the mess he made similar to how a child would eat. You would have laughed if you were in a more friendly situation. You looked at Sam and with a smile you said: “Don’t be late pretty boy, I’ll be waiting for you”

Then you turned around, politely nodded goodbye to Dean and started walking away, holding back a laugh. Sam stood still, stunned as he stared at you walked out the door, the bells above you ringing twice – one for when you pulled the door, the other after you let it smoothly close behind you. Dean was staring too, his bright green eyes filled with confusion. Once he turned to look at Sam he saw his younger brother completely zoned out, looking in the direction where you once were. He snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s face, who immediately looked at Dean.

“Pretty boy?” Dean questioned, holding back a smirk as Sam rolled his eyes.

“Dean…”

“She’s got you man. I get it, strong and intimidating women, I understand, I understand”

“That’s not it, she seems…off” Sam points out, looking at the door once more to make sure you wouldn’t come back and leaning closer to unnecessarily speak in a lower voice to Dean. “I think she might be an it, the monster we are looking for”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Really? Why?”

“The way she’s acting is, I don’t know, weird”

“Look Sam I know you’re not used to having women hit on you but that doesn’t mean they are monsters” Dean teased, Sam gritted his teeth.

“Dean, I’m serious!”

“Okay, alright, we are going to investigate then” Dean said, raising his hands in fake surrender to his brother’s scolding. “But it doesn’t make sense to me. Didn’t we consider it to be a vengeful spirit?”

“Maybe, or maybe we are dealing with something completely different”

“Alright smart-ass, but if you’re wrong you owe me a six pack”

Sam scoffed but he wasn’t one to turn down any bet. He had thought your behavior was weird the moment you stepped foot in the diner. The questions you asked, the way you would constantly question his abilities, there was something going on and he could sense it. Besides, he liked betting with Dean, especially winning, so there was no way he wasn’t accepting his brother’s challenge.

“Deal” Sam said, hitting his palms against the table and standing up, ready to leave and go to the morgue. Dean followed his movements and stood up with a cheeky smile, taking out his wallet to pay for the food.

–

At the morgue, you waited about 5 minutes until they arrived. When they walked up to the entrance you were waiting at, Sam and Dean saw you in a much more serious state as you read through your notes and made annotations here and there. The noise of their footsteps made you look up and put your little notebook back in your pocket and place your pen behind your ear. You crossed your arms in front of your body and waited for them to get closer. Your heels were starting to hurt the bottom of your feet from standing too long in the same place and you were overwhelmed with different emotions – towards the men and yourself.

You weren’t necessarily scared of Sam and Dean, you were trained not to be, but it was never in your plans to be alone in a city with federal criminals, it would be downright ignorant not to be at least nervous with the situation. You were keeping yourself friendly without giving away any hint that you might know who they were, debating internally which would be the worst case: if you confronted them or stuck beside them for longer – what’s that say again? Friends close, enemies closer.

“Hey, Y/N” Sam called you and you turned your lips upwards in some-kind of a smile. He mirrored your expression and you caught his dimples again, your eyes wandering around his face. You broke the stare when Dean cleared his throat and, when you looked at him, he had his eyebrows furrowed, giving Sam a side-eye – more like a diagonal one, since, well, Sam was a big guy. In your own trance you hadn’t noticed how Sam was also looking at you like you were a beautiful piece of art – damn it, focus.

You also cleared your throat and that seemed to wake Sam up. “Hello Sam, Dean” You said, nodding to each “Shall we go inside? The longer we take the further the killer goes, come on” You turned your back to the and started walking inside the morgue. Dean waited until you walked further and held Sam by the elbow, making the youngest look at him in confusion.

“Stop that” Dean whisper-yelled.

“Stop what” Sam whispered back.

“Whatever your eyes are doing, I’m gonna puke if you keep that up”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You stop it, you’re reading too much into it”

“Hey, you are the one that said she might be dangerous and, honestly, you are kind of a monsterfu-”

“Dean!” Sam pushed his shoulder to shut him up.

“C’mon you were hypnotized, maybe that’s what she does, or you are just in love” Dean shrugged his shoulders, holding back a grin. He loved making Sam mad.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Let’s go now or do you have any other stupid remarks?” Sam didn’t wait for an answer as he followed the direction you went in. Dean mocked his brother, mimicking Sam’s words to himself in a high pitched tone and went along.

You were already putting your gloves on when they came into the room, the dead bodies laying before you - or at least what was left of them. The lower part of the couple’s bodies was covered beneath the pale blue blankets and both torsos were exposed. It was an awful sight and, if you were about ten years younger, you would’ve puked. Everything was dilacerated, they were practically disfigured, their faces barely recognizable. Huge gashes adorned their bodies that even cleaned up still looked absolutely vile. Behind you, Dean hissed.

“Wow” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, very brutal, whoever did this wanted them to feel the pain” You said, snapping the latex gloves against your wrist and grabbing the file about the autopsy in your hands. You skimmed through the words and placed it back on the table where it previously was, turning back to the bodies to see Sam already looking through them, Dean putting on the blue gloves the mortuary offered. You approached Sam’s side and crossed your arms as you watched him work, his hands roaming through the deep rips on the skin, he seemed to come to the same conclusion you did. “It’s not a clean cut, see” You pointed out and he nodded, turning to you.

“Yeah, the skin is–”

“Ripped, not cut” You paused “How can someone do this and just…get on with their lives?” You thought out loud. You discreetly looked up to Sam’s face to see if he had any reaction to your words, to see if his face faltered when you mentioned how psychotic it would be to keep going after killing someone, to see something, anything…

His face was blank.

“You’d be shocked at what…people can do” Sam replied. He seemed to hesitate before saying ‘people’, a hard swallow, a thought behind his eyes and you marked that in your mind for later.

“Sam, I work in the FBI too you know, I’ve seen shit” Maybe you were harsh, maybe you were just defensive or maybe the years of being brought down by men in your field made you snap at his words when they weren’t that deep. He seemed to catch on to your aggressiveness and stumbled over his words to try and reword his phrase.

“No– I-I know it’s just– I mean–” He couldn’t get the words out. You softened at that, noticing your defensiveness was, in fact, exaggerated. You chuckled at him and waved your hand dismissively.

“I get what you meant” You said and he seemed to calm down, giving you a slight smile. Dimples. Again. You turned back to the bodies in front of you and reached for your pocket to get your notes. You started patting with your other hand for your pen through the other pockets and when you didn’t feel the distinctively cylindrical shape of the object you started to freak out. Where’d I leave it…

Sam noticed your squirming and when he saw the notebook in your hand he knew exactly what you were looking for. He held back a chuckle as he watched you try your hardest to remember where the pen was, the concentration in your eyes almost touchable.

“Hey” Sam called and you turned your head to him. He reached his hand up, close to your cheek and you could sense the heat radiating from his body. You froze in place as you thought that you were caught, that Sam’s intelligence overpowered yours and he figured out that you knew who he was. Well, you were wrong. Sam caught the pen you had put behind your ear between his fingers and slid it off of it, watching as your hair fell back into place. You wanted to bury yourself whole inside the ground as you felt heat spread through your face. “Here” He said, with a cheeky smile.

You took the pen out of his hand, your fingers brushing lightly against each other “Thanks” You mumbled. You started writing away what you figured from the autopsy but you couldn’t get your mind off of how close Sam had gotten. The warmth that he emitted was captivating, comforting even. How could you even think that? You were a professional, what the hell! You shouldn’t be feeling this way, you had a job to do, lives to save. Sam was a killer, you put killers in jail. That’s it.

“Okay so…” Dean spoke up, breaking your embarrassment “...We can discard any murder with weapons like guns or knives, those can’t do…this” He made a face and pointed towards the wounds. You nodded in agreement as you wrote it down. When you looked up at them again they were sharing a look, having a full conversation without even speaking. You weren’t a professional in facial expressions but you could read the room, you were being kept in the dark about something. You decided against confronting them, unneeded drama in the current settings because, indeed, the longer you took to solve this case, the closer the killer was to killing other people.

“So, I have no idea if you already did but I didn’t look further in the room where the murder happened. I think I’m going to go back to the house and see if the local cops missed anything” You said, not waiting for an answer as you pocketed your notebook again and started taking off your gloves. You didn’t request their company as you were, first, still trying to figure out why they were so adamant about solving this case, second, you had to figure this murder out, and third, you needed to find a perfect moment to confront both of them. “See you around agents”

“See ya” Dean waved at you as you walked away, Sam didn’t say anything. You knew they were going to follow you, you felt their silent conversations lingering in the air as you left the room, discarding your gloves. In your head you could see them communicating with lifting eyebrows and shrugging shoulders – they were so obvious; and predictable.

–

“We are going after her” Sam said to Dean after he heard you leave. Dean nodded as he started taking off his own gloves, side eyeing his brother. Dean wasn’t stupid – he only acted like it – he knew that there was more than one reason for Sam’s eagerness to follow you.

“So…” He started and Sam knew there was something he might not like hearing coming. “Are you going to play the brave soldier saving the damsel in distress?”

Sam stopped and looked at Dean, absolute confusion adorning his features. “What?”

“Man c’mon, you can’t be thinking that she is the monster now can you? Look, I did the tests while you were…pining over her” Sam opened his mouth to argue but Dean didn’t let him speak. “There was holy water in her drink at the diner, the utensils she was using were pure silver…”

Sam was shocked that his brother thought that quickly, he didn’t even notice…Okay, maybe he was infatuated by you a little too much.

“She could be a ghoul,” Sam argued as a last resort.

“Already looked her up, no one that has that beautiful face has died around here. I’ve looked through the FBI database too, she’s there” Dean said. Sam would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the tiniest bit of relief knowing that you were really human. You were, in fact, beautiful, stunning even. Maybe Dean was right, maybe he did like you, a lot.

“Guess I owe you that six pack then” Sam said.

“Hey, I get the six pack, you get the girl, seems like a fair trade” Dean said, raising his eyebrows tauntingly with a cheeky smile on his face. Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“Either way, we have to go after her because if this ghost decides she’s next on its list, we need to get there before she gets hurt” Sam said in all seriousness as he started walking out of the room, going towards the exit. Dean followed suit, the Impala keys already on his hand.

–

They arrived at the house a minute or two after you. You were waiting in the house’s living room as you heard the rumbling of the old car’s engine. You had your weapon ready and loaded as you heard them open and close the door of the house. As soon as they turned the corner, you lifted your gun.

“Stay right fucking there! Don’t you dare move or else I’ll actually kill you, for good this time!” You screamed at them, gun in hand pointed towards Dean’s head. They widened their eyes and stopped all their movement. Sam opened his mouth to try and talk and you shifted the gun to point at him instead. He shut his mouth again and you saw his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. You were fuming, anger making your hands shake lightly.

“Did you really think you were going to fool me? Who do you think you are– Better, who do you think I am?” They stood as still as a rock. “Sam and Dean Winchester” You said their names, venom running through your tongue as you did, your gun pointing respectively at each. “You better start talking or I’m popping your heads off, speak!”

“Okay, okay, look we can explain” Sam started.

“You fucking better”

“We are not dead” He said and you looked at him like he was stupid. “Me and my brother we faked our deaths but we had a reason, a much bigger reason”

“You killed people”

“We didn’t, at least not intentionally, we do the exact opposite, we save people Y/N”

“How? The deaths are there, if you are telling me the truth and really save people you do a terrible job at that” You countered. You admitted you only said this to get under their skin because if anyone knew that saving everyone was impossible was you, a federal agent.

“Put the gun down and we can talk” Dean spoke up, talking to you calmly and moving his hands slowly to try and reason with you. You were reluctant but something in their eyes, their actions towards you didn’t indicate any imminent danger. Maybe you were being stupid and, at the end, you’d be lying in a ditch, lifeless, left there to rot but you wanted to give them a chance.

“If you try anything funny I’ll claw your eyes out with my bare hands” You said and Dean, even shocked, nodded slowly – you were exaggerating but you felt the need to. You sighed and put your gun back in the waistband of your pants and saw the boys breathe in a deep breath of relief.

Sam and Dean exchanged those looks again and finally looked at you. Sam was the one you wanted to talk to, you felt deep, deep down that he was going to tell you the truth and that he was actually a good guy, that all that he did until now wasn’t just an act and he was really nice.

“Me and Dean we…We hunt monsters”

Well, now your hopes are shattered. What the fuck.

You just looked at him like he was clinically insane and waited for him to continue.

“I know it sounds crazy” Because it is “And it probably is but it’s the truth, we don’t think whatever killed that couple was a human, this is why there’s no DNA, not a single clue and why the case is hard. I assume you were assigned it because you are smart and a good agent but this is not your kind of case”

“It’s ours” Dean added and Sam agreed with a nod.

You were dumbfounded. They sounded so serious as they explained to you about the tons of different supernatural beings that existed, things you only ever heard of in fictional books and horror movies. Halfway through the talk you looked physically sick, your face pale and eyes dissociated completely and Sam quickly got a chair, ushering you to sit down. He was looking at you with such a guilty expression, like he felt bad for lying to you.

Once they stopped talking you spent a good five minutes absorbing it all as you stared at your hands folded over your lap. You thought you knew things, you thought you could solve everything, that all you needed to do was analyze everything to its minute details and you’d find a solution. Truth is, you were completely oblivious all this long, so many things that you had no idea existed causing trouble around the world, things worse than humans could ever be. You were an idiot.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Sam asked after a while, making you look up at him. “I know it’s a lot to process…” He said, carefully laying a hand over your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you.

“I’m going to be fine” You said harshly. Sam felt the slight disappointment in your voice and frowned as he looked down at you. He had seen tons of different reactions to ‘the talk’ but this one was one of the worst, where the person feels upset with themselves for not knowing about this sooner, the kind of reaction he saw mostly on authority figures such as cops and federal agents like yourself.

You stood up and his hand fell from your shoulder. You needed to make this right, paranormal or not, this was still your case and you were solving it one way or another.

“Show me how you do it” You said, turning to look at Sam. The phrase got Dean’s attention as well as a sudden tension fell upon the room. Sam looked at you with confusion “This case is still mine, I want to learn how to get rid of…whatever killed that couple”

Sam exchanged looks with his brother. “I don’t think this is a good idea Y/N, you can get hurt” He said. You rolled your eyes and stepped closer to him, less than a foot between the two of you.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m a federal agent, you don’t get to tell me I’m going to get hurt when I literally hunt and kill people if needed” You said angrily pointing your finger at him accusingly “Your little Ghostbusters roleplay doesn’t scare me”

“Okay, can you two stop? Let’s get out of here and go study about the house to see if we find anything about someone who died here who might want revenge” Dean said, approaching and looking between the two of you. “Please”

–

After spending two hours in the nearby library you finally found something. The one responsible for the killings was someone named Alicia Meadows who died in the late 60s, not little kids – it seemed like even the own urban legend the locals passed around was wrong. She was a woman who lived in that house with her husband and kids. One night she found her husband in their bed with another woman and went crazy, killing them both with a shotgun and then shooting herself. Ever since then she’d been killing couples who stayed there, the trauma of the cheating made her assume that everyone who laid in that bed on the same date, every two years, she found her husband and his mistress was also having an affair.

You three soon found out where she was buried and, after the brothers explained to you and made you swear not to arrest them for grave violation, you were driving to the cemetery.

As Dean was digging up the casket you stood beside Sam. “Do you guys do this everyday?”

Sam looked at you with a smile. “No, sometimes we behead vampires too”

You looked at him wide eyed and chuckled. He laughed with you, his face looking ten times more beautiful under the moonlight and the fucking dimples, the damn dimples. Silence fell between you as the sounds of the night – and Dean’s digging – took over. You wanted to talk more, you wanted to know more about Sam because the little you thought you knew was actually a lie. He was nice and, according to the FBI files…

“You went to law school?” You asked him. He sighed. Well damn Y/N so much for breaking the ice, good job. 

“I did but…I went back to hunting soon after, you can’t run from this type of job you know?” He chuckled dryly. It was clear that was a sensitive subject for him to talk about.

“If it helps, you would’ve made a good lawyer” You smiled at him. “Besides, you look great in a suit”

He seemed stunned for a few seconds, were you flirting with him? He didn’t get to figure out because Dean made a dramatic pained sound as he straightened his back, breaking the casket open. The putrid smell of death rose and you scrunch your nose. Sam helped Dean get out of the hole and started showering the bones in alcohol and salt and you watched as Dean threw his lighter in making huge flames rise up. You jumped when it happened out of shock and Sam held your shoulders so you wouldn’t fall back, the flames roared loudly with what seemed to be the anger of the woman.

Dean started gathering their stuff and you turned to Sam. “So, is this it?”

“Yeah…pretty simple actually” Sam shrugged. He looked at the fire and you could see the flames dancing in his eyes. You found Sam handsome ever since you laid your eyes on him but now, after a whole day by his side, the light touches you shared throughout the day and the care he showed towards you you wondered if it’d be too bad if you kissed him right now.

“Sam” You called him lowly and he turned to you. You stepped closer and you could see his hands clenching and unclenching by his side, as if he was holding back the urge to touch you. Your faces were inches apart and you could now see every little detail about him. The light stubble that adorned his face and the blush of red in his cheeks that you didn’t know if it was because of the heat of the fire or because you were this close.

You smiled at him and in that moment Sam couldn’t hold himself back. He closed the distance between the two of you as one of his hands cradled your cheek and the other was gently placed on your waist.

You let one of your hands place itself on his neck as you reciprocated the kiss. It was electric and warm, his soft lips over yours felt like a sweetness you didn’t know you were craving to taste. Your heart was beating fast and Sam slowly dragged your body closer to his with the help of the hand he placed on your waist.

When you pulled away you slowly opened your eyes to look straight into his and let out a stupid giggle – like a teenager after kissing her crush. Sam chuckled back as his thumb caressed your cheek lovingly.

“I've wanted to do this ever since the diner” He admitted and you bit back a smile.

“Really?” You asked.

“Really”

The moment was interrupted when Dean honked the Impala, impatiently waiting for you two to finish whatever you were doing so he could go back to the room and finally sleep. Sam showed him the finger as Dean yelled a curse back making you laugh at their stupid teasing.

“Let’s go Sam, Dean’s impatient. We can finish our talk at the motel” You said, your words full of innuendo making Sam turn back to you. You knew you got him when you felt his hand squeeze your waist for a moment before letting go.

“Oh yeah?” He said with a grin, looking down at your mouth and back at your eyes. You nodded.

“Yeah”

A/N: Likes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading XoXo

[zigrethsnotebook]

I apologize for writing a new request so quickly, it just popped into my head and seems very good. I hope you like it)Ford and the Reader.Ford is definitely a very passionate person and immersed in his interests, research, etc.? Imagine that in response to some simple question from the Reader he bursts into a whole speech, a lecture, in fact. That Ford goes a little into the wilds, so to speak. At some point he notices that he has been talking for a very long time and feels deflated. He apologizes and says that he probably got too carried away, but that the Reader (a person who is extremely honest and extremely closed, which often makes it look like she is not listening) replies something like:"You almost lost me an hour ago, but you talk so captivatingly about what interests you that I just couldn't stop listening"Very honest people of frequencies look a little rude, but if you get to know them better, you understand that there is simply no double meaning in their words. They say what they think! Which means that the Reader really likes listening to Ford, trying to understand his theories, even if she can't)That's the request. Quite chaotic, but I hope you like it) Thank you for reading!

ohh i can absolutely relate to the just listening to someone ramble bit, i love listening to people haha

An honest review

Ford x Reader

words: 1,189

tags: sfw, fluff, idiots in love

Ford had just made another grand discovery on his latest expedition into the depths of the forest and you eagerly followed him into his lab. He had stormed into the gift shop, barely looking up from his journal as he walked, the pen never leaving the page.

He was such a weird guy and you loved it about him. Down in the lab he immediately pulled out various jars and boxes and stored all the things he collected in them. While he did that you sat down backwards on his chair, letting your head rest on top of your arms on the backrest.

Ford rushed from one side of the room to the other, his tan coat floating behind him as he did so. He hurried around, pulling boxes and crates, putting stuff away, scribbling in his journal and muttering to himself. You smiled lightly as you considered whether or not he had noticed you following him.

After a few minutes of this he was done. He had pulled an amount of things out of his coat pockets which you deemed unlikely, but you were also aware that he had probably put some sort of... pocket dimension in his pockets. For storage. Or something.

Ford turned to you. Or, more accurately, to his chair and found you in it. He halted, raising his eyebrows. So he hadn't noticed. You chuckled a little. "Surprise." You managed to say and let your chuckle turn into a soft smile.

"How long have you been sitting there?" You hummed as if in thought. "I don't know. How long have you been here? I followed you down the stairs." Ford chuckled awkwardly and scratched at the back of his neck. "That long, huh?" You just nodded.

After a moment of Ford trying to be less embarrassed you perked up, lifting your head from your arms again. "What did you find out there anyway? It must have been pretty exciting if you didn’t even notice me here."

Ford blushed a little at being called out like that, but that was quickly overruled by sheer excitement at getting to share his findings with somebody. Somebody who was willing to listen.

He started when he heard the first unusual noise and didn’t spare any detail in either his observations or speculations. Ford had so many ideas and theories about what he had encountered today and since you actually asked him about it he didn’t hold back.

You let your head rest on your arms again as you realized that this was going to be a long one. You loved to hear him ramble. All his observations were a solid mix of fascinating and downright terrifying. You had no idea how he managed to be out there all alone and face some of these creatures.

All of his theories though? You didn’t understand half of them, even if you tried. And you did try. But it wasn't like you could get between his excitement and ask him about it. He was too lost in his story and you loved listening to it.

You watched Ford animatedly gesticulate along with his words and pace through the room. It was like your own private play in a theater and you relished every second of it.

Eventually, when he was about halfway done with his story, you suspected, he locked eyes with you. His eyes darted to the clock just above his desk and then back to your eyes. A little blush of embarrassment crept onto his cheeks.

"I just realized I've been talking non-stop for about 80 minutes. I'm sorry." Ford scratched at the back of his neck. "I know you asked me about this but you probably didn’t want me to give you a full lecture on the topic. So I'm sorry if I'm boring you with this."

Ford let his hand fall back down to his side. "If you want me to stop and you tell me so now, then I promise I won't be upset." He had an awkward and apologetic smile on his lips. He buried his hands in his coat pockets and looked away from you nervously as he waited for your answer.

You thought about it for a moment. "I'll be honest, you almost lost me an hour ago. But I just can't stop listening to you ramble on about your interests... It's just so captivating." You watched Ford blush an even deeper crimson as he met your eyes again.

Honest indeed. He knows full well that you have never lied to him and hearing you compliment him like that. To hear you say that you enjoy him basically lecturing you on the weird things in this town... that's something else. Something he hadn't expected to hear today.

Ford felt a tingly feeling in his stomach. Butterflies. He had to look away from your face or he'd have embarrassed himself further, either by saying something horribly awkward or worse. Kissing you.

You on the other hand watched all this happen, watched the gears slowly turn in his head. You knew he had a crush on you and relished in that feeling. He was just too adorable when he tried to hide his very obvious blush or tried to play it off when he found a reason to touch your arm.

You also had a crush on him, obviously. And you were planning to tell him about it really soon. As soon as you could work yourself up to it. Even though you knew he felt the same way you just couldn't bring yourself to tell him. It was still too scary to admit your own feelings.

A sigh escaped you as you got lost in your own thoughts which caused Ford's head to snap back in your direction. "Don't tell me I'm boring you now." You looked back up at him, huffed and answered him absentmindedly before letting your eyes fall to the floor again. "No, you could never."

It was a good thing that Ford's blush hadn't subsided yet, because it would have come back full force at those words. What did you mean 'he could never'? He wanted to ask for clarification but he didn’t dare. You probably just meant his scientific rambles. Not him personally.

After a moment you shook your head as if to shake off all your distracting thoughts and focused on Ford again. He was still standing in front of you, unable to move and unsure what to say. You smiled as you let your head rest on your arms once more.

"So what else happened?" Ford's eyes lit up with excitement. His heart all but lept out of his chest and into your arms. He gladly continued his story, his rambling, his lecture or whatever you want to call it. And you listened just as happily as he was to tell it to you.

Your gaze was soft and filled with nothing but fondness as you watched Ford take his hands out of his pockets again to gesture around the room with them.

You would tell him about your feelings eventually. As soon as he stops rambling...

[vikkirosko]

Ok so I’ve read all ur stuff for Adam x reader and now I need to send a request so here it goes!

Could I get Adam in a relationship with a suuuuuper sweet reader like they’re polar opposites but their relationship is freakin amazing and Adam is all jokey and not very serious when he comes to the hotel for the extermination until Alastor pulls an uno reverse and pulls out reader to get the upper hand on Adam

I know it’s not much but I’ve had this idea floating around in my head since the last episode came out and I need drama! 🤣 You can choose how it ends or change it how you need to but ur stuff has been great and I’d love to see what you can do with it! 😊😊😊

🎸 Adam x Reader headcanons Dirty trick✨️

There were many good things in Heaven. Adam could do almost anything he wanted. But the best thing that happened to him was getting to know you. You were the lightest, sweetest and friendliest person he had ever met. The fact that you started dating him was the reason for his joy. Your relationship was unlike any of his previous ones. He was really happy. On the day of the extermination, he went to Hell in high spirits, knowing that he would return to you very soon

He treated everything that was happening without much seriousness, including the battle with Alastor. The sinner annoyed him, but not so much that he was really angry. This went on until suddenly, you appeared in Alastor's hands. At that moment, Adam's composure cracked. You shouldn't have been there. You should have stayed in Heaven. But here you were, taken hostage and now your life was in danger

Adam began to fight much more fiercely. He didn't want you to see him like this, but now there were no other options. He was supposed to protect you and bring you back to Heaven. He wanted to kill Alastor, but he could only injure him. The fact that he escaped meant less than the fact that you were safe again. He told you to stay on the roof and run away if there was even a hint of danger. Adam was going to deal with all this as soon as possible, and already at home he talked to you about how it was too risky to go after him

You saw Adam fight against Lucifer's daughter, and then against Lucifer himself, and all you could do was hope that he would return home alive, and when Lucifer did not kill him, you breathed a sigh of relief. You were going to help Adam at least get up, but you didn't get close to him. He was killed right in front of your eyes. You felt your legs weaken and you sank to the ground, and tears began to flow down your cheeks. You wanted to scream, but the scream got stuck in your throat and your head started spinning

Lute took you back to Heaven, where you were consumed by your grief. You cried until you ran out of strength. Lute visited you and made sure that you didn't forget to take care of yourself. She knew how much Adam loved you and couldn't let you ruin yourself. It was hard for both of you and you both tried to cope with your grief, but Lute intended to fight on, and you hoped that you would be able to meet Adam again, if not in this life, then perhaps in the next

[yokohamapound]

BSD Characters Catch You Reading Smut

No one asked for this, but I just had the idea floating around in my head and it was too good to pass up. &lt;3

Characters: Edogawa Ranpo, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Dazai Osamu, Kunikida Doppo, Yosano Akiko, Nakahara Chuuya, Fyodor Dostoevsky

Contents: smut references

Edogawa Ranpo

It doesn't matter how good you think your poker face is. Ranpo knows. You've spent years training yourself by reading fanfiction in public and using an e-reader to mask what you're doing, but there will always be a tell.

He pops his lollipop out of his mouth and smirks over at you from his desk while you're trying to read a few pages on your lunch break. 

"Whatcha readin'?" he asks, coy.

You take a moment to compose yourself, pulling your gaze away from the scintillating, graphic descriptions written in the text, and glance across at him. There’s something about his smile that makes you unaccountably nervous. Ranpo might act like a kid most of the time, but there’s a hint of knowing in his eyes that forcibly reminds you this man is a full grown adult, and far too perceptive for his—and your—own good.

“A…uh…romance novel.”

Perhaps if you confess to something mild like reading romance novels at work, then he won’t go after the big fish. But you know as soon as the words leave your mouth that it’s a mistake. Ranpo always goes after the big fish, not the small fry.

“Uh-huuuh.” He draws out the word, grinning at you, one green eye opens a sliver. “Good sex scene?”

Across the office, Kunikida spits out his coffee over his paperwork.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

As much as Akutagawa talks like a Victorian orphan and likes to collect antiques, we don’t know much about his reading tastes, if he has any at all. Don’t forget he grew up in the slums, so he’s had little education, if any, before coming to the Port Mafia. After which, it was probably left up to Dazai, god forbid.

Suffice it to say that if he does enjoy reading anything, it’s probably morbid Gothic horror, riddled with existential dread and people dying young, haunted by the ghosts of their misdeeds. So, Poe’s stuff, basically. 

All this is to preface the fact that I don’t think Akutagawa even realises there is such a thing as smut novels. He’s probably aware of porn, but dirty writing? Not something he’s ever bothered to consider in his relatively narrow purview. 

He doesn’t really think twice when he sees you reading, since it’s a familiar-enough sight. It might be a book in your hands or just some text you’re scrolling through on your phone. It’s only when he notices your rapt attention to the text that he starts to get curious.

You’re so engrossed you don’t notice him loom over your shoulder until you hear his breath catch, a cough spluttering in his throat.

“What…what are you reading!?” he demands to know, rearing back from the book like it’s going to bite him. 

Dazai Osamu

Oh god.

It’s very hard to hide anything from Dazai, but you’ve been trying to keep your spicy book collection a secret because once he finds out about something he becomes an incorrigible tease about it, and this would be no different. 

You’ve almost mastered the art of hiding your fanfiction tab when he walks past by using the old (ALT + TAB) manoeuvre, Or by flipping to an innocuous part of your book when he walks into the room, but this strategy has backfired. Because Dazai sees all and knows all, and the sneaky little bastard has noticed your shifty behaviour. He’s been watching for a while, waiting for his moment to pounce. 

So there you are, innocently reading your not-so-innocent novel on the couch, perhaps even on a break at the office, and suddenly there’s a presence behind you, warm breath against your ear.

“‘Her legs quivered like a newborn foal’s,’” Dazai narrates, his voice breathy. “‘Lord Fondezglimmer’s hands brushed up the insides of her thighs, her skin as soft as flower petals, reaching for—’”

You snap the book shut. “Shut up, shut up!”

Dazai is unrepentant. Even as you get up, he follows you around the room, hand over his heart, eyes glittering, repeating the scene word for word. 

“‘Primrose’s secret flower was his to taste! As he lay her down upon the bed of handwoven silk, her kirtle rose to her hips to reveal—!’” 

“Shut up, Dazai!”

Kunikida Doppo

The main book Kunikida is interested in is his notebook. He does, however, have a list of well-lauded self-help books, memoirs, and other edifying literary works that he intends to check out just as soon as he has the time. He admires you, actually, and how much time you devote to improving your mind through reading. He occasionally goes so far as to ask you for recommendations, and you have to scramble to recommend something that won’t make his glasses shatter in shock.

Little does he know what you’re really up to.

It’s only when he finds himself at a rare loose end that he finally makes his way over to your bookcase and leafs through some of the volumes. He goes for the last one he saw you reading. It seems innocuous. The cover is a pastel purple with swirly writing. A romantic saga of some sort? Well, he can indulge a chapter or two, just to see what you’re interested in. 

Ten minutes later, Kunikida is sitting on the edge of his seat, gripping the book so hard it looks like he’s about to tear it in half. His face is scarlet behind his glasses, his eyes hidden by the glare on the lenses. His hair is practically standing on end. By the time you find him, he’s as wooden as a statue.

“Ah, got curious, did you?” you ask, amused.

“...this is…” Kunikida starts. “It’s…”

“Erotica,” you inform him, tugging the book from his nerveless hands. “Poor thing. If you were curious I could have given you something a little softer to ease yourself in.”

“No! I’m good. Thank you very much. I’ve seen…quite enough.”

He’s lying. 

Yosano Akiko

Fairly sure that most of Yosano’s books are either medical textbooks or lurid true crime memoirs, complete with grisly photos of murder scenes and autopsies. She reads and rereads those until the covers are falling apart. She probably also reads thrillers and a little bit of horror. Like the Dexter novels, though she scoffs at the implausibility of some of the murders and gore.

Naturally, when she sees you curled up on the couch, your nose buried in a book, she wants to know what it’s about. It doesn’t matter how discreet the cover is, or if you’re reading on your phone/tablet, because she’ll just plop down and start asking you questions, or pause to read over your shoulder.

“What are you reading, you little pervert?” she asks, leaning on your shoulder. 

Her commentary is lowkey hilarious.

“Oh, my~” she teases, before leaning and reading further. “...that’s not biologically possible, but still the concept is kinda hot.”

“Anything more than like eight inches isn’t going to fit inside, you know that right?”

“Ooh, he’s choking her? Turn to the next page. What? No, I won’t go find my own filth to read.”

She does borrow a few of your titles, though her tastes always trend towards darker romance.

Nakahara Chuuya

As much as I love Chuuya, he doesn’t strike me as the type to spend all his time sitting around reading lofty tomes of high-brow literature. He’s a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. While he might pick up the odd book on the recommendation of people whose taste he likes, he enjoys poetry more, or short, punchy novels. If a book you enjoyed gets turned into a movie, he’ll go see it with ya.

Thus, he’s never been introduced to the secret world of spicy novels, from the softcore porn of the 1980s to the roaring trade of indie authors putting out entire sagas of smut today. Totally clueless. Didn’t even realise it was a thing, honestly. His idea of a romance novel is one with a woman in a fancy dress and a shirtless man on the cover, where the scene fades to black before they do it.

Poor, innocent Chuuya.

He just thinks you look cute and cosy when you’re all snuggled up with your books. It doesn’t cross his mind to wonder what you’re reading unless you laugh aloud or gasp or something. Imagine his surprise when he glances your way one day and words jump out at him from the page. Dirty words. And when they’re strung together, the context is even smuttier. He grabs the book from your unsuspecting hands and holds it over your head (or floats it if you’re taller than him, lmao.)

“Whatcha readin’, you little pervert?” he asks, a grin growing on his face. 

“Give it back!”

“Nah, don’t think I will. Is this what you’re readin’ all the time?” He flips through the book, whistling. “Damn, you’re a dirty little thing, aren’t ya?”

Fyodor Dostoevsky

If you think Fyodor somehow doesn’t already know everything you purchase and everything you browse online, then you are a sweet, innocent creature and should be protected from all that is evil and unjust in the world.

But let’s say you’re a little sneak and somehow manage to get your hands on some spicy books without your dearest darling Fedya knowing. You can certainly read them in the long hours that he is away working and perhaps even find a way to store them discreetly on the bookshelf. 

(I doubt you’d be forbidden to read those kinds of books, but it’s still a little embarrassing for you and you might prefer your smirking husband didn’t know about it.)

Ah, but you can only keep secrets from him for so long. One day he abruptly appears behind you. You didn’t expect him home so early, didn’t even know he was coming in, but then there’s just a pale hand reaching over your shoulder to stop you turning the page, and a low, accented voice in your ear.

“Not yet, my darling. I’m not done with this page.”

You yelp, flinging the book across the room, and Fyodor stands up, smiling down at you. He tuts at your treatment of the book, picking it up and dusting it off before he turns it over to look at the cover. His smirk is practically feline, satisfied and amused in equal measure.

“My, my, myshka~ I had no idea that this is what excites you so much.”

[taronfanfic]

Pause

It's been a minute, but I'm kinda back! I have no idea how many Taron fan blogs are still active over here, but hopefully some of you manage to see this and feel like returning to read my writing. I've had ideas for the trilogy ending floating around for years now but not had the time or passion to commit to putting anything down in writing until now. So we'll see how this goes!

If you're new to my blog and my writing then hello and thanks for joining! Pause follows on from Rewind and Fast Forward which can be found in my Masterlist. It's an AU setting where Taron isn't a famous actor. Contains smut, angst, fluff - all the good stuff really, so expect more!

Chapter 1

“Do you think you’ll make any resolutions for the New Year?” Taron asked casually as he placed his book down on the bedside table before pulling the covers up his chest in search of warmth from the cool winter night air.

“I have something in mind, but I don’t think it counts as a resolution really… it’s actually starting to feel like a lifelong dream, it’s been that long!” You turned onto your side and smiled up at him.

“Yeah?”

“As if you need me to explain further!”

There was a small pout which formed on his lips, and the deep crease between his brows as he considered what you were referring to.

“Well, it’s going to be one of two things…” he paused, watching as you pulled your left hand out from the covers and placed it deliberately onto his chest, focusing clearly on the engagement ring which had adorned your ring finger for the last 5 years. “Just one thing then.” He grinned widely as he raised your hand to his lips.

“I know we got engaged pretty quickly, and we’d agreed that a longer engagement would work best-”

“-And we’ve lived through a global pandemic, which made us decide to buy a house with a garden, which then needed renovating, went way over budget and took much longer than either of us had anticipated!” Taron was quick to add on.

“Yes.” You agreed easily. “But I’m not saying I wasn’t on board with any of that. It’s been exciting, and expensive, and stressful, but still rewarding. It’s been our life for the last few years! But now it’s done…”

“You want a new project.” Taron nodded knowingly to himself with a soft smile.

“It’s not a project!” You let go of his hand so you could push him in the shoulder as you protested back. “I want to marry you. I want to be your wife and be able to call you my husband.”

“I know, I know.” He softened, sinking down further into your bed so he could pull you in closer and hold you tight. “I want that too. Always have done, but life led us astray for a bit.”

“Next year seems calmer though.”

“Much.” He agreed with a light kiss against your temple. “I’m so up for some romance.”

“It has been a while.” There was a smile which grew wider as you felt pure excitement at the thought of marrying your best friend.

“Thankfully not since we last had sex though.”

“God, I’m so glad we chose that walk-in shower.”

“Do you think many people design their homes with where they want to have sex in mind?” The hand Taron had draped over your waist after pulling you in against him started to caress down to your bum as he thought aloud.

“I bet it’s more than you think. They just won’t admit it.” You mirrored his movements, tracing light circles against his lower back before sliding your fingers under the elastic of his boxers.

“So we’re not the only weird ones.”

“If by weird you mean loved-up, and very horny, then no.” His eyes were as dark with lust as yours when you lifted your head to place a slow kiss to his lips.

“Very horny.” He repeated before mirroring your kiss back. “And very loved-up.”

It had been a while since you’d both been in this mood. The dusty mess and chaos of builders for 18 months, followed by a busy Christmas spent at Taron’s family home had left you relying on quickies. Needs were met but certain sparks had been left to fade. Sparks which were now reigniting quickly with every touch, kiss and look between you.

His fingers laced softly into your hair, his palm cupped the side of your face and his tongue worked it’s magic against yours. There always was something about the way he kissed you that made you weak at the knees. A soft sigh escaped your mouth as he paused to look at you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He never let you reply, just kissed you again and again. There had been few moments when you felt like this. Like your life was perfect. Like you wanted to press pause and live in the exact moment forever. But this was definitely one of them.

“I love you.” You managed to say once Taron pulled back for air. It had him smiling widely.

“I love you too.”

It made you grab at the hem of his t-shirt and tug it up his torso. The love your felt was flowing through your veins and rapidly turning to lust as it reached your core. You needed him. Badly.

“Please?” You hadn’t even realised it had left your lips until Taron’s eyes returned to yours, twinkling with a smugness at your polite request.

“I’m all yours. Tell me how you want it tonight.”

“Missionary. Block everything else out. Just you. Your heat, your scent, your eyes, your weight.” You were wet at the thought. Wet at the sight of him stripping naked before you. Throbbing for him as he pulled the covers down your body to find you’d already freed yourself from your nightwear. The cold night air was swiftly replaced with his warmth. His erection pressed against you as he lowered himself between your thighs. Another kiss was shared, deep and hungry. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. He was gorgeously heavy when he lowered his chest to yours. Everything felt right.

“Fuck.” He swore softly, leaving his jaw lowered when he first entered you. It took a few thrusts for him to find his rhythm but once he’d settled you had his eyes back on yours. They really were beautiful, and the soft curves of his perfectly cute nose. You watched up as he took in your features too, admired the smile he’d put on your face and then thrust that bit harder to make you cry out in pleasure.

“Yes! Oh that’s good. So good.” Your fingers traced lightly over the stubble on his jaw, stopping at his chin so you could drag your thumb across his lower lip and feel his tongue licking out for you. He was quick to lower his lips to yours again, drinking in every soft moan and panted breath you gave him. Every thrust was quick and sharp. You’d done this a thousand times before and yet you still needed him just as desperately. His hand stroked up and down your outer thigh as rhythmically as he worked himself inside you. Soon he’d lifted your leg to wrap over his hip so he could reach in that little bit deeper. You bounced and rocked together, building up the heat, the pleasure, the all-consuming desire. Taron started to grunt and groan between the kisses he left to your neck, chest and lips and when it all became too much you felt a light bite pinch at the top of your shoulder. It made you tense up around him sharply. Your heels dug in to his lower back and bum; your fingers to his shoulder blades. Over and over he thrust into you, never letting up his pace or power. This wasn’t a night for clinging on to the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please.” You hummed softly into his ear, knowing your release was imminent. “Faster.”

“Oh god.” He replied, lifting his head from your shoulder so he could touch his nose to yours and kiss you one last time. “I’m right there.”

“Me too,” You breathed back.

“Fuck.”

He came apart moments later, tipping you over the edge as he stuttered his hips, trying his best not to pause completely. Nothing could stop the grin on his face as he felt you tensing repeatedly around him. It was the first thing you saw as you opened your eyes again, receiving his lighter thrusts which brought you back down slowly.

“That was so nice.” He leant down to give you a soft kiss as he pulled out, then collapsed to his back next to you.

“We should do some more date nights now we have time again.”

“We should.” Taron agreed.

“I’d kinda forgotten how much I love admiring your face… your eyes and your jaw. You’re properly handsome, y’know?” You moved your gaze from the newly painted ceiling just in time to see the blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Stop it.” He turned to face you but then quickly looked away, bashful.

“I mean it. I want to sit opposite you and drink wine whilst drinking you in too. How did I get so lucky to have such a hot boyfriend.”

“Fiancé.” He corrected you quickly and reached out for your hand.

“Husband by this time next year.” You danced your fingertips against his.

“It really has been too long since I proposed, hasn’t it? Maybe I should do it again, y’know like how people renew their vows. I can renew my proposal…”

“You don’t need to do that.” You laughed gently at his cute idea. “I know how much you love me.”

“An insane amount. And I promise I always will love you that much too. You’re the best thing in my life and I’ll do anything to make you happy.” He wasn’t down on one knee, but lying naked next to you having just made love is a close second when it comes to grand declarations.

“Then that’s all I need to hear.” You smiled as you moved over and took his face between your hands so you could kiss him tenderly.

[str4wkinzi]

NO LONGER YOUR OWN. pt 2 :3

Sukuna x Reader :3 + a surprise guest (guess who winkwink but hes in like demon/curse form giggles)

NSFW CONTENT!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

(I had NO idea for a part 2 cuz i wasn’t thinking this far so its gonna be super sort sorry babes)

There is bootyhole stuff in this so BEWARE THE BOOTY!!!

Part 1 <3 Part 3

A week later, Sukuna had never left your side. Day after day he kept others far away from you. Your friends wanted to go out? No. A boy you met asked you out? Definitely not.

He likes to keep you in his domain with him. He sits you in his lap and grabs the bottom of your face, making your lips meet his and grinding you down onto his aching cock.

In all truthfulness, he’s never felt like this towards anything. Especially a human. Maybe it’s just a phase. I mean, it’s been a while since someones summoned him.

He tried to force ask you to throw away all those other useless spell books even though they were flukes. He wouldn’t admit it, but even if they were flukes, he hated the thought of another taking you.

He was scared of one of them suddenly working and you summoning another demon or whatever.

What you both didn’t know was.. you ordered another book. You didn’t read the description. If you bought one book you got the other free but just a little while later.

You hear your doorbell ring and you open the door. You look down to see.. a box? You didn’t order anything else.

You take the box to your room, were Sukuna is laying on the bed. You take the book out of the box and it has eyes all over it..? All the eyes are looking in different directions.

“What do you have in your hands?”

You jump as you hear Sukuna’s groggy voice.

“Nothing, it’s just a book.” You reply.

When you turn back to the book all the eyes are looking directly at you. You yelp and Sukuna gets up from his position. He’s wiping his eyes, when he looks down at you holding that book its far too late.

The books already shaking in your grasp. Sukuna looks irritated as the book floats into the air. The books eyes sprout off of the book and into the air around it, starting to spin around the book as white fills your vision.

You’re still sitting on the floor. When you open your eyes after being blinded with light for a second you see..

“Hello there little human!” The man erupts.

A white haired man with blindfolds over his eyes is bending down to meet your gaze. Well, he isn’t exactly- fuck it.

You hear Sukuna grumbling from your bed and the man looks over at him.

“Ah, i see you’ve already summoned my good friend over here!” He smiles as he looks back at you.

“From the looks of it.. he hasn’t told you about me, has he? Oh well!” He says while lifting his blindfold up, exposing all six of his eyes.

“I am Satoru Gojo. And you, little human. Who might you be?” Gojo says with a chuckle.

You begin to speak but Sukuna cuts you off.

“Mine. They’re mine.” Sukuna says, getting off your bed and pulling you up on your feet against his chest. He pulls your shirt up, exposing his mark.

“My, my, my good friend here has really taken a liking to you. Thats rare y’know.”

With two 8 foot tall men glaring at each other above you, you feet below them, it’s kinda hard to think about anything.

This lasts for a minute before Gojo grabs your chin and lifts it up to meet his.

“C’mon old buddy, let’s not fight in front of this lovely thing.” He says with a grin.

Sukuna takes you away from Gojo and back into his arms.

“Let’s find a different way to settle this, okay?” Gojo adds.

“You can’t hog, Sukuna.” Gojo whines as Sukuna pushes your head down on his cock. You could barely handle one of their cocks, now you have to handle two.

With both of them fighting to get your mouth on his cock, all you could do was… nothing.

Going to one then going to the other eventually got them both close. When they both came on your face..

“Fuck, you look like such a slut.” Sukuna spat.

“You look so beautiful, human. All covered in our cum.”

The mix of being praised just to be degraded again makes how you got to this point confusing.

Sukuna loves you. He would never admit that. He’s come so low as to have humane feelings for a humane human.

Gojo has taken a liking to you already. If Sukuna likes you then he’ll love you.

You’re sitting on Sukuna’s lap, him playing with your chest as Gojo eats you out.

Sukuna loves hearing you moan he’d never admit that but he hates when he’s the one making you moan like this. He starts biting your neck while using his other hand to lift your chin up. He’s whispering in your ear but you cant focus on anything right now.

Right after you cum in Gojo’s mouth, Sukuna lays down with you on his chest. Sukuna’s arms wrap around your legs and lift them up, exposing you to Gojo.

Sukuna whispers in your ear about how you’re his while pushing his cock inside your hole. You don’t get a moments breather before Gojo begins to push his cock inside you as well.

Having just one of them inside of you was already a lot. Having two makes it even.. better? With both of them moving in a way that makes sure you stay full you can’t help the moans that fall from your lips.

With you lost in pleasure, you barely even notice how they’re glaring at each other above you. After several minutes of that, Gojo chuckles and speeds up his movements.

Sukuna notices this and speeds up his movements as well.

With them both pounding your cunt like wild animals all you can do is endure the pleasure befalling you.

You knew that this doubled as a competition to them, mainly Sukuna.

Sukuna had been whispering in your ear to not say his name under any circumstances. Gojo almost begged you to say his name.

“Don’t say his name.” Sukuna spat, almost getting cut off by Gojo.

“Say it, little human. Say my name, you already know it.” Gojo pleaded.

You didn’t quite understand why probably because they were fucking your brains out but as soon as Gojo hit your G-spot.. it was over. A loud scream of ‘Satoru Gojo.’

Gojo lifted his blindfold and grabbed your chin. He looks into your eyes for a second before chuckling and fucking you even harder. He kisses you deeply, earning a scowl from the man below you.

Yeah, he won’t like it. Gojo doesn’t care.

Groans and moans fill the space around you. Round after unending round almost seem unfulfilling to both of the men fucking you senseless.

Really, its almost as if you aren’t there. You don’t really know if their little competition is to see ‘who can cum in you the most’ or ‘who can make you cum the most.’ All you know is that your brain is completely mush by now.

With cum escaping both of your holes they finally notice you’re getting overstimulated. After they both cum inside you for the umpteenth time they stop and let you breathe.

You start to feel a pleasuring sensation right where Sukuna’s mark is. Overstimulated whimpers drip from your lips like sweet honey.

Sukuna knows its too late.

Gojo knows its just getting started.

While you’re writhing on the bed they both watch as six eyes appear around Sukuna’s mark, signaling Gojo has also claimed you.

Curses stream from Sukuna’s lips as Gojo chuckles.

STR4WZ STICKY NOTE &lt; its been 3 days gang… daddy missed all my kittens… LMAO ANYWAYS!! i had NO clue for what i should do for a part two. This js like went kablewie in my head and bam its here!! Thanks so much love you all STR4WKINZI AWAYYYY!!! 3

[purplepeptobismol]

lads i am so hyped for IWMOY 😔🫵 just wanna say, I read this fic when it still had 8 chapters I believe ?? and I opened the day I was leaving my job and I got a surprise burger on my break from one of the chefs ((I then moved country))) SO UH YEAH !! Fics that hit me hard always have a very VERY specific memory to me. Like I read it in hours flat I’d say, I have never felt so emotional over a fic like I’ve sobbed happy and sad tears-

💕💕

ANYWAYS AS FOR LIKE QUESTIONS !!!

-What inspired you to create IWMOY ?

-I’m curious but in the flashbacks - did Cooper die? When he stopped breathing and Leo panicked? I’m wondering about this and if Kenny may have ever seen Cooper die until well when he shot himself…. I’m only asking because I like to read so heavily into details and little stuff like this and I just want my own personal confirmation LMAO !!

-What was the most challenging part when creating some of the lore for the fics ??

First of all, I just wanna say that I appreciate you so much Volta 😞🙏💖. You’ve fr been the best tumblr moot I’ve ever had because you’re the only one that’s always interacting with me. I WILL LITERALLY DIE FOR YOU HOMIE, JUST ASK AND I WILL KILL FOR YOU TOO!!! 🗣️🗣️🔥💯 Okay okay answering time!

[this post will contain I Will Make of You spoilers for chapter 8 to 14 🙂‍↕️]

-

IWMOY is so interesting because it was those types of projects where there were a lot of mini-things that pushed me to create it, and it all just came together all at once.

From what I could remember, I think it first started with the idea of “what if Kenny has a child and that child goes back in time to meet him when he’s a teenager?” It was pretty comical in my head. Like it’s one thing for Kenny to be a parent, but him meeting said kid when he’s still a teenager? Hilarious! I always though next gen fan-kids where pretty fun if done right, and there was a big lack of content for it on ao3, along with time travel stories. Then, another idea came to me (I don’t remember if this was before the other one, or after): “what if Kenny met another immortal?” At first, I thought of Karen turning out to be immortal, or someone else getting that ability, but none of them stuck. Either way, I had this idea floating in my head;;; I for sure wanted to right a bunny centric story too, so I was just daydreaming of different story ideas for those two. It wasn’t until I suddenly got an epiphany….. “What if Kenny’s son ends up having the same powers of immortality as him?” I saw so much potential with this idea because I could only imagine the guilt he would feel as a parent!! (I sort of mention this here too) It was something worth exploring, so I decided to write the concept in my notes app.

*my usual process before starting a fic is me writing an idea in my notes app, and if I want to continue exploring the idea, I move it to my docs*

Since it was a sci-fi/time travel focused idea, I decided to rewatch a lot of different time travel movies in the meantime (Back to the Future, the Adam Project, Predestination, etc). It wasn’t until I rewatched Meet the Robinsons, and I heard "Another Believer" that I FINALLY got a song to inspire me into establishing the relationship between Kenny and his future son. I wasn’t writing scenes just yet, I was actually just daydreaming of this concept and potential scene ideas, mentally brainstorming, but I was still lacking a solid plot! Around this time, my friends and I were doing a watch party, and my movie choice was the new South Park special the “End of Obesity.” While watching it, there was this part where Butters got stuck in a tesseract.

(Okay but looking back and seeing Butters being the one stuck in the tesseract inside the black hole is actually funny given how my story is going to play out😭)

I didn’t understand this reference at first, until one of my friends told me it was suppose to be an ‘Interstellar’ reference. I was like??? What??? Then Lyn and another friend of mine were like “YOU HAVENT SEEN INTERSTELLAR?!?!” And I was like??? No??? So when we finished watching the special, we put the movie on and… IT FUCKING CLICKED. The music, the science, the family, YEARNING, THE HUMAN EMOTIONS— that, coupled with what I got from Meet the Robinsons. IT WAS LIKE MY BRAIN JUST OPENED. I kid you not, I sat in front of my computer, put the interstellar soundtrack and just started drafting and brainstorming on my Docs on July 14 of 2024:

No food or sleep, just moving my freaking hands on the keyboard. Eventually, I was writing all these scenes appearing in my head, and i was like???? I can literally start drafting the chapters out instead??? I was typing for a total of three days straight when I finished outlining and drafting the entirety of IWMOY 💀💀…. But, I was still going through it tho 🙁. For one, I realized this story was going to have an OC as a main character, and me personally, I kinda don’t like OCs in fics…. So I didn’t think people were gonna like this fic in the first place. Another, was the time travel dilemma. There are so many contradictions and plot holes with A LOT (and I mean… pretty much all) of time travel focused movies. 💀 I’m so over critical and it got on my nerves when it kept happening, so I had to create SOMETHING that would make time travel work! (Which eventually became the One-Tab Guide). I wasn’t going to post this fic at all, and maybe wait until I was done posting all the IBMT chapters I had outlined, but… I just couldn’t stop thinking about that fic. I had it all basically figured out, and I was so fascinated with the concept I had created… but, “it’s an oc centric fic,,,,, maybe people won’t like it and it would all be for nothing…”

It wasn’t until my 2 bffs gave me some encouragement that I finally gave in; I finished the first chapter of IWMOY and got it posted on August 6th of 2024 :,) I didn’t think it would become as huge as it is now. So I truly mean it when I say that I’m so incredibly happy people are enjoying a project I thought no one would like <333. I cannot thank you guys enough.

-

[SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 14]

So, yes. Cooper did actually die in that scene 😔. His cause of death was Sudden Arrhythmic Death Syndrome (Y’know, that thing where babies just??? die??? Just cuz??? 😭??). Coopers first actual death was back in the artificial womb in chapter 13. His second was that scene with Butters. And his third death was when he was 4 (Cooper considers that death his first because it’s the only one he could recall). The only real death Kenny witnessed before Cooper shot himself was the one in the artificial womb 💔 sadly (would’ve saved a whole lot of complications if they just communicated 😫 but no).

Actually— let me explain what happened in that scene with Butters POV (because it’s actually pretty dark): Kenny went back to the lab to attend on some work-related issues, and Butters decided to go out in the meantime to do some quick grocery shopping. So he took baby Coop in a carrier and they both went out! While he was shopping, he’s picking out things here and there when he notices something is… off. “Coop, baby?” He checks up on Cooper to see if he’s okay, but he’s oddly still and cold to the touch. “Cooper? Baby, wake up… ” He starts to pull him out of the carrier to check on his vitals, “Wake up, Cooper!!” but he’s not responding at all. “Oh Jesus, COOPER! Somebody!! Help me!!! My baby-” Since Cooper isn’t responding, Butters starts to sob and ask for help, but everyone keeps ignoring him. “SOMEBODY, PLEASE!! MY BABY NEEDS HELP MY BABY, HE’S-” But just when Butters realizes that Cooper is, in fact, dead, his tears suddenly halt. He puts Cooper back in the carrier, and returns to his shopping…. Butters probably left Cooper in the car and in that carrier; it gave Cooper the chance to respawn in his crib before Kenny arrived. I feel like deep down, that part of Butters’ who had that immense amount of parental love for his baby WANTED to fight against the curse. As he was going on about his day as his son lay dead, I imagine how he was probably screaming in pure anguish inside of his head while his body was in this weird autopilot type of dissociation :(. And since he was trying so hard to fight it, a fraction of the memory stayed. It’s why he had that "nightmare" in his sleep. *Sigh…..*

-

Surprisingly, this fic wasn’t as challenging compared to the other series I’m working on. But if I were to choose something that was sort of complicated, I think it would be the time travel aspect of the story and Cooper’s characterization. I have this need to always use logic in every situation; everything has to have an answer or a meaning. I try my best NOT to be like that, but…. I can’t help it 🥲. I basically review my story the way an English teacher would LMAOOO. In the question of “why did the author describe the curtains being blue?” I’m not a “there’s no real meaning, the curtains are just blue” I’m a big “YES, YES THEY’RE BLUE FOR A REASON! THANK GOD YOU NOTICED!!!” type of person 😭.

I mentioned earlier that I wanted to work around the time travel dilemma: “how do you make time travel work and fix around its plot holes?” Thankfully, I was able to pull out my trusty whiteboard and go on different scientific rambles regarding the theories and paradoxes with my friends. “How will Cooper go back in time and talk to Kenny without causing a grandfather paradox?” or “if they do save Butters and Kate, wouldn’t that cause a split?” Basically, all of the questions Craig and Kyle were asking in chapter 14, I was asking them myself🫡.

As for the other one, it was mainly Cooper’s characterization and how to make him a likable OC. He’s not an actual canon character, which means that most people won’t care about him like they would with one of the other South Park boys. I had to figure out his personality, backstory, and his motivations in a way that would hook readers. I didn’t want to make him exactly like Kenny or a carbon copy of Butters— I wanted to give him his own autonomy, but have his personality reflect the way he was raised, and his troubles with immortality in a realistic way [his attitude throughout the story was a buildup for the reveal in chapter 8 and his backstory arc]. He’s kinda like Kenny, yes, but I wanted to give him quirks that parallel differences between the two. One of them was suppose to be their immortality. Cooper views it as power and a way to escape trouble, while Kenny sees it as a painful curse he could occasionally use as a tool for the sake of scientific progression. It’s why Cooper is all willy-nilly about ending his life while Kenny (current timeline as well) is stressing his balls off 💀. I was afraid that Cooper acting like a reckless dick in the first couple of chapters was going to put people off, and.. maybe it has… but giving his reasoning in his POV arc hopefully painted some kind of explanation 😣, bro just loves his family and wants them back. It would’ve been less complicated if Cooper just explained things to Kenny early on, BUT;;; I mean, Cooper’s just a 14 year old kid that believes he can handle everything on his own because of his powers [sadly lil bro is NOT immune 🙁], he was still grieving, and he was afraid of disappointing his father for failing his dad and sister— yeah, even disappointing his younger version. Hm.

-

I don’t think those doubts and anxiety when it comes to my own writing will ever leave, especially with the upcoming projects I’m planning on writing. I really put my heart and soul into these things, and I want to give it my all; it’s not just a fanfiction to ME guys!!!! And I want you to FEEL the same feelings I feel whenever I consume a piece of media that makes me feel human. “This is what humans were meant to be doing! Feel alive! Not work a 9 to 5 just to survive!” 😫. But anyways, thanks for this ask Volta 🥹❤️‍🩹 hope you enjoyed this answer.

[bingbongsupremacy]

The Letter Pt. 2

Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem! reader

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used, Homophobia

Summary: Ellie and Y/N are in two very different social groups at school. One day when Y/N's crush is cruelly exposed in front of the whole school, Y/N is brutally shot down. Finally, four years later the two run into each other again.

(I changed it to four years so reader could go to college)

High School AU

Next part will probably be the last part. I'll probably upload it tmr.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

*****

Ever since the assembly my life turned into hell. Ellie dropped me as a tutor and I was placed with some random guy who constantly reminded me of what happened. Kids snickered in the halls. Certain teachers would shoot me looks of disapproval. Kids I've never talked to stuffed church pamphlets into my locker or invited me to church.

It went on for the last few months of my senior year. Whenever any major event took place, Vivian was sure to point me out in the bleachers and remind everyone what happened.

It got to the point where I stopped going to assembly's

At least I had Dina and Jesse. They stood by me through it all. I don't know what would've happened without them.

Whenever I saw Ellie in the halls I dodged her. If I didn't, she'd clearly talk about me to her friends who'd snicker and agree.

That stupid fucking letter made my life hell.

-----Five Years Later-----

My car beeps as I lock it. I glance up at the familiar bright sign before quickly making my way into the supermarket.

Things have changed.

With one look around I can already tell they remodeled the place. I have no idea where any of the shit Dina sent me to get is.

I guess that's what I get for staying away so long. I honestly didn't plan on coming back but I miss Dina and Jesse. I fell horrible staying away all these years.

The store is mostly empty. I mean, who the fuck wants to be out at 11 o'clock at night.

I look around for one of the workers. There has to be someone here.

A small laugh catches my attention.

A long strip of smoke floats up into the air. As I walk closer to the register I start to notice a smell: weed.

" Um, hey. Can you help me? " I ask, peeking over the side of the register.

A head jumps up in surprise, bumping against the top of the checkout stand. " Fuck. " They mutter in surprise, rubbing their would with the hand not holding the joint.

" Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. "

The woman shakes her head, shoving her phone into her back pocket. She snuffs the joint out. " It's fine. " She reassures me, not looking up. " Just don't call my boss, yeah? Fuck, I can't get another write up. Fucking Kaylee with have my ass. " She mutters.

I smile at her disheveled appearance. She obviously wasn't planning on anyone coming in. " Chill, I'm not a rat. I don't care what you do. I just need some help finding some stuff. It's been a while since I've been here. " I hand her the list.

I glance over her hunched form. She nods. Her hair is messily pulled back into a half up bun. A light green vest covers some band tee.

I glance down at the the register.

My heart stops.

" Ellie? "

The womans' head snaps up in confusion. The confusion soon spreads to surprise. " Y-Y/N? Fuck, is that you? " Her poster straightens and her grip on my list becomes visibly tighter.

Ellie's face looks much more tired then in high school. She looks much more mature.

My emotions hit me like a brick wall. Every angry and sad feeling I went through senior year comes tumbling back. Every mocking sentence and rude word hits me like a ton of bricks. It feels like I'm going through it again.

At the same time seeing her activates the old crush I had. While my heart feels like it's being torn to shreds, my stomach does summer saults.

My jaw tightens and I reach for the paper. " I don't need your help. " I mutter. I'll be damned if I let her into my life again. Even if it's just for a few minutes. " I'll go to another store. "

Ellie steps back, holding my paper away. With a head shake, she responds. " What other store? It's fucking Jackson. We're the only store here. "

She's right. We both know it.

" Then...then I'll just get it myself. Give me my fucking list. " I hold out my hand.

" Can we please talk. " Ellie's brows are furrowed. " I- "

I roll my eyes. " I have no interest in talking to you, Williams. " I snap. " Fine, I'll fucking find everything without it. " I begin walking away.

" Fine! " Ellie's voice trails after me. " Look, you don't have to talk to me. "

Fuck, what the hell did I put on that list? Why the hell did I give it to her? Fuck fuck fuck.

I think I'm supposed to get mayo? Wait no. Why the fuck would I need Mayo?

" All you have to do is listen. Please, Y/N. I know I don't fucking deserve it after what I put you through-what I did, but please. Just give me a few minutes of your time. " Ellie begs.

I turn to the girl. She doesn't look like the confident girl I knew years ago. She looks...regretful?

I sigh. " Fine. You have three minutes. "

A small smile of relief flashes across Ellie's features. " Fuck, thank you. "

I nod stiffly, crossing my arms across my body.

" I was a fucking asshole in high school. " Ellie swallows. " I let my friends dictate the way I acted. All I wanted was to be popular. During Freshman year, I got bullied so I started playing a bunch of sports. I befriended a bunch of jocks and eventually a bunch of other assholes who hung around them. I became one of them. I was so fucking scared of losing my place in the group. " Ellie blushes slightly. She glances up at the ceiling, obviously not proud of what she's telling me.

" Anyways, I did a bunch of fucked up shit to stay with them. What I did to you was by far the fucking worst. " Her green eyes meet mine. " And I'm so fucking sorry. I really am. The day of the assembly Vivian came into the room and took your letter out of your sketch book. She didn't tell me what was in it. I knew it was fucked up whatever she was planning, but I didn't think it'd be that bad. I thought she'd just...I don't know...Show a not so great picture you drew off to the school-which is still a dick move-but I didn't know what she was planning. " Ellie nervously wrings her wrist.

" I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N. I was so cruel to you. So fucking mean. " Ellie looks up at me. " I knew what I was doing was wrong and I still did it. I could've said something to help but I-I didn't. I was a fucking coward and I'm so sorry. I think about it all the time. What if I was you? What if it had been me? What if I had been outed in front of the school? What if people treated me the way they had treated you? What if I treated me the way I treated you? I was so scared people would find out I'm gay. I wasn't ready for people to know. I guess...I guess I thought that if the attention was on you, I could continue sneaking around without people finding out. I can't hide forever though, Y/N. And these past few years I've realized just how bad you had it. I'm so sorry. I don't know if you can ever forgive me, but I understand if you can't. Honestly, if I were you, I fucking wouldn't. " Ellie's face is red from embarrassment and shame.

She was scared. She was scared of what people would think if they knew she was gay.

" I was scared, Ellie. I was so fucking scared. I didn't want anyone to know either. I never planned on giving you that note. It was a stupid crush. Even though I was scared, I never would've done that shit to you. I never would've talked shit about you in front of my friends or mocked you in public or at games. " I'm so torn. I don't know how I feel.

Ellie nods, closing her eyes. " Fuck, I'm sorry. "

" I don't hate you Ellie. "

" You don't? " Ellie's voice is surprised.

I shake my head. " No. I just don't know if I can trust you. You hurt me so much. "

Ellie thinks for a moment. " Maybe there's a way I can make it up to you. "

I cock my head to the side, slightly skeptical. " How? "

" How long are you in Jackson? " Ellie leans against a shelf.

" About a week, why? " I'm supposed to be hanging out with Dina and Jesse all week.

" Perfect. Give me five days. I promise, I'll fix what I fucked up. If I can't, you never have to talk to me or see me again. I swear to god I will never talk to you again if you want. Just give me a week. " Ellie's gaze is unmoving, much more confident then moments ago.

Should I trust her? What if she does something? Well she did just bare her fucking soul to me.

With a sigh I reply. " Fine. I'll give you a week. "

Tag list: Idk if I missed anyone. Sorry if I did. Lmk if I did or if u want to be tagged in the next part.

@octavias-next-meat-bite @ximtiredx

[ineffable-suffering]

Ceci n'est pas une plume.

(from this doc of all of Neil's answered asks)

The meta goes a little like this: I like nerdy stuff about language (and also Good Omens), so I wanted to elaborate on why Angels and Demons don't actually ever speak any language except their own. They simply have the ability to flick a translation switch and (make anyone) understand what's being said in whatever other language.

Also, I end up making a way deeper point of it and why it's so telling that Aziraphale would learn French (and magic) the hard way, in the end.

Find out with me under the cut!

(Word count: 1820 | Reading time: ~8 minutes )

Aziraphale and Crowley's exchange in front of Marguerite's restaurant started me down this path and I'm pretty sure that this is actually how it works. Because it ties together a few other loose strings that have been floating around in my head about the whole langue deal in Good Omens.

Let's structure this by the questions Neil has already answered about it.

The Lead Balloon

I feel like the "in the beginning"-scene in S2 showed us that Crowley did not actually have much of an idea what exactly the plan for Earth and the humans were (instead, Aziraphale did). He might have found out later still, after asking his questions, but I feel like the second part of that answer is more likely to be true, since they both seem to understand this metaphor. This is further supported by:

Ergo: They're speaking in the language of Angels but we understand it in English (or whatever language we selected on our Amazon Prime). Automatically translated for us because Crowley and Aziraphale wanted us to understand them.

"Ciao. It's Italian. It means Food."

They sort of are, yes. Idiots who either forgot to turn on their own auto-translator, or idiots who aren't aware that they have one for other languages except English, or idiots who were miffed that Crowley actually knew-knew a word in another language and didn't want to admit that they didn't.

Où est la plume de la jardinière de ma tante?

Right, so. The exchange that fuelled this meta. First of all, as a funny side note, the origin of that peculiar sentence:

La plume de ma tante ("my aunt's quill") is a phrase in popular culture, attributed to elementary French language instruction (possibly as early as the 19th century) and used as an example of grammatically correct phrases with limited practical application that are sometimes taught in introductory foreign language texts. As Life magazine said in 1958, "As every student knows, the most idiotically useless phrase in a beginner's French textbook is la plume de ma tante (the quill of my aunt)." The phrase is also used to refer to something deemed completely irrelevant. [link]

So basically, it's historically the most nonsensical and dumb phrase any student of the French language gets taught. And yet Aziraphale has been "wittering on about it for the last 250 years". Even looking smug about it, to this very day. Gave me a good chuckle.

Also:

In the 1973 horror film The Exorcist, Catholic priest Damien Karras interviews [...] a girl believed to suffer from demonic possession. While Karras probes to determine whether the possession is a hoax, the demon Pazuzu—who has possessed the girl—speaks in Latin and French, languages presumably unknown to the girl. When Karras demands "Quod nomen mihi est?/What is my name?" in Latin, the demon exclaims "La plume de ma tante!", using the phrase as a non sequitur to mock and evade Karras' line of questioning. [link]

Using that particular phrase to avoid answering a question you're being asked? Like: "You speak every language in the world perfectly ...

Neil, Neil, Neil, *shakes head fondly*, is there anything that you don't give layered meaning to, ever? No. No, of course you don't. And I adore you for it.

The whereabouts of the aunt's gardener's pen questioned, Aziraphale then says "But you still understood me" when Crowley calls him out for his bad French.

This is curious and affirming of my auro-translator theory for two reasons:

1) Aziraphale wouldn't have said this if he'd uttered this sentence in the language of Angels and simply hit the auto-translate button. Because if he had done it that way, of course Crowley would have understood him. But the reason Crowley understands him is not because Aziraphale used his language auto-translate, but because, again, Aziraphale, for two hundred and fifty years, has been wittering on about the plume of his imaginary tante.

2) Point one is further proven by a tiny French nerdy fact I can provide because I actually did learn and graduate in French back in school, lol. Because Crowley actually makes a mistake while trying to not-automatically translate the sentence. He says:

But "jarndinère" is actually a female gardener (le jardinier = male, la jardinière = female). So, when Crowley says "he doesn't have a pen", he actually gets it wrong, which further proves to me that he (as well as all other angels and demons) doesn't actually understand the phrase like someone does who has learnt the language in a human way.

Crowley doesn't have the automated translation on in this moment, so he doesn't translate it correctly. Because he doesn't actually speak French. At least not in the sense that us humans interpret "speaking a language".

Comment ça?

Basically, what I'm trying to get at is: Would you say that Google Translate speaks every language in the world? That it's native and fluent in every tongue ever spoken? Or is it simply a program that can access all the language knowledge its been fed and as soon as you hit enter, it translates any and every language back to you?

Google Translate never learnt any language, it never sat down and went through the onslaughts of vocabulary and grammar that studying a language comes with. It never got frustrated with seemingly nonsensical sentence structures, subjonctifs (French-learnes, you know what I mean) tenses and conjugations. It never spent ages trying to understand different dialects and accents, never spoke with natives to figure out the hidden slangs and sarcasms that would never be translated on paper. It never went to night classes where the teacher wittered on about pens and gardeners and aunts.

No. Google Translate is being told a sentence and it soullessly, programatically recognizes the language through its binary coded translation filter and mirrors the equivalent in whatever other language you want it to.

It's furthest any-a thing could be from speaking a language.

And exactly like that.

Exactly like that is how angels and demons "speak" every language in the World. Hitting an imaginary auto-translate-and-auto-recognition button.

Aziraphale and French (and magic)

Just like with Aziraphale being giddy about the idea of human magic, of learning card tricks and pulling coins out from behind ears, Aziraphale chose to never hit his translate button when it came to French.

Why does Aziraphale learn magic the human way? Because he knows how to do it the ethereal way but that's "no fun."

And why does Aziraphale learn French the human way? Because he knows how to do it the ethereal way, but that's "no fun".

Let me recap real quick: Two of the very base principles of any angel's job and/or purpose (on Earth) is to 1) do miracles for humankind to ensure their souls will at some point be added to Heaven's tab and 2) be a being of Love and love all of Her creations.

Or, the condensed version: Magic and Love.

And what are the two things Aziraphale finds no fun (= boring and unsatisfying) to do the way it was intended for all angels?

Magic and (the language of) Love.

Aziraphale chose to try and learn magic as well as the language of love organically, without the God-given ability and the binary coded translation system Heaven provided his corporation with.

He wanted to learn it the human way. The hard way. The fun way.

Neil: "It's like magic tricks, which he is terrible at but loves to do, and miracles, which are no fun, but which he does very well."

Because that's the point, isn't it? Most of us think: "Wow, wouldn't it be great to be able to do actual magic? Simply snap your fingers and have any-a wish come true? Speak every and any language in the universe and never have to pick up a dictionary ever again?"

Sure, for the first few exciting moments, miracles and conversations maybe. But sooner or later, it renders everything meaningless. Soulless. Flavourless. And who loves flavour more than Aziraphale?

It's somewhat similar to why typing a sentence into Google Translate is never going to be as exciting as being able to finally translate it yourself after years of practising. Or why telling an AI to conjure up a picture of a beautiful landscape will never, ever be the same as working years on your own painting skills to one day finally be able to paint it yourself.

Heaven (and ultimately Hell) don't care about the process. The hardship. The pain and passion of putting work and effort into the journey. They only care about the end result. The means to an end.

Crowley: "They don‘t care how it gets done, they just want to know they can cross it off their list."

Want to speak any language in the world? There you go, automatic translator. Want to ensure humans will be added to the Heavenly/Hellish soul tab? Boom, you can do real magic. Get to work, then!

So, for Aziraphale to choose to learn the two things he was provided with to do his Heavenly work in the most efficient, soulless and flavourless way possible the human way instead, really says it all, doesn't it?

But he learnt the most important one the hard way, without his auto-translator.

The one language all angels are supposed to know fluently and wordlessly anyway.

The one language that makes an angel.

The language of Love.

Except that when it's programmed into you with the intent to only ever work as a means to and end instead of the beautiful journey it is, it will never be the real, organic, passionate, hard and wonderful thing it was meant to be.

And Aziraphale knows this.

Which is exactly why he learnt magic and French the real, human way.

***

Small addendum that I couldn't really fit into any paragraph up there: I think it's also really telling that Aziraphale only properly committed to learning French the right way by going to Monsieur Rossignol's (for those who haven’t seen it yet: rossignol means nightingale in French) night classes in 1760 after the first time we see Crowley rescue him (Bastille, 1739). There might have been a time before that where Crowley got him out of a precarious situation, but for all we know, it was the first one where Crowley really showed up for an angel in need who was absolutely swooning over it. Time to let the nightingale to teach you how to become fluent in Love!

[berrypass-de-murdler]

3-95 Doom in the Desert

His artwork is gonna be the same, but obviously Apricot has had an outfit change since book 2

Love him too much to replace him

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

In order to investigate the mountain, the detectives will have to exit TekTopia before Indigo can make it back up. And he’s coming fast. 

IRRATINO: We’re gonna have to jump!  LOGICO: This is the height of a fucking skyscraper. IRRATINO: [grin] I have a crazy idea. Give me your clothes! LOGICO: OF ALL THE TIMES- IRRATINO: NO! You can shapeshift, remember! You can be a parachute! LOGICO: WHAT??

Indigo is creeping up. They’re running out of time.

LOGICO: FINE!

Irratino stuffs Logico’s clothes and magnifying glass into his shirt, grabs onto his fuzzy friend, and… 

It works! Logico catches the air and they float down, albeit still alarmingly fast. They see Apricot driving around below, with Raspberry holding onto the back of the car - they must have managed to get out while Indigo was trapped! How, they’ll never know. 

LOGICO: STEER AWAY FROM THEM! They can’t see me like this. IRRATINO: I’m trying!

The guys drive by, and they land behind them, right on top of a human that was run over. The ground rumbles, and the mountain silhouettes against the sky.

IRRATINO: When’s the last time we saw a sky like that?

Logico gets himself back to his regular form and leans into him.

LOGICO: I don’t know…

Apricot and Raspberry are about to reach the mountain, but Supreme Master Cobalt appears, whacking the car with a cactus! It spins around and spirals out of control, headed straight for the Oxymorons. They dive out of the way, and Apricot just barely manages to get it to a halt. Raspberry’s claws are jammed so far into the metal, he will never be able to get off.

APRICOT: Funny seeing you out here! Are you planning an escape? IRRATINO: Not yet… first we have to see what’s going on inside the mountain. We can’t leave until everyone’s free. 

Razz is still paralyzed. But then, finally, he lets go and melts onto the ground.

RASPBERRY: Har har… I love danger…  LOGICO: Are you alright? RASPBERRY: Yeah… I-I’m free now! I gotta get outta here! I just can’t… walk. APRICOT: If you want to get to the mountain, you’ll have to avoid that bearded man.

Irratino runs right over to him!

LOGICO: IRRA- NO! IRRATINO: COBALT! COBALT: Stay back, Inspector!  IRRATINO: How could you? You’re working for them?? COBALT: I have to! It’s my desert, my mountain, and MY New Aegis! They can’t take me out of this place! 

Irratino pushes his head down to look over him. The mountain’s entrance has a robot guard - namely Sergeant Gunmetal? But he’s plugged into something - his artificial body must have been easy to take control over. He looks miserable. But there’s no way they can approach him - he has guns for arms, and is being operated by TekTopians. 

APRICOT: Are you sure you don’t want to leave? I can get you out of here in my cart.  LOGICO: No… we have to do what’s right. Go, be safe.  RASPBERRY: Yer good people, people!! Sometimes I wish I was…

Apricot starts his car, and it immediately crashes violently into a rock. The other three stare in horror at his corpse.

APRICOT: Don’t worry, I’m alright! LOGICO: HOW DO YOU KEEP SURVIVING??? APRICOT: The face of an owl is sharp like a smart tool. I’m built to withstand anyyyy… 

His eyes go wonky and he emits a cuckoo clock noise.

RASPBERRY: BUDDY??!

There’s no time to find out what that is. They must reach the mountain.

The end!

It's close to the end...

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[satureja13]

In the evening, after Kiyoshi and Jack finished purifying the Sanctum, Vlad and Jack cared for the animals, Jeb and Kiyoshi cooked... (well, Jeb cooked - and worried about Kiyoshi. He seems to drift away again after Ms Coombes had prohibited any contact between Kiyoshi and Jack. Kiyoshi and Jeb's familiars, Al'ar and Errol, are up to all kind of nonsense, despite the subdued mood. They are letting the cookbook float out of reach (not that Jeb needed it) and swipe the tastiest bits of the ingredients ^^')

... the Boys, Noxee and Barfolomew met outside the Screaming Mandrake for dinner. It hadn't rained all day and they have such a nice evening after all that stress ö.Ö'

Noxee told Saiwa she's going to wake Ji Ho tonight and - if it all goes well, he's supposed to join them for classes tomorrow morning! Noxee: "He'll still be sore, so I suggest to distract him, keep him busy. And try to not adress his feelings or stuff that could upset him. For a while, at least. And when he cries, just let him. It's a lot he has to deal with."

Noxee handed Sai a potion for Ji Ho, to dull his feelings, should it get too overwhelming for him and told them to continue with their yoga/meditation and tantra practise. Saiwa was near to tears: "Oh Noxee - thank you. I shouldn't have delayed seeking help for so long. It's all my fault." Noxee: "Don't be so hard to yourself. Nothing bad happened. The Therapy Game was a success for all of you and Ji Ho will be fine - even more than fine! He has his feelings back! The good ones too. The love!"

They spent the rest of the evening apart from each other. Neither Jack nor Kiyoshi had eaten... Kiyoshi was doing so well yesterday. No matter what Ms Coombes said - Jeb is still sure that Jack does help Kiyoshi to get rooted in their realm and that his quirky demeanor somehow ignites enough interest/attraction in Kiyoshi to drag him out of his demonic/divine spheres - to the here and now. He'll have to talk to the others about this and they need to find a solution. Kiyoshi is of no help for anyone in a state like this. And Jeb is also sure that Kiyoshi isn't happy. And that's what counts for Jeb.

Jack, Saiwa and Vlad went to the Common Room again. Like in the Otherworld, they have no internet here beyond the Veil. Even worse - no electricity either... Jack fell asleep as soon as he touched the sofa and Vlad was playing absent minded the organ. Means: no one there to play games with Sai. He started to read since there was nothing else to do for him. I've never seen Sai read any books, he's always too busy with his fashion and computer stuff. But the Common Room has a great collection of gay romance books. Saiwa is still a virgin and he was hooked immediately ^^'

(TMI: I have kindle unlimited and I've also been surprised how many great gay romance books of all genres are out there. If you like the gay romance aspect of our story, you might want to take a look. The good thing about kindle unlimited is, if you don't like a book, you can give it back and try the next one, since you pay a monthly fee and not for every single book.)

It was hard to concentrate on the book, though. Saiwa's head was still spinning around Jack and Ji Ho - and Skully was happily (and out of tune) singing along with whatever song Vlad was playing...

And in the top of the tower, Ji Ho eventually woke up. Noxee: "Hey - how are you?" Ji Ho: "Huh - surprisingly fine? I expected worse. How long have I been out?" Noxee: "Four days. It will still be hard for a while. Just let it happen, hm? It comes and it will go again. You are going to get used to feel through all these emotions and memories of yours. And you will learn to cope with them - like the others did too. But you are the most sensitive, so don't try to push it. Cry when you need to cry. Your friends will understand and help you where they can."

Ji Ho: "My friends ... Vlad. Gods, I caused him so much pain! What if my grandfather really put a spell on us? I'm so afraid to loose him. Now that I can finally feel it." Then he cried and cried... And Noxee let him cry. (TMI: Have I ever told you that a friend of mine went to therapy and she barely talked with her therapist, she just sat there and cried. For many, many sessions. But she said she felt so much better afterwards. And that's what counts in the end. Don't worry what the therapist might think of you. They won't. It's their job - and they learned how to do it.)

It wasn't that Ji Ho didn't feel anything in all those years. Like Noxee said, he's the most sensitive of them all. But it had all been dulled down. And it was more a sensing than a feeling. Just scratching the surface. And he was never able to feel love - except when the Bond let him love Luci, the remnants of Vlad he left behind after he died.

They heard Vlad playing from below:

'Some day, yeah We'll put it together and we'll get it undone Some day When your head is much lighter Some day, yeah We'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun Some day When the world is much brighter

Ooh child Things are gonna be easier Ooh child Things'll be brighter'

The 5 Stairsteps - O-o-h Child from the Guardians of the Galaxy OST (This movie is already 10 years old? Omg! One of my favourite movies of all time, nonetheless :3 )

Outtakes

These familiars cause problems. Kiyoshi and Jeb got stuck so often today -.- Not even resetting helped *sigh*

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Who killed Jack?' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[silvyadrakkon]

3 Under-Discussed Writer’s Block Busters

You all know me as an artist, but my first love will always be writing. And writer’s block is REAL. 

So I thought I’d throw out a few of my moderately unusual writer’s block busters to help my fellow authors.

Of course, the most common “answers” to writer’s block are:

Just keep writing, even if you don’t want to. (Something is better than nothing.)

Write now, edit later. (Leave your perfectionism at the door.)

Find what makes you most creative. (Play music, write during the same time of day, find good snacks, write in the right setting, and so on).

These are definitely helpful tips—things you 100% want to do whether you have writer’s block or not, but they’re not much use against more stubborn forms of creative constipation.

That’s where my three failsafe fix-its come in. They have always worked for me, no matter the situation. 

1. Change your writing method.

Story time! I haven’t been able to write for personal prodjects on a computer for four years—about as long as I’ve been writing and editing for my career. I associate my computer with business—even now that I’m between jobs.

My creativity freezes up whenever I try to work on one of my stories, and I get really distracted. Eventually I end up down a rabbit hole looking up limnic eruptions or different types of crocodiles, having only written a paragraph of a completely unrelated story. 

I swapped to hand-writing stuff just after my son was born, and that worked for a long time. I filled several notebooks with some great content (that will eventually be ready for you to read). But then my kid started walking, and I became his favorite chair.

If I have a pen, my kid wants it. And he won’t take a decoy pen. He specifically wants the pen in my hand, so writing when he’s awake is kind of out of the question. (I can only draw when he’s awake because I can balance my tablet on the back of our sofa.) Plus, those of you with munchkins know that you’re generally doing other responsible adult things when the kiddo is asleep, making writing then rather difficult.

I learned I can get a lot of writing done on my phone in the Apple Notes app. It sure beats doom-scrolling Tumblr and is a vast improvement over my retro minesweeper game when I’m spending some quality time in the bathroom. It’s also something I can write with when standing up, sitting on the couch, or hiding behind the baby gate on our stairs.

Can’t get the words out on Google Docs? Switch to Microsoft Word. Getting distracted on your computer? Handwrite your story—in a notebook or even on colorful construction paper. Don’t be afraid to experiment, even across the same story.

2. Get a second opinion.

I have a character floating around my WIPs who’s an absolute blast to write (I can unleash my full punning arsenal), but he’s also an ENFP, meaning we see the world in completely different ways. I often find myself stuck on how he would get out of the really nutty situations he often gets himself into. Thankfully, my ESFJ husband has really strong Extroverted Intuition (an ENFP’s dominant Jungian function), so I can often turn to him and ask, “What would be the dumbest could-work way you’d fix this problem?”

Asking for a second opinion is surprisingly low on most writer’s block fix-it lists, but it is by far one of the most helpful. I’ve been my mom’s developmental story consultant since I could read, and it’s been a great way for her to really churn out the novels. (It’s also a great motivation to finish your story because at least one person will be wanting to read it when you’re done.)

Even if you don’t take someone’s advice, it might still spark something that’ll propel your story forward.

3. Change your story’s direction.

Adapted from The Writing Life by Annie Dillard

Writing, in many ways, is a lot like digging a silver mine. As you rummage around your own head for precious nuggets (those really impactful scenes readers remember forever), you’re setting up a sturdy narrative shaft, using exposition and rising action to fortify walls so your story doesn’t collapse on itself.

Experienced miners know when a shaft isn’t structurally sound. They won’t willingly enter or work on a mine that could cave in on them, gauging the safety of the mine through small clues—clues their demanding boss is completely blind to. 

Your creative subconscious is a miner, and you, its employer. While not always, writer’s block could be an early sign that your story is about to collapse. Perhaps you’ve accidentally let a plot hole grow too large to fill with easy edits, or maybe the way you’re taking your story will fall flat, leaving you and your readers unsatisfied. Sure, you can force your creative subconscious to continue, but you’ll end up with a lot of unusable content in the end.

If you think you’re in a mine shaft writer’s block scenario, go back several plot points and start writing in another direction. If that doesn’t work, go back a few more plot points. While doing so may temporarily upset the plans you had for the novel, it will let you continue writing in peace and produce a better finished product.

[unclosetedrickmaniac]

Welcome to my first story. I am so nervous to write and post this. I have been toying with the idea of writing since I am off in lalaland so often, so please give me your feedback. If I continue to write I will be open to smut and potentially other Actors and Actresses, but for now this will be some good ole fluff. TIA -C

pairing: Lieutenant General Frank Benson / (female/wife) reader (first person)

when Frank hits a classified wall at work and when he comes in acting withdrawn you worry.

I look up when I hear the garage door opening, Frank is home. I stand from my seat in our living room and put down the Murder She Wrote book I had been reading and look at my watch. 3:49 pm. It's early for him. I step over to the door just as he opens it, immediately I am worried, Frank looks shaken and angry.

"Honey are you alright?" I murmur as I undo the buttons on his military coat. "I'm fine dear." he brushes me off with a quick kiss to my temple. I watch as he walks through the house to our bedroom, he trudges almost like he's got a huge weight on his shoulders.

"Frank I don't believe that for a second. Don't you lie to me." I walk into our room and see him sitting on his side of the bed with his head in his hands, his tie is loosened and his .45 is on the nightstand next to him.

"I said that I was fine pet. It has just been a long day." I watch as he gets up and finishes undoing his tie. "I am going to take a nap." he lets out a long sigh before sitting back down to untie his boot laces.

"Enough of that." I swat at his hand and bend down to the floor to untie his shoes for him. "Tell me about your day. At least what you are allowed to share." Deftly I untie his laces.

"I had several meetings today, nothing of importance. I did get some news before my lunch break that could mean life or death for some people and I was put in charge of the damn decisions" he slams his fist down on his thigh, clearly trying to remain in control of his emotions.

I hum out my acknowledgement and pull his boots off. "Frank, honey, please don't be angry, they would not have put you in charge if they did not understand that you make all your decisions with the upmost wisdom and thought. Everyone knows you care Frank. Do not doubt yourself." I sit on the bed next to him and hold his left hand, idly I twist his wedding band around his finger. "I do not doubt you, not even the slightest bit. Now take your nap and I will start on supper alright?" I press a soft kiss to the point on his jaw that is just below his ear and stand to walk out of the bedroom.

"I love you Y/N. More than life itself." he says quietly. I turn with a soft smile. "I love you more Frank."

A/N soooo I feel like I ended it kinda oddly. Please give me your feed back because all I am reading is honestly crap compared to the stuff that floats around in my head. I may continue this tomorrow and see where it goes. I am forcing myself to do three uncomfortable things this January and writing will be one of them.

[phantomofthehoepera]

I love your 2023 Repo the Genetic Opera art... Please... Please I'm desperate I need to know the lore... Please...

HAIIII SORRY I'M SO LATE TO THIS idk if you meant any lore in specific so I'm gonna take this as an opportunity to just dump all the shit I made up in my brain peace and love <333333

so like the main stuff I made up I guess would be the repomums which again was a cocreation with my darling precious @slydiddledeedee the lore is very basically they were all in an opera troupe with mag and marni and were cursed by god to die if they ever slept with an italian man. they also all left rotti for nathan, rotti kind of picked them off one by one like he'd marry one of them she'd leave him and die and he'd get a new one. no one present recognised the pattern of this. they're all colour coordinated which is a thing I like to do for the largo kids when I draw them so I guess it's genetic idk. important fun fact is that luigi personally killed his mum and was then lobotomised just a little bit which is why I keep drawing him with that big ole head scar.

other thing I made up was lore for the random zydrate lady as part of a larger effort to make shit up abt graverobber. most of my ideas for her are vague also not at all based in the movie I need to stress this is basically just an oc that I borrowed a character from the movie for. n ee way the story kind of goes she and graves start off in the drug dealer/drug addict business at the same time and they're roomies sometimes when they can afford it. she'll usually be more involved in whatever post movie ideas are floating around in my head at the moment bc I do feel like it's important to get a perspective that more like. on the ground if that makes sense?? bc like no one in the movie is super affected by the repossession system as much as I would like to see so she's my hero she's my class struggle queen.

speaking of graves I have so many ideas abt him in my head like the way I cope with the existence of scary scary evil wicked terrence is I just completely redesign him like moreseo than any of the other characters. to ME he's a freaky evil little dyke he probably was on whatever supercharged t repoworld has for a week or two but couldn't afford any more than that but like I said the t was supercharged so he can still sing his parts peace and love. I like to personally give him an actual concrete geneco debt bc like obv he has to have one but I would like it spelled out please just to have gramber relationship drama. think it would be funny if his heart gave out on him and he has a synthetic one, once again this is all for gramber relationship drama. in my brain he has been kind of fixated on her ever since he was a kid (see this piece). I also do like to give him and shilo kind of a sibling thing going on for literally no other reason than I like sibling dynamics I think they're delightful. I think post movie shilo should start an awful band and he should peddle her cds to his customers.

I have sooo many thoughts on the largo siblings like I said luigi straight up murdered his mother probably when he was very young. the way I picture it he's always been pretty unstable and wouldn't have been made as much of a public figure, unlike amber and pavi who I picture as having been like legit child stars at some point. like idk the way I picture it rotti would almost publicise them more after having to keep luigi that much out of the public eye since he's yknow. insane. I like to lean more into the opera vibes and give them little ballet shoes and shit like for some reason I always picture them as dancers. n ee way I think growing out of child stardom hit amber the hardest, not that would have coped super well either. pavi at least in the movie seems to have kind of a place at the table when they talk abt who's to inherent and like we usually see him at rotti's side while amber is usually out on her own and like idk it's kind of impossible not to read it as gendered to ME. also I always need to stress I don't make their backstories sad to make them sympathetic I do it bc I'm thoroughly successionpilled thank you and goodnight.

don't have that many thoughts on shilo and nathan, esp on nathan I moreso just have critiques of how he's written like icl I find the jekyll and hyde routine sooo uninspired. like idk I just think he becomes that much more horrifying of a character if you picture him as more calculated in his violence. I also just think it's kind of lame how little talk there seems to be abt the fact that he is like severely abusive to shilo like it's such a huge part of the movie I feel like it maybe becomes a bit too obvious to talk abt if that makes sense? like it's such a fact of life but whenever I start thinking about it for too long I want to scream like beyond the poison thing which like would be enough on its own the way he gaslights and hits her is literally scary and I just feel like a lot of that horror gets lost when he's depicted as like. sometimes not being in full control like it sort of takes away his agency and in turn a lot of the impact of his character, at least to me.

as for shilo like I said not many thoughts I'm mostly just interested in where she'd go post movie like I said I want her to start a shitty band I feel like that could heal her. also want her to lose the wig like idk could be symbolic maybe 👍

[karahofthedawn]

You Owe Us One (part 7) - Our Girl

Fred Weasley / George Weasley x reader

Y/N gets approached by her ex, who is extremely jealous of the scene at the Yule Ball.

Protective Fred and George.

Words: 3.6k

**Contains some violence and physical assault.**

No smut in this one, just slowly building towards an idea with these chapters.

I wanted to thank everyone who reblogs and takes the time to even read my stuff. It keeps me going, and I have had such an absolutely lovely experience on this platform so far.

The golden rays from the morning light light up the Hufflepuff dorm and cascade where you lay wrapped up in your comforter. Nobody noticed that you had left on the night of the Yule Ball, though that didn’t stop the questions about you snogging George Weasley in the middle of the dance floor. So far, you’ve been able to dodge the biggest question of all: “Is he your boyfriend?”

Truth be told, you aren’t entirely sure if you are or not. The brothers said they would ‘share’ you, which put an end to their rivalry with each other, though they had never specifically stated that they wanted it to be an official relationship. The time and place hasn’t worked itself out yet for you to clarify it either. Between classes and excitement of the next part of the tournament, it was hard for you to even meet with them. The nice thing is that The Weasley brothers do take the time to greet you in the Great Hall every morning. That was a step up from being unsure if they’d even want to acknowledge you around others or not.

You sit up and run your fingers through your knotted hair as you gaze out the window. Soft fluffy clouds float through a bright blue sky. Fresh snow had fallen overnight, leaving a smooth untouched blanket of white over the grounds. You go over what your plans are for the day in your head as you start getting dressed.

Breakfast, study, write an essay, practice charms and visit the greenhouse, more studying, dinner and then bed.

With a full day ahead and your goals in your mind, you head to the Great Hall to grab some breakfast. The room is already bustling with students laughing and chatting with full plates in front of them. The Gryffindor area was so packed together, you couldn’t get a clear view of either brother. You sit alone and begin sifting through the food, an open book to your right so you can get some light reading in. Even if it only cuts out five minutes of what you have to do later, it is still free time that you can appreciate then.

You’re so caught up in multitasking that the person next to you has to clear their throat several times until you look up from the worn pages. A shaggy blonde hair boy with bright blue eyes was watching you, a familiar smirk worn across his face. Matthew Starling - your ex boyfriend, and the last human on earth you want to talk to. You shoot him a polite smile and refocus back to your book and hope he gets the hint.

He leans closer to you with his black, green and silver robes draping over his broad shoulders. His thin fingers tap at the corner of the page with persistence until you give him your attention again through narrow eyes. This was the first time he has acknowledged you since your break up last year right before term ended. It was a volatile relationship, and your very first. He was selfish, rude and all around a terrible person to have your first romantic and sexual experiences with. Him cheating with a Ravenclaw girl was the final straw that let you break free from him and his games.

Matthew didn’t take it well. He made a scene in the out on the grounds, then stormed away in a rage. You were sure that he would try and beg for you back, but he didn’t. Thankfully for you he already had his talons in someone else. 

You suppress the urge to get up and leave. You were sitting here first, afterall. It was only a matter of time until he would try and make you feel uncomfortable.

“Studying this early in the morning, are you?” Matthew asks while still tapping the page you were previously reading.

“Just trying to get a head start,” you reply, trying to hold back the malice in your voice. What did he really want?

Matthew beams at you. Your stomach turns with uneasiness. “Always were the hard worker between the two of us. Glad to see that hasn’t changed.”

You furrow your brows and glance back down at the book, which is immediately snatched from your vision. The blonde boy was holding it up to his face. His pupils scanned a few lines before placing it down in front of him, his forearm blocking so you can’t easily grab it back.

“But,” he jeers, “I know you have more interests than studying. I saw the way you were snogging one of the Weasleys during the Yule Ball.”

That’s it, that’s what he has found you for.

“So what if I was?” You snap and cross your arms. “It’s really none of your business.”

His pupils shrink as you make eye contact with him. His wild smile became increasingly forced with his jaw cocking to the side. “I just find it rather funny that you don’t mind flaunting yourself around with one of Hogwarts biggest prats, but refused to even kiss me in the Great Hall when we were dating - was it, six months?”

“I don’t remember,” you lie. Seven and a half. That’s how long you had to endure a relationship with Matthew Starling. “I really should get going anyway.” You quickly go to grab your book again, but he blocks it and slides it even further away

“Oh come on now,” he laughs and runs a hand through his blonde hair. “We are just having a quick chat, no need to rush off.” There was something different in his voice that you had never heard before. Your gut was screaming for you to get out of there. “I just never pegged you as the type to let a guy like that touch you. A Gryffindor. A Weasley, at that.”

You hold your arms tight against your chest as you stare at him coldly. Your cheeks are starting to get hot as your temper rises. “Who does or doesn’t touch me is really none of your business, Matthew. Now, give me my book back so I can leave.”

Matt forces a smirk and he hoists a leg over the bench so that his entire stocky body faces you. Before the next sentence of, what you guess, would be a string of insults of either you or the Weasley’s - Fred pops up in between you and Matt.

“Good morning!” He says cheerily.

Another voice comes from your left. “Good morning, Y/N! We thought we would stop on by.” You see George sitting next to you closely, a broad grin across his face.

“We didn’t mean to interrupt all the fun,” Fred jests and shoots a blank look at Matt. “Oh, but I’m sure you don’t mind!”

“Oh, he definitely does but that's okay!” George agrees, then moves in closer to place a hand on your lower back. You stare into his calm demeanor, a beacon of safety amidst this chaotic morning.

Matt was scowling at the two brothers as they huddled around you. “Well actually, we were having a bit of a private chat.”

“We really weren’t,” you interject with a frown.

“In that case,” Fred starts and reaches behind Matt and grabs your book, then slides it to the front of you. “Don’t let us stop the conversation.” At this point both of the Weasley brothers were sitting on either side of you. Fred had practically pushed Matt out the way so that he could wedge himself in between. “I’d like to hear more about, what did you call us again?”

“Hogwarts biggest prats,” George answers.

“Yes! That’s it!” His brother exclaims. He props himself up with both elbows, his back against the wooden table.

There is a moment where the boys stare each other down. Matt’s visual anger and disdain did nothing to sway the twins, who sat by your side like statues. Finally, the blonde boy chugs his drink, slams the cup on the table and storms off.

Relief floods over you as the sound of his footsteps fade away. George, who has had his hand firmly on your lower back the entire time, slides a few inches to give you some space.

“I owe you one,” you say shakily as you take the book in your hands. As you bend down to return it to your bag, the words you just said sank in. “Not like that,” you add hurriedly.

The brothers laugh. Fred tilts his head and smiles as you sit back up and face him. “We won’t hold you to it, don’t worry.”

“Unless you want us to,” George adds with a shrug and nudge of your shoulder.

You smile at them as you get to your feet. In the times you've spent with them, the subject of Matthew had never come up. Part of you was glad for that, since it's a bit of a sore subject.

"That wasn't how I wanted to start my day," you say with a sigh. For just a flash of a second, they both frown, then cover it with a forced grin. "But, thank you. Matt is a bit of a-"

George interrupts with, "giant headed moron?"

"I was going to say a boil infested blast-ended skrewt," Fred adds and shoots you a wink. "I could think of a few other names, but that one seems the most appropriate."

George nods and stares off in the distance wistfully. "It sure will be, especially in a few minutes."

Your brows raise and you glance between the two of them. "What did you do?" You ask, a genuine smile finally breaking across your face.

They both stand up and shrug in unison.

Fred slides his hand into the pocket of his robe and pulls out an empty vial. George answers with, "let's just say, we helped him find his true form."

You gasp and cover your mouth. "You didn't!"

Their eyes are gleaming with glee, there is no need for an answer. Whatever was in that vial is now running through Matthew's system, and considering the crazy concoctions the brothers normally come up with - you can only imagine what will happen to him next.

"That should teach him a lesson or two," Fred says with a nod. 

George gestures to where a crowd is forming right outside of the Great Hall, Professor Sprout is sprinting and asking students to move aside. "Looks like class has started, then. Let's go watch the show."

Your attention flicks between them and the ever growing crowd out in the hall. "I can't, I'm sorry. I have to study, but I'll see you both later."

The three of you head in the same direction, then break off right as the scene of Matthew Starling covered in massive red boils unfolds in front of you. Your heart swells as you turn your back to the chaos, knowing that they did that all for you. You're not sure who else would have intervened at a moment like that, but you were so thankful for the twins.

—---------------------------

The library is unsurprisingly barren, being that it was so early in the morning. The only other person, aside from Madam Pince, is a girl with a curly mane of hair sitting behind a massive stack of books. Even with her face concealed, you know at once that this is Hermione Granger.

You find a spot close to the middle of the room and begin unpacking your belongings onto the chipped dark wood table - parchment, a quill, a few books. Your hand lingers over the olive cover of the book that Fred had rescued from Matt. Studying was necessary, but you long to be with the Weasley brothers more than ever.

Maybe if you just buckle down and try to get this done early, there will be time for you to find them and show them just how much you appreciate them standing up for you. Your stomach fills with butterflies as the thought of being tangled in their arms floats to the forefront of your mind. Then, with a quick shake of your head the fantasies disappear. If any of that is to happen, then you need to focus. You have to get all of this out of the way.

There was nothing but silence in the room for the next few hours, aside from the occasional turn of a page or scribbling on parchment. Some other students came in and out of the room, but nobody stayed longer than fifteen minutes or so. Hermione’s stack of books was slowly being organized into two sections. You periodically glance up and watch as her full undivided attention was on whichever page she was reading at the time. If only you had even part of the drive that she does, then maybe you wouldn’t even be in this mess to begin with.

Your eyelids are starting to get heavy as you reach the bottom of the parchment with your quill. One more page to go and then that part of Flitwick’s homework assignment is complete. You’re determined, but your stomach is growling loudly. Then it dawned on you that you completely forgot to eat anything this morning after the event with Matthew. It was still early, around 11:30AM, so taking a quick lunch break wouldn’t hurt your progress.

With that thought convincing you, you start packing up your things and stand to leave. You glance one more time at Hermione, who is smiling at you from behind the wall of text books. She lifts her hand and beckons you with a discreet wave. You step to her with your leather brown bag hanging in the front of your legs.

She leans over the pages of an open book as you reach her table. “You’re Y/N, right?” You nod and her smile widens. “You were George’s date to the Yule Ball?”

“Right,” you reply simply, the sound of his name makes your cheeks flush a bit.

“I thought I recognized you,” she says. “He really seems to like you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so..” she trails off as Madam Pince shushes her from across the room. With a softer whisper she continues, “so happy and, I don’t know, open about this kind of thing.”

You shuffle your feet a bit hearing this from Hermione. You know she’s been a long term friend of the Weasleys’, so her input of the twins’ behavior is about as accurate as it can get. Especially from someone this perceptive.

“I like them too,” you blurt out, then try to cover it up with, “George is just great.” They agreed to share you, but not both be public with you. 

Hermione’s brows lower for a moment. “That’s great, really.” She shoots a quick glance at Madam Pince before continuing with, “and if you ever need to talk to someone about them..”

You tilt your head and take a step back. She knows. She really caught that little slip up. Maybe talking to someone perceptive was a bad idea after all. Would Fred and George be upset with you about this? “I have to go,” you mutter with your eyes glued to the floor.

“Listen,” she persists as you turn to leave. She stands and has both hands splayed on the desk as she leans forward. “I’m not going to say a word to anyone, I promise.”

You loosen your grip on your bag and turn your head. It was a lot to keep to yourself, which is something you never really realized before. Being unable to talk to anyone about your feelings about not just one, but two separate boys, did leave you feeling a bit isolated from the rest of Hogwarts.

You meet her eyes and smile. “Thank you.”

With that, you head to the door and push your way into the hall. The foundation of a new friendship was forming, and it made a new fire in your soul ignite at once. Getting another girl’s input on the situation would be enlightening. Though, some details would be much better left locked up in that secret room for only the Weasley brothers and you.

Your wistful excitement is torn away immediately as you turn the corner and see Matthew Starling leaning against the wall. His shaggy blonde hair is covering half of his red boil infested skin which makes you wince on sight. As you retrieve the wand from your pocket, he lurches forward and grabs you by the wrist.

“What in the bloody hell did you do to me?” He yells. His thumb digs into your sensitive soft flesh, making your fingers let go of your wand. It falls with a soft clank to the floor.

“I didn’t do anything to you!” You shriek and attempt to pull away from him. 

His grip tightens around your sore wrist and he jerks his arm forward so that you’re against his chest. Some of the boils over his scowling face were repeatedly popping, puss rolling down his flushed cheeks. “Don’t you dare lie to me,” he hisses between gritted teeth, spit spraying your face.

“I’m not.” You try to fight back the tears as he stares down at you. You aren’t about to sell Fred and George out. The last thing you need is for them to get in trouble for protecting you.

Matthew forcefully pulls at your already extended aching arm again and you let out an audible gasp of pain. He smirks, admiring your terrified expression, then spins and slams you against the wall. The impact forces all of the air from your lungs. He keeps you pinned between himself and the stone, stopping you from fully catching your breath.

“What’s wrong?” He growls. “Don’t like when I touch you anymore?”

You struggle against his weight while staring up into his snake-like eyes. Your stomach twists with fear and disgust as he lowers his distorted and slimy face, his lips inches away from yours.

Then you hear a voice echoing out at once, “petrificus totalus!”

There is a flash of light, then Matthew immediately goes stiff as a board and falls back to the floor with a thud. Your head is spinning and your sight is still going into focus, when two arms wrap around you. At first you go to fight the figure, until you recognize that familiar earthy cologne.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” George coos and strokes your hair. “We’ve got you.” You collapse against him and take a sharp breath of relief. Tears pool in your eyes and flood down your cheeks.

“You’re absolutely mental,” Fred yells and you hear his foot meet Matthew’s stomach. “You’re bloody lucky I didn’t bother using,” a pause and he gave another kick. “The crucio curse.” A third grunt came from Matthew. “On your pathetic excuse of a-”

“That’s enough!” A girl yells from the end of the corridor. Even with your face still pressing against George’s sweater, you recognize it as Hermione.

“I’m not done with him,” Fred chokes out in anger. His face is bright red with rage and he gives the blonde boy on the floor another swift kick. “You just wait until I am, you’ll be begging for -”

“Stop,” Hermione demands and wedges herself in between them. “I understand you’re upset but-”

“Upset?” George laughs out in disbelief. “He fucking assaulted Y/N.”

“I know,” she explains quickly. “But the last thing you both need is to be expelled.”

“I’m willing to go to Azkaban at this point,” Fred snaps.

You pull out of George’s arms and yell, “no!”

“That’s not what she needs,” Hermione explains. “She needs you both, here, at school with her.”

Fred looks at you and his face drops. His white knuckled grip on his wand loosens and he steps over the now bloody mouthed Matthew Starling. He takes your hands gently, his eyes scanning where the skin on your wrist is raw and tender. His expression hardens, and he swiftly turns on his heel and charges Matt.

Instead of throwing another punch, he kneels down next to him and grabs a fist full of his hair. “Look at me,” he hisses. The boy’s blue irises dart up from the floor and into Fred’s. “If you ever come near our girl again, I promise you that boils will be the last of your worries.” Matt’s eyes widened.

George places a hand on your lower back and steps forward. “We will make sure that even your parents won’t even recognize you once we are done.”

Fred smiles coldly, “and that’s a promise.” He drops Matt’s head to the floor and gets to his feet.

Hermione winces as she steps over the boy. She walks to you, worry written all over her face. “Are you okay?”

You wrap your arms around Fred and nod, your eyes still burn from the salty tears staining your cheeks. There were so many words you wish you could say to all of them. If they hadn’t stepped in, who knows what Matt would have done. Your skin crawls with the thought of his blistered lips on yours.

“Can we go?” You ask while looking up at Fred. 

He smiles and strokes your hair. “Of course.”

Hermione offers to clean up the Matthew situation so that you and the Weasley brothers can leave.

They both have their hands on you the entire time when walking through the halls and the passageways. There is still silence between all of you, even when curled up between them in that small bed with the fireplace burning nearby. The tears eventually stop falling when the shock of the events finally completely dissipates. You are thankful for Fred. For George. For Hermione, your new found friend.

You take their warmth and allow it to warm even the coldest part of your heart, which is still partially fearful of what Matthew might do next.

But you know, if he has any sense in him, that he will take the Weasley brothers’ threat seriously.

You are, after all, their girl.