#this is the only way to describe this episode honestly
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backstage-autorin Ā· 1 day ago
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I will never not find it funny that although Zuko is the one I see mentioned the most often in discussions of autistic-coded characters, of the three who set off my "takes one to know one" sense on my first watchthrough of the series, he is also the one I picked up *last.*
I picked up on Iroh first when he firebent his tea while waiting to enter Ba Sing Se. The only way I can make that choice make sense is if he had some kind of sensory processing issue that prevented him from drinking tea at the wrong temperature, or if he was stressed from the trip, needed to stim, and playing around with flavors/scents/temperatures of tea was the only form of stimming he was allowed growing up, making it his default method of stimming as an adult. (If the school he attended as a child was anything like the school where Aang got in trouble for dancing in music class, it's not difficult to imagine autistic students getting in trouble for stimming). Over the years of using different scents/flavors/temperatures of tea as the one form of sensory input he was allowed to be in control of, he developed a special interest in tea. Adding the fact that caffeine is sometimes used to self-medicate ADHD, depending on the caffeine content of his teas it's possible that Iroh has inadvertently been self-medicating for undiagnosed ADHD (as far as I'm aware the vocabulary to get diagnosed doesn't exist in-universe). Overall, I headcannon Iroh as AuDHD.
Azula was the next one I picked up on, during the Beach episode. The moment that made the headcannon click was the "sharp outfit" monologue/flirtation attempt, but she also takes the "party from dusk till dawn" invitation literally and her observation about the volleyball opponent's childhood injury on the left side reminded me of my own (self-described) unhinged pattern recognition. She masks well but unfortunately for her the environment she built her mask for was extremely dysfunctional, which I think played a role in her eventual breakdown. (For a modern-day equivalent, it's not uncommon for autistic women to only get diagnosed after seeking treatment for mental health disorders.) Azula being praised/recognized as a firebending prodigy but struggling in other settings reminds me of the discourse around gifted education, the prevalence of undiagnosed neurodivergence in gifted programs, and the recognition of twice-exceptional students (students who qualify for special education and gifted education at the same time), and I would probably headcannon her as a technically twice-exceptional student whose autism went undiagnosed so on paper she's just considered "gifted" instead of "twice exceptional."
Zuko, on the other hand, flew under my radar until he practiced the "Hello, Zuko here" speech for that frog, vented to that same frog (or maybe the frog was just there while he was talking to himself) while analyzing his social interaction failure after he accidentally reveals that he hired Combustion Man, and then an episode or two later fails to make anyone laugh with the "leaf me alone, I'm bushed" joke. I sometimes rehearse social interactions beforehand, very frequently replay my conversation errors in my head, and have plenty of experience with messing up at telling jokes, so i guess seeing Zuko do the same is what it took for me to figure it out. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if the reason it took me so long to pick up on Zuko being autistic is because he was masking to the best of his ability when he was trying to regain and/or maintain his father's approval and then once he switched sides he no longer felt the same need to try to pretend to be neurotypical.
There's probably a lot more I can say if I were to analyze the show through the lens of Iroh, Azula, and Zuko all being autistic but tbh those thoughts should probably be their own post instead of commentary on someone else's meme.
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shitpostingkats Ā· 1 year ago
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An Asexual's love letter to Good Omens 2
There's an infamous quote by Neil Gaiman going around, regarding the general vibe of season 2, and many people (I believe humorously) yelling that it could not be further from the truth. Particularly in the last episode, where that happens.
I disagree.
The final episode of season 2 was deeply, deeply comforting to me.Ā 
I am asexual. Have been my whole life. Even before I had the words to describe what that was, child-me had this feeling in their gut of being an outlier, that everyone was exaggerating, or in on some joke, that I wasnā€™t privy to. Because I was bombarded on all sides by shows and movies and books, telling the same story of love, again, and again, and AGAIN. Itā€™s drilled into our brains with the same fervor as the days of the week, or the quadratic formula. Meet-cute -> misunderstanding ->declaration of feelings ->kiss. More or less steps can be added to account for runtime or complexity of narrative, but thatā€™s the basic structure that a relationship follows. It MUST be, because thatā€™s the formula every character who's ever been in a story goes through, often times when it even feels like an add-on, like itā€™s only there because this is a story, there HAS to be a romance. And it has to follow the steps.
For a long time, I felt love wasnā€™t for me, because if thereā€™s only one way to be in love, I sure as hell wasnā€™t feeling it.Ā 
Instead, the relationship I ended up in looked a lot like what Beezlebub and Gabriel go through. Meeting someone routinely until it starts to feel comfortable. Getting to know them and slowly growing more attached. Eating chips and listening to music.
We like to joke whenever someone asks us how long weā€™ve been together, because the answer is we just sort of slowly fell into it, and we honestly donā€™t know when the line got blurred between ā€˜friendsā€™ and ā€˜partnersā€™. And, at least for me, a good deal of that confusion, that hesitancy to label, came from the fact that what I was feeling, what we were, couldnā€™t be love. It couldnā€™t be romantic.Ā 
We were just quiet and gentle.
And that wasnā€™t love.
Because it was slow, because it wasnā€™t physical, because there was no structure aside from consistency and companionship. Because it didnā€™t follow the Rules.
Then I found myself in stories, and it felt like a revelation.
Beelzebub and Gabriel arenā€™t the first time Iā€™ve seen a love like I feel represented in a narrative, but it never stops feeling special. And I donā€™t know if Iā€™ll ever stop celebrating it.
Throughout the sequence in the pub, I kept expecting them to ā€œconfirmā€ Gabriel and Beelzebub. A dramatic line, a kiss, a whatever. Thatā€™s what Iā€™ve been taught to expect, after all, thatā€™s the only way a relationship is ā€œrealā€. Of course, this doesn't mean Crowley and Aziraphale sharing a dramatic kiss is wrong, or that I canā€™t see why it resonated with so many people, but for me. Those moments in the pub are worth so much more.The last scene might have been literally showstopping, but those handful of moments between the duke of hell and an archangel were the beating heart of the season for me. A simple love story in four scenes. No kisses. No ā€˜I love youā€™s. Not even any definition of what. The love Gabriel and Beelzebub have is strong enough for them to both want to shatter their worlds and flee their lives and it's just.Ā 
It's just that.Ā 
Two people in a pub, playing the other's favorite song, giving a little gift, buying a packet of crisps.Ā 
That sequence means far more to me than any kiss ever could.
Love isnā€™t only real when it's hot and sudden and ephemeral, it can also be
Quiet.
And gentle.
And still romantic.
Still real.
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secriden Ā· 7 days ago
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Style in episode 4 made me soft in a way that I truly did not expect. Iā€™ve used the word ā€œguilelessā€ (def: innocent and without deception) before to describe him but I don't think that has been shown more clearly then in this episode.
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He tries to be manipulative and lasts for all of one single morning and then comes running to Fadel the second he hears about Fadel asking about him. He's so excited, so exuberant at the thought that Fadel misses him, so happy that his little (terribly obvious and juvenile) plan worked.
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Which is why I think he was genuinely taken aback when Fadel only had harsh words for him as a reply (this is not a criticism of Fadel; in this he has been consistent. Doesn't mean they weren't hurtful though). Look at the way Style's grin slowly dies. Watch the way he straightens and backs away a bit, like he wasn't expecting the clawed swipe of Fadel's dismissal.
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But Style is resilient. He's tenacious. We see him rally and steel himself to resume his pursuit: because Style is nothing if not determined to hold on to the thinnest thread of hope that he's breaking through Fadel's shell. And can I just take a moment to get emotional about Style offering forgiveness even when Fadel hasn't asked for it?
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This, though. I do think this was uncalled for (this is a criticism of Fadel). You can make the argument that Fadel has tried honesty and blunt rejection and it hasn't worked, but I would have respected Fadel more if he'd stuck to his guns and kept rejecting Style in the same manner. Especially when everything else about his character shows he's actually very up front and direct. With Bison, with Kant, hell even with himself.
Fadel is mocking Style's clear and wanton desire for him. Look at the sardonic little grin Fadel gets right before he says, "You won't ever get what you want." Consider the way he was touching Style with that gentle, focused intensity; how he cuts up his shirt and tears it open and leans in close in a way that suggests purposefulness while having zero intention of seeing it through. Fadel knew what he was doing and he did it on purpose, to hurt.
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And you can see that Style is genuinely hurt here. I think he has always been prepared for Fadel's rejection, but not his cruelty. Not Fadel making sport of him and his very real emotions and desires. Because Fadel has been rude and condescending before, but he's never been contemptuous like he is here.
And I wonder, partly, if this is because both times we see Style and his dad, his dad is scolding/chiding/correcting him to some extent. Perhaps that's just how they interact. Or perhaps, as implied by the way Style sarcastically said "Thanks, dad" as Fadel drives away in episode 1, Style doesn't enjoy the way his father scolds him and always has criticisms or corrections for him. Perhaps Style just wants to be accepted for who he is, especially by the man he is starting to have real feelings for.
Edit (after Ep 5): I'm so sorry, Papa Style, I did you so wrong. ;u;
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@lazzarella made a post recently about Dunk's phenomenal acting in this scene (among others) and I concur so hard about how intense and scorching and "both fiery and steely" Style's anger feels in this scene. He's furious and wounded and you can see it in his gaze, the tension in his jaw, the way he bares his teeth up at Fadel when he says "...punch me in the face? Go on!"
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And honestly, he is justified. Fadel's incredulity has no basis here: he stooped back to using public humiliation, something which Style very pointedly has not engaged with since his conversation with Bison in episode 2. Every instance of approaching Fadel since then has clearly been aimed to involve himself in Fadel's private life*.
*Yes even or maybe especially the support group in episode 3. Because while Style may have been treating the whole thing too lightly, all of it is directed privately to Fadel with his secret looks and winks. As far as the other support group members are concerned, Style was a somewhat overdramatic new member that had no connection to Fadel.
But what Fadel did by cutting up his shirt and sending him out in shame regressed them back to their early dynamic, which was far more antagonistic.
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This is why Style lashes out at the support group again. Look at the anger simmering in his eyes. The way he makes direct, insistent eye contact with Fadel as he speaks, returning again when he talks about feeling used. Style, overall, is a character that doesn't take anything too seriously so it's almost shocking to see him this visibly angry and so pointedly challenging Fadel in a space where Fadel cannot easily brush him off.
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But even now, even in all his rage and hurt, Style is true to himself and his heart. He doesn't want revenge or an apology, he wants Fadel to acknowledge that the thing between them, fragile as it is, matters; that what they did meant something to the both of them.
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And this is why I was so broken about Style offering forgiveness without Fadel asking for it earlier: because all it took was Fadel admitting that he missed Style for him to unreservedly offer reassurance and safety for Fadel's heart. There is nothing ambiguous about what Style says at the jeep: he makes his own intentions clear by offering certainty, taking responsibility, promising the very commitment he was asking Fadel for.
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He makes himself vulnerable to and for the man who literally just mocked and humiliated him that morning. Style really just let all his anger go immediately like that.
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And no, I don't think he was doing all that for the car. This is just how Style talks. He has a flair for the dramatic, and this was the perfect way to reveal his news to Kant. But look at how delighted, how filled with boyish glee he is while he tells Kant the news about Fadel agreeing to be his boyfriend. Consider the way he reacted in the moment: the joy in his voice and the wonder in his eyes when he said "Really? We're dating now?", the way he covers Fadel's cheeks in a hundred butterfly kisses.
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Also, a thought that occurred to me - could this be Style's first relationship? We know from episode 1 that he sleeps around, but there's seemingly no mention of a previous serious/committed relationship so far. His dad seems surprised to hear Style is seriously pursing someone. Could Fadel be the first person to capture his interest for long enough that Style developed actual feelings?
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Which is also why his fear is now so visceral. He is genuinely terrified of Fadel, but I don't think it's just because he's realised how dangerous Fadel is (after all, he's known that to some extent since he watched Fadel break a man's arm with his thighs). No, his fear stems from the fact that Fadel now has reason to hurt Style.
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In the face of the betrayal of his own trust, Style answers Kant's plea to friendship and entangles himself with Kant's lie willingly... and thereby forfeits all rights to the safety he was so confident of in the middle of the woods by an abandoned factory. Because now Style knows that if Kant gets found out, it won't matter that Style didn't intentionally mislead and take advantage of Fadel's vulnerability in the forest. Because he still chose Kant over Fadel here, and that makes him undeserving of the open door he asked Fadel to give him.
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Style is incredibly transparent in all his thoughts and emotions and this is why I say that Style is guileless: he is incapable of true deception. His heart is too close to the surface, his desires too obvious, his thoughts too clearly broadcasted on his face.
He is the perfect foil; not only to Fadel (who until this episode held everything so buried inside his chest that we only understand his true feelings in snatches of memories or moments when Fadel is certain that he is truely alone) but also Kant (whose deception, whilst cracking under pressure, is intentional and calculated - thinking about that bowling alley accomplice right now - in a way Style never could be).
And this means that any success on his part in the upcoming episode(s) in deceiving Fadel is going to fall on either Fadel's own willful blindness or the suspension of disbelief the genre requires of the viewer -- but it won't be because Style is actually any good at playing the role now that he knows the full truth.
This is why my heart breaks for Style. Because Kant forced a burden on him that he was in no way prepared to bear. And eventually Style will have to choose between his loyalty to Kant and his burgeoning feelings for Fadel and, regardless of his choice, the narrative demands that Style sacrifice a piece of his own heart in the process.
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celestialprincesse Ā· 3 months ago
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Since ur taking requestsā€¦ could I request this please? Itā€™s okay if you donā€™t want to do it :)!!
Fluff!! 141tf trying to communicate with a new addition.. cause she doesnā€™t speak English as a first language.
Simon trying his hardest to be less sarcastic and damp his dry humor a bit so it doesnā€™t come off as scary or confusing to her, or soap doing that thing where he speaks slowly to get his point over. Gaz learning slangs and her language cause heā€™s a sweetheart fr and price already knows her language and sheā€™s her bestie now.
<3
š™šā‹†Ā°.
You'd only been called in to help TF141 as backup, a less conspicuous translator intended to help gather information on a covert mission - a quick in and out. Simple enough, right?
Simple enough, if any of them had a basic understanding of any language besides English. You know enough, but it can only get you so far.
Currently, you're sat in the common area, a pair of headphones smushed in your ears as you occupy yourself with an episode of 'Friday Night Dinners' - Laswell had suggested watching what she described as 'quintessential English telly' to get a better grip on the humour you were sorely lacking in an understanding of.
In fact, you're so immersed, and actually entertained, by the sitcom, that you don't notice a gruff "brew?" coming from Simon's general direction by the kettle.
"Oh, pardon?" You question, noting the way Soap's lips curl into an amused smile at your propriety, and Simon forgetting that most of his phrases and slang wouldn't be understood outside of a Manchester pub, let alone England.
"Cup of tea." Price cuts in, seeing the way your brows furrow with confusion, and slight disappointment at feeling left out, all of them bonded by their shared language - all but you.
"She'll have a builders, one sugar, splash of milk." The captain grunts in Simon's general direction, somehow having memorised the way you take your tea, and recited it before you can even get a word out. Honestly, you don't even like English tea that much, but you'd copied the way Gaz made his tea on the first day you'd arrived here, and made a habit of it since.
"Actually, I bought some herbal." He chirps up from the corner, taking off his cap to run a hand across the tight coils of his hair before replacing the union jack accessory. "Trying to cut back on caffeine." Gaz lies, not wanting you to feel like any more of a fish out of water. He's seen the way you'd scowled upon first arriving at the barracks to find the only drinks available being in the heavily caffeinated genre.
Despite their grasp on your language being far from fluent, they're trying in the ways they know how, and that's enough for you.
š™šā‹†Ā°.
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zoe-oneesama Ā· 25 days ago
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You said you were a super fan of Sailor Moon, could you give your opinion about the 90s and Crystal adaptations? There's a lot of debate about which one is the best, honestly I think both have their positive points...although personally the 90s one will have a special place in my heart šŸ’–
Crystal definitely had a rough start since it was just...so UGLY! DX I'm sorry but that's the only way to describe it, the 3D models were bad, the animation was bad, the drawings were bad, it was bad! So despite being the more faithful adaptation, it was a hard watch at first.
Luckily, Crystal can now stand on it's own and is actually quite beautiful. It really captures the melodrama from the original manga while being less visually confusing and easy to follow. If you're a fan of the manga, definitely give Crystal a go.
I too have a nostalgia attachment to the 90s dub and the 90s animation is the one that I'm collecting the full season of, so it is definitely the one that I prefer. I do really like that the redub and Crystal use the same voice actors, so all the VAs get to experience the different versions of their characters.
As a kid, I really only watched whatever random episode was on tv, whatever random video blockbuster had, or the movies, but I was still really attached to 90s Sailor Moon. Now I'm currently going through and watching every episode. Pray for me, I'm at Season 3: Sailor Moon S.
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shapeshifterlore Ā· 3 months ago
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picturing a scenario where Evan meets Sam's footballer boyfriend and is unintentionally (?) intimidating.
evan came by to visit (check on her, make sure there's no threats in her immediate vicinity) and he's in the green room and she just got done with an episode (Rachael Ray and Victoria Beckham played scrabble for 40 minutes) and it's just so nice. Sam's still riding that post-show high so he gets to listen to her talk uninterrupted about her new friends, T2's latest achievements, who she's dating.
Speaking of. The boyfriend walks in. He makes a point of seeing Sam once a week after her show, doesn't want her to forget about him. He gives Sam a peck and she introduces him to the guy on the couch. One of the people from secondary school she's always talking about. He's all smiles when he gets up and they shake hands, very polite. The boyfriend is polite too, in that uniquely dismissive way only the English can be. It's not like he wants to encourage these chats between Sam and her old hangers-on.
He turns to his girlfriend and ignores Evan. Or tries to. Something's off. When he glances over, the man is staring at him unblinkingly, face a neutral mask. Has he blinked at all since this interaction started? He's still standing, and the three of them are in an awkward triangle.
Sam doesn't notice her old friend being territorial, no surprises there. She's asking him about soccer practice and he's annoyed. He's corrected her a hundred times, but she's the most American person he's ever met. So yeah, he gets a bit short with her. She laughs it off but then gets called away by her incredibly frazzled producer, and he's left standing there with the bastard, who he's just realized is taller than him.
"so you're with brentford." Flat, grating accent. Did he look him up?
"yeah, mate. You a supporter?" Something moves out of the corner of his eye. The shadow of a table distorts for a fraction of a second. Is something wrong with the lamps in here?
"No, sorry. I don't watch a lot of sports aside from basketball. But I like the logo. The bee, right?"
He doesn't answer. He's watching the table shadow mutely. It's moving towards him. How is it moving towards him.
"did you know there are a lot of bee species that are kleptoparasitic? They're called cuckoo bees. Like the bird. They find pre built hives, eat the host bees' larva and lay their own eggs in the cells."
The hair on his arms is standing on end. He's sweating. It's not his imagination - the shadow is warping, sending out tendrils that are inching closer and closer to his shoes. With the primal awareness of an early human staring into the darkness searching for predators, he understands suddenly that he is in real, immediate danger. And he's paying attention to the wrong thing.
He turns his head slowly to look at Evan. The man Sam always described as "a real sweetheart." His face is gaunt, eyes sunken and blacked out. The realization that he doesn't have a shadow hits like a freight train.
YĢµĶĶ›ĶoĢµĢšĢ¾Ģ¬uĢµĢĢ‰Ģ„Ķ‡ ĢµĢ›Ģ„Ģ™Ģ±oĢ¶Ģ†Ģ’ĶœĶ™kĢ“Ģ‰Ģ™Ķ‰aĢ“Ķ’Ģ‡Ģ³yĢ“ĶĢœ ĢøĶ€Ķ„Ģ§mĢ·ĶŒĢ™Ģ—aĢøĢ¾Ķ”Ķ™nĢ·ĢŒĢĢ«?Ģ“Ģ†Ģ¦ ĢøĢ…Ģ»SĢ¶ĢˆĶ…ĢŖoĢµĢ“Ģ‹Ģ„mĢ¶Ģ”Ģ¼eĢµĢ€ĢŒĢ³tĢ¶ĶĢ˜hĢ¶ĢæĶœĶœiĢøĶ‘ĢĢ™nĢµĢ•Ģ¬Ģ»gĢ·Ģ‹ĢĢ»Ķ‡ Ģ·Ķ˜ĢĢ­wĢøĢĢ„ĶrĢµĢ•Ģ“ĢŸoĢµĶ†Ķ‡Ģ­nĢ¶Ģ¾Ģ©Ķ–gĢøĢ½Ģ®?ĢøĢšĢƒĢ„Ģ™ ĢµĢŒĶ„ĢŖĶš
No idea what he said. His voice is layered and gravelly, and it seems to register in the brain via the nervous system rather than the ears. The edges of the room are going black, the darkness is closing in. Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
"sorry about that guys! Vikki and Rach wanted to say bye! Honestly, they are both just so nice!"
Sam breezes back in and the second she enters the room everything goes back to normal. There's some more small talk that he stammers his way through, gets out of there as fast as he can without being rude.
Later, when they break up, he tells himself it's because she was too busy for him, too american.
It's quite some time before he sleeps with the lights off.
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sophieinwonderland Ā· 3 months ago
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The Plurality of... Bill Cipher (The Book of Bill)
Spoiler Warning for Gravity Falls, The Book of Bill, and the nature of reality as you know it
Hello dear reader.
I recently found in my possession a strange book with no explanation as to how it got there. A bizarre tome known only as The Book of Bill.
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I recognized the name and imagery from someone else's memories. Bill Cipher, a character from Alex Hirsch's hit series Gravity Falls.
It honestly seemed too perfect. I've been doing this "Plurality of..." series where I look at plurality in media. And an important part of Bill's shtick was possession.
It seemed simple enough. I can read the book, learn a bit about Bill and his possession, and then write an article about his plurality. But the reality was anything by simple, with far more than I bargained for.
And by the end of this post, this book will have driven me to break a fundamental rule I've held sacred through my "Plurality Of..." series.
What is Plurality?
Before we begin, I should explain what plurality is for anyone new here. Plurality is a term for being multiple in one body in some way.
We call the body's occupants "headmates". These can be anything from alters in dissociative disorders to spirit guides bound to a mortal, to... yes... even literal demonic possession.
Yeah, even being possessed by a demonic triangle from a 2-dimensional universe is a type of plurality. If there are multiple self-conscious agents of some kind there, it's plural!
Time To Get Weird!
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(Art by magentasnail)
Let's catch you up on the basics real quick. Again, there will be huge Gravity Falls spoilers.
In Gravity Falls, Bill Cipher is a yellow a 2-dimensional triangle demon bent on causing chaos.
Through the series, Bill makes deals with multiple characters to possess their bodies. This includes both gaining full control over the body of protagonist Dipper Pines for an episode, and more interestingly, sharing control over the body of Stanford Pines for an extended period of time.
Bill's possession of Dipper left Dipper outside his body like a ghost. But his deal with Stanford is much more plural in nature, where they shared control, with Bill only controlling the body in his sleep.
Obviously real plural systems don't have headmates controlling their body while they sleep like this, but the experience can be seen as analogous to dissociative identity disorder, where it's common to experience blackouts and "wake up" in situations unsure how you got there.
That's all you really need to know about Bill for the time being.
With that out of the way, it's time get weird and dive straight into the Book of Bill!
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The Book of Bills
As I begin reading the Book of Bill, I'm given a warning from Stanford Pines that the book will rewrite itself based on the mind of the reader. This seems silly, and I of course dismiss the idea out of hand. Surely there's no way a book could change itself based on who's reading it.
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As I venture further into this tome, I find the occasional point of interest. References to Bill living in people's brain, him being an idea, etc.
I stop briefly to ponder that. Why does Bill refer to himself as an idea? Isn't he canonically a being from a physical 2-dimensional world? Him being described as an idea is peculiar, but something I tuck away for the future.
The first thing I find that really piques my interest in regards to plurality is the multiple times that it's just referenced that there are multiple Bills in Bill's head. Such as when Bill refers to "the voices in his head" teaming up.
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In the plural community, there's a concept known as median system.
A median system is typically a system which has separate parts that are less distinct from each other. There's a pretty solid case that Bill, having a bunch of Bills in his head, could be considered a median system on his own.
In fact, the book itself actually depicts communication between multiple Bills, in the form of an interview.
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And throughout the interview, there are times where the Prime Bill seemingly gets annoyed at the interviewer's questions. As if they are actually different people. While this could be Bill simply duplicating himself and pretending for comedic effect, it could just as easily be that both Bills are headmates in Bill's system.
Bill being a median system is a pretty interesting direction.
As I read on though, the book dragged me down yet another rabbit hole, and raised an important question.
Does Bill Have A Dissociative Disorder???
Let's talk about dissociative identity disorder. There are two main criteria for DID. Criterion A is the presence of two or more distinct personality states. You know, like those Bills in Bill's head.
The second is memory loss.
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Recurrent gaps in the recall of everyday events, important personal information, and/or traumatic events.
This is what was on my mind when Bill was describing how he was uniquely gifted with the ability to see into the third dimension, and wanted to teach others this same skill.
But when he tries to recount it... this happened...
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To me, this sounds exactly what was described in criterion B. This is also called dissociative amnesia.
And it's not just this one-off example. Bill actually references later that he dissociates (his words) and "wakes up" later after a conquest.
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With everything we know, it seems incredibly likely that Bill has DID, or at least a related disorder.
Bill is what he eats
Okay... wait...
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So Bill can ALSO imprison the souls of those he eats inside himself, and they can apparently take over Bill's body too???
What actually is going on here? Is this one of Bill's powers? He can just eat entire universes and then whatever he consumes becomes a part of him? Or maybe it's something else...
Maybe if we looked at this less literally and consider the previous hints of Bill having a dissociative disorder then perhaps what is going on is that Bill is introjecting these people.
Maybe whenever he enters somebody's mind, some piece of them remains...
I would love to speculate more on this... But this is the only mention of it in the entire book!
At this point, I begin to reflect on the words at the beginning. Maybe it was true that the book was changing itself to give me what I wanted. Little hints of plurality to keep me reading, to ensnare me in its vicious trap and ultimately drive me to madness.
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And the worst part was, I was falling into it anyway. Because I had to know, even if this was a trap, I was in it to the very end. My thirst for knowledge and understanding unquenchable.
Even if I knew I should stop here, there was no going back.
Stanford Pines, Bill's Perfect Host
At last, beyond all of the misdirects that were put in my way, I arrived at the reason that I started on this journey.
Stanford Pines.
I need to say that when I started this journey, planning to delve into what the plurality of Bill and Ford might be like, I never imagined that it would be handled so... Beautifully.
I mean that genuinely!
I love the relationship of these two characters in the book!
They are both very out of place in their own ways. Both are aware of things in their world that are denied by others, leaving them ridiculed and ostracized for it. They manage to form a genuine friendship. Even if Bill was using Stanford the whole time to achieve his Weirdmageddon.
The two compliment each other surprisingly well. Bill provides Stanford with a friend who can get him out of his comfort zone, which is something that I think Stanford really needed.
There's a really fun part of the book where Bill just gets Stanford mind-drunk, which is apparently something he can do.
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Bill fills a role in Stanford's life that nobody had since he lost contact with his brother. While Stanford had friend in with Fiddleford, his lab partner, and we do get to see parts of that friendship in the book, they are more like work acquaintances.
Alas, it wasn't meant to be. Because in the end, Bill is still an evil demon who was bent on bringing about the Weirdmageddon and was manipulating Ford the whole time.
And when Stanford found out, he tried to shut Bill out. This led to Bill trying to communicate through sticky notes to get Ford to stop ignoring him. He would front in the body at night while Ford slept, and they carried on a conversation through these sticky notes.
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Wait... Sticky notes?
This is such an interesting choice for the character! Especially after so many hints of Bill Cipher having some sort of dissociative disorder.
Why?
Because sticky notes are an actual method that real DID systems use to communicate with their alters, as seen in this post from the NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) website.
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It's fascinating how, if you were to try to depict how headmates with strong dissociative barriers might communicate, this is one of the ways you would want to do that!
Is this coincidental? Maybe. But the talk of dissociation earlier suggests the author also has at least some basic knowledge of dissociation and how it works. And, perhaps, plurality as well?
Overall, this whole section with Bill and Ford was fantastic, and it was well-worth the read for that on its own.
The End?
I suppose this is the end. I found what I wanted. I got the content I was after. A cool plural story of a guy and his headmate from another dimension who wants to take over the world.
Through all the strange distractions and hints of Bill himself having headmates that seemingly went nowhere, I got more plurality in the book than I expected.
And yet, as I turn the final page of the book, I feel unsatisfied. Unsettled.
"Is that it?" I think to myself.
This is Gravity Falls, a show built on mysteries, and looking deeper than the surface. Surely there has to be more. Right?
What if... all the plurality in this book, is obscuring something deeper? Or maybe hinting at something deeper...
And then... I see it!
After the final page, I come to the About the Author section.
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Which means it's time to talk about...
The Plurality of... Bill Cipher Alex Hirsch
Yes, I am going there!
In the beginning, I promised that this post will require me to break a rule I've held sacred through these posts.
That rule... is to never speculate on the plurality of the author.
But, Alex Hirsch, at least in a fictional sense, hasn't exactly shied away from the idea of being "possessed" by Bill. This dates back at least a decade, with him making Tweets like this one.
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"Bill Cipher" even did an AMA on Reddit through Alex, playing it off as Bill possessing Hirsch while he slept.
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It's a pretty open secret in the Gravity Falls community that Alex Hirsch is "possessed" by Bill. At least in some meta-fiction way that may not be canon to Gravity Falls but isn't quite real either.
And were my analysis to stop here, I wouldn't really be saying anything new or valuable. A lot of this was covered by MatPat on Film Theory.
But there's something I want to go back to that confuses me in this book.
That Bill Cipher... is an idea?
Let's bring this full circle, back to the beginning of the book where Bill mentions that he's imaginary and describes himself as an idea.
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These are such weird lines because Bill didn't seem to have originated from people's minds within the narrative of Gravity Falls.
His story is of being a being from a literal flat world. So why then, does he describe himself as an idea? Why does he describe himself as imaginary???
Bill Cipher as Alex Hirsch's Tulpa
While Bill being an idea doesn't make sense if he's speaking as a being from a 2-dimensional world that's real to him, it does make sense if we consider that the Bill talking to us, who wrote the Book of Bill, is a tulpa sharing the body of its creator.
Before going on though, we need to answer an important question. What is a tulpa? The r/tulpas subreddit gives its own answer to this in its FAQ.
The simplest way to describe a tulpa is simply another person who was created intentionally/unintentionally through repeated interaction and shares a body and mind with their creator. A more complicated definition can go as follows: A tulpa is believed to be an autonomous consciousness coinhabiting a brain with their creator, often with a form of their creator's initial choice and design. A tulpa is entirely sentient and in control of their opinions, feelings, form and movement. They are willingly created via a number of techniques to act as companions, muses, and advisers. Tulpa forms can either be visualized in the mind's eye, or, with practice, seen as a hallucinatory figure using a technique calledĀ imposition.
And let's stop there on the line about being created as muses, because this is something that's found repeated throughout both The Book of Bill and Journal 3, with Stanford referring to Bill as his "muse."
It's a curious term that doesn't appear in the show, but was added to the lore in these two supplemental books.
The FAQ goes on to explain that while tulpas are often considered to be intentionally created, there are also accidental tulpas that can arise through imaginary friends or from writing characters.
Is it possible to accidentally make a tulpa? Yes - many people join the community after realizing they have had tulpas all their lives, but without knowing what they were called. These "accidental" tulpas often arise from imaginary friends and writing/roleplay characters.
On the point of roleplay characters, something I also haven't mentioned yet is that Alex Hirsch didn't just write the character of Bill Cipher. He WAS Bill Cipher. In the show, Bill is one of the characters Hirsch voices along with Grunkle Stan and Soos.
Writing tulpas and how they come about are discussed a bit more below:
Is this a new phenomena? No, it's a practice that goes back in recorded history at least as far as the Greek philosophers. The present name of the phenomenon is derived from the word used by Tibetan monks in the early 20th century. There's also evidence to suggest dedicated prayer can lead to the development of 'religious tulpas' in the minds of the particularly devout, and on the secular end, writing techniques similar to tulpa development techniques can and have resulted in writers creating accidental tulpas from their characters. Having a tulpa is nothing new, although it's gone by many names throughout the course of history and does so even today. However, we believe we are one of the first groups to address this practice as a psychological phenomena rather than a magical, occult or divine experience.
Tulpamancy and Attention
There was another passage from the book that I found noteworthy.
At the end, Stanford describes what truly sustains Bill isn't power, but attention, which Stanford describes as Bill's "lifeblood."
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It's even underlined for emphasis.
Why is this important? Well first, this line goes back to the weird lines earlier suggesting Bill is an idea.
But more importantly, feeding on attention is something which is actually a pretty popular philosophy in tulpamancy. That tulpas feed on and are sustained by the attention of their hosts.
How do I give my tulpa energy? Tulpas are sustained by attention, and energy is a convenient metaphor for this. So, you can give your tulpa energy by interacting with them. It is also possible, through no shortage of work and time on the part of host and tulpa alike, for a tulpa to grow beyond this need and to learn how to sustain themselves.
How much attention/energy/interaction does my tulpa need? During the creation process you should aim to interact with your tulpa daily, anywhere from a few minutes up to a few hours, and narrating to them as and when you can. After they're fully vocal and active, the bare minimum is just acknowledging their existence, but spending time talking to them and interacting with them is very much the point of bringing them into existence. Just don't ignore them, and you'll both be fine.
On Parallels in Writing
Adding another layer, it's likely that Stanford Pines is at least partially based on Alex Hirsch himself.
One point of trivia is that Alex Hirsch has a twin sister, and Gravity Falls was inspired by vacations they would take as children. Dipper and Mabel being based on Alex and his sister is pretty well-known. But towards the end of season 2, it's revealed that their Grunkle Stan is a twin himself, with his brother being Stanford Pines, the author of the journals.
During this part of the story, it starts creating a parallel between the relationships of the younger and older twins, with Dipper (who is based on Alex) bonding with Stanford over how much they have in common. Both are nerds who are into writing and science and uncovering the mysteries of the world. Both are a bit socially awkward as well.
And while not much attention is drawn to this particular connection, both had experiences of making deals with Bill that let Bill takeover their bodies at different points.
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Based on the parallels between Dipper and Stanford, one might speculate that Alex based Dipper on his younger self, while Stanford was loosely based on himself as an adult.
The personalities of these two characters are also the most likely to create a tulpa based on the psychological profiles of most tulpamancers.
In 2016, Dr. Samuel Veissiere, a psychiatry professor at McGill University, found the following in his study of tulpamancers:
From coding of qualitative interviews collected in large surveys, the most common tulpamancer profile to emerge is one of a highly cerebral, imaginative, highly articulate, upper-middle class, formally educated person with many consistently pursued interests, talents, and hobbies, but limited channels of physical social interaction. Typical tulpamancers are confident about their talents, but are quite modest and socially shy. They possess ā€“ or have cultivated ā€“ a high propensity for concentration, absorption, hypnotisability, and non-psychotic sensory hallucinations.
The psychological profile of tulpamancers fits both Dipper and Stanford to a t. And many of these same traits could just as easily be true for Alex Hirsch if these characters were meant to be stand-ins for himself.
Is Alex Hirsch trying to tell us that he's plural?
In the end, this is just a theory. And it's one that I feel nervous making because plurality is so deep and personal. That's why I've avoided speculating on the plurality authors in the past. Even when the writing feels so true to the plural experience that it's hard to imagine that someone who isn't plural wrote it.
So why am I making an exception with this one?
Well, in this particular case, I think that the breadcrumbs are being left intentionally, and if he is plural, then he expects somebody to follow them. I'm not worried that I would be outing somebody who didn't want others to find out.
With Alex Hirsch's love of codes and clues and mysteries, if he were plural, I have to imagine that the hints weren't accidental and he would be wondering if anybody would follow them.
And if I am completely off base and he's not plural, I think that he would still appreciate the theorizing anyway. šŸ¤·ā€ā™€ļø
But if these are intentional clues that were left behind to hint at a real life plurality, one might ask why.
Why would he want people to know about it, and hint at it in this way?
Well, I think the Book of Bill might have an answer to that too.
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Shame is a powerful emotion. But it grows in the dark. The more I've tried to hide my past with Bill, the more hold it's had over me.
Perhaps this line is meant to reflect Alex Hirsch's own feelings. Because many plural systems have felt this same way about their plurality, having hide their relationships to their headmates.
The actual end now
Finally, we come to the real ending of this.
This is, again, just a theory. I don't want anyone taking it as fact. I admit that I could be completely wrong about everything that I've said here.
But if nothing else, it's at least fun to imagine that Alex Hirsch does have a Bill Cipher tulpa in his head that has been acting as his muse this whole time. And it would give a new meaning to the gag of the Weirdmageddon intro saying Gravity Falls was "created by Bill Cipher" all those years ago.
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Thanks for reading, and if you have your own muse that you think might be more than a simple muse, be sure to read my guide on how to know if your imaginary friend is sentient.
And if you like this post and want to see more like it, you may want to check out The Plurality ofā€¦Ā Avatar:Ā TheĀ LastĀ Airbender or The Plurality ofā€¦Ā IF
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leupagus Ā· 11 months ago
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Guys I Might Have Three Nickels
I've been watching "Agatha Christie's Marple" for the past few days and it's pretty good! Marple adaptations all tend to have a better caliber of actors than a lot of bog-standard mystery shows (looking at you, "Madame Blanc"), and while Joan Hickson's Marple is right up there with David Suchet's Poirot and Jeremy Brett's Holmes as "literally can never be beaten, these are the best anyone's done it," both Geraldine McEwan and Julia McKenzie do a fantastic job as Miss Marple.
Then I got to "The Secret of Chimneys," Season 5 episode 2
and guys
Guys
So there's a murder of a viscount, like there is, and this detective Finch rolls up and immediately spots Miss Marple (in her NIGHTIE! standing at the window like some kind of hussy, honestly Jane) and doffs his cap to her with that little smile that makes you go, "huh."
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At this point I've watched a couple dozen Miss Marple episodes where she goes through detectives like wildfire and this guy's supposed to be a "*guru*" so I'm expecting some battle of the egos or something and like, Stephen Dillane is great! But bleh, I might have to skip this one.
Then my dude asks Miss Marple to SHOW HIM THE BODY, with a pleased little smile at her as she goes "uhhhhhhhh but my knitting?" (He even does that thing where you use someone's honorific and wait for them to give you their name, and that's when I was like "ohhh this bitch knows exactly who she is.") What follows is what I can only describe as a meet-cute in the secret passageway where the viscount was shot (and in fact the body is STILL THERE) and where Miss Marple literally asks the police equivalent of "is there a Mrs Finch" and he looks at her like this:
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At which point I'm like "ohhh my dude not only knows who she is, he deliberately came here without a sergeant so he could draft her," and sure enough he just starts...handing her pieces of evidence like "hey babe can you decipher this note for me thanks love you" while Miss Marple is like, "this approval and camaraderie coming from a cop... not sure if want."
Next is a series of romantic strolls through the gardens while they discuss murder, during which Finch reveals his undying love I mean his research into Miss Marple and the "dozen case files" of her previous exploits that he's collected like some deranged fanboy. Miss Marple responds to this by BLUSHING LIKE A SCHOOLGIRL and stammering about how pish tosh it's nothing really, and I couldn't find a gif of it but he's staring at her like this:
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Yeah I bet u r tempted
He also makes a half-hearted attempt at negging her "amateur sleuth" status, only to then immediately assure her that he makes like, so much money being a big fancy detective and can keep her in all the yarn and garden seed she could ever desire.
There's also a late-night tryst at the compost pile right after Finch has been (mildly) poisoned and Miss Marple is like "men are so weak" as she roots through the garbage for clues.
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Not how he wanted their first date to go D:
The next morning there's another murder which: bummer, but also allows the two of them to read love letters together and for Finch to give Miss Marple the following look as she explains how secret assignations among lovers can "quicken the ardor":
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Miss Marple then goes onto solve the murders and btw hands over the priceless diamond that's been literally missing for two literal decades that she found in her spare time. The entire scene features Finch looking at her like this:
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After the dust settles, Finch and Miss Marple have a lovely moment where he calls himself "another one of your casualties," then super casually mentions that he's probably going to have to go on assignment to use the diamond in a daring international espionage case and I can't decide if he's asking Miss Marple to go with him or simply trying to show her that he is cool and smart and would make an excellent wife, but either way the episode ends with her turning him down and Jane, we need to talk about your priorities.
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Anyway I've already written 2K about the subsequent 10-year epistolary romance these two have following this episode because I make poor choices.
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hollybell51 Ā· 2 years ago
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Don't bet on it
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Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader
Supernatural (2005)
Word count:Ā 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)
Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.
Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.
Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.
Cas was watching you. Again. It wasnā€™t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt youā€™d borrowed from Sam while the one youā€™d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, butā€¦
ā€œThereā€™s a pharmacy down the street,ā€ Sam was saying. ā€œTheyā€™d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?ā€Ā 
There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. Youā€™d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked ā€“ and you knew he was looking too ā€“ thereā€™d never been anything so beautiful.Ā 
ā€œ(Y/N)?ā€Ā 
Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. Youā€™d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasnā€™t exactly a clean cut ā€“ the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine.Ā 
ā€œMhm,ā€ you answered, leaning back in your seat. ā€œDā€™you think itā€™ll still be open?ā€Ā 
Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. ā€œItā€™s not that late, right?ā€Ā 
ā€œThereā€™s an open sign in the window.ā€ All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. ā€œItā€™s lit up,ā€ he added.Ā 
ā€œOh, right,ā€ you said faintly. ā€œThanks Cas.ā€Ā 
He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. ā€œThatā€™s ok.ā€Ā 
You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression.Ā 
ā€œRight,ā€ Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn youā€™d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly.Ā 
ā€œRight,ā€ you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When youā€™d first met him, you hadnā€™t really believed he was an angel. He seemed soā€¦ ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer youā€™d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what youā€™d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once.Ā 
ā€œDo you want some?ā€ you asked, gesturing to your drink.Ā 
Casā€™s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily.Ā 
You smiled. ā€œLemonade.ā€Ā 
He nodded slowly.
ā€œHere.ā€ You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. Youā€™d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted likeā€¦ food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently.Ā 
He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was ā€“ had been ā€“ a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and justā€¦ Well, you didnā€™t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didnā€™t matter.Ā 
ā€œAny good?ā€ Dean asked, watching Cas mildly.Ā 
ā€œItā€™s very sweet,ā€ he reported. ā€œAnd sticky.ā€Ā 
Despite yourself, you laughed.Ā 
Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles youā€™d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face.Ā 
You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at ā€“ ā€œmooning overā€ Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you ā€“ Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. ā€œIā€™ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.ā€Ā 
ā€œYou sure?ā€ Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip.Ā 
ā€œIā€™ll be fine, donā€™t worry.ā€ You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldnā€™t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. ā€œYou can finish that off,ā€ you told him, ā€œif you want.ā€Ā 
ā€œThankyou,ā€ he said after a moment.Ā 
ā€œYeah, sure.ā€ You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. ā€œSeeya later,ā€ you said, and left.Ā 
You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Samā€™s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them?Ā 
ā€œRoom 09,ā€ the message read, ā€œyouā€™re sharing with Cas.ā€ And then, shortly after; ā€œDonā€™t worry, itā€™s a double.ā€Ā 
Well, you thought, at least you wouldnā€™t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldnā€™t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch ā€“ even though he insisted he didnā€™t mind, and refused to let you do it.Ā 
Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadnā€™t even taken his shoes off.Ā 
ā€œHi,ā€ you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you.Ā 
ā€œHi,ā€ he repeated. ā€œDo you want to come in?ā€Ā 
ā€œUh, yeah.ā€ Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing.Ā 
You deposited your groceries ā€“ the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix youā€™d grabbed at the counter. Youā€™d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad youā€™d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing.Ā 
But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed.Ā 
ā€œAre you fucking kidding me?ā€ you muttered, already reaching for your phone.Ā 
ā€œWhatā€™s wrong?ā€ Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows.Ā 
ā€œSam said this was a double,ā€ you told him.Ā 
ā€œIt is.ā€Ā 
ā€œYeah, but thereā€™s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.ā€Ā 
ā€œI donā€™t mind. And besides,ā€ he added, ā€œyouā€™ve never kicked me.ā€Ā 
ā€œNo itā€™sā€“ā€ you broke off, catching his smile. ā€œYeah, alrightā€Ā 
The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking.Ā 
You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Samā€™s number. ā€œYou said it was a double,ā€ you accused before he could even greet you.Ā 
ā€œYeah, hi to you too,ā€ he snorted. ā€œIt is.ā€Ā 
ā€œThereā€™s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?ā€Ā 
ā€œNo, weā€™ve got two singles.ā€Ā 
ā€œLucky you,ā€ you practically spat. ā€œNow Iā€™m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.ā€Ā 
ā€œSo?ā€ You could almost hear the frown in Samā€™s voice. ā€œHe doesnā€™t mind.ā€Ā 
ā€œI know, butā€“ā€Ā 
ā€œShare the bed with him if it bothers you that much,ā€ he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. ā€œIā€™m sure heā€™d be happy to.ā€Ā 
ā€œWhatā€™s that supposed toā€“ā€Ā 
He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. ā€œYouā€™ll sort it out.ā€Ā 
You stared at the phone, ā€œcall endedā€ flashing up at you. ā€œFuck you, Sam,ā€ you sighed.Ā 
By the door, Cas frowned. ā€œIs something the matter?ā€Ā 
ā€œNo,ā€ you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. ā€œJustā€¦ Sam.ā€Ā 
Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant.Ā 
You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Samā€™s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. Youā€™d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasnā€™t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when youā€™d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, youā€™d cursed yourself when youā€™d done it, and you cursed yourself again now.Ā 
ā€œWould you like some help?ā€Ā 
You looked up, meeting Casā€™s eyes. Soundlessly, heā€™d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you.Ā 
He gestured to the cut. ā€œIt looks hard to reach.ā€Ā 
ā€œUh, yeah, it is.ā€ You shifted over, making room for him beside you. ā€œThanks.ā€Ā 
ā€œYouā€™re welcome.ā€ He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched.Ā 
Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadnā€™t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault.Ā 
He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab.Ā 
ā€œIs that alright?ā€ he asked when you gasped softly.Ā 
ā€œMhm,ā€ you nodded. ā€œJustā€¦ stings a little.ā€Ā 
Guilt flashed across his face. ā€œOh, Iā€™m sorry.ā€Ā 
ā€œNo, no, itā€™s not you. Youā€™re fine,ā€ you assured him. ā€œItā€™s the antiseptic, itā€™s normal.ā€Ā 
ā€œShould I keep going?ā€Ā 
You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.Ā 
ā€œI wish youā€™d taken me with you,ā€ he said as he reached for a dressing pad.Ā 
ā€œHm?ā€ You frowned, unsure what he meant. Youā€™d gone alone, which wasnā€™t why youā€™d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadnā€™t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over ā€“ it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that ā€“ and Cas had been with them. Youā€™d been convinced youā€™d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, youā€™d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didnā€™t matter now, you were fine. They were dead.Ā 
He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than youā€™d ever thought possible. ā€œOn the hunt. I wish youā€™d taken me with you.ā€Ā 
ā€œNah,ā€ you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. ā€œYou had other stuff on. You donā€™t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.ā€ You smiled. ā€œYouā€™ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who canā€™t jump fences.ā€
Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. ā€œThatā€™s not true,ā€ he said, ā€œIā€™ll always have time for you. Iā€™ll always worry about you.ā€Ā 
You froze, taken aback by theā€¦ intimacy of the words. Youā€™d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (ā€œEven if it hurts you?ā€ heā€™d asked, frowning. Youā€™d said that youā€™d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and heā€™d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then heā€™d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything heā€™d ever said to you before. Heā€™d always have time for you, he worried about you.Ā 
ā€œReally?ā€ you asked. ā€œYou mean that?ā€Ā 
He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. Youā€™d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. Youā€™d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadnā€™t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And heā€™d been an angel for Peteā€™s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his ā€“ human ā€“ face, you werenā€™t ignoring it any longer.Ā 
His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. ā€œYouā€™re important to me, (Y/N).ā€Ā 
Oh. Oh. There it was.
He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was soā€¦ raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you werenā€™t supposed to.Ā 
Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his.Ā 
He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced youā€™d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade.Ā 
It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound.Ā 
It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile theyā€™d been trying to, squeezing again. Itā€™s alright, you told him with your hand, youā€™re alright.Ā 
You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it.Ā 
ā€œCas,ā€ you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. ā€œCastiel.ā€Ā 
ā€œHm?ā€
You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses.Ā 
ā€œCan I?ā€ you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing.Ā 
He looked up, frowning. ā€œWhat?ā€Ā 
ā€œTake it off,ā€ you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. ā€œIf you want to, of course. If you want this. You donā€™t have to.ā€Ā 
He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time youā€™d seen him without it, and he lookedā€¦ different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes.Ā 
ā€œIs this alright?ā€ he asked.Ā 
You smiled, nodding. Youā€™d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadnā€™t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didnā€™t know what youā€™d expected his body to look like. Youā€™d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadnā€™t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed ā€“ irony aside.Ā 
ā€œAre you alright?ā€ He was peering up at you, apprehensive.Ā 
You nodded. ā€œAre you?ā€Ā Ā 
He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters.Ā 
Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Casā€™s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused.Ā 
ā€œItā€™s ok,ā€ you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips.Ā 
ā€œIā€™mā€¦ā€ he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.
ā€œHm?ā€Ā 
ā€œIā€™mā€¦ Iā€™m kind ofā€¦ā€ He stopped again, floundering.Ā 
ā€œItā€™s alright, Cas. Youā€™re alright.ā€Ā 
He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. ā€œI havenā€™t done this before,ā€ he whispered. ā€œI donā€™t knowā€¦ā€Ā 
Oh. Right. Why hadnā€™t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Deanā€™s best efforts, Cas hadnā€™t picked up the other guyā€™sā€¦ habits, at least not yet. Youā€™d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didnā€™t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldnā€™t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed.Ā 
You bit your lip. ā€œDo you want to? Itā€™s ok if you donā€™t.ā€Ā 
ā€œI do,ā€ he said, his hand still resting on your chest. ā€œI really do, (Y/N). But I donā€™t knowā€¦ what to do.ā€Ā 
ā€œIā€™ll help you,ā€ you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didnā€™t know what to do. It was more than any guy youā€™d ever been with had been willing to give away.Ā 
ā€œWeā€™ll go slow,ā€ you continued. ā€œYou tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?ā€Ā 
He nodded.Ā 
You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. ā€œCan I touch you?ā€Ā 
ā€œPlease,ā€ he murmured.Ā 
You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasnā€™t scarred like Dean or Samā€™s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. Heā€™d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadnā€™t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldnā€™t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him?Ā 
Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him.Ā 
Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment.Ā 
ā€œIs this alright?ā€ you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed.Ā 
ā€œMhm,ā€ he sighed. ā€œYes.ā€Ā 
You smiled. God, he was beautiful. ā€œYou wanna take ā€˜em off?ā€Ā 
At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. ā€œMy pants?ā€ he asked.Ā 
You nodded. ā€œYou donā€™t have to, butā€¦ā€ You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. ā€œI can touch you? Here.ā€Ā 
He stared. ā€œDo you want to?ā€Ā 
You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. ā€œOnly if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss youā€¦ā€ You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneathā€¦Ā 
Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didnā€™t indulge the mantra of ā€œbigger is betterā€, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Casā€™s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.
His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. ā€œIs thatā€¦ā€ he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. ā€œIs it alright?ā€Ā 
Your heart melted. ā€œOh, Cas,ā€ you sighed. ā€œItā€™s perfect. Youā€™re perfect. Just perfect.ā€Ā 
A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you.Ā 
ā€œHave you touched yourself?ā€ you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, youā€™d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life.Ā 
Cas looked away for a moment. ā€œNo,ā€ he said. ā€œShould I have?ā€Ā 
You shook your head. ā€œItā€™s up to you. Iā€™d like to, if youā€™re ok with it.ā€
ā€œTouch me?ā€Ā 
ā€œMhm.ā€Ā Ā 
He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.
ā€œOk.ā€ Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didnā€™t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if heā€™d just keep going no matter what, and you didnā€™t want that.Ā 
You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Casā€™s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful.Ā 
It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan ā€“ really moan ā€“ into your mouth.
ā€œLike this?ā€ you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake.Ā 
ā€œAh, (Y/N), yesā€“ā€ Cas gasped. ā€œOh, just like that, please.ā€Ā 
You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck ā€“ the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you werenā€™t sure why ā€“ and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning.Ā 
His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before.Ā 
He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If youā€™d known itā€™d be like this, youā€™d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, youā€™d wanted to.Ā 
ā€œCan I use my mouth?ā€ you asked between kisses ā€“ they still werenā€™t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that.Ā 
ā€œYou are, hm, using your mouth,ā€ Cas pointed out.Ā 
You laughed. It was soā€¦ matter of fact. ā€œI mean down here,ā€ you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. ā€œI can keep doing this if you want, butā€¦ā€Ā 
ā€œBut?ā€
ā€œI wanna taste you, Cas,ā€ you smiled.Ā 
His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadnā€™t been lying when heā€™d said he was new to this, you supposed. ā€œTaste me?ā€Ā 
ā€œMhm,ā€ you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. ā€œWanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. Iā€™ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.ā€Ā 
ā€œ(Y/N).ā€ His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes.Ā 
ā€œMhm?ā€Ā 
ā€œAre you sure?ā€Ā 
ā€œThatā€™s sweet,ā€ you laughed again. ā€œIā€™m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?ā€Ā 
ā€œYeah, alright.ā€Ā 
ā€œAlright?ā€Ā 
He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. ā€œGo ahead.ā€Ā 
You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didnā€™t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip.Ā 
Casā€™s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat.Ā 
ā€œAlright?ā€ you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps.Ā 
ā€œYes,ā€ he sighed. ā€œKeep going?ā€Ā 
You smiled. ā€œMagic word?ā€Ā 
ā€œPlease,ā€ he practically growled.Ā 
Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute.Ā 
ā€œOh,ā€ he panted, ā€œoh, (Y/N), yesā€“ā€Ā 
ā€œGood?ā€ you mumbled, but it didnā€™t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.Ā Ā 
ā€œSo good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.ā€Ā 
The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. Youā€™d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as heā€™d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure.Ā 
ā€œOh,ā€ he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade.Ā 
You moaned, the vibrations jolting Casā€™s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely.Ā 
ā€œ(Y/N),ā€ he panted. ā€œ(Y/N).ā€Ā 
ā€œHm?ā€ You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound youā€™d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair.Ā 
ā€œYou lookā€¦ ah, soā€¦ā€ He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. ā€œSo beautiful.ā€Ā 
For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that ā€“ if he wanted, of course ā€“ youā€™d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless.Ā 
He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. ā€œIā€™mā€“ā€ He broke off, gasping. ā€œSo much, (Y/N), itā€™s so much.ā€Ā 
You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If heā€™d never done this before and hadnā€™t touched himself either, it was unlikely that heā€™d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. Itā€™s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping heā€™d understand. Iā€™ve got you, youā€™re alright.Ā 
Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost ā€“ almost ā€“ hurt. But it couldnā€™t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face.Ā 
As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting.Ā 
Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the birdā€™s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up.Ā 
ā€œAre you alright?ā€ you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. ā€œIt wasnā€™tā€¦ too much?ā€Ā 
ā€œIt was wonderful,ā€ he said solemnly. Then he looked away. ā€œCan Iā€¦ā€
ā€œYeah?ā€ you prompted. ā€œCan youā€¦?ā€Ā 
He turned back, meeting your eyes. ā€œI want to make you feel like that, too.ā€Ā 
Your stomach did a flip. ā€œOh.ā€Ā 
ā€œWill you show me?ā€ Casā€™s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?
You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off ā€“ admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a momentā€™s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning.Ā 
He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. Youā€™d been unnerved by it before youā€™d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on.Ā 
Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didnā€™t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath.Ā 
ā€œIs this alright?ā€ he asked.Ā 
You nodded. ā€œMhm.ā€Ā 
ā€œWhat about this?ā€ He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body.Ā 
ā€œMhm.ā€Ā 
ā€œThis?ā€ Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most.Ā 
ā€œYeah, Cas, you donā€™t have to ask.ā€Ā 
ā€œI want you to feelā€“ā€Ā 
You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. ā€œWhatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?ā€Ā 
ā€œBut Iā€™mā€“ā€Ā 
ā€œCas.ā€Ā 
He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch.Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t worry,ā€ you whispered. ā€œIā€™m gonna help you, remember?ā€
He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that heā€™d been bad when youā€™d started, but heā€™d figured out what worked with you.Ā 
ā€œShow me,ā€ he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. ā€œShow me where to touch you.ā€Ā 
This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men ā€“ and former angels ā€“ with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy.Ā 
ā€œHere,ā€ you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit.Ā 
Casā€™s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. ā€œHere?ā€ he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves.Ā 
ā€œYes,ā€ you gasped, your voice much less steady than youā€™d have liked.Ā 
ā€œLike this?ā€ He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face.Ā 
ā€œYes, Cas, just like that.ā€Ā 
He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily.Ā 
ā€œFuck,ā€ you moaned. ā€œFuck, Cas.ā€Ā 
ā€œIs this alright?ā€ he asked mildly.Ā 
ā€œMore than alright,ā€ you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if heā€™d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good?Ā 
ā€œCan I?ā€ he murmured, watching your face carefully.Ā 
ā€œYeah,ā€ you nodded frantically. ā€œYeah, go aheadā€” please.ā€ The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Casā€™s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps.Ā 
ā€œAm Iā€¦ā€ he started, then swallowed. ā€œIs this good?ā€Ā 
ā€œSo fucking good,ā€ you replied. ā€œHow the fuck are you so good at this?ā€ It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes whoā€™d tried had lamely poked at you until youā€™d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced theyā€™d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing.Ā 
He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. ā€œIā€™m not sure,ā€ he said.Ā 
It was your turn to smile. ā€œWell you are,ā€ you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.
And God, you wanted him to fuck you.Ā 
ā€œHold on,ā€ you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldnā€™t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine.Ā 
Cas froze immediately.Ā 
ā€œNo, no, itā€™s ok,ā€ you assured him quickly. ā€œI wanna try something else.ā€Ā 
ā€œIs this notā€“ā€Ā 
ā€œYouā€™re doing great,ā€ you interrupted. ā€œI promise. Butā€¦ā€ As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs.Ā 
Cas frowned.
ā€œWould you like to fuck me?ā€ you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small.Ā 
His eyebrows shot halfway up his face.Ā 
ā€œOnly if you want to,ā€ you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, ā€œIā€™d like it if you did.ā€Ā 
Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. ā€œIā€™d like it too.ā€Ā 
ā€œOk, what are we waiting for?ā€ You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasnā€™t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. ā€œCome on,ā€ you encouraged.Ā 
He gave a little ā€œoofā€ as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable.Ā 
ā€œRelax,ā€ you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. ā€œItā€™s alright.ā€Ā 
ā€œI donā€™t want to squash you.ā€Ā 
You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. ā€œYou wonā€™t, donā€™t worry.ā€Ā 
ā€œHow do you know?ā€Ā 
ā€œI just do. Besides, I wouldnā€™t mind.ā€Ā 
He snorted indignantly. ā€œI would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?ā€Ā 
You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If youā€™d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, sheā€™d have slapped you in the loony bin. ā€œYou could just order your own,ā€ you pointed out.Ā 
ā€œI could,ā€ he conceded. ā€œBut I will not.ā€Ā 
ā€œOk, I donā€™t mind.ā€ You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What youā€™d said was true, he really didnā€™t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed.Ā 
You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.
You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock.Ā 
ā€œ(Y/N),ā€ he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours.Ā 
ā€œCas,ā€ you echoed, equally as breathless. ā€œPlease?ā€Ā 
He swallowed, his eyes dark.Ā 
ā€œI want you inside me,ā€ you continued. ā€œPlease, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.ā€Ā 
He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didnā€™t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. ā€œHere?ā€ he asked.Ā 
You nodded. ā€œYeah, go ahead.ā€Ā 
Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didnā€™t make a sound. He wasnā€™t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide.Ā 
ā€œHey,ā€ you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. ā€œYou alright down there?ā€Ā 
ā€œYes,ā€ he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time.Ā 
ā€œYou can move,ā€ you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, ā€œPlease?ā€Ā 
He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Casā€™s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Casā€™s hand steadying himself and you, Casā€™s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name.Ā 
He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites youā€™d showered him with.Ā Ā 
ā€œShit, Cas,ā€ you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. Youā€™d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When youā€™d first met him youā€™d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was ā€œun-angelicā€. Heā€™d been amused by that.Ā 
Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.Ā 
ā€œIā€™m so close,ā€ you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it ā€“ you briefly felt bad for the next roomā€™s residents ā€“ and Casā€™s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress ā€“ again, you felt bad ā€“ and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs.Ā 
ā€œFuck, Cas,ā€ you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closerā€¦ ā€œOh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, Iā€™m gonna cum, holy shit Iā€™m gonnaā€“ Castiel!ā€Ā 
You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Casā€™s name over and over like some kind of mantra.Ā 
He hadnā€™t stopped, in fact heā€™d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer.Ā 
You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm.Ā 
ā€œWe should get cleaned up,ā€ you whispered after a moment.Ā 
ā€œHm?ā€Ā 
ā€œClean up,ā€ you repeated. ā€œWeā€™re all sticky.ā€Ā 
ā€œOh,ā€ was all he said. Then, ā€œalright then.ā€Ā 
You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. Thereā€™d be other opportunities ā€” at least you hoped there would be.Ā 
You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch.Ā 
You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally youā€™d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat.Ā 
When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed.Ā 
He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face.Ā 
ā€œWhatā€™s wrong?ā€ you asked.Ā 
ā€œI assumed youā€™d want the bed to yourself,ā€ he shrugged. ā€œYou usually donā€™t shareā€
Oh, ok. ā€œUsually, yeah,ā€ you replied, as casually as you could. ā€œBut I wanna share with you.ā€ You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. ā€œStay?ā€Ā 
After a moment, he nodded.Ā 
It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again.Ā 
ā€œI wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked soā€¦ at peace.ā€ He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. ā€œBeautiful.ā€Ā 
Your voice was quieter than youā€™d meant it to be, and breathier. ā€œYou watch me sleep?ā€Ā 
ā€œItā€™s hard not to.ā€ It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty.Ā 
You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, ā€œThatā€™s a little creepy, Cas.ā€Ā 
ā€œShould I not have?ā€
ā€œI donā€™t mind,ā€ you said after a pause, ā€œbut maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.ā€Ā 
ā€œYou donā€™t?ā€
You shook your head. ā€œNot when itā€™s you.ā€ The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him.Ā 
ā€œBecause Iā€™m important to you, too?ā€ he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was justā€¦ so much.Ā 
You smiled. ā€œYeah, Cas, you sure are.ā€
You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Casā€™s heart, Casā€™s chest, Casā€™s hand.
ā€œHi,ā€ you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile.Ā 
ā€œHello.ā€Ā 
You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. ā€œSleep well?ā€
He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. ā€œBetter than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).ā€Ā 
ā€œThatā€™s alright.ā€ You looked away, heat rushing to your face. ā€œIt was my pleasure.ā€
ā€œI can see why you ā€“ humans ā€“ like it so much.ā€Ā 
You raised an eyebrow. ā€œHm?ā€Ā 
ā€œSex,ā€ he explained. ā€œI think I get it now.ā€Ā 
ā€œOh,ā€ you laughed. ā€œWell, that was pretty good sex. For someone whoā€™s never done it before, you were amazing.ā€Ā 
ā€œReally?ā€ He leaned back, surveying your face carefully.Ā 
You nodded. ā€œAnd anyway,ā€ you went on, ā€œit usually feels better when itā€™s someone whoā€™sā€¦ā€Ā 
He waited, watching you stumble over your words.Ā 
ā€œYou knowā€¦ā€ You paused, swallowing, half wishing youā€™d just left it at telling him he was good. ā€œSomeone whoā€™s special to you,ā€ you finished lamely.Ā 
ā€œWell,ā€ he said after a moment, ā€œthen Iā€™m glad it was you.ā€Ā 
You didnā€™t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang.Ā 
ā€œFucking hell,ā€ you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where youā€™d dumped it. Samā€™s name flashed on the screen.Ā 
ā€œWhat do you want?ā€ you growled.Ā 
ā€œBreakfast,ā€ he answered. ā€œWhatā€™s up your ass?ā€Ā 
ā€œI was sleepingā€ you answered smoothly, then, ā€œI donā€™t like being woken up.ā€Ā 
He snorted. ā€œYeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?ā€Ā 
You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. ā€œBreakfast in twenty?ā€ you asked.Ā 
He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldnā€™t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden.Ā 
ā€œSure,ā€ you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadnā€™t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasnā€™t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didnā€™t think thatā€™d fool Dean and Sam.Ā 
ā€œWhatā€™s wrong?ā€ Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt.Ā 
ā€œNothing,ā€ you sighed. ā€œBut Deanā€™s gonna give us endless ā€“ and I mean endless ā€“ shit.ā€Ā 
ā€œYouā€™ve killed demons, (Y/N),ā€ he smiled. ā€œAnd you still canā€™t deal with Deanā€™s endless shit?ā€Ā Ā 
ā€œOi! I can, I just donā€™t want to.ā€ You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. ā€œAnd youā€™re gonna be dealing with it too, so donā€™t get cocky.ā€Ā 
ā€œWeā€™ll deal with it together.ā€ It was tentative, almost a question.Ā 
You smiled, taking his hands. ā€œCastiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchesterā€™s endless shit. I can work with that.ā€
Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeoneā€™s eyes. Youā€™d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then heā€™d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didnā€™t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier.Ā 
ā€œDude,ā€ Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly theyā€™d hit a boiling point.Ā 
ā€œItā€™s not a hickey!ā€ Dean protested. ā€œItā€™s not even hickey-shaped!ā€Ā 
You froze, fork halfway to your mouth.Ā 
ā€œWhat?ā€ Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing.Ā 
Sam sighed. ā€œCas, look out the window for a second.ā€Ā 
ā€œHeyā€“ā€ you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Deanā€™s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam?Ā 
ā€œThatā€™s a hickey,ā€ the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Casā€™s neck.Ā 
Dean whistled softly. ā€œThatā€™s two hickeys. Itā€™s likeā€¦ a Siamese hickey.ā€Ā 
ā€œGross, Dean,ā€ you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks.Ā 
He shrugged. ā€œItā€™s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Whoā€™s the lucky girl?ā€Ā 
Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didnā€™t say anything.Ā 
ā€œWas it that waitress?ā€ Dean asked, leaning forwards. ā€œShe was cute, man, Iā€™d have tapped that.ā€Ā 
ā€œNo, it wasnā€™t the waitress.ā€Ā 
Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. ā€œThe hotel receptionist?ā€ he whispered. ā€œDude, she was a milf. Nice one.ā€Ā 
ā€œDeanā€¦ā€ Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared.Ā 
ā€œWhat? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasnā€™t sure if you had it in you.ā€Ā 
Sam sighed. ā€œI donā€™t think it was the hotel receptionist.ā€Ā 
ā€œNo? Who else?ā€Ā 
Again, he glanced at you. You hadnā€™t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadnā€™t discussed that with Cas, and you couldnā€™t exactly do so now.Ā 
Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldnā€™t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Deanā€™s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.Ā Ā 
ā€œNo,ā€ he said softly. ā€œNo, you didnā€™t.ā€Ā 
It was your turn to shrug. Youā€™d be lying if you said you didnā€™t get a little bit of a kick out of Deanā€™s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all.Ā 
ā€œYou slept together? You,ā€ he looked at you, ā€œand you?ā€ He looked at Cas.Ā 
ā€œYes,ā€ the former angel said stiffly. ā€œIt was nicer than the couch.ā€Ā 
ā€œNo, I meanā€“ā€Ā 
You raised a hand, stopping him. ā€œYes, Dean,ā€ you sighed. ā€œJustā€¦ get it out now.ā€Ā 
ā€œAw, man.ā€ He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. ā€œThat was you guys?ā€Ā 
ā€œI told you,ā€ Sam shrugged, looking all too smug.Ā 
Cas frowned. ā€œTold him what?ā€Ā 
ā€œWe could hear you,ā€ Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. ā€œI didnā€™t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didnā€™t wanna believe it, I didnā€™t wanna know thatā€¦ Aw, man!ā€Ā 
Samā€™s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. ā€œPay up.ā€Ā 
ā€œPay up?ā€ You glared at him, incredulous. ā€œWhat the fuck do you mean, pay up?ā€Ā 
ā€œI mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.ā€ With this, he nodded to Cas.Ā 
You gaped. ā€œPlease donā€™t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please donā€™t tell me you bet for it.ā€Ā 
ā€œWhat can I say? I knew itā€™d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.ā€Ā 
You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Casā€™s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. ā€œWhy canā€™t you guys just be normal about one single thing?ā€ you lamented. ā€œWho the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?ā€Ā 
ā€œActually,ā€ Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, ā€œitā€™s a very normal thing to do.ļæ½ļæ½ļæ½Ā 
ā€œMhm, back at Stanfordā€“ā€Ā 
ā€œBack at Stanford,ā€ you mimicked, cutting him off. ā€œI canā€™t believe you two.ā€Ā 
Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. ā€œHey, sorry, but I didnā€™t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, donā€™t try to tell me you wouldnā€™t take that.ā€Ā 
ā€œI canā€™t believe Iā€™m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.ā€Ā 
ā€œMe too,ā€ Cas added solemnly.Ā 
You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back.Ā 
ā€œYouā€™re not allowed toā€¦ do anything in the back of my car.ā€ Dean said after a moment. ā€œEspecially not with me or Sam there too.ā€Ā 
Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Deanā€™s eyes. ā€œDonā€™t bet on it.ā€
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edwinspaynes Ā· 2 months ago
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My Case for Why Only Romantic Payneland Would Feel Truly Satisfying
Last night, I made a poll about whether people would be satisfied with QPR Payneland. I was curious where we stood on this as a fandom, and it's cool that it's about 50/50 between "either would be okay" and "I want them romantic."
Preface: I'm a monogamous biromantic asexual. If you were wondering. I have been in both a queerplatonic relationship (where I had a one-sided romantic crush on my QPP) and a few romantic relationships with both men and women.
Preface II: This post is not at all intended to be judgmental of any type of relationship. Poly people are awesome; aro/ace people in QPRs rock. This is specifically examining what is right for Charles and Edwin.
Preface III: I think that Edwin and Charles have definitely been in an unlabeled QPR since the beginning. They don't have the word for it, but it definitely is a QPR. They aren't romantically involved, but they make major decisions surrounding the other one and feel like they would wither up and die if they had to live in separate places.
This was great up until now, I think. A QPR is very valuable, very special, and very beautiful. It's meaningful and has served them wonderfully up until this point.
But it isn't sustainable for these specific characters.
The Need for Exclusivity in Both a QPR and a Romantic Relationship
I think that with no other external factors impacting my media needs, I would be okay with an exclusive QPR Payneland.
@tumblerislovetumblerislife astutely said:
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I do not think that there is any world where they're suited for polyamory - this is honestly my biggest nope-out of fics and I deeply, deeply hate it for them.
This is because:
They already feel like a Pair Set to me that cannot be separated or infringed on by anyone else, and
In the end, it would never be fair to a romantic (or other platonic) partner because they would unplug anyone else's life support to charge the other's phone. No one else would ever be the priority over the other, and if they did, that would be OOC.
Even if they decided to date someone else now in the short-term, like Crystal or the Cat King, it's necessarily temporary. It's to Figure Things Out. There is an expiration date. And whether that's due to a romantic or a platonic bond between Edwin and Charles, their bond being stronger than any other is the reason for that expiration date.
So polyamory feels extremely disingenuous to their characters to me and is imo extremely OOC.
Authenticity to the Story
Edwin is currently, in the explicit canon, essentially Charles's QPP who has a one-sided crush on him. That is the explicit canon. It's not a fun place to be, no matter how much your QPP loves you - I have Been There.
Edwin is not unhappy or dissatisfied with the current situation, and he knows Charles loves him. But it still is kind of a sucky place to sit.
Luckily, the love does not actually feel one-sided! Charles reads as a character that has always been romantically in love with Edwin, probably long before Edwin fell romantically in love with Charles, but he neither has the self-awareness nor the words to describe it.
Charles touching his heart at the end of episode 8 makes it clear that he is beginning to have his Big Epiphany. I wish the show wasn't canceled because, uh, I want it.
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This obvious two-sided romantic love makes a future QPR feel inauthentic to me. I think both characters would feel like it was the wrong shape for the relationship after they both had their epiphanies.
Other Media Considerations
I understand that a lot of people, it's important to have an explicitly-labeled QPR in a show. I do not disagree with this! I think we need WAY more QPRs in media that are explicitly labeled as such and treated as valid. I just don't think that it's right for Charles and Edwin.
I've explained why this is true from a character perspective; but let me also talk about how relationships like theirs are treated.
I'm personally sick of the "bond-beyond-bonds relationship that remains purely platonic." We saw it with Destiel onscreen because of the rancid queerbaiting in Supernatural; we saw it in Johnlock as a direct result of similar, albeit less magnified, queerbaiting.
This is, to me, the exact type of relationship that a QPR between Edwin and Charles would be.
It would be different. I know this. There is no world where DBDA is queerbaiting us; we have a gay MC and tons of queer side characters.
But to me, platonic Payneland being endgame would still feel like a betrayal because that endgame would feel like something adjacent to the endings of other shows that have queerbaited in the past. I feel like a huge appeal of DBDA is that it's beginning to right those wrongs and heal those wounds, and I firmly believe that's one intention of the show. It would feel unkind to the bulk of viewers for them not to end up together.
I think that the show ultimately was going to make them romantic endgame. It just didn't have the time to before getting the axe, which SUCKS.
So yeah. These are my personal thoughts. I hope I've articulated some of the things that a lot of you think.
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genericpuff Ā· 4 months ago
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The excessively passive voice when talking about Minthe being intended to have BPD is hilarious. "It was thought to have her written with BPD"? So weird
Honestly, once you start noticing this passive voice in how Rachel writes and talks, it's kind of hard to unsee.
Like, for starters, the BPD example. It's very non-committal, almost as if to sound like she never actually wrote her with BPD, it was just an 'idea' that she could neither confirm or deny as canon. But then you read the episode with the slap and-
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It's- it's literally called "Splitting". It's about as subtle as a brick to the face. This entire episode showcases Minthe having an actual literal episode of splitting and it's plain as day to anyone who can read the title card and put two and two together. So for the wording to be so passive around her characterization... it wasn't "thought" to have her written with BPD, she was written with BPD.
Another example that sticks out in my mind of Rachel's passive writing is far later in Season 3, when Demeter reunites with Persephone and naturally expects her to come back home with her.
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This line still fucking bothers me to this day. Besides the fact that it's just really poorly written dialogue, Persephone describes her being in love with Hades as if it's just some coincidental thing that happened to her that she can't avoid and not a deliberate choice she's making. "It would seem" my ass, Persephone is a coward for not being upfront and just talking to her mother like an adult by saying, "Mother, I love you, and I understand why you want me to come home, but I'm in love with Hades and want to stay in the Underworld with him." Instead the way it's worded is almost designed to absolve Persephone of any and all agency in her own decisions and active participation in her relationship with Hades by instead making it out to be just some circumstance that she can't get herself out of.
Again, this isn't quite as egregious as the aforementioned BPD scene, but it's still irritating because Rachel writes like this a lot throughout LO. And it's not just the dialogue either, entire decisions throughout the comic are flip-flopped and kept vague by Rachel so she can give herself plausible deniability over the narrative. I could come up with some of my own examples, but I think she managed to speak for herself just fine in the end-of-series Q&A that left both critics and fans of the series massively confused and disappointed:
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LO is full of half-committed plotlines because Rachel herself can't commit to her own decisions. So the decisions she does make are left vague enough that hardcore fans are willing enough to fill in the blanks themselves, but anyone who asks her genuinely what her plan was, she just gives the same wordy "IDK it's up to your interpretation!" response. It's like she thinks people are asking her as just another reader who can only speculate, but she's literally the author, so why is she acting like her guess is as good as theirs?
Well, because that's how she wrote LO. That's how she's always written comics, with vague half-finished thoughts and just enough for readers to do the mental gymnastics of making sense of it all just to give her the credit for "smart writing" that she never actually did because she stopped paying attention after the first sentence. And that method of being vague for the sake of audience interpretation is fine for illustrations or anything that isn't trying to be a concise narrative, but LO did try to be that and it really shows how hard it failed in doing so when its own creator can't even come up with something slightly plausible to explain all the questions people had in the end. "There is some backstory there" but proceeds to not actually expand on said backstory. "I like to imply things without outright telling people", so do I, but the difference is that Rachel is using that as a crutch to not answer the questions she setup for her readers and then didn't resolve after five years. There's not wanting to spoon feed people the plot, and then there's literally refusing to explain your decisions when writing said plot, almost because you don't know any more than they do.
The entirety of LO is rooted in Rachel's passiveness, from her inability to answer questions concisely to every little plot point that was established and dropped throughout the comic's run. Writing a story is a series of decisions, deciding what to keep, deciding what not to keep, deciding what has to be changed, etc. and Rachel just... doesn't seem like someone who's ever been capable of making those decisions, especially when she's writing an actual long form story to the end and doesn't have the luxury of dropping it whenever it feels convenient for her like she did several times with The Doctor Pepper Show. Once she was actually held to a standard, once she was actually signed into a contract that expected her to make those decisions, she failed to and it culminated in one of the messiest conclusions to a story I've seen since Game of Thrones.
LO is kind of like Schrodinger's Cat - a plot point can be or not be whatever it needs to be so that Rachel can be either praised for smart writing she never did or absolved of bad writing that she did do. It's equally parts interesting and vague enough that whatever her readers give her credit for writing, she can give them a thumbs-up and go "you're totally right, champ!" and proceed to take all the credit of being a "good writer" from the efforts of her own audience who had to jump through a million hoops to make sense of her own messy writing.
But when she's put on the spot by those very same readers to answer for her own decisions, she can't.
Because she never made them.
Because there was never anything "deeper" going on, that's just what her style of "distraction writing" made you believe. The plot never lets you stop to think about what you just read long enough before zipping away to the next thing and distracting you with a new twist or a new character or a new plot point, and before you know it, you've gone weeks without reading about the last thing that was established you probably haven't even realized that those questions never got answered. Sometimes Rachel remembers to get back to those things and resolves them within a handful of panels, other times she forgets them entirely and just leaves them to rot in the hopes that no one ever calls her out on it. And when they do... she can just pull the get-out-of-jail-free "Welp, it's up to your interpretation!" card and get that credit all over again for being deep and insightful, meanwhile those who are rightfully dissatisfied with that answer are blanket-accused of "getting mad at Rachel for not writing the story they wanted".
To close out this ask that, per tradition, turned into an essay, I'd like to recall the famous words of fictional detective Benoit Blanc: "Look into the clear center of this glass onion... Miles Bron is an idiot!"
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an-idyllic-novelist Ā· 11 months ago
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Angel Dust with Violet Evergarden!reader platonic fluff scenario
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Warnings: spoilers up to episode 4, possible triggers. If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please leave now and read something much more pleasant.
For everyone else, welcome to this small piece of fluffy goodness! You guys might know me from my other blog, @forbidden-sunlight . You have sent me your ideas for future Violet Evergarden!reader scenarios for Hazbin Hotel, and here is one of them! :)
Sit back, relax, and let us dive into a chaotic afterlife, where even a bit of reprieve from dishonesty and hypocrisy isnā€™t possibleā€¦until now.
Angel Dust's first impression of you is the following: a cute weirdo who dressed like a doll and didnā€™t smile much. What was even more tragic is that you actually believed there is a chance for sinners to be redeemed, and that the only to do that is complete Charlieā€™s half-assed rehabilitation program. You still do, even your progress hasnā€™t gotten you one step closer to Heavenā€™s pearly gates and the next Extermination is in six months. Five months actually, but who's counting?
That was around the time when he had to go back to work. He didnā€™t want to, but he knew if he didnā€™tā€¦well, he didnā€™t want to think about it. Valentino is a psychopathic freak. He promised to make him, Angel, a big star in Hellā€™s entertainment industry, and instead fucked him over six ways from Sunday with false promises.
Long hours, shitty pay. No time to even take a nap in his dressing room because of course Big Daddy Val had his favorite toyā€™s schedule booked until he couldn't walk anymore and needed a stiff drink. When his afterlife seemed to take a nosedive for worse, and after Husk knocked some sense into him, he started finding letters under his door.
At first glance Angel could tell that they werenā€™t from his fans. No oneā€™s gonna go out of their way and buy expensive paper to type it on, shove in an envelope, and put a wax seal on it just to praise him for his acting skills and share their wildest fantasies starring yours truly. No. This wasā€¦.someone else.
He honestly didn't know how to describe the context of these letters because he had never received something like this from anyone who did not expect anything from him in PS or PPS. The sender would write either a short or long letter. The short letter was about half a page long; the sender would ask how he was feeling and ask him one question. What was his favorite food? What is the color he would never wear? The sender included a little about themselves too, as if to encourage him to respond. The longer ones started the same, with a greeting and almost the same stuff written in the shorter ones, but they shared how their day went with him, even the stupid, mundane shit they do every day as a part-time clerk at an antique shop and when they come home. The longer ones were at least two pages long. Some stuff made him roll his eyes, made him laughā€¦but it was the closing sentences, even as they vary from letter to letter, always jerked his heart in a way which made him both sad and happy at the same time.
Iā€™m happy Iā€™ve met you.
Thank you for being here.
Good night and have pleasant dreams.
You are stronger than you think, Angel.
I hope I can receive a letter from you someday.
You made a lot of progress today in Charlieā€™s exercises. Iā€™m proud of you.
Youā€™re doing great.
Angel might be a bit of a dummyā€¦.but he could tell right away who had been sending him the letters. The bit about Charlieā€™s exercisesā€¦there were only a few people attending that day. Vaggie, Sir Wet Noodles, and you. Vaggie wouldnā€™t write this kind of shit, and definitely not the wannabe overlord. You. Youā€™ve helped him get through it with these letters and you never expected him to reply back. Itā€™s as if you just wanted your words to reach him through Valā€™s sickly red smoke and hold his hand in your gloved one.
Naturallyā€¦the best way he can say thanksā€¦for caring about him in your roundabout wayā€¦is to write a letter back. Maybe have a drink at Huskā€™s bar and talk about shitty coworkers or why Smiles never stops smiling? Heā€™s not sure, but heā€™ll figure it out somehow. Sex isnā€™t the only thing heā€™s good at. And heā€™d like to get to know you a little more too.
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peopleareaproblem Ā· 9 months ago
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"It's the only name I can say."
So last ep, Kalina dropped this line after saying "Ragh Barkrock" again. She's really trying to get the Bad Kids to deduce who she could be referring to via Ragh. We've found out about the Spy's Tongue Curse since she last dropped Ragh's name, so it's clear that she's implying that she cannot say the names she wants to say and is dropping Ragh's name as a clue. I've been seeing a lot of theories about this line that are convinced it's implying Lydia Barkrock. I disagree: I think she is referring to Arianwen, Jace and Porter. Here's why.
First of all, and most obviously: Kalina says Lydia's full name in Sophomore Year episode 6.
Kalina: But you do have some time to talk it over because I'm gonna head out and kill Lydia Barkrock. So take care.
I don't think Brennan or the D20 Lorekeeper would have missed this. Kalina doesn't have a Spy's Tongue Curse with Lydia.
Secondly, the gang already investigated Lydia and got relevant clues from her, and Brennan did not encourage suspicion towards Lydia in any way. This repeat of the clue really feels like a "you guys didn't get it yet" type thing. Last time they assumed Lydia and that wasn't it. Try again.
Thirdly, Ragh's only real interaction with Kalina is about a single time he saw something he shouldn't have: Jace, Porter and Arianwen talking to someone invisible (Kalina) on Prom Night. I believe that if the Bad Kids just asked Ragh what Kalina could possibly have meant by "Ragh Barkrock" and "It's the only name I can say," he would absolutely bring up this fact. But they haven't!
That's why I am convinced that Arianwen, and to a lesser extent Jace and Porter, are who Kalina was referring to.
Below the cut are some bits of the trancript from Episode 4 of Sophomore Year, where Ragh reveals this to the Bad Kids.
Ragh is describing the aftermath of the fight with Kalvaxus:
Ragh: I ran into the school. And I went and I saw there was this conversation, and I was going, 'cause a lot of the teachers had been trapped in the crystals and had come out again. And I saw Jace, the sorcery teacher-- Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: Talking to this woman that I didn't recognize. She was an elven woman, she was wearing sort of like black, dark robes, it looked like, they were very light. She was blonde, she had glasses. Adaine: She look like this? [points at her face] Ragh: She look like you? Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: I mean, yeah. Yeah, she looked like, yeah, she looked like you. But older. She didn't look like-- Adaine: Right. Ragh: Um, you know, I mean, elves never look that old, but she looked like, you know, not a high schooler. Um. Jace and them were talking, and they were talking to somebody else who I couldn't see. I just assumed somebody was like, invisible. Um. Later, um, Jace and Porter came and talked to me--
Ragh goes on to describe Porter healing him, despite Ragh not feeling "that injured, honestly", and after that he can see Kalina despite not being able to see her moments before:
Ragh: And after that, I was like walking home, and I saw this cat woman, this tabaxi. And she came up, and told me all this stuff about my mom, and she said if I ever talked to anyone about it, she would kill my mom.
This indicates that Porter infected Ragh with the curse, on purpose. Probably to allow Kalina to threaten and manipulate him so he wouldn't tell anyone what he saw. She really doesn't want him telling anyone that he saw Arianwen there.
Ragh: She told me if I ever mentioned to anyone what I had seen about that elven woman-- Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: That she would kill my mom.
They have a short conversation about wether Jace is suspect, but dismiss it. Adaine shows Ragh a photo of her mother and he confirms that it is the woman he saw.
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sundrop-writes Ā· 8 months ago
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One Moment Per Episode With Dick Grayson
Season One, Episode One: "Titans"
Summary:
You and Dick haven't spoken since the Titans parted ways in San Francisco five years ago.
Even though you used to be as close as two people can be, both of you are doing just fine leading your own separate lives - until your psychic powers cause you to have a vision of the end of the world, and you have to turn to him for help. As much as Dick doesn't want to get involved, you know that him leading The Raven on the path she needs to travel is the only way to stop the terrible fate you saw.
He wants to deny it, and stay as far away from you as possible - but he can't avoid you or the truth that you have told him when he runs into that very Raven you speak of in an interrogation room later that night. He has to face a simple truth he has always known: you're always right.
Dick Grayson x Fem!Powered!Reader. Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Bantering/Humor. Set during Season 1, Episode 1.
Word Count: 2,300
DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist
Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns (some people might accuse the reader character in this story of being more of an OC and I am okay with that - I try to make all the reader characters in my other stories as blank and open as possible and every now and then I let myself have a little bit of a treat) - but as usual with my stories, the majority of pronouns used in the fic are you/yours; other than clothing style and a scar that informs her backstory, the reader's looks are not described and are left vague (as far as race, body type, hair colour, etc. - those things are not described); the reader character does have powers - I might make a separate post detailing the reader's entire backstory and power set (or I might just let it be spelled out slowly through the chapters) - but for now, I will tell you that the reader character is psychic and can see glimpses of the future in dream-like visions; the reader and Dick are 'exes' - their relationship was never official (they never explicitly called each other boyfriend/girlfriend), but they used to have sex often (and they both have feelings for each other that they never openly spoke about), and they are childhood friends, so there is a lot of emotional history there; mentions of canon-typical violence; this fic does use Y/N; mentions of the reader being shot during a past undescribed incident; there is references to sex and discussions of sex, but no explicit smut (but there might be some later in the story? idk yet); emotionally constipated Dick Grayson; idk what else ? - pining, emotional angst, using humor to deflect emotional tension, banter. I just really like the vibes of this. there is not a lot of big content warnings for this fic (yet).
A/N: Honestly, I am really excited about this one. I have a lot of ideas for future episodes (especially the episode where Dick loses it emotionally and just gets followed around by a hallucination of Bruce for the entire episode - but that's not until Season 2, oop). Titans is one of my favourite series ever - if you couldn't tell - so getting to examine each episode closer and appreciate each individual episode as a unique piece of art while writing this instead of binging a whole season gives me a whole new appreciation for the show. I hope you guys enjoy these as they come out - especially because I do have an idea of where this fic is going, but I don't know where I want these characters to go in Season 4. (I kind of want to do a secret surprise reveal of two of the characters being related and being siblings, but... idk. Sometimes people don't like that.) But this is definitely a good opportunity to send me ideas of where you want this story to go/how you want it to end up. Anyway - please enjoy!!!
....
Dick needed some fucking air.Ā 
He could barely fucking handle today. He had to compose himself before he lost it and started breaking things. It was all such a shitshow - the department pushing a new partner on him, footage of Robin all over the news, every other half-cocked beat cop making comments about how Robin was just another masked psychopath who wasnā€™t that different from The Joker.Ā 
Fuck them.Ā 
If they only knew what Gotham was like - if only they had to deal with a department full of assholeā€™s on the Jokerā€™s payroll. If only they had to watch criminals walk away because they made bail on the decision of a corrupt judge. If only they had to sit behind a desk and listen to a motherā€™s sobs as she begged for him to find her missing child - knowing how many people elbow to elbow with him would laugh at her tears rather than start looking.Ā 
If they only spent one night tending to civilians while the smell of burning flesh permeated the air, with the Jokerā€™s screaming laugh stuck in their ears because he thought that bombing a low-income housing complex was just that funny.Ā 
Fuck all of them.Ā 
Dick clenched his fist tight - his knuckles aching as he resisted the urge to drive his arm right through the glass at the front of the precinct. He just - he really needed some air.Ā 
Dick walked out the front doors (rather than smashing the glass), and took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying his best to calm down. It was getting late, and things were relatively slow, even for it being a Tuesday. No influx of late-night chaos yet. He had some time to collect himself before-Ā 
ā€œSo - Robinā€™s in Detroit now, huh?ā€Ā 
That voice.Ā 
Dick felt the sting of familiarity pluck at his spine, and he whipped his head around at lightning speed, looking in the direction of the voice. Surely enough - you were the one standing there. It hadnā€™t been some kind of auditory hallucination on his part.Ā 
So much for time to calm himself down.Ā 
He was immediately met with a confliction - lust and annoyance bubbling up inside of him. He didnā€™t want to see you again, he didnā€™t want you to be here, especially not without warning. But you looked so damn good - it was a distraction from that fact.Ā 
That was always the thing about exes, wasnā€™t it?Ā 
(If Dick could even call you his ā€˜exā€™ - the two of you had slept together more times than he could count, both metaphorically and literally, but the two of you had never put an official label on the relationship like he had with Dawn or Barbara. He cared for you like a friend, and like a lover in a way that he was never willing to admit - but did that make you his ex? Especially if he never stopped caring about you?)Ā 
That thing about exes being: they always look so fucking good when you see them after a long time of being apart. The universe dangling something in front of you that youā€™re not allowed to have and technically, should no longer want.Ā 
But oh - Dick found himself wanting so very badly. (And he tried his hardest to hide that fact as he continued to carefully stare you down.)Ā 
Because you looked so good.Ā 
You were wearing something of your usual style - an outfit of many confusing layers that somehow showed off the natural curves of your body and hid you all at the same time.Ā 
A long skirt with a ruffled hemline and bold, colorful pattern. A pair of boots that you had probably gotten from some vintage store that were likely older than both you and Dick, leathery and well worn in. Your jacket was much the same - a supple brown leather with a soft fur lining that made you look very warm and cozy.Ā 
Topped off with a pair of the largest, gaudiest dangling earrings that Dick had ever seen - the kind that would have gotten snagged on one of his nice shirts and gotten the two of you tangled up during one of your hook-ups. A pair of earrings that he would have scolded you for wearing - but he would have delighted in finding them on his bedroom floor after you left because it meant having a piece of you still with him. And it would mean having an excuse to visit you later because he had something of yours to return.Ā 
Those earrings glistened in the light of the street lamps, just as your eyes did while you stared him down with those inquisitive, knowing eyes. Looking at him with that same expression you always wore - the one that seemed to say you knew everything that he never would. It equally fascinated him and infuriated him.Ā 
He hated the fact that you had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, causing his heart to race - had you snuck up on him on purpose? Did you find it funny?Ā 
ā€œY/N,ā€ Dick said your name curtly, still feeling a slight twinge of shock that you were standing in front of him at all. ā€œWhat the fuck are you doing here?ā€Ā 
You let out a dry chuckle, and stepped closer to him, making his whole body stiff. His first instinct was to step backward - to gain more distance from you. But he didnā€™t want to seem like he was afraid of you - afraid of that closeness. So he forcefully locked his legs and stayed in place as you drifted closer, and you idly conversed back.Ā 
ā€œOh, Dickie.ā€ You sighed in return, using his childhood nickname. ā€œA warm welcome as always.ā€Ā 
Dick rolled his eyes at this. Did he really need to bother with manners and formalities? The two of you had known each other for so long, he guessed that you were both well over stuff like that.Ā 
ā€œDo I need a reason to be here? Canā€™t I just visit an old friend?ā€ You posed, a humorous tone still running through your voice.Ā 
He shoved his hands into his pockets as he took a more defensive stance. He quickly went from shock then to annoyance.Ā 
The two of you were old friends - you had known each other since you were in diapers together. The two of you had grown up together, raised by a unique circus family. And that meant that Dick knew you well enough to know that if you were here, you had a good reason to be.Ā 
(If you had wanted to chase him when he first left Gotham, you likely would have camped out in the trunk of his car, or you would have shown up at his new apartment the day after he moved in. You wouldnā€™t have waited this long to contact him.)Ā 
ā€œDo us both a favor and cut the bullshit, please.ā€ Dick replied sternly. ā€œWhy are you here?ā€Ā 
ā€œGrumpy.ā€ You sighed, sounding defeated.Ā 
He waited for a moment, and surely enough - you folded, now willing to directly explain your reason for showing up in Detroit so suddenly.Ā 
ā€œI had a vision.ā€ You explained. ā€œA girl. The Raven. A lot of others consider her to be the eater of worlds, but she is the one who is going to save us all, Dick.ā€Ā 
He let out a harsh puff of air, reaching up and running fingers roughly over his temple. Yup, there it was - the headache had fully set in now. He really didnā€™t need this. Not tonight.Ā 
He had known about your visions for a long time. When he was younger, he had been shocked to find out that you had inherited your motherā€™s ā€˜giftā€™. He previously had no clue that her set-up as a sideshow fortune teller with Tarot cards and a large crystal ball wasnā€™t all psychology tricks and half-guesses she put on for tourists - but in fact, it was actually something informed by larger supernatural forces at play. And it was something you could do as well.Ā 
So he was inclined to believe you when you told him about this vague vision, but he also didnā€™t want to be involved. He had a lot on his plate right now - he didnā€™t need this.Ā 
ā€œLook, Iā€™m sure that whatever you saw was important, but-ā€ He began.Ā 
You sighed and shook your head harshly at this ā€˜butā€™.Ā 
ā€œWhy donā€™t you just take it to New York instead? This kind of thing is way more Donnaā€™s speed, anyway. Iā€™m sure she can help you find this girl, and-ā€Ā 
ā€œThat wonā€™t help.ā€ You told him. ā€œThe girl is already on her way here.ā€Ā 
You spoke the words with such utter certainty, and it sent shivers up Dickā€™s spine. The calm, tranquil look on your face - the ominous wiseness you held: it reminded Dick so much of your mother. The other-worldly authority she held that had ultimately gotten her killed. It was strangely creepy.Ā 
ā€œJust so you know, I hate it when you say ominous shit like that.ā€ Dick told you, gesturing to your person with stiff offense in his body. ā€œJust because your mother played the creepy voodoo witch for tourists doesnā€™t mean you have to.ā€Ā 
ā€œIā€™m not playing.ā€ You replied, exasperated.Ā 
You knew that Dick could be frightened of your powers at times. He was someone very logic-based - he built his beliefs around facts. So having you follow your visions and your ā€˜gut feelingsā€™ when they were never concrete, changing on a dime - he hated the uncertainty and chaos that came with it all. But you had learned to trust yourself and your feelings over time, even if he didnā€™t.Ā 
ā€œAnd you know, youā€™re involved in this whether you want to be or not.ā€ You told him, trying to get the conversation back on track. ā€œI donā€™t think itā€™s a coincidence that Robin made his first appearance in months last night.ā€Ā 
Dick became stiff at this, and quickly glanced around - as though waiting for someone to appear out of nowhere and point an accusing finger at him, screaming out that he was Robin and he had been caught.Ā 
ā€œYou canā€™t help it, Dick Grasyon.ā€ You declared with intense certainty. ā€œYou need to save people, you need to feel like youā€™re making a difference, you-ā€Ā 
ā€œSo what, now you expect me to save the whole fucking world?ā€ Dick snapped back.Ā 
ā€œShe does.ā€ You corrected.Ā 
ā€œWho?ā€ He replied - confused and once again annoyed at your mysticism and bold confidence in your visions.Ā 
ā€œThe Raven.ā€ You told him. ā€œShe needs you. And whether you like it or not, you need her.ā€Ā 
You shifted your stance then, waiting for him to tell you that you were right - which was how most of your arguments ended.Ā 
But then, as a sick reminder, the lapel of your jacket opened enough for Dick to get a glance at your chest. The neckline of your blouse was wide open, but his eyes werenā€™t drawn to your cleavage - instead, he became focused on a large scar that you had sitting over your heart. A place where a bullet had ripped through you, leaving you barely alive.Ā 
He still remembered the feeling of your blood warm under his hands while you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, begging him to save you. He remembered sitting at your bedside, believing that you would never wake up again.Ā 
He couldnā€™t help but to reach up and gently skim his thumb across the roughness of the scarred skin as he glared at it with a stiff jaw. The touch sent shivers through you - it was the first time he had touched you since that last night in Gotham, when you had woken up to an empty bed and absolutely no explanation as to where he had gone.Ā 
Dick felt rage boil inside of him.Ā 
How could you ask him to save the world when he had been responsible for this?Ā 
This - this was why he was no fucking savior.Ā 
ā€œYou shouldnā€™t be here.ā€ He said, choking on the words slightly as he took his hand down, shoving it back into his pocket once again. He had to avoid the temptation of touching you any further.Ā 
If you werenā€™t safe around him, why would some little girl from your visions be?Ā 
ā€œThis isnā€™t about me.ā€ You scoffed. ā€œOr-ā€Ā 
ā€˜Or us.ā€™Ā 
You held back, knowing how dangerous it was to mention the royal Us around flighty Dick Grayson. For a bird without wings, he was absolutely capable of taking off in a quick moment when he wanted to.Ā 
ā€œThis is about something so much bigger.ā€ You pressed. ā€œSheā€™ll be here soon.ā€Ā 
Dick let out another strained sigh at you using such ominous words again.Ā 
ā€œWell, next time youā€™re gonna come here and be all ominous and creepy, you should at least bring some coffee.ā€ He told you, sarcasm tight on his lips.Ā 
You made a mocking face in return.Ā 
ā€œWell, you could be more polite.ā€ You scoffed.Ā 
Before Dick could recommend that the two of you go and get a coffee in order to truly catch up, someone called out his name, drawing his attention away from you for a moment.Ā 
ā€œHey, Grayson!ā€ Someone called, sticking their head out the front door. ā€œPrentiss is looking for you!ā€Ā 
When he turned back, you were gone. He tried not to linger on it too much - how creepy it was. You were silent and quick like a ghost - he thought that your ominous jewelry might jingle like a house catā€™s bell.Ā 
But - he would call you later. Hopefully you still had the same number.Ā 
ā€¦
Dick walked into the interrogation room, trying to clear his mind of the interaction with you. When he saw a small, scared girl, he thought it best to lighten the mood with a joke.Ā 
ā€œHi, Iā€™m Detective Grayson.ā€ He said, introducing himself. ā€œI hear you like to play baseball with bricks and cop cars. You wanna tell me what happened?ā€Ā 
ā€œYouā€™re him.ā€ She said, whimpering and tearful. ā€œYouā€™re the boy from the Circus.ā€Ā 
At first, Dick thought that everyone was simply being ominous and creepy today. But then he realized:
ā€˜Oh fuck. You were right.ā€™
...
A/N: Please do not ask me when this fic will be updated - this fic does not have a schedule.
While this is technically the first chapter in a 'series', each chapter is meant to be enjoyed on its own. The overarching plot of the series is still that of the original Titans show, and I won't be making any major changes to the canon of the show - I just intend to showcase smaller emotional moments between the reader character and the canon characters. This is something I want to work on casually in the background between working on other things. This fic is not my main focus, and I will not be rushing to update it or complete it.
Comments and reblogs are encouraged, and I am thankful for them - but please keep those comments focused on the actual content of the series (it's plot, the characters, their dynamics, etc.). Please do not spam me asking me to update this or asking me when I will update this - because I am not in a rush to do so. I have a lot of ideas for this series that I am excited about, but I want to work on it slowly and casually because I don't want to lose my enthusiasm for it and I know that rushing will take that enthusiasm away.
If you enjoyed this - great, thanks. But if you expect this to be updated weekly like a factory pumping out stuff on a clearly outlined schedule - then you are in the wrong place. If you are expecting constant updates of this fic and you will be disappointed if it doesn't get updated regularly - you should just block me now and pretend you didn't read it. But if you are a patient person - feel free to read and enjoy my other Titans works while I am working on updates for this (and working on other exciting things), and feel free to send me a message telling me what you thought of this fic or other fics in general.
Also - if you can't get Dick Grayson off your mind - my requests are open.
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x-bluefire-heart-x Ā· 1 year ago
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Teachers Pet
So, entering into a new fandom with this piece. It's gonna be a mini-series..maybe...honestly who knows. This is set in the Conjuring Universe with some tweaks, and the tweaks being that more then just ghosts and demonic entities exist, think of it as a bit of a Supernatural crossover without the characters. It will be a Ed/Lorraine/femreader fic, it's bit of instant love. Femreader is a hunter, and has some physic abilities that they use to assist when hunting supernatural creatures.
Warnings: Sexual undertones and heavy making out, brief mention of cheating - but not the three members of the throuple.
Masterlist
Prompt List
Chapter Two
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The Teachers
You could hear some of the audience whispering around you, the scepticism in their words and tones had you rolling your eyes. If they didnā€™t believe in the spiritual or demonic why even come to this lecture. The Warrens were well known for being experts in the subjects and had been involved in many cases around the country. You had kept an eye on their work as often as you could, reading every article and watching every news or talk show episode with them on it. But you had never seen them in person and you were beyond excited.
You watched the two of them walk onto the stage and your breathe caught. Your heart raced and you could hear your blood pumping in your ears. They were even more stunning in person, and Lorraine, you could almost feel something surrounding her. You had always been attune to others auras and to spirits. You werenā€™t a clairvoyant like Lorraine, you had no visions and when you touched things you never felt the emotions connected to the item or saw what happened moments before. But you were something.
Ā You tried to pay attention to what the two of them were saying but you found yourself focusing more on their lips moving, their body language and how they interacted with each other more than the content of the lecture. You were currently busy staring at Ed, thinking you were covered as just another face in the crowd but the next moment Edā€™s eyes seemed to find yours. Your eyes stayed locked together, as Lorraine took over talking. You felt your cheeks start to heat, as Ed continued to look at you, his lips slowly changing from the smile he had had the majority of the lecture to a relaxed smirk. Lorraine walked up beside him, her eyes following his line of sight and caught your eyes as well. Just like her husband she maintained eye contact, her smile becoming soft and gentle as her eyes seemed to penetrate right through you. Thatā€™s when you finally broke eye contact looking down at your lap as your face flushed deeply. Your fingers fiddling with the rings you were wearing.
You forced your eyes to stay on your lap the rest of the lecture and even through the question segment. You didnā€™t want to get caught staring at the married couple again. Everyone started shuffling out of the lecture hall, talking amongst themselves, you allowed yourself a moment before standing to trail along behind the others. You refused to look back at Ed and Lorraine as you left the room, breathing normally for the first time since they had stepped onto the stage. There was no way to explain or describe the feeling that those two produced in you, it was like they became the centre of your world. The thing that allowed you to feel others, was drawn to them, it was the strongest it had ever been. Which was why you could feel that they were walking towards you and they were almost out of the classroom, part of you wanted to push through the other people and get out of the building but your instincts raged against that thought, making your head hurt. The normal sign that you were choosing the wrong option, so instead you slowed your steps allowing the crowd to wash past you ensuring that you were practically the only ones in the hallway when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your body shivered at the feeling, as a shock radiated from where her hand had touched.
ā€œHello,ā€ Lorraine smiled at you, you pouted a little when you noticed that you were shorter than her. Ed and Lorraine shared a look, a heat in their eyes as they took in your lips pushing forward before you quickly forced a calm look over your face.
ā€œHi,ā€ you said eyes shifting between the two quickly, unsure who to focus on and not wanting to stare at either of them for too long. The pain in your head had disappeared, and in replace of it was a feeling of light, like you were flying almost.
ā€œWe noticed you in the lecture, you seemed very interested but we noticed you didnā€™t have any questions,ā€ Ed said, an eyebrow raised. You couldnā€™t quite determine the tone of his voice, but it was nothing like the one he used in the lecture.
ā€œOh, um,ā€ you had never told anyone before that you had had experiences with spirits, the demonic and other creatures of the supernatural. Learning how to deal with them, and help others but you had stayed under the radar not wanting to gain the attention of the Church.
ā€œItā€™s alright,ā€ Lorraine smiled her hand squeezing your arm, it was odd, normally you didnā€™t like people touching you but the feel on Lorraineā€™s hand on your arm calmed you, and that was something you didnā€™t like. Her eyes were kind and gentle but still had the feeling of seeing right through to your soul. ā€œYou can tell us. I feel a similarity between us, donā€™t you?ā€
You sighed rubbing the back of your neck, knowing that Lorraine could sense the thing that made you different, just as you could sense it in her. The sound of voices drew your attention to the hallway over the shoulder of the demonologists and you clamped up, drawing further into yourself.
ā€œPerhaps not here,ā€ Ed suggested. ā€œWe could grab some coffees and go to the park that isnā€™t far from here?ā€
You bit your lip as you considered your options, the light flying feeling you had got stronger when you thought about going with them and the pain in your head returned when you thought about denying the suggestion. You winced reaching up to rub your forehead and quickly brought your thoughts back to going with them.
ā€œAlright,ā€ you nodded ignoring them sharing a look of concern at your wince.
--
The three of you were walking through the park, aiming for a table on the far side that was away from everyone else that was in the park. You were walking in the middle, having tried to be on the outside but Ed had swiftly moved to your other side the moment that you had left the university and all the way to the coffee shop and to the park. You had also tried to pay for your own drink but again Ed had moved swiftly and ordered his and Lorraineā€™s drink and paid for all of them before you could pull out the money for your drink. They had made small talk during the walk but you had found it difficult to speak to them, the pressure of what you had to tell them was too much. But you hadnā€™t felt any pain in your head so you figured you were still doing the right thing.
You sat on one side of the table and Ed and Lorraine sat on the other side, both of them placing their forearms on the table and leaning forward. Not necessarily in your space but definitely letting you know that they were paying attention to you.
ā€œSo, I didnā€™t asks questions because I already knew a lot Ā of what you were talking about,ā€ you explained with no prompting you didnā€™t want to give yourself a chance to back out, you had in the past ignored the pain in your head and it eventually disappeared but it honestly wasnā€™t worth it. You knew these two wouldnā€™t call you crazy but it was still worrisome. Especially if they decided to go to the Church. But there is no way your instincts would tell you to go with them if doing so would endanger you.
ā€œHave you had experience with spiritual beings?ā€ Lorraine asked tilting her head to the side a little.
ā€œYes,ā€ you nodded. ā€œIā€¦feel things, not quite like you, Lorraine, and I haveā€¦dealt with beings that have been causing havoc with people.Ā  I know the Church frowns upon such things but why should people have to continue to suffer if I can help.ā€ Ā 
ā€œThat can be very dangerous,ā€ Ed started, his brow furrowed. You felt a flare of anger but also something different at his words. Anger that he felt the need to tell you that what you were doing was dangerous, it was almost condescending. And another part of you, hummed. Happy that someone was concerned for you, it had been a long time since anyone had thought about you enough to be worried. Ā 
ā€œI am well aware however, it is far safer for a person like me to do it then you,ā€ you pointed out defensively. ā€œYou do not haveā€¦letā€™s say extra senses. I do. Plus my instincts have never let me down, they have a way of telling me if I am making the wrong decision.ā€
ā€œShe does have a point, Ed,ā€ Lorraine laughed, poking her husband in the arm grinning cheekily at him when he looked at her. He rolled his eyes before planting a kiss on her cheek. Your body warmed at the smile on her face when she looked back at you and winked. ā€œHow does it work?ā€
ā€œWell, when I choose the correct option I get this light, almost flying feeling,ā€ you had never had to explain that feeling to anyone before so do so now it was difficult. ā€œAnd when I even so much as think about the wrong option I get a pain in my head, and it stays until I change my mind. Sometimes when I decide to ignore it the pain can last for several days.ā€
ā€œSo coming with us was the correct choice?ā€ Ed asked, his eyebrow raised again and a teasing glint in his eyes. His lips were quirked into the same little smirk he had when he had caught your eyes in the lecture.
ā€œHow do you know I didnā€™t just decide to ignore the pain?ā€ raising your eyebrow you found your own lips quirking up into a teasing grin.
ā€œYou looked in pain until you agreed to come with us,ā€ Ed responded, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second before he sent a look to Lorraine who seemed to soften even more. The humming in your body slowed to a softer hum from what it had been, the light feeling that normally only stays in your body for a few minutes after you follow through on the correct option had stayed, burning brighter than normal and slowly moving out from the centre of your body. Ā 
ā€œI guess you have me there,ā€ you muttered pouting again, you caught Lorraineā€™s eyes dropping to your lips this time.
ā€œWhat else do you feel? You said it wasnā€™t quite like my feelings,ā€ Lorraine inched her hands towards yours that were resting on the table but you moved back. That connection was not something you wanted, you knew Lorraine would be able to sense something and you didnā€™t want to know if that was a good thing or not.
ā€œYes, I donā€™t have visions or feel emotions that are connected to items or memories,ā€ you shrugged. ā€œBut I am attuned to peoples auras, which is helpful when people are being targeted by the demonic or spirits. And I tend to be able to sense even the smallest presence of the supernatural creatures.ā€
ā€œThat would be incredibly helpful,ā€ Ed nodded.
ā€œIt is, and I canā€™t explain how but it tends to help me deal with them as well,ā€ you continued. ā€œI have created ways in which to handle the supernatural creatures.ā€
ā€œYou keep saying supernatural creatures?ā€ Lorraine asked, confusion clear as day on her face.
ā€œYou believe in spirits and the demonic, surely it canā€™t be too much of a stretch to think that other creatures of myth exist?ā€ you teased them both.
ā€œWe have never encountered them,ā€ Ed stated, a hint of the tone he used to lecture entering his tone.
ā€œAnd yet they still exist, you do tend to only take on cases that the Church asks you too, and they only hear about possessions, and demonic,ā€ you rolled her eyes. ā€œAnd I also hate to break it to you but demons are capable of a lot more than what you realise.ā€
ā€œAnd you exorcism them?ā€ Lorraine appeared to be getting more and more concerned.
ā€œIf I can,ā€ you nod. ā€œThere are ways to trap them and limit their power. You know, I am not the only one who is out there helping those that the Church ignores.ā€
ā€œThe Church-ā€ Edā€™s tone had become as defensive as yours had been moments before.
ā€œOnly takes on cases that they are able to get proof on, and only look at potential hauntings or demonic presences,ā€ you interrupted leaning forward getting passionate. ā€œAnd they donā€™t even consider looking at anything else. I have helped people who have gone to the Church and been turned away, no-one even went to look. And donā€™t even get me started on the fact that they are less likely to help those who havenā€™t been baptised or donā€™t go to church.ā€
Lorraine was studying your face, you knew that she was most likely sensing something. Another clairvoyant you had met once mentioned that when you feel any emotion with an intensity, this presence tends to appear alongside yours. You were cautious when you asked them what it felt like. They had said that it was different, almost like nothing they had sensed before, it wasnā€™t dark or malicious but in the same breathe it wasnā€™t light either. It was there but they mentioned feeling a strong sense of protectiveness from the presence.
ā€œDonā€™t worry about that,ā€ you waved your hand at her.
ā€œWorry about what?ā€ Ed asked looking between the two of you.
ā€œShe has a presence,ā€ Lorraineā€™s voice was distant as she was still focusing on you and whatever the presence was.
ā€œAnd before you even suggest it I am not possessed or being tormented by a demonic spirit,ā€ you drawled tone blank. ā€œA clairvoyant I met a few years ago sensed the same thing you are when I got angry. They said it was neither malicious or light, it merely protective of me and just there, and they werenā€™t worried and neither am I.ā€
Ed closed his mouth, a huff of amusement leaving him as you correctly predicted what his next concern would be. He looked to his wife for confirmation, and saw that she wasnā€™t worried more curious than anything. His eyes switched back to you and scanned the part of your body that he could see. You were a very attractive young woman, maybe around ten years younger than Lorraine and nearly twelve years younger than him. He knew Lorraine thought the same if the way she was with you was any indication but he knew his wife and he knew she was draw to you and not just for the fact that you had similar abilities. For he was drawn to you as well.
ā€œAlright I will concede the point I wanted to make about the Church,ā€ Ed turned the conversation back to the point before it had been sidetracked. ā€œOther than your gifts how do you know how to deal with these supernatural creatures?ā€
ā€œFrom others, there are a number of, they call themselves hunters, that had gathered information from trial and error I suppose and they pass it on,ā€ you explained. ā€œSome keep journals to pass on when they decide to ā€œretireā€ and whenever we meet each other we give ways to communicate.ā€
ā€œHow do others not know of these things?ā€ Lorraine had finally refocused on the conversation and not on the presence inside as it had disappeared once your passion and anger had simmered down.
ā€œWe donā€™t allow it, we deal with them without any fanfare, we donā€™t discuss it with anyone who isnā€™t already aware to some degree of the supernatural,ā€ you took the final sip of your drink. ā€œItā€™s better that way, prevents a panic. I mean can you imagine what would happen if people actually believed in demons and ghouls and vampires?ā€
ā€œNothing good I imagine,ā€ Ed agreed reaching out to grab your cup and Lorraineā€™s before standing up to throw them in the bin that was closest to your table. Leaving you alone with Lorraine.
ā€œYou donā€™t want me to touch you,ā€ it was a statement rather than a question.
ā€œItā€™s complicated,ā€ you sighed rubbing the back of your neck. ā€œThe last time a clairvoyant touched me my instincts flared, they didnā€™t like him touching me. And I also donā€™t really like knowing that that touch can give you a deeper insight into me.ā€
ā€œI touched your shoulder before-ā€
ā€œOver my shirt,ā€ you interrupted again. ā€œI think clairvoyant gifts only work on me if they touch my skin. My clothing provides a bit of a barrierā€¦I think. And I did get a bit of an electric shock.ā€
ā€œHm, that is an interesting theory,ā€ Lorraine smiled. ā€œBefore my husband comes back, if we needed your assistance on a case, would you be willing to help us?ā€
ā€œOn the condition that the Church never knows about me,ā€
ā€œOf course,ā€ Lorraine agreed. ā€œWeā€™d keep you completely away from that side of things.ā€
ā€œWill your husband agree?ā€ you raised an eyebrow. ā€œI know how to completely disappear, so if there is-ā€
ā€œI wouldnā€™t tell a soul,ā€ Edā€™s voice interrupted coming from your side as he took a seat beside you instead of back with his wife.
Ā You inched a little away from him, under the guise of giving him more space. You dutifully ignored all the happy feelings his presence brought up in you. And you also ignored the warmth you could feel from his body as he followed you, not quite touching you but also leaving little space between your bodies. You risked a glance at his face only to find him already watching you, his blue eyes were captivating. You flushed as you tore your gaze away to find Lorraine watching you again, her own blue eyes seemed to gleam with a knowing look but you noticed that she didnā€™t seem put off by any of it. You cheeks heated further as Lorraine continued to watch you and you could feel Edā€™s gaze on you as well, the combination of their attention was both too much and not enough. Lorraineā€™s gaze was soft but you could feel a heat behind it especially when you poked your tongue out to wet your lips, her eyes tracing the movement.
You quickly thought about leaving and when no pain followed you stood up startling the two demonologists with your movement. The light flying feeling you had dimmed leaving behind a cold emptiness inside. But that was preferable to the pain and to the humming that your body was doing in their presence.
ā€œI need to get going,ā€ you declared stepping over the seat and striding away.Ā 
ā€œWait!ā€ Ed called after you. Your body froze without your say so, the empty feeling starting to fill with warmth again. You refused to turn back around however your fingers tangling together in-front of you.
ā€œWe have a case that we may need your help on,ā€ Lorraine started. ā€œWe could discuss it over lunch?ā€ Lorraine had moved closer to you, standing to your side and trying to catch your eye. You hung your head and sighed.
ā€œTomorrow?ā€ you asked. ā€œI do actually have some errands to run today.ā€
ā€œTomorrow,ā€ Ed agreed.
Lorraine past you a folded piece of paper. ā€œOur address, come by anytime after 11.ā€
Nodding you started walking again the cold empty had gotten smaller once you had agreed to meet up with the married couple again. You truly had no idea what to make of your instincts and why they were reacting the way they were, nor did you have any idea what make of how the two demonologists had acted around you. Hopefully, lunch tomorrow would get all of this shit sorted but you wouldnā€™t be surprised if it only made it worse.
--
ā€œShe is certainly something else,ā€ Ed muttered watching you walk away, Lorraine noticed how his eyes seemed dropped once or twice to watch your hips sway before he tore them away.
ā€œYes, I did rather notice how she seemed to captivate you from the moment you saw her,ā€ Lorraine teased.
ā€œHoney, as if you can talk,ā€ Ed wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked off in the opposite direction. ā€œI saw you watching her lips while she talked.ā€
ā€œWe did always have the same taste,ā€ Lorraine grinned. ā€œYou want her.ā€
Ed was aware of the fact that his wife wasnā€™t asking, she was telling him. He squeezed her tight to his side and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
ā€œSo do you,ā€ Ed responded. The two of them were incredibly in sync with each other, knowing the other well enough to know when they wanted something.
ā€œIt has been a while since we found someone that interested the both of us enough,ā€
ā€œShall we test the waters?ā€
ā€œI think we can be certain that she is interested in the both of us if her adorable flush was anything to go by,ā€ Lorraine chanced a look over her shoulder and was rewarded with one last look at you before you disappeared around the corner. ā€œMaybe we can be not as subtle, in testing the waters tomorrow.ā€
ā€œShe doesnā€™t like touch too much, but we can come up with a way,ā€ Ed grinned.
--
ā€œWhy couldnā€™t I have been born without this shit?ā€ you asked yourself as you sat in your car outside the Warrenā€™s house.
It was a beautiful house in a beautiful suburb, which just reinforced the fact that this was a married couple, with a daughter. You thumped your head against the steering wheel before the tugging that had started in your chest grew stronger and you couldnā€™t ignore it any longer. The humming started back up and kept getting stronger the closer you got. As did your light flying feeling, which told you that you were doing the right thing. The door opened just as you reached it, you didnā€™t know if that meant they were watching out a window or if Lorraine just knew that you had arrived.
ā€œWelcome!ā€ Lorraine happily welcomed you in to their home. She moved towards you before she pulled back. ā€œPlease come in.ā€
You tilted your head as you realised she probably wanted to hug you but remembered that you werenā€™t always comfortable with it. But the humming seemed to deflate a little when she didnā€™t hug you. You smiled at her and it wasnā€™t as forced as you thought it would be, you also couldnā€™t help but notice how the clothing she wore today hugged her curves quite nicely.
ā€œHi, thank you,ā€ you were again a little soft spoken, it irked you a little that two people could have this effect on you, when nothing ever had before. ā€œYou have a lovely home.ā€
The inside of the house was as beautiful as the outside, there was signs that they had truly made this house their home. There were books and records everywhere. Photos of them and a young girl who you assumed was their daughter and an older woman, who looked like Lorraine so you assumed was her mother. You noticed paintings on the wall and upon closer inspection saw Edā€™s name signed down the bottom of all of them.
ā€œOh my, these are,ā€ you breathed eyes taking in all the details. ā€œBeautiful.ā€
ā€œThank you,ā€ Edā€™s voice finally got your attention away from his paintings. He stood next to Lorraine, his arm wrapped around her waist as they both watched you in their house as you were taking everything in. ā€œWelcome to our home.ā€ Just like with Lorraine you couldnā€™t help but notice how nicely his clothes fitted to his body, he was wearing more causal clothes then the suit he wore yesterday. The clothes he wore today displayed the muscles in his arms so nicely that you had to force your eyes away from them.
ā€œThank you,ā€ you found your smile growing in Edā€™s presence making you freeze for a moment before turning back to look at the paintings. Your cheeks heating again.
ā€œLunch will just be another ten minutes,ā€ Lorraine detached herself from Ed and walked beside you, she was careful not to touch you as she placed her arm behind your back. Even though there was space in-between her arm and your back plus the material of your clothes you could have sworn you felt the heat from her arm.
ā€œIs there anything I can do to help?ā€ you asked. You always found it a little odd to just sit or stand around while others prepared meals.
ā€œYou can keep Lorraine company while I finish up,ā€ Ed smiled falling in step behind you and Lorraine after you past him. ā€œThereā€™s some drinks at the table.ā€
ā€œOkay,ā€ you agreed as Ed pulled out two chairs beside each other, Lorraine gently nudged you into one before taking the other. Edā€™s hands stayed on the back of them as you pulled them back in. You felt a quick swipe of his thumb on your back before it was gone, your body shivered at the contact. A simmering heat started at the point of contact and moved outwards warming your body as it went.
ā€œWeā€™re having some crispy shredded chicken, with some potato salad,ā€ Lorraine said taking a jug and pouring some into a glass. ā€œDo you drink?ā€
ā€œThat sounds delicious,ā€ you smiled, your mouth watering at the thought. ā€œAnd yes I doā€¦ā€
ā€œHow does a margarita sound?ā€ Lorraine grinned, sitting the glass in-front of you and pouring herself one and then another glass and setting it across the table where a third plate was set.
ā€œDelicious,ā€ you nodded taking a sip, a hum of satisfaction leaving your lips at the taste. ā€œDid Ed make this as well?ā€
ā€œHe did,ā€ Lorraine grinned turning a little in her chair to face you, propping her head up on her hand. ā€œIsnā€™t he talented, he can cook, make amazing drinks and paint?ā€
You blinked a little confused by the tone of Lorraineā€™s voice but you agreed with her statements, Ed was incredibly talented and if lunch tasted as good as it smelled you would be in heaven. Your body warmed, and it wasnā€™t just from the cocktail, Lorraine was being very careful not to touch but kept a small amount of space between the two of you. You could hear Ed in the kitchen, humming a little to the song that was playing in softly in the background, your smile becoming gentle as you took another sip of your drink.
ā€œYes he is,ā€ you agreed, unable to maintain eye contact with Lorraine as you looked down at the table. ā€œYou are very lucky, as is your daughter.ā€ You forced yourself to remember that these two were not only married but had a daughter.Ā 
ā€œIndeed, Judy is out with my mother,ā€ Lorraine provided without any prompting. ā€œTheyā€™re enjoying a day in the park before going back to my motherā€™s for the night.ā€
ā€œThatā€™s sweet, I bet theyā€™ll both enjoy that,ā€ you looked back up at her, you couldnā€™t help but watch her lips as she took a sip. Your blood felt like it was on fire, and as hard as you tried to ignore it your pussy had started to throb a little, from the moment you noticed how the Warrens looked in their clothes.
ā€œThey should do, which give us plenty of time to discuss our case and also to get to know each other,ā€ Ed responded entering from the kitchen with three plates of food balanced perfectly. ā€œAnd I hope you enjoy this.ā€ Ā 
Ed placed the first plate in-front of you and the second in-front of Lorraine, making sure to kiss her lips as he did, you quickly looked away before you could be caught staring. Ed then took the seat across from the both of you, his lips pulled back into a smile.
ā€œIt smells delicious,ā€ you assured him, picking up your fork to taste the chicken. Your eyes shuttered closed as a moan left your lips at the taste of the chicken. It was so beautifully tender and seasoned.
Ed had to shift a little in his seat at the sound that left your mouth, it was positively sinful. Lorraine squeezed her legs together as she felt her panties get a little wet. They shared a heated look both thinking how much they wanted to hear that noise in a different setting.
ā€œI take it you like it?ā€ Lorraine asked, a teasing tone to her voice that you missed entirely.
ā€œThis is amazing, Ed,ā€ you praised any concerns you had previously about why these two had such an effect on you forgotten in the face of really good food. It was the easiest way to get through your walls, good food.
ā€œThank you,ā€ Ed grinned. ā€œIā€™m glad you like it.ā€
You eagerly dug into the meal, taking a sip of the margarita in between every few mouthfuls. This was one of the best meals you had had in a while, you mostly grabbed take out or frozen meals, seeing as how you couldnā€™t cook at all. It was in the best interest of everyone if you never touched a stove. Ed and Lorraine watched, they both rather liked the image of you at their table enjoying a meal cooked by Ed. Lorraine had even inched closer to you her leg slowly pressing into yours bit by bit when you only glanced at her a little, a soft smile sent her way before you went back to eating. Ed stretched out one of his legs to tap your foot with his. Neither of them touching bare skin, as Lorraine was wearing a pair of pants, the material soft against the skin of your leg. Your body seemed to settle from the contact between the three of you, the humming settling down.
You settled back into your chair nursing the last bit of your drink, content from the delicious meal you had consumed when you noticed Lorraine and Ed watching you. Your cheeks heated at their attention, you carefully placed your glass back on the table and looked down.
ā€œSorry, itā€™s been a while since I have had a home cooked meal, I normally just get take out or a frozen meal,ā€ you muttered, unsure why you felt the need to explain why you absolutely devoured that meal. You werenā€™t going hungry but there is something that is just superior about home cooked meals.
ā€œNo need to apologise,ā€ Ed smiled, deciding to test the waters a bit more and reached out to cover your hand with his, pausing with his hand hovering above yours to give you time to move away. When you didnā€™t he gently placed his hand over yours and squeezed softly. ā€œItā€™s a great compliment to the chef when people enjoy their food so much they canā€™t stop until its gone.ā€
Lorraine noticing that you didnā€™t pull away from her husbandā€™s touch leaned into you, gently placing an arm over your shoulders, her fingers softly stroking the skin of your arm. She too moved slowly, waiting to see if you would move away from her touch before she actually touched you, when you leant into her side she grinned. An electric shock went through both of you the moment she touched your skin with her fingers, your body heated from the inside out, in a very pleasant way.
ā€œOh,ā€ Lorraine maintained the contact, as her body started to heat and that feeling she got when she felt the presence yesterday returned. It wasnā€™t unpleasant at all, in fact it made her feel safe, the thing seemed to wrap around both her and Ed, extending its protective circle around them.
ā€œWhat?ā€ Ed asked, you had been worried that he might feel left out from not being able to feel what you and Lorraine were feeling but he mostly appeared curious as he stroked you hand.
ā€œThe presence that is inside our girl, it wants to protect us,ā€ Lorraine explained staring at you with wonder. ā€œIt feels like safety, and my body is heating up, it feels like electricity is passing between us.ā€
You thought you had misheard when Lorraine referred to you as ā€œour girlā€ but when Ed only nodded and looked between you and his wife with awe you thought that maybe that is what you heard. You felt the warmth in your body finally reach your hand that was resting under Eds. You bit your lip wondering if you could find a way to pass the warmth to him as well. Edā€™s fingers stopped stroking your hand his eyes growing wide as he looked at you.
ā€œI think I can feelā€¦warmth,ā€ he whispered in wonder. You grinned, though unsure of how you managed it, happy that Ed didnā€™t have to be left out. ā€œOur girl.ā€
The presences within you seemed content, in a way you hadnā€™t felt before, the humming was now a constant low buzz in the background. You wanted to test something, so you thought about getting up and leaving, about never returning to them. The pain that ripped through you head was like nothing else you had felt before, you gasped eyes squeezing shut.
ā€œWhat happened?ā€ Ed was up and out of his seat, coming around to your side of the table and kneeling beside you, his hand on your thigh. Lorraine had moved her hand that was stroking your arm to the back of your head, gently rubbing through your hair as her other hand fell to your thigh closest to her.
ā€œItā€™s fine,ā€ you waved their concern away quickly letting the thoughts drop, the warmth returned as did the light. ā€œIā€¦just needed to test something.ā€
ā€œAnd it caused you pain?ā€ Lorraine asked. ā€œYou thought about a decision that was wrong.ā€
ā€œYeah, I thoughtā€¦I thought about leaving and not returning,ā€ you confessed softly. You had only known these two for a day, if that, and you knew that your instincts were telling you that you had to stay with them but that didnā€™t mean that it wouldnā€™t creep out the married couple. They might have both called you ā€œour girlā€ but that also doesnā€™t mean anything.
ā€œIt would seem that you are meant to be here,ā€ Lorraine told you, pressing a kiss against your cheek, grinning as your entire face went red.
ā€œWith us,ā€ Ed added squeezing the thigh that was under his hand. His eyes smouldering when he saw how you reacted to Lorraine merely kissing you on the cheek.Ā 
ā€œBut,ā€ you saw a photo of them with their daughter and it was like ice water had been dropped on you. Ed and Lorraine gasped, feeling the drop in your warmth from their connections with your skin. ā€œYour daughter, you are married and you have a child.ā€
ā€œOur child who will understand,ā€ Lorraine assured you. ā€œMy mother used to date more than one person, and Judy asked about it one day, poly relationships are easy to explain to a child.ā€
ā€œBut the church,ā€ you tried again only to have Ed gently cup your cheek and tilt your head upwards as he stood up.
ā€œIt is a little at odds with the teachings of the church but Lorraine and I have come to terms with it long ago, before we had Judy we use to see other people for either short term or long term,ā€ Ed explained. ā€œBut none of them ever felt right enough for it to become permanent.ā€
ā€œBut there is something about you that is different,ā€ Lorraine continued. ā€œWe canā€™t explain it but I think the fact that you were in so much pain when you thought about leaving us just confirms that this difference is a good thing. That we are meant to be.ā€
You nibbled on your bottom lip, trying to sort through your thoughts, ignoring the humming that had started back up in earnest when both Ed and Lorraine acknowledged that you belong with them and they belonged with you. It was absurd for you all to be feeling so strongly about strangers, even knowing what you know about the supernatural it was weird to you. But that was only a small part of your brain, the rest, well the rest was happy with what you were feeling. It was like pieces of the puzzle finally coming into place, like coming home. And your instincts had never led you astray before, the last time you ignored them when it concerned a relationship you had ended up with a man who cheated on you constantly. You focused back on the couple beside you, they were trying hard to hide their hope but when you smiled at them, their faces blossomed. They seemed to have a conversation between themselves before they both leaned in and kissed your cheeks.
ā€œOur girl,ā€ they both grinned, enjoying the flushed look on you. ā€œMay we kiss you?ā€
ā€œYes,ā€ you answered softly. Obviously the conversation they had was regarding who was going to get the first kiss. Lorraine nudged your chin up and around to her, with a finger, her thumb stroking your bottom lip. Edā€™s hands were gently holding your hips, as he kneeled back down, encouraging you to turn slightly in your chair to face Lorraine.
The first touch of her lips against yours was soft and gentle. Just a press before she tugged your bottom lip between hers sucking it into her mouth, drawing a whine from you. She released your lip, pressing back in, licking your lips to encourage you to separate them, her tongue delved into your mouth tasting you and drawing your tongue to twine with hers. You could feel Eds hands squeezing your hips, before one of them reached around to wrap around your stomach, pressing you against him while Lorraine pressed into your front. Lorraine pulled away, pressing one last kiss to your lips before she separated entirely from you, looking down at her husband to see his darkened eyes staring at the two of you.
ā€œYour turn,ā€ Lorraine whispered nudging you towards him.
Ed stood up, copying what Lorraine did to draw your head up as he bent down to capture your mouth. Where Lorraineā€™s kiss had been gentle, and calm, kissing Ed was like a storm. It was demanding, he took control in a different way to his wife, his teeth tugging on your lip before he pulled your tongue into his mouth, sucking on it and letting his teeth graze along it before he pushed it back in your mouth with his tongue following. You could feel your clit throbbing as more of your arousal soaked your panties. Ed pulled away from the kiss, scraping his teeth along your jaw quickly before he stood up. He smirked, a little proud of himself for leaving you breathless and your eyes almost glazed over, as your breasts heaved. His eyes dropped to them, licking his lips as he imagined what they would feel like in his mouth. Lorraine was busing dropping kisses along your neck, her hands stroking up and down your thighs as she pressed her chest against your back. Your hands had stretched up to rest against Edā€™s stomach, as your eyes dropped from his unable to handle the heat in them. You blinked, eyes widening in surprise when you saw the bugle in his jeans. His cock hard and straining.
ā€œI think we should move to the couch,ā€ Ed almost purred with his suggestion, glancing at his wife before he reached down for your hands and tugged you up and into his chest. You felt his hard cock pressing into your stomach, he groaned at the pressure grinding into you as Lorraine stood up and led the way into the lounge room. Ed squeezed your hands as he tugged you to follow her.
ā€œAnytime you want to stop, just say,ā€ Lorraine said as she sat down, Ed placing you next to her before he took a seat behind you, his hands finding your hips again.
ā€œPromise us, pretty,ā€ Ed leaned in.
ā€œI promise.ā€
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depravitycentral Ā· 1 year ago
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General Yandere! Jin Bubaigawara Profile
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Yandere! Jin Bubaigawara x fem! reader
Tw: kidnapping, stalking, mentions of masturbation, mentions of non-con, mentions of murder, threats, slight emotional manipulation, Jin is a creep and goes through your stuff, breaking and entering, mentions of horrible men who don't respect women (not our lovely Jin), brief mention of strip clubs, mental breaks/Jin's Splits, fem reader, MDNI
I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!
WC: 11K
DARLING PROFILE:
Perceptive
More than anything, Jin looks for a darling that can understand him.
He so desperately craves a human connection full of trust and caring, and having a darling who is able to read him like a book would be absolutely perfect.
He needs someone who is able to tell at a glance what heā€™s thinking ā€“ not getting bogged down by the multitudes of personalities shining through at any given time and instead seeing what the real him is feeling.
He craves someone who can offer him a sense of normalcy, someone who can make him feel like less of a freak, like less of a fuck-up, more like a real man. He grows attached to a perceptive darling quickly, feeling at ease in a way that he normally doesnā€™t.
Theyā€™re just perfect ā€“ he feels like he can be himself, letting himself be truly authentic and truly Jin.
Itā€™s a luxury heā€™s nearly never afforded, his darling creating a safe space for him without even realizing it ā€“ something heā€™s beyond grateful for, and something that keeps him running back to his darling at every turn because it feels so damn good to just let himself go and not hold himself back.
Itā€™s wonderful, and as soon as his darling displays this quality, Jin is helplessly, hopelessly hooked.
Sweet
At his core, Jin is a good person whoā€™s made many bad mistakes.
Heā€™s not a bad person by nature ā€“ and as a result, Jin finds himself attracted to people who are similar to him. He wants someone who is genuinely a good person ā€“ someone who is nice, sweet, someone whoā€™s heart is generally positive and full of happiness.
And Jin particularly likes when this trait is aimed at him ā€“ compliments melt his heart. As soon as the words slip off his darlingā€™s lips, Jinā€™s gaping at them, his heart racing in his chest and his face feeling hot because when was the last time he was complimented?
Ā When was the last time someone praised him, the last time they smiled at him like that, the last time they seemed so genuinely happy to see him?
It doesnā€™t feel real when he first meets his darling, his interest immediately peaked because god, it really feels like they see him, like they understand him.
Ā Itā€™s euphoric in many ways, leaving his skin prickling in excitement and his stomach fluttering in nerves and pride.
A sweet darling is ideal for him ā€“ because even as his obsession festers and his behavior becomes more and more extreme, a darling who remains kind to him will only fuel this infatuation, only pushing him to try harder to win them over, to become more and more desperate to have them as his, just as he begins daydreaming about.
Itā€™s just perfect for him ā€“ and heā€™ll do his absolute best to return the favor, complimenting his beloved as often and as honestly as he can, even if the compliments are more disturbing than flattering.
Calm
Jin needs a darling that can handle his Splits. He needs someone who is not only patient with him, but is also able to take the things he throws at them in stride, not even blinking when Jin falls into a particularly nasty split thatā€™s got him spouting nonsense and panicking.
They need to be able to be calm and help them, assessing the situation and knowing exactly how to talk him down from the episode, to keep him breathing steadily and hold him so that he stays oriented.
He needs a darling that can handle the way his mouth doesnā€™t seem connected to his brain ā€“ random words spilling from his lips that sometimes embarrass him.
When a personality reveals something embarrassing that Jin did as a way to get closet to you, his darling needs to be able to calmly respond, to assess the situation and hopefully come to the conclusion that itā€™s not true, that thereā€™s absolutely no way that Jin would do something so crazy and strange.
And yet, a calmer darling will be absolutely shocked when they learn that all of the things Jin had divulged without meaning to are true ā€“ all of it, down to the stolen socks and stalking to the graphic dreams and preparations of his apartment to make it seem a little more like his darlingā€™s ā€“ a little more like them.
A calmer darling is ideal for Jin because heā€™s simply too excitable and tightly strung to not have a calm darling.
Oblivious
A darling that doesnā€™t notice the multitude of red flags in his behavior would make Jinā€™s life much, much easier.
A darling that is oblivious or perhaps blinded by their positive assumptions about people would work in Jinā€™s favor, because it would allow him to push the boundaries just a bit, just as he does without meaning to, all without having to explain the slip-ups he makes, all without having you grow scared by the way he seems to become more and more present in your life.
He needs a darling who doesnā€™t realize just how deeply Jin has invaded their life ā€“ so they canā€™t run before he manages to ensnare them, so they canā€™t leave him and abandon him like heā€™s so afraid they will.
Plus, thereā€™s something endearing about this trait that Jin just canā€™t shake.
It makes him feel like a protector, making it easier to convince himself that his darling needs him to be around in order to safely function, to not be taken advantage of by some creep with bad intentions.
It makes justifying his actions much, much easier, lessening the small sense of guilt that eats away at him, lessening the insecurity that pushes him to draw back every once in a while, convinced that heā€™ll never be good enough for his precious lovely darling.
An oblivious darling would allow him to operate with less secrecy and fear, something that Jin is grateful for. Plus, theyā€™re just so damn cute ā€“ cute enough to eat.
GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:
Clingy
Once Jinā€™s feelings for you take root, itā€™s over.
Heā€™s so broken and lost, quite literally unsure of his place in the world, his purpose, himself. And so once you step into his life, with your pretty face and even prettier voice that says the nicest, most caring things to him, Jinā€™s reaction is nearly out of his control.
How can he not become absolutely, utterly enraptured with you when youā€™re so kind to him?
When you smile at him like that, all teeth and appled cheeks and this sparkle in your eye that he can tell isnā€™t forced, how can he not find himself swooning? How can he not be smitten with you when you look at him like heā€™s a person, like heā€™s worth something, like he has value and isnā€™t just a waste of space?
Itā€™s euphoric, something that makes his pulse race and his cheeks tinge pink, and so of course heā€™s desperate to spend time with you, to be in your presence and soak up every ounce of you that he possibly can. In the beginning, when his feelings are freshly formed and still having some semblance of normalcy, Jinā€™s too shy to directly ask you to be with him.
Heā€™ll struggle to look you in the eye, rubbing the back of his neck and letting his gaze flick to you every few seconds as he mumbles out a rushed, awkward, so um, I was uh, wondering if youā€™d like to see that new movie this weekendā€¦
Itā€™s hard to hear and youā€™ll ask him to repeat himself, only furthering his embarrassment and making him wince because obviously youā€™re going to say no ā€“ youā€™re too pretty and smart and sweet for him, why would you ever say yes to a washed-up criminal like him? But before he can even get the chance to respond, heā€™s blurting out a let me take ya to the theater, yeah? We can get seats in the back where itā€™s just the two of us.
Heā€™s mortified, immediately clasping a hand over his mouth and his eyes going wide; he didnā€™t mean it like that! Well, okay, maybe he did, and maybe the idea of being a dim, warm place with comfortable velvet seats and sugary drinks with his body pressed right next to yours is incredibly enticing and enough to make him salivate and pant like some fucking dog ā€“
Except youā€™ll still say yes, because at this point Jinā€™s infatuation ā€“ while still painfully obvious ā€“ seems like just a crush. Heā€™s awkward and flustered around you, but thatā€™s kind of endearing and sweet, isnā€™t it?
A fully grown man ā€“ and one whoā€™s seen more horrors than you can imagine ā€“ is bashful over you?
Itā€™ll have you looking past the way that he always seems to show up at the places you frequent, that same nervous and hopeful look on his face as he scans the crowd for your familiar figure.
Itā€™ll have you looking past the way he puts his hand on your back and keeps it there for much, much too long, never moving downwards but always staying firm, as if heā€™s glued to you, as if separating himself from you is physically painful.
Itā€™ll have you looking past the way he begs you to share just one more glass of cheap booze, telling you that itā€™s good for you, that itā€™ll help you relax and destress from that job of yours that you hate.
(Plus, you look so damn cute when youā€™re tipsy ā€“ all clumsy and giggly, your inhibitions lowered so that you donā€™t notice when his gaze lingers on you for just a beat too long, when his hand skims across your thigh, when he leans in much too close and inhales much too loudly.)
Youā€™ll write off most of Jinā€™s clingy behaviors with a wave of your hand and an excuse that itā€™s simply how he processes his trauma. And itā€™s true, to some extent. Except you donā€™t know the full extent ā€“ you donā€™t know how he follows you home every night, trying his best to stay quiet as he lurks in the shadows, making sure no one approaches you on your commute back to the quaint little apartment heā€™d give absolutely anything to share with you.
You donā€™t know the way he borrows small items of yours, keeping them on his ragged nightstand next to the bare mattress he sleeps on, your hair clips and toothbrushes kept as pristine and safe as he possibly can.
(Heā€™ll pick them up with trembling fingers, scared that even simply touching something of yours will break it, yet simultaneously thrilled that he has something of yours, something of an angelā€™s.)
You arenā€™t aware of the way he fantasizes about you constantly, imagining everything from linking your pinkies together to burying his face between your legs. (And in vivid, vivid detail, too ā€“ even going so far as to mimic your voice and sit on his own hand so that it'll go numb, just like some teenage boy.)
Youā€™ll write it off, but Jin sees this as permission to push further, to try harder, to test the boundaries of your ā€˜friendshipā€™ as far as he can without you growing suspicious. Heā€™ll pull you into hugs with higher frequency and longer times, keeping you pressed against his body while he buries his face into your neck and tries not to moan at the smell of you.
Heā€™ll spam your phone with text after text, conveying conflicting messages that showcase just how little control over himself and his split personalities where youā€™re concerned.
(Youā€™ll have to turn off your ringer permanently with him around ā€“ he will drive you insane, the buzzing noise and the obnoxious little bring making you lose your mind. He texts you day and night, your peaceful sleep interrupted with the notification of fifty unread texts from him, ranging from single sentences to near paragraphs.)
Heā€™s not exactly subtle, and while youā€™ll cling to your excuse of him just being lonely and struggling to cope with his past, eventually youā€™ll have to realize that Jin isnā€™t just using you to help him work through his previous experiences ā€“ no, he wants more.
He wants you. He needs you, to a degree where his every waking thought revolves around you, and most of his dreams do, too. Heā€™s clingy and needy and always, always demanding your attention, and eventually youā€™ll find yourself nearly ripping your hair out because you just canā€™t seem to get a moment of privacy around the blond, his eyes always watching you and his fingers always itching to reach out and touch, to press against your skin, to make sure that youā€™re real and present and with him.
He just needs the reassurance that you wonā€™t leave him, that youā€™ll stay with him, that youā€™ll always be with him ā€“ you keep him from splitting after all, and how could he ever thank you?
By being your personal watchdog and eagerly completing each and every request of yours, no matter how depraved or inhumane and dehumanizing. Anything for you.
Obsessive
Tying hand in hand with his clinginess, Jin finds himself drowning in a sea of you once his feelings form. He finds himself so overwhelmed with all the warring desires in his heart ā€“ he wants to see you, his fingers twitching and itching to set his eyes on you, to be in your presence and bask in you you you.
But he also wants to spend time laying on his dingy mattress, his eyes closed as he mentally lists all of the things he loves about you, all the things that leave him breathless and blushing and reaching out towards you with trembling hands.
He wants to speak with you, to maybe make you laugh and hear that wonderful laugh of yours all because of something he said, but heā€™s also too afraid to instigate conversations with you because heā€™s worried heā€™ll somehow fuck up and scare you off.
(And just the mere thought of that gets him in a cold sweat, hands gripping at his blond hair and his eyes squeezing shut, lips moving like lightning as he repeats the mantra that you want him you want him you want himā€¦ Splits caused by his doubt for your feelings for him are always the worst ā€“ they last longer, they leave a more harrowing impact, and ā€“ worst of all ā€“ heā€™s so distracted by his feelings that he loses all awareness of his surroundings. Heā€™s no longer aware of the vase nearby, knocking into it and sending the thing shattering against the floor, the sound and the feeling of glass shards pricking at his feet not even pulling him out of his stupor.)
Heā€™s a mess in every meaningful way, and yet the only thing he can regularly, consistently bring himself to do is amass more and more information about you. Youā€™re his own personal drug; one that calms him slightly, that makes him feel more whole ā€“ thinking of you is the only thing that can keep him focused, and this manifests itself in many ways.
Mainly, Jin takes to stalking you very, very early on. Heā€™s simply too intrigued and attached to not follow you home, unwilling to let you out of his sight for even a few seconds. Heā€™s worried for your safety, sure, because heā€™s sure that a sweet, lovely thing like you could never defend yourself should a villain confront you, but thatā€™s not why heā€™s trailing you in the shadows like some loser, like some freak.
No ā€“ the real reason is much more depraved, sadder and more pathetic than Jin himself would like to admit. Itā€™s really because with every moment he watches you, he learns more and more about you.
Each night that he trails you home from work, heā€™s learning enough things to fuel his dreams that night ā€“ you avoid sidewalks with people when itā€™s late at night, preferring instead to cross the street so that you wonā€™t pass them.
(Not that heā€™d let anything happen to you ā€“ heā€™d kill whoever laid a finger on you. Heā€™d start by punching them, getting them to the ground and sinking his fist against their cheek and jaw again and again and again, then wrap his fingers around their neck and squeeze, feeling the way theyā€™d wheeze and choke and desperately grapple at this fingers, begging him to save their worthless life. Begging with that same voice that they couldā€™ve been calling out lewd and inappropriate things to you in, touching him with those hands that heā€™s sure they wouldā€™ve used to touch you, to taint and mar your pretty skin and leave you scared and trembling and shaking and needing someone like Jin to come and rescue you ā€“
The man would be dead before Jin knows it, his lip caught between his teeth because although killing someone doesnā€™t necessarily feel good, thereā€™s something pleasant swimming in his gut because now this person will never, ever get near you again.)
He learns that you always stop to look at pretty window displays, the glittering Christmas lights and decorations making you twinkle in turn, the colors shining against your skin and clothes in a way that makes Jin swear youā€™re an angel, as if youā€™re a personal piece of heaven just for him, no matter how undeserving he may be.
He learns that you keep your spare apartment key under your welcome mat, always fishing it out before you slip into your apartment. Your apartment, which heā€™s visiting numerous times ā€“ enough times that if he had to, he could navigate with his eyes closed. Heā€™s poured through every square inch of your home ā€“ digging through drawers and marveling at each little trinket he can find, no matter how mundane.
He rifled through your kitchen drawer last month, noticing with baited breath that you have a variety of spices in your cupboard ā€“ you must like your food well-seasoned. Heā€™s not a very good cook, but for you, he could be ā€“ and all too soon images of you leaning close to him, your lashes fluttering and your eyes sultry as you eat the bit of food off his outstretched fork, making a show of swallowing and telling him that his cooking is so good Jin, youā€™re so wonderful for meā€¦
Heā€™d also found a pair of scissors, something thatā€™d made his brows furrow in worry because although he trusts that youā€™re responsible, it still makes him nervous for you to have something like this laying around your house ā€“ something that could easily cut you, something that has the potential to hurt you.
Heā€™s gone through each and every piece of silverware you own, looking at each fork and knife and gulping, his cheeks red as he thinks of the way youā€™ve used these pieces of metal ā€“ your lips and tongue have pressed against the material, your saliva coating the forkā€™s prongs, the slurping and sucking noises you make as you eat the soup off of your spoon.
Heā€™ll gulp, looking around your empty apartment, then quickly shove the fork into his mouth, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head because although youā€™ve washed it, he swears the fork tastes like you ā€“ and isnā€™t this almost a form of an indirect kiss? Arenā€™t his lips touching something yours has, his tongue rubbing and caressing the prongs just as yours might have?
(The thought leaves his knees weak, his pants unbearably tight, the fork clutched tightly in his fist as he wills himself to stay strong, to keep going and not crumple to a ball in the middle of your kitchen and fuck his fist like he so desperately needs to.)
Heā€™ll sit on your couch, his breath uneven as soon as the soft cushions rest below him, his muscles tense and tight because heā€™s seen you sit here, watched as you laughed and roared at some television show, your pretty body molding to the couchā€™s cushions, your pajamas looking so cute and adorable and sexy on you.
His hands idly run over the couch fabric, his Adamā€™s Apple bobbing because oh, youā€™ve touched this before, havenā€™t you? Heā€™ll meander into your bathroom, fingering your towels and letting his tongue slip over his lips, internally debating if itā€™s really such a good idea, if itā€™s crossing a boundary, if it really wouldnā€™t hurtā€¦
And soon heā€™s stepping into your shower, the hot water (set to the temperature he knows you like) cascading down his nude body. Heā€™ll open each of your shower products and eagerly smell them, something like a strangled groan slipping past his lips with each smell. Heā€™s using your hair care products, lathering himself in your body wash, using your loofah and even using your razor, just because he wants the full experience of you, to be as close to you as possible given your current absence in the apartment.
And of course heā€™ll be using the towel once heā€™s finished ā€“ your towel, the one that still smells like you and has a strand or two of your hair sitting so perfectly and neatly on it.
(Jin picks up the hairs in awe, swallowing and bringing the hair up, his tongue brushing against the strand, his teeth clenching down as he chews at it.)
He wants to touch your toothbrush (so badly that it nearly hurts), but he stops himself, deciding that he should save that honor for when youā€™re sharing a toothbrush, when youā€™re with him every morning and night.
And of course, heā€™s tiptoeing into your bedroom, his eyes going wide and his nostrils flaring because oh god, it smells exactly like you and he thinks he might faint because it feels like youā€™re really here with him, like youā€™re by his side and hugging him and heā€™s surrounded by you you you.
Heā€™s mostly respectful ā€“ or at least, as much as a man breaking-and-entering into your apartment can be, avoiding your underwear drawers despite the voice in his head urging him to snatch a pair of panties.
(The sexy ones, you know ā€˜em ā€“ the lacy black ones, the ones you were thinkinā€™ of last night when you jerked off so many times you were shootinā€™ blanks.)
Heā€™ll open your closet, whistling at the sight of all your clothes. Heā€™ll try on as many things as he can, hoping that things will fit him, always careful to hang them back up exactly as he found them, though a small part of him hopes that you can smell him on the clothing, that youā€™ll be reminded of him and be comforted. Heā€™ll sit on your bed, breath hitched as he feels the way the mattress sags under his weight, before laying down slowly.
Heā€™d showered that morning and was suddenly thankful for it ā€“ he wouldnā€™t want to sully your comforter with any dirt or grime. Heā€™ll even dare to get under the covers for a moment, letting his eyes flutter closed as he imagines laying with you, spooning you with sunlight streaming in through the window, feeling your body (nude, of course, because he sleeps nude and all couples should sleep without clothing, yes?) against his and relishing in the smell of your hair and the nape of your neck.
All the while, Jin is noticing and mentally cataloguing every little detail he can process while in your apartment ā€“ the color scheme, what photographs you have up, what decorates your walls, whether thereā€™s dirty clothes on your floors or bed or if youā€™re perfectly clean. Because really, everything is important ā€“ every little scrap of knowledge he can glean about you feeds the insatiable desire he harbors for you, this uncontrollable urge to be with you at all moments of the day.
This satisfies him, for now ā€“ itā€™s enough for the time being to be living as your shadow, but soon heā€™ll want to be by your side, hearing you say his name and feeling your soft hands touching him.
And heā€™ll do absolutely anything you tell him ā€“ all with an eager nod and a franticness to his actions that would leave him wildly embarrassed if it was anyone other than you.
Anyone other than the woman heā€™s hopelessly infatuated with ā€“ the one he'd get on his knees and literally beg for, even just for a simple glance his way.
Gentle
As a general rule, Jin absolutely does not want to hurt you.
Despite his status as a villain, heā€™s caring and soft to almost a debilitating degree, the notion of violence often necessary but not something he actively pursues. And so, of the small list of people in this world that he cares about, he would never purposefully harm any of them ā€“ and because you sit smack at the top of that list, this sentiment is only more extreme.
He thinks of you as perfection, idolizing you in every possible way, and so to even entertain the idea of leaving any sort of physical or emotional damage to you makes Jin physically ill, a Split oncoming as his stomach heaves, his head feeling dizzy and light as panic engulfs him. He absolutely does not want to harm you or upset you in any way, and this ultimately results in Jin being a yandere who is neither harsh nor patronizing, but rather simply gentle.
He treats you like an absolute queen; though heā€™s in a financial position that makes legally procuring gifts for you a little trickly, Jin goes out of his way to try and provide you with everything and anything he can to make you happy.
Before kidnapping you, this looks like buying you small, simple little token gifts ā€“ a small, modest bouquet of flowers (bouquet being a stretch ā€“ more often than not itā€™s just a single flower that he himself plucked from the ground, keeping the flower safe and preserved on his journey to find you ā€“ searching your most frequently visited locations, of course, and tapping into the tracker he'd managed to get Skeptic to install into your confiscated phone).
It looks like him offering to treat you to dinners and lunches, always at places that are within his price range (because stealing food in front of you would be a tacky move and although he canā€™t keep the faƧade of his occupation away from you forever, heā€™d like you to think of him as a dignified man), with greasy tables and even greasier meals, dingy lighting and seats with duct tape holding the leather booths together.
Itā€™s not much, but itā€™s all Jin can offer you ā€“ and he does so with the most heart-melting, hopeful smile, his eyes soft and this look of utter vulnerability scrawled across his face thatā€™ll have you giving in almost immediately, agreeing to getting lunch with him despite the way that his blatant staring bothers you.
(As does the way he leans in and inhales deeply when your back is turned. You can hear the breathing, the strange gulping sound that follows, and although it makes the bad kind of shivers race up your spine, you donā€™t bring it up with him.)
And once heā€™s stolen you away, that faƧade of being a dignified man is up ā€“ heā€™s still spoiling you, even more so than before your forced captivity with him, but now he doesnā€™t feel that he has to pay to spoil you. Now, he can steal your favorite things ā€“ because really, anything is worth seeing your smile light up your whole face when he brings home that expensive pastry he knows you love.
(The sweet is perfectly preserved, not a single wrinkle in the pretty, ornate parchment paper itā€™s wrapped in, nor is any portion of the sweet itself squished. Heā€™d paid extra care to keep everything perfectly in-tact ā€“ perfect for you, because anything less than that would be an insult to his love for you.)
Heā€™s bringing home all sorts of movies for the two of you to watch together, his hand slowly inching to your thigh as you sit side by side on his shitty old couch, the television on but all his attention focused on trying to be subtle about showing you just how badly he needs to touch you. Heā€™s trying his best to get your favorite foods every night, getting you a few new clothes (and some of his own ā€“ heā€™s got a few sweatshirts that he will be forcing you into wearing, the sight of you in his clothing making his face scarlet and his face buried in his hands, his lip caught between his teeth as he tries and fails to compose himself because god, you look so good and it looks so fucking right to see you in something of his.)
Really, while Jin knows that he canā€™t buy your love and acceptance of his feelings, heā€™s desperate for any sort of help to get you moving that way. Any aid he can enlist in helping spark and develop any sort of reciprocation of his obsession with you is eagerly used, hope springing up inside his chest that maybe, just maybe, if he can make you happy enough youā€™ll forget that heā€™s a criminal, that heā€™s kidnapped you, that youā€™ve found out about all the stalking and stealing used socks and living in your apartment while you werenā€™t home.
Heā€™s hopeful that all his hard work will pay off ā€“ youā€™ll see him as a man who really, truly loves you, even if he doesnā€™t deserve you.
God, heā€™ll never deserve someone like you ā€“ but heā€™ll never stop wanting you, either.
DEALING WITH RIVALS:
In general, Jinā€™s jealousy stems less from a place of selfish possessiveness and more from a place of insecurity and genuine worry for your safety.
Jin is more than aware that heā€™s not your ideal man ā€“ heā€™s a criminal with deaths to his name, renting a shitty apartment he can barely afford, riddled with mental health issues stemming from his quirk, and perpetually smelling like cigarettes. Heā€™s very aware that if you were left to your own devices, youā€™d never pick him ā€“ and he canā€™t blame you, honestly. Heā€™s a loser, a grown man with so many voices inside his head that he canā€™t keep track of them, and if he were a woman as pretty, sweet, and smart as you, heā€™d choose someone more successful, wealthier, more stable, just better.
And so, when he sees another man interact with you, his initial thought is that this is it ā€“ youā€™ll like this man more than you like Jin.
Maybe heā€™s funnier and wittier, or maybe heā€™s charming and suave with his words, two things that Jin himself certainly isnā€™t. Maybe heā€™s more attractive ā€“ without a nasty scar down the center of his forehead, or maybe you prefer brunettes like him, or maybe heā€™s taller.
Regardless, insecurity immediately eats away at Jin, forcing him to notice all of the things that man does better than him, all of the things that could pull your attention and feelings ā€“ whatever those may be ā€“ away from Jin and instead towards this stranger.
And while he initially feels that this is true, that this is the natural course of things and itā€™s how it should be, the longer he watches the interaction, the less satisfied with that he becomes. He grows restless, his fingers twitching at his sides, his muscles tensing and flexing and urging him to do something, whether thatā€™s interrupting the two of you or causing a large enough distraction to end whatever conversation youā€™re having. Itā€™s nearly unbearable, an internal war raging the longer he watches on, his lips moving and all sorts of different arguments and urges slipping off his tongue.
Go interrupt them!
No, it would be wrong of me to insert myself into a conversation that Iā€™m not a part of.
Fuck that, he wants to steal her! He wants to make her his own!
You donā€™t know that, you canā€™t claim something that extreme without any foundation to base it on!
You can see his face, you can tell he wants to fuck her ā€“ look at that, heā€™s practically undressing her with his eyes!
It goes back and forth, seeming to never end, until eventually Jin forces himself to turn around and walk away, the part of him thatā€™s insecure finally winning out the longer he notices things that are simply better about this stranger. Itā€™s torturous and makes him bit his lip so hard it draws blood, his steps labored and heavy, but itā€™s the right thing to do.
And if you respond to his texts later that night, Jin will know that you havenā€™t completely forgotten him ā€“ perhaps youā€™ve forgotten this stranger, though, because youā€™re choosing to respond to Jinā€™s texts, not his. And this idea makes a wobbly smile spread across Jinā€™s face, his thumbs typing away at his cracked phone, deleting and retyping over and over again as he tries to think of ways to keep the conversation going, wanting so very badly to keep talking to you and keep your attention on him.
However, although Jin is fairly complacent and non-confrontational when it comes to most of your interactions with other men, there are a few circumstances where heā€™s not nearly as controlled ā€“ that is, when Jin can tell that the man has bad intentions.
Itā€™s one thing to see you talk with a man that clearly finds you attractive, but itā€™s an entirely different story when Jin can see the gun or knife glinting in the manā€™s pocket, or when he recognizes the manā€™s face as a petty criminal known for pickpocketing defenseless women. Itā€™s in these circumstances where Jinā€™s face will harden up, his lips a thin, straight line as he approaches the both of you, butting his way in with an excited greeting aimed at you, his eyes cold as he stares the man down.
And frankly, most petty villains will recognize him ā€“ sure, he isnā€™t the most famous villain, but heā€™s still a member of the League, and the perpetrator will often make some excuse and scurry away, not wanting to stir up any trouble with the League over some stupid woman.
And though Jin wonā€™t want to explain why the man fled so quickly, heā€™s absolutely smug that his mere presence was enough to deter the man from bothering you anymore. Heā€™ll look at you with excited eyes, his cheeks lightly flushed, hoping and praying that youā€™ll compliment him, that youā€™ll praise him and thank him because really, you wanted the man to go away but you were too scared to do it yourself.
And maybe, just maybe, if heā€™s really lucky, youā€™ll even give him a peck on the cheek as a thanks, the feeling of your lips against his skin making his heart race, this strange half-whimper slipping from his throat because youā€™re so close that he can smell you, and itā€™s fresh and real this time ā€“ not just the residual scent of your pillow your towel.
Itā€™s wishful thinking, but Jin likes being your guardian angel ā€“ heā€™s anything but an angel, really, but it makes him feel important, needed, good. Like heā€™s actually giving you something, instead of just taking and taking and taking.
This is wrong, and Jin knows it. He shouldnā€™t be here ā€“ the cute little cafĆ© is a public space, sure, but there was absolutely no chance that he wouldā€™ve found himself here if he hadnā€™t been trailing you for the last thirty minutes.
And heā€™d enjoyed it ā€“ watching you walk, seeing how your hair flittered a little in the breeze, the sway of your hips (something he tried hard not to look at but still found his gaze wandering down to every few minutes, his cheeks growing pink and palm coming up to smack at his cheek).
But the moment youā€™d entered the cafĆ©, Jin following a few steps behind, he knows something is wrong. Instead of sitting at your own table, you make a beeline to the larger wooden one by the window ā€“ the one where a man is already sitting. Jin sits at his own table, some twenty feet away, bringing a flimsy newspaper up to cover his face.
The man greets you with a smile, introducing himself, complimenting your outfit and even pushing your fucking chair in, and suddenly it becomes very apparent whatā€™s happening.
Youā€™re on a date. A fucking date. Jin feels his face slip, a deep frown etching its way onto his lips. Itā€™s torture to listen to you; your voice is a little higher than usual, he notes, and something sharp wedges its way between his ribs.
You never speak to him with that kind of voice ā€“ does that mean you arenā€™t interested in him? Does that means you donā€™t like him? Donā€™t say stupid crap like that! Are you stupid? Itā€™s probably true! He winces, knocking at his head with his hand as a feeble attempt to get the warring thoughts to stop.
The date goes well, as far as Jin can tell ā€“ conversation flows easily, and with every passing moment he finds himself growing more and more restless, the hopelessness beginning to take its toll. He wants to interrupt ā€“ badly, really, with every fiber of his being. But that wouldnā€™t be fair to you ā€“ you obviously seem to like this man, perhaps even more than you like Jin, as loathe as he is to say it, and what right does he have to take that happiness away from you?
It hurts him, yes, but if it means staying in your life and seeing you happy, even if itā€™s with another man, heā€™ll grit his teeth and not play dirty. Your happiness is top priority, after all ā€“ and as you leave the cafĆ©, you and the man going your separate ways, Jin can only hope that you will not be receiving any calls or texts from the man, even as you happily give him your number. Heā€™s still gripping his hands into tight fists, even as he begins trailing the man.
This sight is significantly less pleasant than when he follows you ā€“ he doesnā€™t mind looking at you, not when youā€™re all pretty and sweet and you seem so very innocent. But this man? Well, as he approaches a bar a few blocks away, Jinā€™s brow cocks up. A mid-afternoon drink seems a little strange, and as Jin steps inside the bar after the man, a small burst of pride blooms in his chest.
Because really, this is not just a bar ā€“ thereā€™s a stage, at the far back of the establishment, with all sorts of different colored lights beaming down on the main act: a scantily clad woman leaning back on a pole, winking at a man sitting in the front row. Jinā€™s taken aback ā€“ surely this canā€™t be a good sign, right?
You didnā€™t need to be seeing any men who frequent strip clubs ā€“ and with the way the man immediately went up to the bar, ordering a shot and acting friendly with the bartender, Jinā€™s sure this isnā€™t the first time heā€™s visited.
With a smile, Jin decides that this is finally something that Jin is better at ā€“ heā€™s many things, sure, but he only has eyes for you and heā€™d never seek out the visual comforts of another woman.
And as Jin approaches the bar, ears perked up, anger brews in his gut. Yeah man, just wrapped up a date ā€“ girlā€™s awful, talking about her family and shit, who the hell wants to hear that? Sheā€™d look better if she just shut the fuck up.
Jinā€™s jaw is on the floor, rage swimming in his veins. How dare this man speak about you that way ā€“ as if youā€™re just some random woman, as if everything you say isnā€™t gospel, something worthy of being revered and paid the utmost attention to. How dare this man dismiss you like that ā€“ after youā€™d been so happy, after youā€™d thought the date had gone so well, after heā€™d asked for your number, for Godā€™s sake.
And with that, Jin sinks into his jacket, closing his eyes and trying to subdue the urge to walk over and sock the guy across the face so hard that he spits out a few teeth. No, that wouldnā€™t accomplish anything except a few moments of satisfaction ā€“ no, Jin has to take more drastic measures, something that will ensure that you and your fragile little heart wonā€™t be hurt by this horrible, disgusting man.
And so, as Jin slips away, itā€™s not so hard to send you a fake text from the man, asking if he can swing by your apartment.
And you, being flustered that your date had contacted you to fast and so eagerly of course say yes, inviting him over for dinner. Jin smiles down at the phone with a big, bashful beam, able to pretend for just a few moments that he was supposed to be the recipient of that text, that really it was him you were inviting over for a homecooked meal, then maybe a movie, then maybe youā€™d stay up and talk with him for hours, falling asleep in his arms and letting him hold you like he spend hours dreaming of.
(Or, if youā€™re feeling a bit frisky, perhaps youā€™d let him spread your legs and spend hours with his head trapped between them, your taste and smell clouding his senses as he brings you to your high over and over and overā€¦)
Itā€™s not hard to make a copy of the man, to get him at your apartment door, that same suave walk and the high cheekbones making you bashful as you open your apartment door. But then, the man sneers at you, looking you up and down just as Jin had instructed, scoffing under his breath and telling you that youā€™re even uglier the second time I see you. I just came by to tell you that I donā€™t wanna see you anymore ā€“ youā€™re not my type, you know? I like ā€˜em a little more interesting. But if you wanna fuck, Iā€™d be more than happy to ā€“
You slam the door in his face, chest heaving and tears pricking at your eyes, and although it nearly braks Jinā€™s heart, he closes his eyes and breaths deep, reminding himself that although hurting you is making every bone in his body feel brittle and about ready to snap, this is necessary.
Itā€™s necessary because the man probably wouldā€™ve done worse if left to his own devices ā€“ if his conversation with the bar tender was any indication, you wouldā€™ve been used for your body and then unceremoniously dumped in the trash. And you deserve so, so much more than that ā€“ Jin is sure of it, and Jin can give you that if youā€™d just let him.
He gives you some time, sure that youā€™re sobbing behind the front door, and itā€™s only an hour or so later that he texts you (from his real number, of course) if youā€™d like to grab dinner. Heā€™s equal parts nervous and ecstatic when you respond with a simple yes, already eager to get you distracted from that loser ā€“ and, perhaps, even manage to show you how much better Jin can treat you.
He's charming that night, on his best behavior, telling you all sorts of jokes and asking about things he knows you love to ramble on about, just wanting to hear your voice and watch your lips move. And soon, the guilt is totally washed away ā€“ because really, would you have ever been able to speak this freely with that man? Absolutely not. Jin may not deserve you, but at least he can treat you well ā€“ so why canā€™t you see that?
TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:
Jin doesnā€™t want to kidnap you, but he will eventually reach a point where his anxiety, paranoia and profession leave him with no other choice. Heā€™s fully aware that his obsession with you has grown to such astronomical proportions that itā€™s literally controlling his life, but he doesnā€™t seriously entertain the notion that youā€™re just as deeply in love and devoted to him as he is you.
(Obviously he likes to think that you are ā€“ pleasant daydreams star you with your lips pressed against his jaw as you tell him just how much he means to you, just how badly you want him, just how much you need him, but heā€™s always brought back to reality with a cruel slap, Dabi barking his name or an alarm clock going off and leaving him feel empty, alone, restless for you.)
He knows that he possesses a one-sided love for you, and in the beginning of his obsession, that was enough. It was enough to simply be seen by you ā€“ to have your attention on him if only for a few seconds, your smile and warm and inviting and genuine as you spoke to him. It was enough that he was a silent admirer, watching you from the shadows of your life and eagerly anticipating your next encounter, no matter how large or small.
It was enough, until suddenly it wasnā€™t. Suddenly Jin needed to have more contact with you ā€“ getting your phone number had been one of the most nerve-wracking things heā€™d ever done, his fear of rejection so incredibly high that it made his voice a bit scratchy and heā€™d almost stuttered, leaving him mortified but only more enamored with you when you just laughed and gladly filled out your contact information into his phone.
And that had been enough for a time, too ā€“ he could text you, sending you photos of the sunset that he spent five minutes trying to find the perfect camera settings and angles for, just so that he could send as good of a photo to you as possible and have you be impressed.
(Heā€™d been hoping youā€™d even compliment him as a response, perhaps telling him that itā€™s so beautiful, Jin! Youā€™re so talented at photography! Or, in an even more idealized world, youā€™d tell him how beautiful the stars are and then immediately follow that up with an offer to go star gazing, to spend the evening together curled up in some remote field staring up at the sky and using each other as body heat to stay warm in the cold night air.)
But then the texting and calling wasnā€™t enough ā€“ soon he needed more, and thatā€™s when the stalking began. Heā€™d follow you to work, then immediately return to your apartment and snoop around, touching everything and picking everything up just so that there was at least some memory of him on everything you own.
And this had to be enough ā€“ this was the furthest Jin could get away with without you noticing, without you cutting him out of your life completely once you realized just how truly deranged for you he was.Ā 
But then somehow a hero finds out about you, and suddenly your position in his life is threatened, and Jin panics. He totally, utterly panics, a Split intense enough to bring tears to his eyes forcing him to rely on the one person he trusts more than any other soul on the planet: you.
He comes to you, babbling and going on about some sort of internal debate that you canā€™t follow, and as you try to calm him down, your words start slowly sinking into Jinā€™s psyche. You keep saying that youā€™re there, that youā€™ll always be there for you, I promise.
Youā€™re pulling him into your side, a cloth bag placed over hie head while you rub at his arms and back, shushing him gently and even rocking him back and forth every so slightly. And so, as the Split slowly fades and he calms down, two things happen ā€“ one, you sigh in relief and hope that Jin has processed some of his emotions and will leave, and two, Jin hearing your words as a promise that you want him, that you need him, that you want to stay by his side for the rest of your life.
And so, in the aftermath of a horrible mental health episode, Jin decides that youā€™ve essentially given him permission to make sure you really are always going to be there for him, just like you said.
Itā€™s not hard to sneak into your apartment that night, the chloroform soaked rag sitting underneath your nose in a way that made it difficult not to swoon over your adorable sleeping figure.
(Jin gulps and swallows as he stares at your limp body, his hand reaching out to very, very lightly brush his fingertips over the expanse of your clothed hip, wide eyes staring at you as if youā€™re some piece of art, something for him to keep and cherish and love.)
And when you wake up the morning, youā€™ll find yourself in a strange bedroom with a strange man whoā€™ll spoil you rotten ā€“ even if you beg him not to, even if you say the only gift you want is to be let free.
As a captor, Jin isnā€™t too terrible ā€“ all those desires to spoil you and make you happy are still very much present within him even once heā€™s stolen you away.
In fact, if anything heā€™s even more desperate to get you smiling, to see you be happy and looking at him with anything other than fear and hate. Because really, after that Split that led to him kidnapping you calms down, Jin is only left with complete and utter regret ā€“ youā€™ll hate him now, heā€™s sure of it.
Youā€™ll be afraid of him, thinking of him not as the sweet, funny, and harmless Jin youā€™ve come to know but instead a monster, a criminal capable of hurting you in more ways than one. And this kills him ā€“ he hates being looked at like heā€™s ruined your life, even if he basically has. And because of this, he decides that the only way to get you to slowly see him in a positive light again is if he makes your life with him as good as possible ā€“ if he spoils you, treats you like a queen, pampers you and cares for you with the level of devotion that you deserve.
And frankly, Jin is more than happy to give you this ā€“ heā€™s a worshipper through and through, already revering you like youā€™re something holy and in need of constant praise. Heā€™ll outfit his dingy apartment the best that he can ā€“ thereā€™s freshly stolen furniture in your favorite colors and fabrics, changed lightbulbs for his overhead lights work, a stocked refrigerator, a new mattress.
(Only one though, so youā€™ll still have to share with him ā€“ but donā€™t be too worried, because he wonā€™t actively try anything without your explicit permission. At least, he wonā€™t while heā€™s awake ā€“ when heā€™s asleep is an entirely different story, because thatā€™s when his real desires come out, unchecked and uncontrolled as he grinds his hips against your ass, his little moans and whispers of your name as he presumably has a wet dream about you more than a little awkward to lie next to. Donā€™t mention it to him though, please ā€“ he can tell that his cum is staining his boxers, but heā€™s always hopeful that you slept through it all, that you didnā€™t notice the way he was probably trying to get stimulation, that you didnā€™t see just how depraved and desperate for intimacy he is.)
Heā€™s getting you comfortable clothing; lots of sweatshirts and lounging pants, fuzzy socks and even a few hats for when the heating in the building goes out (as it often does).
(He really likes to see you in his clothing, of course, but Jin isnā€™t too terribly pushy ā€“ heā€™d be ecstatic if you willingly wore something of his, his face bright red and all sorts of things coming out of his mouth, but heā€™s really and truly pleased, a satisfied and smug feeling burrowing in his chest thatā€™s difficult to hide. Sometimes heā€™ll even wear the new clothing first, making sure that it smells like him, before handing it off for you to hear, biting his lip and struggling to stay calm because god, you look so damn good in what heā€™d just worn, god youā€™re really here with him right now and looking at him and touching him and acknowledging him.)
Heā€™ll stock up on all your favorite foods, paying special attention to making sure he has every snack under the sun. And while he does care about your health, when heā€™s buying you all these snacks, heā€™ll get absolutely anything you want, even if thereā€™s so much sugar and such little nutritional value that it makes him nervous.
He canā€™t cook very well, but heā€™ll order takeout or swing by a restaurant and steal something for dinner, always loving the look of hunger and shy thankfulness as you bite into the meal heā€™s brought you, trying hard to ignore the way heā€™s blatantly staring at you and awaiting your approval.
And really, thatā€™s another part of your captivity with him ā€“ the staring, the touching, the constant talking, the constant him. Heā€™s always been clingy with you, but itā€™s even more so once he's got you trapped under his thumb. He always has to be looking at you, observing you and feeling like heā€™s a part of whatever youā€™re doing. He wants to see everything youā€™re up to ā€“ when youā€™re watching television, heā€™s watching you.
(And nervously playing with his fingers, like thereā€™s something he wants to ask you but is afraid to, right up until he blurts it out, something crude and rude and it immediately makes him apologize, gripping at his hair a bit and telling you about how he didnā€™t mean it, oh man I promise I didnā€™t mean it!)
When youā€™re doing one of the puzzles heā€™d stolen to help keep you entertained while he was busy, heā€™s sitting on the other side of the table, those eyes of his glued onto your fingers as you try each piece, watching with rapt attention and marveling at how you slowly make progress, feeling smug and prideful because his girl is so smart.
When youā€™re stepping into the shower, you can see him out of the corner of your eye, not peeking at you but simply staring at the open doorway of the bathroom, his back facing the shower but his presence still suffocating you.
(He refuses to leave alone during showers, simply because heā€™s terrified that youā€™ll slip and fall, that youā€™ll crack your head open or accidentally swallow shampoo or any number of other wild, outlandish things. And, as he listens to the sound of running water, heā€™s hoping that one day heā€™ll get to join you ā€“ that one day youā€™ll be able to bathe together. Heā€™ll run his fingers over your roots, massaging the shampoo into your hair slowly and deeply, your body pressed close to his as the water cascades down your back. Heā€™ll have you lather up his body with that scented body wash you love, and maybe youā€™ll even draw shapes with the bubbles, press kisses to his naked chest or press yourself against him, whispering in your ear that you love him...)
Truly, Jin is not so bad ā€“ he's clingy and youā€™ll have absolutely no time to yourself, but heā€™s not too invasive. He doesnā€™t treat you like an incompetent child, and he at least tries to make you happy ā€“ he wonā€™t push you into a physical relationship, not does he demean you in any purposeful way.
The only true negative with Jin (aside from your kidnapping in the first place, not to mention the stalking and hyper fixation) is that although he tries his best to control it, Splits are not pretty, and youā€™re always the one he comes to her help. When youā€™re around they happen significantly less often, his comfort level higher and his concentration wavering from his own identity crisis and instead towards you, just as his thoughts often do, but they still happen.
And when they do, heā€™s blindly searching for you, reaching out bleary, teary eyes and all sorts of babbles and rambles coming from his mouth, every muscle in his body tensing up as he clutches onto you, begging for you to help him, to please, please make me whole again, ā€˜m not sure whatā€™s ā€“ whatā€™s real.
And while you may hate Jin for kidnapping you, for occasionally breaking into your apartment while youā€™re asleep and watching you rest, for threatening others in your name, for keeping you safe and sound, you still canā€™t watch this. Somewhere buried inside the monster that stole you away is the Jin that you were friends with ā€“ and thatā€™s the Jin you want to help, the one thatā€™s driving you as you shove the paper bag down over his head, letting him engulf you in a nearly too-tight hug as he sobs and his shoulders shake.
It takes him a while to calm down, but as his grip grows tighter and he starts murmuring your name under his breath like a chant, heā€™ll slowly pull away, swallowing heavily and telling you that he loves you, that he needs you, that youā€™re the best thing thatā€™s ever happened to me. And perhaps itā€™s Stockholm Syndrome, or perhaps youā€™ve simply gone crazy, but as time passes something about that sentiment will start becoming romantic to you, something that makes your heart race and gets your palms sweaty.
Because really, eventually you will end up playing out Jinā€™s fantasies ā€“ where the two of you are deeply in love, living together, sleeping together, bathing together, eating together, doing every possible thing in one anotherā€™s company because he simply canā€™t stomach the idea of being aware from you for any small amount of time.
Itā€™s bliss, everything heā€™s ever dreamed of ā€“ and heā€™s willing to do whatever it takes to get there, even if it means acting like your slave just to see you smile at him once a while and give him any scrap of positive affection you can muster.
Anything at all.
PUNISHMENTS:
As a general rule, Jin worships you. He finds you to be absolute perfection ā€“ youā€™re beautiful and caring and patient, everything wonderful and nearly too perfect to even be real. Youā€™re certainly too perfect for a fuck-up like him ā€“ and yet he wants you, in such a primal and raw way that he canā€™t hope to fight it.
Youā€™re like air to him, and because heā€™s grown so attached to your praise and presence in order for his mental health to stabilize for a few moments, Jin canā€™t stomach the thought of punishing you.
Youā€™re supposed to be happy with him ā€“ youā€™re supposed to be growing to love him, something that he works hard at every day that he has you trapped with him. He gets you flowers (theyā€™re a little wilted and old, but theyā€™re the best he can find), little chocolates (never quite in the flavors and styles you like, but as close as he can get), and tries to keep you happy and placated by having all your favorite things in the apartment.
And so, even more than being upset that you attempted to escape or hurt yourself, Jin canā€™t really fathom why youā€™d even bother doing something worthy of a punishment in the first place ā€“ are his efforts not enough? Is it not enough for him to run himself ragged trying to think of ways to keep you happy, to show you that despite having kidnapped you, heā€™s not an entirely bad person?
Itā€™s demoralizing and sends him spiraling into a state of panic and confusion, leading to particularly bad Splits that get him ripping at his hair and frantically grabbing for something, anything, to stop the episode in its tracks.
And so, punishments arenā€™t common at all ā€“ with a few hard exceptions that he does, with time, deem as worthy of his punishments.
(Harming yourself is a large one, as is attempting to harm Jin. Most other things are fair game, and things that he understands why youā€™d do. But once thereā€™s the question of safety, Jinā€™s hairs are standing on edge, worry eating him alive because he absolutely cannot have you bleeding or in pain or any number of horrible things.)
Youā€™ll never, ever be physically harmed while with him ā€“ the mere thought makes him anxious enough that he feels like heā€™ll hurl, the images of you bruised and battered flashing behind his eyes and making him feel on edge, anger boiling up in his chest because he absolutely will not stand for you to be harmed in any capacity, whether by another person or by himself.
And he doesnā€™t even really like to emotionally punish you ā€“ heā€™s not the best manipulator in the world, and something about purposefully warping your mind makes him feel dirty, a grimy feeling that makes his skin crawl and that he wants to avoid at all costs. But sometimes, certain infractions ā€“ especially towards the beginning of your captivity ā€“ have to be addressed, the bad behavior in you stomped out before it can really take root.
And so, Jin relies on other methods to get these points across ā€“ that is, he decides to show you just how good you have it with him by taking some of that good away.
Heā€™ll revoke your dinner privilege for a night, or showering privileges for a few days.
Heā€™ll forbid you from listening to music by removing all electronic players in the apartment, his phone hidden on his person (and yours having been long destroyed, even from before he laid your unconscious body out on your bed, marveling at the sight of you and oh-so-gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face).
It doesnā€™t feel good, you being even minorly uncomfortable in any way a difficult a difficult sight, but Jin pushes through, his personalities arguing audibly but all eventually agreeing that showing you exactly what you do have is the best method to go about making you as happy as you possibly can be with him.
Besides, thereā€™s something inexplicably satisfying about the moment that you finally admit that you need him, that as much as you hate the hell heā€™s created by kidnapping you and keeping you all for himself, you must rely on him if you want to survive.
And Jin is smug ā€“ finally, youā€™re starting to see that he can be good, that heā€™s really not the monster youā€™ve cracked him out to be. And as soon as the punishment is over, Jin is back to the ever-loving, clingy mess that he always is, desperate to be around you and get your attention.
Jinā€™s hurt, more than anything, when you lunge at him and swing your fist like youā€™re trying to punch him.
He stops you easily, of course, but thereā€™s something about the look in his eyes that has you shrinking back, shame withering through your body because god, how can he look so genuinely heartbroken, so genuinely betrayed?
Itā€™s silent for a few moments as he holds your wrist in place, his mind too distracted to even focus on the feeling of physical touch that you initiated, even if the intention was less than ideal. His voice is small when he asks you what youā€™re doing, hurt lacing his words as he asks why are you trying to punch me? Are you mad at me? What did I do?
And in a different voice, though still somber are you on your period?
And although you have a few choice words to spit at him, all kinds of answers popping into your mind immediately, thereā€™s just something about the way heā€™s slumped over, shoulders drooping and defeated, the downturn of his lips and the soulful look in his eye that have you unable to speak, the words simply not rolling off of your tongue.
Jin waits for a moment, expecting a barrage of hatred to spew from you, but nothing comes. And so, with careful fingers and slow movements, he slowly lets go of your hand, watching with careful eyes for your next move.
When you donā€™t swing at him again, Jin takes a step back, the action looking like it physically pains him.
Itā€™s late, we should get to bed. Itā€™s silent again for a moment, but then he moves towards the couch.
Listen, I donā€™t want to be the bad guy, but tonight youā€™ve gotta, uh, youā€™ve gotta sleep here tonight.
You look at him like heā€™s a little crazy, and he sends you a sorry glance, that same hurt written across his features.
Youā€™ve gotta understand that Iā€™m trying to do whatā€™s best for you, I promise! I know kidnapping you was wrong, but youā€™re here now and weā€™ve gotta make the best of it.
God get over it already! Itā€™s already been a month!
You watch with wide eyes as he grabs the blanket off of the back of the sofa, folding it over his arm and gesturing to the furniture.
Sleep here, youā€™ve gotta learn that hurting me isnā€™t okay, and neither is hurting yourself so donā€™t you try anything!
Iā€™ll sleep with an eye open, you hear?
The night is long without the blanket, the apartmentā€™s heating out again as you shiver against the material, using the mangy couch cushions as a makeshift blanket. Itā€™s horrible, and you roll over with a sigh, sure that youā€™ll never manage to fall asleep in this position but fully knowing that Jin would wake up if you tried to join him in the warm bed. Shutting your eyes and sighing, you again try to drift into sleep ā€“ unaware of the way Jin lays in the bed, staring across the room at you with fully awake eyes.
Watching you struggle is torture; he wants more than anything to get up and come bundle you up in the blankets, the sound of your clattering teeth and shivering audible even from his position. But he canā€™t ā€“ not if he wants you to learn your lesson.
Not if he wants you to understand that you absolutely cannot be trying to instigate violence between the two of you ā€“ youā€™re supposed to be a loving couple, happy with one another and perfectly content to live out the rest of your days together.
A punch doesnā€™t exactly fit that happy dream that Jin has whipped up, and although he knows itā€™s far off in the future, he fully expects it to become reality one day ā€“ youā€™ve just got to stop fighting it so hard.
And as morning arrives and you both lie in your respective places, neither of you having slept a wink, Jin decides it was worth it. Because when you get out of bed, crawling over to him and asking with that fucking look on your face if you can use the blanket or get in with him, heā€™s crumbling.
Youā€™ve never asked before ā€“ youā€™ve never used the word ā€˜pleaseā€™ with him since being kidnapped, and here you were now, asking him for a favor, politely, sweetly, like you actually appreciate him.
All he can do is stare dumbly at you for a few seconds, but then heā€™s sputtering out a yes and scotting over, opening up the sheets to expose the beaten-up white tank top heā€™s sporter and the boxer shorts. Immediately you jump in, the sudden warmth feeling heavenly on your chilled bones, but Jin can only shudder, the feeling of your body so close to his driving him crazy, your smell engulfing his senses and he swears he can even taste you.
Heā€™ll pull you close, experimentally, and when you donā€™t fight it heā€™ll let out a slow, long breath, letting his hand rest on your side lightly, almost as if heā€™s afraid to touch you.
Almost as if youā€™re not real ā€“ and by extension that this sort of fondness you seem to be developing for him isnā€™t real either. But God, he hopes it is.
OVERALL DANGER:
5/10
Jin is not particularly dangerous.
Mostly, heā€™s just incredibly and overwhelmingly needy. Heā€™s so sure that heā€™s not worthy of you, that youā€™re much too good for him that it causes him to overcompensate, to try much too hard to get you to like him, to get you to want him.
Heā€™s always texting you, running into you at seemingly random places and times, always talking your ear off and looking so genuinely enraptured and intrigued when you respond to him that itā€™ll make you a little uncomfortable, the intensity in his eyes a bit scary.
He sees you as being something genuinely divine, his idolization of you terrifying in its sheer degree. He spends every free moment trailing behind you, always living in your shadow, pretending with a dopey grin that heā€™s actually living out your life with you, that youā€™re somehow aware of him stalking you, that you actually want him to be involved in your day to day life.
(And he only feels a little pathetic about this ā€“ his love for you and his intense desire to be recognized by you too strong to bar him from having some dignity and stopping this disturbing obsession.)
Heā€™s always trying to interact with you, becoming addicted to hearing your voice and feeling your attention on him, becoming addicted to the feeling of protecting you, of being needed. And when he eventually snaps and steals you away, Jin only becomes more needy, trying desperately to compensate for the fact that heā€™s kidnapped you by spoiling you with any gift he can, respecting your privacy and autonomy, trying to keep you as happy as possible given your situation.
And really, while youā€™ll hate him at first, betrayed beyond belief and scared of this strange new person that seems to have replaced the Jin you knew, eventually youā€™ll slowly come around. Youā€™ll start to realize just how truly pathetic he is, how he canā€™t help himself but want you and your attention, and although youā€™ll hate yourself for it, some part of you will be flattered by how badly he wants you.
Some part of you will be pleased that someone desires you so much that theyā€™ve become such a mess, that they want to please you badly enough that theyā€™re willing to throw their pride out the window for you. Youā€™ll feel guilty and like youā€™re betraying yourself, but really itā€™s in your best interest to not fight this new development ā€“ because really, while Jin may seem a little scatterbrained and easy to manipulate, heā€™ll find you if you escape.
And heā€™ll find you remarkably fast ā€“ and although he still wonā€™t hurt you upon your reunion, youā€™ll come to find that Jin has treated you very, very well. And when thatā€™s suddenly taken away, youā€™ll find yourself wishing that Jin ā€“ your Jin, the one that would steal the stars and sky for you ā€“ was back, that he was with you and telling you just how beautiful you are.
Youā€™ll slowly learn that you need him just as badly as he needs you, now ā€“ a sentiment that makes Jin beam so brightly that it nearly hurts.
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